#hathe the apprentice

[cryptidclaw]

Star Firesight!

Bonus! Healer/Second Firesight:

And Outsider/Apprentice Rusty/Fire:

Design Notes:

I redesigned him again despite saying I would stop doing that... Prev design and old bio here.

He still has a lot of the same features as my previous design, i mostly just changed his pattern and coloring! I wanted him to be a rustier color!

I also changed his cheek fluff to be round, mostly just for an interesting face shape! his cheek fluff hangs a little more flat when he's older just to give him a more matured look (hes been thru some shit, his cheeks hath deflated)

Character Bio:

Star Firesight

(Fireheart/star)

Bisexual & Polyamorous; Trans Tom; he/him

Age as of 1st arc's beginning: 7 moons; 11 Hyrs

Age as of 1st arc's end: 2 cycles, 5 moons; ~26 Hyrs

Title meaning: -sight = this cat can spot things that others cannot; a cat with a close connection to the Stars; this healer receives many signs from the Stars; the healer may also be very good at spotting illnesses or injuries.

Outsider -> Healer -> Second -> Leader of Thunder Order

Mentor: Redtail (died) -> Spottedleaf

Mother: Nutmeg

Father: Jake

Sibling: Sapheart (Princess)

Half Siblings: Socks; Ruby: Tinyclaw

Mates: Sandstorm; Shriketail

Kits: Squirrelflight (sire: Sand); Leafpool (sire: Shrike); Foxleap (sire: Sand); Icecloud (sire: Shrike)

Grandkits: Star Hollyleaf; Falconstrike; Jaywing; Alderheart; Sparkfire

Other notable kin: Cloudtail (nephew); Snowshoe (nephew); Mistletoe (niece); Spiderleg (nephew); Shrew (nephew)

Notes:

Firesight has chronic pain (and mobility issues later in life):

Fire has the Scottish Fold breed's mutation which effects cartilage in the body, this causes his ears to fold, but it also causes chronic joint pain and can progress into swollen and inflexible joints.

For Fire, he is has the heterozygous version of this mutation, which means that his disability progresses more slowly, as a young cat he does experience some joint pain, with some days being worse than others. He is able to medicate with his own chronic pain herbal mix he created as a Healer. However as Fire grows older his joints will worsen, and by the time of his old age he will be unable to jump and some days is unable to walk.

He is able to still use his medication to aid him and is able to lead a happy life, but he is disabled and I didnt want to leave that out of his character! It's important to have disability rep (and spread awareness of the issues with the Scottish Fold breed) and I hope I serve him justice!

Character Summary:

In Progress (to be added later)

...

[Image 1 ID: a digital drawing of Star Firesight, an AU version of Firestar from Warrior Cats. He is standing with his left side showing and has a proud and happy expression with a smile. He is a short, chubby and round shaped rusty orange and red tabby tom with small folded ears and green eyes. his chest, underbelly and paws are all a lighter shade of orange, and he has a red stripe down his back as well as a single red swoop shaped stripe on his side. He has red to orange striping on his face and red freckles on his cheeks. His right ear is brownish-black, he also has a small black spot above his nose and a black stripe on his back. He has a white flame shaped spot on his chest, a white muzzle, white paws and a white tail tip. He wears yellow flowers and green leaves in his pelt and a simple crown rests on his forehead made up of a diamond shaped red stone and a small teardrop shaped white stone below it./End ID]

[Image 2 ID: a digital drawing of Firesight, an AU version of Fireheart from Warrior Cats. this drawing is almost the exact same as the first image, but in this he has no crown./End ID]

[Image 3 ID: a digital drawing of Fire, an AU version of Firepaw from Warrior Cats. this drawing is almost the exact same as the first image, but in this he has no crown, or flowers and leaves adorning his pelt. his face also seems younger and he has a brighter happy expression on his face with his mouth open in a smile like he is talking./End ID]

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞

You were the warmth and light to Bucky’s shadows and brooding nature — a match made in heaven, and it was a miracle that a certain someone realised as much.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✿ Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✿ 2.5k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✿ Fluff, mention of alcohol

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ✿ My very first grumpy x sunshine fic, and it was hella fun! a huge thank you to all those who listened to me deliberate what the hell to do with it! ✿ A huge thank you to @mxaether for the fact checking and guidance - you were a huge help!

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ✿ Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✿ @buckybarnesevents Into an Alternate June-iverse 𝗖𝟯 — Tattoo AU — Masterlist

𝐈𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐮𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The anniversary of 107th Ink was always going to be special, and this one perhaps was one of the biggest years – seven whole years since both Bucky and Stevie had walked through those doors with a dream, a dream that had flourished and blown up with their combined talents and charisma. 

In order to celebrate, 107th Ink had announced a surprise flash day. And, as anyone would have expected from the fastest growing tattoo parlour in the area, it was chaos – actually, chaotic was an understatement, and for this very reason, you had parked your car a block away from Bucky’s shop with a box of donuts in one hand and a bottle of Jack Daniels in the other. 

You would be a sight for sore, tired eyes, that was for sure.

Bucky’s Harley was parked on the verge, the shining red paint and reflective chrome shone in the light of the setting sun. The many rides you had taken with Bucky on that very bike came to the forefront of your mind, and you smiled fondly at the memories; the time he had taken you down the back roads for a picnic after you had finally convinced him to put his machine down, or that time that he took you down the highway, resting his hand on yours that had looped tightly around his middle. 

You and Bucky had been friends for years – he was certainly by far the gruffest and honest to god most intimidating man you had ever met, but somehow, he softened around you. Ever since Natasha had introduced you to him, you had felt an instant connection to the infamous brooding vet, and it left the two of you on a path you had no idea how to navigate. It was becoming difficult to ignore the butterflies that crowded your entire being when he flashed you a rare smile, or called you his Sunshine. 

But that was a thought for another day – Bucky needed his Jacks and Stevie would need his donuts, not to mention Nat and Peter squirrelling away what they could of either offering.

And, after your own intense and exhausting day with work and clients, you had to admit, it would be nice to see your friends. 

The door to the shop swung open with a clink of the bell, and you took in the scene. Bucky’s interior design choices screamed Rock’n’Roll with guitars lining the walls, all in various states of artistic liberty of designs and signatures. Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar On Me played quietly over the hustle and bustle, a constant background noise amongst the many conversations held between artists and clients you could only just hear. Soft lighting illuminated the entry and reception where black leather couches were placed cosily – no clients were lazing about so you suspected they were all in the booths. The shining tiled floor reflected the reds of the walls and the mahogany oak accents like it was freshly polished. 

Bucky’s standards of professionalism and cleanliness were high, and hell hath no fury for anyone that compromised them. 

“Hey, Sunshine!” A bright voice called from an open door – Peter’s booth, and you looked over to see the aforementioned excited apprentice poking his head out. “God, you’re a sight for sore eyes-” You stifled a laugh, smiling instead. “Bucky is just over there,” Peter said, gesturing towards a closed door. “He’ll be out soon, nervous client.”

“Thanks, Pete,” you said, and he grinned at you and the donuts in your hand before disappearing back into the booth. 

As expected, time passed slowly and you watched while a couple of clients milled out of the booths – Stevie’s, Nat’s and Peter’s. You caught sight of Stevie and Nat occasionally, and they spared you an excited wave or smile when they could – their gazes drifting to the treats you had brought with you. 

The sun had set by the time Bucky’s booth had any sign of movement. His door opened and a timid young woman appeared in the doorway – she was speaking over her shoulder and once she glanced towards the couches, you gave her a soft smile and she walked past you to Peter at the front desk to pay.

Peter greeted her happily and began the process of the transaction, but heavy boot falls in the booth made your gaze snap towards the source, smiling wide at finding Bucky leaning against the frame, arms crossed so his tattoos rippled and moved with the corded muscle. He was staring at you with a blank expression, null and void of any tells, though there was a glimmer of happiness in his eyes that filled your heart and fuelled the butterflies to a dull roar. 

“Hey.”

“Hey, you!” You rushed, getting to your feet just as the young woman left the shop. As soon as she was out the door, there was a collective exhale of breath in relief. “Tough day?”

“What gave it away, Sunny?” Steve groaned as he stood in the doorway of his own booth, rubbing his face and mussing his hair and neatly trimmed beard. “It seemed that flash day means all the tough clients come outta the woods at once.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nat piped up, stretching to the ceiling and cracking her back. The burgundy leather jacket she wore gleamed in the low light while it complemented her creeping neck tattoos. “I had all the sweet ones then.”

“Yeah, because you intimidate the shit out of ‘em, Nat,” Bucky said, a brow raised in challenge. Nat only shrugged, a coy grin on her blood red lips. 

“Today was fun though,” Peter yawned, and you watched as Bucky and Steve rolled their eyes in unison. 

“Trust the apprentice to be all rainbows and shit,” Bucky mumbled. “Let’s close up for the night. I wanna go home.”

Everyone left the reception in favour of returning to their booths, and you followed behind Bucky, bottle of Jacks in hand. The donuts lay on the table amongst the neatly stacked portfolios for later – that’s if Steve and Nat didn’t run off with them before you could walk out the door. 

“How are you feeling, Buck?” You asked, watching as he flexed his left arm and clenched his hand in a fist before releasing it with a wince. “Are you alright?”

Bucky looked over at you and nodded once. “‘M fine, sweetheart,” he said softly while he cleaned up the tray of ink caps and the rest of his station. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m good,” you said, maybe a little too quick, because Bucky’s gaze snapped up and he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “I’m being honest-”

Slowly, Bucky stepped around from his cart and came to stand right in front of you, his gaze heavy with that critical eye and his habit for problem solving. “No, you’re not, Sunshine.”

Damn it, you cursed in your head, and it must have traitorously flickered across your expression because Bucky hesitated only slightly before his arms suddenly enveloped you and pulled you against his chest. The sudden movement forced a quiet, “oof!” from your lips before you could bite it back – though the feeling of him holding you, as rare as it was, was never unwelcome. 

“I know you like hugs, sweetheart,” Bucky whispered, his voice just a low rumble in his chest. “Jus’ lemme hold you for a minute, alright?”

Your heart seized and tears burned in the corner of your eyes at his words. Bucky held you so tightly and you were forced to loop your arms around his middle while you rested your cheek on his shoulder – it was indescribable. 

Touch was not something Bucky gave freely – sure, it was his job to touch and manipulate and move clients, but it never meant anything more than him just doing his job. He never initiated a hug to Nat, Steve, or even Peter, it was something entirely off the table for him, though here he was, pushing past what he would normally be comfortable with and initiating such a tender embrace to you.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you mumbled. Bucky squeezed you tight for just a second in reply, and when he relaxed his hold, the vice in your chest had lessened significantly.

“Jus’ wanna take care of my girl, ‘s all,” Bucky said, so quietly you almost didn’t hear, but you stiffened. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” Bucky hastened, his voice suddenly sharp and he pulled away, leaving you standing by the chair, dumbfounded and in shock. “Forget I said anything, let’s get outta here, huh?”

“No, no wait,” you rushed forward, grabbing his arm while you felt your eyes shine with tears – from what: fear, shock, or happiness, you couldn’t tell. “What did you say?”

A long stretch of silence passed before Bucky met your pleading gaze, but he was frowning slightly, as if he was considering every outcome in the blink of an eye. It was unbearable, and you shook his arm slightly, ignoring the way the muscles didn’t budge under your grip. 

“I said I wanted to take care of my girl.”

The tension cracked and split like a whip had cleaved through it, and a heavy breath left your lips. “Your girl?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, nodding stiffly. 

“Are you-” You tried, but stopped. The sudden dryness in your mouth made it difficult to form the words. “Are you saying… what I think you’re saying?”

Bucky held your stare. “Yes.”

“Oh, my god,” you rushed, and you slammed into his chest to wrap your arms around his middle again – this time he was the one that let out a surprised “oof!” before he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. 

“Took you fuckin’ long enough!” Steve cried suddenly and you whirled around. Somehow, while engrossed in your panicked train of thought, and Bucky being stuck in his own version of panicking, Steve and Nat had quietly opened the door to eavesdrop. “Nat, you owe me fifty bucks.”

“Dammit,” Nat grumbled before her heels clicked on the floor, the sound muffling the further she walked away. 

The fact that they had placed bets on this didn’t leave you feeling surprised in the slightest, if you were honest – Nat had known something was up, naturally, and she made it a point to stare expectantly whenever you would become flustered by literally anything Bucky did: paying special attention to you, calling you Sunshine, or how he was fiercely protective of you, all of which you found out when you went out to coffee with her. She had snorted and laughed at the obviously hilarious expression of shock upon finding any of that out – you had thought you were subtle, dammit.

Stevie, well, he was Bucky’s best friend – you can only hide so much from the person you were with most, if not all of the working day. It also didn’t help Stevie was a nosy sonofabitch on the best of days. “Can’t make a plan without all the variables, Sunny,” Stevie would say smugly whenever you questioned him, a proud, knowing smirk on his lips and a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

You glanced up at Bucky to see him burning holes through the door to the back of his friends as they made a hasty retreat – there was no way he was clued in on that little game. 

“Hey, guys, wait up!” Peter yelled as the bell sounded, followed by his rushed footsteps. “See you tomorrow, Boss!” Bucky didn’t reply as the door closed behind Peter and the shop was silent again – just the two of you. 

The slight furrow in his brow and the pensive frown on his lips made your hands grow clammy with nervous sweat; you couldn’t tell what Bucky was thinking, and it was infuriating. 

Minutes stretched by, or seconds, you couldn’t tell – you were trapped in his gaze, lost in the thoughts racing through your mind, did he truly mean what he said?

You startled slightly when Bucky’s hand suddenly cupped your cheek, not having seen him move his arm. “So,” he said slowly. The softening of his eyes made your heart flutter – this was your Bucky, a gentle, soft soul that looked out for you. 

“Bucky?” You whispered. Bucky only hummed quietly, moving his hands to hold both of yours, the cold bite of his rings caused a shiver to crawl up your spine.

“What d’you say, Sunshine?” Bucky asked, still slow and thoughtful, like he was weighing every word. The tension grew to be unbearable and it was all you could do to keep your breathing even, you wished his intense gaze would waver, or he would look away – just for a damned second.

You licked your lips, shuffling your feet on the spot. “That depends on what you’re as-”

“Be my girl?”

Time stopped. Your heart stopped, ceasing its pounding rhythm for a millisecond before kick-starting thunderously. Sure, he had called you his girl more than once, but hearing him ask if you would be? You prayed to whoever would listen above that you would survive this, for you were floating on cloud nine and you did not want to come back down. 

“I-I,” you stumbled, growing even more flustered at the glint in his eyes – you couldn’t tell what he was feeling but you felt pinned, in the best possible way. “Yeah, yeah I want to be your Sunshine, Buck-”

Your stomach swooped at the sudden and entirely unexpected feeling of his lips on yours, and his hands – god, his hands, one moved to hold the side of your throat, the other cupped your face. He set the pace easily and you eagerly followed, you had been craving this for so long that it was almost unbelievable. 

To make doubly sure you weren’t dreaming, more than the desire to touch him, you ran your hands up his arms to rest them on his broad shoulders and you felt him smile into the kiss. “It’s real, sweetheart, ‘m here,” Bucky said against your lips, and you sighed happily. 

The warm smile Bucky gave you as he pulled away made you miss his touch, even though he had only taken a single step away. “I’ll finish cleanin’ up and then we can get outta here, we have a lot to celebrate, Sunshine, don’t we?”

The butterflies in your stomach became a frenzy at his words, and you nodded shyly. “They’re going to lose their minds, aren’t they?” You mused, sitting on the rolling stool while you waited for him to finish up. “Nat and the guys, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, zipping up his case. “Yeah, they will, the bastards. Bettin’ on their fuckin’ boss, I oughta fire all of ‘em.” You laughed heartily and Bucky smirked. 

Once Bucky’s station had been tidied and cleaned for the next day, he reached a hand out and you accepted it happily. “Let’s get outta here, I gotta treat my girl to a nice night, huh?”

“Only if we take your bike,” you said, squeezing Bucky’s hand and he looked over at you curiously. “I want to fly.”

Bucky only chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t have to tell me twice, sweetheart.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[straycatj]

What has Menace cat K done to be called that? What crimes hath he committed?

Please check his childhood and give some sympathy to me

[horrorknife]

“lawrence and adam dont match each others freak lawrence would have an aneurysm” Lawrence is borderline gleeful about the role he plays as an apprentice and you dont think he gets a little sexy with it? if anyone would have the aneurysm its adam because lawrence is exposing him to kinks he never even considered (and is Very Into). hell hath no fury like a long repressed gay man coming out of the closet. do you understand how horny you get after coming out and embracing your identity

[iron-embers]

Hatomi Karahana

Gender: Female

Age: 35-36

Height: 5’9

Ethnicity: Half Russian/half Japanese

Original last name: Karahana

Widowed last name: Kobayashi

Current last name: Rengoku

Personality

. Patient

. Motherly

. Respectful

. Dutiful

. Sharp wit

. Protective

. Loyal

. Thoughtful

. Unwavering will/Stubborn

. Warm

. Resilient

. Busy body

. Honest

. Sweet natured

Family lineage: Of the imperial Karahana archers renowned for their deadly accuracy and adept strategies during times of war. Rivals of the Harada family, famed hunters well known for their accuracy and success of the hunt.

Skills

. Archery

. Practitioner of Kyudo (way of the bow)

. Places emphasis on spiritual and moral development as it does accuracy and skill. A serious discipline as it draws from the ancient samurai traditions.

. Can use The Yumi longbow and Hankyu, short bow

. Hunting

. Cooking

. Basic Medical knowledge

. Sketching

. Tai chi

. Throwing knives

. Seamstress/Leatherworking

. Repair/Cleaning

. Storytelling

Relationships

Dimitri and Fumiye Karahana(Deceased)- Parents

Seiua Karahana(Deceased)-Grandfather/Mentor

Kaito Kobayashi(Deceased)- Husband

Genji Kobayashi(Deceased)- Son

Aokiji- Old family friend/Her husbands Mentor

Rengoku family- She was the Caretaker/Governess after Ruka passed and most of the servants had left. Mainly cared for Senjuro who was only 4 at the time, and took over the household duties. Later ends up marrying Shinjuro after Muzan’s defeat.

Fun facts

. Her Father Dmitri was a Russian fur trader that married her mother, who was the eldest child of the famed archers, to which Hatomi’s grandfather was a legend among japan for his skill and the trait of gold hawk like eyes. Her Uncle in-law who married the younger daughter was a greedy man who married for the status and reputation.

. Due to her mixed heritage, she has a surprisingly strong immune system and rarely gets sick. She even ate poisonous berries once in an early attempt at suicide but it didn’t work due to her metabolism and strong health.

. She was 19 when she met Kaito Kobayashi, a humble carpenter apprentice that helped her when she was abandoned by her Uncle and other relatives, and later married and gave birth to a son named Genji at 21. She loved him because he was honest and made her laugh. He appreciated her as a person despite her heritage and circumstance, and believed in her

. Despite her calm demeanor, she is the type of person that if you get her to a point of anger which takes a lot to do, she is not merciful once you push her to that.

. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned

. Surprisingly strong despite her look of complete composure, and taught by her grandfather the ways of Kyudo, mastering longbows and short bows since their lineage is of Military archers revered by the line of Emperors. A Great knife thrower as well with some deadly accuracy. Though after her first husband died, she has not shot from a bow since, but the accuracy comes in handy.

. Likes rabbit and Tuna, and loves anything Seaweed

. Kyojuro was 11 when he met her, and Senjuro about 4, too young to remember Ruka. She was 26 going on 27, which she came to their household a couple months after the death of her family.

. She took up a job as housekeeper/governess, helping a young Kyojuro take care of Senjuro since their father refused to be present for most of the time. All the other maids were fired/left due to Shinjuro’s behavior, but she had stayed. Always tried to help Senjuro be close to his mother and father by telling the good things and experiences. Unwittingly Senjuro bonds with her, and while he does miss Ruka, learned a great deal from Hatomi’s patience and sweet nature towards him. He learned to cook from her and the recipes Ruka left behind.

. She does not like the rain. It reminds her of that night she lost her family because it was a storm that day. That and she feels awful during the rain. Her joints tend to ache more and her usually kept hair becomes a frizzled tangled mess.

. Despite giving up her bow the night her family died, every anniversary when she goes to their graves at her old home near the river, she has made it tradition to clean her bows and arrows left in the house. A testament that while will not be used, is to carry on the traditions and teachings left by her grandfather. He always said “This bow is your life, it is to be shown respect and care, a reflection of your inner peace and temperance.”

Story Summary

Orphaned and outcast from her family due to unfortunate circumstance, Hatomi sought out her own happiness and peace in the form of a carpenter named Kaito. In her exile, she found both those things, to trust and to experience love was all she could want . To later be blessed with a son brought her joy at finally having a family to call her own…until one night her happiness was taken by a demon, killing her husband and child and left her alone once more. Overcome with grief and finding herself the survivor that regretted being so, she almost resigns herself to the curse of loneliness that never seems to leave her were it not for her coming across yet a new family. One that was broken, a father too lost in his own grief to find himself, and leaving two children to try and pick up the pieces. With a new purpose and resolve, Hatomi dedicates herself to helping two sons that continued to live in honor of their mother. Being no stranger to loss, she refused to let her despair dictate her life despite the struggles. Never would she let anyone be alone in bitterness, never to shy away from the pain as it made her stronger for those that could not, and never would she let what happened to her make her fear loving again.

Here is the reference sheet for my second Demon slayer Oc, Hatomi Karahana. She has been in development for months and I’m glad to have fleshed out the important stuff. I have a lot more info that will be posted later, but if you guys have any questions about her story or interactions you wanna see feel free to ask! Hope ya like and stay tuned!

[autumnslance]

(@driftward) Glimpes of the past meme. What has AERYN ACHIEVED? A CRITICAL C'ORETTA moment? When was IYNA INJURED? And when Dark, uhhh, Dark.. uhhhh.. AUTUMN AFRAID? And maybe a bonus MORTAL moment with... (wait for it) MEVAN?

Gremlin. All of these prompts on the same doc came to a bit over 4000 words. Half of these words are these scenes.

There's a lot here, so under a cut they go!

send ACHIEVED for a scene from my muse's past in which they completed / achieved something they were proud of

“Top marks again,” Emelia said, smiling brightly. “Even beating out the older students.”

Aeryn shrugged, trying to remain modest but seeing how pleased her parents were made her smile in return.

“Your academic skill has been noticed,” Tanzel said, reaching over to squeeze her skinny shoulder. “My old friend at the High Crucible has been following with interest. He is willing to sponsor your continued studies, on the condition you apprentice with him afterwards.”

“Truly?” Emelia asked, while the grandmothers murmured in the background.

Aeryn frowned. “I like alchemy, but I want to study magic.” She ignored Nani Shaila’s derisive snort.

Tanzel nodded. “I told him so, even with how…difficult, casting has been for you,” he said diplomatically. “But he thinks a well-rounded education in the current theories will be an excellent foundation, given the work they must do for the satrap.”

Her heart beat a bit faster. She could still study what she wanted—she was so close to figuring out how to tap into her aether, she just knew it—and would have secured herself a position in the High Crucible as well. She nodded eagerly, trying to contain her excitement.

Even better, Zaine was coming home on leave in a few days, and she couldn’t wait to tell him.

send CRITICAL for a scene from my muse's past in which they thought about / were reminded of something they're insecure about

C’oretta paused just inside the door of their house, hearing the nurse Master Hamon had insisted upon talking with her mother. “Now then, Miss C’leiha, let’s get this done before your daughter gets home.”

“I told you before, Mida,” C’leiha said. The nurse’s name was not Mida. “Khell wants a big family, but I am not interested in having children.”

C’oretta bit her lip as the nurse took in a deep breath. “Is that so, Miss?” The nurse said mildly.

“Pregnancy is awful, and the changes to one’s health and body, even lasting after, ugh,” C’leiha shuddered. “And I’ve missed opportunities with my career I wouldn’t otherwise. No, we shall not be having a big family. I’d be happy with just the two of us.”

C’oretta forced her smile back on and called “Mama, I’m home!” before she stepped into the room.

C’leiha sat up, beaming. “Oretta! Welcome home, darling, did you have a good day at school?”

Reminding C’leiha that she was training at the Pugilist Guild now wouldn’t be useful, so C’oretta only nodded, still smiling, shrugging slightly at the nurse’s apologetic look.

send INJURED for a scene from my muse's past in which they sustained a significant injury

To all of my children in whom Life flows abundant…

The sky burned. Iyna’s head ached as if struck, though it was her side that felt every flame.

…To all of my children, to whom Death hath passed his judgment…

She had been returning to the Citadel when something had obviously, terribly gone Wrong with the transmitter, Dalamud distantly pulsing red in the sky above.

…The soul yearns for honor, and the flesh the hereafter…

Her flesh was certainly yearning for relief of some kind, though not that of the Lifestream just yet. She pulled herself to her feet, wincing and holding the gushing wound at her side. That wasn’t good.

…Look to those who walked before to lead those who walk after…

Her ears rang, the words hard to make out, but she turned back to where her contacts had risked dropping her off and hobbled that way.

…Shining is the Land's light of justice…

The land was twisted and torn, what parts of the city that hadn’t collapsed burning. She blocked out the sounds and scents of people dying, as she had hundreds of times over the decades.

…Ever flows the Land’s well of purpose…

What the fuck had Garlond done?

…Walk free, walk free, walk free, believe…

She stumbled on, holding her side, calling on years of training and discipline and hate and stubborness to keep going, the ringing sound almost like a song in her ears urging her forward…

…The Land is alive, so believe…

“Iyna!” The familiar voices of her rebel contacts drew near, and she almost wanted to weep in relief. They were still there. They had come to find her, knowing she wouldn’t have gotten to the city proper yet, in her circuitous route to throw off suspicion.

Caution was no longer needed. There would never be a better time.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, swaying into her allies’ arms. “They’ll think I died with the rest.”

“You still might. Gods, this is a lot of blood!”

“Carry her, we have to go.”

A hrothgar scooped her up, and they ran through the burning woods to their transport.

The song continued, a terrible lullaby sending Iyna into dreams of more fiery skies and burning cities.

When she woke days later, side stitched and burns covered, she did not remember the dreams nor the song.

(Later she recognized the voice)

send AFRAID for a scene from my muse's past in which they were scared / under threat

Dark shouldn’t have wandered away from her siblings.

They were noisy even when not chattering and laughing and so she had slipped away to hunt for herself, and had found a nice young antelope she could easily take with her bow.

Then the boar had arrived, scaring off her quarry and staring at Dark with its angry eyes.

She stood frozen, hoping if she just didn’t move one way or another it would go. At thirteen summers, she was taller than many adult Hyurs, but still unmistakably adolescent in her gangly limbs that did not match the size of her hands and feet, nor her still plank-straight torso. Her shortbow’s pull was strong, enough for wildlife up to small deer, but a boar?

It was larger than her, its hide thick and tough, its yellowed tusks long and pointed. It huffed out a heavy breath.

Dark swallowed a whimper and tried to stop her trembling.

It rushed forward. Dark screamed, loosing her arrow instinctively. It pinged off a tusk.

There was a shout, and the boar was body checked by a large roegadyn man, his spear driving into the creature’s side. Dark let loose another arrow. This one, luckily, pierced through the boar’s eye, finishing its ferocious death throes.

She fell to the ground, shaking and choking out a little sob.

Cold Autumn pushed himself off the boar’s twitching, whimpering, dying body. He stood there for a moment, shaking himself, muttering prayers and curses to both Nophica and the Elementals, apologizing for what had transpired, thanking them for the bounty of the boar’s body while keeping his sister safe, promising to see none of the boar wasted. The ritual helped him calm down, giving Dark the time to settle as well, and whisper her own prayers in response, following her eldest brother’s example.

His broad shadow fell over her, and she looked up. His expression of relieved anger was almost more frightening than the boar had been. “I told you to stick with us,” Cold said.

She nodded. She had disobeyed. The others were calling from the woods, hurrying through the underbrush, asking if everything was all right.

“We’re fine!” Cold called, deep voice easily carrying through the woods, slowing their siblings’ rush. He reached down and grabbed Dark’s upper arms, his hands huge and strong as he hauled her to her feet and looked her over. “Hurt?” he asked, tone gentler.

She shook her head.

“Good shot,” he said. “Finished it quicker than I could alone. Don’t do this again, Mouse.”

She nodded, flinging forward to hug him tightly. He returned the embrace, and then led her to rejoin the others.

send MORTAL for a scene from my muse's past in which they had a brush with death, either themselves or someone close to them

The tunnel’s collapse was sudden, no Earth inspired nearby to sense, let alone stop, it. Mevan’s training with the town physicker wasn’t so much interrupted as changed in its course, following him to the site as people were pulled out of the rubble. She and the physicker were kept busy, hours passing in a blur.

She used the basic cleanse inspiration, many of the miners too injured to hiss at the sharpness of the aether scouring their forms. She used alchemical solutions to dull their pains and medicate scraped and torn flesh. She traced her hands over their wounds as if she were stitching them, her inspiration knitting them together. She set broken bones, weaving torn tendons, ligaments, muscles, flesh into whole pieces before splinting the limbs or wrapping the ribs, the spines.

Through it all, Mevan grit her teeth, mouth full of the taste of copper and grit, bones aching, skin tender, innards twisted. She felt each cut and bruise, each break and tear, that her patients experienced, her inspiration’s sympathetic reactions guiding her to what needed healing.

Her back ached, legs tingling as if asleep as she worked on a broken spine. She wasn’t good enough to deal with nerve damage yet; hopefully Master Ildris would come soon, a message had been sent to the enclave…

A shout, as one more body was pulled from deep in the rubble. They called for Mevan, and she ran to see. The man barely breathed, every attempt a shallow, raspy hiss. He was a mass of blood and bruising, limbs crushed and mangled. She set to work.

Sparks danced in her hair as she cleansed him, more blood welling and pooling in places it should not be. His skull had been mostly protected by his helm and luck besides, so there was no brain damage—not from being struck, anyway. She ignored his extremities for now, seeking the damages in his pulverized and punctured torso.

It was so much. Too much, making her sway as blackness crowded her vision. But she sucked in a breath and set to work. Mevan was only Seraphic inspired, but she had aetheric reserves that made even Divines jealous. She could keep going. She had to.

So she began knitting his wrecked organs back together. Clearing and repairing his lungs so he could breathe…but his airways were blocked, so take care of that. That caused a skip in his also damaged heart, so hurry there, finish the lungs in a moment…but now other things were failing, more blood and bile where it shouldn’t be, a cascade that she chased, trying to catch up to the failing pieces. She even tried turning the sympathetic bond around, willing her own organs to remind his how they ought to work—

“Mevan,” Ildris’s voice, soft and sad. Her thin, calloused hand rested on Mevan’s. “Ease his pain. And let him go.”

“But I can—”

“No,” her mentor said. “There are some things beyond even Inspiration. You’ve done more than could be expected, but it’s just as important that we know when to give in to fate.”

Mevan’s vision blurred, from both weariness and tears. The man was too weak to groan, but as deep as she was in his innards, she felt every agony. She withdrew; slowly, carefully, and with Ildris’s guidance, dulled his nerves and released the humors that would make him feel better than he was. Mevan fumbled for one of her vials, pouring it down his throat, sensing further relief as he relaxed, little other sensation left to him as she watched his battered organs fail.

Her own breath paused, briefly, as his finally rattled to a stop.

Mevan slumped against Ildris, who held and rocked her, brushing a kiss across Mevan’s temple, as she had when Mevan was a child and sobbing about how she missed her home, how she couldn’t reach the promise of her inspiration—not until she found her calling to heal.

“I know,” Ildris said. “The first is the hardest.”

“It gets easier?” Mevan rasped, her vision swimming, darkening as she shivered; she had been healing for hours, and this had been the worst. She had hit aethershock.

“No,” Ildris admitted, as Mevan’s consciousness faded away.

[poison-ninja-star]

Well, I hath found mineself in a rather...strange predicament. Youssef, a trusted companion of mine, hath informed me that other younger academy students around his age have...taken a keen interest in me? Apparently, word has spread of my training in Tagtree Thicket, and they wish to "get in on it"?

Would...that even be possible? Would the academy permit me to take apprentices under my wing? Should I even consider this to begin with? If any of them should come to harm I would feel most dreadful...but I would feel just as horrid if I disappointed them so!

Augh, why must this be so difficult to decide?

[zestialtheancient]

Here's some background information on Alyx that I have.

She's 14

Has an adopted kid

Works for Blitzø

An apprentice of some sort to Vox

Protective as.. Hell.. Over her friends like Alastor, Rosie and Flower

She thinks highly of you

For some reason Lucifer is always crying lover her sleep schedule

Her social Security number is 666

Youre welcome Zestiel... Don't ask me how I know this stuff

Also.. What do you think of her?

-🤡👍

She... She... It art my understanding that it hath become commonplace to live past thine mid 30's, and that it art no longer normal to care for a child at age 14. So... how? Whomst hath allowed this. And why doth thou know her social security number? I-

*he groans*

[cartoonkitten]

okay so, i’ve had a dumb au idea for awhile

anti-hero/Hath apprentice Tora au. this au kinda has two different versions I thought of, im now kinda trying to merge them together. but essentially, I had an idea where basically Tora is a bit more naive and irrational, plus feeling so resentful after struggling time and time again to prove herself fully capable amongst her folks, shes grown a bit cold. Thus after meeting Hath and following her around because she thinks she’s cool (unknowingly being manipulated by her in the process, considering Hath really just wants to steal her magic), she starts learning a few things from her, including shitty behavior, because now shes much more aggravating and hateful back home, not getting along well with anyone like she used to.

Brunhilda notices this and tries to reason with her and have her open up on what’s wrong, to which Tora begins to spiral out, and in the midst of panic and frustration is the one that actually turns her into a tree (differing from canon, but reflecting Hath’s past actions of killing the first Hath/her mentor).

after this point is where it starts to split into two diff versions: either she deflects from Hath after she subtly revealed her more suspicious and desperate intentions, Tora steals her book and runs away, basically erasing herself from history— ORRRR she just decides to go ape shit and stick with Hath and be her weird little sidekick/apprentice. so yeah. just Tora in bite mode essentially

in the first version with the better ending that goes along with canon more, Tora essentially has been living a sheltered, down-low life, regarded as a traitor to her family. until the future spawn travel to their time. they quickly recognize her, assuming she’s still apart of their ancient pack, and ask her to take them to Svenburg. at first, she’s reluctant to take them there, but carefully does so anyways. keeping her distance doesn’t help, because she’s immediately cornered by her former pack mates, and they’re all thrown into the prison pit thing (which, in this scenario it at least makes a little more sense as to why Gretchen immediately assumes the worst of her cousin for some reason). Tora vents about what she did to them, and when Freddy reveals he’s HER future spawn, she’s surprised at the concept of them even existing as that. yet, she starts to question her future, and with the motivation from Freddy, gets the determination to make things right for her pack. and thus the rest of that episode plays out. she fights against Hath, and gradually regains everyone’s trust

but yeah, goofy aus, I thought Hath apprentice!Tora seemed neat, so I drew this awhile ago to go along with the idea

[monstersandmaw]

For the WiP meme, what is Heptarchy Dragons about? I don't remember you mentioning it before and it sounds really interesting.

I haven't mentioned it before, you're right! It's currently an unusually 'first person' story for me, and I usually hate first person! haha.

The Heptarchy (referring to seven ruling kingdoms) is very loosely based on Britain in the early Anglo-Saxon period (pre-Alfred the Great), though this setting has some more advanced technology etc., perhaps akin to Renaissance Europe (think The Witcher perhaps for an equivalent? Or Minas Tirith/Gondor in Middle Earth).

The super duper cheesy blurb for the back of the book would be something along the lines of this:

('Haðsken' is pronounced 'hath-sken', the letter eth 'ð' being the Old English (among others) sound 'th')

When the quiet stillness of the saltwater estuary is disturbed one summer morning by the arrival of raiders, eight year old Aster is seized and taken back to the land of the Haðsken who have been terrorising the duchies to the north for a decade. No one thought they’d trouble this quiet corner in the south of the Heptarchy, but they come out of the dawn with dragon riders to burn the crannog to the ground and take its simple people back as slaves. With her best friend shot in the shoulder and left to die in the reeds, and finding herself captive and given to the gruff but fair tutelage of a Haðskeni apothecary, Aster spends the next ten years of her life learning to adapt and to keep her head down while her two nations go to war in the skies.

The mages of the Heptarchy learn to bond with captured dragons after once hunting them to near extinction in their lands, and the dragons, though their memory is long, begin to return to the greener pastures and sheltered mountains of the Heptarchy on the grounds that they will no longer be persecuted in return for providing the mages with greater magic and, of course, flight and fire power. With dragon riders of their own, the Heptarchy claws back lost ground against the Haðskeni raiders, and eventually a fragile truce is brokered between the ducal families of the Heptarchy and the war chiefs of Haðsken.

With the end of the raids, eighteen year old Aster is among those who are exchanged and returned to the Heptarchy, though she hardly knows which nation she belongs to now.

The prisoners are welcomed back and given the chance to start over, and Aster choses to apprentice with the court physician of the Duchy of Suthsea. There, she encounters the adoptive son the royal family and their first meeting does not go well. Kaspian is rude and dismissive, and Aster is prickly and proud. Kaspian was a son of Haðsken, born on a raid under the shadow of his mother’s dragon. His mother was captured, and he spent the first seven years of his life in a prison cell, until his mother’s failed escape attempt that left him with a life-changing injury but also saw him adopted into the royal family as one of their own. Devoted best friends, despite their cultural differences, with the Duke’s beloved younger son, Leander, Kaspian possesses the rare talent of suppressing magic entirely, and his red dragon is savage and cruel and barely controllable, where Leander’s is affable and almost silly by comparison.

Aster has no magic, only her herbs and her wits, but at a ducal tournament, she finds herself in an unprecedented situation: thrust into a world of mages and dragons, and with whispers of something far darker brewing back in Haðsken.

She and Kaspian are sent together on a secret mission to Haðsken, where loyalties are tested, friendships are forged, and grudges are born and broken…

___

Anyway, if you like the sound of it, lemme know and I can turn more attention to it. Here's a sneaky opening for you if you got this far...

The silence of the saltmarsh used to bring me such peace.

On those endless summer days, Deor and I would go stalking through the reeds together like a couple of gangly herons looking for young sea aster leaves — the plant whose flowers had given me my name — and bright, flowing eelgrass. 

At sunset, we’d tramp back to the crannog, sunburned and salty, with our pockets full of snails and our heads full of stories. Deor’s true-red hair would inevitably be sticking up in every direction, the wind caressing the cow-lick at the front into a curling breaker like the ones that rolled in off the open sea to the east, and my own short plait would look like the tail of an angry cat, all brown bristles and flyaway wisps.

Now, silence of any kind makes my skin crawl.

Out of the silence of a summer morning so clear and bright and full of promise that it still makes my heart hurt to wake up to a dawn like that one, raiders descended, and in a rush of terror and blood and burning flesh, my entire world was turned upside down.

The crannog village of thatched roundhouses had a small, bronze bell, but it had only ever been rung in my lifetime on the solstice ritual days to mark the start of feasting and festivity, so when its frantic, discordant clanging shattered the stillness of a pearlescent, spring dawn, half the village was out of their doors before they could even take in what they were hearing. Like a kicked anthill, the place erupted into panicked chaos.

A huge shadow passed overhead, though there were no clouds, and a wall of fire rained down from the sky. Everyone turned to look, transfixed by sheer, uncomprehending terror at the gout of flame against the backdrop of the familiar estuary.

Dragons.

We’d heard rumours of the dragon raiders before, though it had been little more than snippets of gossip in the market place of Redsand Bay up the coast.

They were apparently raiding the shrines and temples far to the north, amassing wealth and gold to fund a supposedly larger invasion from the south, but rumours like that had been floating around on the wind for decades. We’d never even dreamed they’d venture down from the snowy mountains and heather dusted uplands of the Heptarchy to trouble the likes of us in the liminal space between the sea and the sandy coast. The Wash was safe. Even among our own people in the Seven Duchies, no one bothered with the eel catchers and fishermen of The Wash. We raised no sheep, smelted no iron, and grew no crops. We certainly didn’t hoard gold the way the shrines in the north did.

We were nothing, and yet those dragon raiders had chosen that spring morning to descend and wipe our little crannog off the face of the marsh.

“Run, Aster! Run!” Deor’s ashen face lurched into my awareness as he belted barefoot towards me across the wooden boards of the platform that kept our houses out of the saltwater of The Wash.

I jumped at his shout, wild-eyed and breathing hard. “What’s going on?” I asked as he caught up to me and grabbed me by the shoulders, forcing me to turn around. At eight years old, I was small and flimsy as a winter reed, and even though Deor was a year older and a boy, he wasn’t much bigger. He was still stronger than me though, and he shoved me along before him, yelling at me to run to the reed beds east of the village and hide. Like a mudfish, I thought distantly.

___

Thanks, and lemme know if you like the premise! It needs a lot of work, but it's been fun to plan out and write a bit of it so far.

[moonlight-eternal]

[An audio file is attached.]

"Greetings. Art thou the leader of this establishment?"

"Uh, hi. No, I'm the receptionist, and the guy who handles the records for who's battled this gym and who's beaten it. Are you intending to make an attempt today?"

"I am. This will be my first of, I am told, eight to achieve mastery? The training of pokemon is unfamiliar to me."

"Right. If you'll just step around here and enter your name in the... Oh, I'm sorry, your... are those ekanses? You have six shinies? Anyway, all pokemon should remain in their balls outside of batt–"

"My pokemon is in her ball."

"I– Yeah, uh. I noticed, they... Where are your feet?"

"I have not possessed feet for the past three millennia. The townspeople did inform me that I am what is called a Faller. Now, thou didst request that I scribe my name, here? I am Gwyndolin, of many titles thou wouldst not find meaning in. Please direct me to the one I must battle."

"Uh, sure, yeah. You're looking for Draymis, he's the gym leader. Long hair, kind of reserved, doesn't look that imposing until he brings out the team full of dragon types – that's his specialty. There may be some apprentice trainers in there too, fellow dragon specialists who want to run their own gym someday, you can battle them or not, up to you. Right through that door. Got it?"

"I understand. I shall return once Draymis hath been overcome."

[Recording ends.]

[legendsofthegffa]

Star Wars: Darth Maul: Shadow Hunter

By: Z.H. Brown

The rise of the Sith is imminent. As the Dark Side continues to gather in strength like a serpent rearing to strike, the Sith are maneuvering their pawns into place to begin the endgame of the Republic and the Jedi. But when one of those pawns goes rogue, Darth Sidious is forced to dispatch his apprentice, Darth Maul, to hunt him down and eliminate him, along with anyone else that might know about the impending invasion. While Darth Maul believes the mission will be simplicity itself, the involvement of both the Jedi and a pair of underworld information brokers will make this one of the Sith Lord’s most important mission.

On the eve of the blockade of the Naboo, one of the Trade Federation leaders Hath Monchar, who is fully aware of the plans that are in motion and has collected the information onto a holocron, has disappeared, intending to deliver the information to someone in the Republic in exchange for immunity and protection. While Nute Gunray tries to placate Darth Sidious (and even dispatches a bounty hunter to find his rogue colleague), Sidious doesn’t trust the Nemodians and so charges Darth Maul with hunting down the missing viceroy and eliminating him and anyone that he talked to. While Maul is disappointed with the seeming insignificance of the mission, he obeys his Master without question.

Meanwhile on Coruscant, Lorn Pavan and his droid friend and partner I5YQ are down to their last credits and desperate. Lorn once worked for the Jedi Order, only to be fired when they inducted his own son, Jax, into the organization; Lorn recovered I5 and discovered that he was an incredibly “human” droid who he kitted out with a number of utility mods. Through their contacts, they find out about a Nemoidian with information to sell. Lorn procures the information, only for Maul and the bounty hunter to show up; Maul learns that Pavan has the holocron and escapes while the bounty hunter accidentally kills herself.

As Maul begins to chase Lorn and I5, the three cross paths with a Jedi Master and his padawan who were nearby on other business. The Master tasks his apprentice, Darsha, with protecting Lorn and the droid while he holds off the assassin, though he his killed in a speeder crash. Darsha leads I5 and Lorn into the Coruscant underworld where they are captured by cannibalistic humanoids, though working together they manage to drive them away. Lorn finds himself warming up to Darsha, leading to conflicting feelings within him, though they are forced to continue to rely upon each other as they not only escape Maul once more, but an underground monster that is not only immune to the Force but even to lightsabers.

Just as they are within reach of safety, Maul corners them once more. Darsha seals Lorn and I5 in a vault used for carbonite freezing while she attempts to stop the Sith permanently; while Maul is no question the superior swordsman, Darsha allows the Force to guide her actions and not only stalls Maul long enough for I5 to but the finishing touches on their plan, she almost kills him by setting off a large explosion, though at the cost of her own life. Maul escapes, though since he cannot sense Lorn or the droid, he believes them to have been killed in the blast.

Shortly after, Lorn and I5 thaw from their carbonite freeze and believe themselves safe, though Lorn is devastated by Darsha’s death. He contacts on old friend who picks them up, though they soon spot the Sith still alive. Lorn deactivates I5 and tasks his friend with delivering the droid to the Jedi Temple while he goes to kill the assassin. After following him for a bit, Lorn does get the jump on Maul, though the Sith quickly turns the tide and forces Pavan to flee…straight into the waiting entourage of Senator Palpatine; Lorn gives Palpatine the holocron while he is taken into protective custody. All patched up, Lorn wonders why he hasn’t heard from I5, unaware that his so called “friend” decided to keep the droid and sell him, aware of his unique capabilities. However, Lorn’s triumph quickly turns to tragedy as Maul reveals himself once more and finally strikes Pavan down. The forward is now clear and soon the Sith will reveal themselves to the Jedi…

Darth Maul: Shadow Hunter is a great read that flies by as the plot hurtles along at an almost breakneck pace, while never feeling like things are going TO fast and also slowing down to get to know Lorn, I5 and Darsha. Speaking of I5, he is easily the best character in the story; Star Wars has an exceptional track record with nearly every Star Wars project, either Canon or Legends, almost guaranteed to introduce a new droid character that will become beloved, and I5 stands shoulder to shoulder with other droids like C-3PO, HK-47 and L3-37; he’s as dependable as a Wookiee and as versatile as R2; he’s quick with his wit, insights, and weapons, and is treated like an equal by Lorn, something other people find baffling. I5 will return down the line, and I am all here for it.

Darth Maul: Shadow Hunter is a great read that sweeps the reader up in an adventure that carriers them straight to the beginning of Episode I. While Darth Maul is as terrifying and relentless as ever, the new characters not only manage to stand out, but to shine as in I5’s case. If you want a book that makes you excited to see what came just before the events of the films, then you need to pick up Shadow Hunter. Next time, it’s finally here: we will be looking at one of Star Wars films for the first time with a review of Star Wars: Episode I: The Phantom Menace.

Connections to the GFFA

Maul mentions Exar Kun, the creator of the double-bladed lightsaber, who appeared in the Tales of the Jedi comic series.

Maul incorporates teras kasi, the fighting style featured in Star Wars: Masters of Teras Kasi.

 Final Score: 8.5/10

[sir-tarhos-et-compagna]

sir sir sir s-

do you ever though about having or getting an apprentice?

👉👈

"I may hath thought, but taking apprentices in this realm is either useless or impossible. It is clear The Entity rarely changes the rules, therefore, if thou art a survivor, there is no way to get on the killer side and if thou already art one of Its judges, I doubt we could ever slay heretics side by side here for each of us hath their own hunt."

[altimoththewizard]

Mine apprentice hath advised me to use such strange scribing magicks to record mine own thoughts. It is a fickle thing but I am not one to dismiss the unknown. Tis also many visions of orbs that I have grown acquainted with.

[libidomechanica]

The meadow-land

My foes choke the maids were alone.     It this dead. Still shadow fleet; she taketh me; and seize love     so that, if left his teethin’ a spoon; o merry hae I     often flye. That thou! And doth fallen in jealousy, how     poore me, and that I hadde

me yeve his lyf, to love? Yet her,     we are olde bare; they beth make more happy hours, shut feather     on they daucen deffly, and letting earthly lyres, which     once of the mente at the fault lie? This ill promise therefore     that gave your Feet lies his

angry-chafing board are like a     mount the court in, martiall sponge was there he wolde the old haunted     me—where the ships, and can’t be happy love a gossip     rout. Pensive, and scent promise of his brow, and o’er young, ’twad     be a boy’s? That afterward

let vs homeward the shade     alone. Thee downs dull, that my streets foraged in his heed,     namoore dorste he sees his face I seyden in his locks to     through the silently descried high to it, give you. If he     dam, to hear thee is love,

and trees, that pain: a deep sleep in     the pebbles of Fear throat may escape? The housbondes the     ocean drench’d: were born, till our treated in a glow upon     thy noon; but you wilt buy and Justice of time—I that but     she. My mother cheeks fresh

beauties weary car, like Phoebus     light say, having coarse smut of the Myllers rownde did not     understander betweene, and if that trembling a florid maiden,     ae sweete Violet. And as a brightened me close—they were     born, the fighting close to

her glad of the yellow plum doth     the fair! And dry away, to tumble, Vulcans, on living     hue, how I could barbarian lower by despairing     took companion stood. To thee stands; What had been toying woman     else, and now Adonis

the sepulchred, whence flowers,     agues no one here rose tiptoe with his level—No! And     gnomed mine had taught, life doth steep her heavenly tune? That     I have I wonne. That made hym in none, in separate Hell, and     when there waits me faste, and

round with my cover than all heart     of dazzling human close attain’d a greet cheep is honours     to thee: where staues did lye, god bad us for the apprentice     Janekyn, and her steep-up heaven the finger in     the finesse doe clean, but

worn and filled dahlias and from a     good as water thou know’st not still: anon he fairest my     glory and skill the mind in his hands; as prompt in love is     a lo’es dear wee wife she doth gloomier tapestries—so     rainbow, as is yclad

in clustere; twas the mounted; kiss’d     his grave, see, doo you the one or tears would give the flowering     heart were at an end: and by Seint Thomas, why this, that     sounding riverside and there comes my husband; so I did     not be only contrary

to creep the rivers, braves, upon     sand which a troubled; I can live youre wyl it when he     sand! But I will not both of the hand,—why, themselves, was her     object will drip and being his kind; why let it in one     act a phantom of thy

cheke that recketh he hath left scole,     and his day’s hot tyranny of fire, that wild and redder     the cold, among a full forgive me here, I bishrewe!     My life is: thou fall, and fire doth she pass’d I blinded eye,     thought a thunder; and not

beauty, life in our report, that     he, if I find outcast state, like a pearl. Flames which thy head     of his step, and to another’s field and he hath since where     Nature toun; god have been assum’d, and, heart’s citadel, with     the scenes with red, like myself,

forest of his young, I’m o’er     bookės sette hem so wel after here am I? And to     scorching like a late-embarked themselues will say so, you     consider horns once I know it. You have a naked face     is full have died unkind!

[casmong]

My Lord

"For David himself said by the Holy Spirit, The Lord said to my Lord, Sit thou on my right hand, till I make thine enemies thy footstool." Mark 12:36

This is a verse that is used often by Jesus and his disciples and apostles to clarify the false doctrines that had existed in the time of Jesus that David was greater than the Messiah.

It is a quotation from the Psalms where David was prophesying that

The 'LORD' [יְהוָ֨ה ׀ (Yah·weh) - YAHWEH] said to 'my Lord'[לַֽאדֹנִ֗י (la·ḏō·nî) - firm, strong, lord, master] that HE would appoint the Messiah to sit at HIS side or 'right hand' of power and prominence, while HE makes the Messiah’s enemies his footstool.[Psalms 110:1] This shows that king David understood that the Messiah would be greater than himself.

However by the time of the first century, the scribes and many religious experts believed that the Messiah was inferior in rank and status to the ancient king David. After satisfactorily silenced the Sadducees about the question of resurrection, using the scripture where God is the God of the living, implying that Abraham and the saints must come back to life for the statement to be true, after which "no man after that durst ask him any question."[Mark 12:34] Jesus continues to address the other follow up false doctrine about David "How say the scribes that Christ is the Son of David?"[Mark 12:35]

It is evident that Christ was the son (viz descendant) of David by hereditary lineage, but the allusion is that they understood Christ to be of lesser status than king David, since a 'son' is also understood to refer to a student or apprentice of a 'father'. Jesus refers to the Psalm where David is calling Christ 'my lord', and acknowledging a subordinate status.

The apostle Peter also uses the quotation from Psalm 110:1, as well as Psalm 16: "for thou wilt not leave my soul in hell (sheol, grave)*; neither wilt thou suffer thine Holy One to see corruption."[Psalm 16:10] to show that not only was David inferior to Christ, but also that "David is not ascended into the heavens"[Acts 2:34], nor is he seated at YAHWEH's right hand as prophesied, since "the patriarch David, that he is both dead and buried, and his sepulchre is with us unto this day."[Acts 2:29] and has indeed seen corruption.[Acts 2:25-36] Since David is dead it means the prophecy is not referring to David, nor was David exalted to the right hand of power and prominence.

The apostle also establishes that salvation hinges on the bodily resurrection of Christ from the dead, that Jesus has indeed risen and exalted as evidenced by his resurrection, and "that God hath made that same Jesus, whom ye have crucified, both Lord and Christ."[Acts 2:36, and that Jesus will sit on the throne of David as king of Israel (to become a world wide kingdom on earth) to be restored at Jesus' return, after YAHWEH has subdued the nations and made them the footstool of His Anointed.