#speaking of inauspicious names

[obstinaterixatrix]

I know there’s like cultural reasons involved etc but I’ve always thought the concept of naming a child ‘dolores’ was really funny. imagine naming your kid misery.

[catboydogma]

give the world away/wake up lonely

codywan week 2024 sol master list (solsterlist)

codywan week 2024 day 3 prompts, sol edition: soulmate au, after the war

notes: this is riffing off the quinlan/fox soulmates au i did a while back. if you haven't read that one, you don't have to; the gist of it is that soulmates can't lie to each other. for our resident guys who love lying above any other favored pastime or hobby, this presents a Number of Problems. canon timelines? there is no canon timeline here. tcw is my sandbox and baby i have started cultivating a bed of beautiful plants native to arid regions. title from crowd surf off a cliff by emily haines & the soft skeleton.

wc: 2,206

cross-posted to ao3

This was, admittedly, a somewhat inauspicious first meeting. Obi-Wan had been shipped back to Coruscant post-capture by Ventress for surgery and a recovery time that was cut much too short by politics, of all things. Entirely miffed by this shitshow, Obi-Wan had made his complaints clear to the Council. And Bail. And Padmé. And the beleaguered young Healer they’d had attending him. Yes, he might often leave medical before his sentence was up, but that was on his terms. To have his affairs arranged by some perfect stranger instead, in the name of the war effort? Oh, the utter fucking gall of these people.

Alpha-17 was recovering on Kamino, at least. Obi-Wan had gotten away light, relatively speaking. He’d said as much to Vokara Che, and she’d made the most fascinating expression at him.

In his absence, the 212th had been headed by some interim Admiral of the Navy and the new Commander. They were already engaged clear across the Rim, and so Obi-Wan was shipped back out in another transport with a contingent of transfers rotating out from the Coruscant Guard. By the time they dropped out of hyperspace at the back end of the venator, the battle was over and cleanup had commenced.

Obi-Wan was sore, he wanted a proper shower with the desperation of an alcoholic approaching the three-month mark, and to top it all off, his trick knee was acting up again from all the time spent sitting around in the transport. Obi-Wan was not the sort to take advantage of his position either as a High General or a Jedi Master, but really, couldn’t they have given him a transport bigger than a bloody Pathfinder?

Bag slung over one shoulder, Obi-Wan located his—allegedly temporary—cane and tried his best not to limp too visibly. The hangar of the venator was busy with white- and gold-painted troopers, only a few in dress greys cutting back and forth through the bustle. Whoever was running this operation, they were doing it well; even with the distraction Obi-Wan and his entourage presented, few troopers were distracted from their own tasks.

“At ease,” Obi-Wan said, after he’d saluted the squad of troopers waiting to greet him. The Command Corps, with only a handful of familiar signatures. The casualty rate directly after Obi-Wan and Alpha-17’s capture had… suffered. “I am Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. Commander Fox sends his regards.” He’d said something quite a bit more rude, but Obi-Wan wasn’t about to repeat that to a perfect stranger, brothers they may be.

“Clone Marshal Commander 2224,” his Commander replied. Alpha-17 referred to this one as Cody in their little catch-up holocall before Obi-Wan had been deployed again. He’d followed it up with “that little shit” and other things at once less complimentary and more affectionate. Obi-Wan, after taking a few days to parse through the backhanded compliments and veiled praise that Alpha-17 liked to communicate in, had taken this to mean that his new Commander was highly skilled, exceedingly competent, and smarter than all the Navy personnel aux staff. Combined. That, and he had a sense of humor imparted to him directly by Alpha-17.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Obi-Wan said, shaking the Commander’s hand in a firm grip. Professional. Brief. He opened his mouth again to say something about how he looked forward to working with the 212th and a great many more successful engagements, and the words stopped up his throat. Obi-Wan discreetly cleared his throat and—

“Oh, no,” Obi-Wan said instead, an entirely honest display of dismay breaking out. No, no, no, no, this could not be happening.

The Commander’s hand tightened on his. “Is there a problem, sir?”

“What’s your name, if I may, Commander?” Obi-Wan asked, belatedly releasing his hand.

A static fuzz split the air as the Commander stuttered on—something. His serial, Obi-Wan suspected. Which… would have been a lie, if the Commander did not truly consider his serial to be his name.

“Heck,” the Commander said. He pulled his helmet off and flipped it over to tuck under an arm in one smooth motion, mouth slightly agape as he stared at Obi-Wan.

He was a handsome man, his Commander. Very handsome. In the back of his head, Obi-Wan thought he might be hearing howling laughter that sounded a bit too much like Alpha-17.

“Quite,” Obi-Wan said. “Ah… I suppose we’re due for a walk-around. But, after, perhaps, if you might… show me to my quarters, and we can have a, ah… more informal debriefing?” Force, but he hadn’t stuttered like this since Qui-Gon had tried to guilt him into taking care of one of his notoriously finicky bonsais.

His Commander was silent for a moment. Testing the bounds of their new… constraints, Obi-Wan suspected. Finally, he said: “I’d like that.”

…two years later, after the war:

“That Sith is lucky he’s already dead,” Cody snarled up at the ceiling.

Obi-Wan patted Cody’s hand and tried to suppress the feeling that he was about to be an accessory to a hideously violent crime. “How’s your nausea, then? Manageable?”

Cody snarled something incoherent. Perhaps he’d tried for a “fine” or even a bold “utterly negligible.” Obi-Wan was not the most empathic Jedi, instead sitting—like many things in his life—at a comfortably average level of Force empathy. Yet even he could feel the waves of sick vertigo and queasiness washing over Cody every few minutes. After a moment of muttering and another moment of grimly, doggedly swallowing as another wave of nausea broke over him, Cody gave Obi-Wan a baleful, sweaty glare. “Stop asking me questions.”

“My brave Commander,” Obi-Wan said, digging his thumbs into the base of Cody’s thumb and the joint of his wrist.

The medics had concocted two different ways to disable the inhibitor chips that Lieutenant Fives had uncovered—surgery or injection. The series of vaccines was a clever combination of medical nanotechnology originally developed to fight against deep-rooted viral infections and a biotechnological approach to ensure that the body’s systems were able to quickly and safely break down the chip from the inside, piggybacking off local immune response.

Their results could not be denied. Both approaches were as safe as they could be, with an astonishingly low mortality or mishap rate. The immune response, however, was… somewhat vicious. Obi-Wan had been able to glean that Cody was getting off relatively light; he’d just the muscle aches and nausea, but no fever, and he had yet to actually vomit anything up. Whether that was due to his body having a good response, or Cody’s own iron self-discipline… well, who was really to say.

“Can’t imagine the company’s all that right now,” Cody muttered. His jaw worked furiously and he leaned his head back against the pillows of his medical cot.

Obi-Wan hummed and worked his way up Cody’s forearm, measuring his pulse with two fingers pressed into the soft inside of Cody’s elbow. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be, right now. Until you tell me to fuck off, I shall continue to remain right here.”

“Fuck—nhgghk—fuck… you,” Cody hissed.

Ah, Obi-Wan’s love was such a romantic. He only felt a little bad about trapping Cody in a proverbial corner, but if Cody truly wanted him to leave, then he could say so. Until then… well. It wasn’t like Cody could lie to him. Obi-Wan tried not to look quite so smug, but with Cody’s hand spasming on his arm like he was imagining strangling Obi-Wan, perhaps he wasn’t as successful as he’d thought.

“Only twelve more hours,” Obi-Wan said, soothing. He smoothed a hand up Cody’s bicep and started in on his shoulders, finding knots of tension and digging in deep to ease them out. With the persistent muscle aches, these knots would likely be back in a matter of hours, if that. But if Obi-Wan could do something to help Cody, as small as it could be, he was going to do it.

“You should go,” Cody rasped, eyes closed and brow furrowed. His shoulder spasmed under Obi-Wan’s hand, sweat-slick skin and hard muscle shifting painfully.

Hm. Well. That hadn’t been what Obi-Wan had planned. He pressed the back of his hand to Cody’s forehead. No fever; the sweats and shakes, a little warm from lying in bed, but nothing concerning. Fighting to keep his voice neutral, Obi-Wan asked, “And do you want me to go?”

Cody gritted his teeth, lips peeling back in a snarl. He started and stopped in the middle of half a dozen words. “It doesn’t matter what I want. You should leave.”

Obi-Wan’s heart seized in his chest, something toothier than grief coming to settle behind his breastbone. Sometimes the inability to lie to one’s soulmate was a blessing, if a complicated one. Sometimes… sometimes it meant that when Cody said such a thing, Obi-Wan knew to his bones that Cody truly believed it. “Yes, it matters very much what you want,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even but not gentle. Cody so hated to be “coddled,” in his words. Obi-Wan, who could tease out the truth, knew that Cody didn’t necessarily want to be treated gently or handled with care—he simply wanted to be treated like he was precious. Like he meant something to someone.

“And,” Obi-Wan continued, when it seemed like no more was forthcoming from Cody and he was no longer fighting to keep the wobble out of his own voice, “unless and until you say ‘Obi-Wan, my precious love, papple of my eye and light of my galaxy, I want you to leave me alone,’ I shall be remaining by your side.”

Cody’s face screwed up. It looked terrifyingly like he might cry. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what he would do if Cody started crying, other than start sobbing alongside him.

“What if the chip activates?” Cody finally bit out, sounding like the words had been carved out of him. “I read the brief on Fray’s procedure. And Longshot’s. And—and I could. I might—you don’t—want to see me. Like this. I—” Cody heaved for breath, eyes gone glassy and the sinews of his throat standing in high relief with tension. “—I can’t. If something happens, I can’t. If the chip activates and I—lose myself—it’s.” Cody cursed, as vile as anything Obi-Wan had ever heard him use.

Obi-Wan firmly laced his fingers between Cody’s and checked his vambrace with his free hand. It must be terrifying to know that you might kill those you held most dear. But the chips didn’t activate with a specific order—Fray’s had activated on Order 37: mass arrest and execute the local civilian population to capture a wanted individual. The poor trooper had almost killed a pair of orderlies with his own bootlaces. Longshot’s had… well. They were yet lucky to still have the trooper with them, but he would have to be carefully monitored in the next few weeks to make sure he didn’t suffer clotting in the vessels of his neck or a stroke. But with a full one hundred and fifty orders, the chance that Cody’s would activate in the first place was slim, let alone land on the one that would have him trying to kill Obi-Wan.

And yet… this wasn’t a scenario where likelihoods and statistics would help. Obi-Wan squeezed Cody’s hand, then showed him the screen embedded into his vambrace. A med droid had sent him an update on the progress of Cody’s procedure, showing a near-incomprehensible feed of the nanites as they disabled what remained of Cody’s chip.

“You’re well past the threshold for the chip activating successfully,” Obi-Wan told him. “And I always want to see you, Cody. I especially want to be here while you’re fighting through this. You won’t lose yourself. You’re already past the worst of it. I know you can hang on for a little while longer, and there’s no part of you that I would turn away from.” He raised Cody’s hand to kiss the back of it, lips pressed carefully to Cody’s scarred and calloused knuckles. “There is no part of you that could make me turn away.” He would repeat it as many times as Cody would let him.

“I don’t want to wake up someone different,” Cody rasped. But he didn’t pull away from Obi-Wan, and he let Obi-Wan smooth a hand over his curls and press a kiss to the space between his brows.

“I’ll keep an eye on the chip,” Obi-Wan promised. With a rueful smile, chest still aching, he echoed Cody’s own oft-repeated line back at him: “When have I ever let you down?”

“Never,” Cody murmured, face tightening as one—or perhaps several—of his muscles spasmed and locked up. He looked exhausted, riding the line between unconsciousness and apprehension.

“Just so. You’ll be alright,” Obi-Wan promised. “And I’ll be here.”

With that, Cody finally let himself slip into sleep, mind partially quieting. The fear was still there, as well as a biting edge of self-recrimination and dread-heavy resignation. Obi-Wan kept a bit of his awareness on the chip through the Force, monitoring it carefully. They would get through this safe and whole, and Obi-Wan would not suffer any other option.

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟑   ❛ 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 ❜   |   NAKAWE SACRARIUM, DEC. 1990

❧  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

   ❛  Leonor’s sign was rain. On the day she was born, her family summoned a daykeeper to the estate so as to divine something of her life. It was customary, and the old man who arrived had once been the youthful apprentice of a past royal daykeeper. He carried a large leather bag as worn as himself. When bidden, he shuffled into the bedroom where Leonor lay on her mother’s chest, skin to skin. She had no given name yet; that would come later. He called her by the day as he spoke to a black mirror on her behalf. It was her name now, after all, as the first of many. The world through the obsidian would know her best this way. Safya watched with tired, anxious eyes as the daykeeper studied its reflection. He did not speak until he had rolled out a sisal mat and begun to scatter kernels onto it.

𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

❧ bad beatriz bullying bereaved baby / "grandma help me" "you're fucked because fuck you, cosmically"

‘ Rain is fickle, ’ he explained. The kernels tumbled from his palm in their own downpour. ‘ In one way, life. Growth. All beautiful and blooming things require rain. In another, death. Destruction and devastation. Floods. Rain cleanses—a certain purity to it. That’s the nature of destruction. ’

Entranced, Safya’s head lolled as she watched the kernels fall and bounce.

The daykeeper nodded to himself, saying, ‘ It comes from the mountains. They weep for us—for whoever is born under this sign, one of theirs. And this one, so capricious. ’

She had asked him if it was a bad thing, and he smiled. ‘ Nothing is bad, my princess. Only difficult. ’

‘ Will she be okay? ’ Safya’s pitch rose as she pressed him.

The daykeeper bowed his head. He replied after a long moment of consideration, one spent eyeing the kernels littering the mat. ‘ That will be a matter for her and them. ’

TRANSCRIPT:

{Beatriz, muttering to herself}

[L] Mother Beatriz! Can I talk to you? Before—?

[L] I had a question. [B] Whatever it is, I know it can wait. [L] Please. [B] Fine. Swiftly.

[L] Had you cried yet—really cried, mourning cried? [B] What? [L] Before today.

{Beatriz sighs}

[L] It’s bad luck. It’s disrespectful. But, it happens… Doesn’t it? [B] You tell me.

[B] What, do you want me to say it’s okay? It means nothing? That I’ve been weak as well? I haven’t. I followed the rules. [L] {Sniffling} I tried …

[L] I couldn’t control it. [B] I don’t believe you.

[B] It’s a test of faith and favor. If you don’t have favor, you need faith. Lacking faith, hope for favor. I would be concerned if I were you. [L] I am. I’m afraid. [B] You were born on an inauspicious day. Maybe now we’ll see why.

[L] I don’t … It’s—? I need you. You have to help me.

[valle-de-sombra-de-muerte]

Homestuck Reread: Act 3, Part 1/3 (p. 760-891)

Read the previous post here.

Time for the beginning of Act 3! An inauspicious start, since the Act begins with Jade's introduction.

So I guess the "reader" is still acknowledged as a thing. And they're actively attempting to manipulate Jade. I wonder how much longer this will last for.

Jade has so many interests, you guys! So many! And I'm sure each and every one of them will be relevant to her character as well!

Also, she needs reminders so she doesn't forget about the things she's interested in? What?

Why does Jade have so many variants of fetch modus when none of these will ever show up again? Actually, the whole modus system continues to be really dumb and that's probably why it's rarely mentioned in the later acts.

Jade's precognition again being treated as just a fun lil' quirk. Gosh, she's just so quirky, right fellas? So many modi, so many interests. She's just so silly and fun, right? Right???

Honest confession time. When I first read Homestuck, I had no idea that a "eureka lemon" was an actual variety of lemon. Of course I've heard of crab apples, key limes, and mandarin oranges, but it never occurred to me that a eureka lemon was also a real thing. I didn't figure this out until years later.

Wait wait wait. Hold the phone. Jade is a fan of old cartoons? When is that ever referenced again outside of the occasional mention of Squiddles (a show that isn't real)? What the fuck? John likes movies, has posters in his room, and name drops his favorites on a regular basis. Why does Jade not talk about any cartoons she likes???

Physics, gadgetry, and gardening are all shit that aren't ever mentioned again either, but I was at least aware of those things being related to her, at least on a surface level. Jade's whole thing (well, what I assume Hussie ostensibly intended to be her thing) is that she's this genius wiz kid. And her username is gardenGnostic, so of course horticulture has to be somehow related to her character. This whole cartoon thing is seriously new knowledge to me, though.

Grandpa Harley was a real renaissance man with a multitude of interests, so it's natural that Jade takes after him. The problem is that Grandpa is dead and he's less of a character than he is this mysterious symbol that Jade both admires and resents. It doesn't matter whether or not he's fleshed out, but Jade is a main character, so by necessity she must be or else she comes across as half-baked.

Jade has two pages dedicated to her interests, yet none of them are relevant to her character. She never talks to anyone else about gardening or anthros or anything like that. She doesn't use her scientific knowledge to help solve a problem. Her guns only serve the same basic combat purpose as the other kids' kind abstratus, but beyond that she isn't a gun nut.

One can point to stuff like John's interest in programming or Dave's love of photography as examples of extraneous character traits that don't ever manifest later on in the comic. But in Jade's case, it's nearly all of them. Hussie could've filled these pages with anything he wanted, but nothing would alter the existing perception of Jade being nothing more than "silly, upbeat girl who can see into the future." This is what I meant when I said earlier that she doesn't have any character to speak of. Or rather, she's just extremely shallow.

And because Jade doesn't have enough quirks already, her shirt randomly changes designs. Wow! Incredible!

These "manthro chaps" are honestly more unnerving and sexually charged than the smuppets. I don't ever see anyone reference them nearly as often, and probably for good reason. Unlike the smuppets, they're too close to resembling humans and are very uncanny. This feels like a deranged fetish thing, but it's being played off as more silly, quirky bullshit. "Slop trough" is a phrase I never want to read again.

Right. Hating furries was very much en vogue back in 2009, I'd say more so than the present. However, Hussie is going to great lengths to portray Jade as one of the "good ones." Her interest in anthros is non-sexual in nature and she does not partake in "cringe" furry activities like wearing fursuits and engaging in sexual activities with other furries. As stated before, the manthro chaps are being depicted as wholesome make believe, not in a feral/pet play context (despite the fact that that's exactly what it looks like).

This is just Hussie taking pot shots at a subculture that has historically been a very easy target for ridicule. I'm not even sure why he decided to make Jade a furry in the first place if he was going to draw lines in the sand like this. What an incredible dickhead. And since this is written from Jade's perspective, it makes her a dickhead too.

There are a few times later on where Jade comes across as rude or judgmental, coming at odds with her otherwise unflinchingly polite and optimistic disposition. Needless to say, this does little to endear her to me.

Like John, Jade also has a chest full of shit that doesn't end up mattering. Come to think of it, this whole intro sequence feels extremely drawn out, kind of like John's. John at least had the excuse of being the first character and he required a long intro in order to establish the tone and mechanics. We've gotten a good handle on things by the time we reach Rose and Dave, so their intros weren't nearly as involved. So why the fuck is Jade's taking so long? We know this whole routine, we've done it three times now. Can we get the fuck on with the story already!?

This is a really bizarre sequence of pages where the "reader" is forced to match the memory cards of Jade's modus, only to fail at it repeatedly while both Jade and Hussie judge them for it.

Man... I know it's a common fandom notion that Jade is the most neglected and underutilized of the main cast of kids, but you seriously wouldn't have guessed that based on all these early pages. She feels more like Hussie's favorite, if anything.

Every passage he seems to talk about her with affection and a total absence of snark, not like the other kids who are regarded with bemusement at best or mockery at worst when they do something foolish. Here the derision is solely focused on the reader for their apparent cluelessness, and both Hussie and Jade are on the same side. C'mon, Jade's just offering the reader to play this game and they fail because they're obviously not as smart as she is. Serves them right for that earlier, boorish suggestion that this wonderful girl might be a, gasp, disgusting fursuit-wearing degenerate!

There's something a little off about how this then-30 year old man created this 13 year old girl who's so sweet and perfect in every way, and whom he dedicates so many pages showing us every single one of her quirks and all the amazing things she has in her home. But I don't really want to dwell further on this, so I'll be moving on.

"But he does like his steak well cooked."

"He does prefer his steak rare after all."

Well, which is it??? Does he like his steak well or rare? Does Hussie not know the difference between these terms? Has he never cooked a steak before?

Dave Strider? More like Dave Simper. He is incredibly down bad. She's obviously not online, dude. Get out of her DMs. He's also facetiously engaging her with furry roleplay. God, Dave, get a clue! ERP is something only cringy furries do and as established previously, Jade is most definitely not one of those types of furries!

The Midnight Crew get their own dedicated flash. These guys sure are getting teased a lot, despite just being characters from an in-universe webcomic. I wonder what it could mean...

FINALLY we get to the Strider fight. Well, it's more like Dave vs. Cal rather than Dave vs. Bro. Not to try and crack open more Bro discourse, but the idea that people will try to equate Dave getting clowned on by a puppet with actual child abuse is absurd. I don't see how this is any different than the previous strifes John and Rose had with their parents.

FUCK it was only for one page. We're back to Jade again. You know, if I had a friend who knew whenever I was about to have an internet outage and acted all smarmy about it, I would probably stop talking to them.

"Grandpa Moreau over there on Hellmurder Island" is a good line. Thank you Rose for providing some levity to this slog of pages I've been enduring.

Another GameFAQs page, but this section is written by John for some reason. He brings up a great point about how nobody is reading these damn things. If you're some nudnik who truly gives a shit about how punch card alchemy works, oh boy do I have a page for you!

Jade dislikes hunting and it was mentioned earlier that she'd never shoot an animal. It strikes me as odd that she has such a passion for guns, but not hunting. What does she shoot then? She's a "skilled markswoman" but do we ever see a shooting range or anything to practice her skills? I can't imagine there's much else to shoot on this island aside from wildlife.

Grandpa Harley says Jade will grow up to be like the women in the photos he gets off to. I uh... I don't know how to feel about that. Other than perhaps it's for the best this old man is dead.

Wow! Who's this rude customer? What a crazy guy! Oh well, he was blocked so I don't think we'll ever see him again.

Finally at this point we take an extended reprieve from Jade. For the record, we're 99 pages into the Act. It took Rose 25 pages from her intro before the plot returned to John, and Dave 48 pages from his before turning back to Rose. (I'm not counting brief cuts to other characters for these counts, because the main focus is still on the recently introduced character). Nearly 100 pages of Jade showing off her house before going back to the plot. Augh!

Anyway, Rose actually reaches out and grabs the captcha card, which isn't something we've seen up to this point. This whole inventory system is weird, man.

I think it's all but directly stated that Mom Lalonde became an alcoholic because she has known the exact date the world was going to end. A sad detail.

Part 2 of the Strider fight ends with Bro yeeting Dave down the stairs. Again, I can't see this scene as serious representation of legitimate child abuse, especially with the fucking SBaHJ jokes at the end. The tone is so comedic and outrageous I don't understand anyone who takes it seriously.

Honestly, the earlier scenes with Dave roaming the apartment, being surrounded by weapons and sex toys, making comments of how he has difficulty accessing food, and being videotaped for Bro's fetish films paint a much better image of an abusive household than any of this strife shit. I don't want to try and argue that Bro isn't a bad guardian, because he definitely is, but there's this notion in the fandom that he does all this because he hates Dave and wants him to suffer, and I don't think that's true at all. His actions read more like neglect and carelessness, not malice.

You can make a list of all Bro's crimes, but hating his brother is not one of them.

John wins his fight against the ogres. There's an earlier page where we see him getting the tar kicked out of him (with the same over the top slapstick animations during the Dave vs. Bro fight, mind you), but it's only after Nannasprite and Rose join to help that he's able to achieve victory. He really can't do anything on his own, can he?

How about a "thank you, Rose, for beating those ogres for me"? Dickhead.

No "thank you" for Nannasprite, either. Instead he asks her to carry him to the gate, since he already knows Rose can't do it. This kid really sucks.

Now that I'm a third of the way done with Act 3, I have to say Jade is some honest to god Mary Sue shit. I don't like using that term because it's been misused to the point of uselessness, but come on. Compare Jade to the three previous kids and tell me that this girl isn't the most ridiculous character in this lineup.

We have John, the goofy cornball that likes pranks and watching bad movies; Rose, the smug pseud that likes the occult and writing lousy fiction; Dave, the aloof hipster that likes rapping and making shitty comics; and Jade, the genius manic pixie furry girl with a randomly changing wardrobe that can see into the future, lives on a private island full of crazy hi-tech gadgets, was raised by a radioactive dog, and likes physics, gardening, sharpshooting, bass guitar, and inventing.

Fuck me. If I was DM for a DnD session and someone submitted a character sheet like that against three normal ones, I'd tell them to leave. Why can't she just be a normal kid like the others? It's all so jarring!

Suddenly I'm wishing I was back reading Act 1 again.

Read the next post here.

[unironicallytes]

Mor'iargalthil: Some Garb & Lore

Mor'iargalthil is an imagined place in the northwest Grahtwood region during the Third Era, based off of ESO's established lore (which I have not played because I'm not super interested in playing a TES MMO, no shade tho).

The "av Mor'iargalthil" of Zath's name means "of/from an inhospitable grove" in Bosmeris (non-canon extension of canon language). Here he is in traditional Galthili garb, though he would have been much younger the last time he was there. He doesn't have antlers of his own like some Bosmer do btw, those are just sewn into his hood.

To make a long story shorter, Mor'iargalthil is a small clan of descendants from Gil-Var-Dell survivors who retreated to more isolated places. They're generally a dour and wary group. Galthili Bosmer observe the Green Pact, but are more entwined with neighboring Wood Orcs than other Valenwood Bosmer. This cultural exchange unexpectedly resulted in Galthili Bosmer incorporating Mauloch/Malacath into their pantheon alongside Y'ffre. Their traumatic history with Daedric Princes instilled a complicated mix of reverence and hatred, but Mauloch resides in a grey area and is an exception. His fables speak to them as people who feel they too were "consumed and twisted" by another force.

Here's some extra doodles and more clothing details under the cut.

Those aren't permanent tattoos, they're more akin to henna. Zath was born under the Serpent and it affects many aspects of his life, so he often adorns himself with the inauspicious sign.

Zath's hood is separate from the rest of the bow sleeve and can be attached to the beaded leather mantle instead.

Speaking of the hood, it has openings for the ears to keep that super cool merrish hearing unobstructed.

His thumb guard is made of mammal leather - I imagine most Bosmer use thumb-draw instead of finger-draw so that they can move around while keeping an arrow nocked.

These Bosmer use a lot of reptile parts for their leather and shells. Gators, turtles, etc., perhaps even the occasional Daedroth since regions of Tarlain Heights likely still have remnants of that influence.

The front half of the foot is exposed for tree-climbing, but the heel remains cushioned in soft leather. Bosmer unfortunately refuse to put those dogs away cause they gotta grip that tree bark.

As for the horn bow, I'm pretending Bosmer do some Special Stuff to make the horn more flexible, or it's just Magical Creature Materials(tm).

[thewolfisawake]

Name: Mikoto ( 美命 ) Zelia Moreira Date

Personality: 

Mikoto has lost the ability to feel fear. As such, she isn’t one to turn down things that are considered dangerous nor scary. She’d stare at it and say ‘hold my beer.’ Which can be a boon and a curse since she commonly chooses the most straight forward path. Which is often violence. However despite this, she tends not to hold grudges and forgives past transgressions...even if it was her that incited it. This plus her carelessness can be a headache to her coworkers.

Background:

You can only play the cards you’re dealt and Mikoto grew up knowing this. She was teased as a child for an array of things. From her mother’s job to mixing up languages to even her skin tone. While she didn’t like the heckling, what else could she do? Her mother said for her to pick herself up and walk on. It was this steady demeanor that Mikoto looked up to and after her father left, her mother was all that she had. If the world was their enemy, then they’d brave it together. 

Because of this, they carved out a place for themselves. Their circle was small but loved. Their wills would not be broken. So Mikoto went about her life. Despite her confidence, companionship around her age is still something she desired. So she tried with kids at school and in her neighborhood. And these kids took advantage of her lack of ‘common knowledge’ to get her in trouble or make her look foolish. Mikoto did catch on and had gotten her own revenge on them. It became a back and forth…until a child suggested a more…supernatural sort of joke. 

There was an inauspicious night coming up and so it was likely a night for Hyakki Yagyo, the Night Parade of 100 Demons. Not that the children actually believed it but it was an excuse to prank Mikoto. Goading her by questioning her bravery, she snuck out to retrieve a hairpin that had been left in a small shrine in a local forest. Arriving at the shrine, Mikoto was surprised by the children wearing masks or overgrown clothing to scare her. They got their scare and laughs but Mikoto could hear more of a racket, seeming coming towards them. Thinking this was her trying to get back at them, all the kids but one didn’t listen. It grew louder and louder until lanterns could be seen. Which illuminated all sorts of oni and yokai. It frightened the children and their cries also alerted the creatures of their presence. 

Mikoto had scattered in a direction separate from most of the kids. She heard…not great things and thought of where she might be able to be safe. She remembered the shrine should be a safe place and doubled back, coming across one of the kids–the one that had heeded her warning–and taking them back with her. The shrine was the size of a children’s playhouse. It would be a tight squeeze but they could manage it. Mikoto let the girl go first but before she could go in, she noticed the lights again. She wouldn’t be able to cram in before any yokai saw them and came for them both. So Mikoto shut the door behind her, clutching the hairpin, which had been her mother’s that she took to show off.

The girl fainted from the shock and exhaustion. She seemed to be the only one of the children that had come out from that night. Most of the children were found dead. Mikoto wasn’t found until months later, wandering at night barefooted in the snow. There was something instinctively different about Mikoto. Most couldn’t place it in the first few days but it eventually was settled as ‘feral.’ There was a wildness in her eyes that couldn’t subside. Her presence and attitude scared just about everyone around her. 

Mikoto doesn’t speak much about what occurred and her feelings about it are everywhere. What she has disclosed was that she has lived longer than what most believe. She also describes herself as what happens ‘when you withstand the abyss looking back at you.’ She eventually came to YDA because they do something that she is able to do. So why not work there?

[bookofjin]

Origin of the Western Qiang, Part 1 (HHS087)

[The commentary by Li Xian in italics (slightly abbreviated)]

The Western Qiang's origin springs from the Three Miao and a branch of the Jiang clan. Their state was near the Southern Marchmount, i.e. Heng Mountain. When Shun banished the four wicked ones, and moved them to Sanwei, it was the Qiang land south-west of Heguan.

Sanwei is a mountain now located south-east of Sha Province's Dunhuang county. The mountain has three summits, and for that reason was named Sanwei [“Three Perils”].

From the boundary at Cizhi until the head of the He is a far-stretched land of a thousand li. Cizhi is what the Tribute of Yu speaks of as Xizhi. To the south they are connected to Man Yi outside the borders of Shu and Han. To the north-west they are connected to the various states of Shanshan and Jushi.

Where they live is not regular, they rely on following water and grass. The land has little of the five grains, they use herding livestock as their livelihood. In their customs, clan and family are not settled. Sometimes they use the father's name and the mother's family name as the title of their kind. After twelve generations, they intermarriage with each other. If the father is lost, they take as wife the stepmother. If the older brother perishes, they accept in turn the widowed sister-in-law. For that reason their state has no widowers or widows, and their kind multiply with a blaze.

They do not establish lords and subjects, and there is no single chief. If someone is strong, he will divide off his kind and become a chieftain. If someone is weak, he will be a person adhering to a group. Furthermore, they kidnap and bully each other, and use strength to dominate.

Killing a person is repaid with death, they have no other prohibitions or orders. Their troops excel in mountains and valleys, and are weak on level land. They are unable for a long time, but are bold in sudden charges. They consider death in battle to be a lucky gain, and meeting their end in illness to be inauspicious. They are capable of enduring cold hardships in the same way as birds and beasts. Even women giving birth to children likewise do not avoid the wind and snow. They are by nature hard, tough, fierce, and violent, they have obtained the western region's aura of the metal agent.

The Yellow Emperor's Plain Questions says: The western region is the district of metal and jade, and the place for sand and stone. Its people are mountain dwellers and there is much wind. Water and soil is tough and strong.

If the king's government is put in order, guests submit. If the virtuous teachings are lost, bandits make chaos. Formerly, Taikang of the Xiahou clan lost the state and the Four Yi turned their backs to him and rebelled.

Taikang was the son of Qi of Xia. He was absorbed in the roaming hunt, and did not have compassion for people's affairs. He was expelled by Yi and did not manage to return to his state.

When Hou Xiang was enthroned, he therefore campaigned against the Quan Yi, and after seven years they came as guests.

Hou Xiang was Taikang's grandson, and the son of Zhongkang.

Arriving at Hou Xue, he first applied feudal ranks and instructions, and because of that they submitted and followed.

Xie was Xi's eight generations descendant, and the son of Emperor Mang.

During the chaos of Hou Jie, the Quan Yi entered to dwell in the Bin and Qi¤ area. When Tang the Successful had risen, he attacked and ejected them. Reaching the middle decline of the House of Yin, the various Yi all rebelled. Arriving at Wuding, he attacked the Western Rong and Guifang [lit. “Ghost Region”], and in three years he overcame them. For that reason his poem says: “Even those Di and Qiang did not dare to not come to the King.”

Wuding was King of Yin. The Changes says: “The Exalted Ancestor attacked Guifang.” Pronunciation and Right meanings of the Book Han says: “Guifang was a distant region.” The text is from the Odes of Yin.

[The oldest extant oracle script inscriptions have been excavated from King Wuding of Shang's capital at Yin, near modern Anyang, and dated to c. 1200 BC. As such he is the oldest historical Chinese ruler in the most strict sense.]

Reaching Wuyi's brutal cruelty, the Quan Rong [“Dog Rong”] robbed the border. Gugong of Zhou crossed over Liang Mountain, and escaped to beneath Qi¤ [Mountain].

Emperor Wuyi was a three generations descendant of Wuding. He had not the Way. He had a figurine carved of a person, and spoke of it as the Heavenly God. He cast sticks with it, and ordered people to act in place of it. If the Heavenly God did not win, he humiliated and insulted it. He also made a leather bag filled with blood, looked up and shot at it, instructing it be called “Shooting at Heaven”. Thereupon he was struck by a lightning and died. Gugong was King Wen's grandfather.

Reaching his son Jili, he then attacked the Gui Rong of the Xiluo.

Bamboo Annals: 35th Year of Wuyi, the King of Zhou, Ji, attacked the Gui Rong of Xiluo, and took prisoner twenty Di kings.

In the time of Taiding, Jili then attacked the Rong of Yanjing. The Rong people greatly defeated the Zhou regiments.

Taiding was the son of Wuyi. Bamboo Annals: 2nd Year of Taiding, the people of Zhou attacked Yanjing. The Zhou regiments were greatly defeated.

Two years later, the people of Zhou vanquished the Rong of Yuwu, and so Taiding instructed Jili to be Herdsman of the Regiments.

Jili was King Wen's father. The Bamboo Annals says: 4th Year of Taiding, the people of Zhou attacked the Rong of Yuwu, and overcame them. The King of Zhou, Ji, was instructed to be Yin's Herdsman of the Regiments.

After that point, he furthermore attacked the Rong of Shihu and Yitu, and always overcame them.

The Bamboo Annals says: 7th Year of Taiding, the people of Zhou attacked the Rong of Shihu, and overcame them. 11th Year, the people of Zhou attacked the Rong of Yitu, and won against their their three grandees.

When King Wen became Earl of the West, to the west there were the worries of the Kun Yi, and to the north there were the difficulties of Xianyun. Consequently, he ejected the Rong and Di, and defended against them, there were nobody who did not submit and yield. Therefore he led the Western Rong, and campaigned against Yin's rebellious states in service to Zhou#.

In the Zuo Transmittals, Jin's Han Xianzi says: “King Wen led Yin's rebellious states in service to Zhou#, indeed knowing the right timing.”

When King Wu attacked Shang, the Qiang and Mao led the regiments to assemble in the fields of Mu.

The Hallowed Documents says: The people of Yong, Shu, Qiang, Mao, Wei, Lu, and Peng.

Kong Anguo's Commentary says: All these are the Man, Yi, Rong, and Di.

Arriving at the time of King Mu, the Rong and Di did not tribute. The King therefore went west to campaign against the Quan Rong, and captured their five kings. He also obtained four white deers and four white wolves. The King then moved the Rong to Taiyuan.

[indiejones]

UNEARTHING THE DAYS OF THE DOMINION RAJ....OOPS FREE INDIA ! - FROM THE BOOKS- ‘INDIA REMEMBERED’ & ‘DAUGHTER OF EMPIRE’, BY PAMELA MOUNTBATTEN.

1. A letter to Mountbatten by his cousin, King of Eng,George VI, dt 13th Aug 1947, honors his admirable work at having divided the Hindus & Muslims into 2 different dominions, & how either of the 2 couldn't have stood alone in the world.

2. When Nehru came to invite Mountbatten as first Gov Gen of India, he presented him with an envelope he said had names of new Govt. Opened after he left..was a blank piece of paper.

Pamela Mountbatten writes,in rush of events,someone stuffed in the wrong piece of paper.

3. Do you know- Aug 15 was regarded as a inauspicious day in itself, as clearly known to everybody then, that being the reason all 'independence' proceedings had to be done at Aug 14 midnight! Yet of course, Aug 15 had to be the date,as the date Japan (& INA practically) surrendered to US.

4. Do you know- After the swearing-in of Gov Gen & Cabinet Ministers of 'Free India' on Aug 15, 1947, Britain's national anthem “God Save The King” was played in the Durbar Hall, followed by “Jana Gana Mana ! & Mountbatten read out the King's message to the new Dominion of India!

5. In the King's message read out to the new 'Dominion of Britain, India', the newly selected Gov Gen of 'Free India' also said “Let us gratefully acknowledge that while our achievement is in no small measure due to our own suffering & sacrifices, it is also the result of world forces & events and last though not least it is the consummation and fulfillment of the historic tradition and democratic ideas of the British race”.

6. Viceroy Mountbatten, gives national radio address to India from AIR, on June 3 1947, announcing how 2 Dominions of Britain, Pakistan & Hindustan were to be created by Aug 1947. Aug 4 fell on Gandhi's 'Silence Day', but Mountbatten’s interview of Gandhi went well, & Gandhi accepted the proposed 2 new Dominions of Britain, India & Pakistan.

7. (GANDHI'S MOST BLATANT LIE) :

On June 4 1947 Prayer Meet, after interview with Mountbatten, Gandhi as never before, speaks on his weekly Monday silence day: 'If both of us-Hindu & Muslim-cannot agree on anything else(aside from partition) then the Viceroy is left with no choice.'

This,despite knowingly fully well how new Brit PM Atlee's Cabinet Mission Plan of Feb 1946, immediately following the Royal Navy Mutiny, had openly via then Viceroy Wavell offered a unified India in 'Grouping Plan' (previously blogged).

That Jinnah accepted & Nehru rejected.

8. UNKNOWN FACTS:

Pamela Mountbatten, attending Gandhi's Prayer Meeting, writes how it would begin with a verse from the Koran, followed by chanting of an Arabic hymn, followed by 2 mins silence, & finally a 40 min discourse.

P.S. Never knew this 'universal' fact before.

9. Some fascinating tales of holidaying by Gov Gen & wife Edwina & Nehru in Apr 1948: Father Mountbatten & daughter Pamela would tactfully fall behind & allow Nehru & Edwina to walk alone together ahead in the woods. Also leaving them alone in rooms.

Of course as cure for stress.

10. Video clips from Mountbatten's' farewell from India in June 1948:

https://youtube.com/watch?v=FANqE_r4dIc

P.S. Let’s provide some background to this ‘Dominion Raj’, namely when Mountbatten & Nehru had their first important meeting, in March 1946 in Singapore, as mentioned by Mountbatten in foreword to Nehru’s sister Pt Vijaya Lakshmi's book 'The Scope of Happiness:A Personal Memoir'..on events of March 1946 that "was the beginning of a deep friendship between Nehru & Edwina & me". Namely, persuading the heavily watched/spied Nehru to NOT lay wreath on INA Memorial, the same INA memorial commemorating the achievements & success of Subhas Chandra Bose & his allies the Japanese troops, that Mountbatten had gotten demolished in 1945 itself. Writing how Nehru followed his instructions of not going to this memorial, and how those 9 days went by extremely well, a pattern of behavior that, in Mountbatten’s words were “the beginning of a deep friendship between Nehru & Edwina & him”.  A meeting that per many historians, in their analyses atleast, led to demolition & replacement of Gandhi-British pact with Nehru-British pact too.

PS. Few interesting facts outside of Pamela Mountbatten’s book, mentioned below-

1. Do you know what reason British PM Cement Atlee gave, for removing Lord Wavell from the Viceroyship of India after just 3.25 yrs (a most unusual thing as most Viceroys served from 5-7.5 yrs), & suddenly appointing Lord Mountbatten to the job in Feb 1947?

A.  In PM Atlee's words, "Mountbatten has an extraordinary facility for getting on with all kinds of people. He is also blessed with an unusual wife."

(From Roshni Rai’s documentation-based thesis on Nehru, freely available online)

2.  Ex- British PM Winston Churchill wrote a letter to new PM Clement Atlee, on July 1 1947,asking him to correct name of Atlee’s new bill to 'India Dominion Bill' & not ‘India Independence Bill’, as India was still going to owe allegiance to The King after Aug 1947, & hence not a independent community.

Only response Atlee had 3 days later, was saying "Other appointed Dominion heads disagree, & say they're independent within the Commonwealth".

Which we know is hogwash, via several blogs herein, & basic egs. like Nehru seeking King's approval in Apr 1948 to appoint Ind's next Gov Gen.

👇

And btw, that both Atlee & Churchill knew about privately too, as evidenced by this May 21, 1947 Churchill letter to Atlee, agreeing to support  'terms of granting Dominion Status to India' if made good on by the Indians, showing that real 'deal' with Nehru over being given Dominion Status, was much more than even the King allegiance bit, which Churchill & Atlee publicly spat on later, rather something both had agreed on earlier.

👇

[robininthelabyrinth]

🧿🤠🐇🍲🍯: Lan Wangji does not think it’s safe to raise A-Yuan in Cloud Recesses after the Lans participated in the killing of his zhiji and the entire Burial Mounds community (or more accurately that it’s not safe while he himself is in seclusion and can’t watch over A-Yuan, at least) so he delivers A-Yuan to the one person who he knows did not stand against Wei Wuxian (and got away with it, bc this person has never stood against anything, since standing takes effort): Nie Huaisang.

Little Side Door - ao3

Nie Huaisang’s rooms in the Unclean Realm had a little side door that no one but him ever used.

They hadn’t originally. The Unclean Realm was a fortress, designed to maximize protection and defense; there was no better place for keeping things safe by locking them away. While it had its fair share of boltholes and escape routes, they were not common and universally difficult to access lest the enemy learn of them and use them to their advantage. Even the layout of their open spaces were carefully planned lest the attack come from the sky, a concern that only cultivators had, and not about how they themselves could escape – after all, weren’t they all Nie, ready to die rather than endure dishonor?

The little side door that led to Nie Huaisang’s room opened onto a small rock garden, left to grow wild with weeds rather than reveal its presence to more people. It existed only because his brother had ordered it constructed by those he trusted most, all in secret in the dark of the night. He had never explained why he had gone to such lengths to create such an unwelcome and inauspicious place, but then, he hadn’t needed to – Nie Huaisang had been there, too, when his father had descended into madness and they had been trapped in the familial quarters with no way out that did not take them through him. If his brother had been the one to brave his father’s rage directly, Nie Huaisang had been the one stuck in a small space that was only not claustrophobic because it was so painfully familiar.

Now, though his father was long dead and gone, Nie Huaisang had a little side door.

A little side door, and a little garden that almost no one knew about; in combination with the saber that his brother forced him to learn and the golden core he had so begrudgingly formed, he now had a way to reach the sky and the illusive freedom it represented – the freedom to flee and leave his home behind.

If it ever happens again – his brother had said once, the closest he had ever come to speaking of it.

He did not finish his sentence, as Nie Huaisang had thrown his plate into his face and stormed off, steaming mad and close to tears. He did not raise the subject a second time.

Nie Huaisang did not often use his little side door.

Although he enjoyed gardens, he preferred the aviary he’d constructed, or one of the myriad of well-tended gardens in the main part of the sect; even the vegetable gardens out back beside the kitchens were far more welcoming than that sparse straggle of land. He’d only ever spent time there when he was a child and in desperate need of some quiet, wanting to avoid adults with their arguments and their miseries; he’d taken some friends there because he thought it might impress them, but it hadn’t, and anyway his brother had put a stop to that soon enough.

He didn’t even think about the little side door, most days. It was just a part of the room, a small tucked away corner with nothing in it. Nothing to think about.

And then, of course, years after he’d put it out of his mind entirely, there came a terrible banging noise at that little side door, like someone was kicking at it furiously from the outside.

Nie Huaisang nearly fell over sideways in his scramble to get up, and then once again when he realized where the noise was coming from – almost no one knew about his side door and its little garden, and so no one had ever come to him through it. Who would be knocking now…?

He opened it.

Lan Wangji, white robes stained with blood and cheeks bright with fever, shoved something into his arms. “You have a child now,” he said through bitten lips. “Congratulations. He is called A-Yuan. I entrust you with his care, for my sect cannot be trusted with it.”

And then he turned and staggered away, mounting up on Bichen and flying off before Nie Huaisang could say anything – before he could even finish searching his memories and recalling that yes, in fact, Lan Wangji had been one of the friends he had shown the side door to, years and years before, and thus knew how to find it. Before he could even start processing the thousands of thoughts that had spring to life, fully formed, at all the information he’d just received: the bloody robes, the desperation, the reference to the Lan sect – the Lan sect! – being somehow untrustworthy…

He looked down at his arms.

“Congratulations,” he echoed blankly. “I have a child now.”

The child blinked up at him, and then smiled.

-

“Da-ge!” Nie Husiang howled, rushing into the sect leader’s study where his brother was doing work – luckily it wasn’t receiving hours and he wasn’t in the main hall, as that would have been unfortunate. “Da-ge, you have to help me! I have a child now!”

His brother stared at him, expression blank and mouth slightly agape. The brush in his hand dripping ink onto a now-wasted piece of paper.

“Huaisang,” he said after a moment. “What the fuck.”

Nie Huaisang nodded furiously.

“Where did you get – how – who – what did you do?!”

“I am currently unable to disclose any details,” Nie Huaisang said promptly even as his brother tossed aside the brush and got up, striding over with a storm brewing in his face. “All I can say is that I have to raise this child now. By which I mean, you have to help me raise this child now; I can’t raise children! I’m not mature enough to raise a child!”

“No kidding! Why would someone entrust – to you…” Nie Mingjue trailed off, looking down at the child with a frown that shifted from disbelieving irritation to concern. He pressed his hand to the child’s forehead. “Huaisang, this child has a high fever. We need to get him to the medical wing at once – is that blood?”

“Not his, I don’t think?”

“I don’t want to know,” his brother decided. “Move.”

Some time later, they were both sitting next to the bed in one of the spare rooms in the family quarters; Nie Huaisang thought it might even have been the same one that he’d used when he was very young. A-Yuan was sleeping, and Nie Mingjue was still holding his little hand in his own, having been clocked as the oversize comfort animal that he not-so-secretly was from the very first moment A-Yuan laid eyes on him.

The doctors had declared A-Yuan’s fever to be very severe, but they had applied plenty of medicine – the Lan sect might have more esoteric healing techniques, but there wasn’t anything like the Nie sect when it came to standard medicine for injuries and illnesses associated with the battlefield, and despite A-Yuan’s tender age Nie Huaisang would be willing to bet that his injuries were from a battlefield. They were confident that A-Yuan would make a full recovery, body and mind both intact, although they warned that his memory of the past might be impacted.

Nie Huaisang had thought about all that blood that wasn’t his, of Lan Wangji pale-faced and wild-eyed, and decided that a little bit of forgetting might not be so bad after all.

“Are you going to tell me anything more,” his brother said after a while. “Or should I just give up now?”

Nie Huaisang leaned over and patted his knee. “It’s good that you know your limitations.”

His brother rolled his eyes.

“I can’t believe this is my life,” he remarked.

“What part?” Nie Huaisang asked, curious. “The fact that we have a kid now, because obviously we’re keeping him? Or the fact that someone gave a kid to me?”

“Both,” his brother decided. “Definitely both.”

-

“His name’s A-Yuan,” Nie Huaisang said. “Apparently.”

“Well,” his brother said. “Obviously that won’t do.”

-

Nie Huaisang had the ability to be sneaky when he wanted to be. It wasn’t a matter of stealth, he had explained to his brother, but sneakiness– a completely different concept. Stealth suggested that he was doing something to conceal himself and required skills and talent, or else a lot of practice, and obviously Nie Huaisang was not going to go in for either of those.

Sneakiness, though…

He didn’t need people not to be able to see him in order to be sneaky. He just needed them not to care about him, or wonder where he was.

“Psst,” he said, knocking on the window to the rooms where Lan Wangji was purportedly practicing seclusion. “Psst! Lan Zhan!”

Lan Wangji had given him a child. They were definitely past the ‘Lan-er-gongzi’ stage.

“Lan Zhan!” he rapped at the window with his fan. “We need a courtesy name!”

There was some sounds from within the jingshi, mostly stumbling around. Nie Huaisang waited patiently, and after a few moments the window opened and Lan Wangji stared out at him. He was as pale as a ghost with lips as red as blood, and very clearly not in seclusion at all, but rather in the midst of healing whatever wounds had left him bloody – he probably shouldn’t have gotten out of bed to answer.

Oh, well. Too late for regret now.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Lan Wangji said, voice dull and eyes blank as he stared at Nie Huaisang. It was unclear if he meant in the Cloud Recesses generally, or here in particular, interrupting his ‘seclusion’.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Nie Huaisang said, scowling at him. “We need a courtesy name! A courtesy name for the child, you hear me? You know, of course, that Qinghe Nie don’t use personal names, not even for children – certainlynot for children older than their first year. It’d be a complete giveaway that he’s not organically ours if we call him something like A-Yuan.”

Lan Wangji raised a hand to pinch his nose. “Please go away.”

“Courtesy name, Lan Zhan. I mean, I may be the one who’ll be raising him, but please think carefully: do you really want meto be the one naming him?”

“…call him Sizhui.”

“Sizhui,” Nie Huaisang repeated. “With the characters…?”

Lan Wangji nodded.

“Uh, no,” Nie Huaisang said. “I need a bettercourtesy name. Are you joking?”

“Nie Huaisang. Go away.”

“But –”

Lan Wangji slammed the window shut.

“…fine,” Nie Huaisang said to the closed window. “Be that way, see if I care. Not like we don’t need to build up a decent coparenting relationship or anything eventually.”

He thought he heard a choking sound from behind the door and smirked.

“Don’t you think you can baby-trap me and just walk away, Lan Zhan,” he said in his best ominous tone. “If you wanted someone to raise your kid without ever consulting you again, you should’ve dropped him off in the Lotus Pier with Jiang Cheng, who’d probably be too busy being confused to even question where he came frome – but no. You came to me. I don’t make decisions in the best of times, least of all good. I have questions. A lot of questions.”

He thought about it for a moment.

“Not about how you got him or anything like that,” he said. “I’m not stupid, I can tell a secret when I see one. But, you know, other types of questions. Parenting stuff. Are you a ‘go sit and think about what you’ve done’ sort of parent? Or more traditional discipline, with copying lines and occasionally strikes when they’re naughty? Do you want him to learn the Lan sect rules along with the Nie sect principles –”

There was a muffled sound from inside the house.

It sounded angry.

“…we can talk about it later,” Nie Huaisang decided. He might’ve pushed his luck a bit too much. “Talk later!”

-

“You have a…what?” Lan Xichen asked, his smile a little fixed and stare a little wilder than normal.

“A nephew!” Nie Mingjue gushed. “Isn’t he wonderful?”

“Nephew.”

“He’s so well behaved, too! He plays quietly by himself most of the time, drawing and even writing a little, and Huaisang’s already teaching him how to play the dizi –”

“When you say nephew, do you mean Nie Huaisang’s child?”

“Do I have other brothers?” Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes at him. “He’s obviously not yours. Anyway, I know Meng Yao is expecting one, too, but he wouldn’t be dressed in Nie colors if it was his, would it?”

“Yes, but…are you telling me that…that Nie Huaisang…”

“It’s a battlefield child, Xichen,” Nie Mingjue said patiently. “Obviously. Someone entrusted him to Huaisang.”

“Oh,” Lan Xichen said, looking relieved. “Yes, that makes more sense…wait.”

Nie Mingjue waited.

“Someone entrusted him to Nie Huaisang?”

“I know, right?” Nie Mingjue said, and Lan Xichen didn’t notice how strained his grin had suddenly become, or how thoughtful his eyes were as he surveyed Lan Xichen as if trying to find an answer to a question. “I would’ve assumed they’d go for someone more responsible, like you. Guess you never know…”

“I guess you don’t,” Lan Xichen agreed, looking down at the child with a bemused expression. A battlefield child, entrusted to Nie Huaisang… “They must have been truly driven to desperation.”

“Perhaps,” Nie Mingjue said, and then changed the subject to little Nie Sizhui’s accomplishments, of which he could list many at great length and very great enthusiasm. By the time he was done with that, Ln Xichen was so overwhelmed that he didn’t ask a single other question.

-

“So I’ve got an idea on how to do this whole co-parenting thing,” Nie Huaisang said, cracking nuts to eat. He was sitting next to Lan Wangji’s bedside, and dropping the shells straight on the floor, too, staring dead-eyed at Lan Wangji as if daring him to say something – which he wouldn’t, of course. “Since with Sizhui starting classes soon it’s become much more urgent, on account of me needing you to attend meetings with his teachers and discuss his progress.”

Lan Wangji looked deeply long-suffering. He’d only invited Nie Huaisang inside because Nie Huaisang had threatened to start shouting out his business loudly on account of oh but Lan Zhan, how was I to know if you could hear me in there, I just had to raise my voice just in case because I wouldn’t want you to miss any of the extremelyimportant news –

It was all Lan Wangji’s fault for being born earlier than Nie Huaisang, Nie Huaisang thought virtuously. It was merely Nie Huaisang’s lot in life to fulfill the role of annoying younger brother to everyone.

“See, it’s the music,” Nie Huaisang continued. “You do music, right?”

Lan Wangji’s ice-cold glare suggested that he did, in fact, ‘do music’.

“So your brother has been playing this song for da-ge on a regular basis,” Nie Huaisang explained, ignoring the glare entirely. “And when he’s not available, which is most of the time nowadays, he’s been sending san-ge instead. Even though, of course, poor san-ge’s so busy back at Lanling all the time…ughh, it’s so unfair, you know! Poor san-ge has to do all the work of being the heir and gets none of the benefits, and they pile even more work on him on top of that – really, he gets no respect.”

Lan Wangji’s expression suggested he didn’t care.

“And think about the inconvenience to us!” Nie Huaisang sallied forth, undeterred. “People coming and going all the time, da-ge having to interrupt his schedule of spending quality time with me and Sizhui – and sect leader work, of course, though that’s less important – in order to march over to greet them and host them and listen to them…what a pain it is!”

Lan Wangji appeared on the verge of suggesting that Nie Huaisang consider getting to the point.

“So you should come do it instead.”

Lan Wangji’s expression cracked, suggesting that Nie Huaisang had actually managed to make an impact.

“You remember,” he said, voice low and a little hoarse from all that refusing to speak he’d been doing. Really, if Nie Huaisang wasn’t around to goad him into it, he might’ve lost the voice entirely – he didn’t even have little Sizhui around to force him to speak! “That I’m in seclusion. Right?”

“You’re horribly lonely is what you are,” Nie Huisang said briskly. “You require company. Therefore, coming to take up a semi-permanent posting in the Unclean Realm to play the Song of Clarity for my brother morning, noon, and night is clearly the finest way to solve all of our problems, and for you to see little Sizhui as often as you like.”

Lan Wangji visibly wavered. “My brother,” he said, then coughed. “My brother will never believe it.”

“That’s your problem,” Nie Huaisang said. “Find a way to sell it.”

He stood, shaking the remaining shells onto the chair.

“See you in Qinghe soon, Lan Zhan..!”

Lan Wangji was trying to kill him with his mind, Nie Huaisang thought happily as he wandered off with a whistle and a vaguely silly expression. Good – he’d been inside for too long. He needed the stimulation.

-

“Truly,” Nie Mingjue remarked, strolling around their gardens without any apparent notice of the small child perched on his shoulders, giggling wildly at the feeling of being tall, “I feel far better than I did before! One can scarcely compare it – night and day, really. Your Lan sect’s Song of Clarity is a marvel, even if it does take a while before it kicks in.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji said, walking slowly with his hands behind his back. He was still unsteady on his feet on account of the absolutely horrific injuries he���d incurred – but if the Lan sect’s response to everything was seclusion, seclusion, seclusion, then the Nie sect’s equivalent response was exercise. These little excursions through the gardens were the result.

Thus far, they were still only doing laps around the main gardens, but Nie Huaisang had plans to eventually force Lan Wangji to go even as far as his own little side garden. He’d made it through his side door once, after all; why not a second time..?

At any rate, Nie Huaisang still wasn’t quite sure how Lan Wangji had talked Lan Xichen into allowing him to come to the Unclean Realm, but it really did make the whole co-parenting business a lot more convenient. And his brother had had so much fun making Lan Wangji stiff and awkward over all his thanks and praise for his decision to come ‘help out’ with Nie Sizhui’s raising until finally, at last, Nie Huaisang had taken pity and revealed that Nie Mingjue knew perfectly well whose battlefield child this was.

Both in terms of who had gifted him to Nie Huaisang, and who’d adopted him originally, and of course even his original surname – The little tot’s been through enough adoptions to make anyone’s head spin, his brother had said, his voice gruff as always. There’s no point in thinking back too far, is there?

Lan Wangji had been very relieved.

“Run, bobo!” Nie Sizhui cried, pointing over at a bird. “We need to get it for Sang-gege!”

Nie Mingjue snorted like a bull but obediently quickened his feet and left the rest of them behind, heading in full charge straight at the wild pheasant that was far more likely to end up on Nie Huaisang’s plate than in his aviary. It was about even odds which one Nie Sizhui meant, anyway.

“Nie Huaisang,” Lan Wangji said, his voice low, and Nie Huaisang looked at him. “The Song of Clarity does not take time to work. These effects should have happened at once.”

Nie Huaisang opened his fan, hiding his face as he frowned. “How odd,” he said. “And after san-ge put in all that hard work.”

“Perhaps he played it wrong.”

“Odd,” Nie Huaisang said again. “When san-ge gets so very little wrong…has your brother sent any word on the Xue Yang issue?”

“…he has not.”

“He’s going to need to pick a side eventually.”

“He does not want to make things difficult for his sworn brother.”

“Does he have only the one?” Nie Huaisang asked archly, and Lan Wangji averted his gaze. “It’s awkward for us if he doesn’t back us, and is a bad look besides…truly, it’s a wonder that san-ge managed to squeeze out the time to come here.”

Lan Wangji’s frown deepened. “Indeed,” he said. “One would think his father might be tempted to stop him.”

“Wouldn’t you just?” Nie Huaisang said. “Wouldn’t you just…you know, maybe when you’re feeling better, we should go visit Lanling ourselves.”

Lan Wangji glanced at him, arching an eyebrow, and Nie Huaisang smiled, fanning himself casually.

“I’m not the only one with a little side door,” he said. “Let’s go knocking and see what we find, shall we?”

[hamburgerhelpersotherhand]

Lost P2

Lost Boys x Reader

Warnings: blood, noncon touching, a sexist remark, general yandere vampire schemes

Notes: I’m taking forever to post this bc I’m incredibly lazy, but I’ve decided to post it NOW even if I think there could still be improvements made. I’ve just been on this shit for far too long! I’m losing it!! Anyway, for those of you who actually read my updates, you know what this means… Infatuation is the next big one.

Part 1 -> "https://hamburgerhelpersotherhand.tumblr.com/post/634556269709148160/lost"

How you’d gotten yourself here, you hate to remember. It’s not like you had a choice, it was either this or... you’re not so sure but, based on the mangled bodies of your former friends, you can assume something just as grim and inauspicious.

But where are you? As you open your eyes just a sliver, you take note of the darkness of the night and the rushing wind that chills your view. Your ears are easily overpowered by the loud motorcycles surrounding you, and the one you find yourself aboard. Your arms are wrapped uncomfortably around a torso with the buttons of a coat digging into your skin.

David is his name. He’s driving his motorcycle like he’s got nothing to lose- no helmet and definitely going over the recommended speed limit. Behind you are his friends, or as he likes to call them: his boys. Marko, Paul and Dwayne. They follow him wherever he goes, and he follows them wherever they go.

A bump in the road scares you into tightening your hold around David’s torso and you’re reminded of how easily you could fall off. And while escape would be ideal, you’d rather not get trampled by the bikes behind you... that’s without saying what’ll happen if you let go and hit the road at this speed.

David looks behind him, toward you, and your heart stutters in your chest.

“We’re almost there.” You think you heard him say. He smiles and you shut your eyes tight when the others begin to shout and howl in excitement.

The road was long and dark, no houses in sight. You think the last building you remember seeing was the gas station. The back roads have always been an unsettling way to travel at night and that was exactly why.

“Can you hear the music?” David asks you, shouting so you can hear him. Listening closely, you do hear the music.

As you look over David’s shoulder, you see a large lit up home a little ways away. People are standing outside, surrounding the home are plains with little to no trees. The moonlight seems to brighten the area considerably.

When the bikes slow down and come to a stop, you freeze at the realization that they’re really about to do this. They’re really REALLY about to crash this party, huh? Your hold around David tightens, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he looks over his shoulder.

Before you can speak your mind, Paul and Marko grab you by the arms and pry them away, essentially yanking you off David’s bike. Naturally, you shout “Watch it!”, and strain to get your arms back.

David steps off his bike. “Relax, didn’t you want to be here?” He seems amused when they chuckle at your pointed look, though you keep quiet. No, you didn’t want to be here... but you knew some people who did before these wild animals had a go at them.

David crumples a dirty map between his hands and exchanges a look with the others. You can’t quite tell what they’re thinking, but you recognize those nefarious smiles. In the blink of an eye, they set their path toward the house with you by their side.

“You know anybody here?” Paul asks, nudging you. The music is louder as you approach the front door.

“No.” You mutter to yourself, though they easily hear you. You don’t recognize the guy passed out in the front lawn, or anyone in the group sitting on the porch. Just as you had done them, the strangers regarded your group with a look of confusion... and perhaps disgust.

“That’s great! Seems like we took care of it.” Paul pushes Marko as they walk and laugh, seemingly unaware of the judgmental looks they’re being given.

“L/N?” One of the guests on the porch questions. You stop to stare at the stranger.

“I’m... sorry?”

“L/N, right? High School, maybe?” He tests again, lifting his drink up to point to you with the same hand. “That might not be it, but I recognize you.”

Paul’s arm drapes over your shoulders before he mumbles right up against your ear with a huff. “Are you a liar?”

You gulp and shake him off. You’re not a liar. High School isn’t the most clear of memories, you had your friends and everyone else was forgettable. Without responding, you look to David, only to find his absence. Actually, all of the boys are missing with the exception of Paul, whose clearly never heard of personal space and replaced his arm back over your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I can’t remember you at all.” You state dryly and pull yourself away from the conversation. Paul follows closely as he cranes his neck and raises his voice to the stranger with a wave of his hand. “See y’a around!”

Wether you recognized him or not, you knew a conversation was worth less than his life. Paul seemed pleased as he pulled you in closer by the arm wrapped around your neck and gave you a solid kiss against your cheek. His lips ghost over your ear while you try to march ahead, but the weight of his arm slows you down.

“David wouldn’t have been as forgiving as me.” He mumbles, giving you a squeeze.

~

The backyard is full of people, none of which you recognize. There’s a loud fire crackling between messily placed lawn chairs and red cups. Music is playing, but it’s not as prominent the further you get from the house, conversations speak over it with little effort and laughs seem to entirely drown out the tunes. A couple social circles seemed to have been formed about. The boys are sat further back, leaning next to a lone row of trees and some coolers. They stick out from the others, they’re so... dirty.

David is sitting on the white and blue cooler with a cigarette between his lips and a flickering lighter in his hand. His attention seems to be drawn to it. Marko is leaning against the tree, observing the crowds with a mischievous smile and Dwayne is watching you like a hawk.

Paul’s hand pushes you forward as you walk past strangers. You’re hesitant and your legs feel stiff as you get closer. People are watching, they’re starting to notice you and the... they’re unwanted guests, they’re strangers, and they’ll quickly become party crashers if they pull anything. If these people didn’t know any better, which they don’t, they’d simply believe these boys were up to no good… but you know things could be far worse.

Paul barely caught it, but your mumbling has never been quiet when you more than obviously wanted someone to listen. You breathe out a simple “I want to go home.” and he huffs out a laugh without indulging the topic further.

You suddenly come to a halt, stopped right in front of David. Your attention is drawn elsewhere at the moment, but you can feel his and the boys’ eyes on you.

“You know them?” David asks. You tense up at the question but, despite it, you steel yourself for the response.

“No... it’s quite the opposite.” Your hand reaches to loosely scratch at your wrist and you talk. “I don’t recognize anyone.”

“But someone recognized you.” David tucks his lighter in his pocket and gestures to Paul, you’re soon shoved forward and land on your knees. You hiss, for good reason too. You think you’ve scraped your knees against some small rocks but... that’s the least of your worries now, being at David’s feet like this is far worse. When he grabs you by your chin, you try to flinch back.

“It’s not the end of the world, either way.” You don’t respond, instead choosing to cast your eyes toward the dirt as he hummed. “Head up, Y/N. You’re the lucky one”.

The lucky one?

“Why? What’s the fucking point, David?!” You snap.

He seems to laugh at you, bringing the almost forgotten cigarette to his lips and sucking in a breath before releasing it against your face. “My boys really like you, Y/N.”

You cough. “N-None of you know me.”

“You’re right.” He sighs, taking another drag of his cigarette but blowing it upwards this time. He shifts in his seat. “We don’t really know you, so why keep you around?”

He’s mocking you but he’s right. They don’t know you, so why do they keep you around? Ultimately, you’re still alive— despite everything that had happened up until this point. And looking around at the unsuspecting party-goers, you can’t help but feel relieved you’d made it this far.

“This isn’t a playground.” You say plainly.

“Little missy’s being snarky.” Paul laughs.

“She’s just being silly. Girls are like that.” David’s other hand reaches and pets your cheek. If you could pull away from the action, you would’ve. But as it stands, you’re in no position to do much of anything besides look away, observing the other guests.

When he unexpectedly grabs your face again, you jump but are easily kept in place as he looks into your eyes... his gaze slowly traces itself down the curve of your nose and to your parted lips. It wouldn’t have worried you, if he wasn’t already beginning to lean in and close the gap between the both of you. Your hands wrap around his wrist tightly as you attempt to jerk out of his grip.

He seems to enjoy your reaction, savouring it before pulling away to laugh along with the others. This is when he lets go, letting you fall back into the dirt and left to scramble yourself off the ground.

You don’t say anything besides the few annoyed huffs, you’re completely silent as you stand. Staring at David, your heart continued to race.

As he hums pleasantly, Dwayne leans toward David’s ear and whispers something to him. Despite not knowing exactly what he’s sharing with him, David’s glance behind you gives you an idea. You turn your head ever so slightly to see what had caught his attention, easily spotting the one set of eyes still looking in your direction: the stranger from the stairs. He’s made himself comfortable with one of the groups outside, but his attention seems to be partially on you.

When you turn back around, David leans in closer with a grin on his face.

“Go talk to him.” he says. You would of loved some freedom, but a loosened leash still tethers it’s victim the same. So you refuse with a shake of your head. “Ah, I see.” David leans back and crosses his ankles. “—but it wasn’t really an offer.” he and the boys laugh, “You waltz over there and talk to him, or nobody gets to go home.”

You think for a second, wondering, but ultimately give yourself no time for a conclusion. With a few hesitant steps, you made your way around the fire pit and toward him. Once you get closer, your eyes glue themselves to his. You can’t recall his name, but you’re sure keeping the conversation short and light would be satisfactory.

But once you’re facing him, you couldn’t trick yourself into speaking.

His friends look at you— he’s looking at you- and yet nobody says a thing. Your mouth hangs open uselessly and the music seems louder now. Before anyone can get a word out, you brush past them and make your way toward the house’s backdoor.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Marko spins you around. You shake his hand off your wrist before exchanging a glance. As you storm back toward the sliding doors, you swear under your breath and remind yourself of how stupid you’re being.

Even so, you walk straight through that open slide door, being followed every step of the way.

Entering the kitchen, you’re alone— seemingly alone. Empty red cups litter the floor and counters, and you have to watch your step as you approach the one phone you’ve seen all night.

You pick it up quickly, pressing buttons to call the first number that popped into your head. As you do, you chew your lip impatiently, holding the phone between your shoulder and your ear. Your heart is racing at the idea of speaking to someone— anyone that isn’t immediately in reach. Yet, as you wait patiently, an overwhelming feeling begins to make itself known to you. It hadn’t been long since you last saw your friends, and the horrid thought of them growing cold where you left them jabs at your chest.

Why isn’t anyone picking up? When you snap back to the present, you try the number again. Though you only then realize the lack of sound from the phone.

You place it down and lift the phone stand.

The line is loose. As you follow it, you find that it had been cut.

“What are you doing?” Someone says from behind you, when you look back, you find yourself alone with the guy from the staircase. He’s uncomfortably close.

“Did you do this?” He says tensely, his eyes blown wide as he grabs the cut cord and examines it closely.

“No- I found it this way.” You hurriedly try to explain. “I just needed to make a call.”

You huff audibly, your face twisting as you observe the plastic casing of the landline.

He looks at you for a second, examining your expression and softening his demeanour.

“It’s alright.” He sighs. “There’s another telephone in my parents’ room.”

You still for a moment, his words seemingly attacking you from all angles as you mumble the first thought that came to mind. “This is your party…?”

“Uh… yeah, who invited you?” He questions with a raised brow.

Mary invited you to her cousin’s party, you repeat to yourself over, and over again. You feel sick, but you keep yourself together in hopes of using the upstairs landline quick.

“Mary. She’s- she’s not here, though.” You gulp, your hands getting clammy as you continue. “She felt sick so she… um.. went back to the… uh, the motel room we got.”

He looks toward the corner of the counter for a minute, thinking, and all the while you’re finding it harder and harder to breathe.

“Tell her to give me a call tomorrow then, yeah? We could get some lunch together and catch up.”

Catch up. You feel sick at the remark, such an innocent activity soured by the fact that she’s nothing more than dead- and they’ll find her in the morning.

Even so, you nod your head and crank a smile, your brows remained furrowed but he smiled back, none the wiser.

He leads you out of the secluded kitchen, through the more than handsy crowded living room, and toward the old carpeted staircase.

~

“Close the lights and door on your way out. Thanks.” He simply states before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

Grabbing the landline, you waste no time in dialling that same number and finally hearing that all-too-sweet ringing. You sat on the bed and sighed, running a hand through your hair as relief washed over you and your composure faltered. Your leg tapped the floor eagerly as you waited.

You were patient, but not this patient. As it kept ringing, your tapping quickened, but it all came to a dead stop when you heard the familiar sound of a line being picked up— the plastic clanking, the subtle huff of someone’s breath- you could almost die…

“Can’t make it to the phone right now, please leave a fun little note after the beep!” … and god did you want to be dead after that one.

You practically threw the handset down onto the dial pad, a cold sweat breaking out at the back of your neck and down your spine. Before long, you picked it back up and tried again.

You had tried it again, and again, and again, and no time was ever different— save for the final straw of your hopeful demeanour. You wanted to desperately shout in frustration, but all you could manage in such a predicament was a simple “Fuck”, muttered almost inaudibly as you threw the handset back down and lifted it one last time.

In the silence that followed this ringing, your stomach dropped. Your hands were steady, somehow, and your breath suddenly slow and shallow. Your head slowly turned itself toward the bedroom’s door.

Right behind that lock and below your feet, it was quiet. You were certain the music had been loud, even when on the top floor and even with four walls and a door in its way. Before the voicemail could sound, you slowly placed the receiver down. Your eyes remained glued to the door, your breath stuck in your throat, and you desperately wished for more time.

In the silence that followed, you had nothing else but your self loathing thoughts. How stupid could you be, to think this was your best outcome. To think— even for a second- you could call your mother, dooming her to the same fate, but get out of this unscathed?

When a harsh gust of wind slammed the window open, your body lunged itself off the bed and toward the bedroom door.

It all happened so quickly, and you felt a close presence follow you down the carpeted steps— which you couldn’t help but wail going down- and followed you to the empty living room.

When you spotted the front door, you would’ve nearly bolted if a hand hadn’t grabbed at your arm and pulled you back. Before you was a face that twisted and mangled itself into something that crawled under your skin. You recognized Marko but blood coated the corners of his mouth, a firm red handprint streaked across his eyes, and it wasn’t something you had wanted to see again. At this exact moment, though you could barely focus on it, the music had resumed. You shrieked.

“Is something wrong?” Marko pulled you snug against him and laughed, and you squirmed at the sight of his sharp teeth and piercing eyes. But hysterically looking elsewhere, you’d finally notice the broken coffee table and fresh blood coating surfaces of the carpet. Following its trails as Marko eagerly pawed at you, you’d finally come to notice the bodies. There were streaks of blood leading to the kitchen— toward the backdoor, and you’re horrified by the putrid smell that meets your senses.

You tugged yourself away, desperate and violently, and Marko seemed to just let go.

Your back hit the couch unceremoniously before you scrambled back to your feet and continued your sprint toward the exit.

You nearly ripped the door off it’s hinges with how quickly you yanked it open. Next were the few familiar steps of the house, which you entirely skipped by leaping off the front porch and bracing for impact by bending your knees. Despite knowing how to fall, your ankles still stung from the action— but you kept running, that’s the important part. You kept running as fast as you could, as far as you could. The field around the house seemed like the only way to go, if you wanted a chance at not being immediately caught, but nothing could have prepared you for the tall plants which nipped and clung to your limbs or the unsteady ground below.

You fall face first into the dirt and swear you swallowed over a handful as you cough out your lungs and continue forward all at once. Loose dirt gives way below your shoes, yet your determination motivates you to move forward.

The mushy soil is slowing you, and you’re growing more frustrated every step.

The plants reach just above you as you continue to run, you shake your legs free from their tangled grips every chance you get, though the rub burns left behind have you sobbing to the open world… your desperation claws at them as you continue to run through the tall grass.

Before long, a heavy weight comes crashing down on you, dragging you forward through the dirt as you try to soften the blow before an eruption of laughter comes next.

“Caught ya.” Dwayne says in a playful tone you’d never quite heard from him before. They’re all hovering above you now, even as your face is casted down and watching the soil, your ears don’t lie so easily.

You’re flipped around and as a last line of defence, though very stupid in hindsight, you cup your hand and throw dirt at your assailants. Dwayne flinches away, clenches his fists. He looks at you with a frustrated huff before almost pouncing back— but David grabs his forearm and anchors him.

“Don’t worry about it.” David says. “Everything sorts itself out in the end.”

David’s hand then comes up to his own face and gently takes the cigarette from between his lips, his stare never wavers. They’re fixed intensely on you, just as he lets out a calm and steady breath… he watches your every move with interest.

Behind him, you notice a light and your eyes blow wide at the realization. Fire reaches up into the sky and smog clouds out the moon too perfectly. You’re stunned for a moment as you reel yourself back into the moment. You can almost smell the searing flesh from here and, as the fire encapsulates the house, you morbidly wonder if anyone had been left alive.

Breathing smoke out into the sky, David smirks. “You get along with the ground so well.” he says, and his boys seem to find it funny.

[snacc-noir]

Hello! For your prompt thing, maybe 3G? 👉👈 Please and thank you! 💜💜💜

3. “Babe! There you are!” “B-babe?”

G. Enemies AU

Adrienette I love u sm I was hoping someone would pick this combination

-

One of the many hair-pulling qualities of Adrien is his knack for surprises.

He’s the human (that’s still up for debate) embodiment of cold showers and other unpleasant sensations, like the moment when you run off to transform into Ladybug and the golden mop of hair and hostile glance is there—

And he’s always there, lurking in the corner of the locker room or somewhere during an akuma attack, withering at Marinette like their reoccurring inauspicious meetings are her fault;

like it’s his attempts to save the city that have been thwarted.

The audacity.

It’s the core of their not-so-friendly rivalry -- the evil reoccurring coincidence that drives Marinette (9/10 times friendly person and secretly Ladybug Marinette) insane. In fact, she doesn’t think there‘s anything left for the God-sculpted creation (he‘s hot - Insufferable, but hot. Her pride isn’t that loud) to do that can add to her ‘Why Adrien Agreste is a Nuisance’ list.

Oh, but how wrong she is.

“Babe! There you are!”

A second. A long second; a second where there’s confusion, conclusion, and confusion again. Marinette’s once-coolly leaning figure rests on the outskirts of their indoor basketball courts, hanging jaw formally chewing gum.

But now instead of watching a fanmade video about Chat Noir, she’s watching Adrien approach her with a beguiling smile (there’s no way that’s directed at her) and Miss Bustier a step shorter.

“B-babe?”

He slings an arm around her shoulders like he’s (never) done before, and she’s too frozen to react. “Sorry, I didn’t tell her we were doing this,” he tells their teacher, ignoring the gobsmacked expression to his left. “Look, Marinette, we’ve been caught.”

“Caught?!”

“Caught is right.” He construes the origin of her volume to match his sick role-play. “Miss Bustier keeps noticing us leaving together during akuma attacks and coming back at the same time from the same spots. Not to mention,” he says with a grin she had believed was saved to taunt her - then she realises that may as well be what he’s doing, “leaving for the bathroom at the same time—”

He winks.

Marinette looks up at him, disgust pulling the corner of her mouth. The confusion wears off and her thoughts sprint. Her lashes tremor at Miss Bustier as she reads her, but there’s only so much you can gage from a thin smile and clasped hands.

Then Adrien’s words catch up.

That’s her running off to be Ladybug.

That’s all her crafted lies and scheduled escapes so she can capture akuma with her dearest partner.

And Adrien’s been confronted about his tag-alongs to her escapades — and veiled it by the synthetic guise that they’re dating.

Oh he is not going there.

“Actually—”

His fingers are clipped to her waist, the soft pressure flaming her senses as he presses them in warning. She notices the way his lean figure is taped to her in their mutually loathed side-hug.

Then he re-freezes her by lowering his head, pushing back the dark lock of hair near her ear and hovering his lips in a gesture that jolts her heart up her throat. There, beside her skin, a warm, threatening whisper slices through her:

“Watch yourself. This benefits you.”

She swallows.

“Marinette, you can tell me,” Miss Bustier finally speaks. “I understand that your occasional arguments might cause a dent in your relationship. I actually confronted Adrien with my theory because I want to help you both overcome this negative tension. I know you work so well together.”

Ha!

She has no idea.

The Marinette stills. If she denies this nightmare, what’s left to make of their eerie timing in running off and coming back? How else can she explain walking out of a closet two minutes after Adrien?

Although she doesn’t understand Adrien’s reasons, there’s no way she’s about to unravel her superhero secret.

“Uh—” Marinette starts, “—Yes, I, um, we just didn’t want anyone to know. Especially since we’ve been pretty rocky since the start.”

Miss Bustier nods, a sympathetic look warming her face. She rubs Marinette’s shoulder and smiles.

“And that’s okay! I know you two have a lot of potential to make this relationship work, and I’m here for you!” Her joy blindsides her to the two grimaces before her. “You know, after I got into yoga I did a lot of training for relationship therapy for all kinds. I promise not to inform your other classmates if we can get you two sorted with some sessions.”

This—

This literally can’t get any worse.

Adrien’s grip on her waist squeezes, eliciting her to jerk a little closer in his side. They force tight smiles back at their teacher.

“That would be really great, actually. I think we need it,” Adrien says politely. “Right, babe.”

She stifles the cough. “Yeah, uh, sweetie.”

“That’s wonderful! I know it’ll be worth it. Those arguments will be gone in no time!”

Marinette squints, relapsing what on earth just happened as their teacher waltzes away. There aren’t even eyes on the other side of the court looking their way. It’s just her, Adrien, and their lack of distance.

She jumps away.

“Why’d you tell her that?!”

“Hey, I was saving your butt, too,” he snaps. “Why do you even follow me everywhere in the first place!?”

“You follow me.”

“That is not true! I have reasons for where I go!”

“Oh yeah?” She rises on her tiptoes, threatened by their height difference. “Well so do I!”

“Name one!”

“You name one!”

They fall into a terrible silence. Their jaws harden and their posture tenses. Their gazes entwine like an impossible knot.

A second. A long second.

“Whatever,” he breaks the tension, “see you at couple therapy.”

As Adrien - beautifully detested Adrien with his model walk and lean grace - struts away, Marinette sobers, clears the heat in mind, and glares him down.

She will find out his reasons. And she will prove they’re as insignificant as the way her heart swells at his attractive grin he throws her direction.

Honestly. The audacity.

[vindelllas]

the beauty of jyeshta 🐇🏹:

🐇 alexa demie: jyeshta surya

*TW// i do discuss a few triggering topics i.e. abuse and drugs. some of the jyeshta natives i exhibit and talk about are known for terrible behavior and scandals. i do not condone their offensive and ignorant behavior. they are simply being shown to solidify my opinions on the nature of this nakshatra*

as you read this post, please listen to this jyeshta playlist i made for the full experience: https://open.spotify.com/user/a95141rv0vjdg8lqcggilvcxm/playlist/3gzS9sXWs71yb2i9EiBhSY?si=xtP4mnRnR7ahXfN09KwiRw

🏹 they key to unearthing the energies of jyeshta lie in studying it’s associative deities. before we dive down the rabbit hole of the jyeshta nakshatra, let us understand the representative mahavidya of buddha. it is traditionally believed that the tantric goddess tripura sundari is associated with buddha. tripura sundari is also known as the goddess shodashi. the goddess shodashi is said to be the most beautiful in all three worlds. the goddess shodashi is also known as lalita and rajarajeshwari. lalita means “the one who plays” and rajarajeshwari means “queen of queens”. the tantric goddess tripura sundari is a form of mahalakshmi and, therefore, symbolizes wealth and abundance. according to tripura sundari’s dhyana mantra, her complexion radiates with the light of the rising sun. she emanates a rosy color which is representative of her joy, compassion, and illumination.

🌌 tripura sundari is depicted with four arms and holds five arrows of flowers (remember this number for later), a noose, a goad and sugarcane for the use of a bow. her holding a noose represents attachment, the goad represents repulsion, the sugarcane bow represents the mind, and the arrows are the five sense objects. in the sakta tantra, she is depicted as the supreme mother who uses the gods as her instruments of passion. with the aid of the instruments of passion, she presides over the creation, sustainability, and destruction of the universe—the three phases of life. she overlooks the layers of our shadow states, self-concealment and self-revelation, that lie in-between these three phases of life (bhoo, bhuva, and swa). self-concealment is the predisposition to actively conceal from others personal information that one perceives as distressing or negative. self-revelation revelation of one's own thoughts, feelings, and attitudes especially without deliberate intent.

🔥tripura sundari represents the state of awareness that is called “sadasivatattva”. this state of sadasivatattva is said to be based on the belief that “i am this” (aham idam). that, as we evolve through our cosmic destinies, we have an outward flow of consciousness, or pravritti. spiritual practice reverses our state of physical consciousness and cause us to revert to our true being. the action of coming back to our origin and finding attainment within, is a theme of jyeshta’s scorpio rashi itself, the sign of realization. it is the divine understanding that our experiences in this universe lie within the unity of consciousness itself.

🌳many believe that tripura sundari is the beauty that precedes the three worlds. that she is divinity in its infinite meanings, embodying the different aspects of the phenomenal world. tripura sundari is the beauty that we see in the world around us. she is the beauty we find in everywhere we look. modeling the captivating beauty of tripura sundari, jyeshtas naturally are externally perceived as beautiful beings who, solely with their appearances, draw the collective desires of hearts deep within. this is the essence of jyeshta’s features. they enshroud you with an abundance of beauty and over-stimulate your senses to near exhaustion. because jyeshta is symbolized by the jewel or earrings, they adorn their features with jewels and sparkling products to appear otherworldly. most notably, jyeshta natives seem to pay great attention to the forehead, neck, skin, and tongue (as buddha is said to rule these facial features). jyeshtas love to particularly adorn themselves in gold chains (i.e. jyeshta native nicki minaj and her extensive gold chain collection). remember that scorpio is co-ruled by ketu, which is remedied by brihaspati (who is remedied by gold). so the adornment of gold will be very prevalent and calming to these natives.

🐇 fka twigs: jyeshta chandra

👅another interesting characteristic of jyeshta is tongue piercings. because buddha rules the tongue and scorpio rules the blood, we see these natives naturally have quite a great deal of emphasis in their tongue area. they are inclined to/consider piercing their tongues. some examples of this are, willow smith (jyeshta shukra atmakaraka) who infamously got a tongue piercing at eleven-years-old. christina aguilera (jyeshta buddha atmakaraka) had a tongue piercing during her most notably “promiscuous” time frame in her career (aka her “dirrty” years). in the movie “thirteen”, evan rachel wood (jyeshta shani 1H) plays a young girl who gets her tongue pierced as a sign of rebellion. one thing you will notice about these jyeshta natives is that they are always under scrutiny for the changes they make to their body. however, the vimshottari buddha-ruled nakshatras embrace rebellion in the gandanta knot of deadly restriction. after all, mercury was named “the trickster” himself. this correlates back to the trickster archetype of poking out your tongue to make fun of another person. jyeshta natives most frequently pierce their tongues as a clap back to societal standards or parental authority. in this sense, they are quite literally sticking out their tongue for the purpose of mockery. these natives also prefer sticking out their tongues in photography. examine the common photos of jyeshta natives like princess nokia, nicki minaj, and rosalía (jyeshta lagna). you will notice they prefer to playfully stick out their tongue when around others. in the bible, it states “death and life are in the power of the tongue” (proverbs 18:21). meaning the tongue can either be used as a weapon to harm and destroy others or as a tool to build and heal. this is the common unraveling of jyeshta...

♏️ jyeshta lies in the final portion of scorpio. scorpio’s ruling planet is kuja, the mahavidya associated with kuja is bagalamukhi. bagalamukhi is commonly referred to as “the goddess who seizes the tongue”. once, a demon named madan undertook austerities and won the boon of vak siddhi. anything the demon said came to be true. the demon abused this power and killed many people. the gods were enraged by the demon’s wrongdoings, so they began to worship bagalamukhi to invoke her help. baglamukhi stopped the demon by taking hold of his tongue, which was the source of all mischief, and silenced his words. however, she did not kill the demon, because he asked to be worshipped with her and she agreed. this is why the demon is depicted with her. she is repeatedly portrayed with holding the demon’s tongue with a club in her other hand. by stopping the demon's tamasic tongue, she exercised her power over speech and her power to freeze, stun, or paralyze others.

🔪 bagalamukhi is also associated with magical powers, which can sometimes be referred to as siddhis, "accomplishments" or "perfections." among her epithets in her hymn of a thousand names are she who gives the eight siddhis. the invocation written around the edge of an amulet containing her yantra in the tantrasara states: "o bagalamukhi, please arrest the speech of wicked people, paralyze their faces, fix their tongues and destroy their intellect."

⚫️while jyeshtas are fond of displaying and emphasizing their tongues from a physical standpoint, this emphasis does not stop here. as you may have noticed, most of the jyeshtas featured in this thread have gotten into some serious scandals and allegations. for example, jyeshta natives like nicki minaj who married a s*xual abuser/predator, tyra banks (jyeshta surya) and her many blackface scandals, sabrina claudio who has said many offensive racial slurs, brigitte bardot who was known to be heavily racist and abusive to her child, naomi campbell who has been linked to epstein, etc.. their interviews and words are often misconstrued and taken to the extreme, as the public takes every word of their’s as the truth, much like madan (who had the power to speak things into existence). because every word these natives say is treated as the truth, they become either hindered or freed by this power. jyeshta’s have the ability to thrive in the dark abyss of scorpio and yield their words to sway the minds of others.

💎we see the public grasping jyeshtas by the tongue, much like the tantric goddess baglamukhi, and holding on to every word they say. valuing the belief that the powers of life and death lie within the words we speak. once the dark abyss consumes a jyeshta native and they no longer rely on the glamour of the tongue, we truly see how flawed and sorrowful their lives can be (despite their abundant beauty).

🐇 sabrina claudio: jyeshta chandra

💔 jyeshta means “the eldest" or "the elder". she is the goddess of inauspicious happenings and misfortune. as her sanskrit name suggests, she is regarded as the elder sister of lakshmi (the goddess of good fortune and beauty). unfortunately, jyeshta is frequently associated with sinning, laziness, poverty, sorrow, ugliness and the crow. because of her inauspiciousness and crow symbolism, she is sometimes associated with alakshmi. due to jyeshta representing the bad wife and lakshmi representing the good wife, jyeshta is often worshiped for women who wish to keep her away from their homes, as she is said to cause marital disturbances.

🌊 most astrologers agree that jyestha's birth took place during the churning of the cosmic ocean. she was said to be born when the poison, halala, flows from the ocean, while her sister, lakshmi, is born when the elixer of life emerges. symbolic of jyeshta being in the debilitation rashi of chandra, modeling the shadow state of the new moon. whereas, lakshmi is symbolic of the plump, elxir-like full moon that lies in the exaltation rashi of chandra: taurus.

🌀 based on the linga purana, vishnu divided the world into the good and the bad. he created lakshmi and jyestha, both born from the same origin of the cosmic ocean churning. lakshmi marries vishnu, but jyestha is married to the sage dussaha. dussaha soon discovers that his jyeshta (described as his “ugly wife”) cannot bear her senses being exposed to any auspicious things. he then complained to vishnu or the sage markendeya (depending on the version). vishnu (or markendeya) recommended he take jyestha only to inauspicious places. jyestha is told to stay away from religious people. it is at this point, jyeshta became described as the "one who is inauspicious". dussaha became tired of her anti-social nature and abandoned jyestha in a place where heretical rituals are performed. jyeshta then sought out vishnu for relief. vishnu decreed that jyestha would be sustained by offerings of women who wish to keep jyeshta’s presence from homes.

⚔️ like the goddess jyeshta, jyeshta natives spend life lost and surrounded by inauspicious people and environments. they stick out like the symbolic jewel they are, moving around from one place to another. while we see jyeshta natives being intrinsic and extremely self-focused and determined, much like the antisocial jyeshta goddess, they feel at home in their wanderlust lifestyle. as their nakshatra yoni is the hare, an animal who is always on the run and quick-footed. the hare is always prepared to run from dangerous environments, which they frequently find themselves entangled in. they can quickly become surrounded by harmful environments like drugs, unhealthy relationships, and demonic presences. for example, jim morrison (jyeshta surya) was infamous for his hard partying lifestyle, filled with fast money, sexual pursuits, and hard drugs, as the bunny always craves more stimulation. but jyeshtas know how to use their gifts, their charming words and beauty, to their total advantage. buddha is considered to be the quick, discriminating intellect. this is why buddha’s overruler is vishnu (“the maintainer”). vishnu maintained a source for jyeshta to channel and tried to solve her marital issues. buddha needs the sandpaper-like energy of vishnu to buff out and refine the rigid nature of buddha. with buddha’s intellectual mastery and scorpio being symbolic of the motivation and ability to work on ourselves and to help transform others, we see these natives eventually learning from the unfortunate circumstances of jyeshta and growing to surpass even the three worlds (like tripura sundari).

🐇 sevdaliza: jyeshta chandra

⛓because jyeshta is described as the “bad wife” and scorpio is associated with the dusthana house of obstacles (eighth house), we frequently see jyeshta natives personify their issues with love and self-perception in their songs. in the chorus of “girl like me” by alexa demie (jyeshta surya), she sings: i think i need a present, man. i’m just out here doin' the best i can. you think a girl like me gon' be single for long. your wrong. you think a girl like me gon' be trippin' for long. dead wrong. you think a girl like me, goddess like me, gon' be trippin', you'll see with a girl like me.”. demie’s song describes a woman who was once mistreated in her past relationships and learned to embody the natural goddess she is and not settle for the inadequacies of her past lovers. she learned from her sorrowful and toxic past relationships (like the goddess jyeshta) and recognized her worth (the evolved state of the eighth house). this is similar to the character alexa played in “euphoria”. she played a teen in a broken and abusive relationship who continuously kept perpetuating the cycle of inauspiciousness and eventually learned to step back and realize the amount of harm she has experienced. in the song, “ego death” (starring skrillex, possibly jyeshta chandra) we hear fka twigs (jyeshta chandra) sing: i let my ego down and then I rise back up. i let my ego down and then I'll be stronger. i’m armed, to let a sucker step up and get bombed. by a beat created by my producer, i am losin' my mind 'cause your heart's so blind. when you left me outside, i’d be losin' my mind. i am losin' my mind 'cause your heart's so blind. when you left me outside, i'd be losin' my mind. it’s gonna cost you to be great. you will have to sacrifice something to be great.”. again, we see the jyeshta native falling into the cycle of mistreatment and harm and learning her worth. she eventually grasps the concept of sacrifice and realization. she thrusts herself into the purifying abyss of scorpio and hopes to never turn back. recently, fka twigs came forward and discussed the abuse she faced at the hands of her ex partner. in a recent interview with “elle”, fka twigs strongly told her story to the reporter and spoke with passion and truth. in the song “human” by sevdaliza (jyeshta chandra), she sings “been in and out. and in front of my judgmental eyes, my precious disguise. business so cold. can’t cope with my own. how to not fail.”. in the entire song, sevdaliza realizes the cold disguise she once possessed, only to peel back the layers to find a mere human. a flawed being predestined for a life of more flaws. she finds artful peace in knowing this. in the music video for “human”, she is depicted as a temptress who lures men. she embodies the conscious choice of mastering buddha’s trickery. instead of breaking away from the cycle, sevdaliza finds enjoyment in inauspiciousness. this correlates to the dull state of the new moon.

☂ the umbrella is said to represent jyeshta. it is reflective of jyeshta’s state of reflecting what other’s project onto them. the full moon is associated with receptivity and harnessing light/energy. scorpio is the debilitation of chandra, as is cancer is the debilitation of kuja, because the energies of kuja and chandra oppose each other. kuja is rigid, hard, powerful, and tamasic. chandra is fluid, malleable, inward, and auspicious. with scorpio’s kuja rulership, we see jyeshtas acting cold and distant when they become used to harmful environments and develop the coping mechanism of allowing other’s energies to bounce off of them, much like how an umbrella protects you from the rain. rain is also symbolic of nourishment and bountiful energy, as it nourishes all the beings on this planet. this is why water is linked to feminine energy. in scorpio, a water sign, we see kuja blocking the receptivity associated with water and jyeshta bestowing this receptivity when it’s time. only when the jyeshta native distances themselves from a life of strife and never-ending cycles of abuse, may they learn to close their figurative umbrella and swim in the rain of multiple emotions and influences. an example of the symbolism of the umbrella is elle driver (played by jyeshta native daryl hannah) in “kill bill”. as she walks down the hospital hallway to kill the bride, she is adorned in a nurse costume and has an unopened red umbrella in her hand. the unopened umbrella represents her allowing the floodgates of outer influences to open. she no longer cares about her perception and is shown in her rawest form. she is no longer the illusionary and illusive character who hides in scorpio’s mystery. she is now revealed to be an evil cut throat being. the umbrella’s red color is symbolic of kuja and denotes her revealing her true tamasic nature and her carrying the collective blood of her enemies.

🐇 nicki minaj: jyeshta surya

🌩 the deity who rules the jyeshta nakshatra is indra. he is the deity of lightning, thunder, and rain. he is considered to be the king of all gods and heaven. indra rules the sky and and wields the power of rain as his weapon. he is also considered to be the god of battle. prior to each of his battles, he drank a vast amounts of soma. soma is a divine juice that strengthens him to accomplish his deeds in combat. it is he who defeated the serpent vritra who had swallowed all the waters of the world spurring a tumultuous drought. indra split the belly of the serpent with his thunderbolt, releasing the waters and generating life. by killing the serpent, indra separated land from ocean, and caused the sun to rise (this act of land separation is comparable to the god zeus and the christian god). indra slicing the belly of the serpent, recalls how jyeshtas must retire their umbrella to generate life in their lives. however, there is another item they will find to be particularly important during their journey in this lifetime.

🧿 every jyeshta i have ever met holds at least some significance for a form of the talisman. this is because jyeshta is also symbolized by the talisman/evil eye. this all correlates to jyeshta being the cosmic jewel, the shiny emerald who captivates their truest beauty. it’s green color honors the symbolism of buddha and is reminiscent of the blue or green evil eye. the concept of the evil eye exists in many cultures from hinduism to islam to turkey.

🔮 the overall concept of the talisman is called "apotropaic" (which is greek for "turns away"). talismans are believed to turn away or turn back harm, like an umbrella, bouncing off the influencing waters. disks or balls, consisting of concentric blue and white circles are generally representative of the evil eye in common talismans in west asia. however, this emblem is most commonly found in turkish cultures. this blue or green eye can also be found on some forms of the hamsa hand (which is also known to ward the evil eye of others). The word hamsa, also spelled as khamsa and hamesh, means "five" which refers to the fingers of the hand.

🤚🏽 in jewish culture, the hamsa is called the hand of miriam/mary and, in some muslim cultures, the “the hand of fatima” (fatima being the daughter of the prophet muhammad). it is primarily the muslims in the near east and mediterranean regions that believe envious looks can contain destructive power. the talismanic power of the nazar defends against this destructive energy. this is why the pure virgin mary or fatima is said to ward off these negative influences, recalling baglamukhi who was called to aid the other deities in the slaying of the demon.

🥚 the evil eye also heavily exists in hispanic and latinx cultures. it is referred to as the 'mal de ojo' and it is very prevalent in spanish culture throughout history. in most of mexico and central america, infants are considered at special risk for the mal de ojo and are often given an amulet bracelet as protection. this amulet bracelet typically contains an eye-like dot painted on the amulet. to also ward against the mal de ojo, it is customary to allow admirers to touch the infant or child. one popular traditional cure in my old hometown and in parts of central or south america involves a curandero (otherwise known as a folk healer). the curandero sweeps a raw chicken egg over the body of a victim to absorb the power of the person with the evil eye. once this is finished, the egg is later broken into a glass with water and placed under the bed of the patient near the head. it is usually checked immediately to see if the broken egg appears cooked. if this happens, it means that the patient did have the mal de ojo. after this ritual is completed, any pains or sickness from the mal de ojo is ceased. the concept of the egg is also closely linked to the bunny (jyeshta’s yoni) in some european cultures. most notably, the easter bunny.

🐰 easter is a religious holiday, but a great deal of its american customs are linked to pagan traditions. the egg itself is an ancient symbol of new life/re-birth. it has been associated with pagan festivals celebrating spring. many christians view easter eggs as a representation of jesus’ emergence from the tomb and resurrection. in orthodox christianity, it is traditional to have ‘the octave of easter’, essentially an eight day celebration of easter. during this celebration, the surya usually moves from revati (the final nakshatra) to ashwini (the first nakshatra). before i continue any further, i am not the first one to find this correlation, i believe the lovely @/shravishtamoo and @/365chimera were the first to talk about this on twitter. out of respect for not taking credit for their work, i will only lightly graze over this topic and solely share my opinion on this.

🌸 revati is under the vimshottari dasha rulership of buddha and the aries rashi of ashwini is ruled by kuja. kuja is overruled by bhumi, the cosmic mother or earth goddess. bhumi is usually depicted with four arms, holding a pomegranate, a water vessel, a bowl containing healing herbs, and another bowl containing vegetables. she is sometimes depicted with two hands, the right hand holding a blue lotus known as kumuda or utpala, the night lotus, while the left hand may be in the abhayamudra, this is a pose meant to mimic the tail of a horse. bhumi is symbolic of the cosmic flourishment. her pomegranate, healing herbs, and water vessel are symbolic of the fruitful tides and nature of the cosmic mother. much like how easter is linked to the pagan festival/celebration of the spring equinox (the day the surya enters into tropical aries). ashwini is the birth of the nakshatras, but bharani is considered to be the cosmic yoni. bhumi’s stance represents the horse ashwini and the cosmic egg. as bharani represents inward fertility, like the ripe pomegranate and cooling, feminine waters of the yoni. whereas, jyeshta, who is also ruled by kuja (rashi-wise), models this seemingly fertile abundance on the surface. like how the octave of easter combines the energy of buddha and kuja, we see this internal need to ascend their constant negativity, like how jesus died and arose from the death. jesus was betrayed and beaten brutally, similar to how many jyeshtas will find themselves continuously hurt by others. i understand this may sound redundant but look at the jyeshta goddess, baglamukhi, indra, tripura sundari, the octave of easter, and bhumi. they all required ascension, forgiveness or rebirth, which are necessary when such a tamasic planet like kuja and poltergeist-like spirit of buddha operate in their shadow state.

even bunny-like formations have been known to pop up on the planet mars itself: https://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/mars/images/odyssey-image_feature_295.html

🐇 naomi campbell: jyeshta chandra

5️⃣ the number 5 is very important and reoccurring in the lives of jyeshta natives. the number five is said to be representative of buddha. as you have read through this post, you will notice the number five has reoccurred constantly. such as, tripura sundari’s five bows, the five-finger hamsa symbol, jyeshta natives like mick jagger and jay-z who are both life path 5s, and even some of the jyeshta names i have included in this thread total to the number five (such as, nicki/onika = 5 and tyra lynne banks = 14 = 1+4 = 5). because this number is symbolic of buddha, this number is said to denote intelligence, constant changes, and business success. however, the number five primarily shows a free-spirited and lucky nature. this is why the number sequence of five is said to be incredibly auspicious. i would like to focus on the fifth book of the bible: deuteronomy, a book filled with rebellion and imposing laws. a quote i think particularly describes jyeshta is deuteronomy 28-14: “If you fully obey the lord your god and carefully follow all his commands I give you today, the lord your god will set you high above all the nations on earth. all these blessings will come upon you and accompany you if you obey the lord your god: you will be blessed in the city and blessed in the country. the fruit of your womb will be blessed, and the crops of your land and the young of your livestock – the calves of your herds and the lambs of your flocks. your basket and your kneading trough will be blessed. you will be blessed when you come in and blessed when you go out. the lord will grant that the enemies who rise up against you will be defeated before you. they will come at you from one direction but flee from you in seven. the lord will send a blessing on your barns and on everything you put your hand to. the lord your god will bless you in the land he is giving you. the lord will establish you as his holy people, as he promised you on oath, if you keep the commands of the lord your god and walk in his ways. then all the peoples on earth will see that you are called by the name of the lord, and they will fear you. the lord will grant you abundant prosperity – in the fruit of your womb, the young of your livestock and the crops of your ground – in the land he swore to your forefathers to give you. the lord will open the heavens, the storehouse of his bounty, to send rain on your land in season and to bless all the work of your hands. you will lend to many nations but will borrow from none. the lord will make you the head, not the tail. if you pay attention to the commands of the lord your god that I give you this day and carefully follow them, you will always be at the top, never at the bottom. do not turn aside from any of the commands i give you today, to the right or to the left, following other gods and serving them.”. essentially, if you follow the teachings of your deity (operating in your light state), you will reap the bountiful crops of spiritual abundance and find freedom within (the theme of 5 in vedic teachings). the outer influences of others will no longer affect your inner being. jyeshta becomes the flowing waters of indra and bhumi, abundant in the freedom these natives onced crave. while jyeshtas appear to have an abundance of freedom, as they continuously bounce from one situation to another, it is insincere if they do not learn how to alter their surroundings, set boundaries, and learn to love again, reminiscent of the number four.

4️⃣ another number jyeshtas see quite frequently is the number four. the number four is said to be ruled by rahu, the head of the serpent god. recall in the aforementioned bible quote, “the lord will make you the head, not the tail”. this is the essence of the number four. it symbolizes the need for/ability of staying grounded, stability, worldly achievements, and secrecy. buddha was said to be one of the only deities to tame rahu. when a number of the nature of four occurs in a jyeshta’s life, it means the native must learn to tame their inner being and focus on staying grounded and not share their accomplishments with others. as discussed previously, buddha-ruled natives struggle with the immense power of their tongues. because they are able to have their words believed by the masses, if they say they will do something and it does not happen it brings a great deal of distrust around them. the art of secrecy is said to be something rahu thrives in, due to his natural illusionary background. embracing the illusion will help them ward the evil eye, with or without an amulet or talisman. if these natives do not share their plans or accomplishments, others cannot impose their hatred or jealousy against that native.

9️⃣ it is interesting to note that once the number of freedom (5) and secrecy/achievements (4) come together, they make 9. nine is the number representative of kuja. nine denotes strength, leadership, knowledge, and fire. it is a number described as “a man who walks with the torch of intelligence [buddha], in a road full of blood stains [kuja], not seeing the snake below his feet [rahu].”. modeling the fiery and strong spirit of indra, slaying great beasts in battle, much like how the owl is one of the only animals to beat the snake into submission (rahu).

🐇 mädchen amick: jyeshta surya

🦉 recall from the earlier paragraphs, jyeshta is considered to be linked to the goddess lakshmi (the sister of jysheta’s comparative goddess: alakshmi). lakshmi is depicted as sitting on an owl. this owl is why jyeshta is associated with the supernatural owl. owls are said to symbolize knowledge, wisdom, and dread. the owl is also closely linked to the dawn of death and misery. the differences of the spiritual associations of the owl is symbolic of the axis of jyeshta/alakshmi and lakshmi. due to their rare and majestic nature, many cultural myths associate owls with the presence of a higher being, such as guardians, spiritual guides, and vahanas. their ominous hoot is an anamnesis of being lost in a dark forest reeking of danger and the scent of pine. the owl may either be your beacon of light, carrying the auspicious powers of lakshmi into your life, or bringing detrimental, loss and death to your dearest beloved.

🐦 the name of lakshmi’s vahana owl is known as uluka. uluka is considered to be another name for lord indra (the deity ruling jyeshta). the combination of the goddess of wealth (lakshmi) and the king of heaven (indra) personifies the auspicious, wealthy, and powerful spirit linked to the owl. because the owl dwells in the night, it is also a symbol of the darkness of ignorance (avidya). the owl’s aversion towards the daytime is indicative of turning away from the solar path to embrace the feminine forestry of the night. the is why lakshmi is said to guide one to open the eyes to the light of wisdom residing within themselves. she is said to guide you to the goddess saraswati, who is said to rule our knowledge, alphabet, and the tongue (recall jyeshtas penchant for the tongue). uluka becomes lakshmi’s vahana when she blesses wealth and prosperity. the owl asks of lakshmi’s devotees to not be trapped by the illusions of wealth (444), warning against the dangers of arrogance and stressing discipline. when her wealth is used by humans for inauspicious activities, one is said to be blinded, like owl who can longer tolerate the bright rays of surya. it is then uluka embraces the antithesis of the axis and becomes a bird of ill omen flying the goddess of alakshmi around to your door-step, bringing darkness, disgrace, inauspiciousness and misfortune.

🏔 the show “twin peaks” is heavily influenced by the jyeshta nakshatra, as approximately 25% of it’s cast and four directors have prominent jyeshta placements (surya, chandra, lagna, or atmakarala). it centers around a small logging town filled with murder. in this show, nothing is as it seems, intuition is valued, and your dreams guide you. a common phrase in the show is: “the owls are not what they seem”. in the show, there appears to be two paranormal realms, the black lodge and the white lodge. these realms correlate to the lodge spirits, who are unable have physical bodies. because of this, they are limited in the ways they can travel outside the lodges and usually require a host/vessel. while other spirits exist in various mediums, like wood, electricity, and running water.

⛰ the owls are said to be a physical medium of the watchful eyes of the lodge spirits. the owls are theorized to control the entire narrative of the story, invoking harm or bliss. they serve as a barrier and channel between the illusionary twin peaks and the deeply uneasy spiritual lodge realms. in the show, they literally serve as a mask to cover the face of a harmful spirit. thus, the owls are not what they seem. they may channel the deity they please and bring the essence of lakshmi or alakshmi to your door.

♟the owls are reminiscent of the nature of scorpio. scorpio is representative of the eighth house of the zodiac. with kuja being it’s rashi lord, we see a strong amount of strength, energy, achievements and inheritance in the lives of these natives. because scorpio is the watery dusthana, they have a strong intuitive nature when they let their guard down. in twin peaks, you will see many characters try to appear strong when, in reality, they are some of the weakest and sensitive characters in the whole show. an example of this is shelly (played by jyeshta native mädchen amick). shelly married an abusive man who expected her to only do domestic chores and be subservient. she tries to appear fine and cover the bruises to protect her other lover, but quickly her illusion is shattered. she becomes lost and scared, only to regain her confidence via her other partner. another possible jyeshta co-star, kimmy robertson (who played lucy), struggles with handling her romantic endeavors and is quite stubborn. once she feels she has met the right partner, her stubborn nature corrodes like a boulder chipping away from a cliff, only to reveal a sweet, pleasant waterfall of love. due to the scorpio rashi’s strong intuition, they generally have fixed ideas and tend to relentlessly follow them out of faith in their perception of the unknown. the deputy chief (played by jyeshta buddha atmakaraka native michael horse) is known for following his intuition and, due to this, he eventually ends up saving the lives of many others. scorpios also tend to value a small, close-knit friend group. we see the small town of twin peaks frequently coming together to help each other in need.

🌟 the eighth house is associated with the unveiling of deep secrets. this is why scorpios feel the immense need to get to the state of raw purity (the cosmic egg) to examine the situation in it’s purest form. throughout the entire series, mysteries are repeatedly being discovered and solved. however, these mysteries do not solely require the analytical mind. they also require the help and guidance of outside and unexplainable sources. in order to solve these mysteries, you must channel the nature of the owl to evaluate both sides. the eighth house/scorpio is also said to rule the genitals, whereas, kuja is said to heavily influence the sexual organs. in the entire show, sexual pursuits, pr*stitution, and kundalini energy is rampant. sexual energy abundance and accumulation is the cause of adoration. this is why we see jyeshta natives, like the fictional character holli would, nicki minaj, or fka twigs, exciting the sexual passion within others and enticing the masses with their trickster nature. you will often notice many jyeshta (and other buddha/kuja natives) natives create a great deal of sexualized content to express their untamable and playful skill. they embody indra in combat and wield their bodies like a cosmic sword, exciting the virility in others with their sharp nature. however, jyeshta natives do not care for pleasing the average partner, they wish to dominate them with their seemingly submissive nature. they thrive in an environment of underestimation and want you to assume they are a surreal illusion. much like the ashlesha nakshatra, jyeshtas are either tamed or dominated, but—more frequently—they are the one’s to dominate, as many people do not know to handle such icy, hot energy and are simply in mere awe of their beauty. this issue with knowing how to work along with jyeshtas and rise to their level is something many people struggle with. instead of wishing to see the jyeshta flourish and glow with passion, they will try to drag them down to their own low vibrational level, reminding jyeshtas of their original gandanta point of sorrow.

🐇 princess nokia: jyeshta chandra

💧water and, thus, the color blue holds great power in the lives of jyeshta. the jyeshta goddess herself was adorned with blue-black garments and is said to hold a blue lotus in her right hand. the color blue is said to be associated with shani and the lotus is representative of the vimshottari evolution of shani. the many shades of blue are reminiscent of the azure of a clear sky. shani is the planet of hard work, determination, and respect. if you honor shani, you will likely be at the zenith of life. shani is debilitated in the bharani nakshatra (representative of the famale yoni). bhumi is said to mount the elephant and jyeshta’s nature is often compared to the elephant (the yoni of bharani). we see water personifying their internal struggle of diligence and sexuality. the element of water itself flows and crashes with it’s feminine luster. it denotes cleansing, rebirth, and vital energy. the practice of swimming and watery movement is said to excite the feminine spirit and remove all negative energies that encompass the individual. think of how you take a refreshing bath or wash your face. the act of cleansing and the alignment with the water element is energizing and refreshing. recall the christian practice of baptism. baptism is said to be a christian rite of admission. it uses the rejuvenating power of sprinkling, pouring, or entrenching the devotee with water to wash away their sins. this behavior parallels to the churning of the cosmic ocean to produce the elixir of youth, as christians believe baptism saves the youth/innocence of your soul.

🌿 jyeshtas are often forced to grow up quite early in their lives. the often harsh and toxic environments they are surrounded by do not yield a balanced and cleansed individual. it is destined for them to put on a mask or illusion cope with this (recall the demonic spirit who used the owl mask in “twin peaks”). it allows them to feel protected, as how harnessing their sexuality brings them great power. but deep down, they are innocent and youthful spirits. paralleling the goddesses jyeshta and alakshmi who lived lives of great strife but had a kind soul. their aversions to auspiciousness is something they could not control. it was their destiny. the life of jyeshtas are said to be incredibly karmic and destined. they cannot control the terrible and harsh energies of those who may come and go in their lives, but they can choose to walk through the smoky abyss or deep, cleansing waters to see if there is light on the other side of life.

🐇 brigitte bardot (left): jyeshta lagna

🐇 jane birkin (right): jyeshta surya

🚬 it is not uncommon to see jyeshta natives enjoying a good cigarette or cigar. as i once discussed in my magha exploration, natives of the gandanta points enjoy the symbolism and release smoke brings. this is because gandanta points are where the water and fire elements meet and cross. water is symbolic of the divine feminine (4H, 8H, 12H) and fire is symbolic of the divine masculine (1H, 5H, 9H). these elements are complete opposites. when water and fire collide, the water subdues the fire and we are only left with smoke. in the song “smoke on water” by deep purple (who has five members with prominent jyeshta placements), we see the nature of this smoky elemental intermingling under the co-rulership of ketu. the promiscuity of water and purification of fire combines and forms the infinite knot. ketu is the south node, representing our past lives and karma. whereas, buddha is the planet of awakening the discriminating intellect between benefic and malefic actions, essentially good and evil. the harsh, polar forces of water and fire (rashi elements) coupled with past lives and karma (ketu) and knowledge (buddha), create this need for escapism. the need for stimulation to calm the ever-present sense of anxiety or physical ailments gandanta natives are prone to. the use of cigars, cigarettes, or cylinder-shaped products of other smoky varieties (🌿) as a way to ease their anxious nature. as the dusthana houses are uneasy, ketu is unstable, and buddha plays tricks on the mind.

🌫 the cylinder shape of these smoky, stress-relieving products is symbolic of yang energy (the phallus). while this may sound odd, the intoxicating (yin) energy of tobacco and the yang shape of these products creates the perfect balance of water and fire to attract these natives. this is reminiscent of the nineveh cylinder. this cylinder is designed to be a message to the universal one and directs the eyes are set upon it. it is only the eyes that contain an energetic consciousness who will be able to understand the cylinder’s message. you must be able to feel and think to be integrated into the powers of the cylinder and hence the have the power to ascend. one’s energetic signature then changes and only then may the individual have the ability to receive it’s messages or symbols. this acts as a cosmic safety valve to prevent the duality of the lower dimensional worlds from contaminating the higher dimensions that reside in cosmic unity (indra). it represents achieving the human ability to go within your self and untie the knot/noose of tripura sundari within to balance one’s intention, focus and willpower. the symbol of latter is an upward or downward pointed triangle. this triangular figure is symbolic of completion, the three worlds tripura sundari transcends. the journey for jyeshtas is long and hard, filled with fire and water, smoke and mirrors, and lightness and darkness. the cylinder of nineveh invites jyeshtas to walk through the smoky abyss, through the yang passage of the cylinder to untie their inner knot of restriction to be finally free from the harsh realities of this world.

🐇 ‘holli would’ as played by jyeshta surya kim basinger in “cool world”

💋 as always, i am open to any constructive criticism! i tried to touch on the deities’ involvement in the appearances, manifestations, and symbolism of jyeshta. to be quite frank, studying the story of jyeshta brought me to tears. it’s unfair the amount of harm and difficulty they experience in their lifetimes, but their determination and wit pulls them through. studying these many deities, symbolism, cultures, and religions for this post has been so honoring and humbling. as i was making this post, a bunny approached my window and i do not live in an area where rabbits are common. i just thought that was a lovely sign, i’d be a fool to think this is merely a coincidence. if you are looking for more information about jyeshta, get to know the overrulers and supreme deities of kuja, bhumi (the earth goddess) and skanda (the war god), and buddha, vishnu (the maintainer) and narayana (the cosmic person). also—and i cannot stress this enough—familiarize yourself with the deity of this nakshatra: indra. if any of my placements or information are incorrect please feel free to let me know! also, i am fully aware of the origins of vedic astrology and if i was in anyway disrespectful to hindu culture, i will take down this post immediately. i am incredibly honored to know such lovely vedic astrology enthusiasts. you all mean so much to me xx

**all of these placements were found using astrotheme/.com and/or astro-charts/.com. it is important to note that some chandra (moon) placements may be off by up to 6 degrees and lagnas (risings) as well, due to the fact that many websites do not have 100% accurate birth times for the given celebrities.

**i take absolutely no credit for the invention of vedic astrology-based appearance profiles. please watch claire nakti on youtube or look into @/cn0bles, @/lovejustlied, @/dh4nishta, and @/vanillemercure on twitter for more in-depth analysis on vedic astrology xx

[dailyadventureprompts]

Random Encounter: Tower of the Hollow Lord

“ Take heed traveler, ain’t none that take the haunts’ road through the wastes at night but witches and ghouls. If you aim to walk there, do so during the day, and you keep the gods names on your lips ‘ere you be caught out before the sun sets and the stones wake beneath your feet” 

Adventure Hooks: 

Out in the mire valley there’s a short, winding stretch of road, roughly cobbled in grey-white stone that provides a useful shortcut to the dry overlook, allowing one to skip a plunge through fetid ponds or slipping on muddy game paths. Known as the “haunts’ road” for its curious habit of glowing a sinister green on moonless or cloudy nights, the route features heavily in local superstion, a fact the locals are more than happy to share should they learn the party is traveling that way. 

The area is a known to be the burial place for thieves and other undesirables, who’s unquiet spirits are blamed for disappearances of those who travel the region at inauspicious times. When the party is asked to investigate a missing stagecoach after it was forced to detour into the mash, they’ll discover that some of these rumors are impart true, and that a gang of roughians garbing themselves in foxfire and old bones have been using these rumors to extort passers by. Most recently, they’ve turned to kidnapping, as a young woman within the stagecoach bragged about her connection to the local magistrate, an attempted intimidation that only increased the value her captors could wring out of her delay. 

A heavy mist will roll through the area during the party’s journey, causing the road to alight as it veils all scrap of sunlight, despite the time of day. From down the road, more lights: fireflies heralding an invisible rider on the corpse of a mare. Both phantoms approach with appalling slowness, something in their movement speaking of failing strength or the very edge of sleep. From beneath a burning mask that covers nothing in particular, the rider will ask the party for directions: he’s become lost in the fog, and seeks the tower for an important rendezvous. There is no tower in the region, and no matter what directions the party might give him, the invisible rider, reeking of bog and blood, will reach into his saddlebags and scatter a handful of corroded coins along the cobbles before riding off.  An eerie encounter to be sure, one that leaves the party a slight bit richer, and perhaps a little bit cursed. 

Setup: So obviously there’s more to this stretch of swampland than just a bunch of random ghosts and bandits with a gimmick. Two hundred years ago this there was indeed a tower that looked over the valley, and though its name (and even knowledge of its existence) have been lost to time, it was the site of a climatic battle that decided the fate of the surrounding settlement for generations to come. An army was invading, and with no hope of reinforcements coming in time, Lord Montigan and his forces fell back from their harrying raids to the watchtower that guarded the pass into their domain, swearing to keep their beacon burning so long as they held out . From this white walled fort they defended the pass to the very last, consternating the invaders so much that when the siege finally broke and Montigan and his troops were finally put to the sword, the enemy commander demanded their bastion be torn down and scattered throughout the swamp. 

Over time, People forgot Montigan, and gathered the rubble of the crumbled fortress into a rough-road to ease their way through the mire and up the overlook, never once suspecting that those stones were infused with the undying determination of their forgotten protector. 

Further Adventures: 

Defeat and obscurity have done little good for Lord Montigan, hollowing him out and leaving behind only a dedication to hold on one more day, and a memory of a beacon fire kept burning in the face of an overwhelming enemy.  If the party wish to exorcize this haunt, they’ll need to reconstruct the beacon out on the overlook and calmly let the old commander down about the whole “ dead for centuries after a pyric victory affair. ” At which point, dawn will break over the valley, and Montigan and the pervasive eeriness he brought with him, will depart from the land. 

Someone is stealing the stones from the haunt’s way, leaving stretches of it disappearing into endless swamp and the travelers that rely upon it confused. This sinister task is being perpetuated by a troupe of ghouls led by a necromancer who believes the beacon tower to have been built upon a necromantic layline. By rebuilding the structure piece by piece, they hope to “resurrect” a ghost of what the tower originally meant, performing an act of architectural necromancy and tapping into the energies of conquest, lost hope, and futile victory so common to that past age of war. 

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Falling In Love (2) Masterlist

part one

24 Hours (ao3) - Art3misPlayerOne

Summary: Living a life in the public eye is hard, but it becomes almost impossible when you have to pretend you aren't in love. There gets to be a point when friendship, secret glances, and fantasizing just aren't enough anymore. So what do you do when your secret accidentally comes out and you realize the object of your love has been hiding a few things of their own?

behind the curtain (ao3) - resurrectdead

Summary:

“This is great,” Phil muses to himself. He chucks the sponge - erm, beauty blender? - onto the desk. “Right, now to concealer. Not that you need any, because your skin is like, actually so flawless.” He digs around and finds a sheer stick, and thankfully it’s not fingers this time either, but a small applicator. Dan can deal with that. He can deal with feeling Phil’s heat and sweet boyish scent. His touch? Not so much.

Or: Dan adores pink and is playing Satine in the school production of Moulin Rouge. Phil cherishes black and just happens to be good at doing some bombass makeup. Fate brings them together.

Desires (ao3) - A_Million_Regrets

Summary: What would you do if you were suddenly hauled from your inauspicious life and dumped into an unforeseen catastrophe with your worst enemy?

Dan Howell and Phil Lester completely and utterly hate each other. They fight every time they meet, and all of their friends are tired of it. But one day, these two hot-headed, reckless men stumble through a secret passage in a mysterious old house and wake up on a strange island uninhabited by other intelligent life forms. They only have each other and no way to escape. Will they fight to death, or will they learn to trust each other in a world where no one else exists? Can they put aside their mutual hatred for each other to survive this misfortune?

Extra Ordinary (ao3) - lowlights (orphan_account)

Summary: In a world of superheroes and cunning villains, Phil Lester seems to be the only one who isn’t granted a power. But after being abducted by Dan Howell, a.k.a Lynx, the world's most wanted villain, he discovers that maybe being ordinary isn't so bad after all.

Feels Like Fiction (ao3) - mollieblack

Summary:

One day Dan and Phil wake up in a very different world. It doesn't take long to realize that they're in one of the fanfictions commonly written about the two friends. What will they have to do to get out, and once they get out will things really be the same?

Learning to Love, (Again) (ao3) - wekingsandprettythings

Summary: Dan was made a single Dad when he was just 16. Nearly 11 year later, after putting his love life on hold, he meets another single and super hot dad. Somehow a sleepover for their kids leads to something neither of them expected.

Master Painter, Aspiring Model (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: Phil Lester is a master painter looking for a muse. He finds the ultimate muse in Dan, a young university student who becomes his nude model. Over a period of six weeks, the two men fall for each other and have to make a decision when Dan’s contract.

One Thousand Midnights Or More (ao3) - JudeAray

Summary: A decade of love told in moments.

Perfectly Normal (ao3) - TodayWe_Are_Infinite

Summary: Dan was 10 when he realized that the way he looked at his friend wasn’t normal. And people had started to notice.

He refused to tell his mother why he was sent to the nurse’s office with a bloody nose.

He tried not to tell Phil either, but his friend was excellent at coaxing things out of him.

Play Upon Me Like This Piano (ao3) - Elleberquist6

Summary: In many ways, Phil's life is perfect: he loves his life in London, he has a wonderful brother and parents, and he has a great job as a radio DJ for BBC Radio One. There's only one thing missing in his life... A rumor reaches an executive at the BBC about a talented local piano player named Daniel. The executive decides that Daniel would be the perfect guest on Phil's radio show, so she sends Phil to speak with the evasive and mysterious piano player. When they finally meet, Phil starts to think that he has found the person who will make his life complete. Unfortunately, Dan has a secret that will make getting close to him difficult.

"Seriously?" (ao3) - Tarredion

Summary: The time Phil met a totally-not-handsome stranger and only sort-of wished they'd never meet again. Tough luck?

"The Perfect Match" (ao3) - mollieblack

Summary: Just because Phil is an Alpha doesn't mean he's obsessed with finding an Omega. In fact, he believes strongly in true love, and has no wish to 'peruse the selection' of Omega slaves in this society that views them as nothing more than property.

Unfortunately an Alpha child of a rich family can't put off bonding forever, and when Phil's mother has had enough she decides to send him to an island where he will compete on a Reality TV show to find his 'Perfect Match'.

What should happen when he runs into the one Omega who seems to want nothing to do with him, and says that love doesn't exist?

The Pull (To You) (ao3) - basicallymonsters

Summary: Dan's a lonely writer who spends too much time on rooftops, and Phil's a boy who loves plants. They meet amongst ferns and under stars and feel inexplicably pulled together.

The Sweet Tooth And Bitter Disappointments (ao3) - bakingphaninmymind

Summary: Five times that Phil went out for bad Tinder dates and the one time a Tinder date came to him. A.K.A. the story about Phil getting fed up with his loneliness. Our boy starts swiping.

The Wallflower's Guide to Love (ao3) - Art3misPlayerOne

Summary: Dan is a brilliant but painfully shy and awkward guitar player in a popular local band who prefers to hide from the spotlight. He's content to lose himself in his playing and avoids friendships and emotional attachments, but an accidental run-in with a mystery boy inspires him to reach out to him through anonymous texts.

Too scared that the boy will be disappointed in the real him, Dan doesn't want to reveal his identity and risk losing their surprising connection. When forced to choose between his anonymity and putting his heart on the line, help from an unexpected friendship pushes him far beyond his comfort zone, but will it be too little too late?

Two Blushing Pilgrims (ao3) - hxwell

Summary: "Our teacher ships the two of us and we're reading Romeo and Juliet" au//Dan owns 7 pairs of the same jeans and high-fives everyone he sees while Phil listens to Neutral Milk Hotel and paints in his spare time

[kjack89]

An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 3/?)

Continuation of the E/R Bridgerton AU that’s honestly more aptly described as a regency-ish era fake marriage fic. Because ~shenanigans~ (Chapter 1 tumblr | AO3, chapter 2 tumblr | AO3)

It appears to this Author that the most discussed couple of this season will end up not being a couple at all. And no, this refers not to Baron Pontmercy and his latest object of obsession, a handkerchief that he claims belongs to the woman he met at the Thenardier’s ball, though it is perhaps as unlikely a pairing.

The Marquess of Enjolras and Mr. Grantaire have continued spending an inordinate amount of time in each other’s company, and no one, it would seem, is as surprised as their mutual friends and acquaintances. Mr. Combeferre was overheard in discussion with the Earl of Courfeyrac on more than one occasion lamenting the unlikely union. He seems to be skeptical on the nature of this deepening friendship, a skepticism one can only assume he shares with the other important people in the marquess’s life.

Namely, his mother, who has been keeping a low profile after their shouting match was recorded in this paper. Alas, her efforts will almost certainly be in vain if her son continues cavorting with the most unlikely of allies. And it appears he shall, as he is apparently set to accompany Mr. Grantaire on a visit to his country estate this week.

One can certainly speak of the restorative benefits of country air and time spent away from the city and the season. But proceed with caution, Lord Enjolras – scandal is not confined by geography. 

Nor, for that matter, is this Author. LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 2 MAY 1831

“I still cannot believe that I agreed to this,” Enjolras grumbled as he followed Grantaire into the carriage set to take them out to the country to visit Grantaire’s home.

“Honestly?” Grantaire said cheerfully, settling in the far corner of the carriage and stretching out luxuriously across the bench. “I am as well. I half-expected you not to show up this morning.”

Enjolras scowled slightly as he sat down across from him. “When I make a promise, I usually see it through,” he said stiffly.

Grantaire just laughed. “Leave it to you to take it as an impingement on your honor to suggest that you might have had misgivings about this particularly harebrained idea. And before you somehow take umbrage on my own behalf, surely if anyone is allowed to call this endeavor harebrained, it is myself.”

“Then am I allowed to take umbrage at the idea that you cannot even bring yourself to believe in your own schemes?��� Enjolras snapped.

The carriage jolted suddenly as the driver spurred the horses into motion, and Enjolras pitched forward, reaching out to brace himself against the far wall of the carriage. Instead, his hands landed squarely on Grantaire’s chest. “Careful,” Grantaire said, his voice pitched low, and Enjolras flushed as he struggled to right himself.

“It seems this venture may very well be cursed,” he managed when he was finally settled back in his own seat, still flushed and avoiding Grantaire’s eyes. “Or at the very least, off to the most inauspicious start in most of human history.”

Grantaire shrugged, glancing out the window of the carriage. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “It’s not every day one finds oneself in a compromising position with a marquess, after all.” He smirked at Enjolras. “Pity one of us isn’t the proper sex, or this entire thing would be settled already.” 

“Be serious,” Enjolras snapped, but Grantaire ignored him.

“I mean, caught in a scandalous embrace with a marquess, unchaperoned in the back of a carriage…it would be the scandal of the season, if not the decade.”

Grantaire sounded strangely wistful, and Enjolras gave him a look. “Forgive me,” he said curtly, “but I have the mental capacity for only one fictional scandal at a time, and I believe what we’re planning with your deceased sister takes precedence.”

His tone brooked no argument, not that this had ever once stopped Grantaire, but for once, Grantaire let the topic drop. “Very well,” he said instead, settling back into his corner and rapping his knuckles in a staccato rhythm against the side of the carriage. “But it is a long trip, and if I don’t have fantasy to entertain myself with, you’ll need to provide a more suitable topic.”

Enjolras blinked. “I assumed you would spend the trip sketching or painting or something,” he said, a little awkwardly.

“In a moving carriage?” Grantaire asked, a little incredulous, and as if to prove his point, the carriage swayed dangerously before righting itself.

Enjolras shrugged, feeling himself blush again. “You just seem to have the ability to sketch through anything,” he muttered. “Namely my every speech.” 

Grantaire smirked. “Can you blame me?”

“For not paying attention to a word I’m saying?”

“Now, that’s not entirely fair,” Grantaire said mildly. “I almost certainly catch about every fourth or fifth word.”

“Perhaps that’s the reason you can’t find it in yourself to believe in anything,” Enjolras said sourly.

Grantaire just laughed. “Perhaps,” he agreed with a lazy smirk.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and glanced out the window, dismayed to see that they had not even left the city yet. “Fine,” he said abruptly. “Then tell me about your sister.”

To his surprise, Grantaire’s smile disappeared and his shook his head. “No,” he said. “While I certainly cannot blame you for curiosity about your bride to be, now is not the time to speak of her.”

Enjolras looked closely at him. “You must have loved her very much,” he said quietly.

Grantaire shrugged again, looking uncomfortable. “She was my best – and for longer than I care to think about my only – friend. And that is all that I will say on the topic.”

He said it quite firmly and Enjolras inclined his head. “Very well,” he said. “Your father, then – if Lady Whistledown is to be believed, he is out of the country, correct?”

Grantaire had made a face as soon as Enjolras mentioned his father, and he shook his head. “Must we ruin this sojourn with talk of my father?” he asked plaintively. “Certainly you would not wish to speak of your mother, would you?”

Enjolras scowled. “Indeed I would not,” he said. “But need I remind you before you bring my mother into this, it was you who demanded conversation, so forgive me for trying to start one.”

Grantaire sighed, and to Enjolras’s continued surprise, actually managed an expression that at least resembled genuine contrition. “No, it is I who must ask your forgiveness,” he said. “I am not used to speaking of my family.” He managed a wan smile. “One of the benefits of not being noble – no one much cares to whom I am related.”

“They’ll certainly care a bit more after this,” Enjolras murmured.

“Well, you’re probably not wrong there,” Grantaire said with a snort. “But that is a problem for the future, so do not think you will somehow use my hesitation to get out of this arrangement.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good,” Grantaire said, hesitating before adding, “But I apologize for stymying your attempts at conversation, so to make up for it, a promise: ask me any question, and I swear I will answer it.”

“Anything?”

“On my honor,” Grantaire said solemnly with a nod.

Enjolras considered it for a moment. “Fine,” he said. “Then answer this: why are you doing this?”

“Anything but that.”

Enjolras frowned. “Grantaire—”

“Anything but that,” Grantaire repeated, his expression and tone both as serious as Enjolras had ever witnessed. He paused and seemed to force his expression into something more approximating his normal jovial appearance. “Come now, you out of everyone should know that my honor is worth very little.”

“To you, perhaps,” Enjolras muttered. “Very well, then…” He trailed off, casting around for a somewhat neutral topic. “Tell me about your home, I suppose. After all, I should know something about where we are traveling, and besides, it’s not every day that I get to visit a new money estate.”

He said the last words teasingly, and it had his desired effect: Grantaire half-smiled and shook his head. “I always knew you were a secret snob, looking down your nose on the landed gentry,” he said, equally teasing, and Enjolras relaxed, glad for reasons he could not quite articulate that they were back on their usual footing. “But there’s not much to tell. It’s a nice enough manor, just outside a small village. My sister and I were discouraged from going to the village much as children, so I doubt any there would even remember us, which works to our advantage, of course. But there was a wood on the other side of the house, and that’s where she and I spent most of our time…”

His words washed over Enjolras like a warm blanket. Despite usually being the one giving long speeches, Enjolras was quite surprised to find that for once, he was content just to sit back and listen as the carriage ride continued, bearing them both towards the house that Grantaire was describing with considerable enthusiasm.

So vividly did he describe it that Enjolras knew without Grantaire saying anything when they approached, the winding stone drive just as he had described it. But Grantaire had perhaps undersold the manor itself, which was massive, towering over them as they disembarked from the carriage. 

“Impressed?” Grantaire asked, with a sort of put-upon boredom, shooing the driver away and offering Enjolras his hand instead to help him down.

Enjolras just made a small, neutral noise. “As my mother would say, you have done well for yourself.”

Grantaire barked a laugh. “High words, coming from her,” he said with a grin. “Though don’t think that I’m so new of money that I didn’t recognize the veiled insult in there.”

Enjolras laughed lightly. “Like I said, it’s what my mother would say,” he reminded him. “As for myself, it looks as noble a house as most I have seen in my life.”

“A mighty compliment,” Grantaire said, making a mocking leg. “Now please, my lord, let me offer the finest hospitality in at least the surrounding several acres.”

Together, they crossed to the door, where a man and a woman waited for them. Grantaire greeted both as if they were family, kissing the woman on the cheek and shaking the man’s hand. “My lord, if I may present my butler, Le Cabuc, and my housekeeper, Madame Hucheloup.”

Madame Hucheloup bobbed an awkward curtsy, her eyes wide. “Lord Marquess,” she said, and Enjolras couldn’t find it in himself to correct her on the title.

Le Cabuc gave him a stiff nod, clearly not as impressed as the housekeeper. “My lord,” he said. “You must forgive us, we are not used to entertaining gentlemen of your standing.”

“I am certain whatever arrangements you have made will more than suffice,” Enjolras assured him with a tight smile.

“In more ways that one,” Grantaire murmured in an undertone. “I have already filled Le Cabuc in on our plan, and intend on letting Madame Hucheloup know this evening.” He nudged Enjolras in the ribs, smirking again. “She shall likely stand in for my sister during the fake wedding.”

Enjolras frowned. “I didn’t realize there was going to be an actual wedding,” he hissed, following Grantaire inside. “Surely the town vicar will realize that Madame Hucheloup is not your sister!”

“The town vicar drinks more wine and whiskey than I do,” Grantaire informed him. “He will not recognize anyone, I promise you that. And we need this to look real, do we not?”

“I suppose,” Enjolras said reluctantly.

Grantaire clapped him on the shoulder in what he clearly thought was a bracing kind of way. “Chin up,” he said. “It will all be over soon enough. In the meantime, I am certain that Madame Hucheloup will have laid enough food to feed a small army. Do you wish to change before dinner?”

Enjolras looked down at his clothes, which were rumpled and dusty from the trip. “I won’t if you won’t,” he said, and Grantaire grinned.

“Deal.”

----------

After dinner, Grantaire showed Enjolras to his room, a large, airy chamber that was adjacent to Grantaire’s, and Enjolras went to bed early, determined to get a good night’s rest.

Instead, he woke early the next morning, a force of habit that was not helped by tossing and turning for most of the night at the thought of what they were about to do. He and Grantaire had not yet discussed exactly how the scandal was to unfold, but he imagined that they would figure that out sometime that day.

He woke so early that most of the staff was not up yet, and rather than inconvenience anyone by ringing them ahead of their usual wake up time, he instead slipped out the front door, taking the well-worn path down to the nearby village. It was a beautiful spring day, and despite himself, he found himself enjoying the walk.

Even though he tried to spend at least a little time in the villages that part of his family’s lands each time he visited, he could not imagine any time that he spent there would ever be like this, slipping down the winding streets as an anonymous stranger, watching the comings and goings of the townfolk.

He had just purchased a delicious-looking handheld pie from the baker when he felt a hand on his shoulder and immediately tensed. He turned, relaxing when he saw it was Grantaire. “Oh,” he said, relieved. “I thought—”

Out of nowhere, Grantaire’s fist connected with his jaw, sending him reeling backwards, his pie splattering to the ground. “What in the bleeding—”

“I do not know who you think you are,” Grantaire shouted, “but if you think that you can take advantage of my sister, sir, you have another think coming.”

Enjolras rubbed his jaw, blinking up at him as he tried to piece together what the hell was happening. “I don’t know—”  he started, but Grantaire cut him off.

“You know perfectly well,” he growled. “Meeting with her in the middle of the night with no chaperone? Impugning her honor, with nary a marriage proposal in sight? I will not stand for it, my lord – on that, you have my word.”

The passersby had all stopped to stare, some openly gaping, others whispering to each other as they watched. “Your sister’s honor remains intact,” Enjolras said, slowly catching on to where this was going, but wondering why Grantaire was doing this here and now. “I give you my word—”

“Your word means nothing to me,” Grantaire said coldly, his expression flinty, and for the first time, Enjolras realized what it must be like for any who had crossed Grantaire. It was a formidable sight, and one he hoped not to be on the wrong side of for real anytime soon. “You will marry my sister, and before the week’s end.”

“And if I refuse?” Enjolras asked.

Someone in the crowd gasped, but it was the only sound anyone made as they stared between the two men. For a moment, it almost looked like Grantaire was smiling, just slightly, but it disappeared so quickly that Enjolras could not be certain that he did not imagine it. “Then it shall be a duel. First light on the morrow – guns or swords, your pick.”

This had absolutely not been a part of their plan, and Enjolras gaped at him. But before he could stop himself, before he could end this ruse with a few simple words, his idiotic pride got the best of him in the worst way possible at the worst time possible. “Guns,” he heard himself say. “First light on the morrow, and we shall see whose honor is left standing.”

Now Grantaire did smile, an almost feral grin. “I look forward to it, my lord,” he said, his voice low, and he turned and swept away without uttering another word.

Enjolras stood still for one long minute before realizing that every eye was still on him, and the whispers were starting to grow in volume. He flushed beet red and quickly hurried away, heading back toward the manor, his head reeling at what had just happened. 

About halfway back to Grantaire’s house, the man in question fell in next to him, his cold expression replaced by a genuine grin. “Well, that went well,” he said cheerfully, and Enjolras gave him a withering look.

“Did it?” he asked sourly, wincing at the pain still radiating from his jaw. “Because I was just about to ask you what in the bloody hell you were thinking.”

Grantaire clucked his tongue. “There is no need for that kind of language,” he scolded, still abominably cheerful.”

“Says the man who just publicly challenged me to a duel!”

Grantaire stopped so suddenly that Enjolras ran straight into him. “Yes, you idiot,” he said, but despite his words, his tone was soft, patient even. “I just very publicly challenged you to a duel. If you think that the townspeople won’t be telling everyone they know about that—��

Enjolras shook his head slowly. “And what if I had just agreed to marry your sister?”

“Honestly, I was mostly expecting you to,” Grantaire said with a shrug. “After all, it’s not necessary for the ruse that we actually have a duel, just that the challenge and scandal is made known.” Enjolras flushed and opened his mouth to apologize and explain, but Grantaire didn’t let him, continuing thoughtfully, “But in honesty, this lends a certain...verisimilitude to the whole affair. After all, no one would believe that you would so quickly agree to a marriage.”

“I suppose not,” Enjolras reluctantly agreed, before adding, a little sullenly, “Though speaking of verisimilitude, I don’t think you needed to punch me quite so hard.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Oh, do not be such a baby,” he scoffed. “I pulled my punch.”

“You could have fooled me.”

Enjolras knew he sounded like a petulant child, but he didn’t much care. Grantaire rolled his eyes again. “Believe me, had I punched you with my full strength, you would have a broken jaw.” Enjolras was tempted to tell him that he wasn’t entirely sure his jaw wasn’t broken, but Grantaire glanced at the look on his face and sighed. “Oh, come here.”

He reached out and Enjolras automatically flinched. “What are you—” he started, breaking off when Grantaire cradled his jaw gently between both his hands, prodding gently with his fingertips, his touch almost feather-light.

Enjolras knew he was blushing, but if Grantaire noticed, he didn’t say anything. “See?” he said instead, his voice quiet. “Nothing broken. I doubt you’ll even have much of a bruise.”

His fingers skimmed lightly over his skin as he traced his jaw, and Enjolras swallowed, hard, realizing for the first time just how close they were standing. If anyone happened upon them, standing like this, the scandal in question would not be in relation to Grantaire’s sister. He cleared his throat. “You can let go of me now.”

Grantaire’s hands fell to his sides, and Enjolras wished he didn’t immediately miss the warmth. He shoved his hands into his pockets and they both started walking back toward the house. After a long silence, Enjolras cleared his throat again. “So what now?”

“Now, we make sure that one of the townsfolk’s accounts of what happened gets into the right hands so that it gets to Lady Whistledown,” Grantaire said.

“And after that?”

Grantaire smirked at him. “After that, we have a duel to plan.”

[mistiqve]

ᴄᴜʀɪᴏᴜꜱ, ɴᴀᴄʀᴇᴏᴜꜱ ʜᴀɴᴅᴘʀɪɴᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴊᴀɴᴜᴀʀʏ spell an address to mystery, a passage that opens to teeth of ice and guarding beasts before the c o l d , niveous turquoise heart of Saint Petersburg: for the vernissage, she has carried a repertoire of illusions in her winter regalia to its majestic double doors to wear it now like a crown among the crowns displayed there at the gallery. With the sanction of the afternoon sun, here is her coronation for a reign over secrets in s e c r e t. Over the last few years, our queen -of liminal, glorious and grotesque worlds wielding from France- has proven her prowess b e y o n d the necessity of oracles, she is the vision. Through the enfilade, the inspiration behind the art in her moves will be elusive under the lights, b a l a n c e d like chiaroscuro; still she has to tear herself from this mist of rumination, the sequence and point of it, and focus on the treasures and objets de vertu frozen in their centuries-long glamour around her, stirring up a mystifying air that sways chandeliers to the folie à plusieurs of numinous vertigo, but to the greatest curiosity of some deities - all that has given cause for her katabasis as a divine instrument and why she must first begin as the rhetorical triptych: to impress, influence, indoctrinate.

Gallery of the Sultanovs, sacred and strange embodied, granting splendour at every turn, however, only those with the entree to their secret society can experience it. Then, we have the bearers of this allegorical regality, something about their gemstones, some indeterminate gilding on their bones. This reputation affords her little and great hint at the same time, a game of chance in which, if missed, her star-led knowledge of the orrery of the building might be rendered helpful for none other than an escape from dispelling the concerns which the deities have strung around her throat in rubies ( noose or necklace, you choose! ). It should not rob her, by magic or any means of trompe l'œil, of the discernment demanded by inauspicious words of the Pantheon, ' Prepare yourself for our breath-ripping revelation ' , it has whispered along the possibility of the exhibition’s collaboration with the o c c u l t. It was also made clear to her that the one under her watch, the one among whom manage this realm of dark and darker sophistication is - as hard as it may be for us to believe, but - the f i r e of the Sultanovs, fire in its literal sense, who knew the origin of light would gather shadows into their holy site ( including her, it seems! ), would ignite the heavens in their calmest clouds, we can even hear it in his name, Ignat. Past a crowd of significant stature after another, past mirrors reflecting her poise as she silkens back one side of her short hair, she nears @osteomantic. The approach should be gentle so, with the elegant surety of her steps, she works through the threads of silent wonderment by which Ignat has had his company bound around a display on a tapered pedestal - then, in a fair gap between shoulders, she takes up that common, solemn stance dedicated to his giving a recitation of the legend-gilt masterpiece in their observation. A brief study is all that our divine agent needs to tell just how he would make a fine narrator of a myriad more ( and unsurprisingly an unreliable one too if it serves his agenda ). But it is the unsung that is calling out to her. She knows what should come next, this is it: in words crafted to attract fashionable attention, Russian and fluent, the kairos unfurls now, ". . . then, that's how we've come to know her today, the goddess who survives evil by her pastiche mask of evil, and for centuries artists have been assisting her escape: into paintings and reliefs, pottery and jewellery . . . -here, she gives a courteous glance at the culturati around her before continuing with a courtly nod at her desired audience- . . . Jewels as dazzling as Sultanovs' briolette cut creations, when we're speaking of the kind she defines ideal; the shape that resembles teardrops, the shape to contain her tragedy."