#stone irr

[honestsycrets]

before anyone else I: the venerable [admiral!miguel o'hara x princess!reader]

❛ pairing | admiral!miguel o'hara x princess!reader

❛ type | one-shot, sfw (minor past suggestive themes)

❛ summary | once upon a time, miguel loved a princess. upon learning about her engagement to his father, King Stone, he's back with a plan in hand.

❛ tags | forced marriage, arranged marriage, historical period not defined, royal!au, admiral!miguel, princess!reader, mention of character death, elements of implied treason and betrayal, some angst, some fluff, annoyed miguel, lyla makes trouble, self edited, f!reader, persuasion inspired, a kiss, innocent!reader, Spanish is not translated, a kiss.

❛ sy's notes | no requests were fulfilled; filled to meet this poll.

An imperial boat docks. It waves in the water a little off-kilter, pulling to the right in all its glorious majesty. On the dock itself, the head of ground forces stood dressed in full regalia, all navy blue and white, the gold buttons glistening in the fresh morning light. Jess expected this day would one day come. The seamen shouted among one another on the ship until at last the crew outstretched a thick oak plank. Boots bounded down the strong wooden ramp leading from an imperial ship to the dock. The awaiting crowd was rough and rowdy, casting bellowing screams at the admiral and his crew. 

“There he is!” Jess boomed, clapping her umber hands together.

They were freckled, with the frequency of her exposure to the sun. Today, her skin was shielded by a heavy coat. She abandoned the thing over her chair as she wrote letters, recommendations, and battle orders. But she preferred it when her poet shirt was thrown open, teaching the men and women in her charge. 

Admiral Miguel O’Hara led the charge, passing by the lackeys throwing down trade goods from the belly of the boat. Compared to Jess, his clothing was rough, punctuated by his time at the sea. What use was there for a thick coat with the spray of sea spray daily? No, he stood in dark brown breeches and a thrown open poet-shirt, sodden with sea water, likely from dealing with whatever injury brought his ship back to this usually forgotten port. 

He was glad to be back on the Spanish shore, if only it weren’t this shore and the many stairs he would have to brave to get to the castle while the engineers worked on the Venerable. Miguel loosened the sweat from his coarse locks, his shoulders bunched and ready for another fight. He came to a stop in front of Jess, exhaling deep, rage-filled breaths. Jess shifted back on her boot heel, a grimace on her countenance.

“That’s a pretty good hole. She’s taking on water quick. You hit something, Miguel?” 

“Me? No, I don’t hit rocks.” Miguel snorted, casting a look over his shoulder to the woman that stood at his side. Lyla’s eyes averted, not quite saying anything and saying everything at the same time. Lyla obscured herself behind her thick honey-brown bob. “Someone was distracted with the king’s cask of Carribean rum.” 

“Lyla?” Jess came up behind her, grasping her shoulders for emphasis. “No. Our Lyla couldn’t’ve done that number.” 

“It was once! One in eight years.” 

“Those... those changes you wrote me about. They have you on edge, paranoid. Let’s have a drink with the imperial guard. They have missed you.” 

Miguel threw a hiss back at the two as he stormed up the stairs, bundling buttons of his dirty poet shirt to obscure the sight of his dark chest from onlookers, namely the sex-deprived women and men of the capital whose hungry eyes ogled his crew. He didn’t need a loon bothering him right now, not here, he might punch them into a permanent, instantaneous sleep. 

“Oh, come, Miguel, these things happen. Look how sorry she is.” She says as if he cares. Jess rushed to catch up with him, the beads on the ends of her braids snatching and clicking. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, his head heavy.  He doesn’t have time for this.

“What she meant to do is as much irrelevant as it was irresponsible. If you’ll excuse me, Jess, I now have to prepare a new ship to set sail.” 

“The king wants to see you. It’s about her,” she shouted. Miguel’s steps came to all but a grinding halt, his finger fingers flexing into a tight fist. His mouth was dry, and it wasn’t due to a lack of hydration but the mention of your name on Jess’s lips. She brought her hands to her hips, her hands on the golden embroidered loops. His face sagged, all irritation melding into something different, inscrutable. He threw her a look.

“Fine.” 

But first-- he had to get this sea stank off of his skin. 

“Admiral O’Hara! There is just the man I have been looking for. Come, come, let me pour you tea. No? No tea? Of course not, it seems I don’t remember the boy I used to know. You’re a man now. And one of decisive action! Coffee, yes? You are better suited to black coffee. Am I correct?” 

Everyone thinks he is thirsty in this blasted place.

He didn’t belong here. He was, as he preferred to be, stuck at sea. The unforgiving sea required his attention lest his men befall a terrible end. He could handle that burden. He stood below a great sigil of a sea dragon whirling to chew its tail. Its hands secured a great many orbs in its sharp, jeweled talons. His eye tracked across the inside of the crest, turning over the word hopelessly on his tongue. 

“Rum,” he answered caustically, his eye dropping from the great sigil before him to the jeweled sapphire and emeralds that were embedded in the floor. Between rows of sentinel were porcelain statues, their hands wrapped around blunt and aged swords, their fingers almost palpable on the artifacts that remained from times of old. The deep navy blue curtains and tapestries are detailed in ineffectual teal. He never cared for the other assortment of pots and jars that were so-called mythical artifacts and rolls of paper that would soon house the king’s poorly-made royal decrees. 

“Aha! A good seaman and his alcohol,” the king minced his laughter. The noise aggravated him, the memory of the man’s words buzzing in the back of his head. Now he kissed up to him. How he’d fallen. He blinked up to the royal crest, then down to the aged king. His long, grey hair at the middle of his back reflected his many losses. Miguel turned his eyes back down to the king, eyes crinkling at the corners, taking a glimpse of him. His tone slipped. “It makes the time pass more tolerably, does it not?” 

“It does.” 

He pops open a glass bottle of rum, pouring it into a cup encrusted with more fine jewels. Miguel doesn’t drink.

"I suppose you want me to get to the point.” 

That would be a nice change, yes. His eyes held modest deference, his heavy dark brown boots pacing toward a hearth in the middle of the king’s study. Wisps of vibrant blue fire threw embers into the air. He finds himself staring at a stained glass effigy of your mother. A woman who undoubtedly would have been ashamed of the husband that stood before him now.

“You recall my daughter,” How could he not? He released a small grunt, an acknowledgment of the king’s words. Mindful of his reaction, Miguel turned his hands over the hot air, plumes of warmth kissing his sun-worn cheeks. As the king spoke, the flickering flames warmed the slight ring on his thick fingers. “I’ve arranged her marriage to Lord Stone. An alliance of sorts.” 

Miguel’s eyes go wide, aghast, staring into the blank flames. He grits his teeth together, the thin blade of his patience whittling down with every word from the king. He kills his face of the horrified, fleeting emotions that dappled his skin like obvious spots. He might have snapped a look at the king before his eyes calmed, trained to maintain the illusion of composure. 

“How unfortunate.”

“King Stone?” around the corner, his second-in-command squeaked. He should have left her outside. Miguel brought his hand to cup his slight forehead, throwing her a warning look.  “That old coot is still--”

“Lyla.” 

“Yes, he is quite old, isn’t he? I was surprised when he asked for her hand in marriage, truly,” the king said tightly, born in annoyance. He has gone ashy, eyes desolate as he recounts the death of the prince, or perhaps his own. “I would have preferred an engagement to his son. I trust you heard about his assassination. It was a great surprise. A tragedy, indeed.” 

“We have heard many things about it. I am surprised that you would agree to such an alliance after what he's done.” 

It was impossible not to hear rumors in the ports he sailed through. Miguel did not only hold to royal ports but those that held slimy crowds of pirates and prostitutes. If he did not, he would never have the truth behind the many rumors that swirled through the air. Women in richer towns had time to spread rumors. Those suffering from poverty had no time for them. Their lives were ones of perpetual struggle. What use had they for the death of stupid princes?

“Feelings change.” 

Did they really-- 

“Miguel. Truly, I understand your apprehension. But unless you have the magic to raise my dead sons from the grave, I have no choice.” The king sighed, beating his old knuckles on the game board. He’d sacrifice another child for his own safety-- the illusion of it. Coward. “I must know if I can I trust you with her transport.” 

“She won’t last.” Miguel stared at him, breathing the words out, his frown darkening the rest of his features. “She is a balm to any battle-worn king, but Stone is not just old. He is dangerous. If you send her there, you will send her to her death.” 

“His wives are well cared for,” your father argued mildly because it was not him who would face the rest of a lifetime with Stone. He brought a fist to his mouth and bit down upon it, a vestige of the man he used to be. “Perhaps your feelings for her cloud your judgement.” 

“I can separate my feelings from my professional judgements, mi rey.” 

“Yes. I suppose you can, admiral. How long has it been since you bore the responsibility of being the Head of Guards? Seven years?” 

“Eight,” Miguel cropped, his hand shifting to the top of his pommel. “It has been eight years since I left the crown city.” 

“Head of ground forces regulates my guard now. I find them lacking,” he grabbed Miguel’s cup of undrunk rum and threw it back, his tongue snapping against the roof of his tongue. He felt for the sentinel of guards in the room. “My soldiers, that is. If they had been stronger, perhaps my sons would still be alive.” 

Be it like him to find fault in everyone but his own battle choices.

“But I am ever humbled by your selfless service, mi hijo,” he spoke mildly, “Please know it isn’t a decision I make lightly. I know my daughter. She would feel more secure if you were the one to take her to Stone.” 

They were nice words from a soon-to-be puppet king. Miguel turned his gaze onward, locating Lyla by his side. Her small, scarred hands warmed themselves over the ancient blue flame. A surge of heat turned over in his stomach, punctured by a fear he hadn’t felt in a while. He steadied his voice. 

“I would not be so certain.” Miguel wrinkled his forehead, throwing a look that looked almost off-kilter. After this many years, would it be easy to face you again? No, he decided. Not for this purpose. “Soft women are fickle to easy words.” 

What of me? 

Not you, Lyla. You’re not soft.

“If you do not want to, I can send her by way of Jess,” a long sigh slipped off the king’s lips. Then quiet, only broken by a clatter and Lyla’s frantic attempt to replace game pieces into their proper position. Miguel swayed to where she was, grabbing the head of a miniature oak knight and popping it into the proper position. 

“For her sake, I will deliver her.” 

Miguel said nothing more. He failed to wait for the king to dismiss him, perhaps out of confidence in their relationship, that this was not something he had to tread lightly around. Lyla rushed by his side, the wordless guards drawing the heavy doors open to the wide stone hallway before them.

“You cannot take her there,” Lyla spoke with a rigidity that Miguel admired, mindful of the volume of her words, only a whisper. “Your father is--” 

“Yes, Lyla, I know very well.” 

“Then what next?” 

At the end of the hall, Miguel rushed down the steps, out of the king’s chambers, and into lush, almost stabilizing grass. Free of the constricting walls that he would have once called home, Miguel took in the fresh air, his hands behind his neck. To take you there meant certain death. To not take you there, well, he regarded both just as poorly. The fat roses bobbed on their pointy stems. Miguel expects to see you there, with your chambermaids, eating fruits on an Arab blanket. 

“We take Jess up on her offer. She’ll be expecting me.” 

“Miguel, the intent in horseback riding is that your ride the horse.” 

“You know, on top,” Lyla jumps onto Jess’s sentence. “He hasn’t been on top of anything in years--”

“And break its back?” Miguel held the reins in his thick fist. The horse, a chunky mocha and white painted thing was a profit from his voyages overseas. Not only was it subjected to awful sea travel, but now to have a man of muscle on its back? With his newfound speed, it was a risk he did not need to take. “No. I have two feet. I can walk.”

Miguel was many things, but he wasn’t a monster. Or so he liked to think.

“I think you’re quite sweet, Admiral O'Hara.” Jess’s own guard, Gwen, spoke. She was a willowy thing, barely a sprout of a woman with a good heart. He could tell. Miguel looked down, opting for silence as he crunched down full blades of grass under his foot. 

“Miguel doesn’t like compliments,” Lyla said. 

He also didn’t like long, relaxing walks in the valley. Jess proposed something like drinking in her office. It would have been glorious-- but Lyla, whose recent binge nearly scuttled his ship, chose a good ol’fashioned horseback ride. Something that didn’t remind her of sitting on the patchwork doll that was the Venerable.

“The princess would marry someone she does not know?”

Dread filled Miguel’s stomach at the words, the truth in them half-cocked and wrong. He found no words on his tongue that could fit the weight of bitterness that he felt about the arranged marriage. Everyone knew, everyone but Gwen. She was a young thing.

“It’s not her choice,” Lyla spoke in your defense. “It’s her father’s.”

“Forced marriages are a thing of the past. They are not right. Has the princess ever even met Lord Stone?” Gwen asked.

In less than a week’s time, following the festival of roses, they would sail eastward. Or, so said the sailing plans he laid out for Jess. Who, for her part, looked away. Lyla and he exchanged a glance of mutual understanding. That was what he liked to call a sign. 

“No, before their deaths, her brothers never would have allowed her travel to Alche. This whole alliance is a sham. We’re expected to deliver the princess in some false faith that he keeps this so-called alliance. He will not. I cannot decide if the king truly believes in this alliance or if he is hopeful he will remain as a ruler. In either case, it is foolish. Stone would murder his own legitimate heir and for what?” 

Except they aren’t his words. Those words flowed freely from Jess’s lips. 

“The king will fall.” 

“Miguel. Those are treasonous—“

“Treasonous? He is incapable of governing.” 

“The council helps him,” Jess says, but the words come out slanted. She convinces herself as much of the truth as him. Gwen’s lips close, looking down to the sword at her side, then back to Jess’s troubled eyes. Miguel had her where he wanted her. Where she wanted to be-- abandoning this foolish faith in a man who long since gave up hope on a strong, independent nation. 

“A counsel of plants. Five of his sons have fallen. If this keeps up, we will fall next.” 

Jess felt the words running bone-deep. 

“You have a plan.” 

He always did.

The deep night sky was a sea of twinkling stars. Oil lamps illuminated the solitary garden. Miguel fit his hands in balls on his hips, eyes flickering from the blades of grass to the long stems of lilies. He breathed softly, drawing in breaths that should have been relaxing, but morphed into something awful, some unfiltered fear of the failure of his plans. 

“These are her gardens, aren’t they?”

“They are,” Miguel answered. “If nothing has changed, she cares for them herself and harvests them with the peasants. She’ll be here, tomorrow, for her last harvest as a princess.” 

On one hand, overturning the king and his council could go seamlessly. He had Jess, that much was for certain. Gwen, who seemed to go with her bidding, held a good heart about the ethics of arranged marriage. She turned her nose up at it, the suggestion that you would be forced into a marriage with an old, cruel king. Lyla, his Lyla, held no apprehension to the plan. She treated him with deference, seeking only his happiness as his best friend.

Would this-- being king-- make him happy? 

Miguel looked down. Soft pink roses, ripe and ready for the rose-picking festival. Your last, if things went to your father’s plan. He hadn’t thought about it: about how you might feel in the push for another engagement. Not one to an aged, cruel man-- but… he never thought to find you, to ask. He wasn’t sure he could stomach the rejection and yet still force you into a marriage with him. 

It wasn’t that he wanted to-- but had to.

Miguel turned his hand into the suit vest across his chest, removing a bit of aged parchment with a broken wax seal. He turned his finger over the old ink. In every interaction I face, I long to spot you, hidden among the roses, the lilies, to be one of the heads of delighted harvesters. But you are not here. You are never here. I fear you never may be.

“Miggy,” Lyla said. “Miggy look.” 

Miguel lifted his head to look at Lyla. She wasn’t looking at him, peering across the garden, somewhere Miguel couldn’t see from where he stood. He lifted his dark brown boots, stomping around the corner. His sharp red eyes were wide in shock, bags of exhaustion lifted by your sight. Had it-- really been eight years? 

Panic works in tandem with longing. He could run for Jess’s chambers, crumple there like the very coward that ran this fastly crumbling kingdom. Face you another day. He couldn’t help but indulge himself in the gentle lilt of your voice, the way you rolled the ‘r’ on his last name, even though it was very much not an ‘r’ to be rolled. 

“Is that you, Miguel O’Hara? ¿De verdad?” 

No, Miguel thought. Not yet. 

His mind was overwrought, more stimulation than he had in months of battling the sea. He could climb ropes, fix sails, fight pirates, throw out orders, and care for the ports. No issue. None. But as you stood there, looking finer than any treasure he ripped from the hands of the most experienced of pirates, he found himself unable to locate his practiced words. 

You were meant to be his. To be by his side. Of that much, he was certain. Miguel folded the letter in his hand and tucked it back into his dark coat, exploring your gown. A light, white off-the-shoulder dress, embroidered in teal and ombre details, with the most beautiful seafoam bowed sash. You pulled at the rebozo over your long dripping sleeves, the jewels of your hairpieces tinking together as you moved, pulling up your skirts saucily over your ankle. 

“Is it not the admiral?” your handmaiden whispered. 

“I did not know he was back,” said the other. 

“Please excuse us, girls. Lady Lyla, I would prefer a private audience with the admiral. If you would,” 

“Of course! Of course, come, hurry up, you're slow--” Lyla did not need to be told twice. She made herself scarce, grabbing the mid-backs of the girls, forcing them up the steps and out of sight. Miguel dipped down to take a lantern that one of the girls had forgotten.

“Hola, mi amor,” 

Miguel turned around, offering you his forearm. Your jeweled eyes fell on it. You took his broad arm with one hand, minding the train of your dress in the other. The pads of your fingers shifted along the muscle. It took a moment for him to register your curious touch. The increase in his muscle mass, particularly as of late, must have been jarring. His brows knit together, his eyes crinkling around the edges in a way that reflected his age by sea. You moved through your gardens. Miguel, your ever-patient servant, followed your lead.

At night time, your garden was impossibly beautiful. It was lined by bushels of healthy, salt-tolerant roses, cloaked in the secret of darkness. Miguel remembered the small pond as if it were yesterday, the secret place of his youth. Small bugs sang in the heaviness of your mutual silence, breaking with the pop of your lips.

“I saw you had a letter in your hands. From a woman, perhaps?” 

He lifted his hand, offering the lack of a marriage band. No wife, not even a love on a distant shore. The memory of your kisses, your bodies strewn in bed, overrode any ability for him to find another woman. What happened to your eyes-- you began, reaching to touch him. He turned his face away. You were the first to notice. Or, perhaps, just unbothered by tethers of propriety.

“You are still unmarried? Then why did you never answer my letters?” 

“What would you have me say, princesa?” Miguel’s words came at last. He hadn’t meant them to come out the way they did. A long, painful lament on his tongue, marked with barbs. “You chose your family over my proposal. Your rejection was quite clear.” 

“You, above everyone else, should know it was not an easy choice. I could not have told them the truth.” You sat down on your stone bench, fixing your skirts. “You would have hung.” 

“Yes... well. How funny is it that they are now dead,” he bit out. “While I stand here alive.” 

Your eyes were bright, watery, bits of tears slipping down from the corners of your eyes, over pink blush at your cheeks. Shit, he hadn't meant to say that. A slow breath leaked from his mouth. You stood up, brushing the tears away with the flowing sleeves. It hurt to see your pain well to the surface.

“Miggy, I know you hate them, but please don’t talk ill of the dead. They did what they thought was best for our nation and nothing more.” 

Right-- to secure the possibility of an alliance through an arranged marriage, how charitable of them. You stood before a bushel of roses, turning your eyes over the fat blooms as an excuse not to look at him. You poisoned your mind with the lies of your father and brothers. He turned you, lip trembling.

“What of what was best for you?” His hand found your cheek, rolling away the tears that spilled openly before those in the garden. The sentinel who watched, the flowers that grew in peace. You leaned into his touch, eyes closing at the comforting warmth that welled up in your chest. He was here, again. “That has always been the only thing that I am concerned with.” 

“I know. My brothers couldn’t understand. They only understood politics.” 

“What of your father? He knows how I feel.” Miguel said. The words were smooth and soft, gentle like the sill waters of your pond. “He may not know that I was your first--” 

“Miggy,” 

“Your virginity belongs to me. Stone cannot take it,” he punctuates the words. They seem to draw some ancient feelings loose, drawing back with your hand to your chest, cooling the heat that bubbled in your chest at the mere memory. His voice milded out, a smile warring at the corners of his lips. Eight years, and he knew you thought of that very warm summer’s night on the pavilion.  "But your father would still allow you to live in misery."

You're not thinking of your father when Miguel speaks of such silly, youthful things. It's hurled into the past.

“You remember.” The tone in his voice pulled at a question, but he asked none. You tugged on your rebozo and turned away from Miguel once more, embarrassed. He couldn’t resist. His hands cupped your slight shoulders, rippled with goosebumps, though it was not a cold night out. His lips worked on your ears, kissing the delicate earrings that dripped from your earlobes. “The last day of the rose harvest.” 

“Miggy, not here.” 

“Your guards fell ill for their night shift. I took their place. You bathed in petals and perfumed your skin that night. I dare say, on purpose. You were so good for me.” 

The memory must have made you clench, your blood runs warm, leaning into the soft kiss he set behind your ear, the scrape of his fang. Oh, stars, you cried.

“We should stop, my father--”

“Knows what love we have. Even if he is a spineless coward.”  

“Have? Miggy?” 

He held his chin level, swaying where he stood, seeking some acknowledgment that your feelings had not changed. For what seemed like the hundredth time that night, you faced him. In place of a response, silence was the best course of action. A grim smile worked on his face, his head pounding with the lack of alcohol, that little friend of his that had made these years pass so easily. You tugged him forward.

“You are mine?” you ask. 

“I am yours. I am loyal to you before anyone else.” 

To his surprise, you held out your hand, your fingers twiddling at him. 

“Then prove your loyalty to me.” You hummed. “Give me that letter. I want it.” 

“You can’t trust me, can you?” He sighed, slipping his hand into his coat pocket. Finally pulling it free, he unraveled it. Its crispy, flaked edges slipped from your fingertips. The royal seal glimmered in your eyes, wrought in sudden delight at your own handwriting. 

“This is mine. And you’ve kept it so close to your heart this whole time? Oh, Miggy,” 

“Don’t start,” Miguel took a step away, rubbing the frustration out of his forehead. Blood rushed to Miggy’s dark face. He should be so lucky that it was night, that the moon was not full, and that you would not weaponize it. You plucked up your skirts, daring a twirl, jewelry jingling, skirts whirling. His lips pulled in a smile at your delight, a party all on your own. Congratulations on your victory, he wanted to say, as if it hadn't resulted in years of endless longing.

“I knew it.” 

“You did not,” Miguel bit out, kicking out his feet over the inky blades of glass. “You interrogated me regarding its source. Another woman when I have a princess? How asinine.” 

“Oh, Miggy. If you write me a letter, just one,” you settled it back in his coat jacket. “I can be at peace with this marriage. I’ll close my eyes and think of you.” 

His mind reeled at your words. He shot you a wan look, which you returned with a confused flicker of your long lashes, wondering what you said that was so wrong. Miguel looked toward the armed guards, men who-- in the day, he served with. He trusts them in a way that is unique to service under the crown-- to you. 

“What sort of man do you take me for?” he bit out, his tone tapering dangerously low. “To think I would allow you to marry that man?”

“What choice do I--” 

“You listen to your father regarding the oddest things. You would marry an archaic sack of shit but not the love of your life.” 

“Oh,” breath punched from your chest, exhaled in a shaky breath. Your hand came to your chest, twiddling the jewelry at your chest. Miguel turned his head back to face yours, his scarlet eyes trained on yours. “I wasn’t aware of your offer.” 

He couldn’t help it. Not anymore. The time at sea, eight years of suppressed pleasure through memories of your warmth, and the letters you sent all culminated in overcoming longing. He dipped down, his lips sliding against yours. He swept his tongue past your lips, drawing you closer with a stabilizing hand behind your back. He was many things, but never a coward, savoring the tender taste of fig and honey and you on your lips. You were as sweet as he remembered. His lips parted, words barely a puff.

“I don't believe I ever retracted it, Princesa.” 

Yes, you say delightfully. He wonders if you'll still say yes after you learn of what he's done. He doesn't always like the decisions he has to make-- but they're for your good. One day, perhaps, you'll understand.

[theladyregret]

Drow Name Tables

Something I did as a special favor to @kimmurielsscryingmirror (@eldritchmist ) who showed interest. Because it’s...pretty big I decided to make it into it’s own post.

These are a few Drow naming tables that were originally found in an issue of Dragon Magazine. It’s two d100 tables of prefixes and suffixes commonly used in first names. The second couple of tables is a list of common house name prefixes and suffixes.

EDIT: Just a little something for those who care which I didn’t add before because it took me so long to finish the transcription I just wanted to post it lol. The gender difference is noted in the related Dragon Magazine article as being significant. Non Drow may not notice but a Drow will notice the difference. Female names sometimes borrow parts that are normally only considered male and this is considered fine...but a male with a name that borrows a typically only female part would be seen as extremely taboo.

Prefix (Female/Male) - Meaning

Akor/Alak                 beloved, best, first

Alaun/Alton             lightning, powerful

Aly/Kel                     legendary, singing, song

Ang/Adin                  beast, monstrous, savage

Ardul/Amal               blessed, divine, godly

Aun/Ant                   crypt, dead, deadly, death

Bae/Bar                      fate, fated, luck, lucky

Bal/Bel                       burned, burning, fire, flame

Belar/Bruh                 arrow, lance, piercing

Briz/Berg                    graceful, fluid, like water

Bur/Bhin                     craft, crafty, sly

Chal/Chasz                earth, stable

Char/Kron                  sick, venom, venomed

Chess/Cal                  noble, lady/lord

Dhaun                          infested, plague

Dil/Dur                         cold, ice, still

Dirz/Div                       dream, dreaming, fantasy

Dris/Riz                        ash, dawn, east, eastern

Eclav/Elk                      chaos, mad, madness

Elvan/Kalan                 elf, elven, far, lost

Elv/Elaug                     drow, mage, power

Erel/Rhyl                      eye, moon, spy

Ethe/Erth                    mithril, resolute

Faer/Selds                   oath, sworn, vow

Felyn/Fil                       pale, thin, weak, white

Filf/Phar                     dwarf, dwarven, treacherous

Gauss/Orgoll              dread, fear, feared, vile

G'eld                              friend, spider  

Ghuan                           accursed, curse, unlucky

Gin/Din                         berserk, berserker, orc, wild

Grey/Gul                       ghost, pale, unliving

Hael/Hatch                   marked, trail, way

Hal/Sol                           deft, nimble, spider-like  

Houn/Rik                       magic, ring, staff

Iiv/Dip                             liege, war, warrior

Iim                                   life, living, spirit, soul

Illiam/Im                         devoted, heart, love

In/Sorn                           enchanted, spell

Ilph                                  emerald, green, lush, tree

Irae/Ilzt                           arcane, mystic, wizard

Irr/Izz                               hidden, mask, masked

Iym/Ist                            endless, immortal  

Jan/Duag                       shield, warded

Jhael/Gel                       ambitious, clan, kin, family

Jhul/Jar                         charmed, rune, symbol

Jys/Driz                         hard, steel, unyielding

Lael/Llt                           iron, west, western

Lar/Les                          binding, bound, law, lawful

LiNeer/Mourn            legend, legendary, mythical  

Lird/Ryld                   brand, branded, owned, slave

Lua/Lyme                       bright, crystal, light

Mal/Malag                     mystery, secret

May/Mas                         beautiful, beauty, silver

Micar                                lost, poison, widow

Min/Ran                           lesser, minor, second

Mol/Go                            blue, storm, thunder, wind

Myr/Nym                       lost, skeleton, skull

Nath/Mer                        doom, doomed, fate

Ned/Nad               cunning, genius, mind, thought

Nhil/Nal                 fear, gorrible, horror, outraged

Neer                                  core, root, strong

Null/Nil                             sad, tear, weeping

Olor/Omar                       skin, tattoo, tattooed

Pellan/Relon                    north, platiunum, wind

Phaer/Vorn                      honor, honored

Phyr/Phyx                        bless, blessed, blessing

Qualn/Quil                        mighty, ocean, sea

Quar                                   aged, eternal, time

Quav/Quev                        charmed, docile, friend

Qil/Quil                               foe, goblin, slave

Rauv/Welv                         cave, rock, stone

Ril/Ryl                                 foretold, omen

Sbat/Szor                           amber, yellow

Sab/Tsab                            abyss, empty, void  

Shi'n/Kren                          fool, foolish, young

Shri/Ssz                             silk, silent  

Shur/Shar                          dagger, edge, stiletto

Shynt                                 invisible, skilled, unseen

Sin/Szin                              festival, joy, pleasure

Ssap/Tath                          blue, midnight, night

Susp/Spir                           learned, skilled, wise

Talab/Tluth                        burn, burning, fire

Tal/Tar                         love, pain, wound, wounded

Triel/Taz                           bat, winged

T'riss/Teb                           blade, sharp, sword  

Ulvir/Uhls                           gold, golden, treasure

Umrae/Hurz                       faith, faithful, true

Vas/Vesz                            blood, bloody, flesh

Vic                                       abyss, deep, profound

Vier/Val                               black, dark, darkness

Vlon/Wod                           bold, hero, heroic

Waer/Wehl             deep, hidden, south, southern  

Wuyon/Wruz                      humble, third, trivial

Xull/Url                                 blooded, crimson, ruby

Xun                                       demon, fiend, fiendish

Yas/Yaz                       riddle, spinning, thread, web

Zar/Zakn                             dusk, haunted, shadow

Zebey/Zek                        dragon, lithe, rage, wyrm

Zes/Zsz                              ancient, elder, respected

Zilv/Vuz                             forgotten, old, unknown

Suffixes (Female/Male) - Meaning

a/agh                  breaker, destruction, end, omega

ace/as                                savant, scholar, wizard

ae/aun                             dance, dancer, life, player

aer/d                                    blood, blood of, heir

afae/afein                         bane, executioner, slayer

afay/aufein                        eyes, eyes of, seer

ala/launim                          healer, cleric

anna/erin                            advisor, counselor to

arra/atar                             queen/prince

aste                                      bearer, keeper, slaver

avin/aonar                           guardian, guard, shield

ayne/al                       lunatic, maniac, manic, rage

baste/gloth                         path, walker

breena/antar                   matriach/patriarch, ruler

bryn/lyn                               agent, assassin, killer

cice/roos                             born of, child, young  

cyrl/axle                               ally, companion, friend

da/daer                                illusionist, trickster

dia/drin                                rogue, stealer

diira/diirn                             initiate, sister/brother

dra/zar                                  lover, match, mate  

driira/driirn                         mother/father, teacher  

dril/dorl                                 knight, sword, warrior

e                                           servant, slave, vessel

eari/erd                                 giver, god, patron

eyl                                       archer, arrow, flight, flyer

ffyn/fein                               minstrel, singer, song

fryn              champion, victor, weapon, weapon of

iara/ica                                 baron, duke, lady/lord  

ice/eth                                 obsession, taker, taken  

idil/imar           alpha, beginning, creator of, maker

iira/inid                                 harbinger, herald

inidia                                     secret, wall, warder

inil/in                                     lady/lord, rider, steed

intra                               envoy, messenger, prophet

isstra/atlab               acolyte, apprentice, student

ithra/irahc                         dragon, serpent, wyrm

jra/gos                                 beast, biter, stinger

jss                                          scout, stalker

kacha/kah                            beauty, hair, style

kiira/raen                              apostle, disciple

lay/dyn                               flight, flyer, wing, wings

lara/aghar                         cynic, death, end, victim

lin                                         arm, armor, commander

lochar                                   messenger, spider

mice/myr           bone, bones, necromancer, witch  

mur'ss                                   shadow, spy, witness

na/nar                                 adept, ghost, spirit

nilee/olil                             corpse, disease, ravager

niss/nozz                           chance, gambler, game

nitra/net                              kicker, returned, risen

nolu                                 art, artist, expert, treasure

olin                                   ascension, love, lover, lust

onia/onim                           rod, staff, token, wand

oyss/omph                       binder, judge, law, prison

qualyn                                 ally, caller, kin

quarra/net                           horde, host, legion

quiri/oj                                  aura, cloak, hide, skin

ra/or                                     fool, game, prey, quarry

rae/rar                                   secret, seeker, quest

raema/orvir                         crafter, fist, hand

raena/olvir                            center, haven, home

riia/rak                       enchanter, mage, spellcaster

ril                                 bandit, enemy, raider, outlaw

riina/ree                     enchanter, mage, spellcaster

ryna/oyn                         follower, hired, mercenary

ryne/ryn                      blooded, elder, experienced

shalee/ral                 abjurer, gaze, watch, watcher

ssysn/rysn          artifact, dweomer, sorcerer, spell

stin/trin         clan, house, merchant, of the house

stra/tran                             spider, spinner, weaver

tana/ton                           darkness, lurker, prowler

thara/tar                             glyph, marker, rune

thrae/olg                          charmer, leader, seducer

tree/tel                         exile, loner, outcast, pariah

tyrr                    dagger, poison, poisoner, scorpion

ual/dan                                speed, strider

ue/dor                                  arm, artisan, fingers

uit/dar                                  breath, voice, word

une/diin                         diviner, fate, future, oracle

uque                              cavern, digger, mole, tunnel  

urra/dax                       nomad, renegade, wanderer

va/ven                             comrade, honor, honored

vayas                         forge, forger, hammer, smith

vyll punishment, scourge, whip, zealot  

vyrae/vyr                     mistress/master, overseer

wae/hrae                           heir, inheritor, princess

wiira/hriir                           seneschal of, steward

wyss/hrys                          best, creator, starter

xae/zaer                             orb, rank, ruler, sceptor

xena/zen                         cutter, gem, jewel, jeweler

xyra/zyr                             sage, teller

yl                                          drow, woman/man

ylene/yln         handmaiden/squire, maiden/youth

ymma/inyon                      drider, feet, foot, runner

ynda/yrd        captain, custodian, marshal, ranger  

ynrae/yraen                       heretic, rebel, riot, void

vrae                                   architect, founder, mason  

yrr                                         protector, rival, wielder

zyne/zt                                finder, hunter

House Name Prefixes - Meaning

Alean                        the noble line of

Ale                             traders in

Arab                          daughters of

Arken                        mages of

Auvry                        blood of the  

Baen                          blessed by

Barri                           spawn of

Cladd                         warriors from

Desp                          victors of

De                               champions of

Do'                              walkers in

Eils                              lands of

Everh                         the caverns of

Fre                              friends of

Gode                          clan of  

Helvi                          those above

Hla                              seers of

Hun'                           the sisterhood of

Ken                            sworn to

Kil                               people of

Mae                           raiders from  

Mel                            mothers of

My                              honored of

Noqu                         sacred to

Orly                            guild of

Ouss                           heirs to

Rilyn                           house of  

Teken'                        delvers in  

Tor                               mistresses of

Zau                              children of

House Name Suffixes - Meaning

afin                              the web

ana                               the night

ani                                the widow

ar                                   poison

arn                                fire

ate                                the way

ath                                the dragons

duis                              the whip

ervs                              the depths

ep                                  the underdark

ett                                 magic

ghym                            the forgotten ways

iryn                               history

lyl                                  the blade

mtor                             the abyss

ndar                              black hearts

neld                              the arcane

rae                                 fell powers

rahel                             the gods

rret                                the void

sek                                 adamantite

th                                    challenges

tlar                                 mysteries

t'tar                                victory

tyl                                   the pits

und                                 the spider's kiss

urden                             the darkness

val                                   silken weaver

viir                                  dominance

zynge                             the ruins

[darlingamorcito]

Nevermind... (Darling x Leon)

Summary: After months of contemplating and guilt, Darling finally tells Leon her secret.

Does he take it well? Or does he freak out?

PROMPT CREDIT TO @samlysucker

Theme: Angst, oc x oc

Characters: Darling Darling, Leon Mendes.

Darling and Leon have been together for almost 2 years. 2 years of passion, love, and honesty. At least from his part. After tweaking and twisting his design, he's finally the perfect man for her. Built like a Greek god. Skin warmer than the sun. Eyes so bright they're like stars. Her king to rule alongside her own little kingdom. The lava to melt her stone cold heart. He'd respectful-- Loving-- The soul inside him purer than any drug ever created. The blood and flesh realer than her. She loves him.

Darling stares at the ceiling. She doesn't need sleep. Leon rests next to her, his back turned to her. She turns her head, staring at the muscles of his back. The scratches she left two nights ago. The hair on his head that she pulled with bliss and ecstacy. She looks away-- Not wanting any impure thoughts to distract her.

She's aware she's a liar. A murderer. A manipulator. Overall, a horrible person hiding under a pretty face. It kills her inside. To know she can kill whomever she deems unworthy and recreate them at the click of a tongue. It sickens her more than it excites her.

She turns to lay on her side, laying a good gap from him. She shuffles closer until she can just wrap her arms around his figure. He stirs and she freezes, eyes wide before she buries her face into the crook of his neck.

"Mn.. Darling.. Is that you?" He mutters, his voice deeper and groggy with sleep. She tightens her hold, mumbling an "Mhm."

He sighs, turning to wrap his arms around her frame, eyes still closed yet his fingers brush through her curls, feeling the softness between his fingers. "Are you okay?" He asks, knowing she likes her distance due to his tendency to kick and move in his sleep. Another "Mhm" from her. He twists to reach for his phone behind him, one arm still holding onto his darling. Blinking away the bright light, he stares at the time.

"Darling, its 2:46... We should get some sleep." He puts his phone down, eager to sleep some more.

She sighs, loosening her grip. "I have to tell you something." She mumbles, "It's important."

"Can it wait for the morning?" Leon asks, "It's late." He mumbles. She nods with a huff, knowing he has work tomorrow. She waits until he falls asleep first, before closing her eyes and falling into a dreamless sleep.

Darling is first to wake up the next morning, going downstairs to the kitchen to cook Leon his breakfast and lunch. She watches the eggs sizzle, holding the spatula with a blank gaze. She hopes he'd forget last night's conversation, but knowing how she programmed him-- It's not possible. She flips the eggs, careful to not pop the yolk and carefully pushing them to one side of the pan while she lines up two strips of bacon next to them.

Darling hears the shower running by the time she finishes, her mind spinning with prayers and hopes that he'd forget the conversation. She carefully sets the food on a plate, placing it on the table and going to make him a tuna sandwich for lunch. The water stops and she can see him walking to their bedroom, his hair soaked and a towel around his waist. It makes her fall for him all over again.

Minutes pass and he walks downstairs, adjusting his belt. "So, what did you want to say last night? Sorry I was so rude.. I was tired and practically half asleep when we were talking." He chuckles, glancing at himself in the mirror to fix his hair.

Darling flinches at the mention of the conversation, her mouth going dry. "Ah. It's nothing."

"Come on, Darling. You said it was important."

"Leon I-"

"Please, love. No secrets between us... We both vowed to always be honest, even if it hurts us."

Darling covers her face with one hand, "Leon, it's complicated."

"What's complicated?" He pushes, getting a little irritated that she won't speak now. "Are you cheating on me..? Do you want to break up..?"

"No! No! Heavens no! I.. Okay." Darling takes a deep breath, "I'm a god."

Leon blinks, "Excuse me?"

"I'm a god. I control everything. I control your memories, everyone. I am the Creator." She reveals. "I didn't wanna tell you because I was so scared but-"

Leon cuts her off, his voice firm, "Darling.. No you're not. The Creator is.. They're not real." He stops talking when Darling stares at him with an intense gaze.

"I'm not lying. And I can prove it to you." Darling says. She walks over to one of the many plants they keep in the house and grips the stem with one black hand. Her hand glows blue, the dark energy sliding from her veins to the plant and causing it to whither.

Leon's eyes widen, taking a step forward and touching the wilted plant with a shaky hand, "How..." He gasps when it reconstructs itself to a beautiful sunflower. Darling let's go.

"What... What are you?" Leon asks. Suddenly, it all makes sense. The disappearances of people, the sudden changes in appearances, Jax- Who was once a lonely yet kind homeless person- transformation to this vampiric cult leader. Darling's obsession with life and death... Her sudden disappearances. The sudden amnesia. It all makes sense.

"You're behind this? Behind everything." He takes a step back, "You lied to me.. For so long I- I can't. I have to get out of here." He makes a run to the door, freezing when he reaches the doorknob. He inhales deeply, shaking as he feels some sort of invisible force stop him from leaving.

"No... You aren't." Darling whispers, her eye glassy as she grips the back of his head, covering his eyes with the other. She grips his head tighter, her hands glowing blue as the dark energy in her veins gets absorbed back into her arms, before she let's go.

Leon blinks, before looking at her with a calm smile-- Completely unaware of the events that occurred. "What were you going to say last night?" He asks, going to sit down and eat his food.

"Nevermind.. It was nothing important." Darling smiles, blinking away tears behind him.

[missbookiverse]

The Earthsea Quartet (A Wizard of Earthsea, The Tombs of Atuan, The Farthest Shore, Tehanu) von Ursula K. Le Guin Endlich habe ich auch den letzten Roman in dieser vierbändigen Sammelausgabe beendet. Teil 1 entstand in den Sechzigern und Teil 4 in den Neunzigern (danach folgten noch zwei weitere) und diese lange Zeitspanne spiegelt sich auch in den Romanen wieder, v. a. im letzten. Es ist generell schon interessant Fantasyliteratur aus diesen Jahrzehnten zu lesen, aber es wird noch spannender, wenn ich bedenke, dass Le Guin eine der wenigen Frauen war, die erfolgreich veröffentlich hat und was das für die Konventionen bedeutet, an die sie sich angepasst und die sie später hinterfragt hat (Stichwort: männliche Protagonisten und wieso Frauen nie mächtige Zauberkräfte hatten). Earthsea ist ein Universum voller Inseln, in dem wir teilweise dem Zauberer Ged und teilweise der hohen Priesterin Tenar und ihren Abenteuern folgen. Das Magiesystem basiert auf Sprache, es gibt Drachen und ein Totenreich, schwindende Magie und eine Ausbildungsschule für Zauberer. Der Schreibstil ist meist gerafft, viel wird zusammengefasst und und innerhalb eines Kapitels können zahlreiche Jahre vergehen. Nichtsdestotrotz ist es gemütlich und in den späteren Bänden wird das Tempo langsamer. Mein Lieblingsband ist der zweite, The Tombs of Atuan, weil er so ein schauriges Setting hat und ich Tenar als Protagonistin deutlich spannender finde als Ged. Sobald ich die Reihe beendet habe, folgt hoffentlich noch ein ausführlicherer Beitrag.

Camp Creepy (Sinister Summer #3) von Kiersten White Teil 3 meiner momentan liebsten Middle-Grade-Reihe steht seinen Vorgängern in nichts nach: dusselige Wortspiele, Sommerorte und -aktivitäten mit schauriger Note, eine sensible Darstellung von Neurodivergenz und mentaler Gesundheit, amüsante Beobachtungen über Teenager und ihre Abhängigkeit zu Smartphones und Witze übers gebatikte Klamotten. Es macht einfach irre viel Spaß mit diesen drei Geschwistern den Sommer an absurden Orten zu verbringen und dort dunkle Machenschaften aufzudecken. Außerdem nähern wir uns in diesem Band langsam ein paar Antworten im großen Gesamträtsel der Reihe. Meine Sachen fürs Wissenschaftscamp im Menacing Manor sind gepackt! 

Urmel aus dem Eis von Max Kruse Auf der Insel Titiwu lehrt Professor Tibatong die ansässigen Tiere das Sprechen. Als eines Tages ein mysteriöses Ei auftaucht, ist die Aufregung groß. Urmel kenne ich seit meiner Kindheit, vermutlich aus der Augsburger Puppenkiste oder von der Trickfilmserie, aber gelesen oder vorgelesen bekommen, hab ich es meiner Erinnerung nach nie. Welch besserer Moment das nachzuholen als beim Kranksein über die Osterfeiertage! War genau das Richtige für meinen fiebrigen Kopf mit den schönen klingenden Namen (Pin-Pinguin, Seele-Fant, Tim Tintenklecks), Urmels frecher Art und der ganzen quatschigen Geschichte. Süß, lustig und nur die Zwischenmusik im Hörbuch nervt. Na ja und dass es nur einen einzigen weiblichen Charakter gibt und dass die dann auch noch den Haushalt und die Mutterfigur für Urmel übernimmt. Will jetzt trotzdem wissen, was Urmel und co. als nächstes erleben und warte eventuell nicht bis ich wieder krank werde damit.

Stone Blind von Natalie Haynes siehe Medusas Geschichte und was drumherum geschah

Die Tochter des Doktor Moreau von Silvia Moreno-Garcia Eine Neuerzählung von H. G. Wells Klassiker The Island of Doctor Moreau, eingebettet in den historischen Kontext Mexikos Ende des 19. Jahrhunderts und mit der Tochter des Doktors als Protagonistin. Vom Prinzip her eine schöne Idee mit atmosphärischem Setting im mexikanischen Dschungel und spannenden Experimenten des Doktors, aber insgesamt zu lang und ereignislos. Moreno-Garcias Storys und ich, das funkt einfach nicht. Ihr Stil ist mir zu langweilig, ihre Figuren nicht mitreißend genug und der Plot und die historisch-politische Komponente zu mager. Da lass ich in Zukunft die Finger von.

Muss ich das gelesen haben? von Teresa Reichl siehe Überholte Schullektüre

[enfaeutchie]

(belated) Lexember Day 23-31 (ésko ty'èNyáno)

Days 1-4

Days 5-10

Days 11-16

Days 17-22

Day 23

Gúu v. < máką́sų v. "to grant, bestow, give" [ᵑɡûː] "To give"

Léw ló igúu tuló los dolow. [léw ló ìᵑɡûː tùló lòʃ ⁿdòlòw] léw lo i-gúu tu-ló los do-low thus 1PL IRR-give what-INDF for father-HON "Let's give him [= our elder] something."

Day 24

Bhoskó n. < 'a- pref. "applicative" + poti n. "roof" + hǫ́ v. "to do" + -kÓ suf. "nominalizer" [ɓòʃkó] "Estate, inheritable land"

Úu, igwosyé elsé yé bhoskó ál ílúnyó. [ûː | ìᵑɡwòʃjé èls̠é jé ɓòʃkó ál ílúj̃ó] úu | igwo-syé elsé=yé bhoskó ál H-ilú-nyó well | clan-HUM DEM.DIST.EAST=TOP estate clearly NPST-little-STAT "Well, you know that little clan has a pitiful estate."

Day 25

Psaá v. < pįha n. "yellow" + hǫ́ v. "to do" + -cá suf. "causative" [psǎː] "To make yellow, paint yellow"

El yé ńgéé ipsaá, ipenyó. [èl jé ŋ̰ḛ᷅ː ìpsǎː | ìpèj̃ó] el=yé ńgéé i-psaá | i-pe-nyó DEM.MED=TOP if IRR-make_yellow | IRR-yellow-STAT "If you make it yellow, it will be yellow."

Day 26

Vií n. < nupí n. "black, blue" [ᵐvǐː] "Blue, blueness, bruised"

'D'yeé yoó, "ók vií." [ⁿd͡ʒěː jǒː ók ᵐvǐː] 'dL=yé yoó ók vií 1SG=TOP say.PST plantain blue "I said, 'blue banana.'"

Day 27

Bó v. < múpą́ n. "stone, boulder" + hǫ́ v. "to do" [ᵐbó] "To halt, cease; to pose an obstacle"

Lo yé yekálsé éstú ńy'el, yoó, "léw ibó!" [lò jé jèkáls̠é éʃtú ɲ̰èl | jǒː léw ìᵐbó] lo=yé ye-kálsé é-stú ńy=el | yoó léw i-bó 1PL=TOP PST-put PL-hand at=DEM.MED | say.PST thus IRR-halt "We raised our hands and said, 'may it stop!'"

Day 28

Dhubwí v. < 'a- pref. "applicative" + tų́n n. "eye" + pwį́ v. "to throw" [ɗùᵐbwí] "To look for, seek, follow"

Wón yé yaásýe ńye swi léw yedhubwí zóo. [wón jé jǎːʃj̰è ɲ̰è ʃwì léw jèɗùᵐbwí ⁿzôː] wón=yé ya-ásýe ńye swi léw ye-dhubwí zóo child=TOP PST-climb at tree thus PST-look_for frog "The child climbed the tree to look for the frog."

Day 29

Nemas n. < nema v. "to cut" + -zą suf. "instrumental nominalizer" [nèmàʃ] "Knife"

Yungá wó yé yaksu unnye, yegúu nemas, yoó éméskó. [jùŋá wó jé jàksù ùj̃ːè | jèᵑɡûː nèmàʃ | jǒː éméʃkó] yungá wo=yé ya-ksu unnye | ye-gúu nemas | yoó e-méskó brother_in_law 2SG/3SG=TOP PST-turn visit | PST-give knife | say.PST PL-story "Her brother-in-law came to visit, gave her a knife, and told stories."

Day 30

Sép n. < cę́pą́ n. "body of water" [s̠ép] "River"

Kwó le tusíi; nga yoó, "wo yé íl ńye sép léw tàp ebho;" yekwoó il tunyó! [kwó lè tùsîː | ŋà jǒː wò jé íl ɲ̰è s̠ép léw tꜜáp èɓò | jèkwǒː ìl tuj̃ó] H-kwoó le tusíi | nga yoó wo=yé H-il ńye sép léw H-táp e-bho | ye-kwoó il tunyó NPST-NEG like obey | grand say.PST "2SG/3SG=TOP NPST-go at river thus NPST-take PL-fish" | PST-NEG go PART "He doesn't want to obey; the leader said, 'you will go to the river and catch fish,' and he didn't even go!"

Day 31

Zátótés n. < zátó n. "story" (< mécatá v. "to wander" + -kÓ suf. "nominalizer") + tés n. "night" (< zę́cą́ n. "night") [ⁿzátótéʃ] "Dream"

Tés i wo yé túsi zátótés; iwiló étón ikit? [téʃ ì wò jé tús̠ì ⁿzátótéʃ | ìwìló étón ìkìt] tés i wo=yé H-tusíi zátótés | i-wiló e-tón i-kit night DEM.PROX 2SG/3SG=TOP NPST-follow_story dream | IRR-say PL-thing IRR-see "Tonight you will have a dream; will you tell me what you see?"

At last I am free from the unancient noncurse!! Woohoooo!! And only ten days late :)

[vrankup]

CTR Unveiled: What's Click-Through Rate All About?

Hey there, savvy folks! If you're treading the digital waters and we as the best digital marketing agency in dwarka provides you all the services you can get.  you've probably come across the term "CTR" – that's Click-Through Rate for the uninitiated. Now, don't you worry your curious minds, 'cause we're about to break it down in plain ol' English? Buckle up, 'cause we're diving deep into the ocean of online metrics!

**Alright, What's CTR, Anyway?**

CTR is like the applause-o-meter for your online ads – it tells you how many folks gave your ad a standing ovation by clicking on it.

**Breaking Down the CTR Equation**

But hey, don't let the term "equation" scare you off. We're keeping it simple, promise! CTR is calculated using a basic recipe:

CTR = (Number of Clicks / Number of Impressions) * 100

The ingredients? Stir 'em together, divide, multiply by 100, and boom! You've got your CTR percentage. Think of it like baking cookies – mix, bake, and you get delicious insights!

**Why CTR's the Cool Kid in Town**

Now, I hear you asking, "Why should I care about this CTR stuff?" Great question, my friend!

1. **Ad Quality Check:** A sky-high CTR is like a digital high-five – it means your ad is catching folks' attention. They're not just scrolling past; they're actually interested in what you're offering.

2. **Fine-Tuning Goldmine:** If your CTR isn't looking so hot, that's not a dead end. It's like a treasure map leading you to improvements. Maybe your ad needs some jazzing up or your message isn't hitting the bullseye.

3. **Budget Whisperer:** Hold on, it gets better! In some fancy platforms, like Google Ads, a nifty CTR can actually make your ad budget stretch further. It's like finding a coupon for your digital shopping spree!

4. **Placement Guru:** Ever wonder where to put your ads for the most bang? CTR's got your back. If one spot gets more clicks, that's your sweet spot!

**CTRs Aren't Set in Stone: Factors Playing the Field**

But, brace yourself – CTR isn't a static number. It's a shapeshifter, influenced by all sorts of factors. Check out these game-changers:

1. **Speak Their Language:** If your ad talks the talk of your target audience, they'll walk the clicky walk. Relevant ads win the game!

2. **Action-Packed CTAs:** Those "Buy Now" or "Grab Your Deal" buttons? They're your CTR's best buddies. Clear, snappy calls-to-action are like catnip for clickers.

3. **Eye Candy:** Let's admit it – we're suckers for pretty visuals. A snazzy, well-designed ad is more tempting than a tub of ice cream on a hot day.

4. **Right Place, Right Time:** Think of ads like real estate. Location matters! Placing your ad where your crowd hangs out increases its clickability.

5. **Mobile Magic:** It's a mobile world, folks. If your ad isn't mobile-friendly, it's like showing up to a costume party in your PJs.

6. **Try & Test:** Don't be shy to experiment. A/B testing different ad versions lets you figure out what floats your audience's boat.

**CTR Benchmarks: The "Is My CTR Cool?" Question**

Hold on – before you freak out about your CTR, remember, there's no universal "awesome" CTR. It's like saying all ice cream flavors should taste the same. CTR benchmarks depend on where you're playing – search ads, display ads, social media – they all have their groove.

For instance, a 2% CTR might be rocking in the land of banners, while a 10% CTR for a search ad might be par for the course. Social media? Well, it's a whole different dance floor.

**In a Nutshell: Navigating the CTR Waters**

So there you have it, my digital trailblazers – CTR demystified! It's not just numbers; it's your digital GPS guiding you through the ad wilderness. CTR speaks volumes about your audience's interest, your ad's charm, and how smashing your campaigns are.

Keep an eye on that CTR, dare to experiment, and remember, every click is a breadcrumb leading you closer to marketing glory. May your CTRs be sky-high, your ads totally irresistible, and your marketing voyage one for the record books! Get clicking, legends! ?

we at vrankup, Digital marketing agency in Dwarka | Digital marketing company in Dwarka provide you all the help you can have.

[wilsonhaagamarillo]

WilsonHaag - Amarillo Office

Essentials of Capital Budgeting for Small Businesses

Capital budgeting plays a pivotal role in shaping the financial trajectory of businesses. It's the process by which companies allocate resources for major investment projects. For small businesses, in particular, capital budgeting decisions can be the difference between growth and stagnation. In the realm of capital budgeting for small businesses, Accounting Amarillo plays a pivotal role in evaluating investment opportunities and financial viability.

When considering the importance of capital budgeting, WilsonHaag - Amarillo Office underscores its significance in guiding entrepreneurs. Several core components of capital budgeting for small businesses are:

Project Evaluation: Before committing resources, small businesses must thoroughly evaluate potential projects. Factors such as expected returns, associated risks, and alignment with business goals are critical.

Cash Flow Estimation: Once a project has been shortlisted, it's essential to estimate the cash flows it will generate. Understanding both the inflows and outflows over the project’s lifecycle is crucial.

Time Value of Money: Money available today holds more value than the same amount in the future due to its earning potential. Techniques like Net Present Value (NPV) and Internal Rate of Return (IRR) help in assessing the value of future cash flows in today's terms.Risk Assessment: Every investment carries risks. For small businesses, understanding and mitigating these risks can mean the difference between success and failure. Factors like market fluctuations, regulatory changes, and technological shifts should be taken into account.

Flexibility: The business world is dynamic. Thus, capital budgeting decisions should not be set in stone. Having the flexibility to revisit and adjust budgetary allocations as the situation demands is vital.

Post-Investment Audit: After a project has been undertaken, reviewing its performance against initial expectations can provide insights. These audits can offer lessons for future capital budgeting decisions.

For small businesses, capital budgeting is more than just number crunching. It's about envisioning the future, making informed choices, and positioning the business for long-term success. By understanding the nuances and embracing a systematic approach, small businesses can optimize their investments for maximum returns.

Contact us: WilsonHaag - Amarillo Office Address: 418 S Polk St # 200, Amarillo, TX 79101 Phone: (806) 372-3331 Email: jeffj@wilsonhaag.com 

[mimidorika]

Musicians I heavily recommend to expand your music tastebuds:

✨ Fenne Lily

if you are into relaxing and angelic whisper-like voices, give her a go! She is, after all, an indie folk singer 💗 Her songs range from the pains of growing up, the unwelcomed feelings of change to the shy inkling of new love.

song suggestion: top to toe

✨Stone Irr

an alternative indie artist. he has somewhat of an experimental take on the alternative music scene. He also sprinkled some thought-provoking religious aspects throughout his crafts.

song suggestion: All we want anymore

✨Fickle Friends

an english indie pop band! what more do you want? hahaha they perfected that bubblegum pop and edm recipe, hands down! if you are in the mood to dance around your living room, their songs are the best bet!

songs suggestion: Glue

✨Colton Dixon

oooh! do u still remember his name? he was my fave in American Idol, season 11 💗 when he performed, "piano man"... damn that was so beautiful! now, years after he was eliminated from the show... he still made music! awesome and powerful christian songs! Never been so proud of him ✨

song suggestion: Miracles

(part 1/????)

🌈 more to come soon 🌈

[dysfuctional-family]

The IRR Pt. 2

{After a raid on the Interdimentional Rainbow Rocket home base the villains and everyone who works for them has been captured by strange people in armor and masks. so far, no one has been seriously injured, but all of this could quickly change. Click below the cut to read.}

!!TW for mentions of religious themes!!

Giovanni was led down to the "Main Land", the largest room in the IRR, located on the ground level. Many people had been led to this area both staff and soldiers, and to think all of this ended just as quickly as it started. Makes you question how long these masked assailants had been in the base. As he walked he heard the ever so recognizable yelling of their resident angry Unovan. The Italian honestly couldn't even tell what he was saying right now. All he knew is that death threats were involved.

It didn't take long for each team leader to be picked out of the crowd and brought outside. There were dozens of ships stationed outside... they stood no chance.

"Разделите их. по одному на каждом корабле." On of the masked people ordered, the leader from the looks of things. Each leader was taken to an individual ship, separating them so they couldn't form ant plan of escape. With the leaders of th IRR captured half of the fleet took off while th rest stayed behind to discourage any resistance.

Giovanni was silent throughout the ride, only eyeing the people around him and the ship he was being transported in. It all looked very futuristic, even for his standards. Far beyond anything they could ever hope to create. The ship was sleek and clean, its dark grey metal shimmering in the light blue lights. Then he began to think. The leader spoke Russian, as far as he was aware the only region that had Russian as a language commonly spoken was Sinnoh. Thats when he began to worry, if this was some alternate version of Sinnoh, if it was a Sinnoh where Cyrus won and was now ruling... what was going to happen to him and his team.

Giovanni wasn't given any more thinking time because they had arrived to wherever their destination was. He finally decided to say something, looking to the person in armor next to him.

"Just what do you hope to accomplish by bringing me and my co-workers here?" He asked firmly. He was only given a glance of acknowledgment I return. They then began walking again. They seemed to be in a large city. Large towers of white stone stood taller than anything he'd ever seen, roads weaving between buildings in layers. All of the main hustle and bustle was farther away as they were in a more remote are. That or the area had been locked down for their arrival. He and the others were taken into this large domed building, religious imagery carved into the walls. Symbols such as Arceus' spikes, the creation trio, Arceus itself, holy scripture, prayers, etc. It was all very impressive really...

The interior was just as extravagant, stained glass showing the story of Arceus hatching and creating the gods, the birth of the universe, the banishing of Giritina, all pretty standard for a church of this size... but everything seemed to shift halfway through. A human figure, who he could only assume was Cyrus, appears to the world shrouded in darkness and captures the gods. He takes them and forces them to do his bidding, but instead of destroying the world and creating anew the gods' power seems to instead rush into Cyrus. Overwhelmed with power he lashed out, destroying everything around him and tearing holes into reality itself. In the aftermath there was only destruction and this orb of godly energy. At least, that's what Giovanni could gleam from his experience reading stain glass pictures in church.

Suddenly all of the leaders were stopped in front of an old man. a very old man. He turned to look at the group, distain in his sunken in eyes. He was adorned with a robe and beads of various colors, modified priest attire from the looks of it. He supported his weight on a cane as he slowly walked up to Giovanni, seemingly knowing who he was.

"Hmm, Giovanni. Of all the people to do something like this, you were the last I expected." The man then eyed the rest of the leaders, eyes widening as his eyes fell on Cyrus. He stood up a little more straight as he looked back to the confused mafia boss.

"I am Saturn. Former admin of Team Galactic now priest of the people." He explained, much to the surprise of everyone but Cyrus.

"So, you've brought us here for what? Spill so we can get out of here." Cyrus practically demanded in a tired manner. Saturn looked to Cyrus, his face growing agitated.

"Hm. Very well. Giovanni Sakaki, why have my people been going missing and monsters attacking the innocent who are just trying to survive?' Saturn asked as his tone slowly became more aggressive. It took a second for the question to register but as soon as it did Giovanni responded.

"If that's why you brought us here I believe we have a common enemy. We've had an encounter with the man you're looking for and my own people are beginning to disappear." He explained smoothly. Those words surprised Saturn. He stepped back for a moment to think, humming as he did. The leaders looked amongst themselves, questioning practically everything that was happening at the moment.

"If this is true, then we have are all in grave danger. These creatures have been attacking our people for months, far longer than you've been around. Perhaps we could help each other to defeat a common foe." Saturn explained, making Maxie recoil in seemingly fear.

"Wait. He's been here for months?" He fearfully questioned. "In my home universe, months was all it took for him to tear down an entire country..." That news shocked everyone. There was a moment of silence after that news, the dread and horror of just how much danger everyone was in finally sinking in.

Saturn looked to the soldiers who had brought the evil team leaders before him. He waved his hand, dismissing them. He paced for a moment, pondering. Just what did this man want of them? The redhead seemed to know who this man was. He'd have to get some information from him after this meeting is concluded.

"If what you say is true, we are all in far more danger than we thought. This man must be stopped, his sins against nature cannot be forgiven."

"Then we are agreed. Working together could give us both some better protection and understanding of the current situation." Giovanni added.

"indeed. Apologies for our initial impression, but I'm sure you understand the circumstances are dire. Giovanni, Maxie, I'd like to speak with to further about this. everyone else if free to leave and return to your ship."

[malkavian-shrink]

Headcanon time!

One of the inspirations behind Irres' character building was the story of Malkav's madness in the Book of Nod (especially the tendency to diablerize what he holds most dear and then weep over the loss).

"Behold my most foolish childe, who claims madness for pleasure Let him become mad in truth, so that all may fear his company. (...) Then Malkav, hidden from the sight of his siblings drank deep of the hoarded blood of the Three. But it was too much for Malkav's veins, and his heart was like to burst. His eyes were opened and the Truth rushed inward.| (...) Malkav seized his parent in his hands, hands that could break stone, and he bit like a dog into the neck of his parent And the elder screamed like a thousand jackals, like the vulture that dies with an arrow in its breast, like the lion that slays its child. And Malkav drew in the scream with his breath and he began to weep. He wept for many nights, and he wailed, and tore his hair like a woman (...)"

[jellydishes]

For the DADWC: Pluviophile: any organism that thrives in conditions of heavy rainfall; one who loves rain, a rain-lover

“Something on your mind, warden?”

Irresponsible-Botany Brosca didn’t turn her head away from the solid wall of water pouring down outside the scant protection of their tent when she answered, “Too many things.” She’d sat herself down by the opening of their tent almost as soon as they’d finished setting up, legs drawn up to her chest and resting a still-damp cheek on her knee. “It’s like... “ Her mouth worked for a moment, struggling to fit words to the shape of the awe and no small amount of delighted fear that had her mouth dry out and her hands fluttering at her sides. “It's like the sky was really one of your oceans all along, and it only just now remembered where oceans belong.” She was all bound up in the urge to move, to get up and dance or sing or just, sit here and quietly flap the way she’d always done.

“They aren’t mine.” Irre glanced over, and nearly jumped. Morrigan’s golden-brown eyes looked huge this close, shot through with sparks of green that made her hands itch in an entirely different way. Irre pressed her lips together into a line to hold back the traitorous words bubbling up behind them and looked away, only partially because looking anyone in the eye that long made everything feel tight in a less pleasant way, even Morrigan’s. The other parts of it were all bound up in half-caught glances and conversations either or both of them had cut off, one after the other. “But you are not incorrect. We call it a downpour, or a squall, when the skies open up in just this way.”

“A squall? Like a baby?” Her thoughts went instantly to the innumerable children in Dust Town, and the way they cried out for a comfort that could never be fully given. Was the sky in pain? Was she crying? Morrigan was talking again, but Irre could only look up at the sickly yellow and purple tints to the clouds and wonder, that the sky could cry out in pain the way the Stone could. 

Her gaze was only wrenched back when she felt Morrigan lay a hand beside her own. Glanced down, then up. Morrigan’s hair was still plastered to her warm brown skin, errant curls reaching for the corner of her mouth where a smile lurked. “-nd if you ask a question, be prepared to get one back,” Morrigan was saying. “You speak about the rain as if it is alive,” said the woman who drank the bright blood of the Stone on a regular basis. “Why the curiosity?”

“Why not?” Irre replied. She didn’t look away from Morrigan this time, not when there were long trails of water dripping down to follow the curve of cheek to neck to throat to… “Sometimes curiosity is all we have, when everything else is uncertain,” she said faintly, and screwed her eyes shut. “Ask questions, seek answers, even if the answers land you in trouble, even if the whole world regrets that you asked. That’s what my ancestor who gave the women in my family our names taught us.”

“And what question drives you?”

Irresponsible-Botany opened her mouth to say that she sought what made a woman like Morrigan take comfort in the silence where Irre had always sought to escape it. The only thing she knew was that the question could only be answered by breaking that silence between them, a silence that made her mouth dry out and her hands flutter and flick at her side. Little wonder why, when Morrigan’s eyes flashed with that same quicksilver light that Irre had watched arc and snap with the same sense of anticipation that Irre had aimed up at that white-hot fire a few moments ago. “The moments before everything changes,” she breathed out instead. “When everything shivers with promise. Did you feel it?” Do you feel it? 

Morrigan’s mouth parted. In the impossibly bright shards of light that passed through the tent, she looked frozen with something like fear. Then the light winked out, and the moment ended. Morrigan drew her hand away. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said tightly. Morrigan was already moving, already retreating. The space where she had been at Irre’s side felt even colder than the rest of her, from the absence. “Go to bed, warden. All of this spark and glamor will be over soon enough. It always is.”

[books-in-a-storm]

Snowflake Book Review’s

Title: Spider’s Revenge(Elemental Assassin #5)

Author: Jennifer Estep

Pages:400

Snowflake Rating:❄❄❄❄❄(5/5)

Synopsis: Old habits die hard. And I plan on mur­der­ing some­one before the night is through. Killing used to be my reg­u­lar gig, after all. Gin Blanco, aka the Spi­der, assassin-for-hire. And I was very good at it. Now, I’m ready to make the one hit that truly mat­ters: Mab Mon­roe, the dan­ger­ous Fire ele­men­tal who mur­dered my fam­ily when I was thir­teen. Oh, I don’t think the mis­sion will be easy, but turns out it’s a bit more prob­lem­atic than expected. The bitch knows I’m com­ing for her. So now I’m up against the army of lethal bounty hunters she hired to track me down. She also put a price on my baby sister’s head. Keep­ing Bria safe is my first pri­or­ity. Tak­ing Mab out is a close sec­ond. Good thing I’ve got my pow­er­ful Stone and Ice magic — and my irre­sistible lover Owen Grayson — to watch my back. This bat­tle has been years in the mak­ing, and there’s a chance I won’t sur­vive. But if I’m going down, then Mab’s com­ing with me...no mat­ter what I have to do to make that happen.

First And Last Sentence: Here

[missbookiverse]

Medusas Geschichte und was drumherum geschah

Stone Blind von Natalie Haynes

Erstmals 2022 erschienen; auf Deutsch unter dem gleichnamigen Titel bei dtv

Lasst euch nicht vom Untertitel “Medusa’s Story” in die Irre leiten. In Stone Blind geht es zwar um besagte Medusa, aber es ist nicht allein ihre Geschichte, die erzählt wird. Wir erfahren von Medusas Heranwachsen, davon wie ihre Schwestern für sie sorgen und wie Medusa schließlich zu der bekanntesten Verkörperung ihrer selbst wird, wir erleben aber auch Athenes Geburt und ihre Einsamkeit auf dem Olymp, wir bezeugen Heras Eifersucht, wir lernen Danaë und Cassiope kennen, die die Ängste ihrer Eltern ausbaden müssen und begleiten Perseus ein Stück weit auf seinen Abenteuern. All diese Handlungsstränge weben sich wie ein Spinnennetz um Medusas Geschichte, führen zu ihr hin und wieder von ihr fort. Wie schon in ihrem Roman A Thousand Ships nutzt Haynes diese Polyphonie, um so vielen Figuren wie möglich, selbst welchen aus Flora und Fauna, eine Stimme zu verleihen. So können diese ihren ganz persönlichen Teil zur Geschichte beitragen, einen, der möglicherweise von der weiter verbreiteten Variante abweicht.

Durch diese Vielstimmigkeit wird deutlich, dass einer der katastrophalsten Momente in Medusas Leben nicht einfach so passiert ist, sondern dass er sich aus zahlreichen miteinander teils nur lose zusammenhängenden Ereignissen und Figuren ergeben hat. Loben will ich in diesem Zusammenhang den kleinen Kniff, den Haynes anwendet, um Medusas Geschichte nicht vorzeitig zu beenden und den Fokus ganz auf Perseus fallen zu lassen. Haynes’ Variante verleiht Medusa agency und unterstreicht gleichzeitig den Missbrauch, der über ihren Tod hinaus mit ihrem Körper betrieben wird.

Im Gegensatz zu vielen anderen Neuerzählungen schlägt Haynes keinen gediegenen, antik anmutenden Ton beim Erzählen an, sondern lässt die Figuren, vor allem die Göttinnen und Götter, schlagfertige, moderne Dialoge miteinander führen. Dieser Stil peppt das archaische Setting ungemein auf und passt sogar ziemlich gut sowohl zur Zeitlosigkeit der Gottheiten als auch zu ihrem Egoismus und ihrer empathielosen Grausamkeit.

Vor allem wenn Athene und Hermes sich mit Perseus unterhalten, entsteht durch den modernen Ton eine gewisse Komik, die Perseus’ Naivität und Kurzsichtigkeit amüsant herausstellt. Allerdings wird genau diese Darstellung nach einer Weile ermüdend und einseitig. Die Szenen sind zu lang und wiederholen sich zu oft nach ähnlichem Muster. Natürlich ist es gewollt und sogar erfrischend, dass Perseus hier als Held demaskiert wird und wir sein (vermeintlich) wahres Gesicht erblicken, aber nach einer Weile geht dem herrlichsten Witz die Luft aus. Das hätte sich mit einer strafferen Erzählweise oder mehr Subtilität lösen lassen können, vielleicht sogar mit einer nuancierten Darstellung von Perseus’ Charakter, aber das ist nicht Ziel des Romans und ich will eigentlich auch keine Lanze für Perseus brechen, wobei mehr Charaktertiefe seine Taten vielleicht sogar noch schlimmer gemacht hätte.

Während der Witz um Perseus ewig ausgewalzt wird, rast die Handlung ganz am Ende plötzlich in Rekordgeschwindigkeit über die Ziellinie. Wo ist die Szene, in der Athene Perseus das Gorgoneion wieder abnimmt? Lässt er das einfach so geschehen? Ja, gut, wir haben gelernt, wie viel Angst er vor der Göttin hat, aber ist inzwischen nicht sein Größenwahn und seine Machtgier und Selbstbestätigung gewachsen? Das letzte Kapitel ist wiederum ein schöner Abschluss, der allerdings auch etwas unvermittelt daherkommt. Danach hat Athene sich schon so lange gesehnt?

Eine erfrischende, scharfzüngige Neuerzählung rund um Medusas Geschichte, die den bekannten Mythos in ein feministisches Licht rückt und zeigt, dass eine Geschichte nie für sich allein steht. Hätte allerdings straffer erzählt werden können.

[whatsonyourplaylist]

All We Want Anymore - Stone Irr

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[sawdustandgin]

Trumpets accent “All We Want Anymore,” Stone Irr’s ballad about, as it turns out, songwriting itself.