#Cure Cypress

[mynzeiidiamension]

Wooo~ I've come with some new cures from a new Precure Fan-series i have yet to name but i drew them for Halloween since their themes fit that vibe. Anywhoooo~ here is Cure Oak and Cure Cypress. More on them and their story later, hope everyone has a spooky Halloween wooo~

[majycka]

ᴛʜᴏᴍ��ꜱ & ᴅʏʟᴀɴ ᴍᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ʟᴀʏᴏᴜᴛꜱ !!

[novelconcepts]

[ometochtli2rabbit]

MAYA:

13.0.12.10.3

ox[3] AK'BAL/AQ'A'BAL[darkness]- jun[1] ZIP

galactic tone: action/ rhythm

sun sign: NIGHT| bat/black/west

spend some time contemplating the stars

NAHUA:

yei[3] - CALLI [house/temple]

Chalchihuitlicue | Tepeyollotl

huactli [falcon]

lord of the night: Piltzintecuhtli

trecena[3]: Tonacatecuhtli

x: cempohualli[20] - xocolhuetzi

"Three Beauties of the Present Day", Kitagawa Utamaro, 1792-3.

"Three Girls", Amrita Sher-Gil. 1935.The thirteen day period (trecena) that starts with day 1-Cipactli (Crocodile) is ruled by Tonacatecuhtli, Lord of Nurturance, the primordial god of creation and fertility. Cipactli is god of the land, the great earth monster, floating on the sea of stars. This is the first trecena of the sacred year. The 13 days of this trecena are governed by the primordial urge to create order out of chaos. The three means by which the Old Ones established order are still our most important treasures: speech, agriculture, and the family. The lineage of thought runs from seed to fruit to seed: these are good days to participate in the community; bad days for solitude. [www.azteccalendar.com]

Today is the third day of this trecena on the Nahua calendar and day three on the Maya calendar as well. Here are songs and ands that mention THREE:

Bob Marley: Three Little Birds

Lynyrd Skynyrd: Gimme Three Steps

Emmylou Harris, Alison Krauss & Gillian Welch: Didn't Leave Nobody But the Baby

Jack White: Three Women

The White Stripes: The Big Three Killed My Baby

Three Dog Night: One

Patsy Cline: Three Cigarettes in an Ashtray

Three Six Mafia: Stay Fly

The Three Degrees: When Will I See You Again

Courtney Barnett: Three Packs a Day

George Strait: Three Drinks Behind

Treacherous Three: Body Rock

Earth, Wind and Fire: Buffalo Gals

Charli XCX: 365

Silversun Pickups: Three Seed

Olivia Rodrigo: 1 step forward, 3 steps back

Neutral Milk Hotel: Three Peaches

Sara Bareilles: Door Number Three

Dream Theater: Scene Three: II. Fatal Tragedy

Taylor Swift: Paper Rings

Meatloaf: Two Out of Three Ain't Bad

Lily Allen: Three

Smashing Pumpkins: Thirty-Three

Britney Spears: 3

Oasis: Digsy's Dinner

Sia: Chandelier

King Crimson: Three of a Perfect Pair

Lady Gaga: Disease

Alex Turner: A Choice of Three

Gorillaz: 12D3

Feist: One Two Three Four

Green Jelly: Three Little Pigs

Judy Collins: Twelve Gates to the City

The Police: Murder by Numbers

Jane's Addiction: Three Days

Commodores: Three Times a Lady

Elvis Presley: Three Corn Patches

Jackson 5: ABC

Willie Nelson: Three Days

Stevie Wonder: These Three Words

The Cure: Three Imaginary Boys

Beastie Boys: 3 MCs and 1 DJ

Nick Drake: Three Hours

Dolly Parton: Four O Thirty-Three & Three Candles

Cypress Hill: Three Little Putos

Slipknot: Three Nil

Nirvana: Breed

Guns N Roses: You Ain't the First

Lana Del Rey: Grandfather Please Stand on the Shoulders of My ...

John Lennon: You are Here

Paul McCartney: Three Legs

The Beatles: You Never Give Me Your Money & Three Cool Cats

Fats Domino: My Blue Heaven

Schoolhouse Rock: 3 is a Magic Number

[s0uth3park]

What I thought Matt and Trey listened to from watching South Park: Judas Priest, The Cure, Black Sabbath

What I realise they actually listen to after making that SP ST playlist: Peter Gabriel.

Just.

Peter Gabriel.

[flowers-of-april]

april showers bring may flowers: prompt list

I told you I'd see you next year.

Flower meanings are sourced from this book on flower meanings

PROMPT LIST

1: Aster: Daintiness 2: Foxglove: Riddles/Secrets 3: Edelweiss: Courage/Daring 4: Marigold: Grief 5: Hawthorn: Hope 6: Gladiolus: You Pierce My Heart 7: Sunflower: False Riches 8: Dahlia: Eternal Love/Commitment 9: Asphodel: Regrets to the Grave 10: Bluebell: Humility/Faithfulness 11: Camellia: Longing for You 12: Basil: Hate 13: Yarrow: Cure for a Broken Heart 14: Hellebore: We Shall Overcome Scandal & Slander 15: Rosemary: Remembrance/Wisdom 16: Ivy: Fidelity/Attachment 17: Wheat: Riches/Abundance 18: Olive: Peace 19: Peony: Bashfulness 20: Clover: Good Luck 21: Snapdragon: Presumption 22: Baby's Breath: Purity/Innocence 23: Columbine: Foolishness 24: Zinnia: Everlasting Friendship 25: Passionflower: Faith 26: Apple Blossom: Preference 27: Tansy: Hostility 28: Cowslip: Winning Grace 29: Larkspur: Levity 30: Hydrangea: Boastfulness/Heartlessness

ALTERNATIVE PROMPTS

Bouquet 1: Sympathy Chrysanthemum: Condolences Marigold: Grief Lily of the Valley: Better Days Ahead Cypress: Mourning Mint: Consolation

Bouquet 2: Forgotten Obligations Columbine: Foolishness Rue: Regret Anemone: Forsaken Love Forget-Me-Not: Won't Forget Again Rosemary: Remembrance

Bouquet 3: Warnings Begonia: Warning Oleander: Caution Lavender: Distrust Foxglove: Secrecy

Bouquet 4: New Beginnings Crocus: Youthful Glee Daisy: Innocence/Childhood Purity Lilac: First Love Baby's Breath: Purity/Innocence Wheat: Riches

Bouquet 5: Friendship Zinnia: Everlasting Friendship Apple Blossom: Preference Pansy: A Friend Often Thought Of Eucalyptus: Strengthened Bonds

The only 'rule' is to please have fun. You may tag "Flowers of April" or "Flowers of April 2025" on AO3; or "flowersofapril2025" on Tumblr, if you so wish.

And please feel free to submit to the FlowersofApril2025 collection on AO3; I've left it open and unmoderated.

[mizusnose]

Kiss away the forces of my mind

fem!reader x mizu spending their holiday at a ryokan. Drabbles of them together in a little onsen town. (I miss Japan a lot today, okay) Art by @/cypress on X

Traveling on the bullet train to the seaside town that borders the steep and hilly shore. A town housing multiple hot springs, small shrines, and a creek that freezes over in the wintertime.

You’re both exhausted by the time you get there: late evening sun dipping into the horizon like a ripe mandarin. The narrow roads make you car sick, and Mizu holds your hand, rubs her thumb into your underside of your arm: the space just beneath your elbow.

The ryokan is two stories, five total rooms. Mizu brags about how well she did after you’ve both settled into your room. The sliding doors and house slippers snug on your feet, she pulls you into a kiss. Looks at you mischievously and says, onsen?

Mizu booked a private outdoor one for two hours. The steam puffs and pulls above the water, dissipating into the cold brisk air above. The crispy winter air mixes with the cold mountain breeze.

Mizu gets in before you. She’s always been quicker washing up beforehand, sitting simply on the upturned bucket, legs long and back bare: beautiful, you think.

The stars above you as you sink in besides Mizu cures all the aches and strains your body has endured from travel. Mizu’s palm on your shoulders, digging into the knots there calm you even more.

Mizu swims off to the other end, puts her head beneath the small rushing waterfall there. She hums and you envision her curled up and tucked under a ray of sunshine—just like a cat would.

You both return to the room soft and damp. Mizu has a cowlick that won’t stay down no matter how hard she pushes it down. You kiss her as a distraction.

The best part: the beer you both grabbed from the complimentary drink station. It’s taste crisp and cold on your mouths.

It’s the happiest you’ve been. You tell Mizu as much, her cheeks reddened and her words slow. She looks syrupy, ready to cuddle as soon as you open your arms as you get ready to sleep.

You think of the sky: a stripped back bowl of ink and flecks of stars above you both. You smooth Mizu’s hair back when she starts to softly snore against your chest. Kiss her hairline, the small widow’s peak there.

You both go to a shrine the day afterwards. Mizu becomes a blushing mess when you both realize it’s a fertility shrine. Jokingly, you buy an omamori as a joke to rile her up: a simple embroidered 愛 on it.

She doesn’t take it off her bag even after you start getting embarrassed about it.

———

I miss having a cold beer after the onsen :,)

[kiritila]

Could u share with us... your style headcanons... please...

ohhhh i have so many…

kyle fell first, stan fell harder

stan electric/acoustic guitar player, kyle bass guitar player

kyle bpd and ocd, stan clinical depression. BOTH AUTISTIC!

kyle transmasc he/him, stan he/they nonbinary/demiboy, both bisexual

stan likes trashy rock and nu metal. he loves the smiths, radiohead, fountains of wayne, bowling for soup, beck, oasis, sum 41, jimmy eat world, fleetwood mac,etc. also loves music like dmx, cypress hill, mcfly is his guilty pleasure

kyle likes rock too but also more electro inspired music. kyle likes weezer, stan has a complex about hating them. loves the smiths, radiohead, omd, abba, queen, the cure, the strokes, the beatles

kyle very tall and lanky, obviously muscular from figure skating. very very freckled. stan shorter and with a stockier build. has many moles

stan has piercings and loves cutting his own hair

stan has mexican/peruvian-american heritage, kyle has roots across europe. sheila is still from jersey but he has roots in ukraine and poland!!

stan is very sociable but clammers up easily. he does more of the talking for kyle generally but when hes feeling down or quieter kyle is the authoritative figure in their dynamic. kyle is also extremely persuasive and stan will do anything for him

both enjoy physical media, stan loves records and cds particularly.

stan collects hockey trading cards and has some slight hoarder tendencies. his bedroom is a testament to everything hes ever loved. sharon looks into it and closes the door. kyle’s bedroom is his calm space and is extremely tidy and clean. he has a couple of decorations relating to marine life and some family photos, aftdr the fallout every trace of stan was hidden in a box and shoved under his bed

stan and kyle both get very easily lost in video games

there is no talker/listener in their dynamic, theyll just talk over and over each other

sharon has a very soft spot for kyle but as they grow older and get closer again sleepovers only seem to happen at kyles. sheila is also incredibly overprotective of stan😭

ike teases kyle a lot and stan has to diffuse them

stan is dyslexic

stan goes to community college and kyle had ambitions of ivy league, but ends up staying closer to home after the events of no1sm. stan joins a college hockey team while kyle studies psychology

theyve both had multiple attempts at starting a band. their longest stint came with kenny on drums and marjorine on rhythm guitar, stan on lead/vocals and kyle on bass

stan loves dr pepper

kyle is very easy to make blush

stan likes trashy graphic tees

if kyle were a teen in the 2010’s and not a slowly adjusting adult he would be a secret love live fan and stan would piss himself laughing when he finds out kyle accidentally got hyperfixated on it. HES A RIKO OSHI❤️

self indulgent but stan hates driving but loves motorsports. he watches nascar with kenny and loves formula 1 too. hes excited to see what lewis hamilton does in the future and thinks jenson button is cute on the dl. he dgaf about sebastian vettel he doesnt know how much of my latest stan inspiration is pulled from bmw sauber seb and his early red bull days

stan hugs tight and hard, sometimes kyle is icked out by touch but is okay with it being from stan

stan is poor asf but his love language is gift giving

kyle is slightly neurotic about many things hes not normal

kyle LIKES YOGHURT

stan is almost impossible to wake up and sleeps like hes wanting to take over the whole bed

kyle is an incredibly light sleeper

ok oomf distraxted me i ran out of juice ill edit this if i think of more

kyle has a super deep connection with judaism and while he is a logical person he is incredibly faithful too

stan however was raised on loosely christian values

[ravenwind-75]

Johanna Newman - Detailed

𝘔𝘊 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

Name: Johanna Elizabeth Newman

Nicknames: Jo, Firebird, Little bird, Feathers

Name meaning: Johanna was named after her great relative Johanna.

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 15-18 - (18 - HLMCU)

Gender: Female

Birthday: May 18, 1875

Zodiac Sign: Taurus

Birthplace: Somewhere in America

House: Ravenclaw

Patronus: Badger

Animagus: Crow (if she had one)

Wand: Cypress Wood, Phoenix feather core, 12 3/4", surprisingly swishy

Blood Status: Muggleborn

Languages: English, some French

MBTI: INFP

Ethnicity: English & French

𝘈𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Race: Caucasian

Eye Color: Russet brown

Hair Color: Brown

Hair Type: Wavy/ Curly- usually in half updo or ponytail and rare braid

Height: 5’0” (Teen height) 5’2” adult

Body type: petite, slightly athletic

Markings: light freckles across nose, moles/ freckles on right cheek, scar across nose

𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Ambivert

Positive Traits: Loyal, Brave, Passionate, Honest, Quick Thinker, Optimistic, Kind, Empathetic, Good Chaotic Energy, Joyful, Supportive, Self Sacrificing.

Negative Traits: Stubborn, Neglects Her Own Needs, Takes On Others’ Problems, Can Be Impulsive, Acts More On Emotions, Self Critical.

Strengths: Overall Positive Attitude Even in Dark Times. Always gets up, out of physical or mental situations.

Weaknesses: Cares Too Deeply And Struggles To Let Go.

𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘐𝘯𝘧𝘰 / 𝘚𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘴

Boggart: evil version of herself Mirror of Erised: Her family and friends all happy, Anne cured Hobbies: Reading, Writing, Singing, Dueling, Going on Adventures, Bird watching. Amortentia: wood smoke, lilacs, chocolate, rain

Future Occupation: Auror (canon) magizoologist (dream job, HLMCU) Favorite Spell: Confringo

Least Favorite Spell: The unforgivables

𝘚𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘴

Best subject: Care of Magical Creatures

Favorite subject: Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology

Favorite Professor(s): Professor Fig and Professor Hecat

Worst subject: Arithmancy

Least favorite subject: Divination

Least favorite professor: Professor Binns

Quidditch Position: Seeker/ and or Chaser

Special abilities: Ancient magic, fire/ lightning manipulation, great with non-verbal spells

Dueling style: Defensive and protective, agile, and cautious.

Extra:

Fun Facts:

Talks in her sleep

Loves hot chocolate

Favorite color is purple

Pets: Smokey her tabby, Silo her barn owl, Honey the toad.

Didn't open repository

Doesn't use dark magic

Finished main quest before Seb's

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

𝘍𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺

Mother's Name: Sarah Newman

Age: 40

Status: Alive

Blood Status: Muggle

House: (Would be in Ravenclaw if she wasn’t a Muggle)

Personality: Very kind and sweet, welcoming, understanding, tough, sometimes bitter but overall good mom. (Does her best)

Father: Henri Clark

Status: unknown

Notes: Squib, disowned from pure blood family.

Sister: Isabel

Notes: Her twin. Barely mentioned. Her mother and sister had to go into hiding after canon events from fifth year.

𝘙𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴

Love Interest: Ominis Gaunt

House: Ravenclaw and Slytherin

First met each other: In DADA class.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

𝘙𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴

♡︎ Ominis Gaunt -Johanna’s relationship with Ominis was rocky at first because he saw her as a threat to his friendship with Sebastian. After the Undercroft incident, they began to understand each other better, when Johanna acknowledged his anger and Ominis realized she just wanted to help. Their bond continued to grow as she sided with him and by sixth year they are closer than best friends. Despite deciding to turn in Sebastian together Johanna later felt guilty and was angry with Ominis for not telling her what Azkaban was like. Their connection deepens over time and they eventually fall in love.

♡︎ Sebastian Sallow- Sebastian and Johanna shared a deep unwavering friendship for over a year and half built on trust, mutual respect, and shared experiences. It balanced between friendship and something more intimate right before things went downhill. Despite the strain that occurred between them because of the difficult decision she made turning him in, their bond is rooted in strong foundations, something that can be nurtured back to life.

♡︎ Natsai Onai - Natty is Jo’s best friend from day one. Having both been outsiders from other countries they bond quickly over not understanding the culture. Jo helps Natty think more optimistically and Natty keeps her grounded when she spirals. Together they have a warm and supportive friendship and alongside Poppy the girls are a close knit circle of love.

HLMCU

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

♡︎ Silas Evander - Within the HLMCU, Silas is Jo’s partner! They pined for each other for a while until eventually admitting their love for each other, beginning a healthy strong relationship of healing from past wounds. Both are romantics. After school, they traveled together for a while before marrying young. He becomes a healer and she becomes a magizoologist. Silas belongs to @girl-named-matty

♡︎ Amberlyn Salters - Alyn is a very close friend of Jo's, almost like a sister because of how similar they are and their boyfriend's families. Alyn was the first one to understand her fears and trust issues. They become inseparable and spend a lot of time together. She was one of the main pushes that helped Silas and Jo get together. She's a quiet and sweet soul who is a trustworthy constant companion. Alyn is @ps-cactus mc.

♡︎ Other HLMCU friends - Jo is close with all of her friends from the HLMCU and she cherishes them all deeply. They get her through life and are goofs that she loves more than they know.

Notes:

Jo's story isn't fully written, she has many endings. But not all of them are happy. Yet in all of her lives, and universes she always tries to do what she thinks is right. ✨

Born into a strained household Johanna Clark was taught about the magical world even though she thought she'd never join. On her fifteenth birthday her magic exploded, protecting her sister from their abusive father.

Upon relocating with her mother and sister to England they took the name "Newman" and met Fig, enrolling at Hogwarts as a fifth year. Fig became like a father to her and while she was there she became the Keeper of Ancient Magic and stopped Ranrok. Although she tried to help Sebastian, she eventually had to turn him in after he murdered his uncle- a decision she deeply regrets and seeks to remedy.

----------

post format layout from @girl-named-matty

[hunnysnoops]

South Park Music HCs

What music I think the South Park characters would listen to.

Stan ✰ Kyle ✰ Kenny ✰ Cartman ✰ Wendy ✰ Bebe ✰ Heidi ✰ Tweek ✰ Craig ✰ Butters

With Spotify links!

Stan Marsh

Artists:

Radio Head

Siouxsie and the Banshees

Crywank

She Wants Revenge

System Of a Down

Slipknot

The Front Bottoms

Favourite Songs:

Atoma- Dark Tranquillity

Smokey Eyes- Lincoln

F.C.P.R.E.M.I.X- The Fall of Troy

Mr Grieves- Pixies

Misc:

Generally angsty

Gets embarrassed of his taste when he’s put on aux

He probably likes 90s dad rock

Whenever Stan listens to ‘System of a Down’ Cartman calls him ‘Syndrome of a Down’

Likes The Front Bottoms purely because he relates

Kyle Broflovski

Artists:

Dan Mangan

The Cure

Echo & the Bunnyman

Blur

Weezer

Billy Idol

Favourite Songs:

I Love You- Fontaines D.C.

Troubled Mind- Dan Mangan

The Killing Moon- Echo & the Bunnymen

Jumping Someone Else’s Train- The Cure

Candy- Paolo Nutini

Misc:

Cartman calls him a virgin for listening to Weezer

If he’s playing his music around you, he’ll sneak glances at you to see if you like it

Definitely has a poster for The Cure in his bedroom

Refuses to use Bluetooth headphones

Kenny McCormick

Artists:

Eminem

Outkast

Ini Kamoze

Car Seat Headrest

Cypress Hill

Limp Bizkit

Green Day

Favourite Songs:

Hits from the Bong- Cypress Hill

Sexy Drug- Falling in Reverse

Deadlines (Hostile)- Car Seat Headrest

Take A Look Around- Limp Bizkit

Misc:

Watches clips of Woodstock 99 on YouTube

Plays his music so loud that it spills through his headphones and gets weird looks for it

Listens to Taylor Swift and Sabrina Carpenter with his little sister

Eric Cartman

Kanye West

T-Pain

Lady Gaga (we all saw this coming)

Rihanna

Black Eyed Peas

Oliver Tree

Pitbull

Favourite Songs:

Church- T-Pain, Teddy Verseti

Meet Me Halfway- Black Eyed Peas

I Can’t Stop- Will Smith

Bury Me Alive- Oliver Tree

Happiness is a Butterfly- Lana Del Rey

Misc:

Strikes me as the type of guy who doesn’t really listen to music

Unironically likes Oliver Tree (His music and him as a person)

Rips on everyone for their music but won’t tell them who he listens to

Lip syncs to Wiz Khalifa while flexing in the mirror

Listens to T-Pain and Will Smith to make him feel tough

Prefers podcasts

Wendy Testaburger

Artists:

The Shins

Gwen Stefani

Hozier

Grizzly Bear

Nelly Furtado

Olivia Rodrigo

Elliot Smith

Favourite Songs:

Swan Upon Leda- Hozier

Lacy- Olivia Rodrigo

Stand By Me- Ben E.King

Vienna- Billy Joel

Pocketful of Sunshine- Natasha Bedingfield

Misc:

Thunder makes her think of stan so she skips it

Relates to Vienna and probably got a small tattoo for it after she graduated

Probably has an eclectic taste and loves 2010s pop

Lets everyone else play their music while she’s driving and never complains

Stares at her ceiling and listens to Elliot Smith when she’s sad

Gets ready listening to y2k pop songs

Bebe Stevens

Artists:

Jungle

Wild Belle

Dominic Fike

Kesha

Avril Lavigne

Justin Bieber (baby era)

MGMT

Favourite Songs:

Feet Don’t Fail Me Now- Joy Crookes

Back On 74- Jungle

Memory Box- Peter Cat Recording Co.

Keep You- Wild Belle

Beauty And A Beat- Justin Bieber, Nicki Minaj

Ur So Gay- Katy Perry

Misc:

Hates sad music, she’ll force herself to listen to USHER during a breakdown

Picky about her music, if someone plays a song she doesn’t like she’ll definitely skip it or complain until someone else does

Mentioned she liked Justin Bieber and then got in an argument with Cartman because of it

Never lets Clyde near the speaker

Screams Ur So Gay at the top of her lungs when it comes on

Heidi Turner

Artists:

Jack Johnson

Syd Matters

Daughter

Fleet Foxes

Rainbow Kitten Surprise

Noah Kahan

Of Monsters and Men

Favourite Songs:

Open Season- High Highs

To All of You- Syd Matters

Two Weeks- Grizzly Bear

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing- Jack Johnson

Sisyphus- Andrew Bird

Blue Ridge Mountains- Fleet Foxes

Misc:

Loves going for walks while she listens to music

Sends you songs that remind her of you

Listens to every song you send her and tells you what she likes about it

Hums when she has her headphones in without realising

Her and all of her friends love Noah Kahan

Tweek Tweak

Artists:

Billie Holiday

Billie Marten

Johann Sebastian Bach

Claude Debussy

Ludwig van Beethoven

Foals

Connie Francis

Favourite Songs:

Who’s Sorry Now- Connie Francis

Cello Suite No. 1 in G Minor- Johann Sebastian Bach

Méditation from Thaïs- Jules Massenet

Bad Apple- Billie Marten

The Lark Ascending- Ralph Vaughan Williams

Misc:

I actually think he would hater Hyper-Pop

Prefers slow/classical/instrumental songs

Listens to a lot of white noise, really specific ones like ‘Heavy Rain in Autumn Fairy Forest 9 hours’

Musical prodigy, plays piano and cello

Craig Tucker

Artists:

Nirvana

Hole

No Doubt

Foo Fighters

Pulp

Arcade Fire

Jeff Buckley

Favourite Songs:

Common People- Pulp

Malmo- Mook

Forget Her- Jeff Buckley

The Pretender-Foo Fighters

Dumb- Nirvana

Misc:

Made one playlist in eighth grade and never listens to anything else

Thinks Courtney Love killed Kurt Cobain

Hates TikTok music, like genuinely.

Somewhat of a gatekeeper

Butters Stotch

Artists:

She & Him

Blonde

Kate Bush

Dolly Parton

Regina Spector

The La’s

The Mama’s and the Papa’s

Favourite Songs:

You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine- Lou Rawls

In the Summertime- Mungo Jerry

Hey, Lucky Lady- Dolly Parton

The Tide is High- Blondie

Why Do You Let Me Stay Here- She & Him

Don’t Let The Good Life Pass You By- Cass Elliot

Clay Pigeons- Michael Cera

Misc:

Songs absentmindedly all the time, annoys the hell out of everyone

Quotes the songs he listens to

Developed choreography in middle school and still remembers it

Asks people if they’ve heard a super popular song that’s all over the radio and social media out of genuine curiosity

Anyways, that’s all I got for now. Re log or comment what you think they’d listen to bc I’m genuinely curious, thanks for reading!

Also it literally took hours to add all of those Spotify links so I hope you got something out of this! they wouldn’t let me add more than 100 :/

[williamoftyred]

The Phoenix of Jerusalem

Chapters 50 - 54

Trigger Warning: The following chapters contain depictions of violence, illness (including leprosy, convulsions, delirium, and agonal pain), and emotional distress. Reader discretion is advised.

Headnote: I have found both minor and major inconsistencies in the previous chapters that I've contemplated abandoning this fanfic. However, today, my husband learned that his paternal side's French ancestry traces back to the House of Anjou. (If you know, you know.) Learning this, I became compelled to smooth everything out and finish this novel. For the honor of our favorite king.

Chapter 50: When the Olive Branch Withers

The road back to Jerusalem was long, but Baldwin barely felt the distance beneath his horse's hooves.

He felt other things.

The raw sting of sores flaring beneath his robes. The numbness creeping into his right hand—once strong, now beginning to betray him. A dull haze had begun to settle over the edges of his vision, most sharply in his right eye. What began as a mist became a blur, then a smudge of light and dark with no detail to it.

The flare in his body had begun the moment he left the sea behind.

And with it came a weight in his chest that had nothing to do with illness.

Ysolde had noticed immediately. "You're burning up," she said, touching his forehead. "Your fingers are swelling again. Your joints are inflamed."

"We ride on," Baldwin said. His voice was tight, short.

"Baldwin, please," she begged, reins in her hands, trying to slow her mare beside him. "Just one night to stop. Let me treat the fever. Let the others rest—"

"No."

He turned to her, his face pale behind the veil, lips dry and cracked.

"I must reach Jerusalem. If we stop, they win another day."

The letter had arrived two nights before, sent by courier from Joscelin of Courtenay, his closest advisor.

Baldwin had read it in silence beneath the shade of a cypress tree. Ysolde sat nearby, tending to the wounds of a soldier with a fractured toe. She glanced toward him, sensing the shift in his expression.

My lord, Sir Bohemond and your uncle, Raymond have begun efforts to shift loyalties in your absence. Court protocol has been altered, signatures pressed without full consent. They speak softly but move swiftly. I have not yielded. But the city is tense, and our enemies take courage from our divisions. I urge Your Majesty to return before the throne is treated as empty. —Count Joscelin

Baldwin had closed the parchment and said nothing. But he wrote later that night.

With trembling fingers and clouded vision, Baldwin composed a letter on parchment bearing the seal of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. It was not to the English.

It was to Louis VII, King of France—Baldwin's kin by blood, and perhaps his last hope for honorable succession.

To the most Christian King of France, Louis VII, whom God has crowned with justice and strength, You have heard, no doubt, of my affliction. Though I still bear the crown of Jerusalem, the crown now rests upon a body that fails with every passing moon. To be deprived of the use of one's limbs is of little help to one charged with the burdens of government. I feel it now as a slow undoing—not sudden, but certain. If I could be cured, as Naaman was cured, I would wash seven times in the Jordan and be clean. But I have found in this age no Elisha to heal me. And so it is not fitting that a hand so weak as mine should hold the sceptre of this Kingdom, not while fear of Arab aggression grows daily at the gates of the Holy City. My sickness only emboldens the enemy and tempts disorder within. Therefore, I entreat Your Majesty: summon your barons. Choose from among them one who is wise and faithful. Send him to this land—not as a conqueror, but as a guardian. For We are prepared to receive with affection whomever you send Us. And I will, with willing heart, yield this crown to a successor who will defend what I soon may not. Baldwin IV, by the grace of God, King of Jerusalem

He folded the letter with care, sealed it with wax, and gave it to one of his most trusted riders.

"Take it to Acre," he said. "From there, put it in French hands. Go in silence. No delays."

The man bowed and rode into the night.

Ysolde stood by the tent flap, arms crossed, watching Baldwin as he leaned over the writing board, breath labored, hand trembling.

"Does he know?" she asked softly.

Baldwin nodded. "He will."

The next morning, the king rode in silence.

His vision swam. His joints throbbed. His breath grew shorter. But his spine remained straight, and his banner still flew behind him.

He would enter Jerusalem with dignity.

He would meet the eyes of traitors without flinching.

For he understood now, from Joscelin’s warning, that Raymond of Tripoli and Bohemond of Antioch had moved beyond whispers. In his absence, they had tried to tilt the court against him—not by seizing the throne directly, but by weaving a new succession around it. They sought to sideline Sibylla and Guy, to crown young Isabella and her husband Humphrey of Toron instead. It was not a coup of swords, but of parchment, protocol, and persuasion. Still treason, all the same.

Raymond had gathered nobles in secret councils; Bohemond had lent him his name and men. They had counted on Baldwin’s weakness, betting he would not return in time to hold the crown by will alone.

But Baldwin still breathed.

And he would answer them not with decrees from a sickbed, but with his presence—riding through Jerusalem's gates beneath the battered, sun-creased standard of the Cross.

If his body was failing, then let his spirit stand tall enough to carry what was left of his reign. 

 Chapter 51: The Crown in the Fire

The hills of Judea glimmered under the hard light of day, but the air crackled with tension heavier than the sun.

The road back to Jerusalem was choked with dust and urgency. Baldwin’s caravan pushed forward, banners low, knights wary.

Within the covered wagon at the center of the column, Ysolde sorted her healing supplies, her hands steady despite the unease creeping under her skin.

She was knotting a pouch of ground myrrh when the wagon lurched and stopped.

Boots crunched against the rocky road. The reins jostled sharply.

Ysolde pushed aside the linen flap, just in time to see Baldwin at the head of the column, mounted and issuing clipped orders.

She caught the end of it:

"Escort the royal physician to St. Anne’s Valley. Five guards. Now."

Her heart dropped.

Before she could call out, Baldwin turned in his saddle—one glance. Deliberate. Final.

Then he rode on, flanked by his captains, pressing toward Jerusalem.

Ysolde’s fists clenched in the fabric of the wagon.

No explanation. No time. Only command.

"As Your Majesty commands," she whispered bitterly.

The wagon turned off the main road, creaking as it veered east with its small escort.

Jerusalem loomed ahead, but it did not welcome Baldwin with peace.

Joscelin met him inside the city gates.

"My lord," he said under his breath, "the court fractures. The house of Lusignan grows bold. They call for immediate recognition of Guy as heir."

Baldwin’s mouth tightened behind the veil.

"And Bohemond?"

"Still pushing Hugh of Ibelin for Sibylla," Joscelin answered grimly. "But their failure to secure her hand openly has only made the court more volatile. The knights of Tripoli and Antioch clash openly with Lusignan’s men in the taverns and corridors."

Baldwin stopped in the shadow of a great archway, eyes burning.

"How bad?"

Joscelin lowered his voice. "We have already seen blood spilled at the Damascus Gate. The Templars watch, but they do not intervene. Every house watches the others, swords half-drawn."

The king closed his eyes briefly.

What began as ambition had spiraled into a tinderbox. One spark — and the city would burn.

He could not defend the throne and defend her. Not if the city turned on itself.

That night, under cover of dusk, Baldwin sent trusted riders to ensure Ysolde’s wagon continued east—out of the walls, out of reach of the court’s knives.

Not because she was weak.

But because she was precious.

Too precious to leave in the midst of a coming war.

Baldwin leaned slightly in his saddle and drew the letter from beneath his mantle. Without ceremony, he held it out to one of his men—his grip firm, eyes fixed ahead. “Give this to her when you reach the valley,” he said, his voice low, final. Then he rode on, saying nothing more.

To the One I Trust, I should not have had to send you away. But Jerusalem no longer answers to crown or law. Only ambition. Only knives. I cannot shield you while vultures circle my throne. I cannot shield you when men plot succession while I still breathe. Had I kept you near, they would have used you against me. As bait. As ransom. As a wound they could strike again and again.I would sooner cut out my own heart than allow them that power.So I send you away. To live. To endure. To remember that what we built is not theirs to destroy. They will not have you. They will not break you. And if I fall—know this: It was never weakness that sent you from me. It was love. —Baldwin

Chapter 52: Wrath Like Fire on the Mountain

The gates of Jerusalem groaned open for the king.

Baldwin rode in under gray skies and muted bells, the air heavy with dust and dread. His veil clung to his fevered skin. His right eye saw only shadow. Beneath his cloak, sores flared angry and raw across his limbs. His breath came thin and hot. Every step of the horse jarred the bones in his swollen joints.

Yet he sat straight in the saddle, jaw clenched, his cloak snapping in the wind.

The city watched in silence.

They still saw a king.

But Baldwin felt the truth seething beneath his skin. His body was flaring again—joints afire, fingers swelling, nerves twisted in pain. His legs ached down to the marrow, and his vision blurred in pulses. Still, he had come not to rest. He had come to judge.

At the palace gates, Joscelin waited, grim as stone. Beside him stood Bohemond of Antioch and Raymond of Tripoli—two lords who had once ridden as his allies, now bowed under the weight of their failure.

Baldwin said nothing.

He dismounted alone, though his legs threatened to collapse beneath him. A cane, carved dark and smooth, supported his right side. His steps were slow, uneven, but deliberate.

Each one was agony.

Each one was power.

He walked through the courtyard without speaking, cloak trailing behind him like a banner of war. The sweat beneath his robes was cold and slick. The wounds on his sides had reopened from the motion. But he did not falter. Not here. Not before them.

Forty men stood waiting.

Stripped of weapons. Stripped of sigils and armor. Stripped of dignity.

Some were Lusignan knights, their faces still bruised from skirmishes in the alleys. Some were Bohemond's, grim-faced men of Antioch. Some were knights of Tripoli—Raymond's own—who had raised steel for power, not for king. And some were high court officials who had pressed wax to treason behind chamber doors.

This was no trial.

This was judgment.

Baldwin climbed the platform with stiff legs, leaning hard into the cane. Every step was a vow.

When he reached the top, he turned and faced them all.

His crimson cloak caught the wind, his veil golden in the dusk light. His hand shook slightly as he gripped the head of the cane—but his voice, when it came, rang through the courtyard like a slow toll of doom.

"You who swore to protect Jerusalem," he said, voice dry and rasping from fever, "have spilled Christian blood inside her walls."

The lashmen waited behind him.

"You who vowed peace broke it for ambition. For pride. For a marriage. For a throne you will never touch."

He raised his hand—trembling but firm—and pointed toward them.

"You tore my kingdom apart," he said, voice splitting with the force of it. "While I fought to regain my strength—so I could return and lead you through a storm none of you are fit to weather."

The courtyard held its breath.

Raymond bowed his head. Bohemond stood, jaw clenched, eyes locked forward.

Baldwin's cane tapped once against the stone. Then he raised his hand again.

"Strip them."

The guards surged forward.

The knights were dragged from their ranks. Surcoats torn. Tunics slashed. Their bare backs turned to the platform. The first scream came early—sharp, human, helpless.

The whip cracked again.

One. Two. Three.

The leather split skin. Blood spattered the ground.

Four. Five. Six.

Baldwin stood through it, one hand clenched around the cane, the other rigid behind his back. His knees trembled. Sweat soaked through the linen of his shirt beneath the cloak. His fingers had begun to curl again—deformed by the leprosy, inflamed and throbbing.

Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

Another knight screamed, his voice breaking like a child's.

Baldwin gripped the cane tighter.

The lashings continued.

Twenty lashes for each man.

The courtyard stank of sweat, iron, torn flesh. The sound of leather and screams rang between the walls like a hymn of damnation.

By the time the last man was whipped, the courtyard stones were blackened with blood. Some of it ran into the drains. Some of it pooled around Baldwin's boots.

He descended the platform slowly.

Each step a war.

He passed the punished men—slumped, broken, sobbing—and moved toward the lords who had let this happen.

Bohemond. Raymond.

Their men lay like wreckage. Their banners hung limp.

Baldwin stood before them, barely upright now, voice rasped to a thin blade.

He did not shout.

He whispered.

"Your pride nearly broke the kingdom."

Bohemond bowed stiffly.

Raymond, shamed and grim, knelt.

"My king," Raymond murmured, voice torn with guilt, "I followed the wrong counsel."

Baldwin looked down at him.

He had once called Raymond uncle.

Now he saw only a man bent beneath mercy.

"You will not fail me again," Baldwin said, final and cold.

He turned to the guards.

"Confine the traitors. Bread and water. No visitors. No priests."

He let the words fall like hammer strokes.

Then he turned from them—dragging himself toward the palace, leaning heavily on the cane.

Bohemond bowed low. Raymond knelt lower still.

They would follow him now.

Not from loyalty.

From awe.

Because he had not broken.

Because he had bled inside his cloak and never once let them see him fall.

But by the time Baldwin reached the marble steps, his body gave out.

His cane slipped from his grasp with a sharp clatter. His knees buckled. His weight sagged into the arms of the guards rushing to catch him.

They half-carried, half-dragged him through the palace halls.

The veiled king.

Sweating. Burning. Delirious.

His breath rasped harsh and wet against the linen of the veil.

Past whispering courtiers. Past weeping servants. Past grim-faced knights who dared not look too closely.

None of them spoke.

But all of them thought the same:

He might die tonight.

In his chamber, they laid him upon the broad bed under the carved canopy.

At once, the room swarmed with movement.

Aides. Knights. Nurses. Chamberlains. Guards.

They crowded around him, desperate to help—but helpless.

One tore away his soaked cloak. Another tried to unlace his tunic, but Baldwin flinched violently, muttering hoarsely. His limbs spasmed. His fingers curled into broken claws against the sheets.

Someone dabbed his forehead with a cloth.

Someone brought water.

Someone whispered, "Summon a priest."

But Joscelin shook his head sharply.

Not yet.

Not yet.

They could press cool cloths to his skin. They could loosen the veil from his cracked mouth.

But they could not fight the fever. They could not still the swelling in his joints. They could not stop the fire raging through his blood.

Baldwin muttered nonsense now—half-prayers, half-memories, none coherent. His body tossed weakly, soaked in sweat.

The nurses glanced at each other, helpless.

The knights stood rigid along the walls, shifting uncomfortably but refusing to leave.

No one wanted to leave the king to die alone.

The candlelight guttered low.

The entire palace seemed to brace for death.

Outside the chamber, Joscelin stood grim and silent.

He knew there was only one hope left.

He pressed a hastily-written letter into the hand of the royal messenger.

"You ride to Saint Anne's Valley," he said. "You will find the physician there. You know her name."

The messenger bowed sharply.

"Tell her it is the king," Joscelin said. His voice roughened. "Tell her to come at once."

No questions were asked.

The rider vanished into the night at full gallop.

Inside, Baldwin twisted weakly on the bed, the fever dragging him deeper into darkness.

The aides remained. The guards remained.

Watching. Waiting. Praying.

Jerusalem itself waited with them.

And somewhere beyond the hills, a woman who once loved him like a brother—and more—was about to be called back to the city.

The city that might wake to mourn its king.

Chapter 53: Come Back to Me

The message arrived by dusk.

The parchment was wrinkled, marked with a hurried seal. Its bearer had ridden without rest.

To: Ysolde bat Nura, royal physician, currently in neutral camp near St. Anne's Valley.

His Majesty's condition has worsened. The fever has turned. The king collapses often. His right eye is gone. His limbs stiffen. He is in pain. He asks for no one by name—but we ask for you. Come swiftly. —Under the hand of Joscelin of Courtenay

Ysolde read the letter once. Then again. Then pressed her eyes shut against the wave that overtook her chest.

She had known, in her bones, that something had gone wrong.

She had felt it in the air—the stillness of the trees, the strange hush over the hills, the way her heart had beat too loudly that morning.

She packed no trunk. She left with nothing but her satchel, two vials of tincture, and her riding cloak.

She mounted the horse herself, giving no command. The guards followed her without question.

They rode into the dark.

That same night, the palace of Jerusalem stood under siege—not from an army, but from silence, fear, and the sound of their king's suffering.

Baldwin lay in his chamber beneath linen sheets, drenched with sweat. His lips trembled with whispers that made no sense. His body twisted and bucked. His arms jerked, then stilled. His breath came in shallow rasps that rattled in the air like dry leaves.

He howled once—loud, raw, feral.

The cry echoed through the halls like a prophecy.

The palace feared he might die tonight.

Some said it aloud now.

The maids crossed themselves with trembling hands. The nurses whispered with one another between cloth changes. The torches flickered. No one slept.

Joscelin stood in the doorway, face grim. Raymond sat in the chair by the hearth, unmoving, watching the king suffer in silence.

"Where is she?" a maid sobbed.

"She's coming," Joscelin answered. "She rides through the night."

Baldwin twisted again, legs kicking against the mattress.

"No..." he murmured, voice ragged, eyes shut. "Don't... don't let her see me like this..."

He gasped for air.

His eyes were bloodshot, rolling back. His words turned to whimpers. To cries. To hallucinations.

He flailed—punching at ghosts. Screaming at shadows. Tears fell from the corners of his eyes. His fists shook. His mouth opened wide with silent agony. He cried again—more a sob now than a scream.

"He's delirious now," one of the nurses whispered. "The pain..."

"He won't last another day like this," another said.

Baldwin screamed again, flailing. His limbs shook with violent tremors. New sores had bloomed on his face, red and angry. His mouth hung open, dry, cracked at the corners. He muttered to the air, fighting visions that weren't there. His lips moved with broken pleas—some to God, some to someone unnamed.

Then came the trembling moans—long, hopeless, and raw.

The sound of a man trying to leave his body.

Ysolde's horse flew through the night, faster than fear, faster than prayer.

Her cloak whipped behind her. Her hands blistered on the reins.

She saw the palace lights before sunrise—golden and wavering against the black horizon.

She did not wait for permission.

She dismounted before the guards could announce her. She climbed the stairs two at a time, her satchel clutched to her chest.

The guards opened the chamber doors without a word.

And she saw him.

Baldwin writhed, soaked in sweat. His eyes were red, unfocused, lashes wet with tears. His mouth was ajar, his voice lost to exhaustion.

His sores were livid, and two new ones had bloomed on his face—one at the edge of his jaw, another under his left eye. His chest rose and fell in sharp, shallow gasps.

She dropped her satchel and ran to him.

And when she knelt beside the bed and said softly, "Your Grace..."

He heard her.

His head turned slowly, eyes blinking through the blur. He saw nothing clearly—just the silhouette of someone he loved so desperately it hurt to breathe.

A strangled sound escaped his throat.

And then, Baldwin—King of Jerusalem, Defender of the Cross, Warden of the Holy City—began to cry.

Hot, silent tears streamed down his cheeks, cutting through the filth and the blood.

He couldn't speak. He couldn't raise his hand. But the sound that broke from him, aching and full of relief and grief, told her everything.

Ysolde blinked back her own tears. Her hands never stopped moving.

You are not losing him. Not yet. Not now.

But even as she administered tinctures and cooling salves, she knew:

What was inevitable might come sooner than she had feared.

And so she whispered, through clenched teeth and trembling lips:

"God... I'll do all I can... but please... just give me more time with him."

The room emptied over the next hour. The other physicians left. The aides retreated. The guards took shifts outside. The nurses slumped in the hallway, exhausted. The palace quieted.

But Ysolde stayed.

She rolled opium leaves between her fingers. Lit them in a small brass censer. Wafted the smoke over him, again and again. When that was not enough, she drew the smoke into her lungs, leaned down, and breathed it into his mouth—gently, slowly, hand cradling his face.

She repeated the act until his body began to still.

She held him through every violent kick, every tremor that threatened to rip him apart.

She gripped his wrists when his hands clawed at his face.

She pressed her body against his to hold him down as his cries turned to groans.

And when his body finally stopped thrashing... when the pain ebbed enough for his eyes to close...

She eased onto the bed beside him, pulling him into her arms.

And he fell asleep in her embrace.

When the morning sun rose over the eastern towers, a pair of guards cracked open the doors to check the king's status.

What they saw stopped them still.

Ysolde, arms wrapped tightly around Baldwin, her head against his.

Both asleep.

The king—quiet at last.

The physician—his last sanctuary.

And the Holy City, still and waiting.

Chapter 54: Rise, My Son

The fever burned like fire through his veins.

Baldwin tossed in a world of darkness, surrounded by heat and the stench of decay. His limbs flailed, but no one held him now. No arms caught him. No sheets wrapped him. He fell—through fire, through smoke, through judgment.

Then he landed.

Hell.

Or what felt like it.

Monsters leered at him from the shadows—horned, clawed, grotesque. Demons crawled from the stone. His skin blistered and peeled. Maggots emerged from his sores. His flesh sizzled, and he screamed as worms erupted from his chest like bile.

He howled into the blackness: "Why?" His voice cracked. "Why am I here? What have I done?"

No answer.

Only the echo of his own terror.

He stumbled through sulfur, clawing at his arms, his face. The pain was endless. The heat unbearable. Shadows mocked him.

"Is it because... Muslims died?" he gasped. "Because we... I... let them die at the hands of Raynald?"

He choked on smoke.

"Was it the scriptures... I skipped once when I was twelve? I wanted to play... just one more hour..."

No reply. Just the echo of children laughing cruelly in the distance.

His voice cracked again, desperate, almost childish: "Was it my family's sins?"

Visions surged in the flames: His father Amalric with foreign women tangled in sheets. His mother Agnes, whispering lies into the ears of men in the shadows of court. His own young face—eight years old—mocking a boy with crooked teeth, making him cry.

Baldwin fell to his knees.

"Is it... because I loved her?" The words were a whisper now. "Because I lay with Ysolde, when I should have waited..."

The fire raged higher.

Then—

Flash.

The sea.

Salt on his lips.

Ysolde in the water, wading toward him. The moonlight bathing her in silver, catching the curve of her bare shoulders. Her hair trailing behind like ribbons of silk.

He kissed her.

He carried her to the sand.

Her fingers tangled in his hair. His mouth found her shoulder. His tears mixed with her sweat.

Then—the wedding. Her hand in his. The olive grove. The way she looked at him.

And then—

Jerusalem in flames.

The domes collapsed.

Smoke choked the sky.

Ysolde screamed from a burning corridor, and this time—she did not escape. Her body consumed. Her name, a cry lost to ash.

Then came Baldwin V—his sweet, innocent nephew—dragged by soldiers in black and green. His face bloodied. Gone.

Then the people—his people—crying out, being slaughtered.

Then... nothing but smoke. Choking smoke.

He curled into himself.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "God... I'm so sorry..."

And then—

A whisper.

Soft, tender.

"Your Grace..."

Then another: "Baldwin... stay with me."

Then: "Please..."

It was her.

A rush of white light tore across the sky.

A blast of wind—like a supersonic boom—thundered through the inferno.

His ears rang. His heart stopped.

Then: cold.

Everything stilled.

Silence.

And from the silence, a voice—not loud, but all-encompassing. Not angry, but absolute.

"Rise, my son. Your job is not done."

It washed over him like a warm embrace.

And he breathed.

His eyes opened slowly.

A dull ache pulsed behind his temples. His skin felt clammy, the air thick with opium smoke. But the fire was gone. The pain was quieter now. Manageable.

He was in his bed, wrapped in soft sheets damp from sweat.

The world had not ended.

And beside him, curled on her side, was Ysolde—asleep, chest rising and falling steadily, arms tucked against her chest.

His muscles trembled, but he lifted a hand.

He touched her lips gently with his thumb. Traced them. Memorized the shape.

She stirred slightly but didn't wake.

And Baldwin whispered, his voice low, cracked, reverent:

"My wife."

[anagatajavanese]

Er Shu | Classic of Mountains and Seas

14th illustration of 山海经(Classic of Mountains and Seas) - 耳鼠(Ěr Shǔ) Two hundred miles further north, there is a mountain called Danxun Mountain, on which there are many stinking toon trees and cypresses, and the grass in the mountain is mostly leek and scallion, and there is a lot of Danhu that can be used as red pigment for painting. The Xun River originates from here and flows westward into the Tang River. There is a wild beast in the mountains. It looks like a mouse, has a rabbit-like head and an elk-like body. It makes sounds similar to a dog's barking and flies with its tail. If people eat its meat, they can cure stomach bloating and resist poison.

[ometochtli2rabbit]

MAYA:

13.0.12.8.13

kalajun[12] BEN/AAJ [reed] - junlajun [11] POP

galactic tone: understanding/ complex stability

sun sign: REED| armadillo/red/east

bless or repair your house

NAHUA:

mahtlactli-omome[12] - ACATL [reed]

Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli | Tezcatlipoca

queztzaltotolin [quetzal]

lord of the night: Tepeyollotl

trecena [12]: Chantico

x: mahtlactli [10] - tlaxochimaco

"All Will Fall", Francisco Goya, 1799

"The Fallen Angel", Odilon Redon, 1905

Day Acatl (Reed, known as Ben in Maya) is governed by Tezcatlipoca as its provider of tonalli (Shadow Soul) life energy. Acatl is the scepter of authority which is, paradoxically, hollow. It is a day when the arrows of fate fall from the sky like lightningbolts. A good day to seek justice, a bad day to act against others. - [www.azteccalendar.com]

Yesterday, the impending martial law was on my mind. We may be witnessing the demise of what always happens to empires. Here are some songs that feature the word FALL:

Pretty Poison: Catch Me I'm Falling

The Struts: Fallin' With Me

Breathe: How Can I Fall

Dua Lipa: Falling Forever

FKA Twigs: Fallen Alien

Taylor Swift: Jump Then Fall

B.J. Thomas: Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Head

Shai: If I Ever Fall in Love

HAIM: Falling

The 1975: Fallingforyou

Zara Larsson: I Can't Fall in Love Without You

BANKS: The Fall

Bullet for My Valentine: Tears Don't Fall

Maggie Rogers: Fallingwater

Ellie Goulding: Still Falling for You

Weezer: Falling for You

P!nk: TRUSTFALL

Nicki Minaj: Fallin 4 U

Lorde: Fallen Fruit

Christina Aguilera: Fall in Line

Kid Cudi: Sky Might Fall

Alabama: Fallin' Again

Adele: Skyfall

Slum Village: Fall in Love

Charli XCX: Everything is romantic

George Strait: Let's Fall to Pieces Together

ABBA: The Winner Takes it All

U2: Seconds

UB40: I Can't Help Falling in Love with You

Elvis Presley: I'll Never Fall in Love Again

Freddy Fender: Before the Next Teardrop Falls

Pearl Jam: Breakerfall

Lady Gaga: Dance in the Dark

The Police: Fallout

Beyonce: Freedom

Bruce Springsteen: If I Should Fall Behind

Johnny Cash: The World's Gonna Fall On You

Bob Dylan: A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall

Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers: Free Fallin'

Billie Eilish: La Amour De Ma Vie

Billy Joel: Summer, Highland Falls

Elton John: We All Fall in Love Sometimes & I Fall Apart

George Michael I Believe (When I Fall in Love It Will Be Forever)

Queen: Hammer to Fall

Nat King Cole: Let's Fall in Love

The Cure: The Hanging Garden

Frankie Lymon: Why do Fools Fall in Love

Tom Waits: I Hope That I Don't Fall in Love With You

Cypress Hill: When the Shit Goes Down

Echo and the Bunnymen: Lady Don't Fall Backwards

Depeche Mode: Waiting for the Night

David Bowie: As the World Falls Down

Faith No More: Falling to Pieces

The Beatles: Sure to Fall (In Love With You)

Lana Del Rey: Cherry

Selena: I Could Fall in Love

[sentimental-bottlesnake]

The Manor, a cult and a brothel

This lore has some adult themes in this cult that including sex, drugs, manipulation and is pretty problematic as a whole. This is some adult lore. Please read at your own digression.

more WBW this time about The Manor. A stately Southern Plantation style manor deep in the woods surrounded by swamp that seems to rise up out of the mists after long hot days. It's here that the Master lives with his little 'sex cult', or that's what the members of Cypress Hall call them. The Manor also acts as a den of sin, for gambling and as a brothel, but also hosts one of the best shows in the community.

The Master (above) is the head of the Manor. An older Skydancer who's all grace and charm has seen him out of many sticky situations. No one knows where he came from or what his real name is. He simply is the Master and all who live in the Manor follow him. Some more unerringly than others. He's a powerful magic user and very rich.

Axich is the Master's current 'favorite'. A deeply jealous young Skydancer who constantly needs attention and validation. He has a terrible personality but he's very pretty so is basically allowed to get away with whatever he wants. He isn't cruel but he is a brat. He often gets into fights with Nep about extremely stupid things. He's the Master's personal arm candy and bed warmer and apparently is... quite talented :o

Nephilim and Reivyn (said raven) are a couple. Neph is the 'former' favorite of the Master but if you ask Neph he's never not been the favorite. He just doesn't fuck the Master much anymore. He's a thief who got caught by the Master and got bent to his will to work for the Master as a dancer and concubine. He hasn't been a concubine in many years now but he still dances during shows, both private and public. Rei is a card shark and plays music and sings in the in house band. He's incredibly good and is both a great cheat and a liar. The only thing he seems to really enjoy is Neph and their children and getting drunk while gambling. Somehow he's better at cards when he's drunk. The Master hates him so fucking much but he's useful so he's allowed to stick around.

Silky is the Master's librarian. He's got a magical skin condition that makes his flesh almost see-through. The Master finds him a delight but Silky is quite... shy about it. He's one of the Master's private use members of the cult. Silky is pretty brain washed by the Master who keeps promising to look for a cure for his condition but it's been years with nothing to show for it. He's very soft spoken and shy so is rarely seen and thus others don't know how easily he's being manipulated or taken advantage of.

Tanduay also suffers a condition like Silky except she's been cursed by a witch. She isn't even sure why anymore? Se now is cursed to be partially smoke. The Master, like Silky, dangles the promise of breaking her curse over her head but it's been years with no progress. She's the Manor's cook and tends to all the needs of those who live here and the patrons. She has a daughter with the Master who's the light of her life but suffers the same curse as her. The Master seems more interested in studying their daughter than breaking either of their curses. Like Silky she is not for customer use but she does have sex with the Master sometimes. Less so since their daughter was born.

Fayne is the Master's high strung and incredibly loyal and competent butler. Big Alfred energy from this guy. You need something done you bring it to Fayne. He ensures the Manor runs smoothly and that the guests and 'merchandise' are having a good time. He's been with the Master forever, since he arrived. No one quite knows what hold the Master has over him as they don't sleep together and of anyone in the Manor Fayne is the one to tell the Master to fuck off the most. Fayne isn't for public use BUT it isn't uncommon for Sanya or Axich to see his stuffy sex negative self as a challenge and coheres him into sex with them. Usually publicly which is great for the sluts but an often embarrassing experience for Fayne himself wen he comes part of the show.

Sanya is the pearl of the Manor. The bell of the ball. She joined the cult because she saw hot guys were in it and wanted to bone down. And that's what se does. She's the most well known courtesan in the Manor and is quite popular demand. Unlike other members of the Manor the charms of the Master don't work on her. She'll fuck him if he asks but him being a charming cult leader just goes over her pretty cotton filled head. Despite being a courtesan for purchase she does have her own desires and preferences. She loves fooling around wit Tanduay because she's cute and watching the other Spiral just dissolve into smoke when flustered in peak for Sanya.

Zurina is the brood mother and costume designer for the Manor's players and prostitutes. She joined the cult because of Sanya but unlike her friend she drinks the swamp water about the Master. The Master is wonderful and perfect and can do no wrong. As you'd expect with a sex cult there are quite a few of the Master's children about and Zurina is the matron who looks after them when her time isn't bought by a patron but because she's quite cold to those outside the cult her services are rarely rendered.

The children of the Manor

Vernay, Tanvir and Azrael. Vernay is the eldest child of the Master as a preteen. Her mother is Tanduay and she helps her mother in the kitchens. The Master 'studies' her and her strange curse she shares with her mother but doesn't seem interested in breaking their curses. Tanvir and Azrael are the of the Master and Zurina. The Master wanted to see the affects of breed change scrolls on children and has been quite pleased with the results, even if Azrael is nearly as large as he is even as a baby.

Then there are the twins: Samael (boy) and Oriel (girl). The children of Neph and Rei via magical entwining. No one's quite... sure why they came out with different elemental eyes? Neph is an ice dragon and Rei a Shadow but the Manor exists within the domain of Light. There's been speculation that despite not being the Master's children he had some involvement in them being contrasting elements.

[tenjin-no-shinja]

Nara

Omiwa Jinja

ENSHRINED KAMI: Omononushi no okami (also called Okuninushi no mikoto and Daikoku sama), Onamuchi no kami, Sukunahikona no kami.

PRAYERS OFFERED: Recovery of lost assets and protection against viral illness. Help with industrial and commercial development, success in saké brewing and pharmaceuticals, safe childbirth, and protection against danger.

The mountain is referred to as both Miwa and the more honorific Omiwa. It is known as  a shintaizan (“kami-body mountain”). In other words, the ancient cedar- and cypress-covered mountain is believed to be the body of the kami and considered a sacred object of worship. For this reason there is no honden, but only a haiden that stands in front of the mountain facing west. 

— Page 164

...Directly behind the haiden is a unique torii illustrated in the introduction to this book. Called the mitsu torii or miwa torii (“three gates”), it is a combination of three myojin-style torii in a row, with the central torii the tallest at 12 feet...

Two other torii at Omiwa merit attention. One is the shimenawa torii that can be found in front of the haiden and at various points throughout the grounds. It is probably one of the oldest forms of torii, with two upright pillars but no lateral beams. Instead, a thick straw rope (shimenawa) is strung across the poles. Though not, strictly speaking, unique to Omiwa, it is very rare these days. The other torii is a massive steel monument 105 feet tall and 75 feet wide. It was built in 1986 and is currently the second-tallest in Japan. It was the largest until 2000, when a slightly taller and wider one was built at Kumano Hongu Taisha in Wakayama.

—Pages 164-165

...A word sometimes used in reference to sacred mountains and forests is kannabi, which denotes a forested place where a kami resides. The word is believed to originally carry the meaning of “divine seclusion” or “sacred grove” and was a synonym for Mimoro, the ancient name for Mount Miwa. 

—Page 165

...The kami known as Onamuchi was the weakest son of Susano-o, twice killed by his brothers and twice brought　back to life by the urging of his mother. In the myth the pure but naïve Onamuchi is put through trials by his father in the ne no kuni (“land of roots”) and emerges as Okuninushi, the strong and powerful “lord of all the land.”

...when the land was wracked by plague. The kami Omononushi manifested to the emperor, claiming responsibility for the misfortunes and saying that he would cure the land if the emperor would cause his descendant Otataneko to be placed in charge of worshipping him at Omiwa. This was done, and the plagues ended...

The Kojiki tells us that one of the other kami enshrined here, Sukunahikona, is a child of Kamimusuhi no kami, who was among the first kami to appear before the earth was formed. Sukunahikona is said to be so small that he slipped through the fingers of his parent and was later discovered by Okuninushi floating down the river on a plant and wearing the skin of a bird. Kamimusuhi exhorted Okuninushi to become like a brother to the tiny kami and consolidate the land with him. Sukunahikona is revered now as a kami of medicine. When he died and went to the land of Tokoyo no kuni, Okuninushi lamented that he would not be able to finish the work of consolidating the land by himself. A deity appeared who illuminated the sea and instructed Okuninushi that if he worshipped him on Mount Mimoro, the work would be completed. This is the kami identified as Omononushi no Kami (also called Mimoro no oka no kami). The deity is the sakimitama and kushimitama of Okuninushi; in other words, different aspects the same deity sometimes defined as his blessed and auspicious soul.  It is a difficult concept to grasp, but is related to the idea that a kami can have tranquil (nigimitama) and active (aramitama) aspects. The different aspects may reveal themselves at different times, be called by different names, and even be enshrined in different places.

—Pages 165-166

During the medieval period, Mount Miwa was a sprawling religious site with many temples and shrines. It followed the Miwa Shinto form of Shinto-Buddhist syncretism. Today only Shinto shrines stand on the large grounds, all of the temples having been destroyed. One reason for the thoroughgoing destruction may lie in the fact that several of the temples were centers of shugendo practice. The Meiji government was particularly hard on this form of Shinto-Buddhist syncretism, banning shugendo outright. The only reminder is the main hall of Daigorinji, which was not strongly identified with the shugenja and still stands in a much modified form.  It has been renamed Otataneko Jinja. An elegant, tall wooden statue of the eleven-headed Kannon was rescued by priests of nearby Shorinji Temple, where it now resides.

—Page 167

[thursdayplaid]

hi, sorry if this is bothering you but how would you say "you broke my heart, fuck you" in flowers?

@sunshinerosefromthedead I love floriography asks! (I'm just a bit slow answering these days)

The flowers of the creeping willow (forsaken love) or of the cypress vine (death of love) and red carnation (alas, my poor heart), then saint john's wort (animosity) which you can pair with rudbeckia (justice will be done) or basil (hatred) - though not sweet basil, that's good wishes. You might also consider swallow-wort (cure for heartache).