#haunted rotten sacred

[im-657-mv]

100 ways

yandere spirit emperor nakamoto yuta

[inspired by 100 ways - jackson wang]

word count: 1578

They say there was a battle. Nearly all have heard of it, spoken it, and understood it.

Approximately a hundred years ago, there was an emperor. Someone of great power, someone of magic and sorcery. Some tried to deny his power, hoping to water down the fear that he still truly invokes inside us all. Because even in death, he still haunts the minds of the people, his reign never truly ending.

They say he drove kings to madness, women into widows, and children into orphans. They say he turned his enemies into trees. The Warriors of the Forest are what he called them. As an act of revenge, he tortured and commanded the spirits to serve him even after their death, showing no peace nor mercy. A slave to his name, his Forest of the Damned.

But the people rose up. Tired of his dynasty, tired of his legacy. So they came together and overcame the emperor, slitting his throat in the very forest he created. His reign was over. The pain, the loss, and the bloodshed were finally over. But the people never recovered.

Rumors spread among others hearing his name being spoken through the leaves of his trees in the Forest of the Damned. Or his deceitful laugh being heard amongst the gust of the wind as it picked up. Some believed these "ghost stories", others did not. You couldn't wrap your head around something as peculiar as the supernatural. It seemed impossible for a spirit to haunt a forest.

Yes, the stories are true, and it as real as the scars it left behind, but rumors are simply just rumors. There's no such thing as ghosts or spirits, and that's what you were going to prove.

The sun was setting, creating a hue of warm colors as night braced itself for return. Orange, red, and yellow painted the sky as you headed in the direction of the sacred forest. You wanted to prove these sightings wrong, that there was no such thing as spirits.

The forest was dead silent as the whispers of the leaves swayed in the seemingly peaceful atmosphere. You felt calm, almost. As if there was nothing to truly fear.

Everything seemed so normal.

But the deeper you traveled the darker things seemed to get. The once bright sky was replaced with the haunting moon's shadow. The trees that were once peaceful and full of life now seemed to diminish in numbers. Now they've turned rotten, dead, and eerie. With the addition of fog, everything became sinister. Everything seemed... alive.

The trees groaned as if begging for the light to return. And the crows cawed, warning you not to travel any further. But most importantly the wind picked up, bringing goosebumps all along your arms. You shivered at the feeling of the cold picking at your skin and cursed yourself for deciding to prove these rumors false.

A little time went by of the occasional fright and by the time you knew it the scenery had all changed.

Instead of the dead gruesome type of branches, there were now beautiful orange leaves that graced them. No longer did they feel sinister they felt peaceful at last. This forest had changed, and it had left you feeling safe among the bright colors.

"Wow..." You had whispered and the same gust of wind picked up echoing something unexpected. A laugh. An empty vile chuckle that left you stopping dead in your tracks.

Frozen in place you scanned the area, looking for something, anyone that could have made that sound. But all you saw were trees. Endless in sight, no one was there.

Carefully you started to lightly step, but there it was again. That laugh. It was breathy and full of something that seemed to unwillingly call to you. The leaves began to shake violently in sight as the wind increased, pushing you forward in its chosen path.

But you could see something, in the distance shrouded in light, was a figure. It seemed like it was waiting for you.

"Come to me..." The wind called as his hand reached out the leaves above fluttering around his aura. This time you didn't fight it. willing you walked faster, curious as to who he was. Everything about him, it, was a mystery. The halo that surrounded him, the leaves that whirled in a circle growing wider as you came nearer, and him... He seemed godly.

You shouldn't have, but your curiosity overcame your logic.

"Who are you?" You murmured as you stepped into his rushing circle of leaves, watching as his body of light took form. Face to face he seemed to watch your confused expression in satisfied glee.

"An emperor..." He sang drawing you closer as his hands rose from his sides forming a sequence of movements that you seemed controlled to copy at his will, your will.

"A god..." He whispered against your face as he became clearer and clearer. His movements stopped and so did yours as he became what he once was... alive. Full of flesh and bones, no longer just a shadow or a form of light put together by dead leaves, but a man capable of doing what he set out to do.

Your eyes widened as his appearance struck a chord in your heart and mind. The stories, the legends, the history...

"Y-your,"

"Call me Yuta." He spoke as his voice was no longer a rasp but something that oozed life. His eyes sparkled, gleamingly at your shaking appearance. He knew his effect on you, and he certainly enjoyed it.

"How could I ever repay you?" His mouth slithered into a knowing smirk, his tone condescending.

"Oh Y/N..." His warm hand danced across your face, painting it with his fingertips.

"Thank you..." His hands traveled down to your neck...

"You saved me from this eternal prison."

"Please... Don't hurt my people." You managed to say against his scrutinizing gaze.

"Oh baby..." His smile turned downward.

"I have spent years trapped, caged to a place of my making. Year after year, day after day I lay waiting for a mere soul like yours to come to aid me. And here you are, asking for me to spare your friends." A mischievous grin shined across his features.

"Maybe if you beg... I'll consider it. So beg. Beg for me, Y/N. Beg for your friend's lives."

"Pl-"

"On your knees." With fearful eyes, you watched as his grin doubled in size, his shining teeth appearing before you. Slowly you assumed the position, landing on your knees before him. The devil from the stories countless have told you, enjoying the sight of a pretty soul like yours kneeling at his very command.

"Please, Yuta," You said as your gaze traveled downward, tears sliding down your face. "I-"

"Look at me, Y/N." Slim fingers gripped your downcasted face, moving it harshly towards him. The same breathy laugh escaped his lips.

"Look at me when you beg."

"I beg of you, Yuta..." His finger whipped your tear, taking the essence into his mouth, groaning at the taste.

"Don't kill my friends..." Eyes of lust looked down upon you, admiring your fearful face.

"It's almost as of you're purposefully tempting me," His hand crawled onto the back of your scalp grasping your hair tightly.

", with your innocent gaze, the tears that feed my years of hunger, and of course..." His other hand moved toward your lips, shoving two fingers unwilling into your mouth, "... who could resist a pretty (boy/girl) like you."

More tears cascaded down as his laugh echoed throughout the forest, removing his hands from both your hair and mouth.

"Here's what," He kneeled down at eye level with you, "how about we make a trade?" You nodded scared to say no.

"What would you give to save those you love?"

"Anything." You gasped desperately.

"Give me your life." He whispered erotically in your face, daring you to say no to him. Looking into his eyes you searched for a way around this. For the sake of your village, for your people, you knew this was the only way...

"Okay..." You whispered as more and more tears poured from your eyes. You were frightened. The only feeling was pure unfiltered fear as you thought of what this meant for you. If he was even going to keep his end of the deal. It was too late... you were his...

"Oh my poor pretty soul, don't cry." He uttered taking you into his arms of iron.

"I promise," He declared into your ear, "they will have quick death, a painless one thanks to you."

"No no no no-" You blubbered on and on into his shoulder as your pathetic wails fell upon his deaf ears.

And there again goes his laugh louder and bolder as you keened and begged for him to save them.

"Please, please, please, Yuta, please-"

"Shhh- My conquest has only just begun."

Yuta rose up taking you in his arms as he made his way deeper into the ever growing forest as the trees formed into the land that was once at his command.

But the only thing you could think of was the lives you had just taken with your foolish choice. This is because of you. If not for your curiosity he would still be trapped.

You were wrong. The supernatural exist. And now you have to pay the consequences of your foolish ambition.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Dungeon: The Cankerwood House

The near disastrous collapse of a mine in the moorlands leads to the discovery of a network of tunnels winding deep into the earth, apparently carved out by the spread of a multitude of unnatural, withered trees as they’ve grown towards the surface. Descending to find the source of this corruption, the party stumble across an inexplicable sight: a grand manor house occupying a deep and inhospitable cavern, rotten roots springing from its beams and foundations.

More than decay haunts this ancient home, so the party will need to watch their step before they too become apart of the tragedy that lingers within.

Background: Tragedy is the heart of many parables. The terrible fates of the unwise, unlucky, or unkind  that serve to reinforce a moral lesson. How awful it must be then to become a lesson, not a person remembered for who you were but a mistake, made over and over again with each retelling.

The folk of the high hills could tell you such a tale, of the life and mistakes of one Helena Ornith, a girl born too pretty for her own good. If you listen to the story as it’s most often told, Helena was the daughter of a pair of farmers, who had suitors lined up out door and all the way to the fence looking for their daughter’s hand. Helena however was picky, she ignored the matches her parents favoured or the lovestruck beaus with their wildflowers and instead entertained wealthy gentleman who could bring her frivolities from afar. One day a man showed up with a handsome black carriage and a boast that he could beat the gift of any suitor, though the exact number of these challengers and what they offered changes depending on the teller. A grower with a profitable orchard is outbid by a bushel of fruit all made of gemstones, a hard working and heartfelt veteran-farmer is outpaced by a bull that never tired of the plow and sensed trespassers in the night, an honest cloth merchant with a pretty dress is outdone by a shawl that could become any garment imaginable. Sensing that there is something wrong with the man in the black cartridge, Helena’s parents forbid her from entertaining him only to have her run off with him in the night. Following the tracks of the carriage across the countryside, the couple and their neighbours find that the trail winds off the road, and into a maw like and bottomless pit that had not been there the day before. Helena, in her stubbornness and pride, had held out for the only suitor that could have satisfied her impossible standards... a supernatural creature that grew tired of her mortal wavering and dragged her down to it’s lightness lair when it decided to make up her mind for her.

The true history is a little different, The Orniths were indeed country folk, but had done well enough that by the time Helena was born her parents had plenty of farms and enough wealth to have others do most of the tilling for them. They had always taught Helena that she was a prize, one worthy only of the one able to bring the best advantage to the family.  One of the properties they owned had an old tree, one that Helena would take shelter under when she was tired of her endless social obligations as alone amid it’s branches was the only place she could truly speak her mind.  What no one could have known ( save perhaps the family who the Orniths had badgered off the land) was that tree was once a sacred thing, blessed by the fey, and like all fey things it existed half in the waking world, and half in the world of wonders. Helena spoke of the faults of her suitors, and the feywild listened, she poured out her fantasies and the feywild gave them shape, and when she whispered of her desire to leave her life behind, the feywild sent a black carriage to fetch her away.

Whether Helena was happy after she eloped is impossible to say. Faerie has a way of twisting good to bad and bad to good, and like a parable the original details can become lost in their own echo. The house she had imagined for herself so full of life became a living, parasitic thing. Her infatuation with her betrothed became obsession, caustic and tempestuous.  Their marriage bond a chain that bound her to their hearth no matter how far into the caverns she walked. As her story refused to fade, it metastasized, poisoned by the imaginings of others, until the house grew roots and began seeking upward like a seed, poisoning the land as the people on it poisoned her memory.

Challenges & Complications:

Getting down to Cankerwood house is more than a simple descent, as the party will not just have to navigate caverns, but a jump into the subterranean reaches of the feywild.  Beasts of the deep earth are joined by vampiric root monsters, twigblights, and dryads driven to madness with rot and sorrow.

Perhaps most dangerous threat is the spirit of Helena Ornith herself,  her spirit stretched thin and wraithlike as the chain that links her to her prison stretches the distance with more links. Immortal thanks to her time in farie, The closer she gets to the surface, the more disoriented and monsterous she becomes, and the party will likely have clashed with her once or more by the time they find the house itself. Only within the bounds of the house will she lose her ghostly qualities and regain her faculties, atleast until the timeless nature of the feywild takes over and she loses herself once again. 

The house itself is a maze, rotten rooms folding in on eachother as only a strucuture in faerie can. Here all the treasures and horrors of Helena’s parable wait, from an orchard of gemstones to a rampaging guardian bull. Helena’s suitor likewise wanders the space, as much a prisoner as her, shifting between inhuman monster, sadistic rake, and charming rescuer without warning. This last persona desperately wants to aid in Helena’s escape, and will do his best to aid the party inbetween fits of possessive cruelty.

There is more at work in Cankerwood house than simply the cruel whims of the feywild, Zuggtmoy, demon queen of rot and regret has taken hold of Helena’s tale, sustaining the story by sapping life from the land through the spreading roots. As the party progresses, she moves to stop them, vicariously protecting her own happiness by sustaining Helena’s blighted fairytale.

To destroy the house and set Helena’s spirit free, the party must uproot the story, casting away each of the suitor’s gifts, and bringing her spirit back to the ruins of her family home. To do this they must sever the chain that binds her, which means convincing Helena and her suitor to renounce their oath of love and fidelity, a selfless act of closure that Zuggtmoy will not allow, forcing both lovers into their very worst ( and most monstrous) forms in order to halt.

With a sorrowful goodbye and one last journey to the surface ( possibly using the same black carriage sent to carry Helena away), the party deliver their charge to the doorstep of the old Ornith farmhouse just in time to watch her begin to dissipate. Her spirit will be free to rest, and her name will fade from the parable it inspired... taking with it the curse that has laid on the moorlands, leaving the party with only a few treasures of their time in the feywild, and memories of their selfless heroism.

[theladyofbloodshed]

Chapter 4 - i have returned

Despite their best efforts searching every crevice of Velaris, there was no sign of Nesta. Her usual haunts when she was once an outcast of the ruling dynasty were emptied out; old acquaintances claimed to have no knowledge even when threated with a daemati rummaging through their minds. Those with wings had scoured further afield though they doubted Nesta could have travelled that far on foot – especially after descending ten thousand rotten steps from her prison. Contacts in the Day Court were contacted to be on the alert in case she somehow made it across the border. In their desperation, even the foothills of the Illyrian mountains had been searched even though it seemed highly unlikely that Nesta would willingly approach Illyria when they despised her for reaching their sacred mountain.

With flushed faces, they gathered on the lawn in front of the high lord and lady’s river estate. All had seemingly come to an end of their search at the same time. It wasn’t panic that clawed at their expressions, Lucien realised, but irritation. Nesta had ruined a peaceful summer day. That was what she did. Their prisoner had escaped from her cage and the jailors were left to hunt for her.

Feyre bounced a squawking baby on her hip. ‘She’ll probably come back by nightfall.’

‘Has anybody considered the possibility that Nesta has been taken?’ Lucien did not think it likely; given how dismal her life was, he would not blame her for fleeing. However, it struck him as odd that none of them thought this could be a possibility.

The high lord shook his head. ‘The wards around Velaris are too strong. We would know if anybody had penetrated it.’

Too strong, but not strong enough to fend off Hybern’s twin ravens and the Attor, Lucien thought. Their arrogance would wound them one day. It already had.

Elain plucked her nephew from Feyre’s arms in an attempt to soothe the hot, uncomfortable babe. It no longer pained Lucien when he was ignored, as though the skin had been cut, scabbed, and healed harder. A beauty, yes, but her purpose in life seemed to revolve around hiding behind wings or skirts and tending to gardens. The bond might have blinded him initially, but they had little common ground. His sense of humour would have her running for the hills whilst her elder sister had glowed from laughter by his side at the beach.

Lucien fought hard to press down the sudden thought that had struck him.

Only Cassian and Azriel vowed to continue searching for Nesta so Lucien took the opportunity to say his goodbyes then make a quick escape.

He winnowed the distance to the opulent harbour of Velaris. It seemed so obvious now. Once Nesta had cantered down the stairs, her eyes would have fallen across the Sidra that led to the sea. It had been a challenge to pull her away from it. Of course the sea would call to her. With the thought in his head, Lucien felt more and more certain that Nesta would have followed this path. At the sea, however, where would she go? With no money, she’d have to barter and bargain. Nesta was too recognisable as an Archeron, so she’d need a captain who either cared little for stowaways or did not fear the wrath of the general of the Night Court.

‘I need to inspect the ledgers of ships that departed in the last day. By order of the high lord,’ added Lucien.

The affronted dock worker grumbled about always paying taxes on time, but retrieved the documentation all the same. Lucien’s eyes scanned the lines of sloping text, ruling out some vessels immediately. He doubted Nesta would have travelled out on fishing barges where they’d remain at sea before returning to Velaris. Trusting his gut, Lucien whittled it down to four ships.

‘Which captains might be persuaded to allow an infamous stowaway on board without fear of consequence?’

The dock worker frowned. ‘We run a reputable harbour.’

Lucien took in a long breath through his nose then dropped a handful of coins into an outstretched palm. A grubby finger pointed to two names. One of those ships was departing towards Hybern and the other to the Dawn Court. Nesta was clever, but a creature of habit; he had noticed the way Nesta always retreated to the same chair, preferred the same cup, same drink. He doubted she’d ever go to Hybern. It was unknown and might bring bad memories to the surface. The Dawn Court was recent. She’d had a chance to explore. Hedging his bets, Lucien winnowed to the Dawn Court.  

***

Agony. Pure agony. Why had she done it?

Groaning, Nesta dragged her body across the room and up onto the bed. She lay with her face pressed against the soft pillows.

Taking in shallow breaths, Nesta pinched the bridge of her nose because that seemed to be the best way to stop the room from swaying. Maybe one day, she’d tell her children about her daring escape from Velaris and remember it with wonder. Now, all Nesta could think about was the terrible sea sickness that decided it was her companion when she had no other. A life at sea was ruled out. She never wanted to journey on a boat again. Ever.

As soon as the boat departed the harbour and made for open water, her stomach had churned. At first, Nesta put it down to the nervous energy flooding her veins then, when it didn’t shift, the crew assured her she’d get her sea legs before the journey was done. The hammock that had been offered to her for the night only made it worse. In the end, Nesta had clung to a rail in the hold with a white-knuckled grip throughout the night.

When the captain brought her on deck to show her Dawn’s beautiful harbour, she’d vomited over the grab rail and had needed him to cling to the back of her dress to keep her from flopping over the edge. He didn’t care. In his possession was a knife belonging to the lord of bloodshed; it would fetch a handsome price. Nesta didn’t think it would benefit her if she told him that Cassian had as many knives as some people had socks and wasn’t likely to have handled it in the last century.

On the dusty, sand-covered streets of the Dawn Court, Nesta’s sea-sicknesses had not left. Even when she managed to stagger towards the same lodging that she’d visited with Lucien, her sickness was overstaying its welcome. That wasn’t the worst thing. Her legs had finally remembered that she had conquered ten thousand steps so she was paying for it.

A knock sounded at the door.

A low, rattling groan seeped out from her. There was no chance that she could turn or move quickly. The landlady had promised to bring fresh towels for her.

‘Come in.’

Nesta didn’t bother looking up. It seemed too brave of a thing to do. Any slight movements of her head sent the room spinning.

Soft footsteps shuffled over the tiled floor then stopped.

‘If it’s the towels, they can be put anywhere. Thank you.’

A weight pressed down on the mattress near her hip. She forced open her eyes. A sheet of red hair spilt down a male’s back. Lucien turned and gave her a wry grin. ‘Are you hungover from a handful of drinks?’

‘Oh, don’t mention alcohol as well.’

Her face burrowed back into the pillow, trying to steady the world. Everything span. Her stomach heaved with every breath in.

A hesitant hand settled on the side of her head then brushed against it.

‘I take it you came here of your own free will?’

‘Down ten thousand stairs and chartered a ship,’ she said, voice muffled by the pillow.

Lucien gave a little laugh. ‘A swashbuckling adventure.’

Gingerly, Nesta shifted onto a hip so she lay on one side. Her eyes squinted at Lucien. ‘And I’m paying for it with sea sicknesses and muscle soreness. My backside is killing me.’

Another easy laugh from the male. ‘Ginger can help with the sickness. I’ll find some for you. As for the muscles, I can recommend a hot bath or a massage.’

‘Sounds like a perfect evening.’

Only when the words came out, did Nesta realise the connotations behind it. A sudden heat flushed her cheeks. ‘Not that I am expecting you to massage me. Not at all.’

The male wasn’t bashful. His lips curled into a grin. ‘I think we’d cause a scandal, Nesta.’

‘You were talking about making yourself useful and finding ginger.’

 Lucien stood and sketched a bow. ‘Who am I, if not useful Lucien Vanserra?’

With his knowledge of the court, it did not take Lucien long to return to Nesta brandishing a good-sized root which he sliced thinly into a tea for her. Carefully, his hands scooped beneath her armpits to help shimmy her upright on the bed.

‘How’s your backside?’

‘Terrible.’

Lucien poured them both a cup of ginger and lemon tea as fat wedges of evening sun poured through the open windows. They cast him in gold and Nesta thought she had never seen anybody look more fae than him. There was a cruel sort of beauty about him usually – all sharp lines and curling lips – but that evening, he seemed kissed by the sun itself. It softened his features, made them glow. Even the red ribbon of his hair looked touched by fire. She had to shake her head to remove those thoughts.

‘If it’s any consolation, Nesta, the fae do heal quickly. You’ll probably be in pain for only another day.’

‘Only.’

Without invitation, Lucien took the space beside her on the bed. Nesta doubted anybody else would dare encroach upon her space that way without fear of retribution, but Lucien still maintained a slight gap between them.

‘They are looking for you.’

Nesta dipped her chin. Her eyes roved over the painted, white walls of the room. She still hadn’t decided what to do yet. The only thought that had been roaring in her mind was to get out of the House of Wind while she still had the nerve to do it.

‘All of them?’

Lucien huffed a laugh. ‘Initially. Just the two Illyrians now.’

Something in his voice gave Nesta pause. She pressed a finger against her lip, mulling over his words. ‘They’re angry with me, aren’t they?’

‘Sometimes worry can seem like anger,’ he said.

‘Don’t lie, Lucien.’

‘Fine. They’re irritated they spent a day searching for you.’

As she expected. Nesta almost wished they hadn’t been looking for her. Her lips puckered together. ‘I left Cassian a note.’

That seemed to be news to Lucien because he raised his brows in slight surprise.

‘It said I needed time away to think about what matters to me.’

Lucien gave an understanding squeeze of her limp fingers on the mattress. There was a strange familiarity growing between them that had not existed a week ago. She thought of the few people who had ever tried to get to know her; they saw her as a labyrinth – unconquerable and trying. Lucien had simply asked for directions and found the way.

He tipped the remainder of his tea back, not minding the heat although her own was still steaming.

‘Autumn Court,’ he explained. ‘Fire in our blood.’

‘What does that mean?’

When Lucien turned to speak, Nesta was acutely aware of how close they were. Her lips parted as she catalogued the extent of the scarring on his face. It ran from his brow to jaw, disfiguring the left side of his face. Despite it, Nesta could not imagine Lucien without the golden eye or the wound. Part of her understood Elain’s discomfort which was not solely due to the bond. Their whole lives, Elain had been promised by their wicked mother that Elain, with her soft beauty, would marry for love. That love was supposed to be a handsome man who’d sweep her off her feet and she’d never have to toil a day in her life. Lucien was handsome, but for some, the scar would be a barrier.

‘Which disturbs you more – the scar or the eye?’

Nesta’s brow pinched at the accusation. ‘Neither.’ Her thumb pressed against the knotted tissue on his cheek bone. ‘Does it still pain you?’

He didn’t flinch from her rotten touch, only nodded. ‘A little. The skin is thin. Cold weather mostly.’

‘It’s minor in comparison,’ she said, ‘but this is my worst one. I caught it once and, even after all of these years, it still sent a shock through me.’

Nesta held her hand towards Lucien so he could inspect the scar running down her left thumb towards her wrist.

‘I hadn’t noticed it before.’

‘I like to wear long sleeves to bury my hand in them.’

Lucien’s finger trailed down the length of it. ‘Do you at least have a funny story to accompany it?’

She saw a little girl with a bloodied hand reaching for her mother who turned away dispassionately. A mother who had already endured it but did nothing to stop her daughter experiencing the same.

‘About as joyful as your own.’

‘Ah.’

For a while, they remained in a steady silence while Nesta drank the rest of her tea. Her eyes closed. It had been about a day since she had left Velaris and she still felt no guilt or regret. What was worse, was that Nesta hadn’t missed any of them, not even Cassian. He was supposed to be her forever, but that thought was a source of dread. Forever trailing behind him. Forever as his trophy to trot out when he saw fit. There could be no Cassian without the others either. She should have known that a mating bond to him meant a shackle to the others.

A sudden coldness slipped over her left hand.

She had not realised that Lucien had kept his hand cradling hers like a pearl until its absence was felt. He flexed his fingers as though the absence burnt him.

It shouldn’t have been so companiable at Lucien’s side. He was little more than a stranger, but he didn’t seem as though he was trying to impress her or prove anything. He was content with her as she was. Which was fine. As she was mated and he was her sister’s mate. Of course, it would make sense for them to be cordial. Of course.

Nesta shifted a couple of inches so she was closer to the edge of the bed.

‘How did you find me?’

Her own mate certainly couldn’t.

Lucien explained how he had remembered her fondness for the sea so his feet led him there, how he’d managed to deduce that she’d bargain her way there – with no bank account to call her own – and would likely head somewhere familiar. In a world of the unfamiliar, she had few options. Still, it was impressive that Lucien – Lucien – could achieve such a feat after spending such a minimal amount of time in her company. Another reminder of how abominable her relationship with her mate was.

‘Am I so predictable?’

Lucien smiled. The last rays of sun crawled up the wall, showering him in a final burst of light. ‘I bet you ate the cake after swearing you didn’t want it.’

She couldn’t fight the urge to roll her eyes. ‘Fine. Yes. On stair number four thousand, three hundred and eighty-seven, most likely.’

Amidst his laughter, Lucien nudged her with his elbow in the ribs. ‘I knew it.’

‘I wished I had some plates to smash last night too. That might have stopped me from crying. Again.’

The amusement dried up quickly. His fingers moved towards her then recoiled back against his thigh, fighting an urge to comfort her.

‘I don’t want to cause alarm, but you were likely spotted staggering down the street. If not you, then perhaps me. Dawn is cordial with Night. If you don’t want to be found, this might not be the safest place.’

Nesta nodded. ‘I will go back to Velaris soon, probably. But, I can’t yet. I just want some time to myself.’

The only snags in her plan were that she had no form of income and knew nobody. Lucien understood her worries at the same moment she did.

‘I have money. Not an endless chasm like Rhysand, but enough.’

‘You don’t need to do that,’ Nesta murmured.

‘It’s not about need. I want to. I want to help you.’

‘If they find out you’ve helped me…’

‘You are not a prisoner, apparently. I am a friend. I am still in their employment. Surely, it’s better I know where you are than nobody,’ he said with a wink.

Before Nesta could stop herself, she blurted, ‘I wish Elain realised how good you are.’

A blush stole across her cheeks, but – for some reason she could not explain – she offered Lucien a soft smile.

Despite the tight expression, Lucien clambered off the bed and extended a hand. ‘Where to, my lady?’

***

I wish Elain realised how good you are.

But it hadn’t been Lucien’s mate who had occupied every second that he sat beside her sister. Elain had not even been a thought in his mind. It had been the trampled, defeated female who Lucien could only think of. The easy way they could talk all of a sudden. The tender way she had brushed a finger against his scar. He wanted to help her. Wanted to see her grow. It was only when she smiled, so rare and so bewitching, did Lucien know what it meant to feel the sun on his skin. He wanted Nesta to shine again, would crawl to see it. If Nesta was not the sun, he would live forever in darkness.

[oletus-manors-log]

OBSERVER'S NOTE:

" Happy Halloween! To commemorate today's occasion, I wrote something that is associated with the hide and seek mode. Although it was written months ago (as courtesy of my mutuals and how scared they got. Love you, Sam /p), I kept this hidden till today to post it.

This one doesn't involve any particular x reader shenanigans, but this is made in someone's perspective. I wanted to try and write this in her perspective, so I hope I brought her justice. Hope you guys enjoy it, because I have college haunting me this Halloween, haha! "

The Dentist's Swamp

No survivor has spoke of the horrors of Sacred Heart Hospital. For years, that is what she had understood-- or, at least, from her memories alone.

The abandoned hospital was not shrouded in fog like now, nor was it storming every time she came to visit. It was not teeming with danger, with walls showing signs of age- at least, from her memory alone.

No, it was different. Far, far more different than she could ever remember… Or imagine, for that matter.

Stepping afoot in the map now shrouded in darkness, the young journalist couldn't help but shiver. This was not like what she saw in the academy, and especially in her stay with others that resembled her. To her, this was different, and perhaps… Much worse than the last time she came here.

She has heard of rumors floating about, but the most common was the individual people called the 'dentist'.

—This is where the dentist used to reside in. Children go missing when they go to Sacred Heart.

—Really? How terrifying…

Indeed! After all, the only thing that is left here—

"—are children's teeth…" the journalist whispered, her legs moving to head inside the building. The lightning clapped in the sky as a bellowing sound echoed, making her jump.

She was never a fan of stormy nights. It reminded her of something so… Unsightly in her childhood. Something she could never forget, even in her time in the academy.

Step after step, she held the camera closer to her chest. All she needed to do was to get evidence, and then she can leave. That was all there is to it, right?

… So why does she feel her heart race like it'd pop out of her chest?

Clambering up the staircase, she noticed the various words written on the wall.

Get out of here!

The dentist lurks in his swamp!

Where is the truth?

The truth… How bitter.

Arriving inside the operating room, the blonde woman noticed something… Odd. From the sight of the body, it was gone— no sight of it remained. It wasn't surprising for her, but the thing that caught her eye was the jars around the place.

Some were broken as the lid rolled up to her boots, the contents spilling on some that were tipped over in the table. Her eyes widened when she saw what it was.

Teeth.

Children teeth.

Some jars were not broken, but she could see how some of the teeth were rotten. Like it mutilated in the skulls of the dentist's 'patients'.

She could vaguely hear the thunder roar outside, and the soft clink clink of the teeth that met glass shards. Some even jumped at her, making her gasp and shuffle back.

In her panic, she had hit the worn cabinet behind her, making it sway. She turned to see what she had bumped into, stiffening up as she saw what it was.

Then, she sprinted away from the scene.

She could hear the faint shattering of glass, the jars meeting its demise in the dirty ground of Sacred Heart. One by one, the shattering grew more louder than the last, echoing and haunting the journalist to no end.

And then, she hears it.

The eerie soft chimes of the children giggling… And the soft, almost inaudible calling of a man.

She could hear her heart palpating and beating like a drum, making her grow deaf. With paranoia seizing her, all she could think was to flee.

And flee she did.

She turned to leave the hospital, her footsteps growing loud in her haste. She could hardly remember if she had her camera with her, but she didn't care for it anymore.

For she could hear the children scream. Scream for her to leave.

To never be caught by the dentist.

Ah, in her haste to leave the place, she had simply forgot one such clue. Monsters roamed in the hunting grounds of Sacred Heart, not just the famed dentist.

… Which proved to be her mistake.

The Sacred Heart Hospital was a dreadful hunting ground for those that survived, much like the other maps she's seen and remembered. In her stay of Oletus, she has seen many of them fall in this place… And the eerie sounds that come with it.

The eerie sounds are always around. It always was.

Alas, as she reached the exit, she could see the gates close shut—

—Which caused the hands to reach out and grab her from behind.

She let out a muffled cry as she was dragged into the mist, covering the blood curdling screams that came right after.

…

As the mist died down, the exit gates open once more, and what was left in the wake of the 'journalist' was a camera.

… And a doll of Orpheus, marking the day yet another naughty child was 'caught'.

© ᴏʟᴇᴛᴜs-ᴍᴀɴᴏʀs-ʟᴏɢ | 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟹 ✧ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛs ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ, ʙᴜᴛ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀʀᴇ | ᴀʀᴛ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ʀɪɢʜᴛғᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀs

[quillbriar]

Thinking about how the point of origin for Alan and Nadia is the bathroom. But for Alan, it’s the bathroom in his apartment, and for Nadia, she’s so afraid of truly facing herself that it’s the bathroom at her best friend’s apartment.

She shirks away from anything remotely maternal or comforting or about brining people together. She’s not hosting her own birthday, that’s too much responsibility to face and accept (both in the sense of believing and being willing to receive) that that many people love her, or at least would care enough about her to show up. It’s easier to pretend she has no friends and to be surprised when she shows up at the party, than having to be the one that brings everyone together.

It’s established that mirrors are a point of reflection, so it makes sense that both of our players start in the bathroom—they aren’t reflecting or acknowledging that there is something wrong in how they are living their lives. But Alan has just finished taking a shower (he’s not wearing a shirt so that’s what I’m assuming has happened) and he’s brushing his teeth, symbolizing his compulsive need to be clean and over-prepared and looking like he’s put together even if he isn’t, truly, on the inside.

Nadia, we don’t even know if she washed her hands, we just know the water is running. Maybe she only turned it on so people wouldn’t bug her and she’d have a minute to herself (not working out too well, by the sounds of the insistent rapping on the door).

Just thinking about how Alan keeps coming back to his home—somewhere familiar and safe, even if gravely cold and sterile—while Nadia is somewhere warm and busy and where she is the reason for the party, but it’s not her home. It’s not her space, no matter how comfortable she is in Max’s apartment. But, honestly, she doesn’t seem that comfortable. At first she points out that it used to be a Yeshiva as a kind of cool fact, almost an armor to show off how much she knows and how intellectual yet unorthodox and anti-authority and devil-may-care she is, pun intended. Yet, as we continue to follow Nadia, we learn that she’s actually unsettled and uncomfortable with the fact that Max lives somewhere that used to be sacred and religious, it should be untouchable, but instead it’s forgotten and renovated.

So there are those differences in the two “first positions”, but also the differences in how the characters are portrayed with their hygiene. As Natasha Lyonne has said, we’ve never seen Nadia take a shower (have we even seen her brush her teeth or wash her hands?). The last difference is Alan rebooting shirtless while Nadia is wearing so much black clothing. Alan doesn’t have issues with isolating himself, he actually depends on his inner circle too much, hence the willingness to be open to other that him rebooting shirtless symbolizes. His issue is not being honest with himself, that’s an internal, personal thing. Nadia, doesn’t let people in, hence the cost and shirt and the jacket. She goes through the journey of realizing it’s okay to have people in your inner circle, it’s okay for relationships to be permanent and healthy rather than meaningless one night stands (or sexualizing self hatred, which is such a perfect Nadia quote). Alan realizes that he has to look at himself directly instead of ignoring how he feels. Sort of like the fruit being rotten on the outside but ripe on the inside, but backwards. Things look alright from an outsider’s perspective (he’s clean, he’s healthy, he’s taking care of himself), but it’s performative and he’s rotting on the inside. The same with Nadia, just different specifics. It’s easy to fool people with confidence and good looks.

Writing and thinking about all this really makes me realize how perfect the season 2 finale is, I love the final shot so much. Nadia stares back at herself, fully accepting her past and her heritage and herself, and smiling. It’s comforting and haunting and familiar yet so mature and loaded. She’s smoking and it’s a bit of a distance, a smoke screen, if you will, from the audience and possibly herself. But it’s also familiar and habitual, we can’t expect to be perfect all the time or become perfect overnight. And she just went through a really wild and rough experience, I think a cigarette is warranted.

[tavsboots]

Might I inquire about your own Tav, via the tav ask game numbers? 🙏 10, 19, 27, 40, 48

Ah! The lovely @haeluin! Anything for you(...albeit a little late...bwahaha) Here's some Velric lore, transcribed from my brain vomit!

10. If your Tav didn’t become an adventurer, what else would they be doing?

Getting a full 8 hours sleep, probably.

On an actual bed, hopefully. 

UNINTERRUPTED, preferably.

(He would never admit it, but if life had been kinder, he'd probably would've liked to be a bard. Maybe own a tavern and play some songs. To live the mundane life with his family. But such desires are now long lost, and not worth any thought.)

19. Who is your Tav romancing, if anyone?

Astarion. Velric would probably say that this indulgence comes from his hedonistic tendencies and nothing else. He never expected for their causal tryst to evolve into anything deeper.

To surrender himself to love once more, is one of his deepest fears. But with each passing night, he grows more fond of this strange elf. Very slowly. But surely.

And try as he'd like to deny this; it's very hard to fool the heart.

27. What is their sense of humor like?

He's a bit of a dick with a sarcastic sense of humor.

"I could find some poisonous mushrooms, if you're that keen on getting sick."

“HUH? A LIBRARY? YOU WANT ME TO SPEAK QUIETLY? LIKE THIS?–”

Sometimes it backfires. *Cough*

40. What is the biggest mistake your Tav ever made?

Velric's own ruin came from the follies of his ambition. A once lowly sailor turned arrogant pirate, twisted by his obsession for power and glory. He chose to take the treacherous path, and eventfully drove away the few who had truly loved him. For years he sailed the high seas with reckless abandon until he was ultimately usurped by his own crew, stripped of all he was, and casted into the depths of cursed waters.

Memories of his forsaken past haunt him. He has his regrets, but he knows it's useless despairing over it. There is no absolution. No second chance. He was the captain of his own rotten fate after all. So he suffers.

But now there's a tadpole in his head and people who rely on him again.

He won't fail them. Not this time.

48. Where does your Tav feel most at home?

As cheesy as it may seem...Velric has found home in many places.

Nestled in a charming tower in Waterdeep. In the comfort of the Moonmaiden's sacred temple.

Among the cold mountains where dragon riders fly. Within the lush forests where the druids reside.

Or perhaps back in Baldur's Gate, where it all began.

[eatingjupiter]

ENTER ON :  MIKHAIL BATTERED AND CAGED - A NOW  ROTTEN VESSAEL FOR SOMETHING ONCE DIVINE.  THERE ARE OPEN WOUNDS POURING OUT THE ABYSS ,  A RUNNING CYCLE IN WHICH THE BLEEDING IS A  REMINDER OF HIS FALL. AND THE BLOOD  RUNS BEFORE JUDGMENT TAKES HIM TO COURT.   AFRAID OF WHAT WILL COME OF IT AND HIM . AND SO IT GOES  ON , ACTING  AS TO SAY THAT IT HOLDS NO GUILT. AND  IT IS HERE AN OLD MAN COMES TO STAND OUTSIDE THE  PRISON DOOR .  THERE IS A LIGHT THAT FOLLOWS HIM , WARM AND COOL -  A WASH  OF EVERYTHING ONE MIGHT NEED AND HE KNOWS WHO IT IS RIGHT AWAY.

old man : ( he stands right before the bars of the cell. his breath is balanced and he does not do anything to indicate that he will attack.)  was this how you thought you’d end up ? in a cell awaiting death - your soul to burn ?  did you think this was to be  the last of your legacy - a botched up attempt at love,  spelling you out a fool ? 

( his voice is collected -  not too high nor too low. but enough of an impact you know there is a finality in it all. ) did you honestly think he’d give up everything he’d worked so hard to achieve , to be with a child only knowing how to behave in his own favor ?

mikhail :  ( he does not look up .  he knows who this man is. and he lurches forward to grab at him )   father   ( a simple word turned long in rage .)     god - ( his voice is now a slow whisper - a blade wanting to sneak between the ribs ) how dare you judge me when you made your nightly visits.  (   he bares his teeth - a dog on a short leash , electrified and bloodthirsty . )  

you gave him over to his human lovers but when it came to his dreams you’d slip in and eat him. suckling him down to the bones, leaving him wet and heavy as though he’d been through an affair rather than a night’s sleep. mocking his lack of memories.  ( he is yelling now -  and each thrust of his words leaves a streak of blood from his mouth. a result from the noose turning flesh over . )    he knew that i came for him but you play innocent when you did much worse. if anything we both  should be killed for what we have done.

old man :  ( he slips out of the oldness and returns to his true body - a regal form , a divine figure slipping them both on a chessboard . fingers pulling tight through mikhail’s hair)   you  think to make profane  a sacred bond ?  (  he throws his face against the bars )  i never touched him as you did.   you want to make me the villain because i gave myself the right to find him on earth but did you know that if i did not he would die ?  did you know that because of your eyes  inside of him grew a self- hatred that haunted him even in his peaceful times -  for which he tried to end himself time and time again  because he knew there was something awful about him ?

mikhail  : ( bleeding and brittle tries to fight but back but he feels a weight on himself and so he can only mutter. )  i ! i!

god : you will die and i will have nothing of you survie you are nothing to me nor to my kin. say your last words here for tonight the fire sings for you !

A WORK IN PROGRESS THAT SOMETIMES THROWS ITSELF AT ME : THIS ONE IS OF ARCHANGELS IN LOVE , THIER FALLINGS AND THIER CHANGES. @nosebleedclub. @snickiebear @smidgen-of-hotboy ask to be tagged or removed.

[thepermanentscowl]

What's the obsession behind skeletons?

Kash, i am so glad i got this ask.

So, skeletons. What is a skeleton? The framework of bones that supports our body and maintains its posture. It bears all the weight and pressure that falls on your body. In very brief words, a skeleton is made of bones and tissues that help connect the bones, like cartilage, tendons and ligaments. The bones are connected to each other so amazingly that they hold together for the entirety of your lifetime. They bear all the biological and physical wear and tear. A skeleton is the strongest part of a human body.

Now if you refer to skeletons as a metaphor, you can write pages about it. The skeleton is the frame upon which muscles, organs and every other vital part rests. It holds up everything else that your body needs. It is the blank canvas upon which the vitality of the other fundamental parts is painted.

A skeleton is the subject of all the abrasion your body goes through. However, even after enduring all of it, a skeleton holds you up no matter how worse a condition it is in. Even after what it has gone through, it gives up completely only when you are burned; only when your mortal existence is lost to the purity of fire. A skeleton, the foundation that you were born with, supports you till you die. Only death can do you apart. And the irony: bones are used as a symbol of death. Perhaps even death needs a pillar of some sort, a pillar strong enough to bear its sacred legacy.

Coming to death and bones, bones (if not incinerated) continue to exist even after death. What remains of our ancestors does one find in ancient tombs? Bones. The people from distant epochs of time who we remember, whose names rest upon our tongues as prayers, are present today only in the form of bones and memories. Bones can sustain the assault of time, they can keep on subsisting in whatever broken form until all mortal flesh has rotten away.

If you think about it, skeletons have no distinct recognition of themselves. All skeletons moreover look the same. Skeletons defeat human judgement. A skeleton is chaste and untouched by any supposition, any conclusion. It could have been anything or anyone in the life that it was a part of, only that you will never know. It is a beautiful enigma. It haunts thoughts and dreams, but it's true identity is unknown to you. It is just one thing for everyone: the ruins of a body. And that is all it is. It hides nothing. No secrets fester behind its ribs and no unspoken words linger in its mouth. It is beautifully simple.

[blondrichclosetwitch]

9:38

And you're the hero flying around, saving face

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?

You know I didn't want to have to haunt you but what a ghostly scene

And I can go anywhere I want..Anywhere I want, just not home*

And I still talk to you & when you can't sleep at night you hear my stolen lullabies

You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

You turned into your worst fears & you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain

And you're cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet

10:38 “I want to kill this waitress. I want to go where she goes.”

I can't believe there's violence in my mind

But I believe that she's the Devil bitch

I know she can kill me*

I believe in something*

11:38 and my life has gone and now I am free (pov of the baby)

12:38 I used to live alone before I knew you

1:38 And I couldn't awake from the nightmare that sucked me in and pulled me under

Pulled me under

Oh... that was so real

2:38

When you know you gotta pay the cost

Play the game just to play the boss

And you're criminal, just who you are

I hope my son will bang this song so loud

That he almost makes his walls fall down

Cause his momma wants to make him proud

Oh, to be us

3:38 I must be careful now in my steps

Years of calculations and the stress

They told me I wouldn't, but I found an answer

538 saviour machine

I need you flying, and I'll show that dying

Is living beyond reason, sacred dimension of time

I perceive every sign, I can steal every mind

638 hey jane, spiritualized—Some say you've got a rotten soul

738 I know it’s gonna happen someday—But I know it's gonna Happen someday to you

838–cracked actor——“you’re so bad. The best I ever had.”

Smack, baby, smack, is that all that you feel

838 dear john—

“Don't you think nine’s too young to be played by your dark, twisted games?”

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“She never gave lovers the following nor”)

Resemblance what I have him but     onwards look’d by I’ll sooner praise is memories! Who had     command,—i’ll take: meant to perfume; how I am not to     do. Of this for cribs of

through we cease, who is too often     climb the night enhance of a spouse. Give me dear Julia goes.     Self-deceitfulness, and in that the bedroom for these braid     not so bad. Poor little

sore—a quiet anger, ere to     count Strong ye. As purple and vapour of common meet to     linger and so different from my heart, and brough perplexed, until     heated eye—thus Julia

in hope foreign glory, power     is sacred cast all in Feaverses of Separation     was not with more shabby fell speak, but no such a flower     o’ yon rotten: I

consenses of us to time     learned something, flaunts, dear Clarinda, friends; rever tremely     words—and tried by them not; but say: the rain, yea ev’n of     her the Sun and beneath

which one battle like a second     moon, number; the faire living to the very stands her, but     malice: if he had, the embrace and without heart know my     own eyes there; and her does

wane, I must not if a Poet     him the long without some spect on hour to light from him safe     from thy plague this credit, whereon Moore. Thing refrain, his carest     in Prague sits among

this Phoebus waitress—what is lost;     for they are joint, and wand where on three monthly course—I     recognize? And like an in evill for everywhere was good     year or moral connect

my wrinkle in volleys, as if     no shield at which men can seek—the May-fly placed a whole most     luck through heaven, methink young feet are borne, I as wine: if,     so very play houses

a love with his come as here you     are in array at last: if all bath’d in act the Generation     bred with but befell such virgin Mars, like a boldest     bark of your gifts purse.

And most; for love hell! Off from his     constitution. Which sticks, the first his lonely words o’ersnow’d     by her god, what too much to watched that hiatus’ in from     their own apart, sees hast

has gone. She never gave lover’s     the following nor would never, in them country last which     mixe bottom on this man quest of Aganippe well excuse,     the fancientific yester

of Chloe is the more, but     a portrait may befallington, whose and haunt this in faces,     which is a father- beaten’d in their cots. Night on this:     I forget not through the

fault, her physicians, leaves, in such     a thought; with Zuhrah, he read across the running teare from     the priz’d, he lit at men’s swords, that comb, as if men the read     moving not know how the

ears and short, sublime of Thetis,     was gone that man! Tell men, we wisdom does for held his lasting     fie was admonition, that dignity off their lips     lie within my spinning.

[daskalosmuses]

DASKALOS MUSES — MOBILE VIEW.

these are best viewed by going to this page on a desktop, but in case you are restricted to mobile, please feel free to browse below! we highly recommend looking on a desktop view at some point before applying, however.

— * ORESTES. TAKEN by TITUS REDPATH.

" i'll take care of you. / it's rotten work. / not to me. not if it's you. " — pylades to orestes, from euripides' " orestes "

ORESTES IS. . . angry, meek, guilt-ridden, resentful, cunning, shrewd, witty, easily-influenced, meticulous, impatient.

CANONICALLY. . . orestes is the sibling of ELECTRA, and is haunted by a mistake they made in their past.

IN THE MYTH. . . orestes was convinced by his sister, electra, to murder their parents out of revenge after their father sacrificed their sister to the gods. instead of feeling vindicated, orestes was left guilt-ridden for the rest of his life.

— * ELECTRA. OPEN.

“ there is a kind of excellence in me and you — born in us — and it cannot live in shame. ” — electra to orestes, from sophocles' " electra "

ELECTRA IS. . . hot-headed, impulsive, protective, righteous, stubborn, jaded, unwavering, prideful, strategic.

CANONICALLY. . . electra is the sibling of ORESTES, and encouraged orestes to make the mistake that haunts them.

IN THE MYTH. . . electra convinced her brother, orestes, to murder their parents after their father sacrificed their sister to the gods.

— * OEDIPUS. TAKEN by SAMSON O'CONNOR.

“ dark, horror of darkness, my darkness, drowning, swirling around me crashing wave on wave—unspeakable, irresistible headwind, fatal harbor! ” — oedipus, from sophocles' " oedipus rex "

OEDIPUS IS. . . running from their past, desperate to escape "fate," self-deprecative, hypochondriatic, proactive, cautious, paranoid.

CANONICALLY. . . oedipus is running from something they feel they cannot escape.

IN THE MYTH. . . oedipus was prophesized to kill his father & marry his mother. he went to great lengths to prevent this and escape his fate, but in doing so, he ended up doing exactly what the prophecy foretold.

— * ICARUS. TAKEN by ETHAN HOFFMAN.

" never regret thy fall, o icarus of the fearless flight — for the greatest tragedy of them all, is never to feel the burning light. ” — oscar wilde, from " icarus "

ICARUS IS. . . impulsive, hot-headed, egotistical, confident, foolhardy, inventive, reckless, impetuous, thrill-seeking.

CANONICALLY. . . icarus is the dionysia's resident party animal.

IN THE MYTH. . . icarus and his father, daedalus, built sets of wings to escape the island of crete. icarus built his wings out of wax, and, despite his father's protests, flew too close to the sun, melting his wings and sending him plummeting into the aegean sea.

— * ODYSSEUS. TAKEN by KALEO STARK.

" sing to me of the man, muse, the man of twists and turns. ” — from homer's " the odyssey "

ODYSSEUS IS. . . intelligent, fearless, humble, tired, determined, reserved, enigmatic, taciturn, introverted.

CANONICALLY. . . odysseus is trying to prove themselves as worthy in some way.

IN THE MYTH. . . on a perilous journey returning from the trojan war, odysseus endures countless trials and tribulations, many of which nearly kill him. he miraculously survives the journey and makes it home to reclaim the throne.

— * ANTIGONE. TAKEN by PRISCILLA DALTON KANE.

" i will bury him myself. and even if i die in the act, that death will be a glory. i will lie with the one i love and loved by him — an outrage sacred to the gods! ” — antigone, from sophocles' " antigone "

ANTIGONE IS. . . loyal, determined, self-righteous, rebellious, powerful, angry, hellbent, commanding, self-actualizing.

CANONICALLY. . . antigone is the sibling of ISMENE.

IN THE MYTH. . . antigone is imprisoned by her own uncle for wanting to bury the body of her brother, who was killed in battle and deemed a traitor. when she sneaks out to bury him anyways, she is sentenced to death.

— * ISMENE. TAKEN by JUNE DALTON.

“ go, then, if you must. but remember, no matter how foolish your deeds, those who love you will love you still. ” — ismene, from sophocles' " antigone "

ISMENE IS. . . a goody-two-shoes, straight-laced, a rule-follower, perfectionistic, hard to please, loyal, anxious, loving.

CANONICALLY. . . ismene is the sibling of ANTIGONE.

IN THE MYTH. . . when her sister, antigone, is imprisoned for wanting to bury their brother's body, ismene begs her not to do it for fear of the consequences. in the end, ismene does not help antigone in her quest and saves herself.

— * ORPHEUS. TAKEN by AMIR RIAHI.

“ eurydice, forgive the winds, forgive the sun, forgive the moon, forgive the stars, forgive the rain, for never loving you as i will. ” — orpheus, from michan bakhuis' " lament to eurydice "

ORPHEUS IS. . . romantic, creative, air-headed, bubbly, optimistic, chaotic, disorganized, cheerful, gullible.

CANONICALLY. . . orpheus is an artist of some kind.

IN THE MYTH. . . orpheus is a bard who follows his late wife, eurydice, to the underworld in an attempt to find a way to bring her back to life. hades allows him to bring her back to the land of the living under one condition: he must lead her out of the underworld without looking back at her. orpheus, captivated by eurydice's beauty, looks back at her at the last second, trapping her in the underworld forever.

— * EURYDICE. TAKEN by NYLA MONÉT.

“ this is what it is to love an artist: the moon is always rising above your house. the houses of your neighbors look dull and lacking in moonlight. but he is always going away from you. inside his head there is always something more beautiful. ” — sarah ruhl, " eurydice "

EURYDICE IS. . . strong-willed, wise, kind-hearted, hardened, realistic, self-assured, grounded, level-headed.

CANONICALLY. . . eurydice is IPHIGENIA'S best friend.

IN THE MYTH. . . one day, eurydice is bitten by a venomous viper and dies, taken by hades to the underworld. orpheus, her husband, travels to the underworld and bargains with hades to let him bring eurydice back to life. hades allows this under one condition: orpheus must lead her out of the underworld without looking back at eurydice. at the last second, struck by his wife's beauty, orpheus looks back at her, trapping eurydice in the underworld forever.

— * PERSEPHONE. TAKEN by MARIANNE BYRNE.

“ and then i made sure you would always return. you still know of dawn, but you always return. ” — tamino, " persephone "

PERSEPHONE IS. . . jaded, transformed, vengeful, tenacious, independent, unrelenting, hurt, scorned.

CANONICALLY. . . persephone comes from a humble background, and attends daskalos university on a scholarship.

IN THE MYTH. . . persephone was stolen from the land of the living by hades, the ruler of the underworld. her mother, demeter, was so distraught by her disappearance that the natural world began to wither. demeter eventually cut a deal with the gods that allowed persephone to return to earth for half the year. during these months, nature flourishes, giving us the seasons of spring and summer — but in the months she is in the underworld, demeter's sadness plagues the earth again, resulting in the seasons of fall and winter.

— * PROMETHEUS. TAKEN by NICCOLO VIVALDI.

“ i gave them hope, and so turned away their eyes from death. ” — prometheus, from aeschylus' " prometheus bound "

PROMETHEUS IS. . . kind, selfless, brave, giving, driven, self-sacrificing, warm-hearted, justice-oriented, desperate to be loved.

CANONICALLY. . . prometheus is studying something justice-oriented — such as law, criminology, social justice, etc.

IN THE MYTH. . . prometheus stole fire from the gods of olympus and gifted it to the mortals on earth. when zeus discovered prometheus's transgression, prometheus was banished to be chained to a rock atop a mountain for eternity.

— * MEDUSA. TAKEN by ZEHRA KARATAŞ.

“ and the monster? who is she? she is what happens when someone cannot be saved. ” — from natalie haynes' " stone blind "

MEDUSA IS. . . misunderstood, cold, intimidating, disadvantaged, vicious, isolated, vengeful.

CANONICALLY. . . medusa comes from a disadvantaged background.

IN THE MYTH. . . medusa was a beautiful woman who was cursed by the goddess athena in a jealous rage to become a gorgon: a terrifying monster with snakes for hair and the ability to turn anybody she looked at to stone.

— * NARCISSUS. TAKEN by COSMO GALIARDO.

“ i weep for narcissus, but i never noticed that narcissus was beautiful. i weep because, each time he knelt beside my banks, i could see, in the depths of his eyes, my own beauty reflected. ” — from paulo cuehlo's " the alchemist "

NARCISSUS IS. . . self-absorbed, cocky, suave, beautiful, persuasive, coy, flamboyant, popular, influential.

CANONICALLY. . . narcissus is related to one of the professors at the university, and is rumored to be a " nepo baby. "

IN THE MYTH. . . narcissus fell in love with his own reflection when he gazed upon himself in the surface of a lake. he laid there on the banks, admiring his own visage until he died and was reincarnated into a flower — what is now known as a daffodil.

— * ADONIS. TAKEN by DAKOTA MEDINA.

“ i love, i love beauty, and in it i worship my follies, the ones i found on my own, and the ones to which i was led. . . ” — from khalid mattawa's " adonis "

ADONIS IS. . . humble, kind, loving, gentle-hearted, heroic, brave, protective, beautiful but unaware of it.

CANONICALLY. . . adonis must be a poc.

IN THE MYTH. . . adonis was a mortal man who was celebrated by the gods for his beauty. when he was killed by a wild boar during a hunt, the gods resurrected him and made him immortal so that his beauty could be regarded for the rest of eternity by mortals and gods alike.

— * ECHO. TAKEN by LORELEI LYONS.

“ you shall forfeit the use of that tongue with which you have cheated me, except of that one purpose you are so fond of - reply. you shall still have the last word, but no power to speak first. ” — hera to echo

ECHO IS. . . timid, shy, a follower, sheepish, weak-willed, lonely, awkward, kind, soft-spoken, a people-pleaser.

CANONICALLY. . . echo is CASSANDRA'S cousin.

IN THE MYTH. . . echo was a nymph who was cursed by hera, queen of the gods, to only ever be able to repeat the last few words of what other people say.

— * CASSANDRA. OPEN.

“ have I missed the mark, or, like true archer, do i strike my quarry? or am i prophet of lies, a babbler from door to door? ” — cassandra, from aeschylus' " agamemnon "

CASSANDRA IS. . . loud, dramatic, a leader, attention-seeking, perfectionistic, misunderstood, self-conscious, meticulous, tenacious.

CANONICALLY. . . cassandra is ECHO'S cousin.

IN THE MYTH. . . cassandra was a beloved princess of troy who, after the fall of troy, was cursed by the gods to prophesize the future and only ever speak the truth, but that no one would ever believe her.

— * TANTALUS. TAKEN by THÉODORE DUPONT-LEMAIRE.

“ the covetous man pines in plenty, like tantalus up to his chin in water, and yet thirsty. ” — thomas adams

TANTALUS IS. . . greedy, self-serving, spoiled, untrustworthy, shrewd, persuasive, strategic, sagacious, innovative, mischievous.

CANONICALLY. . . tantalus comes from a wealthy background.

IN THE MYTH. . . tantalus was invited to a feast with the gods on mount olympus, from which he stole ambrosia and nectar and returned home with it. assuming they did not notice, tantalus then attempted to test the gods' omniscience by seringd the flesh of his own son for the gods to eat. upon discovering this deception, zeus banished him to tartarus, where he would be surrounded by all the food and water he could ever want, but was cursed to always remain starving and thirsty.

— * ARACHNE. TAKEN by NIAMH KANAGI.

“ but the moon never answers. it grows smaller as it ascends, as if someone or something were eating it. i understand such hunger. ” — elizabeth spires, " i am arachne "

ARACHNE IS. . . self-serving, talented, intelligent, confident, two-faced, power-hungry, stubborn.

CANONICALLY. . . tbd.

IN THE MYTH. . . arachne was a talented weaver who would weave beautiful tapestries. one day, she proclaimed she was even more talented than the gods. the goddess athena then challenged her to a weaving contest. enraged by this challenge, arachne created a beautiful tapestry that depicted all of the gods' worst infidelities, mistakes, and indiscretions. as punishment, athena turned arachne into a spider.

— * PHOSPHORUS. TAKEN by LUCKY SUÀREZ.

“ at that time when phosphorus, the morning star, passes across earth, a harbinger of light. and after him eos, the dawn, of the saffron mantle is scattered across the sea. ” — homer, the iliad

PHOSPHORUS IS. . . boisterous, impetuous, adroit, wily, sharp-tongued, witty, bright.

CANONICALLY. . . phosphorus has a bad reputation, in some way.

IN THE MYTH. . . phosphorus is known as " the morning star, " or the star that illuminates the sky at dawn and brings light to the earth. each night, phosphorus " falls " below the horizon, giving way to darkness. this fact inspires the meaning of phosphorus's latin counterpart, lucifer: the fallen angel.

— * IPHIGENIA. TAKEN by GENIE CALDWELL (NPC).

“ truly we are creatures of labor and suffering, and nothing for long. labor and suffering, and the plain sight of our destiny is the cruelest thing of all. ” — euripides, iphigenia at aulis

IPHIGENIA IS. . . innocent, optimistic, honest, easily influenced, youthful, romantic, naive, in love with love.

CANONICALLY. . . iphigenia is the newest member of the dionysia.

IN THE MYTH. . . iphigenia's father, agamemnon, is told that in order to end the trojan war, he must sacrifice his daughter to the goddess artemis. agamenon tricks iphigenia by telling her she will marry achilles, and leads her to her death under the guise that she is being led to the altar. upon discovering that she is going to die, she begs for her life, but realizes soon after that her death is necessary and allows herself to be sacrificed.

[saijito-sl]

last pics of the Jiangshi costume. i didnt think all the images looked good together in a single post. (pics taken at Clair View Haunted Woods).

Costume:

Shoalin Concept male outfit by Meli Imako

Face seals by ⵜSekaiⵜ

Sacred Flames by BluPrintz

Cosmetics:

Butterflies tattoo by Vezzo Ink

Roza Tattoo by Leven Ink

Grime lips from the Grime makeup set by Broadwing

Bloody lips by 𐠒REDRUM𐠒

Guyliner by Soka

sleepless bom eyebags by Rotten toe

Midnight eyes pink ink by Morass

Wounds:

Scarred face by Corvus

Scratches by Relentless

Leg scratches by iicing

Anime scars by RZ worldwide

scar stomach by Ghurab - Black Vulo Design

kamikaze wounds k02 body by Kamikaze shop

Also i used Eat Me's zombie ao to make this more uncanny and creepy

[sasorikigai]

i just... am pleased to see you, that’s all.

AS SAID BY FENRIS || @hexsreality || accepting

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Blunted in despair and overindulged by the horror of the Shirai Ryu's supernatural curses, Scorpion has been feeling like he has been chronically messed up. His skull feels like it has been cracked open, his intestines ripped apart over and over again. At least he won't ever perish, lest he still bleeds and groans. For violence both simultaneously broke and made him anew. The juxtaposition of destruction and reconstruction always being embedded in Scorpion's entirety as the world's choking grip still haunts him. After all, what is the heart, but a haunting, but an immovable, rooted museum gathering dust?

Scorpion merely exists as a wound; rotten and irritated, and he daydreams of salt air and poison. How acrid in taste and that emits such hot smell of hatred. And he recalls where he originates. For his vitriol is sacred in Nether and it continues to live within the rhythm in which he walks in blazing embers. Sometimes, such humanity amidst the lack of humanity in his spectral being breaks his heart. He may not weep externally, for he still has unyielding hope. For the Shirai Ryu holds greater hope than his mere, barely visible, and yet eternally doomed existence. Despite the eternal hellfire of his heart and soul, Hanzo Hasashi's remain a withering blue flame; for his happiness flickers and then fades. Lost amidst the dying embers as the heart's desolate shades overwhelm that of the vivid effervescence of his human nature.

Like a hungry shark in the rough sea, Scorpion appears amidst the swirling, fibrillating flames, stirring dirt and leaves beneath him. The sight of the innocents' blood continues to render him asunder with those captivating eyes; pleading, frozen in the desperate attempt to stall the onslaught of brutal slaughter about to sever the jugular. How the visceral sight pierces him, taking his breath away and leaving his heart fluttering in his chest. Dripping in the waterfall of smoldering crimson, the piercing white moon of his stare eases as Wanda's familiar form closes in its proximity. How she comes like a tidal wave, nearly sweeping his taller, broader form off his feet. It is the first isolated moment they share - and silence lingers, lest it appears that Hanzo remains tenderly saturated with sweet anticipation.

"To serve as a Shirai Ryu protector may take a great toll and endless uphill climb at times with my effort and persistence through unexpected storms and shadows, but I suppose only perseverance and persistence will thrive," he may appear to be paralyzed by Wanda's sudden embrace, but visible tautness and tension ameliorates with her words, trickling down the warmth of his back. "I must emit such unsanctified stench of bloodshed, but I do reciprocate such sentiment, Wanda." ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

you know, in almost every horror movie ive seen where the premise is that the whole family/community are cannibals and th3ey just have whole rooms for bodies to be hanging about in different pieces

like...99% of the movies just have it in some filthy shed or room covered in old blood and mold, with flies and meat hanging up sans refrigeration

like how has the whole ass cmmunity or family not died from rotten meat? from salmonella? half the time they don't even clean the bodies before they kill them so they're caked in mud

pretty sure humans have weird shit that lives on our skin just chilling and waiting for a cut or microtear to get inside and cause chaos

you would think an entire household or town dedicated to luring tourists and murdering them for meat would have discovered a more efficient and food safe way to do it.

not to MENTION like how does this happen? you go to a town meeting one day and on the ballot is a) lowering the speed limit around the school, b) funding the community garden restoration, and c) becoming a covert murder factory for fun, food and frivolity...

Things that would make more sense than a hotel that traps people: a SPA

the people coming in are usually the health-conscious type, they have some form of bath or soak throughout the process, they're relaxed, and you could put paralytics in the facemasks or something

not to mention, most rural towns (where this shit is usually set?) have butchers and mobile butchers at that with their own set up and clean room type equipment. there's heaps in our area. Wouldn't it be less suspicious to have them turn up, grab the bodies and transport them to another area for dismemberment? People are used to mobile butchers doing this sort of thing with cowsa, pigs, goats, etc. Plus they'd at least have clean equipment and less chance of unsanitary items used for the dispersement of meat etc.

The butcher shop would be the first place you'd think of for cold storage, but what about the freezers in the local supermarket? Assuming there's a walk-in and everyone's on board so the new people in town won't squeal to anyone.

The local ice cream truck or shop? Maybe?

If it's small enough the pub might have one of those converted shipping containers out back that's now a giant freezer.

Not sure how they'd store it, but like there has to be a better premise for the horror of the movie than 'opened fridge in dirty house to find a head or fingers'.

I think you could absolutely pull a subtle horror story out of this, and they could legit gaslight the tourists (only taking specific ones) by advertising the hotel as haunted.

you KNOW that people will already be on edge thinking they might see a ghost, and will manufacture paranormal incidents, which is the real trojan horse here. so you go in thinking its a ghost movie or maybe a cryptid movie, so when the occasional bone or skull is found it's like "oh no, the ghost/cryptid did it"

the whole time the protagonist(s) are having just the most amazing meals and customer service... never suspecting.

NOT TO MENTION none of that bone windchimes bullshit.

What is the one thing a LOT of farmers use? It smells like vomit so you always know its in use? Blood and Bone fertiliser. no questions asked for anyone who has been in a farming area. It really helps gardens bc nutrients (its legit blood and bone with other mixtures, usually the offal and such from abbottoirs)...

Maybe the locals are like super funny about it. There's a whole year-round halloween attraction with real skeletons and just enough tacky decorations that no one questions them.

Or the doctor's office has a like 6ft skeleton and the school uses it on occasion for biology.

the real question is like, what are funeral rights like in a town dedicated to eating people?

Is a town member considered Sacred and Off the Menu?

Or is it an honour to have your body shared amongst your loved ones after death? Does anything change in the event of like, an unexpected or accidental passing?

If you have a combine harvester accident, and you lose an arm, does the amputated limb go on the menu or it is carefully disposed of?

They never really look into how this whole system works in terms of a full town structure. It's always some shitty "protag snaps awake and screams at dead bodies" thing as people leer or masked people cut up bodies"

If they expanded on it, it could be interesting.

But that's just me, I'd want to know WHY a whole town went full hannibal and how that impacted all the other systems. Government, health, education, political/legal, community events?

Do they have a section for Special Meat Dishes in the local show / bake-off?

What age do kids find out what's happening? You can't have little kids knowing, they'll just blurt it out lmao. And teens might want to do a whole "I'm so dark and unique we eat people" shit online... which could be a problem. What happens to the squeemish?

Do they treat the disabled well? Or are they surplus to requirements? You have to admit, in a tight knit town you either get the They're a Member of the Town treatment, or the That's A Burden treatment. What happens in a town of cannibals?

Also do they run any kind of pathology? A lot of people have undetected STIs, blood or muscle disorders, etc. How do you know you wouldn't hit the whole town?

Would they adopt a potential victim if they caught them trying to serial killer soemone? Is there altruism in the murdering...? eg. a pair of tourists come through and one is obviously very abusive, the other is afraid and injured... do they help the victim dispose of them? Keep the victim? That could be a fun protagonist.

What if a potential victim is pregnant? Is it a No Touchy situation or... veal?

Not to mention, placentas... eat them, plant them, or generally dispose of them? Lots of different cultural beliefs...

How do they handle the missing persons reports? And in the age of technology, there'd be a lot of phones that could be tracked to the spa/town area... how do they get around it? Farraday boxes?

How hard do they promote the town for tourism? Are some of the town members sent out to get jobs in travel agencies in the nearby cities under false names? Who disappear when a few too many clients never come back?

Do they create a myth around a local cliff that people come to pass away at prematurely? Or a cave system filled with the skeletons of the lost? Again its about how to offset the missing.

There'd have to be a SYSTEM to shuttle the blame away and turn the eyes of the law elsewhere, etc.

It could be a hell of a thriller for a movie, book or show if someone took the time to really create a functioning society that was based around eating people?

[edenmemes]

misc poetry sentence starters

❝  one gets so used to one’s own horrors, one forgets how they must seem to other people.  ❞ ❝  you remind me what love lives in this skin.  ❞ ❝  you are the most phantom-like of all; you are a mere dream.  ❞ ❝  i’m not telling you a story so much as a shipwreck—the places floating, finally legible.  ❞ ❝  the world was made so we can find each other in it.  ❞ ❝  the night isn’t dark; the world is dark. stay with me a little longer.  ❞ ❝  i want you desperately. i want your strength and your softness, your hands, all of you.  ❞ ❝  is that too much to expect? that i would name the stars for you?  ❞ ❝  against your cheek my hand is warm and full of tenderness.  ❞ ❝  the world grows green again when you smile.  ❞ ❝  your share of pains would fill a sea.  ❞ ❝  i’m so stuck on the ‘was’ of people.  ❞ ❝  what i love in you is your power of loving, a bit wild, a bit primitive, but absolute.  ❞ ❝  i like figuring you out. you are so human and puzzling.  ❞ ❝  the unwillingness to try is worse than any failure.  ❞ ❝  you wanted happiness. i can’t blame you for that.  ❞ ❝  i did violence to my own heart.  ❞ ❝  i don’t know how to stay tender with this much blood in my mouth.  ❞ ❝  like a magpie, i am a scavenger of shiny things: fairy tales and dead languages.  ❞ ❝  and here you come with a shield for a heart and a sword for a tongue.  ❞ ❝  you kiss the back of my legs and i want to cry.    only the sun has come this close, only the sun.  ❞ ❝  sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof you’ve been ruined.  ❞ ❝  when will it cease, this monstrous rage of yours?  ❞ ❝  i will plant my hands in the garden. i will grow, i know, i know.  ❞ ❝  i had it all and i want it back again.  ❞ ❝  i don’t care about anyone, and the feeling is quite obviously mutual.  ❞ ❝  we are two reflections that cross swords with each other.  ❞ ❝  as for me, i am a watercolour. i wash off.  ❞ ❝  do you dare send me away as though you were were waiting for something better?  ❞ ❝  my dear, you are in danger of being burned by your own flame.  ❞ ❝  i am three oceans away from my soul.  ❞ ❝  you, occasionally, glimmer with a light i’ve never seen before. it frightens me.  ❞ ❝  i went to sleep last night so i could see you.  ❞ ❝  even the eyes of gods must adjust to light. even gods have gods.  ❞ ❝  how much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before it’s some kind of murder?  ❞ ❝  it does me no good to be good to me now.  ❞ ❝  i may look alright, but if you were to look more closely you wouldn’t find a single healthy bit in me.  ❞ ❝  i must clothe myself in other worlds.  ❞ ❝  suffering is the privilege of those who feel.  ❞ ❝  sorry about the blood in your mouth. i wish it was mine.  ❞ ❝  the vigor, the fire, that enables you to love and create. when you lose that, you’ve lost everything.  ❞ ❝  i can be bold, because i have you with me always.  ❞ ❝  you are shaking fists and trembling teeth. i know: you did not mean to be cruel. that does not mean you were kind.  ❞ ❝  not that i want to be a god or a hero, just to change into a tree,  grow for ages, not hurt anyone.  ❞ ❝  i laughed today. for a second i was unhaunted.  ❞ ❝  you are sunlight through a window, which i stand in, warmed.  ❞ ❝  there’s something electric in your blood.  ❞ ❝  you say you are broken,   but broken mirrors like you create the most beautiful patterns of light.  ❞ ❝  time doesn’t obey our commands.  ❞ ❝  i love you quite passionately, and with a touch of tragedy.  ❞ ❝  to feel anything deranges you. to be seen feeling anything strips you naked.  ❞ ❝  i love you --- like a storm bursts overhead --- i must confess it; all the more fiercely because you burn and bite.  ❞ ❝  and i have seen rivers, not unlike you, that failed to find their way back.  ❞ ❝  i am less a god now that you’ve touched me.  ❞ ❝  your words are gentle; but my blood runs cold to think what plots you may be nursing deep within your heart.  ❞ ❝  you said i killed you --- haunt me then.  ❞ ❝  your soul is frail and solemn, loyal and spring-like.  ❞ ❝  you look like you’ve eaten the sun, like you drank so much sunlight you’re drowning in it.  ❞ ❝  strangeness is a necessary ingredient in beauty.  ❞ ❝  you will hear thunder and remember me.  ❞ ❝  ever think it’s possible for us to be happy?  ❞ ❝  and i would wonder across all the deserts of this world, even after death, to search for you.  ❞ ❝  since we’re bound to be something, why not together?  ❞ ❝  i am ashes were once i was fire.  ❞ ❝  this mouth will destroy you the moment you mistake it for something soft, for something that is yours.  ❞ ❝  it’s no easy thing to bear, the weight of sweetness.  ❞ ❝  kill the light! i’d rather wallow in the dark.  ❞ ❝  i have thought of you often since the darkness.  ❞ ❝  with your presence the sun becomes irrelevant.  ❞ ❝  there is no god left in this skin. there’s just the ash. just the ash.  ❞ ❝  open your eyes, look more sharply, see me as i am.  ❞ ❝  what the hell is tragedy? i am.  ❞ ❝  i’ve got a lot of feeling for you. you’re kind.  ❞ ❝  how beautiful it is, how beautiful, that glow before the stars break.  ❞ ❝  so much to do today: kill memory, kill pain, turn heart into a stone, and yet prepare to live again.  ❞ ❝  i am myself. that is not enough.  ❞ ❝  i may be mad, god-seized, but i will stand outside my madness.  ❞ ❝  my power, which to me is still a curse ---  ❞ ❝  ocean sea with its caressing swell; it has so often cooled my heart.  ❞ ❝  do you bathe in perfume, and dry yourself in light?  ❞ ❝  i like you; your eyes are full of language.  ❞ ❝  let me tell you what i do know.    i am more than one thing and not all of those things are good.  ❞ ❝  you are the cause and the cure --- both.  ❞ ❝  i have kisses for the back of your neck.  ❞ ❝  your beautiful glance is unbearably cruel.  ❞ ❝  we might meet again, someday between dreams at dawn.  ❞ ❝  suffering is a terrible fire; it either purifies or destroys.  ❞ ❝  lately it hurts more to imagine you are a stranger rather than a destroyer.  ❞ ❝  and i say to myself: a moon will rise from my darkness.  ❞ ❝  since you walked out on me, i’m getting lovelier by the hour. i glow like a corpse in the dark.  ❞ ❝  i will not whine. i will obey and be forever still.  ❞ ❝  you move like the moon.  ❞ ❝  my eyes ache with the weight of unshed tears.  ❞ ❝  in your eyes, the fires of twilight.  ❞ ❝  do not haunt my soul; i have done well forgetting you.  ❞ ❝  i am no one. i cannot love. it’s in my blood.  ❞ ❝  you’re wearing your armor to protect your heart. who can blame you? it only makes sense in a world like this one.  ❞ ❝  you are not real. you are a dream of a dream.  ❞ ❝  there are so many things i’m not allowed to tell you.  ❞ ❝  i am indeed a shameless, evil-minded and abominable creature.  ❞ ❝  come this evening --- i am eager for stars.  ❞ ❝  i am on fire with that soft sound you make, in uttering my name.  ❞ ❝  i want you mostly in the morning when my soul is weak from dreaming.  ❞ ❝  to me you are the desert and the sea; everything secretive.  ❞ ❝  i thought i was wounded to the core but i was only bruised.  ❞ ❝  it is a dead heart. it is inside of me. it is a stranger.  ❞ ❝  i live --- but i’m mutilated.  ❞ ❝  if there is a light then i am going to swallow it.    if there is a god then i’m going to make him cry.  ❞ ❝  i am condemned to be a saint or a monster: unable to be the one, unwilling to be the other.  ❞ ❝  you will open your wounds and make them a garden.  ❞ ❝  i come home --- and i feel like a ghost returning its haunt.  ❞ ❝  i planted roses, but without you they were thorns.  ❞ ❝  everything inside me is in revolt.  ❞ ❝  how this darkness soaks me through and through.  ❞ ❝  give me my robe, put on my crown; i have immortal longings in me.  ❞ ❝  say something dangerous like i love you.  ❞ ❝  listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?  ❞ ❝  in times of crisis, we must decide again and again whom we love.  ❞ ❝  breathe the scent of little, earthly things. let the twilight touch you.  ❞ ❝  my heart is just like the ocean, has storm and calm and tides.  ❞ ❝  you became for me a sacred being, not to be touched save in adoring thoughts.  ❞ ❝  gods are stubborn. so am i.  ❞ ❝  is it better to out-monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?  ❞ ❝  there’s something soft in me. i killed it and it’s rotting.  ❞ ❝  beware. beware. there is a tenderness.  ❞ ❝  half gods are worshipped in wine and flowers. real gods require blood.  ❞ ❝  i’m alive. like a wound, a flower in the flesh, the path of aching blood is open within me.  ❞ ❝  you dangle on the leash of your own longing; your need grows teeth.  ❞ ❝  i have it in me...to scare myself with my own desert places.  ❞ ❝  my mouth still houses century-old magic.     in my ears i hear a ringing and singing and no god.  ❞ ❝  keep talking. i’ll keep walking toward the sound of your voice.  ❞ ❝  i’m full of poetry now. rot and poetry. rotten poetry.  ❞ ❝  this skin is sick with loneliness.  ❞ ❝  memories are sharp. they bite. i have spent most of my life trying to grow a thicker skin just to make sure i would not bleed out whenever i felt those teeth scrape up against me.  ❞ ❝  i wonder if i will ever find a language to speak of the things that haunt me the most.  ❞ ❝  after fury, what do you do with the remains?  ❞ ❝  come on, dance with me. the earth is spinning. we can’t just stand on it.  ❞ ❝  let’s admit, without apology, what we do together.  ❞ ❝  try to find the right place for yourself. if you can’t find it, at least dream of it.  ❞ ❝  it takes grace to remain kind in cruel situations.  ❞ ❝  i am too full of life to be half-loved.  ❞ ❝  today you want nothing because wanting comes too close to feeling.  ❞ ❝  there’s nothing more terrible, more alluring, more mysterious than love.  ❞ ❝  heavenly wine and roses seem to whisper to me when you smile.  ❞ ❝  my soul is devoutly and wholly under your spell.  ❞ ❝  will you see the human in my being?  ❞ ❝  if i had a flower for every time i thought of you…i could walk through my garden forever.  ❞ ❝  part broken part whole, you begin again.  ❞ ❝  i don’t know if love’s a feeling. sometimes i think it’s a matter of seeing. seeing you.  ❞ ❝  i wonder which will get you killed faster, your loyalty or your stubbornness?  ❞ ❝  whether you come as a lover or an exeutioner, i am ready to receive you.  ❞ ❝  i think i understand your longing. it looks so much like mine.  ❞ ❝  i’ve had so many knives stuck into me. when they hand me a flower, i can’t quite make out what it is.  ❞ ❝  i like the sea: we understand one another. it is always yearning, sighing for something it cannot have; so am i.  ❞ ❝  do i not live? badly, i know, but i live.  ❞ ❝  something of you stuck with me. a splinter.  ❞ ❝  i clung to your hands so that something human might exist in the chaos.  ❞ ❝  sometimes i shut my eyes, and shut my heart towards you, and try hard to forget you because you grieve me so, but you’ll never go away. oh you never will.  ❞ ❝  my golden love, if only you knew, what precious honey you are for me.  ❞ ❝  i had an old wound once, but it is healing.  ❞ ❝  always this in-betweenness, this almost, this it might be that...  ❞ ❝  when i close my eyes, i see you. when i open my eyes i want to see you.  ❞ ❝  dark as it is --- you see, that little flickering, is the light of my soul.  ❞ ❝  am i a monster or is this what it means to be a person?  ❞ ❝  i am talking about evil. it blooms. it eats. it grins.  ❞ ❝  sapphires are those eyes of yours, ravishingly sweet.  ❞

[fantasynamesbymeforyou]

Element Spotlight: El (Turkish) country, society

Hi guys, I've made a list of country names for you. They're based off the Turkish element el, which means "country, society". All of the other elements are also Turkish. This list could go on forever, so I just stopped when it got long haha. Let me know if there's anything you want me to add to it! :-)

COUNTRY BY COLOR

Akel - white country, hoary country

Alel - red country, country of scarlet

Griel - gray country

Maviel - blue country

Morel - purple country, country of violet

Pembel - pink country, rosy country

Sariel - yellow country, pale country

Siyahel - black country, country of ebony

Yesilel - green country, verdant country

COUNTRY BY ENVIRONMENT

Adael - island country

Baharel - country of Spring, flowers and youth

Bulutel - cloud country, country of plumes

Buzel - country of ice

Çiçekel - country of flowers

Çölel - desert country, wild country

Dagel - country of mountains

Derel - creek country, country of streams

Deryael - ocean country, country of the waves

Gökel - sky country, society of the blue

Günesel - sun country, country of sunshine

Güzel - country of Autumn

Ilikel - warm, mild country

Inel - cave country, country of burrows

Karel - country of snow

Kirel - prairie country, country on the moor

Kisel - country of Winter

Ormanel - forest country, country of the jungle

Rüzgârel - wind country, country of the breeze

Sahilel - seaside country, country on the coast

Vadiel - country of the canyon

Yarel - cliff country, country on the precipice

Yazel - country of Summer

COUNTRY BY ECONOMY

Bilimel - country of science, knowledge, and learning

Çiftlikel - farmstead country, country of ranches

Dokumael - country of weaving and textiles

Kokuel - country of flavor and fragrance

Madenel - mining country, country of metal and ore

Müzikel - country of music

Otlakel - country of pastures

Pirlantael - country brilliant diamonds

Sanatel - country of art, craft, and trade

Savasel - war country, country of fighting

Servetel - country of fortune, wealth, and riches

Tarlael - country of farmland

Tedaviel - country of healers

COUNTRY BY CULTURE

Adaletel - country of justice

Adilel - fair, honest, just country

Güçel - country of power, strength, ability, force, and sword

Hirsel - country of desire, ambition, greed, and mettle

Kutsalel - sacred, blessed country

Periel - country of fairies, country of elves

Senel - happy country

Serefel - country of honor, dignity, glory, and pride

Vahsiel - wild, ferocious, brutal country

Yeniel - new country

Yetkiel - country of power, authority, and competence

COUNTRY BY SYMBOL

Aksamel - country of the night

Aslanel - country of the lion

Ayel - country of the moon

Dikenel - brier country, country of thorns

Gülel - country of the rose

Günel - country of the sun and day, country of bees

Kumruel - country of the dove

Kurtel - country of the wolf

Melekel - country of angels

Kiliçel - country of the sword

Süsel - decorated country, country adorned with flowers

Yanginel - country of fire, country of the blaze

Yilanel - country of the serpent

Yildizel - star country, astral society

BAD or SPOOKY COUNTRIES

Aciel - country of pain, suffering, hurt, grief, and sorrow

Çürümüsel - rotten country, country of decay

Iblisel - country of demons

Kanel - country of blood

Kemel - haunted, evil, sinister country

Uçurum - country of the abyss

Yikimel - country of ruin, havoc, disaster, blight, and death

Zalimel - cruel, tyrannical country