#And I think I understand that the importance of it so far as the ritual goes

[clown-eating-pig]

one of the more random things that disturb me about tma is simply the existence of the gorilla skin. like..........why. what was up with that.

[togglesbloggle]

You Aren't Supposed to Win

There's a species of post on Tumblr that's not uncommon: explainers about neurotypical social interactions for the benefit of the neurodivergent. Others, in an adjacent genre, are vent-posts or bewildered people expressing exasperation and impatience with neurotypical social rituals. And these are usually fine as far as they go, but there's a sort of deficit or hole in them that I think tends to go un-addressed.

Basically, a lot of these explainers are very reasonably helping readers to navigate a system for some desired outcome (getting a job, finding a date, or other such things), but with the understanding that a failure to get the desired outcome is a failure of the system. And that's... only kind of true.

Neurotypical social interactions can be a very complex mix of collaborative and competitive enterprises. The ratio between those things can shift on a dime, it can be really hard to figure out where on the spectrum you are at any given moment, and this is the system working as intended. Or at least, as the players in the game intend, which isn't always quite the same thing.

I don't want to overstate this too much; standard social interactions aren't a fight to the death or anything. Typical examples are more like a preponderance of cooperation, but with some jockeying for a larger share of the rewards that follow from a shared project. Or, perhaps, attempts to spend the least effort in a group project, while receiving a full share of the reward.

The thing about this is, the presence of an antagonistic element within these interactions means that perfect legibility is opposed to most participants' goals for the interaction. There is a degree of confusion and uncertainty that is quite deliberate and instrumentally useful. If a particular partnership is going to pivot to 'pvp mode', it is absolutely in each participants' interest to be the first one to defect, and to mask that defection for as long as possible; perfect transparency prevents them from being able to do so, and they can and will interpret requests for perfect transparency as being hostile acts.

At the same time, admitting any of this is also a loss of strategic advantage during adversarial interactions, so it's one of the hardest things to get people to admit. It's even hard for people to notice that they're doing it, because evolution favors mentalities that keep as much of this as possible subconscious; it's easier to defect without warning if you never consciously think of yourself as defecting at all. So explicit discussions of this are quite rare. (There is, however, an entire genre of party games designed to bring them to the fore and let people show off their capacity for adversarial play among shifting alliances and uncertainty, so it's more 'open secret' than 'forbidden lore'.)

The upshot of all of this is, the desire for an explicit, legible system of social interactions that can be exploited for reliable outcomes- can often be a desire for power over others, in a way that I don't think the proponents fully realize. The fantasy of people just doing what you want is a powerful one for everybody, neurodivergent and neurotypical alike. And this isn't an unreasonable fantasy! it's really not fun to be surrounded by people pursuing their own interests at the expense of yours!

But it's important to realize that a lot of the hard work of aligning those values and making a system of interactions 'purely collaborative', such that everybody will be doing their best to help you succeed regardless of skill level or quirks of neurotype, is a really hard problem that nobody has yet been able to solve. And until we get there, a system in which you reliably get everything you want, and which you navigate with perfect confidence, is one that subordinates the people around you.

[harmomay]

LADS MEN with an autistic s/o!!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

xavier, zayne, rafayel & sylus

Suprisingly knows a lot about it! Goes as far as to be aware of the whole ‘masking’ process.

Generally speaking, he’s a free weighted blanket. Will go out of his way to make sure he’s wearing clothing without that texture when cuddling. 

His whole home is pretty much an autism safe space already. No overhead lighting. Everywhere is soft and quiet. 

Not being the most expressive man out there, he definitely empathises and understands if you do the same thing. Especially if going nonverbal/are overwhelmed. Will print out a bunch of those communication cards, might even use some of them himself.

Sometimes is taken aback by sudden moments of hyperfocus, silently observing with interest as your attention span for this one thing is seemingly unbreakable.

Personally prefers the straight-to-the-point conversations. 

If you get tired a lot, especially from socialisation, he will definitely encourage nap times after work.

Immediately asks what he can do to support you. As a doctor, he’s very much used to the medical approach and may be more focused on how it negatively impairs your life. Though, he’s quick to change his perspective.

The more he does independent research as well as the input from you, the more he resonates with a lot of the traits. Personally, I see a lot of autistic traits such as social awkwardness, hyperfixations etc. (though important to acknowledge there are social factors as to why he’s so ‘cold’) in him and let’s be real- he’s probably at one point been told by someone he’s autistic. Hadn’t really looked into it until you came along.

Personally I think that Zayne is such a good doctor in the story is because he empathises with his patients on a much deeper level, but isn’t really good at expressing it externally (hence the ‘coldness’)- something which i’ve found through experience seems to correlate with a lot of autistic peoples’ experiences

He probably knows a few good pediatricians, occupational therapists and asks for recommendations regarding accommodations for you. Your experiences also encourage him to bring more awareness to sensory-friendly spaces within the hospital for patients.

Will get butterflies in his stomach listening to you infodump about your latest fixation, noting the way your eyes have that light in them and you speak with such passion about it. 

“Hey, I’M the one who’s artistic!”

Completely misinterprets it at first, but immediately realises his mistake once you repeated yourself. Being in the art space, he’s come across a few artists who had communicated about their experience within their work. Even with his limited knowledge, he’s eager to find out more. Maybe even be an inspiration for another piece. Referring to overstimulation as a tsunami makes him understand it better. Talk to him about autism in fishy terms please.

If there’s a certain texture you like, he’d incorporate it into his pieces upon the pretense of ‘being innovative’ within his art. 

Prepares an allocated room for your sensory accommodations. If you need white noise, the beach waves are just an added bonus. 

If you tend to speak in a blunt/matter-of-fact manner, he finds it very endearing and easier to tease you. Though, it can take him off guard sometimes depending on what you say.

Unconsciously picks up some of your stims. If you flap your hands around as a stim, he WILL call you a fish. Might also ask if you’re doing a mating ritual. Though, only if he’s sure that you’re in a mood for his comments.

Changes some of the ways he communicates to you so it’s more straight-forward/doesn’t rely on social cues.

You had best believe that this man would immediately provide a room in his base specifically catered toward your sensory needs. Essentially, it’s a personalised panic room. Here are the requirements he gave Luke and Kieran to organise:

A/C and Heating are completely adjustable

Dim/Gentle lighting

Couches, Beds, Beanbags

Weighted Blankets, Plushies

Soundproof Panelling

Shelves to store items regarding special interests

ALWAYS HAVE ADDITIONAL SET OF HEADPHONES!

Drawers for fidgets.

The twins, although their lore is quite limited, feel to me like they have ADHD. Otherwise, Sylus has a little bit of knowledge regarding some traits as they often overlap. Nonetheless, he will happily listen and have Mephisto take notes.

Finds the different thinking process a very valuable tool in his field of work. Sometimes you’d pick up on some random detail that not even Mephisto could recognise and he’d just smile to himself.

He empathises a lot with being the target of social outcasting, and if it does occur to you his heart will practically shatter. Resonates with you on a deeper level.

[tanadrin]

Fell down a rabbit hole on ancient Israelite child sacrifice and it’s interesting that 1) it’s basically impossible (without jumping through absurd apologetic hoops) to explain important parts of the Hebrew Bible unless they are reacting to, being revised against, or being overlaid on a literary stratum which assumes the existence of Yahwistic child sacrifice; 2) as such it seems there is a very ancient strand of religious law (renegotiated at a very early date!) which specifically commands the sacrifice of all human and animal firstborn males; 3) like all religious law in the Bible, “one group of elites produced religious literature commanding a thing” doesn’t mean that those commandments represent actual universal and uncontested practices—indeed, one of the reasons people produce religious literature is to argue for a set of practices or to shore up their own position by portraying it as normative, and there is very little evidence that the ancient near eastern law codes (religious or secular) produced for propaganda purposes were used like we might use a modern law code; 4) the Canaanite/Phoenecian/Punic/Northwest Semitic religious milieu was certainly one in which infant sqcrifice was at least irregularly practiced, but no such archeological remains have been found in ancient Israel, but by their very nature this kind of infanticide leaves very little remains behind: infant skeletons are small and mostly cartilage, fire seems to have frequently been involved in such sacrifice, and the reason evidence of Carthaginian child sacrifice survived is bc such remains were interred in jars in Carthaginian tophets. 5) While a lot of modern commentators balk at taking the plain meaning of the relevant passages of the Bible seriously, and think that on grounds of basic social and emotional realism they cannot be read as supporting the existence at one time of Yahwistic child sacrifice, we really do not understand the realities of living in an Iron Age society with its attendant phenomenally high infant mortality rates, where many parents seem to have bonded with their children much later, and fertility rates were much higher to compensate for the basic reality of how often babies died. I would add to that my hunch that people in the ancient past were by modern standards just more likely to be traumatized in general, and that probably fucks up how you deal with violence and the value of human life and how you build systems which create social meaning out of death, too. “People in the past were human beings who loved their children” is not incompatible with “people in the past did horrific shit occasionally because they thought it was spiritually, socially, or materially necessary.”

And I am in some ways sympathetic to people who are reluctant to accept evidence of ancient Israelite, or even ancient Carthaginian child sacrifice. It’s so alien to our own moral sensibilities—it is in fact utterly repugnant to them! Ergo the urge to try to read the evidence differently, even if it requires wild contortions. But we know that (for instance) the death penalty and exposure of infants and religious ordeals would have all been common in the region and it seems a small step to me to imagine some ritualization of these practices that at least imbues infanticide with some kind of deeper spiritual significance, if for no other reason than as a kind of cope. In a way it’s encouraging that we have come so far that we refuse to believe any society could have ever endorsed such a thing. Nor is it a recent transition: much of the overt violence and bloodshed of the ancient Israelite law codes was renegotiated away thousands of years ago, and the renegotiation of child sacrifice happened so early that it was a major part of the formation of those codes in the form that we have them now. That too is encouraging—you don’t need modern, historically contingent sensibilities to look at brutal social systems and go “fuck this, let’s replace them with something kinder and more humane.” That tendency is as much a part of the basic forces that drive human history as our violence or our shortsightedness is.

[sos717]

Hey again,

First I want to preface by saying, I am amazed at the response from my last post. I’m so happy to see so many messages that say it helped them understand it better, butttt…

Since the last post had gained allot of attention, so did my inbox lol, and the asks. I’m going to try and go over the main points I saw allot of you guys asking me and hopefully we can move on from there and clear things up.

A really big question I got funny enough was,

“okay I understand but how do I manifest”

lol you guyssss, I’m not gonna bash anyone because I really do understand the drastic change from dropping the reliance we have on the way things APPEAR to be, and swapping it to relying on ourself for trust, but I will say, what I write is what I’ve already lived through, I wouldn’t give anyone this information if it hadn’t worked for me, and that’s means I’ve shown myself the way this all works, HUNDREDS of times, with an insane variety of topics and aspects of my life, so when I say, please please try to READ the content and truly recognize what it means, I mean it in a way that is with complete certainty, because I’m not just telling you a practice that you pick up at one point of life and either get it or don’t get it.

I’m showing you reality

(oooo I’m already getting excited)

So, how can manifestation be explained?

Let’s take a look at all the aspects of experience when we talk about manifestation, because after all, we are here to choose our experience, but this is actually where our first point starts, you are always choosing the experience. Let’s look at this section first.

We all know, whether we come from LOA (Both kinds) or just have the general idea of manifestation/energy, etc, there is always at some point the topic of source.

And what you’ll notice is, every practice, method, technique, ritual, ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS puts YOU as the focal point. Do you truly think this is coincidence? Is it a coincidence that a vision board is something that you look at? Is it a coincidence that affirming or visualizing is something YOU do? Is it a coincidence that scripting, writing a note, whispering in the air, everything you could possibly think of always has to be something you initiate? No absolutely not.

What I just described is incredibly important for you to understand, and yes I will get to the aspect of feelings how to move forward in life while activating new stories and ideas, but when I say I regret not taking the time to truly understand how IT WAS ABOUT ME BEING SOURCE, I really mean it.

We get so caught up in experiencing and needing and feel overwhelmed by the shit everyone has programmed us to believe which always ends up being limiting.

But one thing that is so badly flawed is that there is never and in depth look at what it means to be source.

I mean this should be the main focus of manifestation, the fact that you are source, but because we become so focused on the world, we turn away from the most important aspect of experience. What I’m about to explain actually goes far beyond right now, it goes ALLLLL the way back…

There is only one source, going back to the beginning of the entire universe, can you try to imagine what’s there? You’d probably come up with just a vast nothingness, but at the same time, you’d be able to recognize that there had to have been something to introduce all of experience right?

Well let’s do this together, let’s imagine the moments before the universe was initiated, in this formless, void, yet no dimensions, no description, no sign of anything actually, but definitely something, some type of thing that has to be here, from which reality takes course.

I think you can see where we’re going, all that is there, is this presence, no identity or sign of personality, but absolutely there. This is source. “Wait then how am I source” you might askkkk, well okay let’s find out how you ARE this source.

When I ask “are you aware” and you of course say yes, I need you to go ahead and find out where the answer yes came from. And not just, “it came from me”, yes we know, but find it, trace the idea back to its origin.

Your going to come up with what you can’t describe

The answer of you being aware of your own existence comes from, a formless nondimensional space, it has no identity, it has no name, it has no appearance, no attributes at all, you could almost mistake it for a void, but as you sit there, coming “face to face” with this empty space that all of your claims, all of your ideas, all aspects of your identity come from, there’s something that is present. It is a presence. It is not a thing, but from this comes absolutely anything and everything that you claim to be true about the world, about experience, about your identity, etc.

That silent presence is source, but more importantly it’s your true identity, the real you.

So what is all of this then? How do we explain the experience part of this?

Let’s speed this up a bit

Now, this part might get a little complicated if you don’t take some time to understand it, like pleaseeee take your time and re-read it a hundred times if you have to.

So, there are a few aspects that stem from source, one of these being perception, and another being sensations, we don’t need to get into the details too hard for these to so I just want you to understand it as “Sense-Perception”. This is just a fancy way to describe the WAY we experience reality, NOT REALITY ITSELF, VERY IMPORTANT.

Feeling, Tasting, Touching, Seeing, Hearing, Smelling, and whatever else you can think of (I think that’s all) ARE FILTERS. It is through the limitations of this filter that you experience your own being, conciousness.

I need you to imagine source, there is no perceiving no attributes, just a vast nothingness, it is full of life and energy which is the starting point for all of existence, but it is not a singular thing.

This is knowing. The very simple effortless thing that you are. From knowing comes absolutely everything and anything.

Let’s take white teeth as an example. So you now know, “white teeth”. However, this is just that, just knowing it, not perceiving it, not touching, not hearing, none of that. But I need you to know that this is infinitely more above any sense or really just anything to ever exist for that matter because it’s source, it’s you.

Now here comes the magic

What would be the result if we added Sense-Perception into/onto knowing? If you not only knew “white teeth” but also saw it? Also heard it? Also could smell, taste, touch, it? Could feel it?

You get what we call the world, no?

You see, the ways we perceive source/ourself is like a VR headset, or glass, or a sheet, and once it’s added to the equation, whatever it is that source is activating/manifesting as, is then experience by source THROUGH/WITH perception.

The part that can be confusing is addressing what currently is perceived. Well, it’s incredibly simple.

We’ve been conditioned into thinking that the senses activating knowing, this is literally just false to begin with because we don’t require senses to know.

For example, you opening your bank account and seeing a balance IS NOT THE REASON to activate the idea “I don’t have enough money” or “I’m can’t overspend”, don’t believe me? then explain why your able to think the same things without looking at your bank account?

If it truly was seeing your bank account that validated the idea, then why are you capable of even knowing anything related to your money story without looking at your bank statements?? It should not be possible without the validation of the senses right?

You shouldn’t be able to think about how poor you are when you’re in the shower, at work, before you sleep.

But it’s possible because what you know is in no way associated or reliant with what is seen. And having the information about what source is should make you hesitant to ever activate a story that doesn’t please you again. You are too comfortable in the cycle your in. I’m sorry if that’s a little harsh.

If we go back to perception being the filter that source experiences its own activity with, you realize that the only thing that ever changes is what’s known. The world is a SIDE EFFECT of VIEWING whats known, LET ME SAY THAT AGAIN.

YOU ARE SOURCE, YOU CREATE, THE WORLD IS WHAT HAPPENS AS A SIDE AFFECT OF PERCIEVING WHAT YOU ARE.

This has absolutely nothing to do with making or forcing things to change, the only thing that changes is you! This is about the way reality works. Not a how to guide on “getting it all”.

Now for the next part, THIS DOES NOT TURN OFF.

When I say that the senses do not create but, YOU DO, that means always!!! So looking in the mirror and complaining about your skin or eye color or nose is not going to ever activate any idea, BECAUSE YOU ARE DOING THE ACTIVATING. Don’t you see?? ITS COMING FROM YOU.

The senses CANT create, they SENSE, they perceive what reality is being! They perceive what IS KNOWN.

They can never ever ever be the cause for what is known. Looking at your teeth cannot create the knowing “my teeth are so yellow” BECAUSE YOU DO. YOU CAN DO THE SAME WITH YOUR EYES CLOSED YOU CAN DO THE SAME UNDERWATER, IN THE SHOWER, IN BED, IN THE E.R, WHATEVER IT IS YOU KNOW IS WHAT REALITY IS, AND THIS IS WHATS PERCEIVED, The side affect of percieving “my teeth are yellow”?? Well you tell me what that would be? EXACTLY.

Understand it like this, if the story or idea I’m about to activate right now could be seen, heard, touched, or just perceived in any way, what would it look/sound like? Do you see what this is now?

When you realize that you are source, allot of things start making more sense, the teachers and videos saying it’s all about you, start making sense, but they make it sound like the world is something you CHANGE as if it exists on its own, NO!

The world is the result of what KNOWING is, when it’s perceived.

At no point does this stop being true, so when you go “my teeth are white” this is reality, this is what will be perceived, but if you decide to go into habit and activate “my teeth are yellow”, there is no different process, this is what will be perceived. There is no bias to reality.

The starting point will always and can only be what’s known, the rest is automatic, as it’s always been, the only difference is, you have been activating things that you don’t like, and because this is source, all that will be perceived is what you know, so if it’s about money, or love, business, school, understand, THE MOMENT, you know something, IT IS REALITY!!!! IM NOT EXAGGERATING.

Don’t confuse the world as if it is its own entity or source, no, it’s a side effect or perceiving, NOT something you’re trying to control.

I want you see it for yourself, this information will not be of any use if you don’t see for yourself.

Please please remember. What’s perceived is not a story, it is not an idea, it’s not telling you what reality is, it’s only that, perception, it’s the same thing as looking at a brick wall for information, it cannot and will never be source, notice where the stories activate when you react to the world, and recognize that it’s something that you know, a feeling cannot stop knowing, NOTHING CAN, ITS SOURCE!

Okay, I’m sorry if this is a bit confusing at first, this is a very alternate view of the way we’ve been taught what reality is, and I know you might have allot more questions, I’m more than willing to answer them, but till then, please read this post or my past post again

(Yes im rambling, im very sleep deprived rn)

[bbrainr0t]

For when you flower I

Masterlist

Pairing: Emperor Caracalla x Greek!woman/reader x Emperor Geta

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, mentions of violence, blood, death, and slavery, hints of PTSD/bad mental health - there will be an imbalance between the owned and the owner (sexism, oppression, etc.), toxic relationship at some point

Tags: Enemies to lovers (?), triangle drama/love (but no incest, I swear), unhealthy/toxic dynamics, slave x masters basically (for now), no use of y/n, 1st person narrative

Summary: A greek woman has been stolen from her lands, Hellas, and in the midst of questioning her faith and destiny, she ends up before the feet of the emperors.

Word count: 1.9K

A/N: In this story there will appear a few words that's either ancient greek or latin (I study the languages, I know, super cool :ppp) - so I will make sure to add a little note once in a while when a new word pops up that I feel like is important for you to know. Though bare with me as I will not include some of the words... because not even the main character knows the meaning of the words sometimes.

In the worst cases: trust your gut. Believe me, when I say english isn't that far from latin.

This is the first story on my page, so please, if you like this chapter, show support by liking, reblogging and commenting. It'll really motivate me!! Thank you in advance <333 And now, I present chapter 1 of the story "For when you flower."

Dictionary for this chapter:

Hellas = the actual name of ancient greece Hellenes = the people of ancient greece (shoutout to that one ask for calling me out <333) Aphrike = the ancient greek name for Afrika Nemesis = both a god of justice, but mostly a term for revenge when greek had committed hybris - broken the rules given by the gods, which were made to keep the world in order

I was taken from my home.

Not too long ago I was in Hellas, the land of the gods. I was surrounded by my people, by our culture. A people who remained in pain of the filth stowed upon them day after day. A culture robbed of its riches. We were oppressed in our own home – but it was still ours. Ours to appreciate in the shadows, hidden from those not worthy of the glory. It was like one people of the other claimed our land as theirs. There was no peace other than in the dark hidden from the Persians and from the Romans.

It was in the shadows we allowed ourselves to continue our faith, to pray for mercy from the almighty gods. There was no justice outside in the light. Oh, how they dragged our names in the dirt.

It was in the shadows where the statues of the great remained, statues of the house gods to whom I owed my life. There was so much they could deprive us from but not hope. Not then in our land, Hellas.

I remember the day I received my prophecy. It did not speak of the agony I now find myself drowning in, no, it spoke of a resurrection of the people, of the belief.

I was to be an oracle. A hope. It had said: “A holy war in sight, only you can conquer with might. What’s been small and fragile in the past, will then flower from your hands.”

I was never the person to question the Gods intention – on the contrary I was honored to be given such kind words from those who we were taught to fear. I was looking forward to the day the prophecy would be fulfilled, the day were I was to serve the God of all good, sun and light, truth and prophecy, Apollon.

His name has lost all worth for I was brought out of the dark – not by will. And I cried. I cried a river but none of my prayers were heard.

It all changed the day the Romans came back.

I knew of the cruel nature of the Romans – of how they kidnapped and abused our land, but I was yet still too naive to think that they never would dare to touch the sacred, the ever so respected priests and priestess of the divine. They crushed the blest spirit, the day where light was shone on the serene shadows.

In truth I was only starting to understand the practices that were expected of me to perform. Rituals. I was yet to be the oracle, humble servant of Apollon. However, I still had a title to which previous Roman soldiers had respected and truly endeared.

I still remember the roman soldier that had asked for my guidance. Oh, how his eyes lit up as truth and prosperity embraced his whole. I showed him the way into the arms of Hera, Mother of Gods. Maybe he was lying – another mockery.

Hera, Apollon, where are you?

The event of my abduction is merely a night terror in my head by now, consuming my every thought; Every nerve jolting at the irreversible pain that had been caused by the filthy, the Romans. Every second has been a battle to actively try to suppress the memory of that day, that night, that month, that year. The only memory left by now was the change of weather from Hellas to Aphrike to Rome. The grief, the wicked and the filth. And that one man.

Hellenes is now barely a wrinkle in the dent of my cheek. An echo in the weariest of nights where sleep caresses me at last with promises of new hope, a new life. Something no God seemed to care to give to us anymore.

The Gods barely matter. That’s the truth. Today, as I sit with my hands tied, I believe that they were erased together with the rest of torment. Burnt, broken and beaten. I still pray, yes, but no longer with fear as they intended, no, it was disbelief and grief – and that was no righteous way of praying to the Gods I once knew, but it doesn’t matter. What horrid thing had I done that the Gods placed me in the hands of predators to obey? A feel of surrender not only towards Nemesis but also those I now call my masters, domini.

What a horrid word.

Today I sit behind bars with hardly anything to cover up the shame of my position. I have spent maybe a hundred days in this forsaken land, learning their dirty tongue in hopes of finding my eventual master. One, who I hope would have mercy. And perhaps today was the day the Gods finally hear my prayer, or maybe I’m still naive to hope.

I’m being transferred to a place, I have yet to understand the meaning of: Palatium. The name itself placed a heavy weight on my heart like a blanket of steel. I will not give up.

The slave trader waved our carriage away. By my side are other women as well as men, men of honor. All sit mute as If our tongues had been cut off, deaf as if our ears were burnt. In silence we agree that everything has seemed a blur since that day the free became the forced.

Around us men and women dressed in silk and tunics of pride bore at the sight of us. Those who would show interest were collectors which could be seen clear as day by their make-believe costumes of the people of Hellas, Hellenes. Us. They want us, not because of our personal value, the virtue which was supposedly given to us by the supposedly righteously gods, but because of our skin, our blood. They had that in common with the men, scouting gladiators in between our honest men, the heroes of Hellas.

The injustice floods my already burning chest. My heart is beating but for what? Beating against the steel and iron like the drums of war. I bite my cheek as I feel the phantom sensation of tears flocking my arid eyes. Damn you, Gods. Despite the growing distrust I urge myself to mummer a prayer in our mother tongue with eyes squinted close: “I ask for your justice, righteous Dike, for your mercy on my soul and for whatever deed lead me here, Nemesis. Ares, I summon your war to these wasteful souls that do not honor your name. Oh, Zeus-“

“Quiet down.” The woman to the right mummer. “The Gods intended this. We will meet the ends of our suffering soon enough.” I could feel how I was quick to anger over how she sounded so reassuring – but mostly also how she was right. Peeking a look at her I meet not a woman, but the ghost of life displayed and laying across her pale face. She’s an old woman, probably not intended to see the light of day. Other than her wrinkles, there is no identity to be seen or studied. Her appearance no longer mirrors whatever woman she had been as her clothes are merely a used bag, her hair thin and shed, dead on her shoulder. She will likely be bought for nothing but labor. A prime example of a worthless slave in the eyes of the filthy.

My anger now replaced by pity. Sadness.

“Apologies.”  I slightly nod and purse my lips. I feel my eye twitch. I ponder of her name, but I choke on the words. Embarrassed, I lower my head.

The next thing I hear is a rustle. Perhaps she had read my thoughts, maybe not. A short moment of quiet follows as her hand caresses mine. Comforting. Motherly.

Maybe Hera is here after all.

Suddenly the world begins the spin as the carriage suddenly stops and puncturing whatever hope, the woman had planted and sown. Dizziness takes a hold of my consciousness. The world seems to blur once more. I feel my body become weak and heavy. Her hand on my cheek. Her shoulder next. She saves me from the floor. She holds up me upright.

Our movements become flashes. The world so dark. The next thing I know, I’m on marble floor.

The air here seems heavy and loaded with scents of war. It strikes and pokes my insides like spikes. Carefully I tip my head up to look around at the surroundings – only to meet the toes and the feet of a man, sandals of a noble.

“You brought a weakling into the house of gods?” The sandals huffed. “Surely, you must be pulling some kind of cruel joke.”

It’s like his voice barely made it through his gritted teeth but I cannot see. The muscles in my neck ache. But I feel her hand. The woman is still holding me. It calms my nerves, and I seem to forget the pain.

“And an old woman.” I watch the right foot tap and as it jingles with all its riches. “I cannot believe this… this… insult! This is an insult – towards the gods, let alone the emperors! What will they think?”

“I reassure you; she was fine a moment ago! One of our finest samples!” I recognize this voice to be the dealer, the man who bought me off the coast of Aphrike.

“How am I supposed to make any of these women presentable?” The sandals raised his voice slightly but were quickly to draw a breath. “Out.”

It sounds as if the words were venom, shooting from the teeth of a python. No doubt that this man has power.

“But-“

“No! I said out. Before the emperors see these-“

“See what?”

The atmosphere changes.

A new pair of sandals makes their way across the floor, scraping whatever dirt there is up. A pair of feet who seem too weak to bear the heavy burden of its body or its mind, erratic in its every move. And yet so weary and tired.

And then there were quiet.

It feels as if a minute passes by before any other word is being spilt. The burdened speaks again, marginally more distressed: “Speak up for I wish not to be left out.” The voice takes on a child-like attitude, one which knows no laughter, only squabble and snappiness of the upmost impatient kind. A part of me wishes to look and console this unfortunate soul.

The fancy sandals jerk. “Sorry, my emperor, I was just telling this joke of a seller off because of this abomination of a delivery. I assure you; I am picking only the upmost desirable for you. Ones in the best of health.”

A wish now broken.

“And what do you know about health?!” The voice snaps as if the sandals words truly had offended its entire bloodline – its apparent noble bloodline. Filth.

“That was not-“

“OUT!” It screeched. The sound of a blade rings in the room, making me lower my head by instinct. Blinking, I feel a pain ache in my heart flashing, not of physical pain but of pure agony within my soul. Memories, nightmares flash before me. The thick scent becomes recognizable. My dearest friend as of the last year. The smell of iron. Of blood. The only proof of life and of worth.

Once more it blurs. My soul cannot take this torture any further.

“Caracalla! Calm down!” Is the second to last thing I hear.

“Geta! He is-“ Is the last thing I hear.

I remember them faintly. Their names. The fear that infiltrated my home, my people.

The twin emperors; Geta and Caracalla.

Oh, how I resent them

Next chapter

[housemdork]

a "chaste romance" - happiness & partnership politics in 8x09, "better half"

house and wilson made another intricate ritual, spurred by another subtextual comphet moment. i'll expound:

*important to note that this episode seeks to invalidate asexuality, which i vehemently disagree with. i'm suspending my disbelief here, but ofc asexuality is real and valid! love ya'll <3

summary: wilson encounters an asexual patient in the clinic, and he's immediately keen on understanding her identity. house completely refutes it and makes a $100 bet that he kind find a medical reason for her not having sex. he does, of course, and determines that her husband has a tumor that's wrecking his libido. when wilson explains this to husband and wife, she admits that she's had sex before, but was willing to go without because she loved her husband. wilson therefore loses the bet.

as per usual, house and wilson immediately game-ify this medical question. they're making yet another ritual that revolves around interpersonal relationships & sexual politics. but when wilson starts getting uncomfortable with house's insistence that there's an underlying medical reason at play, house makes a very good point:

"you wanted me to meddle! because no matter how much you wanted to believe in this chaste romance, you didn't buy it either."

bemused and probably a little disappointed in himself, wilson wordlessly acquiesces:

after confirming the tumor, the ritual almost comes to a close. wilson reluctantly hands house his prize, and makes his final declaration - "i think they were happy, even if it was based on lies."

this idea is very in-character for the entire show so far. relationships frequently operate on unspoken secrets, questions unasked, etc., and when any notes of truth come to the surface, it usually spells total ruin for whoever is involved. characters from wilson himself all the way to taub speak to this. but house, of all people, refutes this motif in the episode's last few minutes.

he agrees, at first, stating that "most happiness" is based on lies, but then he undoes the initial premise of their ritual by burning the $100 bill.

the ritual was predicated on dissolving the couple's happiness by forcing the facade out into the open. relinquishing the money confirms this premise until house burns it, thus burning the bet, the facade, and the claim that happiness is a farce. wilson calls attention to this:

"we can't smoke in here."

to which house replies,

"we also can't summon people into the clinic based on a lie motivated by a petty bet. and yet it happens! it's an imperfect world."

translation: you just said we can't undo the farce, but now you're insisting that a core part of your pessimistic belief system is breaking down. and now you're symbolically demonstrating this right before my eyes. we're engaging in sincere happiness right now.

then comes the most intricate ritual: the masculine, homoerotic nature of puffing on a cigar with your bro.

together, they deconstruct what's always been sacred to house and wilson: the games. it's no longer just a ritual between them but an admittance that happiness can actually exist organically. when asked about the cigar, what symbolizes this thematic shift, wilson replies with "disgustingly satisfying."

and this episode asks another question of house and wilson. can partnership exist without sex?

throughout, wilson is pretty insistent on YES, it can. he spends time reading scientific articles on how asexuality is a very real sexual identity. and even when he's forced to admit the opposite, he imagines that there can be some contentment in the lie. he believes that a heterosexual partnership can exist just fine without sex, which is especially pertinent this season, since wilson has been alone post-sam for a long time now. with house finally back from prison, we can assume that their resumed friendship is his first return to any sort of partnership in a while.

to complement that idea with a very phallic scene is certainly a script-writing choice :)

the combined revelations that wilson can conceptualize a heterosexual marriage without sex and that happiness can exist organically create a new realm of partnership for wilson and, by extension, house. by dissolving their ritual, house creates real happiness with wilson in a dynamic beyond the heteronormative/sexual. their relationship supersedes the initial premise of the episode entirely.

what confirms outright that house md's philosophy on happines & lies has changed is what happens next - foreman agrees to take off house's ankle monitor. he's been given freedom - freedom to move about openly, to enjoy partnership unencumbered, freedom to smoke in wilson's office because the parole officer doesn't care about the cigar smoke.

it's been a hot minute since we've got an intricate ritual of this magnitude, and it's all the better because it falls apart. house md is moving toward genuine happiness, and i'll pretend that i don't know the story reason behind that decision...

[dramas-vs-novels]

Can you please elaborate how payurain portray a healthy 24/7 d/s relationship? And how payu shows casual dominance?

I love this ask so much!

First and Foremost:: They're Equals

A healthy D/s dynamic- especially a 24/7 one- isn't built at all on "one person is better or more in some way than the other" (there is a separate kink for that if it's your jam). The Dominant doesn't think he's superior to the submissive, or if he does that's a couple who won't last long.

They have to see themselves as equals, so it's a conscious decision to submit or Dominate. It is a choice being made. Rain sees himself as less than Payu- the god-like senior with the good job and extreme wealth. But Payu never sees him like that. He never says "I'm better than you" or "I'm worth this, you're worth that".

As Love Storm goes on, but especially in the LITA Special Novel, you see Rain shedding his "unattainable perfection" image of Payu and seeing him as human. Rain will always hero worship him, but he no longer does it from a perspective of "Look how much better than me he is", but rather just "He's amazing, I'm lucky to have him in my life". He doesn't belittle himself, and a hell of a lot of that is because that's how Payu has always treated him.

---------------

Domination and submission Displays

I did want to include this because it isn't as nebulous as the other topics, but it's very much a part of things. It also goes towards your question about casual Dominance.

D/s have a sort of ritual to them in displays between the Dominant and submissive that... you don't really see in PayuRain as obviously as you might in others.

Rain has to call Payu "Phi" and use respectful language, but he isn't calling him "Sir", he isn't expected to say like "Yes, sir" or "No, sir", he isn't expected to seek permission for actions or wait for Payu to order or command him.

But they still have their almost ritualistic elements that present a clear sign of "You're stepping out of your lane" and kind of pulling the leash on the dynamic to get everything back where it's supposed to be.

Most obviously, Payu has subtle ways to command Rain that the little guy might not wholly be aware of himself. When Payu strokes Rain's bottom lip, that's "Obey", and Rain always obeys when Payu pulls that trigger.

It is also a kind of "Submit" switch- if Rain is being a brat and Payu does that, Rain immediately changes tune. A hot example is during the race kink scene, when Payu opts to bite the sitch instead of stroke it like he usually does after Rain goes too far.

Rain has a sexual response to that bottom lip being messed with (a seed Payu plants in the bathroom stall), and whenever it is touched (or in this case, bitten), you can see the boy utterly melt. In some scenes, once Payu touches that, Rain's eyes become heavy and he immediately shudders.

Fun note: when Rain wants to try being the one in control (race kink scene), he does the same move to Payu.

---------------

Rules and Guardrails Apply to Both

Rain doesn't know anything about D/s dynamics or relationships, but Payu does, so he gently shows Rain how to handle the checks and balances. He respects Rain, he asks for respect in return. He has his Rules for their relationship, but he shows Rain from the start that he's allowed to make Rules.

He also- big point- explains why he makes the Rules, they aren't arbitrary things Rain is expected to follow blindly. They aren't just for fun to see if he can make Rain obey- they're serious, and he treats them seriously.

When Rain breaks Payu's Rules, he's punished accordingly. But when Payu breaks a rule, he knows Rain doesn't understand yet that there has to be a ding on Payu as well. That's one of those areas where they are equal and have to be treated equally. Rain isn't a pet, he's a human being. Just because he embraces being a submissive doesn't mean he doesn't have power.

24/7 Cannot Be Unbreakably 24/7

The other important thing I want to mention (because one of my favorite Special Chapters is all about this) is that even if there is a 24/7 dynamic in place... That doesn't mean it's actually, mercilessly, 24/7. It isn't some unending roleplay, it's their lives.

Payu has good days and bad days. He has his needs- physical, emotional, and sexual. But so does Rain. And Payu is very respectful of those. If either one is upset, the Rules or the dynamic are set aside.

Payu will drop his Dominant air the moment he sees that Rain is geniunely upset about something.

And he never stops doing that. Even if it's for something stupid- if Rain is upset, Payu won't push their dynamic, and he will very sincerely try to understand Rain's feelings (please note the finger trigger being used in the last image!)

Or, when Rain runs away from Payu's home and breaks critical aftercare for both him and Payu (I did a whole post about this one, so I'm glossing past it), he both makes sure Rain knows that's not cool, but also doesn't press the matter because he knows the boy isn't feeling well.

And later on, after Rain has started to grasp the controls of their dynamic, when Stop enrages Payu, he steps well out of his comfort zone to be more kitten-ish and try to help break Payu's bad mood. He uses nicknames with himself he hasn't entirely warmed to, and coaxes Payu in a public setting.

The absolute best example of this- which is such a base, foundation-level core of 24/7 D/s relationships- is this excerpt from a Special Chapter in the novel.

Rain is heading into exam season, an incredibly stressful time, and he's utterly overwhelmed. He's burning the candle at both ends, feels lost and dejected, and doesn't even have time to acknowledge Payu, let alone be with him. And at the back of his mind, because of this, he feels like he is failing as Payu's sub by not being available for him romantically or physically.

Payu, meanwhile, is more worried about Rain. he knows the pressures and the stress, but it doesn't make it any easier. So Payu will make Rain food and try to keep it warm until Rain has a minute to eat, he'll let slide Rain ignoring him, and he'll do what he can to make things easier.

But when Rain eventually explodes, cussing Payu out... Payu doesn't play the dynamic. He doesn't bring up Rules or even consider punishing Rain in the slightest. He lets Rain vent as much as he needs to, even if it hurts his feelings a bit. He gives Rain space to kind of re-spool.

And when Rain comes down, now crying for how he's treated Payu, Payu reassures him and supports him. He gives Rain the strength he needs to succeed and adds a Rule that Rain has to set aside some time each day to eat and take a break. Another Rule put into their dynamic, but with Rain's physical wellbeing being the focus.

I'm sure I'm forgetting stuff, I'm sure people would like to add stuff. I don't engage in 24/7 D/s so there might be elements I'm not mentioning that other people would, but I tried to kind of highlight the biggest areas.

At the core of it all, the D/s are both equal.

Rain's little "submit" switch.

Rules have to apply to both.

24/7 cannot be 24/7 without mercy.

[prettycalla]

|| solatium ||

Pairing: Caracalla/Reader

Summary: Sex is not as much of a necessity for you as it is to your husband. You dread being honest with him, but he surprises you with how he responds. (Request prompt)

Word count: 1.1k

Tags and warnings: Ace-spec reader, mostly fluff, Caracalla is a sweetheart when he wants to be, this might be out of character but I Do Not Care, no use of Y/N.

(Another request, thank you so much! I hope it's okay, I did my best with what little brainpower I have right now.)

Masterlist

Marriage to an Emperor comes with its fair share of worries, of this you have always been aware. There is a great amount of responsibility upon your shoulders now where there once was not. While you may not have the same power and influence as an Emperor would, overseeing important ceremonies and imperial affairs are no small feat and often leave you exhausted.

And then there is the matter of your husband.

Since the very first time you met, you have had eyes for no one else. He is like no one you have ever known, nor will you ever meet someone like him again. He lights a spark in you, and you tame the fire in him before it burns too far. You are his night and he is your day. Lunam et solem.

There is one worry, however, that lingers in your mind far beyond any imperial duty.

Caracalla's desire for you is often insatiable, and while your love for him stretches far beyond the stars, you do not often share the same appetite.

It is not that you find him unattractive - it is very much the opposite. No one word is enough to describe him. When he laughs, so loud and brash, he is adorable; pretty when a faint blush colours his cheeks; beautiful when lost in his thoughts, the light of the afternoon sun casting a golden glow along his strong nose and the Cupid’s bow of his lips.

It is a part of you that has always been there, but it is only now that you are beginning to understand it.

He expects more than you are willing to give. He hopes for more.

Caracalla looks at you like you hung the very stars in the sky, but there is a darker side to him, of which you are aware. You know that he is often childish and petulant, and prone to violent outbursts when things do not go his way.

It is only a matter of time before you must tell him.

Fear sits in the pit of your stomach, like writhing snakes.

The opportunity presents itself one night while you are dressing for bed. Caracalla has been watching you from the bed as you go through your nightly rituals, entranced. His bright eyes are narrowed, and you know that look all too well.

You step a little too close within his grasp and he grabs you suddenly, taking your hands and pulling you down next to him.

"Wife," he murmurs with a lazy smile, his hands on your hips.

"Husband," you reply with a little tap to his nose.

He pulls a face and you laugh at how adorable he is.

"Wife," he tries again, more insistent this time.

He leans in to kiss you then, as his hands begin to wander, and before you realise your actions, you pull yourself out of his grasp, squeezing your eyes shut tight.

You feel the gentle pressure of his lips against your cheek, and you hesitantly open your eyes as Caracalla leans away from you.

“You are afraid of me,” he says softly.

He sounds wounded. Your heart aches.

“Of course I am not-“ you begin to say, but he shakes his head, eyes brimming with tears.

“Do not lie to me,” he snaps, his voice wavering.

You reach out to take his hands in yours. He is hesitant, but he does not pull away.

“I do not lie, I promise,” you insist. “I…”

You struggle to find the right words, to help him understand. You take a deep breath. It is a delicate balance, and one you must take care not to disrupt. One word out of place could lead to disaster.

“Please know that what I say is not intended to hurt you. I adore you, truly I do,” you begin gently, bringing a hand to rest on Caracalla’s cheek.

Immediately he leans into your touch. How like a cat he is, you think to yourself fondly.

“I do not often have the same feelings of pleasure that you do,” you continue. “What would please you does not always have the same effect on me.”

Caracalla does not speak, content instead to press little kisses to your fingertips. You are grateful that he appears to be listening.

“I worry…” you falter, your voice beginning to tremble. “I worry that I cannot give you what you desire.”

Caracalla stops then, and your heart stutters.

This is it, you think to yourself. I cannot turn back now.

He is silent for a moment, before he finally speaks.

“You have already given me so much, dulcissima,” he murmurs in sincerity. “How could I possibly ask for more?”

You do not know how to respond. You have seen Caracalla fly into a fit of rage when he has been served the wrong wine at a banquet. And yet here he is, utterly accepting of everything you have told him.

You worry that he does not understand.

“This…What I have told you, it does not upset you?” you ask tentatively.

Caracalla looks at you, his brilliant blue eyes focused on yours. He is as beautiful as he is unsettling when he is lucid, as he is now.

"You have seen parts of me that I wish I could keep locked away," he murmurs, "I have frightened you, I have worried you. There are times when I could have lost you. But you stood by my side. Never once have you lost your faith in me."

"And I never will," you promise, without a drop of hesitation.

He smiles then, a rare, soft thing that makes your heart skip a beat. It is a smile he keeps for you and you alone.

"You love me, as I am," he continues, "And I love you, as you are."

He raises your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

You find yourself quickly becoming overwhelmed, and you all but throw yourself into his arms, holding him tightly. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes and you squeeze them shut.

"Thank you," you whisper into the fabric of his robes, "for understanding."

His arms slide around you in turn, and you feel his lips against your temple.

"I could not bear to lose you," you confess, your words threatening to catch in your throat.

Caracalla holds you tighter, fingers clutching at your stola.

"The Gods Themselves will have to pry me from your arms," he murmurs.

His voice is soft, but there is a ferocity to his words that causes your tears to finally fall.

The snakes that have plagued you for so long have fallen still at last. You do not know what the future holds, but all that matters now is that your husband is by your side.

(banners by @ cafekitsune)

[morisbasement]

oh and in celebration of the emerald wirch arc anime coming out next year, i have some tips for the new black butler fans!! or old if they apply to you lol

ALWAYS read the manga first.

the anime deviates so far from the manga that season 2 can't even be considered canon. im not even joking here. after the second half of s1, the animators just pulled shit out of their rears and called it a day. they didn't pull it together until book of circus, but to anyone who had watched the anime before reading the manga, the story made zero sense. i watched the series three times trying to understand it but it wasn't anything but crack until i read the manga.

if you can't buy the manga, read it on mangakakalot.com manganelo or mangareader.to, but PLEASE read it before watching.

sebaciel is (somewhat) canon, heavily implied at times, but so are lots of ships, so for the love of god please don't hate on shippers

yana toboso, the writer, has admitted that kuroshitsuji was originally intended to be a yaoi, but her publishers warned her against it. (← im told that's a rumor) there were still some sebaciel-esque scenes in the manga, so be warned! but there are also other implied ships (which is basically the entirety of s2), so suffice to say there are bound to be lots of ship wars. please don't turn the kuroshitsuji fandom into another mha fandom 😭

if you're sensitive to proship content, especially adult × child, STEER CLEAR of black butler.

while an argument may be made that it's not technically a proship since pedophilia isn't a crime in japan or since it's a human × nonhuman, therefore age gap rules aren't as cut and dry as they would be otherwise, sebastian is still portrayed as an adult and ngl it can be kind of triggering for victims of this kind of thing, and just icky in general if you don't know to expect it.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE pay heed to the content warnings, not the actual rating.

some streaming services say that kuroshitsuji is tv14. TRUST ME. it's not. here's a full list of content warnings:

severe violence

lots of sexual themes including rape, not once but TWICE (in the anime, only once in the manga) by sebastian, and pedophilia

intense gore

there is a character who is somewhat minorly important who is a lolicon (duke whatever his name was)

deals with themes including cults, rejection of the christian faith, demons, rituals, supernatural phenomena, and generally disturbing stuff. for crying out loud a TWELVE YEAR OLD kid has summoned a demon servant, is a major underworld crime god, and has survived some major cult shit.

language is pretty bad

cults

arson

murder

murder

murder

mafia/underworld crime/organized crime

organized extreme abuse/ritual abuse, mind control, organized abuse, etc. is a MAJOR theme. it's basically the precursor to the entire series and is heavily discussed and shown. please please please don't get into it if you're triggered by that, ESPECIALLY if you're a victim/potentially a victim and healing. nobody would want you to uncover memories or harm yourself because of the series. stay safe!!!

one of the character's main things is he's basically obsessed with stepcest (lao)

lao is also a drug dealer

oh yeah, drugs and drugs and drugs and drugs and–

arranged marriages for kids (ciel and lizzy)

the second season (say what you will about it but i enjoyed it) had a LOT of torture and mindbreak over some dumb shit and was generally really really disturbing, objectively more so than the first season. we're talking waterboarding (i think is what it's called? correct me NICELY if im wrong) and making the mc's relive their trauma to achieve a certain goal.

also the second season deals with twice as much pedophilia, arson, demons, and murder since the second mc (alois trancy) is basically ciel phantomhive but blonde and a lot gayer (olé!)

stalking

lots and lots of murder

it's a horror series, what do you expect

both explicit and implicit sex scenes aplenty

manipulation, mindbreak, and abuse

there's a whole jack the ripper arc and it is MESSY

it's bad at the start and only gets worse! please please please only get involved with kuroshitsuji if you can handle that!

both the manga and anime are ongoing, so don't treat it as a one and done!

yana paused production of the manga to work on a game called twisted wonderland (edit: and apparently to focus on bb too? dunno how that works) , but more chapters and arcs are expected, and the series is far from over despite starting over a decade ago! i reread and rewatch every now and then to stay updated (and because it's a great series)! while i realize that can be a bit of a task, trust me when i say it's worth it!!

lastly, have fun with it!!!

kuroshitsuji fandom has been dying. REVIVE IT!! engage with fan works! cosplay! talk to other fans! make friends! convert people to the dark side!! be down bad!! be weird, be cringe!!! do whatever as long as it isnt toxic!!!

[gynnnicsworld]

I was thinking.... Do you remember the scene from 3A where Stiles, Allison and Scott do the ritual of changing places with their parents?

I can't help but think, why was Stiles the recipient of the nogitsune?

I mean, why wasn't it Scott or Allison?

((Please correct me if I'm wrong, it's been a few months since I watched 3A/3B)) okay, I can't stop thinking about the nogitsune giving those riddles and messages to Stiles about;

"When a door is not a door? "When it's ajar".

I'm going to try to explain this, when Stiles/Allsn/scott did the ritual, they "opened doors" and made their hearts darken.... That's why throughout the beginning of 3B we see all those scenes of Allison, Scott and Stiles having nightmares, and strange visions. So far it's understandable, But if you notice, you will see that Stiles is the only one who establishes connections with the doors from the beginning.

But there are no such references with Scott or Allison. So, this is where my theory comes in and I'm going to start by saying that everything is related to the ritual they did.

Let's remember that the person who would bring back Stiles/Allison/Scott were people important to them and with whom they had a strong/solid connection.

Allison— Isaac

Scott—Deaton

Stiles—Lydia

(If you ask me they were basically trying to give a message about anchors there.)

We all know that Scott and Deaton are basically a father-son relationship, and it's very likely that the closeness Scott has with Deaton is more genuine and stronger than the one he has with Rafael. So that anchor is very good. Because the connection between them is *MUTUALLY* strong.

Allison and Isaac? I don't have to explain that the two of them like each other, like IN LOVE. The attraction between them is 100% genuine. And strong. There is no doubt about their connection.

But Stiles and Lydia? They're friends, and they're not even friends as in best friends yet. This is where I think something went wrong, because Lydia didn't even think about being Stiles' anchor, she was going straight to being Allison's anchor.

And we had the wonderful (sarcasm) intervention of Deaton, instructing Lydia to go help Stiles.

There was clearly no other option (I know) because it's not like Derek would have been there, which I have no doubt would have made a difference.

The issue here is that Lydia did indeed bring Stiles back, but I think of the three of them (stls/Allsn/sctt), the connection between them (Lydia & Stiles) was the weakest.Which caused the door that Stiles opened to not close properly. That left the door ajar.

You can take this however you want, but personally this shows me that the connection between Stiles and Lydia was simply never that strong whether one-sided or bilateral.

On the other hand, Stiles is LITERALLY Derek's anchor, and is 100% Derek's strongest connection. And whatever Stiles felt about Derek during 3A, I think it was something like friendship (And he has an obvious crush on Derek, he's a teenager, who wouldn't have a crush on Derek?) ( There is also that in fact Stiles does feel a connection with Derek, and the Hale pack for some strange reason knows it) and if Lydia could bring Stiles back, being that Stiles is NOT her anchor, I think Derek managed to get Stiles to come back without leaving the door ajar.

Whatever, I have no doubt that if Derek had been in that scene, the obvious choice to bring Stiles back would have been him.

[gingermintpepper]

As usual I read your tags always and so you said Apollo did not ask for resurrection of Asclepius and Hyacinthus so i just wanted to share this. About Asclepius death I read it on theoi.com, that earlier authors don't make him resurrect as a god but that's a later development mentioned only by Roman authors like Cicero, Hyginus and Ovid. But still Apollo has a role in Ovid's version

Ovid, Fasti 6. 735 ff (trans.Boyle) (Roman poetry C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.) : Clymenus [Haides] and Clotho resent the threads of life respun and death's royal rights diminished. Jove [Zeus] feared the precedent and aimed his thunderbolt at the man who employed excessive art. Phoebus [Apollon], you whined. He is a god; smile at your father, who, for your sake, undoes his prohibitions [i.e. when he obtains immortality for Asklepios].

So here it is actually because of Apollo the decision was taken to resurrect him as god. And with Hyacinthus, I don't think I've read about Artemis playing the primary role. I know in Sparta there was a picture of Artemis, Athena and Aphrodite carrying Hyacinthus and his sister to heaven.

This is not on theoi.com but I saw on Tumblr it's from Dionysiaca by Nonnus

Second, my lord Oiagros wove a winding lay, as the father of Orpheus who has the Muse his boon companion. Only a couple of verses he sang, a ditty of Phoibos, clearspoken in few words after some Amyclaian style: Apollo brought to life again his longhaired Hyacinthos: Staphylos will be made to live for aye by Dionysos.

So since he is singing inspired by amyclean stories it probably means in that place it was believed Apollo was the one to bring back his lover to life.

Apollo as god of order was very important so i think it shows how special these people (and admetus too) were to him that he decided to go against the order for them 🥺

ANON!! Shakes you like a bottle of ramune!! BELOVED ANON!!!!! I'm littering your face with kisses, I'm anointing you with olive oil and honey - you absolutely made my night with this because, not only did I get the pure serotonin shot of having someone interact with my tags (yippee, wahoo!!) I also got to have that wonderful feeling of "oh wow, have I misunderstood something that was integral to my understanding of this myth/figure this whole time or is this a case of interpretational differences?" which is imo vital for my aims and interests as someone who enjoys mythological content and literature.

I'll preface my response with this: Hyacinthus is by far the hardest of these to get accounts for because his revival itself, as you very astutely point out, is generally accounted for in painting/ritual format which muddies the waters on who interceded for what. I wasn't actually familiar with that passage from the Argonautica - and certainly didn't remember it so thank you very much for bringing it to my attention!

That said, what I've come to understand, both about Hyacinthus and about Asclepius is that in the accounts of their deaths, Apollo's position is startlingly clear.

For Hyacinthus, it is established time and again that Apollo would have sacrificed everything for him - his status, his power, his very own immortality and divinity. Ovid writes that Apollo would have installed him as a god if only he had the time:

(Ovid. Metamorphoses. Book X. trans. Johnston)

Many other writers too speak of how Apollo abandoned his lyre and his seat at Delphi to spend his days with Hyacinthus, but they also all agree that when it came to his death - he was powerless. Ovid gives that graphic account of Apollo's desperation as he tries all his healing arts to save him to no avail:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book X. Apollo me boy, methinks him dead. trans Johnston)

Bion, in one of his fragments, writes that Apollo was "dumb" upon seeing Hyacinthus' agony:

(Bion, The Bucolic Poets. Fragment XI. trans Edmonds)

Even Nonnus in the Dionysiaca speaks constantly of Apollo's helplessness in the face of Hyacinthus' fate where he writes that the god still shivers if a westward wind blows upon an iris:

and when Zephyros breathed through the flowery garden, Apollo turned a quick eye upon his young darling, his yearning never satisfied; if he saw the plant beaten by the breezes, he remembered the quoit, and trembled for fear the wind, so jealous once about the boy, might hate him even in a leaf...

(Nonnus, Dionysiaca, Book 3. trans Rouse)

And the point here is just that - Apollo, at least as far as I've read, cannot avert someone's death. He simply can't. Once they're already dead - once Fate has cut their string - all Apollo's power is gone and he can do nothing no matter how much he wants to. And this is, as far as I know, supported with the accounts of Asclepius as well!

Since you specifically brought up Ovid's account, I'll also stick only to Ovid's account but in Metamorphoses when we get Ovid's version of Coronis' demise, he writes that Apollo intensely and immediately regrets slaughtering Coronis. He regrets it so intensely that he, like he does with Hyacinthus, does his best to resuscitate her:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo's regret)

And like Hyacinthus, when it becomes clear that what has happened cannot be undone, Apollo wails:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo wept.)

Unlike his mother, Asclepius in her womb had not yet died and so, with the last of Apollo's strength, he does manage, at least, to save him.

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo puts the 'tearing out' in Asclepius.)

But it goes further than even that because Ocyrhoe, Chiron's daughter, a prophetess who unduly gained the ability to directly proclaim the secrets of the Fates, upon seeing the baby Asclepius, immediately prophesies his glory, his inevitable death and then his fated ascension:

(Ovid. Metamorphoses, Book Two. Ocyrhoe's prophecy. trans Johnston)

Before she too succumbs to her hubris and is transformed by the Fates into a horse so she can no longer speak secrets that aren't hers to share.

These things ultimately are important because it establishes two very important things: 1) Apollo can't do anything in the face of the ultimate Fate of mortals, which is, of course, death and 2) even when Apollo is Actively Devastated, regretful, yearning, mournful, guilty or some unholy combination of all of the above, when someone is dead, he accepts that they are gone. Even if he is devastated by it, even if he'll cry all the rest of his days about it - if they're dead? Apollo lets them go. In Fasti, when Zeus brings Asclepius back, he does not say Apollo asked him to - Zeus, or well, in this case Jove, brings Asclepius back because he wants Apollo to stop being mad at him.

(Ovid, Fasti VI. Apollo please come home your father misses you. trans. A.S Kline)

Even Boyle's translation which you used above in your findings hints that Zeus made Asclepius a god because he wanted Apollo to stop grieving. (i.e 'smile at your father', 'for your sake [he] undoes his prohibitions')

And like, Apollo was deeply upset by Asclepius' death - apart from killing the Cyclops in anger, in book 4 of the Argonautica, Apollonius writes that the Celts believe the stream of Eridanus to be the tears Apollo shed over the death of Asclepius when he left for Hyperborea after being chastised by Zeus for killing his Cyclops:

But the Celts have attached this story to them, that these are the tears of Leto's son, Apollo, that are borne along by the eddies, the countless tears that he shed aforetime when he came to the sacred race of the Hyperboreans and left shining heaven at the chiding of his father, being in wrath concerning his son whom divine Coronis bare in bright Lacereia at the mouth of Amyrus.

It all paints a very clear picture to me. Apollo did not ask for either of them to be brought back. Though bringing them back certainly pleased and delighted him, they are actions of other gods who are moved by Apollo's grief and mourning and seek to mollify him. Him not asking doesn't mean he didn't want them back which I think is a very important distinction by the by, but it simply means that Apollo knows the natural order of things and, even if it hurts, he isn't going to press his luck about it.

Which, of course, brings us to Admetus. And I'm really not going to overcomplicate this, Admetus is different because, very vitally, Admetus is not dead. Apollo can't do a thing once Fate has been carried out and Death has claimed a mortal but you know what he absolutely can do? Bargain like hell with the Fates before that point of inevitability. And that's what he does, ultimately for Admetus and Alcestis. He sought to prolong Admetus' life, not revive him from death or absolve him from death altogether and even after getting the Fates drunk, he's still only able to organise a sacrifice - a life for a life - something completely contingent on whether some other mortal would be willing to die in Admetus' place and not at all controllable by Apollo's own power.

All of these things, I think come back to that point you made - that Apollo's place as a god of order is very important and therefore these people are very special to him if it means he's willing to go against that order but, I also wish to challenge that opinion if you'd let me. Apollo's place as a god of order is very important and therefore, I would argue, that it is even more important that it is shown that he does not break the divine order, especially for the people that mean the most to him. The original context of my comments which started this conversation were on this lovely, lovely post by @hyacinthusmemorial which contemplated upon Asclepius from the perspective of an Emergency Medical personnel and included, in their tags, the very poignant lines "there's something about Apollo letting go when Asclepius couldn't that eats my heart away" and "you do what you can, you do your best, but you don't ever reach too far" and I think that's perfectly embodied with the Apollo-Asclepius dichotomy. Apollo grieves. He wails, he cries, he does his best each and every time to save that which is precious to him but he does not curse their nature, he does not resent that they are human and ultimately, he accepts that that which is mortal must inevitably die. There is nothing that so saliently proves that those who uphold rules are also their most staunch followers - if Apollo wants to delight in his place as Fate's mouthpiece, he cannot undo Fate. And, if even the god of healing and order himself cannot undo death, what right does Asclepius, mortal as he is, talented as he is, have to disrespect it?

The beauty of these stories isn't that Apollo loved them enough to bring them back. The beauty is that Apollo loved them enough to let them go.

[alexanderlightweight]

You're back! I'm so utterly delighted that you're feeling better <3

I would love to see either another snippet of Elysium's Tears or a bit of the verse where hair holds power for the nephilim. I adore the scenes where Alec gives Magnus a bracelet of his hair (and also the earlier one with Clary's bone bead dissolving because she didn't earn it no matter what Jace and Izzy say lol).

Thank you for sharing your wonderful ideas and writing with us!!

hi laws! i'm so happy to be back too, its insane how much it lifts my mood to be writing and on here again.

so I know you like both but I do know how much you love the hair!lore verse so this is a bit in the future and also because I wanted the excuse to finally expand on some warlock lore. it's really easy to be fluid with nephilim culture based on verse but I wanted to build a stable base for warlock customs and cultures that can branch differently out depending on the verse but has the same foundation. because I think it's a far longer legacy than nephilim and therefore it deserves something lingering and lasting as the cornerstone. which means I was really picky about it and then picked my favorite.

so this bit of warlock culture is actually universal in my verses. I also know that you enjoy the cultural tidbits so ^_^ I hope you enjoy <3

~lumine

-

my path is set

It thrills Magnus, to discover that even after he’s left the Institute — left Alexander ruined for all others and still aching for his touch — that he can still feel him through the soft hair coiled around his wrist.

Magnus had lingered, satiating not just the wards until they were primed — full of rich energy and deep magic — but his own desires.

Magnus had wanted to bring him home.

Take him to bed properly, with silk soft under his bruised back rather than the rough stone of an altar.

Instead Magnus had to leave him there. 

Oh he helped him to his room first, unwilling to let anyone else see or touch Alexander like that.  Had even let himself in, tucked a barely conscious Alexander in with magic and a smirk. Knowing that he would wake covered in the evidence of Magnus ardor and his own passion. 

It’s also convenient that there’s no one to stop Magnus from leaving, the strands of Alexander’s braid still wrapped covetously across his skin.

Magnus wonders at the magic imbued in it and marvels, relieved that it doesn’t fade even when the portal closes, cutting off any true connection.

But the bracelet stays, tying him to Alexander.

It will keep him tied to Alexander long after the residue of the sex ritual fades and the bruises and marks heal.

And it will bring Alexander to him again.

Magnus is sure of it, with the way he feels an almost-echo when he imbues magic upon the braid.

—

Magnus doesn’t sleep that night.

Instead he reaches out to Ragnor and Catarina, requesting all of their notes and encounters regarding the culture of shadowhunter customs.  It’s suddenly deeply important for him to know so that he can match Alexander in turn, even if Alexander might not understand at first.

Because Magnus is going to match him in his own unique way.

There are parts of warlock culture that while not hidden away, aren’t advertised to the outside.

Warlocks are somewhat insular after all, at least from the other races. 

However there are no rules keeping Magnus from displaying his own accomplishments. The way Alexander does with his braids and charms and hand-hewn beads.

Warlocks display their accomplishments in the bones of those who came before.  Honoring them with legacy, so that parts of them will never be forgotten or wholly wiped away.

The nephilim used to try to and burn their bodies for this very purpose, to deny them their legacies. It's part of why heavenly fire is used to dispose of 'so-called-criminals' caught by the Clave.

It makes Magnus darkly pleased, to realize that someday he will drape Alexander in the very essence of what his boy’s ancestors despise.

And Alexander will delight in it.

Magnus can tell from the way his fingers had lingered on the bone armbands — that Magnus hadn’t bothered to take off— and caressed bone and skin together. How he'd moved towards the magic sparking off of Magic rather than away.

And considering that Magnus has personally reformed — and possibly wiped out — the Council of the Elder's a few times, he has still always made sure to respect the legacy of his own kind.

Which means he has quite a collection to choose from and the ability to make as much more as he wants.

Platinum and bone are the pride of warlocks — and true, Magnus doesn’t know a single warlock who wouldn’t kill for abyssal gems — but platinum and bone have always been theirs in a different way.

Especially bone.

Even before they ever discovered platinum, warlocks had their bones.

For a moment, Magnus wonders what feeding Alexander the marrow of an Elder would do to him, and then decides that as delicious a delicacy as it is. 

He’d rather not risk it.

Not until he finds out how sturdy his shadowhunter is.

Magnus is going to want to keep him for quite a long time, after all.

—

AN:

Soooo... i think i’ve hinted at it but in the background of both warlock and nephilim culture is cannibalism. In most verses nephilim cultures don’t continue the trend especially because they’re short on nephilim and warlocks rarely use it except for specific things but i don’t actually think cannibalism is that big taboo in the shadowworld. There’s too much blood related stuff. Like raziel’s blood and vampires and sires and blood etc. and werewolf biting each other etc. 

So for warlock in the case of the Elders. I won’t fully get into it here but cannibalism is always involved in elder council rituals once an elder is deceased.  Magnus/Cat/Ragnor have in a few different verses had to weed out or recreate the council of elders from scratch. No one actually knows whats causing it, but everyone knows that those three (though sometimes they take turns because they hate it) are the longest surviving  elders. So they’re pretty respected because they have a higher rank, even if a newer elder is older than any of them. Which does happen sometimes.

Magnus is not in charge of the council, he doesn’t want to be. 

But anyways. 

So the bone thing is actually across all verses for warlocks. Because its a way they’ve always been able to share wisdom with future warlocks because even the recluse warlocks look out for their own. It’s a legacy thing too. They can’t have children. They pass on their bones to leave behind something that another warlock will connect to in a way. It’s very important to them and while all warlocks wear at least one piece, not all warlocks have the ability to handle a lot of jewelry. Depending on how powerful the magic of who it was from.

There isn’t a single faction of the shadowworld that doesn’t keep trophies of their kills. It’s not like every single person does it but it is a practice in every race at some point in time. And warlocks also use pretty much anything as potion ingredients (that fact is actually canon, werewolf teeth and hair and nails lol and vampire as well lol) or magical artifacts. 

In this though, shadowhunters carve their charms into demon bones or non-sentient magical beasts/creatures (which is actually a pretty big deal. They have to harvest a bone or horn/fang basically something with a non-adamas blade so it doesn’t disintegrate.  It’s why you have to be a really good hunter to have so many charms because you’re given one from the clave on your first kill but you have to make all the rest yourself. Its a skill thing.  Alec is really skilled which is surprising because he’s an archer. He should have a harder time getting things from so far away but he’s pretty tricky with his traps. (also shadowhunter charms and beads carved from anything but demon bone/magical creatures are banned. The circle (and some houses and shadowhunters ofc secretly which means parts of the clave too) did make charms from downworlders. Which is literally illegal in the accords. It wasn’t illegal before the accords... which should say something.) 

Anyways, yes Magnus is planning on going full on warlock culture and then teach alec because his alexander deserves knowing how a big a predator he caught.

Alec is so fucking thrilled. He’s out here living the best life the minute magnus walks in just radiating old, necromantic power and he’s like... wow. He’s amazing, he’s impressive.

This will also eventually come up especially in pray to the hunters verse because uh. Alec is going to be so very into Magnus’ old bone legacy jewelry with whats basically ancestral magic for warlocks.  Magnus has never been so attractive to him and Magnus is always unfairly attractive to him.

Also if you’re powerful enough you can draw on the magic or specific things unique to the warlock of the bones you’re wearing. 

Magnus just really likes the idea of Alec dressed in a bunch of powerful warlock bone magical artifacts something that would absolutely horrify most nephilim

[dioslesbianwife]

Hello!! I hope your feeling better and are recovering! Drinking water and resting is important. I am rooting for your recovery!!!

This is my first time requesting anything from a writer. But you are really talented at what you do!! I love your writings for the Jofoes.

I was wondering if you could do the Jofoes meeting and being curious about a witch reader. The reader can cast spells, use their magic to move objects/people, summon creatures and create objects using their magic, and also use simple herbs and remedies for healing rituals. (If possible to include Santana and PB dio as well, I love the way you write for them as well!!)

hiii, thank you, yeah i’m almost feeling totally better! thank you so much!! im so happy you think im talented 😭 <33 i can def do that for u, i hope you enjoy and ty for requesting!! ty again for the kind words :3

Dio Brando (PB)

Initially thinks you’re just another charlatan trying to impress him.

“Magic, you say? A trick of the light, nothing more.”

But when you actually lift him off the ground with a flick of your wrist, his smug expression vanishes.

The moment you summon a creature out of thin air, he steps back- only slightly, but enough for you to notice.

“...Interesting.” His tone is unreadable, but you know that in his mind, he’s already plotting.

He wants your power. Badly. And if that means seducing you or convincing you to work under him? He’ll do it.

Dio (Part 3)

Oh, now this Dio is genuinely intrigued.

“Witchcraft? Hmph. Foolish humans once feared such things… but I see no reason to fear.”

Watches closely as you perform a ritual with herbs and soft chanting.

Does not flinch when you summon something from the shadows or create an object from nothing- he has seen far too many unnatural things in his time.

He actually respects you for wielding such power without a Stand.

"Tell me, witch. Do you curse your enemies?" He’s got a few names he’d love for you to deal with.

Would absolutely try to make you his ally.

Santana

Blinks slowly at you, his head tilting like a curious animal.

He is trying so hard to figure you out. How does your power work? Where does it come from?

Pokes at your magic mid-spell. If you make something float? He swipes at it like a cat. If you create something? He picks it up and examines it from every angle.

When you heal him with an herb remedy, he looks at you with mild amusement.

“Not necessary. My body regenerates.”

But still, there’s something fascinating about you… enough for him to stick around.

Kars

Ah… another god in the making.

“You’ve evolved past the limitations of mere mortals. How… admirable.”

He watches your magic with an analytical eye, trying to understand the science behind it.

“Summoning” intrigues him the most. You brought forth a creature from nothing- was it stored elsewhere? Was it created on the spot?

He isn’t afraid, but he is impressed.

Offers you a place at his side, though it’s clear he sees you as a stepping stone.

Wamuu

“...You wield the elements. Like the wind, but with a different force.”

Unlike the others, he respects you without skepticism.

Watches in fascination when you use magic to move objects, your power reminding him of natural forces at work.

He admires your ability to heal, finding it noble. “A warrior would benefit from such gifts.”

If you fight using magic, he considers you a worthy opponent and would challenge you, not out of hostility, but out of respect.

Esidisi

Overly dramatic about it.

“Ah, the gods have blessed me with an opportunity to witness true magic”

Gets way too into watching your spells, clapping and gasping like an audience member.

“OH, SUMMON A BEAST NEXT! SOMETHING WITH FANGS, PERHAPS?!”

The moment you heal him with a ritual, he pretends to swoon.

Will 100% pester you for flashy magic tricks like a kid asking for a bedtime story.

Yoshikage Kira

NOPE. NOPE. NOPE.

“...This is unnatural.”

He does not like you. At all. You are an unpredictable variable in his otherwise controlled, normal life.

The moment you make something move without touching it, he physically recoils.

When you jokingly pretend to curse him, he leaves immediately.

If he has to deal with you, he will be as polite as possible while trying to get away from you at all costs.

Diavolo

Does not like the fact that you can manipulate things without him seeing it coming.

The way your power works makes him deeply uneasy.

“This is a power that should not exist.”

If you’re a threat to his empire, he will eliminate you. If not… he will simply keep his distance.

Doppio, on the other hand, is fascinated.

“Whoa, Boss! Did you see that?! She just made a whole thing appear out of nowhere!”

Enrico Pucci

Very, very cautious at first.

“...Do your powers come from the Devil?”

You explain that your magic is neutral- it is a force of nature, neither good nor evil.

Once he realizes you’re not some hellspawn, he actually listens to your wisdom, especially regarding healing remedies.

That being said, if you ever interfere with his plans, he will not hesitate to remove you.

Funny Valentine

“A woman of mystery….”

Watches you with politician levels of charm and calculation.

Does not fear your magic, but is highly interested in how it works.

“Could you, perhaps, use your power to benefit this great nation?”

You’re not sure if he sees you as a person or as a tool for his country.

Diego Brando

His curiosity is off the charts.

“Tch. And here I thought Stands were the only phenomenon worth studying.”

Watches you closely, taking mental notes of every spell you cast.

Very, very interested in summoning magic. He has a thing for creatures, after all.

“If you can call forth beasts at will, you’d make quite the ally.”

Tooru

Pretends to be chill about it, but you freak him out.

“... so you’re telling me you can just… levitate things? No strings attached?”

He does not trust something he can’t fully manipulate.

Tries to gaslight you into thinking your magic is fake.

“Come on, you probably just trained your brain or something… right?”

[meirimerens]

You mentioned a burakhovsky wedding… please share your thoughts on that. Like do they marry as old men or younger? Is it like a steppe wedding or more a symbolic commitment thing? I’m curious

Cracks KnucklesOkay so the deal is

they Would have liked to keep it low-key (especially dankovsky who's used to having to cover his ass all the damn time), maybe the two of them + 3 friends each (rubin lara & grief for burakh, peter andrey and the rotten corpse of farkhad they haul around as a ghost like a noxious cloud over their heads for dankovsky), but burakh Is A Menkhu. he is the spiritual leader of the Kin, he is a vital social, spiritual and medicinal person within his community, so his business is the community's business, and vice versa. a sense of Ritual is deeply important to the Kin (not just to them tbh) and if he and dankovsky are to be seen, in the eyes of burakh's communities (kin and town) as bound by dedicated, committed love, a ceremony gotta be done. he WILL be put into a ceremony. dankovsky comes around to a wedding from a sense of What Happen In The Town Stays In The Town so might as well and when he comes back to the Capital the people don't gotta know and also it would make his mom soooo happy she so would so happy for her son to have a weddig(sic) so he's like oh my god okay fine. he's never been a big #marriagehead in no small part because it is like The institution of heterosexuality (especially within christianity) but he comes to consider that the whole "bride being given from father [her previous "master"] to husband [her new one] to go from domestic servant to domestic and reproductive servant" well Does Not Apply here from the But We Are Both Boys Men.

as far as age goes: vitally important to me that yeva (mamakosvky) get to see it so i think they marry age like. mid to late thirties. she's old but she still attends.

it's a whole ordeal because a Warden officiates a Kin wedding, and in the instance that burakh, The Main Warden, is the one getting married, another Warden must officiate. in my mind it is Oyun [cf this thing he's the one hidden and going over the book (2021 art jumpscare)], who also is in charge of updating the rites for Two Men [cf below] and it's kinda awkward due to the Almost killing each other thing.

there is a lot of motherhood - birth - death symbols within the kin's mythology (cf. Boddho herself, The Mother, the birthing of herbs, the "<o> brand" sigil associated with birth, motherhood, cycle and death...) which to me are apparent within the wedding rituals (not just for the fictional[ized] Kin tbh this is a widespread thing irl too) and as such said rituals have to be adjusted for the Gay Thing. it is not that no Kin member has ever been gay or bi, or even that a menkhu has never been that (i know what isidor did to that old man), it's just that burakh junior is the first one for whom such a ceremony pops up. whole ordeal. oyun has to go over the rites with burakh and a bunch of herb brides about what needs to be changed, what can be left in but adjusted etc. "we should probably take this sigil out of the rite it's for a descendance--" "[herb bride speaking] actually☝ it's technically for sexual potency so it can stay" meanwhile burakh is head in hands begging for it to be over. one of the rites include the husband helping his new wife hop on a bull and then lead that bull to the threshold of their new shared house and dankovsky has to sit his dad down and go "okay so i will be on that bull but this is not because i'm "the woman" in the relationship. you must understand this. not "the woman" because there is no woman. we're doing it this way because it's better for the bull to carry lighter (me) and also because i don't know how to lead a bull but burakh does. you understand this".

yeva brings armenian brandy to the post-wedding feast. there is LOUD singing and dancing. honey cakes also (to bring together burakh's & dankovsky's respective backgrounds).

[starryeyedwolves]

The Haunting of the Shrieking Shack

It started with a single, offhand comment from James.

It was a crisp evening in the Gryffindor common room, the fire crackling, the occasional pop of the flames punctuating the low hum of conversation. The first years had gathered near the hearth, whispering in nervous excitement about Hogsmeade weekends and the eerie presence of the infamous Shrieking Shack.

James, ever the performer, had leaned in with a smirk and said, "You know, the place is actually cursed."

Instantly, all eyes turned to him.

"Everyone thinks it’s just ghosts, yeah? Just a bunch of wailing spirits. But that’s bollocks. The truth is, years ago, there was this old Herbology professor who used to live there—Professor Oxblood. Proper nutter. Grew the most dangerous plants you can imagine. One night, something went wrong in his greenhouse—some kind of Venomous Tentacula mutation. It strangled him in his sleep. And now, every full moon, you can hear him rustling through the walls, looking for his lost plant. If you listen closely, you can still hear him muttering about improper pruning techniques."

A few of the younger students shuddered. Lily, sitting on the couch nearby with a book open on her lap, raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"A rogue houseplant, Potter? That’s your big scary story?"

"Excuse you, Evans, but rogue murder houseplant. That’s a very important distinction."

"Not quite scary enough," Sirius interjected from where he was sprawled across the rug, his head resting lazily against Remus’ knee. He sat up with a wicked grin, flipping his dark hair over his shoulder as he dramatically scanned the room.

"The real story," he announced, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "is far worse. Decades ago, a group of dark wizards used the Shack as a meeting place. They were trying to summon something—something ancient. No one knows what, exactly, because the spell went wrong. It backfired and trapped them in some sort of limbo, stuck between life and death. That’s why the howling changes each time. Sometimes it sounds human. Sometimes it doesn’t."

The first years leaned in, eyes wide.

"Sometimes," Sirius continued, voice barely above a breath, "you can hear them speaking. But it’s never a language anyone understands. They’re trying to finish their ritual. Trying to get out."

Peter audibly gulped. A second-year girl covered her ears.

James whistled low. "Alright, Pads, that was genuinely unsettling. Respect."

Sirius smirked and collapsed back against Remus’ leg, looking exceedingly pleased with himself. Remus, however, merely raised an eyebrow, his fingers absently twisting a loose thread in his jumper.

"Very creative," he murmured.

Sirius grinned up at him. "Why, thank you, Moony."

But Remus knew better than anyone that Sirius Black was always closest to the truth when he was weaving his wildest lies.

As the weeks passed, the stories grew more elaborate.

James claimed the Shack had once been home to vamire circus—a roaming band of cursed performers who had vanished overnight. Peter swore that Peeves avoided the area because something even worse lurked inside.

Sirius, however, remained the reigning champion of horror.

"Alright, listen up, you sorry lot," he declared one evening, standing atop the Gryffindor table with a butterbeer in hand, his grey eyes alight with mischief.

The common room hushed.

"I have it on good authority that the Shack isn’t haunted at all. No, no, ghosts would be lucky compared to what’s in there."

He let the silence stretch, enjoying the way the first years edged closer to one another.

"You see, the Ministry built it as a holding cell. Not for criminals—no, Azkaban is for them. This was for something… else. A creature so dangerous, so powerful, that they had to erase all records of its existence. And every full moon, the wards weaken. It wakes up. But here’s the worst part—" Sirius dropped his voice to a whisper, and the room collectively held its breath.

"It doesn’t want freedom. It likes being hidden. But it does need something to keep it asleep. Sacrifices."

There was a sharp inhale from somewhere in the room. A third-year knocked over a goblet of pumpkin juice.

"That’s right," Sirius continued, eyes gleaming. "Every month, someone disappears. Not a student, of course—too obvious. But think about the ghosts you used to see around Hogwarts but don’t anymore. Ever notice how Filch keeps hiring new caretakers, but no one ever really sees them after a few months?"

A second-year girl clapped her hands over her mouth. Even James, who knew Sirius was making it all up, shivered slightly.

Remus, however, just gave Sirius a look. One of those looks. The kind that said, I know what you’re doing, and you’re being ridiculous.

Later, when the common room had emptied, Remus found Sirius lounging in one of the chairs by the fire, legs hanging over the armrest.

"Sacrifices, Padfoot?"

Sirius stretched, utterly unrepentant. "Gotta keep things fresh."

"Fresh or dangerously close to the truth?" Remus asked softer now.

For a moment, Sirius didn’t answer. Then, finally, he muttered, "Maybe I just want people to fear the Shack for the right reasons. Even if they don’t know the reason."

Remus sighed.

He knew of course, that Sirius had always hated the way the school wispered about the howls in the night. He had been there every month, standing watch in the tunnel, waiting for Remus to come back. He had seen the aftermath— the exhaustion, the bruises, the blood.

And Sirius, reckless and stubborn as he was, had never let fear control him. But if he could control other people’s fear? Shape it into something less personal?

Well. That was just Sirius Black all over.

Remus reached over and ruffled sirius' already messy hair.

Sirius squawked indignantly, shoving him away.

Remus just chuckled, shaking his head as he stood up.

Outside, the wind howled against the castle walls.

The next few days arrived with a grey chill that seeped into the stones of the castle and made even the most enthusiastic students think twice about venturing out after curfew. The Marauders, however, were never particularly fond of rules—especially when Sirius was bored, and Remus was restless.

It was the night before the full moon.

They sat alone in the Astronomy Tower, cloaked in a stolen invisibility charm, the stars scattered above them like scattered glass. The wind was sharp, nipping at their cheeks, but Sirius didn’t complain—not when he had Remus curled up beside him, shoulder pressed to shoulder, his hand loosely tangled with Sirius’ beneath the folds of his cloak.

“I don’t like the way they talk about it,” Remus murmured after a long silence. His voice was quiet, distant.

Sirius didn’t ask what he meant. He didn’t have to.

“The Shack,” Remus continued. “Like it’s some myth. Like it’s all fun and games and ghost stories.” He shook his head. “It’s not. Not for me.”

Sirius squeezed his hand, just once. “I know.”

They were quiet again, but Sirius could feel the tension humming beneath Remus’ skin, the way his jaw was tight, his posture stiff despite the warmth between them.

“You started all this, you know,” Remus added, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “Your bloody horror show.”

“I was deflecting,” Sirius admitted. “Which I’m quite good at, by the way. Award-worthy.”

“You’re an idiot,” Remus said, though his voice was fond. “A dramatic, over-the-top, butterbeer-fuelled idiot.”

“Still like me, though,” Sirius grinned.

“Unfortunately.”

There was a pause.

“I just… I wish they weren’t afraid of it for the wrong reasons,” Remus said finally. “I wish they weren’t afraid of me.”

Sirius turned to him then, shifting until they were facing each other fully. He reached up, brushing a thumb along Remus’ cheek, just beneath the faint scar that curved down to his jaw.

“They don’t know you,” he said. “Not like I do. They just see the boy who reads poetry when he thinks no one’s looking, or who makes tea for every bloody Gryffindor who so much as sneezes. They don’t see the way you hold yourself together after nights that would break anyone else.”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against Remus’.

“But I do.”

Remus let out a breath, eyes fluttering shut. For a moment, everything else—the fear, the stories, the weight of the coming night—faded.

Then Sirius added, “Besides, if they did know the truth, they’d all just fancy you more.”

Remus laughed, startled and soft. “What, the tortured werewolf aesthetic?”

“Please. It's very in vogue. Brooding scars, tragic eyes, sharp wit? You’re a teenage girl’s dream.”

“Good thing I’m taken,” Remus murmured, leaning in.

Sirius’ grin softened. “Yeah,” he said, “good thing.”

Their kiss was slow, familiar, something warm to hold onto in the growing cold. When they pulled apart, Sirius rested his head on Remus’ shoulder, content.

Below them, the castle slept. The wind howled against the stone, and somewhere far off, the Shrieking Shack stood silent and waiting.

Let them whisper, Sirius thought. Let them build their stories.

They had their own truth. And that was more powerful than any ghost tale ever could be.