#//I read all the poems in German so

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries really did a pretty spectacular job with their German characters - the conflict, while centred around a world war and everything, is tragic and nuanced and neither side is demonised! And the actress playing elderly Mrs. Vogt is doing a really solid accent, not at all over the top for once! And her son’s German is a valiant attempt, but miles away from a native speaker’s - and the show adresses that! He’s second-generation and “was always worse [at German] than [his] brother”! And the language is included as something not only worth learning, but in the context of poetry - love poetry at that! And Rilke! And *that* Rilke! Death on the Vine has my whole heart just for that.

But they also fall into that exact same trap that almost every anglo production falls into with German characters - the names are??? way too Scandinavian??? Like the father’s name is Michael, which is excellent! That is super common... but his wife pronounces it [ˈmîːkaɛl], “Mee-ka-ale”, which, no. No. That’s just... Swedish. Look, I get it, “ch” is hard for English speakers, but then just call him “Thomas” or “Johann” - they’re just as common, and have neither the difficult “ch” sound nor an “r” (which is usually a dead giveaway, I can count the native English speakers I know who can approximate a German “r”-sound on one hand). You can get away with “Oskar” and “Ida” just fine, they’re common enough - but also suspiciously common in Scandinavia. And then there’s “Erik”. I’d be perfectly willing to be generous and say his parents just anglicised the German variant “Erich” (which, again, would probably be a monster to pronounce for an Australian actor, even though the name would be *just* the ticket popularity-wise). They appear to have anglicised their last name from “Vogt” to “Voigt” (the mother introduces herself as “Ida Vogt”, even though she seems to be *listed* as “Ida Voigt”? Rather confusing). But then his name would be spelled “Eric”, right?

It’s not as egregious as “Dark” and “1899″ - I spent the first ep of Dark convinced the show was set in Sweden or Norway because the names were so off - but it just. It *bothers* me. (Largely because I instinctly always think that the popularity of Scandinavian names in Germany was a leftover Nazi thing - even though turns out that’s just one of those weird misconceptions that a lot of people have. There is apparently quite clear evidence that it’s not true.) But also in this case because it’s geographically off - these Nordic names are very common in *northern* Germany, but the Vogt family is from the Rhineland, which is emphatically not considered northern. It’s not impossible! But not the obvious choice nonetheless, and this keeps happening! It’s so unimaginative, we have so many stupid names to choose from! I get that “Heinrich” and “Friedrich” are dicey if you don’t have a native speaker on your hands, but... With a British accent, “Horst” seems quite doable, and it sounds kinda funny - at least a good bit more foreign than Eric. Same goes for “Dieter”, “Bernhard”, “Walther”, “Udo”, “Hermann”, “Josef”, all old-timey and strong 20th century vibes, and very common. (And honestly, just go with “Peter”, “Arnold” or “Martin”, they’re pronounced slightly differently than the English variant but you’d have absolutely no trouble teaching them to an actor.) Plus, Nathan Page did quite a beautiful job with Rilke’s first name, so for second generation, “Rainer” could be a contender! (And speaking of Rilke, if you want a northern German name so badly, go with “Malte” just once! Change it up!)

Ida doesn’t nearly grate as much - old-timey female names in German are often hard to pronounce (”Hildegard”, “Annegret”, “Margarete” etc. have the bingo of the ‘r’ sound and the consonant clusters, “Ulrike”, “Irene” etc. have that really conspicuous “r” in the middle as well, and I feel like even easier names like “Louise” can be deceptively difficult to get right). But in the first half of the 20th century, you can get away *brilliantly* with short forms! “Anni”, “Emmi”, “Leni”, “Lene”, “Lotte”, “Hilde” - feels very lived-in, and simple enough to pronounce!

tldr; I love Death on the Vine but for the love of god stop naming every German character Erik.

[starpros-sunshine]

Anyways Nachtgang also Wataei poem.

[sheddr]

I feel you — without words —

I know exactly, what's going on with you.

And I could stay this way

forever

Loving you without need to say

it every single day.

And never really touching you

With the unending lonely space and darkness

howling inside of me.

You could be the Sun and I —

your faithful loving Moon

starring at you from behind the Earth

and never going near you...

But I must learn

in the world of words and lies

to be the only one who ever tells the truth.

[sere-ness-ima]

sorry but it came up on my feed and i can't NOT inform you about other related facts you might find interesting because i do!

🌟the Prussian partition trivia under the cut because i have no self control🌟

– basically while the Prussian government weren't the biggest fans of the Poles, even in the early 1800s the German people were neutral or sympathizing with them, providing support and so on.

– in 1830-1831, during and after the November Uprising in the "Russian" part of Poland, the Germans (and other nations who were soon to follow with the Spring of Nations thing) were strongly cheering for Poland. After the uprising fell, lots of Polish people had to escape the country to avoid persecution. On their way to Paris the refugees were welcomed by the German people like heroes, with flowers, dramatic poems and more material means of support.

– by "dramatic poems" i mean the Polenlieder or Polenschwärmerei – a whole poetry genre dedicated to praise Poland and the November Uprising. They're little known today, but I've read a couple dozens (wikipedia says there's around a thousand of poems like this) and they're absolutely wonderful and absolutely dramatic.

– the one with the final line going:

When this night ends finally and sun rises anew,

Sons of Poland, remember, the Germans were with you.

oh fuck.

i love and i'll always love baby!Lud and Feliks interactions (ask me about my headcanons)

– ughhf why am i rambling so much, another thing is that after the unification of Germany and implementing standarized rights, independent courts and the parliament, it turned out to be Difficult to bully the Polish people because no German would dare to go against the law! Therefore we know a number of funny situations when the Poles would exploit every loophole in the German law and the Prussian authorities trying to get them anyway (implementing new anti-polish laws lol at some point)

– just google Drzymała i'm not gonna tell this story

– i live in the post-prussian-partition Poland and we still remember the saying that goes "there are still courts in Berlin" – because you could always sue the Prussian official that was bothering you and the judgment would be fair.

– not so long ago i've read a great paper about the Prussian attempts to ban the song Boże, coś Polskę, which was at the time aggressively used by people protesting in the Russian partition. When the officials told the archbishop of Poznań to ban it, he politely disagreed and there was this long exchange of letters with the archbishop going "the song is not in the slightest revolutionary, it's just about loving the land where you live :)" "the text is literally about liberating Poland from tyranny" "fair. as a compromise we can stop singing that one line :)".

– It did end up in the court. The court told them it wasn't bannable. The Prussians tried a court appeal. They managed only after the chad archbishop died, only for a few years.

sorry for infodumping on you ohmygod. it's not personal i promise. here's a scene:

Gil: Feliks stop drawing dead black eagles and do something useful or you're not getting din–

baby!Lud: You can't do that.

Gil: I can't do what.

baby!Lud: Drawing isn't forbidden, and you said one should always follow the rules. You can't punish him.

Gil: <- now he has to find an argument that will convince the kid. Or give up 🚹

Learning about the Polish situation after the partitions is so funny because you learn that after one of the Uprisings when everything from language to culture got banned in the Prussian part of the Annexation, (it got banned everywhere but let's ignore that for a moment) some Germans started to get interested in that because "why is it banned"?

And I just imagine the situation where poor Gilbert is just sitting in his study or just some office space doing paperwork maybe, and teenager Ludwig just comes in and is like:

Ludwig/Germany "I wanna learn Polish"

Gilbert/Prussia "You what now?"

It's the greatest revenge of Feliks.

[cursecuelebre]

Top Recommendations for Norse Pagans that aren’t Problematic.

There is a lot of books by people who are racist and part of far right side of Heathenry and I’m going to try my best and list the books I have that helped me on my path that isn’t problematic and have questionable intentions. Books and YouTube channels.

Anglo Saxon Socerery and Magic by Alaric Albertson. He is very knowledgeable in his work and path especially on runes which includes the rune poem to make your own interpretation and witchcraft side of things. He even talks about the Elves which I appreciate because not a lot of Norse authors talk about them. It’s more Germanic than Norse but I can’t see any problem adopting certain aspects since they are very similar. I will say he does take himself a bit serious at times but his information is so good and worthwhile. I have not read his first book on Travels through middle earth but it focus on more the pagan side.

Poetic Edda and Prose Edda: it’s what every Norse pagan needs. It’s the foundation of Norse paganism not bibles but myths and tales that can help along our journey. There is tons of translations, but my favorites are Dr. Jackson Crawford Poetic Edda and Anthony Fawkes Prose Edda. But look into other sagas as well like Volsung which Dr Jackson Crawford also wrote about.

Beowulf. More of a Germanic tale but again includes it has roots of Germanic sorcery, traditions, religion like the concept of Wyrd (Fate), the runes, and values within his society like loyalty and mythical creatures. Again there is many translations even Jrr Tolkien did a incompleted version of Beowulf but I think Tom Shippey finished that version I could be wrong. Nonetheless explore more than one, the oneI have is by Seamus Heaney.

Grimm Fairy Tales this mostly German Folklore but it’s still quite important to learn about in German folk magic, creatures and entities in German folklore tends to be very real to the practitioner in their spellwork.

The Way of Fire and Ice by Ryan Smith a very progressive outlook in Norse paganism, he talks about creating communities in Norse paganism and calling out and denouncing Nazis in the community how Norse Paganism is inclusive and how to be open to all types of people. But he has a beginner approach to the deities, beliefs, values within Norse paganism.

Look into a lot of academic sources that’s where you will find a lot of information on Norse paganism and religions.

Tacitus Germania - A Roman historian talking about the Germanic tribes their culture and customs.

Saxo Grammaticus history of the Danes

The Viking Way by Neil Price it goes good in depths about magic in Scandinavia like Seidh

Dictionary of Norse Mythology a quick guide to northern myths, if you are trying to find a specific god and you don’t have time to look up in a book it’s in there with great information to each one.

Children of Ask and Elm: History of Vikings by Neil Price on Scandinavian culture during the Viking age

Some YouTube Channels

The Norse Witch: Bente lives in Germany and their channel encompasses all of Norse paganism more around magic. They do interviews with other Norse witches of folk magic like Icelandic and Danish. Even gives good book recommendations and advice on general spellwork as well!.

Dr Jackson Crawford he is an author but he also has a YouTube channel. He was a professor in Colorado on Norse culture, mythology, and language and now is a full time YouTuber. He did a series of videos on the runes which are more historically accurate. Discusses the myths and the language and what do they mean. Jackson Crawford isn’t a Norse pagan nor he doesn’t care if you are one but just letting you know he isn’t coming from a pagan perspective.

The Welsh Viking also like Jackson Crawford but still has really great knowledge on Viking culture.

De Spökenkyker who is a channel that focus on German Folk magic living in Germany who is a practicing German Folk Witch.

Please feel free to add on any recommendations that are helpful and useful to the Norse pagan Community!

[mossy-green-aka-ferrythem]

God it really does hit when like. So many people have died, and many will continue to die.

I have met such kind Palestinian people here and have seen so many stories. Although the sheer number of requests is quite overwhelming...

I also have sort of decided to only focus on a few. Tamer Aldeeb's campaign mainly. He needs help. He is in danger. I pray he stays alive. That poem he read in passing over the destroyed house of someone who lost their entire family... absolutely heartbreaking. It will stay with me. I am sure of it. Where has the humanity gone?

All I can really do is say...

Donate and Share.

This is the least we can do.

In fact, I would appreciate it if my good friend, @cataphractastrophe could make a small contribution.

He needs help. I am spotlighting @tameraldeeb 's campaign because he needs help, I want him to have a way out, and I never want to experience the grief of losing him.

[obsessioncollector]

Hi friends! Inspired by @librarycards I wanted to make a post celebrating Women in Translation Month! Anglophone readers generally pay embarrassingly little attention to works in other languages, and that's even more true when it comes to literature by women, so I will jump at any chance to promote my faves 🥰 Here are some recs from 9 different languages! Also, I wrote this on my phone, so apologies for any typos or errors!

1. Trieste by Daša Drndić, trans. Ellen Elias-Bursać (Croatian): An all-time favorite. Much of Drndić's work interrogates the legacy of atrocities in Europe, particularly eastern Europe. Trieste is a haunting contemplative novel centered on an elderly Italian Jewish woman whose family converted to Catholicism during the Mussolini era and were complicit in the fascist violence surrounding them in order to protect themselves.

2. Cursed Bunny by Bora Chung, trans. Anton Hur (Korean): A collection of short stories that are difficult to classify by genre–speculative fiction in the broadest sense. The first story is about a monster in a woman's toilet, which sounds impossible to pull off in a serious, thought-provoking manner, but Chung does so easily—these are the kind of stories that are hard to explain the brilliance of secondhand.

3. Sweet Days of Discipline by Fleur Jaeggy, trans. Tim Parks (Italian; Jaeggy is Swiss): Another all time favorite! The cold, sterile homoerotic girls' boarding school novella of your dreams.

4. Toddler-Hunting and Other Stories by Taeko Kono, trans. Lucy North (Japanese): I think I read this in one sitting. Incredibly unsettling—these stories will stay with you. They often focus on the unspoken psychosexual fantasies underscoring mundane daily life.

5. The Complete Stories by Clarice Lispector, trans. Katrina Dodson (Brazilian Portuguese): I think Lispector is the best known writer here, so she might not need much of an introduction. But what a legend! And this collection is so diverse—it's fascinating to see the evolution of Lispector's work.

6. Our Lady of the Nile by Scholastique Mukasonga, trans. Melanie L. Mauthner (French; Mukasonga is Rwandan): Give her the Nobel! Mukasonga's books, at least the ones available in English, are generally quite short but so impactful. Our Lady of the Nile is a collection of interrelated short stories set at a Catholic girls' boarding school in Rwanda in the years before the Rwandan genocide. These stories are fascinating on many levels, but perhaps the most haunting element is seeing how ethnic hatred intensifies over time—none of these girls would consider themselves particularly hateful or prejudiced, but they easily justify atrocities in the end.

7. Extracting the Stone of Madness: Poems 1962-1972 by Alejandra Pizarnik, trans. Yvette Siegert (Spanish; Pizarnik was Argentinian): Does anyone remember when my url was @/pizarnikpdf... probably not but worth mentioning to emphasize how much I love her <3 Reading Pizarnik is so revelatory for me; she articulates things I didn't even realize I felt until I read her words.

8. Flight and Metamorphosis: Poems by Nelly Sachs, trans. Joshua Weiner (German): Sachs actually won the Nobel in the 1960s, so it's surprising that she's not better known in the Anglosphere. Her poems are cryptic and surreal, yet deeply evocative. Worth mentioning that this volume is bilingual, so you can read the original German too if you're interested.

9. Frontier by Can Xue, trans. Karen Gernant and Chen Zeping (Chinese): Can Xue is another difficult-to-classify writer in terms of genre. Her short stories are often very abstract and can be puzzling at first. I think Frontier is a great place to start with her because these stories are interconnected, which makes them a bit more accessible.

[tototalks]

🎵 Pretty woman, walking down the street, pretty woman, the kind I’d like to meet, pretty woman. 🎵

Let’s go!! Time for 💎 Pet 💎

- ‘Ancel was a virgin the first twelve times he has sex. The thirteenth time, it lacked all plausibility’ - What a way to start a story and give insight into the world Ancel lives in.

- You would be SHOCKED how much us redheads get the “does the carpet match the drapes” question from total strangers. Ancel is really living the authentic ginger experience. 😂

- In the times of ancient Greeks and Romans, redheaded slaves were more expensive because they were rarer. In that way, Ancel was designed perfectly to align with his character. Love that choice by Pacat! ♥️

- Ancel has a goal and I respect it, and he’s never once tried to hide it. It’s pretty clear that his love of expensive things comes from having very little at the start of life.

- It’s interesting to gain the perspective of a character detached from the thought of sex being emotionally significant. A first night was everything to Erasmus, and sex is hugely tied in with intimacy and emotional connection for Laurent. Jord and Aimeric fell in love while having sex. Whereas sex, to Ancel, is a means to an end. It’s literally his job.

- Love the implication that pets have their own hierarchy and contracts are fiercely competitive. They have their own little community.

- Ancel uses everything he has to his advantage to incredible effect. He’s pretty, witty, and talented. Whenever he walks into a room it’s like that scene from ‘How to Lose Friends and Alienate People’ where Megan Fox walks through the middle of the pool. Lol

- Now this may be the deeply ingrained European stereotypes I grew up with, but in the same way Laurent is French and Damen is Greek, Berenger is 100% German.

- You always get the sense that even though Ancel is bold and daring, he’s still tiptoeing and walking on eggshells. He completely reinvents himself for every new master he has.

- Haha Isagoras! - very on the nose and I love it

- It makes perfect sense that Ancel can’t read and cares little for long epics and poems. I’d be willing to bet though, that he has an amazing memory because of this. Uneducated does not equal unintelligent.

- Love that Ancel’s there all wide eyed like “yes! Please teach me to ride!” while internally he’s like “ew ew ew”. Don’t blame him. Horses are terrifying.

- I like that Berenger does find out Ancel is faking his interests and tells him that he doesn’t have to pretend. From there, Ancel is clearly more himself and more comfortable.

- In addition, although he’s a creature of habit, Berenger is actually really sweet 🥺🥺

- “Luxury suits you” “hell yeah it does.”

- I am so fascinated by Ancel and Erasmus existing in the same social sphere, and Ancel wondering why Erasmus doesn’t use the fact he’s beautiful for power, and dammit I’m going to have to write that fic, aren’t I? 😭

- Ancel and Berenger are mismatched but that’s what works so well about them with Berenger negotiating and Ancel naturally drawing attention to himself. They make up for one another’s differences.

- Ancel giving Berenger fashion advice, and Berenger ignoring it every time in favour of ✨another brown jacket✨

- I’m also liking the implication that Ancel enjoys being a pet and gaining attention for power because he knows what it’s like to be powerless. I personally like to think that he saw Nicaise’s situation and somewhat understood to a certain degree. I can imagine he would’ve been quite young when he started too.

- Fun fact! Ancel’s fire performance is actually reminiscent of a real dance! It’s a Polynesian art called Siva Afi and was traditionally a war dance, except instead of burning cloth on the ends of the baton, there are burning knives. Very cool! 🔥

- Ancel 🤝 Kris Jenner - all publicity is good publicity and I will make billionaires out of a scandal and watch people be jealous.

- The kiss being the first implication that Berenger actually does desire Ancel. Ooh boy, you ain’t hiding that much longer.

- The kiss is also the catalyst for Berenger ending the contract, and I can imagine that Ancel is so confused as to what he did wrong, not realising the circumstances behind the decision. 😞

- It’s absolutely wild looking back on the garden scene from a different perspective and realising that absolutely no one wanted that mess to happen.

- “You’re old.” - once again, ouch.

- Ancel being annoyed at seeing the lords go and ‘coddle’ Erasmus serves to highlight the wildly different appeals Ancel and Erasmus have as pets. Bold and daring vs. Sweet and modest. They would be unstoppable as friends. Shit, I’m really going to have to write that fic now, or read one that hopefully some talented person out there has written already 🙏

- Love that Ancel doesn’t rat Berenger out to the Regent - the Regent doesn’t even want him, and I’m sure Ancel is faintly remembering Nicaise mentioning that he’s “too old” 🤢

- And then the big reveal that Berenger was trying to protect Ancel as he supported Laurent’s bid for the throne; and Ancel realising that Berenger does, in fact, like him. Callback to “isn’t everyone looking for someone to be loyal to?” Sensational.

- I also, for my personal brain rot reasons, need Laurent and Ancel to strike up a bargain by which Ancel listens to all the pet gossip and rats out to Laurent which of the masters are disobeying the new laws of underaged pets or are undermining the new monarchy and union. All in return for a little coin of course 😉

- Ancel and Berenger: what a great little mismatched but perfectly matched pair! Really enjoyed this rendition of pretty woman! 😂

[meo-eiru]

the german anon is so fucking funny lmao. tell me why they're speaking in the most stilted way, like they're writing a poem 100 years ago? and they use both the formal and informal you to refer to you. It's cracking me up. German anon I respect you but I never wanna read that stuff in german again it sounds so weird (as someone whose first language is german as well lol)

Denn ich dachte: „Hey, wäre es nicht lustig, wenn jemand das sehen würde und nicht herausfinden könnte, warum?“

Ich bin so froh, dass es dir aufgefallen ist. Und ja, ich bin ein Dichter von vor 100 Jahren. Ich wurde hierher teleportiert, um mich Männern mit großen Titten zu widmen.

- EMS 🇩🇪

🤝Silas’s tits uniting us all no matter what time period we live in🤝

[anglerflsh]

update I now have a good (as in, I like his work) opinion of Rimbaud, and my French isn't as rusty as I thought. winning!

got a brand new (1970s) copy of all of Rimbaud's works from the library. love and light I will use it to brush up my french

[love-3-crimes]

Hey cj fandom! It's currently the 29th of January, which means that yesterday was the last day of the week long strike for Palestine. I apologize for not making a more official post for this earlier. I just wanted to come on here to try to sort of give ideas for what you can do to support Palestinians that should either not require money or just a small amount, and that I have personally done before.

---

For boycotting, there is an app called "No Thanks" (Here's a link to my original post) that tells you whether something is on the boycott list just by scanning the barcode. Very easy to use and it should be available on most phones.

---

For more information on propaganda and anti-Palestine talking points, I recommend reading Advocating for Palestine. It's a very short booklet, about 16 pages, and it comes in English, Arabic, German, French, Spanish, and Mandarin.

---

One way to get your voice heard is by contacting your representatives. Emailing, calling, anything to get their attention! The way to contact them will depend on which country you live in. For Americans, if you don't know who your representative is, use the congress find-your-member website, put your city/state, and a list of members will pop up with their info!

For the Australian representatives, use this website for the list of members, and for Europe there is a website called Voices in Europe for Peace that helps you get in touch with officials from your country. (It also has template you can copy and paste which is pretty cool!)

---

Now for E-SIMS! I'll be honest about this one, I don't know much about how these work exactly, but!!! I was given a link to this tweet that has a pretty good step-by-step of how to get E-SIMS to people in Gaza who need them! Though from what I've seen, they take about a month to activate and be used, so just a warning.

---

And, of course, the once-a-day click to help the UNRWA, who have been helping Palestinian refugees for many, many years. This one is especially important right now, as many countries have cut funding to them (more on this post)

---

One of the most important things you can do right now is listen and learn. Listen to Palestinian voices, uplift them, read their poems and stories and look at their art. Remember that they are human too. They are still alive! Don't forget about them, please.

[tinykonig]

König x Reader Headcanons

this is my first post!!!! im so excited!! i have had an extremely annoying day and just wanted to write these down to cheer me up a bit- hope you guys like them as well :) some of these are self indulgent so forgive me. im writing my könig fic but its taking a while since finals are upon me :/ Warnings: NSFW at the bottom, I put an indicator before :)

He is an extremely active listener. If he’s standing and you are talking to him, he has his feet pointed towards you and his head ducked down a bit so he can hear you better since he’s so tall. Nods along to whatever you say and generally has attentive body language

Remembers the smallest details from any conversation. You tell him a story about your childhood pet and months later he will casually say the pet’s name in another conversation. It always takes you off guard a little

When he realizes he likes you, he panics. Writes frantically in his journal for about 3 hours about it.

You catch on to his little crush pretty quickly, given how he lingers near you more than anyone else and gets shy at the smallest interactions

When you finally confess to him that you feel similarly he is so incredibly happy but flustered. Had to take a cold shower that night to calm himself down

Gives you little gifts all the time (one of his love languages for sure). A drawing he did, a flower he saw on the side of the road, some candy he brought from home, etc

Also collects anything you may gift him. Hoards them and protects them like they are living and breathing

Goes through them on nights when you two have to be apart. He can be extremely sentimental

If you are an artist in anyway, he is your HYPE MAN. Hangs up your drawings/poems/photographs, whatever it may be, in his little dorm room

He melts if you cook/bake him something homemade. Like seriously might get choked up. He loves the smell of baked goods, it always makes him feel right at home. You always try to bake him something on his birthday and he is over the moon about it

Protective but knows you can handle yourself most of the time. Despite his introverted nature he will defend you loudly and aggressively if he senses that it’s necessary

He loves any little weird quirks you may have. You love the smell of clean laundry? He thought it was so cute when you would sniff the shirts coming out of the dryer

OH OH OH LOVES THE THING WHERE YOU HAVE ONE HEADPHONE AND HE HAS THE OTHER AND YOU LISTEN TO THE SAME MUSIC AND JUST HANG OUT. oh man

Accidentally bumps into/knocks you with his hands or arms soooo often. He’s a big boy who doesnt quite have spatial awareness sometimes

He feels so bad everytime it happens and just cradles your face in his hands and apologizing so rapidly (it never really hurts but you like the attention so)

If you dont know german he will give you a “german word of the day” and will say it to you the entire day in context until you guess what it means

Is so excited when you guess right

Not gonna be into PDA it’s too much for him. He’s just constantly your shadow 24/7 in public. The most is having a hand on your back or shoulder so you don’t get lost in a crowd

In private however. Clingiest boy alive (his other love language is physical touch)

Lives for you laying your head on his lap. Plays with your hair or traces your features while he talks to you about his day or a book he started reading

Has the most expressive eyes in the world

I headcannon him as ginger, his hair slightly shaggy (haircuts give him anxiety so he does it himself when it starts to get in his eyes) and wavy

light freckles on his cheeks and across his nose!!!

With his blue eyes he is truly such a picture of beauty

He isn’t super weird about showing his face to you. When you start hanging out outside of work duties he doesn’t wear it, and appreciates that you dont bring attention to it

Sometimes you make a little comment about him being pretty and his face is on FIRE but he just quietly says thank you and has a little smile on his face

Compliments you shyly but often, will not make eye contact with you when he says it

Writes you super heartfelt notes that he will leave you to find because he can better express himself that way

Don’t get me wrong though he has his moments where he can be very very cocky!!

For example: right after a successful mission when he is still riding the adrenaline rush, he is much touchier with you even in front of others

If you need him to reach something he loves that and gets a little power trip. Teases you and makes you jump to get it from him a bit

If he notices that he made YOU blush, wooo boy he loves to tease you. “Did you like that, hmm?”, with a sickly sweet smile

NSFW BELOW

The first time was extremely soft and slow and sweet. He was very eager but very unsure of himself. Didn’t know where to put his hands. You had to guide him and reassure him and he didn’t last very long but it was sweet

He whimpered the entire time

After that, he slowly gains confidence and learns what works for you two

Still likes for you to be in control mostly, with rare soft dom moments

Will try almost anything once!!

Loves praise. Too insecure for degradation and absolutely can’t degrade you either

Loves to eat pussy sooooo much… You have a bad day? He’s on his knees in the shower with one of you thighs on his shoulder. Its your birthday? He got you like 9 presents but the finale is cumming on his tongue 4 times

He fucking growls sometimes when he’s overstimulated and its the greatest thing to grace your ears

Says “I love you” like a chant when he’s cumming in you

Wants to see your face the whole time

Ironically he is great at making eye contact in the bedroom

He has the sexiest thighs in the world

[kvetchlandia]

Pompilio Villarubbia Norri Roman Poet Gaius Valerius Catullus c.1935

When I was in high school, everyone was taking smart choice foreign languages: French, Spanish, German. I'm sure people would have taken Mandarin had my school offered it. But no, not me. I had to do the lame thing and go for the useless. I took Latin. By the time I hit university, I was pretty advanced in the language, but hadn't yet subjected myself to the barbarism of Medieval Church Latin (sorry, but what can I tell ya? I'm a classicist, I guess). Anyway, in my first term at Berkeley, I took an intensive course so I could hop right into translation of serious classical documents. My instructor (I still remember her name, which was great. She was called Tizzzie) had us select a Catullus poem to translate, just as a warm up. At random, because I didn't know it, I chose Catullus 58, one of the Lesbia poems. Lesbia was Catullus' love for a while, and he wrote a bunch of lovely romantic poems inspired by and dedicated to her. Then they had a nasty breakup and he took out the literary knives. Here is Catullus 58 in Latin:

Caeli, Lesbia nostra, Lesbia illa, illa Lesbia, quam Catullus unam plus quam se atque suos amavit omnes, nunc in quadriviis et angiportis glubit magnanimi Remi nepotes.

The reason I'm telling this boring tale is this: Look at the last line. Do you see the first word in the line - glubit (3rd person singular of the verb glubere, if you really wanted to know, which I rather doubt is the case). Well, I had no idea what the verb meant, never having encountered it before. I looked it up in my little student's Latin/English dictionary, only to find that it didn't appear there. Mystified, I went to the Doe Library, Berkeley's main library, where they had a bunch of Latin/English dictionaries. I grabbed one off the shelf at random and finally found a definition, which was "to bark back." I was like, "to bark back," what the fuck does that mean? Finally, I went to the humungous Oxford Latin Dictionary, in which at last I found a definition that made some sense. That would be - glubere: to pull back the foreskin prior to giving oral sex.

Damn, Latin actually had a piece of sex slang which literally meant to pull back the foreskin prior to giving a blow job! I learned this at UC Berkeley. And people say college isn't good for anything!

And, for those few of you who've bothered to read this far, here's my translation of the poem:

Caelius, our Lesbia, that Lesbia, that same Lesbia, who alone Catullus once loved more than himself and all others, now in the crossroads and alleyways pulls back the foreskins and sucks off the descendants of noble Remus.

OK, that's our lesson for the day. Be prepared for a quiz tomorrow. Class dismissed.

[pinkbubbles06]

Rosekiller Headcannons:

Pt. 2

Pt. 1

Some of these are my own and others are ones I agree with so if some seem familiar that’s why lol. Enjoy!!!!!! Gosh I love them so much. I need like a semi canonical fic of them stat.

* I like to think that Barty was the sweetest of souls when he was younger, but the constant abuse from his father and the cold world damaged him a lot. He also is bipolar so ya know…. Uhhh… yeah…😅

* Barty has long and slender fingers and it would always drive Evan nuts when Barty would wear rings on his hands and nervously play with them

* Barty also developed a tick/constant habit of darting hit tongue out of his mouth to wet his lips. Evan never learned why he did it but found it oddly endearing.

* I feel like Barty couldn't fall asleep without like a million pillows. Unless he had Evan. He would have the best sleep of his life when he slept with Evan.

* Barty will Call Evan Dimples

* The Infamous Three™ know French so they talk in it when they want to say shit about other people.

Evan knows German but rarely uses it.

Barty knows Italian and oh boy, his Italian. Evan got so hard the first time Barty started talking in Italian that he thought he was going to cream his pants. Barty talks in Italian when he drinks which is Evan's worst nightmare since Barty becomes even more flirty when drunk. Every time Barty calls him "mio amato" (my beloved), Evan MELTS (he stills swears he is straight™ and not completely in love with Barty).

When Barty wants to talk about Evan without being pried on, he talks on Italian. Reg knows Spanish and they make it work.

* Barty is Scottish and Evan is French.

* Barty picked up a bunch of languages by the age of 15 because his father decided it was mandatory for his son. (Crouch Sr. canonically knows around 200 languages)

* barty loves the snow. he could spend hours out in the cold without a warming charm if it weren't for his friends getting onto him about him possibly getting sick. he loves sledding down the hills at hogwarts, racing his friends to see who wins. he always does. he also likes snowball fights, building a snowman, and making snow angels. it was something him and his mother cherished so he likes to bask in those precious memories when he can.

* conversely, evan hates snow. his faces crinkles up at the sight of it. he makes sure he bundles himself up and uses warming charms as much as he can. most of the time he sits watching his friends enjoy the snow, throwing snowballs at each other. then barty just shows up with that damned smile of his, his eyes full of wonder at the snow falling down. barty will shoot him a grin just before he throws a snowball. sure, evan hates the snow, but he does genuinely appreciate how happy it makes his boyfriend.

* it is a matter of fact that Barty and Evan spoiled each other constantly, with materialistic things or with kisses and hugs.

* Evan’s birthday is June 20th

* Barty loved to doodle. He would sometimes just grab a marker or something and gently and carefully draw on Evan’s hands or arms. Whichever was easiest to doodle on at the time.

* Barty is secretly a book worm and could talk for days on end to Evan about what he reads.

* Evan isn't much of a reader but he will read anything if Barty suggests it to him, because he absolutely loves seeing him ramble. Barty will also annotate books for him when he borrows them. Don’t get him started on the love poems.

* Barty is so smart. But like in the doesn't need to try smart - tests come easy to him sort of smart

* Evan is completely and totally scared of all bugs ever, and he has to get reg or barty to kill them when they get into the dorm. Barty will sometimes terrorize him by bring the bug really close to him in his hand. Evan screams bloody murder every time. Barty gets such a kick out of it lol.

* When someone asks Barty if he wants something to eat, he’ll say ‘you’ in a deadpan tone (mainly to Evan)

* Evan is possessive as fuck, he will actually glare anyone down that even looks in Barty's direction and will proceed to plan a murder.

* Evan was just a little bit more unhinged than Barty was at Hogwarts. But after school, and after he was a legal adult, Barty let loose and they were both unhinged together!!😁

* Barty and Evan share beds a ton, and the first time it happened was because Barty was having a hard day and Evan snuck in and held him through the night,

* Barty also has nightmares and instinctively looks for evan when he wakes up; Evan is always there

* Barty secretly proposed to Evan when they were 16. No one knew about it. Ever. And no one could ever tell because they almost always both wore rings. So they were engaged until Evan died, because they never got to get married because of all the “no gay marriage!!” In the 70s/80s

* I like to think Barty fell first but when Evan fell for him too Barry’s love grew deeper once he had him. So basically he fell first and he also fell harder.

* Barty never holds people's hands, he just wraps his fingers around their wrist. Friends or Lovers.

Evan has no idea why, maybe it's a preference or something?

Barty actually does it to check if the person he's with has a pulse and is real, a small reassurance for his anxiety

* evan has blue eyes, and barty collects sea rocks or flowers when they match the color perfectly. He’s kinda like a crow that way. He will find things that remind him of Evan, or that make him think of him, and he will give them to Evan. He keeps every single one.

* Barty has deep emerald green eyes.

* Evan adores it when Barty runs his fingers through his hair. He gets shivers down his spine every time.

* They both actively tried to summon ghosts

* Evan has like really bad circulation so he's like ALWAYS cold. And Barty is always a furnace

* Barty would often just bite Evan’s shoulder. Evan eventually go a tattoo of Barry’s bite marks on his left shoulder.

* Harley Quinn and Barty Crouch Jr. are interchangeable and you cannot convince me otherwise.

* Like, “what’s that I should kill everyone and escape? oh sorry, it’s the voices… I’m kidding!!! that’s not what they actually said.”

* Evan would often put his hand on Barry’s throat and Barty lived for every second of it. The Horny Bastard.

* I just know that Barty and Evan had so many dramatic break ups over the pettiest things

* They did it so they could have hate sex🤣🤣

* Barty would always tell Evan that he hopes that he would die first. He always said he never wanted to live in a world where Evan wasn’t in it….

* The skittles(Barty, Evan, Reggie, Panda, and Dorcas) all made an unbreakable vow that only death would do them part… and it did…

* Everyone thinks that they can’t stand each other when in public, but alone, or just with their friends, they are literally unbearable

* Evan wears baggy clothes and Barty wears tight clothes. Fight me on this.

* Also Evan has the sluttiest waist known to mankind.

* The fist Slytherin party that Evan actually danced at, he was so insecure. So Barty convinced him that no one was looking at Evan and that they were just looking at Barty. And after a few drinks, Barty had convinced Evan of that and he just let lose. And holy shit were they hot together. Kinda like the song by Sabrina carpenter if u know what I mean….

* Like, Barty would say “They aren’t even looking at you Ev, they’re looking at me.” Then Evan would say, “But I don’t want them to look at you Barty.”

* Evan took his shirt off a few times at a couple of party’s and literally all eyes were on him but he didn’t care cus Barty was there, Hands tightly secured to his waist and glaring at anyone who even glanced at Evan.

* Barty is a pyromaniac, and when that happens only Dorcas and Pandora can settle it. Evan can too but he usually just enables him🤣

* When Evan goes missing it doesn’t take Barty long to figure out he is dead. It totally sent him off the deep end and caused him to put all of his devotion into the only thing he had left, Voldemort.

* Also, once he found out Evan was dead he went straight to Pandora. She was the only one of their friends would would even think about talking to him. He was miserable, he wouldnt leave his room at Pandoras house for days.

* I am also completely convinced that Bartemius Crouch Sr had Evan assassinated after he found out about him and Barty.

* Like you know how canonically moody was trying to take him prisoner, but Evan was fighting so damn hard that Moody had to kill him. I think that was his order along. You can’t convince me otherwise. that is what happened.

* When he is posing as Moody, Barty finds out about this and kills his dad because of it. And also because of the god awful abuse. Duh.🙄

* Also, a little before torturing Alice and Frank Longbottom, Barty tried to obliviate himself so he would just forget Evan and Regulus because the pain of losing them was too much. In his attempt, because his emotions were so high, he messed it up and he went insane. This also caused him to hallucinate Evan and Regulus. The hallucinations of them were the ones who convinced him that Alice and Frank killed Evan. (Barty already knew how Regulus died.)

* Regulus told Kreature to tell Evan and Barty how he died, knowing they would keep his secret. And they did until they died.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

George Orwell: The Prevention of Literature

George Orwell:

The Poet & The Prose Writer

There is a whole series of converging reasons why it is somewhat easier for a poet than a prose writer to feel at home in an authoritarian society.

To begin with, bureaucrats and other ‘practical’ men usually despise the poet too deeply to be much interested in what he is saying.

Secondly, what the poet is saying — that is, what his poem ‘means’ if translated into prose — is relatively unimportant, even to himself.

The thought contained in a poem is always simple, and is no more the primary purpose of the poem than the anecdote is the primary purpose of the picture.

A Poem

A poem is an arrangement of sounds and associations, as a painting is an arrangement of brushmarks.

For short snatches, indeed, as in the refrain of a song, poetry can even dispense with meaning altogether.

It is therefore fairly easy for a poet to keep away from dangerous subjects and avoid uttering heresies; and even when he does utter them, they may escape notice.

But above all, good verse, unlike good prose, is not necessarily and individual product.

Certain kinds of poems, such as ballads, or, on the other hand, very artificial verse forms, can be composed co-operatively by groups of people:

Whether the ancient English and Scottish ballads were originally produced by individuals, or by the people at large, is disputed; but at any rate they are non-individual in the sense that they constantly change in passing from mouth to mouth.

Even in print no two versions of a ballad are ever quite the same.

Many primitive peoples compose verse communally.

Someone begins to improvise, probably accompanying himself on a musical instrument, somebody else chips in with a line or a rhyme when the first singer breaks down, and so the process continues until there exists a whole song or ballad which has no identifiable author.

Prose

In prose, this kind of intimate collaboration is quite impossible.

Serious prose, in any case, has to be composed in solitude, whereas the excitement of being part of a group is actually an aid to certain kinds of versification.

Verse — and perhaps good verse of its own kind, though it would not be the highest kind — might survive under even the most inquisitorial regime.

Even in a society where liberty and individuality had been extinguished, there would still be a need either for patriotic songs and heroic ballads celebrating victories, or for elaborate exercises in flattery; and these are the kinds of poems that can be written to order, or composed communally, without necessarily lacking artistic value.

Prose is a different matter, since the prose writer cannot narrow the range of his thoughts without killing his inventiveness.

But the history of totalitarian societies, or of groups of people who have adopted the totalitarian outlook, suggests that loss of liberty is inimical to all forms of literature.

German literature almost disappeared during the Hitler regime, and the case was not much better in Italy.

Russian literature, so far as one can judge by translations, has deteriorated markedly since the early days of the revolution, though some of the verse appears to be better than the prose.

Few if any Russian novels that it is possible to take seriously have been translated for about fifteen years.

In western Europe and America large sections of the literary intelligentsia have either passed through the Communist Party or have been warmly sympathetic to it, but this whole leftward movement has produced extraordinarily few books worth reading. Orthodox Catholicism, again, seems to have a crushing effect upon certain literary forms, especially the novel.

During a period of three hundred years, how many people have been at once good novelists and good Catholics?

The fact is that certain themes cannot be celebrated in words, and tyranny is one of them.

No one ever wrote a good book in praise of the Inquisition.

Poetry might survive in a totalitarian age, and certain arts or half-arts, such as architecture, might even find tyranny beneficial, but the prose writer would have no choice between silence or death.

Prose literature as we know it is the product of rationalism, of the Protestant centuries, of the autonomous individual.

And the destruction of intellectual liberty cripples the journalist, the sociological writer, the historian, the novelist, the critic, and the poet, in that order.

In the future it is possible that a new kind of literature, not involving individual feeling or truthful observation, may arise, but no such thing is at present imaginable.

It seems much likelier that if the liberal culture that we have lived in since the Renaissance comes to an end, the literary art will perish with it.

The Falsification of Reality

But however it may be with the physical sciences, or with music, painting and architecture, it is — as I have tried to show — certain that literature is doomed if liberty of thought perishes.

Not only is it doomed in any country which retains a totalitarian structure; but any writer who adopts the totalitarian outlook, who finds excuses for persecution and the falsification of reality, thereby destroys himself as a writer. 

Unless spontaneity enters at some point or another, literary creation is impossible, and language itself becomes ossified. At some time in the future, if the human mind becomes something totally different from what it is now, we may learn to separate literary creation from intellectual honesty.

At present we know only that the imagination, like certain wild animals, will not breed in captivity.

Excerpts from the essay, "The Prevention of Literature" published in Polemic, January 1946

More: George Orwell

[itskindofidontknow]

What dreams know about love?

Chapter 4

Dream of The Endless/Morpheus x Love!OFC

Summary: The Queen of Love has grown used to the absence of her husband, the Dream King. After banning her from the Dreaming, they only saw each other when Morpheus summoned her for social or marital duties. He would go decades without calling for her, enamorated by a variety of mistresses. It broke Love's heart. Not that her husband cared. However, after being imprisioned for a century, The Dream King wants to regain his Queen's love. She doesn't believe him, not after centuries of neglect. The question is: Can dreams repair a broken heart?

Tag: Established relationship, arranged marriage, regency romance, eventual happy ending, angst, morpheus is a dick prepare to hate, love is eoster from west germanic mythology, typos are to be expected

TW: Explicit sexual content, lost of virginity, p in v, consent is here but pleasure is not.

"Don't you think it is too much?"

"Not at all, m’lady. It is your wedding, nothing is ever 'too much'." Eoster sheepishly smiled, pressing her hands against the white sheer corset that the Seamstress was adjusting. Her wedding dress. Long silk skirts covered by tulle made of stardust, reflecting the bright sunlight that entered through the windows. Looking at her reflection at the mirror, it seemed like Eoster was shining. Inside, she truly felt like she was. Shining, happy, excited “It’s all happening in such a hurry. Dear Desire, do you think I am rushing it?” She bit her lip. There has only been one year. Yes, their letters were full of passion and devotion for each other, and Love never felt such affection, but still, a year was so little. Rushed and desperate mortal’s relationships always ended badly… Shouldn’t she wait more?

Before that boring conference of universal manifestations, both were only distantly aware of each other's existence. Some dreams were heavily influenced by her works and some lovers were heavily influenced by their dreams. One could say that they were nothing but distant work colleagues. That night, however, thanks to Desire, they were both formally presented to each other.

Love did not take much of it, since she was in the middle of hiding from a group of extremely boring and arrogant suitors that wanted a place in her dance card. Desire was certain that being accompanied by Dream would keep away the suitors. Eoster was not sure of that, even though Lord Morpheus didn't have the friendliest of faces, definitely not an entity she would cross, some of her suitors couldn't, for their life, read the room. He didn't seem to care for Love either. Different from most, which Desire would later say in confidence, that he lost his words in presence of such a beauty, like Love’s. She did not believe in it. But she did think it could be true disinterest. After all, the Dream King could have any maiden he wanted, he didn’t need to court someone like Love.

In truth, Dream’s thoughts were in Calliope, wanting to return to her, and get away from the conference. He was also skeptical about Desire’s sudden approach and poor excuse of 'helping their friend dodge suitors'. Desire had no friends.

The brown haired queen didn’t think much about their meeting until a few weeks later when she received a dove, a letter written by Lord Morpheus himself, ddressed to her. Daily, Love received suitors’ doves. She kept them all, feeding her ego with those sweet words and praises. There were some terrible poems and sonnets, but she knew they were well-intended (Not all of them, some of them had sinful propositions that Love prefere to ignore). His letter, however, was different, it didn’t praise her beauty, or compared her to the stars, neither had any vulgar proposition. It was a simple apology regarding the unattentive way he treated her in the conference.

Love was afraid the Dream King would have the wrong impression if she responded. She knew she had to say something, but what exactly? She didn’t want to sound like he owed her an apology, but she also did not want to dismiss him, saying it was nothing. Unsure of how to proceed, Love went to Desire of the Endless, not only they were Dream younger sibling, they were one of her best friends and also someone who Love considered as the older sibling she never had.

The Love Queen adored working with Desire, it was not only easier but much more pleasing to see two souls being together in perfect harmony, tenderly hungry for each other, not only they had carnal lust but also affection and devotion. Desire also was a great friend, always helping her escape suitors, and entertain her afternoons, making her company in the Garden.

For Desire, it was more like having a puppy than a friend. The wide-eyed innocent persona of Love was something she considered fun to have around and mess with. It was amusing to see her blushing complexion with every dirty comment and prank, or pretending to know about topics they knew she had not the slightest idea whatwas about.

Desire was the one that encouraged her to respond in an affectionate way. ‘Believe me, little dove, my brother does not send letters to anyone’, they said. And Love started to wonder about Lord Morpheus intentions. She caught herself thinking about why they hadn't met before. How could she have gone without a proper introduction for so long? He was a gentleman, attractive, and dutiful. A suitor that she might actually consider, besides, they worked close. Love started to daydream about the projects they could do together, the wonders they might provide to mortals.

Waiting for his answer was pure agony. Love was starting to give up any hope, thinking he only was being polite since she was friends with Desire. But when a dove came with the Dreaming’s seal. Love was caught by a surprise relief she felt on her chest. She was longing for a response. The correspondence did not stop for over 365 days. Anxiously she waited for every dove, always thinking that he might grow tired of her.

The palace staff quickly learned that if their Queen was nowhere to be found, she would probably be hiding in her winter’s garden, sitting in the balcony, eyes lost in the pink sky's horizon, wishing for a dove with a letter. Lord Morpheus' letters made the difference between a melancholic and a blissful afternoon. Elijah could cancel any engagements Love had when his letters arrived, since she would spend the rest of the day, with the head in the clouds, trying to imagine what he was feeling when writing to her, if he was thinking about her reading his letter. She giggled alone and reread every sentence, trying to imagine all he described, wondering if one day she might be invited to his realm. If he wrote fifty pages of letters, it wouldn’t be enough.

Eoster fell deeply in love. His letters flooded her senses, filled her nights and brightened her days. They developed some distant companionship, and Love never felt a connection quite the same. During this time, every mortal felt love in a newfound intensity, their creativity sprouted, the kisses were tender, the embraces longer, the partitude hurted more than a knife through the heart. The Garden flourished in plenitude, the flowers were vibrant, the grass greener and softer, the air was warm with light breezes. She never received so many young ladies and lords in waiting, she gladly taught about the ways of the heart. And when he proposed, Love had to contain herself otherwise mortals would probably explode of infatuation.

Desire looked back to her with a cheshire smile, seeing all those questions going through their friend’s head. They langley raised from Love’s bed and walked to the young maiden hugging her from behind. “Never, my darling. Look at you, look at your Garden. Both blossoming in happiness. Such happiness cannot be misleading. Besides, he was the one that called for a True Marriage.” Love squeezed Desire’s hand while taking a deep breath.

A True Marriage. The oldest type of union, and one of the rarest. If one is not sure of their love, they would never call for one. All the other ordinary unions are annulled by a True Marriage, nothing is above it. An unbreakable bond, written in golden permanent ink in Lord Destiny’s book. Unchangeable, no matter what the circumstances, twist and turns, or paths one chooses. It’s more than just a ceremony or names on a piece of paper, it’s an exchange of souls and hearts. One holds the life of the other, and gives its own life in exchange. The vows of a True Marriage are not to be taken lightly.

The only way to terminate a True Marriage is by terminating life. And when one half dies, part of the soul and the heart of the other half also dies. If Morpheus wanted to marry her under these ancient laws, he was as certain of his feelings as she was of hers.

The Seamstress pushed Desire out of the way, getting on her knees to finish the hem of the dress. “Don’t stay in the way if you don’t want to get pushed, m’lady-lord”. Desire rolled her eyes at the old woman. If one of Love’s cupid had done this to an Endless it would be considered a serious offense, but The Seamstress didn’t belong to any realm, she didn’t go by any set of hierarchy, she was old, how old Love didn’t know, but she had more wrinkles than anyone could count, along with a sharp tongue. “There you go, m’lady. All is done.”

The old woman gave Love’s waist two friendly taps, before getting up proudly looking at her creation. “My queen, I can’t say that I know the King of Dreams, but I know about wedding dresses.” The seamstress has been designing and sewing them for eons “And if our Lord Morpheus does not put a stained glass window of you in his palace. He is a fool.“ Desire and Love looked at each other, before laughing. And Love jumped and pulled the Seamstress into a hug. “Oh Seamstress! I promise, as Queen of Love, that if we decided for a wedding party, you shall have a invitation, you’ll be my guest of honor” The old lady was thrown off by the sudden movement, but welcomed the hug the Queen gave, and throw her hands in the air dismissing the invite. “I thank you for the invitation m’lady, but I sew, I don’t go to parties.”

Two knocks came from the door before Elijah popped his head in the room. “Excuse me, blessing from the Garden, Seamstress and Lady-Lord Desire.” He politely acknowledged the two others in the room before addressing Love “My Queen, it’s time.”

She said her goodbyes to the Seamstress, who remembered her that all her nuptial nightgowns were already sent to the Dreaming, and to Desire, who promised her a visit after the honeymoon, which made Love said wouldn’t be necessary, she could visit her in the next day, to which Desire whispered smiling into her ear “Darling, darling, trust me, you will not want to leave your room” Love gasped over her friend answer, but rolled her eyes. Desire was always full of little games to make her anxious.

Elijah spent the last entire week trying to learn everything he could to prepare for a True Wedding. There wasn’t much literature available and the whole ceremony was kind of a mystery. All he gathered was that both Lady Eoster and Lord Morpheus would be invited to Destiny's realm, where it would happen. No guests, no celebrations, just the two of them. Elijah really wished Lord Destiny would allow at least one witness (preferable one cupid, more specifically, him) to accompany Lady Love. After all, the King of Dreams was his sibling, but Lady Love was going on her own. “I am not on my own, my dear cupid. Soon Lord Morpheus will be my husband, and Lord Destiny, my brother-in-law. '' She pointed it out to Elijah. “Yes, my Queen of course, but Lord Destiny is already Lord Morpheus’ brother, by blood” Love stopped in the middle of the pink marble corridor, trying to calm her cupid down. She knew he only meant the best, but the rules were the rules, and she did not want to upset Lord Destiny, even before becoming his in-law. “ Lord Destiny will not be there as Lord Morpheus’ brother, he is the only one that can seal a True Marriage. Please, worry not, my cupid. All is well.” She reached for his hand, squeezing it, before looking in his doubtful eyes.

“Take some time to rest, after all, when we get back, you will also have the Prince of Stories to worry about.” Love tried to lighten the mood, she could not have her own worries and Elijah’s, hers was already overwhelming. “I will be glad to be able to worry for my ladyship and lordship.” He smiled before she asked to enter the Garden of Forking Ways.

Mist covered her eyes, Love squeezed her eyes trying to get a better view of her way. There was only silence, she tried to understand if she was inside the palace or in the actual gardens, since the mist was so dense, she couldn’t see the palm of her hands.

Naturally, she jumped when the deep voice of her host cut through the silence, echoing "Welcome, Queen Eoster, Lady of the Four Loves, Princess of Springs, and Ruler of the Garden of Lovers." As stoic as Love remembered. She made a deep bow "Lord Destiny of the Endless, blessings from the Garden, it's an honor to be accepted in your realm" she couldn’t tell if he heard her, until following a long silence, he said it "Follow me".

Love did as she was told, as she kept walking, her vision adjusted to her surroundings and she realized she was walking in the hallways through his empty palace. Light was getting more scarce, and when he opened a door to a room and made way for her to come inside, there was no light at all, only darkness. If she squeezed her eyes she could see some sparkle of her dress, she questioned herself if Morpheus would be able to see it as well. Maybe she did overdo it. "Lovers, offer your hands to one another" Her heart beating fast, within the silence, Love was certain Lord Destiny would hear it.

She hesitated for a moment. "The eyes do not need to see what the heart already is familiar with." Destiny answered her question before Love could even vocalize it. She offered her open hand to the void in front of her, she felt a cold palm under her hand. As they touched, Destiny continued. "Bonded by life. Terminated by death. Remember spouses, golden ink will tell your tales, but if red ink stained your pages, half of your spirit is the price to be paid.”

Feeling his cold hands against hers, brought Love some relief. Although the lady of springs was certain he was going to be there, to have this assurance, to actually feel him, was something else. They were pen pals turned to pen lovers, but never actually met, until today. It was unusual, but Lord Morpheus said it, and Lady Love agreed that longing made the heart grow stronger. And the bond that they developed, some couples spent eternity failing to build it. Now, they would have the whole eternity to make their longing for each other, worth it.

"If your hearts are true to your feelings, you may now say the sacred vows" Destiny said, his voice sounding permanent as their vows would be.

The beautiful and eternal vows. Dangerous for the weak of flesh and heart. Once they said it, there was no return from it. Love could feel the air thickening, her mouth was dry and she could feel the cold sweat in her hands. Maybe it was the pressure of it all, maybe it was the power of the old rite manifesting along them. She squeezed her fiance’s hands. ‘Give me strength, my love’ she thought, wishing Morpheus could read her mind.

“One soul. One heart. One life. As you are mine and I am yours. I embrace your darkness and worship your light. By the laws written in the Book Before Time, I concede to you my life and devotedly take yours, for I have no essence, no will, no present, past or future if not yours.”

The dense air was suffocating, she could smell blood and iron mixed. Ancient powers. Her head and feet felt light. It was difficult to breathe. She was doing everything she could to keep concentrating “Why can’t I hear him?” Love asked breathlessly, her chest burning. Destiny took, what seemed to be hours to answer “The ears do not need to hear what the heart already knows.” She weakly nodded “Hold onto your loved one, burden him with the weight of the soul, give your regrets, your happiness, your…” She tried to obey, focusing on the instructions, concentrating on what to do, but Destiny's voice drifted away, like she was under deep water drowning trying to hear him speak. Until she didn’t.

When Love returned to herself, the air was no longer thick, nor was it difficult to breathe. The darkness was still there, but that, she realized, was due to her closed eyes. And when she opened them, jumping afraid she might have somehow slept through her own wedding, she fell into the ground. What an embarrassment! Quickly she tried to get up, but her legs failed and her palms got sored from the impact. Her thoughts were only in getting up fast, before Destiny noticed, before Morpheus noticed. How could she do such a thing in front of her husband and her brother in law? She squinted her eyes trying to adjust to the light. ‘Light?’. There was no light. Before, there wasn’t. She blinked. Now, It was too bright. This…Where was she?

Love looked up, facing the surface she felt from. A bed. A room, she was in a room. And It wasn’t Destiny’s realm. Neither it was hers or Desire’s. She supported her elbows in the mattress, raising herself, throwing her body against satin black sheets. It smelt different. She looked to the narrow tall windows from where she could see the grayish skies. Looking around the room, it was a bedroom, but there wasn’t much furniture. A nightstand, a dresser, a tri-fold standing mirror, and the bed.

Love was still in her wedding dress. Her head hurted trying to remember what happened. One minute she was holding hands with her future husband, saying vows…the other. “ My Lady, you are awake” A strange lady entered the bedroom. She didn’t hear her knock. “I am Lucienne, my lady, Lord Morpheus’ librarian '' Love turned her face to the woman. “Lord Morpheus brought you to The Dreaming. A True Marriage can be quite overwhelming.” If she didn’t have bigger concerns, Love would’ve thought that the lady was terrible at small talk. But she was still confused “ You fainted, right after your vows and…Lord Morpheus brought you to the Dreaming. Where you are, right now”. The dark skinned woman explained, as the Queen frowned, raising her body from the covers, and even though she was feeling dizzy, she kept herself sitting. The Dreaming.

His realm. Their realm.

“Here my lady.” The woman gave a cup of a red liquid to her. Love had no idea what it was, but its warm and floral smell was convincing enough to make her take a few sips. Her throat was dry. “Where is he?” Love said before clearing her throat. Her cloudy thoughts started to clear and panic grew inside her “ Is he worried? Please you must tell him that I am well.” Lucienne frowned, taking a few seconds to observe the woman in front of her. From what Lord Morpheus told her, Lucienne imagined an unapologetic seductress, evil grin without an ounce of remorse, very similar to his sibling Desire.

Instead, the Queen was a young woman with lily white skin, green puffy eyes full of worry and the voice hinted with panic. She looked full of innocence, worry and beauty. It was not even a compliment to say it, it was more of a fact “He is well, my Lady. “. It also made a bitter sense to the librarian, on why her king wishes to see her in person in his room, instead of just banishing her forever. He would not let an ambush like this go unpunished.

Morpheus was fine. Furious yes, but well, in terms of physical integrity. He thought Calliope had called for a True Marriage. Not Lady Love. In fact, he only met the queen on one occasion, and she was with his sibling. Probably when they decided to trap him in misery. Lucienne hated that her lord had put her, of all his creations, to deal with his wife. She was not cut for this. Especially when they seemed more lost than mischievous.

“Lord Morpheus sent me to see if you were already awake. I did also send a raven to inform the lovefolk about your whereabouts. I didn’t mention your state, as I didn’t want to worry them. I hope I didn’t step out of my place“ The woman lowered her head in respect. Love was quickly to leave the tea in the nightstand before reaching the librarian’s hand and pulling her into a tight hug “Oh dear Lucienne, you have my eternal gratefulness!” The librarian froze in shock with the sudden and expansive reaction. Love broke their hug only to look into her eyes “Elijah would probably be banging on this door if you had told him.” She jokingly said with a smile. The librarian gave out a sympathetic smile, before darting her gaze uncomfortably.

“Yes? My dear, is there anything else? I hope nothing happened to Lord Morpheus. I surely hoped that I didn’t embarrass him.” Eoster could see the distressed look in the librarian’s face. Love would never forgive herself if anything had happened to her husband. “No, my Lady, Lord Morpheus is fine. He wishes to… see you.” Love followed The librarian’s eyes to the other side of the bed. One of her nuptials gowns perfectly extended. “It arrived early, my lady. I believe Lord Morpheus, want you to…” She left the sentence unfinished, hopeful that the queen would understand.

Eoster opened another smile, face brightening, laughing as she grabbed the fabric and jumped out of the bed, dancing with the fabric, stumbling in her wedding dress.

Lucienne tried to reach for the queen to avoid an accident, but the lady was fast, crossing the bedroom in front of the mirror, trying to undo the tight laces in her back. It didn’t even feel like a few moments ago, she was passed out in the bed. “Lucienn, please help me undress. One should never make a husband wait for the nuptials” As they undid the laces in the back, and got Eoster out of her underskirts, the Queen couldn’t stop talking, which was very different from what the librarian was used to. Dizzy, Lucienne only nodded and gave polite smiles, thank goodness the brown haired maiden didn't expect answers. She was affectionate, talkative, and exceedingly happy. It didn’t match what one would expect of someone who scammed others into marriage. It matched what Lucienne expected of a young maiden absolutely infatuated by her husband, anxious for her wedding night.

Lucienne didn’t know how to feel. Lord Morpheus said she should be careful with Love, but Lady Love was swirling in the corridors, giggling, holding Lucienne by the arm as they were the best of friends, and taking every opportunity at a reflection surface to fix her hair, or her nightgown while walking from her quartels to meet her husband. Love took a deep breath as Lucienne knocked in the door, and gave a final smile and a squeeze in the hand, as the librarian opened the door and Lady Love closed.

Something wasn’t right. That woman was not an evil seductress that had her fun tricking the prince of stories, someone who enjoys playing hurtful games so he could never be truly happily married to his muse. In truth, Lucienne never saw anyone more transparent, guiltless and pure than Lady Love. In fact, she looked like the perfect fit for being misled.

As the door closed and Eoster saw Morpheus, hands in his back, with his usual black attire, happiness filled her heart. She ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck, pressing a soft chaste kiss in his lips. She waited a few seconds, but he didn’t respond. Neither did he embrace her. Embarrassingly, Love untangled her arms, letting her hand slide through his chest. Morpheus gave such a cold look at her hands that she quickly dropped them to her sides, entangling her fingers, giving a embarrassed small laugh “Pardon me, my lord husband for keeping you waiting”, She offered a small courtesy, thinking that probably he was displeased with her delay. Also giving his queue, to tell her to drop the formalities as they were husband and wife in the purest form. But he didn’t.

They stayed silent for what seemed hours. Morpheus waited for Love to admit what she did, to drop the maiden-in-love act, to take the blame. But she kept stupidly looking at him, he was tense, taking every fiber of himself to not oblige her to admit her sins. He knew Desire and their likes weren’t ever gonna repent, but to keep the act? Why? Why continue this farce? Why prolong his misery? Wasn’t forbid him to take his muse, his true love, as his wife, as the true queen of the Dreaming, enough? ‘Brother, why the long face? You were always moping around about your tragic romances and Eoster was infatuated by you. I only gave her a helping hand. Attending to one’s true desire. Performing my duty. And knowing Love, she will be more than eager to please you’ Morpheus could almost hear Desire’s purring voice from early, when he saw who his bride was and went to his sibling's realm to get some answers on this madness.

He wished to forget that his sibling was family. He wished to cut their throat and spill blood and not care by the mayhem within it.

He turned away from the maiden, walking to the bed. She and Desire came up with this, didn’t they? If Eoster wanted to forcefully be his wife, engaging in treacherous schemes without caring for his feelings in the first place, he wouldn’t care for hers. He couldn’t. How can she call herself the Lady of Love, if she doesn’t respect the love of others, putting her desires in first place?

Eoster followed with her eyes, his way near the bed, as he took his coat off. Her cheeks started to burn, and a sudden fear grow in her stomach. She avoided looking at him, trying to memorize their bedroom. It didn’t have anything special. Narrow tall windows, that let the greyish lights enter the room, it had no dresser, nor tri fold mirror. Love started to realize that Lord Morpheus’s palace was very minimalistic. He would probably be overwhelmed by the amount of art and decoration the bedrooms the Garden had.

Love kept distracting her with decoration thoughts to avoid the uneasiness that was starting to grow in her stomach. Morpheus was…different, from his letters. In them, he was infatuated to say the least, but now, he was cold. He barely acknowledged her, and was already unfastening his belt.

They never talked about carnal unions in their exchanges, the subject felt too intimate to discuss over letters, but she dreamed about being in his arms, heat reaching her core through her inner thighs, hot kisses spread along her curves, Dream molding her for him only and only him. Just like the most lustful and devoted mortals. And she knew he thought of her too, his letters gave hints, but never were explicit.

Love kept herself untouched for her true love. For him. And now, the queen was having second doubts, as he was treating it less like a sacred union and more like an obligation. As he was only expecting her, so they could get over it. “My Lord, I-” Love started to say, when he interrupted her “Lay down.” He looked over his shoulder, indicating the bed. The brunette took a deep breath fearfully looking at the mattress, covered in black satin sheets. She slowly walked to the edge, sitting while smoothing her long white satin nightgown, looking down at the lace pattern in her mid thigh, drawing with her fingers, feeling her cheeks and chest burned in apprehension.

“Lay down.” He said in a low impatient voice. She raised her head as he repeated, he was still fully dressed. She knew what was going to happen and searched her husband’s eyes, looking for some sympathy, some kindness, to embrace her and soothe the fears away, but instead she found his deep blue pupils, those everyone used to say you can see the whole universe, and saw nothing.

There was nothing there for her. He was acting as it was nothing for him. As she was nothing. He was about to take his wife's virginity, to make her entirely and only his. She didn’t know how to question him or how to tell him she did not want them to perform a martial duty, she wanted them to make love.

Lost without words, and feeling his annoyance, she did as told, laying on her back, curls spread in the mattress while she stared at the dark ceiling, knees strongly closed together. “Lady wife” Love raised herself hopefully for some remnant of the man she got to know through the letters. It didn’t go unnoticed that he kept the formal titles between them, but at least he was talking to her. “Are you untouched?”

She felt her face burning. Straightforward. Her husband was very straightforward. She barely nodded her head, feeling somewhat of embarrassment. Love knew it was pathetic to feel embarrassed of something her husband would soon discover, but at the same time, this Morpheus, made her feel like a stupid child.

He took a few seconds, processing the information. “ Waiting for true love, Lord husband”. She hesitantly said it, shrugging it off. It seemed sacred once, but now, it sounded silly. Still she looked hopeful to him, opening a sweet smile as he got close. “This won’t be good for you”. Her smile dropped, It was the last thing he said before grabbing her by the waist pulling her toward him. Eoster let out a surprised gasp. Her head hitted the mattress as she slid in his direction.

Love glanced at her husband, starting to pant, her thoughts scrambled in a pool of hysteria, panic grew into her as she heard the sound of pants being unfastened. Love kept waiting for him with her knees on her chest, as he wasn’t holding her. She lowered her eyes to see why was he taking so long, and caught him stroking himself. “Husband, I can-” She started to offer, when Morpheus let out a frustrated groan, cursing as he turned to look at his wife that resembled a frightened dove, she looked down to the mattress.

He grunted before reaching to the hem of her nightgown, ripping the thin fabric, exposing her all to him. Surprised, Love automatically covered her breasts. Morpheus took her hands out of the way, and she stayed bare under his gaze, hands to her side. He couldn’t deny, she was beautiful. Long silky legs that were going to be his to grab, small pink breasts with hard nipples that desperately wanted to be touched, pink full lips that could scream his name, and beg for him to do sinful things to her. Desire said that Love would be eager to please him, she would probably do as he told her, he could have her anywhere, anytime. His cock twitched at the thought and he stroked it faster, throwing his head back. But wasn’t really Lady Love he imagined doing ungodly things with. It was really Calliope. Love was only there to perform the duty she desperately wanted.

Her husband went back to stroking himself in a pace he seemed to like, squeezing his eyes shut. Love couldn't possibly be more embarrassed. He wasn’t even looking at her, and she didn’t understand why. Was she not what he expected?

Love turned her face away, pressing against the mattress, holding a sob in her throat, and closing her eyes, shivering feeling cold without anything to cover, she didn’t realize how cold the bedrooms could be. She opened her eyes when she felt her husband positioning himself upon her, supporting his elbows on the sides of her head, spreading her uncooperative knees apart. He was still semi-dressed, only his erection exposed, she felt the tip against her folds, as he slowly teases her slit. She could feel her insided clench in anticipation. She was too nervous, swallowing hard and looking at him in desperation. She wasn’t ready.

She knew she needed to be ready, her body was shivering and without even realizing she was gasping scared "Please my lord be gen-" She begged breathless, right before he thrusted deep into her, ignoring the wimps and the way her body tried to squirm away, as he hold her down in place. Love throwed her head back, feeling him stretch her insides. Tears reached her eyes. He didn't give Love anytime to adjust, sliding down and pounding deep into her again. “Pl-please husband” He kept a slow but deep pace, ignoring her loud cries. It wasn’t only unpleasant, it was a burning pain.

Nothing felt as it should feel. She knew her husband was right, it wasn’t going to be good for her. First times usually weren’t. But there were ways to make it more pleasant. Her husband did not seem interested in them. Love knew Morpheus was almost as old as his sister Death, he knew ways to make it better. He just didn’t want to make it pleasant for Eoster.

Tears started flowing down her cheeks. Her arms reached for embracing him, but Dream took both of her wrists, putting them above her head. The grip was firm, too strong, it would leave a mark. "Did you not want to be my queen? " He spitefully whispered into her ear, he didn’t bother looking at her. “Then you take it like a queen.” As his pace grew faster, he took her knee up his shoulder giving him more access to her. She turned her face away pressing against the bed, tears overflowing her eyes, making the vision hazy, her body felt numb, moving with his shoves, sometimes a wimp leaving her lips. Her head felt dizzy, even worse than before.

Morpheus didn’t take long. He spilled his seed inside her, as Love felt him going soft against her. He deflowered her. She was his. Their marriage consummated. And still, Love felt worse than she ever felt. The happiest night of her life and she felt used and dirty, like a courtesan. As he slided out of her, the queen stayed a few seconds in the same position. She didn’t want to move, afraid it would all make it real. She tried to think about how she felt earlier. It seemed like centuries, even if it was a few moments ago, she could not bring herself to feel like before. “Cover yourself, wife” He said as she heard him dress again. "Are you not staying? " Love turned her head to look at him.'' He didn't answer. Something did happen. Something she did. It must be, they got married, he hold her hand, he brought her to the Dreaming. She did something to ruin it. She must have done it.

The Queen reached for the sheets, wrapping herself onto them "Hum, my lord, did I do something wrong? Did I displease you in any matter? Because I can do better, I will learn to please you." He was on the other side of the bedroom, she went to him trying to grab his hand, to beg him for an explanation, any explanation " Please, why are you treating me like this? Why did you change? The let" He snapped his hand out of her, angrily getting closer, staying inches from his wife. "Spare me, wife, of your innocent act! Do you take me for a fool? " His voice hatefully roared to the whole room, and she flinched scared, he didn’t hit her, but sounded furious. She never thought the man who wrote her all those love letters would ever hit her. The man of the letters would also never disgrace her like he did. And still, here they are.

Morpheus took a deep breath, recomposing to his cold self. "I am finished with you. You may now return to your quarters. " Returned to her…These were her quarters! They were husband and wife, they shared a bed! " But I am your wife! " She screamed back, appealing to reasoning. "Indeed, you are, you made sure of it, didn’t you?.” Love looked confused, why was he saying those things?What was the meaning of them? “I pray you tell me husband, I know I can be naive sometimes, but I will do my best to understand, please, where is this coming from?” Morpheus couldn’t believe it. She wanted him to humiliate himself, to admit he falled into a trap, that she and Desire deceive him. He would not let her have this taste.“As my wife you shall do as you are told" She tearfully looked at him “Husband, please, I-” Abruptly he interrupted her, with a tone above the regular “Must I repeat myself?”. She fell silent. Walking past him, she still faced him, one last time, her green eyes asking for forgiveness, even though she didn’t comprehend what she did wrong. He took a glance at het, before turning away. She was still wrapped in the same sheets, as he opened the door, and slammed it closed right behind her.

Love leaned against the door, as she took her breath, before another lump began forming in her throat and she started crying. She did not want to cry in front of him, but she couldn’t contain the tears nor the sobs. Her knees felt weak, still feeling sore, something wet dripping from her, she couldn’t tell if it was his seed or her blood. Used and discarded. She slided against the door onto the ground, not able to support herself. Inside Morpheus could hear his wife crying, but he was not convinced by her act.

It was Lucienne, who heard the lady sobbing and went to her aid. She had received orders to not help her, however, and she thought that when Lord Morpheus reflected upon the subject, he would also agree, she couldn’t let the Queen of the Dreaming, undignified, wrapped in sheets, crying against the door of her husband, like a common whore. She guided the Lady back to the quarters, Lady Love didn’t even know where to find. The librarian helped the queen get into her bed, and offered to send someone to prepare her a warm bath, but she refused. The librarian couldn’t help but noticed the blood stains in the covers Eoster was wrapped. She didn’t want to condemn Lord Morpheus, but…

“ Lucienne?” Her queen whispered, as she grabbed the hand of the librarian that finished tucking her in. “Yes, my queen?” ‘My Queen’, she never expected to be Queen of anyone other than the lovefolk. “ Can’t you stay with me? Lord Morpheus he… I never sleep alone.” The look on her queen’s eyes almost broke Lucienne’s heart.

In a platonic and innocent way, Love’s ladies and lord in waiting were often sharing her bed. It was a common practice in the Garden to have close friends, sleep in the same bed. Truthfully, the only scenario where friends did not share a bed, was when one of them was to receive a lover. Then privacy was expected. “ I’m afraid I can’t, my lady. I’m sorry” Love whimpered while holding her hand. “Please, I am alone.” Lucienne could not stay. She was already disobeying explicit orders, and Lord Morpheus was not in the mood to have his limits tested. “My Queen, try to rest, please.” Against Eoster wishes, the Librarian gave her a sorrowful smile, slowly freeing from the delicate hold of Lady Love, her hand felt soft in the mattress, as she had no more strength. Lucienne couldn't think of any words that would ease her pain, so she left.

In a strange room, on her wedding night, alone. Love realized Dream did not even see her wedding dress. The Seamstress in all the eons of knowledge was wrong. It would never have a stained glass with her image in the Dreaming.

The Lady of Love then turned to her side, doing the only activity she found herself doing in the Dreaming: Crying.

@littlemoistcarrot

@lokigirlszendaya