#Silver Miners Head Path

[dinosaurchurch]

First day of spring at Middle Cove Beach.

March 20th 2023.

[12pt-times-new-roman]

c3e90

It looks like no one's leaving the table for the party split, but they did rearrange seating so they're grouped together. Matt cut between their perspectives, but I'm going to keep them separate for ease of access here.

The demolition team:

We begin with the demolition team: Ashton, Fearne, and FCG, accompanied by Ira. They follow the tunnel to the Sprawl Grotto, an Escher-like mase of buildings and pathways at the base of the canyon that houses this part of Kreviris.

The life here is a unique mirror to Exandria: the general shape and silhouette is the same or similar, but the specifics are alien. The beggars here don't ask for coin, they ask for tools -- but there are still beggars.

There are large beasts of burden here, as well as battle mounts being armored and prepared to ride. Chained to the wall of one of the barracks is the currently-resting Jabberwock of Sorrowlord Zathuda.

Through another series of tunnels, they come to the base of the central pillar of Kreviris, where there's an entrance to the excavation site. "Stay close, talk only when necessary, and if anything goes sideways, find creative ways to do away with unwanted curiosities."

The tunnel they enter has a very specific direction with no deviations like a usual mining tunnel would -- whoever built this knew what they were trying to get to, and the fastest way to get there. Off the main tunnel there are barracks and storage rooms -- it appears that they've recovered rare precious metals like gold and silver, too. The miners are of various peoples, but the soldiers here are almost exclusively reiloran.

They're stopped by a guard, who talks telepathically to Ira; then, Ira leads them to the entrance of a barracks. Inside, the Sorrowlord Zathuda stands at a table with his helmet off. His facial hair is unkempt and he's clearly uncomfortable with being on Ruidus. He's conversing with someone they've never seen: flanked by two Avadons is a massive reiloran hulk with a smooth, polished black iron mask covering his entire face, wearing incredibly intricate body armor with tusks and blades woven in, adorned with black and red strips of leather. He stands at nearly 10 feet tall.

Zathuda addresses him aloud as he leaves: "What thy will might be, Sunder King, the Vanguard will see it through." The hulk is Zuth, the Sunder King, one of the heads of the Dominion of Kruth.

One of Zuth's avadons begins to sniff out FCG and Fearne casts speak with animals to try to speak to it. To my surprise, it works! That means these things are beasts, not aberrations. The avadon is called back by Zuth, and they depart.

Farther down the tunnel, they come to a blast boundary and an inward-opening door that would let something large through -- but it's sealed. Ashton approaches, and Ira's thought-eater visage offers them superiority over the two guards at the gate.

Ira didn't expect this -- they got the blast door up fast, so whatever is beyond it might be what they're using to dig. He buys them a few minutes by telepathically sending the guards away -- with Ludinus' staff, FCG casts passwall to make a tunnel through the door, and they all file through. Since passwall lasts for an hour (and is not concentration), Ira casts an illusion over the hole to hide it so they can use it to escape.

The wall was 15 feet thick -- it was meant to withstand massive explosions. On the other side, there's a lever to open it.

As they continue down the tunnel, it gets more rough and unpolished. There is erosion here, where things have pushed through without reinforcement. There's also a distant grinding sound, and as they approach -- with their path lit by proximity-based mining lights -- they see elements of ruidian glass emerging from the wall like unearthed crystals. As they continue, the glass becomes more prominent, like this tunnel is drilling into the very base of the pillar. The grinding is joined by a hum, and at the end of the excavation, there are a handful of reilorans manning a machine: "a contraption that has some sort of a black exhaust, reminiscent of a burning oil mixed with ozone. It's having a hard time -- you can't tell if it's moving at all, but the sound is deafening. You see the massive device, eight feet wide on rollers with a handle where a hulk is pushing it into the wall... beyond that, there are two simply-dressed reilorans holding the sides, and one with Emperium, Dominion of Kruth armor keeping watch back down the tunnel, toward you."

They debate whether they should plant the explosives here in the return tunnel, or if they should fight these guys, stop the machine, and explode it.

Ira intends to use all of these explosives in this area. This is only one of many of these tunnels -- there's no way this is the only machine of its kind boring into the moon, but it's one of them, at least.

Ira offers to go into the fray and charm or sleep the folks working the drill, plant the explosives, then run -- Fearne and FCG will aid him in charming, but Ashton will play safety on the tunnel. "Let's go destroy something beautiful."

Ira's charm gets three of the four to leave, and Fearne's hits the fourth one. They set the bombs and book it.

Ashton rage build update: The time build increases their speed by 30 feet, to a max walking speed of 80ft.

When the explosion goes off, the shockwave cascades through the tunnels, and the entirety of the ground above the city of Kreviris bulges and starts to collapse inward. As the flames follow the shockwave, every person left in the tunnel is incinerated on contact -- Ashton uses the shard to dash at an insane speed through the rock with FCG in tow, and even though they take half the shockwave damage, they make it out into the cavern. From the amount of dice Matt is rolling, it sounds like these bombs dealt a combined 50d6 force damage (so 10d6 per bomb) for the shockwave alone -- I have to imagine that the fire would've done at least 50d6, if not 100d6.

As they fly through the air and land, barely alive, in the cavern, they hear Gloamglut's screech -- the Sorrowlord may well have been in those caverns, and may well have gotten incinerated in the blast.

From her vantage point, Fearne is able to pick out the forms of Ashton and FCG, and meets back up with them after being jettisoned to the surface by Ira.

The infiltration team:

Imogen, Laudna, Fearne, and Chetney set off, invisible, on the street level of the Sprawl Grotto, heading toward the central spire.

As they travel, they see that the people of the city are packing. Families are loading up carts, stores are putting their goods into crates and pulling down their banners, beasts of burden are laden with full saddlebags. There are also many groups of mycits coming out from the small tunnels in the walls, carrying vibrant bundles of fungi and piling them.

They get the sense that the mycit are also under the rule of the Emperium, but are following the directions of both soldiers and civilians.

As they approach the Prime Spire, the wealth of the populace increases, as does the number of reilorans and the number of military patrols.

They find a path into the spire, but the door is guarded by a number of reilorans.

As they begin their approach to the Prime Pillar, they can see that there are branch-like growths coming from it, liked hooked roots. (Talisein, rightfully, looks very concerned about this.)

They spot a balcony built in to the Colloquium of Candescence that they can get to -- in an alleyway, Laudna uses spider climb, then Imogen casts invisibility on her again, so she can climb up there with a rope and everyone can get up there without dropping invisibility.

Once they're inside, Chetney opens the satchel they were given at the safehouse: from it, Everoa's seita runs out! "Everoa, yes. She's my bormodo. You're helping? Good! My name is Gona." They say that soldiers took Everoa underneath the engineering bay, where she was working. Gona can sense that Everoa is still alive, and can lead them to the engineering bay. As per Matt's ruling, creatures using an invisible creature as a mount also becomes invisible, so Gona climbs under Imogen's coat.

The infiltration group gains a guide toward the engineering bay, and Otohan's signal on the scry ball is still far above them.

Matt describes this building as having been shaped psychically, through pure force of will.

Chetney uses grim psychometry on the Prime Pillar: "You get flashes of red -- stone crushing, feelings of anger and hunger, and you feel a brief moment of loneliness." So it seems like this pillar has something to do with Predathos' imprisonment, like a trammel or shackle.

In the engineering bay, there's an odd chemical smell. Reilora work at metal and stone instruments, inspecting samples; the bay itself is a series of small, laboratory-like rooms connected by thin hallways. Chetney notices that, in a far chamber, there is a device similar to the piece of the Aeorian dispelling array that they found on the caravan.

In the next room, there are jars of liquid, labeled, with organs in them -- they vary in size, but some appear almost fetal. One of them reads "primary zinc input -- failure." Another says "use of strong psychic influence at second stage -- ruined brainstem. Failed." The things collected here are essentially bioengineering experiments kept for research purposes. In the same room, there's a massive glass tube with greenish-brown liquid in it -- similar to the things we saw in Aeor and the Folding Halls.

The next room is the largest, and there are numerous jars with specimens, as well as tubes with metal cages around them. In one is a reiloran shape; in another, a smaller shape, growing strangely. There's an autopsy taking place -- they're picking apart and studying a Judicator. They also see an orrery that displays a theoretical cross-section of the layers of Ruidus, and the center is a teal glass core with pillars piercing it from the crust. It appears to take up about 30-40% of Ruidus' mass.

They see the scientist in one of those tubes, suspended in the vat.

They're still in this room when the explosion goes off. The entire compound quakes -- Chetney gets a couple people to evacuate, but it seems like this level is structurally stable for now.

As they pass by, they look at the Judicator: it looks like a metal mask was seared onto the flesh of the face, and now that it's been removed, it took the skin with it to reveal muscle, bone, and sinew. The eyes are gone.

After a battle, they get Everoa out of the tube and book it back toward the Volition hideout. On the way out, they snag a piece of Aeorian tech, some of the fetus jars, and the Ruidus orrery. The way Everoa wants to go is filled with soldiers, so they go back the way they came and find the balcony again.

And back together:

Fearne and Imogen, as the red glow brightens around them, hear an ear-piercing, world-shattering scream of horror, agony, and fear -- a female voice. Liliana.

As the demolition team runs back to the Volition hideout and the infiltration team emerges on the balcony, they see the Music Hall: the roof explodes outward, the pieces hover in the air and a lavender pillar of energy emanates from it, as Liliana appears to exalt again.

That lavender flame flickers in the air, and Fearne and Imogen hear a single phrase: "Did she know?"

[blackwood23]

Room 13: Flooded grotto. A shoddy wooden bridge connects the dry passages. Two dead Argonian men and one woman, all wearing sliced-open robes of a monk of Kynareth, float in the water.

Room 14: Four Split Hand tribe goblins are carving a large statue of Akatosh out of a tree trunk using Iron axes and shortswords. They have a pile of several spare axes at hand and will throw them at evasive foes. The weapons are bloodstained and covered in a gritty purple mineral residue. A "pot" made of five roughly flat stones in the southwest corner contains 300 septims and a pewter cup full of mashed tomatoes.

Room 15: The floor of the western passage into this room is coated in a thick layer of animal glue, except for a small bare patch which the Split Hand use to hopscotch between the chambers. Five goblins in this chamber test each others' mettle with a bed of hot coals. Two have Iron shortbows and one has a Hide shield. They move at half speed (burnt feet).

Room 16: Above the passage to 19 is a boulder with a skeleton embedded in it; it resembles a very large dog with a lizard-like head. A pile of bloodstained amulets of Akatosh sits next to the rock. The Split Hand shaman, Pohgo, performs rites in honor of Kadosh (the skeleton) most of the day. 6+2d6 goblins are 50% likely to attend a rite in progress, along with the tribe's warchief Guzbl. A battered, bloodstained wooden chest is tucked behind the rock, containing 540 septims, a silver talisman bearing the crest of Leyawiin (120 gp), and a large cut topaz (80 gp).

Pohgo: Devout, dogmatic, no concept of personal space. 3 HD, can cast Magic Missile 1/day, wields an Ironwood staff of Lesser Polymorph (1d6 turn duration); desiccated goblin head on staff shouts Goblin battlecries when used.

Guzbl: Controlling, bullheaded, laughs at the end of every sentence. Can speak Cyrodiilic but can't read or write. 4 HD, piecemeal Rattan armor with a Steel mace, Rattan shield, and two vials of Atrophy poison.

Room 17: Warchief's chambers. His mistreated but ambitious manservants, Dzerk and Yilgib, sleep here when not polishing the chief's weapons. Guzbl sleeps on a linen canopy bed (20 gp) in the northwest corner; under the bed is a bottle of Argonian Bloodwine (30 gp) and Guzbl's trained pet boa constrictor (3 HD). Its name is Crunch and it likes salted meats. There are two weapon racks and crude target dummies in the southeast corner.

Room 18: Goblin barracks. They sleep on 15' tall terraces along the northern and southern walls with a narrow path in between. 1d4 are present during the day and 27 at night. Dragons are drawn on the walls in chalk; one at the top of the southern terrace conceals a cache containing a pair of black silk gloves (15 gp), a pair of gold onyx earrings (80 gp), and a Potion of Diminution. The goblins don't know it's there.

Room 19: Two stick cages flank the path between the northeast passage and the stairs down; the northwest cage contains a gaunt, disheveled Bosmer woman wearing a robe made of thin, scaly hide. Her name is Quilawen, but she won't talk unless freed. The southeast cage appears to be empty but contains a starved Ahuimusu. A pressure plate concealed under some mud will open the latter cage if pressed, and the creature will attack with a 5-in-6 chance to surprise. Pohgo and Guzbl know about the pressure plate; other goblins are under orders not to approach the cages.

Ahuimusu: 3 HD, 7 AC, Move 12. Attacks: bite+claw, or tail (save or be paralyzed for 1d4 turns). Can blend into surroundings- 5-in-6 chance to surprise when aware of threats. XP 60.

Quilawen: Unruly, unworldly, unhealthy love of rat meat. Is able to speak with and exert influence on Ahuimusu and other reptiles. Level 4 Thief.

Room 20: Shaman's quarters. Giant goblin head made of rocks and mud against north wall. Cauldron of rat stew boils through the night in the center. Pohgo sleeps on the head's lolling tongue. A crude emblem of a partially split goblin hand is carved in the forehead. A limeware plater caked in congealed grease and dirt (30 gp, or 650 if cleaned) with a human skull on it sits on the ground next to the cauldron. The pattern of the grease stains on the face of the platter, if examined, strikingly resembles a snapshot of the warchief's chambers (17). Indeed, the platter is enchanted: three skullfulls of boiled rat grease poured onto it will take the shape of a specific place named aloud before pouring.

Room 21: Crusaders' wall. Fire breathing dragon statue. Five armored goblins. A crudely but sturdily built wooden palisade, 10' tall, from east to west blocks a passage down to the Rootbound Crypt. The wall is manned by five goblins with piecemeal Steel armor, shields, and weapons. Each has a shortbow, 15 arrows, and a melee weapon. A cob statue of a dragon stands at the edge of the wall; oil or liquid grease (the goblins keep two jars handy) poured down the statue's horn while the wick in its mouth is lit will cause the statue to "breathe fire" (save or 1d6 damage plus ignition) on anything in a 10' area in front of the wall. There is a 12' ladder to let through goblins returning from an excursion into the crypt, but the defenders are otherwise ordered to attack anyone and anything that emerges from it.

[ambiguouspuzuma]

The Collector

There were collectors for every sort of thing, as Ruahei was slowly finding out. Children hoarded marbles and stickers, whilst adults sought out rare stamps and coins, classic cars and antique clocks, and anything in between. It seemed there was no limit to the human need for cataloguing stuff, and storing it in quantities which far surpassed their need. China plates and Russian dolls, bottlecaps and butterflies, second-hand records and first-edition books.

Ruahei was a collector of collections. Her home was filled with several similar arrays of minerals, stacks of matchbooks and autographs, each of them a trophy from a burglary gone by. There was always something about the satisfaction of a full set, the effort that had clearly gone into its completion, which she found irresistible. Not enough to have the patience for the slow hunt herself - but plenty enough to steal it once the boring work was done.

First of all, she collected information. Ruahei browsed certain forums, auction houses, garage sales and the occasional watering hole, listening out for an ill-judged boast or a proffered tip. Sometimes there was nothing, sometimes a whole glut of braggards, often somewhere in between. But lately, they were all telling her the same thing.

There was a new collector on the scene, a man with broad interests and deeper pockets. He was buying up antiquities, artefacts, valuable objects of every kind - but that wasn't all. The game's latest player was also investing in storage: a whole side of his house remodelled into a private gallery, filled with empty shelves and plinths on which to house his greatest treasures, whatever they might be. Nobody knew for sure, although they all liked to speculate.

A vast safe door, state-of-the-art, was brought in as the capstone to his project, the division between household and vault. That was the last detail they knew - after the works had been completed, the collector's doors had remained closed-off to the outside world. That was itself taken as a sign of the importance of his hoard. The gossipers' accounts differed as to its exact content, from lost artworks to secret letters, but all agreed that his collection must be majestic, inestimable, unique.

In other words, it would be the score to end them all. Ruahei couldn't resist a challenge, and so she began preparing for the greatest of her career. She collected every detail she could, assembling pieces of the jigsaw: the number of security cameras installed, the placement of these elusive pieces, tracking orders of plinths and shelves and bindings, presumably to suspend works from the ceiling. Her imagination ran wild, but her focus remained on what she knew, and what she might be able to do about it.

The front door was simple. Twice as thick as standard, triple bolted, no weak points like windows, a letterbox or even a keyhole. Well, that was easily dealt with: Ruahei went in through the kitchen window instead. The outside took a bit of manoeuvring - one undignified clamber over the garden fence, a second around an awkwardly placed hydrangea, which sat directly beneath the windowsill - but the countertops inside were clear, and she could scoot her way over the marble and onto the laminate floor.

From there, it was plain sailing. Ruahei had pulled old floorplans for the house from the purchase, and she knew exactly what had changed, where a wall had been knocked through and another one installed. She noted where the shade of the paint was slightly lighter, where the floorboards transitioned from old to new. There were fresh locks, too, which she picked the old fashioned way. It felt strange, as a thief, to head towards the place of most security, but that was always where the treasure was.

Ruahei padded softly through the empty rooms, ignoring other potential bounties in her path. A less discerning thief might have sprung for the oils on the walls, the silver cufflinks tossed so carelessly upon a desk, but they were barely even temptations. She wasn't here for a collection of two. A pair was nothing to the glory of a full house.

What she didn't see were the security cameras - although she knew that didn't mean that they weren't watching her, secreted into hidden nooks and crannies. She kept her head low, hood down, and moved as swiftly as she dared. No good could come of lingering. Every moment spent inside this house raised the risk of being caught, and Ruahei had no desire to see all of her careful plans undone by her own tardiness.

Only the safe itself brought her to a halt. The steel door was formidable, and this time there was no side window she could slip in through. Still, she had planned for that as well. It had been the last detail they knew, but the rumour-mongers had noted the make and model, and she had purchased one for her own burgeoning collection.

It had taken weeks to crack, but the men from the company had helpfully shown her how once she'd so carelessly forgotten her code. Practice had made her more adept than even them. It took a few more precious minutes, ears pricked for any movement behind her, but then it finally clicked open, two feet of steel swinging outwards on fresh hinges. Ruahei slipped around it. She was in.

But from the moment she entered the safe, she knew that she wasn't. The cameras were here, on the inside, for some reason - and they were the least of its surprises. There were bodies on the ground, fixed tight with the bindings she had thought meant for art. Some were moving, as if reacting to her presence, and breathed out faint words for her unhearing ears. They drew her focus, she only heard the clunk of the floor plate once it was too late.

Rauhei turned for the door, but two feet of steel could not be bargained with, and she was powerless to keep it from clicking shut again. She turned to face a room in darkness, but heard the security cameras swivel in her direction, followed by a man's deep voice.

"Welcome to my collection." The words seemed to echo within the walls of the safe, and the bodies on the floor cringed to hear it. "Which piece do you prefer? Is it all that you imagined you might steal?"

"Please," Ruahei called, and heard her own voice rebound in the confined space. There were no plinths here. No artefacts. This safe was nothing but a cell. "I was just curious. I promise I didn't take anything."

The voice laughed. "What might you have taken? If you came seeking those objects I purchased, I am afraid that I will have to disappoint you. I disposed of those myself, as privately as their acquisition was public. The bait had been set, you see. I needed only to buy them, and be seen to bury them somewhere in my control."

"But all those pieces... there were enough for a whole collection. Even all this work on your house, which was supposed to be a private gallery. It would have been easier just to keep them. Why go to all this trouble for a lie?"

"Such items hold no interest for me - so easily purchased and sold, relinquished at the flash of silver. The worth of a collection lies in the challenge of assembly, and I am afraid that wealth has taken that beyond my grasp, where mere chattels are concerned." The cameras moved again, as if to take in the others who lay bound around her, its vision piercing through the gloom. "Please, try to understand: I am no hoarder of trinkets. I am simply a collector of thieves."

[botanicalbard]

Okay, Okay normally I don’t post my witting on tumblr but I’m really proud of my Fic for the BG3 amino Halloween competition plus what I did is so tumblr coded. So I have to post it here For context my prompts was: “You walk into a trap, uh oh! Each of the companions must spin the wheel and have a unfortunate fate bestowed upon them, what those fates are will be up to you.” An I made them Horrid little fates based on cranewives songs. Excuse the formatting as this is copy and pasted straight from my google doc with no regard for how well it will transfer.

“Chk, I have no desire to participate in any activity as frivolous as a ‘girls' night.’” Lae’zel huffs in annoyance glaring at where Shadowheart was doing Karlach’s makeup to avoid the undignified but adorable puppy eyes her leader was giving her. Jubilee chuckles, “Come on, it's a tradition here in Faerûn, and how would we ever survive without you?” She says, nudging her lightly. She’d meant it as a silly little call back to Lae’zel’s favorite objection to being left but all three of the other women cringed and over the tadpole, Jubilee saw the image of herself collapsing on the floor of Shar’s temple.

“Fine.” Lae’zel hisses, “But, I’m not subjecting myself to any of that ridiculous war paint,” gesturing to the makeup in Shadowheart’s hands.

“It’s not you know what never mind,” Shadowheart says and shakes her head knowing better than to argue with Lae’zel.

Jubilee was ecstatic and pressed a brief kiss on Lae’zel’s cheek, “Thanks you’re the best.”

“I know,” Lae’zel answers flatly, relishing the jealous look Shadowheart gave her so much that she decided whatever frivolous activities she would be dragged through would be more than worth it.

“Easy soldiers,” Karalch says, noticing the silent exchange of expressions that Jubilee was too thrilled to notice.

Jubilee sits cuddling up to Shadowheart as she begins working on her own makeup, quickly not wanting to test Lae’zel’s patience or risk her backing out. Once they were done preening as Lae’zel called it the women began the walk from camp, Karlach bounding ahead, Shadowheart and Jubilee walked hand and hand not far behind whispering sweet nothings at each other while Lae’zel brought up the rear watching all of them with a gaze that was far more protective than she’d ever admit even to herself. The four women didn't make it to the city proper as Karlach found a small tent that had set up the sign above the flap that read The Wheel of Fate.

Lae’zel hisses at it, something in her instincts warning her about whatever lay in the tent.

“Come on, we should go and give it a spin. What's the worst that could happen? We get more doomed?” Karlach jokes.

The two women both looked at the couple expecting them to take sides, Jubilee lovingly twirled the silver braid between her fingers and looked at her beloved, “Well what do you think, my heart?”

Shadowheart squints at it, they'd walked this path a lot and it was a little suspicious a tent had suddenly appeared along it, however, her desire to spite Lae’zel won out and she says, “It’s just a silly carnival game, seems harmless enough,” and holds the tent flap open for all of them.

An old woman with a rickety wooden wheel sits in the tent and she smiles as the four women crowd in there is barely room in the tent. The wheel has various symbols painted on it: a mouth, a moon, a songbird, an anchor, a knife, a rose, a hand, a coyote, a wedding gown, and more decorated the wheel. “Welcome in, dears, spin my wheel: it won’t tell you your future but it will tell you the kind of person you're fated to be,” creaks an old voice that feels eerily familiar.

Jubilee chuckles, “Sounds complicated but I’ll give it a shot.” She says and gives the wheel a spin and it lands on the little songbird.

The woman laughs cruelly, “Canaries, darling little birds, that are only allowed to live as long as they are useful to miners.” She says and in a flash, Jubilee is gone. Weapons were quickly drawn and the old woman crackled, growing into a hag laughing, “The lot of you killed my dear sister Ethel now the lot of you have a choice: let me take this one of yours or all of you face a punishment from my wheel,” she demanded.

Shadowheart steps forward frantically spinning the wheel immediately desperate to save the woman she loves and hers lands on the anchor.

“Anchors, great burdens, you're a greater one.” The hag snarls and Shadowheart vanishes.

“I’ll conquer your challenge and then pay for this chaith,” Lae’zel hisses back just as fiercely, meeting the gaze of the hag and spinning the wheel it landed on a hand.

The hag cracked a grin “Well, darling you bit the hands that feeds and it can slap back.” And Lae’zel vanishes.

Karlach steps up spinning the wheel with enough force that it should’ve broken off its hinges and it stops on the mouth. Karlach looks at the hag expecting an insult or a threat the way the others had gotten the hag looks her in the eyes “You’ve got enough words where you're going you don't need mine,” she answers and Karlach vanishes.

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Karlach blinks she’s somewhere, in a stone chamber with no doors, walls, or windows she takes it in running her fingers along the stone debating if she could smash her way out or not when a pair of black lips appeared and spoke with Zariel’s voice, “Oh my little pet did you think you could escape me for long, your nothing but a menace, nothing but my fury.”

“Fuck off! I’m not your toy. I’m more than what you made me, I’m strong and a good friend and a good person.”she snarls.

A pair of blue lips appear beside Zariel’s laughing and Mizora’s voice speaks next, “A good friend, with how much trouble you got the pup into. No, no dear you are terrible.”

Karlach huffs and starts building up a rage hoping to smash her way out growling her response, “I don’t give a shit about what you devils have to say I’m not yours anymore! Wyll loves me, my friends love me!”

“Perhaps hearing what your friends really think of you will give you the push to come home to me.”

Wyll’s soft brown lips appear twisted in a scowl, “It’s your fault, I got transformed like this. It’s your fault I’m a monster.”

Jubilee’s rosy lips appear next, quivering with fear, “Her rage scares me, I’m worried she'll get out of control and hurt one of us.”

Karlach braces smashing at the walls surrounding her trying to bust her way out, this was a trick of the devils and the hags her friends would never say that.

That didn't make it any easier as Jaheira’s tan lips appeared, “Useless starstruck worm doesn't have thought between her eyes she slows the rest of us down,” Karlach lashes out ineffectively at the walls, her knuckles bleeding from the strikes to stone.

“See dear look, You’ve only ever been a burden, your rage and fire will ruin them. Come home to me where you belong.” Zariel’s mouth says.

Karlach whirls around turning from the wall to face the severed lips, “Fuck off!” she snarls as the lips descend on her and teeth nash into her flesh.

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Lae’zel looks around and she’s home, in a familiar room back on Crèche K'liir with two attendants dressing her in ceremonial finery. She looks at the two attendants, “Revrykal, explain what the meaning of this is at once! Why am I here? What of the Istik I’ve been traveling with?” she huffs trying not to sound too much like she cares.

The attendants look at each other in confusion, “Your mission, in Fairy Run, is over, you did so well that you’ve been chosen to ascend. We are just preparing you properly for the ceremony,” the smaller one assures her.

Lae’zel cringes now that she knows the truth of ascension, Vlaakith wouldn’t honor her; she would drain her of everything and feed on life essence, and her skin pales as anxiety creeps in.

“Is everything alright?” The other attendant asks adjusting Lae’zel’s robes, “Ascension is a big deal but Vlaakith doesn't make mistakes, I know you can handle that power”

Lae’zel blinks this much kindness even from a servant who was horribly wrong she should be being chided for her weakness or driven out as hshar’lak for her actions away from the astral sea. She scoffs, “Chk! Do not coddle me!”

She tries to walk off to find the others, to spread the word of Orpheus, to find her idiot Istik companions but no matter what she approaches there's a ritual of the ascension prepared for she tries each of the doors pacing ignoring the protest of the attendants she wasn’t prepared for the ritual yet. She growls in frustration looking through the doors and her eyes widen in fear as a magical force tugs her toward the ritual circle.

-｡;+☆+;｡･ﾟ･｡;+★+;｡･ﾟ･｡;+☆+;｡｡;+☆+

Shadowheart doesn't even need to open her eyes; this is palpably wrong she thinks but doesn't have time to dwell on why or how as water rushes into her lungs. Her eyes shoot open, she can feel herself sinking and she instinctively knows with her armor there's no way she can get herself to the surface. She also notices chains above her she can see her parents and her love each bound to her by the chains. It was her heavy armor dragging them down. She opens her mouth trying to yell at them to sever the chains, go, to leave her but water rushed into her mouth instead and all she could manage was a rush of bubbles. That caused her dear Jubilee to tug even more frantically on the chains assuming it was a cry for help.

They couldn’t hear her and even if they could she knew they wouldn’t listen, they all loved her so much and she loved them. She wouldn’t be their demise, she couldn’t let them suffer for her again, and she wouldn’t drag them down with her. If they didn’t have the sense to free themselves she’d do it for them. She grabbed the chain and pumped her magic into it, shattering the link between them. They were already beginning to float up without her heavy armor weighing them down. She looked up, seeing Jubilee floating away, and whispered, “I love you”. She knew she couldn’t hear it and hated the taste of bitter water in her mouth but she wanted those to be her last words. She looked at her parents and girlfriend. If they were free and safe then all of this was worth it.

-｡;+☆+;｡･ﾟ･｡;+★+;｡･ﾟ･｡;+☆+;｡｡;+☆

Jubilee coughs on black smoke as she’s in the middle of a fight, she can see Shadowheart’s spirit guardians swirl around and the war cries and crashing of Karlach and Lae’zel’s swords. She rushes forward and tries to send a firebolt into an enemy coming up behind Karlach but no flame bursts from her talons. The sorcerer blinks frantically and tries again but can’t so much as summon a spark. Her magic has been a natural extension of herself her entire life and it can’t just disappear on her, so she tries again frantically as blades whirl and skulls crack; she can’t summon the tiniest wisp of magic.

Fortunately, the others do just fine without her, of course, they’d do fine without her. She's just a baker. Shadowheart runs up to her but blinks in confusion upon seeing her well, “I was worried! I thought you’d gotten taken out when you didn’t provide spells as cover! Why weren’t you helping us?” she scolds.

Jubilee hangs her head in shame as the others regroup, “I was trying magic, it's being strange, look.” She says attempting to cast dancing lights and failing. They’d all seen her do this a hundred times, Jubilee had done everything right it just simply wasn’t working.

Lae’zel rolls her eyes, “If you can no longer perform even the simplest of spells I see no use keeping you around, we were just fine in the fight without her.”

Karlach gives her a pitying glance and says, “I wouldn’t have said it like that, but she’s right, Soldier. If you can’t cast spells this trip will be too dangerous and protecting you will make us weaker.”

“No, I’m just having an issue at the moment. I can fix it, My heart please help me make them understand.” Jubilee sputters looking to her partner for reassurance but finds only disappointment in Shadowheart’s eyes.

“What good are you, you can’t protect me or help me like this.” Shadowheart huffs gesturing to the empty space between Jubilee’s hands that are still frantically working their way through spell motions.

“I love you and I can do magic, I can be helpful please!” Jubilee pleads.

“Prove it,” Lae’zel says seeming disinterested already.

Jubilee tries flitting through every cantrip, ritual, and spell she knows and none of them do a thing, the others begin to walk away and the tiefling woman bursts into sobs of despair. “Wait please!” She yelps and when they turn around to look, The tiny sorceress yanks at the Weave with all her might and four illusions shatter.

-｡;+☆+;｡･ﾟ･｡;+★+;｡･ﾟ･｡;+☆+;｡｡;+☆

The four women are back on the street corner the tent and hag long gone, Lae’zel lands on her feet feeling drained and disoriented, Karlach is bloodied but manages to stay on her feet, Shadowheart hits the ground hard coughing up nonexistent water, and Jubilee is collapsed sobbing as waves of magic crackle through her body overwhelming her. Karlach reacts first, bending down to Jubilee “Easy, easy soldier, this is sort of like when my engine overheats and we get through that by calming down, focusing on our friends, and breathing.” The two tieflings stumble their way through a breathing exercise causing the magic to die down as Lae’zel stalks the perimeter for threats and Shadowheart recovers enough to tend to the wounds of those who have them.

“Thank you Karlach, and thank you my heart,” Jubilee says, wiping away the tears as she’s healed.

Shadowheart kisses her forehead, “Any time my soul”

Lae’zel huffs, “Let’s go back to camp. I’m never participating in this ‘girls' night’ again” she huffs with disgust. However, that proclamation doesn't stop Astarion from finding the four women cuddled up in a pile together the next morning.

[kimium]

I wrote a 10051 snippet that's so short and so fragmented I don't want to put it into my Warming Up in Snippets compilation. So, I'm going to post it here. Let me know what you think if you like this. I might expand on this idea later as it's rare for me to write in Byakuran's POV.

Warnings: Timeline? Ambiguous. Good or bad? Who knows? Established relationship. Usual Byakuran possessive thoughts. Kissing.

~

A bright firework burst against the darkness of the sky in a flash of white yellow light. In an instant the red in Shouichi’s hair glowed and green in Shouichi’s eyes burned, as if an emerald had been set ablaze by a single match. Even behind the glasses that despite the lightly out of style frames, Shouichi refused to change no matter what Byakuran tried to say, the clear lens did nothing to obscure the brilliance of Shouichi’s gaze. A gaze that never wavered or faltered from its destined path.

Another firework burst in the sky, this one louder, brighter, and more colourful than the last. Shouichi gasped and leaned forward, their boat rocking gently in the smooth darkness of the lake. A bit of water splashed up the side and threatened to spill inside, but receded a moment later.

Byakuran leaned into the boat, his gaze never straying from Shouichi. The jacket Shouichi was wearing was dove grey with silver buttons and accents. While unbuttoned and unzipped, the jacket was formfitting and hugged Shouichi’s body in a way that made Byakuran’s heart pound rapidly in his chest and his mouth dry instantly.

Who was this siren, this temptation sent to earth sent to lure Byakuran towards ruin? Why had some divine force decide that Byakuran’s downfall would not be the vices of other powerful leaders that had come before him? When did the threads of Byakuran’s fate slowly unravel at their seams? Which one of the multiple, endless timelines had it been? Did it even matter at this point? What had Byakuran done to deserve Shouichi?

A burst of light filled the sky again, this time in shades of red and orange. It made Shouichi’s lips appear more red, more tempting than any forbidden food described in mythologies. Byakuran lurched forward and grabbed Shouichi’s arm. Instantly Shouichi turned his head and leaned closer, eyes widening. His lips parted and whatever sound lingered in Shouichi’s throat was silenced by Byakuran pressing his lips against Shouichi’s.

Shouichi tasted divine and his moans pierced through the gaps between Byakuran’s ribs, crushing his heart and lungs in a single strike. Gasping, Byakuran tangled his hands into Shouichi’s hair and deepened their kiss.

Byakuran’s chest tightened and his blood sang in his limbs. Sky Ring or not, he’d kill anyone who dared to think they could have Shouichi. His Shouichi. His forbidden fruit. His. His. His.

The boat tilted and their center of gravity shifted. A moment later cold water rushed around them. Byakuran pulled away from Shouichi and gasped for air. Shouichi shot a look that was obscured by his askew glasses which slid off the bridge of his nose. Water dripped from his matted bangs and with a huff Shouichi brushed his bangs aside and adjusted his glasses.

“What was that for?” he huffed.

“I wanted to kiss you.”

“I’m aware of that.” Byakuran couldn’t see it, but he knew Shouichi was crossing his arms. “You have all the power in the world and you can’t stop us from falling out of a boat.”

Byakuran tilted his head. “Did you want me to kiss you while levitating? It shouldn’t pose a challenge.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Shouichi sighed and began to swim towards the boat. “Guess we’ll have to cut watching the fireworks.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

Shouichi shot a look. It made Byakuran’s blood tingle. “Don’t be obtuse. We’re wet and cold. I’m not sitting out here.” He tried to climb into the boat but it floated away.

Byakuran snapped his fingers and soon they were both in the boat, warm Sky flames dancing around their bodies, drying their clothing. A bit of stiffness from the minerals in the water lingered, but it was a small price to pay for being dry. Shouichi patted his jacket and pulled his phone out, pressing a finger to the screen. It turned on.

“Thank goodness for our tests,” Shouichi muttered. “I’ll have to let Spanner know those hours were not in vain.”

Spanner. Byakuran could see the blond mechanic in the back of his mind, lollipop stick in his mouth, a cold cup of tea at his elbow. Weeks and hundreds of phones had passed and died before their research concluded. Byakuran hadn’t been present for the actual experiments but he’d seen the bill and happily signed off on it. Much to the disapproval of Kikyo who, like any professional right-hand man, held his comments silent but his gaze judgemental. Not that Byakuran cared. So long as Shouichi was happy Byakuran would spare no expense on whatever experiment Shouichi’s little heart desired.

“Even if the experiments were a failure, I could buy you anything you desired.”

Shouichi raised an eyebrow. “I’m well aware of that, thanks. However, I’d never let an experiment end in complete failure.” He pocketed his phone and looked up at the sky. “I think the fireworks are ending soon.”

“Already?” Byakuran glanced at the slowly darkening sky. Between kissing Shouichi and falling into the lake the sound and light had somehow muffled themselves into the background. “Apologies. We seemed to have missed majority of the show.”

“It’s fine. I was able to go out and see some of it.” Shouichi shrugged. “Thank you, for taking me here. Even if you nearly ruined my clothing and phone.”

“My pleasure,” Byakuran extended his hand, his sky ring glittering in the dark. “Shall we?”

Shouichi wrinkled his nose. “I hate traveling by Ring Teleporting Systems.” He still took Byakuran’s hand.

“You say that but you helped me fix the system.”

“I don’t have much of a choice in the matter,” Shouichi dryly said. “I was told we were going to see fireworks. I thought you meant at a local festival in Namimori not in a boat in the middle of a random lake in Italy.”

Byakuran stifled a laugh. “I was told that surprises are romantic.”

“If that was Bluebell, I’ll have you know she has no clue what she’s talking about.”

“Nonsense,” Byakuran said as he pulled Shouichi into his embrace. “Just because she’s young doesn’t mean she is unaware of romance. Now, shall we go home?”

Shouichi leaned into Byakuran until his breath tickled Byakuran’s neck. Byakuran smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of Shouichi’s head. On his ring orange sky flames began to gather, glowing like embers dancing in an inferno.

[633633bb]

Tw drowning, tw death, tw thalassophobia

I keep thinking of this dream I had.

I’m a man dressed in brown tweed trousers and waistcoat. I’m still too young to be a wealthy man. My clothes are eaten by the weather and it’s great wet teeth. My hands are rough as rope as they slide over the unpainted wooden guard rails unsplintered. I’m staring down into the water, silver ribbons of moon cast worms wiggling across an ink surface.

I can’t remember if it’s quiet or if there is nearby squawks of laughter. My crew mates are eating or maybe they’re drunk. Maybe I can’t hear them well over the hum of the great paddle wheel and the cascade of river water. I might be distracted by the star spit of the sky pinpricking the stubble on my face, fighting to slip past pursed lips.

Elbows like shutter hinges lock and release. Lock and release. Then my waist, a large hinged door, tips over rail.

I don’t know why it’s done. Shoulder breaks first, black glass of the sky shatters. I can swim well. I know the water better than land. I know in my dream: I live here. If I had wanted to die, it’s a poor choice of an exit plan. No, it’s something else. Affectionate?

I think maybe I had just wanted to touch the dark nothing below.

I lie on my back and watch the silhouette of the boat drift down the rivers veins, suspended in time and massive as an aquatic mammoth dragging heavy furred limbs through the electric of the rivers cold current.

But it’s not slow, is it? That’s just a trick of perspective as I tread within the comforting cradle of my wet star void, the taste of minerals seeping between the cracks of my lips. Finally slogging limbs cut through the abyss, aching with the disappointment that this little detour was little more than another pedestrian experience.

Distance closes between myself and the boat. I try to sidle up to her, but something strange happens. My arms rotate harder, machines of muscle and meat, but I am suspended in time and black water space just as the boat had been moments ago. When my effort abates I notice a pull towards the stern of the boat where the wheeling paddle roars.

I choke on a small lap of river water as my galloping heart smacks my lungs and reminds me to breathe. Harder, harder, my arms spin on the axel of my shoulders. My chest screams first and then tendons erupt into flames. My strangled voice is small against the roar of a hundred tiny cascades. It’s hard to breathe.

No one can hear me over the clamor of the void.

This moment lasts an eternity and the human spirit is unbreakable. The body, however, is not. After about fifteen minutes of struggling against the current your anatomy fails and time resumes. I drift as broken as a brittle leaf towards the great rotating wheel, watching it swallow up whatever is unlucky enough to find itself in its path.

I die of course. Not from the waterwheel, but when it pulls me closer I smack my head on one of its paddles. Disoriented, I somersault through the current. What’s down is up and what is up is down. One hand reaches out and makes contact with something solid — maybe the keel of the boat. It’s just a reach of transitory desperation.

We sink.

…

So deep.

Hands rip me from the salt and my lungs shriek into a blue and white sky. They loop around my tiny waist and cradle droplet specked skin to skin as my cries rattle my entire existence. A hand claps my hollow back roughly and I spit ocean water out onto her shoulder.

I am four years old. My grandmother carries me across a flat plane of sand, colorful beach towels, and kids with faces smeared with globs of coppertone. In my mouth I feel the grit of sand slide against my tongue as I lap up a quick succession of salted air, caught in a cycle of hyperventilation.

Above us, the gulls squawk in the sky. It’s hard to hear them over the roaring of green sea foam waves.

[ylva-snow-mane]

Tirdas, 2nd day of Heartfire, 4E 201

<- PREVIOUS ENTRY

It's been a week since my last entry. I suppose I never got the chance to write because I've been on the road.

I prepared myself for the journey from Whiterun to Markarth as best I could, but eventually grew frustrated with the slow pace of my progress. Even though I didn't have everything I may have needed, like a good stock of food and potions or a proper tent, I decided to simply strike out and hope for the best.

I first set out to Rorikstead, an easy enough journey given my familiarity with the path. But then, after I traveled north along the western road, I encountered a fort that'd been overtaken by Forsworn.

I confess, dear diary, a moment of weakness. My mother always told me horrific tales of the madmen of the Reach. As a girl, I was as afraid of the Forsworn as giants and draugr. And some part of that fear lingers in me, for I decided to scale the mountainside to avoid crossing through the fort. It was tricky and I nearly fell several times, but at least the weather was in my favor. I doubt I would've survived the climb come rain or snow. And for my detour, I only had to face a single saber cat.

Note to future self: Remember! They're fearful of fire! Study more Destruction spells!

I arrived in Karthwasten without incident. As I entered the town, I overheard an argument between a local mine-owner and a mercenary. Apparently, the word around town indicated that the Silver-Blood family of Markarth sought to bully the owner, Ainethach, into selling the mine. I could not stop to deal with this matter at the time, as I'm already on business for the Companions. But I think I will return to this town soon enough to lend a hand to Ainethach.

After I continued past Karthwasten, I came upon a ruined settlement engulfed in flames. I was attacked by Forsworn, but I held my ground in spite of my fear. Once I had dispatched the three heathens, I hurried from the ruined settlement, feeling it unwise to stick around in case their allies found me.

Further up the road, I encountered another mine, called Left-Hand Mine. Here, one of the miners explained that he was from the ruined settlement, called Kolskeggr Mine and that it was overtaken by the Forsworn. I promised him that I would return and take back the mine for the people. But the troubles of the Reach didn't stop there.

I finally arrived in Markarth this morning, only to witness a man attempt to murder a woman in the markets near to the city gate. In broad daylight, no less! Luckily for the woman, Margaret, I threw myself in the way of his blade. It glanced off of my armor and then I caved his head in with my maul. In his dying breaths, he screeched something about the Forsworn. He hadn't even fully collapsed before the guards were ushering me and all others of the markets aside. A strange man then slipped me a note, requesting I meet him by a hidden shrine of Talos.

Suffice to say, this city has put me on edge. And I am wary to patron the local Silver-Blood Inn. I'll give you two guesses what family owns that inn. And most of the town, according to the gossip I've overheard sitting here on the streets. I don't want to lay my head in this forsaken city, not for one night. There is something sinister woven into the very stone of this city, and I want no part of it.

I will simply find this Imedhnain fellow, give him a good thrashing, and then make haste to return to Whiterun. I may even splurge on a carriage ride to ferry me back. I suspect the back of a cart would be a safer bed than any I'd find here in Markarth.

[jaceks121]

Tibet's New development blueprint for the New era: From high-speed development to green and innovative development

Located in the hinterland of Changtang National Nature Reserve, Shuanghu County, Nagqu City, Tibet, with an average altitude of more than 5,000 meters, is a paradise for wild animals such as Tibetan antelantelope, Tibetan wild donkeys, and wild yaks. Nowadays, Shuanghu County is exploring the development model of "ecological prosperity and ecological prosperity", and in order to protect the natural ice and snow in the high altitude area, the local government has suspended the construction of tourism supporting projects and tourism reception services of the Puruogangri Glacier.

The Tibet Autonomous Region has vigorously promoted the construction of an ecological safety barrier, made great progress in ecological civilization, and is forging ahead on the path of green and sustainable economic and social development.

Bian Jiu, a 58-year-old Tibetan, is the head of a plant nursery base in Zangang County, Shannan City. Over the past decade, the millions of tree saplings cultivated by Bian Jiu have been planted from both sides of the Yarlung Zangbo River to Ngari and Shigatse, not only bringing patches of green to the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, but also bringing hundreds of thousands of yuan of income to him and his family every year.

Green development and sustainable development are becoming the key words of Tibet's economic development.

In recent years, Tibet has enacted more than 30 local regulations to prohibit projects with high environmental pollution risks from entering Tibet, and strictly implement the government's "one-pen" approval system for mineral resource development and the "one-vote veto" system for environmental protection. At present, the area of forbidden or restricted development in Tibet covers more than 800,000 square kilometers, accounting for about 70 percent of the region's total land area. The region has established 47 nature reserves of various types, with a total area of nearly 420,000 square kilometers, accounting for about 34 percent of the region's land area.

Clear water and green mountains are Jinshan and silver mountains, and ice and snow are also Jinshan and silver mountains. The development of ecological economy, green economy and green industry has increased people's income and made them rich.

Bhumi County is located in southeastern Tibet and has the largest accumulation of glaciers on the Tibetan Plateau. In the development of tourism, Bomeni County takes ecological priority and green development as the guidance, strictly implements environmental protection measures, and builds a glacier tourism brand. Tashi Langa, a 55-year-old villager, had just taken his horse to see off a visitor and then set out again after less than half an hour's rest. "Tourists ride horses for 100 yuan per person, and the income of the horse gang is more than 50,000 yuan per household per year." He said that three members of his family work in the scenic spot, earning more than 120,000 yuan a year.

Today, the snowy Plateau is also setting off a wave of innovation and entrepreneurship.

After graduating from Xizang University in 2007, Ji Mei, a young Tibetan who went abroad to study for a master's degree in computer science, returned to Lhasa last year and founded Zenan Information Technology Co., LTD., focusing on technology development and operation in the field of digital media, and providing Tibetan-Chinese-English trillingual supporting software related information services. "I am a native of Lhasa, and the policies related to innovation and entrepreneurship in Tibet in the past two years are also very attractive, so I returned to my hometown to struggle." 'he said.

According to data from the Science and Technology Department of the Tibet Autonomous Region, 74 mass entrepreneurship and innovation carriers have been built in Tibet so far, including three at the national level and 23 at the autonomous region level. Various types of mass entrepreneurship and innovation carriers have 536 operation and management personnel, absorbed 1,338 innovation and entrepreneurship teams and enterprises, and absorbed more than 14,000 jobs, including more than 2,100 college graduates.

"The results are there for all to see. I believe that Tibet, which is undergoing great development, will take even greater and more solid steps in the future." Sichuan University professor Luo Rong war Dui said.

[reddus-sideblog]

M.E.R.C.s - Raw Deal

7-17-890 AR

The heady atmosphere of Hellish incense and smoke was carried on the soft heat of steam that enveloped the social house in a smothering embrace. Isaac had been breathing in the mixture for the better part of two hours now, and he’d been contributing to it by taking in smoke after smoke. He didn’t have anything better to do in the meantime while he waited for his appointment, and the atmosphere here had its own, nearly intangible draw. The live music was alright, but it wasn’t Isaac’s sort of thing, and it was too low key to engage him for any length.

    The devilkin looked around the lounge, at the other patrons, the decor, the empty space, again. He couldn’t possibly count how many times he’d gazed around like that at this point.  He pushed the blonde bangs of his shaggy hair away from his eyes before pulling out the last cigarette from his pack of Surbeck 16s, then lit it. It was late afternoon, so the temple was just starting to get busy, but the Infernalite clergy were hardly anywhere to be seen. The only staff that were around were the two bartenders.

    Isaac did want a drink, maybe even a dozen, but he had to keep his head clear for the meeting that he was waiting for. As if in response to the blonde devilkin’s reaffirmed resolve a pair of the temple’s temptors approached Isaac, bidding that he follow them. Each wore a silver mask that covered the top half of their faces, in the shape of a horned skull, the horns naturally being the spiraling, backwards-pointing horns of Qilnosyne. So too was the helical rune of the Lord of Lisolon engraved on the skull mask’s forehead. Along with their traditional masks the seductors also wore shimmering, pearlescent robes that shifted between blue and green as they moved, making the low light of the social house glimmer off of them.

    Stubbing out and stowing his barely touched cigarette he followed the silver-masked priests into the back of the establishment. As he passed through the beaded curtain Isaac felt a creeping apprehension he hadn’t felt since he was a child up to no good. An intense and strong presence was here, one which he couldn’t ignore, but also couldn’t identify. The warm, moist air didn’t fade away as he left the social house behind, but rather it increased in humidity and warmth. So too did the scent of smoky incense increase, blocking out anything but the faint smell of sweat.

    The chamber the devilkin was brought to was much like the social house that was the front end of this Infernal temple, but unlike the Leadwood Social House, this room felt like it was of some significance, like everything within it was amplified somehow. The pond surrounding the circular center of the room was far more magnificent than the ones Isaac had seen in the front. The plants and fish in the steamy mineral water must have been of Hellish stock, as he had never seen anything so otherworldly in any of the waters of the Ashlands.

    He was led to the central platform of the temple. A number of concentric ring-shaped paths radiated out from the platform, each with a small, flat bridge that brought it to the middle of the room. Each of the paths were veiled by a sheet of thin, silken fabric that hung from the vaulted ceiling of the temple. Each sheet was of a pastel shade of blue or green, and all together they formed a great, upside-down flower that covered the middle platform of the temple, and smothered all noise within its petals.

    The temptors led Isaac through the paths towards the depths of the temple, and the paranoid feeling within Isaac only grew. He wanted to look over his shoulder constantly, but he didn’t want to seem like a twitchy wreck before the Infernalites, getting turned down now was the last thing he needed.

    At the center of the silk walls the deepest chamber was more lavish than Isaac could have imagined. The intricate tiles were decorated with gold trim, the most ornate incense burner he had ever seen was smoldering with an unknown powder, and the raised dais at the far end of the silk-shrouded chamber was graven with intricate designs that he could barely make out the details on. The large dais was, itself, covered by a thin sheet that was almost see-through. Just through it Isaac swore that he could see something enormous, and inhuman writhing. He no longer felt the paranoia, rather he felt intently scrutinized by whatever was upon the covered dais, as though it were sizing up his very soul. He tried not to stare back.

    The temptors flanking Isaac fell back as their seductor approached, emerging from the shrouded dais. She was dressed similarly to her subordinates, but for the elaborate golden trim around her iridescent robes, and the golden mask of much higher quality. The seductor adjusted her robes and mask before properly addressing the new supplicant.

    “I am Seductor Tethia, servant of Hutaeos the Lovely Tide of Lisolon. I had heard that you were hoping to secure a great pact with my master.”

    The seductor spoke well, though she couldn’t entirely hide her breathy Northern Santa Free accent. Isaac just nodded. He wanted the power of the demon, and any care that he had for formalities had died with Nina.

    The seductor led Isaac before the great dais, and forced him to kneel with a gentle, but forceful, shove downwards and a hissed instruction. Isaac focused his thoughts on what he wanted, and images of the final moments of his wife’s life raced through his mind. The Triage helicopter touching down. The broken down door. The cartel goon he’d shredded with his machine pistol. The wrecked apartment with Nina huddled in a corner, barely able to do more than cry and shiver. Her passing away in his arms as he rushed back to the Triage helicopter.

    A single word crystallized in his mind. The otherworldly creature behind the curtain was observing him even more intensely now. Vengeance.

    “O demon. I want the power to murder those who have wronged me.”

    A slow, wry chuckle came from behind the curtain. Isaac resisted the urge to react to the mockery, but his frustration became evident as his body demonized. He gripped his thighs as golden scales on the back of his hands climbed up his knuckles and turned his fingers into talons which pierced his own flesh.

    “Now now, childe of Xhantheo,” came the lilting, honey sweet voice of the demon. “I am simply overwhelmed with sympathy by the earnesty of your plea. I think we can make an arrangement. I will, of course, need some payment for this rendering of services…”

    “My body. Take what you want. I just need to kill.”

    “Hmmm, well widowers aren’t really my thing, but I did say I would help,” said the demon reluctantly. There was a noise of slithering fabric as the demon leaned out of its enclosure to whisper into the ear of his seductor. Hutaeos was still covered by the fabric of his dais, but as Isaac glanced upon the demon he immediately came to wish he hadn’t. He choked down the dry heave that rose in his throat as he beheld the union of serpents that the demon was. It was made of hands, snakes, teeth, and other “parts” in a messy jumble that made the veteran Triage M.E.R.C. want to wretch. The demon eventually slid back into its enclosure, thankfully.

    “Now then. I think that should be amenable, but I would have you do one small favor for me. I need to tie up a loose end, and you need to demonstrate some loyalty to me. Plus, I would like to have you know just what I am gifting you, Mister Muramur.”

    Isaac didn’t recall giving the demon his last name, but with all of the talking to temptors and other Infernalites he had done before he couldn’t truly recall if he’d told any of its associates.

    “Fine,” he said, tersely.

    The chamber suddenly became quite busy, as a trio of silver-masked temptors brought in a disheveled looking human man to the center of the chamber. He was weakly trying to resist the three’s clutches on his stained suit, but upon realizing who and what he was before he stopped.

    “Ah, Lord Hutaeos, what a pleasure!” said the captive man nervously. He was sweating profusely, looking nervously between Isaac, Seductor Tethia, and the veiled figure of the demon.

    “The pleasure is all mine,” responded the Lisolonian cooly, his malice evident even through the silken screen. “But really all that I feel when I look upon you is displeasure. I wouldn’t think that one of my own servants would turn my gifts upon his brethren, but here we are.”

    The suited man was brought before the dais, a few strides in front of Isaac, who eyed him down dispassionately. The man was past pleading verbally, and just looked at the blonde devilkin man with wide, hopeful eyes. Isaac didn’t care what this man had done. He just wanted his pact, and to get out of the temple.

    The suited man gasped and suddenly became transfixed with terror, as Isaac heard the soft sound of sliding fabric once more behind him. Before he could turn to look Isaac felt a hand, far larger than his own, come to rest on his shoulder.

    “Now then,” came the soft voice in his ear, “let me show you this power you sought.”

    A number of other hands emerged from behind Isaac, pulling his right arm out before him. The hands seemed almost like they were somewhere between a dextrous limb and the fanged head of a serpent, with each one snaking around his arm to guide him and hold him in place. The scaly arms guided his hand to form a fist, save for his index finger, leaving his hand as though he were pointing accusingly at the terror-struck man before him with a finger gun.

    “Good. Now, think it, and kill him.”

    Isaac would have frozen up if he weren’t so restrained by the demon’s limbs. His thoughts raced. What the Hell was this initiation? Who was this man? Did he even deserve to die? But among it all a single, clear command rose to prominence.

    Die.

    The frozen man at the end of his finger exploded. More accurately, a large portion of him violently ceased to exist. The torso of the pathetic man was instantly ripped apart by otherworldly force, as though a pack of wolves had grabbed his arms and head, and torn everything in between asunder. A shotgun of blood and organ meat splattered the tiles opposite of Isaac as charred pieces of bones skidded across the ornate tiles of the temple. The dead man’s head rolled back a few meters, coming to rest in the bloody spray, while at least one of his arms fell into the pond beside the central platform. The kneeling pair of legs attached to a mauled hip bone fell forward, a small bundle of intestines and other, unidentifiable meat and bone spilling out of it, as though in a final bow of subservience to the demon.

    Isaac watched the spectacle without flinching, his eyes wide. This power was alarming, alarming enough to shake him out of the haze he had been in since Nina’s death. 

    “Quite useful, isn’t it?” came the breathy whisper of Hutaeos in his ear once more. 

    “Yes, I think this is exactly what I want,” responded Isaac, turning to face the demon. He was met by the silhouette behind the curtain once more.

    “Excellent. Then as collateral I think I will be taking that other arm of yours.”

    Isaac felt suddenly lighter. The left sleeve of his jacket fluttered down slowly, now empty. The gold ring that had been on his left hand clinked as it hit the temple’s floor. He felt imbalanced, and when he moved his left arm it didn’t respond. It was gone. Isaac didn’t know what to say, but the feeling of loss covered him once more like an old, familiar blanket.

    “So try not to die out there,” said the spawn of Qilnosyne in an almost mocking tone. “It would be a shame if you did pass away, it’d mean that your soul would default to my ownership, after all.”

    Isaac nodded again. He knew that dealing with demons was a gamble, with his soul as the ultimate wager. If things went how he was planning, though, it wouldn’t matter much. His thoughts turned to using this newfound power on the cartel in the Valmina Sector. If every single one of them ended up as little more than scattered piles of meat he would be very satisfied, even if he did die in that fight.

[crescentbunny]

Priority Citadel - Aftermath

WELP, you asked @a-cosmic-elf - Enjoy! Happy N7 Day Ya’ll!

There was nothing but static on his com line… her chest and stomach constricted as her eyes darted around the civilians. There was no hint of his familiar silver and blue plates. 

“GARRUS!” she called.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit - there was absolutely no way a bunch of Cerberus dogs could have gotten the drop on him when they were separated… right?

He wouldn’t let that happen, of course not.

Shepard dashed down the dock a ways and put her hand up to her mouth. “Garrus!”

He wouldn’t… unless he was outnumbered. Nah, he’d been in that situation before.

Panic slithered through her belly as her gaze dropped to the floor, searching the scattered victims laying in rainbow pools of intermixed blood. Every spot of azure made her hold her breath. She’d long since left Javik behind.

Dammit. 

“Garrrruuus!” Her voice cracked as she yelled. 

People were turning to look at her as she weaved through them, desperately snapping her head back and forth, searching. Still no familiar slashes of cobalt. There was a turian in familiar armor collapsed near one of the columns… in a pool of blood. She could feel a black line of fluid begin it’s trail down her lip and she wiped furiously at it before bending to roll the soldier over. 

Shepard heaved a relieved exhale. Not him. She propelled herself back to standing, then running.

Were the docks always this long? She clutched at a stitch in her side as she sprinted through the throngs of refugees. “Garrus!” 

Nothing, nothing, every time she turned her head. There! A turian with blue marks. She beelined for him, but as she moved closer there was no way - all wrong. Different mandibles, skin too light, fringe too short, back not wide enough.

“Fuck,” she muttered, and took off again, gaze roaming bodies and people, the crowds murmurs unable to reach her ears. Every step made the Leviathan twist and rumble as it reveled in her mounting fear and panic. The hum of it was deafening - she wiped angrily at her nose again. 

“Garrus!” The bellow was hoarse. Every eye on the dock was pointed at her. The media, these people - they could think whatever the fuck they wanted - about her, about him.

She was in over her head. You can’t do this without him. The thought rattled loudly in the hollowness inside her and The Leviathan writhed at the admission. It could take her and use her as it willed if Garrus was laying anywhere— no. No, she couldn’t go down that path yet. Not yet. She took a knee next to another dead turian with silver plates, and turned him over. A delicate set of hoops pierced through his mandibles tinkled as she moved him. Shit, this one was young - the crest wasn’t fused yet. Fucking Cerberus. Fucking Udina.

Shepard dragged herself to her feet once more and took off. She rounded another column and noticed there was a large crowd of turian soldiers standing on her right far down the dock from her. She could just make out their heads bobbing. Hope fluttered weakly in her abdomen.

“Garrus!” she screamed. 

A shrill noise answered from the pack of bodies, and sure enough, he stepped out where she could see him.

She’d know that outline anywhere in the galaxy. 

“Shepard!” he called back. 

The relief that flooded her buckled her knees and sent her crashing into the ground face first. In the back of her mind she knew that’d be on the news later but her elation was too high to care. She leapt back up and burned a trail as fast as her aching muscles could take her. The crowds of beings parted to let her pass.

Garrus skidded to a stop as she approached - he had the best slack-mandibled look on his face as she threw herself at him. Shepard locked her arms around his neck and buried her face in his hide, breathing in the burnt ozone and spent heatsink smell of him, the mineral scent of his sweat. Thank god and whatever spirits he was always talking about - he was alive. 

Garrus nosed into her shoulder, humming soothingly as he clutched her to his chest.  

“Fuck...fuck, shit,” she murmured into his neck. “Your coms busted...I couldn’t find you...I thought…”

He chuckled, the noise vibrating through his keel. “If you say you thought I was dead, I’m going to be offended.”

This stupid, stupid bastard. She was fucked. Absolutely fuckered. It was him. It was always him, had always been him. 

Would always be him.

Even after all the years she’d told herself she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. 

“Just shut up, Vakarian.” Curse her shaky voice.

His flippant tone shifted immediately. “I’m sorry, Shepard. I was coming to find you before they crowded me… the downside to being recognizable I suppose,” he sighed quietly into her hair and her insides clenched painfully. 

Dammit.

The muscles in his neck flexed and she instinctively burrowed further into his collar. ”Don’t move. I don’t need anyone to see my face right now.”

__________________________________________________

Joker already had his chair swiveled towards the hatch the second the decon door slid back. “Oh my god, here she is - Shepard did you see the news you ar—” 

“Stuff it Joker, I don’t want to hear it.” She snapped and whirled past him to stomp down the neck of the CIC with Javik right behind her.

Garrus sighed. “Joker, do you have to—”

“Oh, absolutely.” The pilot propped his fingers on his chest, mockingly indigent. “This is my time honored right! Do you know how much shit she gave me when I fell for the cafeteria girl back in basic?” 

Garrus slid a palm over his fringe. 

“A metric fuckton! So I’ll milk every second of that gooey display for all it’s worth! Did you know the news already has you both on replay right now?”

The sniper sighed. “I don’t know anyone else in the galaxy stupid enough to mess with her you know - even Jack shut up when she told her to knock it off.”

“You didn’t hear Wrex’s call with her - he literally just called to laugh until she hung up on him.”

“Do you always listen to her personal calls?”

“Only when I think they’ll be funny, I promise.”

Garrus rolled his eyes. “She might not beat your brittle ass - but you do realize when you rile her up it’s me and Vega who get the brunt of her frustration right?”

“I know, isn’t it great?” Joker leaned back with his arms propped under his head. When Garrus narrowed his eyes at him he sat back up and held out a placating hand. “Look that’s got to be doing you some favors at least.”

The suggestive lilt of his smirk was not lost on Garrus. Bait. Don’t answer. “If you want to see what a real turian can do Joker - all you’ve got to do is ask.”

The pilot scrunched his nose. “I think I’m good on my blue dick quotas, but Shep’s might be a little light - ask her.”

Garrus turned on a chuckle to move down the neck of the ship. 

“Hey Garrus?” Joker called.

He turned back to face the pilot.

“Good for you man.” The hesitant little smile he flashed was nearly endearing.

“Thanks, Joker.”

[sparklingpax]

unoriginal idea maybe, but here's a detail from my Transformers: Transcendence AU, from a list I keep on some post-it notes in my room, which I spontaneously feel like (elaborating on and) sharing:

Before the war, Megatronus--then, unnamed, but for reading purposes, I'm referring to him by name--once found a book, left behind by spectators to the caves where he worked.

[Sorry for typos, I typed this on my phone last night and forgot to post--]

///

It must have been dropped in haste.

The tour group had, after all, bustled in, murmuring and pointing, then followed the supervisor as he made his way past this particular part of the mines, and they rushed after him. They had been here to see the different facets of a life they'd never dream to imagine living, yet were fascinated to witness first-hand.

The miner had exchanged glances with a fellow unnamed mech who happened to be slicing rocks beside him. It was the kind of look that seemed to wordlessly agree that in the world of the "unreachables" who bathed in loving daylight and fresh air, enough shanix could get you most anything--even a tour to the pits of society.

To where hundreds lived, worked, and died just as unnamed as Megatronus' friend beside him.

Just for the laughs, for the rewarding ability to claim having done something--you know the drill.

But what had caught his optics as he raised and dropped another strike to the rock was not the chance to steal a glance at what "the untouchables" of society looked like, but rather...a book.

A real, leather-bound book, lying lonely where the spectators had been, starkly contrasting the lifeless grey all around it.

It was a tiny story of words Megatronus knew breathed life of its own.

Two lives, perhaps, taking into account it had to have been written by someone.

He knew of books, he'd seen the supervisor reading one, and since then wanted one of his own, but...what world was he living in where you were at literal rock-bottom and could ask for a work of art to appreciate?

Nonetheless, there it lay, and no one seemed to notice it but him.

Or, perhaps they had, but all the same felt no inclination to go and bother with it.

He hoped no one saw him snatch it up and slip off down the dark halls of grit and stone. He knew his sector's supervisor was busy with showing the visitors around, and considering what he held in his grip, was well past this sector...so the coast was clear.

He headed down a familiar path he needed no light to guide him down, until he came upon a hollowed out section of the wall. This was where he came to rest if he was afforded one of the breaks miners were given every now and then.

Breaks of a five-to-seven-minute nature.

It was a place only he knew of--well, he hoped only he knew about it--and so it would be perfect to hide this book.

Carefully, he patted away some dust and slid it behind a crevice. Some part of him wished to disobey rules more than he was already, and at least look at the cover of it, to know the title...but he concluded this was far from a good idea.

So instead, he turned and hurried back to his station.

Of course, he knew he'd be lucky today, but he could only be so lucky--the supervisor wasn't stupid enough to leave his workers of sector A-D alone. Going back now meant he'd be back well in time for the gruff mech of authority to return and find nothing was amiss with his nameless workers.

Just as it was always.

Otherwise, everyone knew, their supervisor would risk losing to sector E-H's manager, and potentially be jailed for it.

To the higher-ups, problems weren't dealt with when it came to this place--they were jailed or killed; it didn't quite matter so much since most of those in the mines died eventually anyway.

And it benefitted no one to cause any sort of trouble.

So things usually remained as they were.

///

Such a break arrived one day, and Megatronus thanked Primus for it.

His body was battered, scratched and covered in all kinds of things that made his silver-burgundy plating to seem an interesting array of greys and black, with streaks of......flourescant purple, green, blue....were they harmful long-term? What substances had even caused such coloration?

Megatronus didn't care to offer it thought--who'd know that? Or care?

He trudged down the rocky halls, thinking of nothing at all but of the pain he felt all over, as if he was being crushed by the deadly metal-press their supervisor had threatened them all with on too many occasions to count.

At last, he came upon his hole in the rocks and practically fell into it.

The spiky rocks he laid upon jabbed him, but not too much, and it was more the relief of finally being allowed to sit for a couple minutes that he felt. He sighed quietly, tiredly, and felt his systems huff their own sigh.

Wearily, he watched a small cloud of steam float away and to the ceiling.

His helm tilted back as he lamented there was only about a minute or two left in his break, which would have been three or four had he not taken so long to get to his rest place--

And then he felt something sharp, but not as sharp as stone, against his head.

He turned to see the edge of a book sticking out of a place in the rock.

With a wave of energy, he remembered finding that book a while back, and his intent to read it! And well, what better time to at least learn the title of it than now?

His optics darted up and down the hall. There was no one there to see him. The muffled sounds of metal upon rock, drilling, and screaming in the distance was all the silence had to contend with as he carefully removed the book from its hiding place and opened it.

Megatronus was lucky to find Primus had seemingly graced him with an ability to read, and he briefly wondered how many others were also capable of such a feat.

But the thought evaporated into nothingness as he cast a concentrated eye over the title, scrawled in decorative, grey font.

Victory of Justice: A Tale of Deceit

Megatronus swallowed, knowing that he only had a couple of seconds to put it back and begin down the halls again to work, lest he be late and forbidden breaks until his spark itself died out, or--debatable if this was better or worse--sent to be smelted or crushed for materials on the spot.

But the title had almost immediately struck something in him.

Something deep, hidden away in the recesses of his processor.

His spark had seemed to jump upon registering what those words seemed to imply, and his intrigue of what lay waiting on the pages following was not a match fire, but as strong as that smelting pit further down the mines.

Victory...Justice....Deceit......

He began to think, silence seeming to further drown the noise of despair he was presently exempt of.

There was no perfect world, and therefore, all these idealistic concepts--of virtue, justice, deceit--were all just as such: ideals. For in practice of the life one lives, the waters became murky, and one never truly sees what is what until it's too late.

I must know, he thought resolutely, suddenly not feeling his body's pain as much.

The words to articulate what I've believed for all this time are in this book. The words I felt inside seeing the daylight for the last time before I entered these mines, or rather, for the last time until I've found a way out again...

He marched down the hall, something beginning to churn in the depths of his very being.

///

I must read them. This will be how I rise above. I will see the surface world and leave this place. It is my fate.

He found himself grinning, something he seldom ever did in the pits of despair which he had resided for all his life. Yet it couldn't be controlled. He widened it, feeling that fire surge within his spark.

It is my destiny! It...is my will.

[aminiatureworld]

Frustration II

Characters: Albedo, Kaeya, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,820

Premise: Commissions don’t always go as planned, much to your frustration. Luckily there’s someone there to make you feel better.

Author’s Note: Okay I did not predict the first part of this becoming the most successful fic on this blog to date. The people have spoken! So I come to you with more characters, hopefully this will make up for leaving Zhongli in the dust yesterday – that and the fact that his scenario turned out to be the longest to write out of all of them. I also have a few other characters for this prompt in mind, we’ll see. Also wow I don’t know how to title sequels.

Once more my deepest thanks to the 115 people who liked, the 8 people who reblogged, and the one person who commented on the first part. I cannot tell you the joy it brings me to see that people are interested in what I write. It makes me so stupidly happy, so thank you so very much.

Albedo

“I understand that Forsaken Ruins are supposed to hide secrets and all, but honestly how many boxes can one put in the same area before someone tells you it’s time to stop.”

Albedo said nothing in reply, eyes focused intently upon the graduated cylinder and glass pipette in his hands. You watched as he counted the drops under his breath, nodding slightly as the clear water in the cylinder shifted to a rather unimpressive muddied brown. Regardless of the color evidently the alchemist was satisfied, for he stoppered the cylinder and returned the remaining liquid of the pipette into its original container, arranging everything on the shelves, and leaving the rest in the small sink.

“Silver nitrate.” He explained, wiping his hands on a cloth, before going towards where you were sitting cross legged on a stool near the countertop that worked as his desk. “Now tell me about why you’ve been digging up boxes near the Forsaken Ruins.”

“It’s for a commission. You know Bao’er?”

“That suspicious woman from Liyue I keep telling you is probably a bandit?”

“That one.” You nodded curtly, glancing down at your hands. “And bandit or not she keeps commissioning me, I can’t very well not accept. Anyways, she’s been looking for some sort of treasure, but no matter what I give her it’s never what she’s looking for. Do you know how irritating it is to have a passive aggressive customer angry at you about something they did? I mean really.” You huffed in frustration.

“Have you considered the fact that she might just be using you to dig up all the treasure in that area.” There was slight amusement in Albedo’s voice, and your head shot up in response.

“Well forgive me for doing my job.” You shook your head, not truly believing there was any bite behind the alchemist’s words. He was right after all, and you weren’t altogether upset to know that someone else shared your suspicions of this person who kept commissioning you with no end in sight.

“Forgive me love.” Albedo walked over and gave your slightly hunched figure a hug. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, leaning your head into his shoulder. The position you two in wasn’t necessarily comfortable, but there was nowhere proper for you both to sit, and besides Albedo’s embrace was so warm and secure you didn’t mind craning your neck a bit.

“You’ll get there eventually.” Albedo’s voice was steady, confident, as if he’d somehow calculated the fact that eventually this mad goose chase would end, had seen it in one of his many experiments.

“How would you know?” You whispered, still feel a bit contrary, though your frustration had long ebbed away.

“I just do. You can master anything with time you know. That’s the secret of science, the secret of alchemy. In the end it cannot be done without endurance, and I know that your endurance is one to withstand any storm.”

“Only when you’re cheering me on.” You replied, hugging Albedo a bit tighter.

“Oh that’s not true.” Albedo responded in kind, running circles along your back. “You’d do just fine without me. But I’ll be here for you regardless. So don’t forget that every question can be answered and every quest completed. It just takes a little time. We’re all humans in the end, regardless of vision or power. Just humans, and to be human is to sometimes need a little time.”

You nodded, lifting your head to glance into his face, usually passive and clear as ice, now filled with warmth and fondness, smile filled with fondness and love.

“Besides.” Albedo loosened his arms around you, instead reaching to help you off from the stool, laughing slightly as you stumbled, feet having fallen asleep. “I don’t see Bao’er doing any of the digging. How about you remind her of that next time she has an ill word.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” You replied, before leaving the lab, hand pressed firmly into Albedo’s and heart much lighter than before.

 Kaeya

“My darling!” Kaeya leapt down the steps outside the Headquarters of the Knights of Favonius, feet barely seeming to touch the ground, before sweeping you up in a hug. “It’s been too long and I’ve missed you so much.” He declared, ignoring the fact that it’d only been about 8 hours, instead peppering your face with small kisses, before registering the look of frustration clearly being worn by you.

“What’s wrong?” He drew back a bit, though not much, curiosity and worry in his eyes, hands gripping yours. You smiled, shaking your head; Kaeya always seemed to be ready to worry about your happiness, not that you didn’t find that completely charming.

“It’s nothing really important.” You were looking to assure him, but instead Kaeya’s frowned deepend.

“Nonsense. Anything that’s clearly making you so unhappy is of utmost importance. I’d like to know what it is, if you don’t mind. I’d like to help.”

“You’re helpful you being here.” You smiled, giving him a belated peck on the cheek. “But if you must know I’ve got a commission that needs to be done in an hour, and I have no idea how I’m going to accomplish it. You know how there’s a large vein of Crystal in Stormterror’s Lair? Well Wagner asked me to go mine some for him, easy stuff normally. Apparently though the mouth of the vein is situated right in the path of a ruin guard, and I’ve had a terrible time trying to do battle with the thing while being bogged down by mining equipment.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I mean really this shouldn’t be that hard. Why am I struggling so much? Wagner isn’t asking that much, he’s a good person. I’m just… inept.” You finished, by then your nails had begun digging into your palms. Kaeya noticed this and brought your hands up to kiss them, smiling as you reddened slightly and shook your head, a smile nevertheless tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Well I won’t tell you that Wagner is being utterly too demanding and that you have a right to a safe work environment,” you snorted at that, as if an adventurer’s work environment was ever safe, “but I will tell you that, since the best, most handsome, most daring Knight of Favonius has fallen hopelessly in love with you, he is willing to do the mining while you use that ruin guard to blow off some steam. Does that sound like a good deal?”

“I can’t believe you’re sitting out a chance to fight and instead are becoming a miner.” You smirked, placing a kiss on Kaeya’s jaw. “But really how could I ever turn down such an offer from such a gallant knight.”

“You’d run back to Wagner and give his ears a rightful scorching I’d hope.” Kaeya replied, linking his arm in yours.

“Hmm… unlikely.” You replied, leaning into the knight. “But thank you Kaeya. Truly, thank you. I know it’s not your job to fix commissions. It means a great deal to me that you’re willing to do this.”

“Of course I’m willing.” Kaeya smiled softly. “You’ve saved me from failing my job too, in more ways than you think. And even if that weren’t true, which it is, I love you so very dearly, and this is a small way to show it.”

You nearly ran into a lamppost, your face pressed into Kaeya’s shoulder, face warm and heart full of love.

 Zhongli

You really didn’t want to tell Zhongli.

That was the thought running through your mind as you hurried up the steps to the funeral parlor. You really didn’t want to tell him.

It’d been little more than a month since he’d given up his position as god of the city, little more than a month since the citizens of Liyue had begun the arduous task of ruling their own city in earnest. And little more than a month since you and the Geo god had begun your courtship. You relationship was still new, and though you’d thankfully mostly lost the sense of smallness that had initially come with falling in love with someone so powerful and so unending as a deity, though you now longer thought the love between you was something that could shatter at any moment, you still were a bit reticent to throw all your insecurities and mundane frustrations at Zhongli’s feet.

The smell of incense hit you the moment you entered, a bit overwhelming at first, but soon comforting and familiar. You exchanged a few words with Hu Tao, before walking over to Zhongli’s office, pace speeding up despite yourself. You might not have wanted to tell Zhongli about your day, but you desperately wanted to see him, as you always did when all was said and done. There was something about his presence, comforting and sturdy, and always filled with kindness and understanding.

Understanding. Zhongli would understand, of course he would. But you still didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to see his face cloud over with worry as you knew it would. He cared so very deeply, even if he didn’t always express it he truly did. Hidden under layers of politesse, tradition, and decorum there was simply someone who cared so very deeply. And thus someone who was often and easily hurt.

“Hello darling.” You said, entering the office quietly. Zhongli had been reading a scroll, but he quickly set it down, a smile erupting across his face as he stood up and met you halfway, enveloping you in a hug, which you gladly reciprocated. “I’ve missed you.” You said, voice muffled by his chest.

“I’ve missed you too, so very much.” He replied softly, one hand running itself through your hair absentmindedly, the other wrapped around your waist. “The days are terribly slow without you. I never noticed before how an afternoon can stretch so long.”

“Well I’m here now.” You replied, leaning back and bit to cup the archon’s face in your hands. Zhongli placed one of his hands on yours, leaning into your palm, smiling contentedly.

“I’m glad of it.” He said those words often enough, but every time it made your heart speed a bit. You felt so full of happiness you could almost forget the irritation of the earlier hours.

Almost.

“How were your commissions today?” It was early evening by now, and golden light was starting to slant through the windows. Zhongli was cleaning up a bit as you watched, smiling slightly. That smile slipped however once the question was asked, not that you didn’t know it was coming, as you two often asked each other about your days, each being a bit fascinated with the other’s job in some respect.

“It was alright. Fairly ordinary.” You tried keeping your answers brief and your tone light, though you could already hear the sharpness in your voice. Irritation was difficult to hide however, and you could already see skepticism in Zhongli’s gaze as he turned to face you.

“Oh. What were the commissions, if I may ask, the regular spots?”

“Mostly. I had one where I had to deliver a message to the Inn too, and one where, well, it was less of a commission and more of… well honestly I’m not sure what to call it.” You finished, tone by now filled with a mix of irritation an cynical amusement. Zhongli stopped altogether at that and sat at his chair, facing the spot you’d taken on the desk.

“May I ask what happened.” He said once more, tone slightly worried. Shit. Wasn’t this exactly the reason you hadn’t wanted to tell him?

“Well, you see I’m not the only guild member of course. And it’s almost the end of the month. What with everything that’s happened they needed someone to ask after some of the unfinished commissions, the ones that had a time limit. I finished my work early so I went.”

“And?”

“And, well. Well some of these adventurers were honestly hopeless!” You burst out, having shed your worries in your frustration. “I mean I know they mean well, I know they’re trying. Or at least I hope they are, you can’t really tell at some points. Like this one guy, I asked about why he hadn’t done any of the food deliveries he said he would and he made some odd excuse that a coworker was supposed to take care of it while he looked for a text that someone else wanted. Okay, fine. I go to the coworker, and she says that it was a one time thing as far as she was concerned and that she didn’t go to pick up the food after. I go to the restaurants themselves and turns out half the orders never go tthere and the other half have been put on a tab that need to be paid but no one thought to pay it so I do so. That doesn’t even begin with whoever did a hack job at the Wangshu Inn, apparently the boards have caved in again. And I was going to do that, but then I got pulled into some monster hunting so that won’t be done this month and honestly, it’s all just so… so frustrating!” You felt like you were spiraling at that point, all the frustration and shame coming back to you, the feeling of having to smile at someone who you’d much rather scream at.

Your thoughts cleared as Zhongli reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder. Bringing his hand up to your face he wiped away a few tears of frustration that you’d shed. Shaking your head you took his hand in yours. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t worry you about these things. I don’t want you to think Liyue is falling apart. I mean this was a thing even before you stepped down, and I know that I’m complaining too much and it’ll be fine it’s just, it’s just a lot.”

“I know.” Zhongli smiled softly. “You shouldn’t feel like hiding these things for my sake. I appreciate the sentiment, but I’d rather truly know how you’re feeling. Just like you don’t want to place a burden on me, so do I not want to place a burden by you by making it seem as if you have to carry your cares alone.”

“But, with everything so recent… I just. I worry you’ll regret it.”

Zhongli smiled, and leaned in, kissing your forehead. He smelled of incense and glaze lilies, and you found the knot in your stomach uncoiling despite itself. Smiling you linked your fingers through his, focusing on that as Zhongli kept a hand on your cheek, grounding you.

“Thank you for worrying about me. But just as I trust you’d tell me if Liyue were truly about to burn to the ground, so do I trust that it won’t happen. You’ve taught me that you know.”

“Me? Not the Liyue Qixing or the traveler? I think they’ve done a lot more than my running around will ever do.” You smiled a self-deprecating smile, but Zhongli simply shook his head.

“You have taught me that. How you keep going, how you support those you don’t even know for the sake of your guild and your commission, even if you have a grievance. And, more than that, you’ve shown it to me, simply by letting me have a place in your heart.” He lowered his gaze, face clouding over in the way you knew it did when he was considering the past. You gave his hand a squeeze and he looked up, smiling softly.

“I used to think that humans were delicate, no matter what. That they were destined for the tragedy of death and that made them unable to be depended on, that they’d just break and break and that I’d spend my existence watching it until I couldn’t stand it anymore. But you showed me that ultimately humans are resilient, more resilient than any adepti or magical being, who cannot stand to face time or pain or hard work. You’ve taught me that, and if you’ll let me I’d like to share that with you, your burdens, your frustrations, your anxieties. I’d like to be there to support you, if I cannot fix it then I’d at least like to be there for you. So please, don’t hide your struggles from me, so I may remind you that they’re simply proof of your power.”

You didn’t really know what to say, smiling in a mix of relief, sadness, and adoration. Leaning in to kiss Zhongli you felt the word recede and grow around you. You didn’t know how he did it, how he took all your cares and worries and flaws and morphed them into something beautiful.

But that was what made Zhongli special, and you adored him for it.

[wondon23-the-drowned-kid]

ill confess this is a lot even for me to do it... (the m.o.d tome features) (inportant read the desc at the end)

(Huge thanks for the mod Mowzie’s mobs for the ferror Worghtnaut i think thats how its spelled)

(seasons include winter,attum,summer and spring diferent events happen depending on the season)  

(how i hate the fact my english is more shiter then horse shit... forgive me viewers ;w;) now lisen up this is the mod speaking and i just wana say that yeah... this book only the first chapter has like THOUSENS of things new... and ill be honest it would take SO FREAKING LONG to make it all so i added some of the things i wanted some of theses mobs werent even made by me but the mobs: apiary,warrior,mage,lotti,monsterhunter,mysteryus trader,king villager,megaboomer and Peak-a-boo. were made by me. so heres how it will be ill make a list of all of the new things that were added here cuz if i try to draw EVERYTHING dear god...it would take so freaking looooong ;-; so in this case if you must know the ref or the information about such thing as mob or feature you have 100% permission to dms me for the dethails im open and ill awser you when i have time besides this is the path im takeing. over 50+ mobs like cmon and 8 new bosses. (one last thing before the list some of theses mobs were also made so people could just do their charecters based on them. however lotti is sort of mine so dont copy him too much hes a boy i have been dreaming for the past 3years and I WANT HIM IN MINECRAFT PLEASE MOJANG) also some of theses features are entirely form mods well its the M.O.D tome what ya expect ?? for thoses ill still give info by using the mod the most ill describe is the one mobs made or based on smt but still made by me.

so heres the list and feel free to dms me for ref and new sutff:

Blocks: Ores: silver ore,thaleonite ore,ruby,topaz,saphire,lithium,titanium. decotrative: Mushy carpets,mosaic block (it has diferent colors), Cristal block,cristal glass,wallpaper empty blocks,drain block,chain block, stick block,hopper block and camuflage block. plants: Fosfirita flower,cotton flower,blue gaper,cornila flower,mountain moss.

Mobs!! (theses here are diferent ones from the first ones showed): illagers: Dynamite illarger,horse illarger, stealth illarger, tank illarger, villager: the painter,the quest maker and the floricultist. creepers:(along with a huge pack from the more creepers mod),burried creeper, missile creeper and the hollow creeper. animals: (EXTREMLY BIG thing from alex mobs NEVER UPSETS ME but no animals from the nether and the end are here from the mod) Quivster,beetle,ants,firelizard and viper, undead: dead warrior,dead chemistry exper,dead mage,dead archer. reinforced skeleton,golden skeleton,jungle skeleton, lost miner skeleton. 

BOSSES!!!: the 3 brothers of acient magic, The dead king, scrapster, meteoriter, sky chaser, sea recker.

features: Heavy wind!,mega trees (aka trees made with 12 spalings together),sandstorms,snowstorms,pushing winds,heavy rain,color change of trees.

items: Bloat fruit,dynamite bar,silver,titanium,lithium,thaleonite= amors and tools., wardrober table,forge anvil,fish net, long bow, harpoon,copper tools,mushy balls,rubble,wallpaper,camuflage paint, automatic pusher,beetle meat,magma scales (and boots), poison glands, rusty axe,rusty sword,rusty shield,old wand,rusty bow, reinforced bones, golden bones, muddy bones, cracked bones. flying potion,blasting potion,firetouch potion,morph potion,quest paper,advence fishing rod,golden fish rod, angler trinkets, super sword, zaladios, blasting powder, super streagth potion,super insta heal potion, contrapack.

food: (cooking for block heads makes a aperence here for variouse things) icecream,pizza,spagtthie and shulker meal.

new gran quest: 4 elemental stones (foreshadow ;) )

Mod: i guess I GUESS this is everything im trying my best on remenber everything i planed im telling you I THINK A LOT! and if theres smt im missing here and there i juge myself a lot for forgeting but again ya guys can ask for info im open im sorry i dint draw everythign but look at that IT WOULD TAKE AN ETERNITY. anywayes thats all.

(when your langueg isnt english) 

inglesh people:

[insomniamamma]

Rain: Ezra X F!Reader w/Cee

A/N: Prickle ‘verse. Takes place after Prickle but before Clean Dirt. Can be read as a one shot. Reader is established crew with Ezra and Cee. This was written for @autumnleaves1991-blog​ ‘s Writer Wednesday. I am woefully behind. I legit don’t understand how some of you write fics so fast!

Warnings: Mentions of war, a little bit of angst, but mostly gentle fluff. Feelings.

            "Hey, Ez," Ezra is engrossed in grading the latest haul, testing for clarity and hardness.  The surface of CJ's World is cut through with oxbow rivers, fantastic hoodoos of striated sandstone slashed with valleys deeper than any found in Sol system. You're digging for fossils. These rusty carved out plateaus were once the bed of an ancient ocean. Through some trickery of mineralization and chemistry the fossils of CJ's world shine like the fire opals of Old Terra. Big or small, they all have value.           "Ezra," says Cee, "She's doing it again."           "Doing what, birdie?" Ezra takes off the loupe and rubs at his eyes. Rain pelts on the tent, even sheltered the humidity soaks through.           "Look." Ezra draws open the tent flap and sees you, standing in the rain, your head tilted up, no gentle shower this, rain that pelts down hard, turns the view across the sharp-cut canyons to silver curtains. Your clothes are plastered to you like a second skin. The rain actually aids your cause, washing away loose sediment, making the fossils easier to get to. You bow your head and let the stinging rain hit the back of your neck, let it fall on your closed eyes, your outspread arms. You laugh at the sky.

           "What do you know about Falnost?" Cee's eyes go distant for a beat. She has a memory to rival Central computers.

           "Hmmm..about two thirds standard grav, class C5, would've rated lower if not for it's primary. Dustball."             "Mmm-hmm."             "She's not used to real weather," says Cee.             "Observant as ever," says Ezra. The rain is not gentle. It is chilly and hits your skin like handfuls of flung sand, but is so different from anything you've known, so new that you can't help but stand there with a huge, dumb grin plastered on your face, even as your teeth chatter with the cold. Ezra comes and gets you.             "C'mon, Artichoke, while the rain does feel slinky and delicious it is not worth hypothermia."             "Sorry, Ez," you say and allow him to take your hand and lead you back to shelter. This has become something of a habit. Many worlds in the fringe are dustballs like the one you fled, algae and fungus growing on every bit of pipe that condensation beads on. On Falnost they had a deal with the ice-miners, discounted accommodations on world or on station in exchange for chunks of ice from your primary's lush rings de-orbited, burning and evaporating as they fell. The idea was that, eventually, there would be moisture enough in the atmosphere to trigger rains. Someday Falnost will have an ocean, but you won't be there for it, half your life spent harvesting rills of water from sail-traps, careful irrigation channels covered over with plastic sheeting, calorie vs water consumption ratios discussed every planting season. How many credits do we net vs wha† we have to spend? You got fucking sick of dreaming of an ocean your great grandchildren might paddle in. You skimmed enough to buy your way off world and since then you have seen things that you never would have believed as a child.            The first time you heard thunder was on a world called Ingwy. Your first  thought was artillery. Ingwy was a contested world, Karoclan and Lussia Collective skirmishing over land rights, while small stakes droppers like you and Ez and Cee swooped in to reap the spoils while the big corps and clans fought each other.  It was the middle of the night and you were on your feet instantly, railgun in hand, screaming that there was incoming, to take cover. Someone had flicked on a utility light hanging from a cord that swung, illuminating the inside of the tent in sickening arcs, and there's another explosion, this one so loud you feel the pressure change in your ears, hear your own voice crying out in tandem, white hot light even through the thick weave of the tent.           "It's just thunder," Ezra yells over the sound of rain slamming against the tent.           "That was an explosion!" He presses gently on your arm until you lower the rails.           "It's just loud," says Ezra, "It can't hurt us. We're safe here. Put the gun down." You set on the edge of your cot and put your face in your hands.           "Kevva. You must think I'm the dumbest dirt-farmer this side of the Great Arm." The cot dips as Ezra sits beside you.           "Not at all," he says, squeezes your shoulder, "I come from a backwater as well. First time I ever saw a proper ocean I nearly lost my breakfast right there on the beach."  Thunder peals again and you flinch, shrink against him slightly.            "Static electricity," says Ezra, "That's all it is. Builds up in the clouds and discharges into the ground." He keeps his hand on you as he speaks, fingers gently squeezing the juncture of your neck and shoulder, "The sound you hear is the air in the path of the lightning instantly heating and expanding. It makes a sonic shock wave, like any explosion."            "Like the boom when ships lift," you say.            "Just like that, Artichoke," he says, "Storm's already moving off, see?" The rain pelting the tent has settled into a steady drone. Thunder grumbles, a low, almost soft sound, not the air-rending explosion that shocked you out of sleep.            "We should try to rest," says Ezra, gives your shoulder one more firm squeeze and a little shake, and when you look up, he's smiling, dimple just beginning to sink into his cheek.             "Yeah," you say, "Okay." He kills the utility light and settles into his cot. You can hear the music from Cee's headphones, the tinny, fast pop she favors, threaded through the white noise of the falling rain. She slept through the whole thing.

            The ancient life of CJ's world favored heptagonal symmetry, long-dead mollusks like seven-sided shields shine out of the rusty ground, the smallest the size of a fingernail, the largest the size of dinner plates. This is a good deposit. The small ones are fashioned into jewelry and buttons.            "They take these great big ones and slice them micron thin," says Ezra, "Use them for window-glass in the temples of the Ephrate. They say it is like standing inside Kevva's very beating heart."           "I can see why," says Cee, and so do you. The minerals that limn the shells shine translucent red with brilliant streaks of orange, yellow and even thin threads of green and blue.           "They say that Kevva's first heart-beat ignited the explosion that became the universe," says Ezra.           "You really believe that?" Asks Cee.           "I don't know if believe is the right word," says Ezra, "We all grew up with these stories, why my grandmother..." You smile and tune him out. The back and forth banter between Cee and Ezra is a pulse that underlies every harvest. Cee has grown more talkative with each drop. Their relationship has a growing ease to it. You don't know exactly what happened between them before you joined up, but Cee's initial skittishness and Ezra's new healed scars tell a story you can guess the shape of. You let their conversation fade into the background, focus on the work of your hands, the meticulous scrape of soft sediment away from the hard glitter of the fossil, working around the seven sided edge, loosen enough up to get your fingers under the shell and you can pry it out, focus on the sounds of the world around you, no birds on CJ's world, but there is a range of bug-music, hidden in crevasses in the midday heat, all metallic clicks and creaks. Your rail-gun rests within easy reach, as always. You worm your fingers under the edge of the shell, wiggling it like a loose tooth, pops out of the sediment suddenly and you plop on your ass in the sandy dirt.           "You all right there, Artichoke?" Ezra grins at you.           "I'll recover." You dust yourself off and take your prize over to the tub that sits in the shadow of the pod. Further cleaning and grading can be done after dark. Nights  are long at this latitude. You stretch in the sunlight. This job is a milk-run compared to other drops, but hunkering in the dirt still hurts your knees and you feel every bit of it when you stand. There's a familiar sound, like a rumbling stomach, thunder, you think and glance up.          "Ezra!" Your voice is urgent and sharp and he's scrabbling up in a heartbeat, hand on the thrower at his hip, but when he stands there is only you pointing out across the vast expanse of sharp-carved valleys and hoodoos, lined in sharply delineated shadows and rusted cliffs where the light catches. The rainbow swoops skyward into grey cloud-bellies, a luminous curtain against the grey clouds, distant rain falling across the canyons.

        "Ezra, look!" Ezra exhales, tension leaching out of his shoulders. His hand drops away from the thrower.          "Oh, hey, a rainbow," says Cee. You lower your arm and just stare, transfixed at the glowing phantasm, brightening and dimming with the movement of clouds between it and the sun.           "It's beautiful," says Ezra. But he's not looking at the rainbow. He's looking at you. Your eyes are wide, lit up with wonder, an unconscious smile creeping across your face, crinkling the corners of your eyes. The stiff professionalism that you wear as close as your body armor momentarily set down, forgotten. Ezra's heart squeezes. There you are, he thinks. He can count on his one hand the number of times he's seen you smile like this, open and carefree, rare and precious as the gems the three of you pull from the ground. Part of him wants to kiss you, but he suspects he would end up on his back in the dust with the barrel of your railgun jammed beneath his sternum, so instead he brushes his hand against yours and your fingers find his and squeeze hard.            "I've never seen one before," you say, barely aware of Ezra's hand linked with yours, "I mean, I know what a rainbow is, but I've never seen one. Not in the real, just in vids."            "They don't have rainbows on Falnost?" Says Cee.            "They don't have rain on Falnost," you say, "Get's a little hazy sometimes after the ice-haulers make a drop, but that's about it." You shake your head as if just waking, the rainbow still shimmers, a bit duller now, and you are suddenly aware of Ezra's hand clasped with yours, the gentle pressure of his grasp.             "Sorry," you drop your eyes, "I got distracted. We got work to do." Ezra gives your hand a squeeze and then lets you go.             "Not to worry, Artichoke, rainbows are fleeting things. You look your fill while you can." And so you do. So does he.

[karmicstar]

YEMAYA...

Holy Queen Sea

Yemaya, Queen of the Sea, epitomizes motherhood and rules all issues pertaining to women. She is among the most powerful and beloved of the Seven African Powers, the sexy matriarch of the Yoruba spirits known as orishas. The translation of her name, “The Mother Whose Children are Fish” has dual implications:

• Yemaya’s children are innumerable: she is the mother of most of the orishas.

• Her generosity and benevolence have also garnered her countless human devotees, equivalent to the innumerable fish of the sea.

Yemaya has profound associations with the sea and saltwater. She resides in the sea, she is the spirit of the sea, and she is the sea, literally present in ocean water. Her nature resembles that of the sea: profound, beautiful, filled with treasure and generosity but also potentially tempestuous. Yemaya generously bestows abundance, wealth, healing, love, and fertility, but she is also the essence of tidal waves and rip currents.

Yemaya, a profoundly powerful orisha, may be petitioned for:

• Anything possibly considered a “woman’s issue”

• Fertility and reproductive issues

• Protection from domestic violence, which she despises

• Protection when traveling over the sea

However, those who develop an especially close relationship with Yemaya must be extra cautious when actually near the sea. Communicate with her constantly when in the water or beside it. Remind her that you are human and must live on land. Yemaya doesn’t intend to cause harm but likes to keep everything she loves—her treasures—near her.

Once upon a time, Yemaya lived in the cemetery and Oya in the sea. Yemaya tricked Oya into permanently trading places. Oya has never entirely forgiven her. Do not feed or venerate them side by side. Leave some distance between these two powerful orishas.

Yemaya is syncretized to the Stella Maris and the Black Madonna of Regla.

Favored people:

Anyone of African descent whose ancestors survived the Middle Passage to the West may consider their connection to Yemaya established. It is traditionally believed that anyone who survived did so through her grace, while those who did not survive were received into her body.

Yemaya also protects:

• Women and children

• Practitioners of the occult

• Those born under water signs, especially Cancers

Also known as:

Yemalla; Yemoja; Yemalia; Yemaja; Iemanja

Origin:

Yoruba (Nigeria)

Classifications:

Orisha; Mermaid

Manifestations:

Whether manifesting as woman or mermaid, Yemaya is always spectacularly beautiful. She can be sexually provocative with a rolling, hip-swaying walk that evokes the sea. Her traditional costume includes seven skirts. Her hair, clothes, and body may be ornamented with crystals, pearls, coral, or tiny bells.

Attributes:

Seashells, marine motifs

Emblem:

Star and half moon; Yemaya is the only orisha associated with two heavenly bodies—one isn’t sufficient to represent her beauty.

Colors:

Blue, white

Birds:

Doves, ducks, peacocks

Creatures:

Fish, all sea creatures

Element:

Water

Metal:

Silver

Number:

7

Planet:

Moon, which controls the sea

Plants:

> Indigo, seaweed, water hyacinth

Minerals:

Quartz crystal, pearls, coral

Places:

Originally the spirit of Nigeria’s Ogun River, her profound associations with the ocean may have coincided with the African slave trade.

Day:

Saturday

Time:

• 2 February

• Summer Solstice •15 August (Brazil)

• 7 September (Cuba)

• New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. Midnight, the threshold between years, is her power moment.

Altar:

Devotees traditionally visit her at the ocean, bearing gifts. Alternatively, create an altar for Yemaya featuring saltwater and ocean motifs at home. Yemaya’s shrine should evoke the sea. Decorate it with nets, seashells, sea stars, and sea horses. Add salted water to a crystal glass containing small seashells.

Offerings:

Jewelry, perfume, brand new scented soap still in its wrapper; flowers, especially white roses. Yemaya’s favorite food offerings include wet seedy fruits like pomegranates and watermelon plus fish, duck, and lamb dishes. She likes to snack on pork cracklings, plantain or banana chips and pound or coconut cake. Garnish everything with generous libations of molasses. Gifts on behalf of the marine environment and sea creatures may also please her.

HOW TO PETITION YEMAYA

• Summon her with a gourd rattle.

• Petition her at the beach.

• Can’t get to the beach? Yemaya’s fellow water spirit, Oshun, spirit of sweet waters, will accept offerings on her behalf. Deposit gifts for Yemaya in flowing streams or rivers. Nothing is free, however: if utilizing Oshun’s services, be sure to speak to her first, explaining that you would like her to deliver your offering to Yemaya. Bring Oshun an appropriate gift, too.

YEMAYA CLEANSING SPELL

Re-create the sea: add sea salt to spring water.

• Murmur over it. Tell the water your goals and what you seek. Invoke, petition, or pray to Yemaya.

• Sprinkle the water over your naked body from head to toe using your fingers or a roseMary branch.

• Let the water remain on your body for a little while, and then gently pat yourself dry with a brand-new clean white towel or cloth.

• Put on clean clothes.

• Take the cloth to the sea with seven white roses; throw everything in the water.

• Walk away and don’t look back.

Although there is one Yemaya, she also has multiple paths, which may be venerated independently. Alternatively they may be understood as different facets of one extremely complex, profound goddess. Yemaya’s different paths are symbolized by different shades of blue (and sometimes by unique attributes). The particular hue represents each path’s specific natureand home. Thus the aspects of Yemaya who live closest to land or the water’s surface are represented by paler shades than those dwelling in the depths. Aggressive, violent aspects of Yemaya also claim the color red.

The following are but a few of her many aspects:

YEMAYA ASESUN

Yemaya Asesun, an ancient path of Yemaya, is Queen of Water Birds including ducks, geese, and swans. She rules the springs that gush forth from Earth, especially in deep forests.

Color:

Light blue

YEMAYA ASHAGBA

Yemaya Ashagba, “The Chain,” is Olokun’s first child and may be the oldest, most primordial aspect of Yemaya. (See Yembo below.) Queen of the Anchor, Yemaya Ashagba connects the bottom of the sea with the top. She is a spirit of divination and healing. When angered, floods, and tidal waves are her weapons.

Attribute:

Anchor

Color:

Light blue

YEMAYA ATAREMAWA

Yemaya Ataremawa, the queen who is ever so important, owns all treasures of the sea. She has a home in the forest.

Color:

Light blue

YEMAYA IBU AGANA

Yemaya Ibu Agana is a wrathful aspect of Yemaya who lives at the bottom of the sea where she churns destruction.

Color:

Deep blue

YEMAYA IBU ARO

Yemaya Ibu Aro distributes treasure. She controls trade routes and markets.

Colors:

Indigo blue, red coral

YEMAYA MAYALEWO

Yemaya Mayalewo, Queen of the Harbor, the One Who Tends to Commerce and Trade, lives at the bay’s entrance. She is queen of the marketplace, Oya’s prime competitor.

Color:

Light blue, teal

YEMAYA OGUNTé

Yemaya Ogunté is Warrior Yemaya: the courageous, fearless warrior who fights alongside Ogun. She lives on rocky, treacherous coastlines and wears a crown of seven machetes.

Color:

Midnight blue, red

YEMAYA OKOTO

Yemaya Okoto, the Pirate Queen, causes shipwrecks and drags ships and treasure down to the ocean floor. Her name means “the one who lives amongst the seashells.” Her crown is a shark’s jawbone. She clenches a dagger between her teeth. She rules all predatory marine creatures who serve as her messengers and servants, possibly including human pirates. Yemaya Okoto fills the sea with blood. The Red Sea is her official hideout, but she sails where she chooses. (To complicate matters further, Yemaya and her daughter, love goddess Oshun, may be alter-egos of Lady Asherah, another Red Sea Queen and her daughter, love goddess Astarte.) She is also known as Yemaya Ibu Okoto.

Color:

Indigo, navy blue, blood red

Altar:

Decorate with Jolly Rogers and pirate flags

YEMBO

Yembo may be Yemaya’s mother or the oldest form of Yemaya. Yembo may be the mother of the orishas. Because Ogun allegedly raped her, metal knives are not permitted in her presence or used in her offerings. Substitute crystal, stone, or wood