#Somnus System

[the-omega-artist]

Hide and seek is so so so so fun and you should totally play it with your local funtime animatronic

[elixirpatch]

Mainly wanted to experiment something and just draw something, so I chose @the-omega-artist 's confetti psycho bear: Tanjoubi!

[anijay]

I said it once, and I'll say it again...

I LOVE THIS GIRL'S DESIGN

This lovely lass (Juno) belongs to @the-omega-artist :)

[grimoirguestbook]

Here he is! He had a lovely time at daycare, had some crackers for snack time. He didn't want to nap so we just let him watch nature documentaries in the meantime while we waited for everybody else to wake up

it was an absolute pleasure to watch him :)

Do YOU!

yes YOU!

Want a FREE doodle of your ORIGINAL CHARACTER????

Well then bucko drop them on this post like a little character daycare and i will have them looking- maybe spiffy maybe not no guarantees- BUT AN ATTEMPT WILL BE MADE

I've found myself in the trap of drawing the same characters and expressions and such so i want to branch out and explore styles and different character types and all that so i figure why not give people free drawings while I'm at it :)

(please keep in mind that this IS for practice so please don't expect the mona lisa ;~:)

If there's anything you don't want me doing with your character just let me know, I don't draw anything suggestive so no need to worry about that👍

[holyguardian]

They had both sworn Aster was the cutest newborn, just perfect. But looking back it was obvious that she - like any other baby - had grown into something much more adorable and chubby a few months later. Little hands sought for Aerith's fingers, plapping them as Aster tried to babble after the melody of a song Aerith often hummed. Their daughter looked a lot like Somnus, but the mischief and sass that already shone through was unmistakably Aerith's. And in a few moments the baby would decide the small battle that had grown between the parents. Plapping Aerith's hands some more, before Aster smiled up brightly at Aerith, reaching out for her as if she wanted to be picked up for a cuddle. "Mmamamama..."

It was true, their little Aster looked just like Somnus — right down to her defiant fluff of dark hair that refused to be tamed. Her father could use his gels and his combs to slick back his unruly flicks of hair, but every morning? Like father, like daughter, wild-haired and sleepy eyed.

The mischief and sass though? If she had anything to say about it, that was all Somnus too. She teased that he didn't have to pretend otherwise, that Aster was his little clone.

It was in the early afternoon when Aerith hummed a familiar lullaby. Perhaps their chubby little whirlwind would grace them with a nap. Perhaps she would inexplicably gain more and more energy as the day went on. It was honestly between Aster and the gods.

The smile on her face was a soft and easy one. In the grand scheme of things it didn't matter to her whether Aster quietened for a rest or scooted around to test every single nook and cranny of their home to find the one spot that hadn't quite been baby proofed enough. Sunshine or rain, she loved their little one with her full heart. Her entire world had shifted from the very first moment she held Aster in her arms. She was a little less selfish. A little more mature. And her emotions became something she embraced more, rather than try to hide or mask.

So when Aster looked at her so brightly, her little hand grabbing all over her fingers, then reached up to her with a babbled string of "mmamamama", Aerith felt a crashing wave of happiness and pride. "Oh!" she exclaimed out loud, surprised, touched, on the verge of sappy tears as she plucked her daughter up.

"Oh sweetheart, oh my darling girl —" Aerith kissed all over Aster's face and cuddled her in close when she smartly dropped her head to try hide. "Oh. You're a heartbreaker just like your mother. Your father's going to be devastated — he doesn't get to have everything you know, thankyou for putting him in his place!"

[charlie-rulerofhell]

Somnus donum deorum

{got inspired by this post. and then also by this one, because how could you not? (happy belated birthday, @bad-system, or something). enjoy!}

* * *

It might have been the song of the blackbird right outside on the window sill that woke him up. Usually, she would come with the first rays of sunlight, sitting there, her face lifted up to the sky as if she was bathing in the morning's warmth. Hans liked to watch her for a while, a few steps away so he wouldn't scare her. Admire the way the orange light made her feathers glow like coal harbouring the remnants of a fire, listen to her song that, at least to him, spoke of joy and ease and freedom.

She was a little early today. The sun hadn't quite risen high enough to paint the sky in anything but a dark, royal blue. The white lilac bush over at the training ground was still spreading its sweet, beguiling scent as strongly as it only did at night, to lure in all kinds of insects. And rightfully so. Hans might as well have been a butterfly himself because the way that smell alone mesmerised him and drew him outside every day was bordering on witchcraft.

He quickly made the sign of the cross at the thought, then he washed it away with a firm shake of the head, before lifting his legs out of the bed. The darkness didn't bother him. He had gone to bed early, had rested well, and now the world outside was smelling fantastically, the air was warm enough despite the time of day, his blackbird was singing, and not a single soul would be around! No better way to start into a new morning.

Hans only put on his boots when he stood outside on the bal­cony that reached around the southern side of the Devil's Den. He always did this, as not to wake up Henry who liked to sleep a little longer than him, if their plans for the day allowed it. Al­though Hans doubted that anything could rip Henry from his dreams, really. There were only two ways in which the black­smith's night would unfold. Either he slept soundly and peace­fully, often with a soft smile on his face that Hans admittedly liked to stare at a little longer than necessary. Or he was trou­bled by nightmares. In both scenarios it was almost impossible to get him to wake up early. Hans had tried both, and he hated both equally. Ripping Henry out of a nightmare meant seeing him in pain, meant holding and rocking and caressing him like a child until the illusion faded and reality came creeping back on him. Ripping Henry out of a good night's rest, on the other hand, was always attached to an unexpected catastrophe – be­ing surprised by a sinister thunderstorm when they were ma­king camp outside, or by a sudden attack of their enemies.

Today there were no enemies and no thunderstorms, and, from what Hans could tell in the fuzziness of the darkness, no nightmares either. He still took his usual precautions when sneaking out, as he always did. Better safe than sorry.

The lowest floor of the Devil's Den was unusually cold, with the fires having burned down a while ago and the sun not ha­ving climbed high enough yet to warm the rooms up. There was the faintest flicker of a light in the common room, perhaps from the embers in the fireplace still glowing, or the sun was rising earlier than Hans had expected. He paid it no more thought and made his way into the kitchen instead. The coo­king pot was still half-filled with last night's stew, and it smelled delicious of cabbage, carrots, bacon and white wine, but Hans wasn't in the mood for a cold soup and didn't want to waste time heating it up either. Just some spiced bread and hard cheese then, and a bowl of blueberries and butter on porridge. Quite the feast!

Hans was happy with himself when he brought his little trea­sure over to the common room. Only to get stopped dead in his tracks immediately. He had been wrong, he could see that now. The light didn't come from the fireplace, and the sun hasn't been showing itself either. Instead, the source was a single candle burning on one of the tables, half-covered by a green-clad man brooding in front of it.

A dozing green-clad man, that was. Samuel's neck was bent, his chin resting on his chest, and Hans wondered how long he could uphold this position before he just crashed down comple­tely, right into the candle flame.

He hesitated for a short moment. The urge to turn on his heel and take his food outside was strong, but Henry's words from the other day were still echoing through his mind like a priest's reproachful sermon. You could at least try getting along with him! He is my brother, you know, the only family I really have. Ugh, fine then.

Hans walked up to the table and made sure to put the plate and bowl down as loudly as he could. Sam's head snapped up, and for a brief moment he looked around himself like a chased deer, unsure where the arrow shot came from. Then his eyes found Hans. They looked especially bright today, coated with a glazed shimmer, especially narrow and the rings below them were especially huge and dark. “I'm awake,” he mumbled. He wanted to seem strong and alert. He was anything but. “I'm awake.”

“I can see that.” Hans stepped over the bench to let himself sink down at the table on the opposite side. “But you shouldn't be. The sun hasn't even come up yet. You should be in bed.”

Sam's eyes got a little narrower still, if that was even possi­ble. “So should you.”

“You know I like to wake up early. Get some fresh air into my lungs before this place starts filling up with nothing but male sweat.” He scrunched his nose thinking about it. The stench was especially bad when Hans came back from a trip to the forest or a visit to the baths. At least it got more bearable the longer the evening progressed. The more drunk he got. “You, however. I don't think I remember ever seeing you sleep in your room up there.”

“Is that a thing for you? Do you enjoy watching other people sleep?”

“It's not like I was asking for it. But well, you happen to share a room with Brabant, and every time I go up there to pay him a visit, your bed is empty.”

Sam shrugged his shoulders. “And there is the first problem already. Can you really expect me to sleep in one room with that blabbering French man?”

“He's too loud for you? Hm, I can see that.” It was a pity, Hans thought. No one here seemed to get along with Brabant all that well, and they were truly missing out on a lot of fun! And on a skilled tongue that could be put to some other good use than just talking. Hans took a spoonful of porridge and ber­ries. “You know, I never had a problem with him. So if that's all it is, I can just arrange for us to swap rooms. I sleep with Brabant, you move in with Henry.”

“And separate the two of you?”

Hans grinned cynically, blueberry mush between his teeth. “The things you'd do for a friend.”

“You two would be insufferable if I were to keep you from spending every waking and not-waking moment together.”

“Look.” Henry's words from Nebakov and Trosky and on the road from Rattay came back to him, every I care about you, and every More than you can understand. Oh, you big oaf, if only you understood! He swallowed the porridge down in one single gulp that it hurt in his throat. “As much as it pains me to admit it, but I'm not the only one Henry cares about. Actually, I know for a fact that he cares about you, too. A lot. So I doubt he would have a problem with it.”

“He may not, but you would. How do you think you could survive without your personal page helping you into your socks and braies in the morning?”

The frustration he had felt over Henry before, quickly turned to anger. “Well, I wouldn't have offered it, if it were a problem for me. And believe it or not, but I manage on my own just fine, thank you very much. I can prove it to you, if you want. I'll go up and ask Henry right now.”

Samuel took a deep breath and placed his head in his hands. Candle light reflected on the sapphire ring on his middle finger, made it shimmer like a lake in summer. “Let him sleep.”

“Alright, but I'll ask him as soon as he gets down here for breakfast.”

“We do not have the time for such unnecessary details like who sleeps with whom in which room.”

Hans raised the wooden spoon like Hanush used to raise his finger when he was scolding him. “Sleep isn't an unnecessary detail!”

“Please, let it be, Hans.”

Hans fell silent for a short while, his brow furrowed. He shoved another bite of porridge into his mouth, then took a bite of the bread. Samuel was stubborn about this whole topic, a little too stubborn for Hans's taste. He grabbed a single blue­berry from the top of the bowl and turned it between his fin­gers. In the right lighting it almost looked just like Sam's sap­phire. Hans's eyes widened as he understood. “It's not about Brabant, is it? You were just looking for an excuse!”

Sam's face was still hidden behind his hands, but Hans no­ticed how his fingers seemed to press into his skin a little bit firmer. “It is true that I cannot stand him.”

“Fair enough, but this here has nothing to do with him. It's you. You cannot sleep. Or you don't want to.”

“Sleep is a waste of time.”

“A waste of time?” Hans gesticulated so wildly with the spoon, that it turned into a trebuchet, catapulting porridge onto the bench next to him. He would have to wipe it away later, Hans thought, knowing very well that he'd have forgotten about it in another moment or two. Nice surprise for the next person coming down here to eat. “Getting some rest is a waste of time? Clearing your mind,” he leaned forward, knocking against Sam's temple with the knuckles of the fingers still hol­ding the blueberry, “every once in a while is a waste of time?”

“Take your hand off me!”

“Taking your beauty sleep so you don't look like forty with merely twenty, also a waste of time? Soon enough, no woman in the whole land will fancy you anymore because they only see their own grandfather in you, trust me!”

Sam let out a contemptuous hiss through his teeth. “I could not care less about that.”

“And no man.”

He took his hands down, giving him a venomous look, the corners of his full lips drooping so far that he looked like a very tired carp. “Could not care less about that either.”

“What about dreams? With all the shit we have to go through, isn't it such a pleasure to just vanish into the sweet realm of dreams at night?”

“The realm of dreams can kish mir in tuches.”

Hans nodded slowly. “Nightmares. They trouble Henry, too.” No blood relation in any way, never even meeting in twenty years, and yet it surprised him time and time again how similar they were to each other.

Sam sighed in exasperation, his rings clinked on the table as he placed his flat hands down on it with emphasis. It was clear that the topic of nightmares was one he already regretted ever hinting on. “I can use the time otherwise. For studying for ex­ample, or thinking about our next steps, or gathering supplies which we clearly need.”

“Or you could do all of that during the day.”

“At night, at least no one is annoying me with senseless questioning.”

“Hm.” Hans ripped off a piece of bread and dropped it into the porridge, watching it float there for a while. “This is mad. Nightmares or not, but I've never seen a man so vehemently refusing something as vital as sleep!”

“It's not like I am refusing it, it's more that …” He stopped himself before the words could leave his mouth, but it was too late. He seemed to understand that, too, from the surprised look Hans gave him, because his priorly angry expression turned into one of surrender. “Yes. It is sleep that is refusing me.”

“You … You have trouble falling asleep?”

“Well, I just don't. I cannot. I lie awake, turn from one side to the other, and nothing happens. My thoughts are racing. And I do not know how to quiet them down.”

“Are you worried?”

“Of course I am!” Sam seemed to have talked himself in a fury now, the words came running out of him like water from a well. Unusual, Hans thought, but good. Needed. “We have made ourselves some very powerful enemies. And that khazer von Bergow is still hiding out there in Maleshov. My people are in Kolín, in exile, without me. I used to be the one to look out for them, and now it is all up to my zeyde.”

“You feel responsible?”

“How should I not?”

“You …” Hans stirred the porridge absentmindedly, making it swallow the bread whole. No related blood either, never mee­ting in twenty years, the only thing connecting them being one single man they both held dearly, and yet his words, the pain in his voice were all too familiar. “You feel guilty about what hap­pened in Kuttenberg.”

“It is more than just a feeling.” Sam went quiet for a while and Hans didn't dare to interrupt him. Outside the Devil's Den, the blackbird had long finished her morning song. Others had picked up the tune for her, sparrows and finches and doves. “Liechtenstein came to us for a reason.” His voice was so low and raw now, broken from sadness and self-loathing. “I was already involved with a revolt against Sigismund before I ever met him. I was convinced it was the right thing to do. But now where has it led us? So many of us have died. Our quarter is burned down, our shul. I was the one to burn it down.”

“To protect your people.”

“After having brought this brokh upon them in the first place.”

Hans wanted to reach out his hand and comfort him. Place it upon Sam's, or give him a reassuring pat on the arm at least. In­stead he pushed the wooden bowl with the porridge and berries over to him with a broad smile. “If people are so eager to hurt you once you only give them the tiniest reason for it, then they have wanted to do it the whole time. It was not about your involvement with Liechtenstein, and not even about the revolt you planned. It was … a way more deep-seated hatred, sadly. They had never accepted you. They merely tolerated you for the time it took them to find an excuse so they could let their hatred loose. It was never in your hands.”

Another deep breath, a cautious bite on one single berry. The sap­phire did not only reflect the light of the candle now but the one of a newly risen sun, too. It looked brighter in a way, less like a deep lake and more like the midday sky. “And how should knowing this help me sleep?”

Hans put a piece of cheese into his mouth, thought it through. No way a man could truly live without sleep forever! Only today when he had entered this room he had found Sa­muel sleeping, albeit only lightly. But still, it was possible. So there had to be a way to give him this much-needed rest by force. “You don't only have this problem ever since … well, what happened in the Jewish quarter, right?”

“No. I couldn't sleep well before that either.”

“So what did you do back then? Clearly you must have had something to help you! You cannot have survived without sleep for all this time.”

“I had this concoction that would help me fall asleep.”

“Great!” Hans felt his mood brighten up immediately toge­ther with the sun at his back. “Why don't you use it anymore?”

“I had to leave it behind when we fled.”

“Worry not, dear friend!” Hans threw the spoon into the porridge, and lifted himself off the bench, then he reached out and touched Sam by the arm, only to pull his hand back imme­diately as if he had burned himself, after one look into Sam's face. A little too much vigour, perhaps. “I will go there right now and look for it.”

“That won't be of any use. Even if it survived the raid, I only had a few of these potions left. And I did not make them my­self, so I would not know how to brew new ones.”

“Who made them then?”

“A friend of mine. The cartographer Blasius de Petragna. But if he was smart enough, and I know he is, he left the city after the attack on our people.”

“We need to find something else then.” Hans looked over to the window while his mind started wandering again. On the white lilac bush, a very special cuckoo had taken a seat, clearly overshadowing all the other minstrels with his monotonous song. Voices could be heard above them, followed closely by footsteps. The cuckoo's minnesang seemed to have found its audience. “Henry knows his way around potions. And so does Katherine, I believe.”

Up in one of the higher floors, wood collided with wood. “Give me my damn crossbow, Žižka,” the Devil snarled like a wolf, “I'm gonna shoot that fucking bird!”

“No, you will fucking not!”

Sam let out a snorting laugh. “Ay. Sounds like I'm not the only one scorned by a good sleep today.”

“You know what?” Hans twirled back around to him with a wicked grin that made Sam raise his eyebrows in confusion. “Let's ask all of them! This pack must be good for something, right? I am certain one of them will know a remedy for your suffering!”

* * *

The moment Henry entered the common room this morning, he could tell that something was off. If it were anyone else, it might have been the fact that the rest of the pack seemed to be gathered for some kind of private meeting, positioned in a cir­cle that resembled a misshapen raisin more than a perfectly rounded melon. Or how the two of them were sitting next to each other with an empty plate and an empty bowl in front of them, Hans grinning like a madman, Sam looking as if there was no place he'd more hate to be right now. But it was no one else. It was Hans and Sam, and so the first thing that told him something wasn't right here was the sheer fact that they were sitting peacefully next to each other at all.

“So, sadly,” Hans continued his speech from before that Henry seemed to have missed the first part of, “we do not have that concoction that Sam used to take here right now.”

Henry took his place somewhere at the butt of the raisin, be­tween Godwin and Katherine. The questioning look he gave the priest was answered by a clueless shrug.

“And since his cartographer friend, Blasius de Patronka …”

“Petragna,” Sam interrupted drily.

“Yes, or that. Well, this guy got it for him. So, we don't know what he put inside, only that it was the strongest and fas­test way to knock a man out. However, I am sure that one of you knows another solution. We're all clever fellas here, eh?”

Henry leaned closer to Katherine. “Who wants to knock whom out?”

“Sam has trouble sleeping,” Katherine whispered back. “Hans wants to help him fix that.”

“That is,” Henry furrowed his brow while he was looking for a fitting word, “surprisingly kind of him.”

“Well,” Kubyenka burst out, “I can tell you what my sleep concoction is!” He raised his right hand and the mug he held in it, that was clearly filled with nothing but plain ale. “Some good, strong booze!”

“I can agree with that.” Next to Henry, Godwin took a sip from his own mug. “The right nightcap can do wonders.”

Sam seemed to be crumbling in on himself even more, like a pie taken out of the oven too late. “Rather not. Alcohol tends to have … some unwanted effects on me.”

From the other side of their raisin, Adder babbled something in Polish.

“Adder say he never go to bed without nice fuck,” Janosh translated.

“But we only have one woman here.” The Devil gave Kathe­rine a disgusting, lustful look. “And I doubt Katherine wants to be handed around like a common whore.”

“You assume correctly,” Katherine replied piqued, before she regarded Sam with a more friendly smile. “No offense to you, Sam.”

“Ah oui oui,” Brabant stepped forward now, raising one hand in an expansive gesture, “mais peut-être we can find a woman that truly is ah … du métier? A ah … a prostitute?”

Little brother or not, Henry could feel anger boil in his sto­mach, and he clenched his hands into fists. “Hold up now. I will not go out and find wenches for my brother, and neither should any of you! If Sam feels like he is in need of something of that sort, he can find it on his own.”

Sam agreed with a silent, thankful nod.

“Besides,” Katherine added with an irritated sigh, “I don't understand how we went from a medically brewed concoction to alcohol and sex so quickly!”

Next to her, Žižka shrugged his shoulders. “That's what hap­pens when you surround yourself with men who all prefer other body parts over their brains for thinking.”

“Sadly.”

“Ha, I have an idea!” Hans got so excited that he jumped off the bench for a brief moment, bringing his left hand down on Sam's back. Sam flinched from the sudden touch, his eyes widening a bit, but he stayed silent. “Once, I was on a long walk through nature, as one does, when suddenly I stumbled across this field. It was filled with poppies all over! And be­cause it was such a sunny and warm day, I lay down there and made myself a bed in the middle of those flowers. I never fell asleep that quickly!”

“Hm.” Katherine folded her arms in front of her chest as she thought about it. “It's true, poppies can help against restless­ness. And so can valerian and lavender.”

“Not quite so medical,” Godwin now proposed, “but I knew a woman once, blessed be her soul, who loved to fall asleep to me playing the lute.”

Žižka raised his scarred eyebrow. “You can play the lute?”

“I have a lot of secret talents.” He gave Žižka a crooked smile, that only the two of them seemed to understand. “In any case, it was always either that or me talking softly to her for the whole evening. It lulled her in just fine.”

“For me, the opposite always proved to be more effective,” Žižka countered. “The best sleep I have is after some proper physical exhaustion. Some good, tiring combat training.”

Adder uttered something in Polish, that Henry didn't under­stand much of, other than that he seemed to agree, at least to the physical exhaustion part.

“I'm afraid that if we let the boy train with you in this state,” Godwin's gaze wandered from Sam's tired face to Žižka, res­ting on the rolled up sleeves and Žižka's half-bare arms a little too long, “you'd just crush his skull in.”

“Not that bad of an idea now, is it?” The Devil showed his teeth in a growling laugh. “Give him a good whack on the nog­gin, at least that will take him out.”

Katherine covered her face with her hands in a matter of to­tal disappointment. She seemed to be losing not only her pa­tience but also sanity here. “Can we please take this seriously for just one moment, please?”

“Janosh could cook!” Janosh now blurt out on the other side of the raisin. “Good meal, chopped liver in sauce of the red wine, roasted turnip, and Janosh favourite of course, big fat sausage.”

Sam scrunched up his nose as if he had just stepped into an outhouse that hadn't been cleaned in years. “Forgive me, fraynd, but I would rather refuse that offer. Besides, from what I know from my mame, it is supposed to be small meals that will help you find rest. Like hassa for example, lettuce.”

Janosh's mustache danced as his expression twisted into one of confusion. “Want Janosh cook lettuce for you?”

Henry decided that he had heard enough. While the others still threw around their wild suggestions, he stepped forward quietly, walking up to Hans and bowing down so he could whisper into his ear without the others listening. “I will leave, and I might be gone for the rest of the day. But I need you here. You have to keep those idiots from dragging Sam into anything dangerous, yes?”

“Wait, where will you be going?”

He gave Hans a smile, and it felt way too soft, and Hans's eyes were way too close and they sparkled way too brightly, and Henry did the only sensible thing and brought down a firm hand on Hans's shoulder, like a pal would do. “Trying to find the one thing that might actually help him.”

* * *

Henry tried the Jewish quarter first, but of course half the houses there were plundered or burned down, and every Jew who had found time and strength had joined them when they had fled the city. In front of a shed that consisted of nothing but a front wall, he found an old man sitting on a barrel, his long, thin, naked legs stretched out, soaking in the sunlight. He looked like someone who had been sitting on this same barrel for the last three decades, and who wouldn't even dream about going anywhere else in the time he had left.

“Morning!” Henry greeted him with a wave of his hand. “I am looking for someone. Perhaps you can help me.”

“I am not buying anything,” the old man croaked with a voice like screeching metal.

“Oh, I do not want to sell you anything, I just need to find someone.”

“You cannot fine me!” He pressed his pale eyes together like a stubborn child. “I do not have any money!”

“No, I am looking for someone!” Henry tried his hardest to pronounce every word as clearly as possible. “A man. He used to live here.”

“Oh, I have lived here for a long time, son. Eighty-five years this coming winter.”

“A man, I am looking for a man.” If he spoke any slower and louder he might as well try his luck at becoming a church bell. “He is a cartographer.”

“A carter? You need someone to drag your cart for you?”

“No, a cartographer. Someone … someone who draws maps.”

The old man bit his thin bottom lip with a grin and fluttered his lashes. “Oh, that's a nice offer, but I think you are a little too old for me.”

After the Jewish quarter, Henry's path led him over to the mar­ket street. The merchants there weren't of much help either, with most of them coming from areas outside the city, and the ones who seemed to know their way around Kuttenberg, had no interest in helping him out if he didn't buy something in return.

And then there were the ones who did know Blasius de Pe­tragna, but weren't all too eager to talk about him. In fact, most of them didn't have much else to spare for Petragna than a curse and a spit to the ground. “Still owes me big, that smug prick!” someone scolded, and another asked Henry to “Give the man a nice arse kicking and perhaps a kick in the balls, too” if he happened to find him.

So he tried his luck with the beggars on the side of the road, but he could have just as well asked the pigeons about it. “I am looking for a man,” he told one young woman. “He draws …”

She twisted her chapped lips disparagingly. “Do I look like I know me some painter? The shitter I live in don't even have paint on the walls!”

“No, he's no painter. He draws maps.”

“Maps? What'd I need a map for? Wanna find me way home, I just follow the stench.”

Then he saw a man sitting on the edge of the fountain at the Oat Market who actually looked promising, in his fine, em­broidered clothes, but that hope, too, evaporated as quickly as the smoke of a boomstick. “Excuse me, Sir. I am looking for a man called Blasius de Petragna.”

The man smoothed his long, black hair back in a complacent gesture. “Gesundheit.”

“Blasius de Petragna,” Henry tried again. “Ever heard of him?”

“Ich treibe mich nicht mit Gesindel herum.”

“Blasius de Petragna.”

The young gentleman got rather peeved now for some rea­son. “Du willst, dass ich dir einen blase?” His voice took on the high pitch of a wild boar in rut. “Belästige wen anders damit!”

“Bla-Suus De Pe-Trac-Neh.”

“Sag mal, was ist dein scheiß Problem?”

Henry took a deep breath, then he shook his head, finally gi­ving up. “Ah, never mind.”

He would have loved to believe that it was his still ongoing search for information that guided him to the Emperor Charles tavern afterwards, but he knew all too well that it was nothing but his growing frustration and with it the strong need for a cold mug of beer.

It was only afternoon, the sun hadn't set yet, and so the ta­vern was almost entirely empty. A young couple had taken their seats outside, their hands occasionally reaching out for each other in touches light as feathers while they talked and laughed and shared a bottle of sweet summer wine. Inside, only two ta­bles were taken, one closer to the entrance door, where three men were gathered, miners judging by their clothes and the sweat and dirt stains on them. One of them seemed a little too drunk for this time of day, and he recited fairy tales to the others with the wildest gestures as if he was secretly a trained mummer. The occupied other table was the one in the far back end of the common room, where one single man sat in complete silence, a stark contrast to the three miners, both in his behaviour and in his expensive, colourful clothes. His right hand, covered in a thick leather glove despite the heat, was wrapped around his beer, but his head was lowered forward as if he was sleeping, his dark curls hiding his face both from the daylight and from any curious looks.

Henry ordered a beer, and chose a table closer to the slee­ping man to not be bothered by the miner's play. He needed to think. Poppies and valerian and lavender, Katherine had said, and it was true, all three could have a soporific effect, he had read about it in some book, the Liber de cultura hortum per­haps, or Hildegard von Bingen's Physica. But how could he brew them together to get a potion that would knock someone out like this other one had? He had experience with all sorts of alchemy, but a sleeping concoction? That one was new. And it needed to be strong. As awkward as Sam had seemed to feel this morning when Hans had told the whole Devil's pack about his struggles, his inability to find sleep had been no secret to them, and much less to Henry, who had kept an especially close eye on Sam. To be gifted a brother at the age of twenty was rare, and above that, such a little fucker who had schemed and threatened and begged his way into Henry's heart? He would make sure to protect him from any harm with all his might. Only why Sam had surrounded himself with such strange indi­viduals who were completely unknown to one part of society and hated by the other? Not that it surprised Henry, really, but it complicated matters drastically.

“Fancy a game of dice, boy?”

Henry jumped at the sudden sound to his left. He hadn't no­ticed that the lonesome nobleman had waken from his slumber, or perhaps he hadn't been sleeping at all, had just sat and wai­ted and watched. His amber coloured eyes showed no sign of tiredness, were rather glistening with curiosity and wit. His deep blue coat was hanging loosely from one of his shoulders, though not by accident it seemed, because this way it revealed the sword he had placed next to him, leaning against the bench. A magnificent weapon, from what Henry could tell, the blade covered in a leather scabbard that bore some coat of arms he couldn't quite place.

“So? Do you play or not?”

A foreign accent, and his looks weren't Czech either, Henry realised. Hungarian maybe?

“Sprichst du kein Tschechisch? An fortasse Latine?”'

“No, I understand you.” Henry shook his head, dragging himself out of his stare. “I understand you rather well.”

“Beautiful.” The stranger smiled, and his eyes glistened even more mischievously. “A round of farkle then?”

“I'm afraid I don't have the time. I am actually looking for someone.”

“Oh?” He raised a full brow, opened his mouth in mocking surprise. “That sounds urgent.”

“It is.” Henry took a deep breath. “Quite.”

“What about you play with me and I help you with that search?”

Henry couldn't tell what it was. The sparkle in the stranger's eyes, the smug grin under his nicely combed mustache. Or simply the fact that he had met enough cunning arseholes in his life to know when someone was toying with him. “I haven't had too much success with the search so far,” Henry just said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It's a kind offer, Sir, but I doubt you'll be able to achieve more.”

“Oh, but I have a lot of well-informed contacts, you see? And much knowledge myself.” His right hand briefly touched the money bag on his belt, then it rested on the handle of his sword. If Henry could only recognise the crest. “What about I'll play you for coin. And you play me for information.”

“Doesn't sound much like a fair game to me.”

“I suppose that depends on how badly you need to find this person. How much that person is worth to you.”

Blasius de Pretagna? Henry thought bitterly. After today's search, not even a tinker's curse. Samuel on the other hand? There was little he wouldn't do for that fool. “Fine. I'll bet twenty groschen.”

“Only twenty? So your search for them can not be nearly as urgent as I thought it was.”

“Well, how much do you think I should bet?” Henry could feel himself growing impatient with this guy. There was some­thing about him that intrigued him, too, but if there was one thing he despised more than anything else it was to be used, and in this case to even have his love for his brother used against him. “Two hundred?”

“That sounds more reasonable.”

“Are you mad? You're a real crook, aren't you?”

“I play fair and square, believe me. And your money will go to good use.” His words before had been calculated, precisely placed to get Henry where he wanted him to be, but this last sentence showed a desperation that he clearly hadn't wanted to reveal. He needed the money dearly.

“You want to spend it on more gambling?”

“To some degree, yes, I will not deny it. But not entirely.” There was more to it but he was back to his previous compo­sure now, and Henry knew he would keep every other secret firmly to himself.

“How would I even know if it's worth it?” he asked instead. “What if I win and you don't know the man I'm looking for?”

“Tell me his name then.”

He had to laugh about the bluntness of the guy. “As if you were honest with me.”

“Try me.”

“Blasius de Petragna.”

The stranger fell silent for a while, his expression motionless as if he had been turned to marble all of a sudden. “Well, it ap­pears I do happen to know him.”

“Of course you do!” Henry shook his head. At least the stranger's audacity managed to somewhat entertain him. “How fortunate I am!”

“If only you knew how fortunate exactly.”

And then they played. They fucking did. Henry couldn't tell later what it had been that had convinced him to agree to such a dubious offer, and maybe it had only been his frustration about all his other plans having gone to shit. But the man claimed that he was able to help him, and maybe he really was, and in any case there was no opportunity to get to know a person better than when one was either gambling or drinking with them, and so Henry was doing both.

The stranger played in a different manner than any other opponent Henry had ever faced. In fact, it didn't seem like he was playing at all but rather counting and calculating all the time, as if the dots on the dice were not merely numbers but some hidden mathematical equations he had to solve. He also didn't seem to build his success on luck at all, and it was pro��bably for the best. Yes, he was able to turn even the worst throw into a decent score, but then the amount of busts the stranger rolled was almost comical.

Another five hundred, but he ignored the three of a kind, ig­nored the second one, and continued. He banked a five, then a another one. Three twos. Continue. His movements were fast, the sound of the dice rolling barely ever stopped. It became a song to Henry's ears, and the faint movement of his lips, the restlessness of his eyes as they darted across the numbers, the nimbleness of his lean fingers, it became a dance, and Henry felt himself entranced by it all, so much so that the shouting of the miners behind him was nothing more than the distant rum­bling of thunder.

The stranger smiled, scored. “One thousand two hundred,” he declared proudly, and Henry hadn't even noticed how quick­ly his score had been rising up. “You see, it is such luck that I found you.”

It was the first time during their play that the stranger said anything that wasn't a number, and Henry would make sure to not miss this chance. “You really need the money, eh?”

“I lost a lot recently. Due to … unexpected circumstances.” His amber eyes were fixed on Henry's hands as he threw the dice, but it seemed they were looking at something else entire­ly, something so far away Henry couldn't follow them. “I tried to get it back through the art of dice play.”

“The art?”

“Mathematics isn't so different from art, you see. It's all pat­terns, theories of what goes well with what, invisible lines con­necting everything to a bright picture.”

Henry rolled three ones, scored them, continued with the re­maining three dice. “And still, you've lost. A lot.”

“Yes, I have lost. Desperation turns every man into a fool. And I suppose I was way too demanding in my pursuit.”

Another two ones. Henry took them, handed the cup back over to his opponent. “Well, fortune doesn't always favour the bold.”

The man laughed. It was bright and loud and awkward. “In my experience, fortune only favours the biggest bastards. But that may only be my cynicism speaking for me, please don't take these words to heart, friend.”

After that, it only took him another round to win. A few more calculations to shatter all of the lead Henry had built up. “A good game.” The man picked up the coins Henry handed him and stored them in his money bag. “You truly have luck on your side.”

“That's the bastard in me, I suppose.”

The man smiled. “Well, I told you the money would be put to good use, and it will. I acquired some debts, yes, but they do not bother me. I will not be staying in Kuttenberg for long now.” He pulled the leather cord tight, straightened his coat, then he stood up. “So the only thing left to do before I leave is to get some supplies that I am in dire need of. Ink, to be exact, and parchment.” He winked. As if he had just told a joke that Henry should well understand, but Henry understood shit. “I might be needed in Kolín soon. I heard that there are many un­derground passages there to map out.”

He made for the door without a farewell. There was no need to. He knew damn well that it wasn't truly farewell yet, and he walked slowly to give Henry all the time he needed to think. It took him embarrassingly long to put the hints together. If only you knew how fortunate exactly. “Blasius de Petragna!”

The man turned around, a proud, satisfied grin on his lips.

It vanished like a dream with Henry's next words. Those at least he hadn't been able to calculate, and that was a fact that made Henry smile proudly. “You don't know me, but you know my brother. And he needs your help.”

* * *

These naronim had put him to bed like a child, had drowned him in flowers and herbs and oils, and now they were all stan­ding around him, serious, watching. Except for the priest, who was sitting on a stool, in the corner of the room, clumsily play­ing a lute. Hans had offered him his brother's bed, and Samuel had tried not to think too much about why he felt entitled to de­cide over Henry's belongings. Hans had also claimed that the fresh air would do him good. It was almost impossible to enjoy that fresh air, however, with the bouquets of poppies and valerian they had placed on the ground next to the bed, and the bundles that they had covered Samuel's body with as if they were a blanket. The Hungarian had found some candles that emitted a very unusual and rather unpleasant scent, and Kathe­rine had drained a sponge in some kind of mixture that she had made from lavender and sycamore, and that Samuel was now supposed to press to his bare chest. The Pole didn't stop tal­king. Apparently that, too, was supposed to lull him in, but his voice was way too loud and cheerful for it to cause any other reaction in Samuel but annoyance.

He opened his eyes again, let them wander from one to the other. The way they all stood there, hands folded in front of their laps, staring down on him as if they were expecting some kind of miracle to take hold of his body. “You make me feel like a dead man. Are you all here for shemira?”

“We just want to know whether it works,” Katherine said.

“Or whether all our efforts have been for nothing,”, Kub­yenka added.

“They better weren't.” Dry Devil leaned back against the window sill with a frown. “We spent the whole day on this, when we should have taken care of way more pressing matters. So if it was indeed for nothing, I might still give you that beat on the head, boy. And that noble sonny here will get a good one on the arse for dragging us into it.”

The Pole laughed and uttered something of which Samuel could understand very little but the word pieprzenie.

The door was opened. The last rays of a deep red sunset flooded the room, making the figure in the door frame appear like nothing but a shadowy silhouette. “What are you all doing here?” Henry's voice.

Žižka turned around to him with a hint of relief on his face. “Keeping the Devil from living out his violent fantasies.”

“Good work. And now get out of here. Leave me alone with my brother. All of you.”

Henry waited until even his noble friend and the priest with his lute had walked past him, before he closed the door with a deep sigh. Then he walked over to Samuel and stood in front of the bed for a while, staring at all the flowers and candles. “What a frightening sight.”

“My thoughts exactly.” He tried to sit up, and Henry helped him by collecting all of the stinking clutter off his body, to then hurl it out the window. “Thank you for saving me.”

“That's what brothers are there for.” He came back over to the bed, just when Samuel wanted to get up, and kept him from leaving by sitting down on the edge next to him. “No no no. You'll stay here. Get some rest.”

“Bruder …”

Henry took a bag from his shoulder, and it clattered like a rider in full plate armour. He handed it over to Samuel with no­thing more than a satisfied nod.

The bag was filled to the brim with clay phials, a good two or three dozen of them. Samuel didn't have to open them to know what was inside. The smell was unmistakable, and it brought back memories. Late night conversations slowly co­ming to an end, Jakob and Isaak finishing their last beer while he took another sip from the lullaby potion. Sitting at his wri­ting desk when the first beams of sunlight fell into the yard be­hind the window, drawing up letters or writing down poems, Hannah's poems, until the potion took effect. Sometimes he had miscalculated the time it needed. Fell asleep at his mame's dining table, sinking into her arms and being cradled by her like a child. She never minded.

“You went back to Kuttenberg for me.”

“Yes, and it proved a little more complicated than I would have expected. But fortunately I happen to be quite the lucky bastard. So I eventually found the one person who could help me with this.”

Samuel felt his eyes widen in surprise. “That fucker is alive?”

“He is. And he will be joining your people in Kolín soon.”

He couldn't hold back the smile when he thought about the Ragusan and the long scholastic discussions they had shared and the dissolute evenings over one beer too many that had of­ten followed. “Oh Adonai, Henry, you cannot believe how happy that makes me to hear.”

“I can.” Henry took one single phial from the bag, then he placed the rest on the ground next to the bed. “And me, too. Because it means that I know where he is and will be able to get the two hundred groschen back that I lost to him. And even more than that, trust me, because those herbs cost me another fortune.”

“You are …” Samuel shook his head in disbelief. “You shouldn't have …”

“But I have.” He grabbed Samuel's hand to press the phial into his palm, and then he kept it embraced for a little while longer, running his thumb across Samuel's skin in soothing cir­cles. The touch of a brother, Samuel thought. Mishpokhe. His eyes started to burn. The air was still heavy with the disgusting stench of all the oils, herbs and candles. “And you better take this potion now, so we can both go to sleep.” Henry closed his eyes as he let out an exhausted laugh. “I only spent a day on this but it feels like the longest day of my life. And now I'm fucking knackered.”

[deadeyedfae]

If this is too personal, apologies, but are you partner systems (fae and hayle are partners with somnus) or is it individual alter relationships (ex. fae is partners with eris specifically)?

Also I don’t know if you two have a system name, sorry. I think I spelled nyx and eris’s right (I hope).

- Reina

Hey ^^

So eveyone in my system is dating Eris but we aren't dating eveyone in her system! But we do have a few partners in the system and they are adorable 💜💗💛

[stellar-nursery-bah]

⊹ ﹒⠀welcome, somnus﹒﹒

—⠀tier 3 ; supernova ; burnout helper headmate

req. by tattered .

do note that the headmate may not turn out as described .

────────────────────────────

☓⠀﹕⠀name(s)⠀»

somnus﹐moth﹐shade﹐void﹐soren﹒

☓⠀﹕⠀nicknames⠀»

professor (not sure why, just fits the bill)﹒

☓⠀﹕⠀pronouns⠀»

no pronouns﹐it / its﹐thing / things﹐that / thats﹐voi / void / voids / voidself﹐shade / shades﹐sleep / sleeps﹐ne / nem﹐dusk / dusks﹒

☓⠀﹕⠀gender⠀»

genderless﹐agender﹐thingcenic﹐voidthing﹐gendernull﹒

☓⠀﹕⠀orientation⠀»

aroacespec﹐graysexual﹐grayaromantic﹐unlabeled﹒

☓⠀﹕⠀source⠀»

n/a﹒

☓⠀﹕⠀age⠀»

ageless﹐and / or appears as an adult﹒

☓⠀﹕⠀sign-off⠀»

🌙﹐💤﹐🌑﹐🦋﹒

☓⠀﹕⠀traits⠀»

gentle ; but firm motivator﹐curious﹐in tune with the system’s needs﹐grounded﹐responsible﹐assertive﹐protective﹐encouraging﹒

☓⠀﹕⠀associations⠀»

night﹐shadow & light﹐comfort﹐cold early mornings﹐fog﹐slow breathing﹐moths﹐peaceful silence﹒

☓⠀﹕⠀role⠀»

pacific﹐caretaker﹐soother﹐motivator﹐mood booster﹐sleep soother﹐stress holder﹒

☓⠀﹕⠀likes⠀»

soft fabrics﹐mentoring﹐taking care of the system﹐the dark﹐rain﹐nature﹐hot chocolate﹐slow walks﹒

☓⠀﹕⠀dislikes⠀»

overstimulation﹒

☓⠀﹕⠀interests⠀»

dreams﹐psychology﹐sleep cycles﹐horror genre﹒

☓⠀﹕⠀hobby⠀»

crafting﹐reading﹐gardening﹒

☓⠀﹕⠀fun fact⠀»

is a proud plant parent﹒

[bolszaja-miedwedica]

NEW ABOUT ME:

(i do paid readings now! 10$ a reading no matter how many cards :] only 5 spots a day so dm to know if im open) (only paypal)

if you want a message from one deity it will be 10$, add another deity to that and you'll get 20$.

-godspoused! if you're anti fuck off

-I'm an age regressor but i curse a lot on this blog so age regressors feel free to follow my agere side blog @there-are-sharks-in-my-milk

-i don't discriminate anyone this is a safe space for minorities, poc, microlabels, systems, lgbt people, therians, everyone who is not a hateful jerk

-this blog is a mix of me posting about my deities, stray kids and other stuff i find interesting

-sometimes i vent make sure you're okay with it

blog rules are:

-if my practice looks different than yours and you don't like it you're free to unfollow

- be kind and respectful to me and my friends

to interact with my blog make sure that you aren't:

racist, homophobic, terf, pedo, ableist, anti agere, a nsfw blog (it makes me uncomfortable), generally a hateful human

now the best part:

worshipping:

-Sekhmet

-Holy Mary

-Baba Jaga

-Medusa

-Kali

-Lilith

working with:

Marzanna, Apollo, Dionysus, Hecate, Persephone, Asclepius, Hel, Anat, Death, Satan, Leszy, Cernunnos, Horned God, Helios, Venus, Freyja, Asmodeus, Baphomet archangel Jophiel, Thoth, Fenrir, Dantalion, Buer, Beelzebub, Mut, Bes, Bacchus, Kogkipr (an unknown deity), Proserpina, Cnabetius Mars, Tegid Foel, angel Sariel, Hermanubis, Amun, Deimos and Phobos, Kvasir, Wepwawet, The Dagda, Swarożyc, Lucifer, Begotho (unknown deity), Aphrodite Areia, Stracchus (unknown deity), Ruadan, Somnia, Kek, Cerberus, Hestia, Nyx, Cerridwen, the Morrigan, Parvati, Shiva, Krishna, Vishnu, RadhaRani, Lakshmi, archangel Gabriel, archangel Azrael, Nakir and Munkar, archangel Michael, archangel Israphil, Kiram and Katibun, Somnus, Loki, Mokosz, Allah, Brigid, Hermes, Durga, Anubis, Weles, Baldur, Khnum, Poseidon, Amphitrite, Astaroth, Neith, Wenut, Ganesha, Perun, Khepri, Inanna, Dola/Niedola, Ariadne, Jaryło, Chors, Sleipnir, Zorza, Jormungandr, Odin, Czarnobóg, Blodeuwedd, Set, Mafdet, Idunn, Seshat, Dziewanna, Artemis, Arioch, Eros, Vesna, Selene, Luna, Leviathan, Behemoth, Nox, Mammon, Abaddon, Azazel, Kathos, Vesta, Sun, Moon, Minerva, Athena, Eosphorus, Stolas, Melinoe, Mary of Magdala

spirits that i work with:

-Pahiri (a white dragon spirit)

-Nkfofa (the mermaid spirit guide)

-a fae

-Fienon (a rusałka)

-Mo Xasii (familiar nr 1)

-Hilkog (a giant spider spirit guide)

-Kalina (a harpy)

-Zanota (a mermaid spirit guide nr 2)

-Gawoż (hydra, familiar nr 2)

- Kiityk (upiór spirit guide)

-Xyo (a red fire dragon)

-Bemamo (a puppy shark)

-Tygu (a black panther spirit guide)

-Sikopoza (a giant centipede spirit guide)

devoting to:

-King Hades

-Bastet

-Aphrodite

some funfacts about me:

-im a fan of polish goth music

-i love vintage jewelry

-im trying to love myself

-love collecting oracle decks

-everything has a soul in my opinion

-i cant do makeup

-love red roses the most

-getting really into tattoos recently

-Marzanna is my patron goddess

I'm planning to master:

-herbology

-moon magic

-palmistry

-reading more books...

-my fuckin research motivation...

i can do:

-protection

-blood magic

-cartomancy

-tarot

-clairvoyance

-clairaudience

-spells and shit

-rituals

-sigils

-tea blends i guess

-motanki

-scrying

-oracle

-runes (both nordic and witch's runes)

-smoke reading

-crystal ball

-curses

-sex magic

sława! :]

[madeofthreads]

@somnus-lucis-caelum | X

The cave was marked as highly dangerous. Only a single diver was cleared to explore the area at a time, but the highly valuable ore was worth a sum that would see each and every one of them on the mission to retirement 5 times over.

Wildlife within wider pockets of the caverns had been noted as aggressive and territorial. There were vents that bubbled so gently they could be overlooked, and sometimes those same vents expelled enough violently heated air to melt even an excavation suit. Then there were the magma pockets that seemed determined to remain anything but contained.

Not only was it a hazardous network itself to navigate, but it was littered with debris from previously failed missions at best, and the unrecovered remains of fellow divers at worst.

Leander hadn't accepted the mission there lightly. With the latest mapping technology, he could receive critical information in real time, and he wasn't much for bragging but he excelled at keeping his dive times trim — he didn't linger, he didn't get caught up in the sights, the sounds, or his own fears. He thought that would have been enough to see him through a successful run.

It almost was, too.

Though there had been little more warning than the thermal activity in the area spiking sporadically. He had already been on his way out by the time he realised, which was when the earthquake struck. His excavation suit suffered a critical malfunction when a crack in one of the walls gave way to a stream from one of the thermal vents, effectively knocking out his main power supply.

Leander was trapped in the dark, in a violently active cavern, without access to any external oxygen tanks to even see him partially out of the cave system, let alone the long ascent...

"Unfortunately, I survived." he announced through the crackling communication system. The back-up power inside his hulking excavation suit was already on the clock. He had 20 minutes of power left, if he were lucky. Then he would be in dark and silence until the last of his oxygen ran out, and he had a suspicion at least one of the tanks had been damaged. At least he wouldn't have to contemplate his own death for endless hours...

"I'm not going anywhere. This suit is all but fried, and I don't have the equipment to make it far. Sorry, team, you're going to have to keep working towards retirement..." He could hear the fury in Somnus, who already started arguing with the team lead.

"Somnus. I love you. I have loved you for most of my life, and I'm sorry that I won't live to see the rest of that life growing old with you. Everything that is mine, is yours. Hear that? I, Leander Georgiou, leave all of my possessions to Somnus Lucis Caelum."

The kickback from Somnus was immediate. It brought a smile to his face, as he blinked a steady flow of tear drops out of his eyes. "Mater, Pater, I love you. I'm sorry I won't make it home this time." Shit. There it was, that tell tale shake in his voice. He was supposed to be big and strong and brave.

"Ariadne and Vergil. I'm so sad I won't get to watch you grow up. I wanted to be there for everything. The ups. The downs. The moments of insanity. I know both of you will thrive in whatever you choose to do, I'm so... so proud of you..." he shuddered, and the message caught his altered breathing. He was falling to pieces.

Though not so much he didn't catch the sudden urgency spilling in from the team lead. Cautioning Somnus... no, forbidding him from coming to the cave system.

It was enough to choke some air back into his lungs. "H-hey!" he weakly barked. "This is an active zone, the quaking hasn't stopped... Som, your kids need you... they need their father, don't throw your life away." he pleaded on deaf ears.

Somnus was stubborn. Dangerously so.

The line of communication dropped, and Leander laid in the deep and the dark. Though the feeling of walls closing in on him had only worsened with the knowledge that his lover was attempting a rescue. Hopefully someone had talked sense into him... hopefully, he would be safe...

Eyes closed, sweating like a sinner, air thinning, Leander's thoughts turned to his life before. None of the little things mattered at this end. All he thought about were moments of love and life. He... didn't have any regrets, not here, not now. At least he would pass in peace, right...?

Then came a light. For a brief moment he thought it was the light. The one that people spoke of in the end... but then something thumped and thudded his excavation suit, and no sooner had he opened his eyes, water was flooding in as something — no, someone — accessed the pilot cockpit.

He damn near gulped salty water in surprise. Though just as quickly, as mask was secured to his fat head and he was pulled from his dying suit. And.. he could breathe. He could breathe enough to fill his lungs, and he could see... Somnus..?

Eyes widened, he shouted something that wasn't heard. His answer? Being strapped to the other diver like some naughty toddler. But damn it all, he couldn't unstrap himself even if he wanted to.

It was like a fever dream, being along for that long ride. Navigating a cave system that had every right to claim them and add to its numbers. He dared to have a little hope when they started to ascend. His arms wrapped around Somnus' in a deep hug when they paused and he felt the other heavily lean against him. Little wonder. He was pushing himself to his limits, his body was doing twice the work now that he had his 'cargo'.

Though that little hope gave way to fear when he started to clue in to Somnus' condition. He was slipping, slowly. Like a fading light. He did what he could to help, but it didn't feel like enough. Not when Somnus continued down that slippery slope.

It should have been relief to surface again. He should have thanked every God and sung every praise, and yet all he could focus on was his lover. His hands were a little rough as he removed the mask, quickly followed by his own. "You idiot." he breathed hard. "You fucking idiot!"

Leander cradled his cheek. Briefly rested their heads together, a grounding moment, however brief. "Don't you dare pass out on me now. Somnus!" The last words he probably heard were a string of colourful swears.

When Somnus came to again, he was laid in a warm, dry bed, and his personal bed had become more like a med bay surrounded by monitors that chirped and updated his current vitals. Leander sat with both his hands held onto one of his lovers, holding his palm and over the back in a loving little sandwich.

His head lifted when he caught slight movement. His serious look broke, giving way to excitement and relief and concern all at once. "How are you feeling?"

[the-omega-artist]

me when i suddenly start producing art at a concerningly fast rate

[the-omega-artist]

OH MY GOD THIS IS SO COOL

Mainly wanted to experiment something and just draw something, so I chose @the-omega-artist 's confetti psycho bear: Tanjoubi!

[somnus-lucis-caelum]

Somnus and Ariadne @rebelichor in that Subnautica / Lost in Space AU we have thought up in a whim in the past 26 hours. Somnus is the leader and mentor and Ariadne, his adopted daughter here, is on her first mission paired with him. They are to map out part of the classical seawater planet with cave systems and immeasurable resources.

The bg I blatantly copied from here after I gave up crying trying to draw one myself.

Apparently currently I can only do ancient roman/greek times or go full space marine. No inbetween. No chill.

[krisssssssy]

random astrology of ardyn ramble

This is probably not interesting to anyone, but my other hyperfixation is astrology, and I have spent a lot of time thinking about Ardyn's placements.

Okay, I realize Eos is fictional, and that these characters aren't existing in the same solar system as us, which would obviously change everything about their signs and planets. ANYWAY.

Ardyn's birthday is April 30th, which would make him a Taurus sun sign. I think this makes sense, Taureans' can be eccentric, every Taurus sun I know radiates very appealing weirdo vibes, idk why this is, and ALSO if we look at Ardyn's behavior prior to the scourge, he was fairly stubborn, determined to heal everyone (and Taureans, once they start on a path, it is very difficult for them to deviate), despite his relationship with Aera.

I don't THINK we have a canonical birthday for Somnus, but he strikes me more as an Aries (or at least Mars ruled) and a Taurus (as a Venus-ruled sign) is not some warmonger, or making rash decisions to set anyone on fire who even *possibly* has the scourge.

I also like the idea of Ardyn being a Taurus, which is an Earth sign, and trying very hard to cleanse the Earth (or Eos), as it were, of some disease/affliction.

ALSO. If you dive deeper into other astrology placements (for those unfamiliar, we have not only a Sun sign, but a moon sign, a Mercury sign, a Venus sign, etc).

When I first saw Ardyn I was like, bro is a Gemini. He's shady, he's snarky, he more often uses his words (I mean literally like 75% of his dialogue in the game is just him screwing with Noctis mentally while he's in Zegnautus Keep). He resists most physical battles at all opportunities, doesn't want to engage in fighting (though he is obviously the strongest person in all of Eos besides Noctis) and avoids doing so. This to me also speaks to him being a Taurus, stubbornly refusing any kind of fight unless it's the final one, with Noctis (of course, he does fight Ignis in Episode Ignis, but literally during that fight with him in Altissia, if you don't attack him, he WONT attack you. He just saunters around and hordes of Imperials soldiers come down from the Magitek engines to fight you).

ANYWAY. If you are a Taurus sun, Mercury can *only* be in the sign of Aries, Taurus, or Gemini, because Mercury is never more than one sign away from the sun. So I'm saying, Ardyn is a Taurus sun, with a Gemini Mercury (which explains the Gemini nature of his speech patterns). An Aries mercury would be more forceful, impulsive, impatient, but a Gemini is going to give you the snark that we see from Ardyn.

I've also been thinking of this from the standpoint of my fan fiction (Precarious Games) because I have a Reader character, and I decided on their placements before I started it, to determine their essential personality. Reader (in my mind) is a Libra sun, with a Libra mercury, and Scorpio Venus, which would then make her sun Venus-ruled, giving some compatibility with Ardyn's Taurus sun, and then I suspect Ardyn has a Taurus Venus, which would then oppose Reader's Scorpio venus (as Taurus and Scorpio are opposite signs), which explains a lot of their conflicts, but also their attraction (and a scorpio venus is more willing to let a relationship utterly destroy them emotionally, and are even potentially attracted to people who aren't good for them, which gives some explanation for her continuing her relationship with him despite well, everything. and just being a Libra sun/mercury makes them crave partnership and balance, and to ignore conflict)

So yeah. Ardyn, I think, is a Taurus sun, Gemini Mercury, with a Taurus Venus. I don't know what his rising or moon sign would be, I just feel like, with villains, everyone is so quick to be like SCORPIO! So I wanted to give my thoughts. Like I said I realize this is probably interesting to NO ONE lmao but I needed to articulate this somewhere.

I haven't even thought about the Mars sign. Mars (I believe) can be anywhere regardless of where the Sun is, based on it's movement and retrograde period. I think possibly because he is a bit flamboyant, and showy, his Mars makes sense if it was in Leo, which would then square his Sun and Venus (i.e. his motivations, his drive are at odds with his sense of self/identity, and ability to relate to others).

I could also see him being a Leo rising, to give more emphasis on this showmanship vibe he has, and that would place Mars in the 1st house, and Sun/Venus in the 10th in Taurus (which is the area of your life purpose, your public facing self). Also, a lot of planets on the angular houses (1st, 10th) give someone a lot of strength in their personality, they are able to succeed (and let's not discount his success in Gralea, which he achieved not from Bahamut's intervention, but from his will alone, really).

But yeah! Astrology is fun when you apply it to fictional characters, for me it helps me understand their personalities better, especially when writing fan fiction, and it's nice to at least have a canon birthday (day and month at least) to go on.

[the-omega-artist]

AHAHAA ITS SO CUTEEE

Seems like someone ran out of snacks

Lil Bonus sketch feat. Boo :

Whimsibub belongs to @the-omega-artist

Thanks for the request, sorry that it took so long

[jadegreensworld]

Poppy Seeds

✨️I use it in luck spells and rituals. It works very well.

• Element Associations: Water

• Planetary Associations: Neptune + Moon

• Astrological Associations: Gemini

• Chakra Associations: Third Eye

• Energy: Feminine/Receptive

• Magical Properties: Remembrance Rituals, Divination, Fertility, Sleep, Dreams, Ancestral Offerings, Love

• Healing Properties: Aids sleep, digestion, skin health, heart health

Poppy seeds are often used to aid sleep, as well as to attract love, luck, fertility, and money when carried or consumed.

Poppy seeds can be used to create confusion and delay. They have magical properties, especially when mixed with black mustard seed.

They have the ability to confuse and delay paperwork, especially when dealing with court cases.

Poppy seeds are classically used in confusion magic - sprinkle the seeds around the exterior of your home to cause confusion to spirits of ill will.

Encourages conception, money drawing, love luck, and confounds the adversaries in legal disputes. Believed to interfere with the actions of troublemakers.

Due to poppy's production of opium alkaloids and its sedative effects, it is heavily associated with death and sleep.

Nowadays, poppy seeds are processed and harvested in such a way as to get rid of these opium alkaloids - and as a result, they are safe to consume.

Poppy seeds are utilized for their sedative properties in conventional medicine. The sedative alkaloids, such as morphine, papaverine, and codeine, are present in very minute amounts yet have positive effects on the body, particularly the nervous system. Poppy seed infusion helps relieve stress and dull pain.

It is appropriate for all Hypnos, Thanatos, Somnus, Nyx, Demeter, Persephone, and rites involving those deities, as well as for offerings to the deceased, especially those who perished in combat. And it is supposed that white poppies appeared on Genghis Khan’s battlefields.

Perhaps because the narcotic derived from the opium poppy can readily cause both sleep and death, red poppies have also long been linked to both. They were delivered as offerings to the deceased by the ancient Greeks and Romans.

Poppy was considered an antidote to belladonna. *Don't experiment with it, though.

In folklore, vampires were warded off by sprinkling poppy seeds, as they were obligated to stop and count them.