#saying she should visit a ‘sanctuary’ instead

[orcinus-veterinarius]

Apparently PETA is going after Steve Irwin’s zoo.

[milkloafy]

YOUR DEAR FRIEND, DAN HENG — DAN HENG

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: friends don’t buy each other matching necklaces, right? especially not ones with blatantly romantic undertones… ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: fluff, gn!reader, matchmaker!street vendor in the luofu LMAO ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.1k+ ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: written for @starlitsawamura's garden of eden collab! :> i chose camellia as the flower!! just a lil fluffy drabble with best boy dan heng

If you had to choose only one thing you adored about the Xianzhou Luofu, it would be the multitude of booths and vendors that lined the bustling streets. The Luofu had its many sanctuaries of peace, but the areas of chatter and liveliness was what really caught you attention. 

This time, much to your pleasure, Dan Heng had offered to accompany you on your latest visit. 

“Ooh! Isn’t this so pretty?” you exclaimed, eyeing a shiny gold necklace with a dainty pendant of a camellia flower in the middle. In the center of the flower was a sparkly little diamond. It was no wonder the glimmer immediately caught your eye. 

Dan Heng walked up behind you and peered at the necklace over your shoulder. He nodded once. “It looks nice.”

You giggled at his short response. “What a compliment coming from Dan Heng himself.”

“I try,” he remarked wryly. “It’s a camellia flower, correct?”

“That’s right!” the vendor who was lingering nearby butted in. She was an older lady with a bright smile. “The beautiful camellia. A flower the conveys with it the feeling of love and affection, burning passion. I’d say it puts even the grandiose rose to shame.”

Gently, you clasped the pendant between your thumb and forefinger, brushing the golden petals. 

“I like it,” you said with certainty, debating on whether or not you should buy it right now.

Dan Heng looked between the pendant and your neck. “It suits you.”

You hid your smile. Somehow, such simple words were enough to warm your heart. It was only natural when such words came from Dan Heng. Your dear friend.

“But that’s not all!” the vendor cried once more. “Let your Auntie here show you.” She shuffled around to the other side of the cart before returning with another necklace dangling between her fingers. “There’s a matching pair!” 

Your eyes widened in excitement at the sight of the matching necklace. The pendant was the same, but instead of a diamond in the middle it was a small pearl. The chain was slightly thicker and heavier. You thought it would look good on Dan Heng, especially over his high-necked black shirt. 

“I love it!” you chirped, immediately reaching for your coin pouch. “They’re both so cute.”

You paused before giving into your impulses. It wasn’t like you’d have much use for two of the same necklaces.

As if sensing your hesitation, the vendor held the two necklaces together, revealing them to you as if they were a precious treasure. 

“Do you know the language of the flowers, dear?” she whispered conspiratorially. “‘My heart is aflame for you’. ‘I burn for you.’ That is what these necklaces say. And that is why you and your boyfriend should definitely buy these! Your love will be destined to last forever.” 

“My boyfriend?” you said, looking around wildly before your gaze landed on Dan Heng. Once you realized the vendor’s implications, your cheeks heated up. “Oh! Dan Heng? He’s… He’s not—”

“We’ll take it.” 

“Wonderful!” 

“What?” You blinked. 

It all happened so fast. Dan Heng, pulling out his money and paying before you could; the vendor, counting the credits and handing the camellia necklaces over to him. Your eyes could hardly keep up.

“This Auntie thanks you for your patronage,” said the vendor with a proud smile as Dan Heng bowed his head in gratitude and walked away with you in two. “Come again soon!” 

When he reached a spot underneath the shade of a tree, he offered the necklace with the diamond to you. 

“Here,” said Dan Heng. “It looked like you really wanted it. I hope you do not mind I bought it for you.” 

You shook your head, touched that he would do something like that for you. There were many things you loved in life, and of those many things, one of them was receiving gifts. “I don’t mind at all. I’m happy you got it for me. Thank you, Dan Heng!” 

Taking the necklace into your hands, you attempted to clasp the chain together behind your neck. After a few tries, you sighed in frustration. 

A few more moments passed before you heard someone clear their throat. “Do you need assistance?” 

He maneuvered behind you as you nodded. “Yes, please.”

Slowly, Dan Heng brushed the loose strands of hair on your neck aside and took the ends of the chain between his fingers. His fingertips felt cool against your skin, and your back straightened at the delicate touch. 

Their was restraint in his movement. It felt as if he was trying his hardest to not make direct contact with you, in fear it would be unwelcome. But that only made the accidental touches even more electrifying. You held back a shiver as his knuckle brushed against your bare neck. 

Dan Heng was soon able to clasp your necklace together and stepped away once he did. “There.”

“Thank you.” You touched the pendant with a smile, secure in its spot at the base of your neck. “Would you like some help as well?” 

He considered it for a moment before nodding. “Sure.” 

Swiftly, you took his necklace from his palm and had him turn around. Placing it around his neck, you fastened the chain together. You decided it was much easier when you could actually see the clasp.  

“There,” you announced, moving back to admire the pretty gold necklace against Dan Heng’s black shirt. “It looks so good on you!” 

He chuckled, his cheeks turning pink. “You as well.” 

“Thank you,” you said, fighting off the bashfulness you felt at his compliment. Clearing your throat, you managed to ask, “So, what do you think of the hidden meaning the vendor mentioned?”

Dan Heng considered it for a moment before replying. “It seems the camellia is a very passionate flower. In that sense, it suits you. In terms of the love and romance aspect…” he trailed off, face growing even more red. “Who knows what the future holds.”

You blinked, your ears burning with heat. That might have been as close to an admission as you would get from Dan Heng. 

“Are you implying that the future may hold something like that for us?” you said slowly and curiously, hoping you weren’t interpreting his words the wrong way. 

He smiled almost hesitantly. “I’m uncertain myself what the future has planned, but I wouldn’t mind taking a chance on us.”

For a moment, you were stunned into a shocked silence before happiness overcame you. You laughed at how Dan Heng could be both forward and indirect at the same time.

“Well, we already have the matching necklaces for it,” you said teasingly, touching the camellia pendant once more. “I’d love to take a chance with you.”

[sourpeachsayshi]

(minors / ageless / blank blogs dni)

tags: choso has a stepcest kink (very light); alludes to choso being high; porn watching; nipple play; fingering; squirting; non con (they are being watched); I finally have the courage to post this draft slkdjf don't shame me

regarding yuji's best friend reader and his big brother choso and this idea I wrote a while back: Hmp catching your best friend’s older brother (choso) watching porn, so he invites you into his room to join him - and while you watch he just sucks on your tits and slowly fingers you until you squirt all over is sheets.

you're face is so hot watching this video, the girl is moaning while she's being eaten out. you're not sure if you should focus on her responses or on choso sucking your nipples like his life depends on it.

"is-is this what turns you on?" you stammer, the blaring fact that the actors are playing step siblings sending a shiver all over your body.

your breath hitches, choso's own staggering as he looks up at you with slightly blood shot eyes. "it's kinda hot, right? that they are doing something that they shouldn't..."

he says this as he slides two fingers underneath your underwear, his other hand pinching your erect nipple. he pushes two fingers between your wet folds, hearing you whine as he carefully starts fucking you.

your mouth is dry, your head falling to the pillow where the side of your cheek is illuminated by blue light blaring from his monitor. you're trying not to read so much into his comment about forbidden hook ups, and you're unsure if your heart is racing because of the thrill or if you're overwhelmed.

he sucks on your tit, releasing it with a pop, his fingers working magic between your legs. "The plot is whatever, a cliche I guess," he admits, "but she's hot, and the way he fucks her..." he groans, snagging you tender nipple between his teeth, "it's kinda how I think about fucking you..."

you're gushing down to his knuckles, your body shuddering at the prospect of getting fucked by this sinful man. you don't say anything else then, but you keep your attention focused on the screen. when it gets to the scene where he does fuck her, you only imagine how it would feel with choso instead.

the actors are splayed out on the living room sofa, the girl getting fucked so hard and rough in the middle of the living room. you can't help but wonder if choso is desperate to claim you this heatedly in the sanctuary of his own home for a reason, and if that reason has anything to do with wanting him to make his mark on his brother's best friend.

his mouth is circled over your left breast, sucking and licking over the bud as his fingers move faster. he's grinding into the mattress, his erection making a mess of his jeans, and you know that's he's getting far to into it when his own moans start getting louder and louder.

you know you're going to cum hard when he starts pressing up against the sweet spot that makes everything in you seize up, and he has to use his other hand to clasp over your mouth so that you don't scream as you squirt all over his t-shirt.

you're so dizzy in the aftermath, but as your eyes fall to choso's bedroom door you realize that it's not completely closed. through the sliver of the gap you spot the color of fiery red, and you instantly shoot up which startles the man before you.

"what's wrong?" choso asks, using this as opportunity to turn off the screen of his monitor.

you shake your head, "I-I thought I saw something..."

choso circles his arms around your waist, and drops his weight on top of you as he lays you both back on the mattress.

"yuji isn't even here, baby," he reminds you.

which is true, except sukuna decided to pay his younger brothers a visit and was startled to find out that you're a lot closer to this family than he even thought.

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Chapter Four - Discordant

Summary: Morpheus seems to take a turn for the better, but a person cannot change overnight. How does it feel to finally give him a taste of his own medicine? How does it feel to go back to square one, once again?

Notes: ~6.1k words, Please don't stare at the eclipse with your blind eyes, I just didn't know how to write protective solar glasses into this AU ok

Warnings/Tags: Morpheus is trying, it's not working, two deaths of side characters, miscommunication/misinterpretation (?), reader gets their feelings hurt again cause I can't stop writing angst

Tag list is open! Just let me know :)

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Discordant (adj.) - not in agreement or harmony, to be at variance

How do you face Morpheus again after that? The simple answer is you don’t, well you try not to. However, when you go to breakfast the next morning, it’s a surprise to you that Morpheus is there waiting for you. Breakfast is less formal than dinner, yet here you were, sharing a meal with him right by your side. 

Tension is thick in the air, the only sounds are that of cutlery on plates. You chew your fruit slowly while consciously trying not to look at Morpheus. This was horrible; you need wine, or something to dull your mental ability so you didn’t have to be fully here. 

Your throat was still raw from the day before, and the food only seems to make it worse, scraping itself down your throat as you swallow. 

“I’m finished,” You rasp and go to stand from your spot.

“Wait,” He stands abruptly, the glass on the table rattling with the sudden movement. You’re determined to leave but his fingers grab onto your wrist.   

“What?” You frown at him, the warmth of his fingers spreading across your arm. 

“There is a gala coming up. The Summer Eclipse Gala, please will you attend with me?”

“Do I have a choice?” You ask, not meeting his eyes. Instead you stare at how he gently holds onto you. His thumb smooths across the tender part of your wrist when he answers. 

“Not really,” He says in a low voice. There was some regret laced in his answer, but you didn’t want to pay attention to that. 

“Then that is my answer.” You sigh as you turn away. Morpheus’ hand is still around your wrist and even with a slight tug, he doesn’t release you. “Let go.” 

“Should we… talk about yesterday?” He says hesitantly.

“What is there to say?” You reply back, your voice losing itself again at the very end. When your husband doesn’t answer, you pull your arm away more forcefully. This time, he lets you go.

“Precisely.” You leave, your heart pounding as you so easily defy him. 

The rest of the week was spent doing exactly what he had been doing to you for the past couple of months. Which is to say, avoiding him at all points possible. You try to hide in the library, but that proves futile as he easily seeks you out there. The studio and many bookshelves do little to hide you, ironically.

The only place he doesn’t dare find you is your garden. Even he could understand the importance of that sanctuary to you. And though the flowers certainly seem to enjoy the summer sun, you couldn’t say the same. The heat had started to become unbearable and it had been days since your last visit there. 

When he asks for you to dine with him, you decline and lock yourself in your room. Your stomach rumbles until Matthew sneaks you a leftover biscuit, but it was better than confronting him. At a certain point, embarrassment of letting your true feelings show turn to resentment once more. 

Why did he suddenly feel entitled to your time? 

“The King brought you this, Your Majesty,” Agnes says one morning as she enters your room. One of the maids holds a large box, decorated with a beautiful red bow. 

You take a hold of it, albeit a bit hesitant, and unravel the gift. When you lift the lid, you’re greeted with something you have never seen before. The dress was a beautiful golden yellow, with gems that represented the sun inlaid amongst the sweetheart bodice. Lacey loops come off the bodice in a delicate design that would wrap around your upper arms. The bottom skirting was decorated with glittering swirls and the fabric soft to the touch. 

“Oh! It looks lovely,” Agnes compliments with a soft gasp. She’s looking over your shoulder as you continue to stare at the dress. 

“Hmm, I can’t deny it either. It looks beautiful,” You sigh as you run your fingers through the soft fabric. Your fingers come across a piece of paper with a note. 

Please do me the honor and wear this tonight. Written in Morpheus’ handwriting. 

“And so shall you, your grace, when you wear it today,” Your lady’s maid hums.

Right… the gala is today. It seems your plan of avoiding Morpheus would have to come to an end. But, you still have the rest of the day to yourself, best to start savoring it. You start with a bath, with extra Natterhorn milk per your request, and something else to calm your nerves. After which, Agnes starts pampering you to get you ready for the event. 

Hands are grabbing at you at every angle, tugging, brushing, wiping. You felt like a marionette puppet as they direct you on where to step, where to hold your hands so that they may dress you accordingly. 

“Agnes,” You gasp as she gives you another sharp tug. “I request you loosen this horrid corset for my sake.”

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” She says, giving one last tug and tying the knot, more than less ignoring your request. 

In the end, both you and Agnes are huffing and puffing when you’re finally done. You watch as Agnes puts on a pair of white cotton gloves and reaches into a wooden box you didn’t have the liberty of noticing before. From it, she produces an ornate crown. 

It pairs with your dress nicely, a warm gold with white gems. The points of the head piece  were a bit excessive, but your inner judgment was cut short when you realized it was supposed to represent the sun. When Agnes places it on your head, you grimace at the weight of it. 

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but it is part of the uniform,” Agnes apologizes once again as she notices your contorted face. 

“It is not your fault, do not fret. You did well,” You grunt as you step away from the mirror. Agnes is positively gushing as she looks you over. Her beaming increases as you give your compliments to her hard work. 

Despite the heavy crown, the dress itself was light and made for easy movement. Agnes opens the door and you follow the entourage of silver knights as they lead you from the comforts of your bedroom. Matthew’s presence settles your nerves a bit as you feel his protective presence three paces behind. 

“Are you excited, boss lady?” You hear him ask with a smile hidden behind his helmet. He had recently polished his black armor and you’re sure if you turn around now, you could see your reflection. 

“In all honesty, Matthew? For the event, yes. For seeing my husband again, no.” You pause as the unified metal footsteps descend to the first floor of the castle. “What of you?”

“If I get to see Jessamy again…” He says beneath his breath, quiet enough that you almost didn’t hear it.

You can see the sunlight from the entrance and you’re about to ask Matthew to repeat himself. However, the silver knights stop on the final set of stairs, leaving you standing at the intersection that leads to Morpheus’ wing. He comes down in time with your steps and meets you in the middle.

Morpheus is dressed in his typical black, simply more detailed than usual. He switches his flowing robe for an off shoulder cape that only reaches his mid thighs. His black tunic and pants were dusted with silver and dark blue, giving the illusion of the night sky at certain angles. Sitting comfortably on his head was a crown: silver with curving onyx gems that resembled the moon. 

He’s close enough now to take you in your full glory. The dress he bought for you was the correct choice. It hugs your figure in all the right places; the dress was, after all, altered to your size. When the fleeting rays of sunlight come through the large window, it reflects off your dress and illuminates you. The Sun only shares a portion of His light, but you’ve managed to take it and make it your own. 

“You look radiant,” He breathes the truth as he comes closer to you. You notice his finger twitch as he resists the urge to touch you. 

“Save your falsities for someone else,” You snap, surprising yourself even. The crown was way too heavy on your head for pretenses. 

“Very well… but we should at least pretend to like each other for the guests tonight.” Morpheus offers his arm to you and turns, the breeze from the entrance coming through the hallway. 

“Then let us begin,” You reply as you hook your hand to his arm. 

Crossing the castle threshold, the eclipse was already beginning to start. The trees rustle in the gentle late spring wind, its shades creating crescent shadows on the ground. You’re able to enjoy it from afar as the two of you walk the distance to the grand ballroom. 

Slowly, daylight surrenders to night and the nocturnal critters emerge from their slumber. Crickets chirp, fireflies float around you, and moths fan their wings in the moonlight. The smell of petrichor turns heavy once more as you reenter the castle, the doors opening wide with an announcement of your and Morpheus’ arrival. The silver knights part, Matthew leaves your side, as does Jessamy, as Morpheus leads you to the center of the ballroom. 

“Welcome, esteemed guests of the Dreaming. Tonight, we shall once again celebrate the astral lovers of Sun and Moon,” An announcer bellows into a horn. Cheers and unified clapping follow. “During Totality of the eclipse, we welcome you to witness the first dance of the night, to be shared with King Morpheus and Queen Consort Y/N.”

A fanfare plays and the crowd turns to the open ceiling, watching with shielded eyes as the moon slowly clips into place. Night dominates the sky, the moon blocking the sun except for the defining ring around it. Footmen scurry around as they quickly light the abundance of candles and chandeliers they could reach. 

The grand ballroom gleams with the light of a thousand crystal chandeliers as you and Morpheus turn towards each other. The light fractures and creates halos across the marble flooring and stone pillars. Morpheus bows and you curtsy low, and the action reminds you of your wedding night. Slowly, he clasps his hand over yours gently and a firm arm wraps around your waist. 

The string ensemble starts and you try to fight the smile that creeps on your lips as you’re easily pulled in time with his steps. Morpheus smiles as he studies your face closely. You're dancing once again.

The candle light seems to be absorbed into your figure as you glow under its warm light. Spinning hand in hand with your husband, you’ve long since given up holding back your smile. You’re grinning, radiant and warm like the sun. 

You and Morpheus glide across the ballroom floor, floating like stars amongst the clouds. He is fluid in his movements and leads the dance easily. You hold on tight as the lights begin to blur together, all together have you forgotten how heavy your crown was. To onlookers, the two of you were beacons of elegance and the definition of harmony. 

The music stops and you’re face to face with Morpheus, breathing hard. The sound of applause is muffled in the background of your mind. Morpheus looks pristine as well, perfectly composed as he softly gazes at you through starry eyes. You’re the first to break eye contact, the raw emotions he tries to show you too much for now. You can see that he is trying to be better, but after months of neglect, one dance is hardly enough to make up for it. 

Morpheus doesn’t try to hide his emotions, and with deflated shoulders, leads you quietly to the matching thrones at the front of the ballroom. There, they stand high and mighty, dark, and carved with intricate designs of stars and ravens. You see Jessamy and Matthew waiting for the two of you there and some relief returns to you knowing that Matthew would be there to watch over you. 

The roofless ballroom makes it hard to believe that it is only noon. Save for the ring of sun, the sky was casted in perpetual night. The stars make their appearance, as they always do, and accompany their moon, twinkling with admiration at viewing the people of the Dreaming early today. Even the critters of the night came out from their slumber, and if you listened carefully enough, you could hear their chirps and songs of night past the orchestra. 

The throne is stiff and uncomfortable to sit in. When you glance over at Morpheus, he takes to it easily, spreading across the throne like a lounging cat. His presence fills the space and it’s easy to see how he is so perfectly fit for this role. 

An emissary comes before you and bows, the lady on his arm following suit. He wears his best for the ceremony and when he speaks, it smells of rich alcohol and fruits. 

“Congratulations on your marriage, Your Majesties. As emissary of the Kingdom of Kreya, we wish you a wonderful Solar Eclipse celebration,” The man smiles at the two of you and you smile back.

You take another glance at Morpheus and see his jaw ticking in the low candlelight. A second passes and he still doesn’t respond. 

“Thank you, we hope to visit Kreya soon,” You reply instead. It has been long since you’ve heard a rumor of your failing marriage. At the very least it’s good to know that to people looking in, there was nothing wrong between you and Morpheus. 

This is what he wanted, was it not?

From his perspective, your urge to take control basked you in a new light that he’s never seen before. Your response seems to snap him out of whatever deep thoughts he had and a cough brings him back to the present. Or, if he wanted to be honest with himself; your presence brings him back to the present. 

Others follow in his footsteps, giving their congratulations, their salutations from their kingdoms, and other comments they wished to address to you. Morpheus and you take turns responding, each one vague and surface level. 

The last emissary was a face you knew all too well. Soft brown curls wrap around a kind face. She dawns on flowy fabric of white and gold and a cape made of olive leaves. Calliope smiles when she sets her eyes on you, and you hear Matthew’s armor clink as he attempts to move from his post. The promise he made early into your relationship is evident in his mind. 

A subtle hand rise from you was enough to stop him and the black knight settles back. The tension remains thick as she ascends the steps. She bows and speaks. 

“I congratulate the King and Queen of the Dreaming on their union. From Boeotia, my sisters and I give our blessings for a bountiful year.” Calliope speaks to you specifically, and even when there is no ill intention written on her face, something ugly deep within you dares not to look at her. 

The pain and suffering you had to endure, half of the reason is because of her. Your anger and despair leave you and instead reveal itself as its true form. Is it jealousy? Perhaps. You’ve long since stopped fighting it. Your bracelet tightens around your wrist once more, as it’s always done when it doesn’t agree with your thoughts. 

“Thank you…” Morpheus responds to her. It was your turn to respond, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to speak to her. 

Calliope opens her mouth again, as if to add something else, but stops herself after some hesitancy. It’s not before long that Calliope accepts the short answer and leaves you. An even shorter amount of time for a footman to come to you and Morpheus with goblets of wine that you all too eagerly grab at.

If it weren’t for your position, you’re sure you would be drunk beyond comprehension. It is a tradition of the celebration: to relieve oneself from their physical bodies and dance amongst the Eclipse. And you can only do that by drinking until your body can’t understand the physical world anymore. 

The dark wine glitters as you swirl it around in the silver goblet, and you feel the tingling sensation as it goes down your throat. Other nobles mingle with each other, the occasional ping of glasses touching echos in the large room.

Squinting, you notice a certain blond standing alone in the corner, his dark glasses still covering his eyes. He is talking to some other man, his charismatic smile never disappearing, even when he takes another sip from his glass. As if sensing your gaze, he turns to you and raises his glass in your direction. You were the first to break eye contact, taking another sip of your own drink. You see Lucienne and Hob enjoying themselves at the snack table, watching as Lucienne looks away when Hob stuffs several cookies into his coat pocket. 

The alcohol was potent, leaving you feeling light and dizzy, but a sudden commotion on the other side of the room leaves me sober. Yelling and clashing of metal against metal piques your interest as the ballroom doors slam open. 

“I apologize, we-we tried to stop him!” A silver knight huffs out, chasing after the man who barged in. 

A calm hand from Morpheus quiets him and the knight stops. The elderly man is still charging towards the two of you, dancers parting quickly from the marble floor as they watch. 

“Where is she?” The man asks—or demands, more accurately, standing strong in the center of the dancefloor. He wears red, unblemished armor that stands out like a sore thumb against the Dreaming’s more subtle colors. 

“Whoever you seek is not here, stranger,” Morpheus’ voice booms across the room. 

“You, Teleute, will bring back my dead son. I will kill you if it means I will get him back…” He bravely points at your husband, completely ignoring his statement. 

You and Morpheus share a quick glance at each other. Yours is riddled in confusion, what could this random man possibly want with his sister? Morpheus shares with you a more concerned look as he finally pieces together the information.

He recalls the conversation he had with the Corinthian under old moonlight about a madman named Rodrick Burgess. Briefly, his eyes meet with Corinthian on the far end of the room, who seems all the more pleased that his target has waltzed right into his grasp. The Corinthian had taken a small break in his chase so he could attend the festival. In the end, it seemingly works out for him anyways. 

“Are you challenging the throne?” Morpheus accuses, looking down at him. You hear the shifting of feet as Jessamy and Matthew squirm with anticipation. 

Morpheus remembers once more of his nightmare regarding this specific man and you. How you laid cold in his arms, blood blemishing each portion of your body. That no matter how much he wipes away at it, the blood continues to seep and stain into your clothes. His hand slowly ghosts over yours and covers your fingers. He feels the quickening pulse underneath his fingers and allows himself a moment of peace for your still beating pulse. 

“I am challenging Teleute,” Rodrick repeats. 

“Death of the Endless is not here. I will accept your challenge in her stead.” You’re not sure where the courage was coming from. Perhaps it is how Morpheus is gently holding onto you. Or, more likely, how the alcohol is coursing through your system. That seems to be the more logical reason… right? “Who do you wish to be your champion?” 

“I am my own champion, the Great Magus Rodrick Burgess.” He brings forth his sword, covered in elaborate jewels. 

“Sir Matthew?” You call, head held high. The weight of the crown is no longer an issue for you. 

“Yes, Your Majesty?” Matthew responds immediately. 

“You will be my champion.” You declare. “You will not disappoint.” It is your first order as queen. 

You watch with fixed eyes as Matthew crosses to the dance floor. The white marble is a stark contrast against his black armor. Your hand turns and interlaces with Morpheus’ as Matthew draws his sword.

It’s longer and broader than Rodrick’s and even before the fight begins, you know Matthew would be slower than his opponent. But your belief in him is strong and unyielding. 

The two knights face each other, their stances ready. Murmurs from onlookers hush around the room, the tension as thick as the wine they drink. 

Rodrick moves first, his impatience showing easily as he lunges for Matthew’s heart. Your champion gracefully steps to the side, bringing up his broadsword in a low arch to parry the attack. 

Blade against blade, the metals gleam in the low candlelight. The symphony changes from a string quartet to that of steel. The two knights dance around each other in the intense duel as both display their mastery of the blade. 

An unhonorable heavy strike to the head from Rodrick leaves Matthew dazed. It’s enough for the blunt of his blade to strike at the young knight’s helmet. You watch with an agape mouth as the force is enough to knock off Matthew’s helmet, the helm flying across the floor. Your grip in Morpheus’ hand tightens as the anticipation grows. 

Matthew is quick to be back on his feet, his black hair tousled from the fight. You catch glimpses of his determined face as he returns to the duel. Each block that Matthew predicts, each strike that he parries leaves Rodrick flustered.

Matthew notices, and when Rodrick was starting to lose strength, he advances with a series of long arching and forceful blows. You and Morpheus watch as Rodrick meekly holds his denting blade up in defense.

With a powerful kick to the chest, the Great Magus crashes to the ground, his sword falling from his hand as the last of his energy leaves him. Matthew advances still, dragging his broadsword on the ground. The teeth-grating sound of metal on marble igniting sparks. 

Your knight points the sword at Rodrick’s throat, panting from exertion. “Yield,” Matthew commands.  

“I will not!” Rodrick spits at him, pushing the imposing blade away from his throat.

“Yield!” Matthew shouts, bringing the blade back and pushing pressure onto the side of his neck. A thin string of warm blood follows the cut.

Rodrick looks around the room, conscious of how the people around him start to whisper about his loss. He makes eye contact with you and glares at his defeat. 

“I yield,” He says hesitantly as his eyes remain on yours. 

You swallow thickly as silver knights drag him out of the ballroom, your eyes following him. Rodrick was glaring at you until he could no longer see you, his cheeks still flushed from the duel and from the embarrassment of losing. 

You let go of Morpheus’ hand, wiping your palm against the softness of your dress to get rid of the excessive sweat that started to accumulate. You go to grab at your wine again, finishing the rest with large gulps to calm your nerves. The alcohol is quick to work its magic as it seeps into your system.

“Congratulations on your victory, champion,” You grin when Matthew comes back to your side. “Where’s your helmet?”

“I, uh, can’t find it…” He mutters, embarrassed. He scratches at his hair as his cheeks flush red. 

You smile once more as Matthew’s true personality shows itself again. He was quite young to be a knight, and his face had left the battle without any scars; a testament to his effectiveness. A server comes by and tops off the goblet with more glittering wine. 

Morpheus hovers a hand over his own cup as a silent decline for more alcohol. Meanwhile you were more than inclined to continue drinking. The excitement of the day is already taking its effect on you. When you set your drink back down, you notice that no one is enjoying the gala anymore.

They stand to the side, muttering to themselves behind open feather fans. No one is drinking, or feasting, and they share unsure glances with each other. The duel was a mood killer for the festivities. 

You take another slow sip from your wine, what should you do? You watch through slightly lidded eyes as Morpheus stands from his seat. His hand falls before yours in a silent invitation of another dance. Baffled, you silently stare at the upright hand. Morpheus wants another dance?

Should you? When a bird has been locked in a cage for so long, even when presented with the opportunity of flight, it often finds itself staying. It takes comfort in what the bird knows. The outside world is dangerous, after all. 

“Please,” He whispers when he notices you hesitating. You see his other fingers twitch against his leg, a tic that you’ve long since noticed he does whenever he is nervous. You place the goblet down and grab onto his hand lightly. One more dance wouldn’t hurt. 

Before you leave, you turn to Matthew with a smile. “You should go dance, too. You’ve done well to deserve it tonight.” 

Matthew all but perks up at your invitation, his eyes darting to Morpheus, who simply nods in approval of his request. 

The two of you take to the floor and amidst the onlookers and mutterers, for once, you only notice Morpheus. “I trust you,” You say slowly.

Morpheus nods before he places a gentle hand on your waist and leads the dance once more. The music is romantic somber as the two of you glide across the floor. 

Nobles and invitees around you stop whispering amongst themselves and enjoy the spectacle. Soon enough, more and more couples return to the dance floor. 

The orchestra is quick to change its tune and an upbeat swell of strings has everyone clapping and jumping around in a country dance. Your smile brightens your face once more as you witness how your small dance was enough to bring people together. 

You part from Morpheus as a new dance partner whisks you away for the next portion of the song. You grab onto your dance partner as you watch Morpheus spin with a new partner of his own, a soft smile gracing his lips as he witnesses your lingering gaze.

“Enjoying the ball, Your Majesty?” The new voice interrupts your thoughts. Your head turns to your new dance partner and you feel yourself jump in the middle of a spin. 

“Corinthian,” You greet curtly, smile dropping. 

“Hello again, Your Majesty.” He grins down at you, sunglasses still on. A silence follows and you’re desperate to change partners again.

“It seems you and His Majesty have started to become amiable with each other. I heard rumors that your marriage was in rocky waters.” He whispers into your ear as he spins you again. 

“They’re just rumors,” You lie again. 

The Corinthian hums, easily reading between the lines of your statement. “Well, well, would you look at that?”

Corinthian focuses his attention behind you and you turn to match his gaze. Couples waltz around you, but your eyes immediately seek out Morpheus. Your newly healed heart shatters as you watch Morpheus and Calliope spin across the dance floor. The two of them look beautiful together, her light colors clashing with his darker ones is a sight out of the romances you’ve read in your books. 

Were dance partners always supposed to be that close to each other? Their gazes lock with each other as they share private words amongst themselves. Morpheus says something that causes Calliope to smile, something that lights up her entire figure in delight. 

“Perhaps the rumors are quite true,” Corinthian chuckles. 

You let go of him as if he suddenly caught on fire. “I need some air… Please excuse me.” 

The Corinthian doesn’t try to stop you as you weave your way through the dancing couples. Before you leave the ballroom, you briefly overhear a conversation between Mervyn and Matthew. 

“Huh, I thought you were some beast with how you were swinging that piece of crap around. But you’re just some normal kid,” Mervyn scoffs as he lights another cigarette. 

Matthew scratches his head in confusion, the refound helmet rests between his arm and torso. It is liberating to not have to wear it for a while, and he can smell the food more clearly like this.

“Actually, I’m 1/16 pure Ravenfolk on my mother's side. Not so normal now, huh, Mervyn?” Matthew brags with a high head. 

“Pah!” The pumpkin man scoffs again, a cloud of smoke following him. “And Jessamy is pure Ravenfolk so what you got to say about that!”

You’re sure you see smoke steaming out of your knight’s ears and his face turns bright red. It’s a conversation you would have loved to entertain, but in your emotions, you don’t linger long. The door is right there and you escape from all the distracted gazes.

By muscle memory, your feet take you to your garden sanctuary. The summer sun is no longer an issue for you as the night wind calms your fraying nerves. You run your fingers along the petals of night flowers and watch as they sway in tandem with the tides. 

You take a seat on a nearby stone bench, watching the eclipse reflection in the small pond of your garden. An uncomfortable feeling like stone settles in your throat as you push down a hiccup. Silent tears still make it past your eyes. 

You wipe away your tears with the back of your hand as you silently berate yourself for always crying. Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and try to relax your over eccentric heart. The rustling of leaves and citrus smell of flowers calm your nerves quite well. 

You hear a rustle that feels out of place and a presence behind you and you sigh deeply. 

“Not now, Matthew. I really just want to be alone,” You indirectly ask your knight for solitude. 

“Not Matthew,” The presence spits out the name and you gasp as you feel the cold metal of his blade against your throat. 

Rodrick.

How could you forget his voice? You don’t move as you watch him circle in front of you. The point of the dagger in his hands remains pointed at your throat. You swallow your nerves, the slight movement enough to scratch your skin against the sharp blade. 

“You embarrassed me. In front of all of your citizens,” Rodrick begins to monologue. It’s hard to make out his face in the dark light and the angle at which you sat, but the glare he emitted was easy to feel.

“No, you embarrassed yourself. Who told you killing someone else would bring back your dead son?” You ask to distract him. Your eyes dart around your space as you try to find a path to run away from him, or something that can hinder him while you find help. 

“The ruler I serve said so. And I believe in their word.” He continues.

“Who? Desire of the Endless?” You scoff as you look at his red armor. The lustful color and crest he bore on his chest plate was easy enough to piece together. “Have you ever considered your ruler is merely using you as bait?”

“They would never,” Rodrick says back in disbelief. The blade dips slightly for a moment as he backs away. 

You take that slight moment as your chance, grabbing at the layers of your dress and sprinting back towards the castle.

“Matthew!” You scream at the top of your lungs and you pray that it's heard past the music. 

Hedges and thorned flowers scrape at you and get caught in your dress. The sound of pounding feet catches up to you and a yelp leaves your lips as Rodricks tackles you to the ground. Your crown dislodges itself from your head at the impact and you’re screaming as you fight back as best as you can. 

His hands come around your throat and you grab at his wrist in panic. Rasping breaths leave you in huffs as he squeezes harder and harder. The edges of your vision start to go black as the lack of oxygen leaves your body wanting. 

“M-Morpheus,” You call out weakly. 

“No one can hear you now, you pathetic queen. No one can help you—”

The weight is lifted off of you abruptly and you turn on hands and knees as you intake as much air as you possibly could. You turn back around and stand on wobbly legs and watch as two silhouettes fight each other. One, you knew to be Rodrick but the other was new. The person was armor clad in silver, so it was neither Morpheus nor Matthew. One moment, Rodrick was standing, and the next he fell to the ground in a slump. 

“Come, let’s get you back to the palace, Your Majesty,” Your savior comes closer to you. The dagger that Rodrick had threatened you with is still in her hands. 

“Who are you?” You ask as she takes your hand and begins a fast walk away from the dead body. 

“You may call me Gault, Your Majesty.” Her pace is faster than yours and in your still shocked state, you fall to the ground. Gault turns around quickly and bends to help you up from the elbow. 

“Jessamy, subdue her,” You hear Morpheus' voice nearby. The sound of armor accompanying him. 

“What?” You question as you fall back to the ground. Matthew is by your side in no time, holding you up steadily. 

You watch with confusion as Jessamy holds both of Gault’s hands behind her back and kicks her knee in so that she kneels to the ground. 

“Forgive me, for not coming sooner,” Morpheus whispers to you. He unclips the half cape he wore and drapes it over your shoulders. Your abrasive run through the gardens leaves you more exposed than what would have been considered appropriate. 

“Wait, no, stop,” You interject as he returns his attention to Gault. 

Morpheus ignores you, insisting to himself that your ramblings were from shock. It’s obvious to him that Gault was going to hurt you. As soon as he noticed that you weren’t in the ballroom anymore, he was quick to leave the dance and come looking for you. 

To find you being hovered by one of his own soldiers with the weapon in her hand was evident enough in his eyes of treason. You looked horrible, your dress in shambles and thin cuts scattered across your body. 

“I was protecting the queen,” Gault states the truth slowly. “I had no intention of hurting her. I merely wish to keep her from harm.”

“Listen to her, my lord. Please, I beg you, she is speaking the truth,” You plead once more. The hold that Matthew has on you shifts from protection to restriction as you try to fight against him. 

Morpheus ignores you once more, and while your cries hurt him, bringing you justice will satiate the pain. “You do not get to decide what I saw with my own eyes. How do you think you should be punished for the attempt on my queen’s life?”

Gault pushes her head up higher even as the realization dawns on her. “I am not afraid.”

“You should be.” Morpheus stalks closer to her.

“I will rather die afraid than knowing I lived without truth, my lord.” You hear Gault whisper. 

Morpheus doesn’t bother with a response. The shadows of the eclipse seem to elongate his shadow as he paths closer to her. Your pleas once again fall on deaf ears and tears sting your face red. Your screams have turned raw in your throat as you helplessly watch.

In the darkness of the eclipse, you barely register the sound of Morpheus unsheathing Jessamy’s blade from her scabbard. You don’t see it, but you feel it—the sticky warmth of blood splattering across your face. The iron taste rests heavy on your tongue as your mouth falls open in a gasp. It mixes with the wine and creates a concoction that makes you dry heave in the grass. 

You hear it, too. As Gault doesn’t die from the first strike and her blood effectively drowns her as she tries to breathe. Morpheus swings again and the head thuds to the ground, her body following quickly after as Jessamy lets her go. 

Your scream echoes across the vastness of the night.

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Ah, Morpheus you walking red flag you. Also, I'm not going to lie, idk how to redeem Dream boy over here after this chapter cause wtf is this bitch on (I know I wrote him but what the fuck?)

Someone tell me I did good, it's summer and I no longer get academic validation

♡ Yours, Layla

Tags: @dnarez @arunawayheart @acdassenza @ella33 @karma-is-a-god @bluespecs14 @boo8008 @dragon-kazansky @i-voluntears @deniixlovezelda

[intothegenshinworld]

'Goodnight World' III

Summary: After the Aranara brings Aether to the World he finds out that The Creator is unable to wake up. Note: Not proofread!  WC: 1.4k

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“So…” Paimon wonders out loud, 

“Did you really think they were the Creator?” 

“It sure seemed like it.” Aether answers dismissively. 

The two had made their way out of Varanara a while ago. Without a boat to bring them back to Sumeru city, it had taken longer than the two had originally planned. And with this newfound extra time, Aether had been stuck in his head – his thoughts all revolving around the Creator.

Because.. if it really is what it seems, – he might be able to unravel Teyvat’s mysteries in one quick move. 

And Aether wasn’t sure if he was ready for that.

“Ohh! Do you think we can get something to eat before we go to find Nahida?” Paimon hovers closer to Aether. Her small feet kick in the air with excitement after the thought of food. 

Aether looks at the pixie with amusement. Somehow world problems never seem to bother her. For a good moment he has to stop himself from smiling at her unprompted need for food.

Instead of giving her the satisfaction of a smile, he lifts an eyebrow in a teasing manner, 

“Are you really more interested in food rather than helping the Creator of Teyvat?”

A loud gasp is heard beside him. “Paimon didn’t say that!” 

The pixie huffs and crosses her arms, all while continuing to float forwards. “Paimon is very curious, but it’s been so long since we last had anything else than boar meat.” She sulks. 

“I’m sure we’ll have time to visit a city tavern while we’re there. But – I would really want to see Nahida before we do.”

“Paimon understands!”

Aether looks at his companion, urging her to continue.

“Well… Paimon thinks it has to do with your sibling right?”

Aether moves his eyes back in front of him. At the mention of his sibling, words die in his throat.

He chooses to nods silently.

“Then it’s settled!” Paimon giggles and throws her hands in the air. “First we’ll find Nahida, and then you’ll buy Paimon loooots of food!”

“As if I don’t normally buy your food.” 

“Hmpf!”

Aether looks around him. 

The two had finally arrived at their destination. And without much observation, Aether was able to notice that Sumeru city had gotten busier than before. 

It seems that after the Dendro Archon got back in business, the citizens of Sumer have started to pick up a new daily routine. On one hand, with no sages left to guide them the scholars seemed to slow down their work in favour of waiting for a new one to take over. And on the other, new knowledge was shared without the old sages limiting things.

But, perhaps it was mostly due to the Akasha being shut down. 

Aether notices a group of scholars carrying stacks of books in their arms. 

Before, it had been effortless to get common knowledge. The Akasha would immediately bring it up for its user to see without them having to check in to lend books and whatnot. But now that they lost that, they had to manually search up knowledge relevant to their studies. 

It would only be natural that the streets would get busier with scholars needing to find that knowledge.

And amongst these students there should be a young Archon wandering around. 

Aether had already checked the Sanctuary of Surasthana, but she had been nowhere to be seen. Then, as he made his way to the Akademiya in hopes of asking the Acting Grand Sage about Nahida, he heard scholars talking about the very Archon he was searching for. 

So somewhere nearby, –

“Nahida, Nahida!” 

Paimon waves her hand with excitement when she sees the young Archon appear from the crowd.

The Dendro Archon already seems to have noticed both and Aether can see Nahida smile as she comes closer.

“Hmm? Paimon and the Traveller?” She laughs for a moment, “I didn’t expect to see you here so soon. Have you been enjoying your travels?”

“Yes! – uhh… No?”

Paimon puts her hands to her head in confusion. She sends Aether a look before visibly deflating, “Ugh… Paimon doesn’t know anymore.”

The Archon looks between the two with curiosity. “Did something happen? You seem… stressed perhaps?”

As always, Nahida seems to be able to sense that something is off. Yet it worries Aether that the Young Archon had never mentioned the Creator before. 

Does she really not know…?

Paimon whines, “Yes, something is probably wrong. That’s why we wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh?” Nahida turns her head to the side in a curious manner.

“You see…”

Paimon turns to Aether for help. Within a few words he’s able to summarise the whole problem; “We saw the Creator.”

Nahida makes a weird expression. It starts with something similar to shock which then turns into confusion. 

For a moment it’s silent. When Aether looks down at the Archon he can see her thinking about his words. Her hand is holding her chin and her eyebrows are slightly furrowed.

“Paimon will explain! When we visited Varanara, an Aranara led us to this giant open space underground and we saw the Creator asleep!” The little pixie floats wildly in the air as she makes gestures with her hands and puts emphasis on her words. 

“They even talked to us in our minds!”

Nahida lets out a warm laugh after that. 

Her eyes close and she seems to be genuinely enjoying the moment.

“I must say. Your jokes have elevated in a way I could not predict them anymore. For a moment I thought you actually met the Creator.” 

A small giggle escapes her lips again before she continues, “It would be a funny joke if I wasn’t one of the few people still alive to have born witness to Their Grace’s disappearance.” The smile on Nahida’s face remains. It’s evident she thinks about the Creator in a positive light.

Aether furrows his eyebrows together. Wouldn’t Nahida have been born after the Creator’s disappearance? While he can’t fully confirm it, he assumes this must be Irminsul filling in the hole that’s been left behind after Nahida removed Rukkhadevata from Teyvat.

Nahida puts a hand to her chest in a solemn way. “To be completely honest, the Creator’s disappearance was something none of the Archons had suspected to be possible. The Creator of Teyvat, – leaving its world to fend on its own.”

“For as long as the Cataclysm of 500 years ago lasted, we believed it would be the end of an era. The end of Teyvat.” Nahida lets her arms dangle next to her sides again. While she’s obviously fond of the Creator, these thoughts seem to bring up bad memories as well.

Paimon looks between Aether and Nahida. “But…” 

The traveller fills in the words in his head; if The Creator is truely gone, who did we see?

As the pixie trails off, Nahida continues. “If the Creator truly was in Sumeru, I would’ve known. But the last time I checked Irminsul, all traces of the Creator were broken off 500 years ago. Right after the cataclysm spread over Teyvat.”

Aether thinks for a moment. 

As an outlander he’s the only one here not affected by Irminsul. Could it be that someone or something removed the Creator’s existence from the tree 500 years ago for some reason? 

Perhaps he should find out why the Creator disappeared that long ago…

“What if someone did find the Creator?” 

“Then you’d save the world.” Nahida replies to Aether without missing a beat

“When the Creator left, they left behind many unstable energies that would cause a catastrophe later on, such as leylines. Adventurers might be able to fight the effects of these unstable energies, but it’d eventually take its toll on Teyvat. I’m sure this is something many Archons and citizens alike have thought about.”

“But most importantly, Their Grace will be able to cast light in the dark. Hope where people feel lost.”

“After all, fear is rarely a good adviser.” 

Aether shares a look with Paimon before returning his attention to Nahida. Her green eyes seem to be filled with joy at the mere thought of the Creator returning.

“Aether, if it were truly the Creator you saw, then you might restore Teyvat as it once was.”

[airbendertendou]

i know almost nothing abt demon slayer but have some thoughts abt douma

you wake up in his little cult w no memory of who you are right

the woman taking care of you grins and tosses the wet rag she used on your forehead to the side

nd with this widened almost terrifying smile, she says "our lord has come to visit you himself! what a blessing~"

the first time you see douma you just feel like somthing is. off

hes pretty - stunning, honestly - in this mystical, dangerous way that should lead you away from him instead of bringing you closer. but, its the opposite for his followers - they hang onto every word he says and believe him so earnestly its kind of sad

douma immediately thinks theres something wrong w you. you dont have that foggy, starry-eyed gaze everyone else does when hes near. you look cautious - aware. it makes him hungry

he leans down to face you, "hello, stranger! stay as long as you need to, hm?"

your skin crawls but you nod anyways

staying in paradise is odd. again, everyone hangs on douma's every word and trusts his every action. they devote themselves to him. but youve noticed -

people are going missing, women specifically.

his followers are v obviously in lust w him, bragging abt the nights spent alone w him and begging to be the next chosen one

"it'll be me," one girl says as she dries the freshly cleaned dishes. she perks her chest up smugly, "i've got his favored assets."

"he's been spending more time with me," another argues, "asking for me personally."

"don't act so mighty-"

and then the man himself appears in the doorway with a soft, barely there smile. "[random name], we have some things to discuss. see you tonight?"

everyones attention shifts to the smallest one in the kitchen, eyes large and timid. her hands shake so hard the plate shes holding falls to the floor and shatters. douma tilts his head, "everything alright, sweet? should we have our session a little earlier?"

"shes going to die."

it comes from your mouth before you can stop it. multi-colored eyes snap to you, his nose crinkling slightly. you simply stare, "when they disappear with you, they vanish. die."

douma hides the way his eye twitches. the bustier girl stammers, shoving your shoulder roughly. "you shouldnt say such things! apologize to lord-"

"its okay," doumas eyes twinkle, "curious cicumstances, hm, [name]?"

she doesnt die. its as if douma is proving a point to you - proving you wrong. she lives that night - only to vanish the next. "a personal trip," douma speaks. he dismisses everyones concerns except for yours.

and when you start speaking up more - predicting everyones death - he begins to punish you

the water you wash dishes with is either scalding hot or below freezing. theres a new night shift to the sanctuary that you take care of, staying awake for days on end. cleaning the entirety of paradise by yourself. watching as every other member feasts heartily while your portion is forgotten or unavailable.

douma even tries to throw you off his trail. he speaks to numerous people - has those secret conversations with men and others out of his normal type. but you always seem to know the exact one hes going to consume - the one who will die.

as if you predict it

and that makes him so curious! youre such an annoyance ; a hazard to keep around. but what if you could predict the future? what if maybe you were just that observant?

it doesnt help that you arent afraid of him. most of the time, you simply stare and blink at him, like youre bored

and that starts his obsession with you

the women he takes to his room are reminescent of you. your eye color ; hair color ; height ; the way they speak ; the letter of their name - any similarity to you and theyre done

starts calling you "precious" , "chosen" , or "blessing" to make sure you know hes keeping an eye on you but to also make the other followers hate you

i think youd catch on but but this is where my thought stopped lmao

[sag-dab-sar]

Inana’s Descent

Full Myth: http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/section1/tr141.htm

Inana instructs Ninšhubur to lament for her death when she goes to Kur. Then if she does not return she should go and ask the great Gods for help (Going to Enlil, Nanna, then Enki) to save her. Lamenting and mourning in Mesopotamia was an extremely important cultural ritual.

Inana says to Ninšubur:

“On this day I will descend to the underworld. When I have arrived in the underworld, make a lament for me on the ruin mounds. Beat the drum for me in the sanctuary. Make the rounds of the houses of the gods for me. Lacerate your eyes for me, lacerate your nose for me. (1 ms. adds the line: Lacerate your ears for me, in public.) In private, lacerate your buttocks for me. Like a pauper, clothe yourself in a single garment.”

When Inana is returning from Kur demons follow, Galla. Contrary to neo-pagan and Jungian analysts claims this is not an empowering Goddess story. Inana has lost, she is defeated, and she must give a substitute to Kur if she wishes to live. The demons follow her and as she visits each person upon her return they do the following:

“[Name] threw himself at her feet. He had sat in the dust and clothed himself in a filthy garment. The demons said to holy Inana: “Inana, proceed to your city, we will take him back.”

Due to the person lamenting correctly she gives a reason to the Galla to not take that person, [Spelling used by the ETCSL]:

Nincubura— is her faithful minister of trustworthy words

Cara— her singer, manicurist, and hair dresser

Lulal— follows her at her right and her left

Then they come to Dumuzid. Unlike the other three who have lamented correctly by wearing a filthy garment and sitting in dirt, Dumuzid has worn a luxurious garment and sat on a throne.

“There was Dumuzid clothed in a magnificent garment and seated magnificently on a throne. The demons seized him there by his thighs. The seven of them poured the milk from his churns. The seven of them shook their heads like ……. They would not let the shepherd play the pipe and flute before her (?). She looked at him, it was the look of death. She spoke to him (?), it was the speech of anger. She shouted at him (?), it was the shout of heavy guilt: “How much longer? Take him away.” Holy Inana gave Dumuzid the shepherd into their hands.”

In essence, three of the people she held dear lamented for her but she found the one she cherished even more deeply, had not done so. She was angry and hurt, thus gave him to the Galla instead of finding a reason not to. He escapes and hides.

Despite her anger she still laments for the one she loves. This myth is what people use to toss Inana & Dumuzid’s love to the side... yet she is lamenting her loss

“Holy Inana wept bitterly for her husband. […] She tore at her hair like esparto grass, she ripped it out like esparto grass. “You wives who lie in your men’s embrace, where is my precious husband? You children who lie in your men’s embrace, where is my precious child? Where is my man? Where ……? Where is my man? Where ……?"”

A fly helps her find Dumuzid and his sister G̃eštinana, the myth ends there:

“Now, alas, my ……. You for half the year and your sister for half the year: when you are demanded, on that day you will stay, when your sister is demanded, on that day you will be released.” Thus holy Inana gave Dumuzid as a substitute ……. Holy Erec-ki-gala – sweet is your praise.”

Ištar’s Descent

Ishtar’s myth is shorter and not as clear, my translation is from The Ancient Near East An Anthology of Texts and Pictures edited by James Pritchard. Ištar's descent begins on page 77:

"Sprinkled Ishtar with the water of life and took her from her presence.

When through the first gate he had made her go out, He returned to her the breechcloth for her body.

When through the second gate he had made her go out, He returned to her the clasps for her hands and feet.

When through the third gate he had made her go out, He returned to her the birthstone girdle for her hips.

When through the fourth gate he had made her go out, He returned to her the ornaments for her breasts.

When through the fifth gate he had made her go out, He returned to her the chains for her neck.

When through the sixth gate he had made her go out, He returned to her the pendants for her ears.

When through the seventh gate he had made her go out, He returned to her the great crown for her head.

"If she does not give thee her ransom price, bring her back. [Footnote 93]

As for Tammuz, the lover of her youth,

Wash him with pure water, anoint him with sweet oil;

Clothe him with a red garment, let him play on a flute of lapis.

Let courtesans turn [his] mood."

[When] Belili was stringing] her jewelry, [And her] lap was filled with "eye-stones,"

On hearing the sound of her brother, Belili struck the jewelry on [...]

[Foot note 93] This continuation of Ereshkigal's instructions appears to be out of place here, as regards the Ninevah version. The older Ashur vesrion speaks of the ransom before Ishtar is led away. The mention of Tammuz is likewise startling in this context. There is no indication in the Sumerian version- contrary to earlier assumptions that Tammuz had gone down to the nether world. The concluding part of the myth, therefore, will remain obscure in its allusions so long as additional material is not available."

I have no further information on Tammuz's situation. There may be newer material available I simply haven't researched it further.

-🔹-

This is a repost I believe in relation to a post where I defend Inana's love for Dumuzid.

[libraford]

gods as someone that was raised in several churches (mom minister so I got all the shitty behind the scenes drama starting at like 4yo and never really believed beyond general agnostic-ish feelings. which apparently is a super common trend for pastor/minister kids to nope tf out of the church asap) the 'forcing you to be The Right Christian™ Or You Don't Deserve™™ Charity' thing hits hard. especially when I psych myself out of asking for help because I'm constantly remembering how openly hostile some of those places are to even poor christian people using their services.

like one particular church (the "open and affirming" one that threw the only trans woman out of the 20 person congregation because the old white guy treasurer learned she was trans after like 8 years and suddenly didn't want to look at her, or "worse", hear her sing) had a monthly meal for the (very poor neighborhood) community. they'd make everyone pray to God for 20 minutes before letting anyone touch even a slice of bread, but lock them out of the sanctuary during church hours because they were, I wish I was joking and that this wasn't a direct quote, "dirty homeless looters". you had to pray correctly to get food but don't you dare sully the churches doorstep trying to attend worship. meanwhile the church people organizing it are going off about how dare these people be standing in line for food instead of attending church as Real Good Christians Should.

🙃

That's fucking frightening and unfortunately I have my own similar stories.

Tw for racism, homophobia, anti-Muslim, and just... really bad stereotypes.

One of the reasons I started walking away from the church (there's a couple reasons) was at our summer mission trip (yes, I know.) In previous years, we had kept local: deep cleaning the homeless shelter, renovating the local Latino advocacy building, soup kitchen stuff. But one of the (more wealthy) girls in our group wanted to try doing a mission abroad.

Best we could do is Toronto.

We signed up with a shelter there and they gave us some tasks. The shelter REALLY played up how bad it was in this part of town- the gang violence, the culture of sin, the regressive way the men treat women in their home country.

So like... I'm from America. I've been to Chicago. Not to compare but like... hmm..

So during the introduction to how terrible it is in Toronto (...?) Our ambassador takes us through parts of town to show us what it's like to be homeless there. It was a very somber thing. We were given a small amount of money and we were to pretend it was all we had. Try to survive on a few coins.

We take our tour. Remember that this is supposed to scare us.

She takes us to an area where we hear drums. We hide behind a building. "You hear those drums? This is a homeless village. Young people come here seeking community, but you will be turned away if you cannot provide a service for them. They will only use your body for so long."

So... I'd been to drum circles before. And this was very much a drum circle. Like sure these people were a little crunchy, but it was pretty clear to me that these guys were just cutting loose after the day of work.

She takes us to the red light district.

"This is the red light district," she says. "This is where all the homosexuals come. You see that there are many young people here who are attracted to the high life. But you will see: the older men will always come looking for the younger one's to manipulate and that's how many homeless people become prostitutes."

I, a half-in-half-out of the closet lesbian, for the first time in my life, saw two happy gay men arm in arm and it was moving for me. I saw people having a good time. I'd already figured out she was full of shit. Now I was mad.

So we get back to the church we're staying at and I'm already having second thoughts about this visit to Canada. She tells us that our mission this week is to tutor some Somali kids in English and math.

... I feel... oncoming dread.

They didn't give us a lesson,plan or anything. Were supposed to just help them learn where they're stuck in their lessons. And then on Friday we'll have a trip to the museum of science and industry.

I was the only one in our group that had ever encountered a Muslim to know that Friday was their holy day. And that was when I realized that it was a conversion tactic. I asked her about it like... 'is Friday really a good time to do that?' And she was like 'well, it's the last day you'll be here and we want to celebrate don't we?'

And I was livid, but I was in a different country with a bunch of people who believed this woman's lies. And I didn't say anything to my friends because I was already kind of an outcast there, no one was going to believe me.

So I held my tongue, but from then on I lost a lot of respect for Christian-run charities and even now I'll always be looking for their angle.

[the-ultimate-muses]

@despairs-memorial local dorklord about to be taken out by one (1) cute ass mechanic more at 11 (X)

Getting hearing aids hadn't been on Kazuichi's list of priorities for quite some time, with no point being seen in having them. His ears were only getting worse with each day, it seemed (partly because he didn't wear ear protection and partly from his father's frequent beatings), so how long would they really be of use to him? Besides, that cost money, something he and his father didn't have. (Of course, they'd have more should his father stop spending it on beer to drink himself into a stupor every damn night).

Hope's Peak had changed many things for him; it gave him friends, people who actually understood what he was saying when talking shop, or at the very least liked listening to him no matter how lost they were. He'd changed much in the time he's been there, and he's happy to say it was for the better. His hearing hadn't improved, however, nor had his home life, money troubles, being forced to go hungry some nights... He never even expected it to, choosing to ignore the inevitable progression to complete deafness.

The thing about a place where brilliant minds gathered, however, meant there was no shortage of breakthroughs being made, and things needing to be tested. Miu had been the one to design the hearing aids, with them even custom made to match Kaz's usual blinding attire. She would never admitt she did it for him specifically, but Kaz had worked with her long enough to know when to call her bluff.

He'd spent his morning in Miu's workshop, tapping and banging and making any noise he could while she wrote down notes on how well he could hear certain things. They only stopped because Kazuichi...had a bit of an emotional breakdown, but a good one. He'd given up on his ears a long time ago, but now here he was listening to the ting of the ventilation system, the beat of Miu's heart as he clung to her, hell he could hear his crying in its entirety instead of just feeling it and the echos of the vibrations it sent through his bones. There were so many things he wanted to do, so many songs and movie to watch, and birds! He could hear birds now! Bees buzzing, and cats-

He'd been up and out the door without any other explanation than needing to find Gundham, leaving one very preplexed, and very curious Miu in their workshop.

Finding the breeder was easy, with him seeming to only ever be in a handful of places, the most visited being his animal sanctuary. Normally Kaz would knock before entering someone's space, but he was too buzzed on adrenaline and excitment, the mechnic near bursting through the door and bouncing right up to Gundham with an almost manic grin, his body shaking where his hands gripped at the man's shirt. "I need a cat! Gimmie a cat!! Cat!!!"

[chomperblue]

Intro Post!

[Icon made using CIM by Dolldivine]

Hey all! Maeve here, thought I should introduce myself. :)

I'm 26, live in a small town in Hoenn, and often visit family in Alola. I'm the local 'Pokémon Wrangler,' which really just means I take care of any Pokémon in town that end up where they shouldn't. When not called on a job, I sell honey from my Combee hives and jams and berries from my orchard. Many Pokémon consider my property their home, and I don't discourage them from visiting so long as they remain friendly.

My team (or really, the Pokémon who hang around the house the most) is currently six Pokémon strong!

Astrid is my Garchomp and my partner Pokémon. She tends to be standoffish, but she's a sucker for poképuffs if you have them <3

Cassia is my Luxray, she's very protective of me and offers comfort when I'm upset. She's wonderful with kids though, and I take her with me whenever I'm invited to a school to talk about Pokémon safety.

Bryony, my Mudsdale, helps with my work in the orchard and is my ride Pokémon whenever I travel. She's stubborn, like any Mudsdale, but my most loyal friend.

Dusty is my Arcanine, and definitely in love with Cassia (probably the main reason he sticks around). He likes lazing around in the sunbeams on my porch, and I sometimes have to clean up scorch marks when he soaks up too much heat.

Atlas is a Totodile, and adopted rescue from one of my wrangling jobs. He has been adopted by Astrid and she's been taking wonderful care of him; this is unexpected, but promising for Atlas' well being. Atlas loves running around after Astrid and being held by people.

Kiska is a shiny Mareanie (yes, I know her image is of a normal one) who I adopted from Floaroma Sanctuary. She's feisty, but has proven to be a great friend to my established team. I'm definitely keeping her away from the local kids until she's been trained.

That's most of my info! Questions / Asks / Interactions are welcome :)

--

ooc: As I am developing this blog information about the character(s) may change. Please keep content surrounding my blogs and interactions with me positive and respectful. No NSFW, drugs, or mentions of being drunk/inebriated. Thank you!

Current character list page here: chomperblue.tumblr.com/CharacterList

There are a couple of characters associated with this blog, but Maeve is the official 'owner' and so is the default speaker. Each character will have a tag associated with them to clarify who is speaking on each post or ask response. For example, Maeve is tagged as "#Chomper says hi," and Helena is tagged as "#Helena Posts."

//mod info below!

[Picrew Here]

Hi! Call me Sundew. I’m a young adult, busy from Uni, based near the Arctic Circle. Please be kind! I curate my internet experience very harshly and will not interact with anyone/anything that makes me anxious. Tone indicators help a lot! (Especially when it comes to jokes) If you’d like to RP or plan an interaction drop me a DM!

I’d prefer if people under the age of 16 didn’t DM me. I want this blog to be enjoyable for anyone, but I’m uncomfortable with privately talking to someone younger than any of my real-life friends. Feel free to send an ask though!

If you want to send an ask to me instead of my characters, just address it to Sundew. :)

[bobbyseyesmile]

Pride and Passion | 18

Chapter 18

Warnings: mentioning of violence (Simon being Simon I guess)

A/N: it’s a short one, i apologize 🥲

⤝ Previous chapter| next chapter ⤞ ➻ Pride and Passion masterlist

Simon reached the end of his cigarette and flicked it away as he stared into the distance. He stood atop of the Sanctuary building, eyeing the woods and some highways which were some further away.

The sun began to set and he waited for Negan to come back after being gone for two days, visiting Alexandria again.

It was obvious that the fearless leader of the Saviors had a weak spot for his newest wife- a young and dumb thing, thinking she could make demands and flaunting her attitude in front of everyone. For the love of God, Simon hated her.

That’s why he didn’t understand why Negan acted like a weak ass pussy when it came to that spoiled brat. If it would have been up to Simon to take manners into his own hands, he would have slaughtered the whole town of Alexandria and put a bullet between that set of innocent eyes of Y/N.

Negan always said that people were resources but Rick and his group cost the Saviors more resources than they received- they lost a good bunch of men, weapons and surely the respect of some of the people here. And respect, so Simon thought, was the most important thing.

“Simon!” a man yelled and he turned around, casually putting the riffle on his shoulder. “We’ve found something.”

“I’ll be down in a minute.” He yelled back and started to climb down.

The men still continued to search for Amber, one of the wives who managed to escaped with her former boyfriend. Simon was pissed to learn about their disappearance; it happened under his supervision but at least he was here at the Sanctuary instead of Negan, right? That had to count for something. If the leader wouldn’t leave his people that much on their own, he could manage his shit. And if he wouldn’t have brought Y/N along, the other wife would have never escaped. It was a goddamn mess.

And who was it that had to smooth everything out? Simon.

“Just make me the fucking leader already…” he grumbled to himself and finally reached the other men.

“We found this.” One of the man held a piece of clothing in his hand; a black dress. “Found it on some walker but it’s definitely the dress of a wife, right?”

“Impressive.” Simon raised his eyebrows. “Tried to deceive us with some cheap trick, huh.”

“Maybe the walker was the wife?” Simon turned his head to look at a young soldier who arrived a few months ago.

“Did the rotten lady had some long, blonde hair?” Simon asked in an ironic tone and the younger man quickly shook his head.  “Well then, son, I’m going out on a limb and say it wasn’t Amber, what do you think?”

“No, sir.” The younger one adjusted his posture as well as his weapon and Simon gave him a pitiful look. Young and naïve- the most pathetic mixture there was.

“Good work for today, its getting dark soon, we’ll continue tomorrow.” Simon declared and the other ones nodded their head.

“Should we tell Negan?”

“He isn’t back, yet.”

The soldiers gave each other a quick side glance but Simon saw it and smirked. “Speak your mind, soldier.”

A man with dirty-blonde hair nervously stepped from one foot to another when all eyes were on him. “We just thought… well, isn’t it weird that Negan is so much out these days? He never did that with other communities, he always sent his men.”

“And that young thing by his side? She got a mouth on her. He’d never allow such behavior from the others.” Silent approval went through the round and some nodded their head.

“He literally ironed Dwight’s face, didn’t he?” another one said. “Negan killed for far less and she’s constantly acting up!”

“Yes.” Simon spoke and stroked his beard. The men were right… It wouldn’t take long before others would see it as well, maybe even the workers. And then the Sanctuary would face a riot and that he couldn’t allow. “He’s gone a lot. But I’d say we’re doing a pretty good job, huh? Keeping the Sanctuary smooth and running.” He said and received agreement.

The young soldier suddenly scoffed and had Simons attention once again. “We shouldn’t question the leader!”

Simon started laughing and the others joined when he turned towards them, gesturing towards their young comrade. “Look at him! Speaking out like that? You’ve got some balls, young man. I appreciate that.”

The young one swallowed when Simon took a step closer, staring into dark, cold eyes. “You’re right- we shouldn’t question Negan.” He relaxed when Simon gave him a pat on the shoulder. “But Negan’s not here.” A single shot echoed through the air.

The other ones took a step back when the body of their younger colleague dropped to the floor, a gaping hole in the middle of his face.

“Gentlemen-“ Simon spoke and put his gun back into its holster “This is going to be our little secret, understood?”

The soldiers quickly nodded their heads and Simon slapped his hands together, grinning from ear to ear. “Splendid! Hard enough to keep everything else at bay and our people safe with Negan gone. It’s our duty to keep everything under control, we don’t need some little rat to run his mouth by the leader, right?”

“Right.” The man with the dirty-blonde hair spoke and the others agreed as well.

“Great. Get to your stations for the night-“ Simon looked down to the dead body to his feet “And clean that up.”

Taglist: @toxicink @jaywinchestersalvatore @crosshajr @neganswoman @tonestark @missmiauz @ellablossom @abbiesxox @fullwattpadmusictree @lover1307 @shadylilac @xsecretsirenx @sstrxnges @sanctuaryforthelost @carlyi @r3dskywaterfall @liviav @cobainlover @paigeys-posts @star017 @crumbssss @eggheacl @neganzbeard @tonysterco @itsmiamalfoy (if you want to be added, pls let me know)

➻ Buy me a coffee, thanku 💕

You’ll only find my work posted here and and on my AO3 blog. I don’t give consent for my work to be re-posted (in any language) onto any other platform, even if it is with credit. Thank you.

[catsafarithewriter]

A/N: PART 17 of the Bedlam au!

X

After the dragon cave incident, Haru keeps her visits short, and learns to read the numbness before it spreads too far.

It makes joining the Bureau on cases difficult, and then improbable, and then impossible. The paralysation creeps on quicker each time, as if her immunity against the other world is wearing thin, and eventually she has to concede that she is more a hazard than a help.

Sometimes when she visits, the Bureau is empty – "chasing down another lead" the note on the desk says – and other times they sit side-by-side, searching through more of the Bureau's many books for a possible cure. The Bureau becomes a second home, in a way even her local one never quite achieved.

She comes to know where all the cupboards lead, to know all Muta's hiding spots (behind the copy of War and Peace, and underneath the snowglobe on the mantelpiece), to even understand Baron's strange filing system.

It becomes an effort, even, to remind herself that this is the Other Bureau, because somewhere along the way it has just become her Bureau.

Another fruitless search comes to an end (this time delving through the Other Bureau's previous cases) and Haru drops her head back against the Other Baron's shoulder. "You'd think with how easily I found my way here, there'd be more incidences where we met people from other parallel worlds."

"Your case was unique; the Sanctuary used its magic to create a doorway, but it would be beyond the power of most individuals." The Other Baron pauses; Haru can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. "Of course, there is always another explanation."

"Hm?"

"Perhaps the reason we've never encountered another person from a parallel world is because it's impossible for them to survive here. Perhaps there is no solution."

Haru leans abruptly away, staring balefully at the Other Baron. "You told me you wouldn't give up."

"I'm not. I just..." His fingers intertwine with hers. "I just have to consider every possibility. We're running out of time before it becomes an impossibility for you to even enter our world."

She wants to deny it, wants to pretend it isn't so, but that's all her refusal would be – pretend.

The gramophone, which has been softly playing music through their research, finishes one song and softly begins the next. With the first few notes, Haru immediately recognises it. It's one she's played many times over the years, one that perhaps she played too many times in the week following her dismissal from the Bureau.

And by the way the Other Baron pauses, she guesses the Cat Kingdom likes this song in multiple universes.

"You too?" he asks softly

Haru blushes. "It's silly. The first time I fell for him, it was only a schoolgirl's crush, and yet I can't help thinking of this as our song. I suppose it's because this song was the moment I fell, whereas the second time..." The second time ended with a far uglier rejection. "The second time there wasn't really a single, standalone moment, you know? It just kinda crept up on me until suddenly, boom, I realised I was in love."

"Did you ever tell him that?"

"Yeah, and you know how it ended–"

"No, I mean this song," the Other Baron says. "Did you ever tell him what it meant to you?"

Haru smiles wanly. "No, and after my last encounter with him, I doubt it would have done much except make him self-conscious. Instead, I just did what any lovesick fool would do and listen to it on repeat far too often."

The Other Baron doesn't chorus her self-deprecating laugh, but sits pensive. "And I suppose you're going to tell me that you never danced to this song again?"

"No. Why would we? It's not like it had any major impression on him–"

In a moment, he has risen to his feet and swept Haru up to hers. His hands find with ease the hold for a waltz. "Then what say you to our remedying that?"

Haru blushes again, but this time is accompanied by a roguish grin. "Fine. But I should warn you I haven't waltzed since the Cat Kingdom. I'll probably be even worse than last time."

The Other Baron grins back, equally roguish, and pulls her into the beginning of a vaguely-familiar dance. "Perhaps you simply haven't found the right partner yet."

Haru wrinkles her nose. "I don't think that's actually how it works? I'm fairly certain things like practice and knowing your partner come into it somewhere."

"I know you."

"You knew a Haru who had probably danced more than once in the last decade," she returns and, entirely accidentally but still perfectly proving her point, she steps on his foot. "See?"

"That's because you're thinking too hard about it," the Other Baron says. "Just relax, and let the music guide you."

"Also fairly sure that's not how it works either."

He leans in and Haru's heart traitorously beats in double-time. "Just trust me."

With a request like that, how can she refuse?

She exhales, and she stops recounting her meagre waltzing knowledge, she stops tracking her steps, she stops trying – and suddenly, she is dancing. As if pulled by invisible strings, her feet seem to know the moves, and she effortlessly moves in tandem with the Other Baron. She throws back her head and laughs as she spins away from her partner, feet finding sure ground.

"See?" the Other Baron purrs as he draws her back in. "All it takes is the right partner."

She tilts her head back, ready to shoot a reply – and then falters as she catches sight of the beetle-black buttons.

She realises she has half been expecting (or hoping?) to see green. The guilt is short-lived, for her left leg seizes up with another bout of paralysation, and the Other Baron has to catch her before she falls. He cradles her in his arms as they both sink to the floor. The last few notes of Katzen Blut fade away.

"We'll find a way," he promises. "We'll find a way."

[ask-pokeprofvoid]

Pelipper mail!

[Oh! It's a letter from Polaris!]

“Dear Dewdrop and Drea,

I am so so sorry for my lack of a letter on Tuesday. Things are really staring to kick up at the sanctuary and I simply did not have the time. So today you are getting a Thursday letter instead of a Friday letter to try and make up for it.

It seems that we have resolved the Walrein issue. Unfortunately, it seems that the only Walrein that the pod will accept as their leader is…Wallace. It’s going to break my heart to see him go, but it’s for the best for both him and the pod.

Drea: Hi darling. Of course I can help you with the service mon stuff when I get home, it would be my pleasure. It can be a bit nerve wracking, but you’re being very brave asking me about it and I promise I will train you up the best and most gentle service mon. I see Ingo and Emmet are visiting! A shame that I missed them, they are excellent battlers and I would have loved to have a mock battle against them. Another time. I’m sure they will train up your Larvitar to be wonderful and strong! It’s lovely to see Liam and Dune getting on well.

Viv: Hello dewdrop :) Augh I’m missing you so much. My futon is lonely without you in it. I would say cold but it turns out Bird is quite clingy at bed time haha. I got an idol commissioned for you, a carved on of a crowen gyarados. And one for Drea of a sudowoodo but that’s a surprise. It’ll be ready next week. Ah. Speaking of. It’s going to take me a bit longer to get home. Skie got it in xer head that while I’m here I should do an interview on the main Sanctuary account, so it seems that’s what I’ll be busy with next week. But I’ll be on my way home as soon as that’s all done. Lovely to hear that Queenie and the babies are doing well. How is Dreamie? I’m missing seeing her little face in the tank by my bed every morning, lovely little girl.

I love you both bunches and bunches!

-Your Starlight and Birdie”

[ There's photos like always; The babies seem more round and have their bristles now, looking like small pom poms while one dramatic photo labeled as 'Mr.Mischeif' shows a feisty lil bab using Bounce on a toy. There are several photos of Dreamie too, mainly with her sleeping on things or chasing a small ball toy around her tank.] Hi Opie! That sounds super nice! Uncle Ingo taught me about batles Battles and types! All the mons are super duper cuddly this week for some reason but Miss Viv only smiles sadly when I ask why :( Maybe they are cold? I might have to bring them my blankets!

Alots A lot of things happened at school too! My teachers are now letting me write with a pen and they say i'm learning very fast! Plus!! Miss Viv said she's getting me a therie past! I don't know what that is but she says that they will help me get better and to be prepared if they ask sad questions because they want to help me get better!! We cannot wait for you to get back home all the Pokémon miss you loads! [Theres another piece of tape that has many little Eevees on it, Seemingly as another border for the letter.] Hello Starlight, It is lonely without you. I swear im used to the smell of you baking in the kitchen haha. Had to get out the old Crown cook book to make some stuff, My mum sent over some recipies to make when you get back.

Take as much time as you need pumpkin, I admit some really weird things have been happening and Xena of all Mons is really on edge. Might need to take her out of the house to relax a bit the poor thing...But, don't worry. I am sure it's just one of those months where odd things happen.

I guess ill need to set up a new shelf for all the trinkets you bring back home, huh? Dreamie is missing you, I swear as soon as you left she started making little hissing noises; most likely doesnt understand where you went but I assure you shes getting alot of love along with all the other mons. Had to hide this photo but I thought you would love it Starlight. I love you and please keep safe. -your Dewdrop [Theres a sneekily hidden photo of all the mons in a cuddle pile; Andrea is cuddled up with them too having dragged all her blankets downstairs to nap with them all]

[lucero-is-here]

Here is a short featuring Arthur Wright and Bernadine Rochester! Not my best work, but let’s go! _______________________________________________

“Good to see you again Arthur…Thank you so much for your support during such a hard time…”

Bernadine thanked as she poured Arthur some tea, before sitting opposite him with her own cup.

“No problem my darling. I’m so sorry for your loss. Leopold Rochester was a good man. I also heard that you’re planning the funeral,”

Arthur said, taking a sip of tea as he looked at Bernadine with a soft, sympathetic look in his eyes.

“Yes…I hope to pay my respects to him. He was such a sweet man…He attended all my social events and gave his support to everyone,”

Bernadine said, a hint of sadness in her voice.

“Just know, that if you ever need anyone to talk to, or a shoulder to cry on, I’m always willing to make time for you darling,”

Arthur said, trying his best to sound as comforting as possible in such a sensitive moment.

“Mhm…Thank you darling. To think that Uncle Horatio would do something so despicable…But remembering how he treated some of the maids and unfortunately family, I should have expected it really,”

Bernadine said nonchalantly. Arthur choked on his tea hearing that, as he couldn’t help but wonder how awful Horatio could have been for his own niece to say that. Well- Horatio did intend to lock her away in gryphon sanctuary…But this had nothing to do that cursed asylum. Bernadine seemed to have realised Arthur’s shock and looked up at him.

“What? Did I offend you? Yes I know what I said may have been crude, since he is my uncle but it is true!”

Bernadine argued, getting extremely defensive as she shifted back a little, her eyes darting back and forth.

“What-? No- of course not. But well- if you don’t mind me asking, how did your uncle treat your family and the maids?”

Arthur asked, bracing himself for the worst.

“Oh- well…He was always extremely rude to the staff. Basically anyone who worked for us had to do things perfectly otherwise he’d yell at them so much they’d wish that they were never born- and then there is poor Viola’s mother. I can’t imagine how awful that poor woman must have had it…Being treated like an object instead of an actual human being by Uncle Horatio….”

Bernadine started ranting. Arthur listened attentively, not taking his eyes off of Bernadine for even a split moment. As he listened to her ranting, his blood was slowly boiling inside of him.

“And remember how I was sobbing to you the other day about something?”

Bernadine asked, snapping Arthur out of his thoughts as he blinked.

“Ah- pardon me…but yes. Of course. Why?”

Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow. Bernadine took a deep breath, as she squeezed her hands together.

“Well…I may have made the foolish mistake to go and visit Uncle Horatio in prison….I simply wanted to talk to him about what he has done and…Well…He said some really crude things…How I was nothing but a burden to the family, and I wasn’t “loyal” and all that…How he said he would have been more than happy to lock me away in Gryphon Sanctuary…That I was nothing more than a useless obstacle to the family…”

Bernadine mentioned, starting to get teary eyed again. This was the last straw, as Arthur’s expression completely changed from a look of horror to a mixture of horror and rage.

“But well…This is all in the past now isn’t it? Thank you for listening to me rant Arthur. This makes me feel so much more better about everything,”

Bernadine thanked, before she looked up at Arthur, who was starting to get lost in thoughts.

“Um…Arthur? Darling? Are you alright?”

Bernadine asked, standing up from her seat. She sounded a bit worried. Arthur didn’t reply. At the moment, Bernadine thought she upset Arthur, until he softly blurted out a small string of gibberish.

“…I’m sorry- what did you say-?”

Bernadine asked, looking puzzled.

“…Oh nothing. Just that Horatio is a good for nothing bastard that should be rotting in hell right now. But apparently, life has other plans for him,”

Arthur said mindlessly, completely overcome with rage. Hearing Arthur say this, Bernadine let out an audible gasp.

“Arthur! Don’t say such things! He may have done awful things but we shouldn’t be saying such- such god awful things to anyone!”

Bernadine exclaimed in shock.

“But it’s true. I don’t think anyone can argue with that,”

Arthur muttered, his composure coming back.

“Well I- …As much as I hate to admit it, it is true…”

Bernadine sighed, before sitting back down and burying her face into her hands.

“Well…If you ever need someone to rant to about such matters again….I’m here,”

Arthur mentioned. Bernadine stayed quiet for a while, as an awkward silence filled the room. Arthur was wondering if he had gone too far, speaking hus mind so carelessly like that. He got up from his seat, before walking over the Bernadine and sitting next to her.

“…I’m so sorry for being so crude. I let my emotions get the better of me. I’m so sorry Bernadine-”

Arthur apologised, but was cut off by Bernadine.

“No. Don’t apologise. Please. I can’t- …I don’t want to hear you saying sorry…”

Bernadine muttered, sounding miserable.

“…I- …Alright my darling. Is there anything i can do for you to make you feel better?”

Arthur asked.

“…I’d like a hug please.”

Bernadine requested.

Hearing that, Arthur smiled as he hugged Bernadine tightly. Bernadine lifted her head, before wrapping her arms around Arthur and hugging him back….

_______________________________________________

Whoo! I quite like this. Please do not steal my work, and I hope you enjoy this!

[paintedscales]

My WoLstinien family.

Drabble thought vomit under the read more.

Turns out that not only could Nomin and Estinien conceive, they had twins. Honestly, took both of them by surprise, Nomin more so since she had given consideration that she had never heard of a half-auri anything aside from a half-Raen / half-Xaela -- but normally cases within the Malaguld or the Kha if anywhere.

Though both girls are trained in the ways of the lance and the way of the Red Mage, they have their preferences. The one that takes after Nomin prefers the balance of aether and aetherflow, and the one that takes after Estinien is more competitive and enjoys physical activity in general.

Both girls have two names: one of Xaelic origin and the other of Ishgardian origin. It was discussed at length between the two of them since starting a family was not necessarily in the long term, but something that ended up happening. Bayarmaa / Cyrielle is named for Nomin's elder sister -- a person who took her in on the Steppe alongside her brother, Esenaij (who would have been the namesake should Bayarmaa / Cyrielle been born male; and should she decide upon it at a later time, is a name that Nomin hopes she would take); as for the Cyrielle part, it was chosen for Estinien's memories of his mother -- whatever fragments he can recollect from so long a time ago. Chotan / Fleurette was named for one of Nomin's first real friends on the Steppe who often shared flowers with her, and taught her about a myriad of flowers; as a result, Estinien was just, "then I shall call her 'Fleurette' on my side." Because let's face it, the man is not creative.

Bayarmaa / Cyrielle and Chotan / Fleurette were hard to tell apart at first being identical twins, though Nomin changed this through magical means so she and Estinien could be spared the headache -- Estinien more than she because the Echo works in mysterious ways. Bayarmaa / Cyrielle's limbal rings were done so she only had one visible whereas Chotan / Fleurette's limbal rings were applied to both eyes.

Bayarmaa / Cyrielle was the only one of the two that started showing signs of silver hair developing in her teens, giving an additional indicator of which twin was which.

The girls were born with less scales than their mother, and lack both horns and tail (much to Nomin's surprise and perhaps dismay in some aspect). Also unlike their mother, they do not have blue markings, but instead have lustrous black scales, which does give Nomin a sense of pride and relief both. Like their father, however, they have elezen ears.

Both girls stand taller than their mother (who most likely has Olkund blood in her to have her stand at 5 fulms, 7 ilms; fuck the Olkund flavor text that says 'the females, for whatever reason, remain of an average height.' My nuts they do.) Both girls are shorter than their father, however, and stand at a height of 5 fulms, 11 ilms.

These two were absolutely menaces as toddlers, but let's also consider that to retain a sense of privacy and actual rest and peace for their parents, they were raised upon the Island Sanctuary. They probably destroyed a number of mammets (not that Nomin or Estinien mind; while Nomin doesn't mind mammets as a whole, she doesn't need them to help her run her island, and Estinien just hates them). They were brought to the Steppe and Ishgard on occasion, and of course the various locations around Eorzea to visit with friends and family (Nomin's only surviving family is her elder sister, Bayarmaa, her husband, Kuzhuk, and their son, Ankhbayar; and you can bet she is happy to see the girls and their cousin get along so well).

[titanicfreija]

And now because I'm amused with this idea.

~

"Are you alright? Lylya?"

The priestess rested in the dorm deep in the sanctuary, sitting at the foot of her bed and watching the wall in silence. It took her several long moments to respond. "The loop broke, today," she explained. "I encountered a guardian."

"Oh? I saw a small litter of those little lights floating around, I wondered if they had any luck. They're very friendly. It's always mixed feelings, seeing one of our own. I worry how I would endure encountering a former friend."

Lylya's lips pulled slightly. "The one I met was Awoken, but I did not know her. I found her in the spare library."

Sister Vyrin covered her mouth with her fingertips to hide the smile stealing onto her face. "Oh no, where the fiction is kept?"

Lylya slowly looked to her Sister, posture oddly slack. "She and her ghost said the door was unlocked, which I believe to be true, and given the way guardians freely roam, I should not be surprised that they would find it."

"What did she say?" giggled Vyrin.

"Nothing. She couldn't read," said Lylya, setting her vision on the wall. "She was looking for a name. I may have reacted badly to her presence and then worse to realizing that she was a guardian. She asked me if I thought guardians, in general, smelled unpleasant or were otherwise undesirable company."

Vyrin's giggles fell short and she gulped. "What did you say? Was it a trick-- oh, no, you said nameless, she just doesn't know. Wait, how... I've never met a new one, she couldn't read? But don't they... Could she not read before she died? Perhaps Earthborn and visiting?"

"She seemed to know already that they are known for violence, but I said that guardians are, generally, regarded as allies. It was implied that she could read, but not our letters."

"What did they want?"

"A name," she repeated. "I declined to read to them from that particular collection, though they asked."

Vyrin withheld the giggles this time, instead crushing her posture and tucking her head. "I'm sure there is a plethora of lovely names in some of the titles," she joked quietly.

Lylya didn't speak to that, briefly tilting her head as if in consideration. "In truth, I was completely overwhelmed. I've never met a guardian before. I wish I had known her in life, I feel like there would be much to learn about the process. She was very curious. I tried to answer all the questions the Light couldn't, but... "

"I imagine if she couldn't read, she was only short of needing toilet training," Vyrin marveled aloud. "It's known they're reborn without memories, but I couldn't imagine forgetting how to read."

"She knew about the Reef and Earth, humans, Awoken, and as most guardians, had a natural inclination and curiosity directed to war and violence, being quite interested in the explanation of the curse," Lylya explained briefly. "Little interest in long history, some interest in Queen Mara, she did not remember the Distributary nor any Schisms, the war, the Prince, nor the Fallen. She did not know the Scorn and showed a revulsion to the Taken. I should be taking notes. I am suppose I am now. She asked many questions regarding our enemies. I did my best to answer."

"That sounds quite alarming," Vyrin said, sitting on the bed next to her Sister. "For both of you," she added. "I suppose if I woke up with no memories in a world as hostile as this one, I would run for the nearest library as well, even a small collection of smut. And would then interrogate the first person I encountered."

Lylya giggled, putting her fingers to her lips. "I suppose in that light, her behavior is much more logical. A subconscious call to the nearest collection of books makes as much sense as wandering in on a whim. She seemed confused by her own behavior, describing the desire for a name as an itch, and while complaining about her illiteracy, she continued to flip through the books as though she should be able to read them."

"What happened after that? Did you get to name the guardian?" inquired Vyrin curiously. "I think I would take that special opportunity."

"Quite unique," agreed Lylya. "I offered many suggestions, mostly our traditional names. I don't remember who suggested the name, nor if we came up with it or worked with the noises, but between the guardian, myself, and the ghost, Freija was chosen. So I have helped name a Guardian, now. I feel it is not a large accomplishment, but an accomplishment that few will have the chance to repeat."

"I've heard worse," Vyrin offered with a turned hand, gesturing at the bed as Lylya slowly bent toward it, eventually lying flat and folding her hands across her belly. Vyrin placed a hand over her forehead to check for any genuine destabilization or illness, but her friend was well enough.

As if possessed, Lylya continued, even with her eyes closing under the hood. "The guardian was quite grateful for her name, and the ghost even moreso, for the guardian's name. They both liked it very much.

"After that, they asked me how they could travel to Earth. I directed her to the landing zone, but she declined an escort. The Little Light instead took coordinates from me and they ventured off alone on foot with a handgun, a rifle, and old armor plates tied to her arms and legs."

Lylya rolled her head to see her friend smiling wryly down at her, petting her hand. "I must take time to recover. It should not be long. I am unaccustomed to the broken loop, let alone my first encounter with a guardian, let alone being the first person a guardian encounters in their waking. That was... an unexpected test. Entire history lessons, magics I cannot explain, magics I can explain, politics between multiple species, cultures, planets, and systems... I am exhausted."