sliver of moon

Slivered svelte moon

If to be fair is to be beautiful Then a masque is heaven Death is an angel And the moon is beauty in its finest form,

Pallid pale plastered shadows, Slinking , silhouette of my eye,

Sliced into a claw, Caressing my mind, Lulling,

I love you,

I still see your face reflected, In chasity’s symbol of night, You are beautiful

And I loved you

And I love you

A Witch's Guide to the Moon

  The moon. Every witch keeps it in conscience. Nearly every religion seems to have something to say about it. In science, history, religion, even in architecture, the moon has come to show its importance and status. Babylonian astronomers in the 5th century BC recorded a lunar cycle, and back in 4th century BC, Chinese Astronomer Shi Shen created a guide regarding the prediction of lunar eclipses. Civilizations like the Han Dynasty thought the moon to be a driving force, while many Native American tribes associated it with female divinity. So, with all this in mind, how can we use and understand the positioning of the moon to better our witchcraft today?

  First, we have to understand a lunation. A lunation is a roughly 30 day cycle, from new moon to new moon. The word moon actually comes from the word month. Ancestors used and understood the moon phases to tell time. Each phase lasts a few days to the naked eye, though the moon is really only in each phase for a brief second. It appears the moon stays in a certain phase due to the time buffer in which we on earth see the light. The New Moon represents the start of a new cycle.

 So, exactly what does each cycle mean, and how does it correspond with the craft?

 New Moon - The new moon is a time of new beginnings. The Sun and Moon are aligned, leaving the moon dark and invisible to our eyes on earth. It will also rise and set around the same time as the sun. It is a time to start new projects, jobs, friendships, and to seek new intentions. Starting a diet, trying to kick an old habit, or redecorating will all be made easier by the energy given by the New Moon. Wishing upon a New Moon is also a good way to bring in some luck.

Waxing Crescent -  Also known as the ‘young moon,’ the crescent begins the move towards a full moon. A small, sliver shaped section of the moon is illuminated. Plans or goals that were made during the New Moon can be solidified and worked towards, and often clarified.

First Quarter -  The first quarter moon is a small pause from the motivation and working to balance oneself out and discover possible mistakes and holes in plans and ideas we had made. Now is a time to focus and fine tune little things in your life. Meditation and introspective journeys are at hand.

Waxing Gibbous - Also known as the three quarter moon, the waxing gibbous is ¼ away from becoming the anticipated full moon. Spells for success and goal reaching work best, especially in relation to the project you’ve been working on. Think about positive spaces and constructive magic–bringing in money, romance, etc. If your project so far has failed, the Gibbous will help recharge it.

FULL MOON - The full moon. Esbat. Regarded highly as the best and most effective time to cast spells, lore and tales have surrounded the mysterious full moon for centuries. It is a time of heightened psychic awareness, in which everything comes together, including family, friends, plans, and ideas. In Wicca, the full moon is the mother’s moon, and in folklore, the full moon represents divine female power. Divining is especially powerful during a full moon. It is a perfect time to make Moon Water and to perform any exciting or lengthy spells you’ve been working on.

Waning Gibbous - As the waning begins, so does the shedding of old or toxic things in your life. Removing bad habits, curing illnesses, quitting bad jobs, ending addiction, or even breaking off relationships can be planned or started. This is also the time of the goddess Demeter.

Last Quarter - Continue banishing work here, especially focused on your emotions and negativity. Remember things you want to improve and save them for the upcoming new moon, but for now, simply make room for them.

Waning Crescent - The final waning phase before the start of a new cycle, now is a time to confront head on what is causing chaos in your life. A little hexing here and then, if such practice coheres with your beliefs, might just work out during this moon phase.


Lunar Deities: Phoebe, Artemis, Selene, Hecate, Chang'e, Sin, Mani, Tsukuyomi, Ibis, Chonsu, Thoth, Set, Chia, Wadd, Elatha, Luna, Nepthys,


The Moon Tarot

 The moon tarot invokes the unconscious, introspect, and discovery. The face of the moon is half seen, symbolizing pregnancy and the mystery of the soul. The rays of light represent creation and power, and are a vital symbol of life. The animals, perhaps a wolf or dog, sit opposite of a river, mouths lifting to howl at the moon. This can represent the cutting of ties with someone close, and is especially poignant in the idea of hiding or forgetting ones ancestry. A crustacean sits in blue water at height of a pond, symbolizing hidden emotions and sensitivity. The water flowing towards the moon along with the crustacean and dogs rising towards it can be seen as a unity of self. The water at the bottom, where the crustacean sits, is drawn in by the moon, evoking female cycles, as well as passage from life to death and vice versa.


This will most likely be updated and added to, but for now, here this is! I hope this can help somebody out.

Without You

Peter Parker x Reader
As part of my request a prompt, 300 follower celebration.

@not-peterparker requested: 7, 53! Congrats btw!
Prompts: “I can’t do this without you.” and “I’m crazy about you.”

Thank you for your request and for following me! Ok, so you didn’t specify what you wanted, so I apologize if this isn’t what you had in mind (in fact, I’m sure it won’t be,) but this is kind of what fell out of my brain for those sentences. Words: 1.9K.

Peter is in his 20s. Peter and reader have been together for a long time.

Warnings: This is a little gory. Or a lot. It’s a lot gory. Angsty fluff.

The tightly woven sheet of clouds outside your window blanketed the sliver of a moon hanging high in the sky, offering none of its luminance to the city below, making the already cold, rainy night seem even more dreary and off-putting in its darkness; darkness that made it difficult to see him in your equally blackened room. The masked form of him had practically fallen into your arms the moment you’d slid the window of your shared bedroom open at the sound of his panicked knocking, the entire weight of him supported by your chest; your back protesting the angle; his wet, sticky arms around your neck as he slumped against you.

When the bridge of his nose found the crook of your shoulder he released a soggy sigh into the skin there.

The dampness of his suit spread over the front of you, your borrowed t-shirt quickly soaking through and warming your skin. He groaned when you shifted, an arm pulling too tightly at his back to prevent him from sliding down your body, chests smashing together as you tried your best to support his drooping, lethargic form. “Hey, c’mon,” you encouraged as you started taking slow, measured steps towards your bed, his booted feet lagging and unintentionally smashing against your bare toes. “Peter, hun, you’re really heavy.”

He nodded, the corrugated material of his suit chaffing against your wet skin. You freed up an arm to pull his mask off, his wet hair sticking to the insides, lifting as you freed the strands and flopping back down onto his ears and forehead, dampened curls sticking to his skin as you dropped the fabric to the ground at your feet.

“Pete?” you adjusted your arms again, looping them underneath his, pulling his face from off of your shoulder, his chin bouncing off of a bony collar, to get a better look at him, “Peter, what’s wrong?” His hands hung limply at his sides, cascading pitifully over the tops of your own. When his eyes met yours, you were startled by how utterly exhausted he looked; the darkness in the room accentuating the bruised coloration beneath dull brown. It was the color of his skin that bothered you most, or really, the lack of; so pale that his skin was nearly glowing, rain water and sweat glistening, his clamminess casting its own ghastly light.

You furrowed your brows, voice escaping you in a whisper, “Peter?”

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granpappy-winchester  asked:

Prompt! Young Prince Hannibal is rescued by Hunter/Peasant Will.

The prince, they said, had turned in the night. And how the townspeople whispered. Great antlers twisted from his head in a sickening crown. His flesh had shriveled inky black. Prince Hannibal Lecter, they swore, had clawed a guard half to death before being locked away in the castle’s highest tower. Their beloved future king more beast now than man.

For his part, Will refused to accept it.

Their affair had begun suddenly and in secret. A prince consorting with a peasant was not to be tolerated. But Hannibal liked to wander the forest where Will hunted every morning. Their paths, it seemed, were destined to tangle together.

And Will’s hands came to know the prince’s form as well as the curve of his own bow. Every line and jut of bone. Secrets whispered softly between parted lips and thighs. Their cries of love and pleasure joined the melange of songs of the forest.

“One day, all of this will be mine,” Hannibal promised often. “And on that day, you shall be always by my side.”

These words echoed in Will’s mind as he waited for night to fall. Then, with great caution, he stepped from the shadows and slipped twin arrows quick as thunder cracks into the necks of the tower guards. Blood spurted from them in a great, gasping flood that ruddied Will’s boots as he stepped over them to begin his ascent.

He’d snatched the ring of keys from one of the guards and, the last of a hundred steps behind him, fumbled with one after the next until, finally, the lock of the iron door snapped open. It was only then that Will’s heart began to pound. The door creaked like an animal caught in a trap as Will slowly pushed it open. Inside, the room was dark, the only point of light the sliver of moon shining through the single square of a window.

“Hannibal?” Will whispered, his soles sticky with blood as he crossed the threshold. “It’s me. I’m here to–”

Twin points of crimson shone through the dark. Eyes, Will knew, glowing like the final breaths of embers snuffed out from a flame. The sight of them stole Will’s breath away. Over the frantic thud of his own heart, a low growl began to cut through.

“Hannibal.” Somehow Will’s legs propelled him forward. His heart beat so fast he was choking on it. “I don’t care what you are. I don’t believe what they’re saying about you. I don’t care…”

Will reached out a trembling hand. His prince–his Hannibal–would still be there, no matter his earthly form. Beneath the flickering glow of his new eyes, the soul of his beloved remained. “I don’t care what you are,” he repeated, a new mantra. “I don’t care. Come to me. Hannibal…”

Outside, clouds rolled in to block out the moon. Within the cold stone walls of the tower, the prince began to move. Lumbering forward, he scooped Will up and into his arms. Will reached out blind until his hands wrapped around what he instantly knew to be antlers.

“I know you’re in there,” Will whispered against his ear, the curve of which still felt entirely human. “Hannibal. Say something.”

“Will you come away with me? Now. Tonight.” Hannibal’s voice was that same lyrical cadence Will had come to know so well. His prince. His Hannibal.

“Yes,” Will said, without hesitation. “Where else would I go?”

The Flight Before the Mammoth, Paul Jamin, 1885

They weren’t ready for a mammoth. They’d just brought ice spuds and hammers to check the fragility of the lake’s ice. It was deemed it too thin; they bored no holes, dropped no lines, caught no fish. They peered at the speed of the sky’s low, gray clouds and made predictions for when ice might be thick enough to fish on. The next snow, one said. At least a week, another said. None could agree. Then the shadow lumbered from the woods, tusks like moon slivers glowing against the night of its hide. It was a bull come to drink.

The men were no fools. “A mammoth mirrors a person’s peace,” the old phrase went, and they stepped away slowly, as one might before an incoming tide. There was, though, an addendum to the adage, often shouted by grandfathers inebriated on old berries: “Unless the bull’s in musth!”

The mammoth trumpeted and rushed the men. Had it gotten any closer, they’d have seen the ichor dripping behind its eyes, matting the reddish fur, proving it was hormonally irritable and aggressive. But none of the four had any desire to investigate. This was no time for small observations confirming a hypothesis. They ran, howling, stumbling, barely able to keep their feet in front of their tottering bodies. The bull growled and harumphed behind, bent its head to scoop up the men with its tusks, then sent a pealing trumpet through its nose with a cloud of smoky vapor. Even when the mammoth slowed, the men did not brake.

The following day, the four retraced their steps and noted whose footprints were the farthest spaced. The three teased the one for being the most afraid, but he tapped his thigh and claimed, no, he just had the longest legs.

anonymous asked:

your kageie headcanons were perfect, so close to my own thoughts! there's never enough kageie content and it always makes me so happy to see new stuff, thank you for sharing ❤️

Taking some elements from my Kageie post:

Kageie x MC: Awakening

“I tried to stop her, milord!” a lantern was suddenly raised high, as Kageie and his men turned their horses up the path to the stables.

His first thought was that Ai had been out late, playing in the gardens again, and that the watchman had correctly thought better than to send her back alone, in the dark. Even with his berserkers at his side, Kageie didn’t want to face Kanetsugu if the topic was “Ai” and “in danger.”

As he squinted his eyes against the light, turning his head slightly down and away, he realized that it wasn’t Ai at all, but the woman, and he sat up straighter in surprise, blinking against the brightness.

“She wouldn’t take no for an answer, y’see,” called the watchman again, “wanted to wait for the rear guard. Been coming every night,” but Kageie paid him no mind, as he tried to take in everything:

Her smile, which he hoped was only for him. The sound of her sandals against the pebbled road as she jogged over. Her hair, neatly tied behind her, swaying like a silken tassel, right, left, right, left over the bow of her obi. 

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The Little Army Doctor Who Was Not Afraid of Anything

Once upon a time, there was a little army doctor who was not afraid of anything.

One windy October afternoon, the little army doctor left his flat and went for a walk through London, leaning on his cane.  He walked so long and so far that it started to get dark.  There was only a sliver of moon shining through the night.  The little army doctor started to walk home.

Suddenly he stopped!

Right in the middle of the pavement were two big shoes.  And the shoes went CLOMP, CLOMP.

“Get out of my way, you two big shoes!  I’m not afraid of you,” said the little army doctor.

On he walked, down the street.  But behind him he could hear…
two shoes go CLOMP, CLOMP.

A little farther on, the little army doctor stumbled into a pair of trousers.  And the trousers went WIGGLE, WIGGLE.

“Get out of my way, you pair of trousers.  I’m not afraid of you,” said the little army doctor.

On he walked, but behind him he could hear…
two shoes go CLOMP, CLOMP,
a pair of trousers go WIGGLE, WIGGLE.

Farther still, the little army doctor bumped into a tight purple shirt.  And the shirt went SHIMMY, SHIMMY.

“Get out of my way, you purple shirt!  I’m not afraid of you,” said the little army doctor.

On he walked, a little bit faster.  But but behind him he could hear…
two shoes go CLOMP, CLOMP,
a pair of trousers go WIGGLE, WIGGLE,
a purple shirt go SHIMMY, SHIMMY.

A little way on, the army doctor came upon a deerstalker hat.  And the hat went NOD, NOD.

“Get out of my way, you deerstalker hat!  I’m not afraid of you!” said the little army doctor.

On he walked, just a little bit faster.  But but behind him he could hear…
two shoes go CLOMP, CLOMP,
a pair of trousers go WIGGLE, WIGGLE,
a purple shirt go SHIMMY, SHIMMY,
a deerstalker hat go NOD, NOD.

By now, the little army doctor was walking at quite a fast pace.  He was very near his flat when he was startled by two plump cupid’s bow lips.  And the lips said, “JOHN…  JOHN…”

This time the little army doctor did not stop to talk.  He did not stop at all.  He dropped his cane and he RAN!

The little army doctor did not look back.  He ran as fast as he could and didn’t catch his breath until he was safe inside his flat with the door locked.  He sat in his chair by the fire and he panted and he panted.  

It was so quiet in his flat before the KNOCK, KNOCK on the door.

Should he answer it?

Well, he was not afraid of anything.  So he went to the door and opened it.  

What do you think he saw?

Two shoes go CLOMP, CLOMP,
a pair of trousers go WIGGLE, WIGGLE,
a purple shirt go SHIMMY, SHIMMY,
a deerstalker hat go NOD, NOD,
and two cupid’s bow lips say, “JOHN…  JOHN…”

“I’m not afraid of you,” said the little army doctor.  “What do you want, anyway?”

“We’ve come to kiss you,” said the cupid’s bow lips.

The little army doctor’s heart beat faster, but he was not afraid of anything.  So he stood up on his tiptoes and kissed the cupid’s bow lips.

And what do you think happened next?

Two shoes went CLOMP, CLOMP,
a pair of trousers went WIGGLE, WIGGLE,
a purple shirt went SHIMMY, SHIMMY,
a deerstalker hat went NOD, NOD,
and two cupid’s bow lips said, “JOHN…  JOHN…”
as Sherlock tossed all of his clothes in a heap
and took John to bed.


Tags under the cut - please let me know if you’d like me to tag or untag you

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Arranged Love Pt.15 | Jungkook

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 14.5 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Epilogue

Summary: When you and Jungkook are forced into an arranged marriage for publicity, you never expected to find yourself falling for him - even if you know it’s wrong.

Word Count: 4,021

Genre: Fluff/angst

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Shadows on the Subway Pt. 2

Fandom: The Mortal Instruments/Shadowhunters
Paring: Jace x Reader
Summary: You’re traveling home when an unexpected interaction leads to deathly consequences. I’ve had requests for a part 2 so here ya go!
(PS- I know this mirrors the storyline of Clary Fray, but I couldn’t help but add some modern flare to it. Plus it’s such a good intro for a character to have into the shadow world!)
Part 1

Originally posted by jalecsource

You clung to your sink, turning the edges black and sticky with the woman’s blood. Shaking you turned the sink on and scrubbed your hands vigorously, watching your skin come through the stain and turn red. You knew, despite all your effort, there was no washing this away. You closed your eyes and saw it all. The guy with the sword and equally dangerous eyes. The woman’s sharp teeth and gaped mouth that stopped inches from your face. The weight and crunch that came with stabbing someone through the chest. 
“You’re ok. You’re ok.” you tried to tell yourself, staring at your reflection. Taking a deep breath you exhaled slowly, feeling a slow calm fall over you. You wondered if this was normal, or a sign you were turning into a serial killer. One kill and that’s it, you’re sucked in. 

A sudden knock on the door made you jump. You panicked, looking at the black splatter and handprints on your bathroom sink. Quickly you left the bathroom, locking the door behind you. As you walked to the door the guy’s words came creeping back into your mind, They will come after you. Before opening the door you reached under the couch, pulling out the baseball bat your parents had bought you as a house warming gift, a ‘just in case.’ You had laughed at them, telling them it wouldn’t be needed and if it was it probably wouldn’t be much help. Now you were praying it was as effective as they claimed. You looked through the peep hole quietly, holding the bat poised to strike. The first thing you saw was a flash of blonde. It was the guy from the subway. You gasped and pressed your back against the door like turning away would make him disappear. How did he find you?
Again, a knock came. 
You moved away from the door and backed yourself into the living room. You started thinking about how you could get out, if your bat would hold up against someone who carried a sword. Before you could come up with a plan you heard your padlock click, and saw your door start to swing open. 
The blonde guy and you came face to face as he stepped into your apartment. “In my defense,” he said shutting the door behind him, “I did knock first.”
He didn’t look surprised or angry, just interested.
“A baseball bat? Hm, interesting choice.” He said stepping towards you. “Unfortunately it’s not going to help you with what’s coming. Not unless you sharpen it into a stake.”
“Back the fuck up.” you said, adrenaline suddenly replacing the fear that coursed in your veins. You held the bat in front of you keeping several feet between you and the guy. 
“Woah, a handsome stranger walks into your apartment and that’s how you greet him?”
“What, am I suppose to fall in awe of your presence?” you retorted, “the last woman I saw fall in front of you did that because she was dead.”
“I’ve get killer good looks,” he said smirking at you and stepping closer. “And if I remember correctly you’re the one who stabbed her.”
Your eyes went wide. “Don’t worry, it was actually a really good shot. For a- whatever you are.”

“Jace, will you please stop flirting with the mundane.” 
You spun around to face the new voice, seeing a tall dark-hair guy. He was dressed in the same all black but his blue eyes where more grey-blue than the other’s, with cheekbones as sharp as the expression of disapproval he wore on his face. 
“I wasn’t flirting Alec,” Jace retorted. “I was questioning.”
“You were being annoying.”
As scared as you were you wanted to laughed at comment from the one called Alec. 
“Let’s just grab her and go.”
“What?!” you looked between them alarmed and swung your bat, “I’m not going anywhere!”
In one smooth step Jace covered the distance between you two and grabbed hold of your bat, stopping it mid swing. He pulled it out of your hands effortlessly. “Oh yes you are. As much as Alec here might hate it. Otherwise we’ll be leaving you to your fate. And we can’t do that, sacred calling and all.”
“Jace,” Alec said, motioning him to look outside your window. Jace moved to join him and saw what Alec did. Deep in the dark there were flashed of pale skin, like slivers of the moon, dodging with inhuman speed in and out of the street light. 
“Vampires.” Alec breathed.
“Well looks like the party came to us.”
“I love my parties full of violence.”
“What?” Jace spun around to see what had Alec in such a fuss, thinking maybe you had just picked up your bat again and needed another talking to. He even pondered tying you up until the fight was over, just for good measure.
But you were gone.
Bat and all. 
“We better find her before the vamps do.”

sad boys | two

Member: Jeon Jungkook x Reader x Park Jimin

Genre: Heavy angst, maybe a bit of fluff? Rebel Jungkook, Fuck Buddy Jimin, Soulmate AU

Word Count: 2,500

A/N: SORRY FOR MY INACTIVITY! My school just started up and let’s just say my mental health hasn’t been the best recently. But thank you all for the likes!

      *Italics in this is a flashback

      They were everywhere. Roses, glass, roses, glass, roses, glass. Him. Bushes of white roses were trapping you, the windows on his quaint little house taunting you, the reflections laughing at you. You stumbled up, grabbing for your throbbing head, making your way down the porch steps. Everything was spinning, screaming, laughing, and you couldn’t grip what was reality. A figure rushed to you, garbled words not registering into your brain. You had guessed it was Jimin, but you waved him off, shaking your head as you stumbled your way to the sidewalk. Your head turned, ears popping, and the boy was staring at you. Clear as day. No blurred lines, no screaming voices. His sad eyes stared at you, widening the slightest. He snapped his head away, staring at the ground. The voices slithered into your head again, and away you walked.

      You made your way home, crouching on the front lawn, trying the make the voices seize. You sat there, cradling yourself, images shooting through your head. You couldn’t take it. It felt like wind was stripping your skin away, yet there was nothing but a calm breeze. It felt like the sun was burning your bones, scorching you from the inside out, but the sun was calmly setting. Everything was spinning, screeching, but in reality it was a mask of suburbia.

      A hand shoved its was through your flying surroundings, then everything stopped. Your hands were inching away from your head, and your eyes focused on the inked hand of the boy. A cigarette was hanging between his lips, a flush on his cheeks, and two bottles of fifteen dollar whiskey in his hands. He really was trying. Before you knew it, he was helping you onto the roof of his house, half a bottle already down your throats. His cigarette was between your lips, the lipstick staining the shitty filter. His back was against the shingles, shirt raised up a bit, scars and scabs on his stomach showing. He was completely shattered. 

      He was a fucked up piece of shit. He knew it, you knew it, everyone probably knew it. There were burns of little circles running up and down his arms, scars on every inch of his body. His hands were giant, tough and callused, yet still so beautiful. His veins were twisting over his arms, dancing under the skin, making murals. His face was so worn, so knowledgeable, and his eyes look like he’s seen everything you’d never want to. But his skin was so soft, so clear, like a baby. He was only a child in a man’s body, his thoughts contradicting to his actions. He wasn’t okay. You knew if anyone asked, his fake smile would fall onto his lips, not reaching his dead eyes, and new scars making their way onto his hips. He would smile and nod, because people like him were always the best liars. People like both of you.

      The liquor was burning your throat, but the relief of booze was washing over you. Heat ran over your body, and the warm buzz made you feel safe. You almost didn’t hear him speak.

      “Daddy’s gone, mommy issues, copes with smokes and whiskey. Y’know kid, you’re kinda like me.” His voice shocks you, the silky sound falling freely from his lips. he sounded like he knew what he was going to say at all times, no hesitation present in his voice at all. You didn’t expect him to sound so much like sweet honey, you expected something like sandpaper, the constant smoke of cigarettes wearing and tearing on his throat. Even your voice had rough edges and cracks every once in a while. He sounded like someone who could lull you to sleep in an instant, no matter the situation. What also shocked you was that he saw right through you.

      “How did you…?”

      A small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes placed itself on his face. “Your eyes tell a story.” When was he looking at my eyes? “You aren’t okay. People are terrible for thinking you are.” Okay, so he was more observant than you thought. You didn’t know what you were doing. Sitting on your soulmate’s roof, chugging whiskey, not having any intent of touching on the fragile subject.

      “You’re dead.” You could see his slightly puzzled look from the corner of your eyes, and you had to admit, it wasn’t the best choice of words. “I mean you were. In your past life. You stabbed your throat with a mirror and made me watch.” As the words left your mouth, more and more images crashed into your mind, drowning out anything else. Your head fell to your hands, your fingers curling around your hair, tugging at the roots. You didn’t know how to cope. How could he? He was the one who put you through this. He killed himself. And you hated how terrible it made you feel. You didn’t know him.

      No one did.

      In an instant you were pulled into his arms, scarred and inked. You didn’t realize that you were shaking, and that silent sobs were racking through your body. how did you have this level of attachment to a boy you just met? You hadn’t cried this hard ever. Not even when you walked in on your mom tying a noose.

      His burnt hands caressed your tear doused cheeks, rough finger pads wiping your tears away. He was enough to make you feel safe, enough to get you to quiet down with the small shushes he gave you. his lips were pressed against your temple, softer than flower petals. Your eyes were screwed shuts, your hands holding his collar with a vice grip. you had no idea where this tidal wave of emotion came from, but it felt so good to have someone to hold onto. Arms that would hold you tight, a shoulder to cry on, and lips that would kiss the pain away. You felt like every part of you just ran to him, letting yourself get encased by his being. He held you on his lap for god knows how long, to the point where the only light source was the sliver of a moon and the billions of stars. His heart beat was soothing, the pace never changing, and the rise and fall of his chest was carrying you away from the world, letting you sleep. He laid down, keeping you on his chest, singing with the voice of an angel. it was quiet, almost silent, some words cracking from the strain on his voice, but it was absolutely perfect.

      If I told you that I loved you

      Tell me, what would you say?

      If I told you that I hated you 

      Would you go away?

      Now I need your help with everything that I do

      I don’t wanna lie, I’ve been relying on you.

      Fallin’ again, I need a pick-me-up

      I’ve been callin’ you friend, I might need to give it up

      I’m sick, and I’m tired too

      I can admit, I am not fire-proof…

      That’s all you heard from there on, sleep taking over your body. That was the best sleep of your life.

      You woke up in a unfamiliar bed, in unfamiliar clothes, but a hangover that you’ve gotten used to. The floorboards were glossed over, the walls were light blue, the sheets matched, and nothing looked like complete shit. You were curled up in something that felt so luxurious, when only then did you notice it was a comforter and the arms of the boy. I don’t even know his name and he knows everything about me. Jimin doesn’t know this shit. You had dreamt of the boy, but only more pure. A real boy. No scars, no black lungs, no fucked up liver, no sadness. The morning light shone on him, and he looked so innocent. You two were walking down a gravel road, you with a scraped knee, and sticks in both of your hands as you swatted at rocks. You two looked so young. 

      “Hey look! A toad!” 

      It was a bright, sunny morning in the small town you both lived in. You had discovered this little boy, with raven black hair and wide eyes while you were chasing after a butterfly a few months ago. He had the purest of faces, his eyes hidden from the rest of the world for his entire life. He had a yellow shirt on today, now covered in mud from your explorations, and overalls covering his legs. His new blue suede shoes got scuffed and dirty, but nothing a little rub from your shirt couldn’t fix. You Had a pale pink tee-shirt on, blue jeans, and old white tennis shoes on your feet. he hadn’t met a girl like you before - daring, fun, boyish. he was used to seeing girls with pigtails and pink bows, Mary Janes and white socks with little bows on them, and a pink dress. They would scream if he brought a worm near them, and would rather play house in the loft than blocks with him and his friends. You through, you were quite the sight to him. You weren’t afraid to get muddy, you would put bugs on your nose, and you would jump into the puddles with your hand in his. He liked to think about your long hair that covered your eyes, and the loud laugh that left your lips when you tripped.

      He had walked all the way down the road to see you today, the two of you venturing off to swim in your pond. His lab was trailing behind you two, too caught up in trying to eat flies to keep up. You both made it there, hopping through the tall grass and throwing off your shoes and socks, jumping right into the muddy water. Little fish nipped at your toes while frogs hopped over to see what all the commotion was, and turtles poked their heads out of the water to watch the young lovers play. Neither of you knew what soulmates were, neither of you knew that it was even possible, and neither of you thought it was possible to love the other. You both thought that love was “icky” and “gross”, and if any of the girls teased you two at school, you’d both pout ad say that, “Ewwww! That’s gross!” You two were just best friends, and you thought everyone felt like you did towards each other. You would say that every boy had cooties, except him. If he kissed you on your mud-covered cheek, you would break out into a gigantic grin and giggle. When you hugged him every time you saw him, his heart would beat faster and louder, and his smile would shine brighter than the sun.

      You both walked back to his house, his mother laughing when he saw how muddy the two of you were. She cleaned you both up, and sent him to walk you back home. You got to your front porch, smiling when you turned to face him with his head down, toeing the walkway with his shoes. Before you could say anything, his head shot up and pressed his lips against yours. You both stood there, hand in hand, cheeks as red as the poppies in the pots on the edge of your porch. He broke away and placed a white rose in your hair, the thorns all gone from his nervous fidgeting.

      “I saw mommy and daddy do that yesterday. They said people who love each other do that.”

      Your arms pulled him to you, your face hiding in his hair. Your muffled voice made you both grin wider than every before:

      “I love you Kookie.” 

     “I love you too (Y/N).”

      You were brought back to reality with tears in your eyes, streams already down the sides of your face, falling onto the shirt that belonged to him. You wondered why he had a life like this now, what he did to deserve any of this.


      You voice was broken and careful, the sound barely making it’s way out of your throat. That was the first life you had ever lived. And obviously the best.

      His eyes shot wide open, the orbs almost looking the same as your past life. Almost. Sadness never fades.

      His words seemed to be caught in his throat, and instead of saying anything else, he crashed his lips on yours, holding you tighter against him. you felt a drop of wetness against your cheek, and your hands flew up to his face.

      You broke away from him, cradling his beautiful face in your shaking hands. “Please don’t cry.” His words came out as a shattered whisper, the sound only making you cry more.

      You both stayed like that into the afternoon, his hands running up and down your glass figure. He made you feel all these things, and you didn’t know if it was real or not. You were a flower, fragile and soft, beautiful if cared for. But in a single touch, you could break and wilt, and everyone loses interest in you. You were long gone by now, you had nothing that made you, you. You were a shell of a person, empty, with nothing left. You had skin and bones, but nothing that made you special. Then he came, filling you up to the brim with all these things that you didn’t know were even possible. Happiness? You didn’t know that. A will to live? Passion? Love? He made you his, he made you your own person. You were no longer an empty object with two legs and an occasionally working brain, you were you. (Y/N) (L/N). You hadn’t loved your name as much as you did now. You didn’t know how you felt about all these things, you didn’t know how you felt about him. One look at him and your voice is long gone, tears already welling up in your porcelain eyes.

      Your hands traced his scarred arms and legs, feeling the gauze taped onto his thighs, the scabbed cuts on his waist. Tears stormed down your face, waves and waves, silent cries leaving your lips that felt so nice, memories of his covering yours like a blanket, keeping you safe from the outside world. His hands were moving to your sides, your thighs, feeling the band-aids placed everywhere. He could already feel them on you ankle, and his face softened. You weren’t aware of the fact that he was indeed awake until his finger pressed roughly against a too fresh wound. A dry cry left you, your fingers gripping onto his skin, the feeling of blood making its way from the bandage.

      “Don’t ever let me catch you with more of these.”

      He kissed you like you were his world, his everything and nothing, his rise and his fall.

      And you were.

It was like trying to put a shirt on that was too small. You know it doesn’t fit, but it’s your favorite shirt. You know it’s a bad idea. When you lift your arms up your belly shows, and the sleeves are a little too short. But, it’s your favorite shirt. So you wear it anyway. I knew you were a bad idea, but you were my favorite idea, so I wanted you anyway. But it was raining so hard on me, and you were my sunshine. Together, we made a rainbow. Rainbows don’t last long and it all makes so much sense now. I close my eyes and the memories glow brighter than the stars. The best ones stand out the most. The moon lights up the sky, but your missing presence darkens my mind. You picked me up that one day on Thursday, when I stepped out of your car I saw a star fly across the sky, and I never made a wish… because everything I could possibly wish for was in my hands. You’re a mystery, and I don’t think I’ll ever beable to solve it. There’s some conversations we had that stick to my mind, and I can’t figure out why they stick. I can still feel the moisture of your whispers, and the feeling of your lips on my neck is a feeling that will take awhile to go away. You made me smile, and you made me happier than I have ever been. You have so much talent, and everyone likes you. I don’t blame you for not wanting to be with me, I wouldn’t want to be with me either. Your smiles too bright for me. You shine like a full moon, and I’m duller than the sliver of a new moon. You light up the sky, and I can only give off such a little amount of light. You have such an incredible personality, and I promise you.. you are not a bad person. You’re human. That’s all. Sometimes we hurt people, it’s just a part of life. You’re an inspiration to so many people, and I’m glad we made a rainbow. But rainbows fade away, and so did we. I don’t regret anything between us, and you shouldn’t either. And maybe some day, I’ll be caught in a storm again and my sun will come out and we can make another rainbow. When I close my eyes, it’s like a romance movie in my head. All the little things that mean the most to me play in the same order, and you will always be my favorite movie star. It’s really a beautiful thing that all we have are good memories. It’s a wonderful thing that I can think about everything between us and not cringe at the memories. You are everything everybody looks for in a person, and don’t forget that. I don’t regret pushing aside everything that told me no. Because I’m beyond thankful I was able to have something with you. Just keep being you. Because every mistake I’ve made with you, really isn’t a mistake at all. Because it all played out to be beautiful. I just sometimes wish that our rainbow would’ve glowed a little longer. But I like seeing you happy, even if I’m not the reason for your smile… maybe I never was. But your smile will always be my biggest weakness. Keep shining sunshine.
Yellow moon

Yellow slivered harvest moon
Dim lights coming through the windows
Faraway memories, faded and blurry
Just a feeling
Loneliness + longing
Making up stories to fill space and
Stop missing him.

anonymous asked:

How do you celebrate Noumenia on the night before? The night before is the dark of the moon, in all reality, so shouldn't it be Hene Kai Nea? But Hene Kai Nea is the night/day before the dark of the moon, then Noumenia starts on the night of the dark of the moon and ends the next day. How are we celebrating the first sighting of the moon if we are doing it before the moon ever appears in the sky and we say the day is over before the moon has a chance to appear? That makes no sense to me.

One of the most important and confusing of the many Hellenic festivals is the three-day transition from month to month. Although unlinked, the Deipnon, the Noumenia and Agathós Daímōn are held on consecutive days, around the new moon. Especially the placement of the days is hard to get right; at least, it was for me.

The Deipnon (Hene kai Nea)–or Hekate’s Deipnon–is celebrated any time before the first sliver of the new moon is visible. In practice, this is the day after the new moon. The Noumenia is held the day after that, when the moon has become visible again, and Agathós Daímōn the day after that. It is important to note that the ancient Hellens started a new day at sundown the day before. Instead of starting a new day at midnight–or in the morning–like we do today, they started it at sundown of the previous day. This means that–when applied to modern practice–the Deipnon starts on the day of the suspected new moon, and the rest follows after, to the total of four days. Confused yet? How about a schematic. In this example, we’ll assume that the sun goes down at six P.M. on all days.

Day 1:
All day - (suspected) new moon
6 P.M. - start of the Deipnon (Deipnon night)

Day 2:
All day - day after the new moon
6 P.M. day 1 to 6 P.M. day 2 - Deipnon (Deipnon day)
6 P.M. - start of the Noumenia (Noumenia night)

Day 3:
All day - second day after the new moon
6 P.M. day 2 to 6 P.M. day 3 - Noumenia (Noumenia day)
6 P.M. - start of  Agathós Daímōn (Agathós Daímōn night)

Day 4:
All day - third day after the new moon
6 P.M. day 3 to 6 P.M. day 4 - Agathós Daímōn (Agathós Daímōn day)

In general, you celebrate the Deipnon at night time on the day of the Deipnon, so after sundown on day one. Many Hellenists spent the day of the Deipnon (day two, until sundown) cleaning and taking out things like the recyclables; getting everything ready for the new month. The Noumenia starts at sundown on day two. Typically the bulk of the Noumenia rituals is done in the daylight hours, so on day three until sundown. Personally, I do a nighttime ritual on day two after sundown for Selene, as She is a moon Goddess and honoring Her when the first sliver of Her becomes visible is important to me. I also honor Her during the daytime on day three. At sundown on day three, Agathós Daímōn starts. The ritual aspects are usually held in the daylight hours, so on day four, until sundown.

I hope this makes it clearer!

Drabble: Under the Stars

So this is one of the ideas that came to me last night when I was trying to go to sleep haha and if you saw my posts last night and this morning… my brain wanted smut… so this one got smutty!

Thanks to @mycapt-ohcapt for helping me with a few things!

The campground is silent as you and Chris lay on the shoreline, faces pointed at the sky. Due to the lack of man-made lights and only a sliver of the moon, the sky is filled with stars that are reflecting onto the water, making the entire experience mind blowing.

You’d experienced this as a teenager as your family came to this campground every year, but this is Chris’s first time here. Knowing how much he loved everything space, you’d planned this little mid-week getaway for the two of you while visiting your family. The unbelieving gasp that had left his mouth upon seeing the spectacular view had told you that all your planning behind his back had been worth it.

Knowing that the campsite you’d picked was far removed from the few others that had been occupied, you decide to make the night even better for Chris. Rolling onto your side, you press your body against his and place a hand on his torso.

“Something wrong?” he asks, his eyes moving from the sky to your face.

“Nope, it’s all good,” you promise. “Just enjoy yourself.”

You wait until he has redirected his gaze before you rub his cock through the rough material of his jeans. Glancing up, you see his eyebrows raise and his eyes open wide as he realizes what you’ve got planned. He doesn’t stop you, however, as you undo his jeans and part the fly. You tease him again, this time through the thin fabric of his Calvin Klein boxer briefs.

You slip your hand under the waistband of his boxers and he lets out a moan when your hand finally touches the smooth skin of his cock. You let your fingers tease his shaft for a bit before you carefully pull his boxers down, freeing his erection.

Licking your lips, you run your hands over his cock, encouraging him to full arousal. Your fingertips trace the veins of his cock, pulling a groan from his lips at your teasing. It isn’t until he’s fully erect, and some precum has formed at the tip of his cock, that you begin to use your mouth on him. You start with just your tongue, retracing the paths that your fingers had taken before. He becomes more vocal as you wrap your mouth around the head of his penis, taking him deeper and deeper until you nearly gag. Backing off, you use your mouth and hands in concert, bringing him closer and closer to the edge of cumming.

“I’m close,” he warns you, his voice in a strained whisper. “So close.”

You wrap your mouth around his cock and use your oral talents to bring him over the edge. His cries echo over the water, but as you take his load in your mouth, you couldn’t care less if someone else hears the two of you.

Once he has finished cumming, you swallow and then use your tongue to clean his cock up. Once you’re done, you sit up and find him staring at you.

“You’re amazing,” he says, still sounding a bit winded. “Once I can breath again, I’m going to thank you really well.”

“Take your time,” you reply, laying back down next to him. “We’ve got all night.”

Renegade (pt. 3)

Originally posted by parkchanyeolieoppa

Another wolf-finds-his-mate story, but I kicked it up a notch and created a whole new world around it.

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Genre: Supernatural (EXO as wolves, but more species involved in the storyline)

Word count: 5039 words

Warning: None!

New to the series? Start your adventure here: Prologue (Don’t skip it, it contains info you’ll need in a small part of this chapter)
The posts will always contain a link to the next part, unless that part hasn’t been posted yet.

Part 3

The light that shone through the open windows, brightened the whitely painted parquet floor and wheat brown walls of Chanyeol’s bedroom. Whereas last night, the artificial lightening from his simple pendant Scandinavian ceiling light gave the feel of a cosy bedroom, the atmosphere in the room was now more heavenly. The sound of whistling birds filled the room and small details such as the tree stump nightstands, his carefully located acoustic guitar and the present house plants even made one overlook the small mess on his desk.

Chanyeol felt very comfortable. Despite his legs being tangled up with (y/n)’s under the sheets, the feeling of his arms holding her close and her perfume, now perfected in his presence, satisfied his inner wolf immensely and he wanted time to stop so he could stay like that forever.

He opened his eyes, curious to (y/n)’s sleeping figure. As her head was nestled snugly in his neck, he carefully tried to lower himself without waking her to be at eye-height with her.

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