#ask sura

[saltandsura-slugcats]

(Setting up the scene)

>Salt was just sitting on their bed when The door slammed open and a certain Racoon came to talk and some time later A certain imp appeared<

@pbam0ney and @yarnor-the-timid-raccoon

[autistic-sidestep]

whispers chargemortumstep potential 👀

also gsljkfdskfs mortum's scarily good at hitting the mark. even she thought it was a bit overkill. whoops. rein that anger in a bit sura

[fandom-space-princess]

i would love to know more about sura's tattoo and how halsin and karlach collabed on it?? (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

So the thing is that Halsin and/or Karlach must have at least a passing familiarity with some kind of manual tattooing process. Halsin might just have that knowledge kicking around in his brain based on watching whoever did his own tattoos, but Karlach almost certainly knows this against her will—all the fan translations I've seen for hers essentially boil down to "Karlach Demonsbane, property of Zariel."

In my mind the three of them get to talking about this at camp some night, maybe over the campfire. Sura has an odd relationship with tattoos because she has an odd relationship with the way her body heals. Her curse means minor wounds just sort of melt off her. To leave any kind of a mark, to leave a scar, requires a wound that would definitely have been fatal if it had happened to anybody else. And she has quite a few of them: the nasty gash across her face where she once took a mace to the cheek during a job gone bad, a matched set of bad-and-worse entry/exit wounds where an arrow went through the right side of her chest, a knot of scar tissue all down the outside of her left leg. Even those fade eventually, it just takes longer, so her concept of her own body is in a lot of ways peculiarly impermanent. Her tattoos are one way she kind of addresses this, because they don't tend to fade.

Anyway. One of her more standout long-term scars is a mass of burn marks across her back. She's had them since she was really young (the shack she was living in burned down with her in it when she was 9, which is how she and Tethos first discovered her curse). By the time the game starts, these scars are almost gone. And she gets to talking about tattoos and scars with Karlach and Halsin, what they mean to each of them, and she mentions in passing that she's going to be sad when those are finally gone.

What they ultimately decide to do about this is to tattoo over them. It takes several nights over the course of traveling, but bit by bit they tattoo the outline of the scars across her shoulders. It's a little bit of a fraught activity for all of them, because her feelings about her body are so complicated. (And not just for her; Astarion slinks off into the woods to hunt every time they do this because while he's happy the three of them are having their moment, he also can't stand to watch). But once it's done she ends up really glad about it, and grateful that she has a piece of them in this way.

[skyheld]

“You insist that you know me”, Ameridan says, gazing into the chaos of Hakkon’s eyes, the glacial storm of whites and blues. “Yet if you did, you would know that before I was a commander I was a Fade-hunter, trained to withstand beings such as you, and you cannot hope to snare me. I will not be coerced. I will not be tempted. I will not be forced. I am very tired of this, Hakkon, but you cannot even wear me down—you do not have time. Let me sleep. It is pointless.” The shape changes again. The face narrows, the body shrinks, becomes lean and straight-backed, wiry underneath the notched old-fashioned armour. Red hair falls in tangled knots from a braid that's been caught under a helmet. Spidery lines trace the high cheekbones and the straight nose, fanning out across gaunt cheeks. Oh, I know you, Hakkon says with Ameridan’s voice. Wars fought with magic and mind are still my wars. I have your face. It would not be a stretch to have your body too.

i don't think suicidal ideation is the right tw for this, because accepting death when you're dying isn't suicidal, but it's something in that vein so under the cut it goes. the other tws are lighter, I think.

Keeper Levinia has stopped fretting. Maybe that is how he knows.

She used to come into his tent every now and then to ask if he’d eaten, and how much. He'd reply, truthfully, and she’d say, ‘sounds like a stretch to call that eating’ and produce something she just happened to be carrying around—a flatbread fresh from the cookfire outside, some blueberries the gatherers had found that day, cold jerky from the august ram the hunters felled earlier. He’d take it because he knew she worried, and maybe for a mouthful or two he’d enjoy eating it. But then it would taste like nothing and the weariness would come and he would lie down with his back to her and sleep. It was all he really wanted, to sleep.

But she has stopped asking. She has brought the herbal tea that dulls the ache in his bones and some roasted chestnuts on a plate which she places on his bedside but doesn’t ask him to eat. She sits on the edge of his cot, watching his hands around the clay cup as though she’s not sure his strength is enough to hold it.

Maybe that is how he knows, because she knows.

“I received a letter from Sura—from ‘Dalish’”, she says, smiling slightly at the nickname. “It was dated a month ago, but all was well with her then. I hope things have not changed.”

These are troubled times. He remembers hearing the others speak of it, that the spirits are restless and the people, too. They have not told him much; no use bothering him, he supposes, when there is nothing he can do. “Was Skinner with her?”

“Always is.”

“Good.” He brings the cup to his face, let’s the steam warm his lips. “Send her my regards when you write back.”

“Would you add a few lines yourself?”

“No—not this time.” His writing is shaky now. She would notice.

For a while Levinia sits with him in silence. Outside the children are playing and he thinks that maybe later, if he feels stronger, he’ll come out and sit by the fire and maybe they will want to hear a story. In his heart he knows he’ll never have that strength, but it’s a nice thing to think about.

When his tires the cup lowers and she takes it from him, sets it half-full on the bedside table, and smooths out her Keeper’s robe as she rises. If she says anything when she leaves, Ameridan does not hear her. He has lain down with his back to her and fallen asleep.

He knows. And he isn't afraid.

It still seems like a heavy thing, dying.

————————————————————————————————————

Even she has given up on you. Pitiful.

Except he does not sleep, really.

The location the god-spirit has plucked from his mind this time, or which his mind has plucked from itself, is an army camp somewhere on the frontline of the Blight. The tent is small and clearly shared with others; it isn’t the Inquisitor’s tent but a commander’s, or several of them, their bedrolls separated by canvas to create tiny rooms. Everything is stained in mud, torn and threadbare. Ameridan sits by the fireplace in the center of the tent, dressed as though he just got out of his armour.

Opposite the fire, Hakkon lounges as if the foldable chair is a throne. His shape is that of an Avvar warrior, but it’s constantly shifting—he’s a war mage in blue paint, then a scout in hunting gear, then a thane with a pelt across his shoulders. He’s old and scarred, then young and unmarred.

Ameridan considers ignoring him, but he’s not so tired in the dream; his mind is as quick as it used to be. “It is not pitiful to face the inevitability of death.”

It is if there is another option.

“But there is no option. Not for me.”

Hakkon snarls and shifts in his chair, growing in size as he leans forward. Now a mighty warlord, a berserker perhaps, his face grows hard as though chiselled from rock.

You choose to give up.

“You insist that you know me”, Ameridan says, gazing into the chaos of Hakkon’s eyes, the glacial storm of whites and blues. “Yet if you did, you would know that before I was a commander I was a Fade-hunter, trained to withstand beings such as you, and you cannot hope to snare me. I will not be coerced. I will not be tempted. I will not be forced. I am very tired of this, Hakkon, but you cannot even wear me down—you do not have time. Let me sleep. It is pointless.”

The shape changes again. The face narrows, the body shrinks, becomes lean and straight-backed, wiry underneath the notched old-fashioned armour. Red hair falls in tangled knots from a braid that's been caught under a helmet. Spidery lines trace the high cheekbones and the straight nose, fanning out across gaunt cheeks.

Oh, I know you, Hakkon says with Ameridan’s voice. Wars fought with magic and mind are still my wars. I have your face. It would not be a stretch to have your body too.

“Get out of my mind!” Ameridan snarls, but the younger, prouder version of himself smiles a smile he never would have worn, gleeful and triumphant, and leans back in the chair in a way that makes him want to snap at him to sit up straight.

You cannot deny that this was you, once! You stood at the forefront of battle, commanding armies—

“I had to.”

You attended war councils. You shouted down generals for their poor tactics—

“I have not forgottten.”

You fought me, Hakkon says and silver shoots into his grey hair, the stolen face falls in onto itself, dark circles dig deep underneath its eyes. You were old and tired even then, yet you fought me, alone in that cold ruin.

“I remained myself.”

Did you? Creators, he does have a piercing gaze in those pale eyes.

Ameridan closes his fist around the small scar on his palm. Hakkon wears his lyrium brand on his forehead; here, in the dream, it is a void, a black sun burnt into his skin.

He looks older now, but younger still than when Ameridan last looked at his reflection. He has aged a century in those ten years since the Inquisition found him in the Frostback Basin. Death sits at the back of his eyes now. Death as an embrace, as rest at last.

There will come a day soon when he closes his eyes to sleep and it isn’t Hakkon waiting for him across the fire. Long ago it was said it would be Falon’din. Now he does not know who will be waiting, but he will take their hand regardless. He is not afraid.

Ameridan, Hakkon says and his face changes again. This is my last offer. I will make no attempt to take control of your mind. Your body will be yours. You will be strong again, and no longer in pain. I will aid you. Against that which is coming, you and I will both be needed and I can do little from here. I cannot return to my people. I am bound to you as you are bound to me. I have no choice. I WILL AID YOU.

“Do not use her face against me!” Ameridan snarls, standing up, and a storm rips the tent to shreds as his fury takes hold of the Fade. “Not hers! I know how to fight you, even here—I will slay you if it is the last thing I do, if you take me with you!”

Telana looks at him passively, her face, warm and beloved, but wrong—wrong the way Hakkon twsists it, wrong in this time and place. She looks down—and then off to the side, as though listening. Her eyes widen.

Trouble, she says, her voice shifting as her face does, back to the Avvar warrior. You are under attack. There is no time—accept my offer! You have to—

But Ameridan is hearing it too. Screams of shock and terror. Weapons clashing. A spell rupturing earth. He focuses on that, and wrenches himself awake.

Fire.

There's fire outside, black smoke seeping past the cabin door, a sickly reddish light through its cracks. Shrill, frightened screams. Battle-cries—those of elves and those of humans. Bandits or mercenaries, they could be either. Bandits rarely dare attack a Dalish clan, but these are troubled times and people are desperate. For mercenaries, it is only a matter of payment, and there is always someone who pays.

Even with the strength of desperation standing takes precious seconds. The room spins. He can’t find his staff. It should be in here, all his belongings are, but he can’t find it. His hands, then; there is magic left in them. He stumbles towards the cabin door, legs stiff from days of unuse; when he reaches it he falls towards it, his hand on the door latch so it opens.

Darkness has fallen outside, but it has turned into an inferno, red sky and black smoke, black shapes running in front of the flames. They've been taken by surprise. There's no organized defense, only scattered groups fighting for their lives.

"Hahren—" There's someone standing just outside the aravel. Gawin, one of the better warriors, out of the immediate battle and waiting here. To protect him? No, not when others are dying, that cannot be— "Hahren, go back inside, it isn't safe—"The blade of a greataxe slices through his throat cleanly. Two thuds when he hits the deck of the aravel: body and head apart.

Ameridan clings to the doorframe as the warrior steps over Gawin's body and towards him. He's too well-armed for a bandit. A mercenary, then. There's always someone who pays. He has to fight; there's no choice. He slumps when he takes one hand from the doorframe and holds it out, pulling at the Fade.

The force magic rippling through the air towards should have sent the mercenary flying backwards, tumbling over the prow to crash on the burning grass behind. But it's too weak. Magic comes too slowly to Ameridan's fingers, and unravels before it's at full power. The bandit stumbles backwards, and rights himself. The only harm done is that he's bitting his tongue, so when he steps forward again, his smile is red.

"If that's all the magic you can do", he says, "it's time to pray to those heathen gods of yours, knife-ear."

Ameridan's hand is still in the air in front of him.

The clan isn't helpless. They are strong in numbers and in skill. But this attack has been sudden, and the mercenaries haven't struck in desperation; this has been planned, they know what they're doing and are certain of winning. He sees the halla-keeper slain by the cook-fire. They do not care who carry weapons. They may not spare the children, either, or if they do they'll leave them to starve.

"Hakkon Wintersbreath", he says, stretching his fingers fully, "I accept your offer."

————————————————————————————————

HE IS HERE HE IS HERE HE IS HERE

Hakkon laughs at the words and the will weaving their way to him in the Fade, laughs as he takes the hand held towards him, laughs as the hand becomes his, bones and blood and skin and sinew wrapping around his spirit-being, HE IS HERE HE IS HERE HE IS HERE! There are ribs around his lungs, lungs around his breath; he moves by way of muscle, pulling and bending limbs; a spine shoots from his bone-encased mind, snaking nerves through tissue; a heart beats blood through his body; skin stretches soft and supple around everything. It is him, he is it; he feels the thousand sensation of being alive, air on his skin and smoke in his throat and the planks of a deck underneath hardened soles. He feels the pain of old age and old wounds, the frailty of long illness, and he laughs; the pain is life, life is pain; it blooms through him like blood in water, he is here he is here he is here.

In front of him, the mercenary has stopped in his tracks, shocked by the sudden change in his adversary: the cold laugh bursting from his lips, the calm, casual straightening from the slump against the doorframe. Hakkon is in no hurry. Between them the elven warrior lies dead, sword still clutched in his hand. A good blade, if not his weapon of choice. The spine protests when Hakkon bends to pick it up; the fingers are weak with hunger around the hilt, the shoulders unwilling to move into the correct position, and still he's laughing.

It is glorious to live. It is glorious to hurt. It is glorious to kill. He is here.

The sword does its work, splitting the bandit from waist to throat, but the battle-axe that clatters to the aravel's deck as he lies squirming in his innards will serve even better. There isn't quite enough muscle to lift it, let alone swing it, but no matter, Hakkon lifts it with spirit-strength, swinging it casually as he steps down the landing from the aravel, his feet finding scorched grass. He is h—

Hurry. A voice, a will, momentarily lost in the shock of possession, makes itself known. Hakkon grits the teeth inside the mouth. Throughout the clearing the elves are being pushed back, dying one by one and there is a want that isn't his to leap in and save them, save all of them that can still be saved. You promised to aid me. Aid me!

Well, he did promise that, and he does want to slaughter, and so— he let's the will carry him forward, breaking into a sprint.

The nearest mercenary turns to face him. Hakkon laughs, spins, swings, and misses. Ah—his reach is limited, he is not very tall. Nor does he have enough weight to counter that of the greataxe continuing its arc. His spirit-strength holds fast the shaft before it flies out of his hands, and instead his shoulder cracks, shifting out of its socket. The pain blazes white-hot, blinding him. Hakkon laughs at its searing fire, spreading from shoulder and out into the arm, up towards the base of the skull; but at the back of his mind he feels Ameridan wince from it and remembers his promise: you will no longer be in pain. He cannot take it away entirely, but he can dull the pain for now, make it bearable.

He does so, and wrenches the shoulder back into place.

The rest is glory. It is revelry, it is life. He is here. Despite some difficulties with the new body, the bandits are no challenge, though they entertain. He wishes he could take his time, but to save as many of the elves as he can he must make quick work of most of the bandits, until they start running. Then they're fair game, then he can savour it. He is here.

He has run down one of the very last and killed her on the very edge of camp when he suddenly stumbles, the legs buckling underneath him. The body is trembling, little shivers all under the skin; the heart is beating frantically in an uneven rhythm. He puts a hand to his chest to calm it, but there is no doubt: if he goes on, he will do damage. The body cannot handle too much strain, even with his help. It will take time to build that strength again.

"Well", he says, "it was good for a first attempt."

Behind him, movement. One of the elves stand some twenty paces away from him, covered in blood and ashes, staff held in front of her not in fear but in preparation. Her face is set: angry, hurt, with an underlayer of fear.

"Ameridan", she says, "what have you done?"

The guilt that rushes into the chest isn't Hakkon's. Nor is the shame that follows after, or the grief, or the fear, or the self-hatred, or the regret. They aren't his, but he feels them all the same like a rising wave. They make him angry.

"What have I done?" he asks, forcing the legs to stand again, the back to straighten. "What have I done? I saved your pitiful clan, woman, I—"

He goes quiet. There is a will overpowering his, a will like a tidal wave, a will like the sun rising against night, and the body is no longer Hakkon's, the tongue no longer obeys. He is pushed and thrown down into the depth of their mind from where he cannot do anything.

Ameridan swallows, fists clenching and unclenching as he searches for words. A thousand apologies, a thousand pleas course through his mind and Hakkon's, but in the end, voice brittle yet calm, he says: "You know what I did, keeper."

She looks at him, and the shock, the disapproval, the fear in her gaze cuts deeper than any deathblow in Hakkon's memory. He wants to ask where is her gratitude, but Ameridan's will is a winter's worth of snow on the mountainside, keeping the mountain still, keeping him quiet. "You cannot stay."

He says, "I know."

There is more she wants to say, he can see it on her face, but her mouth tightens and her grip on her staff, and she turns away. Ameridan lets his body sink into the grass again. Hakkon isn't quick enough to catch it. They kneel, silent, in that storm of guilt and sorrow. Their body is still trembling.

We should eat, Hakkon says. We're hungry.

They lift the head together. "I suppose we are", Ameridan says.

[kali-lamb]

im 100% late for this but OH WELL (kali is the goddess of life btw) BLOG RULES!!!! ---------------------------------------------------- Mod things [Talks like this] pronouns: She/They (demi-girl) names for mod: Mod, Green, Coi, Azai Be patient with me, i dont understand things well -------------------------------------------------- 1. one the -8% possibility PLEASEEEE don't get thirsty (I will cry violently) 2. Remember, none of my Lambsona is canon 3. because of my situation i often answer at night 4. remember this is an art blog too, i will random drop in lore, or me fighting Kallie again 5. This happened on my Sozo account, PLEASE dont put "go.fund.me asks" as questions. or any thing asking for help, i will only delete them because they do not belong on my Acc's 5. remember, we say some crazy stuff here. Swearing, Adult jokes and Cananblistic things are all said here. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

I don't think I have more to say lol, ask and have fun!!! Kali talks like this <<Kali's Actions>> [Mod talks like this] ----------------------------------------------------OTHER BLOGS [that dont belong to me] The one who waits "Narinder"- @ask-theredcrown House cat Narinder "Narinder" - @follower-nari-blog The Bishop of chaos "Leshy" - @ask-thegreencrown The Bishop of Famine "Heket" - @askthe-yellowcrown Another heket, Yarnors mother figure @ask-theyellowcrown The bishop of pestilence "Kallamar" -@ask-thebluecrown The bishop of War and Knowledge "Shamura" -@ask-thepurplecrown The lamb before all the nightmares take hold @lambpregame the cult leader "the Lamb" - @askacultleader Ascended lamb "Lamb" @no-less-than-a-lambgod ---------------------------------------------------- Other friends and foes [I own the Sozo one] She of sleep @the-sleepydragon The little Poet - @askthe-littlepoet The mushroom addict "Sozo" - @ask-sozo-the-ant The cannibalistic spider "Helob" - @helob-the-spider My brother "Sean" - @pbamoney (new acc. big dumb clear his old one on accident) Techinclly my Nephew!! "Tug" @tug6056 Our little brother "Yarnor" - @yarnor-the-timid-raccoon (new acc cuz old one was hacked) An Insane version of my little brother. a monsterious version indeed @the-insane-raccoon-creator Deactivated "flashbang guy" [We'll miss you friend] First dude i revived as goddess of life(?) "?" @spellcaster-dude The TV guy whos no longer in a tv...? "scanny" @scannys-back The nebula anon! "neb" @thenebulaanon Nebs Aunt "Andromida" @forgottenaunt-andromeda Another crown bearer (i believe) "Cotton" @ask-cottonofthefaith Cult Of The Alpaca "denny" @askdennycotl My baby Slugcats!!!! "Salt And Sura" @saltandsura-slugcats What remains of the Anon Inc @whatremains-of-anoninc The taloring spider "alina" @spider-anons-tailor-shop My neice and nephew! "Astar and Willow" @fluffpuffsofwar My brothers partner "Darkwood Hunter" @ask-darkwood-hunter THE FOG??? @the-foggy-remnants The followers of the old faith @the-followers-of-the-old-faith Neb AUS @intothecosmos-neb-aus The thearpist anon @anothertherapist-anon New sister!!! "ellie" oh and a vessel i guess @ask-ellie-and-navi My goat counterpart and god of sleep "somnus" @mangoorou She of Purgatory @sheofpurgatory ------------------------------------------------- lost my art acc :( password was hacked and changed ---------------------------------------------------- The blogs I own Kali - @kali-lamb (where you are right now) Azai(or Coi) - @azai-coi (mod acc) ----------------------------------------------------Information about the Lambsona AU i use

[so basically shes the lamb from a different dimension, like the goat. she somehow dimension hopped though and everything back home for her is gone now, so she stays. in her world they burned the lambs instead of beheading them. and her bishops/chained god are different] [Leshy = Soren (Snail)]

[Heket = linkino (lizard)]

[Kallmar = Abrey (Axolotl)]

[Shamura = Cinter (centipede)]

[Narinder = Asteria (Rabbit)]

[Aym and Baal = Strike and Bo (Rabbits)] ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ READ THIS -> ... & ... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ INSANE NEB AU SONG LIST HERE Last updated: (1/30/25)

Timeline of Kali's Life here ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ People you can talk to on this blog: deceased but can be contacted via ghost spell* [Mod Coi or Azai] Kali - Main OC Ivan - Kali's Older brother* (born first but due to age he died at he acts younger) Aiter - Kali's Father* <- changed his name Octavia - Kali's Mother* Crownie - Kali's Crown Ivan (different) - Kali and her deceased wife (igott)'s son (contact with Igott has been unsuccessful) Marisai - Kalis Verison of ratau ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Epic the musical AU -> X3 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[thenebulaanon]

Blog rules

Politely No Thirsty shit

We respect other Blogs here UNDERSTOOD?

Honestly just be a decent Human

Yes Technically This is A Anon becoming a More Physical form

Notes

This blog is run by the same person who runs @nox-the-cat So Politely if they ask you to not fucking Be thirsty Listen

Name can be Neb if it's easier for ya

Full credit: OG Profile picture by @kali-lamb

Apparently Flashbangs are more effective on Neb in space

Neb does have powers

Nox( @nox-the-cat ) is now Neb's adoptive sister

Songs of Neb's moods

You want flashbacks here

Can't help with Donating yall

Asks are available for these characters but crossed out means no asks that day for them

Neb(Star,N3bu14,Nebula,Space anon,Goddess of Stars,Nebula Aniva) uses white text speaking italics and *This system for actions*

Luna(Star's mom) uses ^Action^ speaking

Andromeda(Star's aunt Andromeda)

Neptune(abusive dad?) "Text" *actions*

Venus(The daughter) "text" !actions!

Alan(previously Ali now transmasc) ^action^ "text"

Reina ^actions^ "text"

Sagittarius/Neb's crown (:3) "text" ^actions^

Perita ~actions~ "Text"

Neb's status on known people

- @kali-lamb ( Goddess of Life)-Previously best friend Now Lover?

- @pbam0ney (Sean the god) -...We aren't on good speaking terms yet

- @saltandsura-slugcats (Salt and Sura)- The kids :3

- @whatremains-of-anoninc (Neb's blog uhh fuck,Orion died anon inc is in chaos) -TG ya piece of shit Love the rest of the survivors

@yarnor-the-timid-little-raccoon (Yarnor ) -Brother in law?

@intothecosmos-neb-aus (All Neb Aus) -how do these exist

@flashbang-guy - [Miss ya bud]

More to come soon

Og profile picture

[eretzyisrael]

How Iraqi Jews got their surnames

How did the Jews of Iraq get their surnames? Historian Sami Sourani, who has been working with geneaologist Jacob Rosen,has this interesting explanation:

The Sourani family originates from the city of Sura in Iraq. This was the site of a Babylonian Talmudic academy: above, Rabbi Ashi teaching his students

Most of the Jews of Iraq had no family name. The name of the father was used as an identifier of his family. This situation continued for generations until 1839. In that year, the Ottoman Sultan (Sultan Abdul-Majid) listened to his advisors to introduce administrative reforms in the Ottoman Empire. One of the reforms was to have a family name for his subjects. This made it easy to identify people for tax purposes.

In so doing, a committee was formed and people had to appear before it to discuss the assigned name. This committee consisted of a judge, the head of the police and a Jewish ‘muchtar’ who knew the Jews in his community.

The decision of this committee was final and non-negotiable. One of the Jewish men who appeared before this committee was my late grandfather (of blessed memory) Sassoon Abraham. He was given the family name SOURANI.  He was asked if he had a family name. He answered that for generations they called us Bet Haham Shumail. The committee told him that he had better have one word, and not three words, as a family name.

Since his ancestors lived in a town called Soura (or Sura) which was not far from the ancient city of Babylon, his family name ought to be Sourani. From that time on his  name became Sassoon Abraham Sourani.

More people attended the meeting and a name was selected for them and approved by this committee.

Dealers in threads and ropes were given the name FATTAL. Dealers in large candles made of beeswax got the name MASHAAL. Merchants of milk who came from Iran got the name SHIRI. This is the Persian word for milk). Jews who had religious functions got the names SHAMASH, GABBAY, ABDUL-NABI, ABDUL-EZAIR.

More from Sami Sourani:

How Baghdad got its Jewish cemetery

[defira85]

Sat here for 10 minutes trying to think of something witty or clever to say and came up blank, but I painted! @aurriearts was proud of my art practice and offered up an art trade and I decided that meant I needed to do just way too much in order to challenge myself and make sure he didn't regret asking me

So. This is his Sidestep from Fallen Hero, Suranga Fernando! Why is Sura in what looks like a bad part of London instead of Los Diablos? Who knows! That's the fun of it.

Thank you for the challenge Chris, and I hope you like it <3

[ari-skycotl]

I found this old line art of my skykids Ari and Sura from my story Shatter Peace and asked @ebi-skycotl to render it for me and it turned out beautifully 😍

[yegdreon]

Wind Breaker band AU

[This is a fanmande, non-profitable project. Neither me nor the creator of the original idea have any connections to the creators of neither the anime nor manga of Wind Breaker]

(writen by: Yegdreon)

(original idea by: @aiiry-0 )

[Chapter 2]

At café Pothos, Sakura, Kotoha and Umemiya are having breakfast. Kotoha cooked some omelettes for them, while Umemiya and Sakura are competing to see who can finish first.

— Guys, slow down!— she yells, uselessly trying to stop them. She sighs, and then turns to Sakura and asks— Do you play guitar, Saku?

Sakura looks at her and asks, with a mouthful of omelette:

— Why you asking me that?

She looks at him, and then points at the guitar case right next to him.

— Well I thought that, since Ume is in the school band, I could give him my old guitar— he says, hiding his face because of the blushing.

—Awwwwww, Saku— shouts Umemiya— There's no need to. We have guitars to spare in the band room.

— Yeah, it's kinda obvious that a band would, at least, have a guitar— points out Kotoha— And you still didn't answer my question. Do you play guitar or not?

Sakura stops for a moment, then he takes out the guitar and starts tuning it.

— So you do— says Kotoha, excited— Could you play something for us?

— What?! No— shouts Sakura, embarrassed at the request.

— Please— says Umemiya with puppy eyes— how about you play us your favourite song?

Both of them continued pressuring more and more, until Sakura finally gave in. He starts playing:

["Zettai Reido" (Absolute Zero) original by Natori](Opening for the anime of Wind Breaker)

Nakigoe, touku iki wo awasete, mouichido

Sonna, bokura no mirai o tsuyoku negau uta

Kakumei zenya, bokutachi no koe wa

Yoake mae ni kakikesareteiku

Nega, ego, shitto, kudaranai akui

Sore sura mo nomikonda, suupaa hiiroo

Ikitsugi datte, girigirina bokura wa

Mokutome, awasete aizu shite

Koe ni naranai koe ga, tashika ni kikoeteita nda

Iyaiya, sono ai o mamoru tame ni

Ima, hitsuyouna no wa sonna iiwake janaize

Kimerareru koto no nai, arifureta mirai o

Zenbu, moyashitsukushite zettai rei do

Riyuu mo teisai mo kankei nai

Mou, furasshu bakku ando disu komyunikeeshon!

Kitto, bokura fuanteina enchousen jou

Kikoeta, itsunobi no esuooesu

Sou, nan do datte

Kurikaeshite yo beibee, jigoku no naru hou e

— That was amazing Saku!— says Kotoha.

— It was, right?— adds Umemiya, excited— Are you sure you don't want to join the ba--

At that moment, a boy wearing an eye patch burst into the café. Kotoha instantly turns around to greet him, but ,before she could say his name, the boy walks up to Sakura and says:

— Name's Leonardo d'Caprio, and I just want to say, you have an amazing voice. Would you be interested in forming a band with me?

— Huh?— exclaims Sakura, not noticing the compliment— Are you dumb or something? Who even are you?

— Didn't you hear me?— asks the boy— Name's Leonardo d'Caprio.

Sakura ponders for a second and then says:

— So an exchanged student. He-llo my Na-me is Sa-ku-ra. It is a plea-su-re to me-et y-ou.

— No, no. I was actually born here in Japan— says the boy— Both my parents are also Japanese, actually.

— Huh? Are you playing tricks on me?— asks Sakura, embarrassed by his bad English.

After that, Umemiya intervines saying:

— You must be Suo Hayato, right?

— Yes, some people do call me that— says the boy.

— Well... if you're thinking of joining a band, the school band is more than welcome!— Umemiya says smiling.

— Really? Are you also in that band, "Sa-ku-ra"?— says Suo, mockingly.

— Stop joking around! If you know Japanese, then there's no reason for you to be saying my name like that!— yells Sakura— And, for your information, I haven't decided yet.

— Come on, Saku!— pleads Umemiya.

— I'll think about it once I see the other members, understood?— says Sakura, not noticing the mess he just caused.

Both Umemiya and Kotoha stop for a second. Then, Kotoha says:

— Well... Here's the thing...

— There aren't exactly any other band members— says Umemiya, embarrassed of his forgetfulness— There are no second years interested in joining, and the third years can only act as coaches, as per school rules.

— Huh?!— exclaims Sakura— And you only say that NOW?!

— However— continues Umemiya— If both of you join the band, I'm sure more will follow.

Sakura sighs, and then, he turns to Suo and asks:

— Can you play any instrument?

— The bass— he answers.

— Can you sing?— Sakura asks.

— I can, mostly just slow songs, but it depends on my mood— Suo answers one last time before asking a question himself— Do YOU know how to play an electric guitar, Sakura?

— Yes, I do— says Sakura.

— Then let's join the band together— says Suo, with a smile on his face.

Sakura sighs, smashes his head on the table and then says:

— I hate to agree with him... but I'm in.

— YUUUUUPPIIIIIII!!— shouts Umemiya, overjoyed.

— However...— continues Sakura— If there isn't at least 3 other members within 2 months of school starting, I get to join the Fighting Club instead.

Umemiya ponders for a bit and then responds:

— All right it's a deal! But, be informed, I won't make it easy on you, Saku.

— Do your worst!— responds Sakura.

[saltandsura-slugcats]

A certain someone kidnaps Salt and ava to a church for being girl kissers

I sent the ask for you other mod so Let's start this >:3

>Ava and Salt are rightfully confused and a bit outraged by this They just were having a great time till right now^

[autistic-sidestep]

🧿 and 💋 for Sura, please!

🧿Do they have a superstition or belief? Such as "black cats bring bad luck", belief in ghosts, tarot, crystals, meditation, etc.

yep! there's a reason why eyes are a central motif to argos' design (and in general just being rife with symbolism. im linking the posts i wrote up a while back bc i don't really have the spoons to add anything new). they've picked up a lot of things from other people, baby sura was a bit like a sponge absorbing other peoples' belief systems from people they liked (so some of stuff of ortega's or elena's from the time spent with them).

like they used to wear a nazar bracelet/pendant (which ricardo kept) and prayed. both were things they picked up from the various people sura met during their first escape, since they'd observed cultural things were something you could find common interests and community. ("these people look like me, therefore, maybe i should do that to fit in?").

sura was still willing to learn even if it never fully understood the customs, but it was really the communal aspect to it that they found so appealing, the connection and unified purpose that they didn't really get to experience at the farm (seeing, but never being able to participate). similar reasons for the draw to vigilantism and becoming sidestep, i think. so sura picked up a bunch of different customs, (including avoiding pork, up until the nanosurge at which point they went basically pescetarian if not vegetarian, (raw) meat made sura nauseous after that).

i think post hb they're a bit less superstitious now. but there's still some traditions sura will still keep up, like prayer (and using an accompanying mat/cushion), or using tealights and incense. it doesn't really believes in higher beings anymore (or at least not in benevolent ones. what was that quote in nitw? "a universe that doesn't care, but people that do." feels kinda fitting. entropy and forces that aren't really personified, that just are for fate motive? although i might swap it to anger/justice and have it as a secondary motive.), but just for the routine and comfort of it (autism). also i think it factors well into sura's outsider scar and attempting to heal it.

not to mention sura's had some habits in the past like. letting the microwave timer go off is not only bad, the whole day's ruined now. when they used to hang out in the rangers hq breakroom sura would just. stop the timer a second before it was done. even if it wasn't their food. no beeping allowed. >:( (i'd hesitate to call this a compulsion but it certainly was one of sura's eccentricities.)

(does this make sense lol. i am so exhausted)

💋Do they kiss first? And do they bite their lips if they're mischievous or aroused? And do they bite their partner's lips when they try and pull away?

kissing first depends on the context, but Probably yes if they know the other party is interested. sura's not really one to presume on that front, since their orientation stuff makes figuring that out little wonky. i think sura's puppet/ace/juno is allo so that makes things extra confusing flipping from her body to itself and the fact it's less confident dealing with "romantic" stuff as itself. sura can fake it well enough as juno since she's meant to be attractive and deal with the stuff that comes with (dating, flirting, etc.)

sura? less so. even with argos, there's a degree of separation between that persona and its civilian self. but yes to lip biting, probably a big tell lol. biting partners lips…. i could see it, yeah, just to tease as long as they can tell there's nothing wrong? all comes down to how comfortable they are with the other party, ig

[fandom-space-princess]

also, very curious about the circumstances that led to her being cursed by the gods 👀

So one of the themes I'm interested in most in BG3 is the intercession of the gods in mortal lives. Both in terms of the obvious narrative of the Dead Three and their plans, but also the indifference and/or casual cruelty of the rest of Faerun's pantheon, notably the gods typically thought of as exemplifying good - and what that means about how much power lies in the hands of common people vs. their "betters." Sura's backstory came about because of those thoughts, and is directly informed by them.

Tl;dr because this got long: Sura is cursed because her mother was an awful person, and to the gods, a debt is a debt regardless of who incurred it. Sura started paying her mother's debt the day she was born.

Long version:

Sura's mother, Aran, was a wood elf from one of the clans of the Wood of Sharp Teeth. From a young age she was a gifted sorcerer, and an obsessive collector of knowledge. Unfortunately, she was also an essentially disagreeable person from minute one, and had an entirely unwholesome knack for death magic. When she became an adult her own people politely showed her the door. From there, she took up with a roving mercenary band that eventually landed her in Baldur's Gate.

Joining the group introduced her to Sura's father, Maurit: a solid brick wall of a human sellsword whose primary talent in life was hitting people really hard. He wasn't a particularly bad man, as mercenaries go, although he wasn't a particularly good one either. What he lacked in other areas of his personality, he made up in loyalty. Aran's basic amorality didn't bother him - to him, she was the most beautiful and dangerous thing he'd ever seen, and he would have followed her into the Nine Hells for a smile and a song.

[Pictured: terrible parents]

Aran was motivated by the acquisition of personal power, and she was prone to bouts of obsession. She'd get interested in some new project and no one but Maurit would see her for weeks, sometimes months. What she did during these times varied, but it always seemed to circle back to her interest in necromancy. (My headcanon-for-a-headcanon here is that she'd have gotten on well with Mystic Carrion, if they ever met). As time passed, her work got bloodier, and she eventually got it into her head that if she could raise enough undead, she could amass sufficient power to make a run at godhood.

Which brings us to the night Sura was born.

Nobody'd seen Aran for months. While that wasn't enough in and of itself to draw attention - she was known to be with child, it wasn't that odd that she'd been absent from work as dangerous as theirs - nobody'd seen her husband in the preceding weeks either. Though Maurit wasn't the most well-liked or social man, the people he worked with did eventually get concerned enough to go looking. So one quiet night, half a dozen of them turned up at the couple's home in the outer city.

We'll spare the details here (I don't know what kind of stomach you have for horror), but they walked into a house transformed to an abattoir that would make a Bhaalist proud. Bodies piled on every surface, intact and otherwise. From what they could gather, Aran had succeeded in raising a truly monstrous number of undead. Her body lay prone in the center of the room, next to her husband, who had met a gruesome fate as her final victim. She seemed to have succumbed to whatever ritual she was attempting to complete, and had been struck down in the same blast that leveled her hoard of zombies. The only life left in that room was her newborn child, minutes old. On either shoulder the baby sported what appeared to be brands: Kelemvor's scales on her left, Lathander's rising sun on her right.

At first, none of the assembled mercenaries could bring themselves to touch her. Near as they could tell, the girl was probably the result of ritual magic that had deeply offended two of the most powerful gods in realmspace. They might have abandoned her to her fate. But Tethos stepped forward. He'd been the closest thing to a friend the girl's father had really had. Standing over his body, he couldn't bring himself to simply abandon his daughter. So he took her in.

[hi Tethos]

Sura would only discover what her curse meant to her as she grew. There's a lot of additional story involved, which for the sake of this not turning into a novel I'll exclude, but the practical upshot is: she can't die. She found this out the hard way, i.e. the painful way, and at the point where she gets abducted by the Nautiloid she's been dealing with the realities of being unwillingly immortal for just over 70 years.

She maintains an antagonistic working relationship with her patron gods. They periodically turn up and set her tasks, which she completes under extreme protest. And once she gets tangled up with the tadpole gang... well. Things get interesting fast.

I have so much written about her ongoing struggles with her desire to regain mortality, and how she relates conceptually and practically to her concepts of religion, guilt, obligation, and rebellion, but I'll save that for another day.

[hexjulia]

"Taking an occasional step forward is acceptable, provided it is deliberate, short and steady. The same is true for walking during the delays created by applause, although Cicero says that pacing should be rare and of no long duration. Running about, or what Domitius Afer called Manlius Sura’s ‘hyperactivity’, is completely ridiculous. Flavius Verginius displayed his wit when he asked a rival professor how many miles he had declaimed."

from Quintilian's Oratorical Instruction: Bad Uses of Gesture in Ancient Rhetoric by Thomas Habinek.

[yamayuandadu]

What is your opinion on the article "Mesopotamian or Iranian? A New Investigation on the Origin of the Goddess Anāhitā" by Alireza Qaderi?

He proposes that Anahita is possibly the syncretism of an Iranian Water goddess with Annunitum, and while it largely makes a lot of sense to me, especially with how it points out that we can't treat the Avesta as we know it as identical to the Avesta in Zarathustra's time, it also assumes the Central Asian goddess Ardokhsho comes from Aredvi Sura instead of Arti, and everything else I've seen just says Ardokhsho comes from Arti, although I haven't seen much literature on either deity tbh

Sorry it took me a few days to answer this ask even though it’s basically laser focused on my interests. I had some other stuff to read and unpleasant work duties to perform and couldn’t properly go through the recommended paper.

My feelings about the paper are mixed. I think anyone who remembers Annunitum was a distinct deity as early as in the late third millennium BCE deserves at least some credit. The notion of interchangeability of goddesses still haunts the field, fueled by Bible scholars, Helsinki hyperdiffusionists and the like. Overall the author shines in the sections dedicated only to the evaluation of the broadly Iranian material, but as soon as the focus switches to Mesopotamia things fall apart, sadly. More under the cut. Hope you don’t mind that I’ll also use this as an opportunity to talk about Annunitum in Sippar in general. I've been gathering sources to improve her wiki article further (don’t expect that any time soon though). 

The Iranian material

Criticizing the vintage attempts at equating Anahita with Sarasvati is sound and sensible. Same with stressing that she is distinct from Nanaya and Oxus. The criticism of theories depending on lack of familiarity with the historical range of the beaver was a nice touch too, it demonstrates well that the author wanted to cover as much previous literature as possible. However, I also have no clue what’s up with “ΑΡΔΟΧΡΟ has an ambiguous relationship with Arədvī Sūrā”, I’ve also only ever seen this name explained as a derivative of Ashi/Arti save for a single paper trying to force a link to Oxus which was met with critical responses. It’s entirely possible this is an argument I simply haven’t seen though, I’m also not really familiar with this matter.

Overall the arguments against seeking Anahita’s origin in the east are perfectly sensible, and line up with the evidence well - no issues at all with this part of the paper. Following a more detailed list of Anahita’s easter attestations from Shenkar’s Intangible spirits and graven images. She appears on some Kushano-Sasanian coins, but this seems to reflect importing her from the west relatively late on since she appears in neither Kushan nor Bactrian sources. The coins are even exclusively inscribed in Middle Persian, with no trace of the local vernacular. 

For unclear reasons Anahita caught on to a degree even further east in Sogdia, but attestations are limited to the period between fourth and sixth centuries. Since they’re largely just generic theophoric names, it is hard to call her anything but a minor deity of indeterminate character in this context, though. I’ve seen the argument that the popularity of Oxus in the east might have been the obstacle to introducing her. Oxus was a bigger deal in Bactria than in Sogdia so it could even explain why Sogdians were slightly more keen on her, arguably, even if they and Bactrians came into contact with her cult under similar circumstances.

Back to the article, the section dealing with the western attestations starts on a pretty strong note too. The need for reevaluation if it’s fair to talk about Achaemenid rulers as “Zoroastrian” is a mainstay of studies published over the past 10-15 years or so. I can’t weigh on the linguistic arguments because I know next to nothing about that.

I’m not sure if I follow the argument that it makes no sense Iranian population wouldn’t need a royal order to start worshipping a new deity as long as they were Iranian, tbh - linguistic or cultural affiliation doesn’t come prepackaged with automatically updated list of deities one is obliged to instantly adopt as soon as they pop up into existence. Following this logic, why didn’t Sargon’s Akkadian speaking subjects in Syria just adopt Ilaba before being obliged to do so? You will find literally hundreds of cases like this, it’s a very weird argument to me.

The Mesopotamian material

The biggest problems start once the coverage of Mesopotamia begins. The rigor evident in the strictly Iranian sections of the article just… vanishes and it’s incredibly weird. Herodotus as a source is… quite something. The phrase “ a goddess with a Semitic character” is… well, quite something too (Reallexikon generally advises against defining anything but languages as “Semitic” in Mesopotamian context - Mesopotamian is a perfectly fine label to use, and accounts for the fact that Sumerian, Hurrian and Kassite are not a part of the Semitic language family). It keeps repeating later and admittedly I’m not very fond of this. Especially when it pertains to the west of Iran, where deities originating in Mesopotamia were worshiped since the late third millennium BCE - they were more Elamite than Mesopotamian by the time Persians showed up, really. The matter is covered in detail in Wouter Henkelman’s Other Gods who Are with Adad in the Persepolis Fortification Archive as a case study.

Cybele was by no means Mesopotamian (with each new study she keeps becoming more strictly Phrygian, with earlier Anatolian, let alone Mesopotamian, influence becoming less and less likely) so I'm not sure what she's doing here, Nanaya’s associations with lions is almost definitely an Iranian innovation and not attested before the late first millennium BCE; despite earlier sound arguments against ascribing strictly Avestan Zoroastrian sensibilities to people in the late first millennium BCE, that’s basically what happens here. Lions were evidently viewed favorably by at least some Persians and especially Bactrians and Sogdians.

The less said about the part trying to link evidence from Palmyra to Inanna and Dumuzi (what does a marginal spouse deity like Dumuzi, entirely absent from Palmyra, have to do with Sabazius, a veritable pantheon head equated with Zeus?), the better. Frazerian bit, if I have to be honest.

I’m not sure about the enthusiasm for Boyce’s argument that it makes little sense for Anahita to simultaneously be a river goddess and to bestow victory in battle. The latter characteristic lines up well with her elevation to the position of a deity tied to investiture of kings, which in turn is something which boils down to personal preference of a given dynasty. The character of deities isn’t necessarily supposed to be one-dimensional and having distinct spheres of activity because of historical factors is hardly unusual.

Stressing that it’s not possible to treat Anahita and Ishtar as interchangeable is commendable. However, I don’t think it’s possible to claim continuity between the religious beliefs reflected in the relief of Anubanini and first millennium BCE Media. The argument is not pursued further, to be fair, but it’s still weird.

The next huge issue is the treatment of the late “Anu theology”. A good recent overview of this matter can be found in Krul’s 2018 monograph (shared by the author herself here).

For starters, it’s completely baffling to declare Anu had no spouse at first; Urash and Ki are both attested in the Early Dynastic period already - and the former appears reasonably commonly in this role in literary texts and god lists. Even Antu might already be present in the Abu Salabikh list.

Attributing Inanna prominence in Uruk and in the Eanna in particular to identification with Antu is utterly nightmarish and one of the worst Inanna takes I’ve ever seen; the fact it’s contradicted by information of the same page makes it pretty funny, admittedly. Inanna’s ties to the city go back literally to the beginning of recorded history (some of the oldest texts in the world are demands aimed at cities under the control of Uruk to provide offerings for Inanna ffs), and probably even further back. Meanwhile, Anu for most of his history was an abstract hardly worshiped deity; Krul stresses this in the beginning of her book linked above. I’m not a fan of ancient matriarchy takes which are often lurking in the background when the cases of earliest city goddesses like Inanna, Nisaba and Nanshe are discussed but I do think the need to downplay Inanna’s prominence and elevate Anu which pops up every few years in scholarship is suspect and probably motivated by sexism, consciously or not, tbh. 

Trying to make the ���Anu theology” which developed in the late first millennium BCE an influence on the entirety of Mesopotamia and beyond is puzzling. Sabazius appearing in Palmyra with a spouse is tied to Anu, somehow? The fact that deities had spouses is? Atargatis ties into this somehow? I’m sorry, but I’m not following. Also, Uruk was no longer a theological center of the Mesopotamian world in the first millennium BCE. Babylon was, and before that Nippur. There is no need to speculate, there are thousands of texts to back it up. The late sources from Uruk in particular show that Babylon was somewhat forcefully influencing the city, not the other way around.

The Anu theology was a display of local “nationalism” of Uruk and had a very limited impact. There is evidence for some degree of late theological cooperation between Uruk and Nippur, and possibly Der as well (Der itself despite being located with certainty has yet to be excavated, though, so caution is necessary), but nothing of this sort is to be found in the late sources from other locations.

Annunitum = Anahita?

Finally, let’s look at the core idea behind the article.

Right off the bat I feel it’s necessary to stress Annunitum generally wasn’t regarded as an astral deity. In the Old Babylonian period, the Venus role was evidently handled by Ninsianna in Sippar; later on they aren’t even attested there but the regular Ishtar is. Seems doubtful it would actually be Annunitum who got to be an astral deity there at any point in time.

This claim is also highly dubious. There is no evidence that Antu was ever worshiped in Sippar, let alone that she was equated there with Annunitum; she doesn’t show up at all in Jennie Myers’ 2002 thesis The Sippar pantheon: a diachronic study. Paul-Alain Beaulieu stresses her lack of importance all across Mesopotamia save for first millennium BCE Uruk here. There is also no evidence that the late Anu theology impacted Sippar in any capacity. Shamash retained his position in the city until the death of cuneiform. Even in Uruk, Annunitum in the late sources appears only in association with Ishtar and Nanaya, not Anu and Antu. I will repeat how I feel about the need to assert Anu’s importance where there is no trace of it. Overall it feels like unrelated Mesopotamian and adjacent sources from different areas and time periods are used indiscriminately; which is ironically the criticism employed in the article wrt the treatment of Iranian textual sources by other researchers. The Assyriological sources employed leave a bit to be desired, too. In particular Abusch’s Ishtar entry in the Dictionary of Deities and Demons in the Bible is a nightmare (he’s good when he covers incantations but his broader “theological” proposals are… quite something), here are some quotes from it to show how awful it is is a central point of reference:

Of the other authors cited, Jacobsen is Jacobsen and a lot changed since the 1960s. Roberts was criticized right after his study was published by researchers like Aage Westenholz. Langdon’s study from the early 1900s is an outdated nightmare, I guess we know what’s up with the Dumuzi hot takes now. Beaulieu is great but his papers and monographs aren’t really utilized to any meaningful extent, I feel. 

Other criticisms aside, I’m unsure if Annunitum was important enough in the fifth century BCE to be noticed by Artaxerxes II as postulated here, especially since Shamash was right next door and definitely retained some degree of prominence. Most if not all cases of Mesopotamian deities influencing Persian or broader Iranian tradition reflect widespread cults of popular deities - Nanaya, Nabu (via influence on Tishtrya), Nergal (in the west, around Harran) - as opposed to a b-list strictly local deity. And it’s really hard to refer to Annunitum differently. Let’s take a quick look at her position in the twin cities of Sippar - as far as I am aware, the most recent treatment of this matter is still Myers’ thesis, and that’s what I will rely on here. 

Annunitum is first attested in Sippar in the Old Babylonian period, during the reign of Sabium, though as a deity already locally major enough to appear in an oath formula alongside Shamash. In the Early Dynastic period Sippar-Amnanum was likely associated with an enigmatic figure designated by the logogram ÉREN+X who doesn’t seem to be related to her. When and how exactly the tutelary deity change occurred is not presently possible to determine and admittedly of no real relevance here.

Evidently Annunitum’s cult in Sippar was influenced to some degree by the Sargonic tradition she originated in, her temple was even called Eulmaš just like that in Akkad. It’s not impossible it was even originally founded by one of the members of the Sargonic dynasty, but in absence of pre-OB evidence caution is necessary. There is no shortage of later rulers who wanted to partake in the Sargonic legacy, after all. By the earliest documented times, it was the second most important temple in the Sippar agglomeration, and the only one beside the Ebabbar to have its own administrative structure. Annunitum was even referred to as the “queen of Sippar” (Šarrat Sippar; note that by the Neo-Babylonian period this title came to function as a distinct goddess, though). In Sippar-Amnanum there was a street, a gate and a canal named after her. A bit over 6% of the inhabitants of both cities bore theophoric names invoking her, also. Sippar-Amnanum was abandoned for some 200 years after the reign of Ammi-saduqa, but it seems the clergy simply moved to the other Sippar next door. Next few centuries are very sparsely documented at this site, but supposedly Shagarakti-Shuriash rebuilt Annunitum’s temple (the matter is discussed in detail here).

Inscriptions of Tiglath-pileser I dealing with the conquest of northern Babylonia affirm that Annunitum continued to be viewed as the goddess of Sippar through the Neo-Assyrian period. According to an inscription of Nabonidus her temple, and Sippar-Amnanum as a whole, were razed by Sennacherib (he also blames “Gutians” for it though by then this is a label as generic as “barbarian”). This might be why her cult had to be relocated to the other part of Sippar again. In the Neo-Babylonian period it returned to Sippar-Amnanum under Neriglissar, though her temple was only rebuilt by Nabonidus. It survived at least until the reign of Darius, though it was only a small sanctuary (É.KUR.RA.MEŠ) like those of Adad and Gula.

There is very little evidence for popular worship of her so late on: only two theophoric names have been identified…. For comparison, Shamash appears in 208 (out of 823 theophoric names, out of a total of 1243 total). Nergal, Gula, Adad and even Amurru are all more common.  Aya is also absent, but unlike Annunitum despite her prominence in earlier periods she was actually never common in theophoric names, save for the names of naditu; and naditu ceased to be a thing after the OB period.

Offering lists complicate the matter further. From the reign of Nebuchadnezzar, Annunitum started to lose ground to a duo introduced from Dur-Kurigalzu: a manifestation of Nanaya associated with this city and Ishtar-tashme. Why they suddenly appeared in Sippar and why they overshadowed Annunitum is uncertain, perhaps Dur-Kurigalzu just failed to recover from decline after the end of the Kassite period and eventually the decision was made to start transferring local deities to other nearby major urban centers. The process reversed during the reign of Nabonidus, who ordered an increase in offerings made to her. This might’ve been motivated by his general concern for Sin and any deities considered members of his immediate family - essentially, a display of personal devotion. This elevation is still evident in offering lists from the reign of Cyrus, though.

Overall the paper is quite convincing - outstanding, even - when it comes to the Iranian material alone, and between mediocre and nightmarish once the author shifts to Mesopotamia.

[skybrushus]

Thunderlane slowly approached the full mirror in his. No. Wait, her bedroom. Slowly she unbutton the white cotton shirt and looked the white bikini she was wearing. 

     Stupid Fleetfoot and her dares! Thunderlane thought as she opened the shirt. Where did that crazy mare find that Poison Joke potion anyways? I mean praise Celestia it only lasts for a few hours but now I'm...

The mare's train of the thought slowly ground to a halt. Thunderlane was suppose to attend a private pool party tonight. Thus the bikini, but Thunderlane had been so busy trying to figure out how to put the bikini on that she hadn't taken the time to really see what they looked like as a mare in it. Now slowly she silently turned around and looked at herself from various angles. After a minute the pegasus spoke to nopony. 

      "I'm hot!" Thunderlane did a little twirl. "I mean I'd date this in a heartbeat." 

      A patron reward for Sura Resch. He asked for a Rule 63 Thunderlane.