#perhaps the greatest show i've ever watched while still airing

[yeommijeong]

Gu Ja Gyeong & Yeom Mi Jeong: the music of My Liberation Notes (2022)

[myoddessy]

WINGS OF LEAD | dream of the endless

pairing: dream of the endless x (fem) angel of peace!reader

summary: matching scars lay by your shoulder blades where your greatest honour once lay, but all you can think of is the debt you owe to the world for merely living. morpheus knows this, and struggles to grant you peace.

notes: reader is referred to as 'gavreel' after the angel of peace. there's not a lot of dialogue in this bcs i want to watch the sandman again to get a better grasp on the way morpheus talks so that my writing's for him can be as accurate as possible, but i still hope that you enjoy !! also, this is the first proper fic i've written in a while and my first ever work for the sandman, so constructive criticism is more than welcomed!

warnings: no show/comic spoilers!!, angst ( pretty heavy, but not in regards to your relationship), fluff, comfort, nightmares, mentions of captivity, mentions of torture (reader's wings being taken), mentions of death.

word count: 1.9k

the playlist.

when you woke, the pain wasn't what you registered first. it was the unnerving scent of sterile countertops and cleaning alcohol. then it was the shadowed figures gathered in the corner of the room, hidden by the blinding moonlight that beat down on you. your true panic only settled when you felt the tight wrap of the leather cuffs that hoisted your arms in the air, leaving your body hanging. and then it came crashing all at once. a searing agony surged through your body and sent a blood-curdling scream from your chest as you tugged against your restraints.

"you're an odd one, you know." a gravelly voice rang from the shadows. "more resilient than you little friends." a glare replaced your worry at the mention of your allied angels.

"where are they?" you knew the answer, but still feared the reply.

"their poor hearts couldn't take it after they saw their wings in... different care." a light flickered on, illuminating what the others in the room were watching.

another glass box, smaller than yours, mounted on the wall and displaying your wings. a horrified gasp escaped you as you blanched and tears gathered by your waterline. a hushed 'no' slipped past your lips and the man before you laughed cynically.

"do you know how much you're worth? how much people are willing to pay for not only the wings of, but the angel of peace herself?" he gripped your jaw tightly when you did not respond. "answer when you're asked a question, or the most any bidder will receive will be your wings."

"i'm worth more than you deserve." he stilled for a moment before laughing loudly, turning towards his comrades who followed his laughter before he span back to you with a harsh strike to your cheek, an violent sting left in its wake.

he remained nameless. he bragged to his friends. he bragged about how he led you and the other angels to the slaughter, how he'd achieved feats of immeasurable worth, how he should be celebrated for his captures. it felt like an eternity until he left the room and shut off all lights, leaving you drowned in moonbeams once more.

instead of the primal instinct of fear that one would expect, you felt guilty. you wondered why you, a mere angel of peace, was granted the gift of life when it was so cruelly stripped from your family of nature, loyalty, fire, and guidance.

tears spilled down your cheeks, some hitting your chest, others falling to the floor. under the light, they glistened, and you prayed to the creator and the endless that your tear managed to slip through the earth and wake the angels' spirits to save you.

you wished for morpheus, for your lover. you hoped he had already sourced you, perhaps he'd sent jessamy, and you'd soon find yourself free of your shackles.

the pain in your back had faded from sharp and burning to a dull and continuous ache that kept you teetering on the brink of sleep, too light to keep you alert but pounding enough to pull you awake.

you weren't sure how long you spent in captivity, time was meaningless when your only purpose was to be marvelled at and mocked. you could barely even tell moonlight from sunlight anymore, not since hunger took away the strength to crane your head to the sky. blood caked the edges of your cuffs from where they'd cut after you tried to twist free. bruises of strain and battering littered your body, your face were sunken with fatigue, and your wings still stood in your line of sight, taunting you, reminding you of how you were now merely half of a whole.

when morpheus found you, when he burst through the door with a stone-set jaw and blazing eyes that softened once they saw you, you believed yourself to be close to insanity. he released your bindings and took you in his arms with the whispered promise of a safer dawn. you felt the faint tickle of sand against the few parts of you that were not rendered numb as he granted you sleep at last.

that was a century ago. one hundred years had changed many things, from the state of the mortal world, to your title in the dreaming. you were now their queen, just as you were now morpheus' wife. what hadn't changed, however, was your guilt.

the hours of sleep morpheus gifted you every night were often cut short when your memories overpowered his dreams and the stories your captors told of how your family had died, how you would die if you did not cooperate, haunted you. you would wake up with a cold sweat and a trembling body and you would swear that you could still feel that pain in your back. some nights you were granted mercy and you only had the illusion of what was your norm — dull, repetitive, deep. most nights, however, you could feel them taking your wings. every pull of their saws, every scream that your unconscious mind refused to let out, every drop of blood. you could feel it all.

you did not tell morpheus what exactly your nightmares held, and he swore you the privacy of him never venturing into your dreams, but he knew. and he resented it.

he had often thought that maybe this was his reckoning. maybe he had relished in his power for too long without fully realising his downfalls, and the universal entities that towered over him hand picked your struggle to remind morpheus that he was not the creator. he was not all powerful. if so, morpheus then decided that he despised the cruel twists of fate. the man with pride and power as opposed to blood was willing to crawl through desolate sands with scarred knees and tattered palms if it meant that his call to truth wasn't at the sake of your self.

maybe morpheus had been too gluttonous with your adoration. maybe he revelled in the joy he brought you too much. maybe he inspired too many poets, too many artists, too many bards with images of you. maybe he had focused too much on what he could give you, and not what you needed.

you were not superior to morpheus in any way that anyone other than himself would recognise. he was an endless, you were an angel, the imbalance of strength lay not only in your names, but in your bones. but morpheus did not care, he knew that in your divinity, you rained superior to him. in your grace and your glow, in your elegance and eloquence, in your smile and your softness you were a better being than he.

you brought down an righteous light that banished the cold darkness that enveloped him. he knew that no matter how many parallels that you could draw from jane austen and shakespeare to you, his grandeur would never amount to what you brought him; peace.

the mere whisper of your name relaxed his tense bones, and the ghost of your touch could do much more. he worried that he could never do the same for you.

his hand in your hair, his arms pulling you close, your head on his chest as dreams of your wedding danced in your head. a tender smile reserved for you, and you alone, dawned on his face as he observed you. you looked serene and tranquil. your face was soft and the gentle upturn of your lips was pulled from a painting, morpheus should know, he's the one who told the painters about you.

his thumb ran up and down your bicep, feeling the goosebumps that rose in its wake, and his brows furrowed. you were safe now, but he knew it was only temporary. he knew that in due time, terrors and trauma would soil reminiscence of your first dance as husband and wife, and he would be left helpless and useless for all except an unsure word and a steady hold around your body.

he loved you, truly. he saw you in every nook and cranny of every realm he entered. in the tide and shore of the waking world, in the sun and it's golden foothills that reside in the far side of the dreaming, in the climbing ivy twirled around trees in the land of the fae. every light rang synonymous with your name, their devotee's rang synonymous with his.

"what are you thinking of, my love?" your voice startled him, his breath catching with a slight jump. you laugh quietly at this, he instantly calmed.

"you." he answered truthfully.

"all good things, i hope." you drew stars on his chest.

"partly." his response caused you to shift in his hold, now sitting up to face him fully, taking his hands in yours and laying them in your lap.

"what do you mean by that?"

morpheus looked away from you for a moment, tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth as he gathered his words. "you are a good soul, gavreel. too good to belong to someone like me." almost as if he could see the protests gathering on your tongue, he silenced you by continuing. "you have the world at your fingertips, yet your heart still beats and bleeds for those below you. your dreams are of some great revelation to bring back lost souls, or to save those soon-to-be lost. you integrity astounds me."

your brows furrowed. morpheus had always known that you longed to help others, it was your purpose, after all. you did not understand why he made a point of it now.

"i fear that i cannot gift you the one thing you truly deserve." he confessed, his hands tightening their hold on yours.

"you have given me everything i could ever wish for, morpheus." you shifted closer to him with a hushed voice, now sitting side-to-side with your chin resting on his shoulder.

"i have not been able to give you peace of mind." his eyes locked on yours once more, and for the first time, you saw a mirror of your own guilt. "i might give you moments of tranquility, but i can do nothing to stop the torments of your mind. i have failed you."

you raised a hand to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, fingers lovingly trailing down the rest of his face until your hand cupped his cheek and pulled him closer, foreheads resting against each other.

"do not say that." you insisted. "do not ever say that. you could never fail me. not even if you burned this realm to the ground, not even if it was you who took my wings." your nose brushed against his. "yes, my past lingers in my mind, and that will always be the case. but that does not mean, nor will it ever mean, that i am not at peace when i am around you."

"you, morpheus, lord of the dreaming, dream of the endless, my truest love, are my vessel of peace. you carry my intentions to a world i am not strong enough to wield. you have healed me by simply being mine, and i will not take the insult of you believing that i do not feel peaceful in your presence." you moved to press a chaste kiss to his forehead. "do you understand me, my love?"

his hand raised from your lap to tilt it back down and level with his, lips barely touching when he murmured a simple 'i love you' and with the spark of his kiss and the fire of his wandering hands, you knew your words were heeded.

[topweeklyupdate]

TØP Weekly Update #142: A Formidable Album (5/21/21)

So... how 'bout that album release week?

There's so much to cover; the release of nine new songs, the hype that's building for the World's Best Band to return to the stage, and (if we're able to come up for air) the massive speculation of what the future brings for our band.

I'm gonna get right into it, laying out my thoughts regarding this bold new album and covering all the most notable news from the week. I'll be sharing my (mostly) positive opinions about Scaled and Icy under the Read More line; I hope they're the start of a fun conversation with all of y'all who have stuck around through this last year.

Scaled and Icy Review

First, my general thoughts on the album: It's good! Really good. Do I think it's a no-skip like Vessel or a cohesive piece of art like Trench? Absolutely not! But it's also not the potential misfire that I worried that we might be getting when I first heard "Saturday" (more on that later); I think all of the songs are at least good, and some of them are downright great tracks that hold up with anything else that our band has ever released. It is also indisputably very different, but I think that generally works pretty well. Many of the songs evoke '60s rock or Britpop sounds and structures that you can tell Tyler is still trying to navigate, but I think he does a very solid job at adapting them to suit his strengths- namely his lyricism and knack for melody- rather than change to suit them. Unfortunately, this does result in a bit of square-peg-in-round-hole syndrome at times; most of the rap verses on the album feel like they're here just to fulfill an obligation to fans who would be mad if they weren't here, and most of the songs that use them are the weakest ones in the project.

"Good Day" plays a major role in getting the rest of the album to work as well as it does. Its gradual ramp-up, introducing the sound that will be used throughout the rest of the album. Its playfulness belies its message about how one can project a somewhat false optimism for oneself in the midst of tragedy: the type of dark stuff in a bright package that Tyler is so so good at. It's perhaps not an instant classic, but I am excited to see how it comes across when it's eventually used as a show-opener. 9/10

I've of course already discussed "Shy Away"; an anthemic, inimitably catchy track that I just wish had a bit more going on under the hood. Still going to be so good to hear thousands of voices scream "An 'I LOVE YOU' that isn't words!" someday. 9.5/10

"Choker" definitely took a little bit to grow on me. I think part of that was a bit of disappointment from over-inflated expectations and the environment I was in when I first heard it. With further listens, I fall more and more in love with the melody of the song... well, most of it. Like the rest of this album, the biggest weakness in the song is when Tyler tries to tick the box of having a rap verse; it just feels really out of place, unfinished, and almost amateurish, and it doesn't end the song on the note that it really should. Without it, it'd be one of my favorites on the album; with it, "Choker" is a solid 8.5/10.

Speaking of unfinished-sounding songs really hurt by their rap verse: "The Outside". There's a definite something to the vibe of the song, but that seemingly nonsensical verse is one of the two weakest parts of the entire project for me. The way the song meanders only adds to the feeling that there wasn't as much energy and attention paid to it compared to other parts of the project. It's pretty easily my least favorite track on Scaled and Icy, and the only one I might regularly skip. I've also seen plenty of people saying it's the best song on the album, so please tell me why I'm wrong! 6.5/10

"Saturday", as mentioned above, had me really nervous about this album. Like "Choker", it's grown on me a bit since I first heard it, in part because it fits better with the context of the rest of the album. However, this one really does feel undercooked lyrically and overreliant on the novelty of using a disco-inspired sound that seems to chase trends more than almost any other TØP track. The inclusion of that very sweet audio clip from Jenna boosts the song in some ways, but also adds to the disappointment in others; there are many other songs on this project that would be more worth surrendering time watching Friends. Thankfully, those come next. 7/10

"Never Take It" is fascinating. I never thought I'd hear a Rolling Stones-style song from Tyler Joseph featuring a gd guitar solo of all things, and it actually sounds pretty great. However, I also predict that this song will see some of the greatest critical scrutiny out of all the songs on the album. The lyrics seem to be Tyler's criticism of the media for playing up division in our society, but he's extremely vague when discussing which entities are spreading said division and ultimately recommends that people "educate yourself, but never too much". I'll be honest: maybe it's the fact that it sounds like something my dad would listen to, but it feels like this would get tons of play on Fox News. Since it makes specific reference to the events of last summer, it's hard not to feel like song is at least partially inspired by Tyler's brush with cancellation last year. Maybe I'm reading too deeply into it, but those reservations come from the song's lack of specificity, which is an issue of songwriting more than politics. They hold me back from truly loving a song that still manages to be one of the most exciting the band has ever put out. 8.5/10

"Mulberry Street" seems like the perfect realization of the entire album's intended tone. It is so pleasant, so lush while also simply produced, full of great lyrics, metaphors, and imagery. It really brings the whole project together, even if it's missing That One Line to really move this up to the top tier of the canon. 9.5/10

"Formidable" is the best song on the album and one of two songs I would truly rank in the top tier of the band's canon. Extremely pleasant and brimming with well-crafted lines to make your heart swoon. Jenna (and Rosie) is (are) a lucky gal(s). Or is it about Josh? Who's to say? 10/10

"Bounce Man" is just plain wild. I think Tyler's smuggling someone to Mexico to escape the feds? The playfulness of it all really covers up any frustration I might have with the clarity; it makes it clear that there's not really stakes here, just vibes. 8.5/10

"No Chances" sees the album take a turn that I'm sure the Reddit Clique is going to have an absolute field day with; it and "Redecorate" both sound quite different from the rest of the album and evoke enough elements of Trench to make me think that's it's actually possible that all this 'SAI is Propaganda' stuff might actually have something to it... until I actually pick apart the lyrics, then I'm even more confused. The song has some of the best rapping on the album, though that's not saying much (the feng shui line is a groaner right out the gate) and the gentle pre-chorus is really pleasant. I still haven't made up my mind on whether the chorus is effective or just plain goofy. This one might get worse or better on repeat listens, impossible to say for now. 7.5/10

"Redecorate" rounds out the album by opening with a Clancy quote (Tyler, you bastard), firmly setting this as a coda to Trench more than the album we just listened to. The rest of the song is really storytelling, with Tyler describing a bunch of people who are struggling deeply. The idea of "redecorating" here stands for how they are faced with the option to clean and resort their own spaces and lives or leave that to their loved ones to do after they're gone. By the time it gets to the album's name drop, you begin to wonder how much of this is potential autobiographical of the last year. It's moving stuff, a callback to some of the great strengths of the band's discography. 10/10

If I average those scores all up, this project ranks below almost every album among the Pilots discography on my rating scale, very narrowly edging out Self-Titled. That's still a very solid 8.6. Scaled and Icy is a very good album on first listen. We'll see how I feel about it after having a little more time to sit with it, but I've rambled enough: let's move through the rest of the week's news.

Other News

Of course, there was a lot else going on this week! To accompany the release of "Saturday", Zane Lowe over at Apple Music dropped an interview with Tyler. As usual, Zane did a pretty solid job of getting to the heart of the craft and the creation process. However, Tyler also wound up skirting a lot of the questions to just talk more about how much he loves being a dad, which makes me happy; if the cost of getting a little less attention and mental energy devoted to the music is that little girl getting all of his attention, that's honestly preferable for me.

The album rollout is not even close to over. Later today, the concert will be streamed live. It's our first real performance that we've gotten from the band since 2019, but the previews that we've seen have completely exceeded any of my expectations, and really anything that we've seen from the band. It appears that they've transformed the entire arena (which I think is the ol' Schott at Ohio State) into a whole TØP world, with different sets laden with Easter eggs and a cast of backup dancers. If the website can hold up to the traffic (and I acknowledge that might be a big ask), this could really live up to Tyler's promise of this being the best livestreamed concert ever.

Oh, and this guy dyed his hair pink.

What a time to be a fan. Catch you all tomorrow.

Power to the local dreamer.

|-/

[sockablock]

Possible fic request - I've been thinking about Caduceus, and how he seems to be very familiar with the families from which he "gets" his tea. I kind of wonder if he knew any of them growing up, or if his family did? I'd love to read a like, short chapter fic that opens with a story of his meeting them, and then ends with him drinking their tea reminiscing.

- (Read on AO3) -

Their family name is Aigner, andthey arrive at the grove when Caduceus is seven.

His parents are thrilled, ecstatic even. It’s beenalmost a decade since the last visitors trekked through the Savalierwood andsurvived. They are ushered quickly into the temple that has been the Clayhousehold for centuries, and his family begins the process of making theirguests comfortable and treating their injuries. Caduceus’s father busieshimself in the kitchen, and his mother gets to work setting the ankle of theyoungest Aigner: a little half-elven girl who couldn’t have been older thanfive. 

Caduceus is very curious about her. Not just becausethey are the closest in size, but also because of her tears. Because of the wayshe wails after Mother gently takes her foot and pops the joints back intoplace.

He does not understand the crying—why should she be sadwhen she is being healed?

He tugs on Corrin’s sleeve as he rushes by with anarmful of towels, but gets nothing more than a hurried, “Later, Cad,later. We’re busy, right now.”

He is unsatisfiedwith this lack of a response, but does not let it show. His brother is right. This is the most activity their household hasseen in years. 

He hangs around the periphery as his parents and therest of his siblings listen to the Aigner’s request. The father, an older humanman with hair going early grey, has traveled here with his children to lay hiswife to rest. She was a follower of the Mother, he says, and her last wish hadbeen to return to the wild. 

He has brought her body. It is in a crude wheelbarrow bythe front of the temple. His greatest regret is that he could not have givenher a more dignified vessel.

But Caduceus’s mother just shakes her head. Shesays, “A greater regret is forgetting to cherish what you’ve already done.Look at you. Look at your beautiful children. Look at what you accomplished,today.”

Caduceus’s father adds, “Come on. Let’s look for agood spot. Today, our family helps yours.”

Caduceus is swept up in the tide of movement that comesnext. The father herds his three children out into the gentle forest sun, andCaduceus’s parents nudge their three children along as well. Father and Mother pushthe old wheelbarrow through the clearing, through thousands upon thousands ofblooming spring flowers. The grass below their feet is soft, the air sweet, awarmth and peace drifting across the grounds with every playful puff of breeze.

The Aigners look much better than they had an hour ago,though the littlest girl still seems perturbed. Caduceus wonders how that evercould be possible. This grove is the most serene place in the world.

Eventually, they all arrive at a small patch ofunclaimed earth. There is grass curling along the edges, but no life and noflowers mark the space as occupied.

Not yet, anyways. The father and older Aigner childrenhelp the Clays dig a pit.

They fill it. This part has never been anything butright. The most natural thing in the world is for a body to return to theMother who made it.

Even Caduceus, young as he is, knows this better thananything.

Then comes the part where the mourning family says a fewwords. Their still-fresh scars, just-closed wounds, the splint on the littlegirl’s foot, says more.

And then the hole is filled back in. The Aigner father fallsto his knees.

“I’ll see you again, my love. I promise.”

He pulls his children in close. They are in variousstates of tearful, as expected of a moment like this. 

Eventually, they stand. The father glances at Caduceus’sparents, and gives them both a faint, wry smile.

“She was supposedto outlive me,” he says. “She was supposed to outlive me by centuries.”

“Death can be unexpected,” Mother nods. “Even whenit is the only sure thing you can expect.”

The father gives a smile. He gestures slowly at theearth. “When will the flowers bloom?” he asks. “What will grow here?”

Cornelius Clay gives this a careful thought.

“Did she have a favorite flower?” he asks. “Perhapsa color she liked?”

“Chrysanthemums,” says a small, shaky voice. “Mommyliked chrysanthemums.”

They all glance down. The youngest girl had spoken. Herface is red from crying, her eyes are much too hard for her age. Her fists areclenched. Her shoulders are shaking.

For a moment, nobody responds. Her father, most of all,seems stunned. He reaches out as if to take her by the shoulder, but suddenly,Caduceus’s mother stops him.

She shakes her head. Then she turns to her youngest son.

“Do you remember the trick I showed you?” she asks.

Caduceus nods. Of course he does. He’s been practicingit every day.

“Do you know what flower we’re talking about?”

He nods again. He thinks he might know every flowerthere is.

His mother gives him a soft smile. “Then you’re incharge then, dear. Come back inside and let us know when you’re done.”

The father, Mister Aigner, blinks. “Wait, w—” hebegins, but then Mister Clay whispers something in his ear. Their eyes flickerover Caduceus, and then the little girl.

The father seems to understand. He nods. He crouchesdown, and murmurs to his daughter, “It’s okay. Take all the time youneed.”

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t seem to want to.

Eventually, all of the older people leave. Corrin givesCaduceus a supportive thumbs-up as he runs after their parents back into thehouse.

And then, Caduceus and the little girl are alone.

There is a moment’s pause. Filled with song of a far-offswallow.

Then Caduceus turns towards her. He says, “Why areyou upset?”

She stares at the ground. She bites her lip.

“’Cause Mommy’s dead.”

Her voice is a rasping whisper, and a groan of rage allat once. It is a terrible sound to come from the heart of a child.

But Caduceus is confused. He takes a seat against thebarren dirt.

“So what?” he asks.

The girl seems thrown by this question.

“So…what?”

He nods. She considers this. Eventually she settles on:

“Mommy’s gone. That’s what.”

Caduceus blinks and tilts his head. “I know that,”he says. “That’s what happens when people die.”

The girl does not take this nearly as well as he thoughtshe would. She kicks the ground and whirls around on him.

“I know!” she shouts. “I know! That’s…that’s…Mommy is gone. She’s gone, and she’s not coming back. How come?” shedemands. “Why? Why did thathappen? It’s not fair!”

“It’s not,” Caduceus agrees. “But it happened. Idon’t know why. You dad didn’t tell us. Did he tell you?”

The little girl shakes with emotions she could neverfully understand. That nobody really could.

“He just says that sometimes, people go away,” she cries.“Sometimes stuff happens, and they’re gone forever.”

Caduceus nods. This information is more in line withwhat he had been brought up to know. 

“That’s what dying is,” he says. “It’s natural.”

The little girl stares at the ground again, and then staresat the weird, skinny, fur-covered boy in front of her.

After a pause, she takes a seat next to him. She crossesher arms.

“I don’t care,” she says. “I just want my momback.”

Caduceus, at least, can sympathize with that.

“I’m sorry she’s gone. I’m sorry you’re sad.”

She huffs. She folds her knees up and wraps her armsaround them.

“It’s not fair,” she says again, quieter thistime. “It’s not. Why does dying happen?”

Caduceus thinks for a moment. This is a question he hasbeen pondering for some time, now.

“I think…I think that’s just the way things are. Ifpeople didn’t die, then the world would be different. I don’t know how, yet,but I know that it’s bad.”

“How could it be bad?” the girl mumbles. “In thatworld, my mommy is alive.”

They sit there in silence, for a while. The swallowdarts across the sky and disappears into the trees beyond.

Then Caduceus asks, “Why did you cry, before?”

The girl lifts her head. She gives him an odd look.

“What?”

“Before,” he repeats. “When Mom fixed your foot.Why did you cry?”

She gives him a glare that manages to convey, in asecond, how incredibly stupid he must be. 

“Because it hurt,” she says. “Duh.”

Caduceus sighs. “But you got fixed, after. Theworst part was over, and now you can get better.”

She stares at him. “But it still hurt,” shesays. “Right now, it still hurts a little.”

He blinks. He’d never thought of it like that.

They are quiet for a little longer.

Then the girl says, “I wish she was here right now.She makes me feel better.”

“How?” Caduceus asks. 

“She just does.”

Caduceus looks at the ground. He puts his hand to thedirt and runs his palm along the earth.

“She can’t come back,” he says softly. “You knowthat, right?”

“I wish I didn’t.”

Caduceusnods. “I am sorry,” he triesagain. “Really. I…I wish I knew how to make you feel better.”

“I wish you did too,” the girl sighs. Her chin isresting against her knees. “I just miss her. I wish she wasn’t gone. Iwish she was here, instead of just stupid, empty dirt.”

Caduceus considers this. Then:

“Chrysanthemums?” he asks.

The girls’ eyes dart up again. “What?”

“Your mom’s favorite flower. Chrysanthemums, right?There are different colors. What kind?”

The girl opens her mouth. She closes it again. Shefrowns, and thinks, and then looks relieved when she remembers.

“Yellow.”

He nods. 

“Okay,” he says. “Watch.”

Caduceus Claygets up from the earth and carefully brushes off his trousers. Then he crouchesdown again, presses his palms to the ground, closes his eyes. His hair driftsagainst his face in waves, and the corner of his mouth is curled inconcentration. He has practiced this spell many, many times before, and though he knows what he is doing, thisis the first time he has done it for something as important as this.

 Chrysanthemums, he thinks. Yellow Chrysanthemums.

He feels the soundless squish of fertile earth beneathhis fingers. He feels the caress of twirling air past his cheek. He feels thesun warm on his back, smells the sweet song of spring nectar, bites down on histongue to focus and hears the lilting, far-off cry of a swallow.

He feels the magic taking hold. He feels somethingstirring in the soil.

When he opens his eyes, it is to see a wreath of swayingblooms. He is suddenly crouched shoulder-deep among tall green stems of thatend in bursts of thin gold petals, like thousands of tiny fireworks pressedtogether in light. They shuffle as he stands, as he admires his work, turns tobeam with pride at the little girl he has done this for.

But then he pauses. He frowns.

Mixed within these yellow chrysanthemums are dozens anddozens of a different sort of plant.

These are much taller, to start, towering over thechrysanthemums by a good foot or so. They are thin, and fragile-looking, andlean with the wind as it blows in across the clearing. Their stems are coveredin wide clusters of red and purple and pale pink leaves—no. Not leaves, butflowers.

It takes Caduceus a moment to realize. 

“Sweet pea?” he breathes out, confused. He takes a stepforward, and catches one in his hands.

“Sweet pea,” he repeats. “Huh.”

And then there is movement. The little girl has stoodup. She has taken a step closer, and is pressing a finger to the petals too.

“Is that what this is?”

Caduceus nods. “Yeah. Um…sorry. I didn’t mean forthem to happen.”

But the girl seems entranced. She just shakes her head.

“No, um…no,” she says. “It’s…my mom called methat. She said it’s what her mom called her.”

Caduceus blinks. He looks at the flowers.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh. I…oh.”

She runs her finger along a petal with the utmost care.

“It’s pretty,” she murmurs. “It’s…it’s reallypretty.”

Caduceus is encouraged by this. “I’m glad,” he saysquickly. “I wanted to help. And you said that this place was empty, so…Iwanted to change that. I can’t bring your mom back, but I can at least makesure that something’s here.”

The little girl glances at another swaying stalk.

“Sweet pea,” she repeats. “Huh.”

Caduceus twists nervously at his sleeves.

“Is it…is it—”

And then a pair of arms slide around his waist.

“Thanks,” the little girl whispers. “It’s not the same,but…it’s nice. Thanks.”   

Caduceus grins. Relieved, and thrilled.

“I’m sorry she’s gone,” he says one last time. “I’m gladI helped.”

She gives a soft nod.

And all around them, flowers sway in the breeze.

----------------------

more filled requests here!  -  💜 ☕ ☕💜

[duraxxor]

Prelude of Myotis - Part 1 Benjamin Lewinters

Three months had passed since Duraxxor's reawakening and still not many knew of his existence aside from a select few. Though the Isle was a well-suited shelter for his needs, he and what few cohorts he had made the decision to move from it's sanctuary to forge one of their own. The location to this day remains a mystery despite the necessity of it for his inner circle. However, this did not cease his plots and contacts outside of the his grand scheme to locate and eradicate The Beast and his accomplices. One of his most loyal that he had no seen since the Siege of Undercity, Benjamin Lewinters, had kept tabs on the status of his children all for the sake of security and monitoring the movements of both Daevara blood and the opposition. But despite the Forsaken's use, the Faceless needed to accomplish having more eyes than what he possessed in order to accomplish this. And indeed, there are others that the Lord hadn't come in contact with for some time. Perhaps it was time to make a few changes. . .

Arcane magics sizzled and popped with the sudden appearance of a cloaked figure that materialized. Within the grasp of his left hand contained a wooden cane that appeared to keep the hunched individual fully supported even as he simply stood in the midst of a wooded hill. A faint scent of decay clung to the air that was only overwhelmed by nature's grasp on the location. A wild gryphon bellowed out as the individual disturbed his roost, spooking him to flee the location. " Gah. . .  I've really got to work on that teleportation... " The man's voice spoke between the guttural cough he possessed. Dimmed eyes peered from beneath the hood further up the hill to an cavern carved out from time's erosion. The exposed mandible clattered from the clenching of his skeletal jawline. Soon after, he would simply grunt before laughing about his own inner thoughts. " Daevara, you better not call me all the way out here just to screw around. " Benjamin slowly began to limp up the elevated terrain, cursing under his breath as a bone in his hip mimicked the echo of a tree limb snapping in twine.

Eventually the Forsaken made entry way into the denizens of this hideaway. He took three steps inward before coming to a complete pause, seeming to think for a few moments. " Oh. I almost forgot. . . " With a flick of his wrist, the chaotic flow of violet magics popped, conjuring a false landslide upon the caves entrance. " I wouldn't want any innocent Wildhammers or Whatever-tribe-those-trolls-are to wonder in here. " The sarcastic tone of his voice was as thick as the oxygen within the smothered confines of this path. A path which Lewinters willingly continued to tread down, noticing the damp darkness was growing to a point where he was consumed by the abyss. Yet, the man continued to click that wooden cane across the stone form each and every two second interval. A single minute passed and suddenly the clattered came to a halt. Only the caress of the cavern's draft created a soft wail through any whose eardrums took in the sound. Five consecutive droplets dribbled upon the right side of the Forsaken before he finally spoke out. " Alright, Faceless, I know you are here. You are always here before I am. " 

Suddenly, laughter billowed from the shadows and the fires of three rusted lanterns pulled the abyssal curtain away from the majority of this single area. " An organized man until the end, Mister Lewinters. Every time we meet, it always feels as if it starts with you painfully acknowledging my humors. " While the jawline gave way to a fiendish smile, it was clear that Duraxxor bore a masque that veiled both eyes from the Forsaken's own hidden gaze. The Faceless sat upon an eroded stone that gave appearance to that of a king's throne. The burdens of the dimly lit room also created a chittering cacophony from above, likely the avian minions of the devil himself. 

" Just like it seems every time this happens, you practically die or put yourself in a situation where you very well come close. . . Do you always have to wear a mask? " Benjamin grunted with displeasure as he tapped his cane three times. " Just get to the point, it's bad enough that the Banshee Queen is watching everything. You are not the only one with eyes everywhere. " 

" Everywhere? Hardly. Which is why I have summoned you yet again. " The Faceless tilted his head, continued to hold onto his comical expression with utmost care. " I feel as though I'm going to need more than I possess. While I have been busy grabbing bits and pieces here and there, it simply isn't enough. Real quick though, what is the status of the situation? " The talons of his right hand traced circles as if the representation of a continuous cycle was being presented. 

Another grumble was offered before Lewinters gave his answer to the masked man. " The children do well. Everything appears to be as you expected. Your father shows no signs of ill intent towards them and mostly keeps to himself. I have yet to find any traces of Telondra. Here's to hoping she burned down in that little fiasco. " The forsaken was interrupted by the sudden need to cough, sputtering ichor onto the floor in the process. " Hrngh. . . As I was saying. . . We have not seen your adversary or the witch in anyway thus far. However. . . " The Forsaken proceeded to pull some mysterious photograph from his sleeve, allowing it to drift towards the Faceless. The catch was made with ease as he appeared to be staring at it. " A friend of mine noticed that a Ren'dorei possessed quite the familiar marking on the back of his neck. It's very similar to the seal your family possesses. " 

" And where is this man in the picture at now? " Duraxxor asked with a hint of wonder and irritation all bundled up into his voice. 

" Butchered on the battlefield. Seems he thought he would try his hand with one of the Alliance expeditions for Azerite on one of the many uncharted isles. " Benjamin's voice grew hoarse in a brief moment as he continued on. " My cohort spoke of combat against this particular specimen. She claimed that unlike the other of his breed, this one appeared to weave the void in a strange, bestial manner. Perhaps a coincidence? " 

Silence descended upon the room as the two men stared upon one another. Once more three droplets trickled across the floor before speech disturbed the ambience. " I don't waste time with coincidences. I appreciate this little piece of information as a matter of fact. This actually has potential to help us identify His agents. " Duraxxor ascended from atop his throne and began to step closer to his ally with the pictorial clue in his hand. The stride in his step possessed confidence and a powerful pressure within it. Even the bone within the Forsaken cautiously tensed as he made his approach. " You continue to not disappoint, old friend. But I need you to do one last thing for me before I give you the fortune you desire. " The photograph slipped from one predatory claw to the boney hands of the living corpse. Benjamin rather than complaining aloud awaited this final task to be given. " . . . I need you to beseech Deathcleave. " 

It was at that point that Benjamin sighed with heavy discontent. " You mean that Orca of an Orc?. . " 

" Yessss. I mean one of the finest blacksmiths I have ever witnessed. I mean one of the greatest alliances I have ever forged in undeath in the beginning. I mean Dathuro Deathcleave. " Duraxxor's leathery left was placed delicately on his bound hip. The chill in the air signified the desire for this individual to be present and in his arsenal. All eyes were on the Forsaken from below and above. Not even Benjamin's irritation could hope to counter such a menacing sight that an eyeless individual possessed. " Do this, and I will give you everything you need. " 

The bone of his fingertips creaked and dug directly into the woodwork of his supporting cane. A light growl emanated from his throat before arcane magics enveloped the sockets of his eyes. " Fine. I may not like it but I know that I would rather do this than watch this damnable war break out. You had best make the vessel a well-made one. I will see to Deathcleave's return immediately. " " Excellent. " The word laced with content pleasure as he bore the grin of murder itself. " Look to Icecrown and return with him willingly. I will rendezvous with you to the north of Stormsong Valley with your reward. " Backwards steps were taken as the cascade of white radiated with crimson-imbued tendrils. The shadows in the back slowly enveloping him as a faint fit of laughter rippled across the cavern. The chittering, night wings flocked immediately wondered as a flock around and away from the Forsaken. 

Once more, the Forsaken sighed at the dramatics of this meeting despite Benjamin never seeming to care for the flashy appearances or the fear tactics that Dura implemented. But more importantly, it was the face that resembled a angered basset hound that made his discontent clear. " Orcs. It had to be fuckin' orcs. . . " A snap of his fingers was immediately given, fizzling an intangible veil across the surface of the Forsaken, creating an field of invisibility so that he could make his grand escape.

[wri0thesley]

I've had a pretty bad day and wanted to know if I could get some giorno and Bruno with their s/o sorta fluff if that's okay •﹏• Also your blog is so amazing

thank you angel!

Giorno- As the Don of Passione, Giorno doesn’t get very much downtime. He’s got to be ready to be called upon at a moment’s notice, a few seconds away from being able to attack even when he’s spent all day lazing around doing nothing. You wouldn’t think this kind of environment was at all conducive to maintaining a relationship; but thinking like this would be doing a great disservice to Giorno Giovanna. - Giorno is a romantic at heart; he adores big, flashy gestures to show off how obscenely he loves his s/o. He has the power, money and influence to pull them off, too - a scenario that might seem cheesy with anyone else is suddenly romantic beyond belief when it’s the charming, golden-haired Don with the easy smile carrying it out. - He always makes time for his s/o, even if he has to have Mista or someone trail them when they’re out in case of trouble. He likes taking his s/o to the ballet or the theatre, fancy restaurants, fine dining, bars where the cocktails cost a full day’s wages. - He never forgets an anniversary and always has a bunch of flowers on hand to give his s/o, often ones that seem to appear from nowhere, like Giorno is some kind of charming magician. They’re always his s/o’s favourites, whether they’re in the season to be blooming or not. His s/o doesn’t know how he does it. - Nothing is more romantic to him than standing in his garden, richly perfumed air, the stars high in the night sky, and holding onto his lover’s hand. He feels so lucky to have them. All of his dreams have come true. 

Bruno- Bruno tends to feel emotions very easily. He’s an empathetic kind of man; he can usually tell if his s/o’s been feeling down. He hates seeing anyone he cares about with a frown on their face, and he’ll do almost anything to make them smile again. - He’s not as happy-go-lucky as some members of his squad; Narancia or Mista could probably make their s/o laugh so hard they forgot why they were sad in the first place. Bruno hasn’t been blessed with that kind of easy humour; but he has been blessed with a serene smile, a gentle voice, and a kind heart. - He works hard all day, so spending alone time with his s/o in their own space is his ideal idea of downtime. Just getting to be with them and forget momentarily about his duties to Passione is his favourite way to while away his hours - it’s like taking a vacation for him. - He adores easy intimacy; being able to just sit with his s/o with them both reading, or watching a movie together, or otherwise occupied with their own things but still enjoying one another’s company. If his s/o wanted to crawl over to him on the sofa and put their head in his lap, he’d love to play with their hair. Looking down and seeing his s/o peaceful and happy and relaxed, safe and with him, is the greatest reward he could have asked for. - He often brings up the future; he had dreams for himself, living by the sea (perhaps with children), being happy … talking with his s/o about an ideal domestic living situation makes his heart swell with happiness, even if he doesn’t really believe he’ll ever get his dream life. 

[enlightened711-blog]

Enlightened The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science. Albert Einstein Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better. Albert Einstein Enlightenment: The act of enlightening or the state of being enlightened. Enlighten: Give greater knowledge and understanding about a subject or situation. Give spiritual knowledge or insight. Enlightened: Having or showing a rational, modern, and well-informed outlook. Spiritually aware. Meditation and mindfulness are useful tools in this process of creating a more accurate perception of reality, a more focused life and a more joyful experience. As we delve into our inner world the study of the sciences, psychology, the brain and consciousness can help us interpret our experiences. Our enlightenment is effected by our ego's need to see the world in a certain way and to maintain it's own existence. Meditation can help us see the world more clearly, not as we as we think we need to see it. When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained. Mark Twain All this worldly wisdom was once the unnameable heresy of some wise man. Henry David Thoreau Delusions are normal parts of existence, assume that they are there even though you can not see them.   Mindfulness helps us live in the present without the demons of the past tearing at us or the desires and fears of the future distracting us. It's not that I'm so smart, it's just that I stay with problems longer. Albert Einstein We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us. Joseph Campbell And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. Anais Nin Participate joyfully in the sorrows of the world. We cannot cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live in joy. Joseph Campbell The best way to make your dreams come true is to wake up. Paul Valery For all life is a dream, and dreams themselves are only dreams. Pedro Calderon de la Barca Myths are public dreams, dreams are private myths. Joseph Campbell Living in dreams of yesterday, we find ourselves still dreaming of impossible future conquests. Charles Lindbergh One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off living. We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon instead of enjoying the roses that are blooming outside our windows today. Dale Carnegie The Universe is one great kindergarten for man. Everything that exists has brought with it its own peculiar lesson. Orison Swett Marden There are always flowers for those who want to see them. Henri Matisse Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors where there were only walls. Joseph Campbell Most sets of values would give rise to universes that, although they might be very beautiful, would contain no one able to wonder at that beauty. Stephen Hawking The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it. Henry David Thoreau To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else. Emily Dickinson Who will tell whether one happy moment of love or the joy of breathing or walking on a bright morning and smelling the fresh air, is not worth all the suffering and effort which life implies. Erich Fromm It takes a long time to become young. Pablo Picasso There is always some specific moment when we become aware that our youth is gone; but, years after, we know it was much later. Mignon McLaughlin An intellectual is someone whose mind watches itself. Albert Camus Alas, after a certain age every man is responsible for his face. Albert Camus Beauty is unbearable, drives us to despair, offering us for a minute the glimpse of an eternity that we should like to stretch out over the whole of time. Albert Camus For if there is a sin against life, it consists perhaps not so much in despairing of life as in hoping for another life and in eluding the implacable grandeur of this life. Albert Camus He who despairs of the human condition is a coward, but he who has hope for it is a fool. Albert Camus How hard, how bitter it is to become a man! Albert Camus That God does not exist, I cannot deny, That my whole being cries out for God I cannot forget. Jean-Paul Sartre There is only one day left, always starting over: it is given to us at dawn and taken away from us at dusk. Jean-Paul Sartre We do not judge the people we love. Jean-Paul Sartre When we love the world we do not judge it, rather we make a choice in the moment. Respond intelligently even to unintelligent treatment. Lao Tzu Always respond intelligently to unintelligent treatment even if to an outside observer it appears that you are not responding intelligently. Everything happens to everybody sooner or later if there is time enough. George Bernard Shaw Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. Henry David Thoreau Until you value yourself, you won't value your time. Until you value your time, you will not do anything with it. M. Scott Peck The more you value yourself the more that you will be able to focus your efforts. He that would live in peace and at ease must not speak all he knows or all he sees. Benjamin Franklin Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall. Confucius Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. Lao Tzu For in all adversity of fortune the worst sort of misery is to have been happy. Boethius The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart. Helen Keller All men are children, and of one family. The same tale sends them all to bed, and wakes them in the morning. Henry David Thoreau As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives. Henry David Thoreau A pathway starts with a single footstep. Friends... they cherish one another's hopes. They are kind to one another's dreams. Henry David Thoreau It is a difficult decision to wake someone from a delusional dream. Wake oneself first. How can any man be weak who dares to be at all? Henry David Thoreau If you can speak what you will never hear, if you can write what you will never read, you have done rare things. Henry David Thoreau Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them. Henry David Thoreau The greatest compliment that was ever paid me was when one asked me what I thought, and attended to my answer. Henry David Thoreau The squirrel that you kill in jest, dies in earnest. Henry David Thoreau There is no remedy for love but to love more. Henry David Thoreau There is no value in life except what you choose to place upon it and no happiness in any place except what you bring to it yourself. Henry David Thoreau True friendship can afford true knowledge. It does not depend on darkness and ignorance. Henry David Thoreau You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Henry David Thoreau A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou. Omar Khayyam Drink! for you know not whence you came nor why: drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.   Omar Khayyam Living Life Tomorrow's fate, though thou be wise, Thou canst not tell nor yet surmise; Pass, therefore, not today in vain, For it will never come again. Omar Khayyam The moving finger writes, and having written moves on. Nor all thy piety nor all thy wit, can cancel half a line of it. Omar Khayyam That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind. William Wordsworth Thinking isn't agreeing or disagreeing. That's voting. Robert Frost Adapt or perish, now as ever, is nature's inexorable imperative. H. G. Wells Fame will go by and, so long, I've had you, fame. If it goes by, I've always known it was fickle. So at least it's something I experience, but that's not where I live. Marilyn Monroe For every person who has ever lived there has come, at last, a spring he will never see. Glory then in the springs that are yours. Pam Brown Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair. Kahlil Gibran I've made an odd discovery. Every time I talk to a savant I feel quite sure that happiness is no longer a possibility. Yet when I talk with my gardener, I'm convinced of the opposite. Bertrand Russell Let us learn to appreciate there will be times when the trees will be bare, and look forward to the time when we may pick the fruit. Anton Chekhov Every religion is true one way or another. It is true when understood metaphorically. But when it gets stuck in its own metaphors, interpreting them as facts, then you are in trouble. Joseph Campbell I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn't arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I'm going to be happy in it. Groucho Marx A truly good book teaches me better than to read it. I must soon lay it down, and commence living on its hint. What I began by reading, I must finish by acting. Henry David Thoreau