#bird's robe records

[gbhbl]

Album Review: sleepmakeswaves - It’s Here, But I Have No Names For It (Bird’s Robe/MGM/Dunk Records)

The lack of inhibition that makes up the sleepmakeswaves sound is on full and focused display here, and there’s no denying the impact they have.

Australian instrumental post-rockers sleepmakeswaves will release their new album ‘It’s Here, But I Have No Names For It on April 12th, 2024, via Bird’s Robe/MGM and Dunk Records. Photo Credit: Declan Blackall Beginning the album off in atmospheric and melodic fashion, building up in cinematic style, before exploding into a robust post-rocking rhythmic groove, sleepmakeswaves set the senses…

[rooksamoris]

I've come to humbly request and spread propaganda for Jamil L/N.

Jamil taking his s/o's name strikes 3 birds with one stone: freedom from the Asims (you can't tell me there hasn't been a single Viper who didn't marry into another family and adopt their trade), freedom to marry the love of his life, and guaranteeing freedom for his descendants. Depending on how things go with Najma, they could erase the Viper name and, by extension, their servitude.

Also how does he react being called Mr.L/N?

💞 — in which jamil marries you and takes your last name.

💞 — jamil viper x reader

💞 — warnings: none, this is pure fluff and romance

💞 — 1.2k words. i ended up writing a mix of drabbles and headcanons <33 your propaganda turned into me making even more propaganda for this idea. honestly, seems very plausible that he would do something like this.

“I’ll take your last name. If we want to get married, I have to take your name, or else you’d be stuck serving with me,” Jamil said, breaking the silence. His eyes remained on the book in his lap, looking through the various pictures from his parents’ wedding. He would be wearing his father’s old garments. 

The man had an intricate belt with a jambiyah (dagger) tied around the waist of his thobe (long dress-like garment), and his hair was done in various braids with a shemagh (men’s headscarf) tied over it. He had a few ornate pieces of fabric draped over him like a cape and a spot of henna on the inside of his palm. The usual kohl (eyeliner) was a bit smudged from all the festivities—Jamil had never seen his father look this happy. 

His mother was dressed similarly, with old pieces of gold and silver jewelry about. Her big earrings had matched the rings his father wore, and she had kohl drawn on both her eyes and her chin, in the shape of ancient tattoos. Here hair had scented plants interwoven in the strands, and Jamil wondered if he should do the same with his hair, draping a shemagh over it. It seemed like something you would enjoy, and he would enjoy you taking them out at the end of the night. He spoke again, “What do you think of that?” he asked, concerning him taking your name.

You smiled and rested your head on his shoulder, flipping the page to another picture of his parents’s wedding, this one featuring his mother shyly lifting a piece of her sitara (long piece of fabric with various designs which directly translates to ‘curtain’) to hide her face from her husband, “I think it's a wonderful idea.”

🩷 — Taking your last name was probably the best decision he could have made. He indulged in the marriage festivities with you for both your sake and his parent’s sake. What he was excited about was signing the contract that officially gave him your surname—freeing him from the shackles of the Viper clan.

🩷 — He did it after the festivities when it was just the two of you guys and the imam as well as a legal advisor. You both were still in the wedding clothes, sitting on an ornate rug with a little table in front of you. 

🩷 — Jamil could feel the tremors of his heart in his hand as he lifted the pen and signed his name beside yours. This time, Viper was nowhere to be found.

🩷 — With that, Jamil shook hands with the imam and then handed the page to the legal advisor to be put in the Scalding Sands’s records. It all felt so surreal. He glanced over his shoulder to see you gleefully talking to the imam about the marriage and showing off your wedding band. 

🩷 — It was a thin gold ring that he had made with the antiquities left by his family. Nothing fancy—he wanted to give you diamonds, and yet you were so smitten with it and him.

Once nightfall came, Jamil lay beside you in your bed. A bed for the both of you. It was a bed he bought under his new name, Jamil (L/N), under the surname you gifted him. His charcoal eyes watched as you sat down at the edge of the bed, your night robe dipped down your back. It matched his nightgown, save for the patterns. He helped you fall in love with the comfortable garb of his homeland.

You turned slightly to see him, your eyes growing tender at the sight of him all disheveled. This was a sight just for you, “What are you thinking about?” you asked, reaching out to take his hand.

Jamil pulled you closer to him by your hand, forcing you to lay on top of him. He kissed your knuckles, “Thinking about you, hayati (my life),” he muttered, before letting his hand trail up your arm and to the back of your neck. His gaze had softened and his features relaxed, “Thank you,” 

You did not need to ask why he thanked you. You knew he felt indebted to you for being patient with him and becoming his spouse. You gave him the greatest gift ever, freedom. Free to be yours, free from Kalim Al-Asim. You freed his descendants… he would spend the rest of his life as your husband, repaying you with kisses across your skin and warm meals in your belly.

🩷 — It takes him a long time to get used to his new name, as well as his newfound freedom. After your wedding, he takes you out to do many of the things he could not do before, such as travel to another country, but even simple things like going out to parks.

🩷 — He did not have to worry about Kalim anymore, just your and his enjoyment.

🩷 — Jamil still has yet to get used to being called by your surname. When he notices it, he is filled with a smug and quiet pride, but most of the time he just ends up ignoring whoever is calling for him, or glancing over at you in confusion, thinking that they are speaking with you and not him.

🩷 — This was particularly apparent when it came to the reunion at Night Raven College.

🩷 — He did not want to go, but he could not reject you either. You were excited about seeing your silly friends, and who was he to stop you from going? Instead, he just sighed and went along with you, standing off to the side and watching as you ran about to gather Ace and Deuce, as well as greeting your other friends.

“If it isn’t the new Mr. (L/N),” Azul approached his former classmate with a suave grin. He had grown up, but it was clear he still kept that usual ‘evil businessman’ charm to him. His suit was freshly pressed and his hair, which had grown a bit, was brushed back neatly. Though, he was still wearing the same thin-rimmed glasses.

Jamil turned around when he heard your surname being called, and it took him a moment to realize what was happening. He was your husband. Sure, he remembered your wedding—he carried a picture from it all the time, but it was still strange hearing it affirmed by someone else. He tried to hide how happy he was to hear it behind a raised brow and his usual frown, “What do you want, Azul? My spouse isn’t going to be pulled into one of your schemes anymore,” he said, arms crossed.

Azul laughed at that, tilting his cane a bit as he leaned away from Jamil, “You wound me, Jamil. As if I would try anything like that anymore,” he replied, and the irony was not lost on him at all. Instead, he sighed and watched as Jamil’s eyes found your figure again. You were chasing Epel around, trying to get a hug from your old friend. It was just like before, except now you wore a ring from Jamil and he wore a name from you.

“You don’t seem so poor and unfortunate now,” Azul said.

Jamil could not bite back the slight twitch of his lips, “Not at all.”

[jupiter-letters]

Harvey being your husband would include

Fem! or GN! Reader TW: None

A/N: This is me finally putting into written form the things I think about Harvey doing. Yes I am in love with him, thanks for asking. 

Waking up on a cool autumn day, the early morning light peeking in through the window. You see the sight of Harvey in a deep slumber beside you, cheek pressed into the pillow, hair messily strewn across his face and the pillow. The soft sounds of his snores along with the chirping of the birds outside. His eyes flutter and open to see you looking at him, he smiles at you. He rubs the sleep out his eyes and moves his hand to caress your shoulder. He stares into your eyes and traces random patterns on your arm. He asks you what you plan to do while he’s at work and tell you how much he’ll miss you when he’s gone.

After a hard day's work he tells you to take off your shoes for a personal foot massage and a nice cup of tea. He makes sure to remind you to get new shoes so your feet don’t hurt anymore. He moves up to rub your calves, and he tickles you under your knee. You slap his hands away and move to tickle his neck, he pulls you into a bear hug on the floor and you both can’t stop laughing. 

Working in the fields during the summer, Harvey is on the porch with a misting fan and a new book. You stop for a moment and call his name. You make your way up to the porch and he pulls out a bottle of water for you. “I love watching you work, you always look beautiful when you work. You take such good care of the farm. I’d like you to teach me more about it so I can help out more.” He smiles up at you, cheeks flushed from the sun, his freckles more prominent.

Loving getting clean with him, showers or baths doesn’t matter to him. He runs a bath for you both, putting in all your favorite salts and scents. A candle or two don’t hurt either ;))) It’s a very large clawfoot tub to accommodate Harvey’s long legs otherwise it wouldn’t be very comfortable. Whether you sit back to chest or across from each other he doesn’t much of preference with that either. The feeling of your back against him and your head next to his is one of the best feelings in the world. Then again being able to look at you from across the tub, flushed from the hot water looking at him with a sweet smile, is everything. 

Sneaking off together during the flower dance. Kissing each other breathless behind a tree. Feeling his hands gently cradling your face, he can’t stop giggling as he kisses you over and over again. Once you’ve had enough you fix each other's clothes and head back like nothing happened. Your friends all look at you both with knowing looks and laugh at his poorly redone tie. 

Harvey walking around in his comfiest robe on his days off, shuffling in his slippers from his shelf of prized jazz vinyls to the record player on his desk. You watch him from the doorway humming along to the song and opening a new model plane box. He notices you out of the corner of his eye, he pulls you towards him. You both stand chest to chest, his hand behind your back, forehead to forehead. Enjoying each other's presence and gently swaying to the music.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think.

[harmonyrae]

Power Couple

CHAPTER TWO - Hook, Line & Sinker

Concept: AU of how Sylus & you (reader) met. Both are leaders of large factions in the N109 Zone, Onychinus (Sylus) and Himitsu (you). They have been cutting into your territory over the past few weeks, so you decided an introduction is required. You laid the trap and Sylus walked right into it. But this is just the beginning...

The next morning you roll over and try to block out the stinging rays of sunshine pouring through your windows. You sit up, immediately regretting the decision. You take a deep breath to steady yourself and smell the distinct scent of coffee and cinnamon sugar. Your chef, Maddy, had arrived and was preparing your breakfast. You toss the heavy blanket off your body and reach for your robe hanging beside your bed. Standing slowly to glide your arms through the silk. You glance at your pillow. The distinct stain of makeup smeared across the black fabric. You roll your eyes and walk over to the mirror to see the damage when the door swings open.

“Dorian! What the hell are you doing here so early?” 

“Well, we have a bird ready to sing and a very angry client ready to rip apart our contract. I told him to wait until tonight to make a decision. We need to make a move on Onychinus as soon as possible. Today, preferably.” The way he furrows his brow shows you how important this is. Hitsumi is about to lose a major client, just as you suspected. 

You turn on your heel and head straight for the bathroom. Dorian follows you and continues to tell you about the hissy fit the client had on the phone with him not 10 minutes earlier. You slam the door in Dorian’s face. 

“What the f– BOSS!” Dorian yells through the door impatiently. 

“Give me 20. I’m showering, drinking a coffee and then we can head down.” You can’t hear Dorian’s reply as you turn on the shower. If you’re going to handle this interrogation personally, which you don’t do very often, you damn well better look good doing it. 

The shower is not nearly hot enough to relax your tense muscles. You’re reviewing the plan in your head for the 10th time when your makeup is finally fixed. You open the door to your walk-in closet and let your hand graze the expensive fabrics. You remove a pair of sleek black high-waisted trousers from their hanger. Slipping on a delicate red lace camisole and the matching fitted black blazer. You gather your hair into a high-ponytail and flick a final quick swipe of burgundy lipstick across your lips. You carry your heels to your bedroom door and open it to greet Dorian leaning on the door frame impatiently. 

“Record timing. Shoes.” It wasn’t a question, but a demand. You pass your heels to him as he kneels to help you step into them. You adjust your earrings and button a single button on your blazer allowing the lace to peek through. Following Dorian to your front door you stop briefly at the kitchen island and grab the to-go box Maddy made for you. She’s used to you not having time to sit down for a proper breakfast. You give her a quick hug before you leave the penthouse.

As the elevator door opens to the basement, you steal your resolve as you start down the hallway. The soft clicks of your sleek heels bounce off the walls as you pass the masked men holding heavy weaponry leaning against closed doors. At the end of the hallway, the final door is illuminated by the dim glow of a small light hanging above it. You pause, taking a deep breath. Dorian squeezes your hand. You carefully turn the handle and swing the door open quietly. 

A young man sits strapped to a single metal chair in the middle of the room. His head hangs to his chest. His wrists raw from the handcuffs locking him in place. A discarded mask on the table in the corner catches your eye. You walk over silently and pick it up. Dorian settles next to the door, crossing his arms. You hold the bird mask lightly and walk up to the man in the chair. 

“Is it Luke? Or are you Kieran?” You make sure your voice is gentle. The man looks up at you, his handsome freckled face riddled with bruises and cuts. Strands of curly ginger hair hang around the bandage around his head. His dark eyes soften when he looks at you.

“Luke.” He mutters.

You turn the mask over in your hands. Feeling the fabric and stitching, you close your eyes briefly to focus your senses. You don’t feel a tracker. You smile at Luke.

“I’m Y/N.” Your gaze slowly hardens as you allow your innocent act to slowly fade away. “And if you tell me what I want to know, you’ll walk out of here, a free man, in 5 minutes.”

Luke tenses and he squints at you. “You’re the interrogator for Himitsu? That’s… unexpected.”

You don’t correct him. Instead you smile at him sweetly. “Yes. I am. And I’m sure you’d rather go home than take a trip to the bottom of the ocean.”

Luke’s eyes widen before closing them and allowing his head to hang down to his chest once more. His chest rises and falls faster as fear settles in.

“Two pieces of information. And we drop you off at the hospital, no questions asked. And I’ll make sure you get your mask back.” 

Luke looks up and stares at the mask in your hands. You catch a glimpse of sadness in his eyes before turning his gaze to you. 

“What do you want to know?” His voice is hoarse and low.

“One: the location of Onychinus’ base of operations. Two: your boss’ name.” You return to the table where you picked up the mask and pick up Luke’s phone. You circle around the back of Luke’s chair and press his thumb to the phone to unlock it.

“That’s it?” Luke sounds surprised, yet reserved. “Thought such a prominent group like Himitsu would already know that stuff.” 

“You are not here to ask questions. The next words out of your mouth will be an address and a name or we will be taking a trip to the pier.” You pull up the contact list and wait for Luke’s next words. 

“Industrial District. Red brick mansion with a black gate. Sylus.” Luke’s voice breaks and he stares at the floor.

You scroll through the phone and find the name with a little crow emoji beside it. You stride to the door. You nod at Dorian who opens it and you take a stroll down the hallway. 

You press the green button and press the phone to your ear. The low rings rumble in your ear and you feel your heartbeat quickening. You know the plan and have no doubts, but the twinge of anxiety remains. 

“Luke.” A deep voice tickles your ear. You’re taken back by the voice, unsure what you expected. 

“I’m curious. Why does Luke have a crow emoji next to your name on his phone?” You are met with silence. A full minute passes before the voice pipes up again.

“I assume you have demands?” Sylus doesn’t miss a beat or play into your game. You hear the soft clink of ice in a glass through the phone. 

You sigh. This is your chance, not just to eliminate the competition, but to finally learn more about the elusive leader who has a reputation with every resident of the N109 Zone. You needed to know who this man was. You needed to have an upper hand. 

“Actually, Hunter wants to offer a cease fire and a peace offering.” Your voice offers a cheery disposition. 

“Is that so?” Sylus chuckles. “Didn’t take him as one to surrender.” 

You grit your teeth. You are not surrendering, you would never. But the cocky tone in his voice is exactly what you were hoping for. 

“Hunter just wants this bloodshed to stop. They want Luke to return home safely.” Sylus clears his throat at the mention of Luke’s name. You make a mental note, Luke is important to him.

“Is Hunter really offering Luke as the peace offering?” 

“Yes. One of them.” You’re sure he can hear you smiling. 

“What’s the catch?” Finally, he’s taking the bait.

“An introduction. Hunter wants to meet you. Discuss the cease fire and pass along the peace offering in person. Luke and an antique Winchester shotgun.” Sylus is silent for a moment before a soft laugh flows through the phone. 

“Hunter knows I’m a collector. Flattering. I don’t know much about him. I guess this is my chance to learn a thing or two.” Hook…

“Blackburn Bar, tonight at 8pm. No guns or nosey backup. Oh, and an evol suppressor. Hunter will be wearing one as well.” Line…

“Tell Hunter I look forward to meeting him.” Sinker. 

The drum of the dial tone rings in your ear as Sylus hangs up. Your smile is growing, hurting your cheeks. You slowly walk back down the hall to the interrogation room and knock on the door twice. Dorian emerges and closes the door softly. His eager eyes digging into yours, searching for answers.

“Looks like we are caging a crow.” 

Chapter 1: https://shorturl.at/Bx95C Chapter 2: https://shorturl.at/3PwTi Chapter 3: https://shorturl.at/a7xnF Chapter 4: https://shorturl.at/fKYgX

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!):

@trishiepo0

[witchofthesouls]

OH MY STARS! WE TOTALLY NEED SOME WRITING OF BIRB JACK WITH SOUNDWAVE. :000

More AU of a Cyber!Earth!Au with the Darbys directly under Soundwave’s care.

The being that was once June Darby was a dangerous creature.

That ferity hadn't disappeared once he managed to coax her out of that endless dream. Within her, old human sensibilities of civilian life and civilization warred with the new instincts that were capable of devouring everything in its path.

Nor had Soundwave wanted to suppress those instincts fully. To tame them. No; it would serve them both well among the Decepticons and the strange, new world they were navigating. They needed to simply nurture the bridge and guide the process. Ease it.

The inhibition collar had done little to quell the microtransformations as she armed the edges of her robes with serrations, masking it with a deceptive gentleness as the sparklings hid by her legs whenever one of the more foolish mechs attempted anything.

(If anyone was stupid enough to think that June Darby was any less dangerous in a femme root-mode. That the collar was enough after her rampage across the ship as she hunted after her stolen child. It was their own passage to the Unmaker.)

Her son, Jack, echoed it.

Optics blown wide with the white pupil mechanisms drowned out everything else, the sparkling's frame shifted and rippled between the metal of shadowed hull and his own physical body as he mimicked the crooning birds perched upon his shoulder.

Croaking and chattering. A mix between organic ruffling feathers with metal plates sliding and soft transformation seams. It was difficult to discern between the sparkling and the birds. Only the multiple optics popped out of the seamless blend.

In the gleam of those dark, shiny optics, Soundwave saw the reflection of that strange robed figure.

Jack's mouth moved, but it wasn't words, just a spill of noise. Not even birdsong or a close mimicry. A mix of pattering rain, distant rolling thunder, and a gentle breeze through swaying branches.

The boy met his visor and seared into his mind was yellow robes standing within a clearing where many of the mining operations had disappeared. Something writhing behind them, dissected limbs with peeled musculature and fuel lines neatly entwined with one of the metal trees.

Soundwave quietly filed away the abomination that was Silas. Breakdown's paintjob, no matter the degradation, was a custom one by Knock Out's hands.

The spymaster kneeled down. He ignored the hissing birds as they ruffled up. What mattered was Jack's reaction, and Soundwave had poured so much work into ensuring his charge was comfortable in his presence. A careful prod to allow their EM fields to overlap. Jack didn't pull away as Soundwave anchored into his space, circling the sharp, bizarre notes as the birds became more distressed.

Jack's main attention was pinned to the distant figure calling for him (and his mother), but a small part still focused on Soundwave.

"Jack." Soundwave played out the haunting recording of June's many-layered voices of her monstrous alt-mode. "Jack. Jack. Jack. Where are you?"

The sparkling finally blinked. Connection severing. That grey-blue hue returned as he tentatively stepped into Soundwave's reach. He ignored the shrill squawking and crash of teeth and data-cables as Soundwave crushed the blackbirds and their foreign influence as Jack curled into his hold. Like a puppet with severed strings.

Luminosity hissed from the corner before barreling over, clambering across Soundwave's back-plating as she pushed her own quelling danger senses into them. She spoke in rapid squeaks and chirps, punctuated with hard flaps of her wingspan as Jack pressed himself deeper into Soundwave's hug. His mind jumbled in strange breaks as Jack attempted to reorder himself, and Soundwave gently reinforced the lowered mental defenses, sweeping away the scent of ashes and the boiling-freezing imprints.

Of course, the birds weren't real. Even with his speed and the sensation of crushing them, Soundwave felt only the walls of the ship.

[fleurb1ue]

Sleeping with the Sawyers

(not in a sexual way just sharing a bed w/ them for one night)

Drayton

he’s opposed to it but if you give him a valid reason he’ll let you sleep with him.

wears an undershirt and lounge pants to sleep in.

is a snorer so it might take you a while to fall asleep. 

will share the blanket and pillow(s) but will keep a distance from you. his back is facing you the whole night.

early bird so he’s already out of bed and gone once you wake up. 

expects you to make up the bed in the morning.

Bubba

doesn’t mind you sleeping with him. 

has his own pj’s to wear

loud snorer so it depends if you’ll fall asleep or not. you might get a headache in the middle of the night.

he’s a big guy so he’ll take up most of the space. it’d be good for both of y’all to have your own pillow and blanket. 

wants you to be comfortable 

will help you make the bed in the morning.

the mask never comes off 

Nubbins 

you ask to sleep with him for the night and he just giggles at you. weirdo. 

doesn’t snore that much

takes a while for him to fall asleep so you’re the first one knocked out.

moves in his sleep so he might kick you once or twice.

good luck sharing the blanket cuz he hogs most of it. you get your own if you can’t pull it back on your side.

either sleeps with the same clothes on or goes shirtless.

will sneak a picture of you when you’re asleep. 

will wake up early if he’s planning to go out in the morning, if not he sleeps in but Drayton doesn’t accept that. 

doesn’t care if you make the bed or not.

you may wake up in his arms. 

Chop Top

“you’re s-scared to sleep on your own, ain’t cha?” he teases. 

(idk what he’d wear to sleep. maybe just a shirt and boxers or an old robe?) 

you’ll have a hard time trying to sleep, not cuz he’s snoring but cuz he keeps on talking to you. bro’s a chatterbox.

at least he’ll share the blanket and pillow(s) with you. 

doesn’t move in his sleep as much as Nubbins does. however, he tends to roll off the bed so you better catch him before he hits his head.

(will think you pushed him off if he suddenly wakes up on the floor)

he sleeps with dead Nubbins whether you like it or not. 

he’ll wake you up by playing music on the radio or record player. 

doesn’t care if the bed is made or not either.

[hoboblaidd]

Codex Entry: The Emergent Compendium

Messere Darvies, you said that a scholar's life is not for everyone. Now I understand—I couldn't be more frustrated by the marvel I have sent you. Chief among its pre-Tevinter strangeness, the volumes are automatos: new entries appear of their own accord, with no scrivener's quill in sight. When a mage consultant says it's impossible, but your own eyes see it happen—and often—it's clearly a wonder.

But the content! Each new addition is single image created unseen, accompanied by a line of gibberish. And what bogglers these imitari! Records of the mundane and the fantastic with no rhythm or weight. I have observed a dragon in flight, a man in regal robes but of a complexion I have never seen, countless peoples at the moment of death, and no end of devices I cannot fathom in the least. The only image remotely familiar was extremely so: mine own wife! But the babble of the legend gave no hint to the significance, and that volume has since vanished.

I cannot imagine the purpose, or the library that could hold what has surely been accumulated. It would be as though transcribing the individual birds of a flock twittering about you. A dozen images appeared as I wrote this, and by the time you hold this, they will be lost in a thousand more. To be granted the world at once both intimate and distant is almost unbearable. I know so much is there, but can never know it, myself. It makes one feel very small, indeed.

The newest pages:

- A newborn of Rivaini complexion subtitled "bE qlK" - A hornless Qunari with tightly braided hair, subtitled "viqpbkle abfi vlskb beQ" - My wife again! Subtitled "illc x akxypre obe ,prqflz qplM" - Two shadowed spheres among stars subtitled "aboofqp iboxE'kbC px bpmfizb kX"

—The notes of Scholar Bodaliere on The Emergent Compendium in the Original Tongue, author unknown

In order, the deciphered phrases are:

- "Not He" - "The envoy lied honestly" - "Post coitus, her husband a fool" - "An eclipse as Fen'Harel stirred"

[ereana]

Zhongli/Venti - as a joke/in a teasing manner 

Morax isn’t sure what to make of the new God of Mondstadt. Barbatos,as he calls himself, is as far from Decarabian as one could imagine; full of laughter and song which has sadly become quite a rarity in this time of ceaseless war.

War.

Barbatos beams at him from across the hall, flying over on pure white wings without even touching the ground.

Looking at him one would expect him to be crushed by the cruelty of the times they find themselves in. Those beautiful wings ripped from his back, thin limbs reminiscent of the birds he so loves broken beneath sword and spear, and that spotless white stained with the blood and mud of the battlefield.

Moraz has not lived for as long as he has without learning not to judge based on appearances alone. Could not the most ordinary stone contain valuable gems within?

He cooly regards Barbatos as the other god stops before him, feet still hovering a few inches from the floor. One does not become god of a nation by mistake and Decarabian was no weakling. The enemy of the God of Storms meets Morax’s gaze without hesitation, it has been quite someone from outside of Liyue dared to do so. The smile on Barbatos’s face is as unmoving as Mount Hulao.

Even the lightest breeze has the potential to turn into a hurricane.

“Have I done something to offend you already Morax? If so I must say that’s probably a new record, I didn’t even have to say anything this time.” Barbatos speaks, breaking the silence as he is wont to do.

“On the contrary, I’m pleasantly surprised to see you arrive on time for once.” Morax replies drily. It’s far too early into Barbatos’s visit to chuck a mountain at him yet. “You gave Moon Carver quite a shock when you sped past him on your way here.”

“Hehe.” Barbatos laughs and rubs the back of his head, braids swaying slightly in a wind he has brought into Morax’s domain. “What can I say? It’s been a while since we’ve been able to talk and I was eager to see you again.”

Morax blinks at him. 

Refreshingly honest and innocent. It makes him want to curl away his claws that mere days ago were buried in the heart of some soon to be forgotten god so as not to stain the other.

“It is…good to see you too. Come, let us retire to the garden. I fear you will bang your head on the ceiling if you insist on flying the entirety of your stay.” He wonders if Barbatos flies in order to make a quick getaway once this visit is over, if he seeks to flee Morax’s company as soon as he can or if it is just the preference of one whose being is tied to the wind ever-moving and free.

Barbatos' smile turns sharp with mischief and all of Morax’s well honed instincts urge caution.

“Of course, but I feel as though you’re forgetting something?”

Unlikely.

“Oh?” He says with narrowed eyes.

Barbatos shrugs with well-feigned ignorance.

“I have entered the private domain of the God of Contracts, surely a price must be paid for such a gift.”

Morax tilts his head to the side as the idea takes root, his draconic instincts latch on to it eagerly.

“And what would you offer Barbatos, God of Freedom?” Against his better judgment he’s interested in the answer. What would Barbatos judge of equal measure to his home and would he agree with the value?

A flash of white feathers and roaring wind fill the space, pushing him forward in surprise. Barbatos is there to meet him and then-

A press of lips against his own.

Simple, light as air, and lasting only for a single breathless moment  before Barbatos pulls away with a smirk. He clutches Morax’s robe in one hand.

“A priceless, unique gift of course. The first kiss of a God.”

It’s hard to describe the rush of emotions that crash over Morax in that moment; shock, embarrassment, irritation, pride, interest and a very dragon-like curl of possessiveness that sends him reeling for the normal routine. 

Unthinking he flicks his hand and Barbatos squawks as a boulder comes crashing through the wall.

Lantern Rite

Venti hums a tune as he waits for Zhongli to return from seeing their fellow archons to the door. He sits in an open window, content to watch the lanterns rise higher and higher into the sky to follow the path of the wind until they eventually burn out. If he closes his eyes and focuses he can hear the wishes woven into each one.

His gnosis may be gone but he is still a god and that comes with some benefits. The wishes spoken freely from the heart are the easiest to hear and they bring a smile to his face.

Humans will never cease to amaze him. It’s one of the reasons he’ll never stop loving them.

Behind him the door swings open and Venti turns with a smile, smaller and softer than his usual ones but no less happy.

“I see the illustrious Mr Zhongli has returned! I trust Nahida and Ei are in safe hands.”

Zhongli, and isn’t it an odd thing to call him that after so many years, scoffs and moves to sit beside him. He looks more relaxed than Venti has ever seen him, it suits him.

“Nahida is in the company of her reliable General and Ei left in the direction of a snickering pink fox so I’m sure they’ll be fine. As for my last guest, do you have anywhere else to be on this fine Lantern Rite?” 

Venti laughs and shuffles closer until they’re sides are pressed together. The firm presence of Zhongli soothes his remaining nerves, a reminder that the blockhead is still very much alive and not dead as the wind had told him all those months ago. 

There’s an area of Mondstadt where the grass is only starting to grow back after the storm he’d nearly unleashed at the news.

“I’m all yours for the evening, assuming you’re happy to have me.”

Zhongli hums before a spark of something lights in those striking amber eyes.

“You’re more than welcome to stay. But I must insist on a fair trade in return for my hospitality.” 

Venti takes a second to make sense of the words. It’s so easy to sink into the deep baritone of his friend’s voice that everything else can fade away as rich earthy tones fill Venti’s ears.

“Naturally, I would expect no less.” He makes a flourishing gesture with his hand. “Well then, what price would a simple funeral consultant have a mere bard pay?”

Arms wrap around his waist, the same arms that killed gods and protected thousands for centuries, and pull Venti close. Even through the fabric of Zhongli’s gloves he can feel the Geo-infused skin that marks his companion as much more than human, Venti always wants to trace the glowing golden patterns with his fingers.

Zhongli kisses him.

A soft, lingering kiss that Venti feels all the way down to his toes. He returns it eagerly. It’s been so long, too long and he’s missed it. Missed Zhongli or Moraz or whatever the being in front of him wants to call himself.

They part with a sigh and Zhongli smiles at him. It’s a smile that could inspire a hundred songs if Venti had the will to do anything but smile giddily back.

“A priceless, unique gift of course.”

[adobe-outdesign]

If it's not getting tiresome would you mind reviewing the mynci? They've been my favorite since childhood

The Mynci is our only primate Neopet (not counting TNT staff, the freaks) and it's... alright. Honestly, I'm kind of amazed we only got a singular monkey Neopet for this category, considering how diverse primates are all-around—you have baboons, gorillas, monkeys, lemurs, etc. It's not a bad thing, but it's head-scratching compared to the number of dragons and birds we have.

As our only primate Neopet, the Mynci is about as literal as you could get with a monkey—long tail, big ears, snub nose (their most distinctive feature tbh) and what seems to be exposed flesh over their ears, face and stomach, down to even having a belly button. I feel like they're kind of like Lupes, being real animals, but they don't have as incredible as a selection of colours to support them like Lupes do.

I guess my main problem with them is that there's no fur indicated on their bodies, just two hairs on their heads, which always gave them this weird feeling of being bald. I feel like just a few small tufts of fur in the right spots would've helped avoid this. Their body shape is also pretty standard. Out of the designs that were voted on, I kind of gravitate towards Mynci #2 here, which both has more fur and a more interesting body shape, as well as a more obvious personality to it. (Though I will admit that #3 is the most Neopet-ish of them all.)

Mynci were basically left untouched by customization aside from gaining a fist, so that's a plus.

Favorite Colours:

Stealthy: Stealthy pets sometimes end up looking incredibly busy, with too many details and colors, but the stealthy Mynci gets it just right. I like the subtle dark green and gold palette used to accent the stealthy colour's natural navy and bright blue eyes, and little details like the stitch marks. I also love how the symbols on its headband and belt are clearly in the shape of a Mynci's nose. The only minor thing that bugs me is that those two hairs on top shouldn't be visible.

Royal: I have no idea why these are Shenkuu-based and I do not care (I guess it's because China has a fair amount of monkey species IRL?). Either way, these designs are super pretty, and work well eith the Mynci's design. Both the royalboy and royalgirl feel on par with each other, with both sporting long flowing robes (hanfu) and luck charms—the main difference being the color palettes and the royalboy having a beard and hat while the female has a headdress.

For the record, both versions are fine with the UCs obviously being better, though there are some weird things we lost in the conversion—like, what happened to the RB's beard and tail cuffs, and why did its eye color change? What happened to the RG's ring? Why did the grey in the RB's eyebrows get lighter? But regardless, these are still solid.

Toy: Come on, it's a symbol monkey! You can't not like it. The purple base is pleasant as well and goes well with the red and peach accents, and it looks nice and plastic-y. Bonus points for hiding the fist. (The eyes should've been purple or red though.)

Bonus: If you want something more ape-like and don't vibe with the Mynci's overall design, give the mutant version a spin. I really like the gorilla-like stance and anatomy, the more muted colors with bright red accents, and little details like the devil-shaped tail and extra fur. My only nitpick is that having both ears and horns feels weird—should be one or the other.

[dark-angel-of-muses]

The Gift Of The Mag(Pie)

Lu Wing Bois AU by @breannasfluff

AO3 Link

“How do I look?” Hyrule spun around to show off his yukata. It was forest green, with light yellow maple leaf imprints dotted across the fabric. Naturally, there was no back so his wings could stretch free behind him, so the top was tied behind his neck in a pretty bow.

“You always look lovely. How about me?” Ravio opted for a navy blue set of robes, with white dots speckled across the fabric to imitate a night sky. He also twisted his hair to include a crown braid framing his bangs, holding the braid in place with a lapis lazuli bead clip.

“If it weren’t for the feathers on your ear, I’d be saying you were trying to attract some suitors.” Hyrule’s laugh sounded like bell chimes.

Ravio blushed, but brushed off the comment. He and Mr. Hero were still at a bit of an impasse. He was hopeful his flockmate was interested, but they still hadn’t put anything into words yet. Wild and Hyrule loved teasing them for it. Even if it made him flush with embarrassment and want to bury his face into his wings, he was glad they seemed to support their relationship. Maybe the teasing would help Mr. Hero make a move.

“Are you ready to meet up with the others?” Hyrule slipped on his geta, handing Ravio his own pair.

The bowerbird made a flock call in assent, put on his shoes, and the two made their way to the festival.

xxx

Lorule’s Kakariko village was a den of thieves and cultists. Ravio had to stop going long before he ran away from his kingdom entirely for fear of losing his money and/or life. 

By contrast, Mr. Hero’s Kakariko was vibrant and happy. A center of commerce and safety. For the festival, streamers and paper lanterns had been strung up throughout the public square. Temporary stalls with games, street food, and specialty wares were lined up in rows alongside the walkways. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t open up a stall here, Ravio.” Wild was wearing some of the Sheikah clothes he’d gathered over his travels, hair tied held in place with two crossing hairsticks. His own yukata was sky blue like his Champion’s wrap, with a pattern of multicolored pastel lines criss-crossing the fabric. 

“Trust me, he tried. I convinced him that he should take at least one year to enjoy the festival with flock before trying to turn it into a business opportunity.” Mr. Hero wore a red yukata with crimson flowers printed on the ends of the sleeves. His pink hair was curled, giving it a bit of extra volume and bounce. There were ruby clips slid into his hair right above the red shock of hair that framed his face. Ravio felt his wings shuffle and flash as he drank in the image.

“Oh, look! That tent has ocarinas!” Hyrule’s wings flared in excitement as he bounded for the shop. Ravio managed to tear his gaze away from Mr. Hero and followed the Thrasher.

It seemed to be a handcrafted instrument store. There were reeds of varying sizes and colors, from silver flutes to wooden recorders. The ocarinas were the most eye-catching, porcelain painted in all sorts of bright patterns and colors. Hyrule’s fingers hovered over one that was wooden, but with gold paint in swirling little lines to imitate blossoms.

“You want one?” Wild asked, chin resting on Hyrule’s shoulder as he peeked over the wares.

“It’s so pretty when the flock plays ocarina when I sing, it’d be cool to do that on my own!” Hyrule’s wings fluttered, making Wild laugh as they tickled.

“Wouldn’t it be pretty hard to play the ocarina and sing at the same time?” Mr. Hero raised an eyebrow.

“That- Oh. Hm. You’re right.”

“You might not be able to play a woodwind, but what about these?” Ravio directed his flock over to the percussion section. There were maracas in every color and pattern, rain sticks, egg shakers, hand drums, and bells.

“Ooo!” Wild reached over to grab a sample egg, shaking it wildly to hear the rice inside. That bird possessed absolutely no sense of rhythm.

“Oh, this is darling!” Hyrule picked up a tambourine, giving it a test shake and trilling in delight as the cymbals chimed. The skin stretched over the middle had a print of a sunflower, yellow petals reaching to the light wooden frame holding everything together.

Hyrule seemed so delighted, a song bubbling in his throat as he admired the craftsmanship. Ravio made his decision right there. “How much for the tambourine?”

“Five hundred forty rupees.”

“I’ll take it! Hyrule, do you want it wrapped?” On the pricier side, but not unreasonable for something clearly hand-crafted with a lot of care.

Hyrule squealed. “Oh thank you, Ravio!” He chirped in excitement, melodic as he clutched the sunflower tambourine to his heart. No amount of rupees could pay for that sweet smile and soft hug as the Brown Thrasher sang in excitement. Ravio leaned into the hug, before his eyes caught a flash of yellow feathers in his peripheral vision.

Mr. Hero was looking at him, wings spreading. Ravio swallowed thickly as he saw those pretty yellow feathers rise and fluff, and averted his gaze as his own wings rose on instinct. The Flame Bowerbird wasn’t fair, flustering him like that. He was just being nice; it was rude to tease!

xxx

Hyrule played with his new toy for a bit, singing and drumming rhythms. With the purchase of a gift for one flockmate, Ravio was naturally on the hunt for two more.

It hit when he saw the flash of the most beautiful blue from the corner of his eye. All his instincts screamed and he darted into the rows of clothes. He heard Legend yelp, but Hyrule and Wild were laughing so it was probably fine.

The blue fabric belonged to a dancer’s costume. There was a long skirt, with beads sewn into a diamond pattern near the waistband. The top was separated, a black crop with blue tassels of bead dangling over it. Ravio might be a clothing size too big for it, but…

“Wild, come look at this!” He chirped a flock call, and the magpie trotted over to him. The moment Wild saw the outfit, his eyes widened and his wings fluttered. 

“Oh, that’s so pretty! I’d love to wear it.”

“You should!They have a dressing room over there!” Ravio extended one wing to point towards the tent. 

Wild cooed in agreement, then snatched the clothes off the rack and raced to put them on. As soon as he stepped out of the tent, he twirled, showing off the blue fabric. The hue matched the back of his wings perfectly, The skirt was loose, meant to lift and settle to showcase a dancer’s movements. Wild’s little spin had the skirt billowing beautifully. Additionally, the blue bead tassels clicked and jingled from the movement. It was beautiful.

“Nice outfit you have there, Wild.” Legend walked up next to Ravio, bumping wings. Mr. Hero had a little growl in his throat as he said it, and Ravio tried to bump wings back to alleviate it. Silly bird, he was just appreciating their flockmate.

“Oh, they have this little veil that comes with it!” Wild pulled out the item in question. Instead of cloth, there was one singular band that went over the nose and had dangling chains of rhinestones to cover the face. They caught light and sparkled at the tiniest bit of movement.

Wild giggled. “I’d love wearing this to Gerudo Town. Riju would be so jealous.” He did another twirl, soaking in the fabric and beads all spinning with him.

“Then you should, because I’m buying it for you!” Ravio declared, bringing out the ten gold rupees he saw as an asking price to give to the cashier. 

Wild stared at him for just a moment in surprise, then launched at the Bowerbird in a hug. “You’re the best flockmate, Ravi!”

“What am I, chopped boko guts?” Legend grumbled.

Wild looked up, putting on an innocent front. “Well, if you wanted to get me something too, I wouldn’t say no.”

“Greedy little magpie!” Legend huffed in accusation, and Ravio laughed at the both of them, melting into Wild’s hug. It was worth the lightness of his wallet to see them so happy.

xxx

Getting Legend something should have been obvious. He was such a silly bird, with his obsession for red things. Ravio didn’t get it, when blue was right there, but he’d indulge Mr. Hero’s strange tastes today.

That said, finding which red thing to give him had been a challenge.

Legend was a hoarder, and had no shortage of rupees. As soon as something genuinely caught his interest, he’d whip out his wallet faster than Ravio could. A red fan, a pair of carbuncle earrings, a red makeup palette, a strawberry apron, a red luminous rock nightlight, red leather belt, red dagger. If it was on prominent display and seemed like Legend would have liked it, he had already taken it and stashed it in his magically deep pockets.

Ravio clicked his teeth in annoyance. Legend’s obsession was really getting too far at this point. He was going to buy out the entire festival’s stock, at this rate, and Ravio wouldn’t be able to get him a good present!

The day was getting longer and he was getting desperate. Each merchant stall they hit was another potential source crossed off the list.

Finally, Ravio broke down. “Hyrule, I need your help.”

“Hm?” The Thrasher allowed Ravio to pull him aside.

“I’m going to need you to stall Legend from getting to the next booth. I want to get there before he does. Can you do that?”

If you were a stranger, you might have called Hyrule’s answering smile sweet. But all his flock understood it as the terrifying omen of chaos it was.

“Done and done. When you hear Legend’s screeching, make a break for it.” Without giving Ravio the time to ask what he was planning, Hyrule bounded off to enact his plan.

Ravio didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Even if he was deathly curious what Hyrule had said to get Legend so puffed he was showing off the scandalous skin under his scapulars. Wild seemed to have joined in on the assignment unprompted, grabbing something from the Flame Bowerbird and flapping his wings to fly away in a game of chase. 

Tearing his eyes away from Legend’s stunning wings, Ravio booked it to the next stall. They were a goldsmith, rings and bracelets glittering on their display tables.

“Sorry sir, you wouldn’t happen to have anything with a red gem or charm on it, would you?”

The merchant’s frown made Ravio’s stomach drop. “Sorry. All out of red gems.”

Ravio’s wings drooped. There weren’t that many stalls left to check out, and he didn’t know how much time Wild and Hyrule were going to buy him.

“...I could paint one of my existing charms. But I’ll need help color matching the dye.”

Ravio perked up. “Really?”

The merchant brought out a clear stone, and a pot for dye. “Do you have anything red on you?”

Ravio brought out a red rupee. He’d rather give something less expensive, like the skins of their apples or one of Legend’s infinite supply of red garbage, but he had no time.

“I’m going to need at least five of those, and you won’t be getting them back. That’s in addition to the product cost which is gonna be another 60. Is that alright?” 

His wallet was getting down to a few green rupees and a wish. But it was worth it. He wanted to get something nice for his flockmate.

The merchant was fast, inserting the rupees into the magical dye pot and creating a brilliantly shining red, dipping the clear stone into the pot. With the paint dripping from it, Ravio saw the stone was hollowed out, clearly drilled through. The paint dried in less than a minute. (Maybe something about the magic in the dye substance?)

The smith grabbed a gold ring and quickly looped it through the hollowed stone, finishing by wrapping the gold wire around the makeshift bead.

“And like this, it spins. Great for people who like keeping their hands busy.” The smith demonstrated, and Ravio snorted. Every Link seemed to have a penchant for playing with tiny trinkets and treasures. He trilled a call of thanks and snatched up the box. It might have been a hundred rupees more expensive with the dye, but he was just grateful to grab something before Legend could buy out an entire village.

By the time he returned to his flock, the situation had escalated.There was a beautiful blue streak in Legend’s pink hair, although based on the yelling the Flame Bowerbird wasn’t happy about it. Hyrule’s hands were criminally the same shade of blue, Legend edging away from them in fear. Wild was grounded again, though still seemed to be mastering a game of keep-away with- Oh. Was that the bracelet Ravio gave Mr. Hero all that time ago, when they first met? Huh. Wild should… probably give that back.

“Mr. Hero!” Ravio bounded in, interrupting the standoff as all three birds greeted him with a flock call on instinct.

“Ack, sorry Ravi. These two are just being idiots.” The apology was unnecessary since Ravio asked for it in the first place, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Um, I wanted to give you something.”

Legend tilted his head, anger giving way to curiosity.

“Here!” Ravio thrust forward the box, flipping back the top to show the ring nestled inside. Ravio’s wings fluttered on instinct, opening just a bit.

Legend made an odd choking noise. Ravio bit his lip. Did he like it? Or was it too plain, a small, non magical ring?

“You’re giving me a ring. A red ring.” There was an odd warble in the Flame Bowerbird’s voice.

“Uh, yes. I wanted to get something for everyone in the flock. If you don’t like it, I’m not sure if I can return it since it was custom, but I can find you something better!” Ravio tried to keep bravado in his voice instead of giving into the instinct to curl his wings around him and crouch into a ball of feathers.

“Oh, so this is a gift for a flockmate?” Did he sound disappointed?

“Um, yes. Sorry if it’s not much, I really can buy something better later-”

“Stop that!” Legend interjected. “It’s wonderful and I love it!” The words were yelled in such an aggressive tone Ravio had to take a second to get the meaning.

“You really like it?” Ravio’s voice brightened with hope.

“Of course I like it, you bird brain! You know that’s my favorite color! And you said it was custom?” Legend picked the ring out of the box, violet eyes sparkling. He still was using his usual array of insults, but there was an unmistakable smile on his face as he looked it over.

Ravio sighed in relief. He’d have to thank Hyrule for whatever it was he did later. As he looked over Legend’s shoulder, he saw Wild and the Thrasher in question elbowing each other, smiling like they knew something he didn’t. 

Silly birds.

xxx

The last stall of the festival was a local knitter. Quilts, potholders, beanies. She used soft yarns, it was a joy just to run his fingers along the display wares.

Then he saw it.

The most perfect scarf that he had ever seen. 

It was lovingly knitted in a gradient, from a bright teal down to a smoky indigo. Along the range of vibrant blues were little sections of white cloth meant to resemble clouds. It was so perfect! Ravio reverently ran a thumb across the cloth, and marveled at how the blue somehow made it feel even softer. His senses were delighted, and his wings fluttered on instinct.

“Excuse me, ma’am, how much for the scarf?” He had to own this. It was destined to be his.

“200, sir.”

200? For something so well made, that was trivial! Ravio excitedly pulled out his wallet, not realizing the problem until his hand was inside, sorting through the few green rupees he had left.

Ah, right.

Well, he treated money like it was no object for his flock. He didn’t regret that, even if the beautiful scarf belonged with him. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t have enough-”

“I’ll take it!” Wild jumped in, startling Ravio into a yelp. The magpie threw two silvers onto the counter, turning back to Ravio.

“You’ve been so nice to us all day, it only makes sense to give you something back.” The magpie bumped Ravio with his shoulder, beaming.

Ravio clutched the precious scarf, now a gift from his flockmate. He didn’t even try to hold back the happy tears. He didn’t regret a rupee of kindness spent on flock.

[scotianostra]

On 8th July 1647 Frances Stuart, known as “La Belle Stuart” was born.

Frances was the daughter of Walter Stewart, or Stuart, a physician in the court of Queen Henrietta Maria, wife of Charles I who was in exile in France.

When the Stuarts returned to the throne with the Restoration she went with them. In 1662, she became a Maid of Honour to Charles II's bride, the Infanta of Portugal, Catherine, and then a Lady in Waiting to the new Queen.

Reportedly, Charles became infatuated with the girl, but she resisted his advances. In 1664, after England won several naval victories against the Dutch, the king had medals struck depicting the figure of Britannia, he chose Frances for the model. The King was so besotted with her that he considered divorcing Catherine to marry her. Samuel Pepys, the diarist, recorded that she was the greatest beauty he had ever seen.

Considered a great beauty, she had numerous suitors, eventually she eloped with another Charles Stuart, a fourth cousin of the king and the 4th Duke of Richmond and 6th Duke of Lennox in March 1667. She fell out of favour at court for marrying without royal consent.

About 1669 she became seriously ill with smallpox and the king reportedly rushed to her bedside and forgave her for marrying. Upon her recovery, she was appointed Lady of the Bedchamber for the Queen. The king appointed the duke ambassador to Denmark, but Frances stayed at home, managing the estate and business affairs.

The duke died in December 1672 and as he had no heir his estates reverted to the Crown. Charles II granted Frances a 1000 pound pension per annum for life. In 1702 Frances arranged to purchase the estate of Lethington. She died that same year leaving her estate to her nephew Lord Blantyre who renamed Lethington Lennoxlove in her honour.

Pics include two paintings of “La Belle Stuart” and a remarkable wax effigy she ordered that had made of herself dressed in her coronet, robes and shoes worn at Queen Anne's coronation,. She had it set up in Henry VII's chapel near the grave of Ludovic Stuart, cousin of James I, in Westminster Abbey, the effigy survives and beside it you will see an African Grey parrot, which was her “companion” for some 40 years, the parrot died a few days after her.

As seen in the last pic, very few mounted bird specimens survive from this period but x-rays show that the entire skeleton of the bird is intact including its skull. This was a very primitive technique but the parrot probably survived because it was kept in a showcase. It is perhaps the oldest stuffed bird in existence.

[letsgostealthelouvre]

This image is categorized in the record simply as “Virgin” and I was like “How can you tell” both jokingly and also wondering if there was something visual that signified virginity. I knew of course that they probably meant this is a portrait of the Virgin Mary, which does have some typical signifiers: the draped robe, the beatific smile, the red jewel indicating the “sacred heart”. 

Turns out this statue also had the most important signifier, the Baby Jesus, except at some point he got damaged -- so some enterprising artist carved him down until he was a ball, and now it’s like, Virgin Mary Preparing To Bowl A Strike.

[ID: A small ivory statue of the Virgin Mary, dressed in flowing robes and with a crown securing her head covering; one hand is curved upwards and holding nothing (apparently she used to be holding a bird in that hand) while the other one clutches a sphere, slightly smaller than a bowling ball, to her breast.]

[osddsilver]

Intricacies of a War Machine

A look into the mind of the Fireball Tamori shipped out to Fort Ciaran.

The sky above you settles into storm clouds lit from within by dull purple light. There are gaps between the clouds which you think indicate they are not entirely natural. There are stars behind them that indicate your location. Both the wizard who called you into being and the wizard who lent him that ability were gifted astronavigators. You did not need to know astronavigation, and so you do not. The clouds, though… a moment's thought and you know that they could be a form of abjurative magic or its byproduct. 

What is your name?

The man she was with, Silver, they call him, spares a glance at you and your ilk before he and his company are led in different directions. They will travel at the middle of the procession. More defensible, should Gaothmai attempt an advance. An officer orders you and 14 others to the back. 15 to the front. You will be the defense. It is a long road; you know how to march.

Names show where you come from. There is nobody from the Citadel. They are, at most, three generations removed from one of many other places. The Citadel has no names.

You must look ahead, but you can hear beautiful noises in the distance. They fall silent with your approach but there are always those too far ahead to have heard you and far enough behind to forget you. You overhear one of the lower ranking war wizards calling it birdsong. The snapping of twigs as some wildlife runs away into the woods. You wonder if you would be able to name it, if you caught a glimpse of it. 

What the Citadel does have are monikers that eclipse the person who claims them. The wizard who spoke to you was called Sky.

It is after two nights of marching that you notice the quiet ahead of you. You know what is to come now. The birds at your back still sing, at least.

You cannot speak to her motivation in leaving her name behind but you can feel the ghost of your creators’. The fear of his deeds left unrecorded. The fear of his deeds recorded.

They appear to have waited until the center of the procession was immediately before them. They have the ranged casters and archers alike hidden in the trees. Several foot soldiers approach the carriages in the center where the guard is at its thinnest. Hidden in their green robes but not invisible. Anything could be hiding in the trees and the narrow road makes detonations risky.

What kind of name would somebody like Sheer even be able to offer? A coward running from his actions as he takes them. You would destroy yourself immediately upon your creation- like many of your brethren before you- rather than accept his name. 

Your procession is being overwhelmed. With her eyes on the archers, your commander does not seem to have noticed the soldiers on your side of the road, approaching those most important wizards in the center. It is a strange sensation, breaking formation and stepping into the trees. Defiance of a direct order still in service of the empire. Someone might write a paper about you.

Names give people power over you, you do know that. A spirit whose true name is discovered is bound. You have had enough binding for several lifetimes, ones far longer than the one you have been given. 

You are delighted to find that the foliage does not burn at your touch. You move quickly but there is something in your path. A small creature with spindly legs that stares up at you, frozen in fear, from a bed of tamped grass. It would be in range. There's a small rock next to you and you toss it, right next to the thing’s hiding space. It bolts off, deeper into the woods. The noise could have alerted someone to your presence. The outcome would be the same for you.

They will talk about what you have done, of course, but your deeds will be attributed to that wizard which created you. You will be one anomaly of many. To discuss you will be to describe a path through a cladogram. You hope this means you will be put to rest sooner, but you know you were created by a very thorough people.

Your final act, your hand reaching into your own chest and grabbing tight, feels more familiar than anything else you have witnessed or done in the past days. When the boundary between what is you and what is not fails, it fails catastrophically. You try to hold on to the feeling of leaves on your skin, earth beneath your feet, and resentment in your heart, but they are all made of the gas currently fueling this thermal runaway. As the forest, the loam, the silent birds in the trees, the soldiers in their cloaks, and the road beneath them are transformed into a perfect, charred circle on the earth, you train your awareness on the snapping of twigs. Further, and further, and further away from here.

[sixisnotaprettynumber]

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁    𝙰𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚂 :

COLOR.       ——       red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal.  silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. magenta. pastels. bubblegum pink. blood red. ivory.

ELEMENTAL.      ——        fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. thunder. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. clouds. light. dark. shadow.

BODY.       ——       claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. ears. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. slender. trained. piercings. tattoos. strong. shape shifting. svelte. long hair. short hair. dark circles. big. small. prosthetic. experimented. cyborg. halos. horns. wolfish.

WEAPONRY.        ——       fists. sword. dagger. spear. scythe. bow & arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. power loader. flamethrower. metal rod. shotguns. needles.

MATERIAL.        ——        gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds.  amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. copper. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. yarn. slime. ivory.

NATURE.       ——       grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. holly. lavender. lilies. petals. thorns. sunflowers. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. snow. ice. roots. flowers. ocean. river. lake. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rain forest. swamp. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. stars. clouds. mountains. fungi. cliffs. sunlight.

ANIMALS.       ——       lions. wolves. black panther. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. roaches. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantis. crows. ravens. misc. lizards. frogs. bears. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dinosaurs. dragons. felines. foxes. centaurs.

FOOD & DRINK.      ——      sugar. salt. water. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. vanilla. cookies.

HOBBIES.       ——        music. art. piercing. watercolours. gardening. knitting. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. fencing. riding. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self - defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. poetry. philosophy. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. cello. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. synthesizers. harp. woodwinds. brass. trumpet. flute. drums. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. tree climbing. running. vivisection.

STYLE.       ——       lingerie. armor. cape. dress. robes. suit. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. legging. trousers. jeans. skirt. shorts. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendants. hat. goggles. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. neck tie. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. pauldrons. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup. pantyhose. stockings. thigh highs. eye patch. collar.

MISC.       ——        balloons. bubbles. cityscape. landscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirror. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. realism. loneliness. anger. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. lovers. loyalty. smoking. alcohol. drugs. kindness. love. embracing. [[Tagging: Anyone who is interested]]

[hel-the-growl]

Cultural Annotations on New Gods: Yang Jian -Part 3-

Part 1｜Part 2

I counted five periods of Yang Jian’s life that were depicted within the scroll.

1 - his childhood.

2 - teenager cleaving Peach Mountain. His hair is in a half updo, opposed to his full updo as an adult. The totem on his pauldrons is most likely Yazi (睚眦) - the second son of the Dragon King, who has the body of a dragon and head of a jackal. As a creature that likes to fight and is aggressive, Yazi’s image is often used to adorn armor and weapons, normally found on cross-guards on swords. The Yazi here is a cute pup, fitting for baby Jian.

3 - As a general in the war against Shang. His armor is decked with a red cape and he wields his signature trident. On his helmet are a pair of pheasant tail feathers called Lingzi (翎子) - which is indicative of the wearer as a warrior figure. The length of the feathers is also an indicator of the warrior's rank. This event was probably during the Battle of Muye, the decisive battle between Shang and Zhou. These flashbacks, like with Nezha Reborn, are the traditional depictions of the characters and are emphasized by the different art style.

4 - the disaster of the three realms twelve years ago. In Journey to the West, he was described as wearing “boots that were lined with cloth of gold; dragons coiled round his socks; His jade belt was decorated with the eight jewels”. He seems to have gained a new chest plate and notice how Yazi has also grown over the years from a cute pup to a ferocious beast with large fangs.

5 - bounty hunter. A tie-dyed bandanna covers his third eye - tie-dye was popular during the Eastern Jin and Southern and Northern Dynasties, where the extraction method of indigo dyes was recorded in the agricultural text Qimin Yaoshu (齐民要术).

His clothing is also described in chapter 40 of IOTG - “This Daoist wore a cloud crown with a fan, a robe the color of water with a silk sash around his waist, and hemp shoes on his feet.” This attire was typical of Disciples of Chan Daoism.

Wrist guards wrap around his index finger while his bounty hunter’s tally hangs from his belt. Despite falling into poverty, he still maintains an air of aristocracy with his white robes showing subtle intricate cloud details.

Blink and you’ll miss - during the battle at Mount Hua, he ripped his pants at the crotch lol.

Not that I think that the placement of Go pieces have any real significance, but I recreated the board for fun. Despite some minor inconsistencies (some black pieces disappeared and reappeared between shots, and the spot where Yang Jian hovered his piece is an illegal move), the game was mostly accurate. Btw, black is winning.

Yang Jian had a noble upbringing and has retained his discipline over the years - his left hand is clenched while his right palm lies flat on his lap.

What the hell is a Fenix? In the movie, the Xuan Bird was translated as Fenix, however there is no direct english equivalent for this mythological bird. “Xuan” means black or mysterious, so some sources describe it as a black bird, while others call it a swallow. The Book of Songs dedicated a line to it: The Book of Songs dedicated a line to it: "The Xuan Bird of destiny descends to give birth to Shang."

Fa Tian Xiang Di (法天象地) translated as “Heaven and Earth I rise to Thee” is the law of heaven and earth that is commonly mentioned in ancient texts. In Journey to the West, invoking Fa Tian Xiang Di grants the user the power to rise as high as the heavens and as vast as the earth. Only Erlang and Sun Wukong have this ability.

The inscription on Yuding’s giant sword reads “福生无量”, a Daoist mantra. They are written in small seal script, an archaic form of Chinese calligraphy, and a variant form of seal script that became the standard during the Qin Dynasty. The characters are separated by the horizontal lines of the eight trigram figures.

The moment Yang Jian knew exactly what would happen when Chenxiang ran toward his mother, yet was powerless to stop him. This scene BROKE me.

In the post credits scene, Yunxiang (Nezha) asks Wukong “you couldn’t beat him?”, a nod to their battle at the beginning of Journey to the West where Erlang was able to subdue Wukong after 300 rounds of fighting.

In the teaser for the sequel, Yang Jian is seen overlooking East Sea City/Donghai (the same city Nezha: Reborn was set), commenting “so many years have past again”. What he meant was, about 1500 years since Chenxiang cleaved Mount Hua. “So many years” is a gross understatement.

FAQs

What is Yang Jian’s origin story?

Yang Jian is a disciple of Chan Daoism, the third generation disciple of Yuanshi Tianzun, known as the Primeval Lord of Heaven, one of the highest deities of Daoism. The Jade Emperor really is his uncle. According to some legends, his mother Yaoji was imprisoned under Peach Mountain for falling in love with a mortal, breaking the laws of heaven. Yang Jian cleaved the mountain in order to save her.

If he’s heaven's prince, how did he fall so low? And where is his uncle the Jade Emperor?

Yang Jian doesn’t exactly have a great relationship with his uncle. It was the Jade Emperor who imprisoned his own sister under Peach Mountain, and Yang Jian wrecked havoc in heaven over this incident (not unlike what Sun Wukong did a few hundred years later). So obv he doesn’t associate with the other gods in the heavenly court, choosing instead to live elsewhere along with his six sworn brothers of Plum Mountain.

As for the whereabouts of the Jade Emperor, this is something the movie has not hinted. However in Nezha Reborn, Ao Guang mentioned it’s chaos up there [in heaven] right now.

If Yang Jian lost his powers, how was he able to phase through the jail’s barrier and overpower all of his opponents?

Most of the powers he lost pertain to the powers of his Eye of Heaven, which had the ability to differentiate truth from lies and see through deceptions and disguises and be used as an offensive weapon to fire continuous, highly destructive blasts of light energy and/or divine fire. He also lost the ability to manifest his primordial spirit, as well as the ability to fly. He does however retain his skills in the martial arts, primarily his “Nine Turns Mystical Arts” (九轉玄功), which grants him vast, physical durability of undefined limits and nigh-invulnerability to conventional weapons and various magic spells. His 72 transformations should be a part of this skill so whether he retained it or not remains to be seen.

It would be awesome to see him be able to transform though, it would suck if he were stuck bounty-hunting for the next 1500 years.

So how powerful is Yang Jian exactly?

In Journey to the West, he was unrivalled and the most ruthless among all of the gods - even the Monkey King could not defeat him. Another time, he single-handedly killed a beast that Wukong and Pigsy were struggling to fight. At the beginning of the movie, we got to see him finish off the ogre before it even had time to react. When outnumbered by Boss Hai and his goons, none of them could even lay a finger on him. Yang Jian is so powerful that even with his powers nerfed, the toughest opponents seem like small fries to him. During the battle at Mount Hua, his primordial spirit was so unbelievably massive that its body couldn’t even fit in the frame. The combined efforts of four gods could not hold him down and just one swipe of his axe was able to destroy Master Yuding and three heavenly kings. Yang Jian is no joke.

How old is Yang Jian?

We know that Yang Jian was born after Jiang Ziya, a real life figure who was born in 1128 BC. Jiang Ziya was peers with his master Yuding, who already had a head of gray hair when he took Yang Jian in as a child. Going by this logic, we can estimate that Yang Jian’s age was about 20-30 when he participated in the battle against Shang, making his birth year between 1075 and 1066 BC. His age when he cleaved Peach Mountain is a broad estimate, as he looked much older than Chenxiang when he cleaved Lotus Peak, so it might not be that long before the events of IOTG. Yang Jian would’ve been about 1512 years old when Chenxiang was born, 1525 at the start of the movie, and 3093 years old today.

What is Yang Jian’s relation to Nezha?

They were allies. After the final battle in IOTG, a few of heaven’s warriors including Yang Jian and Nezha came to court to inform that they did not desire positions and wealth and asked to be liberated from service.

How does this tie in with Nezha Reborn?

I read a tragic leaked original ending for Yang Jian where they weren't able to free the fenixes and he was the one that becomes trapped under Lotus Peak. It took another 1000 years before Nezha freed him... talk about tragic life. By now, it is pretty much given that Yang Jian ending up in Donghai over a millenia later has something to do with the new Order of the Gods. It was repeated in Nezha that Ao Guang wants to establish a new order to improve his ranking on the list, and some theories say that the the fenixes being freed from Mount Hua heralded the end of the old Order. Sun Wukong also alluded that the list had been re-ordered more than once.

Part 1｜Part 2｜Part 4

[valena-nedela]

Huntokar, the Destroyer (Pathfinder Deity)

An obscure and peculiar deity, Huntokar is known only through her holy text, a thin volume that bears her name and, supposedly, was originally a recording of her own words. Notably, there is no one official version of the text, and ruminations, anecdotes, embellishments, and folk wisdom added by her followers have accumulated over time such that each copy is likely unique. The only portion of the text that remains untouched and consistent is what is known as “The Confession of Huntokar”, which is held to be the actual words of the goddess.

The Confession also stands out among deific texts. Rather than being a collection of teachings, praise for her glory, or a recounting of her accolades, the Confession is a somber account of Huntokar’s failure to protect her original followers, the mistakes she made in her ignorance and hubris, and the catastrophic consequences of her actions. As such, her modern followers do not treat the text as commands to follow, but instead a lesson to be learned — though several of Huntokar’s remarks in the course of telling the story are treated as commandments of a sort, such as “Intentions never matter” or “No action is without consequence.”

Due to the communal and varied nature of the text of Huntokar, the teachings and practices of her cults differ. However, a few common themes are generally shared among her followers.

Actions should be judged by outcomes.

Perfection does not exist. The continual improvement of ourselves, our community, and our environment are more important than seeking perfection.

Face reality and accept the truth, no matter how painful either of those things may be.

Our bonds with one another are the foundation of our existence. Value those bonds that give you strength.

A life that merely continues is worth nothing. For a life to have value it must be one worth living.

 Descriptions of Huntokar are nearly as varied as the lessons of her faith, but a few things stay consistent. She is always shown as a woman in robes, though some depictions have her robes worn and tattered, some have them simple yet finely made, and others show them made in a primitive manner using hides and furs, or even formed from natural elements like vines. In some depictions, she has the head of a deer. In others, a wolf's head with the horns of a stag. At times, either version is depicted as a mask, either of bone or hide.

A few of Huntokar’s most faithful claim that the goddess creates elaborate charts and diagrams in the sky, which clearly show her guidance, and explain the secrets of the world. Most, though, suggest those followers are just seeing something more mundane, like weird birds. This more common position holds that Huntokar only rarely communicates with her people, and that it is more important to take her story to heart and live one’s life according to her lessons. However, there are the occasional tales of strange, faceless messengers arriving with cryptic notes, or portents seen in the actions of vermin.

I wrote this up a while ago when I was bored and almost forgot about it, then stumbled upon it again and figured I'd share it.

Huntokar and her quoted dialogue is property of Welcome To Night Vale. The artwork of Huntokar is by SunnyClockwork and used without permission. I found it on the WTNV Fandom Wiki. The skull mask image is a costume piece from Attitude Studio.