#quartz tides

[cornercrescent]

characters from a story am revamping. in order is chess, quartz, ethel, and lucien.

[world-of-wales]

CATHERINE'S STYLE FILES - 2020

8 MAY 2020 || The Duchess of Cambridge and Prince William joined veterans for a VE Day party at the RBL's Mais House Care Home to mark the 75th anniversary of VE Day.

[realmaturebradley]

Happy late bday jera!!! Hope it went well, sending love!!

💜💜💜

[shibachangtimes-blog]

Swatch AG1991 SCUBA 200 COMING TIDE SDJ100 Quartz Watch

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Geology Vocabulary

for your next poem/story (pt. 1)

Abyssal plain - A flat region of the deep ocean floor.

Aeolian - Describes materials formed, eroded, or deposited by or related to the action of wind.

Braided stream - A sediment-clogged stream that forms multiple channels that divide and rejoin.

Colluvium - A general term applied to loose and incoherent deposits, usually at the foot of a slope or cliff and brought there chiefly by gravity.

Conchoidal - Resembling the curve of a conch shell and used to describe a smoothly curved surface on a rock or mineral; characteristic of quartz and obsidian.

Devitrification - Conversion of glass to crystalline material.

Dune - A low mound or ridge of sediment, usually sand, deposited by the wind.

Ephemeral lake - A short-lived lake.

Estuary - The seaward end or tidal mouth of a river where freshwater and seawater mix.

Euhedral - A grain bounded by perfect crystal faces; well-formed.

Fenestral - Having openings or transparent areas in a rock.

Fluvial - Of or pertaining to a river or rivers.

Friable - Describes a rock or mineral that is easily crumbled.

Granoblastic - Describes the texture of a metamorphic rock in which recrystallization formed crystals of nearly the same size in all directions.

Hermatypic - Describes a type of reef-building coral that is incapable of adjusting to conditions lacking sunlight.

Hot spring - A thermal spring whose temperature is above that of the human body.

Isthmus - A narrow strip or neck of land, bordered on both sides by water, connecting two larger land areas.

Lacustrine - Describes a process, feature, or organism pertaining to, produced by, or inhabiting a lake.

Lithify - To change to stone, or to petrify; especially to consolidate from a loose sediment to solid rock.

Lunar tide - The part of the tide caused solely by the tide-producing force of the Moon.

Source

[historiaxvanserra]

In Hades I Am With You | Coming Soon

Pairing: Rhys x HewnCIty!Reader

Summary: After the death of his High Lady and following a catastrophic war with a deathless God, Rhysand is urged by the inner circle to take a lover from Hewn City to further unite the warring factions in his own court. Loathed to take a mistress, Rhysand strikes a deal with the daughter of one of his death bringers. Her freedom in exchange for companionship and the allusion of intimacy. But how long can Rhysand run away from the painful truth that fate has big plans for him.

The sound of the high-arching orchestral symphony is cacophonous in the Midsummer air and the voices of the courtiers making merry echoes loudly in your ears. From where you stand near the outskirts of the aching chasm of the Moonstone Palace's grand ballroom you can see the dancing courtiers, like a myriad of technicolor stars that glitter against the black, and the lovers as they steal kisses in the night when the music swells to its heights. Lords and Ladies entangled in the shadowed opal light of the dark palace.

The chandelier hangs above the marble floor like a great quartz stalactite; almost luminescent as it casts the room in an ethereal, silvery hue.

One solitary figure stands out amongst the crowd of courtiers, his skin is of a similar dark hue to the morose Illyrian's that flank the dias, though more golden than carob. Something about the raw power he exhibits; the way his corded arms fold over the broad expanse of his chest, or the sharp cut of his jaw, the aquiline slope of his nose, the clear violet of his gaze. 

His eyes meet yours through the haze of insense smoke and the dancing tide of courtiers and memory comes back to you slowly, and then all at once. With the swiftness of the tide. The distant dreams formed in the folly of youth; some depraved girlhood fantasy as you regard the masked man once more. Only this time you note the dark lines inked into his forearms, and the tell-tale shade of blue-black hair that curls around fine, pointed ears. You would know him by scent alone; jasmine and mandarin, undercut with something inherently masculine. Bergamot and woody-bourbon. 

Your High Lord.

He looks older than you remember him. His face is cast in shadows but even in the low light you can see that the once perfect planes of his face have faint lines etched into them, a testament to his many years ruling The Night Court. He’s softer than you remember but underneath the softness there’s a lingering sense of dark, raw power. You swear its so palpable that you can taste it on the air as he smiles wickedly in your direction. 

Your High Lord, you chastise yourself.

All those years trying to outrun girlhood fantasies and yet, here you are, in the same place, entertaining the same notions that The High Lord might look your way. 

He wears maturity well you think, he carries this world-weary aura paired with his signature dark magnetism that has your heart fluttering wildly in your chest as the dancing sea parts for him as he goes. 

Your thunderous heart almost stops when those violet eyes burn bright against the dark and they’re set on you. The High Lord’s eyes glint in the silver moonglow and something akin to a smirk graces his perfect, parted lips and it’s then you realize he’s approaching you. A slow, stalk as he paces towards you, with all the feline grace of a predator.

And tonight, you are his prey. 

[astrolovecosmos]

The Planets & Random or Obscure Associations

~Sun~

Creativity, vitality, head of state, the father, games, yellow and orange clothing, articles of value, jewelry, gold, brass, power, diamonds, citrine, topaz, jasper, amber, rhodochrosite, mistletoe, almonds, citrus, succulents, sunflowers, fevers, heart, back, spine, grapes, walnuts, rice, chamomile, frankincense, juniper, saffron, marigold, rosemary, rue, palaces, towers, luxury.

~Moon~

Eternal, cycles, silver, aluminum, pearls, moonstone, opal, selenite, chest, glands, lymphatic system, nervous system, emotions, mother, ancestors, nurture, rebirth, tides, baths, ocean, brew, boat, sap, willow trees, succulents, pale color plants, white flowers, cucumber, cabbage, lettuce, melons, shellfish, pumpkins, lakes, fountains, ports, fishponds, pools, springs, sewers, dairies, toys, reflection, blankets, objects of comfort.

~Mercury~

Communication, journal, pen/pencil, any writing tools, wings, phosphorous, mercury, agate, tiger's eye, brain, nervous system, eyes, respiration, thyroid, speech, hearing, intellect, vehicles, money, bills, paper, books, pictures, parties or social gatherings, scientific instruments, butterflies, messages, mail, hazel, mulberry, myrtle, seeds, aniseed, dill, fennel, lavender, liquorice, marjoram, parsley, valerian, hazelnuts, beans, mushrooms, pomegranates, carrots, celery, libraries, schools, markets, fairs, public spaces, tennis or badminton court, studies, banks, bowling greens, offices, blue, white, or light colored flowers.

~Venus~

Love, relating, lust, high-quality fabrics, copper, bronze, sodium, malachite, tourmaline, emerald, rose quartz, kunzite, sapphire, pastels, throat, kidneys, lumber region, art, music, aesthetics, social life, fashion, jewelry, wine, pleasure, alder tree, fruit trees, paint, ash tree, birch, pomegranates, early flowering, daisy, mint, marshmallow, meadowsweet, mugwort, plantain, tansy, roses, thyme, vervain, yarrow, potatoes, strawberries, wheat, sugar, nectarines, ballrooms, bedrooms, dining room, gardens, fountains, wardrobes, theaters, looking and feeling good.

~Mars~

Lust, conquest, desire, flaming sword, red things, fights, iron, brass, bloodstone, carnelian, cinnabar, pyrite, magnetite, ruby, garnet, hematite, muscles, reproductive organs, blood, kidneys, immunity, heat, action, arms, pepper, sharp instruments, cutlery, attacks, scissors, weapons, physical intimacy, bites, stings, scalds, burns, accidents, hawthorn, pine, thorns, cactus, aloes, anemone, arnica, belladonna, garlic, ginger, hops, mustard seed, nettles, wormwood, chives, onions, leeks, radish, rhubarb, tobacco, labs, furnaces, distilleries, bakehouses, ovens, smiths, butchers, fields, anger, passion, self-focus.

~Jupiter~

Expansion, optimism, religion, religious sites, tin, seduction, turquoise, chrysocolla, topaz, citrine, jasper, liver, pancreas, pituitary gland, sciatic nerve, excess, abundance, prophecy, philosophy, knowledge, universities, foreign travel, luggage, honey, oil, silk, fruit, distinct clothing, merchandise, horses, domestic birds, gambling, indulgence, entertainment, oak, dandelion, sage, endive, chervil, asparagus, figs, churches, temples, palaces, altars, courts, mansions, woods, orchards, winery, cornucopia, connecting with the soul.

~Saturn~

Limits, boundaries, father time, lord of death, shadows, lead, iron, steel, calcium, asbestos, sulphur, diamond, onyx, calcite, skeleton, spleen, skin, teeth, nails, joints, structure, crystallization, old age, blockage, anything dark, wool, heavy materials, agriculture, wheelbarrows, spades, farm houses and buildings, cold, laws, aspen, blackthorn, buckthorn, cypress, elm, toxic plants, hemlock, henbane, belladonna, hellebore, barley, beetroot, safflower, parsnips, spinach, deserts, woods, valleys, caves, church yards, ruins, coalpits, sinks, wells, mud, institutions.

~Uranus~

Eccentrics, mavericks, invention, genius, revolution, change, trends, disruptive science or tech, uranium, magnesium, lapis lazuli, sapphire, aquamarine, azurite, chalcedony, electricity, neon lights, plaid, nervous and circulatory system, pineal gland, chaos, violence, upheaval, astrology, steam engines, coal, machinery, coins, baths, fishponds, dangerous places, computers, magnets, quantum physics, research, welfare, humanity, hypnotherapy, railways, banks, gas, psychiatric hospitals, offices, hospitals, dispensaries, fortified places, chemicals, mingled/mingling, spirit and matter.

~Neptune~

Illusions, veils, diffuse, deception, water, oceans, mysticism, enlightenment, artistic pursuit and understanding, zinc, potassium, amethyst, fluorite, jade, sugilite, coral, aquamarine, pineal gland, lymphatic and nervous system, spine, mental processes, addiction, psychoses, disease, photography, music, substances, gas, religion, poetry, mimicry, chameleon, anesthetic, telepathy, empathy, dancing, psychic gifts, places near water, hospitals, places of healing, jeweler, painters, brewers, musicians, visionary.

~Pluto~

Power, influence, darkness, new life, what's hidden underneath, seeds, volcanoes, deep earth or ocean, bury, explosions, eruptions, abduction, plutonium, smoky quartz, obsidian, jet, pearl, deep reds, reproductive organs, the unconscious, nuclear, transformation, death, birth, rebirth, underworld, riches, earthquakes, big business, murder, detection, detective, invisibility, sneak, enforced change, hidden places, underground, drains, sewers, radioactive places, the occult, black magic, sacrifice, renew.

[tuxedonet]

ঌ LIP BALM SESSION ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ feat. ⠀⠀⠀ matt smith.

the davenport mattress creaked under your sumptuous knee—joints , dredging to nuzzle the gouging spring. the precipice of your scapulae steepen at the impertinent cadence of slobber and teeth. neat metal brushes the hint of your zygomatic bone , sweeper’s the bolt’s with the drapery of your eyelashes. your geranium—red nails , keen as embroidery needles , scratch the unearthly earth that is matt smith. you cram your lungs with petrol and matchsticks as you take torrid oxygen , and persist to drink the fruity wine crafted by the tongue of the famed actor.

your fingertips sled adjacent to the elliptical curvature of his cranium , groveling portentously across the mantle of his coffee—brown mane. the hissing sail of the cushion of his digits skulk down the cascade of the hill of your vertebrae , the padlock of his gelid patek philippe watch rooted itself like a splinter , and tattooed the route of your waistline in bermudgeon.

as you depart from the kiss , with a thwack of pompous mouth scintillating in drool and a continuum of symphonious puff’s , your thorax heaves the yarn of gloom and hanker.

exhaling funereally , a billow of aflame mist balms the milky foam with sparkles of cinnamon of the chestnut—haired man cheekbone’s , murking the transparent quartz of his expensive glasses. frolicking in a hazardous tug of cat and mouse , matt's underfed lips pitter—pattered against the sinewy shore of your mandible , prong chin and the emitting tide of your larynx , chomping into your adam's apple, sinning.

I WANT REVENGE © TUXEDONET ╱ 2024.

[stalkerofthegods]

Lord Hermes Deep dive

Lord Hermes is amazing, he is the darling of the gods and of our hearts, he is strong in gymnastics and in spirit, he is the last thing we see, and the lord of our words, and as a worshiper and as a researcher I believe he is amazing and wonderful, I absolutely adore him, so I should probably stop writing, or it'll become a love letter, but I've worshiped this god for around 2 years, maybe more, but I know well he is amazing and deserves respect.

Herbs • Krokos (Crocus) koumara Tree, olives/olive oil, crocus, hydrangea, chrysanthemum, Palm tree, Almond tree, The Silver Birch tree, Crocuses, Saffron, Wheat, Rosemary, Pine Tree, Mint, Cinnamon, Cassia, Golden Benzoin, moly, strawberry

Animals• sheep, dogs, boars, lions, Tortoise, Ram, The dove killing species of Hawk, Hares, constellation Lepus, pig, beef, mutton, pork, Cattle/oxen, roster, birds of omen, snakes, and guard dogs, fish, horses

Colors• Red, purple, silver, gold, copper, and black, Orange, Grey, Green, Red, white and brown (associated with traveling)

Crystal• Amethyst, Quartz, Orange topaz, Agate, Marble, smoky quartz, copper, silver, and gold, Eisenkiesel Quartz, Silver, Yellow Topaz, Amber, Citrine, Emerald, and Peridot, red marble, Hematite, jade, malachite, fluorite, pyrite, lapis lazuli, alexandrite

Symbol• Caduceus, Kerykeion (Herald’s staff and magic wand, lulls mortals to sleep and can wake mortals at will), Winged Cap (also called petasos, and a brimmed cap, this cap was called “Cap of Aidoneus, the unseen” because it rendered its wearer invisible), Golden Sickle, Winged Boots- called “pteroeis pedila”, A Sack (the kibisis) Talaria (winged sandals), and Petasos (winged helmet), golden or adamantine blade, shepherd pipes, Purse, Pouch, Hermai.

Mortal or immortal • immortal 

Zodiac• Gemini and Virgo, and cancer 

Equivalent (this means alike, not the same) - Mercury (Roman), Hyperion (Greek), , Horus (Egyptian), Ra (Egyptian), Amun (Egyptian), Freyr (Norse), Bragi (Norse), Odin (Norse), Baldr (Norse), Heimdallr (Norse), Lugh (Celtic), Áine (Celtic), Mercurius (Roman god), Thoth (Egyptian god), Anubis (Egyptian god), Woden-Odin (Germanic god)

Attendees • Oreiades (oreads), Pan & the panes, Satyroi, oneiroi, he is often seen with Hestia.

Ephiphets• Agetor -Guide of Souls, Agonius or Enagonius -pertaining (Hermes’ role as presider over solemn festivals such as Agonius) Agoraea and Agoraeus- to Gods who were considered being the protectors of the assemblies of the people in the agora (also has a reference to the agora as the marketplace), Argeiphontes- “radiant one’, Euskopos Argeiphontes, literally “the sharp-eyed Slayer of Argos”, Chthonius or Chthonios, “of the earth or underworld, Hermes Trismegistus- “Thrice Great Hermes”, Kriophoros- the “ram-bearer” is a figure that commemorates the solemn sacrifice of a ram, Leucus- “white”- an epithet of Hermes in Boetia, a Greek city containing Thebes, “Of the Golden Blade”- he carried a sickle made of adamant, Cyllenius, or Kullhnios- from His birth or temple site on mount Cyllene in Arcadia, Diaktoros Argeiphontes – “the courier” Argeiphontes, Kratus Argeiphontes- “strong” Argeiphontes, Hermes Promakhos- “the Champion” Logios- writer, knower of intelligent design, Tetragonos- four square, Aglaos -Splendid, Agoraios - Of the Market Place, Aipytos -Of Aipytos, Akakesios -Of Akakesion, Angelos -Messenger, Agreiphontes -Argus-Slaying, Bouphonos -Slayer of Oxen, Dioktoros -Messenger, Dolios -Crafty One, Enagonios- Of the Games, Enodios - of the Road, Epimelios - Keeper of the flocks, Eriounios - Luck-Bringer, Euangelos - Bringer of Glad Tidings, Euskopos - Watchful, Gumnasiarkhos - Leader of the Gymnasium, Hermeneutes - Interpreter, Kerdoos - the Gainful, Kerukes -Herald, Kharmophron—Heart-Delighting, Khthonios - of the Earth, Khrysorrhapis -Of the Golden Wand, Klepsiphron - Deceiver, Kourotrophos - Protector of Youth, Kranaios- unknown, Krateros - Mighty, Kriophoros - Ram-Bearer, Kullenios - Of Mount Kyllene, Logios -of Speech, Maiados Huios - Son of Maia, Mekhaniotes - Trickster, Nomios - Protector of Flocks, Oiopolos - Shepherd, Pantokrator- Ruler of the World, Pheletes -Thief, Poikilometes - Full of Various Wiles, Poneomenos - Busy One, Promakhos- Champion, Propulaios - Before the Gates, Psukhopompos - Conveyer of Souls, Takhus - Swift, Tetragonos - Square, Trikephalos - Of the Three Ways/Heads, Trismegestos - Thrice-Greatest, Tukhon- Bringer of Luck, Aglaos- Radiant, Bright, Beautiful, Pleasin, enevolent. Angelos Athanatôn - messenger of the gods, Angelos Makarôn- messenger of the Blessed, Akhos Phêlêteôn- leader of robbers and thieves, Chrysorrhapis- of the Golden wand, Dais herairos - comrade of the forest, Diaktoros- guide & messenger, Dolios- Craft of Wiles, Dôtor Eaôn - giver of good things, Dôtor eaôn- Giver of good things, Enagônions- giver of good things, Enagônios-of the game, Epimêlios-Keeper of the flocks, Erikydês- famous, glorious & splendid, Eriounês - Luck bringing & ready helper, Euskopos-Keen-sighted, Hermêneutês- interpreter/translator, Kharidôtês- giver of joy/graces, Kharmonphrôn- Glad-Hearted, Krateros- Strong & mighty, Kriophoros- ram bearer, Kydimos-glorious, mastêrios- of searchers, mêkhaniôtês-trickster, Oiopolos- sheep tending& shepherd, Phêlêtês- their, robber, rustler, poikilomêtês- full of various wiles, Polytropos - Much traveled& much wandering, pompaios- the guide (he’s a psychopomp) 

Element • air 

Number•Four, eight, Squares

Past courtships• Merope, Aphrodite, Dryope, Peitho, and Hecate,

Personality• People say he is chaotic, some say he’s wise and can be calm, he does give serious advice and is a serious guy, but he also has a sense of humor and won’t always steal from you. (he won’t if you ask him not to..I think.) He is also sassy and side eyes (from other people) I find him difficult to track down, He's very kind and upbeat sometimes, depends on how u contact him and what mood he's in, he gives great advice and someone good to depend on.

Patron of• of cunning thieves and liars, Patron of herdsmen, Patron of orators, Patron of inventors, Cattle-herders, Shepherds, Goatherds, Horse & mule breeders, Grazing pastures, Cave shelters, Guard-dogs, Animal predators, Bucolic poetry, music, Animal fables (ex- the tales of Aesop), Laws of hospitality, he is the Protector of guests, Cattle-rustlers, Bandits, Crafty thoughts, Mail carriers and sorters, Retail workers, Canvassers , Editors, journalists, and writers, Newspaper routes, Bank tellers, Carnies , Casino workers, Gas station attendants, Mechanics, presentations, public speaking, playlists (I've heard this years ago)

Diety of• Divine Trickster, boundaries and thresholds, Creator of civilization as Trickster, Messenger of the Gods, transgressor of boundaries and taboos, Inventor of fire, Inventor of sacrifice, of mysteries, Bringer of sleep, dreams, and visions, free will, Psychopompos or Guide of the Dead, Escort of the Gods, thieves, graves, and heralds, Luck, Unexpected Fortune, Giver of Good, of sacrificial priests, successful communication with enemies, translation and language, gymnasia and athletic youth, logos world order, trade and commodities, astronomy, knowledge, speech, Inventor of boxing, running and foot races, of exchange, alchemy, science, internet, Magic, Presider at solemn sacrifices, Divine Movement, Ruler of the Orphic House of Cancer, Ruler of the Planet Mercury, Western astrological signs of Gemini and Virgo, Scribe of the Gods, Protector of all messengers especially in war, Protector of wise women and elderly women, Fertility and Procreation, God of Masturbation, Soul Transformation and Guide through Consciousness changes, Heraldry and animal husbandry, speed, Codes, and Secrets, Caretaker of graves, Protector of travelers, Mechanics, Wine-pourer of the Gods, Inventor of weights and balances, Controller of Birds of Omen, hospitality, diplomacy, physical and moral boundaries, Orators, presentation, public speaking

Home• Mount Olympus 

Fact• He invented the alphabet and dice and the lyre, he also has a stone called the “hermai” on the side of the road or a stone with a penis (he was a fertility god) to show a border or a crossing, sometimes to explain direction and distance, or in important landmarks is up ahead, the herms were worshiped, with offerings and anointed with olive oil and adorned with flowers and wreaths, telling us about the sacredness and importance of the hermai. (The ones near tombs are also connected to funeral rites). Some say he created fire, because in his myth of his birth he started a fire to sacrifice cows to the gods.

Roots• Greek mythology, Mount Cyllene

Blessings • protection on the road, money randomly found, easy speaking, good parking, and less traffic. Herds multiply (fertility); Herds protected (from predators), Success in trade, Goods protected from thieves, having Persuasive speech, Poetic inspiration, Safe traveling, Protection of guests, Homes protected from thieves & criminals, having Wiliness and stealth, 

Curses: Herds die off by disease and infertility, Herds lost to predators, Unsuccessful trade, loss in money, loss in memory, loss In conversation, unwelcome ghosts in the house.

Food recipe • Panspermia, a mixture of beans, peas, seeds, olive oil, milk, and honey, should only be offered to Hermes in his Underworld aspect. This offering is considered food for the dead and should not be tasted by the living (considered bad luck if Aten by living) 

Offerings • Keys, Dice, Playing cards, Coins, Rocks/pebbles,Lucky charms (Cereal), Rabbit's foot, Horse shoe, Magic 8 ball, Coffee, Energy drinks, Herms, Road trip snacks (perhaps Hostess donuts), Airplanes/trains/cars imagery, Foreign/new foods, Trail mix, Peanut m&ms, rumane the marble popping soda drink, Turtles, Lyres/string instruments, Sandals/shoes/running shoes, Journals, Camping gear, Survival gear, like multitools, fire starters, first aid kits etc, Pens/pencils, Small (stolen) trinkets, Language dictionaries, Work out gear, Panpipes, Postcards, Letters, Mail, Stamps, Envelopes, Zodiac signs, Sheep/goats, Car parts, Backpacks/drawstring bags/bags, Crocos, Sticks, Saffron, Sticks, Books, Cups, Scales, Dream journals, Graveyard dirt, Cookie fortunes, Bikes/skateboards/skate, Old licenses/IDs, Sport trophies/jerseys/jackets/gear, Wings, Letters/numbers, Video games, Magic kits, Oranges/Lemons, Beer, White wine, Red wine for (His chthonic aspect), Milk, Mutton, Pork, Beef, Chamomile tea, Honey, Olive oil, Strawberries, Foreign foods, Eggs, Virgo or Gemini moon water,Golden objects, Silver objects, Musical instruments, Wands, Money/coins, Foreign money/coins, Dice, Pebbles, Feathers, Turtle shaped objects or art, Strawberry art or toys, Crocus flowers, Written stories or letters, Travel food, Souvenirs from your trips wheat, honey, twigs of olive, honey-comb and honey from local bees, cassia, cinnamon, saffron, include eggs, onions, garlic, pomegranate seeds, and fish or pork, barley grains, mead, beer (Especially German), lead, papyrus, pebbles, herms (or boundary stones), chocolate, whipped cream, coffee drinks, brightly-colored easter eggs, blueberries, granola, almonds, walnuts, pecans, Absinthe, beer, gin, vodka, red-bull, dry white wine, blessed moon water (especially in Virgo, Cancer, or Gemini), metal, jars, gin, pomegranates, onions, fish, garlic, Statues, Turtle Imagery, Hawk Imagery, Ram Imagery, Rooster Imagery, Marbles, Postcards, Chocolate, Lemons, Almonds, Mutton, Foreign Food, Brightly Colored Eggs, Onions, Sunflower Seeds, Fig Newton Cookies, Granola, Candies, Strawberry Milk, spring water, cookies or cakes, Wine, Golden cakes, Golden raisins, Apples, Music or poetry, Dancing, Drawings, pineapple, anything with computers, (especially boxing games, online games, and hackers), orange peels, gas station coffee!!, apples, bananas, grapes,Anything containing mercury, Crocuses, Panpipes, Saffron, Strawberries, Chocolate, Wheat, Honey, Lemons, Almonds, Cassia, Cinnamon, Pork or mutton, Spring water, Comforting a dying loved one, letters

Devotional• Board games, Dominos, pick up sticks, playing jacks, bouncy balls, peanut m&ms, write letters, go on walks, go run, do marathons in his honor, road trips, learn about alchemy, astrology, astral travel, prophet dreams, anything astrology related, learn basic car mechanics, give whatever to panhandlers, go talk to panhandlers (keep them company) , pranks, public speaking, tip well, stargazing, geocaching, learn a new language, Learn ASL, work out, Deive safely and predictably, use your blinkers fucking properly , bike/skate, clean your car, make a travel alter (for Hermes), get a passport, Travel , practice keyboarding, have a penpal, Train your voice, magic tricks, check your mail/email , low risk gambling (ex• lotto tickets) , make sigils, race, Play tag, be nice to wait staff, play sports, make maps of trails near you, make maps in general, play string instruments , Make herms, Carpool, Uphold confidentiality, Coin tricks, Be a reliable worker, Thrifting/yard saying, Dumpster diving, Making trades and barter, Help look for missing people/pets, Travel to new places, Learn a new sport, Practice speaking in public or online, Practice writing, Learn astrology, Learn astronomy, Learn about agriculture and animal husbandry, Learn magic tricks, Collect coins, Have a feast in His name, Dice games (ex- DnD), Card games, Donate to homeless shelters in His name, Give money to the hhomeless, Keep a dream journal, Write Him stories and poems or jokes, Honor the dead, Invoke Him on your travels or when looking for a job, always thank Him when you arrive safely or have some luck in your life, studying, learning, playing harmless pranks, attending magic shows, going on adventures, trying out new things, donating to fundraisers, working out, Taking a scenic route on your way home,Picking up loose change, Going to thrift stores, Being patient with delivery drivers, Going for walks, Making a mood board, Making a playlist, Making a dedicated journal, Giving to those in need, Going to/Watching sporting events, Practicing safe driving, Donations to hospitals and health institutions Donations to local artists, learn on how to save on gas, learn how to surf, draw sigils on shoes, leave coins when you leave places (extra points for pennys), give people in need a bus fare, clean off snow on other peoples car, clean your car, stopping for others (nicely, don’t run them over!), let him pick music, get a passport in his honor, decorate your passport, learn how animals communicate, call a love one, establish and force, dedicate a electronic to him, collect stamps and post cards, keep ur secrets, communicate with people when your upset,Keep a journal, Learn a new language/Revisit, Learn ASL, Learn about the evolution of language and how it is always changing, Be mindful of the language you use in daily life, Change your self-talk to positive, Voice training (Particularly for trans worshippers), Thinking before you speak, Learn about older forms of communication (ex- Morse Code), Learn braille,Go to the library and practice reading books in a foreign language ,Practice writing (great to do, Learn about the elements of writing, like allegory and metaphors, Play pranks (remember that good pranks cause confusion, not harm), Buy scratch offs/play the lottery, Understand how gambling addictions affect people, Dice and card games, Learn about good luck charms/Make your own, Learn about superstitions, Games like billiards or darts, Arcade/video games/carnival games, Make small/friendly bets, Poker nights in his honor, Do aGame of horseshoe, Learn parlor games, Smoke a bowl with Him, Learn a good joke, Write/perform stand up comedy,  Checking your mail, Checking email/voicemail, Buying stamps, Flipping a coin, Dice divination, Charm casting, present a presentation in his honor, public speaking in his honor

Siblings• Aeacus, Angelos, Aphrodite, Apollo, Ares, Artemis, Athena, Dionysus, Eileithyia, Enyo, Eris, Ersa, Hebe, Helen of Troy, Hephaestus, Heracles, Minos, Pandia, Persephone, Perseus, Rhadamanthus, the Graces, the Horae, the Litae, the Muses, and the Moirai.

Appearance in astral or gen• Winged cap and boots, Traveller’s cloak, Youthful usually beardless figure or with a beard, with a Caduceus, sometimes seen with a mustache

Parentage• Zeus and the nymph Maia or Uranus and Hemera

Sacred days, festivals- Wednesday, the 4th day of the month, Hermaea, Agonius, in Cydonia social order was inverted for the festival and masters waited on their slaves, and slaves got to taste freedom. 

Season• March, April, May, June (based on zodiacs) 

Status• Messenger of the gods, and an underworld worker, he is called the darling of the gods

Music • anything from flutes or the lyre.

Sacred places• Mt Kyllene in Arkadia (his birthplace), Arcadia, mount Cyllene, Tricrena mountains, his Temples, his Cavern-shrines, Altars in market-places, gymnasiums, athletic arenas, house entrances. 

Planet• mercury

Tarot• eight wands, magician, judgment, and maybe seven swords 

Scents/Inscene • Frankensince, Myrrh incense, Lavender incense, strawberry, camphor, and malabathrumcock, storax, mastic, mace, moly, nettles, asafoetida, ginger, and marjolane, dragon’s blood incense, list cloves, tobacco, nag champa, poppy, and vanilla, ink on parchment, Musk, White Sandalwood, Nettles

His kids -Hermaphroditus, Tyche, Abderus, Autolycus, Eudorus, Angelia, and Myrtilus, Arabos, Abderos, Aithalides, Bounos, Daphinis, Ekhion, Eleusis (according to others, she was a minor goddess of Eleusinian Mysteries), Euandros, Kaikos, kephalos, keryx, kydon, libys, Mytilos, Norax, Orion, Paris, Paris, phaunos, polybos,saon

What I associate with him• rock music, bricks, dinosaurs, and wine (I promised to share my first cup of wine with him once I turn 21)

Some summarized myths •

Birth- Hermes was born from his mother Maia, the goddess of the fields, and his Father Zeus, he hid in a cave with his mother in Mt. Cyllene in Arcadia, the same day he was born (or when he was a toddler), he ran away while his mother was out, he stole cattle and turned their feet backwards, to 'trick' Apollo, he went back to the cave and made a fire and sacrificed 2 cows to catch the gods attention and ate 1 and hid the rest, outside after he ate he saw a  tortoise feeding and cleaned it out and made strings together from a cow he ate, and made a lyre and a plectrum, and Apollo found him, furious he took him to his father and he denied everything and zeus found it hilarious, and he had to head back to the place where he hid the cattle, on the way he played the lyre, Apollo was enamored by it and asked for it and in return he would be his best friend and forgive him, and while helping Apollo tend to the cattle he made pan pipes, which Apollo made him a deal for his iconic golden snake staff and the skill of phropecy by using pebbles.

Killing Argos- Zeus had a lover Io, Who he was laying with in a field, Hera saw and strolled over, he struck in panic turned her into a cow, and Hera came over and demanded it as a gift, and zeus obliged, zeus in a panic asked Hermes to slay it, Hermes went to the cane where the all-seeing giant was, he lured him to sleep with a song, and when he was asleep, he slashed all his eyes and killed him, and took the cow, and in grief Hera turned the giant into a peacock to save the memory and to honor the giant. that's the myth where he gained the title 'Argos slayer'

Prayers•

Safe travels

Swift-footed Hermes, friend of the traveler, friend of those who find themselves far from their homes, by will or by chance, I pray to you. Hermes, who moves between the realms with authority and ease, who leads men and women on their last, longest journey, who stands at the crossroad, who watches the byways, in you I place my trust, for by your might I know that when I stumble I will rise again, that when I choose my way I will choose aright. Hermes, as I make my way through the world, whether I wander or whether I walk my path with care, be with me.

In general

Hermes of the ready wit and the lightning smile, wing-footed one who carries the words of the gods, compassionate one who guides the newly-dead to the hall of Hades and fair Persephone, quick-thinking one who takes interest in the world and works of mankind, whose hand we see in a run of luck and a clever scheme, I call to you. Hermes, bearer of the herald’s staff, your gifts are great. You guard our homes with constancy and care, you grant to us a portion of your own craft and wile, you join with us when we revel and are merry, you stand with us when we are far from home, alone. You are ever with us, O Hermes; O god who holds in hand the good of men, I honor you.

hestia & hermes for good money

I call to Hermes, god of the marketplace, god of the the deal, from whose hands fall shining coins. I call to Hestia, goddess of the home, goddess of good management, who knows the ways of thrift. Grant me a keen eye to spot a bargain, I pray; grant that I know false economy from true. Grant me the craft to repair what is broken, grant me the sufficiency to save for what may come. Grant me the wisdom to live with care, O gods, the discipline and skill to live within my means; grant me the wit to know my needs and my desires, grant me the judgment to know the difference.

This info is some UPG and some traditional, I do not find UPG disrespectful at all and some of it is my own experience, and I am not debating about it. My info is still valid, and I'm sure my sources is, just wanted to clarify this! Much love! I did get some info from other Tumblr users, I made this way back, I still update it, I dont own any of this information.

sources - https://twelfthremedy.tumblr.com/post/621849449656942592/hermes-offerings/amp

Wikipedia. “Agetor.” Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, 10 Nov. 2010. Web. 12 May 2011. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agetor.

Burkert, Walter. “The Gods.” Greek Religion. Basil Blackwell and Harvard UP, 1985. 156-59. Print.

The original book was published in Germany as Griechische Religion der archaischen und klassischen Epoche. by Verlag W. Kohlhammer, Stuttgart, copyright year 1977

1b) Atsma, Aaron J. “ESTATE, ATTRIBUTES & ATTENDANTS OF HERMES : Greek Mythology.” THEOI GREEK MYTHOLOGY, Exploring Mythology & the Greek Gods in Classical Literature & Art. 2000. Web. 13 Apr. 2011. http://www.theoi.com/Olympios/HermesTreasures.html, Wikipedia. “Agonius.” Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, 10 Nov. 2010. Web. 12 May 2011. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agonius, Wikipedia. “Agoraea.” Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, 26 June 2010. Web. 12 May 2011. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agoraeus, Wikipedia. “Chthonius.” Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia, 20 June 2011. Web. 26 June 2011. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chthonius,Wikipedia. “Hermes Trismegistus.” Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia, 9 June 2011. Web. 26 June 2011. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hermes_Trismegistus., “Kriophoros.” Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia, 11 June 2011. Web. 26 June 2011. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kriophoros, Wikipedia. “Leucus.” Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia, 13 Feb. 2011. Web. 26 June 2011. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leucus, Atsma, Aaron J. “ESTATE, ATTRIBUTES & ATTENDANTS OF HERMES : Greek Mythology.” THEOI GREEK MYTHOLOGY, Exploring Mythology & the Greek Gods in Classical Literature & Art. 2000. Web. 13 Apr. 2011. http://www.theoi.com/Olympios/HermesTreasures.html, “CYLLENIUS, Greek Mythology Index.” MYTH INDEX, Greek Mythology. Myth Index, 2007. Web. 13 Apr. 2011. http://www.mythindex.com/greek-mythology/C/Cyllenius.html, Sannion. “Wildivine.org – Offeringsto Hermes.” Wildivine.org – Dionysos, Hermes, Nymphs and Pacific Northwest Polytheism. Wildvine.org. Web. 26 June 2011. http://www.wildivine.org/hermes_offerings.htm.1, Sannion. “Wildivine.org – Offerings to Hermes.” Wildivine.org – Dionysos, Hermes, Nymphs and Pacific Northwest Polytheism. Wildvine.org. Web. 12 May, http://www.wildivine.org/hermes_offerings.htm, Sannion. “Wildivine.org – Hermes’epithets.” Wildivine.org – Dionysos, Hermes, Nymphs and Pacific Northwest Polytheism. Wildvine.org. Web. 12 May 2011. http://www.wildivine.org/hermes_epithets.htm.

https://greekpagan.com/category/prayers-2/hermes/

https://journal.uny.ac.id/index.php/diksi/article/download/49223/18693#:~:text=The%20red%20or%20green%20color,one%20of%20the%20Olympic%20gods.

 travelingthief.tumblr.comhttps://www.tumblr.com/themodernwitchsguide

I use resources, I do not own the info, and most deep dives have UPG (that I use in my work.) And I only take some information from sources. I am 14, this is my hobby, I am learning but I spent many hours and days on this, and I am always open to criticism. I have been doing worship for 5 years. Please know you can use the info, I do not sue, but I will take action if this work is used without permission and not put as a resource if used in any work. without permisson and not put as a resource if used in any work, for the public.

[randygrim]

Some iterater designs !!

Individual portraits and hc below (this shit is long btw)

Sliver of Straw she/her

-most articulated, very brittle, prone to fracturing

-does not wear the clothes of her ancients, loaths them after they abandoned her

-magnetic joints, designed for biology

Seven Red Suns they/them

-made w soft metal after older models began to crack, has many many observatorys across their area

-clothes are embroidered with tiny pearls and metallic floss

-elastic joints, designed for astronomy

Looks to the Moon she/they

-least articulated model, made partially with rust resistent material, can detach from power cables to perform field research

-clothes are based on the tides, pearls are meant to resemble reflected stars

-magnetic joints, designed for meteorology

No Significant Harassment he/she

-same model as moon, can also detach from cables

-does not wear the ancients jewelry because she despises them but still wears the same clothes cuz of nostalgia

-ripped out his antenas because of faulty signal wiring that caused migraines

-designed for pathology (specifically to study the rot)

Five Pebbles he/him

-youngest and smallest so he is most power efficient

-jewelry is made of local minerals, being gold, quartz, and bismuth

-elastic joints, made for geology

Additional headcanons I thought were cool:

- both sos and nsh hate their ancients, but nsh was able to come to terms with his abandonenment and heal, where as sos threw herself into her work to prove them wrong

-lttm used to visit pebbles frequently before pebbles' experiment

And yeah! I'll probably post a doodle of what sos clothes would have looked like before the ancients left.

This was fun!!! I cant w8 to do some slugcat designs next

[world-of-wales]

CATHERINE'S STYLE FILES - 2020

12 MAY 2020 || The Duchess of Cambridge and Prince William appeared in a video message marking International Nurses Day.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Now I’m Covered In You [Chapter 3: Blood Moon]

Series summary: Aemond is a prince of England. You are married to his brother. The Wars of the Roses are about to begin, and you have failed to fulfill your one crucial responsibility: to give the Greens a line of legitimate heirs. Will you survive the demands of your family back in Navarre, the schemes of the Duke of Hightower, the scandals of your dissolute husband, the growing animosity of Daemon Targaryen…and your own realization of a forbidden love?

Series title is a lyric from: Ivy by Taylor Swift.

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+), dubious consent, miscarriage, pregnancy, childbirth, violence, warfare, murder, alcoholism, sexism, infidelity, illness, death, only vaguely historically accurate, lots of horses!

Word count: 6.2k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @borikenlove @myspotofcraziness @ipostwhatifeel @teenagecriminalmastermind @quartzs-posts @tclegane @poohxlove @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @chainsawsangel @itsabby15 @serrhaewin @padfooteyes @arcielee @travelingmypassion @what-is-originality @burningcoffeetimetravel @blackdreamspeaks @anditsmywholeheart @aemcndtargaryen @jvpit3rs @sarcastic-halfling-princess @flowerpotmage @ladylannisterxo @thelittleswanao3 @elsolario @tinykryptonitewerewolf @girlwith-thepearlearring​ @minttea07 @trifoliumviridi @deltamoon666 @mariahossain​

Let me know if you’d like to be added! 💜

“I wish you could join us,” Nico says, almost sulks, snow catching in her hair. She’s riding a gorgeous white mare that the Duke of Hightower purchased for her. He’s in no hurry to gift you a horse. King Viserys—epochs ago, on your wedding day, on the blood-orange July afternoon when you looked into Aegon’s glassy, shadow-ringed eyes and knew exactly what sorts of demons you’d be sharing your life with—once promised you an Andalucian for each child you gave your husband. He hasn’t mentioned it since. It’s slipped his mind, most likely; that’s what happens to the king’s notions that concern the Greens. They stumble around in his skull for a while, find a window, jump from the ledge and free-fall into oblivion.

You smile up at Nico with your feet planted firmly on the ground like fertile roots and a hand resting on your belly. Five months along, over halfway there, farther than you’ve ever been before. The season is winter, but you feel like spring. You feel like blossoms unfurling, like ivy scaling walls of frozen stone. “Next year, with any luck.”

“But what if I’m with child by then?”

“Then you’ll get to return the favor and gallantly wave me off as I gallop into the distance, a vision of Boudicca herself.”

“Didn’t that story end with mass murder and suicide?”

“Nico, not everything needs to be said out loud.”

She laughs, raucous and jarring. Horses’ ears go back; crows take flight from stripped trees. It’s Christmas, and that means it’s also boar hunting season. The feast tonight will require a boar’s head to be served—a tradition that dates back to ancient Norse pagans, to faiths of earth and thunder and sea—and the court has assembled to procure one, the men armed with spears, the women riding along to cheer them on, hounds braying and circling agitatedly, servants sprinting around with jugs of wine. “Alas,” Nico says. “I cannot help it. I am Italian.”

Then she reels her mare around and trots off to join the hunting party. Once not so long ago, you had no true friends here. Now you have at least one. Two, if you count Aemond…although you can’t decide if Aemond is a friend. Sometimes he feels like less, other times much more. He grows close and then is far away again, a tide that’s always a few hours from receding. You watch Nico depart with hardly any heartache. Your relative incapacitation will be finished soon enough, your position vindicated. The clock is ticking.

Daeron compliments you as he canters by on Tessarion, heavy hooves leaving impact craters in the snow: “Princess, that’s a lovely gown.” Lavender, purple, the color of royalty, a declaration of your own worth. That’s not something you can rely upon others giving you. You’re between worlds at the moment: neither fully Navarran nor English, not an outsider nor a future queen.

“Thank you, brother. Good luck!”

Daemon reins up beside you, peering down with glittering dark eyes. When anyone ventures too close to Caraxes—whether horse or human—he snaps at them like a wolf. Surely there is no beast better suited to its master. “I think you’d look better covered in red. Isn’t that the color of your people, Navarre?”

“Prince Daemon,” you purr, one hand still on your belly, your victory in progress. “Enjoy the hunt. I know you get restless when you haven’t murdered anything in a while.”

He should quip back, but he doesn’t. He just grins, his gaze locked on yours; and his grin stretches wider until it sends a bolt down your spine like cold lightning. You have the sudden, dreadful impression that there’s a joke you aren’t in on. “You have no idea.”

Caraxes squeals and jerks back his head as Vhagar shoves between you, massive withers and haunches making space where none existed before. Caraxes nips Vhagar’s shoulder, drawing blood; Vhagar snorts in reply, a low rumble like a storm. Caraxes retreats, ears flattened, but Daemon pitches you one last crooked smirk as he leaves, a threat, an oath.

“Perhaps we should serve Daemon’s head at dinner,” Aemond says.

“He certainly looks like a pig to me.”

“You aren’t too disappointed, I hope. To have to stay behind.”

You smile, petting Vhagar’s silky muzzle. She has a white blaze down the front of her face, white stockings like patches of snow on rich spring soil. “It’s temporary.” What was Aemond like on my wedding day? You try to remember. All you can conjure is a vision of him staring at the floor as you linked your trembling hands with Aegon’s and the priest spoke, as if the match was so ill-fated he could not bear to witness it. It took you a year to learn that he didn’t disapprove of you after all. Something else weighed on him that day, something else dragged down his eyes like an anchor moors a ship.

Aegon passes you both on Sunfyre. “I’ll bring you back something, wife!” he vows, swaying drunkenly in the saddle, his chaotic silver hair shagging in his eyes. Fortunately, Sunfyre seems aware of his rider’s limitations; his steps are lithe and cautious, almost timid. His coat is a river of gold beneath grey skies. When Aegon urges the horse to go faster, Sunfyre ignores him.

You turn back to Aemond and raise an eyebrow. “Make sure he doesn’t break his neck?”

“As always.” And then Aemond is gone too.

The king will not join the hunt. He is getting too old for it—although no one would say that aloud—and Queen Alicent, ever-sacrificial, is staying behind in the palace with him, overseeing preparations for the feast. The other royals vanish into the forest: Daeron and Nico, Aemond and Aegon, Daemon and Baela and Rhaena, Jace and Luke, trailed by the rest of the cast of characters, Blacks and Greens alike. Joanna Montford was replaced by Agnes Stafford, who was replaced by Sibylla Beaufort, who was replaced by Cecily Chaucer. There is no shortage of young women whose fathers are rabid to push them into the bed of the man they call the heir to the throne. A servant brings you a cup of apple cider, and you sip it as snowflakes melt into the fur of your coat.

“It’s not personal,” Rhaenyra says. You whirl to see her and Syrax; they have appeared like ghosts, both pale and ethereal, both fearsome without being malevolent. “Prince Daemon’s taunts, I mean. Any of our antagonism. Distrust that swells into hated.” Her hair is long, loose, strands of ivory in the wind. Her eyes—clear water, cool and stoic—flick down to your belly and then back up to your face. She’s a lot like Aemond, you think, seeing the extent of their resemblance for the first time.

“It feels very personal.”

“I could have liked you in a different life,” Rhaenyra counters, like parrying swords. “You have just enough ruthlessness in you. A river, but not a sea. You thirst for freedom. You wear chains called obligation. But when my father named me heir, he painted a target on my back. Even if I renounced my claim, there would always be men willing to take up arms for me. I would always be a threat to Alicent and her children. Just by breathing, just by having blood hot in my veins. Either I will be queen…or I will forever be at the mercy of the Greens. Would you trust your life to the Duke of Hightower, if you were standing between Aegon and the throne?”

“No,” you admit. You can barely bring yourself to trust the Duke now…and you’re on his side.

“And so we are destined to be mortal enemies.” Rhaenyra shrugs; no great loss, she means. “I only wanted you to know that it would have been just the same if you had been sent to England from Portugal, or Sicily, or Castile, or Bohemia, or Genoa, or Naples, or France, or anywhere else for that matter. It’s not about who you are. It’s about what you’ve married into.”

And then she takes off on Syrax, joining her uncle-husband and her eldest sons in the forest, dissolving into a gnarl of branches like tangled threads. You retreat back inside Westminster Palace to do what you do best: watching, wondering, waiting for the future to decide to arrive.

~~~~~~~~~~

When the hunting party returns hours later, Prince Aegon is empty-handed. He’s also soaked to the skin. Water drips from his face, begins to freeze in his hair. He shivers and gripes as servants throw blankets over his shoulders and usher him away towards his bedchamber to be warmed in a bath cloudy with herbs and steam and rose petals. Cecily Chaucer hurries after them, her lovely brows knitted together with girlish concern. Of all Aegon’s mistresses, you like Cecily the best. She’s insatiable; she keeps him so busy that he rarely totters into your bed to paw at you before being reminded that you have been temporarily exempted from your marital duties.

“He fell into a stream,” Nico informs you, in equal parts disapproving and amused. “Aemond and Daeron fished him out like a trout.”

Your eyes scan the group: shaking snow from their hats and their coats, congratulating each other on obstacles jumped and animals killed, Prince Daemon accepting applause from his fellow Blacks for being the attendee to slaughter the requisite boar. A good omen for their side, surely. Servants carry the gigantic, bloodied carcass off to be prepared by the cooks. But one face is missing from the crowd. “Where’s Aemond?”

“Oh,” Nico recalls as she yanks off her gloves by the fingers. “He has something for you.”

“For me?”

“In the courtyard,” she says. Daeron approaches to collect her, taking her hand and kissing the back of it, his large blue eyes bright and adoring. He’s gentler than his brothers, more content, less complicated. And he’s proud of being a Targaryen. He’s growing out his white-blond hair; it’s already longer than Aegon’s. “I think you’ll find it…” Nico grins mischievously. “Perfectly bearable.”

You trudge out to the courtyard through the mounting snow, cold wind tearing at your hair and clawing pieces of it out from under your hat. Aemond is the only other person there…and he’s elbow-deep in a colossal black-furred monster. There is a pile of entrails on the snow beside him glistening like rubies, garnets, rosalines, wine. Servants ferry away bowls full of offal: a lung here, a rope of intestines there.

“What is that?”

Aemond stands and waves at it cavalierly, drops of blood flinging from his leather gloves. “A bear.”

“What am I supposed to do with a bear?”

“It’ll make a fine rug for your bedchamber. You can place it by the fireplace and lie on it on cold nights. Read your books, do your embroidery.”

“It was bold of you to assume you’d be able to find me a Christmas present on Christmas day. Not much room for error.”

“This isn’t your Christmas present.”

“Then what’s the occasion?”

“Congratulations.” He glances at your belly, rounded out like ripening fruit with his brother’s child. A stain of blood like fever rushes into his cheeks. He blushes very rarely, and only ever around you. No one else seems to know that he’s capable of it. “For being over halfway there. It must bring you great relief.”

“Yes, I suppose the Duke of Hightower won’t get to ship me back to Navarre now. In a crate, like an animal that couldn’t be tamed.”

“What a waste that would be.”

You shrug, stepping closer, though mindful not to squash any bear organs beneath your shoes. “I wouldn’t mind being sent home if there was anything for me to go back to.”

Aemond stares at you, alarmed. “You haven’t grown attached to anything here? In nearly a year and a half?”

“Well…there are a few things,” you say, smiling at him. Aemond smiles back. His long silvery hair is secured in a single thick braid, his gaze curious. You try not to imagine what is under his eyepatch; that strikes you as something he wouldn’t want you to think about.

“Vhagar,” Aemond teases.

You laugh. “Yes, mostly Vhagar.” You look up at the grey sky, thick with clouds like steel. “But I miss my family. I miss the heat, the mountains, castles and cathedrals the color of golden sand. I miss riding horses and sparring with my brothers. I miss being understood, being loved. In Navarre I was alive. But in England…ever since I arrived here…it’s like I’m locked up waiting for someone to let me out. But the prison is my own flesh.”

Aemond studies you. “It’s not for much longer,” he says at last, soft and solemn. “And I would change it if I could.”

“In any case, I really can’t go back, I think. It wouldn’t be like it was before. My siblings are marrying and spreading out across Europe. My parents are getting older. And if my husband discarded me for being incapable of producing children, no one else would ever want me. I’d never have my own household. I’d be doomed to be a spinster, forever dependent upon the charity of my parents or my siblings. Either that or in a nunnery. Although, truthfully, Navarre has some beautiful nunneries.”

“You’d make a terrible nun.”

“Because I’m too vicious or too lustful?”

“Vicious, without a doubt. Lustful…I don’t feel qualified to speak on.”

“Depends on who’s in front of me, I suppose.”

You contemplate each other across the gutted bear carcass, snowflakes filling up the space between you instead of words. Again, Aemond’s cheeks flood red. When he wrings his hands together, you notice that they’re shaking. His hair is sopping; beads of melted snow pool along the edge of his jaw, slither down his throat. He could catch his death out here.

You go to him, pull off a glove, and press your bare palm against his forehead and then his cheek: the scarred one, the ruined one. “You’re burning up, Aemond,” you say, worried. “Are you alright—?”

“Fine.” He shies away from your touch. But then, without thinking, he moves to tuck an escaped lock of hair back underneath your hat. As his thumb grazes your face, you feel the warm stripe of bear blood that he inadvertently marks you with. “Goddamn, I’m so sorry—”

“No, that’s perfect.” You smile up at him. “You know I secretly favor red.”

“Princess?” Nico calls from the doorway, and you cross the courtyard to meet her. “You’re still out here? You’re missing a riveting game of Tric-Trac—” She cuts off, her eyes going wide as they skate across your cheeks. “Sweet Jesus, how’d you get blood all over your face?”

You glimpse back at Aemond as you answer. “Carelessness.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re weaving ribbons the color of evergreens into Nico’s hair when he comes into your bedchamber, carrying a long thin box made of pink ivory wood.

“Oh, marvelous!” Nico trills, clapping her hands. “What’s inside?”

“Poems, I hope,” you say.

“I hate to disappoint you,” Aemond replies placidly. Half of his hair is pulled back from his face, the rest flowing freely. He’s wearing a dark, rich, jade-like color, just like Nico is, just like the Duke of Hightower and Alicent and Daeron will be. Someone has probably even stuffed Aegon into something green. You are the lone nonconformist in a deep purple like the skin of a plum. In truth, you can’t win. People will gossip no matter what you wear. Red makes them think of what Daemon calls you, of the wasted blood you’ve spilled. Green makes them speak of how you’ve yet to serve their faction properly. Black is out of the question. At least when they see you in purple, your name gets to live in the same sentence as the word royalty.

“Well?” Nico prompts eagerly. “Open it!”

You look at her, apologetic. So does Aemond.

“Oh,” she realizes, then sighs theatrically. “Alright. I understand. I’ll deport myself now. Ciao.”

Only when she’s closed the door behind her does Aemond open the box. The lining inside is crimson velvet. It cradles a sword. You gasp and lift the weapon out of the box by its hilt, then pull off the scabbard. It is lightweight, silvery, perfect. You can see your own reflection in the polished steel. There are shallow engravings down the length of the blade: mountain ranges, twisted oak trees, bridges and cathedrals, the flag of Navarre. You can only see them when you tilt the sword to catch the rage-orange glow from the fireplace.

“I had it custom made for you,” Aemond says, abruptly nervous. “So it wouldn’t be too heavy or too long. The hilt should fit your grasp precisely. I took one of your gloves for measurements.”

“A thief.” You marvel at the sword, twirling it a few times. The blade cuts through the air, soundless, seamless. “Aemond, this is…this is so far beyond what I deserve. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“It’s part pleasure, part necessity. You might actually need to protect yourself one day.”

“It’s a shame I’ll only be able to bully you with it under the surreptitious cover of darkness.”

“Just until Aegon is king. He wouldn’t care, I don’t think. He wouldn’t forbid you from training.” He gestures to the blade. “And the engravings are—”

“All things from home.” You beam at him. “From Navarre.”

“That’s what the common people call you, you know. The Princess from Navarre.”

You glide the sword back into its scabbard and return it to the box. “They must hate me. For failing to secure the succession.”

“I wouldn’t assume that.”

You take the pink ivory wood box from Aemond’s hands and place it in the chest at the foot of your bed, your preferred spot for squirreling away valuables. And then you lift out Aemond’s present: a vast tapestry that he helps you unfold to reveal the design of.

“It’s incredible!” he exclaims. “It must have taken you ages!”

“Well, all I’m allowed to do currently is needlework, so I’ve done a lot of needlework. I made one for Aegon too, although I’m not sure what his hobbies are besides drinking and fucking Cecily Chaucer. So his tapestry is mostly landscapes.” You point to various scenes on Aemond’s. “There’s King Arthur and Guinevere…and Sir Lancelot, arriving to ruin them. There’s Beowulf battling Grendel’s mother. There’s Robin Hood…there’s the Rollright Stones and Stonehenge…and in the middle is Saint George slaying a dragon. I made the dragon black, with little white whiskers if you look very closely. And I’ve named him Daemon.”

“They’re from the stories I told you,” Aemond says quietly, examining the tapestry. “On that afternoon back in July. When we took Vhagar out together for the first time.”

“It must have been memorable.” You smile. “And then the border is ivy and roses, mostly green, of course…except for one little red rose I added down here in the bottom corner. And that’s—”

“That’s you,” Aemond says. “Red like Navarre.”

“Yes.” Your voice is suddenly wistful, a little sad. “You’ve made me like the sound of that word again.”

“What? Navarre?”

You nod. “Hushed, gentle…” Reverent? Awed? Protected? Cherished? “Like a prayer. Like a poem.”

You help Aemond refold the tapestry, avoiding his eye. The only sounds are the crackling of the fireplace and the muffled echo of violins and lutes through the palace halls. Outside the window hovers a blood moon, a ruby in onyx, a drop of fury in an ocean of void. He takes his Christmas gift back to his own bedchamber, and then he returns to escort you to the feast.

“Oh, darling,” Alicent says when you sit down beside her at the high table. There are sprigs of holly in her hair, but her dark eyes are glazed and melancholy. They often are. Sir Criston Cole—a knight whose family are vassals of the Duke of Hightower—is her shadow, peering watchfully around the Great Hall. “Be sure to eat plenty of boar…and bread…very good for the baby. But no fish! And not too many vegetables. Here, let me get you some of your apple cider…” Alicent waves to a servant, and they promptly fetch you a full cup.

King Viserys gives you a distracted nod but no other acknowledgement. He is deep in conversation with Jace; Luke is gawping, mildly disturbed, at the severed boar’s head that adorns the table, cherries shoved into the sockets where its eyes were this morning. Rhaena offers you a kind, demure smile. Baela glares at you as she sips her wine. She’s the most war-worthy of any of the Black children; you imagine that Daemon will have a sword and armor waiting for her when the bloodbath begins. Surely she’d inflict more damage than either of Rhaenyra’s docile, dark-haired sons, like skittish lapdogs always looking around for someone to tell them where it’s alright to sit. Baela’s Arabian, Moondancer, is small but remarkably swift and agile. She’s the best jumper of any of the royal horses.

Far from the table, in the midst of dancing nobles, Daemon and Rhaenyra are enmeshed in whispers and caresses: he tilts up her chin, she grasps the small of his back. You feel a yearning, a hollowness beneath where your ribs circle your heart and lungs like a halo. Without thinking, you glance to Aemond. He’s been looking at you too; he pretends he wasn’t and begins sawing through a slab of boar meat with a serrated knife. Daeron is asking him about sparring techniques. The Duke of Hightower is parading Aegon around the hall to pay his respects to the nobility of Southern England, men who will kill and be killed for him one day before too long. Aegon is bleary-eyed and bungling, tripping over his own feet; the Duke is practically dragging him around from his scruff like a kitten.

“Sweetheart, will you dance with me?” Queen Alicent asks Nico, who immediately leaps up from her chair.

“Of course, Your Majesty! It would be my pleasure. It’s a shame that the king cannot join us. It must be difficult having a husband so much older than you are. Nearly your father’s age!”

Everyone at the table stops what they’re doing and gapes at her.

“Oh,” Nico begins haltingly, mortified. “Oh dear. I should not have said that. I cannot express the depths of my remorse.”

King Viserys booms out a laugh, and then Nico is smiling again. “Go on,” he tells her. “Enjoy the festivities. Keep the queen entertained when I cannot.”

As Nico and Queen Alicent descend to join the dance, you remain where you are, where you always are: on the outskirts, inside the glass bowl. But not for much longer, you think gratefully, running your palm over the swell of your belly. You eat as much as you can, but you don’t have much of an appetite. Your hips and ankles ache, your body forever adjusting to a never-before-known burden; there is torsion like a sailor’s knot in your lower spine. When the discomfort refuses to abate, you excuse yourself from the table and make slow, meandering laps around the fringes of the Great Hall, draining cup after cup of apple cider as servants bring them to you. The Duke of Hightower casts you a stern warning of a frown before he resumes wrangling Aegon. Aemond, still at the high table talking to Daeron, follows you with one intent blue eye.

“You can’t honestly believe he’d make a good king,” Daemon says, materializing out of the crowd like a bat at twilight. Enormous Scottish deerhounds—Christmas gifts from King Corlys and Queen Rhaenys beyond England’s northern border—trail after him, growling at you. Daemon flicks his strange, deep-set eyes towards Aegon. “He’s a drunk. He’s an embarrassment. He has no athletic prowess whatsoever. I’m sure you can confirm that from firsthand experience.”

“I can confirm that he hasn’t murdered his first wife yet, surely an attribute by anyone’s calculation.” You watch the Duke tow Aegon from one exchange to another, and for the first time, you wonder what sort of man Aegon would have been without the weight of the throne on his back.

“But of course, it wouldn’t actually be Aegon ruling if the Greens won. It would be Otto…and Alicent…and Aemond.”

Daemon puts great emphasis on this last name. You turn to him, startled.

“Oh, forgive me, have I said something that gets under your skin? Or…rather…into it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Daemon grins, baring his teeth like fangs. “Of course you don’t,” he says. “Tell me, would you happen to know who Otto is planning on marrying him to? I’ve heard rumblings.”

“Someone with parents who have ample soldiers and equipment with which to mutilate you, surely.”

“Helene of Austria.”

“Helene?” The breath evaporates from your lungs, vanishes like brief winter daylight. “The daughter of the Holy Roman Emperor?” It’s an immensely powerful match. It’s a match so ambitious it has rarely even been suggested. You summon triumph to your voice, an arrogant glint to your eyes. “This is very bad news for you.”

“And for you too, I think.”

He knows, you think, terror-stricken, aware you aren’t doing enough to hide it. That I desire my husband’s brother. That I want Aemond. That maybe I even love him. You try to fling some flippant retort at Daemon; you cannot find one, it’s like scratching your fingertips along the bottom of an empty box. Victorious, he swigs his wine and begins to saunter away, panting Scottish deerhounds on his heels. And then you call after him: “It didn’t get you far, did it?”

Daemon halts mid-step and slowly—very slowly—turns back to you. “What?”

“All that Targaryen blood. All that bone-white hair and ferocity, charisma and swordsmanship. King Viserys still chose to reject you as his heir. He still doesn’t trust you to advise him. He still denied you his daughter’s hand in marriage, and you were spineless enough to let him. You left her alone to suffer first. With a husband who couldn’t satisfy her, with a lover who could only give her bastards. And now you expect the world to forget who you’ve always been: reckless, savage, deeply selfish. All those things you stalk around here so proud of are worthless, because you’ll never have what you really want. You’ll never have the throne. And neither will Rhaenyra. You are the same as I am, Daemon. I am an asset and yet a curse to Aegon; you helped win the North for Rhaenyra, but the South will never yield to you. They will fight you with everything they have, every man and horse and blade. But there is one difference between us. When I bear Aegon a son, my curse will be lifted. You will never stop endangering Rhaenyra, her cause, her inheritance, her children, her life. And if she burns, it will be at least half because of you.”

You’ve never seen him truly angry before, you realize now; you’ve never seen him without the undeniable upper hand. His grip rests on the hilt of his sword. “I should—”

“Go on,” you dare him in a fierce whisper, your fingers closing around his wrist. “Slay Aegon’s wife and child in front of all the court. It’s the kindest thing you could do for the Greens. Make yourself more enemies, win us more friends. Everyone suspects that you are a beast already. Prove them right.”

Daemon rips his hand out of yours. “Happy Christmas, Navarre,” he hisses. “If fate is just, it will be your last.” And then he storms away from you, Rhaenyra meeting him at the other end of the hall and speaking with him there—conspiring? inquiring? scolding?—in urgent whispers.

Nico pushes through the throngs of dancing nobles to reach you. “Are you alright?” she asks, a palm laid on your shoulder.

“Fine.” Helene, you think, rubbing the aching curve of your back with one hand, sipping apple cider with the other. They’re both trembling. Beautiful, wealthy, coveted Helene.

“Are you sure? You don’t look good. What did that bleached weasel have to say…?”

But you can’t hear her, because the pain in your spine is now reaching like poison through veins to spread across your belly, to tighten, to clamp down, to gnash with steel teeth like needles, like knives. Your cup tumbles out of your gasp, spilling apple cider across the floor. You yelp in pure shock at how unexpectedly the pain comes. And then you begin to understand what it means. “No,” you plead in a whisper. You stagger backwards until you hit the wall. “No, no, no…”

“What?” Nico asks frantically. People are beginning to notice; heads spin in your direction. Tears are springing from your eyes. Blood is snaking down your legs, slick and hot on the velveteen inside of your thighs. Soon they’ll all be able to see it: your agony, your ruin. The Greens, the Blacks. The Duke of Hightower, Prince Daemon.

Nico doesn’t understand. You don’t know how to tell her. I’ve killed another child. I’ve failed again. You can feel Aegon crawling back into your bed. You can see letters from your mother—so proud at last, so full of praise—shredding themselves into dust. And then it flashes like cannon fire in your mind, not just the loss of an heir but the loss of a life: a name that will never be given, a voice that will never be heard, steps that will never leave imprints in sand or soil or snow.

I have to get out of here. How am I going to—?

An arm circles around your waist, strong, shielding, taking as much of your weight as it can. “Walk with me,” Aemond says. And then he half-carries you through the nearest door and down a passageway, Nico struggling to keep up, chatter exploding at the feast you left behind.

As soon as you cross the threshold into your bedchamber, as soon as you are out of sight of ill-intentioned observers, you collapse to the floor. Your palms and knees bruise against wood; a wail tears from your throat. “Not again,” you sob. “Aemond, I can’t do this again, I can’t—”

Nico says: “Are you sure it’s a…?”

Aemond is kneeling on the floor beside you. He’s helping you pull back the hem of your gown. You see it on his face before you see it on your own skin: there’s blood, a lot of blood, too much for it to be anything but lethal to the child. It’s all over his hands and his clothes; it’s all over the floorboards.

“Oh God,” Nico moans, covering her mouth with both hands. “Oh…oh my God…”

“Get the physicians,” Aemond tells her. “Speak to no one else. Go now. Go!”

Nico rushes out of the room. You can’t stop sobbing. The pain is excruciating, not waves but one continuous, saw-toothed twisting, a feeling like being gutted, like you’re a slaughtered bear and someone has their fingers raking around inside your womb.

Aemond is trying to pull you to your feet. “Come on, I’ll help you get into bed—”

“Aemond, I can’t.”

“Yes you can—”

“I can’t!” you cry out, weeping helplessly. Then he stops trying to lift you and instead sinks down to join you on the floor. You clutch wildly at him—at his forearms and his shoulders and his long silvery hair—and he doesn’t flinch away. He draws you into him, his hands staining you with blood everywhere they land. You don’t care; you don’t want him to stop. You bury yourself in the warmth of his chest, his arms around you like the border of the moon, like a ring.

“Shh,” he soothes through your hair. “Shh, shh. I’m here. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t leave me. Please stay.”

“I’ll stay,” Aemond says, his voice hoarse. “Of course I’ll stay.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Scenes like fragments of a dream, things that later you aren’t sure were real:

The physicians and midwives delivering your dead child, Aemond tilting a cup of strong wine against your lips. Your ladies washing blood off you with dripping rags as Aemond stands with the physicians in the doorway. They think you’re asleep, but you’re not; you’re not awake either. You’re halfway here and halfway not. Parts of the room are foggy, others are as clear as glass, as still water. A physician is telling Aemond that the child was a boy, perfect in every way except the one that matters most. He doesn’t breathe and never will. Too early, too small, beautiful and doomed.

“Don’t tell her that,” Aemond is saying. “Don’t tell her anything unless she asks.”

Now it’s later—two minutes, two hours, it doesn’t matter—and he’s dragging someone into your bedchamber. They’re fighting him, they’re trying to cling to the doorframe so he can’t force them inside.

“Get in there,” Aemond growls.

Aegon replies: “I don’t know what to say to her, what the hell do I say—?”

Your husband is at your bedside, undoubtedly miserable but not in a way that makes you feel like he sees you. There is the scent of wine and sweat drenched with perfume, lemon and lavender. “I’m sorry,” you murmur like a faint wind.

“It was not your fault, wife.” Aegon’s eyes are bloodshot, his shoulders hanging low and limp. “It is a great tragedy, but it was not your fault.” And then he glances at Aemond to make sure he’s done the right thing.

Now your husband is gone, and Aemond is holding a cool cloth to your forehead. He speaks in little more than a whisper. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Just send me back to Navarre,” you say weakly. “I can’t do this. Talk to the Duke. He’ll get the marriage annulled. I know he will. He can find another wife for Aegon, another alliance. He’ll be glad to be rid of me.”

“You aren’t going anywhere.”

“I’m ruined. I’m worthless. Just send me home.”

“You are home,” Aemond insists.

You watch the firelight as it flickers over him, smooth skin, brutal scar. “What happens next?”

“You’ll try again.”

“There’s no point, Aemond.”

“Look at me,” he commands, cradling your face with his hands. “You’ll try again. And again, if you have to. But you will have children. I know you will.”

His voice is breaking. His eye is glistening, tortured. This is how the father should be. This is how Aegon should be. “Aemond, why are you so hurt by this?”

“Because you are suffering,” he says. “And because they’re pieces of you.”

You lose sight of him, float for a while, return again thinking of Aegon and the Duke of Hightower and Daemon and Rhaenyra. “No one here really knows me. No one loves me.”

Aemond is standing beside your bed. “Nico loves you.”

You gaze listlessly up at him and say nothing.

“Aegon loves you, I believe,” Aemond continues, but he won’t meet your eyes. “In his own way.”

Still, you look at him. Still, Aemond doesn’t look back.

Say it, you think, desperate, aching, tears biting in your eyes. Say that you love me too. Even if it’s just as a sister, an ally, a friend. Please, Aemond, just fucking say it.

He doesn’t say it. Maybe he leaves, maybe you are submerged in unconsciousness, maybe both. The memory dissolves around the edges until it is a pool of star-flecked obsidian like the night sky.

But this next part you know with certainty was real, because it is something you can touch, like a millennium-old relic from Egypt or Athens or Babylon. You wake in the morning to find three items on your nightstand: a cup of apple cider, a cup of strong bitter wine for the pain, and a single piece of parchment folded and tied with a red ribbon. You blink confoundedly at it for a while as muted winter sunlight seeps in through the windows, not being able to make sense of it. And then you open the parchment. Aemond has written at the top of the page in his hectic, uneven letters: Ivy. You read his words and all the anguish that went into them—smudges from his own fingerprints, wayward drips of black ink—like falling down the rungs of a ladder.

Scream into me, I’ll be the jar for your fury; I’m starving

for anything that tastes like you. I’ve been counting the lines

on your knuckles, the boards of the floor, wondering if you’ve

figured out that I’d wear fractures and bruises like amethysts

if it means you’d touch me. For seventeen months you’ve been

the ivy on my walls, vines like the needle-width legs of a spider

carving out my past, every last notch and shadow—splitting ribs,

scraping marrow—until there’s no part of me left that can remember

a time other than this, your voice and your wit and the scraps of you

I’ve stitched into me. Ask me what I burn for and I’ll whisper like

the dawn: you growing over my skin until I’m covered, tendrils

twisting down to the bone, everything I was before

ash and myth beneath your hands.

[tokkias]

dragon's hoard ship: natsu dragneel x lucy heartfilia summary: Natsu's got a weird new habit that Lucy can't quite seem to wrap her head around. She supposes that's just par for the course when it comes to having a dragon as a best friend. ao3

Nalu Week Day 5: Gifts

The sound of excited footsteps that had long become familiar to Lucy came exactly when she had expected them to.

She was sitting comfortably on the couch, indulging herself in a new novel, when Natsu came bursting into her home. He had the decency to use the door but not the decency to knock, though Lucy supposed she would take the wins wherever she could get them.

"How was the job?" She asked, shutting her book before placing it down on the coffee table in front of her and giving him her undivided attention upon his arrival.

"It was kind of lame," Natsu shrugged in response as he tossed his pack to the floor and flopped down onto the couch next to her. "It’s boring without you around."

About two months prior, Lucy had been offered a massive book deal for a sequel to The Adventure of Iris, which in turn had her stuck at home a lot as she worked on her manuscript. The contract sufficiently paid her rent, which meant she had no real need to take on new jobs, but that didn’t mean she didn’t miss it. Though perhaps no one missed her taking jobs more than her partner, who had been forced to go out on his own.

"I know," she smiled, holding back a laugh at his borderline pouty expression that always crossed his face when he expressed his discontent with having to take jobs without her. "Once I’m done with my manuscript, we can take on as many jobs as you like."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

His expression seemed to relax at her words, seemingly tided over by the prospect of going on adventures with her again once she was free of her obligations as an author.

"I actually got you something while I was gone," he added, before the conversation could stray too far.

Leaning over the side of the couch, he began to rummage through his pack, and all Lucy could do was sit and watch, caught slightly off guard.

This was a new Natsu behaviour that she had noticed popping up more and more frequently. Ever since he had been forced to go on jobs without Lucy, he had begun bringing back souvenirs and trinkets for her.

This wasn’t the first time he had gone solo on jobs, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but this whole gift thing was something he had never done until recently. At first it was once every other job, then it was every single job, and now it had extended to outside of him taking jobs too.

It had started with small things—cool-shaped rocks and shells that he had foraged while he was out—but then it had turned into things of increasing traditional value, like vintage books he had found at a second-hand market and shiny pieces of jewellery that he claimed had caught his eye.

She had kept everything that he had given her over the past few months, amassing a collection of things, trinkets, and knick-knacks around her apartment. Most of them she displayed wherever she had the space, and it almost seemed as if Natsu beamed with pride every time he caught a glimpse of his new gift decorating her bookshelf.

"What is it?" She asked, peering over his shoulder to try to catch a peek at what he was bringing out for her.

When he finally turned back around, in his hand he held out to her a piece of polished rose quartz. It had been a while since he had gifted her a stone or rock of some sort, but this was the first time he had given her a gem of any kind.

She took it into her own hand and examined it carefully, running her thumb over the smooth surface. It was a soft pink with ribbons of white running through it. The overhead lights reflected off of the shiny surface, accentuating the natural gradients in the colour of the stone.

"This is really pretty," she mused before looking back up at Natsu, who seemed to be eagerly awaiting her reaction. "Thank you."

He seemed to light up knowing that she had liked his gift, and her heart jumped a little at just how cute he looked as he did.

"Where did you get this?" She asked, her curiosity piqued at where Natsu would find something like that.

"I bought it from this guy sellin’ rocks at a market," he shrugged, thinking it wasn't much of a big deal.

A twinge of guilt hit her as she thought about the fact that Natsu had spent money on her. Sure, maybe this wasn’t something of significant monetary value, but she worried that over time, all of these gifts would build up and cause a dent in his savings.

"Natsu, you don’t have to keep getting me things," she gently told him, placing the rock down on her coffee table and turning her attention back up to him.

Based on the way Natsu frowned at her words, it seemed that he didn’t share her worries.

"But I want to," he replied. "Do you not like them?"

"Of course I like them," Lucy assured. "But I don’t need them. Your friendship is enough for me."

"I want to give them to you," he repeated, and Lucy was caught off guard by how defensive he sounded this time.

She hadn’t thought that it would hurt his feelings; she had simply wanted to give him an out if he had somehow thought himself obligated to bring her these gifts.

"I’m sorry," she murmured, resting her hand on his thigh to try to comfort him. "I didn’t mean to upset you."

He sucked in a breath to try and cool himself down before mumbling a soft apology.

"Sorry… I just… saw it and thought of you."

Lucy didn’t have it in her to be upset with him. He had gone out of his way to do something kind for her, so she understood why he got a little defensive.

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate them; she was simply used to receiving extravagant gifts as a means to win over her father’s favour when she was a child. Suddenly being showered with gifts by Natsu was just unexpected. She knew he had no sinister ulterior motive, so if this was what he wanted, she would let him.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug and nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. He stiffened up for a moment before he realised what she was doing and relaxed into her touch, holding her close.

"Thank you, Natsu," she hummed against his skin. "I really appreciate it."

As much as she appreciated Natsu’s little gifts, she was beginning to run out of space to display them neatly on her shelves. Her new stone had been placed on her vanity next to her jewellery box for the past week as she tried to figure out how she was going to organise her little collection.

Several times she had glanced over at it and assumed that she had left a piece out, only to realise that it was just Natsu’s gift. Having it sat and displayed next to her few necklaces dangling from her display rack struck her with the idea of turning it into one too.

On her next trip into town, she took the stone to a jeweller to have it attached to a chain.

It was a little pricey, especially considering how infrequently she wore necklaces, but it was a sentimental gift, and she considered the cost to be worth it.

She had it attached to a thin gold chain with a gold fastening on top. It was simple and elegant, and let the stone act as the statement.

The piece was an immediate attention-grabber when she wore it out to meet her teammates at the station for their next job.

She had arrived early but could somehow never beat Erza or Wendy in that regard, who were both already waiting for her and the rest of the team to show up.

After an exchange of polite greetings, Erza’s attention was grabbed by her new piece of jewellery, her gaze flicking down to examine it.

"I like your necklace," she mused. "You don’t normally wear jewellery. Is this new?"

Lucy looked down at it, taking the stone in her hands and running it idly across the chain.

"Yeah, just the other day," she replied.

"Where did you get it from?" Wendy chimed in, also seemingly drawn in by Lucy’s new piece.

"Natsu actually got the stone for me," Lucy explained. "I got it turned into a necklace because I thought it looked nice."

Wendy blinked and recoiled the slightest bit, looking taken off guard by her answer, which raised suspicions in Lucy’s mind.

"Is everything okay, Wendy?" She asked in concern for her friend.

"Yeah! It’s just, I didn’t know that he-" She cut herself off as if she had been about to say something she shouldn’t have. "I mean, I think that’s really sweet of him."

Lucy raised her eyebrows, surprised by her strange and disjointed answer. She almost wished she could see inside her brain and know what she was thinking to explain her behaviour, but before she could interrogate further, she was interrupted by the arrival of their final teammates.

"Hey!" Natsu called out from behind them, drawing their attention to the two boys approaching.

Lucy waved as Erza beckoned them to approach faster, but anything she might have wanted to say to them as they arrived was immediately cut off when Natsu’s attention was drawn to her new accessory.

Without saying anything, he took the pendant in his hand and examined it, almost as if he were just making sure that it was his stone.

"You made it into a necklace?" He asked, dropping the pendant and letting it fall back on her chest, sounding almost breathless as he spoke.

"Yeah," Lucy affirmed, bringing her own hand up to fiddle with the necklace. "It was important to me, and I didn’t want to lose it."

Natsu practically lit up at her words, grinning from ear to ear before he pulled her into an unexpected and crushing hug.

"That’s awesome!" He whooped, drawing several confused stares in their direction.

She had known he’d probably think it was cool, but she hadn’t expected quite this reaction. Natsu was easily excitable, but even this was a bit much. She decided not to comment on it and simply return his affection.

All the gifts and excitement were a little endearing, she had decided. Natsu had always been an odd sort of guy, showing his affection for those he loved in strange ways. She simply decided that she was going to take this in stride.

It had seemed that taking it in stride only encouraged Natsu’s unusual behaviour.

Lucy hadn’t thought it had been possible for him to give her more things, but his gift-giving increased in its frequency, seeming like he was trying to one-up himself with each trinket and tchotchke.

She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she physically didn’t have any more room to store his gifts, lest her apartment begin to turn into a hoarder’s house, resembling his own. Every time he brought her something, his eyes would light up when she smiled and thanked him, and it made her heart melt.

She supposed there were worse problems to have than a dragon’s hoard sitting in a shoebox beneath her bed.

The mug of tea Mira slid over to her warmed Lucy’s hands as she sat across from Levy, both idly flicking through their books as they chattered away about their goings-on.

"So what’s been going on with you lately?" Levy hummed before taking a sip of her own drink.

Lucy paused for a moment as she thought of how she should respond. She could make idle conversation, tell her not much, and let their talks remain surface level and light-hearted, but right now, she had more… pressing matters on her mind.

"I’ve been having a sort of… weird problem," she sighed, unsure of how to accurately describe her predicament.

Levy tilted her head slightly in curiosity, a silent plea for her to continue.

"Natsu keeps giving me all these things that I don’t know what to do with," she began to explain. "I tried to tell him he doesn’t need to get me all of these things, but then he got all defensive. Now I’m literally running out of space to put them, but I just can’t seem to say no to him because he looks so excited. I don’t know what to do, Levy."

Levy brought up a hand to stifle the laugh that she was about to let out, and Lucy raised her brows, caught off guard by her strange reaction.

"What?" She pouted, clearly not having received the response she wanted.

"It’s nothing; it’s just-"

Levy took a moment to compose herself, sending Lucy a soft but somehow sympathetic smile that she wasn’t exactly sure what to make of.

"That’s really cute and sweet of him, but I’m not sure I can help you out with this one," she gently replied. "I think this is one you’ll have to figure out on your own."

Lucy let out a defeated huff, wanting to rebut but knowing it was no use.

It wasn’t like she wanted him to stop; she was just confused and overwhelmed by it all. If this went on for much longer, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep up.

Just as she was about to beg Levy for the teeniest, tiniest ounce of advice, a drop of a clue, a tiny morsel of what she would do in this situation, she was cut off by a gruff voice approaching.

"The bunny girl’s got dragon problems, eh?" Gajeel butted in as he dropped himself on the chair next to Levy, tossing an arm over her shoulder. "Didn’t know Salamander ‘new how ta court a woman," he added, taking a moment to laugh at his own joke.

"Gajeel," Levy warned in a low tone, trying to keep quiet in hopes that Lucy wouldn’t hear, but the action wasn’t exactly subtle.

"What?" He replied, his attention fully on Levy as she looked up at him with an attempt at an intimidating pout. "I’m just sayin’ that the bastard’s finally figured out-"

Whatever he was about to say was quickly interrupted by an elbow jab to the side, clearly trying to get him to stop talking.

"Ow- the fuck was that for?

"You have to let him do it himself," Levy hissed back, trying to remain subtle as she did so.

They spoke openly, right in front of her, as though she weren’t there, and even though they had tried to conceal themselves, Lucy could still very much follow along with their conversation.

"What do you mean by that?" Lucy asked, interrupting their little lover’s quarrel.

Levy whipped her head back around to face her friend, apparently having forgotten about her presence since Gajeel’s arrival.

"It’s nothing!" Levy smiled, sweeping their exchange under the rug.

"I want to know what he meant by that," Lucy repeated.

Perhaps even stranger than Natsu’s behaviour had been the unusual reactions she received when she spoke about it. First was Wendy; now Levy and Gajeel were somehow in on it.

Was this just some weird dragon-slayer thing she didn’t know about?

She looked over to Gajeel, expecting him to elaborate, but based on the way he seemed to shrink under Levy’s gaze, she wasn’t about to have much success there.

"I can’t tell ya," he grumbled.

Figuring she wasn’t going to be able to crack him, Lucy turned her attention back to her best friend.

"Levy, please," she whined. "I’m at my wits end; I feel like I’m the only one out of the loop here."

"I’m sorry Lucy, I-"

Lucy interrupted her as she reached across the table to take her hands in her own as she pleaded with her.

"Please, Levy," she tried again. "I’ll pay off all your late fees at the library for a month if you just tell me," she offered in a desperate plea.

She could see her resolve wavering in her eyes, but she still held her ground, much to Lucy’s dismay.

"It wouldn’t be fair to Natsu if I told you," Levy replied sympathetically. "He has to do it himself."

"Do what himself?" Lucy asked, frustration seeping from her voice.

"Clearly he’s not doin’ a fuckin’ good job if bunny girl’s here beggin’ you to help ‘er figure it out," Gajeel added, looking thoroughly unimpressed by the whole scenario.

For a moment, Lucy thought Levy was about to cave, but she maintained her silence.

In a last-ditch effort, Lucy tried to muster up her best pleading eyes, and it seemed like that was the last thing needed to tip Levy over the edge.

"It’s a dragon thing," she vaguely explained.

Lucy bolted back upright at this new sliver of information.

So, her hunch had been correct, but that still didn’t explain why everyone was acting so weird about it.

Realising that Lucy probably wouldn’t be satisfied with just that information, Levy continued.

"He’s trying to court you."

Lucy remained silent for a moment as she tried to process what she had just heard.

Court her?

As in to woo? To romance?

There was no way.

All this time, she had put it down to Natsu just showing his affection, but she hadn’t realised it had been that type of affection.

With this new piece of information, things started to fall into place. He was literally helping her create her own dragon hoard.

Suddenly it made so much more sense when he got so defensive about it—because he thought she was rejecting him.

After a few moments of silence and realising that Lucy wasn’t going to reply any time soon, Levy spoke up.

"Lulu?" Her voice came, soft and gentle. "Do you need some time alone to think about it?"

Lucy simply shook her head.

"No," she replied. "I think I know what I’m going to do."

Gathering up her things, Lucy stood up and tossed her bag over her shoulder before pausing and looking down at Levy.

"You don’t mind if I cut our lunch short, do you?"

With a smile, Levy shook her head.

"Go ahead."

With her blessing, Lucy ran out the door, waving to her friend in thanks as she ran to exactly where she knew Natsu would be.

When Lucy arrived back at her apartment, the lights were unsurprisingly on, and a suspiciously dragon-slayer-sized lump had formed in her bed.

"Natsu," she called out, causing the lump of blankets to stir. "I’m back."

Upon hearing of her return, Natsu instantly awoke and tossed the blankets off of him, sitting upright and beaming at her, and for a moment, Lucy almost wondered if this was what it was like to own a puppy.

"Hey!" He greeted enthusiastically before slipping out of her bed. "I thought you were at the guild hangin’ out with Levy."

"I was," she hummed. "But I just thought I’d come home a little early this afternoon."

"That’s good, ‘cause I actually got ya something!"

He rummaged around in his pocket before he pulled something out and opened his hand to reveal it to her.

"Me ‘n’ Happy went fishing, and I found this cool-shaped rock for you!" He exclaimed, the familiar grin making itself present on his face.

Her expression softened as she took it from him, running her thumb across the surface, feeling each bump and crack against her skin.

"Hey, Natsu?" She began softly, feeling like there was no time more appropriate than now to bring it up. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, course," he replied, his brows furrowing slightly in concern. "What’s up?"

"Are you trying to court me?" She blurted out, not putting too much thought into how she was going to get her message across.

He responded with a blank stare.

"What does that mean?" He asked.

"Like, trying to romance me," Lucy tried to explain, not exactly being her most eloquent self in doing so.

Natsu stayed quiet for a moment as he tried to mentally articulate a response.

"Is it working?"

She hadn’t known how he was going to respond, but she hadn’t been expecting him to do so like that.

There was a hopeful expression on his face, and if it hadn’t worked before then, it certainly had now.

Feeling an overwhelming sense of endearment, Lucy rolled her eyes slightly but didn’t reply. Instead, she placed her rock down on her mattress and brought her hands up to caress his cheeks before pulling him in to feel his lips against hers.

[gimmerocks-pls]

Ocean Jasper (Orbicular Jasper) is a very rare variety of Jasper that can only be found in Madagascar. This particular variety of Jasper is known for it's vibrant colors and distinctive orb-like patterns which are a result of Quartz (Feldspar) needle-like crystals that come together to create spherical structures. Ocean jasper comes in green, brown, blue, yellow, grey, white, pink, and red. The red Hughes derive from iron in the form of hematite, yellow and gray from Clay, and brown often from Geothite. The earliest history of Ocean Jasper is unknown. Although, deposits were first written about in Alfred LaCroix's "Mineralogy of Madagascar" and the earliest known examples of Ocean Jasper belonged to Richard Baldauf in Kambamby. The stone's rarity could arguably be a result of the harsh conditions of which it must be extracted. Ocean Jasper is mined from the base of a cliff, only accessed by boat during low tide. Because of this, the stone can only be collected by hand, as large mechanical digging equipment could not be used. The extraction of Ocean Jasper was stopped in 2006 when locality was deemed depleted as well as heightened safety risks. Sadly, only seven deposits have been found and most, if not all have been mined out. Jasper on the market today is either a back stock or has been hoarded by collectors and sellers for years.

[pupyr0arz]

mermaid!soap x ghost. Unfinished Drabble.

He speaks thrice a week. He has it down to the ticking of the clock in his hut, the one source of noise down there by the rocks aside the wave and the braver sea-birds. Every Monday when the sun crests the horizon he takes the long path down to the docks and stops by Price’s inn. He greets him with a fatherly grunt and a comment about the weather, cautious and concerned. 

He doesn’t listen to any of Price’s warnings of bad weather, and Price knows it too. 

Wednesday is the next time he hears his voice, when he takes the catch in. Gaz comes by and if he didn’t count the handful of responses he gave it still would because he speaks for an entire village. Tells him what feels like every detail of every man, woman and child’s business up and down the country. Trots beside him on the fussy beast of a creature he calls a horse and sticks like a burr to his backside all throughout the afternoon. Gaz minds his business when it comes to him, though.

The third and final time is in the dead of night. He walks up the craggy path with a lantern and waits for the moon to rise to light it. He settles on his knees in front of the gravestones, carved deep and true so their names don’t fade for years, and he talks. Inanities, comments and jokes, the happening around town. Old and new, he speaks and speaks and speaks until his throat bleeds and his knees cramp and he nearly tumbles off the cliff when he gets up at dawn. It’s a long ranting, raving speech, he’s sure he’d look entirely mad to anyone stupid enough to follow him up there. He doesn’t let them get a word in edgewise, but it burns in his head nonetheless as he makes his way down, unsteady as a fawn.

Mum wouldn’t be happy at all, she’d be right cross. She was never a fiery woman though, all sad-eyed looks and mournful sighs when she found wrong in the world. She’d fuss over the state of the hut and sit by his bedside, offering wet rags like he’s a lad and sick with a fever like she always did when she wanted to help him. She’d fuss about all of this silence, the loneliness of the ocean. She never did like it when he went quiet as a youth, saying that nothing was worse for the head than filling it full of thoughts left to rot. She’d wanted better for him then, wanted him to go to the city and find work there, leave the craggy cliffs that scraped the sea with their claws and left the great widow-maker to her own devices. She’d wanted him to take that butchery apprenticeship and pack away, leave behind the salt and spray rather than be one of the many non-people to sink among the waves.

Tommy would just be pissing mad, that is. He had their fathers temper, both of them  when had to admit to himself in the quiet of the night. Tommy’s only flared brighter and hotter because he struck out at the world first, clawed at it for his place. Ever the older brother, determined to be the first. He had wanted out since the moment he heard of the city at all. He would’ve been miserable here.

He tries not to let it taint his days. It’s a losing battle, but his trade has settled in his bones now. He wakes and sleeps by the sounds of the tide and he’ll find himself at dawn with the taste of salt in his mouth. He keeps his boat towards the southernmost end, where the sea is as still as stone most days, silent quartz mirror broken by the gentlest of ripples. It reflects him, smoothing the turmoil in his head into quiet nothingness, clouds a blip on the surface of the water. Not once does he dip a finger in. There’s nothing under that calm surface but danger, he knows better than to try it.

He’s not married, and isn't interested in any of the girls that float though or anchor themselves in town. They don’t approach him often, eyeing him with caution. Better odds on picking the humble, inviting town boys than the silent, scarred fisherman. It doesn’t change a thing to him, even if Gaz and Price prod at him every once in a while.

Life is as it is, cyclic, endless in repetition, formation of a thousand possibilities in lockstep. The sun rises, yellow disc carelessly spilling over onto the ocean, flames at the bottom of his boat. The moon rises, perched high in the sky and watching over the rippling grasses. His name loses meaning, and he becomes that loss. Rumors rise and fall. Calm weather and storms trade turns, finding him unmoving as the cliff-stone.

It’s a silent day when the cyclic abruptly crawls to a halt. When the still, silent and waters of Ghost’s soul finds itself parted abruptly, tugged into a fierce upheaval. It comes without warning, without sense, swifter than any arrowhead and sharper than his knife. The apathy that colors his eyes vanishes when they meet his, all blues and greens like the ocean fed a bit of herself into two jewels and placed them for anyone to take in his head. It’s replaced so fast, Ghost doesn’t even notice. He doesn’t miss it, either.

One nameless day, the blue sheen of the water is cut by something, a foreign color that shimmers beneath the surface. He doesn’t recognize it immediately, that catches his eye more than any of its unusual features, blurred beneath the ripples of murky  water and the shadow cast by his boat. It’s slow moving, placid, then it thrashes once the net covers it, but Ghost is used to being jerked around and bites down on his tongue and digs his heel in, cursing to himself as he hauls it’s struggling form inch by inch. It’s almost respectable how violently it fights for its life. 

“I swear on the lord,” he snaps, twisting the net around his hands, the rope biting into his skin sharply, “I will gut you and eat you right bloody here right now, no matter how much you cost.” 

That is novelty enough, the fourth time already breaking the ritual, the strange appearance of the thing in his net that seems more wide-fins and shiny scales wrapped up in a ball than any sort of dish he knows, but then at the sound of his rough cracking voice it stills Ike a frightened rabbit. He nearly falls over from the sudden slack before he recovers.

The net spills open onto the deck, the mistake suddenly so minuscule Ghost forgets the net even exists as the catch flops onto the deck. It’s no fish he’s ever heard of, no eight armed man eating beast that idiot Graves once bragged about catching himself.

It looks almost like a man, almost, head and hair and hands even, but it’s body extends, serpentine and scaled like a fish. It glistens with copper red scales and bright blues, fins sprouting from its skin like any other creature from the sea. 

It looks up at Ghost, wide-eyed. Crystal blue, like sea-glass and the stones the town-men brought back from travels to adorn their brides throats, soft lips and nose.

The first thought, which is less of anything in any coherent language and more of an urge that builds in Ghost’s bones and tugs deep within him at his navel, is that he wants to touch it, cup its face into his hands and trace the contours of skin and scales and the boundaries where they blend and dance together. The second thought is that it’s trying to pull itself overboard. 

The third thought is lost when he leaps forwards to bind it, cut off amid the clumsy scuffle.

[aghoulnamedmeliora]

Mushy May 2024

Day 28 - Collecting objects

Word count: 503

Synopsis: Phantom collecting rocks for every ghoul (feat Rain info dumping)

Thank you to @forlorn-crows for the Mushy May prompts. This is my first time writing something in 2 years so hopefully it's good.

Phantom had spent the whole day wandering the abbey looking for rocks. They had planned to give every ghoul in the pack a rock that resembled them. With how large the abbey was, there wasn't a shortage of pretty rocks.

Picking up the last rock, Phantom made their way out of the forest and towards the infirmary hoping to find Omega and Aether there. Walking through the doors, they found Omega sitting at the desk and Aether stood next to him with a coffee cup in his hand.

“What’s up, Bug? Are you injured?” Aether’s voice was full of concern. Phantom shook their head.

“No, I’m fine. Just wanted to give you both something.” They walked towards the two older quints, rummaging through the bag of rocks trying to find the right ones. They smiled brightly when they located the two for the ghouls in front of them.

“Hold your hands out.” Phantom commanded gently. They obeyed and held out a confused hand, confusion vanishing as the small ghoul dropped a rock in the hand of its respective ghoul.

“A rock?” Omega was still confused. Phantom nodded happily.

“Yeah, they reminded me of you.” Omega looked closer to his rock and found it looked like a galaxy, different shiny spots reminding him of the stars.

“It’s pretty. Thank you Phantom.” Aether was looking carefully at his rock too, caught up in the almost purple hue to it.

Phantom’s smile only got bigger at their reactions, feeling happy that they loved them so much.

“I’m off to find everyone else. Glad you like them.” With that, they turned on their heels and left to go find the rest of the pack.

By the time Phantom got to the den, they only had one rock left. One saved for Rain who was currently walking back to their room.

“Rain, I have something for you.” They called out to the water ghoul before they had a chance to disappear fully. The ghoul in mention spun around and smiled upon seeing the small ghoul.

“A gift for me?” Rain’s voice was smooth, feeling like the ocean's tide. Phantom held their hand out and Rain took the object from their hand, turning it around in their larger ones. “Granite.” Their voice perked up, seemingly excited over the small rock.

“I think so, I’m not that well versed in rock types.” Phantom’s smile was sheepish. Rain’s smile only grew larger, fangs showing before grabbing the quint ghouls arm and dragging them to the sofa.

“Let me tell you about granite, it’s a really interesting rock. It’s an igneous rock, or a magmatic rock, where it means it’s formed from cooled lava. It mainly consists of quartz, alkali feldspar, and plagioclase, hence the slight sparkle it has and the different colours in it.” Rain continued rambling on.

Phantom could hardly understand what was being said, the words coming out of Rain’s mouth being far too complex, but they didn't seem to care, just happy that they really enjoyed the gift.