#first altar babey!!!!

[wine-and-madness]

HEY GUESS WHAT

ALTAR

This is my first ever altar!!! Depression and ADHD have made this YEARS in the making, and I'm so happy to finally have done it!!! I used it to offer the first wine I've ever made that I find palatable 😊😊😊 Which is only my second batch, and vastly needs improvement still, but it's EXCITING to be getting somewhere!!!!!

[devilfic]

GMMMMM!!!!! I was hoping you could write a battinson x reader about their wedding? Maybe something just super soft and fluffy, WE LACK BATTINSON WEDDING CONTENT

❝wedding headcanons with bruce wayne❞

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: fluff, established relationship, marriage, mention of alcohol. words: 2k.

oh ABSOLUTELY

alright, walk with me

I’m imagining that bruce is a bit older if he’s getting married because. let’s be honest. getting this man to settle down right now would be like wrangling a hellhound

not because he doesn’t fantasize about it. trust me, he has, but you really are in a polygamous relationship with gotham during your first few years together LMAO

I think bruce had an idea of what his wedding would be like when he was younger

probably a small, traditional wedding. something that his parents had

but at some point, when bruce becomes conscious of his position in society (and just how many people are gonna wanna come to this thing), he figures out it’s probably gonna be a big deal

bruce... does not like that

I don’t think that he has a problem with a big wedding, but he does know if he has one, he’s going to have to adhere to the social rules of the upper echelon

and that means inviting people he doesn’t particularly Like

again, he does not like that

but the thing abt these social rules is that if you tell him you’re not comfortable, if you tell him you don’t like someone, if you tell him you don’t want someone there, he won’t give a FUCK about their feelings

bruce does not care about the fanfare. this day is for you and him as far as he’s concerned

this is also why I think during the planning stage he’d be the kind of husband to just hand you his wallet and tell you to go ape shit

but he’s not that kind of guy. he isn’t some disinterested husband just pawning off all the hard work onto you because he doesn’t want to do anything

it’s like I said, he only cares about you

if you want to go great gatsby and throw the party of the year? go crazy!

if you want something on an island beach? he’ll bring sunglasses!

if you want to walk up to the courthouse, pay for your marriage license, and take him to bed right after? do you, babey. or him. in this case

I think the only thing bruce would have any strong feelings about is the color scheme

I’m sorry, you know he’s going to want a lot of dark, gothic elements

he will feel so out of place if you guys did anything outside of his color palette LMAO

he’s not afraid of getting fancy, he just needs things to be on Brand

that being said, I think he would really like if you had the wedding in a cathedral

I mean the acoustics with a choir singing as you walk down the aisle would just be heavenly

I’m just picturing the cathedral in the movie with white roses and ivy everywhere!! the sun streaming in through the windows!!! the choir on either side of the altar singing so beautifully while bruce watches you approach that he can’t help but start crying!!! ahhhhH!!!

I also saw a couple do this and thought it was really sweet

so instead of doing the whole not seeing each other before the wedding thing, the couple dressed each other the day of

just imagining the intimacy of slowly waking up the morning of the wedding in bed with bruce, letting him stroke your back as you lay on his chest

you’re both a little nervous but all that comes out in giggles and silly jokes to calm each other down

then taking a shower together, washing bruce’s hair for him, getting distracted because he starts kissing down your back and oh how time flies

sharing breakfast that you both made in your underwear because alfred took dick and left you two the house for the weekend because I’d also like to imagine that at this point, robin is part of the family

(and is enjoying his weekend with grandpa alfred. and definitely hasn’t learned any alarming offensive tactics since he’s been away)

bruce putting on a record and dancing with you in the living room to “practice” for later

helping each other into your clothes, brushing hair out of the way and reminding the other where they left their shoes/earrings/cologne

bruce driving you to the cathedral and only parting ways so that you can hurry in the back door because the front is PACKED with paparazzi

alfred is bruce’s best man and is just smug as a bastard when he notices bruce’s little ticks that he’s starting to get nervous

dick is the ringbearer because of COURSE he is

I just love the idea of little dick grayson whispering “I got your six, batman 😎” when he comes up to the altar and bruce has to cough over him because there are like. several people in the vicinity that do not! know that!

he’s got his hair gelled back to high heaven with a cute little suit on that he definitely wasn’t bribed to wear by alfred that morning

I also don’t think dressing you before the wedding diminishes the impact of seeing you walk down the aisle

I think that your morning together would only solidify just how many mornings you two would have from now on, and it would make him emotional knowing that this is just the beginning?? that he can actually call you his in a whole new way???

bruce’s vows... he’s so emotional about them.

he’s asked for help from literally everyone he knows, especially selina because she has such a way with words

vows are kinda tricky for bruce because to him, he wants to just be saying this to you. he doesn’t want to entertain anyone else

how is he supposed to summarize how deeply you move him—how eternally bound he is to you in body and soul—in a way that doesn’t feel like he’s putting on a show for the audience? he doesn’t care about any of that. all he cares about is you

he keeps falling into the trap of “they know how much I love them, don’t they?”

but one thing selina tells him to do is just try writing for you, then

just sit down and word vomit. even if it’s silly, even if you already know it, even if it’s embarrassing

and one night he finds you asleep in bed with a book on your chest, clearly having fallen asleep on accident with just the lamplight illuminating you

at first, he drops into the chair beside the bed and just sits and watches you for a few moments. your book rising and falling with every breath, your body half snuggled into the sheets, the little noises you make as you dream

but then his eyes start welling up and it’s like. all those words just come flowing out of him

he grabs his journal and is frantically writing everything down, not worried about making sense. he just wants to say what he’s thinking before it escapes him

maybe at some point, you wake up to find him furiously jotting everything down and you ask what he’s writing about

and he kinda panics because he doesn’t want you to see exactly what he’s writing

it’s all a mess! it’s ugly! not pretty or articulate or clean at all

and it’s not like he’s never a mess before you. you’ve seen every part of him: the good, the bad, the ugly. you’ve never turned away before

it’s just that sometimes... he hesitates

but before he can think of an excuse, you smile and slip out of bed

lean over him and kiss his forehead

“must be important, I’ll leave you to it. how ‘bout I make us something warm to drink?”

and the hesitation melts away

he doesn’t end up telling you. he closes his journal and tucks it on the nightstand and knows that you would never look, never break his trust like that, but if you saw what he said... he wouldn’t mind

when you come back, you two crawl into bed with warm tea and fall asleep together this time

I like to think that he once met up with selina on a rooftop so he could run his draft by her askjsdkjf

selina is a BRUTAL editor but she’s really good at it

and eventually she approves of his last draft and he’s like. yippee!! I’m free!! worst fucking experience of my life!!!

he’s fiiiiiine selina’s not that mean

but it was hard!!

and when you’re both at that altar and he admits his vows aren’t very long, it’s not a surprise to anyone that bruce “man of few words” wayne struggled with what to say

but that’s not it

because if they really knew bruce, they’d know that no matter how little he says, he means every word.

and there’s this one line that sort of encompasses a promise he’d made to himself long ago and now is making to you. out loud

“you’re a good thing that I don’t think I deserve, but I want to. so I am and will continue to make sure that I am a man that does. for the rest of our life.”

and all those years of never letting himself enjoy a good thing are unspoken between the two of you, your wedding a testament to his change of heart

it’s also just kind of cemented when he says “our life”. you really aren’t getting rid of him, now

NOW THE RECEPTION

I saw this on pinterest and I just. I think it would be so beautiful

a reception in a greenhouse!! surrounded by plants and candlelight!!

at night!!

this would be the more intimate gathering with just family and friends

if I may. be a Twihard for like TWO seconds

consider: flightless bird, american mouth for your first dance

I think it would be so nice... it’s a really pretty song.... ok moving on

I don’t think bruce would be very interested in. um. certain reception traditions but again, man will do whatever you ask him to

if you happen to be wearing garters and want to do a garter toss. I suppose he will participate.

right after sending out a signal that bricks every phone within a 200 mile radius

BUT TOASTS

man is all red in the face from laughing so hard, you’ve never seen him have this much fun with more than two people in the room

the toast is a lot less put together when it’s his turn, I think bruce is just so full of love and comfort being surrounded by people he knows well that he has an easier go of it

he doesn’t drink since he’s not a fan of alcohol, but you know he’s fuckin up a bottle of sparkling cider

if you choose to drink, he will be happy to escort you throughout the night

can see drunk you asking him to help you into a bathroom stall and he’s just standing there in the doorway making sure you don’t slip and fall into the toilet

at some point though, he WILL replace ur drinks with shirley temples

he’s not trying to cramp ur style but like. alfred will take a picture if you vomit and he will put it in the family photo album and show it every year on your anniversary and if you try to destroy it you will find he has made an infinite number of copies

by the end of the night, you’re both back at home helping each other out of your clothes in the same lazy way as you did the morning of the wedding

brushing your teeth together in the sink, washing each other’s faces, slipping into more comfortable clothes

by the time you both collapse into bed, bruce is so full of. love! and light. he’s still got a smile on his face that he’s had since the beginning of the night and it’s so different

you’ll crawl onto his chest and ask him if he’s happy, if he got everything he could have wanted out of today

he’ll press a kiss to your minty lips, still smiling like a fool, “I got to marry you, didn’t I?”

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @moonlightreader649 @geekyfer @thescarletfang

[huntershowl]

SHIPPING INFO // ANSWER THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR MUSES SO PEOPLE KNOW HOW SHIPPING WORKS ON YOUR BLOG.

WHAT IS YOUR OTP FOR YOUR CHARACTER(S)?

i don't have one particular otp — big ships change depending on the Era hellhound is in!

HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE?

nothing illegal obviously — other than that, aside from long-lifespan characters whose mental maturation is slower, i generally stay away from with 10+ year age gaps when the younger muse is under 20. just feels like a weird power dynamic i guess?

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?

yes! ships on this blog cannot be pre-established — i tend to lose interest fast if they don't build up naturally, either through lots of ooc plotting or through writing. on top of that, seph is ... piiiiicky. she has very specific Types. generally, ships with very gentle, soft, mentally well-adjusted characters are possible, but transient — seph falls out of love after a point, but remains staunchly protective of them.

the long and short of the matter is she's a freak, and you kind of have to match that to be compatible as a long-term partner. but even then they don't always line up perfectly! idk. seph's weird. simultaneously very easy to ship with and very hard to ship with.

WHO ARE OTHER CHARACTERS YOU SHIP YOUR CHARACTER WITH?

oh i've got lots of good ones going on right now!! pls forgive me for gushing. focusing on currently heavily-plotted and/or written ones for this bit bc otherwise it will be pages and pages!! if i forgot someone you have full permission to impale me on a pike i am SO SORRY. (all of these will be under a readmore at the end of the post for length!)

there are more sort of beginnings/potentials for ships that haven't been explored yet which i haven't included here, but i'm truly excited to see where each and every one of them goes!!!

DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?

yes absolutely hahaha — at least communicating ooc about it is necessary! i'm much more comfortable shipping with partners i mesh well with as a mun and have an easy time talking to.

ARE YOU SHIP-OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS?

LOOK I. LISTEN. LISTEN... IM FERAL FOR SHIPS. FERAL. even though seph is picky about them — and i promise it's not personal if it doesnt work, it truly is just her dumb creature ass being unable to normal.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE SHIP IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM?

N/A for this blog, but as a fun trivia fact, i'm deep in satosugu hell rn

FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU?

it's all vibes babey. we just start writing their non-romantic dynamic buildup, and if it clicks (or even if u just think ur character would have a crush!) we talk about it ooc and plot some more, then plot some more and before u know it, the angst hammer looms over ur head

Tagged by: @bearratic (thank youuuu!!) Tagging: (points) do it

ship gushing below. <3

@vsagis' villain izuku— i had to put u first bc u kickstarted this shipping renaissance. seph and izuku clicked instantly and started a long-term trajectory that i don't think either of us writers expected. they're just freak enough to match each other, just soft enough to genuinely care. we're really putting these two through the horrors(tm) and watching them fall hopelessly, horribly in love. <3

@spiritcrown's pasha — how could i not mention pasha!! i was so happy to see you back, because pasha and seph's relationship was soooo formative for seph's development wrt romance. seph is absolutely, completely and utterly devoted to pasha. they worship at the altar of her. they would bend heaven and raise hell for her.

@crowshoots' jesper — UAHGHGBBHBH INCOHERENT CRYING NOISES. the first thing seph noticed about jesper was extremely respectable fighting skills, but even then they were definitely uhhhh touch and go for a while there before they started to simmer down and. pin each other down and — one thing led to another and jesper's being antagonized by her antagonists and they're too deeply in love to go back!! i love them. i l

@crowgreeds' kaz — HHHHHHHHH god. hi siri i know ur not around the dash much but idc im writing u into this. kaz and seph both have such a darkness in them that the other recognizes and not only feeds, but when necessary, balances. they're ruthless and violent and mean but at the same time, they have such a softness for each other that they both thought was dead. also, you're the recipient of probably the best rp reply i've ever written (that fucking. hellhound kill description. my GOD im feral for seph protecting him)

@tewwor.... goose is2g we really have the creatures ever. litho — FIRST SHIP!!!! FIRST SHIIIP i still cant believe it took 4 irl years for them to finally admit their stupid feelings. now they're soulmates and there's no turning back. he's the reason seph likes poetry in every verse. the softest snarkiest ship. probably the closest to a true YA-style soulmate seph has. she hasn't forgiven him for all the twilight jokes though tough luck jie & ricochet — the boys... the absolute chaos trio... i never expected seph and jie to fall for each other but honestly i should have. he falls so neatly into her "equally feral" type. ricochet is so calm and seph is kind of intoxicated by that. sheathed claws kind of vibe. just love these three their dynamic balances itself so well

@spungolden's dio — two femmes raised as weapons with deeply suppressed emotions, chillin in a murder alley, five feet apart cause theyre not g— (theyre gay. theyre so gay) these two are so sweet they sometimes make me tear up. they skipped the trauma stage and went straight into lesbian domestic fantasy with only occasional murder.

@chaoslulled oh boy(s). toji — brutally in love. they saw and embraced each other's monster, refused to shy away, and now they somehow revolve in this strange orbit of violent and incredibly soft with each other. i think he's the first of the current ship lineup that seph has in-thread said the L-word to. this ship was so easy to jump right into, the chemistry was like lightning in a bottle. satoru — one of the most genuinely unexpected slowburn ships i've stumbled into. these two read each other for filth INSTANTLY as lonely motherfuckers who, in some way or another, had loved and lost. they haven't even gotten to the oh-shit moment in the slowburn yet but i'm lookin forward to it yakuza sukuna — THE PAIN. THE SUFFERING. AUHHHGHGGGG HOL YOU'RE FUCKING KILLING MEEEE. these two are mirrors in the worst possible way. they've got their throats stuck under their boss' boot heels; they've been disfigured, they've had their siblings used as leverage, they've been made into muzzled dogs. despite hating each other at the start, they can't not recognize that, and it's led to this fierce protectiveness that isssss whoops evolving into feelings. i'm sure nothing will go wrong

@eraserisms' shota — AHHHHHHH god okay most of this ship has been pure plotting vibes and responses to memes, but i truly cannot wait to get into writing more of them because they own my heart and soul. i think they know each other to the marrow in a way that's not super common for seph, and the gentleness and caution with which they're starting to explore revisiting their care for each other is heartbreaking in the best way

@sasouken BEE!!!! ok chronologically(??): deku — so precious and wholesome from the start. your honor he's just a little guy with a big dumb crush. when i tell uuuuuu some of our plotting has literally made me tear up a little??? the absolute bleeding heart on this boy??? HURTS ME??? one day they'll hold hands casper — slated to be our angstiest dynamic, i just Know it. two motherfuckers who love their siblings, inextricably involved in a tangled web of crime and violence. two people who have lost so much and don't want to lose anyone ever again. i will die i WILL satoru — such... a different vibe than i was expecting in an amazing way?? his dynamic with seph is so fuckin sweet? so much physical touch born of trust and comfort. also again: her first ever fwb (for now), which is truly a wild thing to experience. sukuna — i .. . dont even know what to say about this one. (affectionate). he unlocked an entirely new dimension of freak in seph's psyche and attraction style that i couldn't comprehend before we started writing them but retrospectively makes so much sense. what the fuck is going on with these two i have no idea but i am OBSESSED with it. also writing them getting down nasty has been extremely fun, i'm enjoying it a lot

[fearandhatred]

fandom: good omens

word: worship

I HAVE FINALLY DONE IT copied straight from my notes app babey!! this may seem like just a sad poem but it's really crowley spiraling into a toxic inferiority mindset within the 10 whole seconds that they kiss. i did not mean it to take that turn but next to all the emotions in my brain is this entity called Dark Thoughts that turns the whole console black with one touch. anyway thank u bestie for the word prompt sorry it took five years

<3

Worn delicate but strong on your smallest finger, a golden halo of a ring that dug through layers of cloth into my spine when i kissed you. it was the first time i felt the touch of your hardened hands on my body, pressing me to you like i could be consumed whole, like you could breathe me into your soul and nestle me in your lungs, like i could become your air. and for a moment, it felt like we were

One. like we were the paths of two comets destined to intersect once and then never again; or perhaps like the odd bullet that gets lodged inside another midair, and doesn't make it out the other side alive. and it felt as if i knew for the first time a purpose beyond existence, beyond love: to worship. to worship you.

Resuscitation has never felt so explosive, so stuffed full with fearsome grace with the same force by which it was ripped from me. and i know now that i will never be the same unless i have this one thing, this reason to live and also to die.

So i'll worship you, from now till the death of time. and when every one of your touches burns with holiness, when you scald my tongue with spit, i'll welcome you on my knees to set me aflame.

Have me in all the ways, split me open on the altar as evidence of my humility, make me repent. forgive me.

I understand now, i understand, it's in my blood to submit, in my nature to crawl on my belly and eat the dust left behind. and i will, and maybe i can do it right this time—i will drag myself behind you with my hands clawing the carpeted shadows of your footsteps, break the bottle open to anoint your head. i'll worship you, skin to skin, soul for soul, if it means you'll stay.

Please—

[saints4grrrls]

starting foundations at 11:55:52 so that the first thing i hear in 2023 is "you must fix your heart and you must build an altar where it swells" bc that is what we're DOIN this year babey

[ladycatofwinterfell]

I know I’m making these posts for an audience of one (1) person and that person is me. But I like writing it out, it’s easier to make sense of all my thoughts and impressions that way. And it will give me something to look back on ahead of or during next season.

And so here it is. Thoughts on episode 8.

Maybe this time I’ll start with what I didn’t like and then do it more or less chronologically. Yeah, let’s do it that way.

The episode felt kinda… idk, clunky to me? It feels like maybe some things would have benefited from being a little more drawn out. And with that I’m especially thinking of the Louis/Armand divorce. After their fight in ep.5 I guess I was expecting more at the reveal that caused the end of their relationship. Something even more explosive. Or an actual confrontation. Though I guess we’ve been slowly seeing their relationship fall apart during the season and this was just the very last thing that cemented the end of it. I also would have liked more of Louis burning down the theatre. The cut between the New Orleans scene and Daniel's tv appearance was also a little abrupt for my taste.

The thing with Armand wanting Louis dead kinda annoyed me at first because it just straight up doesn’t make any sense for me. It just felt evil. It might be the bias that I went in expecting his motivation to be the same as in the books that brought this feeling out in me, but I really wanted that. He wanted Claudia dead so he could have Louis, it was never his intention for both of them to die. Though after a couple of rewatches I'm more willing to accept it. Armand seems to desire stability and reassurance and at that point in their relationship Louis could not promise him that. He refused to join the coven and was actively agitating members of it, which brought danger to Armand. He could not trust Louis to stay with him in the long run and so he chose his coven of 200 years. And when he realised it was not going according to plan he improvised in the hope of that he would land on top. And he did. And so I choose to trust them on this decision for now in the hopes of the next season giving more clarity. This season left Armand’s character in a similar place that Lestat was left in last season, the place as the villain in the story. This season gave nuance to Lestat without changing all of the bad things he did last season. And I hope the same will be true for Armand. And if it isn't I'll take the evil gremlin. I don't hate the evil gremlin. Armand <3

NOW! Good things. Because there are a lot of them. I saw that some people didn't really like this ep and while I consider it the weakest of the season it's still great. So let's talk about it.

Louis' monologue at the beginning of the episode is so good. Jacob Anderson is so good. I've fallen in love with both Louis and Jacob and it's all due to this wonderful performance. Wondering what he could have done differently to avoid ever falling for Lestat and reaching the conclusion that it was inevitable. There was no version of events where he didn't kiss Lestat on the altar (loooooove that they've leaned into the wedding implications of that in both this ep and ep 7). And so there was no version of event where all this could have been avoided, it was inevitable. He's probably right, it was inevitable, and that's part of the tragedy babey! And Claudia is dead. Claudia doesn't exist any longer. Her absence this episode is so striking. While it's all about her she's not truly there and there's a gaping hole where she was before.

His manic planning was also just beautifully acted. And it paired with Dubai scenes of Louis and Armand being like noooo Daniel you don't understand Armand was also a victim :( we prooooomise :( and Daniel just quietly waiting for when he can drop what he's discovered. Seeing Louis burn down the theatre was so satisfying. Setting fire to those who had wronged not him but Claudia and saving her things from that fire. Taking the last physical remains of her and committing murder with them in his bag <3 him knowing he can get Santiago by agitating and mocking him. and saying come to me???????? iwtv writers what the fuck were you on because I want some. All through the season I've been just a little in love with Santiago because of Ben Daniels' incredible performance and the fun pizzazz he brought to the character. With that said I was happy to watch him die after he said the most disgusting thing I have ever heard in my life about Claudia's ashes. Burn in hell bitch. All love to Ben Daniels though.

The scene with Armand afterwards? Where Armand admits to lying but not about that he played an active role in it? He knows he can't deny that he knew it would happen, but he knows he can deny it was largely due to him. Giving him a little of the truth, a bit he's carefully curated, just enough for it to be believable? Excellent.

LESTAT DE LIONCOURT!!! For now we'll just go with that I was wrong and that Lestat was chilling out in the dungeon out of his own free will (even though I still suspect we'll hear a different version later on. and if we don't and that was the truth i'm fine with it). Louis going to him with full intent of killing him that time, of burning him for what he did to Claudia. For crossing an ocean to rehearse a play that would burn his daughter alive. Big fan of them reversing to Claudia being their daughter btw. While she wanted to be their sister, while they called her their sister she never was their sister. That was their daughter. That was their little girl, as tragic as that is. Anyhow. He can't burn Lestat because Lestat has the blood of Akasha in him (Akasha mention let's fucking go). He can't kill Lestat. But he has to hurt him, he NEEDS to hurt him. And so he hurts him by being with Armand. I'm a big believer in that Louis and Armand really did love each other in the beginning and that their relationship was genuinely built on a connection. But that changes in Magnus' tower. That's when Armand becomes the rebound, that's when he becomes the companion Louis kept out of spite because he could not hurt Lestat in any other way then and there.

End of story. Armand breaths a sigh of relief, even allows himself to gloat a little. Too bad for him that Daniel is out for blood and is just itching to bring down his empire of lies. He points out flaws in Louis' story. He points out inconsistencies. And then he slams down the scrips for the trial that has Armand's notes scribbled in the margins. Because it was Armand. Armand had an active role in it. Armand wanted him and Claudia dead. Lestat saved Louis at the trial, and he didn't look very healthy in that version. He looked pale, he looked like the swaying Lestat we saw briefly just before Claudia died. Love how in the version of the trial from the previous ep Lestat wears black while Armand wears white, and when we see them rehearsing it's the other way around. Anyway I fell completely for that it was Armand that saved Louis, I believed it because that's what happened in the book, but it was a nice twist that it was Lestat. I think Sam Reid said he believes Lestat would have saved Claudia if he had had the energy for it, but he was simply not well enough to use his powers to save them both. Cool, doesn't at all make me want to die. Daniel lives for the drama, I'm here for it. His dramatic reveal was incredible. Louis snaps, as one might do when one finds out one's partner of 77 years murdered one's daughter and then fucked with one's head so one can't remember the truth of it. Him throwing Armand into the wall where the paintings were before but that they left bare because they couldn't agree on what to put up there? Fucking poetry.

Louis getting his accent back when he leaves Dubai is so beautiful. He lived in that grey and soulless apartment, spoke in a way that wasn't his own, wore only black. And now he's in New Orleans. He goes on a little tour that includes part of his own life and smiles at the incorrect things said like he's fondly reminiscing about it. And he is. He might have told a story that wasn't entirely how it actually happened in the interview, but it helped him to process some very painful things. It led him to come to terms with it in a way that he simply couldn't before. And now he's treated like a respected person, not looked down upon the way he was when he left New Orleans. And he sees a vampire catching rats, and he follows that vampire.

Okay so let’s get to the elephant in the room. The Louis/Lestat scene. Because while my first thought was Louis, girl, GET UP!! I really enjoyed the scene. Out of everything in the episode that one hit the hardest and how could it not? I’ve already come out as a loustat enjoyer, you know how it is (this show is very much not about shipping for me, but it’s also built on the relationships between all characters and loustat is simply THE relationship). He follows the young vampire and finds a Lestat that's a shadow of his former self. He returned to New Orleans because New Orleans is his home, but he hasn't been living there. He says he has, but that wasn't a life. He's been punishing himself ever since Paris, lived in atonement for what he did. He denies himself everything. Eats rats, lives in a shack, wears the robe he wore the first night he and Louis spent together, he even denies himself the joy of playing the piano. AND THIS IS THE FIRST TIME WE SEE LESTAT!!!! this is the first time we see Lestat in the flesh and not through someone's memory of him. And he's the most pathetic wet dog of a man you've ever laid eyes on. Gone is the grandiose personality and the seductive presence. He's just so sad. And he has an ipad. Who gave this man wifi??? and taught him to use siri???? I was taken off guard by siri pause, it was very funny. And while it wasn't the same tone as the rest of the scene it worked. Shows we're in the presence, grounds the scene in, idk, realism? Like it's not a big thing, a great happening, it takes place in the real world. With that said it is a great happening and I’ll be thinking about it for the rest of my life. The way Sam and Jacob acted the entire scene is so great (as always with those two). The initial gentleness from Louis at seeing what has become of Lestat. Lestat being a very miserable and watered down version of himself but not without a lot of the same mannerisms as before (the way he moves his head when talking, his little shoulder shimmy, the way he drums his hand against his board). I like Lestat holding the board in front of him like a shield until they get to the point where Louis asked why he didn't say that he saved his life in Paris. And Lestat questioning if it was saving him. Louis thanking Lestat for the gift of time is sooooo touching. He wore vampirism like a curse, couldn't accept it, but he's come to realise that the nights he has ahead of him means something. He can use those nights to learn to live honestly. And it truly is beautiful that after having seen Louis struggle with vampirism for two seasons that he can embrace his own nature in a different way and consider it something positive that he has eternity to do right by himself and others. And Lestat, upon hearing that, asking about if he tried to end his life in 1973. If it was truly so bad he hurt himself. Which ties very well into his doubts about if he truly did save Louis in Paris. And he's clearly spent a lot of time thinking about this because he remembers the exact date and the exact time, both in New Orleans and in San Fransisco, when he heard from Armand. And that's the only time he's heard about Louis since they left Paris!! More than 70 years and all he knows of Louis is that something terrible happened to him in 1973. And when Louis says he was lost he immediately brings up Claudia, because of course it's about Claudia. He can't stop thinking about her either. And perhaps this (apart from the unbreakable vampire bond) is what will always tie Louis and Lestat together from now on. That they are the only two people in the world that understand the loss of Claudia and that knew the joy of Claudia when they lived together in New Orleans. No one else fully understands their pain. Lestat blames himself for the trial, Louis blames himself for the turning of Claudia in the first place. Both of them think themselves partly responsible for her death. And in a way they are, but they didn't mean for that to happen and it will haunt them for the rest of their lives.

New paragraph because Tumblr forbid me from having one that long. It's the first time that has ever happened to me. Cool, I love this show. Anyway Louis heard from Armand that Claudia looked to Lestat in her last moment, but now he hears it from Lestat. He hears Lestat say she looked at him like he was her father, and then try to continue by saying he never was her father but the thing is that he was!! They were always her fathers. She referred to him as her uncle until she refused to be anything but a grown sister, but he was always her father. That was their daughter. Even when things were bad, even when she resented and hated them (especially Lestat), even when she tried to kill Lestat. Claudia was their daughter. In her last moment she did look to her father. The father that didn't save her. Side note, if they do "Claudia was my dark child, my love, evil of my evil. Claudia broke my heart" next season I'll die, I think. Claudia and Lestat are so interesting, character dynamic of all time if I'm being honest. Anyway they hug and it's such a relief for both Louis and Lestat. Finally they're embracing each other, sharing some comfort about Claudia's death, which is something they've both been denied for an entire human lifetime. And there's a storm going on around them, it sounds like the house will fall apart. 1 "Another round in the stormy romance of you two" and 2 "I was just a roof shingle that flew off of your house". Nothing is about Claudia because everything is about the two of them and it's always been that way, but simultaneously everything is about Claudia. And it's so deliciously tragic that everything becomes about her only after she dies. She could not be that while she was alive, she had to die for them to realise that. Just as with Claudia and Madeleine I love that we can't hear what they're saying to each other, again that's not for us to know. It's just for the two of them. Jacob and Sam deserve to have that.

And on a completely different note VAMPIRE DANIEL!!!! I saw him wearing sunglasses indoors and was like wait a moment... and then I saw his nails and YES he's a vampire!! Sad they've already burned half of my wishlist for season 3, but I can't be too upset about it. Daniel upon becoming a vampire immediately returning to his annoying and rash and twitchy 20-year-old self is gold. Becoming dated in his leather jacket and acdc shirt the same way Lestat became in his silk cravats. He's an old man physically but a very young vampire and it shows as soon as we see him. He's cocky and seems to think himself invincible, proudly proclaiming for all that will listen that vampires exist. I saw people upset that his turning was off screen but I like it. We know what's implied, we can definitely imagine approximately what took place after Louis told Armand not to touch Daniel. DID I HEAR MAITRE ONLY WHEN IT'S HOT OR CONVENIENT??? I'm a strong believer in that we'll get devil's minion, only in a different format than the one in the books, I'm not willing to give up on it. Louis and Daniel's relationship continuing is great though, and Daniel calling Armand an asshole wasn't bad either. Daniel pushing for more books because he's high on everything and on top of life. Great idea to make an addict into a creature whose entire existence revolves around the next fix.

Louis wears patterns now! He has a yellow couch! There are flowers on a table and a colourful painting on the wall! Claudia's dress is up on the wall, as is a portrait of Paul! The magnolia tree is gone, it's simply his little garden now. The apartment is his, he himself is his own. And the other vampires want to kill him for Daniel's book, and he lets them know they're welcome to try and fuck with him. Because he owns the night. When I saw him I was at first afraid of that Lestat would also be there with him, and I'm so glad he wasn't. I'm so glad that for now Louis is on his own, learning to live with himself and be himself again. I'm so glad that it ended with the focus on only him. Jacob Anderson as Louis de Pointe du Lac, you will always be famous. Also relieved it's been at least partly confirmed that while Lestat will narrate next season Louis will not take a step back, it's still also about him. I love Louis <3

[diresang]

            ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ knowing your partner can potentially make writing together a lot easier !

BASICS.

♡ NAME: raven ♡ PRONOUNS: she/ they/ he, i use em all babey ♡ SEXUALITY: full demi ♡ TAKEN OR SINGLE: uhhh complicated

THREE FACTS.

♡ i'm a tarot reader ! i own about five decks now. i haven't been able to do it in a while because i've been busy with school and work, but my intuition is something i can pride myself in. ♡ sorta alongside the tarot reading, i am pagan and i worship loki. i haven't been able to do full on rituals like i want to, but i continue to leave offerings on his altar and do devotional acts. ♡ i stream on twitch sometimes ! another thing i haven't been able to do because of work and school, but still on my list of hobbies.

EXPERIENCE.

♡ HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?): i was on the internet far too young and started rping in chat rooms at around 9 to 10 yrs old. so, i've been about it about 13 to 14 years now. what was i rping you ask? wolves. i was rping as a wolf. ♡ PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED: tumblr, discord, skype, msparp, deviantart, blogs made by me & my friends on webs, chatrooms. my heaviest rp scene was deviantart, however. i'm a lot newer to tumblr's rp, and i've been on and off with it for years but i've stuck around for a while now. ♡ BEST EXPERIENCE: i've never had a bad experience that i can remember. i guess the best experiences would be all the friend groups i created and the rp groups we had. unfortunately, they all drifted away after a while. i'm only in contact with a few of the people i used to rp with WAYYY back in the day.

MUSE PREFERENCES.

♡ FEMALE OR MALE: male, but i do have female muses. my male muses just usually end up more popular. ♡ FLUFF, ANGST OR SMUT: all of it ! i think that overall i'm more angsty when it comes to writing and ideas, though. ♡ PLOTS OR MEMES: i'm so awful at plotting, please just send me memes. especially when we're first interacting. if it's like, plotting OFF a meme that's so cool and awesome. but me ? outright plotting ? very rare. ♡ LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: long for sure. shorter replies like one-liners are usually saved for silliness. ♡ BEST TIME TO WRITE: i can write at any time really, but i usually end up writing in the afternoon/evenings because of work. ♡ ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S): i want to say no but my friends always find a way to prove me wrong every time. i do let certain aspects of my personality effect my muses sometimes, or use parts of my life/things i've experienced to influence them. right now, i keep getting that i'm like husk and it's a punch to my head every time.

tagged by: no one i STOLE it tagging: whoever wanna idc

[zrllosyn-art]

As per request by pumpkin, its Adult human mantis!! a super rough sketch but it gets the concept across.

I also went off and did a ton of worldbuilidng so theres that under the cut.

So first of all THE HIGHER BEINGS. I was thinking originally this world was occupied by non-human monsters, who had a fuckton of magic and were the origin of higher beings.

Ex) dia originally looked way more monster and dragon

and then alot of them got into a big ol war, until one of them becomes the victor. THis guy, who i am not sure about their design yet. But theyre humanoid, and also has a masked face.

(based off of old angels quite a bit, and its super obvious so the design is just a concept for now)

After the ‘Victor’ comes out on top as the clear winner of the goddamn war, they basically go “YOU FUCKED UP A PERFECTLY GOOD WORLD IS WHAT YOU DID. LOOK AT IT. ITS A BURNT ROCK NOW”. And more or less manhandles the rest of them into recreating life on the planet. And also makes all the beings on the planet humanoid, as a treat.

(”because i won goddamnit at least let me have this”)

And thats how you get the start of higher beings? Theyre all humanoid and the masks were used to anchor souls into these new bodies, and give them access to magic/mana?

The masks eventually become obsolete, and become a medium for magic as souls and flesh become intermingled and anchored to eachother.

ALSO THE FATE SISTERS. This part is subject to change depending on how the three of us (me, pumpkin, nd KC) change up the fate sisters’ dynamics.

(third one yet to be designed but theres three of them)

Originally the three of them did NOT get along?? They were born around the same time but they were also born into a war environment and just. Were constantly at each other’s throats.

And then the ‘Victor’ comes by and goes, hey u three work together to make ppl for me please thanks. And just. Kinda lumps em together and makes em work. Which, they dislike.

Theyre not allowed to actively fight each other and also have to make a single group of ppl (not one group for each of them) so they just, kinda compete in giving favor to the strongest and just. kinda showing off to each other like my favorite is stronger than ur favorite.

That leads to a pretty combat oriented culture for the mantis-group. Eventually the ‘victor’ drops in to see what they were doing, found the three sisters being a TERRIBLE influence, and just. NOPE IM ASSIGNING YOU THREE TO SOMETHING DIFFERENT.

And just, kind of, takes the three of em away. Which leads to myths about the mantis’ higher beings leaving for ‘a better place’ and whatnot. The legend changes as time goes on, like the three sisters merged into one higher being that ‘ascended’ or that there were 4 sisters that ascended (the previous merged version becoming a 4th sister). The most recent version of there being 4 sisters that together created a ‘heaven’ and ascended, leaving behind the thrones and altar that will serve as a road to lead their people to this ‘heaven’.

Myths go all over the place as it gets older.

Meanwhile the 3 sisters get assigned to being the fates, which is basically paperwork hell. They just, sit and record stuff and make sure theres no weird inconsistencies and prevent the start of another wide scale war like before.

Its boring as FUCK but it also makes them all work together and slowly they get along. Theyre old and know each other for too long. They still fight sometimes though. Siblings.

Meanwhile new higher beings appear often. Theyre either made because of heavy belief, or they exist in the first place and gain belief. It goes kinda visa versa. The Pale King is a newer one. The radiance and the void is both pretty fuckin old, theyre from when the war was going on im p sure.

The void is older than all of them i think? and cannot really be communicated with. Maybe caused a ton of chaos and is too strong to be left alone, so had the radiance assigned to them as a seal. It clearly didnt work.

ALSO MANTIS VILLAGE.

was figuring out more cultural stuff and this was touched on by the fate sisters, but was thinking about masks and their cultural importance to them. As seen in the Mantis sketch theres 3 stages of masks?

The first one is the one your parents or guardian makes for you as a child. Its rounded and distinct shape indicates to everyone else that you are a child, and is meant to be protected. Someone else is responsible for your actions, and you cannot fight the kid. This is a babey.

In the first stage mask kids are taught? reading and writing, basic exercise nd stuff. Things to help them develop mentally and physically. Fighting is technically not allowed, but the kids fight amongst themselves anyways.

At the 2nd stage you’re deemed old and maybe mature enough to learn combat. At this stage no one is allowed to actually fight u seriously other than your peers, but sparing and combat is allowed. You make your weapon then, and the 2nd mask is usually self made following a template.

Weapons are made out of chunks of pale ore (found in a specific place). You kind of just, break it off and then chip and sharpen it. Weapons are made by the wielder and changes over time with them. Weapons tend to maintain their original shape, so they tend to maintain a pretty organic shape. Theres alot less ‘forging’ involved in the process.

(mantis has two, and theyre both pretty rough at the edges. Carvings and such are added as you age as you like, usually to signify and important event)

The third mask indicates adulthood. Each person dons their 3rd mask at different times, whenever they personally feel ready. Usually someone else, a mentor figure or some equivalent, tells the wearer when they feel the to-be adult is ready for a 3rd mask, but the choice is ultimately up to the wearer.

The 3rd mask has no template and is completely up to the wearer, and is usually decorated by loved ones. The symbols on the mask are typically pale and hard to see, and usually have some sort of deeper meaning to the wearer and whoever carved it.

Once the 3rd mask is donned, the wearer is considered an adult, and is permitted to wear armor. This means that in all combat (other than mutually agreed upon instances) there will be no holding back. Armor indicates people can come at you with full strength during spars, because the armor will give you the leeway you need to survive. If that makes sense.

IN MANTIS’ CASE.

Mantis probably only dons the 3rd mask when they leave or is close to leaving Hallownest. Their mask was carved by themselves, although there are a few large nicks in it from when they sparred with Cyrill and Ruby. Theyre left on there on purpose.

(Not that cyrill or ruby know that its on purpose, or the significance of it being left there. Theyre both just waiting for mantis to bring it up again, as a way to guilt them both into doing something)

Putting on armor is a pretty ceremonial thing probably, but probably done by Mantis in private. A short small ceremony. Its probably a little sad, cause its supposed to be a big ol ceremony but they have to do it alone. lmao.

Mantis is pretty traditional, despite not really buying into their culture’s religion. They still kind of, like the traditions themselves, and so keeps following them. Out of respect for those that raised them and also just. As traditions, rather than their religious aspects. 

Probs heavily dislikes a lot of the religious aspects of their culture probably.

[naughtynutboy]

ladies, gentlemen, and all things in between, it is 10:21 PM at the time i'm writing this so you know what that means

it's bone time, babey

i will be taking you all on a photographic tour of my current humble bone collection, so if the skulls of dead animals is something that you'd rather not see, feel free to skip this post though there will be nothing graphic

i got into vulture culture and collecting bones around this time last year, at the beginning of june when my wonderful cat caught a chipmunk and brought it inside the house as cats do. i had heard of vulture culture before which is why my mind immediately decided that this chipmunk was going to be my first project.

so i manually decomposed the chipmunk (which i had fittingly named alvin) all by myself and got it's bones in a process that truly tested my squeamishness. trust me when i say that processing a whole animal from start to finish like this is not for the faint of heart, but it taught me a lot about nature and decomposition and many different smells

so here is how he's looking now! from left to right are alvin's jaw bones (with the bottom front teeth glued in, as that's the most progress i've made assembling his skull in a year), the rest of the pieces of his skull, and all his tiny little teeth! to really show just how small they are, i put one on my table next to my finger for comparison. the two bigger curved ones are his top front teeth!

moving on in my collection is my groundhog skull! he's the second bone i've collected and i got him from one of my friends who has a lot of groundhogs that die in their yard. i don't have his lower jaw so it's just his head but i love him all the same! i've named all of my skulls and his name is stefán, chosen by the friend who gave me him and named after stefán karl. why do i have a groundhog skull named after stefán karl you may ask? your guess is as good as mine

next up is my favorite skull in my collection, my cat skull! i got it for christmas from SkullsUnlimited (which i highly recommend if you are into oddities and such!) and i just think its so cool!!! i named this one lucifer after the cat in cinderella, and i think it fits extra well because this cat had double fangs!! it's an adolescent skull with 4 retained teeth (meaning its baby teeth didn't quite fall out yet/got stuck and the adult teeth had to squeeze past) and it looks so cool!!! i could gush about lucifer all day long so let's move on to my last skull

last but not least is lumière, my lesser long-nosed bat skull! i got lumière and lucifer in the same order on christmas, and i named him lumière after, well, lumière from beauty and the beast. there is a reason for this naming choice but it's kind obscure, basically i had a sticker of a bat on my wall and a sticker of lumière next to it and when i was thinking of names i glanced over and saw it lol. i really like it though cause bats are like all about the dark and lumière is a candle so it's cool idk

also, as a disclaimer, i don't think i will be purchasing bat remains in the future because i learned of all the poaching and the bad stuff that goes on where these bats are from and while i'm fairly sure SkullsUnlimited sources their products humanely, i'd rather just not contribute to that sort of thing :) but lumière was purchased before i was aware of that and will probably remain the only bat in my collection

i also have various bones from owl pellets we had to dissect in 6th grade science that i smuggled out of the classroom, but i don't have them here to take pictures of so that concludes my bone collection! currently all the ones i showed you are sitting on my dresser in my collection of knickknacks that also doubles as a witchy sort of altar space because we all deal with quarantine in our own unique ways, mine just so happens to be rediscovering my love of witchcraft lmao

anyway yeah there you go! my bone collection and hand reveal!

[ezroar]

How would Ruby and Oscar's wedding look like in babey overlords au?

Sorry about the wait! I was busy with art and irl stuff but I am here now, faithful anon!

Ruby and Oscar’s wedding would be very them. But, to be honest, probably has a scrapbook full of wedding ideas for the two, right down to the doilies. But Ruby and Oscar have enough control to pick out what they want. In the lead-up to the wedding, the two are just so full and it’s hard to separate the two. The two would be young though, getting married, just barely adults but they’ve made the promise to be together forever so why the hell not. 

The thing they’d have the most trouble with would be where to have the wedding, whether if it’s at the castle or in Patch or in the ruins of Beacon to taunt Salem or on Oscar’s old farm. In the end, they choose to have the wedding where they first met, looking over the cliff, celebrating both life and death with it being the place where Summer died but the place of their marital vows. 

They’d have an altar with a canopy made out stick, bone and pine trees. It’d be a small gathering, with the few conscious allies there (e.g. Pyrrha, Jaune, Yang) and family. Pictures of Summer and Oscar’s parent would be placed on chairs on the front row. The day isn’t perfect, with dark clouds cast overhead setting the occasion in a slightly sinister light, but Ruby and Oscar couldn’t care less. Candle light would line the walk up to the altar and the wedding dinner table. 

Ruby would wear a dress of red and white, being her bouquet are blue flowers, while Oscar dons his usual black and green. 

The thing is ... Taiyang doesn’t walk Ruby down the aisle. He’ll sit in the pew, but the man is so tired he doesn’t have it in him to even walk his little girl down the aisle. It make Yang incredibly frustrated with her ‘weak’ father. Yang takes his place, and in her mind, she deserves to because in reality she’s the one who’s been more of a parent rather than some husk. Oscar tears up at the sight of Ruby walking down the aisle, because has there been a woman more beautiful???

Oscar’s vows are long. The boy f r e a k e d  o u t writing them, not knowing what to say so he said everything. E v e r y t h i n g. Everybody, except Ruby, wanted it to end at the ten minute mark. Ruby was moved to tears and had to have a minute to compose herself. Ruby’s vows are short and sweet, meaning every word, which is a relief for the guests because they couldn’t sit through another 30 minute long speech again. 

But I can’t get the idea that somebody tries to betray Ruby and Oscar during this occasion, either Pyrrha and Jaune or Weiss or somebody in their group of allies, and blood spills on the altar, a body laying dead at their feet, before they move on, grinning brightly. 

The wedding reception is an intimate experience with Ruby and Oscar slow-dancing to the same Mistrali song his parents danced to at their wedding, on a patch of grass in the early night, their figures illuminated by the glowing candlelight. 

Yang is bawling through her Best Woman speech, in absolute tears, and threatens Oscar with bodily harm if he ever hurts Ruby. Meanwhile, Sun’s speech is bright and well-meaning, wishing nothing but the best for the two. 

The two would have their honeymoon in the ruins of Vale, walking amongst the affected and doing whatever they want. It didn’t matter if the streets sounded a little quiet or their subjects were nothing more than mindless puppets. 

It’s their happily ever ever. 

[cynicalrainbows]

Prompt was for Aragon taking care of Bessie. This is tour-verse (hence Babey Bessie) and is based around the idea that Bessie and Aragon were originally very close, as Bessie was at Aragon’s court as maid-in-waiting since childhood. Also that it’s unreasonable to expect people to be able to get over resentment just like that. AND also that Aragon suffered a LOT, a fact which often gets overlooked.

Anyway, enjoy! Thoughts and comments welcome!

She had never wanted to be unkind but it had crept up on her somehow. She remembers how it used to be, how people used to see her- clever Queen Catherine, who had solved the whole problem of Arthur’s death by marrying Henry, good Queen Catherine who advocated for patience and kindness. Charitable Queen Catherine, with her pricked fingers from sewing shirts for the poor; pious Queen Catherine, with her fasting and prayers. 

Kindness used come easily- towards anxious serving maids and fumbling pages and to the many many poor souls who would crowd into her presence chamber. Having to bite her tongue back from angry words and sharp retorts to her own husband left her patient by necessity- it was easy to stay calm over dropped pitchers and torn gowns and burnt food, and she would hear the servants whisper about it when they thought she couldn’t hear.

‘So kind…..’ ‘Ever so easy to serve-’

It used to be easy to feel for people, to see the best intentions behind what was actually said and done. It used to be easy to forgive.

It isn’t so easy anymore.

She had held her temper until the end back in her old life, in preparation for the day that she would be a monarch again, had done so to prove her right to the crown, as if she could bring about justice through exemplary behaviour.

 The reward for her waiting had never come, for course- she knows that now. The years of loneliness, of hunger and cold, of sickness and of pain, had all been for nothing and now she has nothing left to prove: now she behaves only as the person she is- a wronged woman, a mistreated ex wife, a betrayed ex queen- and there is a certain pleasure in allowing herself to express the bitterness, the frustration that she never allowed herself back then.

Now she can snap, now she can roll her eyes and sigh and say anything she wants to. Once or twice, she catches a glimpse of herself in a window, a mirror and it’s a funny feeling, seeing her old face- the face of the young new queen, fresh out of seclusion and mourning, anxious to fulfill her role to be the gentle mother of this fresh new country- twisted into a sneer.

Sometimes it almost makes her laugh. Sometimes it jars her.

It jars Bessie too, she can tell from how the girl looks at her sometimes- like she’s searching for something that’s missing, like she’s waiting for things to go back to normal after a temporary change 

She can tell that it jars Bessie, that it confuses and upsets her, but somehow, it just….doesn’t really bother her.

She knows she should be happy to have someone familiar back with her- and she had cried actual tears of happiness when she saw Maria again, while Jane and Joan clung to one another tightly enough to leave bruises….but of course it wasn’t that simple.

(Nothing is ever simple.)

Really, she should count herself lucky that Bessie’s presence doesn’t give her the same flashbacks that Maggie experiences from being around Anne….but it’s still hard, it’s still painful.

She doesn’t see Bessie as a headless corpse, she doesn’t see the scaffold.

Instead, she looks at Bessie and she sees herself. She sees herself in prayer, desperate, frantic, begging and pleading for a child. She sees herself in tears after each moon’s new blood, trembling with the knowledge that Henry would find out ... sooner or later. 

She hears the whisperers, discussing her broken barren body- for surely the fault must be with her, did the king not have a son already? She sees the king, his face hard and cold but easily readable as he thinks the same, convincing himself, pulling himself back from doubt or guilt: it’s not him, Bessie proves that, she proves that it’s all Catalina’s fault.  

She sees Henry falling out of love with her, drawing away from her- and with him, the love of the country, the respect of the people, creeps away too.

She sees herself shamed- in private, in public, she sees herself abandoned. She sees herself dying, alone, cold and sick and poorly clothed. She sees the end result of Henry's dying love- and she knows that wherever else blame might lay, the tide began turning against her because of Bessie.

Bless ’ee, Bessie Blount.

Fans were politely asked, via several social media posts, not to use the old phrase even as a joke when Howard saw how Bessie shrunk away from it, but Catalina was glad too. 

Hearing it made her feel sick but she’d never been one to show weakness in public. 

That had always been the girl’s problem- too vulnerable, too fragile. Once, long ago, it had made her sorry for her- for the child shrinking back and shivering in her stiff new gown, overwhelmed by the noise and crowds of the wedding festivities, barely able to say a word for fear of making some mistake.

‘Who is that girl?’

‘The Blount girl, Ma’am. One of your new maids in waiting, just arrived I believe.’ And then, in an undertone that Catalina had only just caught over the noise of the great hall, ‘Poor little thing is only eleven- they say her parents couldn’t wait to rid themselves of her.’

 Once, it had made her want to take care of her, to shield her.

Now she found Bessie’s vulnerability irritating in its obviousness- one only needed to glance at Bessie to feel sorry for her and so everybody did. There was no sympathy left for those left dazed and scarred by her actions- by her indiscretion. 

Just as the country had bent themselves up in sympathy for the poor king shackled to a barren wife- and then to a bitter, clinging ex wife- now the other queens shook their heads over ‘poor Bessie’.

Her own years of struggle, the aching misery, the humiliation, the discomfort, were all (it seemed) swept away and forgotten.

But she did her best to make them remember.

Somehow though, it was never enough: no matter what she said or did, no matter how she tried to remind them of what had happened to her at Bessie’s hands (inadvertently, of course, but it wasn’t as if Henry was there to blame), she just made herself look worse in their eyes. They never seemed to see that she was hurting, they never seemed to see that she was lonely.

But she was.

(Sometimes it felt like she always had been.)

She’d been lonely as a young widow, lonely as a bride. She’d first noticed Bessie because the girl had looked as alone as she felt- standing a little apart from everyone else, eyes on the ground, looking as if she wanted to make herself disappear.

She had done for Bessie what no one had done for her- taken an interest in her, befriended her.

‘And what do they call you, child?’

‘B- bessie. If it please your Majesty.’

‘You are to be my youngest maid in waiting, did you know that?’

‘No- no, your majesty.’

‘Are you excited to come to court?’

The girl had been well-drilled in courtesy- she nodded.

‘Yes, your Majesty. I- hope I will be useful. To you, I mean.’

‘I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully well, sweetheart. I’m so pleased you’ve come to serve me.’

‘Thank you. Your Majesty.’

She looked so anxious Catalina couldn’t bear it- she put her hand gently on the girl’s arm.

‘It’s alright, sweeting, you don’t need to be afraid.’

It hadn’t taken much- a few kind words, a smile: the child seemed starved for affection. Before a day had passed, she was following Catalina around like a puppy- not pushing herself forward, not making herself a nuisance, but always lingering on the periphery of wherever Catalina happened to be, always just visible out of the corner of her eye, hands twisting nervously, waiting for an order, any order: to pour a cup of ale, to read a letter, to wind wool.

The girl was always so grateful for the merest hint of affection and unlike so many of her other attendants- always watching, always listening for some tipbit that might prove useful gossip later, or else always cozening, always coaxing for some favour they wanted- Bessie was easy to understand. 

She just wanted someone who was nice to her- and being nice to her was, Catalina found, very easy. She was a sweet girl, she was thoughtful. Clever enough to make conversation once she got over her shyness. She noticed things.

When a conversation would turn sour and courtly smiles became dangerously stretched, when words grew sharp and barbed, Catalina would grit her teeth and keep calm, as she always did, as she always had done- except now she would find herself grounded by the small hand holding onto her skirts, the small foot nudging against her ankle- and from the seat close to her, she would look up and see Bessie’s worried young face.

Once or twice, the girl even made a little distraction- pricking her finger and causing a flurry as the other ladies rushed to save the altar cloth they were working on from the blood, upsetting a cup of ale to give her reason to break into abject apologies: suddenly the focus would be off Catalina for a minute or two and she’d be able to collect herself, gather her thoughts and be ready once the conversation resumed.

And afterwards- an hour later, a few hours later- she would send her ladies away and call Bessie to her side as sternly as she could manage. And once they were alone, she would pull the girl into her arms and tell her how grateful she was, and Bessie would glow with pride. 

‘Did I do well, my lady?’

‘Wonderfully well, sweetheart. What would I do without my clever girl?’

It had never seriously occurred to Catalina that she would ever have to do without her- the thought that she might was unpleasant so she dismissed it. Sending Bessie away would be like having to send away an arm or a leg.

She wondered sometimes if this was what it felt like to be a mother- although she always dismissed the thought too- she would have her own children one day.

(She would, she would, she would.)

Even then, she knew that she would never be able to have with her own children the relationship she had with Bessie. Her children would be brought up away from court, raised by people paid to do so, in order to turn them into the adults they would need to become. Her children would have their own households from birth- she would visit them and they her but ‘home’ would never mean the same place.

Bessie though was always with her- she didn’t need to worry about the girl’s readiness as an heir because that was never even a distant possibility. Instead, she could worry about other things- how white and pinched the girls face got when she saw her first bear-baiting (ironically something that was meant to be a treat) and how she looked so weary in the days that followed.

(‘Hush, hush- it was just a bad dream.’

‘It’s horrible...the bear...and the blood and- why do people like to watch it so much?’

‘Sometimes people like strange things, sweetheart. Don’t think on it anymore. Go to sleep, I’ll stay with you.’)

She could worry that Bessie might be afraid when it thundered (she was) without having to worry that it would make the girl too soft to rule if she let her sit close by her side during storms.

(‘It’s just God, querida. That’s all.’

‘It’s so loud, it-’

‘You’re safe with me, it’s alright. It’ll be over soon.’)

She could indulge her taste for marchpane, her preference for green apples over red without having to spare a thought about whether this indulgence would ‘spoil’ her. She could laugh at Bessie’s distaste for embroidery without having to scold her about necessary skills, she could release her early from her duties just for the pleasure of Bessie’s smile without having to worry that a future Queen should not dedicate quite so much time to music.

She could love without restrictions, without conditions, without fear.

Bessie in turn could admit to Catalina when she wasn’t feeling well- and know with certainty that the admission would result in her being tucked into bed with a cool cloth on her forehead, rather than questions about whether she was attempting to shirk her duties. She could tell Catalina about her progress with her music lessons without fearing that the woman would be bored, she could play her her new songs without being afraid that they would be ridiculed. She could go to her after being scolded by the more senior ladies, and know that Catalina would put aside her work to take her into her arms and reassure her that she wouldn’t be sent away, not ever.

(‘Don’t listen to them, querida. They were just cross.’

‘You won’t let them send me away, will you my lady?’

‘Never.’)

It was all spoilt of course, as all good things are.

She didn’t have the option of hating her husband- she supposes it would be different in the modern day- and so it was Bessie she had to blame, Bessie who was sent away (quietly, discreetly.)

And Catalina was alone again.

*

She was alone- but Bessie wasn’t, it seemed. Bessie had Anna, who had been thrilled to have someone back of her own, who she remembered. She even had Maria, who by rights should have been on Catalina’s side rather than constantly reminding her to ‘be kind’. And she had Kitty too- who always seemed to be there to jump to Bessie’s defence, to shut Catalina down before the words had fully left her mouth. Stepping into the place Catalina had left.

Bessie just didn’t need her anymore.

*

She’s early to the theatre but still the last to arrive, and she lingers for a moment in the doorway- Anne is showing Cathy something on her phone, they’re both laughing…. Joan is frantically making notes, Jane leaning over her shoulder and urging her to take a break. Kitty is leaning back on the couch, talking to Anna…..and Bessie is there, sitting on the floor at Kitty’s feet and tuning her bass. As Catalina watches, she finishes and moves up onto the sofa, shooting a pleading look at the tall pink-haired woman. Kitty smiles, lets Bessie into her lap, wraps her arms around her and says something quietly in her ear that makes the girl laugh.

It hurts to watch: she misses having someone look at her like that…. And when Bessie catches sight of her, it hurts more that the girl seems to stiffen, that she slides away from Kitty and picks up her guitar again, her eyes averted as if she’s waiting for an attack.

Catalina knows it shouldn’t be a surprise- she’s made barbed comments before about maturity, or lack of…. She knows it’s her fault. But it’s still painful, to see the girl who used to adore her shrink away from her.

(She hates herself. She hates Bessie. She hates herself.)

At the same time…. She can’t look at the girl without feeling sick, angry, scared…. and the hurt spills out too easily, in scowls and jibes.

She’s angry at Bessie for being hurt so easily. She’s angry at herself for the same reason.

She hurts. Bessie hurts. It’s a cycle, it seems.

So she leaves the dressing room, sits in her car until two minutes before the show begins, throws on her costume and doesn’t look at anyone for the rest of the day.

It’s easier if she doesn’t have to see the person she has become reflected in their eyes.

**

Every day she wakes up with the same thought at the back of her mind- today she will do better, be better. Today she will rise above things…. But then inevitably things will start to spiral and veer off track- her alarm clock won’t go off, her yoghurt will be gone from the fridge, someone will use up all of the hot water- and the petty annoyances will use up all of her good will and her good intentions and before she knows it, she’s snapping and snarking and Bessie is looking up at her with those big eyes of hers, looking so wounded- and shes failed again, she’s ruined things again….

But there will always be tomorrow.

*

Which is why when she comes into the dressing room on Sunday afternoon to pick up a forgotten jacket and sees Bessie sprawled on the floor, pale and not moving, her first thought is one of freezing, paralyzing regret: I left it too late. I left it too late and now she’s dead and it’s all too late…..

It’s too late, it’s too late, it’s too late-

It’s like a switch being turned: Bessie is dead, Bessie is dead, and I did it all wrong, I did everything wrong, God help me, I did it all wrong-

She’s on her knees by that point- she’s begging, praying, the way she used to when she felt her womb quicken: Lord, please let me not lose this child…. The same panic, the same desperation.

 (It doesn’t occur to her that she should not feel this way, that Bessie- if she ever truly was- can surely no longer be called hers’)

It’s too late, it’s too late-

But Bessie’s hand, when she takes it, is warm-

She wonders if shes imagining it- she does, sometimes: she could feel her son kicking even as the midwife confirmed that he had surely died in her belly, she missed her blood when she was sure that she had taken…. But then Bessie gives a tiny sign, her eyelashes flutter-

She’s alive.

She’s alive.

It isn’t too late.

The thought is as terrifying as it is relieving: she isn’t dead and- oh God-

Bessie isn’t dead but if she had been, Catalina surely would have condemned herself to hell many times over for her treatment of the girl and what sort of horrible person must she be, where does that leave her now-?

And then Bessie moves again, moans weakly, and she’s snapped back into action- except she isn’t really sure what action is meant to look like.

(She remembers Cathy, a while back, reading a book about about what to do in crisis situations. 

‘You never know what might happen- there are so many more things that can happen nowadays-’

‘You know they won’t all happen to you right?’ Catalina had teased from the other end of the sofa and Cathy had frowned and moved her feet from her godmother’s lap.

‘Fine but don’t come crying to me when you’re not prepared for something…’

‘Does it tell you how to deal with reincarnation?’ Catalina had quipped, recapturing the feet and taking up the nail polish again, while Cathy huffed and pouted.)

How she wishes she had listened now- except maybe she had taken in a bit, because she knows not to move her…. Not yet anyway, not until she knows she isn’t really hurt.

She’s breathing, at least- she’s conscious-ish….

‘Bessie?’ It feels strange saying the girl’s name without the sharpness that she usually ends up using. ‘Bessie- can you hear me?’

‘Mmmmm-’

The bassist is moving a bit more now and she’s about to tell her to lie still when a fit of coughing jerks her up: it’s a bit painful to listen to, and to watch, she’s wracked by the spasm, and instinctively Catalina wraps an arm around her shoulders to support her.

It’s the first time she’s touched Bessie for…. A while. A long time.

When it passes, Bessie sinks back against her: her eyes are glassy, unfocused, and she’s not just warm, as she first assumed, she’s hot. She’s too hot.

‘Bessie-’

She feels a moment of surprise- how has the girl managed to get herself this sick so quickly…. But then she feels a pang of guilt. 

Hadn’t she snapped at Bessie for making too much noise during rehearsal yesterday morning, accused her of playing up her ‘cold or whatever’ for sympathy? Hadn’t she rolled her eyes when the girl stumbled in late, hadn’t she sighed irritably at the sight of her curled up wearily in Kitty’s arms during the break, thinking that she really needed to tell Howard to stop being so soft with her?

 (She’d ignored the little sharp stab of memory, of Bessie curling up to her like that, hiding her face in her neck and clinging to the sleeve of her gown so tightly that it would be left creased.) (Her arms definitely hadn’t suddenly felt empty.)

‘Are you alright?’

‘Hot-’

It’s not a lie, the girls forehead is on fire… but she sighs, manages a faint smile, at the feel of Catalina’s cool fingers on her hot skin.

‘Stay….stay with me….’

Her breath catches in her throat.

When has Bessie last asked her to stay?

She knows really that it’s just another symptom of sickness, like the fever, like the fainting (she’s sure she must have fainted- no blood, nothing broken)- proof that Bessie must be really, really out of it…. But she still feels a little glow of happiness, all the same.

She never thought she’d hear such a thing again- she’d assumed things had gone far too far- and she takes the girl’s other hand. Squeezes it.

‘I’m here. It’s alright.’

She figures she can risk moving the girl now- it’s no use shouting for anyone because it’s not like there’s anyone else there and it would only strain her voice… 

Also- she doesn’t really want to leave Bessie alone on the floor while she fetches someone.

(What if she thought she was being abandoned again? What if-)

So she does the only thing she can do- scoops the bassist into her arms and gets to her feet- she’ll get to the reception where she left her bag and phone, she can call for help then- but she has to take a minute to adjust herself, to get used to the weight in her arms. 

(She hasn’t carried anyone in a while, although she didn’t used to have to think twice about it: she remembers carrying Bessie to bed after weariness made the girl stumble, scooping her up out of the throes of nightmares to comfort her, lifting her up when she fell and twisted her ankle, while calling for someone to bring ice- she remembers how Bessie had gripped her hand when the physician went to work on wrapping it, eyes wide and biting her lip so hard it bled. 

‘Doesn’t it hurt, querida?’

‘I want to be brave for you, my lady.’)

Before she’s taken two steps they’re interrupted by footsteps- the door is pushed open: Joan’s arms are full of bags and papers, as usual, she’s holding a green and white Starbucks cup and Catalina internally winces when she wonders how much caffeine the music director must have had already.

‘What happened?’

From the look on Joan’s face, it’s as if she thinks Catalina has killed the girl or something and she’s a bit offended.

‘She’s sick- I think she fainted-’

‘Oh- yeah, she said she wasn’t feeling well….’

‘And you just left her to it?’

Joan’s face creases in annoyance. ‘You were the one who told her to be quiet when she was coughing earlier! If anything, this is on you- you know she’d never want to make you angry by making a fuss!’

And she knows Joan is right- that’s the awful thing.

When Catalina doesn’t snap back, Joan looks up- she seems surprised at the emotion on her face and a little nervous too: she clearly hasn’t had enough coffee to deal with both a sick Bessie and an emotionally fragile Aragaon.

‘Ok- I’m going to call 111 and see if they recommend us bringing her in’ She goes to feel Bessie’s forehead and she whimpers, shrinks away.

 Catalina holds her more tightly- she has a sudden desire to push Joan away for frightening Bessie. 

‘ Shhhh, it’s alright. It’s alright-’ she takes a deep breath, it’s not like Bessie will remember. ‘-mi amor.’

The words are strange on her tongue after so long but it feels good to say them anyway.

*

They send an ambulance, since no one can say for sure that Bessie didn;t hit her head- when the paramedic takes her from Catalina, Bessie rouses enough to cling as much as her feeble strength will allow. 

It isn’t hard for the man to peel her hands away so he can check her over, and Catalina knows he’s right to do so but it still makes her heart hurt when Bessie starts to cry and plead for him not to touch her.

God knows what she’s imagining is happening.

She stays as close as she can, she tries to think of the right thing to say that will comfort the girl, half delirious as she is.

‘I’m right here, querida- I’m still with you-’

‘Please-no-’

When the man finishes- Joan is filling in the other queens in the hallway with the last of her dying phone’s energy- Catalina hold out her arms to take Bessie back.

The man looks at her oddly. ‘It’s ok, I’ll put her on the stretcher’

‘I want to hold her’

‘You don’t need to though.’

‘She wants me to.’

‘She’s unconscious-’

‘Still.’

He quirks an eyebrow. ‘She won’t remember, you know- no need for you to do your back in.’

She thought she’d mostly forgotten how to be a queen but it’s still there, it seems- just lurking below the surface, waiting to be needed.

‘Are you telling me what I may and may not do?’

‘Um- no-’

‘Then I’ll thank you to mind your own business.’

Reluctantly he lets Catalina scoop Bessie back into her arms- she doesn’t really wake up but she presses herself as close as she can, hides her face against Catalina’s shirt.

Still he apparently can’t resist a final comment- or maybe he just doesn’t value his life.

‘Just seems unnecessary. She’s not a baby, is she?’

It’s only the arrival of the ambulance that saves him from Catalina’s tirade about professionalism and compassion and basic decency- half whispered, so she doesn’t disturb or frighten the bassist in her arms.

She holds Bessie’s hand in the back of the ambulance and watches her chest rise and fall with each shallow breath, counting them.

She’s not stupid. She knows a second chance when she sees one.

She’ll make things right again- no matter how long it takes.

She’s had enough practise being patient, after all.

**

In the lonely years of back then, Bessie had sometimes found herself playing a game in her head: the worst thing that could happen.

On dark lonely nights, she’d imagine catastrophes- floods and fires, plague and pox- and wonder which might bring Catalina back to her.

She’d imagine the woman rescuing her- and it would, temporarily at least, help her forget about the fact that with every day that passed without a word, the chance of any sort of reconciliation grew fainter and fainter.

She’d imagine Catalina’s hand over hers. She’d imagine her voice, how it would sound after a year. Five. Ten.  She’d imagine Catalina looking at her with the same soft look she used to have. She’d imagine Catalina calling her ‘Querida’ as she used to.

Of course, it was only ever a game, a child’s game, and she’d never played it in her new life since it had long ago stopped being comforting.

Which is why she’s angry at herself for letting her subconscious indulge in dreams like this- she’s sick, she knows she is, she cant help it… she doesn’t need to be tortured by old memories, by fantasies that will never happen.

Although it’s odd really- she remembers Catalina holding her hand but now the fever dream has added rings that she’s sure Catalina never wore back then- slim, shiny, modern- and when she’s lifted into dream Catalina’s arms and held against her chest, it’s the modern smell of laundry detergent she smells instead of the rose-water-and-cloves that used to be in her dreams.

She blames her fever- she never dreams of modern Catalina since it’s too painful. She knows it will hurt when she wakes up, when she has to reconcile the woman with the cold eyes with the woman she’s imagining, who’s arms are so warm, who’s still somehow able to make her feel so safe.

(She looks worried though, she sounds worried- is she crying? This is odd too. Catalina has never cried in her dreams before, she’s never looked scared like she does now.)

Dream Catalina calls her querida but there’s no trace of the old Spanish accent- it’s being said with the voice Catalina has now, even though that would never happen. Distantly, she hears beeping, and then shouting, far far away. 

It frightens her- are they shouting at her- what’s happening? Is she in danger? She tries to move, to speak-

But then she’s pulled closer, there’s a hand on her cheek. 

‘It’s alright, sweetheart, don’t be scared. I’ve got you.’

Then more quietly: ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’ And more firmly ‘We’ll be alright. Everything will be alright.’

She isn’t really sure what’s going on but it doesn’t matter- she’s too tired, too tired- odd since she knows she must already be asleep.

It’s a very strange dream.

‘It’s alright, mi amore.’

She burrows further into the arms of dream Catalina- a dream, but so warm, so safe- and lets herself relax.

She’ll enjoy the dream as long as she can.

‘Stay?’ She thinks it’s her own voice she hears.

(She doesn’t want to have to wake up ever.)

She feels a kiss, pressed again the top of her head- except her dream Catalina has never worn lipstick until now, she’s sure…. 

‘Always, querida.’

It’s such a strange dream….

[ch4oswitch]

🌠🌚🌠New Moon Ritual🌠🌚🌠

I tried making this post once already so if I miss details I may add them in later if tumblr doesn't eat it agAIN

Its a New Moon! Which means I decided to design and enact a Ritual! My Litha Ritual went really really well, and I bought candles before I even realised it was a New Moon (Thats Chaos Magik babey!!) So here we go!!

My Altar

The Runes: Written when I first moved in to encourage a good start.

The Herbs: Cuttings from my Basil and Mint plants, offerings to my Celtic Muse: Evris

The Peach: An offering to the Hellenic Gods that look over me, Apollo, Aphrodite, Persephone and Hades.

The Stone: Given to me by my Mother; it channels my love and concentrates it.

The Pink Candle: Representative of Apollo

The Golden Candle: Representative of the Angelic Beings I have befriended recently both physical and astral <3

The Paper surrounding the Herbs: Christian Scripture that I cleansed of negative affirmation, also represents Lucifer.

The Oil Burner: I mixed in drops of Peppermint Oil with Water to help cleanse the air of the negativity thats been building up!

The Three Blue Candles: Representing the Three Stages my current life has gone through before I got to this point!

Meditation & Music

I used two different playlists to Meditate to! The first is designed for Witches to meditate to and has some lovely longs to sing along to! The Second is far more personal to me, and is a Song Radio from one of the songs that I associate with my Past Life!

Card Reading

I made a cheeky New Moon Spread! Five Cards has always been the clearest number for me, but If you need more or less cards then go for it!

What the Old Moon saw.

What was Learned.

What the New Moon heralds.

The task She is giving you.

The Outcome.

The task card doesn't always have to be included, I just wanted to give my serice to Her for this next cycle because I haven't been thinking about her much recently, but feel free to miss it out if you need to!

If you encorporated any of what I put into this post in your Ritual, or even if you just tried out the spread I'd love to know! Shoot me a message! ^u^!

[mihotose]

meanwhile the rising dawn left the ocean, and although his anxieties were urging him to give time for burying his comrades, and his mind was disturbed by the death, aeneas, as the victor, began to fulfil his vows to the gods at the first sign of the morning star. he set upright a huge oak tree, its branches cut off on all sides, on a mound, and dressed it in the shining armour, spoils from the chief mezentius, as a trophy to you, o god-mighty-in-war; he fastened crests dripping with blood, the warrior’s broken spears and the breastplate, battered and pierced in twelve places; he bound the shield of bronze on the left side and hung his ivory-hilted sword from his neck. then he began to exhort his triumphant comrades - for the packed crowd of chieftains was surrounding him - as follows: “very great things have been done by us, men, and as for what remains to do: let all fear be absent; these are the spoils and first fruits of a proud king, and here, achieved by my own hands, is mezentius! now, let us make a journey to the king and walls of latium. prepare your weapons with courage and anticipate this war with hope so that, when the gods above give us their assent to take up the standards and lead our young soldiers from the camps, may no delay impede us unawares or any sluggish feeling delay us through fear. meanwhile, let us commit the bodies of our comrades to the earth, which is the only honour recognised in the depths of the acheron. go,” he said, “and honour with your last rites these noble spirits who have won this country for us with their blood, and first, let pallas be sent to the mourning city of evander, he whom, not lacking in courage, a black day stole away and immersed in a bitter death.

and so he spoke, weeping, and he retraced his step to the threshold where old acoetes was watching over the laid-out body of lifeless pallas; acoetes who was once the armour-bearer for pyrrhasian evander, but then, under less happy auspices, was appointed companion to his dear foster-child. around stood his band of attendants, a crowd of trojans, and the women of ilium, their hair let down for mourning according to custom. when aeneas entered the tall doors they beat their breasts and raised a mighty groan to the stars, and the whole palace resounded with their sad lamentation. when he saw the head and face of snowy-white pallas, propped up, he began to speak, with tears welling up: “did fortune begrudge you to me, unhappy boy,” he said, “when she came smiling, that you would not look upon my kingdom nor ride back as victor to your father’s house. this was not the promise concerning you that i had given to your father, evander, upon leaving, when he, having embraced me as i was going, sent me to win a great kingdom, and warned me in fear that the enemy’s men were fierce and that the battles were with a tough race. and indeed now he, greatly taken in by vain hope, perhaps makes vows and piles the altars with gifts, while we, in sorrow, accompany with empty honour the lifeless young man who now owes nothing to any of the gods above. unhappy man you will see the cruel funeral of your son! is this our return and long-awaited triumph? is this my great pledge? but, evander, you will not look upon him struck down by shameless wounds, nor you, a father, desire a dreadful death when he is safe. ah me! what great protection you are losing, ausonia, and how great you too iulus!

when he had finished speaking these words in lamentation, he ordered for the piteous corpse to be raised, and he sent one thousand men, chosen from the whole of his army to attend the final honours and share in the tears of the father; a small solace for such great grief but due to such a wretched father. others, in haste, interweaved a soft bier of wickerwork with shoots of arbutus and twigs of oak, and shaded the couch that they had made with a canopy of leaves. here, they laid the youth high up on his rustic bed, like a flower picked by a maiden’s fingers, either a tender violet or a drooping hyacinth, whose sheen nor its particular beauty have yet faded, but mother earth no longer nurtures it and gives it strength. then aeneas brought out a pair of robes, stiff with gold and purple, which sidonian dido herself, delighting in the work, had made for him with her own hands, and had interwoven the warp with gold thread. sadly, aeneas draped one of these around the youth as a last honour, and veiled with the garment the hair that would soon be burnt, and he piled many of the prizes from the battle of laurentum, and he ordered the spoils to be carried in a long line, and he added the horses and weapons he had plundered from the enemy. and he had bound behind their backs the hands of those he would send as funeral offerings to the shades, intending to sprinkle the flame with the blood of slain men; and he ordered the chieftains themselves to carry the treetrunks draped in the enemy’s weapons, and the names of the enemy to be affixed to them. unhappy acoetes, worn down by age, was led forward, marring now his chest with his fists, now his face with his nails, fell with his whole body thrown forward to the ground; and they also led chariots drenched in rutulian blood. behind went the warhorse aethon, weeping, his trappings to one side, wetting his face with big teardrops. some carried his spear and helmet, as turnus possessed the other things as victor. then followed a mournful phalanx: the trojans, then all the etruscans and the arcadians, their weapons reversed. when the whole procession of his comrades had led the way for some distance aeneas halted and with a deep groan added the following words: “the same dreadful fates of war call me from here to other tears. my greetings forever, noblest pallas, farewell forever.” saying no more, he proceeded to the high walls and directed his footsteps toward the camp.

and so ambassadors from the latin city came down, shaded by branches of olives and seeking favour: they begged that he would return the bodies which lay strewn by the sword across the fields, and allow them to be placed under a mound of earth; there was no quarrel with the conquered or those deprived of the upperworld; let him spare those who were once called their hosts and fathers-in-law. good aeneas presented them with his permission, because they were asking for things that could not be refused, and to his words added these in addition: “what undeserved misfortune, latins, has entangled you in such a war that you shun us who are your friends? are you asking me for peace for the dead and those slain by the lot of war? i, indeed, would willingly grant it to the living as well. i would not have come here if fate had not granted me this place for my home, nor do i wage war upon your people: your king abandoned our guest-friendship and entrusted himself rather in the arms of turnus. it would have been better for turnus to expose himself to this death. if he plans to end this war through force and to drive out the trojans, he should have fought with me with these weapons, and one would have lived to whom either god or his own right hand had granted life. now, go and kindle fires beneath your poor citizens. aeneas had spoken. they were struck dumb, in silence, and kept their eyes and faces kept toward each other.

41/81 sentences, 4/8 sections, 2.5/5 pages learned, babey!

[witchy-escapist]

1. christian witch, babey! i would probably also be a sea witch if i lived closer to the ocean/bodies of water. but i like to collect sand, shells, literally anything i find on beach trips for magic

2. i don’t think i would refer to the God that i worship as one that i “work with”. so i suppose i’m a secular witch in that regard?

3. yes, but only very simple, affirmation-based ones. i occasionally am able to use my tiny collection of supplies, and i’ve done some improv enchanting.

4. AUTUMN

5. i don’t think so? i’m baby

6. successful divination. it was something i could do relatively accurately pretty much from the beginning, and i’ve also been able to make decisions in card games just because i know what card is gonna be drawn next, and when it’s revealed i was right, it’s so empowering (also might be cheating)

7 and 8: nope. like i said, i am baby

9: nope!

10: seaglass amulet that has basically become my catch-all witchcraft tool. i use it as a pendulum, protection, and ive enchanted it for heightened wisdom in both magical and physical matters.

11. nope. i’m a secret witch

12. that it’s inherently evil and incompatible with christianity. hence 11

13. yup! i’ve made 2, actually, i love how it combines traditional art and witchcraft.

14: despite my previous mention of wanting to be a sea witch, i definitely feel attracted to air. i’m an air sign, so it makes sense. so i’d say 50/50 air and water.

15. nope!

16. solitary witch.

17: i have no worldly idea.

18: no, but i do cartomancy!

19: don’t have one

20: 7. amazing, i know

21: don’t have an altar.

22: the aforementioned seaglass amulet

23: christian

24: my favorites that i own are my amethyst and my clear quartz.

25: hmm. s e l f l o v e

26: i play my ukulele! it’s a pretty uncommon method, but it’s descreet, and when combined with visualization, pretty effective. and it invokes the element of fire, i heard somewhere, and i can definitely feel it- it stokes my passion that i have for my craft.

27. this might’ve been accidentally repeated from before? but successful divination.

28: nope. not at all. not sure my christian community would take it very well.

29: not yet...

30: all of my flowy clothes tbh. black adds a bonus.

31: OH MY GOD. astral projection is my main thing rn. i’m trying so, so hard. but i keep on nodding off...

32: yep, my seaglass amulet.

33: don’t have one

34: i may have, or it may have been my imagination. but oftentimes i’ll see figures of identifiable animals or humans, not seeming malicious, but just moving, then they’re gone.

35: don’t have one

36: i don’t think i have a favorite?

37: Libra.

38: i’ve prayed. don’t think that counts as interacted.

39: that’s tough... probably blue. creativity.

40: not personally, due to my faith. but i’m open-minded to the concept.

41: in the safe privacy of my room with nobody else in the house.

42: autumn.

43: no, and if i ever do, i’ll consider that a failure on my part.

44: i’ve been aware that magick actually exists for about a year now. burnt my first sigil soon after. been taking it -seriously- for about 9 months.

45: at first, it was just the realization that our fictional concepts of magic are rooted in real shit. i’m a sucker or fantasy, and it was just, “holy hell, i can actually be a witch. i can actually make magic a practice.”

46: full moons 100%

47: it’s perfectly torn between halloween and christmas.

48: no, as i don’t believe in them, but like i said before, i’m open-minded.

49: another thing i’m trying to learn, but it’s on a lower priority level than astral projection

50: nighttime. i feel most powerful and connected to the world at night. especially on cool, summer-fall nights.

Witchy Asks!

Hello fellow witches! Here’s 50 Witchy Asks written by the-lunar-vixen. Please follow if you enjoy them. Blessed be! 

What type of witch are you?

What deities do you like to work with, if any?

Have you ever created your own spell?

What’s your favorite time of year?

Do you have a witch you look up to?

What makes you feel powerful?

Do you have a favorite myth?

Which famous/fantasy witch do you relate to the most?

Are you a wiccan?

What’s the most unique item you’ve ever used in a spell?

Do you own any witchy books?

Which misconception about witches annoys you the most?

Have you ever created your own sigil?

What element are you most drawn to?

Do you have a familiar?

Are you a part of a coven?

What’s your spirit animal?

Do you do tarot readings?

What’s your favorite witch movie?

How many crystal do you have?

What’s the most unique item on your altar?

Have you ever enchanted anything?

What’s your religion?

Do you have a favorite crystal?

What are some of your favorite spells?

What do you like to do to cleanse your space?

When do you feel the most powerful?

Do other people know you’re a witch?

Has one of your spells ever gone wrong?

What outfit makes you feel the most witchy?

Have you ever tried astral projection?

Do you have any enchanted jewelry?

What does your altar look like?

Have you ever seen a spirit?

What’s your favorite spell sachet?

Do you have a favorite sigil?

What’s your astrological sign?

Have you ever interacted with a deity?

What color are you most drawn to?

Do you believe in past lives?

Where do you like to practice your craft?

What’s your favorite season?

Have you ever cursed someone?

How long have you been a practicing witch?

What drew you to witchcraft?

In what moon phase do you feel the most powerful?

What’s your favorite holiday?

Do you know anything about your past lives? (if you believe in them!)

Have you ever done an energy reading?

What time of day do you like to practice your craft?