#benefit of amber stone

[fanworks-library]

eremetic

(takes place after the events of chapter 14 in The Therapist)

Hours later in the privacy of his cell, Bill Cipher was thinking.

When was the last time anyone had touched him deliberately? Even the sanctioned violence of the guards didn't affect that statistic; since he had woken up here... afterwards he had been mostly relegated to being prodded from a distance, corralled like a stray dog at the pound.

But you.

You

You

You

You had touched him, let him touch you; just the innocent contact of clothed skin had been a mercy he had given up on ever experiencing again, a balm like a glass of water in the desert. Even hours later the method you had utilized stuck with him, phantom sensations from half a day ago shivering down his arms.

Trust me, you told him, like you hadn't already pried open his waking mind and slithered in to make yourself at home. Just trust me. To him the moment had become encased in amber, frozen in time— your fingers lacing with his, pulling him along until he was within reach, before carefully (delicately, affectionately) put his hand on your chest, right above the sternum. The first thing he perceived was the heat (98.9°F, exactly) of your flesh, a soothing source of warmth that sent a flush through his extremities. Just feel there. You feel it? It wasn't until you said it that he became aware of the pulse, almost an afterthought. As you sat still watching him watch you, your life-force fluttered under his fingers. Each beat felt like it was a gift, a fond song of hello hello hello sang just for his benefit. The gesture left him transfixed, anchoring his grip for a better hold. It wasn't until you peered down at your chest in curiosity, the rush of your pulse still kissing his fingertips that he noticed the claws snagging you, keeping you in place.

Something akin to embarrassment flared up at that, at the blatant loss of control and he yanked his hand back.

“Claws but no heart,” you mused, blessedly letting the moment pass.

Even with your easy dismissal of the events Bill couldn't stop thinking about it, turning the implications over in his mind until they were as worn as river stones.

You'd offered him your heart.

Bold as anything you'd put his hand, drenched in blood as it was, over the very core of your being—wrapped in blood and darkness and trust— and let him decide if he wanted to tear it out or not, unflinching.

Hearts were a particular favorite for offerings among his followers; his previous favorites heart-rippers had been the Toltecs, legions of priests carving open chests on edifices made in his likeness.

...But that was before and this was now; his current favorite heart was ensconced in the chest of a goody two-shoes, but pledged to him nonetheless. He didn't even mind it was still beating!

If he was honest, he preferred it that way— the best gifts, in his opinion, were wrapped.

[mini-ism]

#— LIT CIGARETTES.

paring: gallagher x gn!reader (female anatomy, no use of “breasts”)

words: 3.1k

synopsis: gallagher meets a companion that he invites on a smoke break.

warnings: MDNI! intoxication, p in v, dubcon, alcohol, semi-forced smoking, smoking, cigarettes, kinda OOC?, choking, wrist binding, cunnilingus, light degradation, spanking.

DARK CONTENT AHEAD, DISCRETION ADVISED!!

flick, flick…,

the haze of fresh smoke covered his face as he leaned against the stone wall. the golden hour of penacony was ever-bustling. gallagher took a long drag from the cigarette, taking it out of his mouth with his index and thumb, ashing it slightly, and exhaling the smoke.

a cigarette every so often was refreshing, sometimes soulglad can be sickening. or at least to gallagher, though he might be the sole believer of that. damn near every night was the same, “can i get uh… soulglad?” another drunken patron slurred. the face of this patron is just as muddled as their voice. likely because every night, every person asked for a bottle of soulglad. gallagher obliged, as it was his duty, finishing wiping a glass, then uncapping a fizzy bottle of the drink, and passing it to them without a complaint or a mere word.

he took another puff, a longer one. he sighed, murky grey clouds leaving his mouth and nostrils. he put the cigarette back into his mouth, brushing his long, brown hair out of his eyes, savoring every intoxicating breath. he crushed he butt beneath his shoe, tobacco smearing onto penacony’s smooth pavement, watching it fizzle from existence. another benefit of the dream, one could assume.

he scratched at the stubble on his jawline, walking back into one of the many bars he frequently bartended at, bracing himself to serve more damn soulglad for the nth time tonight.

the chestnut-brown hair on his shoulders bounced as he strode back inside, music blaring a bit too loudly for his liking. he cracked his neck, then his gloved knuckles, and made his way behind the counter.

“how was your break?” a coworker inquired, “you smell like smoke.”

“it was alright, i guess. nothin’ too special.” he spoke, “is that a bad thing?”

music rang in his ears as he wiped down a few more glasses. the same coworker tapped on his shoulder after a few moments, “gallagher, look to your left. total cutie over there.”

gallagher wasn’t the type to pay attention to anyone’s looks. he listened. that was simply his job. he just so happened to look to his left, grumbling slightly. “i mean, they’re alright. what’dya want me to say?”

“come on, man, just have fun for once. i get that this is your job, but it never hurts to bend the rules a lil’, huh?” they responded, “i’ll give you like, 200 credits if you talk to them.”

“make it 500 and i might.” he joked, watching as his bartending partner pulled exactly 500 credits out of their breastpocket, slipping it into his pocket.

“do it,” they snickered.

he watched as you settled into your seat at the bar, waving to your friend from across the club. “anything i can get you tonight?” a voice rung from behind you, slightly raspy, yet smooth, and tired.

he was just as tired-looking as his voice led you to believe, “well, firstly, are you okay?” you asked curiously, hands resting on the edge of the marbled countertop.

“yeah, i’m alright. is there anything i can do for you?” he asked again, his amber-colored eyes focused on you, accented by his eyebags that happened to be deeper than oceans. he was visibly aged, and had scars littered all over him.

in the quiet moment you were investigating his appearance, he too was “checking you out.” you looked nice, now that you were in front of him. his vision wasn’t the best nowadays, but it suffices well enough to delineate all the delicate features painted onto your skin and your face. he liked that.

“could i get a crimson sunset?” finally, something that wasn’t a fucking soulglad.

“sure thing, not a problem.” gallagher grabbed a glass with his hand, pouring a mixture of syrups, drinks, and spirits into the glass masterfully. he smiled tiredly at you, passing the drink to you on a red napkin. the drink itself was a pretty red-orange color that faded into a deep purple.

“mind if i get myself a drink?”

“are you allowed to do that?” you replied.

“well, i mean, never hurts to bend the rules a lil’, yeah?” he answered, unintentionally charismatically.

his accidental confidence made you laugh slightly, “go ahead, mister…?”

“gallagher,” he said, pouring himself his own drink. he isn’t mixing it with anything, just straight alcohol from the bottle into the same type of glass you have in your hand, “no need to be so formal. you can just call me gallagher.”

“alright, gallagher, it’s nice to meet you.” you grinned brightly, taking note of the faint smile painting his features and lighting up his dull eyes.

“it’s nice to meet you too… ah…” he trails off.

“(your name).” you replied, giggling slightly as you take a sip from your drink, admiring the complex profile of gallagher’s mixing skills, “by the way, this is really good.”

“thanks,” he shuffles awkwardly, mimicking you by taking a swig of his own drink, “it’s really nothin’ though, just a lil’ bit of gallagher magic.”

he watches as you sip from your drink again, raising his glass again and finishing the rest of the liquid inside. he can feel the alcohol burning in his throat as he drinks it down hungrily, blurring his own mind as you start to talk again. he’s listening, but not a word is registering in his head. gallagher refills his glass with a more potent drink, leaning over the counter and propping himself up with his toned forearms.

“…and that’s how i ended up here, with my friend,” you finished off, the mix starting to get to your head too. he has no idea you could be such a talker, it almost makes him want to shut you up, but that’s not nice and he should play fair! he never does anyways.

“well, ain’t that a story!” he laughs, sipping on his own concoction again, flashing a grin, “here, lemme getcha another drink, it’ll be on me, hun.”

“thank you, gallagher!” you smiled drunkenly, watching him show off his mastery of mixology like it’s a performing art, pouring the beautiful mixture into your new glass.

“mmmn, what? you like the way i do that, eh?” he teased, leaning over the marble counter again, sliding you the glass, “so what if i do?” you teased back, your words starting to slur together to form one big super-word.

“i can do it again for ya, if ya like,” he breathed, his tired eyes starting to look more like bedroom eyes.

“really? can you?” you nearly begged, awe-struck at his sheer skill.

“yeah, i can show you everything i can do. ‘m not jus’ good at mixin’ drinks, y’know?” he said, sending a shiver down your spine, making your back nearly arch with just a single sentence. he looked at you again, greedily sipping his drink, his eyes imploring you to do the same without a single word from him. you do just as they say, watching the spark ignite within his pupils like a flick of a lighter. his lips curl into a smile as he finishes his mahogany colored concoction, a marvel of alcoholic creativity. you cough slightly as you finish up your own drink, the burn in your gut rising like a flame. it travels from your tummy all the way up your esophagus, tickling your lips with a sting.

“do you like it, babydoll?” he collects the glasses, putting them in the sink for later, “i hope you did. i worked really hard on making you a nice drink.”

you nod sloppily, words caught in your throat like the eager blaze that’s simmering within your body. words are barging into your mind, but you cannot decipher, nor string them together, properly. “that’s wonderful. would’ya mind joining me for a smoke break?”

“sure, we can do that…” you smile, your cheeks hot and your skin prickly with fire. gallagher walks out of the bar, helping you walk out of the bar with enough stability. he leads you back to the wall he stood against before, the golden hour much darker than before. you leaned against him within the alleyway.

“have you smoked before?” he asks, taking out a cigarette from the carton in his pocket, where the credits from before lie.

“nooo…” you slur, giggling against the wall as gallagher helps you up, the unlit smoke between his lips.

“…wanna try?” he asks again, lighting the cigarette, flick, flick, shielding the flame with his free hand.

you considered it for a moment. you never thought you’d touch a cigarette, nevertheless smoke it, yet here you are, “uh… sure…?” you said with a hiccup.

gallagher takes a long inhale of the cigarette, his lungs filling with smoke before he takes it out, filling your own mouth with smoke as he puts his lips on yours, gently cupping your jaw with his other hand.

he exhales the rest of the smoke, watching you cough with a weirdly sick pleasure, “you like it?”

just as you were about to whine and say ‘no,’ the rush of nicotine blurs your mind, you can barely muster up a whimper, let alone nod your head weakly. “thas’ good, hun.”

he passes you the lit cigarette, watching you take it between your fingers as you take a small puff, the paper that wraps the tobacco burning up. again, you cough, but the menthol soothes your throat a bit more this time.

“feels real good, don’t it?” he breathes on the junction of skin between your collarbone and your neck, the burn boiling over as you exhale, feeling his hot breath against your prickly skin.

gallagher takes the cigarette from you again, taking a long drag from it, and exhaling in front of you, a bit of the smoke tingling within your throat.

“gonna feel better sooner or later,” he murmurs, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and kissing the intersection between your carotid artery and your clavicle, tickling your skin with his raw, swollen lips.

you whine as his hands crawl up your body, feeling your chest and your covered up nipples. he’s getting handsy as he finishes the rest of the smoke, holding it in for longer, then exhaling in your face with a sinister chuckle, “you’s needy. i gotcha babydoll, don’t worry.”

you fall into him as he crushes the butt-end of the cigarette, the orange menthol filter dissipating out of existence. his gloved hands feel all over every inch of your torso, from your collarbones, to your low abdomen. gallagher plants more rough kisses onto you, picking you up and leaning you against the wall, your back facing him as your cheek presses against the cold, hard surface of the wall.

your vision is spinning as your intoxicated state seeps deeper into your mind and body, watching as he unties his pretty magenta-colored tie. gallagher binds your hands with the tie, keeping your hands behind your back, in place and secure.

“you wanna stay here like this? i’m not gonna ask you again, so you’d best tell me now if you don’t wanna go through with it.” he commands, his grip tight, but loose enough not to bruise flesh.

truthfully, you want to do this, your body does too. your words are failing you as you make little noises, your cheek scraping lightly against the ragged surface. you mustered up a meager, “wannit, gall… ger…”

“yeah, hun?” he whispered breathily, heat radiating against the shell of your ear, “you gonna be good f’me?”

“yessss…” you whine in response, shuffling against the wall, your mind buzzing with every possibility.

“thas’ good, so good already.” he smiles, you can feel his lips curl against your neck as he gives you another little kiss, his raw, rough lips grazing against your tender, needy flesh.

gallagher was buzzed himself, he’s always had a high tolerance for things like alcohol and nicotine, being high off life was almost entirely new. something he hadn’t felt in so long, and here you were, back arched, being all obedient. all for gallagher, bartender and bloodhound (that of which you were unaware of).

in a swift motion, he tugged your at your clothing, moving it out of the way, so he can paw at your undergarments. you looked so cute like this, wrists bound and legs spread. all of this just so he can see what awaits him, “my, my, you’re all wet.”

“nnnmh, yeaaah…” you heaved, you’re dizzy, needy, you’re hammered, and you’re vulnerable. how much more adorable can you get? his fingers traced circles around the dampened spot in your underwear. you’re soaked already.

gallagher pulled your underwear to the side, tucking it in the crevice between your lip and your asscheek, working his fingers on your wet slit. he took some of your slick on his finger, rubbing your clit with his dominant hand. he gave your pussy a self-indulgent slap, before teasing your entrance with a thick finger. wordlessly, it slipped in with relative ease, eliciting a loud moan to pass through your swollen lips. he chuckled at your reaction, pulling it out, then slipping the digit back inside.

another moan fell from your lips, throaty and whiny. his finger started to move inside you, at first unbent and quickly fucking you. you slid against the wall, knees buckling slightly, before gallagher’s free hand pinned you to the wall, keeping you in your place. his single finger curled inside you, hitting your spongy g-spot. you mewled, crooning at the sensation, practically seeing stars. your vision started to blur as black splotches started to cloud it, but all you could feel, think, understand, want, smell, need, was him. he continued fucking you with his finger, watching your legs shake and your juices drip down his finger and onto his gloved palm.

“feels real nice, don’t it?” he cooed, slipping in another digit without warning. his scarred, toned arm flexed with every movement, curling and slipping inside and outside of you. his fingers made their way to your clit, rubbing it with vigor and passion, before he spread your other lip with his thumb and put his lips to your pussy. he gave it a rough, sloppy kiss, pulling away to listen to you cry out. nobody could care any less, they were experiencing the dream. in all actuality, this feels like a dream within a dream, if that makes sense. you were just so amazing, you were alluring. definitely worth more than 500 credits. he gave your pussy another sopping wet kiss, his scratchy stubble rubbing against your skin, creating friction. his tongue darted to your clit, licking and sucking it between his lips and teeth. his thumb still held your cunt open. gallagher gave you a couple more long licks and kisses for good measure, savoring your every drop, relishing your taste, before standing up.

“ready, babydoll?” gallagher rhetorically asked before unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants (which happened to be the same magenta color as his tie). you nodded, drooling and zoning out. all you could understand was the pleasure he was giving you, all you could care about was how much more pleasure he could give you, “great.”

he pulled his thick cock out from his boxers, lining it up against your entrance, savoring the difference in size. your small, little cunt and his big, fat dick. how cute. gallagher re-adjusted you, spreading your legs just a bit further, then putting some pressure on the lumbar portion of your back, causing you to arch more instinctively.

without warning, the burning within your body had boiled over again between your legs, the stretch to accommodate his girthy dick nearly destroying you. you screamed, but nobody gives a damn, “scream all you want, babe, you gonna take it.”

gallagher pulled out again, just a little, to slam back into you, watching your cunt stretch as much as it could. he savored how warm and tight you were, tight as a vice could get. your eyes rolled into the back of your head, saliva dribbling your chin and onto your clothing. a loud crack, followed by a searing pain, flooded your senses. his palm made contact with your asscheek again, slapping it roughly for a second time, pushing himself into you with as much force as he could use before breaking you in half.

“you takin’ me so good, ‘m proud of ya, doll,” he chuckled, smiling again. gallagher had found a pace inside you, his hand snaking up to your throat and wrapping around it. he applied pressure to your jugular and carotid with his thumb and his other four digits on their respective sides. he sped up slightly, gripping your hips as air flow lessened.

gallagher continued to slam-fuck into you, speeding up with every thrust, chasing his high. his breath was hot and heavy, huffing in your ear as your vision and hearing fizzled out like the cigarette butt on the pavement. your breathing became ragged as he bullied your pussy ruthlessly, “you ever been fucked like this, huh?”

air rejuvenated your senses as he let go of your throat, you heaved a weak, drunken “no.”

“ain’t no dick good as gallagher’s, huh? good as mine, mmm.” he groaned, his hips colliding with yours faster and faster andfasterandfaster…, “gonna cum, babydoll. i ain’t pullin’ out, though.”

you hoarsely whined, your fucked-out brain needing more of him, any morsel of him is good enough, and it just feels so good, and youreabouttofuckingcumtoo…

“mmn, i’m cumming, hun. i’m gonna fuckin’ cum in you, you needy bitch. fuuuuckyeah…” gallagher’s grip on your throat tightened the moment the burning hot coil in your stomach loosened, allowing you to orgasm and scream out his name just as soon as he came. he groaned and huffed in your ear, his brown hair messy and clinging to his sweaty face, “feels so fuckin’ good, fuuuck.”

you let out a choked noise, prompting him to let go and pull out of you. he leaned over you, resting his forehead against his forearm, that of which was supported by the wall you leaned against. your knees wobbled, and before you could fall, gallagher instinctively held your abdomen with his other arm, tucking you against his chest. you stared at his scars, which littered his arm, as you came down from your intense orgasm.

“…you okay?” he asked with a newfound gentleness. he helped you back up as he untied your wrists and pulled up his pants, fixing his belt. he chuckled, “i bet you’re tired.”

“very,” you panted back in response.

“how ‘bout i clock out and carry you home, how’s that sound?”

“sounds amazing, gallagher,” you leaned against him as he lit another cigarette before walking back into the nightclub.

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

A silly thought in my mind: Yánwáng Dìjūn Mortal Lover stumbling upon him bathing under a waterfall, seeing him in his full beauty and vulnerability, not knowing it was the same Qilin she was visited by a few weeks ago in the Village Valley when she got injured and healed🤭

You didn't want to be a peeping tom but who hasn't stared at the geo archon statue and wondered why he doesn't bathe in the open often? Probably because curious folks were often seen trying to sneak into his bathing grounds at Taishan Mansion. If it happens too much, he might put guards at the entrance. Or maybe he'd create a subspace just for bathing so he could enjoy his privacy and peace.

On the contrary, he doesn't mind it if he were just soaking in his illuminated beast form, enjoying the afternoon sun and the scenery of Jueyun Karst. The pressure from the waterfalls massaged his body and polished his scales. Only a natural pool like this was large enough to accommodate him in this form. There was an advantage to taking this form. Though it was a rare occurrence, humans did not display the same behaviors when they stumble on him bathing, possibly because the physical differences were too significant. They also tend to keep a distance because of his sheer size, quite intimidating when up close. One time, he waded into the crystalline pool only to find out that he was not the first one there.

It was rather awkward, you in your nakedness and him in his, but to his surprise, you didn't flee at the mere sight of him like the previous times this happened. An enormous illuminated beast bathing in the same pool as you felt less unsettling than if he were in human form. He prefers mingling among his people on the streets in human form though, rather than beast, but today he was glad he was in this form. It would've been rude of him to request you to leave since you had arrived first.

"Rex Lapis."

You recognized him at once, bowing respectfully at your god. His large amber eyes briefly drifted over your body, realizing why you were in the water. You were injured and the pools here were rumored for their healing properties. Adepti were known to bathe here as well, further solidifying the claims.

"You are bleeding." He noted the gash on your shoulder. Whatever you had been injured by had done quite the damage on your fragile mortal body.

"I was attacked while gathering herbs." You explained.

"Be careful in these forests. They are dense and danger lurks." The dragon warns.

You held your breath as his enormous head hovers over you. The single horn protruding from his forehead gently touches your wound, glowing with adeptal energy. In a matter of seconds, your skin is flawless again as if you were never hurt.

"Thank you, my Lord." You bowed again. "I will not disrupt your leisure now."

"Nonsense. It was I who had infringed on your bathing. The waters have a soothing effect. It would benefit your recovery to continue soaking in it."

So you stayed until the sun set, human and dragon, just sitting there in the water. He shared some of his knowledge about the various rare herbs found in the area with you while you eagerly soaked up every word. To sit alone with the Geo Archon and converse so freely like this was something you had never dared to imagined.

Since it had gotten dark, the archon even accompanied you to the outside of your village to make sure whatever beast had injured you would not reappear. When you reached your home and unlocked your door, something caught your eye on the kitchen counter, specifically the stone mortar you often placed your dried herbs into to grind them into powder. Inside it sat a glowing object. It was square in shape, holding a golden gem with a geo sigil pulsating inside.

[pilot-boi]

god now i’m just imagining Blake suddenly realizing and saying “you knew you had to drink the poison”

And Jaune just isn’t able to meet anyone’s eyes

The five sit around a campfire scrounged together from dead brush in an alcove protected from the desert wind. Their conversation is slow, comforting, filled with hushed reassurances and rueful laughter.

With the benefit of distance, of being free, talk eventually turns to Jaune’s missing years. Simple curiousity, simple questions.

He doesn’t answer everything, but every word he says seems to draw some invisible hurt from a wound left festering for too long.

It’s Blake that brings it up.

Of course she is. She was the one to realize they were in a fairytale, the one who reminded them all how to play along with the fantasy while keeping their sanity. Their resident bookworm.

Of course she’s the one who realizes that their friend knew going in that he was probably going to die before the end of “the story.”

“Jaune?” Blake’s voice is quiet, but calm as a pool of water. “You knew, didn’t you?” Weiss can see how her amber eyes narrow, the agitated flick of her ears, but none of her distress is betrayed in her voice.

Which is just as well, because Jaune doesn’t meet any of their eyes, he just watches the fire. The white locks in his hair are stark against the rest, and not for the first time Weiss wonders if they’re a result of age or stress or something worse.

“Not right away,” he replies. And is that better or worse? That it took a little while for him to realize that he’d die before the story’s end, and he still kept to the script? “Before we reached the Red King.”

“Were you… Did you…” Weiss isn’t sure what she wants to ask, or if she even wants an answer. Were you scared? Did you know when it would happen? Were you ready? Did you want it to happen?

“I had to follow the story,” he says eventually, his voice breaking with emotion. Aged beyond his years, and yet still as young as any of them. “I had… It was my role. I couldn’t- I had to-”

“The Rusted Knight drank the poison in her stead,” Ruby says hollowly. “Would you have done it for me?” Jaune’s head shoots up, fast as a bullet, his face a mask as hard as the metal of his helmet.

Blue eyes aged beyond the years of the face they rest in meet silver eyes haunted by death and rebirth. The tension in the air is taut as a bow string, as the two leaders seem to communicate something only they understand.

A chunk of ice the size of her fallen home drops into Weiss’s stomach. The poison. The tea.

If Jaune had been there in time, would he have even hesitated to drink the tea for Ruby? Finally fulfilling his fairytale role? Finally doing something “right?”

Weiss is quite sure that would’ve only ended with BOTH leaders on the verge of ascension, instead of one. Because if Ruby had lost another friend, Weiss is certain that it would’ve pushed her over an edge she would never have returned from.

The desert wind fills the silence.

Jaune’s gaze falls back to the fire. “After the Herbalist, I was desperate to get the story back on track. I would’ve done anything to fix what I broke.”

“Even die?” Yang’s voice is steady as stone, but her hand is shaking in Blake’s grasp.

There are tears dripping down his face. He never processed this, Weiss realizes. He never processed anything, stuck as he was as the only thing changing in a world where everything stayed the same.

“I just wanted to do something right.” His voice sounds like he dropped it on the floor, it shattered, and he kept using it anyway. Cracky in that way it used to in Beacon. Too old and too young.

“I was the Rusted Knight, a paragon of virtue and glory, but I was messing it all up.” As he speaks, his voice gets more frantic, more hitched with tears. “We were at the end, there was no more story left. There was only one thing I could do to make sure they got their happy ending. And- And I-”

“I’m glad you didn’t have to,” Ruby interrupts, her voice choking with tears. I hate that it happened, that she poisoned you, but I’m glad you didn’t have to.” And again, it’s his fellow leader’s voice that draws Jaune out of himself.

But this time he looks like Jaune, all wide eyes and soft edges, not the metal of the Rusted Knight he was protecting himself with before. And Ruby looks like Ruby, older and wiser but with a spark of hope in her teary eyes that Weiss didn’t realize has been missing until they all almost lost it forever.

Ruby stands and walks around the fire, her boots making furrows in the sand, and pulls him into a hug. Jaune blinks, half afraid, half confused.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Weiss barely hears Ruby murmur this over the crackle of the flames, and whether she’s talking about Penny or Alyx or Pyrrha or Atlas or any number of things that both leaders have blamed themselves for over the years, Weiss doesn’t know.

But what she does know is that when Jaune chokes out a sob and buries his face in Ruby’s hair, and Ruby drops to her knees clings to her best friend like he’s the only thing anchoring her to Remnant, something slots back into place in the universe. Something that fractured almost beyond repair on the shore of a razed village of paper stars.

Jaune’s hair is streaked with white, Ruby’s whole body is shaking with sobs, and Jaune is whispering apologies that Ruby is meeting with her own. But they’re both still here. It feels like healing, or the very start of it.

And maybe Jaune would have drunk the poison for Alyx, but he didn’t get to. And maybe Jaune would have drink the tea for Ruby, but he didn’t get to. The world was full of what-ifs, gods the Ever After probably used as them as damn building blocks.

But what matters is that he didn’t, and that he would never have to.

[starrailstories]

Could you write a Sampo x reader where the reader is the complete opposite of him? Cold, stoic, stern, serious, but somehow he manages to get them to laugh?

of course! sorry for the huge delay, the last while has been... hectic. i'm happy to get back to writing though! especially since 2.1 had been so fun

Sampo Koski x gn!Reader Headcanons — Polar Opposites

Sampo Koski is nothing but optimistic. In a way, his entire existence here, on Yarilo-VI, hinges on this optimism; to spread the will of Elation in a world so devoid of joy and laughter is impossible if you don't believe in what you are preaching. No, he makes friends, he helps around, acts the good fella act, and if there are some pranks to be pulled, he pulls them, too, because really, everyone here could benefit from loosening up a little.

Listen to THEM, for THEY are everywhere — unlike the Amber Lord, so distant and stone-faced and boring — THEY are to be found in laughter.

You, too, he thinks; too upright and cold for your own good. He usually keeps a good distance from people like that (Preservation, but of the self — getting into trouble here would be a hassle, albeit insignificant in nature), but then again, daring is the name of the game for followers of Aha, and it's curious, after all, what would get you to spare him something more than an annoyed glance.

Nicknames, nicknames, nicknames! Sampo does know your name — he just doesn't use it. He starts by buddying up, "my friend" and all, and eventually slips into pet name territory, effortlessly so. "My dear Summershade", he says. Of course it's not a regular flower. Perhaps it's more fun that way.

Sampo is dramatic to a fault, and he makes sure to show for it. Every harsh word and every rejection from you, and he rolls his eyes, presses his hand to his forehead, "You wound me, Y/N, you positively wound me!" He never sounds truly wounded, and that's what makes you giggle — a gesture you immediately subdue.

He is constantly around, attached to your hip. Of course, he backs off when you demand it, but it's never for long — blink and he's already draping over your shoulder. And Aeons, he's heavy. And you're ticklish.

Harmless pranks are the name of the game. You wake up and every photo in your house is replaced by a recreation of said photo with Sampo as the subject? Check! Sugar where salt should be? "My dear friend, I wish to bring nothing but sweetness into your life!" ...Wait, how did he change all contacts in your phone into Wallace Limestein?

And it's never really anything serious. Sure, the automatons have eyebrows drawn on them, and your breakfast is not a fried egg, but an imitation made from a peach and some yogurt, and there's a whoopee cushion on your chair, as always. But it's stability, in a way. A middle ground between his chaotic nature and your serious demeanor.

Perhaps you should grace his recent invitation to the Golden Theatre with an approval. If only to see his surprised expression.

[mielwriting]

My thoughts on the 5.0 livestream

Disappointed Mavuika appears to be another pyro claymore. Was really hoping for a 5 star pyro sword. Would also help make connections to Bennett, since he's the only other pyro sword.

Props to those who predicted Il Capitano would be a cryo user!

Also props to whoever predicted the Archon Quests would follow the pattern shown in the Mond prologue: that is, first we learn about the Abyss Order as enemies, then we focus on the Fatui for a while, then the Abyss Order comes back into focus closer to the final showdown. It seems they’re getting a much bigger focus in the Natlan archon quest!

Also, wow, so we already know Natlan and Mondstadt have weird connections - Now we know they have another one: Natlan and Mondstadt are the only 2 nations the Abyss Order is interested in. 

Hey look a pale npc with dreadlocks

Love the greater focus on the Mandarin language! Very nice for a learner

Furina wasn’t biologically an archon, so her hair didn’t glow - she had that glowy fabric in the back of her outfit to kinda hide that. Mavuika is a really nice contrast - her entire head of hair glows very bright! Not just the tips like previous archons

Was noticeable how they reframed the player feedback: “everyone’s very interested in our inspirations for Natlan” as a corporate translation of everyone’s anger over the whitewashing and Spirit Halloween-ifying

Still disappointed in the pyro archon’s leather biker suit

Someone more familiar with Genshin’s music look into this - but around 34:10 when they started answering the question “will someone be resurrected” does the music resemble more the music from La Signora’s funeral video?

Wonder about the original Mandarin titles for the Archon Quest acts - Because “Flowers Resplendent on the Sun-Scorched Sojourn” sounds so cool - and then Act 2 is “Black Stone under a White Stone”. It’s just comically simple compared to the big words that are usually in genshin titles

Also really interested in the Ancient Names thing. I’m almost certain it’s something taken from a real-life culture, and should really research more into that. 

Did I understand that right? They’re gonna give us Kachina for free, just like we got Amber and Kaeya and Lisa back in Mondstadt? 

All 3 of the new 5.0 characters mark regional specialties, and also have additional exploration benefits!

Wow you can really see the effect that Wuthering Waves had on Genshin

And Test Run finally lets you test out the effects of the characters in an open-world environment!

Traveler will not get the pyro element this update - but it sounds like that’s a possibility for once the Archon Quest has finished?

So I noticed that the 2 new Geo characters we’ll get - Kachina  and the tall lady - both come from the same tribe - the one associated with rocks and such. Makes me wonder if it’s possible to even get a vision that doesn’t correspond to your tribe’s element. 

Really seems like the cultural elements here are more simplified “everyone in this tribe loves music” “everyone in this tribe loves extreme sports” “everyone in this tribe loves mining” where’s the complexity. 

I shall add capybaras to my teapot!

Yay another Dodoco event! I really enjoyed the one last year

They’re also giving out extra rewards for completing archon and story quests within the 6 week release - including giving us a lot of the ascension materials to get to level 60!

Did find it funny when one guy was explaining all the new benefits and the other is like, “wait, this is Genshin Impact? All this cool stuff is in Genshin Impact?” Like yeah Wuthering Waves bred innovation!

FREE STANDARD FIVE STAR EVERY YEAR

I already have Tighnari, Dehya, and Keqing. I don’t really want any of their constellations, so my choice is between Qiqi, Mona, Jean, and Diluc. I don’t want Qiqi, and I don’t need Mona since I already have Furina. It’s down to Jean or Diluc. Jean’s ability to push people away looks really fun, and I can certainly think of places where I would’ve loved to have that skill. However, I have wanted Diluc since the very first time we played him in that trial run during the Mond archon quest. I also already have Kaeya, Rosaria, and Venti, so completing the Angel’s Share team would be cool. My only hesitation is that his gameplay will probably be outdone by Mavuika. But leaks have said she might not release til January, when I was expecting her in November (however leaks also said Emilie was part of Hexenzirkel they aren’t always right).

Love that Oratrice Mechanique d’Analyse Cardinale made it into the stream

BEFORE Khoi Dao repeated that phrase, I did not know he spoke French. But I could hear his actual good French-speaking accent when he said it, and turns out he does indeed speak it! Cool!

Yippee!

Zach Aguilar and Khoi Dao are a great comedic duo

LOVE to hear Brittany Lauda talk about relating to her character, Chiori, for both being seen as intimidating - I specifically relate to Chiori for her basic facial expressions, her bluntness, her acceptance of her quirks, and difficulty making friends because of those traits. Just really glad to hear I’m not the only one. 

The English voice actor for Lumine actually has a twin brother?! 

Amber Lee Conners appeared at the end of the stream, so this is a good place to say how AMAZING her voice acting as Furina is. Just listening to her voice lines and hearing the difference between her acting confident and her actual, recovering-from-depression self is a clear display of talent. Always a treat to listen to. 

Jenny Yokobori (Yoimiya VA) having worked as a pyrotechnician! Cool! 

And her sharing the bond with her character for their dads. So sweet.

Let Erika Harlacher-Stone sing as Venti more!

The Clorinda VA Crystal Lee also loves Tabletop Games!

[tears-of-amber]

FREYA (a deity deep dive & some UPG)

⚔️Who Is Freya?⚔️

Freya is a Norse goddess of war, love, beauty, sex, pleasure, magic, and so much more! Its very hard to summarize the extent of her powers, and what knowledge remains of her through artifacts and myths suggests she was once as complex a deity as Odin (bearing many alternate names and ruling over so many aspects of life). I took inspiration from @coinandcandle for the layout of this post. Hopefully that isn't a problem! If I get any information wrong or site sources that someone else discovers to be unreliable, I am open to feedback! Note: some of this is UPG, and I'm very clear when I'm stating UPG. If there's any confusion, feel free to message me!

⚔️Parents & Siblings⚔️

-Njördr (Freya's father, a Vanir god)

-Njördr's Unnamed Sister (Freya's mother, who some scholars speculate is Nerthus, yet it remains a mystery)

-Freyr (Freya's brother, a Vanir god)

⚔️Significant Other⚔️

-Odr (Freya's husband, a mysterious wandering god who is suspiciously like Odin)

⚔️Children⚔️

-Hnoss (Freya's daughter)

-Gersemi (Freya's daughter)

⚔️Epithets⚔️

-Hörn (meaning "flaxen", probably in reference to her hair)

-Gefn (meaning "the giver")

-Syr (meaning "sow" a creature that was associated with fertility like Freya)

-Valfreyja (meaning "lady of the slain", as Freya is the goddess who picks and rules over half the slain warriors in her hall Sessrúmnir, in the field of Fólkvangr.)

-Mardöll (meaning "sea-brightener" or "one who makes the sea shine") Note: I always think of her making her father Njördr proud, as a way of making the sea shine, but that is UPG.

-Vanadis (meaning "Vanir goddess")

⚔️Important Notes⚔️

-Freya is famous for her beauty, and her lavish taste. An example of this is her iconic necklace Brísingamen. She acquired this necklace by sleeping one night with each of the dwarves who made it. In return they made the necklace (which is said to have been gorgeous and forged out of gold with amber beads).

-Something that also confirms that amber and gold are sacred to the goddess Freya would be the story of how she cries tears that turn to gold when they touch the earth and to amber when they fall on the sea. Its important to note that she cries these tears for her husband Odr who has not returned in a long time from his wandering journeys. Below is a picture of the famous artwork that depicts her tears by Gustav Klimt:

-Oh, and Freya rides a chariot pulled by cats. Pretty cool, huh? The original cat lady. Cats are sacred to her, so if you want to honor her be sure to treat feline friends with extra respect and adoration!

-When she doesn't ride her chariot, Freya is said to ride her boar into battle. The boar's name is name is Hildisvíni (meaning battle swine).

-Freya possesses yet another treasure: her falcon cloak. This magical cloak of falcon feathers helps her to fly with the ease of a falcon. Therefore, its safe to say that falcons are sacred to this goddess.

-Despite being a goddess of sex and pleasure, Freya is not easily won over. The myths reveal she wont just sleep with anyone. Many giants sought to steal her away and wed her, yet she never caved and slept with someone she didn't see the benefit in sleeping with. In my UPG, she is a very independent goddess.

⚔️Modern Deity Work⚔️

Correspondences (These are based off of my UPG)

Rocks/Stones/Crystals

-amber

-gold

-falcon's eye (also called blue tigers eye)

-carnelian

-rose quartz

Herbs/Plants

-rose

-cinnamon

-mugwort

-daisy

-lily of the valley

-cowslips

Animals

-cat

-boar

-falcon

-rabbit

-hawk

Offering Ideas

-cinnamon tea with honey

-sweet decadent foods

-pieces of amber

-cat figurines

-jewelry (specifically necklaces)

Acts Of Devotion

-spending time caring for cats

-fighting for what you believe in

-standing up for yourself

-being respectful of your own and others sexualities

-beauty routines

-glamour magic

-learning seidr

-connecting with magic in whatever form feels right for you

-practicing being more loving and compassionate

⚔️Sources⚔️

[ntls-24722]

SO

Artastic's reblog with the pierced neck sails was truly inspirational because I've just decided to focus on body mods for Debu regions and their neck-sail piercing specialties. I'm realizing a lot of things that I've kept from Debu for their percieved (by me) tediousness and material cost are not half tedious or expensive as I thought, so... also expect Debu clothes soon (though, clothes are purely decorative and aren't around for actual cover)

Going off of the groups I named in this general makeup chart;

Coastal Debu have the benefit of being in reach of all sorts of shiny, pretty "bug" parts from their beach living. Shells, paddles, decorative mouthparts, along with dried fish parts and bones, it's all in their reach and by god do the coastal Debu use em, slapping those things right onto studs made of bone with the decorative side pointing outwards. Coastal Debu are not known for one specific reoccurring feature in their piercings, but the beach theme is very specific to them.

Valley Debu are mostly known for beads. Clay, bone, stone, "wood", glass (glass in particular, since they invented it!), into cubes, ovals, little squares, stars even - they love the damn things and they will put it anywhere and everywhere. In this case, the most popular style for piercings is on the string that hangs interwoven between their gauge. There's also little flags of cloth they hang on the string to denote families or in-groups within tribes.

Other than that, they hang pycnofibers and lines of scales from these strings as well.

Also, it was at this point where I finally changed how the sails are.

There's now 2 of them! They start way higher up on the neck (yellow area is base) so there's more surface area and they're better at their thermoregulative job

Badlands Debu are known for their art using a specific type of plant sap that they dry out in the sun to create a hard, amber-like resins. There's a lot of art they have where they pour it into casts or over certain things, and the most popular thing they like dipping in the resin for their neck piercings are the fluffy seedpods of a flower most similar to Earth's dandelions.

Badlands Debu also have a focus on body modifications making one look powerful, so there's scarification and mouth cutouts, which are painful but make the Debu be seen as hardcore or look very menacing. Or both! There actually is a specific mouth cutout that are reserved only for leaders where the entire cheek is cut for a wider gape of the mouth. Other Debu are required to have a little strip of skin connecting the top and bottom jaw.

Serendipolis! I used to think the debu from this society would be the only ones able to get piercings, and yet I stalled like crazy trying to think up body mods for them. HMM

Anyways. They're obviously known for metal, and along with rings, Debu are also known to have these tusk caps (think a horseshoe but for your teeth). But a special accessory of theirs is a stream of cloth on a string that connects to the lips to the back gauge on the sail. That damn thing gets caught on everything but I'll be damned if it doesn't look cool. They also use diver Cloe jawbones (now that they're in access to zebraelves) and bug heads/eyes (now that they're in access to the other bugs that Zebrapeople have domesticated.) There's also colorful shells they have from trading with coastal Debu.

Rinkalla used to have a nose ring but when she moved out of Serendipolis, she didn't want to stand out (since that was the point of her moving), so she took it out and now she has the valley beads as well.

[f-abulas]

:Contract of Zirconia’s:

“To be a gem is to be valued and wanted. To be a Zirconia? You are a manufactured fake. Pretty to the naked eye, seemingly of high value… but once the light is shone and the ‘heart’ of the zirconia is revealed… you are exposed as a phony. To be a Zirconia, you are nothing but a pretty fake… who must willingly give your life for the gems who own you.”

“all for the Amber Lord?…. No… All for the Stonehearts.”

the zirconia contract. Or the Zirconia hearts is a little… thing I’ve come up with for my HSR crossover character au. Kaveh and Rover are ‘Zirconia’ stones. Pretty fakes. In my AU Diamond and Jade came up with the idea to protect the Cornerstones, especially after Aventurine had his shattered but then rebuilt.

zirconia stones are made by Diamond, but unlike the 10 Stonehearts these Zirconias are NOT powered by him. No, they’ll get power from the Stone heart they are given too. The people who are chosen for this role are basically fodder. “You have a plan that will put your stone on the line? Take theirs -points to the Zirconia- their life is not as valuable as yours.”

The ideal person that Diamond and Jade look for has to have one thing in common ‘self sacrificial hearts’, or wanting to sacrifice themselves for a greater good/another person.

the Zirconia hearts are

Kaveh Yousefi (emerald zirconia) his heart is empty, and he is willing to sacrifice himself for others and their benefit. He is one of the orphans Jade saw potential in, the fact he was overcome with survivors guilt was a bonus. She gave him to Aventurine after the Penecony incident.

Rover (Peridot zirconia) his heart is specifically self sacrificing for Diamond. The man is the one who picked him off the streets as an orphaned child, so he is Diamond’s personal zirconia.

Wise (pink Zirconia), is currently in the information gathering department and was given to Opal.

(Why I named it Zirconia is cause the are not real gems. They are man made, to LOOK like a real gem but under close inspection they don’t have the same substance. )

[nekohime19]

Heart behind the lie # 32 : Jealousy in the air

Jealous monkeeees

Sun Wukong looked at himself, eyes sliding on every curve reflected by the shimmering mirror. Like always, Bolin and his daughters did a wonderful job. He spinned on himself, watching his hanfu flutter in the air, cloth moving like the waves on a winded day. The jewelry adorning his chest and head jingled slightly, moved around by his sudden spin, but never straying from their place on his skin. He liked the soothing “ting” that echoed each time he moved, it was like a bell was tied to his feet, something light that announced his presence to whoever was near. He particularly liked when Macaque's ears shivered at the sound, flickering excitedly in the air like the wings of a hummingbird before settling down with a shy hint of red, perhaps embarrassed by the excitement he showed at hearing the sage coming his way. 

The sage wouldn't say he was vain, but he had been proud of his appearance for the longest time. You couldn't call yourself the Handsome Monkey King without being a bit conceited. He had been quite the sight in his younger days, with fur like the purest of gold and a body hardened by his ventures. He knew demons and mortals alike had been held in his beauty, listening to each of his words like drunken men in search of their poison. There was a time when he used it to his benefit. A shy glance under his eyelashes to escape from an annoying foe here and there. A suggestive flutter of his tail to distract a guard from time to time. Of course nothing too drastic, but he had played with his appearance before, toying with his enemies. 

His blooming vanity was nipped at the bud the second he was thrown in the furnace. His fur was burnt to the roots, forever marked by the heavenly fire, singed without repairs. His eyes turned monster-like, losing their soft shine, reminiscent of the welcoming dawn, to a cutting sea of blood. His unscathed body had been a pride, a proof that no blade was sharp enough to cut his stone hide, that no one, in all the realms, could scar him. It's not as if he didn't take the measures to be untouchable. He was ageless, a body stuck in time, forever out of death's cold embrace. And he was supposed to be invincible, body hardened by everything he endured and everything he consumed. Yet, he was still able to be scarred, to be littered by wounds, body and mind. He hid himself in well-crafted illusions, hoping to make the hurt disappear with a flick of wrist, to make it all appear like it never happened.

It was his way of fleeting, pretending that nothing was wrong with him, that nothing wounded him. 

Even after being rescued from the mountain, he never looked at his showing ribs cutting his side, at the moss beard growing on his face, at the hollowness of his eyes. He veiled it all under an illusion. Continuing living with a false skin, seducing enemies with a face that wasn't his own anymore. It's been a long time since he truly felt beautiful . And even if he still wore his illusions, the sight of him, so prettily dressed and adorned, filled him with a worn pride, an old vanity, he thought disappeared. 

A part of him, usually buried in his chest, wondered if Bolin could make him beautiful even with his glamors down. The sage stopped moving at the thought and stared at the mirror. He was alone in the room graciously given by Cheng, away from prying eyes, mayhaps he could indulge the thought a little. Sun Wukong approached the mirror, tail flickering nervously at each of his steps. He put one claw on the shimmering surface and closed his eyes, letting only one of his glamor fall. When he opened his eyes again he met his own blood-red gaze and shivered. 

The make-up on his face was made for a soft dawn-like gold, not the intense red cutting his pupils, but it didn't look bad. Sun Wukong moved his face a bit and found that the make-up around his eyes made them less wild, less fierce. It wasn't blood anymore, it looked like the ambers of a fire. The sage gulped and shakily raised one hand, grazing the skin around his eyes with reverence. It was odd, to see something he loathed about himself, something monstrous, and admit it didn't look bad. He was torn between glee and fear, not knowing how to react, what to think. He always thought those eyes were disgusting, it was daunting to learn they weren't in certain lights. Sun Wukong reapplied his glamors with a flick of wrist, shaking under the sheer strength of the feeling roaring inside of him. 

He had to take it slow if he didn't want to be shattered by his own emotions. For now, he would enjoy being beautiful with his glamors on. Maybe one day he would feel beautiful again even with his glamors down, but today wasn't the day, his wounds were still bleeding, and it still hurts to gaze at them. Sandy said it would take time to get reacquainted with his reflection, it would take time to acknowledge the one in the mirror as himself when he let all the illusions fall. But the sage was willing to take this time, he was willing to heal what he ignored for so long. 

The King shook off his somber musing as he left his room, wandering in the lavish corridors. Those last two days at Cheng's palace had, surprisingly enough, not been terrible. Don't get him wrong, Cheng was still annoying in a lot of ways, but he was also busy with the incoming festival, therefore Wukong hadn't seen much of him. The sage spent the last days wandering in the palace, observing how Cheng's soldiers worked, sometimes even visiting Sandy and his lil bud. The kids, brave souls, decided to visit the city, something Sun Wukong absolutely avoided, he wasn't fond of crowds after all. Pigsy and Tang stayed inside, but they were mainly in the kitchen, exchanging recipes and long lost cuisine knowledge. Thus Sun Wukong found himself alone, well, not completely alone as he often went in the library to hover around his moon, but he never stayed too long, not wanting to bother him. 

Usually, he would see Macaque in the morning, with everyone else, at the breakfast table. The warrior's ears would flicker at his arrival, and he would look up, eyes taking him in with wonder, as if he couldn't believe Sun Wukong's mere existence. The sage always relished those moments, loving how a sway of his hips could fluster the shadow. Today however, Macaque hadn't been at the breakfast table, probably taken with one of his books. The sage was a little bummed by this and decided to go to Macaque himself, he stopped by his room first to make sure he looked good before skipping towards the library. 

The place was as silent as usual, not a soul wandering around the book-filed shelves. The sage went towards the stairs and climbed to the second floor. The dimmed light welcomed him like a long lost lover, softly embracing him. He went in the alleys, eyes roaming around in search of a speck of black fur. Like usual, he found Macaque sitting against a shelf, book in hand. He was leaning over the pages, almost bewitched by them, claws softly tracing the words he mouthed. Sun Wukong approached, his jewelry jingling with each step. Macaque's ears flickered excitedly (Sun Wukong restrained the coo tickling his lips) and he looked up. 

The warrior eyed him intently before coughing to hide the hint of red smearing his cheeks.

“It's purple today?” Asked Macaque as he made room for Wukong to sit beside him. The sage happily sat, close enough to sense the other warmth, but not enough to touch him. 

“Well…I like purple.” Replied the sage. It wasn't untrue, he liked the color, but mayhaps he also chose it because he knew it was one of Macaque's favorites. Nobody has to know that, however. “You weren't there at breakfast. Did you spend the whole night here?” 

“...” Sun Wukong frowned at Macaque's lack of response, he turned towards the other and found him looking his way with a dazed expression. The sage flushed a bit, but he didn't hate it, quite the contrary. He let Macaque look for a few minutes before clearing his throat. 

“My eyes are up there, bud.” Macaque fur fluffed up and he looked away, cheeks burning. The sage held his tail close to prevent it from wagging. 

“Y-yeah, I know. You were saying?”

“Did you spend the whole night here?” Asked the sage as he played with the tip of his tail to stop the eager wags. Macaque turned away and chuckled awkwardly, this was enough of an answer for Wukong. The sage sighed and threw a glare at the warrior. “You didn't even eat.”

“Yeah, yeah, but I just wanted to… find information about the clan… you know, the one I talked about.”

“I know you're eager about it but don't neglect yourself.” Groaned the King, he raised up and offered his hand to the warrior. “Come on, you have to eat.”

“But…” Macaque hesitated a little, he stopped himself when he looked up at the sage. Sun Wukong tilted his head and looked at the other with the cutest puppy stare he could manage, swaying his tail in loose curls behind him to appear more soft, more adorable. The warrior gulped and flushed once more, he took the sage's hand with a few grumbles. “That's unfair of you.”

“Don't know what you're talking about, bud~” Snickered the sage as he guided the warrior out of the library, Macaque smacked him with his tail for daring to play innocent.

“As if I'd believe that.” Snorted the warrior, he let the sage link both of their arms as they walked towards the kitchen. Sun Wukong leaned on the other, tail wagging without his consent. 

“How dare you accuse me! I'm innocent.” Playfully wailed the King, Macaque raised an eyebrow at him and leaned even closer. Sun Wukong held his gaze for a moment, before feeling too overwhelmed by their closeness and looking away. Macaque snickered at his shyness and the sage huffed, unhappy. His huffyness wasn't taken seriously by the other though, especially since his tail was still wagging. 

They ended up stealing some fruits in the kitchen, neither brave enough to interrupt Pigsy as he was giving a lesson to the other cooks. Tang did see their theft, but he was easily bought over with one stolen fruit and a promise of an interview from the sage himself. Both monkeys settled in a quiet corridor, sitting on a fence in front of a little garden with their arms full of fruits, snickering like little gremlins. 

Sun Wukong passed most of the fruits over Macaque, glad to see the warrior eat his fill without reservation. 

“Don't do another all-nighter, ‘kay?” 

“Yeah… I didn't find any more anyway and it's not like I can ask someone…” Macaque didn't end his sentence, he furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head. “Wait… Maybe I could ask Cheng about it.” Sun Wukong stilled at that, he straightened up and turned towards the macaque with a slight frown. 

“Do you really? If there aren't any more books on this clan, I doubt the bird brain has more info.”

“Maybe, but I don't lose anything by trying don't I? Besides we still have 5 days before the festival, I have time to kill.” Replied the warrior as he nonchalantly shrugged. Sun Wukong was absolutely not liking this. 

“Okay then I'll go with you!” Macaque tilted his head at that, an amused smirk blooming on the edge of his lips. 

“All the shadow talk is gonna bore you though.”

“Not at all! I am very interested in shadows!!!” Huffed the King as he crossed his arms, he jumped on his feet and brushed his hanfu a bit. “In fact, let's search for my so-called brother right now!” The faster they'll go through this, the faster Macaque will get away from Cheng. The sage knew now that the lord wasn't infatuated by Macaque, yet he couldn't help but remember his clone's words. Macaque was very charming, even if Cheng wasn't interested now, he could be later on. 

“Why are you so eager?” Snorted the warrior as he followed after him. 

“I'm not eager. Just wanna help you.”

“Yeah, suuure.” Sun Wukong ignored the way Macaque rolled the last letter on his tongue with a teasing tone and grabbed his hand instead, dragging the warrior to Cheng's room. They barged in, like the sage usually did, interrupting the lord as he was reviewing a pile of papers. 

“Brother, to what pleasure do I owe your visit?”Asked Cheng without even lifting his head, somehow already knowing who had barged in (Sun Wukong wasn't that predictable, was he?). 

“Actually, my lord, I'm the one who wanted to ask you a few questions.” Clarified Macaque. Cheng immediately straightened himself, a smile blooming on his peak. 

“Oh my, dearest, you're here. Of course, sit here, I'm all ears.” Sun Wukong rolled his eyes, appalled by the obvious change of character. Macaque sat before the desk, and the sage made a point to sit close, just beside him. 

“I wanted to ask a few questions about a shadow clan I read about.” Explained Macaque, Cheng egearly nodded and urged him on. As they both began to talk about a very technical aspect of a very specific use of shadow magic, Sun Wukong felt himself zone out. He only intervened when the bird was leaning in too close for his taste, growling under his breath as a warning. Cheng chuckled each time the sage let out a few growls and leaned back, probably valuing his life. 

The conversation lasted for a while, Sun Wukong thought of cutting it short many times, but he didn't have the courage to do so when he saw how much Macaque enjoyed learning about this clan. The sage was relieved to see it end, his relief was cut short when he learned Macaque would come by Cheng's another time to train his mastery of shadows. 

“I'd be happy to help you train!”Happily exclaimed the bird, of course he would say this, this damn shadow obsessed nerd, Sun Wukong was crying inside. 

“But you're busy, right!?” Interrupted Sun Wukong with a hopeful tilt to his voice. Cheng raised an eyebrow at him, before sighing in what could only be described as annoyance. 

“Yeah, let's say that for now.” Grumbled the bird, seemingly unhappy. “I'm sorry dearest, however the training grounds are at your disposal.” Sighed the peacock, not unkindly. 

“Don't worry, thank you for answering me in the first place.” Replied the macaque with a grateful nod. Before leaving the room and following after his moon, Sun Wukong lingered around the door and muttered a quiet “thanks” to the peacock. 

The next few days were peaceful, Sun Wukong spent a lot of his time watching Macaque as he tried to bend the shadow to his will on a shaded ground. Of course, the sage said he only watched in case Macaque needed someone, with his state he shouldn't go around wasting his magic, less of all train it to another mastery. In truth Sun Wukong caught himself looking at the way Macaque's muscles flexed each time he moved more than he was willing to admit. Could he be blamed though? Macaque looked good, and Sun Wukong was only appreciating it fully. If the warrior noticed how the sage's eyes strayed from his face more than once, he said nothing of it (Wukong could even dare say he put on even more of a show). 

The sage noticed the kids' odd behavior after the fourth day, they seemed to be scheming something, going out more and more, talking about how they “needed Cheng's help” for the “intervention”. Sun Wukong learned to stay out of their way though, he didn't want to be thrown in the middle of whatever plans they were brewing.  

The day of the festival brought chaos upon the city, it was announced that the participants and their partners had to move to the city arena along with whoever wished to witness the first trial. Everyone was running around like headless chickens, Sun Wukong spent hours with Bolin, the swan dressing him with something beautiful but fitted for combat, a black suit highlighting his golden strand of fur and adorned with a few but sturdy gems. To the sage's surprise, Cheng was dressed quite simply, veiled in a black hanfu without a speck of gold, or even a hint of jewelry. Sun Wukong found it weird (by the looks of the others, they also found it weird). Cheng's servants however only looked at their lord appearance with something akin to pity. They moved out of the palace, towards a Roman arena placed in what the sage learned to be the city heart. 

Everyone, except Cheng and the sage, went to the tribunes. Macaque even wished him good luck, which would have been offending if the warrior hadn't looked so sincere (and cute) while wishing it. Cheng and him spent a few minutes in a chamber just before the arena ground, a dusted stage highlighted by the sun itself. The tribunes were filled to the brim, something that made the sage quite uneasy. 

“Are you nervous, brother ?” Playfully asked Cheng after a few seconds, he probably heard the way the sage's tail was cutting the air. Sun Wukong turned towards the lord, a sneer on his lips, but he stopped himself when he saw the tremors shaking the bird's hands. 

“Who do you think I am ? I'm gonna win this easily.” Huffed the King. 

“Yeah…” Muttered Cheng, he straightened his shoulders and hid his hands behind him. 

An eagle demon showed up on the ground, a silver knife in one of his hands, a scroll in another. Everything quieted down when the eagle raised his head, silence fell upon the tribunes, not a sound heard from the hundred of spectators. Sun Wukong recognized this demon, he went through enough political books about this city to know that this was the former King’s advisor, the only one currently knowing the nature of the trials. 

“I call the three lord's and their partners at my side!” Called the eagle, Sun Wukong took a deep breath and followed after his brother as he stepped on the sun drenched ground. Each step was echoing, cutting in the deep silence veiling them all. Sun Wukong threw a glance at the other lords, they were both veiled in dark clothes, their partners at their side. 

The dove was on the left side of the arena, completely veiled in cloth, no inch of his skin visible except for the peak of his beck. At his side was an equally cloth cladded person, following the lord with a lighter step, a striking green snake mask on their face. They had the smell of a beast (a reptile more precisely) but the aura of an enlightened one (or at least one who mastered meditation).

The crow was on the right side of the arena, he wore his clothes like a gentleman from a Victorian era, his eyeglass shining with a mischievous gleam as he stopped before the eagle. A woman was following him a few steps back, arms folded behind her head. She looked human at first glance, but Sun Wukong wasn't deceived by her ungodly beauty. This was a huli jing, probably hired by the crow to win this festival. 

The eagle watched them all for a few seconds (seemingly surprised at Wukong's presence) before clearing his throat and unfolding the scroll. 

“Today, as our past King, the Thousands-Winged Owl, willed, the dawning festival begins! I will now read to you our King's words concerning the first trial, words only passed on to me.” Sun Wukong felt Cheng tense beside him. “If you read those words, it only means nature claimed me. I expect my festival to be outstanding!! For my three loyal lords, I know you are all qualified enough to be on the throne, yet there could only be one king in this city. As such, you will not be the one competing, your partners will be. A ruler cannot rule alone, they need people by their side. The first trial is one of loyalty. Prove that your partners are loyal to you, and only you, by forming a blood oath with them.”

Sun Wukong felt himself wavering, a blood oath wasn't a light matter, it was a promise made with death on the line, a devotion so pure it lasted for a lifetime. As much as the sage wanted to help the bird, he didn't want to swear himself to him for the rest of eternity. The King flinched when he felt Cheng put his hand on his shoulder. 

“We withdraw from this trial.” Announced the peacock, the sage could easily see his frustration by the way he spat the words, by the way his hand trembled in anger on his shoulder. 

“Are you sure?”Asked the past King's advisor.

“I am.” Repeated the peacock with a resigned sigh. 

“It could endanger your victory.” Warned the eagle. 

“Then we only have to win the other trials.” Replied Sun Wukong as he put his own hand over Cheng's, he let his hand rest over the bird's own for a bit before brushing the lord’s claws away with a disgusted sneer. Cheng snorted at his behavior, and they both stepped away, standing at the back of the arena. 

The crow ended up withdrawing too (after trying to coax the huli jing with the promise of gold), they both stood beside the sage and the peacock with a sour expression. 

“Can't believe this guy is the one winning the loyalty trial with how paranoiac he is.” Grumbled the crow as he watched the dove's beloved cut their palms and swear themselves to their lord. 

“A twist of fate.” Sighed the peacock. 

“A blood oath is too much, your past King was crazy.” Huffed the huli jing as she crossed her arms, she then turned towards the sage and let her eyes roam over him. Sun Wukong raised an eyebrow at that, not liking the glint in her eyes. “Don't you agree with me, handsome?” Purred the fox-woman as she leaned over the sage, one of her hands resting on his shoulder. Sun Wukong almost laughed in her face, he knew very well what she was trying to do, it was something her kind was known for after all, seducing their enemies to better defeat them. But who did she think she was trying to seduce him, the one who countlessly resorted to his charm to trick his enemy, the one who was, in fact, a master in the art of bewitching, and who probably invented it before it was even recognized. 

The sage took her hand away with his claws, pressing the sharp tip of his fingers on her skin, enough to make her wince. 

“You should be careful with this hand.” Kindly informed the sage with his most charming smile. She blinked dumbly at him before taking her hand away, a tint of red appearing on her cheeks. 

The crow took his mercenary away shortly after the blood oath ended, the huli jing eyes lingered on the sage for a moment, she blew him a kiss before following her employer. Sun Wukong rolled his eyes, almost amused that she hadn't given up after he almost sliced her wrist. 

“Perhaps, you should be careful brother.” Sighed the peacock as they left the grounds, reaching the tribunes. Some shows were scheduled after the trial, probably because it was quite short, as such the tribunes were far from empty. 

“About what?” Asked the sage, eyes roaming over the tribunes, trying to find Macaque and the others as he and the peacock climbed the stairs leading to the first row of seats. 

“This… woman… seemed interested in you.”

“Pff, it's just a trick of her kind. Seducing people to defeat them.” Snorted the sage. 

“I see… still you should perhaps distance yourself. I'm telling this for your own good.”

“Don’t worry, I'm not gonna fall for it. In fact she has galls to do this to me, the master of seduction!” Laughed the sage with a puffed out chest. “In my time, I used this trick on numerous people. Bewitching them with my looks to get what I wanted!”

“Brother! Maybe don't talk about that!”Panicked Cheng as he tried to stop the sage. 

“It's fine, I tell you. She's not a threat, I'll win.” Sighed Sun Wukong, he finally spotted the others sitting in a shaded corner of the tribunes and merilly skipped towards them, strangely enough Macaque looked quite angered, fur puffed up, and tail thumping furiously. “It's almost cute, she thinks she can seduce me-”

“Oh my Gods shut your mouth!” Yelled the peacock as he hit the sage's head with his cane. Sun Wukong stumbled slightly and turned towards the lord with a growl on his lips. He was cut by a reasoning “boom” before he could insult the bird brain that dared hit him. Sun Wukong turned towards the sound and found the kids, Sandy and the noodle lovers standing around what was previously Macaque's seat, but was now nothing but dust (with Macaque nowhere in sight). “You know I can't see what happened but I know it's linked to your stupidity. Did you forget the one you wish to court is called the fucking Six-eared Macaque?”

“Fuck.” Mumbled the sage. “I blew it.”

“Indeed, brother. You know I always thought buddhas couldn't make mistakes but I guess one did when they decided to call you the intelligent stone monkey.”

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[shadovan]

@never-surrender sent:

She had been gone for some time, the eleven days in Barovia correlating to well over a year in Faerun... and all she had left before she left was a note telling him she was going with Astarion. Ironic, considering. Returning to the towers was ... quite nostalgic. She had missed him ... but at the same time she was almost afraid of returning home. Afraid to find what was waiting for her... whether he had missed her or not, whether or not he was, quote unquote, worthy of her time.

"Tareque..?" she called his name hesitantly, transported into his study as she begins to look for him now.

Lost in his studies on the curative and necrotic benefits of the various plantlife around Neverwinter, Tareque had been immersed for nearly half a day before he noticed Aurelia's absence in the towers. A walk throughout the rooms had him finding the note left by her. For a fleeting moment there was a twinge of something resemblant to fear until he read the words.

Well. He supposed this was the least of what he deserved in return. With a quiet sigh, he folded the note and placed it in one of the drawers of his desk before he went outside to feed the livestock that Aurelia typically tended to. And the cats, of course - as if they would allow him to forget their presence as he nearly tripped over them.

The months passed as normal, save for the emptiness in the towers that the lich attempted to ignore. Callia's aid helped to keep the animals tended to when Tareque fell engrossed in his books. It wasn't that he ever actively neglected the creatures, but more so was lost to the concept of time.

By the time Aurelia returned to the tower, not much had changed, save for the excess of cobwebs and a few mold patches along the brickpaths of the walls, at they had been when she had first arrived in the beginning.

When he heard her call his name, the sound echoing along the stone, amber eyes rose from the manuscripts he had been analyzing for near three days. Had he imagined that? It wouldn't have been the first time.

Were his ears playing tricks on him?

One of the cats sprang off the bed then, hurrying excitedly in the direction of Aurelia's voice and that was all the further confirmation he needed. The papers were quickly forgotten as he vanished--

-- and reappeared right next to her. All but pouncing, his arms curled around Aurelia in a tight embrace. "Welcome home," he whispered, relieved.

[blackjackkent]

So apparently there's actually Durge-specific narration for taking the Blood of Lathander without the crest (and thus triggering all the defense mechanisms).

Narrator: An ornate mace hovers before you, suspended in a shaft of brilliant light. A fist-sized piece of amber flecked with crimson is set in the handle, emitting a radiance all its own. [HISTORY - FAILED] This mace certainly has a very unusual design.

Reach into the light and take the mace.

Narrator: The glow around the mace sparkles with beautiful disaster. You recall all the measures meant to keep you from reaching this place. The brutal aches in your body yearn to take it, though you sense it will spell misfortune.

-----

Rakha HAS the crest and could take the mace safely if she wished, but I actually kind of really like this for her regardless.

We've already established pretty thoroughly that one of Rakha's greatest strengths is extrapolation. She was initially very curious about hearing about this special "blood" that the monastery kept locked away - because the Dark Urge in her always craves blood - but she is definitely easily able to make the leap that this is what those notes were talking about instead.

She also fully understands all the messages we've read indicating that anyone trying to take the mace without permission will trigger defenses that will flatten the place.

She also suddenly has a whole creche full of githyanki who hate her.

The connections seem pretty obvious, really. Take the mace, flatten the monastery, eliminate the angry gith.

(That it will be a triumph of chaos and death and deeply sate the beast in her brain is, of course, a side benefit. She would like to think that's not what's driving this decision... but she would be lying.)

Claim the mace and delight in its danger.

(LOL. Nobody liked that!)

The mace comes free with a sharp jerk from its moorings; she watches the dim snap through the Weave as it releases its hold on the artifact. The mace's handle feels oddly warm in her grip.

"What are you doing?!" she hears Wyll call from behind her - but it's muffled.

With rhythmic thunks, a piece of machinery switches on from somewhere underneath her. A forcefield sizzles into being, cutting her off from the others.

Powerful beams of light erupt from pillars around the room. The low thunks settle into a pulsing hum of energy. Rakha can feel the magic at work surging along her skin and through her blood.

A central beam of that pale light lances out through a portal at the end of the room - connecting into the dormant weapon Rakha saw on the monastery's roof.

Rakha can hear a new low whine added to the sudden cacophony as the weapon begins to realign itself, its mouth pointed downward into the stone of the monastery itself.

Narrator: Everything is in motion. All within these walls are doomed to destruction unless you act.

------

Hehehehe whoops. :D I literally didn't plan for Rakha to do this until this moment but it's kind of perfect. Simultaneously logical and batshit crazy which is basically Rakha's tagline.

We have four turns to figure out what to do here and get the fuck out. I gather from the state of play and a quick glance at Google that we can either destroy the pillars, disabling the weapon, or we can shoot out the power source for the forcefield, which is under the platform, and then make a run for it out the portal. (Rakha could also misty step or dimension door out of the forcefield but she doesn't have access to either of those.)

In the spirit of wanting Rakha to successfully continue her reign of chaos, we will have Wyll eldritch blast the power source for the forcefield and run.

This uh. Didn't work out so well the first time. Everyone got crushed because we need to get them not only out the portal but off the monastery building entirely before it explodes, and I lost a turn figuring out how to get Rakha out of the forcefield.

Second try!

Safe! Nope apparently this isn't far enough either. WTF.

[googles] OK apparently there's a different pathway out the front of the monastery that we should be taking instead?

Third try!

This time I managed to get Lae'zel and Wyll out and Rakha and Shadowheart got flattened.

I actually kind of like this as an end state, because Lae'zel is PISSED about the whole situation and and shouts about it as soon as the game is in a state to allow the cutscene. So it ends up reading like she dragged Rakha and Shadowheart's fried corpses back to camp, had Withers revive them, and then SCREAMED at them as soon as they woke up:

"TSK'VA! GITH M'ZATH'AK!" she bellows as Rakha blinks at her blearily, the resurrection magic slowly bleeding off her body. "Girtar'rac ne toruun! 'One theft consumes all'. Protocol four-hundred-two! Our greed reduced Creche Y'llek to rubble. Vlaakith, absolve my sin or skewer my heart! In each you might make me worthy!"

Rakha stares at her, utterly baffled by this anger, still dizzy from the resurrection and having trouble settling back into her body. "The creche has turned against us," she says bluntly. "Why should I care about them?"

"I care!" Lae'zel snarls. Rakha can hear the surge of pain under the words, the confused blend of loyalty and anger and despair. "Just because the zaith'isk failed, because Vlaakith has marked us, makes this no less of a tragedy. I do not expect you to mourn - but I will not tolerate your rejoicing either." She spits on the ground next to Rakha's feet. "Shka'keth. Next time, think twice before getting grabby with powerful relics in mysterious places."

She stalks off. Rakha looks after her with bewilderment. She is too confused even to feel the beast urge's satisfaction at all the death they have caused. She had thought, on some level, that Lae'zel too would see it as a killing with purpose. Lae'zel, after all, was betrayed by those people, by her entire race.

"I am not rejoicing," she mutters, though Lae'zel is now out of hearing range. "It was necessary."

"Was it?" Withers asks placidly at her side.

Rakha glares at him. "Do not test me, skeleton," she mutters. "I will yet find a way to end you as well."

[somethingclevermahogony]

Happy STS! Your characters have been invited to a formal dinner. How do they do?

Happy STS!

So this really is depends on whether this would mean a formal dinner by our standards or a formal dinner by Kishite standards (a noble banquet). Just for fun I'll answer for both.

Before going through each of the characters I should probably illustrate what a banquet would look like. I'm turning this little STS into a big worldbuilding post, sorry.

A Kishite Banquet

Most royal banquets take place either in special rooms within the palatial structure called the dalushkiwash or more simply dalukshi (Kishite Dal-Room/Space, Ushki- v. To Eat, Ushkiwash- participle. Eating) or in courtyards, dependent on the size of the banquet, the weather, and the construction of that particular palace.

Communication at a Kishite banquet is highly reliant on various hand signals and social cues.

Getting Ready

Before going to a banquet you would be expected to prepare yourself. Most often this would mean bathing, or at the very least applying plenty of perfume and scented oil to the body and hair to prevent any adverse smells. It is crucial that you be checked for lice or fleas. Nothing ruins a nice meal quite as much as a parasite. Additionally, see to it that you do not drink before your banquet, as it is considered uncouth, unless of course you were doing it with or with the express encouragement of the host/ruler. Your nails must be trimmed and your hair brushed. Such banquets are also the best time to display your best jewelry and clothing. Gold, silver, amber, and silk are all expected guests. Properly preparing for a banquet may take hours, you may even eat a meal during the process of getting ready.

After you have been cleaned up and are dressed your best, you will be welcomed into the dalukshi by either the head of the household, that typically being the monarch, or more often the nobleman in charge of banquets, the so-called Chief of Feasts or else the Chief of Beverages, who bears the responsibility of keeping track of the palatial stores of beer and wine. They will see to it that you meet their expectations. You will be checked for offensive odors, and more importantly for any unsanctioned weapons or other materials. If you are found to be all in order, you will be welcomed in.

The Setting

The room itself is likely one of the largest in the palatial complex. They are typically round, though they may come in several other shapes. In general however, dalukshi are not square and rectangular, as these shapes are considered inappropriate for spaces meant for dining, and are rather reserved for the throne room. At the center of the hall one will typically find a large hearth, mirroring the shape of the room. Here things like soups, stews, warmed wine, and certain roast meats, will be cooked and kept warm for the benefit of the dinners, while other dishes will be brought from the kitchens. Across from this hearth, along with a small station meant for those tending to the fire, you will typically also find a small stone stage or step where poets, dancers, performers, and/or musicians are tasked with entertaining the diners. As the night goes on and alcohol flows it is not unusual for the attendees to take to this stage, to play games and give performances of their own.

Along with the diners and performers, expect to see slaves and servants weaving among the tables, bringing new dishes, cleaning messes, or else attending to the various needs of the guests. You will typically also see a number of dogs, but fear not, these are not mere street mongrels. These are workers, well cared for and clean, in Kishetal these are often the palace's resident hunting dogs, kalupabun (Kishite Kalu-Dog, Pabakazi- v. To Hunt). It is their job to clean up scraps which may be dropped accidentally or intentionally.

Decorations will vary. Expect to see potted plants, statues, decorative ponds, exotic birds, fountains, and other objects.

The Table

You will be guided to a seat, Kishite seats are typically low benches, often padded with furs and silks. Unlike their neighbors in Shabala they do not sit on cushions, nor do they use couches to recline as is popular in Apuna and Korithia. As with the room itself, as a rule tables at these events are never rectangular, rather they are more often round or hexagonal. The monarch and his closest family or friends will share a table, while others will be seated at tables of variable distance from the ruler, according to the discretion of the host. At your table you will find waiting for you a bowl filled with water or even watered white wine, scented with various herbs and flowers, this is meant to clean your fingers between courses. You will also find a cloth/napkin, or you may bring your own. You will find three bowls, one of wood , one of ceramic, and one of some sort of metal or stone (this is except for Chibal, where instead you will find a golden ladle, you are expected to drink using this). The wooden bowl is meant to hold cold foods, such as olives and fruit, while the ceramic is meant for holding soups and stews. The stone/metal bowl is your drinking bowl, meant typically for wine and beer. Underneath these you will find a large flat disk, typically of polished stone, this is your plate. What you will not find is utensils. It is expected that all items will be server in bite sized pieces, as such knives are not necessary. For liquid dishes, it is expected that you will bring your own spoon. The quality and material from which that spoon is made is often a sign of class and refinement, as significant as any necklace or ring.

On the floor next to you, just out of the reach of the dogs you will find a large clay pot called a jalhuka (Kishite Jal- Great/Big/King, Huka- Pot, Container). It is here that you will empty any scraps or trash which the dogs cannot eat as well as where you will pour your hand cleaning water between courses. These bowls will be replenished by slaves.

The Meal

After it has been determined that enough guests have arrived, the banquet will start. Typically this will start with the service of a plain beer, ashikur. Rather than being served to each guest individually, this will typically be served in a large shallow bowl, with each guest receiving a bronze straw. This beer is typically served warm and unstrained, thus necessitating the straws. According to Kishite etiquette it is considered rude to drink from the bowl alone. As such before each drink it is considered customary to announce that you intend to drink, this is done by raising the hand (as if asking a question). You wait until the gesture is returned by one or more other guests at your table, and then you may drink. Oddly, while the Kishites are normally extremely wary of any possible saliva contamination that may come from sharing food, they do not see any issue in this practice. The practice itself is a remnant from their Shabalic roots.

This first "course" ends when the bowl at the ruler's table has been emptied. As such, this could happen before most tables have had a chance to finish their bowls or long after. Regardless, the bowls will be taken away and in their place bowls of wine or beer with golden and ceramic ladles will be placed. This wine will then be watered down typically to a ratio of 2:1 in favor of water or 5:1 if a child is at that table. This is done to prevent drunkenness too fast. There is often great variation in what wine is served, and they may even vary from table to table. Serve yourself with the ladles, or if you fear staining your clothes, ask a passing slave. If you would like to try the wine from another table, direct a slave to fetch you a ladle full. Never go to another table to get the wine yourself. If the wine is finished, new bowls of wine or beer will be brought to replace the old ones. With each new kind of wine/beer, slaves will wash out your bowl with special jugs of water. Unlike the initial beer, all others are not drunk from a communal bowl, though using a straw is still typical.

While drinking from your bowl, it is expected that you will slurp, however it is rude to do so if someone is actively talking, slurping should be done to fill silence. Always hold your bowl with two hands. Do not let any wine or beer drip down your chin. After each drink, wipe your mouth with your napkin.

At the same time as the wine is brought, food will too. The ruler's table will get theirs first. Food typically arrives in groups of three, typically a bread, a meat or fish, and something else (this will vary, a vegetable, soup, etc). In the case of soups and stews, or items served in a broth or thin sauce you will be served by the slave/servant that presented the dish. If you finish your first bowl and want more, you may request more, however you must not serve yourself. There is no such rule for items which are dry. These you may be taken directly from the platter using your fingers. However these bites should first be deposited onto the plate, rather than being put directly into the mouth. You must clean your fingers with the cloth before taking more, not doing so is considered gravely offensive. All bites should be complete, if a piece of food touches your mouth, it should never be placed back onto the plate, the table, or serving platter. If you find that you do not like a bite, or you find a piece of gristle or bone, you should spit it onto the floor, a dog will soon clean it up. In the case of seeds and vegetable/fruit peels, these should be spit into the jalhuka.

As with the first beer, the arrival of new courses is determined by the eating habits of the royal table. When the ruler has decided that they are done with a particular course, the dishes for all tables will be removed and then replaced with new ones, regardless of the wishes of other diners.

It is typical for a banquet to consist of upwards of 30 dishes spread over the course of several hours. You are not expected to eat from every course, and often vegetable dishes will not be touched at all (these are often served purely for show). If you begin to feel full, you may stand and walk it off, only after announcing your intention to do so by turning your drinking bowl upside down. Alternatively you may take a diet enhancing potion such as madilu. If these do not suffice, you may induce vomiting. In the case of needing to vomit, whether intentional or accidental, vomit into the jalhuka. Though you are not expected to leave the banquet after vomiting, it is considered good manners to skip the next course.

The After Party

The meal will typically finish with a warmed beer or wine, fruit, nuts, and cheese. The ruler is always the first to leave, along with his table. It is up to the discretion of the host, when other guests will be made to leave. Often after these banquets, the guests, drunk and happy, will engage in parties called, Feparati, named for the Kishite God of Intoxication, Fepaha. Dancing, singing, games, sex, fighting, further drinking, and other forms of entertainment are typical here. This debauchery is thus often the subject of songs and raunchy poems. Children and married individuals without their partners are strictly banned from these festivities. Sometimes the Feparati may take place in the same banquet hall, or they may take place in one of the palace courtyards, or they may even spill out of the palatial complex, forming a parade of sorts through the city. Though there are few social expectations during this time, you will be held responsible for any damages you may cause during the revelry the next day.

Some Miscellaneous Rules

As with vomiting, if you need to blow your nose, do so into the jalhuka

Burping is encouraged, and considered a sign of appreciation. As with slurping, only do so when it does not interrupt the flow of conversation at the table. If you need to burp and someone is talking, indicate so by holding up your index and middle finger in front of your lips, facing away.

Passing gas is considered offensive. If you need to do so or relieve yourself, excuse yourself by turning your drinking bowl upside down and walking to the nearest toilet or dalduz, you may ask a slave to guide you there. This is usually little more than a pit or channel leading outside of the palace. This is also where the contents of the jalhukun (plural of jalhuka) will be poured. When you leave the dalduz, and return to the table, you are expected to skip the next course, and to wash your hands with your water bowl before resuming eating.

Sneeze towards the ground or into the jalhuka. Do not cover your mouth with your hand, clothing, or napkin. Never sneeze towards food.

Do not speak over someone of a higher rank than yourself. If you wish to contribute something to a conversation and are having issues finding a gap in the conversation, hold your hand in front of yourself with the palm facing upwards. Do this until a gap in the conversation allows you to speak or until one of those currently speaking acknowledges you. If you are of a higher or equal social rank to those speaking, this is not a concern.

Only your hands and forearms may touch the table. Never rest your head, feet, or any other body part on the table.

Eat with your mouth closed, do not talk with a full mouth.

If you are talking and wish to stop momentarily in order to take a bite or drink and yet you are not done with your story and point, ask one of the others at the table to hold your place. This is done to prevent anyone else from starting a new conversation. They will hold out their hand flat, with the palm facing towards the table. This is a call for silence. You will then take a bite or drink and then resume where you left off. You must only take one bite or drink before resuming, to do otherwise is considered rude. You cannot do this if you are going to relieve yourself, or leave the table for any other purpose.

Do not approach the ruler's table unless expressly told to.

Do not interrupt the performers, if you wish to take a turn on the stage, wait for them to finish.

It is considered unclassy to wear closed footwear at a banquet. Sandals or barefeet are both preferred.

If your napkin/cloth becomes too soiled to use, give it to a slave to clean. You should refrain from eating until such time as they return.

Do not wash your face with the water in your hand washing bowl.

Do not suck on your fingers.

Do not pick your nose at the table.

Do not scratch yourself at the table.

Do not touch the dogs while others are eating (you may do so after the banquet, though there is no guarantee that they will be friendly)

If you are choking, grab the hand of your neighbor and put it on your chest to indicate as such. If someone indicates to you that they are choking, flag down a slave to assist them.

Do not throw food, unless to one of the dogs.

Follow these rules and you will have a pleasant (enough) experience at a Kishite Banquet.

Now a look at the OCs

These are as these characters are at the beginning of the story.

Narul

Kishite Banquet: 3/10 While Narul is a slave working in a royal palace, and has even been in the dalukshi for a number of banquets, he's never actually partook. He knows the basics, but he would be awkward as all hell. He would struggle to order things from the slaves and his own status would make communicating with the others at the table difficult. He couldn't even enjoy getting drunk as it takes massive amounts of alcohol for Narul to feel intoxicated. He may not purposefully cause trouble but, unfortunately I think his size and awkwardness would ultimately mess things up for him.

Formal Dinner: -3/10 No. Trying to squeeze Narul onto a fragile little wooden chair would be a nightmare. Imagine an adult sitting at a child's tea party set, that would be Narul at a formal dinner. Trying to teach Narul how to use a fork and knife, much less various kinds, would be a nightmare. A wine glass would be little more than a sip for Narul, and it is almost guaranteed that he would accidentally break the glasses. Those tiny fancy servings would do nothing for Narul, and he would almost certainly be still hungry when he left. He wouldn't complain during the meal itself, but he would almost certainly find an excuse to not come to the next one.

Ninma

Kishite Banquet: 10/10 Ninma has been going to banquets since she was an infant. She knows all of the etiquette, she loves a banquet and insists on wearing her best before every banquet.

Formal Dinner: -10/10 Ninma would somehow be worse than Narul at a formal dinner. Whereas Narul would be confused and anxious, Ninma would be confused and angry. She would have to be told multiple times not to dunk her hands in the water jug to clean them. She would be annoyed by the lack of dogs. (Who else is supposed to clean up the pieces of food that she throws on the floor?) The forks and knives would confuse her and she would ignore them in favor of her hands. She would be horrified to be served food that wasn't bite sized and would almost certainly choke herself trying to stuff a whole piece of chicken or fish in her mouth. She would make all of the hand signals, and would become increasingly angry that no one was responding to them. She would be outraged that no one was serving her wine or beer (She is a princess, how dare you suggest she is too young for wine?). Why is the table this shape? Why are there so few courses? Are you poor or something? What do you mean I can't just grab the food I want from the platter with my hands? Where are all of your slaves?

Hours of being told how stupid and terrible your dining customs are by an angry spoiled child.

Otilia

Kishite Banquet: 8/10 The Korithian Banquet is quite different from its Kishite equivalent, however she would would adjust relatively quickly. Knowing Kishite would certainly help with this. She would take some issue with the rules surrounding not being able to set food back onto your plate after it has touched your mouth, but ultimately she would get over it. Certainly she would have an easier time adjusting to a Kishite Banquet than the Kishites would adjusting to a Korithian Banquet. She would be pleasantly surprised by the fact that Kishite men and women dine together, unlike Korithians who dine at separate tables.

Formal Dinner: 6/10 She would be a bit awkward, and as with the others would take a bit of time to grasp the concept of most cutlery, however she would learn it much faster than the Kishites. She is a good conversationalist, and would pick up on the rules of modern conversation fairly quickly. She would be somewhat disappointed by the small servings of wine, but would be subsequently shocked and a bit scandalized by the fact that the wine is not watered down. She would be unused to sitting on a chair to dine rather than reclining on a couch.

Zatur (Zatar)

Kishite Banquet: 3/10 Zatur has even less experience with banquets than Narul and is an even worse conversationalist. Zatur has a strong distaste for anything noble, and banquets are no exception. He would disparage and actively ignore most of the manners. The only real thing he would have over Narul is that he isn't a hulking giant that will break things by accident.

Formal Dinner: 2/10 Zatur would be just as dismissive of our manners and customs as he would be towards the Kishite ones. He would use his fork(s) to violently stab his food. Lots of loud chewing and messy eating while he glares at the other diners. If you attempt to start a conversation with him, he would almost certainly just glare at you all while he continued to eat. The only reason he would be better than Narul and Ninma is that he would at least fit at the table and he would just glare at you or ignore you, rather than berating you like Ninma would.

Akard

Kishite Banquet: 10/10 The gold standard, taught in the ettiquettes of Kishite, Apunian, Namutian, Pyrian, Knoshic, and Ikopeshi dining. Polite, well-dressed, charming. He could teach the host how to do their job, but of course he never would, because that would be rude.

Formal Dinner: 9/10 Akard is a quick learner and would pick up on the various rules rather quickly. Good conversation, polite, he would offer to help clean up, he would be a perfect guest. The only real reason why he loses a point is because he would need initial coaching when it comes to dishes and utensils.

Thank you for the question, sorry it is such a big one, hope you enjoyed it though.

[mothymusings]

Second Entry

“In the end, a simple happiness is better than a complex disillusion.”

― Janelle Monáe, The Memory Librarian: And Other Stories of Dirty Computer

Synopsis

Memory Librarian and Other Stories is an anthology inspired by Monae’s album Dirty Computer. Each story is set in the near future, where a new government called New Dawn controls everything a person does down to their memories. Within each short story is a message of Queer, POC, and Female resistance against the rigid conformity New Dawn tries to impose.

There are five stories within the anthology, every single one could be read independently of the other, however there are references interspersed each novella. The titular story, Memory Librarian, follows Seshet as one of the high ranking officials in New Dawns order. Her job focuses on categorizing as well as monitoring the memories of her city until strange circumstances cause her to question her loyalties and even her own memories.

Nevermind follows the residents of the Pynk Hotel, a resistant group of queer women who have run away from New Dawn, dubbed Dirty Computers. However things are not as harmonious as they assume, as tensions between those who try to restrict what it means to be Pynk threaten to destroy the safe haven forever.

Timebox centers around two women who have found out that their closet has time altering powers, and the arguments on how best to use such a valuable resource as time for the benefit of the whole, or the individual.

Save Changes also deals with time, as Sisters Amber and Larry deal with being outcasts due to their mothers status as a reformed resistance leader. Gifted with a stone that their late father claims to rewind time, Larry tries to save her sister and mother from fates worse than death.

Timebox Altar(ed), the final story, is about a young child named Bug, who with their friends find and create art in a clearing with the help of Mx. Tangee, a strange woman who almost seems to have magical powers.

First Impressions

Wow! Memory Librarian blew me away with the descriptive prose and inventive stories of rebellion and love in an oppressive society. I enjoyed each story and the messages they imparted. I think my favorites were Nevermind and Save Changes, especially Save Changes with how well it mixed technology and magic together. I think for me it was definitely a fun read all the way through

The Good, The Bad, and The Fuzzy

The good has to go to the inventive worldbuilding of the setting Memory Librarian is in! Details are kept vague in terms of how New Dawn gained power, how memories are able to be used as a resource as well as what being a Torch entails. But I think that vagueness is in its favor from a narrative standpoint as the characters we meet already know all these things (Save for Bug and their friends), as well as for the reader to keep drawing you back in. It’s a nice blend of sci-fi contemporary without being set in such a heavily futuristic setting, there’s technology everywhere but it doesn’t feel like it’s the main focus or detracts from it.

The bad, I will admit I had trouble reading through some of the prose, especially in the Memory Librarian novella. I had to go back and reread many large paragraphs to try to figure out what exactly was going on. I think other than that I couldn’t really find anything else I had a problem with?

The fuzzy is more to deal with plots being abruptly cliffhangers, however I don’t find it as a fault due to the formatting but I still had moments where I would go “And then what??!!” before turning the page to be met with a new story.

Conclusion

Memory Librarian and Other Stories from Dirty Computer is an amazing anthology that talks about being different in a society that tries its hardest to stamp it out through the lenses of black queer women. Its sci-fi setting is friendly enough to those who aren’t familiar with the genre while also providing an interesting spin on the genre. I think this is a perfect read for those that enjoy evocative short stories within the same world as well as fans of Monae’s music. Listening to Dirty Computer while reading definitely helped immerse me in the world of New Dawn.

Rating

A nice 8.9/10 lamps!

Upcoming…

Next entry in this blog will be Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir!

[ravenglassworld]

Psychic shields

Smoke cleansing: smoke cleansing refers to passing yourself or an object through sacred smoke as a means of purification. When burned, certain herbs release a high vibrational energy that is used to purify unwanted, harmful forces—what most people call negative energy. Herbs like sage, cedar, sweet grass, pine, and lavender can be burned, as well as incenses such as frankincense, myrrh, and copal. Simply wave the smoking substance around you and make sure you pass through the smoke. Don't do too much. It's an energetic process, not a physical one, so you don't have to feel like you are asphyxiating. Smudging is considered a closed practice as it is an accident indigenous practice and ritual.

Sea Salt Bath: Similar to smudging, taking a sea salt bath can cleanse the physical body as well as the energy. Put two tablespoons of sea salt or kosher salt in your bath water and soak. Imagine all the stress and harmful energy you have accumulated or taken on from others flowing into the water. Sit in the bathtub as its drains and imagine it flowing down the drain, neutralized by the salt and water. I have a friend who puts a spray bottle of sea salt and water and gives herself a little spritz and sponge bath. The salt neutralizes any harmful energies, and then she just wipes it off. It's a great way to clear yourself if you're on the run and a bath is too time consuming.

Amulet: Symbols and charms have long been lauded for their protective powers. In almost every culture, there is a tradition of wearing or carrying a particular amulet, often blessed by a priest/tess, to confer the powers of divine protection upon the wearer. Take a symbol you find sacred and divine. Find it in a jewelry or pendant form. If you cannot, try drawing the symbol on a piece of paper or wood, and carrying it with you. If you are Christian, use a cross. If you are Wiccan, use a pentacle. Hindu, try the Ohm symbol. There are a variety of symbols, from the Star of David to the Hammer of Thor. Find the one that speaks protection to you. Smudge the amulet and hold it in both hands. Think about protection and infuse your thoughts into the amulet, activating its power to protect in the name of your divinities. Carry the charm with you to receive its protection.

Protection Stone: Like a symbolic amulet, you can carry a stone known for its protective and grounding qualities with you. Most dark colored stones have magical associations with protection. Some of my favorite choices are hematite, smoky quartz, onyx, obsidian, jet, and aragonite. Other stores that are protective include red jasper, amber, citrine, and clear quartz. Like an amulet, cleanse your stone and infuse your intention into it.

Meditation: Meditation is one of the greatest keys to psychic defense. Regular meditation practice leaves you clear, centered, and in a mental place where you can respond to potential threats, rather than unconsciously react to them. It doesn't matter the style or tradition of meditation. Regular practice is the key. You will not get the long term psychic protection benefits of meditation by doing it only once every few weeks. It must be like exercise, done regularly. I suggest at least three times a week. If you can do it daily, so much the better.

Healthy Emotional Boundaries: Emotional boundaries are not the most esoteric form of psychic defense, but one that quite a few people leave out. Sometimes psychic defense—particularly from people who are harmful to us, intentionally or unintentionally—is the ability to say "no" and stick to it. If someone asks you to do something or go somewhere, and you only say yes because you are afraid of being "mean" or "letting them down" but you know its not a good situation for you, you must learn to say no. As an adult, only you define what is acceptable and unacceptable in your life. Draw those boundary lines and stick to them.

Living Your True Will: The best form of psychic self-defense is to live out your true will. What is your divine purpose? Find it! Then actually live it. If you are doing what you are meant to be doing, the universe will support you and very little anyone else does or says will be able to stop you. You true will, or what some call your magical will, is not your destiny. It doesn't happen regardless. This your partnership with the divine. You must choose to fulfill it. But once you choose to be a full, conscious partner with the divine, you will have a divine protection that will help you in all of life's difficult areas.

https://www.llewellyn.com/encyclopedia/term/wicca

[thatgirlwithasquid]

I can't stop thinking about black cat heather and witch chrissy 🥹

oooh!! yes! a fantastic concept 💕💕

A patch of sunlight had poured through the cloudy glass of Chrissy’s apothecary. It caught on specks of dust in the air, making them shimmer like specks of silver and dance like the very magic she sought to tame as she worked here. The desk below the window was captured by the glow, shadowed wood framing the square of warmth where her beloved lay.

She was laying on her side, the black cat that had claimed one of her (thankfully) less cluttered work surfaces in the room. Face towards the light, back to Chrissy. Just basking in the moment and the sun. It lay across her form, draped like a blanket of contentment, casting her black fur into a glow of warm browns and breathtaking ambers.

It was moments like this that Chrissy was glad she was a late riser, and that Heather woke with the sun. The bed may be lonely when she woke, alone atop her downy pillows and beneath cotton sheets, but then she would be treated to moments like this. Moments where she could stop still and watch as her shapeshifter’s tail flicked idly back and forth.

Maybe it wasn’t the type of domestic her parents had imagined for her. Maybe her mother had pictured her marrying some local merchant (or, if she was very lucky, catch the eye of some Lord) and becoming his personal healer. But there was no questioning that this was better; this was the domesticity she wanted, finding the woman she loved enjoying the benefits of her own magic and utterly at peace in their cottage.

A glance at her other worktable—the new one she had commissioned from a town craftsman after Heather had first discovered this particular spot—revealed that her moonwater had been brought in, her vials washed and dried ready for her, and her basket and journal set aside for later foraging and note-taking. It widened the indulgent smile on her face.

Heather always took steps to help her, and make her pursual of her magical career that much easier. It was no wonder that she loved her so much.

Chrissy’s slippered feet were quiet on the cool stone floor as she crept over to her desk. The wood was worn smooth and soft under her fingertips when she reached it. Heather’s fur was softer, and sun-warmed too.

Her head turned and bright eyes opened to meet Chrissy’s own. If a cat could smile, Chrissy is sure that is what Heather would be doing.

“Good morning,” the shifter sighed.

“Morning,” Chrissy returned softly, petting a hand along her side.

Heather purred.