#floating white lotus

[a-marlene-s]

Floating White Lotus Shipping Poll

[gummi-stims]

🪷Floating lily pad cupholders for the pool from forgecore on tiktok!🪷

[lovekia]

[blueiscoool]

‘Incredible’ Mosaics Were Found in an Ancient Luxury Home in Rome

Italy’s Culture Minister Gennaro Sangiuliano has called the works “an authentic treasure.”

Researchers working in the Archaeological Park of the Colosseum in Rome have shared their discovery of luxurious mosaic-tiled rooms found in an ancient home on the site, which they believe may have belonged to a Roman senator. Created from shells, glass, white marble, and Egyptian blue tiles, the mosaics have been described by Italy’s Culture Minister Gennaro Sangiuliano as “an authentic treasure”.

The “rustic” mosaics, found on the grounds surrounding the Colosseum in the heart of the city, date to the late Republican Age, in the last decades of the second century B.C.E., and show a series of figurative scenes. They once decorated a townhouse, or domus, owned by an upper class citizen. Italy’s Ministry of Culture have said that “due to the complexity of the scenes depicted” and their age, the mosaics are “without comparison.”

One mosaic depicts a coastal city with towers and porticos, with three large ships floating by on the ocean waves. The culture ministry believes this could be a reference to naval victories achieved by the owner of the home, which is believed to have been a Roman senator. This is supported by historical sources describing the area as having been occupied by such high-ranking members of society.

The decorated walls were likely located in the home’s dining rooms, where luxurious banquets would be hosted, and guests at these events were likely wowed with “spectacular water games,” according to the culture ministry, based on the presence of lead pipes set into the walls.

In the reception room, an extremely well preserved decorated stucco featuring landscapes and figures was also discovered. Other designs include vines and lotus leaves flowing from vases, musical instruments, and tridents.

The mosaic walls were first discovered near the Colosseum in 2018, but excavation at the site will continue into 2024, and more rooms could be discovered. Alfonsina Russo, the Director of the Archaeological Park of the Colosseum, has said that once the domus is full uncovered, “we will work intensely to make this place, among the most evocative of ancient Rome, accessible to the public as soon as possible.”

By Verity Babbs.

[sapphicjackal]

Bingyuan Soulmate au 3

Part 1 Part 2

Shen Yuan was overjoyed now that he had made contact with his Soulmate at last. Binghe was absolutely precious. The burst of his emotions written into his words were all so genuine and adoring. Once Binghe knew that they were soulmates, he all but bloomed into an adorable white lotus. The way he writes in a more formal and archaic dialect is charming, especially since it’s paired with the calligraphy brush he consistently uses. Shen Yuan finds his quirks overwhelmingly cute.

They had only known each other for two days, but Shen Yuan was working out something of a pattern for Binghe’s messages. He would wake up well before Shen Yuan, leaving a message on his wrist like Shen Yuan has done for years. Then Binghe will be busy for the rest of the day until late at night.

Maybe he works on a farm? 

Shen Yuan tried to picture an adorable (because there’s no way that Binghe isn’t the cutest thing in existence) child waking up with the sun to work on a farm. Shen Yuan doesn’t really know what work is done on a farm. It would probably be a lot of manual labor. Binghe’s too young to be working all day!

What if he’s one of those kids stuck in a sweatshop forced to do labor?

The thought of it breaks Shen Yuan’s heart, and fills him with protective fury.

His soulmate is a lot younger than him, so Shen Yuan has been trying to keep the conversation more shallow to protect his soulmate’s privacy and safety. However, he’s getting the feeling that Binghe isn’t in a great situation. 

Not knowing about soulmates indicates a level of isolation and deliberate ignorance. Being illiterate at 10 implies a level of disenfranchisement. The long hours that Binghe keeps where he’s too occupied to talk. Those emotions of fragile hope and loneliness that undercurrent some of his words.

Something is wrong, and Shen Yuan should address it sooner rather than later.

“Bing-er could you tell me where you live?” Shen Yuan writes during the afternoon, knowing Binghe will likely respond later that night. He keeps imparts emotions of curiosity, concern, and care, hoping Binghe will feel safe enough to tell him, even if they hadn’t known each other long.

He had to wait a few hours but finally he felt the tingle of a brush dragging across his skin. 

“This Binghe is a disciple of Cang Qiong Mountain’s Qing Jing Peak” Binghe wrote. Shen Yuan stared blankly at the words. He would doubt them, but he can feel the truth in the words. 

Soulmates can tell when the other is lying, because the communication is between two souls that are linked together. Soulmates can lie to each other verbally, but words written on skin can only be true to the soul, if they’re dishonest then your soulmate can tell.

Shen Yuan pulled up his phone and looked up Qing Jing Peak, not expecting anything to come up. He was surprised to get results. However the results were to a web page of a relatively new Web novel called <Proud Immortal Demon Way> which only has 4 published chapters.

Shen Yuan read the summary in disbelief, his eyes skimming over it before reading it over and over again to make sure he got it right. The main character’s name is Luo Binghe, named after the river that his washerwoman adoptive mother found him floating in after being abandoned in a basket on the coldest day of winter. 

Shen Yuan didn’t understand what was happening. He didn’t think that Binghe was lying, their bond would tell him. Why would Binghe introduce himself as a character in a web novel that had barely started and had practically no audience. It made no sense.

None of this makes sense.

Shen Yuan can feel the tingle of a brush on his arm, Binghe must be wondering why he was taking so long to reply. Shen Yuan decided to read <Proud Immortal Demon Way> tomorrow during the day while Binghe is busy. He wouldn’t ask any questions that could make Binghe think that he doubted him. Shen Yuan just knows that it would shatter Binghe’s heart.

“Yuan-ge?” Binghe had written, light impatience mixed with a hint of nervousness and hopeful anticipation.

Shen Yuan decides to just go along with whatever Binghe says. No need to contradict him.

“I’m not a part of any sect. How do you find Qing Jing Peak?” Shen Yuan asked.

This time it was Binghe who took a long time to respond.

“This one likes Qing Jing Peak. Qing Jing Peak does not like this Binghe.” Binghe says, his words carry with them the faintest amount of bitterness, with a stronger mixture of sorrow, pain, and loneliness. The words feel like a whispered confession, like a truth too terrible to speak aloud. It feels vulnerable and painful raw in its honesty.

Shen Yuan’s heart hurts with the words. He has gotten so used to Binghe’s overwhelming vibrance, it makes it all the more clear how achingly diminished he feels in those words. All the brewing heartache that’s being exposed.

Shen Yuan glances at the summary page for a web novel, seeing the tags that promise a revenge story and power fantasy. It’s exactly the type of web novel that Shen Yuan likes to read. He pushes away all of his confusion and doubts to focus on what’s important, Binghe.

“I don’t know how anyone could not like Luo Binghe.” Shen Yuan writes, soaking the words with protective anger and overflowing adoration. Binghe is a good boy. Binghe deserves the world. Shen Yuan has only had him for 3 days but if anything happened to Luo Binghe, Shen Yuan would kill everybody in the world and then himself. 

“Yuan-ge!” Binghe writes, joy tinged lightly with heartache.

Shen Yuan changed the subject to instead ask about what Binghe was learning. Binghe told him that Qing Jing Peak was a Peak of scholars and that he was meant to learn the 4 Arts. However he wasn’t allowed into the classes with the other disciples and he was told to do chores instead of cultivating. 

It filled Shen Yuan with indignation. 

“I don’t know if my education holds up to Qing Jing Peak standards, but I have been learning the Four Arts. I’ll teach you whatever I can.” Shen Yuan wrote. He began trying to think of the best ways to teach the subjects with limited space and an inability to actually demonstrate in person. It would be difficult, but written instruction could hopefully help Binghe in some way.

“Thank you Yuan-ge!” Binghe wrote enthusiastically, filled with anticipation and hope. His brush strokes were messier than usual with his giddiness. 

Shen Yuan smiled at his arm. He had been thinking about becoming a teacher after he found tutoring his meimei to be enjoyable. Maybe this could be like his test? He’ll take this seriously, only the best for his Binghe. 

That means that Shen Yuan will have to do deep research into the four arts to expand his knowledge, and also work on putting together lesson plans. He should also look into teaching methods. (Not to mention the fact that his soulmate might just be the protagonist of a xianxia novel, a fact he was studiously putting out of mind and out of sight, meaning he should also research cultivation type settings.)

The bottom line is that his soulmate needs help, and after 15 years of waiting, Shen Yuan is prepared to do anything for his soulmate.

Part 4

[evielmostdefinitely]

i would love if we got to see what the proposal in the garden was like!!!!! <3

bed of roses |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested above, coriolanus' proposal to you.

contains: kinda dark/posessive coriolanus. capitol!reader. duke!reader who is a rothschild type. slight oc?? no descriptor but mentions oc names. fluff. nervous coryo.

A simple luncheon. 

That’s what you were told. A Sunday tea with your family and Coriolanus’, just like they did in the Old World. Your Grandmatron had insisted on it, and in classic Duke style, what she said went. The drab chic of Capitol fashion was forgone for the afternoon, opted in for bright frills and patterns that went out of style long before you were born. A classic, still, for Sunday luncheons in spring. Your mother had your dress custom made, a blush pink that stood bright and radiant amongst the shades of soft cyan and muted marigold. 

Coriolanus had arrived in a linen suit, neatly pressed with amber buttons that stood out beautifully against the white suit. You had no doubt Tigris had made it, the telling touch of the cerulean pocket square that mirrored his eyes. 

He seemed tense, when he kissed your cheek in greeting. Chaste and respectable, but his hands felt clammy when they took yours. 

Unbeknownst to you, Coriolanus was feeling the weight of the world sitting at the table. His family’s legacy, his own future crushing on his shoulders. The small ring in his pocket felt like an anchor. Coryo wondered if this is what the tributes felt like, before their name was called, standing at the Reaping, knowing that at any moment their life could change for the better or for the worse. Their fate in someone else’s hands as his was now. 

“Are you alright?” You whispered, leaning into him gently at the table, your hand brushing his thigh under the table. Coryo jumped with surprise, further drawing your suspicions. 

“Yes,” Coryo’s voice was tight, heart lurching in his chest. He turned to you, offering a tight lipped, half smile that was a poor attempt at convincing you. “I’m alright. Just ate a big breakfast.” 

You frowned, but brushed it off when he took your hand in his, squeezing it affectionately under the table. Your body burned, electric with excitement at the intimacy of the action. 

Coriolanus couldn’t seem to swallow down the raging anxieties he felt blooming inside his chest. The nagging fear that you might reject him. 

Of course, he’d asked your father’s permission, elated when Atticus Duke granted it to him. The typhoon had even smiled, given him a half curled lip and a nod. “If you take care of my girl, I’ll take care of you, Snow.” 

Now, his fate lay at your feet. 

The rational side of his mind told him that you loved him. Of course, you loved him. You’d told him that endlessly. In the morning before he’d leave for the lab, or late at night between silk sheets. 

As each second passed, Coriolanus grew more and more anxious. He caught your mother’s eyes, her knowing grin making his blood run cold. She assured him she’d have the garden prepared for this momentous occasion, hiring the whimsical Trinket’s to florist the garden. Bright flowers lining the walkway, lotus floating in the small pond, an archway of pink roses over the gazebo. 

“Mother must be planning a party.” You giggled, your lace gloved hand in Coryo’s, strolling with him through the botanicals. 

Coriolanus stiffened beside you. “Why would you say that, my love?” He tried to sound casual, but still, that demanding cut in his tone lingered still. 

You looked at him, the sun illuminating his features, his hair as bright and light as the rays that blinded your vision. “The flowers.” You motioned towards the freshly planted lilies next to you. “She only ever goes this dramatic when they’re having a celebration of sorts.” 

Coriolanus felt his stomach turn, hoping you couldn’t feel the way his heart skipped. “Perhaps they’re hosting the Reaping party this year?” 

“Mm, perhaps.” Coriolanus nodded, taking a calming breath to soothe his nerves. Pull yourself together, Snow. You’ve worked too hard to piss it away now. Snow lands on top. She is your top. Don’t ruin it now. 

“Would you like to join me?” Coriolanus stepped onto the gazebos stair that bore a fresh coat of paint. His hand extended to your own, a soft smile tugging at his lips when you took his hand. 

“Hm,” Your head titled, looking at the array of roses above the entrance. “That’s odd.” 

Coriolanus’ heart dropped. “What is?” His lungs squeezed, stealing every last breath from him. 

Your eyes met his, brows furrowed with curiosity. “She used roses?” You tilted your head to the side gently. Coryo blinked at you. “Mother never uses roses outside. Says it’s gauche.” You shrugged. 

Coriolanus burned. He’d suggested it when she’d asked. Now, he wondered if it would all be ruined. One tiny slip up, and he’d blown it all. 

“It’s beautiful today.” The small sigh of content you gave stole him from his own worrisome thoughts. Your head tilted back, holding your small head piece so you could bask in the warmth of the sun- rare in the Capitol. 

“It is.” Coryo agreed, stepping beside you. He wondered if your father had somehow managed to pay for the sun to shine. He certainly could afford to. “Nearly as beautiful as you.” He whispered, breath hot on the shell of your ear, leaving you shivering. 

“Coryo,” You blushed, cheeks burning with adorning heat. 

“I mean it.” Coriolanus nodded, a hand sliding over your waist at a respectable placement, yet still affectionate. He knew your family was watching after all. “You always look so radiant. Always manage to steal my breath right from my lungs with your beauty. You have since the first time I laid eyes on you in Twelve.” 

Your chin ducked, hoping to hide the fluster of your cheeks. “You’re being playful, Coryo.” You muttered, eyes cutting up to meet him, hidden by the netting of your fascinator in your hair. 

“I am not.” Coryo shook his head, hand sliding over his pocket, feeling for the ring there. It was now or never, time to face his destiny. “I am entirely serious, my love. You have always managed to captivate me with your beauty, your humor, your kindness.” His hand took yours, pulling you closer to him. 

Your eyes shone when they met him, filled with a lovestruck, glossy gaze. It encouraged him, sending that final surge of confidence to deliver the speech he’d practiced endlessly for weeks now. His tongue felt numb in his own mouth when he said your name, tongue rolling over each syllable as if he wanted to savor each one. 

“There has been no other like you in my life before, and I hope there never will be.” Coriolanus' hand tightened around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted, all I’ve ever dreamt of, gone far beyond my own imaginations with your perfection.” 

“Coryo,” You choked on your tears, eyes shining with emotion. 

 “Please,” Coryo stepped away, though his hand never left your own. “I could speak forever about how perfect you are to me, and there still would not be enough time to capture how much I adore you.” Coryo paused, leaning forwards to look deeply into your eyes. “How much I love you.” 

Your heart skipped, racing like the wings of a hummingbird when he dropped to one knee. An outdated tradition, sure, but one he knew you cherished. One he knew your family would approve as well. 

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Coriolanus said, hand sliding into his jacket pocket to retrieve the ring, hoping you didn’t see how it shook. “I can’t imagine a life without you. I don’t want to live a life without you. I want you beside me through it all. When I command this entire country, I want you to be there with me.” 

Your tongue swelled, head swimming when you caught a glimpse of the dazzling sapphire ring. Coriolanus’ mother’s ring, you knew that much. He’d mentioned it only a few times in passing. You knew what it meant to him, what she meant to him. 

“I don’t want to be without you ever again.” Coriolanus continued, the ring pinched between his fingers. “I only want you, my petal. So will you do me the greatest honor of my life?” His eyes rounded so sweetly when he asked, a new side of Coryo you’d never experienced. “Will you marry me?” 

Your chest burned, suffocated with tears and emotions that wanted to explode out of you. Your silence made Coryo’s own heart drop, fear filled with damning reality. 

“Yes,” Your voice cut through your thick tears before he could spiral completely. It felt nearly fake, like he’d imagined it. 

Then, you nodded. Head bobbing, uncaring at how the small hair piece shook, sliding through your locks. Coriolanus was sure he was in shock, ears ringing with uncertainty. “Yes?” He whispered. 

Your nod made his shoulders drop with relief, heart beat thundering through his body with aftershock. “Yes,” You croaked, sniffling wetly. “Yes, Coryo. Yes, I-I will marry you.” 

You surprised him next. Overwhelmed with emotion, your hands cupped his face, pulling him in for a sweet, nearly sloppy kiss. Lovesoaked with a powerful emotion that overcame you. Coriolanus faltered, eyes cutting towards the house, burning with embarrassment. It was so improper, and he knew your family was watching him- judging him. 

Coriolanus stood, breaking the kiss, not missing the look of disappointment that flashed for only a moment over your features, before he took your hand. He took his time pulling each finger off the lacy gloves, swallowing a smile at how you shivered with excitement before he slipped the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly, almost like his mother was giving her own nod of approval to you. 

His lips brushed your knuckles, before you pulled him back into you, a sweet kiss, more respectable this time- appropriate, so he allowed it. Coryo’s chest boasted when he walked back into your family's home, smug at how you showed off your ring proudly, beaming with pure joy at the news. The rest of the afternoon was spent chatting about wedding details, dates and plans, while Coriolanus planned his own. 

Not your wedding- no, he’d leave that to you, but his own future plans. How he’d run Panem, when your father would appoint him, his first actions as President. His own future, out of your hands, and back in his clutches now. 

[rosedere]

The Liyue Lotus and the Merchant from Snezhnaya

(Pantalone x Fem! Reader)

MDNI +18

Cw: kidnapping, Stalking, non con elements, Graphic violence (later chapters), Yandere content *will update as the series goes on

Cross posted on AO3

1.The White Lotus (you are here), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7~

Synopsis: Unfortunately, The Regerator develops a fixation with you while you are working undercover for Yelan. And there’s no one who can get in his way of his prized Lotus.

-

So delighted

Drowning in happines

Floating

Far and wide

Only with you, we'll be as one soon

If it's in you, you will be loved soon

Only with you, we'll be as one soon

Baby, won't you fall in love?

You had been watching the harbor all day.

This is normally a task you complete on the regular, but today was even more urgent than usual.

Taking a dainty swig from the steaming tea in front of you from where you sat in the middle of the crowded storyteller's crowd, blending in with most of the audience, you had a perfect view of where your target was rumored to be.

After the failed mission holding Theofan in custody by your boss and the traveler, you and your bosses subordinates were sent to the shadows to find where your person of interest was.

It had just turned noon, and the skies were carrying a warm breeze singaling the change from spring to summer as you kept your eyes on the busy streets for anyone matching his description. 

Taking another sip, you looked back around behind you observing the scene before you.

The storyteller was retelling some story youd heard 50 times in the few weeks you'd been sent to watch this particular area for your target.

Everyone around you was focused on the storyteller, with a few enjoying the tea or snacks they bought from the various stalls below.

No one would suspect you were the white lotus.

The highest-ranking subordinate of Yelan's intelligence gatherers—at least thats what Yelan and Ningguang named you.

Only they knew your true name.

After finishing your cautious observation, you went back to looking towards the street for the umpteenth time this day.

A shiver ran down your spine before you saw him.

“Is this seat taken, miss?”

At first, you didn't react at all to the voice, assuming it wasn't directed at you. There were many openings in front of you anyway; it seemed silly to want to be in the corner. You weren't seeing much of the storyteller's flamboyant performance anyway.

A tap to your shoulder was what made you completely aware. Looking up you saw him towering before you.

He was wearing clothes that were not at all what you would wear in the warm season: a long dark coat with purple accents and various dark insulation on the coat he wore, his hair curled and falling past his shoulder tied back with his glasses sitting perfectly on top of his nose. He also wore dark layers, with a turtleneck being the most visible one you could see.

He had no vision, which was a good sign. If things got ugly, you could immediately overpower him with your bow tucked behind your clothing.

You didn't react, keeping your poker face, before replying to his question.

“No, go right ahead,” you plainly responded towards the man. 

He pulled the chair to sit next to you before sitting too close for comfort in your personal space. His cologne assaulting your nostrils didn't smell of the usual Liyue scents that were made into perfumes and colognes; it smelled cold and spicy with little to no musk foreign.

You decided to look towards the storyteller, looking beyond the screens surrounding his stages towards the safe point at the top of the Yangshang teahouse.

Yelan should be there.

“My, I've never seen you around here; is this your first time in Liyue?” the man asked.

You knew he was watching you.

Despite being undercover and being familar with disguises, acting was not your strong suit.

To be honest, you never had a situation where someone approached you in your disguise in all your 10 years working under Yelan.

Saying nothing would lead him to grow suspicious, but you didn't know what to say to the man.

“No, I was born and raised in this harbor,” you curtly responded, grabbing your tea and taking a few sips.

“I guess it was my lucky day then to run into a beautiful glaze lily like you in my path,” he said with a smile curving his lips.

He was definitely up to something.

“Thank you; I wasn't aware I'd run into you either.”

Very unaware

“Have you ever heard of the Northland Bank? Miss...” he began. 

“Lián”

He smiled once more at you, crossing his hands under his chin.

“A beautiful name to fit an attractive face,” he said.

“I'm in charge of the Northland Bank; although I'm normally away to my motherland, I had to stop by to help a few subordinates, so I'm in the area for another few days,” he rambled.

Northland bank

You felt a chill rise up from your arms.

This was now escalating from an oblivious civilian blowing your cover to possibly something even worse.

Swallowing the bile from your throat, you tried to keep your composure.

"Oh, so you're not from Liyue?" You asked casually.

“I consider it a home, but I practically live in Snezhnaya nowadays,” he smiled.

“Interesting, I've never been that far; the furthest I've gone is to Chenyu Vale,” you replied.

Sipping half of your tea, you wanted to finish the cup before you had to flee.

This situation was out of your control if you said the wrong thing. The fatui were not to be messed with in the slightest.

Especially if he's who you think he is.

"Well, maybe we can go together one day; I'll have to warn; it's colder than you've ever experienced before,” he chuckled. You smile at him but decide not to respond any longer.

You hoped that if you kept staring towards the teahouse, Yelan would sense your Mayday plea.

Taking another sip of your tea, you snuck a glance besides you, only to accidentally make eye contact with him.

Great

"So, Lián, tell me a bit about yourself,” the man asked, tracing a fingertip idly on the redwood table next to you.

“What brings you here? I come every time I'm in the harbor, and I've never seen someone as eye-catching as you before,” he purred.

“I normally don't come here; I decided to come on my day off..” 

"Pantalone,” he answered with a sophisticated tone.

The inkling of dread tickled the back of your head as you heard those words.

The Regerator

You needed Yelan immediately.

“Pantalone—it sounds like a name I could hear the owner of the Northland Bank having,” you giggled cutely.

He seemed to have liked the reaction from you, at least since he only had a toothy-looking grin.

"Well, I'm glad you like it,” he said.

"So, where do you work, Lián?" I'd feel terrible if you were right under my nose this whole time.” 

“I work as an apothecary at the perfume shop.” You took another sip, leaving at most two sips left.

"Well, now I know where I need to stop more often," he said in an upbeat tone.

You glanced back at the roof to see your holy grail.

Yelan was watching from the rooftop now.

You got up, holding your tea cup in hand, and scooted the chair back.

“I must refill my teacup with more of this tea.” 

“Sorry”

You didn't look back at Pantalone before you weaved your way past the tables towards the street below.

As much as you wanted to hasten your pace, you couldn't alert him; you just had to hopefully distance yourself and make your way back to headquarters across the way.

Looking to the left and right of the bustling street, you went towards the bridge leading out of Liyue. It was a secret way to get to headquarters without alerting anyone you remembered being told in case of a situation such as this one.

“Lián”

You tried to ignore him once again, walking towards the safety of the bridge a few feet away.

You felt a hand on your shoulder curled firmly on your cloak.

Of course, turning around, you saw Pantalone humbly smiling down at your shocked face.

“Where are you going in such a hurry? I don't mind accompanying you wherever you go.”

Something was wrong.

Your fellow shadows were nowhere to be seen, despite Yelan spotting you in a compromised situation a few minutes ago.

This could end really badly if you can't shake him.

“I'd love for you to come with me, but I must hurry to Chenyu Vale for something urgent,” you sternly said.

“I don't mind coming along,” he said, too quick for your liking.

“How about this?” you said, grabbing the gloved hand perched on your shoulder in your tinier hands.

“Why don't we meet tomorrow near the harbor strip? We can talk all evening if you want.” You flirted.

Blegh

But anything to get him to fall for your trap.

“If you promise it, Lián,” he eagerly replied.

“But I'll tell you this now– I don't like deceivers or anyone who goes back on promises,” he chuckled darkly.

He tucked a strain of loose hair behind your ear as you looked up at him with your faux grin.

“I promise,” you said, holding his hands in yours.

You then quickly sprinted into the mountains, still feeling the allustrive eyes of pantalone on your compromised figure.

You didn't stop until you were in the Chasms maw.

-

“Respectfully, why the hell did you all not save me?” You shrieked in the dimly lit wooden room.

Yelan was sitting across from your now uncloaked body, revealing your brightly lit cryovision on your back, while your three coworkers idly sat next to her poised figure, idly swirling a lemon in her water.

“He was about to follow me into the mountains, and god knows what to me, I think he suspected I was working for the Tianquan,” you paced back and forth once again.

“You always said in a compromised position we'd have to lead the person of interest far from-”

Yelan put a hand out in a way to silence you.

"(Name), you know we wouldn't have let it get that far; he wasn't showing signs of being a hostile target from what Fa reported.” 

“He actually seems to be attracted to you, if anything,” she said, curling her lips into a cheeky smile before taking a sip of lemon water.

“This new development can work in our favors; we just need you to resume playing your “Lián” character, don't you think?” She smiled at you.

“But why me? Surely we can't recruit another one of the agents to do undercover work; I don't do that,” you remarked.

“If we got another agent, he would grow suspicious, and that would arguably throw you into more danger,” she sighed, resting her hands under her chin.

“You don't have to worry; we can get you a disguise by tonight, along with new rooming accommodations and your fake occupation.” Yelan looked sharply towards you, who was anxiously pacing in front of the table now.

“Ill only do it if you guarantee you'll have eyes on me the entire time—I dont trust those fatui scum,” you pouted, crossing your arms.

“Trust me (name) if you pull this off, this will be the biggest arrest in all of Liyue." Yelan smoothly replied, “You'd be in the history books for sure.”

“So cheesy,” you puffed your cheek out.

“All I ask is that you not sleep in my bed while I'm gone.” You narrowed your eyes toward her.

“No guarantees,” Yelan casually said before crossing her arms behind her head.

You only rolled your eyes before you decided to leave for the evening.

The wall back to your home you shared with your unofficial roommate felt like it was drawn out more than usual.

Making your way towards the food stall you frequent.

However, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched as you gave your mora to the food stall owner.

Quickly grabbing your dinner, you took off towards the street leading to the small, tucked-away home you shared with your boss.

Notes:

Sorry about the shortness! Im just afraid of word vomitting every single chapter haha

[hiraeth-sonder]

Entangled Branches - Queqiao

Jingyuan x Reader

Courting is a matter that requires the utmost tact, though exceptions can be made when you're just that old

//I think this just turned into me dumping about ancient Chinese courting gifts. Poem is 秋夕 by 杜牧.

Holding a needle between your deft fingers, you embroider brilliant thread through the plain fabric, eyes focused on the prick of metal weaving in and out as the image of mandarin ducks slowly forms. One much more colourful than the other, thread of ochre and cerulean decorating the foremost bird’s feathers, the second adorned with milder shades of greys and sepias. Cyan lotus pads scattered around the two birds provide some sense of atmosphere, accompanied by scant petals, all that is left for you to do is to tidy up your ducks and add additional ripples of water.

A hand reaches to grab your scissors, snipping away the last remaining bits of orange thread that now finished the last duck. You mindlessly thread grey string through your needle, piercing through the white fabric to sew wavelets around your ducks. Your fingers ghost over each hill and ridge, feeling for imperfections that might snag. You are well aware that what you make does not have to be perfect, but your pride would not let you give someone anything less than your utmost. 

It is perfect, more than perfect. You cannot help the tightness in your chest and the soft smile that creeps up your lips, thoughts not quite racing but on the verge of. Still, you must calm your thudding heart as your hands meticulously free your fabric from its wooden confines, spreading it smooth against the wooden table. Sunlight peaks through the window by your side, verdant leaves just visible behind the elaborate frame, illuminating your work properly, you take a moment to merely let your thoughts wander. 

Spice sachets are by no means some modern gift to give your lover, perhaps more common in the days of your youth but surely not now. Back then, they were used as insect-repellent or air fresheners, some people also believed that they protected the wearer against evil spirits. Truthfully, he would have no need for it, but call you an old sentimental coot, you just could not help yourself from wanting to protect him, even in your own silly antiquated way. 

Before the thought of actually sewing the pouch comes to mind, your head immediately jumps to the basket weave of herbs long sun-dried for use. It had taken a bit of time to get them, seeing as the alchemy commission was being quite nosey about their use and you had not the heart to tell them. So you did the next best thing and lied, citing that you needed them for cooking. Of course, it was only then that they lightened up, but that did not mean that you could not feel their stares as you scurried away. 

The herbs, shrivelled and colours dulled, provide an ever so slightly scent that floated lightly through the air. A pleasant smell, one that relaxed without being excessively heady or strong. Though you had worried that such a gift would only worsen your lover’s sleeping habits, your concern for him won out in the end. 

Still, you turn away from them to work on sewing the satchel together, far easier work compared to the actual momentous task of embroidery. It goes by much faster than you expect it to, with your mind drifting to familiar faces and that even more familiar emotion. Before you know it, the satchel has taken on the shape of a lotus pouch, drawstrings and all. You attach the beads onto the strings and all that is left to do is to place your herbs in. With a delicate hand, you slowly stuff them in, layering them as if anyone would even open the pouch. 

Tugging on the drawstrings, you hold it to your chest for a moment, your eyes fluttering close and imbuing your prayers for him. To be safe and prosperous, able to do as he wishes without fear or shame, and most importantly for him, for his workload to decrease. A soft sigh escapes you, though it is not one of resignation or annoyance but rather fondness, horrid fondness.

You will find some way to slip this into his office, granted that would not be some hard act with how often he is not in. Still, there had to be some subtlety to your actions, you would ruin all the fun if you refrained from such. Of course, finishing one just means you will have to start the other. You could not possibly think of not making one for that disciple of his, especially when he just keeps getting himself in some kind of trouble. 

You shake your head as a soft smile tugs at your lips. Truly, you must have been some saviour to be granted such people. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

银烛秋光冷画屏，轻罗小扇扑流萤。

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He holds up the wooden comb up to the light, keen eyes pouring over every aspect of the humble item. Dark wood carved into elegant depictions of verdant bamboo and a crane, the tines were slender yet sturdy, spaced perfectly to glide through hair. Before him were many more options of such, each comb’s design more elaborate than the last. 

The thought of seeing any of them in your hand, fingers wrapped around the wood as you detangle your hair, works oils with that sweet scent that seems to always coax him closer, it sends a soft warmth to his limbs. He does not quite know how to explain it, a rather pitiful situation for someone known for his flattery and skillful words, but he finds that even when you are doing the most mundane things, he loves you just a little bit more. Perhaps others may call him love-addled in the head, but under soft moonlight, in nothing but your sleeping garments with your hair let down, he imagines that fond glint in your eyes and just cannot help himself but yearn to bear witness to such a sight for the rest of time. 

The idea of gifting you a comb has been borne out of spontaneity, something he is not the most familiar with but still welcome. It had been custom for combs to be gifted between lovers, a desire to grow ‘old’ with said person, and he supposes that such a sentiment is rather difficult to continue on when long-lives and mara are two very common phenomena. It is rather silly, but a comb is a practical gift and he has always believed that if given the chance, if the two of you were merely two mortals, you would be happy to watch the wrinkles appear on each other’s face and for your hair to turn grey. You would still be beautiful, aged with the years spent together and the joy evident upon your visage, crow’s feet, smile lines and all. 

When he returns to his senses, his hand has rested upon another comb. A lighter shade than the first, though the quality is still just as immaculate, the spaces between the tines are much larger, not as tightly packed as the last. Though arguably a lot less intricate than many of its predecessors, there seemed to be a certain charm to it, humble jasmine flowers carved onto the main body with a care that went far beyond ornate. The very engraving of each petal laden with care, ridge and valley of complete smoothness, the simple design far conveyed to him the vision of you than the rest.

He thumbs over the engraving, smiling to himself as he imagines you once more. Again that old image of you at your night-time routine, this time with this very comb in your hand as you call for him, your voice gentle along the night wind with the smell of sandalwood in the air. It really is foolish of him to keep musing, and yet no matter how many times he says it, he truly has been reduced to a languishing simpleton of a man when it comes to you. 

“I shall take this one,” He hums, cradling the comb in one hand as he hands it to the seller. 

The seller takes one look at it, a contemplative look appearing on their face before their brows furrow. Taking it into their own hands, they send him a complex look, not quite judgemental but surely urging, “Ah, this plain old thing? I’m certain that we have other combs you will certainly be much more interested in.”

A soft breath escapes him, mostly out of amusement than any negative sentiment. He only nods his head, reaffirming his desire for this specific comb out of the litany he was presented. 

“Apologies, but I’m quite certain.”

When the seller notes his conviction, they just accept it. They must surely still be confused at his choice but he does not see why he must explain himself, after all, when it comes to someone such as you, even he cannot explain the manner in which even the simplest things remind him of you. 

“I see, of course.”

The comb is promptly wrapped up in delicate paper and fastened with string, tied in a knot you will no doubt struggle with but will admire for all of five seconds. When it is brought back to his hands, he thanks the merchant and his chest grows warm. 

A comb for his beloved, jasmines adorning your head, surely he must have been some great saviour in his past life to be able to have such a sight. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

天街夜色凉如水，坐看牵牛织女星。

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“General, would you perchance have the time to accept this lowly one’s gift?” 

Your arrival to the seat of Divine Foresight has long been announced, a notion that Qingzu and the routine cloud knights were made aware of even before you could fathom planning your next visit. After all, when the general has come to expect your presence sliding in when everyone least expects it, you gain some perks. 

“You and your formalities,” He laughs, his voice dear to your ears. Jingyuan’s eyes, framed by those long lashes, focus upon you. Seated at his desk with mounds of scrolls to look upon, though he would usually be more than happy to be dozing off right this very moment, the energy at which he responds only boosts your excitement, “Of course I do, I’ll always have time if it's you.”

“Old sap.” Shaking your head, you can only let that fond smile appear across your face as you make your way to his desk. 

It is by no means an arduous journey, and it is not long before you are granted a full view of a certain someone’s rather smug face, almost feline-like if you will. Furthermore, you suppose you also should have expected that he would pull you closer towards him, his head all but resting on yours if not for the fact that you still needed to give him something. Still, you ignore the way your breath hitches for just a moment, the familiar scent of sandalwood and tea that clings to his form drifting to your nose and coaxing you to relax, instead you reach for the spice sachet and place it in his waiting hands. 

He accepts it readily, and it is by the slight widening of his eyes that you know he recognises exactly what you have made for him. After all, it is not like spice sachets are commonplace in this day and age. 

“See, I’ve made it so you can attach it to your belt,” Your voice is low, your head leaning against his shoulder as you fiddle with the strings. You can feel his breath fanning against you, his much larger frame a steady pillar“And it's not too long so it won’t get in your way.”

He is quiet for a moment, admiring the pouch as he turns it over and finds new details to marvel upon. Then, he speaks, voice low and teasing,“My dear, are you saying your beloved stinks?”

“No, I'm saying the air around you stinks.” Huffing, you nudge him with your elbow, a notion that he also clearly finds amusing, as he makes an over-exaggerated ‘oof’ to your light tap. 

Jingyuan only laughs at that comment, wrapping an arm around you so that you may be closer to one another. Still, he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, a doting smile on his lips. He whispers, “Thank you for the gift, I’m certain your blessings will keep me safe.”

“You better, if I have to find out from Qingzu that you got some grievous injury again I think I’ll be the one going mara-struck instead.”

“Oh then whatever shall I do? I suppose I can only trouble my dear wife to take care of me so that I won’t end up in the healers again.”

At that, you barely resist the urge to butt him with your head, another overfond sound escaping his lips, sounding more like sweet birdsong to your ears that you may hear his amusement and joy so clearly. Though, it is not long until you notice the weight in your lap, some object wrapped in paper and bound in string. When you meet his gaze, he only gestures for you to open it, golden eyes glinting with some indulgent sentiment. You do so, fussing with the knot but eventually unwrapping the paper to reveal a simple wooden comb, jasmines carved onto its body. 

The breath in your lungs seems to escape you, for your words get carded in your throat and all you can muster is a pathetic, “You…” 

“You old coot, getting me a comb,” You chuckle, an attempt to hide how choked up you were. “We’ve already spent so many years together and you….”

Jingyuan looks to you, and you are certain that if a mirror were to be brought to both of your faces right this very moment, what would be found would be merely two senior citizens playing at youth. Though, with the many hardships that the centuries have put you through, you cannot quite say that  you quite mind this kind of childish tomfoolery. Why else would you call upon childhood sentiments? Why else would he choose such a gift? 

Holding up a hand to cradle his face, he leans into your touch, those soulful eyes once again meeting yours. There is such a profound affection within them that for a while, it scared you. Yet now, being the one most privy to such a sight, those eyes who hold the sun and make you yearn to protect him, it comes to you as natural as breathing. 

“What do you say, my dear?” He offers, cocking his head to the side as those mellow words sink in. 

You can only shake your head, an overly indulgent quirk of your lips pulls your lover closer. It is not the first kiss you shared, and it is certainly not the last, for there will be a long, long time before one of you meets your ends.

[primalsouls]

Nilotpala Lotus

tighnari x m! reader

moon, tell me if i could

send off my heart to you

theme: general, fluff

warning: a teeny tiny mention of nipple piercing, allergic reactions, 1.5k word count, little ooc Tighnari(?)

summary: Tighnari, Cyno, and Collei decided to go on a walk and patrol the Avidya Forest for a couple of hours, but before an hour can even be completed, they were met with a loud shierk.

notes: I've been thinking about tighnari a lot lately and wanted to write something that kept coming to mind, haha. im also writing pt. 3 of Inner Visions, but the motivation comes and goes every three to five business days. currently has over 350 words that fic lol. please, someone talk to me about Tighnari (╥﹏╥) i need more of him 😔 also meant to make this short under 1.5k words, but i guess i dont know my own limits. xD comments & reblogs are appreciated!

Tighnari, Collei, and Cyno were out on a walk when they came across a loud shriek. Tighnari flinched and covered his ears right away, wincing at the loudness. Cyno and Collei looked around before another yell was heard. The trio quickly picked up their pace and headed in the direction of the sound. As they got near, the fennec fox was able to pick up more than one voice. Panic filled in them. Cyno took the lead, his polearm already in hand. Tighnari followed behind, keeping a close watch on Collei next to him.

“—should we do!? Is he gonna die!?” The high-pitched voice sounded familiar to Tighnari. Shrill and panicked. So loud, it made the dendro user flattened his long ears against his head. When the trio reached the area where the voices were heard, Cyno held a hand up to stop on their tracks, his grip on his polearm tightened to be ready to use. He was the first one to walk closer with cautious steps.

“He's gonna pass out, compadre! He's burning up!” Now there was an unfamiliar voice. The electro user peeked over the large tree that stood between them and the owners of the previous voices. A small flash of shock crossed his features and turned to look back at his two friends.

“It's the traveler and Paimon with two unfamiliar faces.” Cyno reported. When he confirmed their identities, the trio walked around the tree and up to the small group. Tighnari looked at the sight.

As Cyno mentioned, Paimon floated beside Aether, her small hands covering her face as she floated back and forth with a scared look. Aether was crouched next to an unknown face. He wore a concerned expression on his face, trying to keep a calm demeanor as he kept a hand on the back of the first stranger. Beside them was a white haired, tall man with red markings and horns sticking out on the front of his head. He also wore a panicked look. Between Aether and the other fellow was a (hair color) male who looked fatigued and had reddened skin, almost looking like he had a fever. His eyes were casted down on the ground and his breathing sounded irregular.

“Aether, what's going on?” Cyno broke the tensed air around the group. Aether and Paimon looked over and relief washed over their faces. The traveler stood up after making sure the other man was sitting comfortably against a log before he walked over to Cyno with Paimon. “Is he alright?”

“No, he's not! (Name) suddenly felt sick!” Paimon exclaimed, a pout on her small face. Aether gave a small smile before telling the floating child not to exaggerate the situation. “We were just coming from Liyue and were taking a small break. Aether and (Name) stayed in this camp of ours to make snacks while Bull-chucker Itto and I went out and gathered some wood for the fire.” Paimon explained after calming down. Cyno glanced at the two Paimon was referring to, nodding his head for the story to continue. Tighnari stepped closer to the fatigued male Paimon called (Name), but kept his distance. He only studied to see what was wrong with him, a small frown on his face.

The man certainly had reddened skins around the nape of his neck and forearms. His face was flushed like he had a fever and his eyes looked exhausted. Their (color) eyes glanced up at him. Tighnari let out an apology as he stepped back again.

“(Name) was fine with me. Paimon and Itto here came back with wood and a couple of the Nilotpala Lotus.” Aether continued, pointing down at the small pile of wood beside the log his friend rested against. The two Nilotpala Lotus he mentioned were scattered away from (Name), as if someone dropped them without a care. Tighnari turned his attention to the two lotuses with a tilt of his head, his hand taking hold of his chin as he put himself in thought. “Then out of nowhere, (Name) said he felt terrible and almost faint on us. He started to get red on his arms and said he was having a hard time breathing.”

“Paimon thought he was gonna die!” Paimon said, floating next to (Name).

“C'mon, Flying Lavender Melon, (Name) is too strong to die!” Itto said, a frown on his face. Paimon nodded in agreement, a look of determination on her own face. Aether shook his head as he let out a sigh.

“He might have an allergic reaction to the Nilotpala Lotus.” Tighnari broke their conversation. Their eyes turned on him. Paimon and Itto glanced at each other in shock. “He has shortness of breath, an itching rash, and a fever.” The forest watcher leaned a bit over (Name) as his eyes squinted. “And hives. His eyes are also watery. Have you been sneezing?” He asked, crouching next to (Name). He nodded, his lips parted slightly as he took swallow breaths. “We have to take him back to the Gandharva Ville. I could prepare him a quick relief cream for the rash and hives.” Tighnari stood up, crossing his arms over his chest. “This must be your first time in Sumeru, if I'm guessing. You never came in contact with Nilotpala Lotus before, so he must not know he was allergic to it. Who gave you the lotuses?’ The watcher tilted his head before turning his attention to Paimon and Itto, both wearing a guilty look.

“Paimon swears we didn't know! We just found the lotuses pretty and decided to give it to (Name) because he said he had never seen a Nilotpala Lotus.” Paimon explained quickly as Itto nodded along.

“Yeah, if we knew that our amigo was allergic to the flower, we wouldn't have given it to him!” The oni added in, his hands held up in defense. Tighnari sighed as he shook his head.

“Just help bring him in. When we get to the ville, you can take him to my room. C'mon, let's go.” With the help of Cyno and Itto, (Name) stood up. His legs almost gave out but Itto held him close. Aether reassured the others he would catch up with Collei, who decided to help stay behind to clean around the camp with Paimon.

The trip back to the ville wasn't too long, luckily they weren't too far off. Cyno and Itto helped (Name) lay on Tighnari's bed. The forest watcher busied himself in his corner preparing the cream. Thankfully the cryo user wasn't deadly allergic to the lotus. When the cream was ready, Tighnari knocked before he walked in. (Name) laid on his side. “I've brought the cream. Should help relieve some of the itchiness and hives, reducing the rash as well. I've also prepared medicine to help lower down your fever and a gel to apply on your chest and back so you can breathe with no trouble.” Tighnari placed the small bowls and bottle on the nightstand next to his bed. He turned to the other man who carefully sat up with a pained groan. “Here, let me help you apply them, if it's fine with you of course.”

Once given the go to, the long eared fox removed his gloves. He helped the guy remove his shirt, taken a bit back when he was met with a tattooed back of two vicious tigers in red lining. Tighnari cleared his throat and picked up the cream, scooping a bit up with a few fingers. He gently rubs the cream on the reddened part of the skin, watching (Name) let out a satisfying sigh. He could tell the (hair color) man closed his eyes and leaned into his touch. Tighnari continued to apply the cream on the nape of his neck behind. With the cream applied, he cleaned his hand with a wet rug he had brought with himself and took the other bowl, this time the gel. Like the cream, he scooped the gel and massaged it on the back of (Name). The feverish man turned when asked to let the watchleader place the gel on his chest. Once again, he was taken back, this time by the sight of scars and pierced buds. Tighnari tried not to let his stunned look linger as he finished off with the gel, cleaning his hands once more.

Clearing his throat, Tighnari stood up from the bed and looked away from (Name), placing the bowls on the nightstand. “Um, you c-can go ahead and drink a spoonful of the last medicine.” The fox-hybrid was surprised with his stuttered words. What was going on? “After that, you should rest. I'll, uh, I'll bring you dinner when it's ready.” Without a second word spared, Tighnari left his own area. (Name) blinked, thinking nothing wrong about the forest watcher's behavior. Taking his advice, he laid back down on his side and took a nice deep breath for once, smiling a little as breathing became easier to do again. He closed his eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep. Now, it was time for the night to fall upon them all.

[ckret2]

Chapter 22 of human Bill's still putting up with being the Mystery Shack's prisoner (title tbd), featuring: Dipper's having nightmares about his spirit floating out of his body, just like the Bipper incident. (He's very sure they're only nightmares.) And Bill, kind and generous muse that he is, would love to help, and definitely isn't offering for secret evil reasons. After all, how could a dream demon benefit from telling his enemies how to control their dreams?

Even though Dipper already knew, intellectually, that dreaming about Bill didn't mean Bill was in his dreams, getting immediate physical proof was a relief. Any time he had another nightmare, all he had to do was get out of bed, go find Bill—sleeping, drinking, reading, meditating, watching TV, staring out a window—and see for himself that there was no way Bill could have been in his head.

So tonight, when he "woke" into another Bipper nightmare, his first instinct was to go gripe at Bill about it.

He'd floated through the bedroom door and hovered halfway down the stairs before he remembered that since he was currently having the Bipper Nightmare, dreaming that he was floating ghostlike outside his body, it meant he wasn't actually awake and he couldn't gripe at the real Bill; but then he decided maybe he'd feel better if he ranted at dream Bill anyway.

The TV glowed from the living room. At this time of night, it could be Abuelita or Bill. Dipper's spectral socked feet settled on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, he turned toward the sofa—and froze.

Sitting on the sofa, legs curled feet-on-thighs in lotus position, was Bill—and he was surrounded by a brilliant light, yellow-golden against the dream fog gray. Like the halo of sunlight around an eclipse, or like a radioactive mass close enough to melt your eyes, or like an explosion rushing closer. The light danced around Bill like solar flares. Dipper had to squint his eyes against the light.

"Whoa," Dipper said.

The light dimmed to a faint yellow aura as Bill turned toward him. Dipper nearly jumped out of his skin, except that he was already out of his skin. Bill said, "'Whoa' what?"

No one ever saw Dipper during his Bipper nightmares. (But then, he supposed, it made sense if he dreamed that Bill could see him, didn't it? Since he'd been the only one able to see Dipper after he stole his body.) Dipper gestured vaguely at Bill. "You're, uh. Glowing."

"Aw, flattering." Bill laughed. "You look like a zombie trying to figure out if he wants to return to the land of the living. Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Ha ha," Dipper said flatly.

"What, another nightmare? Are you here to tell me how your subconscious is my responsibility again?"

"Shut up." Imaginary dream Bill was just as annoying as the real one; but Dipper decided he'd feel pretty dumb for yelling at "Bill" for invading Dipper's dream while Dipper was still dreaming. (Maybe Dipper's subconscious mind was using the form of a snarky Bill to tell Dipper that he needed to seize control of his dreams rather than blame somebody else for them? That Bill might have caused Dipper's recurring nightmares, but only Dipper could do the work to end them? Huh. He'd look into that when he woke up.)

His gaze drifted to the television, which was displaying a man hunched over a bizarrely-angled desk in a black-and-white movie. (He could somehow tell it was black and white, even though colors were already muted and grayish during his Bipper nightmares.) It was like seeing a dream within a dream. "What are you watching?"

"The Counterfeit of Dr. Calligraphy," Bill said. "A hypnotist sends letters to a sleepwalker that have subliminal messages concealed in the handwriting. He brainwashes the sleepwalker into making fake money in his sleep. It's a comedy."

It didn't look very comedic. Dipper wondered how he'd dreamed this plot up. Anxiety about waking up from one dream into another dream, combined with memories of counterfeiting money last summer?

He leaned against the doorframe and watched the movie long enough to confirm it was not, in fact, a comedy, but rather some kind of gloomy noir-ish silent film; then sighed in boredom. His subconscious couldn't even imagine up a fun movie. "I'm going back to my body," he muttered, pushing off the ground and hovering back up the stairs.

Bill, eyes half-lidded, didn't look up from the screen as he sleepily muttered, "Mmkay."

It took a long moment before he said, "You're going to your what?" He leaned out of the living room and looked up the stairs; but Dipper was long gone.

Maybe he'd misheard "bed." He settled back in front of the TV; but he wasn't paying attention to the movie now.

####

"You look exhausted," Mabel said, ruffling Dipper's messy hair with both hands. "Did you stay up late reading again?"

"No," Dipper groaned. "I just slept badly. I had another Bipper nightmare. I dreamed about Bill making fun of me and watching a boring movie."

"Aw, Dipper. I'm sorry," Mabel said sympathetically. She fixed her headband for the day in the bedroom mirror and pulled on her shoes. "I dreamed about a car race where all the drivers are kittens!"

"Oh yeah?"

"It was really intense! Two of the cars crashed," Mabel said. "Everyone was okay though. The drivers were saved by a firetruck with Dalmatian puppy firefighters!"

When they made it down to the kitchen, Bill was already there, sipping burned coffee with his eyes closed. "Hey, twerps." He peeled one eye open a slit just long enough to figure out which set of twerp footsteps belonged to Mabel, and held his coffee mug in her direction. "Top me off?"

"You got it!" Mabel retrieved her pitcher of Mabel Juice from the fridge, refilled Bill's coffee with it, and poured herself a cup.

"What's today's flavor?"

"Blue!"

"That's exactly what I need." Bill took a deep drink, spat a small plastic horse on the table, and sipped more carefully.

"You look exhausted, too." Mabel poured herself a bowl of cereal and milk. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"I don't have nightmares; nightmares have me," Bill said.

Dipper, the person whose nightmares had Bill, scowled and leaned against the stove to wait for Bill to leave so he could get breakfast.

"But no—I was up late watching a German expressionist cinema marathon," Bill went on. "They don't make 'em like that anymore. Which is good, because I prefer my movies with colors and music; but there's nothing quite like watching five movies in a row about going insane in the middle of the night on twenty-four hours without sleep. Second most likely experience to make you see phantom spiders crawl across you skin." He cracked open an eye again and tried to steal Mabel's cereal. She smacked his hand with her spoon and stole it back.

He dragged himself out of his chair to get some proper food. "Get the fridge?" Mabel opened the door for him. As he rummaged around for something appealing, he glanced back over his shoulder at Dipper. "You missed the punchline, by the way."

Dipper started. "The what?"

"On Dr. Calligraphy," Bill said. "You went back to bed before the ending. The sleepwalker's counterfeits are so good that nobody believes the investigator from the treasury when he says they're fakes. He gets hauled to the looney bin—and then realizes the handwriting in all the letters from his boss is the same as the hypnotist's." Bill laughed. "I told you it was a comedy, didn't I?" He dumped some bagels, squirt cheese, and pickled jalapeños on the kitchen counter, then glanced at Dipper again. "What's with that look? Don't you get it?" He sighed and rolled his open eye. "Okay, so the joke is that both the main character and the audience will never know if he was set up, driven insane, or always insane—"

"I didn't go 'back to bed'," Dipper said, stomach twisting. "I—never got out of bed. I didn't watch a movie last night."

"You didn't," Bill said skeptically. And then, studying Dipper's face, repeated, "You didn't?"

Mabel was staring between Dipper and Bill. To Dipper, she said, "Was... that the boring movie in your dream?"

Dipper didn't reply. He didn't want to say anything with Bill listening—not when he didn't know what Bill knew. Or what Bill might have done. Maybe I just heard the movie from upstairs, Dipper thought—and might have believed, if not for the fact that it was a silent film.

Bill was silent for a long moment—longer than Dipper felt safe with. Like a cat sizing up its prey. "Well, how about that," Bill said. His smile was not reassuring. "Looks like Dr. Calligraphy isn't the only one with a sleepwalker on his hands."

####

"Do I sleepwalk?" Dipper demanded.

Bartholomew stared at him in perfect silence. "You can't tell," he said, "on account of the fact that I can't move; but I just did a confused double-take in my head."

"Do I sleepwalk!" Dipper repeated. "I was—I think I was sleepwalking last night—? If I wasn't sleepwalking, then that means Bill was—was in my head somehow, and I don't know how or what he was doing in there—so either he was in my head or I was somehow downstairs, or—I don't know, maybe I was out of my head—but I really need to know which it was, and Mabel was asleep last night so you're the only one who would know—"

"Dipper," Mabel said, shutting the door behind them. "Hold on. If Bill was doing something in your head, why would he just tell you about it at breakfast by spoiling the end of the movie?"

"I don't know!" Dipper said. "To terrify me? To let me know what he can do?"

"But if we know he can do it, that means we can stop him from doing it," Mabel said. "It doesn't make sense—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Bartholomew said. "I wasn't up here last night. I was watching a picture show marathon through the living room vent."

Mabel laughed. "You call them picture shows. You're so old."

"'Move-y' sounds stupid and I'm willing to die on this hill."

"Was I there?" Dipper asked. "Did I come downstairs last night?"

"Yeah, during Dr. Calligraphy," Bartholomew said. "I could hear you talking to Bill. You said he was glowing. Which stood out to me as kind of weird, since he's always glowing." 

Dipper heaved a sigh of relief. "Okay. Great. So I was sleepwalking. That's..." He paused, gave Bartholomew a funny look, and said, "Let's... let's unpack the thing about Bill glowing later."

"Suit yourself."

He looked at Mabel. "I was having a Bipper dream. Do you think I always sleepwalk during those dreams? Maybe that's why they're always about me wandering around at night?"

"Maybe?" Mabel shivered. "Augh, does that mean whenever you dreamed about trying to come to me for help, you were actually just standing over my bed watching me sleep?"

Dipper dragged his hands down his face. "Mabel. Sometimes I visited the neighbors' houses."

"Dipper!" Mabel laughed, but there was a nervous edge to it. "Have you been walking around in the street in your pajamas?"

"Maybe it's not that bad. Maybe sometimes I'm sleepwalking but sometimes I stay in bed. Last night I really wanted to go yell at Bill, maybe that... got me on my feet?" He dropped onto his bed, chin in his hands.

Mabel sat on her bed with her cereal, and handed over a banana she'd grabbed for Dipper. "We can start locking the bedroom door," she said. "So if you do start sleepwalking, at least you can't get out."

"What if I unlock it in my sleep?"

"Maybe Grunkle Ford could teach me the anti-door curse he put on Bill! And I could cast it on you at night so you can't get out of the room?"

Dipper shook his head. "That's not a long-term solution. What about when we go home? Or what if I need to go to the bathroom?" He gestured emphatically with his banana as he spoke. "I realized something last night, Mabel: I'm sick of these nightmares and I'm sick of just putting up with them. They were bad enough when they were just in my head, but now they have to affect me in real life, too? No! I'm just—not gonna have them anymore."

"Yeah!" Mabel cheered. "I like that attitude! I'm with you. I'm sick of being freaked out by my dreams, too. Do you know how hard it is to rescue kittens from a car crash when you've got to stop and ask yourself if this is a Mabeland thing?"

Dipper hesitated. "Um... probably pretty hard?"

"We'll do it together. We'll both stop having nightmares." She paused. "How?"

"I... don't know yet." Dipper sighed. "Our therapist's given me a few tools to cope with nightmares, but they haven't stopped them. I'm thinking our best bet is magic."

They looked at Bartholomew.

"Sorry," he said. "Outside my wheelhouse. I specialize in creepy dolls and necromancy."

"There's gotta be something in this town," Dipper said. "Maybe dream catchers? Do dream catchers actually work?"

"What about that spell to enter other people's dreams?" Mabel asked. "We could take turns entering each other's dreams to help fight each other's nightmares! That would totally work, right?"

"Except then we'd have to take turns not getting any sleep."

There was a knock on the attic door. Mabel called "Yeah?" and hopped to her feet to open it.

Bill was leaning with his elbow against the doorframe, cheek in his hand, one ankle hooked over the other, grinning broadly. "Couldn't help but overhear that you're having some dream troubles! Here, my card!" He handed Mabel a paper towel on which he'd poorly painted his triangle self with coffee grounds and signed his name in an alien language. "Bill Cipher, professional dream demon—at your service."

Dipper said, "We hung up a 'no solicitors' sign."

"I saw it and I ignored it."

"Bill," Mabel groaned. "Get out of here!" She tried to block him with her arms. 

He dodged around her to enter the room with a laugh like this was some playground game, and then immediately tripped over a cardboard box. He recovered his balance by grappling with Mabel's bag of mini golf clubs and drew one out to use as a cane so smoothly it almost looked like he'd planned it that way. "Hey, hold on—I'm here to help!"

"Right," Dipper scoffed. "Like when you wanted to help me unlock that laptop."

"Or when you offered to help me extend summer."

"Or when you were going to 'help' our dimension 'party'?"

Bill said, "I did extend your summer and I did throw a party."

Dipper asked, "And the laptop?"

"No excuse for that! I was just lying to you, kid." Bill laughed.

"Yeah, no," Mabel said, "we don't want your help. No offense, but your help is super evil. Get out of our room."

"No." Bill plopped down in the middle of the floor, arms and legs crossed, mini golf club lain across his knees, smirking defiantly up at Mabel. "Not until you hear me out."

"No! Go. Scoot. Get out." Mabel attempted to shove him toward the door.

"Try it! I weigh more than both of you combined! Physics is on my side! I'm master of this room."

Mabel only succeeded in knocking him onto his side. Bill prodded her back with the handle of the club and said, "Seriously, just listen to me and then I'll go. I'm more or less the reason you're having nightmares in the first place, aren't I? C'mon! How can I make it up to you if you won't even hear me out?"

Mabel paused in her onslaught. "You wanna make it up to us?" Dipper rolled his eyes.

"Sure, why not? Do you think I wanted to traumatize a couple of kids? You just happened to stumble in the way of a force beyond human comprehension! Hey, I stuck you in a paradise bubble, does that scream 'deliberate attempt at psychological torture' to you?"

"You were going to kill me," Dipper said.

"You even left his suicide letter," Mabel said.

"Which was wrong of me," Bill said patiently, with an air that made it sound like he was the one who had to explain this to them, "but I can't undo that unless you want to give me that time tape you're hoarding. On the other hand, I can do something about the nightmares. Just hear me out."

Dipper had been climbing to the end of his bed to try to get past Bill and escape for adult reinforcements, but stopped to stand on the mattress and glare down at Bill. "And then once we've heard you out, you won't leave until we've accepted your offer—"

"There is no offer," Bill said. "I'm giving you information. No 'deals,' no favors, no magic, nothing. Just information. It's your business what you do with it. If you want to throw it away, I've already done my part!"

Dipper hesitated. "I don't trust you."

"You don't have to trust me. Go verify everything I tell you with someone else. Heck, you can even go ask Stanford about it, he'll back up everything I'm about to say."

The fact that Bill was suggesting he talk to Ford threw Dipper off. He glanced at Mabel to see what she thought.

Bill took the momentary silence as a victory. Smugly, he said, "Lucid dreaming."

Dipper blinked in surprise. "Hey, I know what that is. It's when you're dreaming and know you're dreaming, right?"

"You obviously don't know any more about it than that, or else you wouldn't be having nightmares." Now that Mabel wasn't attacking him and Dipper was actually listening, Bill perched on a crate and crossed an ankle over the other knee, getting comfortable. "Knowing you're asleep is step one of lucid dreaming. The next step is controlling your dreams. If you've fully mastered the techniques of lucid dreaming, you'll essentially be a god inside your own sleeping mind."

"Like we did in Grunkle Stan's head!" Mabel said. "When we beat you with kittens."

"And eye lasers," Dipper added.

"And stomach lasers!"

"And 80s music."

"And hamster balls—"

The corners of Bill's mouth twitched a little further down with each sentence. He forced a smile back on. "Right! Haha! You kids." There was friendly good cheer in his voice and wrath in his eyes. "Exactly like that. Except you weren't asleep at the time. That wasn't lucid dreaming, that was imagining. It's a lot easier to do inside of someone else's dreams. You've got to learn an entirely new set of techniques if you want to do it in your own."

Dipper dropped down to sit on his bed again. "Like what kind of techniques? Does it involve meditating, or...?"

Bill laughed. "And here I thought you didn't trust anything I had to say! What, do you want me to teach you how to do it now?"

"No."

"Didn't think so!" Bill grabbed a sparkly pen off Mabel's bedside stand and a scrap of notepaper off their table. "I'll give you some names of authors. Human authors. Experts on the psychology and spirituality of dreams. And if you don't want to trust these authors because I recommended them, fine, just find their books in the library and anything sorted on the same shelves will teach you the same techniques. But master lucid dreaming, and your dreams will be your playground. No more nightmares."

Bill offered the paper to Mabel, but his smirk was aimed at Dipper. "Just like I promised: no magic. Nothing that could invite the big scary dream demon into your precious little heads. All I'm telling you is where to learn your own species's skills. If you don't believe me, go ask for yourself."

####

Sitting back in the guest room's desk chair, Ford frowned at the list of authors Mabel had handed him and stroked his chin thoughtfully. The kids sat on Ford's bed and waited for him to render judgment on the Latest Bill Nonsense.

"That look doesn't look like a good look," Mabel said. "Is Bill up to something bad?"

"On the contrary, I can't think of any way that your learning how to lucid dream could benefit Bill," Ford said. "In fact, if anything, it would be actively detrimental to him. That's what has me so puzzled."

Dipper asked, "What do you mean, actively detrimental?"

"Lucid dreaming is the first line of defense against Bill's mental tricks," Ford said. "By itself, it isn't enough to drive Bill from a dreamer's head; but instantly telling the difference between dreams and reality takes the power out of most of his simplest psychic illusions." He nodded toward Dipper. "For instance, knowing you were dreaming might have saved you entirely from Bill taking over your body."

Dipper blinked. "Wait. What do you mean?"

Ford stared at him. "The computer," he said. "When Bill waited for you to nod off and used a dream to make you think the computer was going to self-destruct."

"He did what?"

"Dipper, Fiddleford never installed a self-destruct sequence on that computer," Ford said. "I... thought you figured that out?"

Dipper stared at Ford. He slid to the floor, lay down, and stared at the ceiling. Mabel leaned forward to pat his head.

Ford did not let himself grin at Dipper's reaction. Dipper had been through a traumatic experience, and finding out there was something else he personally could have done to avoid it all had to be devastating, and therefore—therefore—his dramatic reaction was not funny.

Ford cleared his throat and politely avoided calling attention to Dipper. "And—actively controlling your own dreams won't prevent Bill from controlling them as well; but it arms you with the same weapons he has—just like when you drove him out of Stanley's head. Plus, if there's anything in your dream you can't control, you can be surer that it's Bill's influence rather than a product of your own subconscious. Which... is what makes it so strange that Bill would suggest you look into lucid dreaming. I'm not sure what to make of that."

"Maybe he just told us to be nice?" Mabel asked. "Maybe he really is trying to fix some of his mistakes."

Dipper raised a brow. "Do you really believe that?"

Mabel briefly looked thoughtful; then cracked up laughing. "Okay, I tried! But nope, not for one second!"

Ford chuckled. "Attagirl." He propped his chin in his hand as he thought. "There's a chance that Bill might not be up to anything actively nefarious. I strongly suspect he can't invade others' dreams in his current form—and if that's true, it might not make any difference to him if you know how to defend yourself against attacks he can't even use. And the only thing he's told you is to go look up lucid dreaming—a technique invented by humans, for humans. He might be trying to ingratiate himself with us by offering up cheap information he suspects you could have found on your own."

Mabel said, "So he told us to be nice, for selfish reasons."

"I think that's the most likely explanation. He likes to offer little scraps of wisdom to his 'students'—and then hold them over your head later." Ford hated the possibility that Bill was trying to adopt his niece and nephew as his newest "students"—Mabel especially—but dancing around the uncomfortable possibility rather than pointing it out would just leave them more vulnerable to his tricks.

"That sounds like him," Mabel sighed. "Like the free birthday cake thing."

Ford tried to remember whether he'd mentioned how he'd gotten his cake when they'd been in Portland. "He told you about that, did he?"

"Yeah. While feeling bad for himself about not getting to go to your birthday party."

"Ha."

Dipper said, "So... you don't think there's any risk in learning how to lucid dream? Except that Bill might start bragging about how good he was to suggest it?"

Ford glanced again over the list of authors Bill had given Mabel. "Well... I don't immediately recognize any of these names; but I can double-check to make sure none of them are affiliated with Bill's known protégés or worshipers. But with that risk aside, I'm sure learning about lucid dreaming would be good for you."

"Yes!" Mabel pumped a fist in the air, startling Ford and Dipper. "Time for Mabeland Two, Electric Boogaloo: Democracy Edition! Founded by the people, for the people, with one hundred percent less psychic police states and zero triangle dictators! All the disco coconuts and yarn castles you already know and love, but this time with open borders and free speech!" She ran from the guest room, opened a door, slammed a door; opened the door again, and yelled, "Grunkle Fooord, can you give us a ride to the library!"

Dipper grimaced and looked at Ford. "Uh... Should we be worried about that?"

Ford considered that with pursed lips, then stood and grabbed his keys. "If she starts napping excessively, let me know so we can stage an intervention."

####

Mabel trudged into the living room, lay face down on the carpet between Bill and the TV, and said, "I hate you."

"Sure," Bill said agreeably.

"I mean it. I really hate you." And she said it with such vitriol, such vehemence, that Bill was absolutely positive she didn't hate him at all and would probably never be able to hate him again.

"All right, I'll play," Bill said. "What did I do this time?"

Mabel held a thick, dusty book over her head. It was titled Sleeping Awake: A Meditation and Study Guide for the Initiate Oneironaut. "You gave me homework over the summer."

"Oh, is that it? That's the limit, is it? That's the worst thing I could possibly do to you."

"Yes," Mabel said to the carpet. "It's completely unforgivable." She paused. She lifted her head. "Um. You... do know we're joking, right? The joke is that we're pretending homework is worse than all the other stuff you did, when it definitely isn't? I'm stiiill not exactly sure what your moral compass looks like."

Bill said, "Relax, kid." Bill did not say that he understood that they were joking. "Here, lemme see how painful this is." He plucked the book from Mabel's hand, flipped through a few pages, and grimaced. "Oh wow. Oh, wow, this is drier than the Atacama. This isn't a 'meditation,' it's a textbook. Do they really spend a whole chapter talking about Frederik van Eeden? Gag me with a spoon." He flipped to the index, muttering, "Does this thing even go into milam, or are they completely reinventing the wheel?"

Mabel propped her chin in her hands. "Is it that bad?"

"Well, at first glance, it's not promising." He flipped toward the middle to skim some of the recommended exercises. "Pfff. I think the closest it'll get you to lucid dreaming is boring you to sleep."

Mabel groaned. "Dipper and I checked out like a dozen books on dreams and that was the least boring-looking one."

Bill shut the book and studied the cover. It showed a lush fantasy world with rainbows and colorful planets in the sky. "You know what they say about judging a book by its cover?"

"I know, I know." Mabel rolled over and flopped onto her back, staring at the ceiling. "I guess I'll try reading one of the other books." She let out a sigh. And then, deciding she hadn't expressed herself properly, she let out an even louder, deeper sigh.

Bill laughed, then considered the cover of Sleeping Awake again. "Ahh, what the heck," he muttered, "what else am I gonna do with myself today?" He waved the book at Mabel. "Hey. What if I read through some of them for you? Let you know which ones are a waste of time and which ones might be helpful?"

Mabel considered that. "Seriously? It's a lot of books and they all look boring."

"Sure, why not? If it's too boring to stand, I'll quit. But oneironautics is one of my specialities, I'll probably find the contents more interesting than you would. And, anyway—" Bill glanced away from Mabel self-consciously, voice dropping a tad, "anyway, I recommended lucid dreaming to fix a problem I caused, didn't I? I get why you kids won't let me teach you how to lucid dream—but it's not fair if I throw a couple names at you, make you do all the hard work, and pat myself on the back for helping out. The least I can do is endure a little boredom."

"Aw, Bill..." Mabel offered him a warm smile.

Bill looked at the ceiling. "Don't look at me like that, jeez. You're a sap, you know that?"

"You're the sap! You're like a tree: all bark on the outside and sap on the inside."

"I'll kill you if you ever say that again."

"I'll be right back!" Mabel sprinted upstairs; and a minute later, trudged back down, carrying a double armload of books. "Here." She dumped them in Bill's lap. A couple spilled on the floor.

"Whoa!" Bill scrambled to catch the escapees, and dropped another one. "Is this all of them?"

"All except the one Dipper's reading. The Encyclopedia of Dreams or something."

"That sounds like a waste of time. There's about as much overlap between dream interpretation and lucid dreaming as there is between astrology and astronomy. But hey, toss it my way when he's done with it. I wanna see what it says about dreams with pyramids and all-seeing eyes."

"Your ego's so big."

"Big as a universe, kid!" He started stacking the books beside him on the sofa, setting aside a promising-looking one that mentioned "Tibetan Dream Yoga" in the subtitle.

"I'll let him know. Thanks for the help, Bill!" Her afternoon now freed up, Mabel went upstairs to call Candy and Grenda and see what they were up to.

Bill listened as her footsteps ascended. He waited to hear the attic bedroom door shut.

And only then did he allow himself a small triumphant giggle.

He adored that girl. She was so trusting. He'd never have gotten his hands on this kind of educational material without her help. Finding her the most short-attention-span-friendly book was the least he could do as thanks; maybe he'd go the extra mile, leave bookmarks on the most useful chapters. Let her know just how good he could be to the people who did what he told them to.

He turned off the TV, cracked open the first book, and settled in to re-teach himself how to control dreams with a human mind.

####

(Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, I'd really appreciate a comment!)

[tiredwitchplant]

How to Use Herbs: Lavender (English Lavender)

Hello. Back with another post about how to use an herb. This time the herb is lavender. We discussed the history, powers and etc in another post (That I will link in a moment) and now we are going to see how we can use it. >>>> Post about Lavender

Alchemy Formulas:

*Remember when it says one part, try a teaspoon of it first. Always experiment with less amount than too much.

Mercury

one part lavender flowers

one part gum mastic

one part cinnamon chips

one part cinnamon oil

one part lavender oil

Air

one part gum arabic

one part cinnamon

one part lavender oil

one part clove oil

Change

one-part calamus root (Uranus; change)

one part lavender (Mercury; clarity)

one-part powdered nutmeg (Uranus; change)

one part cinnamon (Uranus, Mercury; change)

two parts sandalwood oil (Mercury, Moon; communication between conscious and subconscious minds)

Fame

one part cedar chips (Jupiter; renown)

one part angelica (Sun; authority)

one part myrtle (Venus; the arts)

one part gum mastic (Uranus; innovation)

one part lavender oil (Mercury; knowledge)

one part carnation oil (Jupiter; expansion)

Peace

one-part jasmin flowers (Moon; emotions)

one part myrrh resin (Saturn; grounding)

one part rose petals (Venus; love)

one part lotus oil (Neptune; inspiration)

one part lavender oil (Mercury; communication)

Spells:

Snake-beckoning Spell

Place an image on an altar, either of a snake or of an affiliated deity— the Minoan Serpent Goddess for instance.

Surround this with fresh lavender or warm the essential oil in an aroma burner.

Call the spirit. Be prepared to explain why you have issued the invitation.

Do this spell before bedtime, to receive a visitation in your dreams.

Don’t Sabotage My Success Spell (Workplace Edition)

Prepare a separate mojo for each person who appears to sabotage you.

Write the co-worker’s name on a square of brown paper three times.

Write your own name over each of the co-worker’s names, saying: “I cross you and I cover you.”

Anoint the corners of the paper with essential oils of bergamot, clove bud, and lavender.

Fold up the paper, placing it inside a red flannel drawstring bag, together with a devil’s shoestring root and some cumin seed.

Maintain this discreetly in the workplace, feeding daily with a drop of essential oil of lavender for reinforcement.

Herbal Beauty Glamour Spell

2 ounces of beeswax

1/2 cup coconut oil

1/2 cup olive oil

Glass measuring cup

Pan filled with water

Spoon

10 to 12 drops of lavender essential oil

10 to 12 drops of yarrow essential oil

Mirror

Pretty tin or jar

Combine the beeswax, coconut oil, and olive oil into the glass measuring cup and warm it in the pan full of water. This creates a double boiler like effect.

Once the wax melts, stir everything (the oils and beeswax) until well blended and remove it from the heat.

Add the lavender and yarrow oils, stirring them in slowly. As you do so, look into the mirror and say, I am lovely, I am desirable, I am magical. Beauty is more than skin deep. See me for the magnificence of my inner self.

Before it cools, pour your salve into a pretty tin or jar. After it has firmed up, use it on your skin.

Baths and Cleansing:

Maximum Power Spiritual Cleansing Bath

sea salt

rose and calendula blossoms

lavender oil

rose oil

rosemary oil

sandalwood oil

frankincense oil

myrrh oil

white rose hydrosol

Add copious quantities of sea salt to your bath water.

Add a drop of each essential oil into the water.

Float rose and calendula blossoms in the water, if possible.

Bath for Mercury

Herbs: lavender, white sandalwood, horehound, marjoram, thyme

Oils: lavender, white sandalwood, marjoram, anise

Self-Love Bath Bomb Bag

1 tablespoons of lavender

1 tablespoon of mandrake

1 tablespoon vervain

1 tablespoon vetivert

10-inch square of thin muslin or cotton

White ribbon

Red candle

Place the herbs in the center of the square of the cloth and gather up the corners.

Use the white ribbon to tie it, forming a pouch.

Run a warm bath and hang the pouch over the faucet, allowing the water to run through it, filling the tub with the essence of the herbs.

Light the candle and climb into the tub. Allow yourself to soak in the warm, fragrant water.

Use the herb pouch to wash your body, as you do, gaze into the candle's flame.

Visualize yourself radiating an aura of self-confidence and power. See yourself as the sort of person who attracts attention from those who are worthy.

When the water cools, extinguish the candle and get out of the tub. After you've dried yourself, dispose of the herb pouch by burying it or burning it.

Oils, Potions and Powders

Oil Blend for Patience

1 part rose

1 part lavender

1 part pine

Oil Blend for Peace

1 part violet

1 part lavender

1 part jasmine

1 part sandalwood

Masculine Oil Blend

Base note: 10 drops patchouli

Middle note: 10 drops sandalwood

Top note: 3 drops lavender

For the rest of the recipe, you will need:

1-ounce grated beeswax

Double boiler

1 ounce jojoba oil

2 metal 1-ounce containers

Flat toothpicks

Heat the grated beeswax in the double boiler until it is liquid.

Add the jojoba oil and gently mix the two ingredients together to achieve a homogenous blend.

Pour half the liquid into each container and add 3 drops of your essential oil blend.

Quickly stir the mixture with the toothpicks before the wax begins to set.

Keep one container for anointing yourself and the other as a gift to your consort so that he or she may come to appreciate you on a new level. If you are solitary and without a consort, you can use one for anointing your skin and the other for charging candles and ritual tools.

Love Potion #9

1. Choose nine love herbs. Consider these: Damiana

Ginger

Grains of Paradise

Hibiscus

Lovage

Melissa (lemon balm)

Peppermint

Red clover

Rose petals

(Other options might include adder’s tongue, cardamom pods, catnip, cubeb, lavender, red raspberry leaves or rose hips.)

2. Make a strong infusion of all the herbs, strain, and serve.

Love Powder Drawing Powder

1. Grind the following botanicals to a fine powder:

Basil

Lavender

Rose petals

Yarrow

Optional: ginger blossoms

2. Blend with rice powder.

3. Sprinkle around your home, your bedroom, on your sheets and on you.

Teas and Soothing Pillow:

Bedtime Tea

1 part lavender

1 part catnip

1 part verbena

1 part chamomile

1 cup of boiling water

Mix dry herbs into a small jar

To brew, pour 1 cup of boiling water over 1 teaspoon of the blend you made in the jar.

Steep for 5 - 7 minutes. Strain and enjoy.

Love Tea

1 part rose petals

1 part lavender

1 part jasmine

Pinch of cinnamon (optional)

1 cup of boiling water.

Mix dry herbs into a small jar

To brew, pour 1 cup of boiling water over 1 teaspoon of the blend you made in the jar.

Steep for 5 - 7 minutes. Strain and enjoy.

Dream Pillow (Hecate’s Pillow)

Hecate provides protection at night as well as psychic enhancement, so that you can journey safely during dreams. Appeal to Hecate to block nightmares too.

Dried lavender

Dried mullein

Essential oil of lavender

Optional: tuberose absolute

Blend two parts lavender to one part mullein.

Sprinkle a few drops of the essential oils over the dried botanicals.

Allow this to dry thoroughly and use it to fill a black pillow.

For optimum results, create and inaugurate the pillow during the Dark Moon or on Halloween/Samhain.

Again, sorry for such a long post. Please try to follow the instructions to the best of your abilities or mix and match and experiment. Happy witching. Bye byes~

Sources

[marigold-hills]

Dunes & Waters, part 39

PART 1 • PREVIOUS PART • NEXT PART

There's a courtyard. Sun-bleached, limestone-pale.  In the middle of it a square, ornate pond. The water is shallow. A single red lotus flower grows in the middle like a drop of blood in the stillness.

A woman wades through the water. From the richness of her skin to the way she moves, everything about her is stated affluence. She wears a dress so white and sheer each line of her body can be seen. She looks to where she’s watched, and says: “im(i) Hr.k, Í mry.t,”. Pay attention, my beloved. 

She holds a pair of golden scissors and cuts the stem of the flower. Picks up the bloom with open, outstretched fingers, careful not to bruise the petals. Murmurs soft words and it levitates next to her, follows as she steps out of the water, onto the stone ground, where in a sunken divot logs are stacked up and burning. Atop them, a copper bowl, the metal softly steaming.

Pay attention.

She holds a vial of clear liquid and pours it into the hot bowl. It hisses as it hits the surface, bubbles up immediately. When it calms down, she picks up a branch. It’s thorny. The leaves are green and lush. She rips them off with deft fingers and throws them into the boiling liquid.

May you live, she says, as a warm, honey-filled scent raises from the bowl, “ȧmȧ ānkh.ek,”. The leaf-free stick she uses to stir it, three times in the way the sun raises, five times as it sets.

She takes off a necklace and there’s a lock of hair braided into the cord. Unpicks it. Adds the hair (black, curled) into the bowl. Stirs it again, watches with hawk-eyes that it doesn’t boil.

“Uaḥ-tep-tah,” she says once she’s finished stirring. Live long life on earth.

Plucks the lotus flower from the air. It’s beautiful, flawless, perfection in the spiral of leaves. Hands brought together as if in prayer she crushes the petals into pulp. Throws it into the simmering liquid.

“wnn pt wnn.T xr.i.”

As long as the sky exists, you will exist within me.

The potion turns a sunset red. She places the wood she used for stirring into it, and it floats on the surface, turns in lazy circles.

There’s a clay pitches by the pond and she fills it with its water, uses it to douse the flames. The potion she tips into a glass vial and corks it.

Do this on a day of new moon, she says, and use when it’s next full.

The memory fades. She smiles wide, with teeth.  NOTES:

Í mry.t is the female version of “my beloved” :) just a little hidden thing

NEXT PART

@tealeavesandtrash

@moon-girl88

@hoje--aqui

@cocoabutterandbooks

@onion-sliced-apples

@prancingpony42

@digital-kam

@remoonysiriusly

@sweetstarryskies

@a-sunset-outside-my-window

@procrastinatingstuff

@annaliza999

@arasael

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged!)

[genderfluid-insomniac]

“Name are you wearing our clothes to MK’s sleepover?……” ///Six Eared Macaque x Reader x Sun Wukong

“No.” The shadow demon said to you, not looking up from the book he was reading and completely ignoring your pleas with your puppy dog eyes. “Come on! I know you don’t think being extremely social but it’s a few hours of talking with MK and the gang and then it’s all sleeping. I promise if it becomes too much then you can leave but please…pretty please!” You’d been trying to convince your lover to go to the slumber party MK planned and were going to use his excitement with his shadow plays to your advantage (which usually worked) but it wasn’t working right now.

“Fine. It’s alright, I guess Sun and I will go then. We’ll miss you!” Faking a sigh and disappointed expression, not missing the face Wukong gave you as he tried to not react to the immediate annoyed glare shot your way. Macaque loudly groaned and dramatically shut his book before sitting up and getting close to you. “You’re very lucky that I love you, lotus….Alright. I’ll go, only because I don’t trust peaches from doing something stupid-“ You pulled him close for a hug and quickly thanked him repeatedly, grabbing a dark violet bag that you had already packed knowing he’d give in to your demands, and kissed his cheek gently. “Thank you, moonlight.”

Without a second thought, you ran out to the edge of the cave, the roar of the waterfall deafening your ears and a few tiny hands clambering up your back and clinging to you. The soft white furred monies chittered in your ears and some pulled bits of your hair; even if you couldn’t understand them you could tell they wanted you to stay here and steal your attention that was usually on their kings along with your affection. “You guys have to stay here.” Speaking over the waterfall and emphasizing your words with your mouth, petting one of their heads, and receiving a churr in response.

“I’m beginning to think they like you more than me and I raised most of these guys!” Some chitters and shouts were directed at their older brother who was now frustrated at their complaints and decided to pull you into his chest. Effectively, humming deeply almost nearing a growl that got some of the monkeys off you (albeit begrudgingly), and squishing his face into your neck in an attempt to show the others you belonged to him. Yeah…..sure maybe Macaque too but he doesn’t care right now. You laughed and waved the other demon over, putting your hand on the rushing stream and stepping on the stones in the pool in front of it as the golden symbol shone brightly on the splitting falls.

“Come on guys we’re gonna be late!” You relaxed when you touched land and looked back to see the two mystic monkeys right behind you, Wukong sitting on his somersault cloud patting the space next to him as an invitation and Macaque leaning under a tree mindlessly playing with shadows the sun left on the dirt. “So how are we gonna get there?” The shadow only opened his mouth before the sage loudly spoke up, pointedly glaring at him and floating away. “No- Nope. Nu-uh! Your shadow portals are too creepy and probably unsafe, especially for our special mortal.-“ You were jerked behind him by his gold tail and pushed against his hoodie-covered chest, a questioning look was sent to him and then Mac before to shrugged off his grip. “Well, I’m certainly not going on your dumb cloud when you can’t even spell much less drive!”

You got in between them and shrugged out of the tail's tight grasp, hoping to stop a tedious already fought argument and get to MK’s place already. “Can you both stop being petty for one evening?! Gods, you’re both centuries older than I am and I still feel like I need to parent both of you.” Both celestials readjusted their bags on their shoulders and looked at you with offended looks, the reactions did nothing to you and you continued on with your plan. “How about a compromise? We take Sun’s cloud the way there and on the way back we take Mac’s portal. Sound good?”

They thought over it for a second before nodding slowly and going on either side of you. A dark-furred tail curls around your waist before pulling you closer to him, mumbling something just under his breath before helping you up on your boyfriend's cloud. “I’m going to hold onto you, lotus. I don’t want you to fall off.” Nuzzling his face into your neck and showing some rare affection, you guessed since he wasn’t as into PDA as his lover was and wouldn’t be able to do anything obvious when you were with the gang.

You wrapped your arms around him backward and fell back into his plush scarf as the cloud zipped off into the distance. Moving fast wasn’t something you were fond of before you met these two and it certainly didn’t get any better now, closing your eyes and turning your head away so you could breathe without the gusts of wind suffocating you. A hand intertwined with yours and wrapped around your waist, silently reminding you that you were safe and in good hands (probably the safest you could ever be and also the most dangerous…so).

The time it took to get to MKs place wasn’t long and you hopped off the cloud, knocking on the door and stepping back when you heard the loud stomping of footsteps. The brunette quickly opens the door and smiles widely as he scans your group before landing on the shadow with an expression of shock. “Hey-How’d you get Macaque to agree?! He never shows up whenever I invite him to stuff unless I promise him food..” Behind him, you could make out someone saying “simp” who you could easily guess was Mei and sent Macaque darting off into the shadow portal further in the house to get her.

You just laughed and playfully nudged your lover, “MK that’s my little secret, and I’m not telling.” He only dramatically groaned and whispered curses under his breath to which the kid got lightly smacked with Wukong’s tail. “Language.” The king walked in and tossed both of your backs, which you let him take when he tugged on them, giving MK an apologetic look and grabbing his hand and pulling him inside. Seeing many things happen, Pigsy and Tang were making the “world's greatest popcorn” according to Pigsy, Sandy and Bai He were petting Mo while discussing what movie to watch, and finally, your lovers were having a playful argument while (who you could barely make out as Mei) a green and white blob fell through two shadow portals.

If someone had to guess it was the comment she made toward him about a minute ago and after Mac caught your disapproving glance he quickly stopped, she landed on the ground and very dizzily got up while not missing a beat. “Ha! I can’t see straight but I’m gonna guess that Name told you off. Oof-” Quickly getting tripped by his tail and falling onto the ground, smirking at her then at you, and walking by you to put his bag down near Wukongs and yours. “Like anyone’s allowed to call me a simp except you two.” You softly laughed and intertwined his hand with yours, going to sit next to Bai He and hugging her back when you sat next to her (Macaque isn’t exempt from the hugs since he’s her favorite out of the group).

You were pulled into the ginger monkey's lap when he sat down next to you and got comfortable as you ignored the “aww” you got from the peanut gallery, squeezing Macaque’s hand in yours and cuddling into both of them. The movie you all ended up putting was about a planet of blue aliens trying to stop being colonized called Avatar, which Sandy had been a fan of the writing and filmmaking. Of course, MK and his mentor immediately suggested a monkey king-themed movie, luckily that suggestion was overruled by the majority and you all changed into pajamas before starting the movie. You had forgotten what you packed when quickly getting ready, going into a bathroom to change, and laughing to yourself at the probable reaction you’d get from your mystic monkeys.

The soft maroon fabric of Macaque’s pants (the ones he wore the most often) felt so comfy against your skin and the pale yellow sleeveless undershirt that Wukong wore during training that you “borrowed” was just the right size (it wouldn’t swallow you whole). You had no doubt that they knew you stole them for yourself but wouldn’t expect you to wear it tonight and they’d definitely notice their scents covering yours. “It should be fine….hopefully.” The shadow demon was more possessive but the great sage got more jealous very easily, so if you stayed with both of them nothing bad would happen, right?

Probably. Maybe….

You came out of the bathroom, tossed your bag of clothes towards your sleeping bags, and sat down in your boyfriend's lap again. Trying your best to not draw too much attention and ignore the arms and tails snaking around your torso. “Lotus…. When we get back you’re not going anywhere for days,” He cheekily laughed and nudged his boyfriend who raised his hand to the back of your neck, grazing the sensitive spot and causing a shiver. “Ha! Not like you’ll be able to when we’re done with you.”

Both celestials held you tightly against them and lowly purred, tails curled with each other and you. MK just rolled his eye at his mentor's behavior while Mei snapped a picture and went on to watch the movie. You didn’t dare leave their clutches the whole night, not like you could anyway.

[ultfreakme]

[Image ID: Digital fanart of Korra and Asami from their season 4 styling. Korra and Asami are sitting close to one another, Asami has one hand propped on Korra's shoulder and she's lovingly looking at Korra. Korra has her eyes closed and a small smile, facing Asami, she's holding a glowing white flower from the spirit workd that resembles a lotus in her hand, as if she's showing it to Asami. The background is dark and the biggest source of light is the flower lighting the up. Little blobs of light float in the dark background.]

I was being ambitious but I think I fell short.

[poptod]

Within You (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: You make prayer to the Gods to be one with your beloved.

Notes: hey lads its been a while. this story is, um, more like a moral-of-the-story than a fanfiction. its about obsession and very deep love (in a healthy way). i talk about it a little more in the notes of the Ao3 chapter. WC: 3.9k Ao3 Link

+

You were staring again.

Most of your mornings were spent staring. You woke up much earlier than he did, after all, and rarely could find the ego to leave the bed without him. Thus you spent your mornings staring.

The sun had just barely risen over the eastern hills, and the winds, typically harsher in the day, were only a quiet brush against the reed shades on the windows. A warm glow began to fill the Prince's bedroom –– slow at first, and then a little brighter, till the sun shone directly through the window's angle, and boasted rays of light like blooming lotus petals unfurling downwards through the air. But this dappled light; the gently floating dust like pollen, the warmly-coloured walls and their painted decorations, were only a backdrop to the beauty of the Prince before you. Ahkmen dozed peacefully in the warm morning, resting on his stomach with his long eyelashes still darkened from yesterday's kohl. 

You reached up slowly, wary of disturbing him, and carefully brushed his hair away from his face. A few loose strands entangled in your fingers and easily came away from him; those you placed in your own hair, like a medallion of the Prince's love. A part of him within you.

It was something you longed for desperately. You loved the sensation of being close to him, your chest pressed against his, hands roaming all across in a plea for more and more of one another. You loved even more the feeling of him being inside you –– always pleasant and warm, and about as intimate as one could get with another. But still something seemed to lack; something was not whole. You were not whole. You wanted to crawl into his mouth and sleep in his heart. You wanted to reside within him.

His eyes fluttered open –– a pale colour made vibrant by the dark ochre and golden skin of his freckled face, framed by his smudged black eyeliner.

He smiled.

"Good morning, merwty," he said, and stretched, raising his arms high above his head, showcasing his ribs and slim waist.

"Good morning," you said with a soft chuckle. "How did you sleep?"

"Alright," he mumbled.

He reached over, and pulled you into him. You gladly acquiesced, and wrapped your arms around him.

"You do know I have to go soon," you said, your voice muffled against his breast. "I may not attend the morning worship but, I do have to clean up after some of it."

"Yes, I know," he said with a sigh, and held you tighter. "Just for another minute, my lotus."

You giggled, breathing in his scent, which only melted you into his hold.

Eventually you had to tear yourself from him –– just as you did every day –– and prepare yourself to go to the temple. Being a low-level priest, you had more freedom and less responsibilities than the High Priest in Memphis, but still had a standard level of cleanliness to adhere to. Most of that cleaning of your body was done on the temple grounds, with water purified from the Nile. For now, you wrapped yourself in white linens, and searched for the wig that you had, last night, tossed somewhere in the room. Ahkmen simultaneously searched for his own wig, and in the process found yours. You found the Prince's wig in the corner.

You set it on your head, and brought it over to him that way.

"What do you think?" You asked, twirling around. His wig was much shorter than yours, with the ends capped in gold, and all braided in fine, thin strands.

"I think you are beautiful," he said, grinning. "Maybe you should wear it for today."

"Really? And what would you wear? Your bare hair?" You laughed.

He laughed with you, and rested his hands on your hips.

"By Gods, no. I have other wigs, you know. This one," he played with the strands now on your head, "is just my favourite. But maybe I will wear your hair today."

"Mine?" You asked, laughing.

He bent down and picked your wig up from the floor, and quickly settled it atop his head. The thick braids were all a mess from being tossed about, but nothing could diminish the brightly glowing grin shining from his face, although his eyes were obscured by the out-of-place hair. You laughed and brushed it away, settling everything in its proper place.

"Well... it's not horrible," you said.

"You think so?" He asked softly, reaching up to fondle the braids.

His eyes widened imperceptibly, and suddenly he was reaching for his hand-mirror, upon which the image of the Goddess Hathor was carved into the handle. Holding it up, he began to move the hair the way he liked it, and smiled at himself. With a small turn of the mirror's angle in his hand, he caught you in the mirror's reflection. His smile grew, and emulated a deep warmth.

"Beautiful," he said softly, his smile coy as it was sweet.

"You want to wear it?" You asked.

"I think so. A piece of you with me. It smells like your oils," he said, "and the incense from the temple."

"Let me fix it for you, then," you said.

He sat down upon the floor, on the reed matting that ran the length from the doorway to the window, and you sat behind him on a three-pronged stool. All the while as you worked he held the shining mirror, watching you in the reflection. Contented, soft eyes followed yours, till at the door of the palace you parted for the day, both waiting eagerly for when you would meet again.

Today Ra seemed to shine especially bright and warm, though the effect might've been caused by your shorter-than-usual hair. Until you arrived at the temple you received no stranger looks. Upon entering the enclosure walls of Hwt-Ka-Ptah, a few people stared, and by the time you reached the sacred lake the higher priests were staring at you. They had just finished their morning ritual, and were now cleaning themselves of the ash and oils burned and smeared across the image of Ptah, the God to whom the entirety of the complex was devoted to. 

"Have you gotten a new wig?" Seshemnefer asked as he stepped out of the lake, his skin already beginning to dry in the sun and breeze.

"Sort of," you said.

Seshemnefer was a chanter of Ptah, accompanying the higher Priests in many of the daily ceremonies. Essentially all of the priests in the complex ranked above you –– including Seshemnefer –– but it was not something you minded. Whilst most priests were, in their time of work, confined to the walls of Hwt-Ka-Ptah, you were allowed free roam, which gave you evenings to spend with Ahkmen. You surmised that if it were not the Prince calling upon you, you too would be set to live in the temple grounds. Still, your ranking made you replaceable, and thus the call of the Prince was given more importance than your duties in the temple. 

"Well," he ran a cloth over his bare head, "it looks nice. Although a little..." he pursed his lips, "... unlike you. Anyway, you better hurry up. The halls need cleaning."

"Of course, of course. Thank you," you said, and hurried down into the waters to cleanse yourself.

Throughout the day you worked dutifully, but just as with every other day your mind always remained on Ahkmen. Thoughts of the Gods would be more proper; love for Them, adoration for Their qualities, and gratefulness for Their gifts and mercies. Your work was good enough, you supposed –– cleaning the floors, dusting the sand away, and doing whatever the higher-ups called on you to do. Ahkmen was your gift from the Gods, this you knew, and so perhaps appreciation for him would do just as good as gratitude directly to the Gods Themselves.

But in the evening, a rare chance presented itself to you. The inner shrine of the temple was off limits to all but the highest of priests, the Hem-Netjer-Tepi –– the first servant of God. The common people spoke their prayers outside the temple, or conversely paid priests to pray to the Gods directly for them. Your work kept you in the temple late into the night, and the Prince had yet to call upon you; thus the higher priests continued to use your labour wherever needed. The last ceremony of worship was performed. The chanting ceased, and the fires inside the inner shrine were put out. Although the incense was taken away, its thick scent and smoke remained, spilling out from beneath the cracks in the large doors blocking the inner shrine from watching eyes. The priests had not tied the binding rope tight enough, and now it fell loose.

You could, of course, go get the Hem-Netjer-Tepi and ask him to tie it back up, or even tie it up yourself. For some reason, however, you hesitated. You stared at the dark slit in the open doorway, and heard a silent beckoning.

You were unclean. Sweat on your skin, dust clinging to you from your dirty work. But there was something you desired more than anything, and now you had a chance to ask the Gods directly; to postulate yourself, and in your own words ask for something you would never admit to yearning for to anyone else. Before you fully realized it, you had dropped your supplies, and your hand was raised towards the parted doorway.

You whipped around, checked your surroundings, and slipped inside.

Without the sacred flame the priests carried inside the chamber, the inner shrine was pitch black, with the only light source being the slit in the doorway, illuminating a thin beam of light across the edge of the God's naos shrine. With wide eyes not yet accustomed to the dark, you fell to your knees and pressed your forehead to the ground. You had yet to even see the image of Ptah, but His presence was overwhelming, and your body began to shake.

"Oh Great God Ptah," you began, nearly whimpering the words into the dust at His feet, "oh He who listens to prayers, please grant me this desire. O Ptah, south of His wall, Who lifts the Heavens with His hands, let me be one with my beloved. Let us not be apart, let us experience the oneness of being complete. Let me return and be his heart once more. O Ptah, I ask this out of pure longing and love. I ask forgiveness for entering Your sacred shrine. I ask for Your mercy. Ptah, Lord of the Life of the Two Lands –– praises and adorations upon Your name."

You continued, rambling in both anxiety and ecstasy, as your closed eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light. Praises and adorations again and again; and the repetition of your one request. When you raised your head, your eyes had fully adjusted, and you caught sight of Ptah looking down upon you, His eyes wide and vibrant against His golden skin.

You fled the shrine room.

Barely within your mind, you put away your cleaning tools, and hurried back to the residence of the Pharaoh.

Ahkmen was nearly asleep by the time you returned. The oil lamp at his bedside was ready to flicker into oblivion, and the wind had settled for the night. His breath was quiet. The door creaked as you closed it, and the sound roused him gently from his passing.

"Good evening," he mumbled, and rolled over from his stomach to his back.

You quickly pulled the wig off your head, and crawled onto his bedframe.

"Hello, merwty," you murmured, moving quick and careful to caress his head.

"Where were you?" He asked.

"They asked me to clean up after the evening ritual," you said, which was not a lie. 

"I see," he said. "Are you tired?"

"Um..." adrenaline had kept you going since you left the shrine. But now that you were in the warm light of Ahkmen's room, it seeped away into exhaustion. "I.. am, yes."

"I'm sorry we didn't get much time tonight," he said, and some of the words slurred together.

"You will have to tell me about your day tomorrow morning," you said as you settled down into his arms.

"Oh yes," he murmured, nuzzling you.

It took only a few long breaths before you both fell asleep.

In the morning, you felt no body next to yours. The strange and unfamiliar sensation jolted you awake.

"Merwty?"

Ahkmen spoke in a panicked voice. At once the realization came to you, and you remembered the previous night. Your prayer to your Maker.

"Merwty, did you really do that?" Ahkmen asked, his breath still moving quick through his chest.

"I... I did," you said. 

The words formed on Ahkmen's tongue, and passed through his lips. Your lips. Each of his movements was now yours –– each of his memories now yours to recall, just as your memories were his.

You both, simultaneously thinking the same thing, scrambled out of bed and rushed to the mirror. Crashing down onto the floor on your knees, you grabbed the mirror and held it up to your face, your knuckles white and frigid. It was a question of appearance; had you taken on Ahkmen's characteristics, or had he taken on yours? Was your shared face now an amalgamation of your features?

To your consolation, your shared face was Ahkmen's face. There was no worry about hurrying out of the palace, lest someone mistake your shared body for an imposter in the room of the Prince.

You let out a shared sigh of relief.

"It's kind of hard to believe," Ahkmen said, touching your face, "that your wish was granted."

"A little," you agreed, "but I know that if the Gods gave me you, then I must be in Their favour."

He chuckled, and though your shared eyes closed, you revelled in his smiling expression in the mirror when he opened them.

"You are sweet. But this will take some getting used to. I think... we should be able to communicate without speaking aloud, right?" He said, still speaking to you through the mirror.

"I think so," you said. 

In the meantime, you grew increasingly interested in moving Ahkmen's face. You stuck your tongue out, pursed your lips, moved your eyebrows about, and finally opened your mouth wide and let your tongue roll out.

Ahkmen shut his mouth immediately, and dropped the mirror. Your face became very, very warm.

"Stop that," he laughed, digging his nails into his palm.

You unclenched the hand.

"You stop that, that hurts," you said, looking down at the red crescents stamped onto your palm.

"I'm sorry, merwty," he said softly, and kissed his palm.

You giggled.

"Let's get ready, yes?" You said.

"Of course. The day will not wait for our play. We shall return to it in the night," he said.

You wrapped your arms around yourself and squeezed tightly, humming in deep satisfaction. To be one with Ahkmen fulfilled all pleasurable desires, and at last satiated the deep sense of longing and separation within you.

You went off to bathe and were assisted by ladies who brought oils of every fine scent. The day was already beginning to grow hot, and thus the cool water was a great relief to step into. With each movement you were filled with enjoyment –– the grace of Ahkmen's feet upon the floor, his slim legs, the gentleness of his lean arms swaying to and fro as the two of you seemed to dance within your body. The ladies watched with wide and curious eyes, and seemed surprised when you turned down their offer to wash your hair and skin. Instead, you did it yourself, lavishing one another in the scent of rose and the luxurious feel of smooth oil dripping down your humid skin.

I adore you, I adore you, played over and over like a mantra, one after another being spoken in each other's voices within your head. Washing yourself was a slow and delicate process that you both relished in, running your hands over your shoulders, thighs, and waist, and pressing your lips against your shoulder in quiet, unassuming kisses.

By the time you were finished, you were already late to meet Ahkmen's father. But you insisted and took the time to get dressed in fine garments of white linen and golden jewels, lavishing yourself and admiring how your tanned skin contrasted and complimented the colours.

"Come now," Ahkmen said to you within your mind, "I do not want my father to be cross with us."

"Very well," you grumbled. "I wish you could carry a mirror around all day, so I could always see your beautiful face."

"You already wished to be one with me," Ahk said, and you left the room, headed towards the court. "I am not sure the Gods would be so merciful to change societal structure to allow us to hold a mirror all day."

You laughed, but managed to hold it inside –– only a smile showed itself, earning you some odd looks from the people you passed in the halls.

The two of you moved through the day with relative ease given your new living arrangements, all the while fawning over yourself in both directions. In times of required silence, you fondled your hands either in front of you or behind your back, running your fingers over your knuckles adoringly, and making subtle kisses with your lips each time one finger tapped another finger, distracted from any outside occurrences. People would, now and again, give you strange looks. From those ranking below you, they were often more curious and befuddled than anything; from those higher-ranking, they were punishing glares, and were a weak attempt to shame you into not loving one another. But you just smiled coyly, like a cat with slim, mischievous eyes, and continued to touch your hands behind your back.

Not being able to see Ahkmen slowly dug at you. Each twist of your shared expression, from the little smirks to the soft blinking of his lashes, was now hidden by virtue of your eye's angle. This little discomfort and dissatisfaction was not the only thing to bother you, either –– there was none of the pleasure of placing your arm around his waist and pulling him in, none of the sensation of feeling his body heat next to yours. You could no longer feel his lips on yours, nor easily stare into his eyes as he stroked your cheek.

All of these things you pushed aside. You were lucky to be able to speak with him and spend the day with him at all; after all, usually you were apart for near the whole day, separated by your duties. 

As the sun set behind the white walls of the palace, you awaited eagerly your dismissal from royal duties. When the moment finally came, the two of you practically bounded back to your room, laughing to yourself as your gold and white tresses billowed behind you. You dismissed all servants from the area, and fell onto your bed behind closed doors. Slowly your eyes shut, and deep breaths replaced the giddiness, allowing a sense of tiredness to settle deep into your body.

"Oh, to be united as one," you said, running your hand over your stomach and feeling the dips and ripples of fat and muscle. 

"Merwty, I miss your face," Ahkmen sighed.

"I miss your face, too," you said softly. "But more than that..."

As you lay there, you could easily imagine Ahkmen's body resting on the bed –– an image called back from your memories of many evenings. In those moments, your beloved lying exhausted on his bed, you would often bring him water or fruits if he desired them. You massaged his feet and legs, caressed his body, braided his hair, and took great joy in any service towards him. Even washing fruit for him to eat felt holy.

"I love being a part of you," you mumbled, "but I miss being of service to you. Like, bringing you pleasure. Now if I want to feed you dates, I have to just feed them to myself. That's no fun."

"You enjoy feeding me dates that much?" He asked amusedly.

"It's not just the dates, it's the principle of the thing," you grumbled, feeling delight and humour bubble in your chest.

Ahkmen laughed, brushing his hands through your hair.

"What does it mean, then?"

You paused and thought. Suddenly, a white light filled you –– a deep understanding of the nature of the soul. 

Ahkmen, privy to your thoughts, understood as well.

You knew what you needed to do.

"Really?" He said.

"Really," you said.

That night, you snuck out of the palace and over the white enclosure walls of the temple, and in secrecy opened the door bolt to the inner shrine. Even being a Prince you were not allowed in this sacred room; it was an honour and duty reserved only for the High Priest. Thus you continuously looked over your shoulder till you closed the shrine door behind you, enveloping yourself in the darkness.

Each breath seemed to echo in the tall space. But with no sense of coordination and no sight to aid, you took only a few, stumbling steps forward before falling once more to your knees. Forehead to the floor you began muttering again, prayers, adorations, and your plea.

"O Great God Ptah, O He Who listens to prayers, forgive me for what I asked of You, thank You for Your mercy in bestowing understanding. I am sorry for doubting Your will in separating us as different beings. I see now it is pleasure to serve personally, another whom you love. Please, may Your mercy extend to us –– may we be of service to one another once more, and continue to serve You, O Beautiful of Face."

With hands clasped in front of your chest you raised yourself, and slowly, shaking, met the eye of the God.

His eyes, strikingly pale and wide, were staring down at you.

You fled the shrine room.

A certain anxiousness kept you in an uneasy sleep for several hours. Neither of you were sure if Ptah would listen; if His mercy would extend to fix your hubris. You had been taught by the priests that the mercy of not being punished for your sins was the same mercy that Gods showed when They did not answer your prayers immediately. Extensions of the same kindness. Humans were blind and could not see the whole map –– where one seemingly good wish led was just as dark and unknowable as any ill-tempered desire, as the effects of human choice could not be seen on the linear timeline that the living experienced. If Ptah was not so merciful to save you from yourself, then He would likely not want to use the energy to switch you back at your behest. Yet it could also be seen as a mercy that Ptah listened to you in the first place; that He afforded you the opportunity to learn and enlighten yourself. You could not tell which circumstance this one was.

These thoughts churned, salted by an anxious sickness, until you eventually fell asleep in the very early morning.

By the time the sun had fully risen over the mountains, you were stirring awake, your eyes heavy with exhaustion. Your head rolled to the side, and beside you lay the sleeping body of Ahkmen. You sighed a breath of relief. 

A few minutes later Ahk stirred, and you moved, shifting to pet his face and slowly wake him.

"Good morning, merwty," you said with a smile.

He smiled up at you, and brushed the hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

"Good morning, my love."

[talonabraxas]

Divine Lotus Flower and its Splendid Healing Power

Buddhusim as the major admirer of Lotus

It’s part of the Buddhist belief system that all people have the potential to achieve enlightenment, and it’s only a matter of time before each human being starts looking for and finds the absolute truth. Buddhists believe it is necessary to undergo reincarnations to refine one’s being until one reaches nirvana, the highest degree of awareness for a human being to achieve.

For this reason, we find countless depictions of Buddha sitting on a lotus flower or his seat has carvings of lotus petals. Like the lotus flower, which begins to grow in the muddy, polluted water and blossoms into a perfect flower, these depictions stand for an enlightened being who has overcome the suffering that pervades the material world. It’s also not uncommon to find many Hindu gods depicted sitting or standing on the lotus flower.

Lotus as the birth origin of Buddha

The largest part of Budha’s teachings originates in the Lotus Sutra (Lotus of the True Dharma), where the sacred lotus flower signifies the essence of Buddhism. Buddhists also hold the belief that the Buddha was born over a lotus leaf.

Spiritual enlightenment in Buddhism through the lotus

Buddhism has a belief that this pure flower brings a smile to the face of anyone who sees it.

Buddhism teaches that, like the lotus flower, we must be a source of happiness and delight for others and make their lives meaningful and beautiful, no matter what difficulties or adverse circumstances surround us.

In addition, in Buddhism, the color of each flower has a different meaning. For example, the white lotus is also a part of the Four Noble Truths and represents mental righteousness and perfection from inside: spiritual.

Can you relate the eightfold path from Budha’s teachings to the eight pearls of white lotus? You should because Budha’s birth spot also has a connection with the eightfold path.

Just as the rose has significance for love and emotional refinement, the red lotus represents a pure heart. Its nature is encoded in the characters for compassion, ardor, and love.

The blue lotus is a sign of triumph; it connotes a win over the senses. It also stands for truth and wisdom. The magnificent pink lotus is itself a representation of the Buddha and his teachings.

Lotus as the seat of gods

The lotus, a sacred icon of Hinduism and Indian culture, is found in many descriptions in almost all Hindu sacred scriptures. The universe’s chief creator, Lord Brahma, and another lord, Vishnu, the preserver, are each depicted as sitting or floating on a lotus.

Divine Lotus by Talon Abraxas