#Various Festive Patterns

[arclantis-blog]

Christmas Ornaments

These festive Mexican Christmas Ornaments made from wood are attractive holiday decor for your Christmas Tree or home.

Each bulb is hand carved and hand painted by local artisans in the enchanting neighborhoods surrounding Oaxaca, Mexico.

They come in various colorful combinations, with each original bulb featuring festive Mexican styles and patterns.

Great as a compliment to your Christmas tree or home decor, or as a unique gift for someone you love.

Weight: approximately 2.5 oz // Dimensions: 2.75" tall x 2.25" wide x 2.25" deep - this is our smallest size from Oaxaca

To learn more about the product, click here.

Please check out other Luv2Brd products, here.

[lowkeyren]

TWO CAN PLAY THAT GAME!

in which — sunday, realizing he fell head over heels for you, tries to push you away, only to have his efforts backfire, which leads to a heated confession.

pairing — sunday x gn!reader

wc: 2.3k, arranged marriage, hurt/comfort, woooo tension!!!, takes place before penacony quests, sunday fumbles everyone cook him rn, apology scene ib maxton hall, reblogs r much appreciated! from event req: here + art by @/hanahanayart on x

the first thing sunday noticed about you was how you consistently avoided meeting his gaze, how your eyes seemed to wander, frequently darting to the ground. 

even now, as you’re sitting across the table from him, you’re fidgeting with your hands, fingers nervously twisting the small charm on your bracelet. your eyes flit from the patterned tablecloth to the rim of your teacup, never settling on him for more than a moment. 

you’re tense, he notes.

as you both go through the marriage contract, he finds himself distracted by the way your eyebrows furrow in concentration, and how your fingers fidget with the edges of the document; a soft smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he observes your gestures. 

the moment you notice him staring however, you stiffen and abruptly shift in your seat. he watches as the flush on your cheeks grows more pronounced, and your words come out in awkward stammers as you try to continue the subject.

though he catches on, quickly averting his gaze to spare you any further embarrassment. the corner of his mouth twitches as he shakes his head slightly. 

right, you must be the type to be easily swayed by looks and status. 

of course he’s aware of his own charm, and even more so, the effect he has on others —evident by the multitude of pursuers vying for his hand in marriage. 

but something is different about you, different enough to intrigue him, different enough to distinguish you from the rest of the crowd, different and compelling enough for him to entertain the idea of marrying you.

sunday is a busy man. 

his schedule is packed with a myriad of tasks ranging from managing various negotiations to organizing the upcoming charmony festival. his desk is cluttered with intricate sketches of the festival’s layouts, post-it notes with scribbled annotations, stacks of detailed itineraries, and reminders of… you.

you have a knack for surprising sunday with unique gifts that inevitably end up on his desk. 

for instance, the delicate keychain that’s shaped like a tiny halo dangling just of reach, or the hand-knitted coaster he sets his mug on, or a handwritten note reminding him to take a break with a small doodle of him in the corner, or the sleek pen he’s using right now, personalised just for him (he complained about pens having grips that were too slippery or uncomfortable once.)

somehow, you never fail to invade his thoughts at every given chance. the worst part? he actually started looking forward to your presence —much to his dismay.

he doesn't know when exactly it started, but he’s certain “it’s all your fault” because he finds himself checking his phone much more frequently, eagerly awaiting your messages. he’s also become attuned to your daily visits, recognizing the distinct sound of your footsteps as they approach his office. heck he even finds himself rearranging his schedule to make sure he’s free during your usual visit time.

you plague his mind to the extent that it distracts him, where he finds himself unable to focus on his work without your voice suddenly echoing in his thoughts; the sound of your infectious laughter, the warmth of your smile like a siren’s call, and the endearing stutter in your words when you say his name —which all seems to linger and sway with every thought. 

sunday fears that he may have loved you more than he will ever allow himself to.

sunday gazes at his reflection in the mirror, running a hand through his hair. his brows are furrowed, and a deep sigh escapes him as he tries to calm his turbulent thoughts, gripping the edge of the sink for support.

his current dishevelled appearance bears a striking resemblance to that of a fallen angel; stunningly attractive, yet marred by a decadent edge that whispers of turpitude.

as the head of the oak family, he shoulders countless responsibilities and maintains a careful distance from those around him. so is it wrong when he feels a twinge of insult, almost as if it's shameful to be powerless to resist you, when you entered his life with a mere marriage contract but seamlessly wove yourself into the deepest, darkest corners of his heart?

“sunday, are you okay? you’ve been in there for a while!” your voice echoes from the other side of the door, tinged with worry and care.

he’s confounded by your unwavering concern, unable to fathom as to why you continue to pour your heart into him, even as he remains cold and indifferent. he appears detached to you, often aloof and devoid of any intimacy —yet you never seem to mind. 

you make him want to tear down the carefully constructed barriers he’s built around his heart and hold you close. even now as you soothe his back and gently preen his wings, he finds himself lost in thought, contemplating the possibility of abandoning his old ways and allowing himself to be vulnerable with you.

but he thinks you don't have to be so insistent on winning him over, really. because he has already belonged to you in a way that’s intrinsic, a devotion deadlier than hell. 

perhaps he just hasn't come to accept it yet.

walking along the streets of golden hour, sunday is painfully aware of the stare you fixate on his figure, even though you try to be discreet about it. when his hand lightly grazes against yours, you freeze momentarily, your body tensing before you quickly adjust your pace to match his long strides, positioning yourself at his side.

you notice that his face is etched with a grim expression, lips drawn tight; he appears visibly stressed, a noticeable contrast to his usual calm demeanor. 

“ahem…” you clear your throat, “y’know,” you begin, your voice soft with an attempt at comfort, “whenever i feel upset, i've found that treating myself to something nice to eat always helps lift my spirits.”

your words hang in the air as he remains silent, his gaze fixed ahead; undeterred, you continue speaking.

“there’s a new restaurant robin told me about yesterday, would you—”

“—stop talking.”

his words seem to have escaped louder than intended, drawing the attention of bystanders who now stop to observe the scene. murmurs ripple through the crowd as they exchange curious glances. 

“oh… well i just wanted t—”

“just, leave me alone for once,” he interrupts sharply, each syllable from his lips like a drop of acid, eroding the walls of your heart until nothing is left but a hollow ache.

a flash of regret crosses his face the moment he sees your face drop. he watches in silence as you nod curtly before pushing your way through the gathering crowd, the haunting image of your hurt expression only further exacerbates the stress he’s already grappling with. 

you gaze at the chat screen with sunday’s name, your fingers hesitantly hovering over the send button; his words from a few days ago echo relentlessly in your head, replaying over and over again.

you sigh before putting your phone down. he probably doesn’t want you bothering him, right?

in that case, even if he was 'annoyed' by you, why did he have to say it in front of everyone? sure he was cold to you at times, but you thought he cared for you at least a little. and if he intended to push you away, why accept your gifts in the first place? 

regardless, you’re not about to forgive him so easily. your dignity demands that you maintain your distance for now, not merely out of pride but also to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

sunday hasn’t received your usual “good morning” text today… the day before, and the week before. actually, he hasn’t seen you at all either. (but robin has, she mentioned that she noticed you seemed a bit down. when she asked about it, though, you didn’t give her a clear answer.)

his office feels eerily quiet without your timely “interruptions”; his desk, once cluttered with your little gifts and notes, now sits noticeably emptier. most importantly, your absence only serves to distract him more than your presence ever did.

he has lost count of the times he’s run his hand through his hair, a familiar gesture of frustration that has become all too common lately. what he said that day, was purely “in the heat of the moment”, a lapse into uncharacteristic harshness he now deeply regrets. 

he envisions the hurt in your eyes, the way your expression crumpled as his words pierced the air, the weight of his own words gnaws at him, and he feels a pang of guilt so sharp it almost physically hurts.

he may have been reserved with his affection, but he never intended for his words to wound you so deeply. ultimately, he was only trying to guard the vulnerability he rarely reveals; but now, his facade has crumbled. and even he can no longer convince himself of the cold indifference he once tried to project.

it’s a bitter irony that he thinks you shouldn’t try so hard to win him over, when he tries just as hard to resist you. 

his efforts would have paid off,

—if only his heart is as cold as he pretends it is. 

he hears your footsteps for the first time in two weeks.

as you enter, he tries to mask the relief on his face, but his eyes betray him, softening as they lock onto you; his pulse quickens, and he rises from his desk almost instinctively. as usual, you keep your eyes averted, but today, the familiar shyness has been replaced by a palpable tension that he can’t ignore.

you set the stack of documents on his desk before turning to leave in silence, but his hand reaches out and gently grasps your wrist, halting you in your tracks. 

“—wait, please,” his voice trembles.

you turn around, finally meeting his gaze. the steady rhythm of his heart quickens into an erratic flutter, almost like a caged dove desperate to escape.

“i apologise… for what happened that day.” 

“a simple ‘sorry’ would suffice for the embarrassment you put me through, but it doesn’t erase the sting of your words or the way you belittle my feelings,” your voice quivers slightly.

you shake your head and let out a frustrated sigh. “listen, i’m not a pawn for you to play with. just tell me how you really feel, not what you think i want to hear.”

you pause, searching his face for any sign of genuine emotion, but all you find is the same frustrating distance. “i mean it, i’m truly sorry, please let m—”

“you can’t just say you're sorry and expect everything to be fine." you scoff and wrench your hand away from his grasp with a sharp jerk, “cut the crap, you’re seriously driving me insane!”

there's a pause before he responds. “im driving you insane?” his eyes narrow, his expression growing intense as he steps closer. with each step he takes towards you, you retreat until your back hits the edge of a bookshelf, the cool wood pressing against you. 

“but do you know what you do to me?” his hair tumbles messily and hangs over his forehead. “do you think it’s easy for me to keep my composure when everything you do makes it harder for me to hold it together?” 

his hands, which were previously clenched at his sides, now grip the edges of the bookshelf on either side of you, closing the space between you even further. 

“maybe i’ve been distant,” his voice, though strained, holds a desperate edge. “but it’s not because i don’t care, it’s because i'm terrified of what i might feel if i let myself get too close.”

“it’s because you drive me insane —and i can’t get enough of it.” 

you pause, taking in his raw confession before burying your face into his shoulder; a damp patch forming on his clothes. “but it’s not fair, sunday.” your fingers dig into his shoulder, but he couldn’t care less.

“you can’t push me away and then pull me back in with your words.” your words are muffled; he tenderly runs his hand along your back, his soothing touch calming you down.

he sighs before saying, “i know i’m sorry, please give me some time, i’ll make things right.”

“promise?” you ask, lifting your gaze to meet his. he gently cups your cheek with his hand, his thumb softly caressing your skin.

he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, “i promise.” 

and this time, he lets himself sink in your embrace, holding you tighter than before. it’s then he realises just how much he had missed out on. 

extra:

“darling...” 

“hm?” you gently stroke his wings, smoothing out the feathers with delicate care. 

his wings flutter slightly under your gentle hands, softly rustling as you brush through the layers of plumage.

“why were you delivering documents to me that day?” he asks, voice laden with curiosity.

you let out a soft chuckle as you recall the nervous expressions of the staff on that day when sunday walked into his office. his wings had fluttered with every tentative step someone took toward him, a clear sign of his agitation. 

“i don’t know,” you reply with a hint of amusement. “maybe none of your staff dared to come near you, so they asked for my help.”

he subconsciously leans into your touch, a soft smile playing on his lips. “well i’m grateful you came by,” he murmurs, though he can’t quite hide the way his wings quiver in response to your tender caresses.

“it turns out, i got more than just a set of documents that day."

you raise an eyebrow playfully. "oh? and what might that be?"

he leans in closer, his forehead gently touching yours, “a reminder of how much i need you."

MASTERLIST ; EVENT M.LIST

[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Scarlet Heart

Synopsis: Ser Aemond was consumed with guilt after his argument with his princess, and it only furthered as she was taken by sickness. Warnings: None (yet), Concerned Aemond, Princess and Aemond's (not so) Secret Relationship, Revelations PREVIOUS PART A/N: I think it's safe to say we're like 2/3's done with the story :,( ... unless

Aemond was ill at ease the entire night. Guilt was consuming him as he made the girl he loved cry. Until the hour of the ghost, Aemond listened to her as she stifled her quiet sobs and her sniffling until she had eventually cried herself to sleep all because of him. He did not mean anything he had said. It was beneath him to insinuate that she wanted the attention of any of the lords when she had proven to him who exactly she wanted. You want him. And Aemond could only pray to each god that his transgression would not detter your want and love for him. 

When the first light shone through the gloomy and overcast northern wastelands, Aemond waited impatiently for you to wake so he could offer his apologies. He had no wish to retrace old patterns of the two of you ignoring the other as a somewhat punishment. Aemond could no longer bear your silence and indifference as he had fully accustomed himself to you clinging to his side. 

As another hour passed, Aemond did not hear you wake. He looked out the window, the sun halfway to its peak, the usual time when you would wake and lovingly wake your pet cats as well. Anxiousness was starting to fill him. What if you truly froze in your bed? The coldness he had shown you and the coldness of the north gnawing away at your warmth. Aemond felt his hand grow cold at the thought. He could not bear it any longer as he forced his way into your chambers, shivering at how cold it was inside than outside. 

Aemond’s eye frantically sought out the feathered bed, but the covers were gone, and you were not lying upon it. He then turned to the sitting area and saw you lying on the cold ground, huddled by the hearth whose embers had died. Fur upon fur atop your body to find warmth, and your two pets nuzzled into your chest as your teeth chattered whilst asleep. “Oh… my heart,” Aemond said delicately as he kneeled before you. Taking your cold hands upon his cold ones as a futile hope to warm them. 

You said not a word; you did not even open your eyes. Aemond sighed and moved to caress your cheek, but he felt the scorching heat of your skin. He frowned and moved his hands upon your forehead and realized you had run a fever. “Oh gods,” He said in dread and hurriedly bundled you into his arms and ran you to the maester. Your cats were still resting atop your body, as well as the fur you had used to cover yourself.

He ran through the halls of the unknown keep, trying to find directions, but it seemed that none were awake, too tired by last night’s festivities. Luckily, as he passed through the various doors, he passed the King, who had just exited his chambers. “Good morrow, Ser Ae—“ 

“My king, where is the maester’s tower?” The knight abruptly interrupted the highest ruler of the land as he feared for your state. The king frowned, not noticing you in the arms of your knight as he took what Ser Aemond carried was a bundle of fur coats, finding the tone of urgency in your usually stoic knight odd. “The princess has run a fever during the night— she needs a maester. She is unresponsive— she usually wakes with just the slightest sound, but she has not peeled her eyes open!” The knight explained and watched as the confusion on the King’s face turned to concern as he now realized you were unconscious in your knight’s arms. 

Your father placed his warm hand atop your forehead and felt the scorching heat of your skin; the franticness of your knight now understood and was seeping into your father. “Return her to her chambers; I shall get the maesters myself.” The king said, and Aemond wasted no time doing what your father said. He ran to your chambers once more, placing you atop the feathered bend, and took off his cloak and placed it atop your frame in an effort to warm you further. Aemond then turned to died out fire of the hearth and quickly remade one. 

He could still hear your teeth chattering through your unconscious state, and Aemond looked upon the large room, which would take a while to warm. He had naught a choice but to pull with all his might the solid mahogany bed closer to the hearth. Not even the sound of the ruckus he made had woken you, who would wake by just the distant sound of your knight’s armor clinking as he shifted his weight during the night. 

Aemond panted as he directly placed your bed across the hearth; the chambers were now a mess, but he had no care as he was only focused on your recovery. Aemond leaned closer to you; every part of your body was bundled in fur and his cloak except your face, which was flushed and scarlet. He leaned closer to make certain you were still breathing. You did, but there were wheezes, and it would seem you had trouble in doing so. 

Aemond abruptly stood straighter as he heard your father’s voice approaching. The door opened, and the king, along with your brother and a flock of maesters, came. Aemond stood by the side, watching as you were inspected by each maester. Quiet murmurings enveloped the room as he, your father, and your brother waited on bated breath. 

“Had she mentioned anything about feeling unwell?” The prince asked as he watched the maesters remove the bundle of fur that covered you to inspect you further. Your pets were gently placed on the ground, and Sapphira quickly marched her way to the foot of Ser Aemond. The men glancing towards the feline that rested her head atop the boot of your knight. “She said she felt an itch on her throat on our way here, but besides that, none, my prince.” Ser Aemond replied. 

“Has the princess had scarlet fever when she was a child?” The maester questioned. And Aemond expectedly turned to the members of your family. “Yes, twice. Once, when she was a babe and then again when she was seven.” The king answered, dipping down to take hold of Theodore, who peered upon him. Taking your beloved pet into his hold to somewhat comfort your father. 

The maester hummed as he returned to his observation, but Aemond sensed alarm in your brother. “Father… it cannot be scarlet fever again, can it? The last time she…” Your brother trailed, unable to speak of what occurred. But Aemond was curious. How grave was this situation? “The last time?” Aemond asked, a risk as he spoke out of turn—a risk as he let his concern shine through and be known. 

Your brother turned to him, apprehensive to utter the words. “The last time… none of us thought she would make it. Her pulse was so faint that we had to place a maester by her side at all hours just to check her pulse constantly. Mother was already planning the funeral… had her dress readied and all.” The king quickly called upon the attention of your brother, chastising him as he recalled such bleak memories. 

By gods! Aemond was harboring dislike for your mother these past moons, but at your brother’s words— how the queen was wholly ready to accept your demise and planned the ordeal before it actually… Aemond’s mind was made. He loathed your mother. How cruel can one be? 

“Do not think a such— your sister is fine… it’s not scarlet fever… it’s just because of the weather! Isn’t that right, maester?” Your father said, trying to convince himself that nothing dire befell his most precious daughter. But as the maesters turned to your father, all had a solemn look upon their face. “I’m afraid it’s scarlet fever again, my king. Thrice in one lifetime… I must be honest, your Majesty; none of us has come across this predicament before.” 

Aemond paled at the words, turning to your father and brother, who paled as well. “What must we do, maester?” Aemond questioned; your father and brother were too shocked to speak. “We already gave her the necessary elixir of herbs for the fever. Let us wait and hope it will take. If not… we must let out her blood,” The maester explained. 

“Write to your br— cousin, tell him what has happened. Perhaps they have developed a new cure for scarlet fever.” The king stuttered as he turned to his son. “Yes, father.” The prince nodded and ran out of the room to write to his half-brother that their sister was once again plagued. The princess is one of the main reasons why her eldest brother became a maester, to finally find a lasting cure for her ailments. 

“We must isolate the princess. There are children in the keep who can easily be infected.” The maester warned, and the king nodded mindlessly, with Aemond standing idly by the side as he could not approach you without them suspecting anything. “Isolate? Leave my daughter alone?” The king then asked. “One of us could check upon the princess every hour, but we cannot be in her presence constantly at the risk of the fever spreading.” Aemond’s fist clenched at the maester’s words. Is that their solution? To leave you alone? To have you bear your ailment in solitary?

 “I can stay with the princess, my king.” Aemond then spoke. There was no hesitancy in him; he could not bear to leave you alone. Never. 

“Are you certain, Ser Aemond?” The king questioned, “I am, my king. It is still my duty to look over the princess.” He replied, but the maester voiced his reluctance, fearing that the knight would also be infected. Aemond did not care. He’d rather be by your side, in sickness and in health, as they say. “I will be fine. I have a rather great immune system; I rarely get sick.” He insisted. 

“Very well then, if no one else shall watch over my daughter, it shall be you.” The king said, clapping the shoulder of the knight as his words held a slight to the maesters who were too cowardly to watch over the princess. “Thank you, Ser Aemond.” The king said and Aemond only gave a nod. 

He watched as the king placed Theodore by his daughter’s side, the princess still not opening her eyes even as the king placed a chaste kiss atop her head. “You can do this, my darling… you have fought it before, you shall do it again,” The king whispered softly at his daughter, who made no indication that she heard her father’s pleading words. 

When your father and maesters left the room, Aemond was finally alone with you, just like how he preferred it. But even your presence he could not feel. Aemond sighed and carried a chair to the side of your bed. Sitting upon it, he took hold of Sapphira, who he placed by your side, huddling with her brother as both of your pets seemed to understand what had happened to you. 

Aemond took your hand into his hand, still cold. He slowly placed it against his cheek, hoping his warmth would transfer to you, bearing the coldness as he could not help but feel guilty at your state. If he had not accused you of enjoying the lord’s company the other night— if he had not argued with you… you would have told him immediately that you felt poorly. That you would insist him to stand in his post inside your chambers when he could watch over you. 

“Please, my heart, I’m so sorry. Do not punish me like this… yell at me, hit me, I’ll bear it all. Just… please…” Aemond pleaded as he tucked away a stray lock of your hair. It was strange for him to ask you of such. To plead with you to show him anything but kindness, but he’d prefer your rage rather than your silence. 

For the rest of the day, Aemond stayed by his princess’ side. Taking turns in holding her cold hands, hoping it would warm her. He constantly checked her temperature and pulse, fearing the worst. Never had he felt so helpless. He could do nothing as your body was partly cold and partly hot, but the whole of it was scarlet. 

Aemond shut his eye tightly as he heard a faint knock on your door, having to remove your hand on his cheek as you two could not be caught in such a state. “Your meal, Ser,” a servant uttered and placed a tray by a table near Aemond. He inspected what the servant had brought and narrowed his eyes. “Where is the princess’ meal?” He sharply questioned, but the servant only looked confused. “I—I thought the princess was unconscious and— and she would not be able to eat.” The servant stuttered as they were met with the harsh look on your sworn protector’s face. 

“Just— just bring her custard tarts. She would wake soon; she would want her custard tarts.” Aemond gritted and watched as the servant scurried off. The knight filled with hope that your unconscious state would not last. When the knight was given a platter of custard tarts, he waited for the door to shut fully before focusing all of his attention on his princess again. 

“Look, my heart, your favorite. Come now, wake up… please. You can eat it all… you don’t even have to share with me, please, my heart.” Aemond pleaded again, hoping that you would smell the scent of your favorite sweet and it would wake you. You were like a bloodhound when it came to your favorite desserts. You would just take a deep breath when in the halls of your home, and you could already guess what pastry they were making, exciting you for tea time. 

Aemond sighed once more. Perhaps you were exhausted. That you desperately needed rest, that you would wake in a few hours if Aemond only stopped pestering and pleading for you to wake. Perhaps it was that. The knight convinced himself. So, he pushed away the tray of custard tarts and held your hand once more, letting you acquire rest. 

As night came, Aemond abruptly sat up as he realized he had drifted off to sleep as he watched over you. His eyes were wide as he looked around the dark room, the fire dying once again. His hand was still holding yours, and he quickly moved his hold to feel your pulse. It was faint, but it was there. He hurriedly stood and remade the fire, cursing himself as he let himself drift off to sleep. He returned to his seat and leaned forward to feel your temperature; it seemed to lessen, making Aemond breathe out in relief. However, you still had not opened your eyes. 

Aemond looked around the room. It was dark except of the light of the hearth. He reluctantly stood and lit the various candles and lamps. You hated the dark; your room was always lit in one form or the other. “I’m sorry I drifted off to sleep, my heart. But you’re fine, yes? You’re fever is lowering… come now, open your eyes. I think the cooks made your favorite supper… it’d be a waste if you did not have some,” Aemond murmured as he returned to your side. He somewhat felt pathetic. Speaking so softly to the wind. Aemond shook his head and readjusted the furs that kept you warm. 

Aemond licked his lips as you still did not open your eyes. He and all of his siblings had scarlet fever before, but none of them grew unconscious because of it. The knight straightened his back as he heard a knock at the door, moving his hold from your hand to your pulse again.

“My prince,” Aemond stood and bowed his head. “Good evening, Ser Aemond… how is— how are you both fairing?” Your brother asked quietly as if fearing he would wake you. “The princess’ fever had lessened, but she still had not wakened,” Aemond answered, your brother moving to stand by the foot of your bed to inspect you. “You had not eaten, Ser.” The prince remarked as his eyes shifted to the table. “And… are those custard tarts?” 

“I am not hungry, my prince, and yes… I had the servant bring them— I thought it could convince the princess to wake up,” Aemond admitted, a part of him thought he might be seen as ridiculous. The prince only let out a breath of a laugh. “I’ve tried that before, surrounded her with all her favorite desserts the last time she grew unconscious, hoping the scent of it would wake her.” 

“Did it?” Aemond asked in hope. “No…” The prince admitted solemnly. 

“My prince, I do not think it’s scarlet fever,” Aemond suddenly said. “Unconsciousness is not a symptom of scarlet fever— I should know, when I was three and ten, half of my house was infected, but none of them grew unconscious,” Aemond explained as he moved closer to you. He lifted the fur covering to reveal a part of your arm “And she has none of those red bumps,” 

The prince frowned, wondering what led the maesters to conclude that it was once again scarlet fever. “But why would the maesters think it’d be scarlet fever?” The prince asked. “I do not know… perhaps they only saw her flushed face and felt her temperature and concluded that it was scarlet fever because, as you had said, she had it twice. It is easy to conclude that it could happen to her again.” Aemond observed. 

“I shall write to our brother again,” The prince muttered and moved to leave the room, but before he could reach the door, it opened to reveal your eldest brother and your newly wedded cousin, Eliza. “I was already on my way to the north when I stumbled upon the messenger you sent— how is she?” 

“Eliza, you shouldn’t be here,” the prince said and tried to nudge away his cousin. “How is she? She’ll be fine, yes? Oh gods! I knew we should have just held the ceremony in Father’s castle!” She exclaimed in guilt, resisting as your brother tried to push her out of the room. “She’ll be fine, Eliza. Now go, enjoy your honeymoon.” The prince sighed, but Eliza resisted, “I want hourly updates! I swear to the gods, if you keep me in the dark, I’ll bury you in the snow, cousin.” Eliza threatened, a small, amused smile coming to the prince’s lips through these trying times. “Very well then, now go.”

When Lady Eliza had finally gone, your eldest brother finally spoke. “It’s not scarlet fever,” He remarked, placing a damp towel on your forehead, a measure that they seem to forget amidst the panic. “Thank gods,” the prince sighed. “Thank gods indeed, I do not think her heart can handle it— it’s already weaker than the others.” Your eldest brother muttered, glancing toward Ser Aemond whose concerned expression never faded. 

Aemond licked his lips and avoided the gaze of your older brother. You had told him that your eldest brother came to know of understanding, and he could only hope he truly understood and did not utter a word of it. 

“If not scarlet fever, what then?” The prince questioned, “Just a very high fever, which would explain her unconscious state— once her temperature lessens, I’m certain she would wake.” Your brother explained, and Aemond finally let out a breath of relief. “Where’s father?” Your elder brother asked your eldest brother. “Praying,” He answered, and the prince was quick to frown. “What?” He asked in disbelief. The king was not a devout man, he only kept up appearances in the sept for the sake of the crown, but to hear him pray not out of duty but of necessity was quite shocking. 

“I shall find him and tell him what you had said,” The prince muttered. “Better find him fast, lest his knees freeze— they’re already stiff as it is,” Aemond chewed on his cheeks as your eldest brother somehow lightened the tenseness they had since the morning. 

“So… you’re looking after my sister,” Your eldest brother said slowly, tense as it was his first conversation with the knight. “Yes, my pr— lo—“ Aemond once again stuttered as he did not know how to address your brother. “Lord,” He corrected, and Aemond nodded. “Well, I suppose it best that it is you who watches over her instead of the maesters who misdiagnosed her ailment.”

“My sister has always been a sickly child,” The lord remarked. “They believe it is because she came earlier than expected or because of the amount of wine the queen drank while she was pregnant,” he sighed as both men sat across each other. Your brother by your right, and Aemond by your left. 

“Might I ask you something, my lord?” Your brother nodded, and Aemond took a moment to articulate his question properly. “It is just… I had noticed that the queen is not particularly fond of the princess,” Aemond said lowly. “You can say it plainly: she hates her.” Your eldest brother said heavily. “But why?” Aemond waited as your brother hummed. “How do I say this delicately… I’m certain my sister shared with you the true manner of our father’s and her mother’s marriage?” Aemond nodded. 

“Well, father had little affection for the queen. There is some, but it is a minuscule amount. The only intimacy they shared was for the sake of procreation, and I suppose the queen thought she could make father fall in love with her, but the only thing father truly loves are his children… and when the queen gave birth to a girl, she saw my sister as competition.” Aemond frowned severely at your eldest brother’s words. “Father had always only wanted a daughter. So, when my sister was born, he no longer saw reason to be in the queen’s presence except for appearances and familial dinners.” 

“I honestly do not know how she bears it— our brother had always tried to protect her from the Queen’s wrath, but even he could not sway their mother’s hatred for her.” The lord sighed and settled further into his seat, tired as he had journeyed through the cold just to reach his sister. “You could go and find rest, Ser Aemond. I can look over my sister,” The lord said as he tried to stifle a yawn, and Aemond was quick to shake his head. 

“It is fine, my lord. I can watch over her. It is my duty, after all,” The lord hummed and did not have the energy to disagree with Ser Aemond. “Very well, I’ll just be in the other room. Summon me if my sister is in distress— such high fevers do come with the risk of convulsions,” The lord informed as he stood. “And if you could change the towel atop her forehead before the hour of the nightingale, it would be best…” The lord trailed, distracted as he looked upon his sister concerning Aemond. “Why? What is the matter?” He asked, alarmed. 

“Nothing, I just noticed the furs… she looks like a baby bear,” Your brother breathed out a laugh, and Aemond felt a smirk inching to his lips. Your eldest brother seemed to have a gift for finding a light in dark situations. “Good night, Ser Aemond.” The lord said as he exited the door, leaving Aemond to be alone in your presence once more. 

Aemond did not sleep that night. He spent the silent hours reading to you one of the books you had bought for the trip, changing the damp towel on your forehead, and brushing your pets' fur as you would always do before you went to sleep. 

When morning approached, Aemond's hold on your hand never tired. He rechecked your temperature, which had subsided, but your skin was still warmer than usual. Earlier, you had stirred during your sleep, your small action bringing hope and fear to Aemond because he thought it might be the convulsions your brother had warned him about, but at least you were showing signs of consciousness.  

When the sun rose and bathed your chambers in its golden hue, Aemond again brought your hand to his cheek. “Please, my heart, open your eyes… please,” Aemond said softly, begging his princess to bless him once again with her gaze. Aemond lowered his eye as he was just met with silence. But he quickly raised his gaze as he felt your finger move against his skin, “My heart?” He called as he looked upon your face, your eyelids twitching, and a low hum left your lips. 

“Oh, thank gods,” He breathed out as he leaned forward to asses you further. “You’re fine… you didn’t leave me,” He breathed out in relief as he cupped your cheek, your mind still hazy and muddled from your fever. “Leave…? Why— why would I leave you? Where would I even go?” You asked, disoriented as Aemond’s face hovered above yours. Through your impaired vision, you see the concern in Aemond’s eye as if he were ready to weep. “Oh, what’s wrong, my love? Had something happened?” You asked in concern, forcing yourself to open your eyes to see Aemond more clearly and thoroughly. 

“Nothing… it’s nothing,” Aemond breathed in relief as he looked into your eyes, tiredness still evident but finally opened. That was all he could ask for. You gave him a weak smile as your finger still caressed his cheek, a low moan leaving your lips. “Do I smell custard tarts?” You then asked, making Aemond let out a low chuckle at your words. “Yes, you can have all the custard tarts you want, my heart,” Aemond said and placed a kiss atop your head before turning to a table to acquire your sweet treats. 

“Did someone call me a baby bear again while I was asleep?” You then asked making Aemond chuckle as he returned to his seat with a platter of custard tart, taking your hand in his and giving the back of it another kiss. “No, my heart, that must have been a dream,” he fibbed, all the heaviness he felt subsiding the moment you woke and spoke to him.

Unbeknownst to you both, your father stood and watched the whole scene through the ajar door. A witness to how you ever stoic knight turned soft just for you, who looked at him with your tired, love-filled eyes. The king witnessed as his beloved daughter retold the story of his grandmother. 

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[chinesehanfu]

[Hanfu · 漢服]The past and present of "eating mooncakes during the Mid-Autumn Festival"

As the Mid-Autumn Festival/Zhong Qiu Jie 中秋节 is coming, let us learn how “mooncakes/月饼” became an iconic traditional food of the Mid-Autumn Festival

🌕🥮Mooncake/月饼🥮🏮

A mooncake (simplified Chinese: 月饼; traditional Chinese: 月餅) is a Chinese bakery product traditionally eaten during the Mid-Autumn Festival (中秋節).The festival is primarily about the harvest while a legend connects it to moon watching, and mooncakes are regarded as a delicacy. Mooncakes are offered between friends or on family gatherings while celebrating the festival. The Mid-Autumn Festival is widely regarded as one of the four most important Chinese festivals.

Mooncakes were originally used as offerings to worship the moon god.

Worshiping the moon is a very old custom in China. It is actually a worship activity for the "moon god" by the ancients. Eating mooncakes and appreciating the moon during the Mid-Autumn Festival are indispensable customs for celebrating the Mid-Autumn Festival in all parts of China. Mooncakes symbolize reunion. People regard them as festive food, use them to worship the moon, and give them to relatives and friends.

Cultural relics believed to be the predecessor of mooncakes were unearthed:

<China Tang Dynasty Baoxiang flower-patterned mooncakes/宝相花月饼>⬇️

Mooncakes, traditionally offered as a tribute to the Moon Goddess, have a long and rich history. The term "mooncake" was first recorded in the Southern Song Dynasty in Wu Zimu’s <梦梁录/Meng Liang Lu>.

Over time, mooncakes merged with various regional culinary traditions, giving rise to different styles such as Cantonese, Shanxi, Beijing, Suzhou, Chaozhou, and Yunnan mooncakes, all of which are beloved by people across China：

Mooncakes truly became associated with the Mid-Autumn Festival during the Ming Dynasty. In the writings of Liu Ruoyu 刘若愚, a eunuch during the reigns of the Wanli and Chongzhen emperors, he mentioned in his prison work Zhuozhong Zhi 《酌中志》(Vol. 20, "Brief Record of Culinary Preferences"): “八月宫中赏秋海棠、玉簪花。自初一日起，即有卖月饼者。加以西瓜、藕，互相馈送。西苑鹿藕���至十五日，家家供月饼瓜果，候月上焚香后，即大肆饮啖，多竟夜始散席者。如有剩月饼，仍整收于干燥风凉之处，至岁暮合家分用之，曰‘团圆饼’也”

Translation：

"In August, the palace having event appreciates autumn crabapple blossoms. From the first day of the month, mooncakes are sold,it accompanied by watermelons and lotus roots, and are exchanged as gifts.By the fifteenth day, every household offers mooncakes and fruits in worship, waiting for the moon to rise before burning incense and feasting lavishly, with some gatherings lasting all night. If there are leftover mooncakes, they are stored in a dry and cool place until the end of the year, when the whole family shares them, calling them 'reunion cakes.'

In the Qing Dynasty, there were books that detailed the methods of making mooncakes. For example, Zeng Yi, a female writer and female doctor in the late Qing Dynasty, recorded the "Method of Making Crisp Mooncakes" in her book "Zhongkuilu": "Use white ash flour, half of which is steamed in a steamer, and no water vapor is seen; the other half is raw, and kneaded with lard and cold water. Then, mix the steamed flour with lard. Use a ball of raw oil flour, and wrap a small ball of cooked oil flour inside; use a rolling pin to roll it into a cup-sized shape, fold it into a square; roll it into a ball again, and fold it into a square again; then wrap the filling. Use a cake stamp to stamp it, and put it on the stove to cook. For the oil-flavored filling, use cooked flour, sugar, walnuts, etc., and add a little sesame oil, so that it will not fall apart." The method is very similar to today's Suzhou-style mooncakes.

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🧚🏻‍Production & Model/Makeup：@曾嚼子

🔗Xiaohongshu:https://www.xiaohongshu.com/discovery/item/66e66ef70000000026033df2

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[koalayoo]

ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ, ʙᴏʏ

michael kaiser x gn!reader

content: pure fluff for the most part, soft! bf kaiser, reference to his backstory, kind of cocky, better than my last fic for sure

author's note: wanted to write a good christmasy bday fic for him. bit late, apologies. not really proofread or beta'd. apologies again.

wc. 1.3k

Kaiser had never celebrated Christmas.

Christmas was also his birthday.

That means Kaiser has never celebrated his birthday.

This was what had become apparent to you in your relationship with Kaiser, when all the walls between you two had become bulldozed and you realised, yeah, this is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. You had come to understand that with Kaiser’s upbringing and all that he would have probably never received a gift from his father. You wonder if at that age he knew what Christmas was.

Then you started tumbling head-first into a hole of unanswered questions. What would he have even done for his birthday? Was anyone there to ever celebrate with him? You knew how bad he had it growing up, you regrettably knew. Part of you wished you didn’t know how bad it was, hoped that sometimes his father grew to be lenient or that maybe the old women in town that would see him around knew his name. Knew him to be more than Michael “professional neighbour thief” Kaiser and instead as the kid he was. That was just wishful thinking though.

He had received gifts, which was expected. He was a pro athlete but he also had Ness from the age of 15 who had most definitely gifted him something you assumed but weren’t privy to the details. However, he hadn’t celebrated. Hadn’t experienced true Christmas joy. He doesn’t know the feeling of waking up early and ripping open the wrapping paper on specially curated gifts that sit under the tree you both decorated together. Hasn’t felt what it’s like making cookies with the radios ruffled Christmas carols sputtering in the background. Wearing matching sweaters while watching stupidly predictable themed rom coms. Making a wreath to put on the front door. Kissing under the mistletoe. Ughhh, there was so much you needed to show him.

So, you did just that.

As soon as December started, you did your utmost best to get him into the festive spirit.

On the 1st, you brought home a tree and excitedly decorated it with Kaiser. Putting various coloured ornaments on, some the typical solid coloured balls, others with stripes and patterns, differing sizes, differing shapes. Then, Kaiser had placed you on his shoulders so that you could place the star on the tippity top despite your insistence it be him.

On the 5th, you went shopping with two very important things in mind. A wreath, and some ugly sweaters. On the way you slipped in some ingredients for cookies too.

On the 14th, you had started wrapping some presents. You had both agreed 3 presents was a good amount to give one another but you couldn’t help but feel a gnaw at the back of your head. It was also his birthday, you just had to double it.

On the 17th, you had put the wreath up which welcomed him home from a long day at practice.

On the 22nd, you had finally worn the sweaters which you had taken a polaroid of before promptly taking them off, sweltering from the heat of the oven that was baking the cookies you both had put hours into making. Later that night, bad christmas movie #1 was watched.

The 23rd and 24th followed a similar routine. Jam out to a different song before you got sick of it and watch another bad christmas movie. 

Then, it was the day.

All the extra presents you hid from him were placed under the tree and you made hot cocoa for two. You had to work quickly, Kaiser was used to waking up at the odd early hours of the morning and there was no doubt he would feel you missing next to him.

Soon, he had stumbled down the stairs and was greeted with you wrapping a blanket around him. You had pulled him down onto the floor and planted a present in front of him, a chaste kiss pressed against his forehead.

“Happy Birthday, handsome.” You whispered softly into the air.

He had begun to wake up more and noticed the excessive amount of presents under the tree. He looked at the presents, then at you, and an eyebrow raised comically.

“And, Merry Christmas too, I guess…” You playfully rolled your eyes with a small smile appearing on your face. “Although that one’s of lesser importance.”

He sighs although he can’t help the small upwards tilt of his lips. “Thought we agreed on 3 each?” “Yeah, but it’s your birthday too! I wasn’t gonna be one of those people, ya know? The ones who just say the Christmas presents are also their birthday presents. You deserve to be celebrated twice.” 

“Yeah but-” And you briefly cut him off because if there was one thing you knew about Kaiser which was wrapped behind layers just like the presents was this feeling of foreboding. That he didn’t deserve this. However, your job as his brilliant partner was to teach him to sit there and take it.

So you started to celebrate, taking turns ripping the presents you both put love and care into wrapping. For every 2 gifts Kaiser opened, you opened one of yours in tandem. You giggled seeing him get you exactly what you wanted and teased him when a small blush appeared on his face when he got the same.

Although, there was one last present you wanted to give him.

A house full of love.

You wanted him to learn this holiday season that you were truly never leaving. Not like his mother, or even his begrudging father. That you were full of love for him and everything that came with choosing him. The arguments, the boundaries, the fear; you couldn’t fix it but you could help and that’s the sentiment you hoped to get across.

Later that day when you finished putting your gifts away and throwing the egregious amount of wrapping paper, you enter the living room to see Kaiser plotting. 

Before you can fully enter he spits out, “Stay right there.” You murmur in acknowledgement and stay put, eyes trailing the figure that is walking towards you suspiciously, one hand placed firmly behind him. You shoot him a questioning look to which he shakes his head, not budging.

“Should invite Ness over.” 

“Why would we do that?” He questions. “Fine with just me and you here, no?”

“Season of forgiveness, champ. Do I need to teach you how to be a good friend too?”

He’s stalked all the way over to you now. He towers above you and the hand he isn’t hiding comes to hold the top of the frame, leaning down towards you. His shirt lifts a little. You look. Then you look back at your boyfriend who has leaned in even closer.

His nose nudges against yours and you knew this was one of his ways of trying to assert dominance with the way a small brazen smirk made its way to his face. Could this guy try not to be a dick for one day? You notice the way his lips brush against yours slightly and you sigh, trying not to be pulled in.

“Answer?”

“Mmm, I’ll think about it?” He chuckles and leans in to swoop your lips against his in a passionate kiss. It didn’t last long because his smile broke the seal between you two apart. His eyes have a gleam in them and they flick up causing you to do the same.

Oh. 

A mistletoe.

“When did you learn about this one?” You whisper softly, genuinely curious.

“I had a tough childhood, doesn’t mean I lived under a rock.” He laughs again, this time more joyfully. You’re not sure whether it’s the fact that he successfully tricked you or that you truly rendered him this clueless.

Then, there’s a knock at the door. You see the sliver of magenta hair through the window panels near the door before you hear him.

Oh.

Maybe Kaiser doesn’t need you to guide him after all.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! Title is from December by Ariana Grande. Thanks for reading!

[lurkerdemon]

Random DP (x DC?) Thought #8:

Less a DC thing and more focused on DP but anyway-

While not advised for any number of reasons, it is possible to summon a ghost from the Realms. For entirely separate reasons, it is generally not advised to ever summon an Ancient.

Why?

Because getting a summoning 95% correct can be just as dangerous as summoning them 100% correct, where trapping entities that govern concepts into the confines of ritual can just as easily disrupt that domain within that dimension.

Such as:

An accidental Vortex summoning from an occult club scrambling weather patterns for a full 10 minutes while they frantically tried to undo it.

Someone didn't expect the crappy internet "nightmare catcher" to work when a bad papercut brought Nocturn into their room, but they didn't exactly have long to freak out before they and everyone in 5-block radius went into a state of dead sleep or were stuck staring at the ceiling for the next hour.

Someone desperately trying to get something done with not enough time made an deadline-insanity driven summoning of Clockwork, managing to convince him to just wait five minutes while they used the resulting time dilation to finish what they needed.

And summoning the Ghost King?

Danny took one look at the summoning circle of the dimension he got dragged to, laughed, and then promptly took a nap as all things death took a holiday (resulting paperwork be damned he was tired).

= = = = =

If you want the DC flavor, I could see the Clockwork summoning being Constantine pulling a last minute move to stop a disaster. To which the time ghost nudges various events to annoy the magician for a whole month in return. (Can't have people thinking they can summon the Ancient of Time for nothing after all)

Or Frostbite getting summoned at a festival in like, Fawcett or Central City and then just vibing with a chill hero like Captain Marvel or the Flash.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Raven I’m reading the Tapis Rouge event on eng server and I’ve noticed this weird pattern with Ace? He was asking us if we’ve ever heard of Beautiful Queen, despite the fact that he knows we wouldn’t since we’re from another world, and he did the same thing in the Wish Upon a Star Event where he asks us “have you really never heard of Wish Upon a Star?” It’s like ??? Dude? You know I’m not from here? That stuff doesn’t exist back home. I mean, I can get staying in Twisted Wonderland long enough to hear about a few things but he acts like us knowing this stuff should be common sense to us even though he’s very well aware it’s not. 😭

To be fair to Ace, he’s not the only character that does this! For example, Lilia and Kalim are surprised that Yuu and Grim are unfamiliar with how they celebrate Halloween and that they don’t know what the Scalding Sands Fireworks Festival is. In the case of Halloween, Lilia is later pleased to hear that Yuu also has this holiday in another world. (In case you’re confused, the dialogue littered across Twst implies that it is common knowledge among NRC students and even staff that Yuu is from another world.)

It is true that Ace is frequently guilty of being surprised at Yuu not knowing about various Twisted Wonderland things. If I had to guess, he probably does it the most of the characters in the main cast. Just off the top of my head, there’s the prologue, book 2, Happy Beans Day, Wish Upon a Star, and Tapis Rouge (Red Carpet Cadets in EN).

I don’t think it’s an issue of Ace getting convenient amnesia (as this is a consistent thing in the main story too, not just events which are non-canonical) or intentionally saying it to be annoying despite knowing better. To me, it reads as Ace genuinely being ignorant + not being able to imagine what it’s like to be from another world and/or expecting them to know better. He seems to assume Yuu’s world is like Twisted Wonderland, or he expects that Yuu should be able to quickly pick up on things that are commonly known in Twisted Wonderland like he has.

To my first point, Ace is portrayed as flippant and not taking things seriously. He’s often not paying attention in class or finding ways to dodge doing work. More importantly, he’s also shown to be ignorant and to not know a lot about things beyond his own interests and narrow understanding of the world. Two major examples are in Jack’s Ceremonial Robes vignettes, in which Ace assumes that Jack, a beastman, MUST come from Sunset Savanna, and also generalizes the people of the Shaftlands (despite being a massive plot of land) as being a certain way. Riddle has to correct his dorm member. This indicates to me that Ace would make similar assumptions of what Yuu’s world is like, based heavily on his own understanding of how the world works. And if Twisted Wonderland is all Ace knows, why wouldn’t he default to that as the “norm” for Yuu’s world too?

To my second point, Ace has a particular talent for mimicry in many things. He can pick up dance moves, do vocal impressions, and has a sharp memory that allows him to relay mole language after hearing it demonstrated just once. Ace is also an opportunist, quick to adapt to a situation in order to get his way. For example, he cozies up to Leona in Endless Halloween Night so that he’d be spared from Floyd’s antics and tries to sneak snacks when he believes Vil isn’t watching. At the dame time, Ace is known to tease others (mainly Deuce) for not being able to be as quick to pick up on the situation or on new skills as he is. Considering all of these points, it’s not too far of a stretch to think that Ace would tease Yuu for similar shortcomings.

Speaking of Deuce, he mentions in Wish Upon a Star that it makes sense that Yuu wouldn’t know the holiday, since they’re from another world:

This reaction makes sense for Deuce’s character. While Deuce is equally as clueless about certain things (math, his own hometown, etc.), he’s still overall the more grounded and considerate of the Adeuce duo. On top of that, he’s having his own problems developing into the honors student ideal he aims for, so he doesn’t hold it against others when they’re not aware of something. Deuce and Ace may both be a part of Yuu’s friend circle, but they are very different people and react in different ways as a result of that.

[rooksamoris]

I've come to humbly request and spread propaganda for Jamil L/N.

Jamil taking his s/o's name strikes 3 birds with one stone: freedom from the Asims (you can't tell me there hasn't been a single Viper who didn't marry into another family and adopt their trade), freedom to marry the love of his life, and guaranteeing freedom for his descendants. Depending on how things go with Najma, they could erase the Viper name and, by extension, their servitude.

Also how does he react being called Mr.L/N?

💞 — in which jamil marries you and takes your last name.

💞 — jamil viper x reader

💞 — warnings: none, this is pure fluff and romance

💞 — 1.2k words. i ended up writing a mix of drabbles and headcanons <33 your propaganda turned into me making even more propaganda for this idea. honestly, seems very plausible that he would do something like this.

“I’ll take your last name. If we want to get married, I have to take your name, or else you’d be stuck serving with me,” Jamil said, breaking the silence. His eyes remained on the book in his lap, looking through the various pictures from his parents’ wedding. He would be wearing his father’s old garments. 

The man had an intricate belt with a jambiyah (dagger) tied around the waist of his thobe (long dress-like garment), and his hair was done in various braids with a shemagh (men’s headscarf) tied over it. He had a few ornate pieces of fabric draped over him like a cape and a spot of henna on the inside of his palm. The usual kohl (eyeliner) was a bit smudged from all the festivities—Jamil had never seen his father look this happy. 

His mother was dressed similarly, with old pieces of gold and silver jewelry about. Her big earrings had matched the rings his father wore, and she had kohl drawn on both her eyes and her chin, in the shape of ancient tattoos. Here hair had scented plants interwoven in the strands, and Jamil wondered if he should do the same with his hair, draping a shemagh over it. It seemed like something you would enjoy, and he would enjoy you taking them out at the end of the night. He spoke again, “What do you think of that?” he asked, concerning him taking your name.

You smiled and rested your head on his shoulder, flipping the page to another picture of his parents’s wedding, this one featuring his mother shyly lifting a piece of her sitara (long piece of fabric with various designs which directly translates to ‘curtain’) to hide her face from her husband, “I think it's a wonderful idea.”

🩷 — Taking your last name was probably the best decision he could have made. He indulged in the marriage festivities with you for both your sake and his parent’s sake. What he was excited about was signing the contract that officially gave him your surname—freeing him from the shackles of the Viper clan.

🩷 — He did it after the festivities when it was just the two of you guys and the imam as well as a legal advisor. You both were still in the wedding clothes, sitting on an ornate rug with a little table in front of you. 

🩷 — Jamil could feel the tremors of his heart in his hand as he lifted the pen and signed his name beside yours. This time, Viper was nowhere to be found.

🩷 — With that, Jamil shook hands with the imam and then handed the page to the legal advisor to be put in the Scalding Sands’s records. It all felt so surreal. He glanced over his shoulder to see you gleefully talking to the imam about the marriage and showing off your wedding band. 

🩷 — It was a thin gold ring that he had made with the antiquities left by his family. Nothing fancy—he wanted to give you diamonds, and yet you were so smitten with it and him.

Once nightfall came, Jamil lay beside you in your bed. A bed for the both of you. It was a bed he bought under his new name, Jamil (L/N), under the surname you gifted him. His charcoal eyes watched as you sat down at the edge of the bed, your night robe dipped down your back. It matched his nightgown, save for the patterns. He helped you fall in love with the comfortable garb of his homeland.

You turned slightly to see him, your eyes growing tender at the sight of him all disheveled. This was a sight just for you, “What are you thinking about?” you asked, reaching out to take his hand.

Jamil pulled you closer to him by your hand, forcing you to lay on top of him. He kissed your knuckles, “Thinking about you, hayati (my life),” he muttered, before letting his hand trail up your arm and to the back of your neck. His gaze had softened and his features relaxed, “Thank you,” 

You did not need to ask why he thanked you. You knew he felt indebted to you for being patient with him and becoming his spouse. You gave him the greatest gift ever, freedom. Free to be yours, free from Kalim Al-Asim. You freed his descendants… he would spend the rest of his life as your husband, repaying you with kisses across your skin and warm meals in your belly.

🩷 — It takes him a long time to get used to his new name, as well as his newfound freedom. After your wedding, he takes you out to do many of the things he could not do before, such as travel to another country, but even simple things like going out to parks.

🩷 — He did not have to worry about Kalim anymore, just your and his enjoyment.

🩷 — Jamil still has yet to get used to being called by your surname. When he notices it, he is filled with a smug and quiet pride, but most of the time he just ends up ignoring whoever is calling for him, or glancing over at you in confusion, thinking that they are speaking with you and not him.

🩷 — This was particularly apparent when it came to the reunion at Night Raven College.

🩷 — He did not want to go, but he could not reject you either. You were excited about seeing your silly friends, and who was he to stop you from going? Instead, he just sighed and went along with you, standing off to the side and watching as you ran about to gather Ace and Deuce, as well as greeting your other friends.

“If it isn’t the new Mr. (L/N),” Azul approached his former classmate with a suave grin. He had grown up, but it was clear he still kept that usual ‘evil businessman’ charm to him. His suit was freshly pressed and his hair, which had grown a bit, was brushed back neatly. Though, he was still wearing the same thin-rimmed glasses.

Jamil turned around when he heard your surname being called, and it took him a moment to realize what was happening. He was your husband. Sure, he remembered your wedding—he carried a picture from it all the time, but it was still strange hearing it affirmed by someone else. He tried to hide how happy he was to hear it behind a raised brow and his usual frown, “What do you want, Azul? My spouse isn’t going to be pulled into one of your schemes anymore,” he said, arms crossed.

Azul laughed at that, tilting his cane a bit as he leaned away from Jamil, “You wound me, Jamil. As if I would try anything like that anymore,” he replied, and the irony was not lost on him at all. Instead, he sighed and watched as Jamil’s eyes found your figure again. You were chasing Epel around, trying to get a hug from your old friend. It was just like before, except now you wore a ring from Jamil and he wore a name from you.

“You don’t seem so poor and unfortunate now,” Azul said.

Jamil could not bite back the slight twitch of his lips, “Not at all.”

[lynxfrost13]

SKYWINGS

PHYSICAL TRAITS

Skywings are the biggest dragon breed due to their great height and additional wingspan. Tall and lanky, these dragons are accustomed to life at high altitudes, with many living in mountainsides and other rock faces. Their wings and claws are built for gripping the rough stone of their homeland. Skywings have an incredibly strong grip that is also very effective when hunting prey.

At the base of the skywing skull is where the main horns grow, with a base growth plate being protected by an upturned part of the skull. From this original plate horn segments will grow off of the base or each other with age. Skywing horns never stop growing until death. Additional facial horns grow in a similar fashion as the skywing matures, with hatchlings displaying bumps where the most prominent horns will come in. With age these dragons tend to grow more elaborate scale patterns and horns, with chin spikes/ridges, eyebrow, and cheek ridges being the most common.

As hatchlings, skywings have no underbelly scales, and the scales they do possess on their backs are incredibly soft and flexible. Hatchlings break out of their well protected shells with an egg tooth that falls off a few days after they break free, and it’s typical for heavier facial ridges to develop where the egg tooth was. Skywing hatchlings cannot produce fire of any sort until they reach a few years of age, around when their scales harden and fill in the underbelly area (roughly 3-4 years).

The fire produced by skywings is the hottest of any dragon breed, which could cause serious damage to any dragon’s body due to the heat. To combat this, skywings evolved to have cooling vents on their necks. Several flexible scale plates can open up along each side as the dragon breathes fire, allowing for excess heat and pressure to escape without harming the dragon. To help cool their mouths, skywings also have two additional sets of “nostrils” that serve the same purpose. Despite the common misconception, skywings cannot smell from these sets of nostrils, and their overall sense of smell is average.

CUSTOMS

Skywings have a huge culture around the upkeep of their horns, since they never stop growing they do need maintenance. What began as simple horn trimming ages ago grew into much more. Skywings style their horns in various different ways, and trends in style pop up here and there. Horn painting and carving is common, but there are a wide variety of modifications that skywings apply to them as well. Jewelry is popular, but draping horn jewelry tends to be avoided since it can be a hassle in the air. Overall jewelry and body decoration is incredibly popular, with skywings using light metals, beads, and fabrics in everyday wear.

Skywing cities are situated in cliff faces or mountainsides. These cities hold huge terraced gardens, ensuring that their citizens have a local spot to gather food. It’s also common for most skywing homes to have their own personal gardens, whether decorative or for additional food. These cities tend to have few walls, they’re not needed due to natural protections such as the altitude and surrounding mountains. The Sky Palace was the only city to be heavily fortified under Queen Scarlet, while the rest remained as they were. The openness of skywing cities has also made the ones along the borders into large trading hubs with lots of intermingling.

Skywings refuse to eat birds of prey out of a deep respect for them, as well as a belief that when a skywing dies, the part of them that remains on earth becomes one of those birds. To honor their memory, skywings hold an annual weeklong celebration in the spring, celebrating the births of new hatchlings (both dragon and avian) where they compete in racing games and the like. Their love of festivities has led to them adopting from mudwing culture, and in recent years they have even begun to adopt their own version of the bard, which is more focused on the storytelling aspect rather than the history.

[theartkid15]

CEN AND RIGEL MASTER POST?!! ROTT I’m so sorry this took so long i promise im alive i was just trying to think of good silly ideas for yer boys.

Anyway……. Let’s get on with it!

Cen- he bites as a defense mechanism and has sent scraps and lootbags alike to the ER. Now the doctors recognize his bite pattern on first glance.

Rigel- he doesn’t tap people on their shoulder or nudge people to get their attention, he pinches people instead. And not with his fingers, he pinches people with his knuckles which hurts 10x more . If that makes any sense.

Cen- normally he would steal from an art supply store or a stationery shop for his art supplies. But sometimes he needs to get a little creative if his resources run low. So it’s common to see him swiping the charred pieces of wood out of a dead fire to later use as charcoal. Or find various flowers and berries to later reduce to a decently pigmented watercolor. You can even make paint out of eggs. He uses that art supplies he created the most when he feels a creative burst.

Rigel- On really, really, really, slowly days of selling the newspaper, Rigel actually tries to read it and annotate it. Maybe even fix a few grammar or spelling mistakes he can catch right away. He can’t catch every mistake from the paper and some of the annotations can be wrong, but it kills time and makes him feel smart considering all his knowledge is self taught.

Cen- you know those caricature artists you find on the street during events or just in a more populated area? Yeah, Cen became a caricature artist for a day as a quick cash grab during a festival in Ramshackle. But he wasn’t one of those artists that pin pointed and accentuated your nicer/ cuter features. No, he pin pointed and made ur most ugly features you are probably the most insecure about the vocal point of the drawing. People were given crimson chins, buck teeth with food stuck between it, monumental foreheads, hairlines that recede back for miles and so much more. People left his booth either in tears or laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe.

Rigel- he is the reason both himself and Cen wear those fingerless gloves. Rigel would get a good flow of writing creativity and NEEDED to write down every idea in his mind before he would forget it all. So he would write nonstop for ideas for pomes or stories to write about later. But all that writing made his hands and writs hurt and cramp up. So he tried finding solutions from tape to bandages to making a makeshift ice pack. It provided temporary relief but it wasn’t a full proof fix. Until he was scavenging for food and food two pairs of compression gloves. He thought it was a dumb idea but he was desperate for a solution. After wearing the gloves for a few days without any pain, he kept both pairs, one to wear daily and the other as a backup. But he realized that Cen was experiencing the same thing with his art. So Rigel begrudgingly gave the second pair to Cen. Now if only one of them could find a knee brace for Cen’s jacked up knee……

Cen- on the topic of his jacked up knee, if he walks for an extended period of time his knee starts to click when he walks. Which wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t so audibly loud and annoying. It doesn’t hurt from when he first initially injured his knee but due to being broke and having insufficient funds, he can’t get a doctor so it never healed correctly for him. His knee also has an infinite popping glitch so Cen can pop his knee as many times as he wants with having to wait. So he pops it on purpose to gross people out. How did he injure his knee? He couldn’t tell you, either play fighting with his brother or running away from authorities, or just doing something incredibly stupid.

Cen and Rigel’s way of bonding is playing fighting. Like one will start in by throwing those fake air punches pretending to beat each other up. Before they actually start hitting each other. They keep a score board on how many wins they have over each other as a way to see who is the superior twin. Another way they bond is practicing different tricks on their homemade skate boards or practicing different parkour moves to be able to get around town faster or to evade the police. 9 times out of 10 they get bruised or earn themselves a new “battle scar” because they become a little too confident in their abilities.

Rigel- lowkey has one-sided beef with elderly people. I dunno, maybe it’s because of the sweater vest he wears but older people approach him because he is a little more nicely dressed than the average scrap. And he is sick and tired of having to repeat himself over and over again or having grandmas think it’s okay to pinch his cheeks.

Cen- he once convinced Rigel to cut his hair since it was grown out to the point he was getting confused as a girl. Cen would do it himself but he knew he would get impatient and cut off too much hair. So he made Rigel do it. But Cen kept moving too much and Rigel accidentally chopped off too much hair in the back. After a moment of silence followed by Rigel cackling at how chopped his brother looked, Cen promptly beat him up, mourned the loss of his hair, and then proceeded to find something to cover up the shame of the bald spot. Thus his signature cap, he decided to keep it even after his bald spot grew back hair because he thought he looked cool.( insert that one audio “ damn we messed up we gotta go bald”)

Rigel- he sometimes thinks about their parents. Why they left, why they abandoned them, where are they now. He gets in his own head a lot and will think for hours about it if you let him. He wonders what they would look like, if he inherited any defining traits or qualities, something. He wrote a poem about it once, about missing someone you never even met. He doesn’t show it to Cen but he keeps it tucked away somewhere safe. He is thankful he isn’t doing this whole surviving thing alone and he was given a built in best friend.

Cen- on his end, he harbors a lot of anger and resentment towards their parents. He feels extremely abandoned and just angry that his life has to be so hard. That everything would have been better if their parents just stayed. He convinced himself a long time ago that if they ever showed up he is walking the other way and he is taking Rigel with him. He had that mentality that he doesn’t need parents if he has survived this long without any help. His anger comes out in short violent bursts that he tries to keep contained and away from Rigel. The most healthy coping mechanism he has is trying to visualize and draw what their parents could look like before destroying the drawing because it doesn’t look right or it isn’t realistic. Only one drawing survived this treatment and it is kept tucked away where only Cen knows its whereabouts.

If they did have parents Rigel is a mamas boy, Cen is daddy’s boy.

Rigel- he wishes he was able to go to a school to get educated. He learns through instructions and structured lectures. But after overhearing Tre’s

Experience with private school and how long the school day is and the amounts of homework, projects, and tests he would need to do, he figures it’s better to keep that dream a dream and not a reality.

Cen - he learns better through visual modeling and being able to use his hands to figure out things on his own. That’s why art calls to him so much. He is able to use sensory input such as sight and touch into an activity. So using pencils or charcoal, or using paint brings happiness. And he was so excited when he found some natural clay on the outskirts of town and made little pottery pieces for himself and Rigel to use. Cen has a lot of dexterity and eventually able to use both hands with the same skills and technique that he is basically ambidextrous.

Dante is kinda the father figure/parental figure to all of the younger scraps in general. But Cen and Rigel are the only younger scraps brave (dumb) enough to break into his tavern/ bar when they are looking for something to eat or drink. In short both twins almost got their $hit rocked by the angry old man before he realized they just needed something and were willing to risk getting caught or hurt if they stole something. They made it out alive and still cause absolute havoc in his bar and thus earned themselves the loving nickname from Dante, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb.

One time they switched spots for a day. So Rigel as Cen and Cen as Rigel they tried to not make it seem obvious of the switch but realized they didn’t have to when literally nobody in the entire town noticed the switch. And both twins were genuinely so offended because of it because they thought they had more defining traits than that. So after the switch they didn’t talk to anyone for a few days before they finally snapped and told everyone that they swapped places for a day and no one noticed.

Kay- this one might be a little out of character but listen. When Stone is having a really good day or a bad day, he pulls the some prank every so often. He either pays the twins or trades something with them for a favor. It’s simple. To find his sister Avrille, distract her, pickpocket her or even just annoy her, and the second she notices she is being robbed or messed with, to kick her cane out from under her to make her face plant onto the cobble stone. Cen, Rigel, and Stone get a kick outta it, but Stone tries to be more nonchalant about it. But Cen and Rigel are always willing to pull pranks or mess with people on other’s behalf, but for a price or fair trade.

To add onto that, they are kinda like everyone’s messenger boys. Mainly just scraps and the select few people they know from the working class( Maroon or Dante ). They mainly started this when Ditch and Vinnie first broke up and their turf got divided. They didn’t want to talk to each other nor even look at each other but they still needed to communicate for “business purposes “ on Ditch’s half. So they got recruited to send messages back and forth between Vinnie and Ditch. Things quickly escalated with the messages, going from “ Ditch says you need to give up five more feet of your turf” to Vinnie sending back her message of “ well then tell Ditch he is being a petty a$$ b!tčh”. Soon Cen and Rigel now knew the feeling of what it’s like being of a child of divorce.

Rigel and Cen do start unnecessary drama when they truly get bored. Like they pick out a person they know or someone random in a crowd and start making things up that are almost not believable but somehow still entertaining enough to be believable. That is how people now think Vinnie has fleas, Stone is faking his accent, Skipp’s scarf is alive, Ditch is naturally a ginger and files his teeth to look sharp, Tre is actually bald and wears a wig and so on. This has gotten them in trouble on multiple occasions in the times they have gone too far.

For a dollar extra they will sell you their “underground newspaper “. It’s just a Frankensteined newspaper with random scraps of paper taped onto it with petty drama that is going on in the scrap and lootbag world. They are professional ease droppers and will find out any gossip they can so they have dirt on people for blackmail.

Rigel- has unnaturally long and thick eyelashes. Cen taunts him by calling him pretty boy.

Cen- has unnaturally well kept and long fingernails. Rigel taunts him by asking him when he is gonna file down his talons.

They are honestly horrible gift givers, even to each other, not even on accident they just don’t know what to get people. Like Cen forgot everything Skipp likes ( PAPER APPLE?!) and literally picked up a cool rock and gave it to him as a gift. Skipp still loved it because in his words “at least you thought of me when you found this rock”, but later Cen stole a few apples from Skipp and drew him a couple pictures. Rigel didn’t know what to get Tre for Valentine’s Day ( POLICE REPORT?!) and Rigel could not be found for the entire day because he was doing side quests to figure out what to get Mr. Fancy pants Rich McGee. Later he handed Maroon a piece of paper and told her to give it to Tre when she can, the paper turned out to be a decently sweet love letter and poem.

Cen - when he started dating Skipp he didn’t act all lovey dovey at first but over time he just fell harder for that ginger. To the point he was mindlessly doodling him on the sides of the newspaper they were supposed to sell and when Skipp was brought up in conversation, he would talk about him for hours if you let him with a love struck look on his face. Which of course would cause Rigel to gag and tell his twin to save the sappy story for someone else who wants to listen.

Cen - convinced Skipp to switch hats for a day. It was honestly very cute if it wasn’t for the fact that they gave each other lice afterwards. But they still switch accessories every so often. Like they switch gloves or Cen takes Skipp’s scarf for a day.

Cen - the only time Cen is ever really quiet is when he is listening to his boo boo bear Skipp (kill me) play his mandolin. He just sits and watches for however long Skipp can play, violently shushing anyone that is coming between him and listening to the music that Skipp is making.

Rigel- he is happy for his twin that he found someone to have a stable relationship with. He doesn’t feel the need to be overly protective of Cen because he can handle himself. But he did pull Skipp aside and tell him that if the relationship goes down in flames, his mandolin, scarf, and Skipp himself will go up in flames. But Rigel doesn’t worry about Cen and that relationship too much, and is willing to give advice if asked, even if the advice that is given is just “ he is just a guy, run him over with a stolen car”.

( idk any popular ships with Rigel so i choose police report as the main ship ( Rigel x Tre))

Rigel - he jump scares Tre just to get attention and serve as a greeting to the wannabe cop. He chats with him for a few minutes, and of course convinces Tre to buy a newspaper off of him, maybe even flirts a bit before running off with Tre’s wallet in his hands.

Rigel- he admires Shakespeare and his works, and really wanted to go see at least one play of his in Ramshackle, he didn’t care which play it was, if it was McBeth, Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet he just wanted to see one live. And so that was his and Tre’s first date to go see Romeo and Juliet as corny as that sounds. Now while Tre is in musical theatre he can still tell when the acting is really bad but Rigel couldn’t care less because this was the first time he was witnessing a live performance.

Rigel - He does ask Tre a lot about schooling and just learning in general. Which gives Tre the idea of bringing some workbooks and literature pieces for Rigel to do and analyze. It’s their own way of bonding and keeping Rigel out of trouble for a few hours.

Rigel - if he ends up dating Tre, he and Cen included have an infinite get outta jail free card glitch. Because Tre is a weak softy and caves instantly when Rigel makes the least convincing puppy dog eyes that he was completely innocent of whatever he is accused of ( he isn’t, he knows full well what he did and will do it again)

Both Cen and Rigel are both kinda envious of each other and it kinda fuels some of their bigger arguments. Where Cen is much more confident, outgoing, and more brave to take risks, Rigel’s lacks some of those abilities. Where Rigel is able to analyze a situation, use cation, and more book smart, Cen falls short in those aspects.

At the end of the day if they admit it or not they still be each other and couldn’t function without the other. They are a package deal and where one goes the other is bound to follow. GRRRRR I LOVE THEM SO MUCH THEY NEED TO EXPLODE-

- anyway that is all, I literally wrote down all my ideas until I couldn’t write anymore. I hope you enjoy and if I mis-characterize anyone I apologize. Anyway @rottmeltson dinner is served hopefully you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed making it.-

See ya later- 💜✨🪻☀️💫🔮🌙⭐️🪐

[arclantis-blog]

Christmas Ornament

These festive Christmas Ornaments made from wood are attractive holiday decor for your Christmas Tree or home.

Each bulb is hand carved and hand painted by local artisans in the enchanting neighborhoods surrounding Oaxaca, Mexico.

They come in various colorful combinations, with each original bulb featuring festive Mexican styles and patterns.

Great as a compliment to your Christmas tree or home decor, or as a unique gift for someone you love.

Weight: approximately 2.5 oz // Dimensions: 2.75" tall x 2.25" wide x 2.25" deep - this is our smallest size from Oaxaca

To learn more about the product, click here.

Please check out other Luv2Brd products, here.

[reasonsforhope]

"Samuel Onyango’s office at Kibera Primary School is serene and spacious. His table is neatly arranged, with an assortment of files and an array of books. One side of his cream-colored office is decked with aggregate performance scores, and another shows off several trophies in a glass cabinet. Last year, Onyango’s school performed a traditional dance and scooped third place in the National Drama and Film Festivals, where schools across the country competed for the top prize.

But today Onyango, the school’s principal, is bragging about something much more basic: Thanks to an innovative community program, his students and teachers are no longer getting sick from dirty water.

Onyango’s school, with a staff of 30 and a student body of about 1,700, is in Kibera, a neighborhood in the Kenyan capital of Nairobi that is widely known as Africa’s largest informal settlement. It is a community of houses made from mud or tin sheeting where residents have to hustle to meet even their most basic needs, like electricity or clean water.

It is also a community where creativity and innovation, at the heart of any hustle, are changing how some people can access clean water — and making major ripples in public health.

Onyango’s school has long gotten its water the same way many people in Kibera do: by buying it from independent suppliers, who truck water in and sell it for around $30 per 10,000 liters (about 2,650 gallons). But trucked water can be contaminated, despite suppliers’ promises, and Onyango’s students and staff were often using unclean water at home, too. It was common, he says, for both teachers and students to get sick and miss school because of waterborne illnesses.

Last November, Onyango’s school got connected to an aerial clean water system built by a local grassroots organization called SHOFCO, which stands for Shining Hope for Communities. “Once we got connected to SHOFCO’s water,” Onyango says, “cases of these ailments reduced to nil.”

SHOFCO’s water distribution system currently reaches about 40,000 people and distributes more than 3.7 million gallons of clean water per month.

Access to safe drinking water — and its equitable distribution — underpins public health. But for the estimated 250,000 people in Kibera, who live without any government infrastructure, clean water is often a luxury. Many people are using illegal water connections, which proliferate among the poor — there are nearly 130 in just three lesser-resourced Nairobi neighborhoods. But those DIY hookups can mix clean water with raw sewage, and Kenyan officials have recently warned of a looming public health crisis if water access is not prioritized.

Shifting weather patterns also increase the risk of waterborne illness, government officials say. The Ministry of Health and the Kenya Red Cross Society have called out severe flooding during the El Niño weather pattern as a source of a recent major cholera outbreak in parts of the country. Kibera was not spared this risk: The floods led to the contamination of various sources of water in the sprawling neighborhood.

But the aerial piping system SHOFCO built in 2012 — the one that brings water to Onyango’s school — saved some Kibera residents, quite literally. With collaboration from health and county authorities, SHOFCO has all but eliminated diarrheal disease in the communities that use its aerial piping system, according to Gladys Mwende, a program officer at SHOFCO. In the health facilities SHOFCO runs, the incidences of diarrheal infections have also gone down, she adds.

Pictured: People in Kibera’s Makina section pass by the signature blue pillars that hold up SHOFCO’s aerial water piping system. Visual: Sarah Waiswa/Harvard Public Health Magazine

“[Poor sanitation is the reason] that our water is aerial piped,” says Kennedy Odede, the founder and CEO of SHOFCO. Piping water in helps clean water maintain its integrity without interference from elements including tampering. In a huge community with no major infrastructure, piping seemed impossible — there was no money and no will to build a disruptive underground system connected to the city’s main water supply. Instead, Odede and his team put the pipes up in the air. “As somebody who grew up in Kibera, to see this clean water — which I have also drank — is powerful.”

SHOFCO’s water distribution system currently reaches about 40,000 people and distributes more than 3.7 million gallons of clean water per month — nearly 46 million gallons per year — at community water kiosks, which residents access with tokens linked to the mobile money platform M-Pesa. The water kiosks are pre-programmed to fill jerry cans that hold about five gallons at a cost of 3 Kenyan shillings, or about 23 U.S. cents.

A recent evaluation of SHOFCO’s clean water efforts, undertaken by the African Population and Health Research Center, shows diarrheal disease among children under age five have decreased by 31 percent where community members used SHOFCO water kiosks and received SHOFCO’s sanitation messaging.

“We don’t get as many cases of diarrhea even though now we are in the middle of the floods,” Mwende says. “Communities have not reported any outbreaks within the areas where we are working.”

Mohammed Suleiman is grateful for the change. Suleiman, 25, was born here, and it’s been his job for the last 18 years to fetch 135 gallons of water daily for his family’s personal needs and for their samosa business.

Two months ago, Sulieman contracted typhoid from the unsanitary water he was consuming. Once he recovered, he says, switching to SHOFCO water kiosks was a no-brainer.

“I don’t know where the other independent vendors get it from,” he says. But he trusts SHOFCO water. “Water sourced from SHOFCO is cleaner than that of other vendors,” he says. “I don’t have to treat water from [SHOFCO] kiosks before consuming it.”

And he’s the living proof: Since switching to SHOFCO water, Suleiman hasn’t been sick even once."

-via Undark, August 13, 2024

[vestaignis]

В Индии фестиваль верблюдов – одно из самых красивых и запоминающихся событий в стране. Проходит фестиваль в индийском городе Биканер в штате Раджастан. Биканер находится в пустыне Тар и знаменит тем, что именно в нем расположена единственная в Индии ферма верблюдов.

Изюминка этого праздника - оригинальный верблюжий карвинг. Карвинг по шерсти (так называется художественная стрижка верблюдов) - это искусство, которое требует не только высокого уровня профессионализма и определенных навыков, но и нескончаемого терпения. Верблюдов стригут особым образом, создавая на теле изысканные узоры. На создание такой оригинальной прически хозяину животного нужно около трех лет. Первые два года, пока шерсть верблюда отрастает, ее только подравнивают и подготавливают. А на третий год, когда шерсть вырастает нужной длины, перед началом фестиваля ее аккуратно выстригают в виде различных орнаментов на спине, боках и шее верблюда. Причем делается все это только вручную, с помощью обыкновенных ножниц.

Некоторые счастливые владельцы не останавливаются и на этом – они подкрашивают выборочно кончики волос в более темный цвет, чтобы рисунок выглядел эффектнее и рельефнее. Так получается настоящее произведение искусства, живой ковер с узорами удивительной красоты. Для конкурса красоты верблюдов также украшают различными красочными аксессуарами.

In India, the camel festival is one of the most beautiful and memorable events in the country. The festival is taking place in the Indian city of Bikaner in the state of Rajasthan. Bikaner is located in the Thar desert and is famous for the fact that it is the only camel farm in India.

The highlight of this holiday is the original camel carving. Wool carving (the so-called artistic camel shearing) is an art that requires not only a high level of professionalism and certain skills, but also endless patience. Camels are sheared in a special way, creating exquisite patterns on the body. It takes about three years for the owner of the animal to create such an original hairstyle. For the first two years, while the camel's hair grows, it is only trimmed and prepared. And in the third year, when the wool grows to the desired length, before the start of the festival it is carefully cut in the form of various ornaments on the camel's back, sides and neck. Moreover, all this is done only manually, using ordinary scissors.

Some happy owners do not stop there either – they selectively tint the ends of their hair in a darker color so that the pattern looks more spectacular and more relief. So it turns out to be a real work of art, a living carpet with patterns of amazing beauty. Camels are also decorated with various colorful accessories for the beauty contest.

Источник:/ekabu.ru/160021-verblyuzhiy-bodi-art-18-foto.html, /astv.ru/club/blog/utro/6jXTE7Xkd02AQEOfZY-8Fg, /multiurok.ru / blog/nieobychnyi-vid-iskusstva-vierbliuzhii-bodiart.html, //dzen.ru /a /YndBAXlNcTNWFXvW.

[xenophorusrachid]

Albian finally gets the long-awaited horse armor DLC. And the horses are gorgonopsids that spec'ed into camel/horse physics. Isn't that just nice?

additional info below.

The Therigour is an equine-like synapsid with a history of domestication that goes back to the 'archaic' period of Albian-Aptian civilization. The images above depict the 'wild-type' morph, but Therigour can be bred to display various coat patterns in four main colors (red, orange, black, white (including bicolor and tricolor patterns). Their feet have adapted for quick travel across sand, with their hoof-like claws spreading out into a circular shape to keep from sinking.

They are carnivorous, and are characterized by high intelligence and rambunctious personalities. To remediate this, most Therigour are raised by human hand from birth, and undergo extensive training until they are 4 years of age. This ultimately builds a personal bond between trainer/rider and beast, and results in a terrifyingly loyal creature. You do not want one sic'ed on you (because they will bite you! and possibly maul you if their prey-drive is strong enough. lol). Because of the necessity of a long-maintained bond, Therigour are typically raised by warriors themselves, and breaking in a Therigour successfully is seen as a rite of passage.

In Albian, Therigour have a key presence in some religious rituals, and are culturally regarded as blessed beasts - that is, they are not to be sacrificed to any particular god, and they are often given burials similar to that of humans. This is due to the purposes they serve humans in the living realm, primarily draughtwork and personal transport. Aptian boasts similar practices, but their Therigour are often purposefully killed once they reach an age where they can no longer work (circa. 20 years old).

NOW: What's up with the armor?

The image up top is what it is - ceremonial barding worn during key Albian religious festivals, such as the New Year's Feast and the 'Days of Creation' - a three-week long festival celebrating Albian's founding. The large ox horns inlaid with gold that lay across the Therigour's back are used to harness the beast to a chariot, and these creatures are then paraded around.

Albian and Aptian warrior barding is more practical than it is ceremonial, though they do both include ceremonial motifs - such as intimidating 'eye' details. These protective symbols grant protection to both rider and beast, though their specific protections vary culturally. Creatures with eyes - or multiple eyes - are seen as worthy of godly protection by default, and erasing these eyes (or removing an animal or human's eyes) is seen as a final effort to destroy the soul of the creature.

There's also like. casual barding, but it's pretty much a simple halter + saddle + blanket/leather sheet combo...These are just the coolest.

[naffeclipse]

Ok If you two lovely, talented and hot pieces of amazing human beings don'tmind i have some questions for you and @jackofallrabbits! I'm curious How would the boys from Charm Brought It Back would react to y/n having tattoos? I'm just imagined them being enamoured about seeing the various patterns on their skin? I am myself a bug fun of Celestial themed tattoos ( Sun, Moon, stars) but also I have a little dear napping on my side. I'm just curious what would they think about them.

Also how would they reacto to Y/n changing their hair colour? Or any piercings?

I'm really hyped about the concept of characters getting to know the world and new standards around them.

Do they like music? I keep thinking about it how music is such a big part of my life, and how back in old days it wasn't so easy to have it! We have music in shops, buses, hell! We have it in our pocket all the time, from classical music to newest pop piece. And before to hear some music you had to wait for some festival or an event in a tavern you would see it as a luxury. So I wonder how would they react to Y/n showing them it on the phone. Or just Y/n swaying in the kitchen singing to the instruments

I love your Au! You both are incredibly talented and I'm feeling like you are unstoppable together haha!

Love you, have fun creating those masterpieces and thank you for sharing them with us!

YOU'RE SO SWEET! Of course, ask away!!

Tattoos would fascinate the witch boys! Sun especially enjoys art and would find Y/N just lovely with all the ink on their skin. He'd love to trace the lines of the tattoos while admiring his bride. Moon and Eclipse will kiss their tattoos and let Y/N know how pretty they are. If their bride is willing, Eclipse would like to add some tattoos of his own design of little sigils to keep them safe from harm.

Piercings are very pretty as well to the boys. Changing hair color is so fascinating to them and beautiful. They would love to see their colors on their darling love if that's the case!

Oh, the boys adore music! Sun especially since he's a dancer. He would love to sway and step to any music playing—even in a grocery store. Moon loves music more. He was always on the outside of festivals and celebrations, and the faintness of the music made him yearn for more. Now that Y/N shows him all kinds of music just from their strange little device, he can play everything he likes while he's cooking soup! His singing voice is also very lovely, and he will sing away. Moon will join in on any song that Y/N happens to be singing and he'll ask for a duet even if Y/N is terribly shy about it.

[deafeningladyruins]

A Sweet Christmas Baking Day

Art the Clown and his beloved had settled into a comfortable rhythm of life together, finding solace and joy in each other’s presence despite the darkness that surrounded them. As Christmas approached, she decided they should do something special and festive: baking Christmas cookies. She wanted to share this simple yet meaningful tradition with Art, hoping it would bring them even closer. One chilly afternoon, she gathered all the ingredients and set them out on the kitchen counter. She put on her favorite apron and handed Art a matching one, giggling at the sight of him wearing it over his clown costume. Art's eyes twinkled with amusement, his ever-present smile showing a hint of curiosity and excitement.

"Let's make some delicious cookies, Art," she said, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "It'll be fun, I promise."

Art nodded, eager to join in the holiday fun. She walked him through each step, showing him how to measure the flour, sugar, and butter. Art watched intently, his focus unwavering as he carefully followed her instructions. Despite his usually clumsy and chaotic nature, he was surprisingly meticulous in the kitchen, and she found herself smiling at his unexpected skill. They mixed the dough together, Art's gloved hands moving with surprising grace as he kneaded it. She couldn't help but laugh when he playfully dusted her nose with a bit of flour. They rolled out the dough and used cookie cutters in various festive shapes—stars, trees, and gingerbread men. Art's precision made each cookie look perfect, and she marveled at his hidden talents.

"You're a natural, Art," she said, grinning at him. "These cookies are going to be amazing."

Art's silent laugh was infectious, and they continued to work side by side, decorating the cookies with colorful icing and sprinkles. She showed him how to make intricate designs, and he caught on quickly, his creativity shining through in the beautiful patterns he created. As they placed the decorated cookies in the oven, the sweet aroma began to fill the kitchen. They sat together at the table, enjoying the warm, cozy atmosphere they had created. The anticipation of tasting their creations made her heart swell with happiness.

When the cookies were finally done, she took them out of the oven, carefully placing them on a cooling rack. They admired their handiwork, the bright colors and festive shapes bringing a sense of joy and accomplishment. She picked up a star-shaped cookie and offered it to Art.

"Here, try it," she said, her eyes sparkling. "I bet it tastes as good as it looks."

Art took a bite, his eyes lighting up with delight. She watched him, her heart full of affection for the silent clown who had become such an important part of her life. She took a bite of her own cookie, savoring the sweet taste and the warmth of the moment. After enjoying their treats, they decided to relax in the living room. She lit a few candles and turned on some soft Christmas music, creating a serene and intimate atmosphere. They cuddled up on the couch, a cozy blanket draped over them as they watched the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree.

Art rested his head on her shoulder, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. The gentle rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his presence made her feel at peace. As they sat there, basking in the quiet joy of the holiday season, she couldn't help but feel grateful for the love they shared.

Art looked up at her, his eyes soft and filled with affection. He reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch tender and reassuring. In that moment, she knew that their love, though unconventional and shrouded in darkness, was real and strong.

As the night wore on, they found themselves drifting off to sleep, still entwined in each other's embrace. The warmth of the fire, the soft glow of the lights, and the sweet taste of their homemade cookies made this Christmas a memory they would cherish forever.

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Good evening everyone, I had the idea of this writing after I saw the beginning of Terrifier 3 when Art was eating the cookies, hope you guys like it.