#I ACCEPT THYN GIFT

[theantivoid-3]

DO YOU ACCEPT THIS PRESENT

YES YES I DO

ME SCREAMIN HAPPILY:

[helluvapoison]

Crystal Clear

Zestial x Reader

warning: lil violence, probably inaccurate old english

Consider yourself lucky to find yourself under Zestial’s good graces and watchful eyes. While he sends you bottles of delicious, ancient wine and carnivorous flowers, others are on the opposite end. That’s what Alastor tells you at least and he refuses to elaborate. While you’re curious to know what could be the opposite of flowers, you think your imagination might be an easier pill to swallow than the truth.

You’ve long since agreed to go on that promenade with the Overlord (which you’ve found out means a walk by a lake) but Zestial, according to the notes on the recent bouquet of grey roses, “hasn’t known a moment’s peace” for a month now. His cursive is flawless with accentuated strokes and curls that take up the entire card. You wanted to thank him for all the gifts but a call felt impersonal… and something told you he didn’t own a phone.

A letter would probably suffice except you weren’t sure where to send it. Alastor continued to be no help. At first it struck you as odd because you thought the two of them were friends but that’s on you, you should have known Alastor doesn’t have friends. So you set out to Zestial’s corner of The Pride Ring. It was old fashioned like Cannibal Town but not nearly as nice.

By that, you mean the people are just as shitty as they are everywhere else in Hell.

Not even two steps over the invisible threshold and you’re shoved into the side of a building, cool brick meeting your shoulder hard. You move to give the jerk a silent “fuck you” at the very least, raising your middle finger as she bolts away from you. Two steps the same, she’s dragged into an alley by a shadow.

“Pray tell,” A familiar voice, so smooth and close, drowns out the nearby screaming. Zestial himself steals your attention and your breath. You don’t even have time to wonder where he came from.

“Doth thyn own eyes deceive? A firefly has entered the web of a spider by thous own accord? Thy had not expected this turn of events. What brings thee to my web this hellish day?”

“Oh! I wanted to thank you for all the presents you sent.” You explain, patting your pockets for the envelope addressed to him.

Humming, his eyes roam across his name as he gingerly takes the pink paper. He doesn’t open it then, instead bringing into the abyss of his coat where it disappears from your sight.

“The pleasure belongs entirely to thyn own self,” Zestial says politely, his smile disappearing as he speaks, “Oh how outrageous thou must be, for thou has been generously patient. Apologies, firefly. Thyst swears this will not happen twice.”

You tilted your head, brows pulling together as you deciphered Zestial’s words. When it settles in you’re quick to hold up your hands. You’re so quick to fix things, you missed his pet name again.

“I—Oh! No, I’m not upset! I understand you’re busy.”

This pleases Zestial immensely, his smile returning and etching across his face once more.

“Thous kindness continues. Please, allow thy to return thee from whence thou came. Thyn would be remiss should something happen to thee.” He paused, voice dropping as he glared over his shoulder, “Twice.”

Zestial swiftly offers his arm to you when you try to see what he was looking at. A part of you did know he was sparing you a gruesome sight… the other part didn’t care as much as you should.

Falling into step with the Overlord, you’re suddenly aware of how much labor he’s putting into walking at your pace. It looks effortless enough. He practically glides as he walks anyhow. Still, it didn’t go unnoticed by you. Despite slightly delving into his frustrations (via cards) about how busy he was, he seemed in no rush to return to his territory to deal with whatever it may be.

“I looked up what promenade means, by the way,” You say eventually, though the silence between you both was comfortable enough, “I’d officially like to accept your invitation now. When work slows down for you, of course.”

Zestial chuckles, looking straight ahead, “Thyn has been working tirelessly to ensure uninterrupted time with thee. Much like this, only with a more suitable location for such a sweet soul as thou.”

“Tirelessly, huh? Don’t forget to take breaks,” You chastise playfully.

“In thys undead existence, thyn has come to be sure that there is no time for breaks. Change is constant and quick. Thyn is forced to adapt when thyn does not wish to or thy will be left a—how did one say? A relic.”

Now it was your turn to frown.

“Someone said that to you?”

His amusement remained alive as ever despite the terrible insult.

“Fret not. There shan’t be much for one to say any longer.”

You cross your arms and nod firmly.

“Howevermore, mayhaps there was truth in one’s words. It appears to thy, that the more thyst resists the ever growing changes of this modern day, the farther thyst casts thys own self into darkness.” Zestial sighs and trails off towards the end, “Tis a rather lonely existence.”

Slowly, you nod your head. It takes a minute to translate what he said and another to respond but Zestial is nothing if not patient.

“Change is constant,” You begrudgingly agree.

He hums in appreciation, “Precisely.”

“But it doesn’t have to be lonely if you don’t want it to be. You have Carmilla and—” You hesitate which caught his attention.

“And?”

“Well, I was going to say me. If you want, that is.”

Zestial chuckles. It’s a dark, raspy sound that makes your bones vibrate and sends a shiver throughout your body.

“Thy would be honored to call thoust a friend.. for the time being. Thy can only be content in the darkness for so long now that light has been seen. Thoust will inevitably succumb to a courtship, thyself assures thee.”

“You lost me a little bit,” You replied, dipping your hand from side to side in a so-so motion.

The green of his eyes shrink upwards in amusement yet again. Zestial straightens, looking around as if debating something he doesn’t feel inclined to share this time. You show him the same courtesy he showed you and waited for him to gather his thoughts.

“As commerce for such a divine outing, and solidifying our enriching conversation, thoust will be repaid in kind. Just this once.” Zestial declares, holding up a single, slender finger from his coat, “You and I are much alike, dear firefly, we shall not be easily discouraged from our desires.”

He holds out his hand and waits for yours to join. It’s not a perfect fit, his fingers could wrap around yours two times over, but it feels nice. Zestisl is oddly warm with soft palms and an unfailingly gentle grip. Bowing, he kisses your knuckles like he did the first time,

“Until next time. Thy will count the seconds,” He says quietly.

You don’t realize there’s an audience until he sinks into the cracks on the ground and absconds from your view. If you’re honest, you didn’t catch quite a bit from the last few minutes. You’re still stuck in the web of time where Zestial said he desired you. At least you think that’s what he said. Funny, even when he says it in layman’s terms you’re still not sure what Zestial meant.

[ishipbertigwain-blog]

How the Goode Wife Taught Hyr Doughter

          How the Goode Wife Taught Hyr Doughter is a medieval conduct poem that directly addresses medieval women, something that was very rare for this time period. The speaker of this poem can be read as either a literal mother or an elder, either way, the target audience is for younger women. One of the primary virtues preached in this poem is honor. Honor encompasses a lot in this poem, as honor applies not only to honoring one’s religion but also honoring their husbands/men. Both of these are normative for the time period, as religion was massively influential at the time as it was the primary subject of most writings, and women submitting to men was a big portion of marital life.

          The other virtue discussed in How the Goode Wife Taught Hyr Doughter is prosperity, and that is in reference to one’s appearance in public and in status. The speaker tells its’ audience to be prudent when it comes to men by that one shouldn’t accept too many gifts from men or to be seen with different men out in public. The prosperity of “wealth” alludes to making economically wise decisions, which was something that garnered status in itself in the medieval era.

          Another interesting component of this poem that is being preached is it tell the young women to be nice to the other women of the house, presumably meaning the “help”. This provides interesting insight into the workings of the different classes, especially considering that the speaker is advocating for treating them nicely, or at least marginally so.

Lyst and lythe a lytell space,

Y schall you telle a praty cace,

How the gode wyfe taught hyr doughter

5 To mend hyr lyfe, and make her better:

"Doughter, and thou wylle be a wyfe,

Wysely to wyrche in all thi lyfe

Serve God, and kepe thy chyrche,

And myche the better thou shalt wyrche.

10 To go to the chyrch, lette for no reyne,

And that schall helpe thee in thy peyne.

Gladly loke thou pay thy tythes,

Also thy offeringes loke thou not mysse;

Of pore men be thou not lothe,

15 Bot gyff thou them both mete (1) and clothe;

And to pore folke be thou not herde,

Bot be to them thyn owen stowarde;

For where that a gode stowerde is,

Wantys seldome any ryches.

20 When thou arte in the chyrch, my chyld,

Loke that thou be bothe meke and myld,

And bydde thy bedes aboven alle thinge,

With sybbe ne fremde make no jangelynge.

Laughe thou to scorne nother olde ne yonge,

25 Be of gode berynge and of gode tonge;

Yn thi gode berynge begynnes thi worschype,

My dere doughter, of this take kepe.

Yf any man profer thee to wede,

A curtas answer to hym be seyde,

30 And schew hym to thy frendes alle;

For any thing that may befawle,

Syt not by hym, ne stand thou nought

Yn sych place ther synne mey be wroght.

What man that thee doth wedde with rynge,

35 Loke thou hym love aboven all thinge;

Yf that it forteyne thus with thee

That he be wroth, and angery be,

Loke thou mekly answere hym,

And meve hym nother lyth ne lymme;

40 And that schall sclake hym of hys mode

Than schall thou be hys derlynge gode.

Fayre wordes wreth do slake;

Fayre wordes wreth schall never make,

Ne fayre wordes brake never bone,

45 Ne never schall in no wone.

Be fayre of semblant, my dere doughter,

Change not thi countenans with grete laughter

And wyse of maneres loke thou be gode,

Ne for no tayle change thi mode

50 Ne fare not a thou a gyglot were,

Ne laughe thou not low, be thou therof sore.

Luke thou also gape not to wyde,

For anythinge that may betyde.

Suete of speche, loke that thow be

55 Trow in worde and dede; lerne thus of me.

Loke thou fle synne, vilony, and blame,

And se ther be no man that seys thee any schame.

When thou goys in the gate, go not to faste,

Ne hyderwerd ne thederward thi hede thou caste.

60 No grete othes loke thou swere:

Byware, my doughter, of syche a maner!

Go not as it wer a gase

Fro house to house, to seke the mase

Ne go thou not to no merket

65 To sell thi thryft, bewer of itte.

Ne go thou nought to the taverne,

Thy godnes for to selle therinne;

Forsake thou hym that taverne hanteth,

And all the vices that therinne bethe.

70 Wherever thou comme at ale other wyne,

Take not to myche, and leve be tyme;

For mesure therinne, it is no herme,

And drounke to be, it is thi schame.

Ne go thou not to no wrastylynge,

75 Ne git to no coke schetynge,

As it wer a strumpet other a gyglote,

Or as a woman that lyst to dote.

Byde thou at home, my doughter dere.

Thes poyntes at me I rede thou lere,

80 And wyrke thi werke at nede,

All the better thou may spede

Y swere thee, doughter, be heven Kynge,

Mery it is of althynge.

Aquyente thee not with every man.

85 That inne the stret thou metys than;

Thof he wold be aqueynted with thee,

Grete hym curtasly, and late hym be.

Loke by hym not longe thou stond,

That thorow no vylony thi hert fond

90 All the men be not trew

That fare spech to thee can schew.

For no covetys no giftys thou take,

Bot thou wyte why: sone them forsake.

For gode women, with gyftes

95 Me ther honour fro them lyftes,

Thofe that thei wer all trew

As any stele that bereth hew,

For with ther giftes men them over gone.

Thof thei wer trew as ony stone,

100 Bounde thei be that giftys take:

Therfor thes giftes thou forsake.

Yn other mens houses make thou no maystry;

For drede, no vylony to thee be spye.

Loke thou chyd no wordes bolde,

105 To myssey nother yonge ne olde

For and thou any chyder be,

Thy neyghbors wylle speke thee vylony.

Be thou not to envyos,

For dred thi neyghbors wyll thee curse,

110 Envyos hert hymselve fretys,

And of gode werkys hymselve lettys.

Houswyfely wyll thou gone

On werke deys in thine awne wone.

Pryde, rest, and ydellschype,

115 Fro thes werkes thou thee kepe;

And kepe thou welle thy holy dey,

And thy God worschype when thou may,

More for worschype than for pride;

And styfly in thy feyth thou byde.

120 Loke thou were no ryche robys;

Ne counterfyte thou no ladys

For myche schame do them betyde

That lese ther worschipe thorow ther pride.

Be thou, doughter, a houswyfe gode,

125 And evermore of mylde mode.

Wysely loke thi hous and meneye,

The beter to do thei schall be.

Women that be of yvell name,

Be ye not togedere in same

130 Loke what moste nede is to done.

And sette thi mené therto ryght sone.

That thinge that is before done dede,

Redy it is when thou hast nede.

And if thy lord be fro home,

135 Lat not thy meneye idell gone

And loke thou wele who do hys dede,

Quyte hym therafter to his mede;

And thei that wylle bot lytell do,

Therafter thou quite is mede also.

140 A grete dede if thou have to done,

At the tone ende thou be ryght sone;

And if that thou fynd any fawte,

Amend it sone, and tarrye note.

Mych thynge behoven them

145 That gode housold schall kepyn.

Amend thy hous or thou have nede,

For better after thou schall spede;

And if that thy nede be grete,

And in the country courne be stryte,

150 Make an houswyfe on thyselve,

Thy bred thou bake for houswyfys helthe.

Amonge thi servantes if thou stondyne,

Thy werke it schall be soner done

To helpe them sone thou sterte,

155 For many handes make lyght werke.

Bysyde thee if thy neghbores thryve,

Therfore thou make no stryfe,

Bot thanke God of all thi gode

That He send thee to thy fode;

160 And than thow schall lyve gode lyfe,

And so to be a gode houswyfe.

At es he lyves that awes no dette,

Yt is no les, withouten lette.

Syte not to longe uppe at evene,

165 For drede with ale thou be oversene

Loke thou go to bede bytyme;

Erly to ryse is fysyke fyne (2).

And so thou schall be, my dere chyld,

Be welle dysposed, both meke and myld,

170 For all ther es may thei not have,

That wyll thryve, and ther gode save,

And if it thus thee betyde,

That frendes falle thee fro on every syde,

And God fro thee thi chyld take,

175 Thy wreke one God do thou not take,

For thyselve it wyll undo,

And all thes that thee longe to

Many one for ther awne foly

Spyllys themselve unthryftyly.

180 Loke, doughter, nothing thou lese,

Ne thi housbond thou not desples.

And if thou have a doughter of age,

Pute here sone to maryage;

For meydens, thei be lonely

185 And nothing syker therby.

Borow thou not, if that thou meye,

For drede thi neybour wyll sey naye;

Ne take thou nought to fyrste,

Bot thou be inne more bryste.

190 Make thee not ryche of other mens thyng,

The bolder to spend be one ferthyng.

Borowyd thinge muste nedes go home,

Yf that thou wyll to heven gone.

When the servantes have do ther werke,

195 To pay ther hyre loke thou be smerte,

Whether thei byde or thei do wende

Thus schall thou kepe them ever thi frende,

And thus thi frendes wyll be glade

That thou dispos thee wyslye and sade.

200 Now I have taught thee, my dere doughter,

The same techynge I hade of my modour:

Thinke theron both nyght and dey,

Forgette them not if that thou may,

For a chyld unborne wer better

205 Than be untaught, thus seys the letter.

Therfor Allmyghty God inne trone,

Spede us all, bothe even and morne;

And bringe us to Thy hyghe blysse,

That never more fro us schall mysse!"

1. Food

2. Good for you