#day 1: raining || myth

[sleepy-grav3]

The Moon Child - Part 1

Part 2

A/n: There's a bunch of batfam adoptions, let's switch it up a bit.

Summary Background info: Danny died fully to the GIW. His class noticed when Danny disappeared and think his parents killed him. The city now believes he lives among the stars. On the same day Danny died, however, the moon was smashed to bits and rained down asteroids into the ocean and land of Earth. The Lanterns replace it with a new moon. The ocean life believes that the moon's spirit will not like being replaced.

Tw: Bad parents, depression, dissociation, vivisection scars, past death, discrimination, angst, hurt/comfort

Danny is a full ghost and looks like a child because that's all his core can expend; Danny becomes a moon spirit. Aquaman/Arthur is the movie version, the fun upbeat guy, not the serious one.

The Moon Child Part 1 - Strong Beliefs Come to Life

When the moon was destroyed, the Lanterns had agreed to send over a new one to make sure the Earth didn't destroy itself without the Moon to guide the oceans. It wasn't difficult to get one, though it was a lot of paperwork.

But when it was done, the Justice League thought that was it. Batman, being the paranoid man he was, demanded those with cities near a beach and Aquaman to report regularly about any changes in the ocean with the new moon while he checks other things that would be affected by it. They didn't bother to argue, as their luck always had it that peace was never a lasting thing. So the extra precaution was fine, but they didn't think anything of it after a few weeks of nothing happening.

The ocean life thought otherwise. Unlike the beings on land, who worship the sun, the beings in the ocean believed in the moon. Legends, myths, and many beliefs surrounding the moon's corpse that had mostly fell in their waters had risen.

The Moon is not meant to be replaced

The Moon is not like the others

The Moon will believe we did not care

The Moon will return and haunt these waters

-

Cries echoed in the dark of night. Moonstones guided the way to the origin of said sobs that were as powerful as the sirens' voice. Yet what the sirens attracted was lust, not melancholy.

Those who followed them would begin to see a dim light grow brighter and brighter, but never irritate. Instead, it would bring a wave of sorrowful tranquility.

When they reached the origin, they would see a small child holding their tail that faded in solidity. Their hair as white as how the moon used to be. Their skin as pale as a human who had died in freezing temperatures. And their eyes a beautiful silver that matched the stones that trailed away from them.

They wore loose and poofy at the bottom pants that matched a dark night sky and a translucent veil that had constellations move around the dark blue fabric. His upper body was bare, and he covered it with the veil, which darkened when wrapped to shield his body from being seen. (think Egyptian dancer)

And that's when the creatures of the ocean had a realization. Their deity was too kind to exact revenge for the blasphemy. Their pain was not one to simply end in an instant.

The Moon has returned, and they are not angered.

They thought they were replaceable, disposable. As if they never mattered.

The Moon has returned to world that acted ungrateful for what they had done to protect it. To a world who simply replaced them for another.

They felt like all they did was for nothing. Like nothing they had done ever mattered in the end.

The Moon did not have a welcomed return. And they decided to express it alone, as if nobody would care to comfort them.

-

Arthur never believed in ghosts. Not until now as he gazed upon the spirit of the moon who had taken the form of a small child with a wisp for a tail and was crying moonstones.

The seafolk had all voiced their guilt on how they cursed at the humans and aliens, speaking how the spirit of the moon would enact their revenge. They felt guilty that they had ever thought their deity would ever stoop as low as those disgraceful humans. For their deity was kind. They were perfect. And they always looked after them when they could, even appearing in the day no matter how much strength it took.

The Ocean was meant to be the Moon's temple.

And as the King of the Ocean, it was his duty to take in the Moon and shelter them in their time of need.

"Child."

The child jumped, turning with wide, teary eyes at him. Arthur smiled gently.

"Greetings. I've heard that you've been here for a while now. It... it must've hurt badly."

The child seemed to have a flash of pain from the memory alone, tightening their arms around their wispy tail.

"What they did to you was unacceptable and inhumane. You were alive and looking after so many who could not save themselves."

More stones splashed into the water.

"You saved them, save everyone and they repaid that by hurting you. Killing you. Attempting to end you. It was a crime and yet... yet they got off light. It was a crime and they thought nothing of it."

The spirit relaxed, eyes gazing at him in disbelief and awe.

"I'm sorry we weren't able to save you. I'm sorry I couldn't prevent such a blasphemous act."

They smiled softly at him and let go of their tail, flying over to him.

"I'm still here." Their voice echoed. "I can still protect everyone."

Arthur took a breath and reached his hand out, placing it on the child's head.

"Please, let me do the protecting this time."

The child of the moon teared up once more, smile now shaky.

"Okay." They whispered. "I'll trust you."

And with that, the child shined just a bit more brightly before their form retreated into a spherical oval with the New Moon glyph floating inside. He cupped his hands together, letting the moonstone with the height of 2 quarters and the width and depth of 1 descend into them. Upon observation, he noticed the moon glyph shift to always present itself in the direction of those who gazed upon them.

"I have to report this to the league." Arthur thought, worried about what they'd do if they discover the spirit on their own.

-

Pain, that was all he felt. Even after his core had been carved and crushed, he still felt the excruciating agony of it. And now he revived again, feeling the aftershocks, the phantom pains.

His core was straining itself to even let him stay out of it, willing him to retreat. But he couldn't risk being found. He couldn't risk a curious person deciding to carve him again.

That was... until this man came. A hero, one that ruled over the oceans and seas, came to him and apologized for not saving him. someone who wasn't even close to him, who shouldn't have even known about him, had felt guilty about his death. And he stayed and he begged for him to come with him. He bled out the promise of safety. Of recognition. He... wanted to protect Danny.

A hero who protected the beings of his waters wanted to protect him, a ghost.

Danny was starting to think humans really were inferior to other beings. Be it aliens... or seafolk. Atlanteans. Ha! To think an Atlantean cared more about him, who was a half human and human ghost, than a human ever could.

It hurt.

It hurt to think about.

But it hurt more to try to reject it. So, he accepted that this stranger, this hero who probably didn't even believe he could exist, was willing to protect him like nobody ever had. Like nobody ever could. Like nobody ever would.

His core will be safe with him. He will be safe with him.

---------------

A/n: Well... that was a thing. Poor Danny.... He was never actually acknowledged. But oh well. The next one's about him meeting the family and getting coddled.

Also, if you're thinking about the movie's Aquaman having a baby... well he's dead. Black Manta killed him through suffocation or whatever like the wiki says. So that's why he wasn't mentioned.

Part 2

[humansofnewyork]

(1/54) “We begin in darkness. A siren screams. The invaders come from the desert in a cloud of dust. The king gathers his army at a mountain castle. A single battle decides our fate. The battle burns, the din of drums, the clash of axes, the spark of swords. The dirt turns clay with blood. The sun goes down on a fallen flag. The day is lost. The king is gone. Our people are left defenseless. The only weapon we have left is our voice. So they come for our words. Scholars are murdered, books are burned, entire libraries are turned to dust. Until nothing remains. Not even memories of who we were. Silence. The sun comes up on a knight galloping across the land. He summons the teachers, the scholars, the authors, the thinkers. He tells them to gather the words that remain: the books, the scrolls, the letters, the verses. Everything that escaped the burning pits. Then he summons the sages. The keepers of our oldest myths, from before the written word. He copies their stories onto the page. Then when all has been gathered, all of the words, only then does he summon a poet. It had to be a poet. Because poetry is music. It sinks into the memory. And in this land of endless war, the only safe library is the memory of the people. It is said that at any given time there are one hundred thousand poets in Iran, but only one is chosen. A single poet, for a sacred mission. Put it all in a poem. Everything they’re trying to destroy. The entire story of our people. Our kings. Our queens. Our castles. Our banquets. Our songs and celebrations. Our goblets filled with wine. Our roasted kebabs. Our moonlit gardens. Our caravans of riches: silken carpets, amber, musk, goblets filled with diamonds, goblets filled with rubies, goblets filled with pearls. Our mountains. Our rivers. Our soil. Our borders. Our battles. Our crumbled castles. Our fallen flags. Our blood. Who we were. Who we were! Our culture. Our wisdom. Our choices. And our words. All of our words. Three thousand years of words, a castle of words! That no wind or rain will destroy! However long it takes, put it all in a poem. All of Iran, in a single poem. A torch to rage against the night! A voice to echo in the dark.” 

در تاریکی آغاز می‌کنیم. بانگ آژیری برمی‌خیزد. غارتگران بیابانی در هاله‌ای از گرد و غبار فرا می‌رسند. شاهنشاه سپاهیانش را پیرامون کاخی کوهستانی گرد می‌آورد. تک‌نبردی سرنوشت‌ساز است. سوزندگی‌های نبرد، بانگ کوس و درا‌ها، چکاچاک تبرها، درخشش شمشیرها. خاکِ آغشته به خون گِل می‌شود. خورشید درفش افتاده‌‌ را به شب می‌سپارد. نبرد از دست رفته است. پادشاه نیز رفته است. و مردمان بی‌دفاع مانده‌اند. اینک سخن، تنها جنگ‌افزار ماست. زین روست که بر واژگان‌مان می‌تازند. دانشمندان را می‌کشند، کتاب‌ها را می‌سوزانند، کتابخانه‌ها را با خاک یکسان می‌کنند آنچنان که هیچ نمانَد. حتا یادمانی از آن که بوده‌ایم. خاموشی. خورشید بر سواری که در سرتاسر زمین می‌تازد ‌پرتوافشان است. اوست که آموزگاران را فرا می‌خواند، دانشمندان را، نویسندگان را، اندیشمندان را. و از آنان می‌خواهد تا همه‌ی واژگانِ بازمانده را فراهم آورند. کتاب‌ها، طومارها، نامه‌ها، سروده‌‌ها. و هر آنچه از شراره‌های سوزان آتش دور مانده است. آنگاه فرزانگان را فرا می‌خواند. نگهبانان اسطوره‌های کهن، از پیشین زمان. داستان‌هاشان را بر برگ‌ها می‌نویسند. با فراهم آمدن این همه، هنگام آن رسیده است تا سراینده‌ای توانا بالا برافرازد، نیزه‌ی قلم برگیرد، سروده‌های آهنگینش را چنان بر دل‌ها نشاند که در یادها بمانند. در این سرزمینِ جنگ‌های بی‌پایان، تنها کتابخانه‌ی امن، خاطره‌ی مردمان است. گویند سدهزار شاعر همزمان در ایران می‌زیند ولی تنها یکی‌ست که از پس این کار سترگ برمی‌آید. تک‌شاعری، برای کوششی سپنتا. کسی که همه‌ی واژگان را در شعرش بگنجاند! گنجینه‌ای دور از دستبُرد آنان که در پی نابودی‌اش هستند. دربرگیرنده‌ی داستان مردمان‌مان. پادشاهان‌مان. شهبانوان‌مان. کاخ‌هامان. سرودها و بزم‌هایمان. جام‌های پر از باده‌مان. کباب‌های بریان‌مان. باغ‌های مهتابی‌مان. کاروان‌های کالاهای گرانبها: فرش‌های ابریشمین‌, عنبر، مُشک، پیمانه‌های پر از الماس، پیمانه‌های پر از یاقوت، پیمانه‌های پر از مروارید. کوهستان‌مان. رود‌هامان. خاک‌مان. مرزهامان. نبردهامان. باروهای ویران‌مان. درفش‌های بر خاک‌افتاده‌مان. خون‌مان. که بوده‌ایم. که بوده‌ایم! فرهنگمان. خِرَدمان. گزینه‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌هامان. و واژگان‌مان. همه‌ی واژگان‌مان. هزاران سال واژه، کاخی از واژگان که از باد و باران نیابد گزند! هر اندازه زمان ببرد.همه را در شعرش بگنجاند. همه‌ی ایران را، در سُرودی یگانه. مشعلی خروشنده در سیاهی شب! پژواک بلند و پرطنین آوایی در تاریکی

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

i promised ... and i owe ... so many of you thoughts on xavier's "no restraint" card..... SO HERE IT IS, UNDER THE CUT !! i ramble a lot so it's very long 🫶🫶

(this was so hard guys. this card was a whole entire shock factor.)

first of all...... please delight in this reaction image i can offer you. because. any of you who are reading this rn know exactly which part of the card i'm referring to when i say:

(in conclusion, my legs are open)

.. ANYWAY !!!!!!!!! CLEARS THROAT

things we're going to talk about? well, it's me, so (A) character development, (B) relationship development, but also (C) WHATEVER THE HELL WENT ON IN THAT KINDLED MOMENTS SSCENE <3

(A-1) Character Development; Xavier

over the past few cards we've been having of him, i think it's safe to say that we're familiar with a number of his mannerisms, and i've also talked about a lot why that is and what goes into that.

but a lot of it changes in this card. and it's so much more than just the moment of realization he has in 21 days, too. enough that—aside from what we know eventually takes place—we can safely assume that all this occurs after that card chronologically.

exhibit a; tendency to do things on his own.

this is something that i may not have talked about as much, but i'm pretty sure we all know it's there—that xavier has always carried this tendency to do things all on his own. there's multiple examples of this, and it goes way way way back to his anecdotes.

i.e. with "passing by" and "when shooting stars fall", we already have prime examples—

"Whether it's tasks assigned by the higher-ups or senior members, Xavier always completes them quickly and methodically. He works until they're done, but nothing more."

"Xavier stands alone amidst a circle of fallen bodyguards. In the corner, Lawrence is tied up with bed sheets, his neck at an odd angle."

"I notice the wounds on his hands and face. Catching his breath, he holds out his hand, showing me a small, glowing Protocore. This is the first time he's looked at me with desperation in his eyes. When he moves closer, I notice a ring of light around his neck. It's a striking, suffocating red."

in his lightseeker myth, too, he's also the one to take the initiative and look for an alternative to philos' sacrifice. he leaves mc behind, and he leaves jeremiah behind—it isn't until later that he's able to enlist the help of others and form the backtrackers, and even then, they all recognize that he's the most capable one among them. in fact, it's also evident in "from the stars" from world underneath:

"As the leader of the Backtrackers ... Asteroids, turbulence, and the collapse of wormholes couldn't tear Traceback ll's team apart. With Xavier there, they managed to break through the universe's most impregnable spacetime barrier."

"It seems like everyone had a reason to give up and leave halfway except you. Well, you did too, but you wouldn't because no one could replace you. We all thought that you'd still make it to the end, even if you were the only one left."

in the main story, we're also faced with multiple scenarios of xavier going off on his own to do hunter duties, or otherwise a little extra in order to find the protocore that he needs—"heartstring symphony" is also proof of that.

and lumiere's myth is no different, nor is the whole legend behind lumiere in the first place.

"Xavier is missing. He didn't show up on the set, and there was no sign of him at home either ... Since then, I've never received a Wanderer alert on my watch again. Just like Xavier predicted, the dark clouds gradually dispersed, and the heavy rain slowly became a gentle drizzle until it ceased completely. Breathtaking evening clouds replaced them. Dusk falls, accompanied by millions of glittering lights creating a spectacular meteor shower. Long streaks reminiscent of contrails are etched across the sky. Meanwhile, the newest updates are being broadcast repeatedly on the massive screen in the heart of Azure Square. The previously rampant Wanderers have disappeared overnight, leaving behind only some suspicious Protocores ... The doomsday panic, which overtook the city like an inflating balloon, shatters silently as if pierced by a pin."

"Right on cue, my watch loudly sounds the alarm, and I hear the roars of Wanderers from the flames. At that moment, Xavier vanishes, and a beam of light with as much force as a rainbow piercing through sunshine cuts through the collapsed, burning factory. In the blink of an eye, he leaps out of the raging fire, his sword still coated in Metaflux that has yet to dissipate."

"'Threat levels are at least A. I have to go—' 'Stay here. I'll be right back.' Xavier pushes down my shoulder, and a strange red light around his neck is quickly concealed by his collar."

"The red light on Xavier's neck flickers wildly. He swings his weapon, sending out a lightblade to kill the remaining, struggling Wanderer. Smoke created by the dissipated energy rises in all directions. He leans against the wall, trying to steady his wobbling form after the intense battle. 'Abnormal vital signs have been detected. Excessive use of Evol. Disengage from combat immediately and receive treatment...' Xavier turns off the annoying warning on his watch and lifts his gaze to the entrance of an alley, where several shadows are closing in on him."

moreover is the fact that from world underneath, we also know that his collar acts as a suppressor:

"'...Light Evol has been detected. Evolver's Evol limit cannot be defined.' 'Any attempts to probe its limit triggers a special neck suppressor, which prevents the Evolver from using their full power.'"

and yet despite that, he still continues to do what he does, anyway.

a lot of things play into it, and i talk a lot about how his upbringing as a prince must have largely contributed to habits like this. he's used to doing things on his own, and he's expected to, in a way—all the burdens and duties placed upon him the moment he was born, when he bever had any say in it. already in his "when shooting stars fall" anecdote, he's isolated from everyone and constantly surrounded by bodyguards, and mc acted as his only source of freedom by reaching for him past that barrier.

it's also worth noting that most (if not all) of this that he's been doing, is all and always for mc, too—as if it comes back full cycle. it's how he shows his love for her, because it's really the only way he knows how to.

which also brings attention to his always and ever highlighted communication issues—because common in all of these examples up until this card, is that he's been vague about it.

never giving the full answer.

never truly explaining what he's been up to.

and it's something that mc knows; he keeps his secrets well, and they've never really truly talked about these things.

but "no restraint" plays this out a little differently.

"Even though I still want to ask him about where he went, it's only a matter of time before more of Henrik's men arrive. Escaping is our main priority."

And yet;

"I realized I was being followed, which is why I didn't contact you. I managed to shake them off, but I was concerned they might catch up to me. That's why I searched for the Protocore by myself."

—"Why are you suddenly talking about this?"

"...No reason."

xavier willingly explains.

mc doesn't particularly ask—yet he says it anyway. to clear the air, to maybe make it known that he is putting in an effort.

in this situation, he hasn't derived from his habit of going off on his own, but he provides a good explanation of it. there's mediation; he's saying that he trusts her, and he wants to ensure that there is nothing for her to be worried about.

"I just wanted to say I'm not the kind of partner who would leave you behind... I'm also not one of those young people who take things for granted, either."

and he further willingly explains when she does probe him, replying with a reflection of the excuse she gave one of the bodyguards just to be able to get information out of him.

BUT, MOSTLY—

"i know you know" is xavier directly addressing the fact that their relationship has been curated around this trust that they've been starting to build with each other—he knows that mc was not exactly doubting him, yet he wanted to reassure her anyway, as if speaking it out loud makes it official.

sometimes you don't ask for reassurance because you know in your heart that your doubts aren't real. but receiving it never hurts—and that's how this plays out.

xavier has always known that communication has always been an issue with him.

he's willing to fix it, and willing to take that extra step to make sure mc doesn't feel unloved with him. he doesn't want to leave room for doubts.

"i know you know." i know you know i will never leave you, i know you know that i love you. i know you know, but i'll say it anyway. because i mean it. and you don't have to worry.

(LIKE DO YOU GUYS GET HOW IMPORTANT THIS LINE IS? 😭 HOW MUCH IT SAYS FOR THE EXTENT TO WHICH HE TRULY LOVES HER? 😭)

exhibit b; aloofness.

we also know that, while xavier can be pretty intense with regards to the previous point, he's always had this calm, easygoing, aloof nature to him. as if he could fade into the background, as if he's simply floating around like a little cloud—there's this aura around him that simply wants to just... be.

but, again, it's almost as if so much more hides underneath that. like it's not totally 100% inherently him. like it's not entirely natural, like the part of him that's like this is maybe somewhat a façade that he's been putting up for so long, so it's just ended up... becoming part of him, by force of habit.

there are so many subtleties to the way he seems to try to express himself—the little things. microexpressions. involuntary emotional leakage. they last for a fragment of a second, but they're there, and with xavier, they seem to always convey so much more than whatever words he can muster.... because he always finds himself short of doing it in the way he wants to.

again, it goes back to his communication issues.

he's used to being isolated. used to speaking eloquently as he does only when required, but never really quite knowing how to express affection. or, again, how to express himself in general.

"it's like he's just so used to being princely, that he can't let go of it even if he isn't a prince anymore. he wants to, but old habits die hard—he hides so much beneath that exterior still, and it's mc who's able to help him tear down those walls, mc who's able to make him want to try harder to."

and it's why we've always seen this push and pull with him. he has trouble being honest about his feelings, difficulties in telling mc he loves her, difficulties in being direct to the point with her. he'd dodge her questions, be vague about things... hints of directness, but never really pushing forward with it. he'd tease, but it falls short—mc doesn't know if he's being genuine or not. he doesn't know how to convey that. so a lot of their previous cards and previous moments have been very vague. so, so many examples, a very prime one being his lightseeker myth, because their communication issues very sincerely stuck out with that one. and the last intimate card they had—"tender nights"—and in fact, "heartstring symphony" too, very blatantly display how difficult it is for him to convey his feelings the right way.

but... again, "no restraint" plays that out a lot differently.

"If I had known, I would've kept you company until the mission ended."

"When you said no, they said— 'You're a special person. Won't you reconsider?' ... Did you reconsider?"

"'It's just a scratch. It'll heal in no time.' ... Xavier shakes his head, stands up, and leaves the room. When he returns, he's holding a box filled with bandages that have red foxes on them."

"He gets down on one knee and covers my knee with a bandage. The dim light blurs the outline of his hair ... After smoothing out the bandage, Xavier puts slippers on my feet. And then he stands up and leans against the edge of the table, shoulder to shoulder with me."

"He seems to casually glance in my direction. Noticing how I'm wearing a bathrobe, his gaze lingers on me for a second longer..."

"Does that mean you only like the bandage?"

"Before I realize it, his hand that's on the table slides over. He hooks his pinky over mine. 'I'm curious. The cupcake you mentioned—is it your favorite?'"

and...

he's more intentional with his words and his actions this time. he wants to show her that he loves her, he wants to show her that she means a lot to him. and they're still little things, not too major, but there's a certain confidence in the way that he does it. there's sureness. it's less of those awkward moments of "should i, shouldn't i?" and there's way less hesitation.

he's insistent on holding her and taking care of her wounds. he's insistent on having her say her side of things, because he wants to know what she really thinks, too. small staps towards clearer communication—and though the tension may still be high with them in this card in general, it's a kind of tension where you can feel that they're more comfortable.

it's a stark contrast.

this is the xavier that's more than just learning, more than just realizing—he's doing.

you can really see how he's grown as a person.

(A-2) Character Development; MC

BUT it's not JUST xavier who's grown. because like in all relationships, effort comes from both sides. and the main point here, is that mc has learned to trust him a little more, too.

this part is a little shorter, but i really wanted to bring attention to two scenes and how they both play out—and i'd also like to point out the very start of the card.

the card starts off very general and sets the scene quite well, but it also starts off with mc and xavier separated. this becomes largely the topic for discussion as the card goes on, because mc does wonder where he is, and why he isn't saying anything to her.

but it's not implied anywhere that she's particularly upset about it.

in previous cards/interactions, there's always a sense of exasperation behind her words—sometimes, like in "heartstring symphony", she's upset about it. she chastises him, she sometimes makes it known that she doesn't like when he does those things—

but this time there's none of that.

she allows the mission to move smoothly, doesn't react as much once she does hear xavier contact her again... and even if it shows that she keeps wondering where he is and what he's doing, and later on what he has been doing, it's founded on curiosity instead of frustration.

"Even though I still want to ask him about where he went, it's only a matter of time before more of Henrik's men arrive. Escaping is our main priority."

this is the mc that trusts him.

this is the mc that knows she doesn't particularly need reassurance from him, and she can do without it, because she knows what no matter what, she can trust what he's been up to.

and now;

if it wasn't obvious yet previously, this should make it.

because she's not upset—in fact, she's fond.

she recognizes that her own feelings stem from her own desire to have him with her at all times, too, but most of all, she recognizes that there's nothing to be concerned of, anyway.

she knows that in the end, the person that xavier loves is her. the person that xavier wants to protevt the most is her. the person that xavier wants to be with, as much as he can, as much as the circumstances let him—is her.

she's content with that.

she smiles at the bandage, because it's proof of it—he's just treated her wounds, so insistent on taking care of her even if she knows it's nothing but a scratch and that he doesn't even need to dote on her.

but he does.

he goes the extra stew to get a cute little bandage because he knows it'll make her smile more, too.

she knows that, and she's happy.

"You have your secrets too, but you're different from them."

in a stark contrast from the mc we've been used to before that seems a little on edge and unsure and so doubtful of so many things because there's a lot about xavier she doesn't know yet—this time, she accepts it. because they're both working towards communicating more, and being more affectionate... and there's just no reason and no need for be to be concerned.

it's a big step for her to take, and this is a surprisingly big amount of trust she's putting on him, but it's further proof of how much she—they—have grown.

"You're like.. a cupcake I tucked away so I can have you all to myself."

this is also a line that holds so much in it.

it's really struck out to me, and for a number of reasons, too— (1) it further emphasizes how content she is with him and how much she trusts him; (2) it further emphasizes her own growth with relation to how she shows affection; (3) it says a lot about the kind of special treatment she gives xavier, too.

starting with point #2—the mc we see with xavier has always been bold, always the one to initiate things.... but never truly reciprocates.

like the xavier before, mc never really follows through with what she starts. she'll tease, then pull back; initiate, and then abruptly leave him hanging. she's not much better than xavier in terms of showing affection, because although she may seem like the bolder one, the truth is that she's always been scared.

it goes back to the level of trust she has in him.

because she doesn't know too much about him, it prevents her from truly acting on her feelings—she doesn't know what to expect, doesn't know how far she's allowed to take things.

teasing remains teasing.

not this time.

we also see the level of sureness she has in her actions with the way she initiates their more intimate moments later on; she might have started out as coy, but not once did she back away from it... if not for the fact that she encourages it, even.

"I tug at his sleeve, unable to figure out whether I'm meaning to be flirty or not."

she says this, but she still continues. because she knows what she wants, and she trusts him with it.

then you bring that all together with point #3—the allusions to her own personality.

"You're like a cupcake I tucked away, so I can have you all to myself."

to me it feels less about her reciprocating his more possessive nature, and more about her views on how she's been cherishing him.

tucked away.

she uses past tense.

she could have very well said "a cupcake i tuck away"; which would imply that she frequently wants to hold him close to her to save for when they're alone.

but this is a cupcake she tucked away.

and to me it feels like she's held on to him so long... without actually appreciating him for who he is.

it's like having a pretty dessert with you, one that's too pretty to eat, so you keep for yourself for a while. and you... don't eat it. even if you're supposed to.

it's like getting a precious jewel, but you're too concerned about it being stolen from you, because it's just that precious and beautiful—so you keep it. you don't wear it, whether outside or wherever. you don't. wear it. even if you're supposed to.

and that's not appreciating them for what they are.

to me, it feels like that's how the change in tense makes mc's words appear.

a cupcake she tucked away—hasn't eaten at all. like how, with xavier, for all that she's been fond of him, she's never onve bridged the gap between them on her own, either. she's kept him at arm's length, doubted him, and everything else that comes along with all the communication issues they've always had.

this time, she recognizes it—and i'd like to think that in a way, she's also apologizing for it. she admits, out loud, to herself and to him, that she's been pretty selfish. she hasn't been treasuring him and cherishing him the way she needs to be. she hasn't been reciprocating when he's affectionate. she's been only shying away when he initiates something. she knows she's been like that, and she's saying—i'm not going to be like that anymore.

and again, it goes back to trust.

she trusts him.

and because she can trust him, she can love him how he is, for who he is.

"so i can have you all to myself" feels a lot more like, "so i can finally love you."

and then we get to this scene.

for one thing, she doesn't deny their relationship at all; for another—their conversation on "love" feels very striking to me, too.

"but he can be a little mischievous sometimes."

"isn't that just love?"

and then...

"you're not wrong."

it's like a very direct jab at xavier and his way of being affectionate; the teasing that he does, and the way he's sometimes a little vague, sometimes a little awkward—but he's trying, and he's becoming more sure of himself, too.

and xavier's way of showing affection is truly reserved for her, because there's really none of that awkwardness with anyone else—he doesn't try so hard.

mc seems to be, here, descriving that nature of him as "mischievous".

it is, in a way.

but she also knows that it's love.

that it's his way of showing love.

she recognizes it. she accepts it.

she's learned things about him, too, and she's thinking... all of it can be compiled into this little word called love.

there is love between both of them.

and we can say that at this point, they're pretty far into their relationship.

they've gotten quite comfortable with each other—they're being touchy, the playful banter is light and easy... and they're definitely working to strengthen the bond that they have. their communication has improved SO much... i'm so proud of them 😭

it's definitely not a fully developed relationship; they're still a little shy around each other, there's still a lot of tension that's hard for them to navigate. it seems they've also yet to cross the " i love you" barrier, or at the very least, that it's difficult to say—plus, mc is exceedingly embarrassed to find xavier had overheard her conversation with the receptionist.

yet... when we move on to when they start to get intimate, it's also very interesting to me that it goes so smoothly—and it's definitely not their first time.

but it's a first something.

and it doesn't make the moment any less full of emotion.

this particular sequence honestly had me so INCREDIBLY confused at first, because why on earth would he be trapped right;

but then you look into who xavier is and how he's been with mc, and it goes back to that—he has so, so much love for her that he simply doesn't know how to deal with it.

he's pleading her.

he's saying that if she continues drawing him in like this, what with how much he always feels for her, he's not going to be able to hold back.

it's a trap, in a way.

xavier is still trying his best to discern what it means to show love to someone—because all these years, he hasn't been able to learn that properly. and yet now that mc has fully grasped her end of the stick, now that she's confident and sure of what she wants and how much she feels for him, it's bringing forth a bubble of emotions that he can't seem to describe.

it might not be their first time, but i don't think that xavier ever moves on from what it feels like to be wanted by her like this.

it's scary, because he doesn't know how to navigate things like this.

"It's almost as if tiny flames are flickering in the depths of his gaze. They're faint yet ready to ignite my soul at any moment."

xavier, who's been raised with the notion that he has to know things, to be able to potentially lead his people as the future king of philos...

this is something he doesn't know.

and like how mc was always afraid of how uncertain she was with him, right now, he's afraid because he has so much emotion ready to burst forth that he doesn't know what to do with it.

there's an aura of disbelief that makes it so hard for him to grasp.

it's always been "i will love you in every universe"—for the both of them.

and now, he's having the full realization, maybe for the 928482857th time since they've become official, that she's saying those words back to him. that if he can love her in every universe, as every version of himself... then she can do the same for him.

she wants to do the same for him.

she is doing the same for him.

"she loves me."

"she wants me."

he's pleading with her to take what she wants, because she has all of him.

and then we go back to mc's confidence—because she realizes he wants this to proceed in exactly the same way she wants it to, and she's willing to become his undoing.

and even if he technically switches and takes charge in the next second, it comes to fruition that her giving him consent in this way is what breaks him free of that bubble.

"don't hold back", is all that this is, really.

and he doesn't.

and it's just, not really just about the tension they've built up to get to this moment—the coy excuse of using the protocore's supposed effects—there's so much that goes into it, with the way they feel, with how their desires are so blatantly displayed just like that, with how their love fuels how much they need each other.

it's almost funny, in a way, because it's as if both of them are saying "take me, i'm yours." at the same time. and then it becomes less about possession... and more of a complete and utter surrender to each other.

and i think that's beautiful.

(which also. BONUS? but if this doesn't signify how focused xavier is on giving pleasure and at the same time how easy it is for him to lose himself in the moment and feel good because you're feeling good—i don't know what else will ✋)

(also like. the aftercare... the morning cuddles.... the hickey mc left on him 😭 i love them so much..........)

IN CONCLUSION . . . . THIS CARD MADE ME FEEL MANY THINGS.

THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK 😭✋

[cherepizza]

Sorry for being inactive I barely have spare time. It's been nearly two months, woah!! It still feels like march started yesterday

There's a variety of different religious beliefs in beacons' world. One of the world's largest and most widespread religion has 8 major deities who are shown with quite similar appearances. The easiest way to identify a god in their standard form is to to look at their body color. A deity may be accompanied by symbolic plants/animals and objects, especially if the image is colorless. Text also might be present. Some gods have alternative forms which can be more popular in iconography than their standard ones.

It's disrespectful to show gods from the back side of the body, except for one.

1. Goddess of knowledge, medicine (especially the part dealing with childbirth) and law. All 8 sides of her body are "front" sides with two hands and two antennae. Always depicted with light-blue skin.

2. God of creativity and passion, whose all sides are backs. Has bright red skin. In the past this god used to have darker spots all over his body, but gave them away to a mortal who ended up having too many offspring, passing the spots to all of his male descendants. Antennae are not shown (you don't draw dicks on sacred images).

3. Goddess of plants and harvest. Besides her plant-growing abilities she's also known for creating and spreading diseases. Has light-coloured skin with a yellow or ochre tint.

4. Goddess of beasts. Created all living organisms and is able to control them. Beacons are resistant to the full mind control but susceptible to her power of inflicting dread and anxiety. Associated with willpower. Her standard form is a brown-coloured beacon but more often she's shown as a spiky snake-like creature. In this form she can change size and grow so large she'd shadow the sun or become smaller than any bug to crawl under the clothes of those who she deemes unworthy of her presence and sting them. Stings are excruciatingly painful.

5. Goddess of rain, rivers and the sea. Shares ruling over the last domain with her brothers. Though her powers are inextricably tied with sustaining life, she has no direct control over living beings. Typically shown with dark blue skin.

6. God of wind. Controls wind (..who would have thought) and serves as a protector of travellers. Talkative and upbeat, he cheers them up, gives advice and tells entertaining stories, helping them continue their journeys. Has orange-coloured skin.

7. God of deep water. Hides below the surface and rarely shows himself, though in his early years used to live among mortals and taught them sailing along with his sister and brother. His long antennae can easily wrap around victim's legs and drag the unlucky one to the bottom to either kill or imprison and force to work on him. Can control underwater beasts but only to a small extent. Associated with quiet death.

8. God of change. The all-present spirit is inert and cannot change on its own. This god makes sure night would change into day, hunger would come after nourishment, and every living thing would eventually meet their death. He's quite a lonesome god and under normal circumstances rarely interacts with mortals or other entities. Has exceptional persuasion skills. Several myths support the idea of him creating the moon and stars which partly explains why he's described having white skin. The other part comes from that no mortal has ever seen his true form, so no other colour can represent his ever-changing appearance except pure white.

–––––

Important to note that for beacons relationships between siblings play a much greater role than those between parents. So instead of being paired up with a husband/wife higher gods belong to their own sibling groups which go as follows:

Goddess of knowledge – god of passion

Goddess of plants – goddess of beasts

Goddess of rain – god of wind – god of deep water

God of change (only child oh)

In older times gods were treated as separate entities connected only by blood but in recent decades there's been a shift to a more monotheistic view of world. Since gods come from the same source (force/spirit/power) it was believed that they sort of popped up in the world that already existed before them and were left to fool around and figure out what to do by themselves. They weren't a part of the spirit anymore and the only connection remaining was the ninth eye in the middle of the head that could actually see (for mortals it's basically blind, so they were believed not to be bound with the source at all). Some followers suggest that deities and, in fact, the whole world were never separated from it. When the force splitted itself into "sides", giving gods physical bodies, it manifested into other living beings as well, allowing itself to have as many perspectives of the existing world as possible. When a living thing dies, their side turns away to a new life. Gods' powers are not separate, but a spectrum, manifestations of the same thing. The number of turns is considered to be unimaginably big, but finite. It's up for debate what will happen when the force will be out of turns.

[utilitycaster]

Hi there! Do you think the Bells - and in particular Ashton's focus and indist a bit too hard on the fact that Aeor orb vision will completely change people's perceptions of gods? I tend to think that lot of people who somewhat know history are aware of the fact that Primes and Betrayers joined hands to destroy the city. As for common folk - it would be at also hard to believe that for example they would completely denounce Wildmother who is nature (all good and all bad. Bad as in destructive). I can imagine some folks reaction to this would be to feel scared, but then again. Those are Gods we speak about, not your friendly neighbors. What do you think?

So here's the thing: I've felt some of the depictions of what the average person knows this campaign have been...inconsistent isn't the right word, because, for example, the norm in the Menagerie Coast might not be the norm in Gelvaan and certainly isn't the norm in central Issylra, but also the party not recognizing the symbol of Asmodeus (for example) is something that's always struck me as like. people in the United States not knowing what a crucifix is. Like yeah those people exist - I've met very religious Jews in the US who don't know what day Christmas is other than "generally in late December" - but either we never met many of those people in Campaigns 1 and 2 and met them all in Campaign 3, or there's been some retconning (which...that's a complex discussion as to canonicity between campaigns, since the answer is, ultimately, it depends on the specifics and the magnitude and the source of that information, ie, if High Bearer Vord's creation myth is wrong that's valid because he's providing a specific perspective with plenty of bias, or if orcs were NOT created during the Calamity that's valid because unfortunately myths born of stereotype and bigotry are extremely common; but if Matt's drastically changing previously established truths of the world without in-world explanation, rather than just quietly dropping no longer relevant references as one-offs a la Ladueger, yeah that is bad storytelling and anyone who tells you it isn't is an idiot).

But actually that doesn't matter because here's just a truth about people: a whole lot of people in, for example, the United States in 2024, where 95% of adults have regular internet access, are fairly uninvested in much outside their basic day to day life, just, in general. This is going to be even more true in a world without that degree of information and interconnectedness. I think a lot of people are going to be like "ok and this thousand year old city being destroyed affects me how?" Not to get too cynical about it but think about someone whose experience with the gods is rather like what Laudna describes her youth as being: harvest festivals and wishing for rain. Like, if it's a good harvest this year, will they care?

I don't personally agree with this mentality irl, but groups of people on the whole are frequently resistant to change, do not want trouble, and want to be left alone. I think no shortage of people's attitudes will simply be "why is this motherfucker downloading the Downfall of Aeor Album to everyone's iPod when I am trying to eat breakfast." It won't even get to the point of "are the gods good or bad"; it will literally just be "who the fuck is broadcasting something? the MOON is fucked up? we have real problems?" Like, if people do not know the story of the fall of Aeor, someone being like HEY THE GODS CRASHED THIS CITY BECAUSE THEY HAD MADE A GOD-KILLING WEAPON is probably going to elicit a response of, again, "and I should care about this because? a fucking phoenix is strafing us, why are you doing a test of the emergency broadcast system?"

[talonabraxas]

Tonatiuh, the Sun or the Sun God. Symbol of the Fifth World, the present era.

The sun was a god to the Aztecs, a Mesoamerican civilization, for several reasons:

1. Life-giver: The sun was seen as a source of life, warmth, and energy, essential for crops and human survival.

2. Cosmic order: The Aztecs believed the sun's daily journey across the sky maintained the balance and order of the universe.

3. Warfare and sacrifice: The sun god, Huitzilopochtli, was also associated with warfare and human sacrifice, which were crucial to Aztec religion and politics.

4. Creation myth: The Aztecs believed the sun was born from the sacrifice of the god Nanahuatzin, who leapt into the fire to become the sun, symbolizing the cycle of life and death.

5. Agricultural cycles: The sun's cycles were closely tied to agricultural seasons, and the Aztecs believed the sun's rays fertilized the earth, ensuring fertility and abundance.

6. Imperial ideology: The Aztec emperor was often depicted as the sun god's earthly representative, legitimizing his power and authority.

The Aztecs worshipped the sun god through rituals, sacrifices, and ceremonies, believing that these actions ensured the sun's continued journey and the maintenance of the cosmos.

The Aztec sun stone - Aztec calendar stone

Aztec calendar stone showing the face of Tonatiuh, the sun god, at the centre.

(Aztec calendar stone)

The Aztecs were fascinated by the sun and carefully observed it, and had a solar calendar similar to that of the Maya. Many of today's remaining Aztec monuments have structures aligned with the sun.

In the Aztec calendar, Tonatiuh is the lord of the thirteen days from 1 Death to 13 Flint.

The preceding thirteen days are ruled over by Chalchiuhtlicue, and the following thirteen by Tlaloc.

Detail of the two innermost circles of the monolith.

The sculpted motifs that cover the surface of the stone refer to central components of the Mexica cosmogony.

Central Disk

In the center of the monolith is the face of the solar deity, Tonatiuh,which appears inside the glyph for "movement" (Nahuatl: 'ollin'), the name of the current era. The central figure is shown holding a human heart in each of his clawed hands, and his tongue is represented by a stone sacrificial knife (Tecpatl), expressing the need for sacrifices to allow the sun to continue moving across the sky.

The Four Previous Suns or Eras

The four squares that surround the central deity represent the four previous suns or eras, which preceded the present era, 4 Movement (Nahuatl: 'Nahui Ollin').

Each era ended with the destruction of the world and humanity, which were then recreated in the next era.

The top right square represents 4 Jaguar (Nahuatl: 'Nahui Ocelotl'), the day on which the first era ended, after having lasted 676 years, due to the appearance of monsters that devoured all of humanity.

The top left square shows 4 Wind (Nahuatl: 'Nahui Ehecatl'), the date on which, after 364 years, hurricane winds destroyed the earth, and humans were turned into monkeys.

The bottom left square shows 4 Rain (Nahuatl: 'Nahui Quiahuitl').

This era lasted 312 years, before being destroyed by a rain of fire, which transformed humanity into turkeys.

The bottom right square represents 4 Water (Nahuatl: 'Nahui Atl'), an era that lasted 676 years and ended when the world was flooded and all the humans were turned into fish.

Placed among these four squares are three additional dates, 1 Flint, 1 Rain, and 7 Monkey, and a Xiuhuitzolli, or ruler's turquoise diadem, glyph.

It has been suggested that these dates may have had both historical and cosmic significance, and that the diadem may form part of the name of the Mexica ruler Moctezuma.

Detail of the two innermost circles of the monolith.

Mexican anthropologist Antonio de León y Gama (1735-1802) wrote about the Sun Stone.

One aspect of the stone is its religious significance. One theory is that the face at the center of the stone represents Tonatiuh, the Aztec deity of the sun.

It is for this reason that the stone became known as the "Sun Stone." Richard Townsend proposed a different theory, claiming that the figure at the centre of the stone represents Tlaltecuhtli, the Mexica earth deity who features in Mexica creation myths.

Another feature of the stone relates to time, hence the name, "Calendar Stone."

Some of the circles of glyphs are the glyphs for the days of the month. Further, some of the symbols may represent the five ages that the Mexica believed the earth had passed through.

Yet another characteristic of the stone may be its geographic significance.

The four points may relate to the four corners of the earth or the cardinal points. The inner circles may express space as well as time.

Moreover, there is the political aspect of the stone.

It may have been intended to show Tenochtitlan as the center of the world and therefore, as the center of authority

[f1letters]

midnight rain | gr63

"chasing that fame, he stayed the same, all of me changed like midnight"

summary: what happens when he decides his career will always be more important than their relationship?

warning: angst, overall just sad, heartbreak, breakup, swearing, mentions of mental health struggles, mentions of hate from fans and media, lowkey toxic George, the beginning of the story takes place at the end of 2021 when George was announced as the new Mercedes driver, happy-ish ending

pairing: george russell x reader

word count: 3.1k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts not only by the reader but also by other people.

well... this story REALLY wanted to be posted, iykyk 🤠 hope the wait was worth it and you enjoy the FINAL version of this story! haha

masterlist

Rain

Life as we know it is made of cycles.

A conversation started with a hello ends with a goodbye. The beautiful birth ends in a painful death. An open door eventually closes. A sunrise in the morning ends in a sunset at the end of the day. Light always ends in darkness.

And love is very similar to this philosophy of nature.

Like the long-awaited magnificent spring flowers, it is born out of nowhere, giving a new colour and a completely new meaning to our lives. It symbolizes a fresh start, a new chance. With it comes enthusiasm, warmth, eagerness. You wake up in the morning happier, looking forward to facing the day ahead. Everything looks better, more colourful, happier.

Spring was in fact beginning when Y/N met George.

She could still remember the 16-year-old boy at the back of the classroom, constantly lost in thought as he stared out the window. His eyes were on the pink blossoms beginning to bloom on the long branches of the old tree in the high school garden. The girl found herself thinking "Why does he look out there so much?" and hence her curiosity arose. She wanted, no, she needed to meet the quiet guy in the class.

She remembered it all too well, and she was convinced that she would never be able to forget it.

She would never be able to forget how no one made her laugh as he did. How his hand fit hers as if they were made for each other. How the scent of his perfume made her heart beat faster.

Young Y/N didn't know if soul mates were true, or a myth created by hopeless romantics. But of one thing she was sure: if anyone was hers, it was George Russell.

Two halves of the same heart made to unite, two souls destined to meet in this life and all the ones to come, two bodies attached by an invisible thread.

However, every spring inevitably leads to cold, harsh winters. Blue skies are replaced by dark clouds. The sun rays by thunder. The flowers by snow. The colour by grey.

Again, love always follows nature's trend and, as time goes by, it too inevitably leads to rain.

He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride, I was making my own name

Chasing that fame, he stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

Years passed and with them went birthdays, anniversaries, Christmases, New Years, family gatherings and vacations. 

With them went births and funerals, laughter and tears, fights and reconciliations.

But although the wind changed with the seasons, one thing that always stayed the same was the passionate way that Y/N unconditionally supported her partner.

Seven years later, the young woman screamed his name from the audience with the same intensity as when she saw him win the first time in Formula 3. Her heart seemed to jump out of her chest with the same anticipation as when she saw him become a Formula 2 champion.

It didn't really matter to her whether he was racing karts or Formula 1 cars, as long as he was happy and fulfilled, and although his world brought cages and fences with it, she never felt so free as when she had him by her side.

Everything suddenly seemed to change with the announcement of George's new contract at reigning champions Mercedes.

With the career opportunity of a lifetime came happiness, gratitude, finally the reward for all the effort not only by him but by everyone who was part of his support system.

But on the other hand, what for some was paradise... for others has become a torturous hell on earth.

All of a sudden, all eyes were on the Brit. All the media wrote about the talented star who was to succeed seven-time champion, Lewis Hamilton. All the attention was on him, and so was all the pressure.

And to be perfectly blunt, George lived for it. The fame, the luxury, the focus on him, it was everything he ever dreamed of. 

He lived for the flashes, for the applause, for the screams of the fans. 

The lights that seemed to blind Y/N were swiftly becoming the cause of the driver's tunnel vision.

My town was a wasteland

Full of cages, full of fences

Pageant queens and big pretenders

But for some, it was paradise

In the midst of all the chaos, the same eyes that put the driver on a pedestal were the ones that threw knives at the innocent girl for simply... Existing.

In the blink of an eye, and with her boyfriend's last season in the Williams team now wrapping up, all of the young woman's movements started to be carefully studied, millimetre by millimetre.

How dare she be so happy and smiling ear to ear when he just finish the race dead last.

Look at that frown on her face when her boyfriend scored points in a weak car like that.

She looks so annoyed to be there, so ungrateful.

She has a millionaire boyfriend and yet she doesn't have the money to hire a decent stylist.

My boy was a montage

A slow-motion, love potion

Jumping off things in the ocean

I broke his heart 'cause he was nice

He was sunshine, I was midnight rain

Everything was a critique. Because she did something, or because she didn't. Because she said this, or because she didn't say that. Because she used a white that was too white, or because she used a black that was too black.

George Russell was a montage, and she was just an accidental stain beside him ruining the perfect picture.

But she tried. 

For him, she tried to be the bride people wanted for him. And nothing hurts more than trying your absolute best and still not being good enough.

George's focus was solely on making his own name in the world of motorsports and Y/N ended up forgotten and overlooked by the man while she was facing a world of hate alone.

He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride, I was making my own name

Chasing that fame, he stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

Suddenly two halves that once made a whole became two pieces of a puzzle that didn't fit together.

She was sunshine, he was midnight rain.

Y/N was sitting on her couch, just like every night. Propped up on her beige pillows, the young woman followed her daily routine of masochism and scrolled through screens and screens of comments about her, mentally taking notes of what could be improved.

She shouldn't do it, and she knew it herself, but the desire for approval and validation from others was more important to her than keeping her heart intact.

The unexpected sound of her doorbell woke her back to the real world and the girl was immediately confused, as she wasn't expecting anyone at that time of night.

The only company she wanted at that moment was the thunder that lit up the living room every couple of minutes.

The woman got up, putting her hands comfortably in the pockets of her sweater, and walked towards the entrance of her apartment. She looked through the silver peephole and a wave of panic ran through her entire body.

Fuck me, the team party.

Amid all the stress, Y/N completely forgot about the invitation until now she saw her boyfriend, in a full suit, standing there looking at the expensive watch on his wrist, indicating that she was fighting a ticking time bomb.

When she opened the door, George let himself in without even looking at her.

"So? We're already late." The man questioned, still with his vision glued to the counted minutes, while Y/N froze in her place, in her pyjamas, not knowing what to say.

"Why aren't you ready?" Russell questioned, confused and slightly upset with the girl. "It's almost midnight."

"Sorry my love, I completely forgot" Y/N answered sincerely, approaching her partner and placing a tender kiss on his cheek.

"How? I told you multiple times." The boy spoke angrily, releasing a frustrated sigh. "Come on. Go get ready quickly so we can get out of here. We're already going to be the last ones to arrive. Good job, Y/N." The irony escaped his tongue.

Although the guilt was already consuming her insides, the emotional exhaustion associated with the team only made her want to stay home more. She didn't have the energy to socialize, to make small talk, to keep up the shiny appearances.

"I don't feel like going, to be honest." The woman confessed, exhausted, crossing her arms in front of her chest defensively.

It came like a postcard

Picture perfect shiny family

Holiday peppermint candy

But for him, it's every day

"You never fucking do." His voice rose in pitch as he brought his hand to her hair, tugging at it, irritated with his girlfriend. "It's excuse after excuse. You never stop to think this shit is important to me and my career."

The words that escaped his mouth fell on the young woman like a bucket of cold water and, like the deafening lightning outside, the darkness charged through her and consumed her utterly.

There was no turning back.

"You must be fucking kidding me. This has to be a joke." She laughed humourless, in disbelief. "I'm the one who doesn't care. Me."

"What the fuck are you trying to say?" His eyes landed on her, sharp as knives. "Come on, say what you want to say. You started it, now you better finish it."

"What I mean is, I'm done with this picture perfect act. I'm tired of doing everything for you and getting nothing in return other than scorn, indifference, cold words." The girl screamed, releasing the feelings she had hidden for so long. "I never demand anything from you, I do what you ask me to do, I go where you want me to go, I act how I should act."

Y/N felt tears form in her eyes as she continued her rant. "All of that and what do I get in return? Nothing. Not even a single thank you. It's like you don't even care about me at all." A sob escaped the girl.

"Don't be dramatic, Y/N. For God's sake." George shook his head, completely dismissing his longtime partner's admissions.

"See?" A sob escaped the girl, now shattered and heartbroken. "It's all about you. I have zero value in this relationship. What are we even doing in it if you only care about your fucking self and Mercedes and Formula 1? I'm nobody in your life. You don't have space for me in your life anymore."

The driver looked dumbfounded at the girl in pyjamas while trying to understand what he was feeling in the face of her accusations.

Ignoring the time and the party that awaited him, George turned his back on his girlfriend, leaving her alone to cry sitting on the edge of her sofa, and went to her balcony, closing the glass door and creating a physical barrier between them.

How did things go so wrong all of a sudden?

Neither of them understood how such a warm, sunny love story could lead to the beginning of such a cold, rainy end.

So I peered through a window

A deep portal, time travel

All the love we unravel

And the life I gave away

'Cause he was sunshine, I was midnight rain

Putting some distance between them at that moment was undoubtedly the only viable option to avoid ruining everything. Although the future of the two was uncertain, both would rather die than tarnish the past that they shared over the years.

One minute became five, five became ten, and ten became twenty. 

In her anticipation, the sound of the clock hands seemed even louder than the thunderstorm on the other side of the window to Y/N.

Eventually, George returned to the living room, with his jacket now over his arm and a few drops of rain running down his forehead, resembling the tears that now also fell from his sad eyes.

Without breaking the deafening silence between them, the boy moved to the sofa and took his place next to the trembling girl, not a word escaping both of their mouths.

They were both afraid, but they knew what inevitably had to happen.

"This isn't working anymore, Y/N." George was the first to speak, sighing. "This is not healthy for either of us."

The young woman's head and heart battled within her.

On one hand, she knew; she knew it was right and she agreed that it would be better to end it there than to ruin something that until then had been wonderful, even with its challenges.

But her heart…the poor thing wasn't willing to give up the one person who she believed to be the love of her life.

The girl stood up abruptly, making Russell's neck turn towards her, caught by surprise. "No, no, it can't be. I'll just go get dressed and we will go to the party and everything will be fi-."

"Y/N." The man got up and grabbed her hands, keeping her at arm's length. "This. Us. It's hopeless. It's for the best."

"You can't do this to me." The girl screamed, full-on crying and sobbing now, in complete denial. "You can't, you just can't. Not after all the life I gave away for you. You can't, George."

He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride, I was making my own name

Chasing that fame, he stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

She couldn't help but think of all the sacrifices she'd made for him, for his success even against her own well-being.

All the long flights she took to the other end of the world to support him no matter what place he ended up in. All the plans she cancelled to attend his celebrations, galas and dinners. All the mental health she put at risk. And now…she was alone, with nothing, no future, no hopes, no goals, no dreams.

She simply couldn't imagine a world where her future didn't involve him.

"This can't be the end…" She whispered, letting her inner thoughts escape.

George let his forehead rest against hers, savouring what they both knew were their last moments.

"I'm sorry for everything, love, I really am. You deserve so much more than this. But we want different things in our lives now, one of us would've ended up unhappy and resentful for having to be the one sacrificing everything."

The girl's silence was more than an answer for George, understanding that she agreed with him, even though both hearts felt like they were being ripped out of their chests at that moment.

The driver lifted his head until his lips reached the top of her head, where he placed a lingering, heartfelt kiss. His eyes closed tightly, trying to prevent more tears from spilling at the sound of the small girl's cries.

George broke away from the girl and, after letting his eyes study her image one last time, he walked to the apartment door and just left, not looking back once.

He knew that if he did he would never be able to make the right thing and let their beautiful story end there.

He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride, I was making my own name

Chasing that fame, he stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

How to move on when the person you love leaves? Time.

And like the seasons, time moves on.

You learn to get out of bed again in the morning. Getting dressed to go to your family. Gaining motivation to get on the bus and go to work. Accepting invitations to have a drink or go out with friends, even when you want nothing but to stay in bed crying, eating some ice cream.

You don't feel whole all of a sudden, you might still feel like a part of you is missing but you learn to feel... okay.

Time moved forward, and Y/N slowly began to regain her happiness, now depending on no one but her.

Her life went on and she got just what she wanted: anonymity, peace, comfort.

After a year, she never thought of him daily like she used to.

Except when she turned on the TV in her hotel room, after returning from a girls' night in Cancun, and she saw him.

On top of the podium, the driver had finally accomplished his dream of winning a Grand Prix Prix for Mercedes and, with that, add his name in Formula 1's history.

She couldn't help thinking about the "what if"s.

While she would never be able to admit it to another soul, she couldn't help but think about how much she still hoped he was the one.

I guess sometimes we all get

Just what we wanted, just what we wanted

And he never thinks of me

Except for when I'm on TV

Whether haunted by the memories of them or the happiness she could only feel with him by her side, Y/N would survive the heartbreak, and she knew it.

Of course, she still loved him and she believed there would never be a day when she didn't.

But the beautiful thing about love is that you can love someone and want all the success in the world for them… and still go on without them.

What cold, dark, sad winter it was.

But spring always finds a way to come back.

I guess sometimes we all get

Some kind of haunted, some kind of haunted

And I never think of him

Except on midnights like this

taglist: @dan3avacado @starxqt @roseinnej @spiidergirlsworld @ccloaned @hotpigeon22 @dr3lover @lovelytsunoda @primadonnasdream @luxebeautystyle @wallfloweriism @ilivefortheleague @gwynethhberdara @satellitelh @adavenus @audreyscodes @wifeoflucyboynton @th6ccnsp6cyy @classifiedsblog @flyingmushroomss @motylekrozi @claramllera @gabrielamaex @handsupforamiracle @pierre-gasssllyy @lorenaloveslewis

@idkiwantchocolatee @simpforsunwoo @kissatelier @xweirdxsceletton @micksmidnights @miniminescapist @inchidentwithmax @hopelesslyromantics-world @alwaysclassyeagle @indieclarke @capela-miranda @okokoksblog @pulpfixion @sins-only33 @sainzclerc @allisonxf1 @honethatty12 @amsofftrack @flannel-cures @junkiespromise @loudoperahumanoidpanda @honeyric3 @holy-macncheese-balls @ricciardosheart @pierreverstapkin

@ravenqueen27 @majkaftorek @home-of-disaster @buendiabebeta @itgirlofnowhere @roses-of-eden @thewintersunset @rubychocolatechips

(taglist continues in the comments)

thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

[yoga-onion]

Legends and myths about trees

Celtic beliefs in trees (23)

Ng for Ngetl (Broom) - October 28th - November 24th

“Entering into dormancy – The Celtic Tree Calendar (Ref), Twelfth Month”

colour: blue; Star: moon; Gemstone: opal; Gender: male; Patron: Mercuris, Morpheus, Bacchus; Symbols: dignity, purity, healing, spiritual protection, soul journey

The common broom is ubiquitous in European wetlands. It grows unmindful from alpine peaks to lowland scrub and wilderness, providing temporary shelter from the wind and rain on rugged, bare ground. Although delicate in looks, its long, straight stems are strong and flexible and will not break in the wind. As its name suggests, it is used to make brooms. The broom has also been valued as a medicinal plant since ancient times. In medieval England, it was used by the royal family as a remedy for after drinking and singing parties and debauchery. The reason was that in November, when it was cold and people spent a lot of time indoors, there was nothing else to do but to be merry and boisterous.

The efficacy of medicinal herbs is corroborated in ancient Celtic literature. The ogham form of the word Ngetl represents from a word panacea, meaning 'physician's power'. The most important constituent of the broom plant is sparteine (an alkaloid). Some people associate the broom plant with witches because large doses of sparteine can cause extreme excitement or hallucinations. It is also said to be the reason why witches are flying astride broomsticks.

Beer is now made from hops, but in the olden days young, supple broom plants were used to flavour the beer and enhance the tipsy mood. Tea made from the yellow flowers was often used as a diuretic. In esoteric rituals, the broom plant is used for purification and prayers for personal safety, and is said to be particularly powerful against poltergeists. It is also said that throwing the branches of the broom plant causes wind, while burning them and burying them in the earth quiets the wind.

The spirits leave their bodies and embark on a journey. Druids (Ref2) and shamans call this 'the journey to the underworld', and the broom plant is a symbol of such a journey. Anyway, with its remarkable healing properties and narcotic-like effects, the broom plant has long been associated with healers, sorcerers, witches and shamans.

For the Celts, the month that the broom plant governs, which marks the end of the year, is a time to store up for the winter, sweep the house clean and hope that miscellaneous thoughts and bad habits will leave the house. In a nutshell, the enithid symbolises the virtue of keeping one's behaviour clean. It also teaches us to pay close attention to the dreams we have while sleeping at night.

木にまつわる伝説・神話

ケルト人の樹木の信仰 (23)

NはNgetl (ｴﾆｼﾀﾞ) - 10月28日～11月24日　

『休止への入り口 〜 ケルトの木の暦（参照）、12番目の月』

色: 青; 星: 月;  宝石: オパール; 性: 男性; 守護神: メルクリス、モルフェウス、バッカス; シンボル: 尊厳、清浄、癒し、精神の保護、魂の旅

普通種のエニシダ(英:ﾌﾞﾙｰﾑ) はヨーロッパの湿地帯ではどこにでも生えている。高山の山頂から低地の低木林や荒野まで、荒々しいむきだしの大地に雨風をしのぐ仮の宿を提供しながら平然と生育している。見た目は繊細だが、長くまっすぐな茎は丈夫でしなやかで、風で折れることはない。その名が示すように、ほうき(英:ﾌﾞﾙｰﾑ)の材料として使われる。また、エニシダは古くから薬草としても重宝されてきた。中世のイギリスでは、王族が酒を飲んで歌い騒ぎ、放蕩した後の薬として使っていた。寒さが厳しく室内で過ごす時間の長い11月は浮かれ騒ぐよりほかになかったからだ。

薬草の効能については、古代ケルトの文献にもそれを裏書きする記述が見られる。そもそもオガム表記のNgetlは「医者の力」を意味するパナケア(panacea) を表しす。エニシダの最も重要な成分はスパルテイン（アルカロイド）である。スパルテインを大量に摂取すると、極度の興奮や幻覚を引き起こすことがあるため、エニシダを魔女と結びつける人もいる。また、魔女がほうきにまたがって空を飛ぶのもこのためだと言われている。

現在、ビールはホップから作られているが、昔は若くてしなやかなエニシダがビールの風味付けやほろ酔い気分を高めるために使われていた。黄色い花で入れたお茶は利尿剤としてよく使われた。密教の儀式では、エニシダは浄化や身の安全を祈願するために使われ、特にポルターガイストに対して威力を発揮すると言われている。また、エニシダの枝を投げると風が吹き、燃やして土に埋めると風が静まると言われている。

魂は肉体を離れ、旅に出る。ドルイド（参照2）やシャーマンはこれを「冥界への旅」と呼び、エニシダはそうした旅の象徴である。いずれにせよ、エニシダには驚くべきヒーリング (癒し) 作用と麻薬のような効果があるため、長い間、ヒーラー、魔術師、魔女やシャーマンと縁の深い植物なのだ。

ケルト人にとって1年の締めくくりにあたる、エニシダがつかさどる月は、冬に備えて貯え、家の中を綺麗に掃き清め、雑念や悪習に退場を願う時期に当たる。一言でいえば、エニシダは自分の行動を綺麗に保つことの美徳を象徴している。そして、夜寝ている間に見る夢に細心の注意を払うようにという教えでもある。

[lephamquynhnhu]

Panacea

Chapter 1: Pretty ripples on water

Dan Feng x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS/ TAGS: The reader has a default name, OOC. (This is a work of fanfiction, events are not aligned or relevant to the original work)

Word count: ~1,1k

Summary: He met you on a drizzling day when hydrangea fully bloomed on its field. Amidst the sea of mild pastel petals, Dan Feng never thought the flowery domain that intertwined your fate was the precise thing withered with you. They said he was a dragon, a hero, a sinner, but never a person with love, hatred, sorrow, or joy like everyone else in this world. However, it was a demi-truth. He committed the cardinal sin because of you.

Note: Do you like...pain?

The soothing melody of raindrops falling through the thick foliage barely touches his hair as Dan Feng strides on the worn path underneath. The Ten-Lords commissioned him to investigate the supernatural phenomena in the Faery Forest, which inhabitants rumor it recently haunted. The golden sun conceals itself behind the aloft gloomy clouds draping an eerily grey ambiance, and the voidness of birds singing wafts a scary serenity.

There are plenty of stories and myths about the woods, but the infamous one was a wise Nymph who guarded the forest as the Alliance established. When the first Denizen of Abundance occurred, to preserve her homeland from the crossfire of the war, the Nymph divided herself into divine fragments asunder to enhance the endurance of the woods. Thanks to the Nymph's might, her forest remained intact after devastating battles. However, she could not regain her strength to unite divinity, so the wise Nymph gradually faded, her name eventually fell into oblivion, and the story is no more than a mythopedia. It is said that her Authorities dissolved in the forest to protect her beloved homeland forever. The native Loufu named the woods based on that story, and whatever the stories are, this forest has sustained through many sanguinary warfare and become one of the most venerated destinations.

The report says that citizens who live near the haunted place or some passing by currently hear a bizarre resonance in the Faery forest at dawn, and they even claim to witness jack-o'-lantern at twilight. To verify the statement, Dan Feng's presence from the blush of morn strolling around an hour and finds nothing akin to the rumor. The drizzle is getting heavier as raindrops start seeping through his attire. Looking at the overcast sky through a dense web of leaves, he forecasts it will soon be a downpour. When Dan Feng considers postponing the commission, a weak sound threads through ancient arbors, which beat like a song - a nursery rhyme. Simultaneously, a chilly breeze permeates with moisture rises as though pushing him toward the siren as soon as the resonance appears. The glint of surprise quickly quenches when Imbibitor Lunae decides to follow the sound's origin.

He keeps running with all senses on guards under the last remnants of light dimly lit his way until a field of flowers welcomes him when exiting the forest. Dan Feng never thought there would be people living beyond the woods and isolating themselves from society. Reflecting in those cyan irises is a girl standing amidst the hydrangea fully bloomed on its field, who raises her voice while one hand holds a cart of multi-colored flowers and the other curls around the axis of her umbrella. Suddenly, when detecting a foreigner's existence, you stop singing and tilt your head toward his position. To your right, an emotionless man with a prominent horned crown atop his forehead whom you know precisely. The drizzle turns into rain as water continuously trails down the High Elder's porcelain face.

"Your Majesty, it may become torrential rain. Would you like to shelter at my house?" - You kindheartedly open an invitation while sauntering to Dan Feng and sharing your umbrella. A weary inquiry escapes Imbibitor Lunae's lips as he notices you use the title in greeting, but Dan Feng only receives a mysterious smile.

Outside the limited space, raindrops seem progressively heavier when they drum on the umbrella panel, and the surroundings are covered in a misty veil. The calm demeanor in the Long Scion's eyes never wavers, and you can tell he sights right through your soul, searching for something. A familiar feeling creeps up his mind, yet somehow different. "Yes, please lead the way." - Dan Feng eventually accepts your invitation after a brief moment as he gently takes the shalt from your gloved hand.

After avoiding the rain at your house, all suspicions were clear, and he assumed to close the case because the enigmatic echo was your singing voice, and the fen-fire originated from your paper lantern. When Dan Feng mentioned those phenomena, an astonishment tinged your face yet soon morphed into grinning. "My sincere apologies, Your Majesty. But, you may conclude your commission now." - You breathlessly said while trying to regain your formal posture.

The crispy sound of embers crackling mingles with thunderbolts from afar, which craft an inexplicably refreshing atmosphere. Compared to the natural noise outside, Dan Feng thinks your voice seems to dissolve into the ether. Although those emerald orbs never leave the white wall made from endless heavy raindrops, his attention still focuses on your conversation. Besides, the High Elder learned you are a florist who has settled here about three years. "I succeeded in my grandmother's business after looking after her ailment.'' - Your tone is monotonous, but a distant feeling boiling up while leisurely replenishing his teacup. Dan Feng keeps practicing a good listener's role and slowly sips the tea. The smoky steam flowing at the brim that carries a floral scent of Wildrose thread through his nostrils reduces mind stress.

Unknowingly, your one-way dialogue at the wooden terrace goes smoothly under the chilly downpour of early summer. When the homemade delicacy marries with the beverage is out of stock, and the tea is drying up in the pot, the shower stops falling, which renders a landscape as spectacular as pictured. At first, Dan Feng thought your lifestyle was a little too austere as if the only living being at a monastery and sealing away the community. Nevertheless, he comprehends the reason as the sunlight shines brightly again. The previous rain aqua absolutes all reveal a Shangri-La with a boundless field of vivid flowers. Boasting butterflies start levitating around the garden while a rainbow faintly appears on the horizon.

Imbibitor Lunae intended to carry his commission, but now, this Elysium might cast a spell to change his mind, to return once again. Furthermore, the treat you offered also brings up his appetite, so Dan Feng wants to taste them once again.

"Do you wish to grow any plant's breed?" - The High Elder says as he stands up from the wooden chair, fetching his cloak with eyes still fixed on the flowery domain unfold. You tilt your head quizzically because it is uncommon for him to open the conversation, unable to respond immediately. "I want to compensate you for your kindhearted hospitality." - He quickly clarifies your inquiry as if possessing mind-reading arts. This time, Dan Feng initiates eye contact with you; a gentle wind blows through, causing dispersed petals to swirl around. His lashes lightly move in approval when he hears your answer. Empirical Peony sure will gorgeously bloom under your care. Before leaving, Dan Feng abruptly halts his foot as he realizes he has forgotten something essential.

"What is your name?" You look at his tall back while snickering behind your palm to suppress the giggles. A cozy orange hue from the blazing flame that nestles in your fireplace shimmers on your face as you answer "Yi Ting. Yi in ripples on water, Ting in pretty."

[sleeps-muse-24]

Vore Pt. 1

Hi everyone! Hope everyone is having a good day! This is some Vessel worship in honor of their North American tour! Please enjoy!

MDNI!!!! Warning: Dom!Vesselxreader, Impact Play, pure nasty smut.

3k words

~~~~

They were barely through the door before he was on her, lips on her like a breathless man trying to consume her entire being. Pressing her up against the door, she met him with the same fervor.

For a brief moment, she wanted to kick herself for what she was doing. There were so many other places she could go if she wanted to take someone home. But picking up a man from her own bookstore seemed like a bad idea in a variety of different ways.

But when he came in at eleven-thirty p.m asking for any books on ancient myth, whatever culture, she couldn’t resist. Especially paired with the English accent, near pitch black hair, and deep brown eyes that pulled her in immediately, with the tight black jeans, the random band t-shirt that she vaguely recognized, and open dark grey flannel overtop. It made her core clench at wanting to see underneath. 

It was like she was suddenly under the spell of a vampire, and she didn’t want to get out.

His hands were large, scorching her skin through her clothes. As desperate for her as she was for him. He might’ve been lanky, but the sinews of his muscles were tightly corded like a swimmer. 

He pulled away from her mouth, pressing hard kisses to her neck sending pleasure down to her clit.

Winding her fingers into his inky locks, she moaned, “What even is your name?”

A hand replaced his mouth around her neck, squeezing ever so tightly, as he pulled away to look at her. A seductive smirk took over his face, showcasing the slightly misaligned white teeth. “Why do you need to know, pet?”

“What am I supposed to scream?”

His eyes turned almost black at the raspy nature of her response. He wet his full lips, leaning into her ear. He paused for a second letting his breath raise goosebumps on her skin before ordering, “Ves. You can call me Ves.” “What is that? A family name?” She snorted despite herself

The next thing she knew, she was pressed against her apartment door, hands locked above her head by one of his. His free hand trailed fingers tauntingly down her spine before rubbing the globes of her ass. “Is that really how you talk to the man who is about to worship you tonight?” Her legs shook in her boots.

Worship.

The way he said it, he meant it. There was a deep conviction from somewhere her lust-addled brain couldn’t comprehend. 

Swallowing, she doubled down. “If you can’t handle my mouth, what makes you think you can handle the rest of me?” Ves merely hummed, swift fingers reaching to the front of her jeans undoing the button and yanking them down in one fell swoop. His deep groan when her skin was exposed, grabbing a handful of it. It was hard enough to be almost painful, and it made her pussy pulse in need. She needed it hard…and soon.

“It’s cute how you think you can top me, pet.” He leaned forward, the heat of him warming her back. “But I know exactly how to handle a brat like you.”

Three sharp stinging slaps landed on her right asscheek.

“God! Fuck!” Despite the pain–and definitely because of it–she ached to rub her thighs together to give herself some friction. Something to release the pleasure coiling in her stomach tighter and tighter with each slap that rained down.

Eight slaps in total. Each one painful and oh so delicious.

“Please,” she begged, her normal mind slipping away only to be replaced with the submissive she was deep down.

“Please what, pet?” Ves chided behind her. Slipping a hand around her front, he hissed through his teeth when his long fingers parted her folds and found how soaked she was. “Do you think you’ve earned my forgiveness for that mouth?”

She was burning. She needed to cum more than she needed air, but he wasn’t going to let her if she didn’t work for it. She just knew it in her bones. Turning her head to look back at him, he looked like a dark God in her apartment. Backlit by the faint digital lights in her kitchen, he was sex, sin, and darkness all wrapped into one ready to consume her wholly. And she was willing to let him. “Let me go, and I can earn it. Please, I can earn it.”

Ves took a shuddering breath, visibly affected by her words. Dark eyes search her desperate ones for a moment, basking in the dominance powerplay happening, before nodding. “I control the pace.”

“Anything,” she whispered.

“Careful, pet. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” He released her. She quickly turned around and dropped to her knees before him. He stroked the side of her face briefly before a hand tangled in her hair, giving it a controlled tug. “Green means you’re good. Yellow means slow down. Red is full stop no matter what. If you can’t speak then tap my thigh three times if you start to panic.”

She knew those terms well, it was normal to brief safe words and actions before, but there wasn’t anyone who had said it with so much conviction that she actually believed them. But with Ves’ hand tangled in her hair, staring down at her with something swimming in his eyes, she believed him. Nodding, she undid his pants and dragged them down his legs.

Her mouth watered at what he was hiding underneath those tight black jeans. A thick, long cock was her gift–one that wasn’t quite sure if she could manage.

But she damn well was going to try.

“Open, pet,” Ves, ordered.

Gripping his thighs for support, she opened her mouth wide. 

His cock slid home, gently at first, letting her get used to his size. Slowly, he worked it in until every thrust was hitting the back of her throat. Breathing through her nose the best she could, she ran her tongue on the sensitive part of his shaft. 

Ves hissed when her teeth gently scraped by accident. “Yes, pet. Just like that.”

Pain. He liked pain just like she did.

Tears stung her eyes as he thrusted harder, the hand gripping her head tightly so he could fuck her face. She moaned at the bite of pain. He groaned at the vibrations coating his dick. “Okay, pet,” he breathed, “Are you ready to take more?”

She gripped his thighs harder.

“Yeah.” Ves’ pace slowed enough that she inhaled deeply through her nose. Relaxing her throat, he inched back into her mouth only this time, not stopping at the back of her throat. Ves tightened his grip, ordering, “Breath for me. You have to breath for me.” She was trying. God, she was trying. Tears stung her eyes as he carefully inched down her throat. He was so big, almost bordering on too big.

“You can take it, pet,” he praised her groaning when she faux swallowed and her throat muscles tightened around him. Rubbing her tongue on the underside of his cock, she realized she wanted him to get off. “Gods, you take me so well.”

Closing her jaw slightly, her teeth hit him once again and that little bite of pain was Ves’ undoing. “Fuck!” He slammed his fist against the wall as he came down her throat.

She swallowed every drop like she would never drink again. 

He pulled out of her mouth with a pop.

She knelt there gasping for air, tears tracking unceremoniously down her face. Ves knelt immediately, pulling her into a warm embrace. “You did so good,” he cooed, stroking her back and cradling her head. She hiccuped. Why on earth was she crying? “You did so so good for me. I’m so proud of you.” She clutched him tightly, halfway noticing that the both of them had their shirts on but missing pants, as his praise lit her up from the inside out. It felt so good–to be praised. Not a lot of her previous partners did it, and it helped soothe something in her soul.

He held her as she calmed down, and cupped her face when her tears dried. “How’re you feeling?”

“Green,” she rasped.

Ves’ thumb rubbed her cheek, the dark pools of endless night that were his eyes drawing her in. “Are you sure? Because I can leave now and skip down the street clicking my heels. There is no pressure to continue.”

Her heart melted. Grasping his wrists, she leaned forward and pressed her lips gently to his. This was a different meeting than when they first got the apartment. They were so pent up from the back and forth at the bookstore, the flirting clouding their minds with lust.

No, this was different. Ves was slow, savoring each movement and matching her at every turn. Tracing the tip of her tongue along the seam of his lips, he groaned. The kiss got deeper, and Ves slid his hands under her ass.

She sucked in a breath. “I’ll take care of you, pet,” Ves promised into her. “I’ll take such good care of you, please let me.” The way he begged, pleaded with her sent shivers down to her clit. She nodded. “Yes, Ves.”

She was in his arms in a second, their lips never leaving for a moment. Somehow, they made it to her room, Ves kicking the door closed behind them.

Laying her down gently on her covers, he stripped off his shirt revealing those lean corded muscles she felt earlier. He wasn’t bulky but he was a work of art. Moonlight trickled in from her window, bathing him in shadows.

Sex and sin.

She took her own shirt off, letting him drink in her body to the fullest. The moment was filled with nothing but his increasingly heavy breathing as his eyes roamed her form. Ves wet his lips before kneeling in front of her. “The debt that I owe,” he whispered.

Her brows pinched. “What?”

“Touch yourself, pet,” he said, fisting his cock. “Show me how you like it.”

Her hand slid down her body of its own accord. Electricity shot through her when her fingers found her clit. The pressure that was building in her lower abdomen was like a powder keg ready to go off. Circles and circles drew on her clit, eyes never leaving Ves’. He pumped his cock in time with her hand, matching her in every way.

It was the most intimate thing she had ever experienced.

Her orgasm was close. It was just there, but she couldn’t get there. She whimpered in frustration.

Ves must have seen it on her face because he crawled to her getting right between her legs–so close that he inhaled deeply the scent between her thighs. “What do you need, pet?”

She only whimpered, applying more pressure to her clit. But it didn’t do what she thought it would.

His hands caressed her outer legs, soothing the frustration and keeping her focused on him. “Tell me what you need and I’ll give it you. I’ll give you anything.” “I don’t–” She threw her head back “--I don’t know.” Kisses blazed a trail up her inner thigh. He gently removed her hand from herself. “May I?”

She huffed a laugh. “Such a gentleman.” 

Ves chuckled, the sound soothing the rapid heartbeat in her ears. “For you, always.” Trying not to let the words pierce her heart, she wet her lips and nodded. 

Fingers spread her open, observing her most intimately. Then his thumb touched her clit and he blew on her hot sex.

She moaned as he began to draw circles–like she had done–but with a steady hand. It was there, she could taste her orgasm creeping up, she just needed...fuck what did she need!

“Shhhhhhhh,” he cooed, rubbing her clit faster. “Do you trust me to give you what you need?”

“Yes, Ves!” She cried. “Yes!”

“That’s my good girl.”

He plunged two fingers into her, pumping them fast before pinching her clit.

It was hot as her orgasm tore through her. Scalding her from the inside out, giving and taking from her. Through it all, Ves was there praising her and thrusting his fingers prolonging the high.

When she came back down, he crawled into bed next to her, stroking her face.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He smiled, the sight beautiful and pure. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“You’re weird.” She chuckled.

Brushing a piece of sweaty hair from her forehead, he traced the lines of her face. “Why is that weird?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. Feeling emboldened by his exploration, she placed a hand on his chest. He was warm to the touch, but it was his heart that drew her attention. It was beating like he ran a race. “It’s nothing special.” Ves stopped. Her words pierced something inside him. 

Then his hand enveloped her jaw making her look at him. The seriousness that etched his features was a drastic change to the sexual beast she had seen up until this point. “You letting me in your home, inside of you, is nothing short of special to me. You are special. Don’t downplay yourself because it’s what you think I want to hear.” Her foundation shook underneath the weight of his words. He meant every single one of them.

She wet her lips, and not knowing what else to say and not wanting to let Ves–a complete stranger–see how his words struck a cord, she pushed him on his back. Straddling him, she trailed kisses down his body. Each kiss was lingering marring his skin red.

Hickeys.

She was leaving a blazing trail of hickeys down Ves’ body marking him up as her own. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she knew he wasn’t hers, but for the night…the night he was all hers.

“Pet, if you keep this up…” the open-ended warning made her clench. Nipping at the spot she was working on, she hoped it would break his resolve.

And it did.

She was on her back before she could blink. Holding her arms above her head, he palmed her full breast. “They’re so perfect.” He rolled her nipple between his fingers. “Just perfect for me.” Whimpering, her hips rolled against his. Need pooling once again despite her monster orgasm a few minutes ago. Ves humed, getting comfortable between her open legs, his cock rubbing against her folds. “Is that what you need? Do you need my hard cock inside you?”

“Yes!” She all but screamed. 

Licking her nipple, she squirmed. She needed it so bad, ached for it in a way that she had never felt before. 

“You have been so good,” he mused, notching the head at her entrance. “Such a good girl for me.” “Please,” she begged, tugging at his hold on her hands.

“Ah ah ah. I need you to tell me something first.” “Anything, Ves. Please.” 

“What did I say about being careful with that word.” Ves planted a kiss to her shoulder. “Tell me your my good girl.”

Her brows pinched but she said, “I’m a good girl.”

He nipped her skin as punishment. “Wrong. You’re my good girl.” Her core clenched. He wanted ownership. To complete the dominance over her. She wet her lips…and let go. “I’m your good girl.”

Ves sank slowly home inside her. He was larger inside her than she thought, stretching her out deliciously. And he kept going until he was fully seated inside her, the tip kissing her cervix. He released his hold on her hands to plank above her, his arms shaking with exertion on his speed.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders immediately, sinking her fingers into the inky blackness of his hair. The soft strands slick with sweat from the night. “Gods you’re so tight.”

Moaning, she also wrapped her legs around his trimmed waist. “Please, Ves.”

“I know, pet.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I know.”

With that, he slowly thrusted into her. Every thrust was slow but with enough force that left her breathless. He hit every place inside her that made her toes curl.

Her orgasm was building, her legs shaking as he got faster. Their groans mixing together in a symphony of sounds. “You take me so well. Like you were made for me,” he praised her. 

“Yours, Ves,” She promised breathlessly.

He made a sound like a growl and sped up. Drilling her into her bed that she was sure it would leave a permanent mark. And she loved it. She met every thrust with her hips, taking him and owning him as much as he was owning her.

“That’s right,” he panted, sliding a hand to her neck. Not squeezing but dominating. “This pussy is mine. Only mine.”

“Yes, yes!”

“Gah!” The veins in his neck bulged. He was getting close. So was she. “I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum in my pussy.”

“Please!” She begged. Dragging a hand from his hair, she ranked her nails down his chest leaving five claw marks.

That did it.

“FUCK!” Ves slammed home, squeezing her neck. The lack of oxygen triggered her orgasm. They were cumming together.

They were everywhere together. Somewhere out of their bodies, their insides melding to one another. Everything lay bare to the other.

It was beautiful.

It was explosive.

It was scary.

Ves collapsed on her, panting. “Color?”

“Green.”

He nodded against her. Planting a kiss to her ear, he pulled out of her gently.

She sucked a sharp breath as he left her, the ache from his size and how deep he was already settling in. “Bathroom?”

Pointing a shaky hand to the door to the right, she fought to catch her breath.

The water turned on and there were some odd squishing sounds before Ves remerged with a washcloth in his hand.

“What’re you…”

Ves’ brow furrowed. “Aftercare?”

“Ah.”

His hand gripped her thigh making her refocus her attention on him. There was concern etched into his sharp features. It wove deep in her emotionally vulnerable heart. “Have you never had aftercare before?”

“I have.” 

His brow rose at her too-quick response. Shaking his head, he spread her legs and gently placed the washcloth on her sex. “You deserve better than me bolting out the door after that.”

The warm cloth felt amazing but she squirmed uncomfortably. “It’s really okay. It’s late, I know someone probably wants to know where you are.”

“This is the bare minimum, pet,” he told her vehemently. “We both need this.”

Swallowing, she nodded and let him clean her up, depositing the cloth in her hamper in the corner of her room before pulling the covers down on her bed and getting both of them underneath it. Tucking her face into his shoulder, their legs interweaved with each other.

She was warm, sated, and safe.

Her heart cracked open.

Ves shouldn’t stay. He couldn’t. It would break her to pieces. The emotional come down from sex like this was going to be intense. And it was going to be worse if he was there in the morning.

“Shhhhhhhh.” He stroked her suddenly tense back muscles. “Just for a minute.” A minute.

She could do a minute.

She could allow herself a minute of intimacy.

“One minute,” she agreed snuggling deeper into him.

Ves humed a tune that scratched familiarity in her brain. She knew that song but as soon as she focused on it, it fluttered away. Sleep was pulling her deeper and deeper down.

So far down, she barely noticed the slight black paint on her fingertips.

[rrcraft-and-lore]

Vimana?

What is it?

Well, put simply, they are the mythical flying "chariots" out of the South Asian epics. Though, interestingly enough, the earliest mentions of them specifically exclude mentions of horses//being horse drawn.

They are entirely self moving. The word means to traverse, traverse/measure out.

In the ancient epics, they were as large as some palaces, and sometimes listed as a palace (for a character in the epics) and interesting is the evolution of the word today from the days of the epics to where it now means airship/craft.

In the Ramayama, the character and villain, Ravana (inspiration for Rahvin for you WoT fans), has a vimana described as: resembling the Sun, and a chariot able to traverse anywhere and everywhere, resembling a bright cloud, and by command, could go into the atmosphere.

Vimana can travel the skies at insane speed, and notably rain down fire and weapons of mass destruction in battles. Idk about you, but that sounds like some space ship level stuff.

Maybe Stargate was onto something. :SG1 MUSIC INTENSIFIES:

Viman can be shaped into many ways, however. One story tells of a flowery Viman shaped like an eagle that Lord Vishnu sent down to carry the soul of one person up to heaven. Important to also note that Eagles are important in the mythos as they are associated with Garuda a deity and divine bird being who is eagle-like (like not 1-1), as well as often related to a kite (the bird) and yes, the toy that flies through the air is derived in name from the bird. Anyways, Garuda is the mount of Lord Vishnu, and so through him eagles also have a level of high prominence - another example is Shyena, the divine eagle associated with Agni (god of fire).

Anyways circling back to Vimana, some could go invisible (cloaking engaged). But, yeah, read the South Asian epics and myths, there is mind blowingly cool stuff in them.

[daifukumochiin]

Summary: Sasuke's orderly life at elite Sairiumu Academy is disrupted by the arrival of Hinata, a timid transfer student whose obvious crush on him, a young man dedicated to his craft and his current relationship, stirs unease. (Initial SasuSaku with SasuHina endgame, modern Norse myth AU, high school, angst, romance, photography, postmodern-ish fic). Rated T

Nevertheless I have this against you, that you have left your first love. NKJV — Revelation 2:4

LIGHTS,

BOWS, and

MISTLETOES

an entry for SasuHina Month 2024, Day 27 : Forget and Remember

(for @peachy-hina, since December) @sasu-hina

ffnet: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14369143/1/Lights-Bows-and-Mistletoes

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57030778

Part 1: Lights go to Chapter List>

I heard a voice, that cried, "Balder the Beautiful Is dead, is dead!" And through the misty air Passed like the mournful cry Of sunward sailing cranes. 

—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Tegner’s Drapa

i

What does one make of stalkers? Female ones.

Sasuke stood close to five foot eleven, fairly active and athletic, with a lean, muscled build typical of a teenager who cared for his health and traveled frequently for photography. Not quite pugilist material, but capable of defending himself if necessary. With his quick wit and a taekwondo brown belt, he was well-prepared for self-defense—should, as previously mentioned, the situation call for it.

Sairiumu Academy lay reposed among lush, well-preserved forests at the base of a prominent mountain carved with the visages of heroes past. At one glance, it seemed a serene and fortified paradise for the children of the elite and sickeningly wealthy. But there loomed a sense of threat in its seemingly endless marbled corridors for Sasuke that particular busy noon when she came: the new transfer student, Hinata Hyuuga. The crown of her head couldn't even reach his neck; she showed no vile display of possession of arms or rambunctious attitude; she couldn't seem to stop twiddling her thumbs, and judging from her body language, didn't feel confident enough in herself to speak way out of a difficult situation. And yet, she dared strike him up with a greeting, asked him for general guidance about the photography club’s applications, and timidly signed her name on the form.

It didn't escape Sasuke how she stole glances at him. With only the reception table between them, she must've imagined he kept looking at her because he was checking her out. A sense of dread came over him, and he looked away. He had taken on the reception duties and sent the other photography club members on a lunch break. To Hinata Hyuuga, who has an apparent crush on him, it was the perfect opportunity to engage him in small talk and get familiar. But he would not let her have it.

As though held at gunpoint, he glanced to the right and then to the left, checking out the hallway while she continued filling out the form in small, neat handwriting. His heartbeat quickened, each thump echoing in his ears, a drumbeat of unease. At a corner several blocks away, the Japanese classic painting club was bustling and this brought Sasuke a sense of shallow relief. Should anything happen, they could be his neighborly witnesses.

“Orientation on the 7th,” he said, handing her an envelope with pamphlets and orientation details inside. His voice was kept monotonous like the hum of a fan, his face blank and stone cold, though he maintained eye contact because he wasn't one to cower in the face of intimidation.

With a deer caught in headlights impression, Hinata Hyuuga's eyes caught the light in an almost prismatic quality. They were like amethysts, clear with streaks of light jumping through a million tiny mirror surfaces, shooting back at him with the rush of a bullet train. It was uncanny and inhuman, sending jolts along his spine. She made the hairs on his forearms rise in goose flesh.

“O-okay…” she replied. And then not another word.

As she walked away, he noticed a faint scent of rain in the air, a memory of an evening on Hashirama’s bridge flashing briefly in his mind, her crazy eyes wide with recognition as she gripped his sleeve. This was not the first time he’d seen her. Her transfer to Sairiumu and even ending up in the same class as him—they weren't mere coincidences, Sasuke was certain. She had come after him.

She disappeared down the hallway after taking a turn, and a sense of foreboding still lingered. An unsettling heaviness whirred in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't quite shake. go to Chapter List>

[imhereformysciencefriends]

Day 1: Fairytales and Myths

Tags: @loturaweek2024 Curses, fairy tale elements, Bearskin (the myth), political marriage but also for love sort of, magic, background Alfor/Melenor, background Keith/Shiro, betrothals, attempted kidnapping, rescue, Lotor’s generals are there

Read on AO3

***

“You are fortunate,” mused the angry and spiteful druid while Lotor snarled up at him, ensnared in glowing purple chains made of magic and aether, “that the same magic you came here to steal from me does not allow me to kill you outright.”

Lotor thought, not for the first time, that it would be significantly more Galra to just put a knife in his gut than rely on their magic for literally everything. But if they were so wrapped up in their world of spells and power that they forgot their own fangs and claws that they were born with, well, Lotor wouldn’t be the one to remind them. This druid in specific seemed particularly filled with his own hubris.

A pelt, some heavy, thick-furred thing thumped down on his shoulders, and he shifted minutely from the weight.

“I curse you,” the druid said, voice going echoey with magic. “You shall not bathe for seven decaphoebes, nor cut your hair nor claws, you shall not cease to wear this pelt, nor sleep under one roof for more than a single night, and no one may travel with you for more than three quintents. Should you break any of these bindings, this curse will kill you.”

“And if I succeed, for seven decaphoebes?” Lotor asked, still snarling, still bearing his (small, Altean) fangs.

The druid was quiet.

“You must include a win-condition, witch. I know your magic’s rules.” He would not have risked infiltrating this place if he did not have a contingency plan for if he was caught, after all.

The druid made a snarling, growling, impatient noise.

“If you should last all seven decaphoebes, then the magic you seek will be yours. Now get out!”

Another rush of magic and Lotor found himself at the mouth of the small cave that hid the entrance to the druid’s lair. He grit his teeth and stood, shaking as though to dislodge the remnants of the purple magic.

Seven years.

More than he’d bargained for, but less than he was willing to pay for his goals. He already grew his hair long, and he was not one to frequently stay in one place for too long. That was doable.

The claws and bathing situation would be the most intolerable, he did not doubt.

Seven years.

He could do this.

In the first year: he could do this. He was centuries old and, if theories on how he aged were to be considered correct, he would have centuries more. Seven years would be nothing. A drop in a bucket. He used it to prepare, especially the first few months, when he smelled more or less tolerable. Any time it rained he spent as much time as he could in the water, knowing that washing in a river or stream would count. Magic was always fickle, and always skewed in favor of the worst. While he could still passably show his face in civilization, he stockpiled supplies enough to last him seven years, or near enough to it he could supplement when the time came.

In the second year: he had to leave Daibazaal. His country of origin was hardly a home, and hadn’t been since he was young and innocent and still so painfully naive. But he did know it, and he knew that all the many flora that thirsted for his blood and fauna that would chew on his bones could smell him for miles in each direction. He knew it intellectually, and he knew it viscerally, blood steaming across the pelt he wore and sliding down the blade he wrested free from the fresh carcass of a beast that wished to eat him. Oh, how he wished for a bath.

In the third year: he couldn’t do this. He could not bear this. He was not even halfway through and his own stench and fatigue were driving him insane. Being so constantly exposed to the elements was killing him, though the pelt was so thick and heavy it kept him plenty warm. And he was lonely. In the third year, Narti finally found him, Kova hissing and prowling just outside the edges of Lotor’s reach, recognizing him but also not. She wanted to help him, as best she could, but he explained the curse to her, the druid putting no binding on his tongue at least. She then offered to go kill the druid for him, and he insisted that she not, not until the witch’s power was his. She stated she would stay with him, despite her nose being even sharper than Lotor’s, and he reminded her that it could be for no more than three quintents, or the magic would kill him (and he doubted it would be instant, or painless).

She left with the promise to tell the others, and to bring back supplies for him. Just to drop off and then leave again. She promised she wouldn’t stay.

In the third year: Ezor found him, always best at finding things, and with her she brought Zethrid and Acxa. It was the best three days of these miserable three years, even with his companions wrinkling their noses at his scent the whole time.

In the fourth year: he left the billowing wilds that existed between Daibazaal, harsh and dangerous but inhabitable, and into Altea, the lush and verdant valleys beneath the billowing wilds’ mountains. Not to say that Altea did not come with its own dangers, no, just that they were more like the mountain creatures, not quite so capable of killing a lone wanderer as Daibazaal’s would have been.

In the fourth year:

Allura tied up her hair and shifted her hands, magic tickling as it turned her palms into suction cups. She descended from her room as only wayward princesses could, and hopped down onto the vibrantly green grass of the lawn with a little thrill of success.

With the tensions between Daibazaal and Altea on the rise once again, and all citizens from both countries feeling like a resumed war was all but a forgone conclusion, her parents had been increasingly strict with her. On a certain level, she understood, she was a princess after all, it was her job to understand.

On the other hand: she’d gone to the little brook with the little waterfall dozens upon dozens upon dozens of times, without any harm nor threat to her person. It was right next to the palace grounds, and she only ever managed to squeeze in an hour or two before her knights quit canoodling and came to find her anyway. She would be fine, just as she’d been fine every time before.

There was nowhere in all of Altea, in Allura’s opinion, that was a better place for magic than that little waterfall. Something about the place seemed almost to glow with magic, every drop of water and blade of grass and rustling leaf full to overflowing with rich mana. It drew her in, excited and comforted her, enthralled her and cleared her mind. Magic poured from her fingers like the water she lifted, guiding it to dance about her in a spiraling river floating suspended around her person, twirling slowly as she dragged the water about in lazy loops.

Even the sunlight here felt different, warm and yellow but not beating down on her, even in summer heat. It sparkled and twisted around her like the water did, slowly spinning and dancing across the shimmering surface, Allura’s skirts shallowly twirling around her calves, and she smiled and let her mind sink into the magic present here, imbuing everything.

It was that magic, present even in the twigs of a bush and the berries crushed underfoot, that alerted her that she was not alone.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t dare try to fight against near a dozen heavy boots. One moment she was smiling serenely, surrounded by glistening spirals of water, the next she was running so fast the water didn’t even have time to hit the ground before she burst through it. Shouts behind her, unmistakably Galra, and heavy footfall followed, but she didn’t dare look. She was fast.

But Galra were faster.

A giant, purple hand clamped over her mouth, a scream wrested from her too late and muffled by the flesh, and she hit the ground with a cry of pain, knees and palms skidding in the dirt.

“Grab her!”

She fought back, because of course she did. Princess trained in the art of diplomacy and regal bearing though she was, Allura was no weak fighter, and she was not one to cow in the face of unfair odds.

But they were unfair. She knocked two briefly unconscious, but she hadn’t brought her staff, not believing she’d need it, and these Galra were armored and armed, one opening a deep gash across the back of her leg, another finally getting his dagger pointed at her throat and compelling her to behave.

“You won’t kill me,” she spat, even as her preservation instincts forced her to obey.

“No. But you don’t need both eyes.”

She screamed a protest—she was submitting!—as he raised the dagger to plunge it into her eye, but then a dagger protruded from his own, sinking much deeper than just the eye. He toppled off her, dead, and the Galra turned on their new aggressor.

A beast, wilder than all imagining, lept from the foliage, its pelt hideous and bloodstained, matted with mud and dried viscera, its claws long as knives and yellow and flaking, silvery lengths of something dragging behind it as it fell upon its victims. The Galra shouted, united now against this beast, and Allura staggered to her feet, or tried to. The gash in her leg made fleeing nearly impossible, and she leaned against the tree as she watched the beast dispatch of the Galra, one by one by one, until there were none left alive to contest it.

Its yellow gaze fell upon her next, and she realized belatedly that she looked at no monster at all.

“You’re Altean!” she gasped, the man before her so deeply dirtied with various filth that she could not see even an inch of skin beneath the horrible mess, but his face was, poking out from the disgusting fur, unmistakably that of, well, a man. An Altean’s proud cheekbones and narrow jaw, eyes yellow as a Galra but silver hair (it was hair!) long and ripe with magic.

The man chuckled at her. “I suppose it only fair that you confused me for a beast.”

“Good sir, anyone would.” Sounds of armor—familiar, Altean—and rushed footfall came from the direction of the palace grounds. “Please, you are my savior, come into my home and be bathed and rewarded for your service.”

“I cannot bathe, princess,” he said, with every reverence of her subjects, “nor did I do this for a reward. I will leave.”

“You saved my life!” Allura insisted as Keith and Shiro burst into the clearing, swords drawn and lips flushed and kiss-bitten, confusion on their brows as they took stock of the dead Galra on the ground and the beast man their charge now argued with. “You would do me a great dishonor by not allowing me to repay you!”

The man seemed visibly to hesitate at that, and then acquiesced. “If for your honor only, princess. But I cannot remain.”

“At least stay the night,” she insisted, now half-frantic to have this strange man remain for any time at all, curiosity burning through her as fervently as the magic had only recently flowed.

“The night,” he agreed, bowing low, the mess of fur and hair and viscera and fresh blood shambling with his motion, “but no longer.”

The man spoke of precious little, despite Allura’s best attempts at interrogation. She learned not even his name. He would not allow any of her staff to bathe or groom him, though she noted that while his hair was dirty, it was remarkably untangled. He was certainly Altean, but his nails were more akin to claws. And of course, the yellow eyes.

At dinner, her parents hosted the man who’d saved their daughter’s life, because of course they did.

“Traditionally,” Queen Melenor remarked, though she was severe and stately in the way Allura knew she held herself when she discussed things she’d rather not, “the reward for saving a princess’s fool life from a band of murderous kidnappers would be that princess’s hand in marriage.”

Allura heard the man’s breath hitch, and for a brief moment, open want lined his filth-obscured features, before he shuttered again to something vaguely polite and unreadable.

“I could never ask for such a thing, being as I am.”

“Being as you are?” Allura said, sounding more accusatory than she’d meant. “A kind stranger who saved my life?”

“You have no proof of any kindness,” the man said, with a low chuckle that made her feel strange and hot.

“Only my life and well-being.”

“You speak as though you would wish to wed me.”

Allura’s mouth opened, then shut.

“Exactly.”

“Perhaps I would!” she said, drawing herself to full height while seated and glowering at the man, challenge in her tone.

“Allura,” her father scolded quietly, as he always did when her temper and stubbornness sent her headlong down paths her good sense would otherwise steer her clear from.

“...Allow me three years, then, princess,” the beast man said slowly, gaze never leaving hers. “I have matters I must attend, and am unable to remain here, nor take you with me. If, in three years, when I return, you still wish to wed me, we might discuss it then.”

Queen Melenor sighed, and Allura winced only briefly at the tone of her mother’s breath. Oh the lecture she’d receive once this man departed would be mighty. “You have more good sense than my daughter, it would seem. Please be made comfortable in our home, and if there is anything you wish for, merely ask it.”

“A grimoire, Your Majesty, if I may be bold enough to request it.”

“You’ve magic?” Allura asked, reaching out to touch the man’s face, where his Altean marks should be beneath the dirt, and rescinding her hand when he flinched from her.

“Call it a future investment.”

“Grimoires we have aplenty,” her father stated, “I’ll have one copied for you by the morrow.”

“My thanks.”

Allura, kept up late by her own desperately curious, gnawing thoughts, had to drag herself, bleary and miserable, from her bed to prevent from missing the stranger’s departure. She witnessed her father hand him a grimoire, and he bowed, first to the sovereign queen, then to the king, and then, lower, slower, with something like heat in his eyes, finally to the princess.

“Damn,” she mumbled when the stranger was gone, but comforted herself that at least, for the next three years, she’d have an easy dismissal of all talk of suitors.

In the fifth year: Lotor was nearly killed by a huntsman mistaking him for a beast.

In the sixth year: Lotor was nearly killed by a team of monster hunters, who he had to persuade with Narti’s coin to leave him be, paying higher than the village who’d hired them. He wandered elsewhere with faster purpose, after that, and committed himself to greater stealth. Narti was unbearably smug when next she delivered supplies, forcing more coin into the hands of a man who had no reliable use for it.

In the seventh year: Nearly killed again, by huntsmen and monster hunters both. But he was on his way out of Altea. On his way through the billowing wilds, climbing and descending that mountain. He’d memorized the grimoire, but kept hold of it, a baffling yet precious memory now tied to its cover and pages.

At the end of the seventh year: he returned to the small cave where he’d first found the druid. His time was up, or near enough to it, and the moment the magic was his he would take vengeance for the seven years of misery he’d suffered. There he found Narti, there he found Ezor, there he found Zethrid, there he found Acxa, still loyal to him after seven years of absence, and he counted such loyalty more precious than all the gold in all the world.

“First, we kill the druid,” he ordered, feeling the curse sizzle along his skin as it warped into a blessing. “Then I take a quiznacking bath.”

At the end of the third year of waiting:

Allura was forced by circumstance to put her curiosity for her betrothed-to-be on hold, as political upheaval shook the land.

Her father’s old ally finally declared war upon her mother’s country, and Altea raised its arms for bloodshed. But as they prepared their weapons and rallied their armies, another missive came: Emperor Zarkon was dead, long live the Emperor.

Lotor, former prince, son of Zarkon who Allura had never met, shame to his family line and whose mother was Altean, had bested his father in ritual combat, according to Galra custom and law, and had seized the throne. Altea continued to rally, not sure if the bastard son would hold the same temperament as his father, but the tension that had built between their lands hung now, most definitely confused in perplexed balance.

Then an official letter from the Emperor, validated by report after report from their scouts: Lotor was coming, not with an army, but with a diplomatic envoy, to speak to the royals of Altea face to face.

Her mother was stern and stately, poised and graceful and elegant, the sovereign of Altea, bearer of the Altean royal line, pride and jewel of their nation, its Queen.

Her father was tense and stiff, militant and grave, leader of their armies and father of the nation, sire of Altea’s heir and husband to their sovereign.

Allura wasn’t quite sure what she was. But she drew herself up, a shadow of her mother’s grace, stiffened her lip and brow, a mimic of her father’s gravity, and lifted her chin, a prideful stubbornness that was all hers.

Whatever the Emperor Lotor came here for, he would find it on Altea’s terms, or he would leave without it. Or, if it might make for a swifter path for peace, she would slaughter him in this very reception hall. She had her staff with her today.

The Galran procession arrived in waves, wargs and beastmasters first, towering Galra broad each as a mountain and bearing heavy shields second, four mismatched women each bearing the new royal crest and colors third, and in their center: Emperor Lotor.

He was the singularly most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Long, plaited, silver hair that nearly dragged the ground, Altean bones and Galran eyes, soft velvety purple fur so short it could pass for skin, pointed ears pierced with glinting gems in silver casings, and on his cheeks, two marks that glowed with powerful magic.

She shivered, feeling less certain of her ability to slaughter him where he stood, should he pose threat. His magic was enough, indeed, to rival her own, and she was famed throughout Altea for her prowess, her own marks pink and luminous.

“My thanks for hosting on such short notice,” the emperor began, seeming perfectly at ease surrounded by distinctly uneasy Altean guardsmen.

“Our thanks for your peaceful arrival. Are we too optimistic in hoping it may bode for a peaceful future between our nations?” Queen Melenor of Altea answered, staring down at him with regal coolness from the dias they three stood on.

“Not at all,” he assured with a smile. “I am as hopeful for such as you are.” A sigh escaped the whole room, tension palpably leaving. Allura was not exempt, tension loosening from her shoulders.

“Though I would start by returning what was borrowed. I know you gave it to me as a gift, but I would return it as a show of good faith.”

That piqued Allura’s curiosity. As far as she knew, her parents had never met the then-prince Lotor any more than she had. But as the emperor of Daibazaal approached, Allura’s breath caught in her throat.

He extended, to Alfor, a grimoire. The same grimoire her father had given her intended three years ago.

“You!” she gasped, rushing forward and grabbing him by the wrist, making his generals tense but ignoring them, staring instead at his yellow eyes.

“Me,” he agreed with a smile, staring at her with that same reverence he’d held three years ago. “I hope my appearance is more agreeable to you, now, than it was then, as I have little desire to return to such a state.”

“More than,” she said with a wild grin. “Please, come in and be hosted by us, I would have my betrothed explain to me how I may find him in such different states as this!”

“Well,” she heard her father murmur to her mother as she beckoned their guests inside, “I suppose a wedding is one way to end all this.”

And so it would be.

But first, they went to dinner.

[a-child-of-chaos906]

Guide on devotional playlists!

(Note: English is my second language, there could be mistakes. Please be understanding.)

Making devotional playlist and listening it is one of the simplest way to connect and honour your Deity, plus it is a popular devotional act. It is simple, so if you have little energy, disabled, don't have time, it is a good, easy and modern thing to do, that everyone can do. But sometimes it's hard to decide what to add to playlist, so today I made a guide, how to make devotional playlist. You can add your additions, if you have one, it will be great! This guide will work for every God, Deity, Spirit, not just Netjeru.

I will go through it with my Patron God Sutekh and my playlist to Him and examples from that playlist.

I need to say with a little reminder, that everyones music taste is different and two playlists for same God will never be same, so be kind to each other.

You can put songs of any language.

1.) Songs directly about God.

It is self-explanatory. If it is a song about God, if it sings Their myths, or is about God without Their name, but it's clearly Them, it falls under this category. It is one of the simplest. For me those are:

Derek Fietcher – Set;

Канцлер Ги – Полынь и Ковыль;

Khepri – The Desert od Set;

Altay Tuna POLAT – Mercy of Seth, and so on.

2.) Songs that have Their energy, that feel like Them or Their symbols.

That could be one of the biggest categories, because there could be a lot songs that can feel like Deity. It could be Their aspects, symbols, animals, domains and just energy in general. For example, song "God" by Jake Daniels have big Sutekh energy for me with the lyrics themselves. List can be replenished with:

Alcest – Sapphire;

Watt White – Eye of the Storm;

Blackmore's Night – Storm;

The Score – Revolution;

Casey Edwards – Bury the Light;

Hollywood Undead – Bloody Nose;

Fall out boy – The Phoenix;

Adrian Von Ziegler – Ancient Storm;

Once Monsters – My Name Is...;

Ария – Дух Войны;

Halestorm – I Am the Fire;

And so on. It could be one of the biggest categories and for everyone it will be different.

3.) Songs that you think They will like.

Basically, songs, that don't have to do with the Deity themselves, but you think your God might like them. It could be specific genre, that associated with Them, like rock or hip-hop, that just have something in it. My examples are:

Ghost – Mary on a Cross;

My Chemical Romance – Na Na Na;

Glass Animals – Toes;

Rammstein – Sonne;

Bryce Fox – Horns, and so on.

4.) UPG.

This is a part, that will appear through your time with Deity, it is something that will feel to everyone personally. Maybe, a symbol, an animal, maybe, you will have special relationship. It is individual from person to person. In songs it could be a specific genre, that you feel to Deity and songs connected to your UPG. As well, it could be song through which your God gave you some kind of lesson.

For me, Sutekh became my parental figure, He became very special to be, so my playlist has songs from parental love, like:

My Indigo – Safe and Sound;

Three Days Grace – Unbreakable Heart;

Peter Gundry – A father's lesson;

Three Days Grace – Painkiller.

Song through which He gave me reminder and lessons to continue fighting:

The Score – Born For This.

And so on. UPG can be very different, and so are the songs.

5.) Ambient and nature sounds.

This part can be not for every God. Mostly, it is good for Gods with nature elements, to listen them. Like, for Sutekh, I listen sounds of desert and sounds of storm and rain. But ambient is more universal. It can be, again, ambient of some kind of nature place and event, like, again, desert, water, forest, it could be ambient of some general feeling, like dark, calm, energetic. There is a lot of ambient in videos and others people playlists. It can also be UPG.

For general Netjeru, I can recommend Egyptian music. For Anpu it could be more dark ambient, for Wesir calm, for Heru it could be royal.

Under this category also falls music for meditation. Music with calm rhythm, without words. I have another playlist for Sutekh, that is sixteen and half hours long with music that feels like desert and sounds of storm.

That is all I got so far. You can write down additions for categories, if you have!

I hope everyone will have a great day!

[multiplefandomwritings]

hey to everyone that found this blog, i hope you are doing awesome. if not, feel hugged ❤️

please, feel free to reblog, like or comment my work, it is greatly appreciated. also, feel free to send in requests, i will happily accept them!

Masterlist

Welcome to my Masterlist! Below you will find the links to everything I have ever written for this blog. All of my works feature a female reader, unless specified otherwise in the description. So far, I have been writing for The Walking Dead and Formula One. However, I am open for any kinds of requests 😊

🚨Some of the content on this blog is rated 18+. Please make sure to always read the warnings. 🚨

The follow icons will show you what you can expect of the written work:

🌻 – Fluff

🌶️ – Smut

🥀– Angst

💔 - Hurt

Formula One

one shots

Max Verstappen

the man, the myth, the legend 🌻

Lando Norris

caught in the rain 🥀🌻

Pierre Gasly

Let´s BeReal 🌶️🌻

Charles Leclerc

self-made now you’re self-paid with your own plans 🌻

multi chapter fic

Max Verstappen

“Eh, what the fuck is wrong with him?”  

Part 1: Eh, what the fuck is wrong with him? 🥀🌻

Part 2: Falling in love in ten days - Day one to five 🌻

Part 3: Falling in love in ten days - Day six to ten🌻    

Part 4: After the first kiss 🌻

Part 5: Planned 🌻

Pierre Gasly

Part 1: How to be a mum 🌻🥀

Part 2: How to be a child 🥀🌻

Part 3 (Planned): How to be a teenager

Part 4 (Planned): How to be an aunt

love in different colors

Yellow - Mick Schumacher x reader 🌻

Orange - Daniel Riccardo x reader

Pink - Fernando Alonso x reader

Red - no pairing yet

Green - no pairing yet

Blue - Max Verstappen x reader 💔

Violet - no pairing yet

Black - no pairing yet

White - no pairing yet

The Walking Dead

one shots

Daryl Dixon

you have my heart 🥀🌻

the pain comes in waves 🥀🌻

Glenn Rhee

Planned: Smut one shot, requested 🌶️🥀

[talonabraxas]

🌼🏵️🌼🏵️☀️🏵️🌼🏵️🌼 Green Man, May Day and May Pole

The Goddess of what is now May Day goes back to ancient times, in Anatolia, Greece, and Rome. Spring goddesses came to be venerated at two Roman holiday festivals that led to our May Day. The Roman Empire is important here because it took over much of Europe and the British Isles. Its mythology, associated rituals, and holidays spread there and merged with local conditions, mythologies, holidays, and customs.

The first of these goddesses of spring holidays was the Hilaria festival (from Greek hilareia/hilaria (“rejoicing”) and Latin hilaris (“cheerful”), held between the vernal equinox and April 1. It goes back to when the Phrygian goddess Cybele was introduced to Rome, at the end of the 3rd century BCE. In her myth, she had a son-lover, Attis, a dying-and-rising god who was mortally gored by a boar. Cybele knew that he had not died for eternity but that his spirit simply had taken refuge in a tree for the winter, and that he would be reborn from the tree in the spring, on the vernal equinox. When Cybele was introduced in Rome, she was given her temple of Magna Mater on the Palatine hill and a also a holiday with corresponding rituals. In her festival, a pine tree (that of Attis) was cut and stripped of its branches, wrapped in linen like a mummy, and decorated with violets (Cybele’s flower, because in the myth violets were said to have sprung from the blood of Attis).

It was then brought before Cybele’s temple on wagons in what resembled a funeral cortege, since Attis was “dead” inside the tree. This was followed by days of frenzied grief and mourning (including scourging) known as the “blood days,” when the tree was symbolically buried in a “tomb.” Attis then resurrected (rose out of the tree) on the day of Hilaria and was reunited with Cybele, symbolizing the beginning of spring. The tree was then erected before Cybele’s temple, and the people celebrated around it. The celebrations ended on April 1, which may be the origin of our April Fool’s day (the people were having a “hilarious” celebration). This has obvious parallels with the Maypole and May Day celebrations.

The second of these holidays was the Floralia, named after Flora, goddess of flowers and spring. Originally she may have been a Sabine goddess, about whom we know nothing other than that she had a spring month named after her on the Sabine calendar (Flusalis, linguistically related to Floralia) and that supposedly an altar to her in Rome was established by the Sabine king Tatius during the legendary period of his joint rule of Rome with Romulus. But none of her Sabine mythology has survived. In Rome Flora acquired her entire surviving mythology from the Greek spring goddess Chloris (from chloros – “pale green”),

who, as Ovid tells us, was originally a beautiful nymph in the Elysian Fields catering to the pleasures of the fortunate dead. There she also attracted the attention of Zephryos, the god of the West Wind and of spring, who quickly had his way with her. But then he married her, in what turned out to be a happy, loving marriage. As a wedding gift he filled her fields (her dowry in the marriage) with a flower garden, the flowers in which were said to spring from the wounds of Attis and Adonis. Zephyros, as the West Wind, brings the spring rains that grow the flowers. Thus, Virgil wrote that “the meadows ungirdle to Zephyros’s balmy breeze; the tender moisture avails for all.” Chloris also bore from Zephryos a son, Karpos, in Greek meaning “fruit” or “crop.” Through Zephyros’s wedding gift she became the goddess having jurisdiction over flowers, which she spread (by spreading their seeds) all over the earth, which until then was monochrome. She became goddess of spring. As Flora in Rome, in the late 3rd century BCE a festival was instituted in her honor that lasted from April 28 to May 2. It included theater, a sacrifice to Flora, a procession in which a statue of Flora was carried, as well as competitive events and other spectacles at the Circus Maximus. One of these involved releasing captured hares and goats (both noted for their fertility) into the Circus, and scattering beans, vetches, and lupins (all fertility symbols) into the crowd. The celebrants wore multi-colored clothing symbolizing flowers and spring, as later was customary on May Day in Europe. It was a time of generally licentious behavior. Flora also had a rose festival on May 23.

Holy Marriage Beltane can be seen as the feast of Holy Marriage or else as the feast of fertilization in nature. The Goddess is at her best in an array of flowers and flowers. The God is green and horned. This marriage takes place in nature around us, it takes place between the God and the Goddess, between man and woman, but it is also an inner marriage of the male and female energies within you. This is the feast of the actual cosmic orgasm, which is only achieved in complete indolence or in complete unification. It is the mixing of the red stream of the Goddess, with the white stream of the god. At the most plastic this is (menstruation) blood and semen. But it is also the descending and ascending, the incoming and outgoing energy flow. When these currents are in harmony with each other, unification arises and thereby fertility and creativity.

The Goddess by Talon Abraxas