#CELESTIAL VOYAGER WHERE?????!?!??!?!?!?!

[lotus-pear]

i hope the hype for this outfit hasn't died yet lmao

[theinnerunderrain]

Desires [Yan!Wishing Star x Fem!Reader]

Warnings: Yandere themes, description of abuse and reader being in pain (burning), fear, slight description of body parts, implied murder. can you believe the inspiration for this is the star from that Disney movie wish...

+

"It's not fair."

The entity standing in front of you,murmured gently, his hand clenching tightly as his eyes grew stern, echoing the firmness in his tone. In the velvety expanse where night unfolds its cosmic tapestry, a solitary wanderer emerges — the wishing star. A fleeting celestial voyager, trailing stardust whispers across the ink-black canvas, igniting the dreams of earthly dreamers. The celestial glow of the moonlit sky tenderly embraced his form, casting a delicate shimmer upon his blond locks, revealing a subtle stain on his pristine white blouse, obscured yet perceptible in the soft illumination.

"I've heard of your heart's desire," The wishing star advanced toward you with measured grace, coaxing a subtle retreat from your stance as you hesitantly took a step backward.

"I worked so hard to grant your wishes."

He persisted, the palpable frustration resonating through his typically captivating voice. Bathed in the gentle moonlight, it cast an ethereal glow upon his figure. Drawing nearer, the blemishes on his shirt became increasingly conspicuous—a flickering, profound crimson, accompanied by a faint metallic scent that stirred a disquieting nausea within you.

A startled yelp slips from your lips as you inadvertently tumble over an unseen obstacle, causing you to descend onto a patch of grass with your back pressed against the earth's surface. Your hand makes unexpected contact with something wet and warm. The unmistakable scent of metal permeates the air, urging you to swiftly withdraw your hand from the liquid. It's only then that you come to the chilling realization within the darkness—it's a limb, specifically a recently severed hand, its surface glistening with fresh blood.

Your gaze turns back to the wishing star, now standing just a few feet in front of you. His shadow looms over, imparting an ominous presence, and he appears almost like a fading star, deprived of life and passion, slowly dimming in the celestial tapestry. Trembling with fear, you parted your lips to voice a protest, but no sound emerged, leaving the unspoken plea hanging in the tense air.

As the wishing star resumed speaking, its tone softened considerably, a gentle cadence imbuing its voice, which seemed to be nearly carried away by the night's gentle breeze.

"I've done so much for you, for you weak humans. Yet, I've received nothing in return."

Descending onto one knee, he crouched down, his pristine white pants marred by the hues of blood and dirt. Remarkably unfazed, he wore the stains with an air of indifference.

"Tell me, [First Name]. Do you think it's fair?"

You take a moment to contemplate his question, striving to formulate the optimal response that would genuinely satisfy him. However, the awareness lingers that he possesses a keen perception, able to discern any falsehood, as if he has the ability to see through every nuance.

"It's not fair," you stammer, your words echoing through the stillness of the night. The wishing star tilts his head slightly, his piercing gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

A twisted smile creeps across his lips, and the moonlight casts an eerie gleam in his eyes. "Good answer, my dear [First Name]."

"You're right, it's not fair."

He lingered in a brief pause, his eyes gently closing, as if grappling with thoughts, a silent struggle to restrain any inclination to cause harm.

"So tell me, [First Name]. Do you think I deserve to be compensated for my hard work? Will you be the one to grant my wish?"

His words crashed into you like an oncoming train, resonating through the corridors of your mind as you grapple to unravel their meaning. After a moment of contemplation, you nod hesitantly, yearning for nothing more than the swift conclusion of this situation, eager to retreat to the village with a mind cleansed of the perplexing events of the night.

"Good."

His smile, a deceptive play of pink lips stretched into a wide grin, sent a chill down your spine. Despite its apparent warmth, his eyes held an icy indifference, a contradiction that left an unsettling echo in the air. It was as if his smile danced to a different melody, a tune that aimed to soothe while his gaze remained aloof, weaving a complex tapestry of emotions that begged unraveling. With an unexpected flourish, he delicately pressed a single finger to your forehead. A radiant, golden light emanated from his fingertips, enveloping you in a warmth that seemed to transcend the ordinary. In that moment, an enchanting weight settled upon you, as if the universe itself conspired to make your very essence denser beneath the gentle caress of his touch.

"W...wait..Callisto! What are you—"

As you mustered the courage to protest, his other hand extended, gently caressing your cheek with a touch that felt oddly comforting, as though it were a final offer of solace. The ambient light intensified, casting a surreal brilliance upon the surroundings, rendering the world too bright and eerily silent. Despite the fear coursing through you, there lingered an inexplicable sense of comfort emanating from both the radiant light and the tender graze of his touch. It was a paradoxical dance between apprehension and an oddly soothing presence that left you trapped in a disconcerting embrace of emotions.

In an instant, the beam of light against your forehead erupted, creating a deafening, bell-like resonance that reverberated for meters around. Your body, caught in the chaotic symphony, felt ablaze—no, it was as if fire had ignited everywhere. Desperation urged you to shift away, the searing sensation intensifying, yet his relentless grip forced you down onto the patch of grass. His two hands, like oppressive flames, pressed against you, melding your anguish with the burning world around you.

"No..!"

A piercing scream escapes your lips, the pitch climbing higher as you desperately attempt to roll and extinguish the flames enveloping you. Yet, the ethereal grip of Callisto pins you in place, rendering your frantic movements futile. Frozen in terror, the dance between your desperate cries and the consuming fire unfolds in a macabre symphony orchestrated by the relentless wishing star.

"I'm really sorry, [First Name]. It's going to feel painful at first, but once you wake up again. Everything will be for the better."

Callisto's voice, a haunting melody, softly echoed against the backdrop of your agonizing pleas. As you begged for relief from the erupting fire consuming your very flesh, his gentle tone contrasted with the visceral symphony of pain. With a tenderness that belied the horrors unfolding, his hand reached out, delicately caressing the side of your face, as if soothing the flames that danced upon your skin.

In the twilight of consciousness, as the world dissolved into an inky void and the torment on your body gradually subsided, you felt the celestial presence of the wishing star. One final utterance emerged from the cosmic depths, a whisper that cut through the fading echoes of your suffering, leaving an unsettling imprint on the precipice of darkness.

"As you awaken from your slumber, a transformation awaits you—a rebirth akin to a celestial metamorphosis. You shall emerge not just awakened but as a newfound star, destined to shine eternally in resplendent brilliance, a beacon of enduring beauty that transcends the mere confines of night."

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[mercurianchild]

Venus in the 8th house

🥀Venus in the 8th house: The Symphony of Life and Death🥀

In the enigmatic depths of the 8th House, Venus dances with an intensity that ignites the soul and leaves hearts spellbound. Here, love is not a mere dalliance but a journey into the abyss of passion and transformation, where every emotion pulses with the resonance of a symphony reaching its crescendo. Within the mysterious confines of this celestial placement, individuals are adorned with an allure that transcends the ordinary. Their essence, shrouded in a veil of mystery, draws others into their world like moths to a flame. They exude an intoxicating aura of depth and enigma, leaving admirers entranced by the secrets hidden beneath their gaze.

For those touched by Venus in the 8th House, love is a voyage into the unknown, where every encounter becomes a journey of self-discovery and transformation. They navigate the murky waters of emotion with fearless abandon, embracing the shadows as fervently as the light. Each relationship becomes a crucible, forging them anew as they surrender to the alchemy of passion and change. Yet, amidst the tempest of emotion, challenges may arise. Jealousy and possessiveness lurk in the shadows, testing the boundaries of trust and autonomy. Fear may whisper of vulnerability, threatening to eclipse the brilliance of their passion. But it is in these moments of darkness that their light shines brightest, illuminating the path to deeper connection and understanding.

In matters of seduction and sexuality, Venus in the 8th House casts a spell like no other. Their touch is electric, igniting flames of desire that burn with an intensity unmatched. With each embrace, they unravel the mysteries of the soul, weaving a tapestry of intimacy and ecstasy that leaves lovers breathless and hearts ablaze.

Venus in the 8th House is a symphony of passion and mystery, a siren song that beckons the brave to dive into the depths of the heart. With every note, they weave a tale of love and transformation that leaves jaws agape and souls enraptured. In its depths lies the key to unlocking the truest desires of the heart.

[cherllyio]

The Warrior of Flower Fruit Mountain

This is Macaques design from my Moana AU.

He is currently an enomurs and terryfing Shadow Monster, but he was once Sun Wukongs old "friend", and travel buddy on their many voyages together in the past.

Why is he like this? Well i made little angsty backstory, with clues to what happend to the once great Warrior.

You can read it either here, or on A03 where i also posted it (here)

The Voyager, The Sun and The Monster

Chapter 1 (Prolouge): Drowned by your Love

There is a small island, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, where both terrifying demons and small monkeys live together. One of these creatures inhabiting the Island, while just as much monkey and demon as the rest, stand outs quite a lot.

He has beautiful silk white hair, six magical ears, that can catch the wind flap of a bird thousands of miles away, and a pair of radiant golden eyes, that will pierce through anyone who dares come near.

His name? Liu Mihou. Also rightfully known as “The Warrior of Flower Fruit Mountain”

On normal circumstances The Warrior would be either be training, gathering food supplies for him and the other monkeys, or making his presence known, to any hostile idiot, dumb enough to try and challenge him. 

But not today. Today, you can find The Warrior in the early morning light, preparing for voyage he is not sure when, or if he will ever come back from.

Yet... The Silk Monkey knows it will be worth it. For the person he is looking for is worth everything, and more, that can be worth something in this world.

 “The King of Flower Fruit Mountain!”, “The great sage equal to heaven!”, “The Monkey King!”. Or, as Mihou knew him: “My Sun”.

Just a few hundred years ago, these two celestial monkeys were sailing through all the great oceans together. Battling through storms, strong enough to destroy entire islands, becoming more powerful than the other demons could ever hope to become, and at the same time forming a bond strong enough, to become something greater than friendship.

Except…that all changed when Sun Wukong started playing against a power, he was not prepared for. The power of the Jade Emperor.

This traitorous act against the emperor, would ultimately end in the great sage’s downfall, where he would be catched and imprisoned by the Buddha himself, and pinned down by his very hand. And now, he was now trapped under “Five Element Mountains”, until an unknown destiny would free him.

Nobody, not even the wisest of the immortals, knew when that day would come.

It’s been 500 years since the great sage’s new destiny, fell upon him. Yet now... he has disappeared.

Mihou didn’t know how or where, or if it was done by fair means or foul. He solely knew that the once immense mountain, that had once sealed away his sun, was now only rubles and ashes of its former greatness.

Initially Mihou had been exited, ecstatic even, about this news. However, he quickly realized that like mountain, the King too was gone.

No messages, no clues, no anything. He was truly… gone... But he wasn’t "gone, gone" that would be crazy! "Sun Wukong, The Great sage equal to heaven" could never, would never.... Yea... His sun is fine, he will surely find him!

Plus, Mihou got all the things he needs to find The King, his magic ears being a big part of it. And then… they can be together again, and everything will be balanced, just like before! After all, how can a moon shine without its sun?

He confidently looks down at his own reflection, his silk white hair and shining ears animated in the cold and radiant water below. Everything is going to be ok.

But then he notices the dark roots crawling up his hair.

Dark roots that are slithering its way inside his silk white hair, like an infection, and turning it as dark as a burned corpse.

And nearly, one thirds of his entire mane can’t reflect any of the suns glow back anymore. And it will never be able to do it again.

For a second, it catches The Warrior off guard, but he really shouldn’t haven’t been surprised by this.

These dark roots have slowly been taking up more and more of his silk white hair, for well… Mihou keeps failing to remember that, but it was before his sun disappeared, he knows that much.

Mihou closes his eyes, trying to push the thoughts back. But instead, an old memory creeps up, and fills his soul with dread.

...

A demon. It attacked them.

They were young, stupid and furthermore in love, and together, they thought nothing could stop. Neither in celestial realm nor on earth.

Sure, Mihou was barely half the power of his counterpart, but that didn’t matter. It never really had mattered. The only thing Mihou and Wukong had ever cared about was each other.

Except, this time, it DID matter. Because… Wukong got hurt. Badly hurt.

There had been so much blood… Macaque could barely look at him… and Mihou had started panicking… while a piercing cry had cut through the air, when his Sun was impaled… The world turned around… everything had become so awfully quiet.

And Mihou had just been STANDING THERE. He had done nothing, but tremoring in horror over the cursed remains that was his dying sun. And then that awful, awful demon that had HURT HIS SUN, started whispering terrible, terrible words in his all too powerful ears…

“Oh, how sad” … “did he mean much too you?” … “What a pity…” … “you should have protected him better then…”

And… He listened. For wasn’t it true?

Wasn’t he the one who now stood beside his fading sun, that could barely light any brighter than the flickers of an ending campfire? Wasn’t he the one who had just been standing by his side, while his sun had worked so hard for everyone. Worked so hard and continued getting stronger. To get strong enough to protect his people. To protect Mihou. And he is now dying for the sake of a six eared demon, that would never be able to pay him back. Mihou hadn’t earned any of that. Wukong hadn’t deserved that. Mihou was a traitor.

The demon didn’t even notice, before it was too late. The demon didn’t even notice, before his insides lay before him, and he lied next to it. The demon didn’t even seem to notice Mihou’s scream of agony and pain, before his soul had already left his body.

Everything after that was a blur.

A blur filled with small glimpses of his dying sun, while an unworthy Warrior had desperately tried to save him.

And when the world finally came back into the view, his sun… His sun was ok. His sun was ok. His sun was ok.

“Sorry I scared you so badly there, my dear moon”, Wukong had said with a sad look on his face. “I must admit, he wasn’t as strong as me, but he sure was clever.” His sun had said with a grin on his face.

And oh… How Mihou could have looked at that smile forever. Yet… he was constantly reminded of what had happened.

If that demon… If that god forsaken demon had been any stronger, just a bit, Wukong…

Mihou couldn’t risk that… Never again would he look at his dying sun, covered in his own torn open flesh and shattered bones. Never again would he hear, Wukong’s breath draw close to its final limit. Never again would The Great Sage be betrayed by his own Warrior, who he thought he could trust to always protect him.

For in The Warriors own eyes, he was a traitor. A foul soul who would simply overserve as a prejudiced destiny would drown out the only spark of hope left for their island and its people.

Hence why Mihou did, what he did next.

On the darkest day of the year, where the shadows rosed higher, than their own creators, Mihou stood in the middle of an abandoned Island. He was hoping for someone who could help. And soon enough, someone rose up. The silhouette of the darkness. A spirit. One made of magic not seen quite often.

“The six eared Macaque asks for my help. Don’t you have enough assistance from the king already?” the spirit remarked in a gravelly, judging, voice, whilst turning itself into a clone of The Great Sage to prove its point.

“Yes, please, I need your wisdom…”

“My wisdom… Well, there sure is a considerably amount of that, you will have to be more specific…”

Even though he knew exactly, what he had been come for, it still took Mihou a few seconds, before he finally answered:

“How do I protect someone, who is stronger than me? How do I make sure, I can help someone, when I barely have the strength of the wind, against a storm coming their way?”

Mihou could feel small tears starting to pierce through his eyes, yet he did little to stop them. “How do I make sure, I don’t betray the people I love, when they need me the most?”

The silence after that was barely enough time for the water to hit shore in its never-ending rhythm. Despite that, it had felt like millions of winters and summers had already passed, by the time the silhouette finally spoke again.

“There is one way….”

Mihou looked up.

“However, as all things, it comes with great consequences.”

“I will do anything, please! Just tell me what I need to do!”

The silhouette seemed to watch him like a hawk.

“You are more stupid than you look, Warrior of Flower Fruit Mountain.”

The shadow started morphing into something else.

“Liu’er Mihou, for my power you need to know. This power requires the utmost control. One step aside could lead you drowning in its pit, leaving you only as host to submit.”

The shadows showed The Warrior consumed by shadows, until there is no light left in him.

Mihou took a deep breath.

“How can I control it then?”

“Warrior, only destiny will be your reaper.”

It morphs back into its normal silhouette.

“Now… do you accept this power?”

Mihou, looking back, should probably have thought it more through. But back then, the guilt and love for his Sun had been so strong, it had almost blinded him.

“I do, I accept it.”

And then everything went black.

...

Hundreds of years later, Mihou still doesn’t know, how or when he ended back on Flower Fruit Mountain.

But that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered then, was the power he had now. The power to protect the island, its monkeys and… his sun.

Wukong was skeptical at first, luckily the King had always been more of the oblivious type, so he quickly started to pride the new power as much as Lihou used too.

The newfound power Liu’er Mihou had gained were shadow powers. He could manipulate, create or absorb any shadow as he pleased.

This power also made it easier for him to learn the “72 transformations”, which Wukong had already learned hundreds of years ago, since Mihou could “copy” them using his shadow powers, until he didn’t need Wukong by his side anymore to do it.

Though, as all things, it wouldn’t last long until he learned the consequences of his choices firsthand.

Wukong and Mihou had been fighting a demon, who was stronger than what they were used to, but they had been fighting a lot of them recently, anyway. However, for just a second, Macaque had become cocky, and his let the shadow powers run free to devour their enemy whole.

Expect, after the fight was over, Macaque noticed the dark hair for the first time.

It had been small at first, barely noticeable, but with every “slip up” it had gotten more and more noticeable.

It wasn’t just if he got cocky in battle. If something had hurt him mentally, it would also grow. Which, when Wukong got trapped under the mountain… The infection had grown to the length of two small snakes crawling up his legs and arms in just a few hours.

Moreover, when they got into a fight while Wukong was trapped… The fur on his legs was almost completely black.

So, the 500 years that had slowly been passing by had been both a physically and mental war in his head, that from each day that had went by got closer and closer to winning…

The lack of a king also meant that more demons had started to attack Flower Fruit Mountain, therefore Macaque had to use way more power than usual, which would just make the curse worse...

And then every night, if it was a quiet one, he would cry himself to sleep, in his now empty nest.

Yet, as the black fur was getting dangerously close to his heart, which Mihou did not want to find out what happened if it reached it, there was… hope.

Wukong was free now after all!

Mihou was so sure, that as soon as they found each other again. When he could finally embrace that golden fur again, everything would be fine.

And as Mihou looked down the boat, now ready for the long voyage ahead, he felt A hope rise in his chest, for the first time in these 500 years.

Everything will be ok; nothing bad ever happen anymore.

Wukong is waiting for him after him after all!

…

Right?

[doumadono]

My dearest friend. Now, it's my turn to place an emergency request. I'm in an emotionally abusive relationship and have no way out at present. I'm stuck away from home with nowhere to go and not even a career to fall back onto.

When I go out for my evening walks, I always stare at the moon, imagining that my beloved Kokushibo rescues me from it all. And....that's my request: being rescued by Upper Moon One.

Please take your time as this is simply an aggrevation of years and years of a chronic condition. And feel free to change the reason for me being rescued if the real-life reason is too confronting. Lysm 💞💞💞

A/N: My dear friend, I'm truly sorry to hear about the difficult situation you find yourself in. Yet, you have the strength to overcome this, and brighter days are ahead. Don't lose hope, and keep moving forward ♥

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

In the eerie stillness of the night, as you gazed at the moon's pale glow during your evening walks, you held onto a secret wish. A yearning that transcended reality, a longing for escape from the torment of your emotionally abusive relationship. Little did you know, the universe had other plans.

One fateful evening, as you wandered along your familiar path, your eyes fixated on the moon's silvery visage. The world around you seemed to fade away, and you whispered a silent plea to the heavens.

As your heart poured its anguish into the night, the moonlight shimmered and swirled, forming an ethereal gateway. The air around you grew heavy, laden with an eerie presence. You stumbled back in awe and trepidation as a figure emerged from this otherworldly portal.

It was Kokushibo. His cold, yellowish irises bore into yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Dressed in his distinctive kimono, he radiated power and a kind of dark beauty that was both captivating and terrifying.

Without a word, Kokushibo extended a pale hand, beckoning you to him. His voice, like a haunting melody, echoed in your ears. "Come with me, and leave your suffering behind. I've been keeping an eye on you for quite a while."

As you took his hand, you felt a surge of otherworldly energy coursing through your veins. The two of you ascended into the night sky, leaving your earthly troubles behind.

The journey with Kokushibo through time and space was an astonishing blur of wondrous sights and sensations. It happened so swiftly that it was difficult to process every detail, but what remained etched in your memory was its breathtaking beauty.

As the journey with Kokushibo came to a sudden halt, you opened your eyes, having squeezed them shut to shield yourself from the overwhelming beauty of your cosmic voyage. When your vision cleared, you found yourself in a room that contrasted starkly with the celestial expanse you had just traversed.

This new space was intimate and warm, with wooden walls that exuded a comforting, earthy scent. The wooden floors felt solid and familiar beneath your feet. A single futon was laid out, inviting and cozy, offering respite after your ethereal adventure. The room held a few decorative items, their presence adding a personal touch to the space. On the wooden walls, you noticed intricate designs and patterns that seemed to tell a story of their own.

You gazed up at the tall, enigmatic demon, shivers running down your spine as you stood in that wooden room. You couldn't help but ask the question that had been burning in your mind since your arrival, "Where am I?"

Kokushibo, Upper Moon One, regarded you with those penetrating thee pairs of yellowish eyes. His voice was both commanding and reassuring as he spoke, "You are in your new home, a sanctuary where you can feel safe. You don't have to worry here. I'm not here to hurt you. I've heard your pleas for many nights," he confessed, his words carrying the weight of the countless moments you had looked up to the moon, seeking solace. "I listened as you prayed to the heavens and even the depths of hell for help. And it seems," he continued, "the second one, the one from the depths of darkness, was the one to respond. You see, little human, sometimes the answers to our deepest desires come from unexpected places, in forms we could never have imagined." His words hung in the air, carrying a profound truth about the mysterious and often unpredictable nature of life's responses to our fervent calls for help.

Curiosity burning within you, you couldn't help but ask the question that weighed on your mind. "What am I going to be doing here?" you inquired, your voice quivering with anticipation.

Kokushibo met your gaze with a knowing smile, his eyes never leaving yours. "You," he began, "will become my apprentice. Here, I will teach you everything there is to know about vengeance."

A small, determined smile crept onto your lips as you nodded in response. This was the very opportunity you had dreamt of, the chance to learn the means of retribution and take vengeance on the person who had inflicted so much pain upon you. The thought of turning the tables and finding a way to reclaim your power filled you with a renewed sense of purpose. With Kokushibo's guidance, you would embark on a path to reshape your own fate and confront the source of your deepest wounds.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi there! Thanks so much for all the work you do in fandom, first and foremost! This is what I'm looking for: A lot of fics use the "angels feel love" thing but wave it off as Aziraphale not realizing or not feeling it coming from Crowley specifically. I'm wondering if you know of any fics where he DOES feel that Crowley loves him and understands immediately, but has to bend his brain around acknowledging or not acknowledging the clear evidence? Thanks so much!

Hello! You may be interested in our #aziraphale can sense love tag, and this post in which Aziraphale does some brain bending regarding his feelings for Crowley. Here are some fics where Aziraphale can sense love but chooses not to acknowledge or act on it...

In The Beginning, The Serpent Was Unloved (Or Was He?) by AnonymousDandelion (G)

… Oh, Aziraphale realized with a sickening start, and he only just managed to keep from staring, stricken and aghast, at the demon at his side. Oh, no. The thing that’s missing. It’s love. Nobody loves him. ~ ~ ~ A serpent strikes up a conversation with the angel of the Eastern Gate. The angel has thoughts and feelings (but he is also spectacularly self-oblivious).

Just our hands clasped so tight, waiting for the hint of a spark by Mekachu04 (M)

Angels can feel love. Crowley never appreciated that tidbit until now.

Rules and Regulations by Toothpaste_Fresh (T)

Heaven has a lot to say on how an angel should be. Aziraphale's relationship with heaven, and how it pertains to a certain demon named Crowley. Mind the tags!

I Farce In Your General Direction by DemonaHW (T)

In 1842, Crowley was pushed into the Thames from Blackfriars Bridge. Aziraphale was terribly apologetic, but he had seen another angel approaching. It was then, still dripping with foetid river water, that Crowley vowed he was going to find out what specific issue was making the angel more aggravating than usual.   Aziraphale doesn’t want any other angels around Crowley, and Crowley is determined to find out why. It’s going to require a transatlantic voyage and some wiles.   Or: It was supposed to be a celestial farce aboard the SS Great Britain, but characters had Feelings.

Between the Lines by cyankelpie (G)

Crowley took a gulp of ale and gestured with the mug. “Love’s a big word. How can you be sure? Humans mistake these things a lot.” “Angels don’t. If they knew I could feel it, maybe they’d try to tone it down a little.” Crowley stopped moving. Aziraphale was still talking, but he couldn’t hear over the pounding of his pulse in his head. “You can feel that?” he said, when he regained enough of his composure to put together a sentence. “Yes, I—” Aziraphale broke off just for a moment, and his eyes flicked down to the table. “Yes, I can feel it, Crowley.”   (It's hard being two supernatural entities on opposite sides who are in love with each other. It's even harder knowing that those feelings are returned, and that acknowledging it openly would be disastrous.)

- Mod D

[ladykinrannoch]

Figured it out!

It's been bothering me how poorly written the puff pieces about the jam scam and then it hit me! I figured it out! She doesn't write it herself she gets Chat GPT to write it.

Here is my test run:

You:

Can you write me a critique of Meghan Markle's American Riviera Orchard jam, it should be as flowery as possible and funny. The tone should be that the jam is yummy.

ChatGPT:

Certainly! Here's a whimsically flowery critique of Meghan Markle's American Riviera Orchard jam:

Oh, sweet celestial orbs of delight! Let me regale you with a tale spun from the threads of flavor and the whispers of taste. Behold, the illustrious creation that dances upon the palate like a jubilant symphony – Meghan Markle's American Riviera Orchard jam!

Picture, if you will, a pastoral scene where ripe fruit blushes beneath the warm embrace of the sun, each berry plump with anticipation, bursting forth with the essence of California's bountiful harvest. This jam, this ambrosial elixir, captures the very spirit of that sun-kissed orchard, preserving its essence in a jar with the care and finesse of a master alchemist.

From the very first spoonful, one is transported on a gustatory voyage, traversing rolling hills of strawberry fields and citrus groves, with a chorus of tangy sweetness serenading the senses. The strawberries, like ruby jewels, impart a luscious melody of summer, while the citrus notes pirouette delicately on the tongue, a graceful ballet of zest and zestfulness.

But ah, dear epicurean adventurers, do not mistake this jam for mere sustenance! No, it is a culinary treasure trove, a veritable Pandora's jar of gastronomic wonders. Spread it upon your morning toast and experience a breakfast fit for royalty, or perhaps indulge in a midday repast, where its ambrosial charms will elevate even the humblest of snacks to a feast of the senses.

And let us not forget the delightful whimsy of its creator, Meghan Markle, whose passion for the culinary arts shines through in every jar. For in her hands, the humble fruit becomes a canvas upon which she paints her epicurean dreams, infusing each batch with a sprinkle of stardust and a dash of mischief.

So, dear connoisseurs of the delectable, heed my words and seek out this celestial nectar with all haste! Let Meghan Markle's American Riviera Orchard jam be your guide on a journey of epicurean ecstasy, where each spoonful is a testament to the boundless wonders of flavor and the inexhaustible joy of good food.

In conclusion, to taste this jam is to embark upon a culinary odyssey, a voyage of discovery that tantalizes the taste buds and nourishes the soul. So go forth, dear epicureans, and may your jars be ever filled with the ambrosial delights of Meghan Markle's American Riviera Orchard jam!

[anonymocha]

Bonne Nuit • Voyager x Medicine Pocket

“Bon voyage, they told her before she left… When I met her, I wished her sweet dreams with this piece.”

Synopsis — Voyager comforts the weary and insomniac Medicine Pocket with a secret lullaby she composed for her first earth friends.

Words — 2.3K including the bonus scene.

CWs — References to animal space programs.

A/N — Pure fluff!!! + In this fic, it is suggested that they already have an established relationship. It could be interpreted as romantic or not. Up to the reader, really. Also it contains my headcanon that Medpoc is a dog caretaker.

Last night wasn't a good night for the young researcher.

Enduring a tedious three-hour youth meeting at Laplace was bad enough, but it was followed by a private lecture filled with the same complaints they heard for years, endlessly repeated for a whole hour. Frustrated thoughts swirled in their mind — Decrepit old rats who fail to understand their work should just shut the fuck up, they think. The only thing preventing them from barking back was sheer exhaustion. The fatigue had caught up with them, otherwise they may have bitten someone, really.

The complaints themselves weren't the issue; The real problem lies in how they just wasted their damn time. They could have returned to the suitcase and done their own thing much earlier if only they hadn't been forced to endure the droning of old-timers. By the time they attempted to rest, they were too weary to sleep, resigning themselves to working on obligatory papers through the night... Yet achieving almost nothing by morning. The sense of frustration lingered - more precious time wasted.

…Perhaps it's a call to sleep. Or at least, they should try.

Medicine Pocket stifled a yawn as they wandered through the corridors of the suitcase. The early hour ensured that the halls were deserted, providing a rare moment of solitude. Despite the lack of activity, they still sought out a secluded corner where they could be undisturbed for a while.

As they made mindless beelines around the suitcase's main building, they couldn't help but catch a faint sound. To be precise, music. A very familiar tune played with a very familiar instrument. The violin. Accompanied by the sound of… pups? Wait, they recognize those barks! Those are their pups!!!

Medicine Pocket followed the sounds. Their exhaustion was momentarily forgotten as curiosity piqued their interest. As they rounded a corner, they were met with… Quite the sight.

Dappled sunlight poured through the windows, casting a soft glow upon the scene unfolding before the young researcher's eyes. There on the floor, in an isolated corner of the suitcase, sat Voyager, her slender frame illuminated by the morning light as she delicately wielded her violin. Beside her, their puppies frolicked and danced to the sweet strains of her music, their tails wagging with unabashed joy.

Her eyes were closed, a serene smile gracing her lips as she lost herself in the piece. Her glimmering hair would catch the sunlight in a subtle gleam of colors and bloom, akin to a celestial halo. The alien visitor was playing Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring”, a quite popular classical piece but fitting for this moment. With the beagles frolicking playfully around her. They would catch her giggling when one of the puppies tried to climb onto her lap. Cute…

As they stood there, silently observing, one of the pups perked up when it caught eye of them. It immediately rushed to their feet, its tail wagging furiously as it bounded toward Medicine Pocket with unrestrained excitement. The others followed suit, their playful barks filling the air as they said hi to their beloved caretaker.

Caught off guard by the sudden attention, Medicine Pocket crouched down to greet their furry companions, a tired smile tugging at the corners of their lips. Despite the exhaustion weighing heavily upon them, the attention of their beloved pups filled them with a sense of warmth and comfort.

Voyager stopped playing, a gasp escaping her lips as she opened her eyes, her gentle gaze locking onto the newcomer with a mixture of surprise and delight. The music faded into silence as she watched them interact with their puppies, a smile of awe tugging at her lips. Voyager’s violin and bow vanished into thin air before she greeted Medicine Pocket with her usual cheerful wave, accompanied by a giggle. A truly pleasant sound.

They’re showered by the puppies’ licks and pawing but they manage to return her greeting with a weary but genuine grin.

Noticing their tiredness, she gestured at her own lap, patting them. They know what it meant, they’ve been here before. She’s offering them comfort as she did many times before. Despite her silence, Voyager is incredibly caring and observant. Not to mention a great listener, and an even better secret keeper. She’s the only one they could trust to stay by their side through the most risky and taboo self-experiments. The only one allowed to see that side of theirs. And the only one to hold their hand through it all. Especially since she revealed glimpses of her nature several times too. They know what lies under the mask of this ‘girl’. And they adore her for that.

That said, they are close enough to her to lay their head on her lap.

With one pup held closely to their chest, another also on Voyager’s lap right next to their head, and the others scattered around them, they sighed contentedly. She smiled at them as she gazed down, a smile they’d seen many times, a smile that never fails to ease them. The soothing floral fragrance of her uniform and hair, added by the scent of the sun and freshly washed dogs, was a great change in comparison to Laplace’s clinical, chemical, and antiseptic-riddled atmosphere.

Delicate fingers traced their scalp as Voyager carefully untucked the scissors from their hair, causing their locks to fall loose. She set it aside before returning to pat them. Her other hand lingers on the pup snuggling on their torso, also patting the little guy. Their gloved hand would join her, caressing the pup’s back. It barked with soft glee at the attention.

“Mmh… You took care of the puppies while I was away, didn’t you?… I didn’t ask you to. But thank you. Daisy smells great for once,” they finally spoke out, their voice thick with gratitude and fatigue.

She nodded, giggling again. Her other hand, the one that had been patting them, suddenly moved towards their face, gently caressing their cheek. A gesture that is a bit surprising. Medicine Pocket blinked at the sudden change of pace. Her hand was so smooth and warm. It was a good kind of surprise.

Their eyes closed, leaning to the touch. They sighed once again, their lips tugging into a soft smile. “I hate everyone at Laplace. I missed my friends. I missed you, too. I kind of wished we could go on an outing this morning but I… Urgh… I’m so fucking tired. I can’t sleep either… It’s just… Damn it.”

Voyager listened attentively as always. She gave their cheek another pat before moving to the top of their head, gently stroking their messy locks. A gentle signal to ‘go on’. One they understood since they confided in her countless times before.

They chuckled and obliged. “I had to endure those damn old people yapping about the same shit again. It was a waste of time. I could have been doing other things. I could have finished my projects, you know? It was so damn annoying. I wanted to leave but… They kept me there because they told me it’s good for me. They’re probably jealous of me, right? I can bet that it is. Hah! They wished they have my guts to do the things I do. They would still say things like age doesn’t matter, but continue to think they know better than me. It pisses me off… They also made me do some papers. What’s the point of research papers really? The results are right there! I…” they continued to ramble on.

The alien visitor simply sat there and listened. Her hands still moved in soothing, repetitive motions. The puppies have also joined in the soothing, providing comfort in their own ways, like snuggling and nuzzling. They can feel their own breathing calming, the tension in their body loosening. They didn't realize it earlier. Their rambling was a way for them to let go of their pent-up frustrations, allowing their mind to settle down and their body to relax.

A long pause fell over them. A sigh escaped their lips. They then looked up at her and said, “...I'm sorry. I was rambling. I think… I really need to sleep.”

“Ah!” Voyager’s eyes widened as if a lightbulb flashed in her head.

“Hm?” Medicine Pocket looked at her curiously.

She smiled at them, materializing her violin and bow in her hands. Before they could say anything, she spoke. Her voice was barely above a whisper. Yet it was loud and clear enough for them to hear.

“I think… I want to share a new secret with you,” she began.

Her words surprised them. She never initiated any topic of conversation before. It's always them who start talking about themselves and the things they did. It's a bit jarring, but not unwelcome.

Their eyes remained fixed on her.

She moved the bow in one slow stroke, eliciting a gentle long note from her violin.

She continued, "I made it… For one of my first earth friends while I was in orbit. And I… I think she slept very well… So I kept playing it for the next 49 friends who came after her before I touched ground with earth…” Her voice was soft, and her eyes were cast somewhere far far away as if she was reminiscing a fond memory.

She motioned the bow in the opposite direction, playing a lighter note. “I haven’t played it for a long… Long time. But I want you to hear it… Perhaps… It can help you sleep, too.”

They have a hunch on who these 50 friends are; The pups sent to space in the 50s and 60s by the humans. They expected Voyager to know about them, but to actually make contact with them? And play a song for them? They were surprised and a little touched. It is a beautiful thought. And somewhat… Comforting. Is that why she adores puppies very much?

“Do I deserve to hear it?” they asked her. She merely responded with a soft chuckle, continuing to play.

Her playing is delicate and slow. They could see her eyes close, the smile on her lips growing. A peaceful look on her face. The melody is gentle and relaxing, reminding them of moonlight and stars. The puppies seemed to have noticed, as their tails began wagging more slowly, their soft barks quieting.

Medicine Pocket let out a long, contented sigh, their eyes fluttering shut as they settled against her lap. They didn’t mind the puppies snuggling and settling around their body.

They listened quietly.

The lullaby sounded like a gentle goodbye. Goodbye to the tiredness. Goodbye to the weariness. Goodbye to the frustration. Goodbye to the pain. Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye. It was a gentle lullaby of farewell, and a gentle hello of tomorrow. A lullaby that said: "It's okay now. A sweet dream is waiting for you. Rest, dear friend." Behind the sense of departure, there’s also a hint of yearning for home. Or perhaps, a welcome.

The soothing melody wrapped around them like a blanket. It was as if they were drifting away in the middle of a starry sky. Slowly, ever so slowly, they could finally sleep.

Their breathing steadied, and the last thing they heard before drifting to slumber was a faint, reassuring whisper.

“…Bonne nuit.”

Bonus Scene

“Erm… Ugh…”

Medicine Pocket wobbled their way out of the room they slept in. It was already afternoon, so the morning sun they departed with had turned into the warm saturated hues of a sunset by the time they woke up. Voyager and the pups were nowhere to be seen when they awoke, and she must have moved them to the couch with a blanket draped over them (woah she’s pretty strong… But alas, they’re a lanky person).

They reached the lobby. It was quite lively. There’s the girl scout and the girl with a red hood helping that one bunny girl in the kitchen, the TV girl presenting some sort of slideshow about cooking grilled cheese with Lilya’s plane to the pilot herself who looked intrigued, the infamously spooky twins playing cards with the photographer spirit and Necrologist (she’s losing), and so on… Some greeted them, some didn’t.

With the blanket held close to their chest, they kept looking out for the alien with blue hair. They couldn’t find her inside, so they went to the wilderness.

Unsurprisingly, they almost immediately found sitting at the picnic spot, taking a rest from walking their dogs. When she noticed them, she immediately smiled warmly and waved at them. The dogs responded in kind to their presence too, trying to run to them while barking happily, but held fast by the leashes held firm by Voyager’s hand.

Their face lit up, and they briskly made their way to her. “Hey!!! Hi!!! I slept well!!!” they declared with newfound energy. The puppies started to climb up their leg the moment they were in range.

She giggled. She seemed to have noticed the change in their energy level. They could see her shoulders move as she silently laughed.

They sat next to her and let the puppies pile onto them.

After they petted the puppies, they snuggled up to her. She leaned onto their shoulder. A gesture they reciprocated, resting their cheek on her head. They felt her body warmth, along with the faint smell of the sun and her flowery perfume as the usual. They smiled, sighing in relief.

She picked up a box near her lap, and opened it to reveal their favorite — Plain white bread with a little butter on it as a treat. She offered one to them, which they bit and ripped with their shark-like teeth like, well, a dog of course. It was soft, buttery, and still warm. Their favorite. What bliss. She fed some to the pups, too. The puppies certainly wolfed it down, making an endearing mess all over the mat, blanket, and their laps. The two could only laugh it off.

After that, they will be the one to walk the dogs. And then perhaps go back to whatever work they have going on. But now, that doesn’t matter. They’re in good company. This mysterious, lovely, alien darling, and the many many lively pups.

It was a good morning… Afternoon, I mean. Godspeed to their sleeping schedule.

[richincolor]

Mid-Autumn and Mooncakes

With the Mid-Autumn Festival coming up at the end of September, mooncakes have been on my mind. Several conversations have revolved around the festival and food in my real life and on social media so I started wondering if there were YA books for that. And yes indeed, here are a few books featuring the moon or mooncakes that I've read or have on my TBR.

Retellings Related to the Moon

An Arrow to the Moon by Emily X.R. Pan Little, Brown Books For Young Readers

Hunter Yee has perfect aim with a bow and arrow, but all else in his life veers wrong. He’s sick of being haunted by his family’s past mistakes. The only things keeping him from running away are his little brother, a supernatural wind, and the bewitching girl at his new high school.

Luna Chang dreads the future. Graduation looms ahead, and her parents’ expectations are stifling. When she begins to break the rules, she finds her life upended by the strange new boy in her class, the arrival of unearthly fireflies, and an ominous crack spreading across the town of Fairbridge.

As Hunter and Luna navigate their families’ enmity and secrets, everything around them begins to fall apart. All they can depend on is their love… but time is running out, and fate will have its way.

Daughter of the Moon Goddess by Sue Lynn Tan Harper Voyager

Growing up on the moon, Xingyin is accustomed to solitude, unaware that she is being hidden from the feared Celestial Emperor who exiled her mother for stealing his elixir of immortality. But when Xingyin’s magic flares and her existence is discovered, she is forced to flee her home, leaving her mother behind.

Alone, powerless, and afraid, she makes her way to the Celestial Kingdom, a land of wonder and secrets. Disguising her identity, she seizes an opportunity to learn alongside the emperor's son, mastering archery and magic, even as passion flames between her and the prince.

To save her mother, Xingyin embarks on a perilous quest, confronting legendary creatures and vicious enemies across the earth and skies. But when treachery looms and forbidden magic threatens the kingdom, she must challenge the ruthless Celestial Emperor for her dream—striking a dangerous bargain in which she is torn between losing all she loves or plunging the realm into chaos.

A captivating debut fantasy inspired by the legend of Chang'e, the Chinese moon goddess, in which a young woman’s quest to free her mother pits her against the most powerful immortal in the realm. Daughter of the Moon Goddess begins an enchanting, romantic duology which weaves ancient Chinese mythology into a sweeping adventure of immortals and magic—where love vies with honor, dreams are fraught with betrayal, and hope emerges triumphant.

Mooncakes 

Mooncakes by Suzanne Walker and Wendy Xu Oni Press [Jessica's Review]

A story of love and demons, family and witchcraft.

Nova Huang knows more about magic than your average teen witch. She works at her grandmothers' bookshop, where she helps them loan out spell books and investigate any supernatural occurrences in their New England town.

One fateful night, she follows reports of a white wolf into the woods, and she comes across the unexpected: her childhood crush, Tam Lang, battling a horse demon in the woods. As a werewolf, Tam has been wandering from place to place for years, unable to call any town home.

Pursued by dark forces eager to claim the magic of wolves and out of options, Tam turns to Nova for help. Their latent feelings are rekindled against the backdrop of witchcraft, untested magic, occult rituals, and family ties both new and old in this enchanting tale of self-discovery.

When You Wish Upon a Lantern by Gloria Chao Viking

Liya and Kai had been best friends since they were little kids, but all that changed when a humiliating incident sparked The Biggest Misunderstanding Of All Time—and they haven’t spoken since.

Then Liya discovers her family's wishing lantern store is struggling, and she decides to resume a tradition she had with her beloved late grandmother: secretly fulfilling the wishes people write on the lanterns they send into the sky. It may boost sales and save the store, but she can't do it alone . . . and Kai is the only one who cares enough to help.

While working on their covert missions, Liya and Kai rekindle their friendship—and maybe more. But when their feuding families and their changing futures threaten to tear them apart again, can they find a way to make their own wishes come true?

Fake Dates and Mooncakes by Sher Lee Underlined

Dylan Tang wants to win a Mid-Autumn Festival mooncake-making competition for teen chefs—in memory of his mom, and to bring much-needed publicity to his aunt’s struggling Chinese takeout in Brooklyn.

Enter Theo Somers: charming, wealthy, with a smile that makes Dylan’s stomach do backflips. AKA a distraction. Their worlds are sun-and-moon apart, but Theo keeps showing up. He even convinces Dylan to be his fake date at a family wedding in the Hamptons.

In Theo’s glittering world of pomp, privilege, and crazy rich drama, their romance is supposed to be just pretend . . . but Dylan finds himself falling for Theo. For real. Then Theo’s relatives reveal their true colors—but with the mooncake contest looming, Dylan can’t risk being sidetracked by rich-people problems.

Can Dylan save his family’s business and follow his heart—or will he fail to do both?

[aslostaszoro]

!!ONE PIECE CHAPTER 1086 SPOILERS!!

So as we know, In film Red it was revealed Shanks is a member of the Figarland family-

In the latest chapter we are met with St. Figarland Garling. Who, in the translated version I found "Was a dominating figure who once distinguished himself at a place called God Valley". This can, of course, be thought of in many different ways. But I beleive he may have been the ruler of God's Valleys before it's end. Why? Its in the name. "Figarland" could also be pronounced as "figure land", a land where something of importance went down or happened. Now, how does he tie in with Shanks?

They both share the same name, and therefore have some sort of blood relevance. Shown in the picture of St. Figarland, you can see him weilding a saber of sorts. Similar to Shanks' weapon. We also learn that he is the supreme commander of the holy knight. Yes, whilst the Celestial Dragons are often shown as brass, snotty and increadibley weak this may be what sets them apart from the family. Which sets be into my next speaking point; Haki/Conquerers Haki.

Of course I won't dive into it too much but C.H is said to be an almost physical representation of a leaders spirit, a conquerers. As a Celestial Dragon, this is extremely apparent. He stands above the holy nights as supreme commander, whilst he also mocks St Donquixote Myosgard for protecting scum lower than him. Showing the beliefs of the harsh and cruel ruling of the WG while also enforcing his own strength.

Shanks stands above his crew as an incredibly strong captain, protecting those weaker than him as if they are his family, which is the complete opposite of his relative. He shows after the Big Mom and Kaido fight as well as against the bandits in the start of the manga that he hates when people try and take advantage of others in a weaker state. I beleive this could be from his upbringing on Roger's crew.

Speaking of Roger, let's go back quickly to the photo last shown, baby Shanks. Shanks is depicted wearing a onesie with stars, moons and suns on it. Garling is shown in this chapter to have a haircut in the shape of a crescent moon, linking back to the outfit. But what about the stars and the moons?

As we take a closer look at this guy we can notice he has oddly shaped spikes in his hair on both sides. But why does this come into play? simple. If you looked at him straight forward his hair would be the shape of a star. So now, how can we incorporate the sun?

Roger's voyage ends with Joyboy's secret and reaching laugh tale. Joyboy is also connected with the Sun God Nika devil fruit. Shanks later in his life meets luffy, who digests the fruit and becomes the next Joyboy. Whilst I'm still trying to figure this part out, pun intended, I can see a very important message being displayed through this.

Hopping back to God Valley we have one massive question, how the hell did Shanks end up there? Maybe it was a family trip or by coincidence. But I don't think we'll be getting answers with this little amount information. Which also bugs me. Around Marineford arc when Shanks drinks with Whitebeard he says he's from the West. Perhaps his family perviously ruled there, ruining my previous statement. But I would like to suggest a different angle.

What if it was an alliance between two nations? an alliance which resulted in the blood of two different families combining into one. Maybe thats why the Figarlands are so highly regarded. It can also help my slowly crumbling theory.

Shanks has been shown to be the complete opposite of his relative as I stated earlier. Perhaps, in an almost ironic way, he would rather pretend he was from a "town in the West Sea". He obviously couldn't say he was from Gods Valley, so that small lie could be manageable.

I'll probably end up editing this or reposting this with more theories if I end up with any more idea's, but thats all for now :)

[galacticsavage-blog]

Our Cosmic Dance

Art by @yhelsstuff

In the sanctum of our shared night, under a canvas stretched wide with the ink of infinity, speckled by the luminescent glow of distant suns, my gaze finds you—a silhouette bathed in the moon's silver grace. It's here, in this consecrated moment, where the universe conspires to etch your form into the constellations, a celestial ode to the female divine.

Your skin, a tapestry of stardust, radiates with the light of countless galaxies, each curve a mystery as profound as the dark side of the moon. The contours of your body, sculpted by the hands of unseen forces, speak of the birth of worlds, of nebulae blossoming into existence at the mere suggestion of your touch.

The gravity of your presence draws me in, an inescapable orbit around the sun of your being. In the luminescence of your eyes, I navigate the depths of the cosmos, discovering not just the brilliance of stars, but the quiet beauty of black holes where all light, all love, finds refuge.

Our union, a dance of celestial bodies tracing orbits in the void, creates a symphony of movements that bends the fabric of space and time. Each sigh, a supernova; every touch, a comet streaking across the firmament of our desires. You are the center of my universe, the black hole at the core of my galaxy, pulling me deeper into the mystery of you.

In the crescendo of our connection, we reach the event horizon, a point of no return where our spirits merge in a blaze of cosmic brilliance. Here, in the sacred geometry of our embrace, you are both the creator and the creation, a universe unto yourself, birthing nebulas of passion with the whisper of your name.

As dawn creeps across the sky, painting the world in hues of awakening, we return from our astral voyage, tethered once more to the realm of earth and air. Yet, the space between us is forever altered, imbued with the stardust of our nocturnal journey, a silent covenant that binds my soul to the celestial masterpiece that is you.

In the quiet aftermath, as we bask in the afterglow of our cosmic ballet, I find solace in the knowledge that within you lies an infinite universe, a realm of beauty and mystery waiting to be explored. Each day with you is a voyage into the heart of that universe, a journey guided by the stars but anchored in the profound gravity of your essence.

Yours, forever orbiting the celestial wonder that is you.

[seoafin]

In the kaleidoscope of sorcerous prowess, Gojo Satoru's eyes emerge as ethereal orbs, a celestial dance of cosmic hues that defy mere mortal description. Deep within the tapestry of his gaze, one discovers the cosmos laid bare—a celestial symphony of azure brilliance, adorned with flecks of stardust that mirror the boundless expanse of the universe. His eyes are gateways to a realm where time itself bows before the unfathomable depths, each glance a cosmic voyage that transcends the mundane.

Yet, within this celestial mosaic, a tempestuous intensity simmers—a tempest of cobalt storms that echo the tumultuous power coursing through his being. Those eyes, twin celestial bodies, hold a paradoxical allure, simultaneously serene and tempestuous, a cosmic ballet of tranquility and unbridled force.

Embodied in those radiant orbs is a testament to the duality of existence, where the serene depths beckon the weary traveler into a cosmic embrace, while the tempestuous currents speak of an indomitable power that surges through the cosmos. In the labyrinth of Gojo Satoru's eyes, one finds the sublime convergence of beauty and might, an astral poetry etched upon the canvas of his very soul.

can you write the next chapter of ddao for me

[hel-the-growl]

Nezha Reborn annotations - Part 3

Part 1｜Part 2

Who is Cai Yun? Monkey explains that she is a disciple of the demoness Shiji. 3000 years ago, 7-year-old Nezha accidentally shot and killed Shiji’s gatekeeper and Caiyun’s sister - Biyun - while playing with the Yellow Emperor Xuanyuan’s Qiankun bow from 1000 miles away. Seeking revenge, Shiji overpowered Nezha before being killed by Nezha’s master Taiyi Zhenren. After her death, she was canonized at the Investiture Altar as Yue Youxingjun (月遊星君 "Star of Moon Voyage"). Apparently Caiyun has held onto that grudge since that day.

Chentang Pass was Nezha’s birthplace and the residence of Nezha’s family. Two treasures - the Qiankun bow and Three Sky-shaking Arrows that the Yellow Emperor Xuanyuan used to kill his rival Chiyou (the Yan Emperor) - were kept there.

The most epic scene.

“But you’re Sun Wukong, the Great Sage who wreaked havoc in heaven”.

It was right here where Wukong obtained his magic staff, Ruyi Jingu Bang. Roughly 2000 years ago, it was sitting in the crystal palace as a piece of scrap metal. Wukong came here to seek the dragon king for a weapon. After none of the celestial weapons satisfied him, the dragon king’s wife suggested that if Wukong could lift the 13500-catty (6.75 tonne) Ruyi Jingu Bang, then it would be his. Not only was Wukong able to pick it up with ease, he could also make it grow and shrink to his command.

The REAL dragon ball.

When Yunxiang tugged on the Ribbon, the earth shook. It is a reference to an incident in IOTG: After taking a dip in a stream, Nezha was drying himself with the Sky Ribbon. Unbeknownst it him, it caused the ground beneath to shake violently each time it touched the water’s surface.

Ao Guang digging into Yunxiang’s guts is also a reference to how Nezha once broke his own bones, slit his belly and gouged out his intestines to appease the dragon king. 

If she’s a doctor, her first instinct should be chest compressions right???

The ribbon encasing Yunxiang like the lotus symbolizing Nezha's rebirth. The visual metaphor is incredible.

These four large triangular flags are nearly always an integral part of Peking opera, used to adorn the performers’ backs. They have their roots in the small flags Chinese generals would use to signal their subordinates. Journey to the West also has its own peking opera play.

Mid credits scene:

The mink is Mo Lishou’s familiar. The other items in the room are Mo Lihai’s pipa, Mo Lihong’s havoc umbrella. Nezha’s wind and fire wheels sit inside the box.

Names from IOTG’s list of gods swirling around the cauldron include Shiji (石矶娘娘), Shentu (神荼), Shen Gongbao (申公豹), Fang Bi (方弼), Jinling Shengmu (金灵圣母), Bo Yikao (伯邑考), Zhao Gongming (赵公明), Li Gen (李艮), Chong Houhu (崇侯虎), Chong Heihu (崇黑虎), Mo Liqing (魔禮青), Mo Lihai (魔禮海), Huang Tianhua (黄天化), Ao Bing etc...

Finally ending in the words “Investiture of the Gods”

Post credits scene:

This is a teaser for the second New Gods instalment - New Gods: Yang Jian.

As Yunxiang rides his motorbike down the street, he is stopped by a white dog. The dog is Xiaotian, and her owner is the formidable three-eyed god, Yang Jian.

Although Yang Jian doesn't end up in Donghai in that movie (yet), Light Chaser did tease an eventual crossover on their youtube channel.

Stay tuned for New Gods: Yang Jian!

Part 1｜Part 2 | New Gods: Yang Jian breakdown

[shanniethewr]

under a moonless night

summary: in a written book, it tells the tales of three glorious adventurers, the two being lovers. together, they face the hurdles of what the world brings them, always coming out as victorious winners. yet in this tale, they fell as defeated, shattered diamonds.

content warning: major character death

pairing: aether x gn!reader lowercase intended + not proofread

extra: i recommend listening to isabella's lullaby while reading!

UNDER A MOONLESS NIGHT

... is where you can find two star-crossed lovers, bathing in the misty night at an abandoned castle. "promise to never leave me?" asked the lover whose eyes glistened in the dim hall where gold decorations faintly shined.

"you're well aware that i can never do that, mon soleil." said the boy with braided golden tresses as he gently swayed you, twirling you around as the long silky fabric that adorned your figure beautifully danced around the two of you, creating an illusion of a celestial dance that came from a fairy tale. from another's eyes, the two star-crossed lovers resembled a diamond carving of two dancers whose brilliance will always shine in the darkest corners of the world.

this world was not their home, and neither was the castle that had long been abandoned for centuries and centuries ago. yet in the premises of its grand structure, the world seemed timeless, as if it was only the two star-crossed lovers against the world.

UNDER A MOONLESS NIGHT

... you can find three adventurers who voyage world to world to find a home, but deep down, they know home isn't a place without the other as their souls had long been connected with a gentle thread that tethers them together.

the strings between the two star-crossed lovers were inevitably stronger, like two ties between two soulmates. the sister who watches the two was ecstatic, her brother was happy with the one he loves and she was grateful that his lover has a good heart, mutually seeing each other as siblings who care for one another like how a sister does to her younger sibling.

"come on now, you know this isn't fair!" came the boy with golden tresses, playfully whining at his lover and sister. in response, the two only laughed as they enjoyed the crêpes in their possessions. "this is what happens when you oversleep brother! come on, we're not leaving this world any time soon, we can get another one tomorrow!"

"she's right, ma lune. we have all the time in our hands! besides, crêpes are a universal food, we can always buy more in the next world." said the lover with a lovely smile as the sister grins, "unless they weren't made yet!"

the boy with golden tresses grumbled before playfully fighting with his sister, this elicited a laugh from three adventurers who voyage world to world. not to search for a new home, but rather, to experience the limitless possibilities with the ones they love together.

UNDER A MOONLESS NIGHT

... where you can find the soleil who settled in the fields of inteyvats, playing with the beautiful flowers of a godless kingdom. truly a sight for sore eyes, warmly thought the traveler as he took in the sight of his lover in the field of flowers as shooting stars flew in the sky.

the sky was bright, as if it wasn't night. truthfully, there was nothing more unearthly than the illogical upbringings of a newfound world, and those were the things that the three adventurers appreciated when traversing through different worlds.

some were common while some were unusual yet struck a cord of a heavenly sensation. they've seen far worse things than the ones they had recently encountered but endured it, hand to hand, with just the three of them against the world.

"why are you just standing there?" you called out with a light chuckle before gesturing the traveler, welcoming him in your quiet space, "come here...

aether!"

like a backlash, time flowed once again yet the clockwork seemed to move faster, resulting in the blur of time in the traveler's perception. aether wanted to move, he had to, yet why did it feel like he had been shackled down by his own torment?

in a written book, the previous chapters were all glorious tales of three adventurers, the two being star-crossed lovers. they travel from world to world where it is just the three of them against any mighty forces they encounter, and in the end, they have always stood victorious.

so why? what had made the author of Destinies so cruel to have the three glorious adventurers separated, stripped of their power, and defeated in the final battle?

aether knew he couldn't do anything, he watches you in frozen terror as your figure dissipates to thin air, leaving behind a trail blue particles, mouthing six words that had shattered his reality beyond repair.

"i'm sorry... i... broke our promise..."

the screams of his sister were silent in his world, he just couldn't grasp the notion of something so unreal, time stopped once more yet the feelings he felt wasn't one of love or happines.

it was of grief and sorrow.

the boy with golden tresses promised to never leave his star-crossed lover, yet the one who left at the end was the lover themselves. what an ironic promise.

— © wr.shannie created on 9.01.23 finished on 9.01.23

do NOT copy or plagiarize my work!!

[inksrepublic]

Ahoy to all One piece lovers comrades, I need your help.

Hi guys, I hope you are having a good day. I'm mainly looking for a couple of beta readers/co-writers or writing buddies for a One piece themed story I'm writing.

Mainly I'm looking for someone to do some healthy world-building with, who can sit down with me and brainstorm intensively and discuss character arcs, plot points and so on. I'm also looking for someone who is good at building and narrating fighting scenes, as there will be quite a few in this story.

Some additional information:

Compared to the canonical work, this story will have somewhat darker tones, with an atmosphere that also draws heavily from the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise.

This is an Oc-centered fic set in a universe where the characters who appeared in the canon series never existed and some events never happened. Some might call it an original story that borrows only elements from One Piece.

Since I think the system created by Oda is quite good, I decided to keep it and expand some elements. I'm referring to groups such as Yonko, Shichibukai, Revolutionary Army, etc.

I have currently written and published well eight chapters of this fanfic reaching 35454 words and a ninth chapter is being written.

Summary: "We didn't understand what we were attracted to until it was before our eyes."

Beyond the Grand Line, one of the world's greatest explorers unearthed something that should never have been found and could have thrown the world into chaos if it had fallen into the wrong hands. However, it seems that he himself went back to erase every trace of his journey, including the way to get there and the location of the treasure itself. Some 20 years later, a pirate with a mysterious past known as "The Devil of the Seas" and his extravagant crew are on the trail of the man and the clues he allegedly left behind before mysteriously vanishing into thin air. What is their purpose? What role does the World Government play with all this? And why are the Celestial Dragons so afraid of it?

In a nutshell, my story is about the incredible and chaotic voyage undertaken by Captain Morgan, or as he is commonly called "The Devil of the Seas," a former rear admiral turned very dangerous pirate and outlaw, in order to find a legendary relic to completely destroy the World Government and the World Nobles system, all the while recruiting a crew of such scoundrels and turning the whole world upside down.

My purpose is also to create with my stories a solid community that is even more passionate about this fantastic work that is One Piece. It would also be cool for multiple authors who are One Piece fans to join together, each creating their own story set in my own universe. We could create spin-offs on various characters, sequels and whatnot. The only limitation would be our imagination.

If you decide to participate and are writing or need a hand with stories themed to One piece or belonging to fandoms such as Pokemon, Yu-Gi-Oh, Bnha, Demon Slayer, Naruto, AC and MCU, I will be very happy to return the favor and give you a hand, feedback or whatever else you need, even becoming a co-writer or writing buddy if you wish.

Dm me for more information.

So come on! Don't be shy and jump aboard!

[hellsitesonlybookclub]

Frankenstein

or

The Modern Prometheus

By Mary Shelley

LETTER I.

To Mrs. Saville, England.

St. Petersburgh, Dec. 11th, 17—.

You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings. I arrived here yesterday; and my first task is to assure my dear sister of my welfare, and increasing confidence in the success of my undertaking.

I am already far north of London; and as I walk in the streets of Petersburgh, I feel a cold northern breeze play upon my cheeks, which braces my nerves, and fills me with delight. Do you understand this feeling? This breeze, which has travelled from the regions towards which I am advancing, gives me a foretaste of those icy climes. Inspirited by this wind of promise, my day dreams become more fervent and vivid. I try in vain to be persuaded that the pole is the seat of frost and desolation; it ever presents itself to my imagination as the region of beauty and delight. There, Margaret, the sun is for ever visible; its broad disk just skirting the horizon, and diffusing a perpetual splendour. There—for with your leave, my sister, I will put some trust in preceding navigators—there snow and frost are banished; and, sailing over a calm sea, we may be wafted to a land surpassing in wonders and in beauty every region hitherto discovered on the habitable globe. Its productions and features may be without example, as the phenomena of the heavenly bodies undoubtedly are in those undiscovered solitudes. What may not be expected in a country of eternal light? I may there discover the wondrous power which attracts the needle; and may regulate a thousand celestial observations, that require only this voyage to render their seeming eccentricities consistent for ever. I shall satiate my ardent curiosity with the sight of a part of the world never before visited, and may tread a land never before imprinted by the foot of man. These are my enticements, and they are sufficient to conquer all fear of danger or death, and to induce me to commence this laborious voyage with the joy a child feels when he embarks in a little boat, with his holiday mates, on an expedition of discovery up his native river. But, supposing all these conjectures to be false, you cannot contest the inestimable benefit which I shall confer on all mankind to the last generation, by discovering a passage near the pole to those countries, to reach which at present so many months are requisite; or by ascertaining the secret of the magnet, which, if at all possible, can only be effected by an undertaking such as mine.

These reflections have dispelled the agitation with which I began my letter, and I feel my heart glow with an enthusiasm which elevates me to heaven; for nothing contributes so much to tranquillise the mind as a steady purpose,—a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye. This expedition has been the favourite dream of my early years. I have read with ardour the accounts of the various voyages which have been made in the prospect of arriving at the North Pacific Ocean through the seas which surround the pole. You may remember, that a history of all the voyages made for purposes of discovery composed the whole of our good uncle Thomas's library. My education was neglected, yet I was passionately fond of reading. These volumes were my study day and night, and my familiarity with them increased that regret which I had felt, as a child, on learning that my father's dying injunction had forbidden my uncle to allow me to embark in a seafaring life.

These visions faded when I perused, for the first time, those poets whose effusions entranced my soul, and lifted it to heaven. I also became a poet, and for one year lived in a Paradise of my own creation; I imagined that I also might obtain a niche in the temple where the names of Homer and Shakspeare are consecrated. You are well acquainted with my failure, and how heavily I bore the disappointment. But just at that time I inherited the fortune of my cousin, and my thoughts were turned into the channel of their earlier bent.

Six years have passed since I resolved on my present undertaking. I can, even now, remember the hour from which I dedicated myself to this great enterprise. I commenced by inuring my body to hardship. I accompanied the whale-fishers on several expeditions to the North Sea; I voluntarily endured cold, famine, thirst, and want of sleep; I often worked harder than the common sailors during the day, and devoted my nights to the study of mathematics, the theory of medicine, and those branches of physical science from which a naval adventurer might derive the greatest practical advantage. Twice I actually hired myself as an under-mate in a Greenland whaler, and acquitted myself to admiration. I must own I felt a little proud, when my captain offered me the second dignity in the vessel, and entreated me to remain with the greatest earnestness; so valuable did he consider my services.

And now, dear Margaret, do I not deserve to accomplish some great purpose? My life might have been passed in ease and luxury; but I preferred glory to every enticement that wealth placed in my path. Oh, that some encouraging voice would answer in the affirmative! My courage and my resolution is firm; but my hopes fluctuate, and my spirits are often depressed. I am about to proceed on a long and difficult voyage, the emergencies of which will demand all my fortitude: I am required not only to raise the spirits of others, but sometimes to sustain my own, when theirs are failing.

This is the most favourable period for travelling in Russia. They fly quickly over the snow in their sledges; the motion is pleasant, and, in my opinion, far more agreeable than that of an English stage-coach. The cold is not excessive, if you are wrapped in furs,—a dress which I have already adopted; for there is a great difference between walking the deck and remaining seated motionless for hours, when no exercise prevents the blood from actually freezing in your veins. I have no ambition to lose my life on the post-road between St. Petersburgh and Archangel.

I shall depart for the latter town in a fortnight or three weeks; and my intention is to hire a ship there, which can easily be done by paying the insurance for the owner, and to engage as many sailors as I think necessary among those who are accustomed to the whale-fishing. I do not intend to sail until the month of June; and when shall I return? Ah, dear sister, how can I answer this question? If I succeed, many, many months, perhaps years, will pass before you and I may meet. If I fail, you will see me again soon, or never.

Farewell, my dear, excellent Margaret. Heaven shower down blessings on you, and save me, that I may again and again testify my gratitude for all your love and kindness.

Your affectionate brother,

R. Walton.

LETTER II.

To Mrs. Saville, England.

Archangel, 28th March, 17—.

How slowly the time passes here, encompassed as I am by frost and snow! yet a second step is taken towards my enterprise. I have hired a vessel, and am occupied in collecting my sailors; those whom I have already engaged, appear to be men on whom I can depend, and are certainly possessed of dauntless courage.

But I have one want which I have never yet been able to satisfy; and the absence of the object of which I now feel as a most severe evil. I have no friend, Margaret: when I am glowing with the enthusiasm of success, there will be none to participate my joy; if I am assailed by disappointment, no one will endeavour to sustain me in dejection. I shall commit my thoughts to paper, it is true; but that is a poor medium for the communication of feeling. I desire the company of a man who could sympathise with me; whose eyes would reply to mine. You may deem me romantic, my dear sister, but I bitterly feel the want of a friend. I have no one near me, gentle yet courageous, possessed of a cultivated as well as of a capacious mind, whose tastes are like my own, to approve or amend my plans. How would such a friend repair the faults of your poor brother! I am too ardent in execution, and too impatient of difficulties. But it is a still greater evil to me that I am self-educated: for the first fourteen years of my life I ran wild on a common, and read nothing but our uncle Thomas's books of voyages. At that age I became acquainted with the celebrated poets of our own country; but it was only when it had ceased to be in my power to derive its most important benefits from such a conviction, that I perceived the necessity of becoming acquainted with more languages than that of my native country. Now I am twenty-eight, and am in reality more illiterate than many schoolboys of fifteen. It is true that I have thought more, and that my day dreams are more extended and magnificent; but they want (as the painters call it) keeping; and I greatly need a friend who would have sense enough not to despise me as romantic, and affection enough for me to endeavour to regulate my mind.

Well, these are useless complaints; I shall certainly find no friend on the wide ocean, nor even here in Archangel, among merchants and seamen. Yet some feelings, unallied to the dross of human nature, beat even in these rugged bosoms. My lieutenant, for instance, is a man of wonderful courage and enterprise; he is madly desirous of glory: or rather, to word my phrase more characteristically, of advancement in his profession. He is an Englishman, and in the midst of national and professional prejudices, unsoftened by cultivation, retains some of the noblest endowments of humanity. I first became acquainted with him on board a whale vessel: finding that he was unemployed in this city, I easily engaged him to assist in my enterprise.

The master is a person of an excellent disposition, and is remarkable in the ship for his gentleness and the mildness of his discipline. This circumstance, added to his well known integrity and dauntless courage, made me very desirous to engage him. A youth passed in solitude, my best years spent under your gentle and feminine fosterage, has so refined the groundwork of my character, that I cannot overcome an intense distaste to the usual brutality exercised on board ship: I have never believed it to be necessary; and when I heard of a mariner equally noted for his kindliness of heart, and the respect and obedience paid to him by his crew, I felt myself peculiarly fortunate in being able to secure his services. I heard of him first in rather a romantic manner, from a lady who owes to him the happiness of her life. This, briefly, is his story. Some years ago, he loved a young Russian lady, of moderate fortune; and having amassed a considerable sum in prize-money, the father of the girl consented to the match. He saw his mistress once before the destined ceremony; but she was bathed in tears, and, throwing herself at his feet, entreated him to spare her, confessing at the same time that she loved another, but that he was poor, and that her father would never consent to the union. My generous friend reassured the suppliant, and on being informed of the name of her lover, instantly abandoned his pursuit. He had already bought a farm with his money, on which he had designed to pass the remainder of his life; but he bestowed the whole on his rival, together with the remains of his prize-money to purchase stock, and then himself solicited the young woman's father to consent to her marriage with her lover. But the old man decidedly refused, thinking himself bound in honour to my friend; who, when he found the father inexorable, quitted his country, nor returned until he heard that his former mistress was married according to her inclinations. "What a noble fellow!" you will exclaim. He is so; but then he is wholly uneducated: he is as silent as a Turk, and a kind of ignorant carelessness attends him, which, while it renders his conduct the more astonishing, detracts from the interest and sympathy which otherwise he would command.

Yet do not suppose, because I complain a little, or because I can conceive a consolation for my toils which I may never know, that I am wavering in my resolutions. Those are as fixed as fate; and my voyage is only now delayed until the weather shall permit my embarkation. The winter has been dreadfully severe; but the spring promises well, and it is considered as a remarkably early season; so that perhaps I may sail sooner than I expected. I shall do nothing rashly: you know me sufficiently to confide in my prudence and considerateness, whenever the safety of others is committed to my care.

I cannot describe to you my sensations on the near prospect of my undertaking. It is impossible to communicate to you a conception of the trembling sensation, half pleasurable and half fearful, with which I am preparing to depart. I am going to unexplored regions, to "the land of mist and snow"; but I shall kill no albatross, therefore do not be alarmed for my safety, or if I should come back to you as worn and woful as the "Ancient Mariner"? You will smile at my allusion; but I will disclose a secret. I have often attributed my attachment to, my passionate enthusiasm for, the dangerous mysteries of ocean, to that production of the most imaginative of modern poets. There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand. I am practically industrious—pains-taking;—a workman to execute with perseverance and labour:—but besides this, there is a love for the marvellous, a belief in the marvellous, intertwined in all my projects, which hurries me out of the common pathways of men, even to the wild sea and unvisited regions I am about to explore.

But to return to dearer considerations. Shall I meet you again, after having traversed immense seas, and returned by the most southern cape of Africa or America? I dare not expect such success, yet I cannot bear to look on the reverse of the picture. Continue for the present to write to me by every opportunity: I may receive your letters on some occasions when I need them most to support my spirits. I love you very tenderly. Remember me with affection, should you never hear from me again.

Your affectionate brother,

Robert Walton.

LETTER III.

To Mrs. Saville, England.

My dear Sister, July 7th, 17—.

I write a few lines in haste, to say that I am safe, and well advanced on my voyage. This letter will reach England by a merchantman now on its homeward voyage from Archangel; more fortunate than I, who may not see my native land, perhaps, for many years. I am, however, in good spirits: my men are bold, and apparently firm of purpose; nor do the floating sheets of ice that continually pass us, indicating the dangers of the region towards which we are advancing, appear to dismay them. We have already reached a very high latitude; but it is the height of summer, and although not so warm as in England, the southern gales, which blow us speedily towards those shores which I so ardently desire to attain, breathe a degree of renovating warmth which I had not expected.

No incidents have hitherto befallen us that would make a figure in a letter. One or two stiff gales, and the springing of a leak, are accidents which experienced navigators scarcely remember to record; and I shall be well content if nothing worse happen to us during our voyage.

Adieu, my dear Margaret. Be assured, that for my own sake, as well as yours, I will not rashly encounter danger. I will be cool, persevering, and prudent.

But success shall crown my endeavours. Wherefore not? Thus far I have gone, tracing a secure way over the pathless seas: the very stars themselves being witnesses and testimonies of my triumph. Why not still proceed over the untamed yet obedient element? What can stop the determined heart and resolved will of man?

My swelling heart involuntarily pours itself out thus. But I must finish. Heaven bless my beloved sister!

R. W.

LETTER IV.

To Mrs. Saville, England.

August 5th, 17—.

So strange an accident has happened to us, that I cannot forbear recording it, although it is very probable that you will see me before these papers can come into your possession.

Last Monday (July 31st), we were nearly surrounded by ice, which closed in the ship on all sides, scarcely leaving her the sea-room in which she floated. Our situation was somewhat dangerous, especially as we were compassed round by a very thick fog. We accordingly lay to, hoping that some change would take place in the atmosphere and weather.

About two o'clock the mist cleared away, and we beheld, stretched out in every direction, vast and irregular plains of ice, which seemed to have no end. Some of my comrades groaned, and my own mind began to grow watchful with anxious thoughts, when a strange sight suddenly attracted our attention, and diverted our solicitude from our own situation. We perceived a low carriage, fixed on a sledge and drawn by dogs, pass on towards the north, at the distance of half a mile: a being which had the shape of a man, but apparently of gigantic stature, sat in the sledge, and guided the dogs. We watched the rapid progress of the traveller with our telescopes, until he was lost among the distant inequalities of the ice.

This appearance excited our unqualified wonder. We were, as we believed, many hundred miles from any land; but this apparition seemed to denote that it was not, in reality, so distant as we had supposed. Shut in, however, by ice, it was impossible to follow his track, which we had observed with the greatest attention.

About two hours after this occurrence, we heard the ground sea; and before night the ice broke, and freed our ship. We, however, lay to until the morning, fearing to encounter in the dark those large loose masses which float about after the breaking up of the ice. I profited of this time to rest for a few hours.

In the morning, however, as soon as it was light, I went upon deck, and found all the sailors busy on one side of the vessel, apparently talking to some one in the sea. It was, in fact, a sledge, like that we had seen before, which had drifted towards us in the night, on a large fragment of ice. Only one dog remained alive; but there was a human being within it, whom the sailors were persuading to enter the vessel. He was not, as the other traveller seemed to be, a savage inhabitant of some undiscovered island, but an European. When I appeared on deck, the master said, "Here is our captain, and he will not allow you to perish on the open sea."

On perceiving me, the stranger addressed me in English, although with a foreign accent. "Before I come on board your vessel," said he, "will you have the kindness to inform me whither you are bound?"

You may conceive my astonishment on hearing such a question addressed to me from a man on the brink of destruction, and to whom I should have supposed that my vessel would have been a resource which he would not have exchanged for the most precious wealth the earth can afford. I replied, however, that we were on a voyage of discovery towards the northern pole.

Upon hearing this he appeared satisfied, and consented to come on board. Good God! Margaret, if you had seen the man who thus capitulated for his safety, your surprise would have been boundless. His limbs were nearly frozen, and his body dreadfully emaciated by fatigue and suffering. I never saw a man in so wretched a condition. We attempted to carry him into the cabin; but as soon as he had quitted the fresh air, he fainted. We accordingly brought him back to the deck, and restored him to animation by rubbing him with brandy, and forcing him to swallow a small quantity. As soon as he showed signs of life we wrapped him up in blankets, and placed him near the chimney of the kitchen stove. By slow degrees he recovered, and ate a little soup, which restored him wonderfully.

Two days passed in this manner before he was able to speak; and I often feared that his sufferings had deprived him of understanding. When he had in some measure recovered, I removed him to my own cabin, and attended on him as much as my duty would permit. I never saw a more interesting creature: his eyes have generally an expression of wildness, and even madness; but there are moments when, if any one performs an act of kindness towards him, or does him any the most trifling service, his whole countenance is lighted up, as it were, with a beam of benevolence and sweetness that I never saw equalled. But he is generally melancholy and despairing; and sometimes he gnashes his teeth, as if impatient of the weight of woes that oppresses him.

When my guest was a little recovered, I had great trouble to keep off the men, who wished to ask him a thousand questions; but I would not allow him to be tormented by their idle curiosity, in a state of body and mind whose restoration evidently depended upon entire repose. Once, however, the lieutenant asked, Why he had come so far upon the ice in so strange a vehicle?

His countenance instantly assumed an aspect of the deepest gloom; and he replied, "To seek one who fled from me."

"And did the man whom you pursued travel in the same fashion?"

"Yes."

"Then I fancy we have seen him; for the day before we picked you up, we saw some dogs drawing a sledge, with a man in it, across the ice."

This aroused the stranger's attention; and he asked a multitude of questions concerning the route which the dæmon, as he called him, had pursued. Soon after, when he was alone with me, he said,—"I have, doubtless, excited your curiosity, as well as that of these good people; but you are too considerate to make enquiries."

"Certainly; it would indeed be very impertinent and inhuman in me to trouble you with any inquisitiveness of mine."

"And yet you rescued me from a strange and perilous situation; you have benevolently restored me to life."

Soon after this he enquired if I thought that the breaking up of the ice had destroyed the other sledge? I replied, that I could not answer with any degree of certainty; for the ice had not broken until near midnight, and the traveller might have arrived at a place of safety before that time; but of this I could not judge.

From this time a new spirit of life animated the decaying frame of the stranger. He manifested the greatest eagerness to be upon deck, to watch for the sledge which had before appeared; but I have persuaded him to remain in the cabin, for he is far too weak to sustain the rawness of the atmosphere. I have promised that some one should watch for him, and give him instant notice if any new object should appear in sight.

Such is my journal of what relates to this strange occurrence up to the present day. The stranger has gradually improved in health, but is very silent, and appears uneasy when any one except myself enters his cabin. Yet his manners are so conciliating and gentle, that the sailors are all interested in him, although they have had very little communication with him. For my own part, I begin to love him as a brother; and his constant and deep grief fills me with sympathy and compassion. He must have been a noble creature in his better days, being even now in wreck so attractive and amiable.

I said in one of my letters, my dear Margaret, that I should find no friend on the wide ocean; yet I have found a man who, before his spirit had been broken by misery, I should have been happy to have possessed as the brother of my heart.

I shall continue my journal concerning the stranger at intervals, should I have any fresh incidents to record.

August 13th, 17—.

My affection for my guest increases every day. He excites at once my admiration and my pity to an astonishing degree. How can I see so noble a creature destroyed by misery, without feeling the most poignant grief? He is so gentle, yet so wise; his mind is so cultivated; and when he speaks, although his words are culled with the choicest art, yet they flow with rapidity and unparalleled eloquence.

He is now much recovered from his illness, and is continually on the deck, apparently watching for the sledge that preceded his own. Yet, although unhappy, he is not so utterly occupied by his own misery, but that he interests himself deeply in the projects of others. He has frequently conversed with me on mine, which I have communicated to him without disguise. He entered attentively into all my arguments in favour of my eventual success, and into every minute detail of the measures I had taken to secure it. I was easily led by the sympathy which he evinced, to use the language of my heart; to give utterance to the burning ardour of my soul; and to say, with all the fervour that warmed me, how gladly I would sacrifice my fortune, my existence, my every hope, to the furtherance of my enterprise. One man's life or death were but a small price to pay for the acquirement of the knowledge which I sought; for the dominion I should acquire and transmit over the elemental foes of our race. As I spoke, a dark gloom spread over my listener's countenance. At first I perceived that he tried to suppress his emotion; he placed his hands before his eyes; and my voice quivered and failed me, as I beheld tears trickle fast from between his fingers,—a groan burst from his heaving breast. I paused;—at length he spoke, in broken accents:—"Unhappy man! Do you share my madness? Have you drank also of the intoxicating draught? Hear me,—let me reveal my tale, and you will dash the cup from your lips!"

Such words, you may imagine, strongly excited my curiosity; but the paroxysm of grief that had seized the stranger overcame his weakened powers, and many hours of repose and tranquil conversation were necessary to restore his composure.

Having conquered the violence of his feelings, he appeared to despise himself for being the slave of passion; and quelling the dark tyranny of despair, he led me again to converse concerning myself personally. He asked me the history of my earlier years. The tale was quickly told: but it awakened various trains of reflection. I spoke of my desire of finding a friend—of my thirst for a more intimate sympathy with a fellow mind than had ever fallen to my lot; and expressed my conviction that a man could boast of little happiness, who did not enjoy this blessing.

"I agree with you," replied the stranger; "we are unfashioned creatures, but half made up, if one wiser, better, dearer than ourselves—such a friend ought to be—do not lend his aid to perfectionate our weak and faulty natures. I once had a friend, the most noble of human creatures, and am entitled, therefore, to judge respecting friendship. You have hope, and the world before you, and have no cause for despair. But I—I have lost every thing, and cannot begin life anew."

As he said this, his countenance became expressive of a calm settled grief, that touched me to the heart. But he was silent, and presently retired to his cabin.

Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does the beauties of nature. The starry sky, the sea, and every sight afforded by these wonderful regions, seems still to have the power of elevating his soul from earth. Such a man has a double existence: he may suffer misery, and be overwhelmed by disappointments; yet, when he has retired into himself, he will be like a celestial spirit, that has a halo around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ventures.

Will you smile at the enthusiasm I express concerning this divine wanderer? You would not, if you saw him. You have been tutored and refined by books and retirement from the world, and you are, therefore, somewhat fastidious; but this only renders you the more fit to appreciate the extraordinary merits of this wonderful man. Sometimes I have endeavoured to discover what quality it is which he possesses, that elevates him so immeasurably above any other person I ever knew. I believe it to be an intuitive discernment; a quick but never-failing power of judgment; a penetration into the causes of things, unequalled for clearness and precision; add to this a facility of expression, and a voice whose varied intonations are soul-subduing music.

August 19. 17—.

Yesterday the stranger said to me, "You may easily perceive, Captain Walton, that I have suffered great and unparalleled misfortunes. I had determined, at one time, that the memory of these evils should die with me; but you have won me to alter my determination. You seek for knowledge and wisdom, as I once did; and I ardently hope that the gratification of your wishes may not be a serpent to sting you, as mine has been. I do not know that the relation of my disasters will be useful to you; yet, when I reflect that you are pursuing the same course, exposing yourself to the same dangers which have rendered me what I am, I imagine that you may deduce an apt moral from my tale; one that may direct you if you succeed in your undertaking, and console you in case of failure. Prepare to hear of occurrences which are usually deemed marvellous. Were we among the tamer scenes of nature, I might fear to encounter your unbelief, perhaps your ridicule; but many things will appear possible in these wild and mysterious regions, which would provoke the laughter of those unacquainted with the ever-varied powers of nature:—nor can I doubt but that my tale conveys in its series internal evidence of the truth of the events of which it is composed."

You may easily imagine that I was much gratified by the offered communication; yet I could not endure that he should renew his grief by a recital of his misfortunes. I felt the greatest eagerness to hear the promised narrative, partly from curiosity, and partly from a strong desire to ameliorate his fate, if it were in my power. I expressed these feelings in my answer.

"I thank you," he replied, "for your sympathy, but it is useless; my fate is nearly fulfilled. I wait but for one event, and then I shall repose in peace. I understand your feeling," continued he, perceiving that I wished to interrupt him; "but you are mistaken, my friend, if thus you will allow me to name you; nothing can alter my destiny: listen to my history, and you will perceive how irrevocably it is determined."

He then told me, that he would commence his narrative the next day when I should be at leisure. This promise drew from me the warmest thanks. I have resolved every night, when I am not imperatively occupied by my duties, to record, as nearly as possible in his own words, what he has related during the day. If I should be engaged, I will at least make notes. This manuscript will doubtless afford you the greatest pleasure: but to me, who know him, and who hear it from his own lips, with what interest and sympathy shall I read it in some future day! Even now, as I commence my task, his full-toned voice swells in my ears; his lustrous eyes dwell on me with all their melancholy sweetness; I see his thin hand raised in animation, while the lineaments of his face are irradiated by the soul within. Strange and harrowing must be his story; frightful the storm which embraced the gallant vessel on its course, and wrecked it—thus!