#written ( scales and flowers )

[lgchyoseop]

scales and flowers

hyoseop had been surprised when he was told he was the younger out of the pair, and that he needed to pick their date spot. he’d been used to being older than many as a trainee, he would argue it wasn’t because he was old, but because these trainees and idols kept getting younger and younger. he’d originally chosen another spot, but as he talked with his sister and talked about the idea, she took the idea and left him to find another spot to have his date. he wanted to look good in front of his date, hence he’d chosen ‘cafe jool’, a place they could get something to drink, and paint a piece of pottery, which meant, hyoseop would get to show off his painting skill.

who his date was though, he had no idea. he’d been given an item as a hint who it was, a ‘justice scale’ had been shown to him, he’d stared at it for a long while before asking if he was going on a date with one of legacy’s lawyers. safe to say, he had no idea who his date was. still, he’d dressed up for the occasion, dropped his usual look that consisted of sandals, white tight shirt and sweatpants. changed it out with denim pants, converse and a shirt with flowers on it. he stood with a rose in his hand, waiting for his date (whoever they were) to show up.

<3 @lgcyein

[missallanea]

I know the books say Clarion is a Queen talent and that's sort of its own thing but there's really nothing stopping me from saying Queen Talents have a small grasp over all the elemental talents (warm weather wise, at least, for Ree.)

[reasonsforhope]

In the Willamette Valley of Oregon, the long study of a butterfly once thought extinct has led to a chain reaction of conservation in a long-cultivated region.

The conservation work, along with helping other species, has been so successful that the Fender’s blue butterfly is slated to be downlisted from Endangered to Threatened on the Endangered Species List—only the second time an insect has made such a recovery.

[Note: "the second time" is as of the article publication in November 2022.]

To live out its nectar-drinking existence in the upland prairie ecosystem in northwest Oregon, Fender’s blue relies on the help of other species, including humans, but also ants, and a particular species of lupine.

After Fender’s blue was rediscovered in the 1980s, 50 years after being declared extinct, scientists realized that the net had to be cast wide to ensure its continued survival; work which is now restoring these upland ecosystems to their pre-colonial state, welcoming indigenous knowledge back onto the land, and spreading the Kincaid lupine around the Willamette Valley.

First collected in 1929 [more like "first formally documented by Western scientists"], Fender’s blue disappeared for decades. By the time it was rediscovered only 3,400 or so were estimated to exist, while much of the Willamette Valley that was its home had been turned over to farming on the lowland prairie, and grazing on the slopes and buttes.

Pictured: Female and male Fender’s blue butterflies.

Now its numbers have quadrupled, largely due to a recovery plan enacted by the Fish and Wildlife Service that targeted the revival at scale of Kincaid’s lupine, a perennial flower of equal rarity. Grown en-masse by inmates of correctional facility programs that teach green-thumb skills for when they rejoin society, these finicky flowers have also exploded in numbers.

[Note: Okay, I looked it up, and this is NOT a new kind of shitty greenwashing prison labor. This is in partnership with the Sustainability in Prisons Project, which honestly sounds like pretty good/genuine organization/program to me. These programs specifically offer incarcerated people college credits and professional training/certifications, and many of the courses are written and/or taught by incarcerated individuals, in addition to the substantial mental health benefits (see x, x, x) associated with contact with nature.]

The lupines needed the kind of upland prairie that’s now hard to find in the valley where they once flourished because of the native Kalapuya people’s regular cultural burning of the meadows.

While it sounds counterintuitive to burn a meadow to increase numbers of flowers and butterflies, grasses and forbs [a.k.a. herbs] become too dense in the absence of such disturbances, while their fine soil building eventually creates ideal terrain for woody shrubs, trees, and thus the end of the grassland altogether.

Fender’s blue caterpillars produce a little bit of nectar, which nearby ants eat. This has led over evolutionary time to a co-dependent relationship, where the ants actively protect the caterpillars. High grasses and woody shrubs however prevent the ants from finding the caterpillars, who are then preyed on by other insects.

Now the Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde are being welcomed back onto these prairie landscapes to apply their [traditional burning practices], after the FWS discovered that actively managing the grasslands by removing invasive species and keeping the grass short allowed the lupines to flourish.

By restoring the lupines with sweat and fire, the butterflies have returned. There are now more than 10,000 found on the buttes of the Willamette Valley."

-via Good News Network, November 28, 2022

[akunya]

"somewhere only we know.”

pairings: dragon!sylus x m!reader

summary: thinking out loud, you begin to wonder how things would be under different circumstances.

tw: slight angst, sfw, fluff, MYTHIC SPOILERS.

notes: truthfully, the gender here isn't specified. however all of my fics are written with a male!reader in mind. do with that as you wish.

"Do you think, in another life.. We would still be together?"

Your voice cracked as you watched the petals whisk away. The soft grass swayed with the wind, a gentle comfort as you clutched it in your palm. The clouds swirled as you both sat in silence, staring at the sky in a comfortable quiet.

It was just the two of you together, in your secret little place that Sylus had brought you to that day. You found yourself asking to be flown back there often. There was something so calming about this side of Tarus, so serene, it nearly felt unreal every time you two sat here.

Sylus was the first to break the tension as he looked down at you with an amused smile. "Together?" His tone was teasing, but not enough to ruin the atmosphere the pair of you made for each other. The dragon was about to make another teasing remark until he caught a glimpse of your clenched fist.

"You know what I mean."

The slight tremble in your words struck his heart with guilt. He wished, for once, he didn't try to poke at you so often.

There was another long portion of silence between you two. Taking a flower into your palm, you fiddled with its petals, the delicate red smooth under your fingertips. Worried you made things awkward, you dug your feet into the ground to pick yourself up - almost, that is, until the man next to you began to speak.

Barely above a whisper, your eyes met for the first time that evening, looking at him with an emotion you couldn't quite describe. "I think so," Was it uncertainty? Fear? Relief? You didn't know what you expected from his answer, nor did you expect one in the first place. You felt as though he was staring into your soul, his red pupils shining in the warm tones of the sunset. A part of you wondered if bringing it up at all was foolish.

"..Yeah. We would be."

Blinking, you let out a heavy sigh you didn't know you were holding. A small chuckle left your lips. "I wonder what it would be like. Would we look the same?" You wondered aloud. It would be amusing if you were the taller one in the relationship in your next life, however, a part of you knew that was never going to happen. Your gaze went back to the sun as it set behind the mountains of Tarus city, the hues creating a cascade of orange and yellow across the sky.

"What does it matter? I wouldn't mind. Unless, you prefer if this fiend always has horns." Sylus nudged your side playfully, your laugh making butterflies swarm in his stomach. Sylus with his draconic features were like the cherry on top. Once scared, you grew to adore the rough scales of him the most, finding yourself caressing the smooth surface with your thumb on nights alone with him more than once. "The horns are a nice touch. I would miss them a bit." Looking back at him, you inched a bit closer, testing your luck to see if he would retract from your closeness.

He would not. He never did, not from you.

Taking his silence as a cue to continue, you started up your thoughts again. "We could have our own home together. It doesn't have to be big." You imagined a quaint little cottage in the middle of the forest. Small, but big enough for the both of you, adorned with treasures and trinkets from your past adventures. It was remote, but that's how you would want it: away from everyone else. Just you and Sylus in your own trove, shielded from the harsh outside world. After all that you have been through, you didn't really yearn for something lavish and grand.

"A small home isn't bad." Sylus found himself imagining too as he listened intently to your thoughts. He rarely let his mind wander and think about such trivial things, but this once he could make an exception. Thinking of a divergent future than what he was destined for always seemed futile. In the end, there was nothing he could do to break the curse he was born into. He was a monster, destined for his death by your hand, even if you didn't know it yet. And that was how the world saw him.

But, if it was for you, he could entertain your fantasy a bit.

"Is there something you want, Sylus? If we could be somewhere different."

You looked up at him again for answers. His throat tightened, looking down at how hopeful you were. So innocent, so pure.

For a moment, he had forgotten all of the crimes you had committed. Your hair flickered with the wind as the sunlight framed every part of your face beautifully. The outfit that matched his ever-so-cliche has never looked so right before. If he had no idea who you were, he would have thought you were an angel descended from the heavens, a blessing to bring some ease to his wretched timeline.

Maybe you weren't his arch-nemesis. Perhaps, his destiny wasn't as harsh as he thought it was growing up.

Maybe death wasn't so bad, if it were by your hands.

"So long as you're with me, I don't care about anything else." The dragon's words were taut. Fiddling with a flower in his claws, he twirled the stem mindlessly, letting it float away with the wind that brushed against you both of you.

Leaning against his shoulder, you didn't bother fighting them when your eyelids started to feel heavy. You didn't need to question or ask anymore. He was right, in the end. Sylus didn't care for moving either, watching the sun slowly set and cast the city in darkness once again.

If you two were together, that would be enough.

[galedekarios]

waterdeep's festivities & celebrations

(credit: midnightfriday)

in contrast to baldur's gate, which has few festivals and gatherings, waterdeep in contrast has a great variety of them, prompting volo to write the following about waterdeep in his chapbook about the city:

"At many times of year, hardly a tenday can pass in Waterdeep without the staging of some rite, race, or rousing ceremony of civic pride." (from: Volo's Waterdeep Enchiridion)

in this post, i want to give an overview of these holidays and festivals. some of them are mentioned in the game, like fleetswake in a banter between gale, lae'zel and wyll, but most of them are not. they give an interesting insight in the city, its history and its people.

the most used calendar in faerûn is the calendar of harptos. it's pictured above to give you an overview of how the months and seasons work in faerûn.

The days making up a tenday did not have formal names. If precision was required, the number of the day and the number of the tenday were used, as in, "the fourth day of the first tenday of Flamerule". Days of the month were typically written as the numerical date followed by the month name, for example, "15 Hammer" or "15th Hammer". Informally or poetically this could be spoken or written as "the 15th of Deepwinter". [x]

the names of the months in faerûn are:

hammer (deepwinter)

alturiak (the claw of winter, the claw of cold)

ches (the claw of sunsets)

tarsakh (the claw of storms)

mirtul (the melting)

kythorn (the time of flowers)

flamerule (summertide)

eleasis (highsun)

eleint (the fading)

marpenoth (leaffall)

uktar (the rotting)

nightal (the drawing down)

hammer 1: wintershield

Marking the start of the new year, this observance is a widely recognized day off work, when folk sip warmed ciders and broths (often laced with herbs for health and to bring on visions) and stay inside. They tell tales of what interested them or was important in the year just done, and discuss what they intend to do or should deal with — or things that everyone “should keep a hawk’s clear eye on” — in the year ahead. Such talk inevitably leads to discussions of politics, wars, and the intentions of rulers. Maps are usually consulted, and it’s widely considered lucky to possess and examine a map on Wintershield. Map sales are brisk in the tenday preceding this holiday.

alturiak 14: the grand revel

Led by the clergy of Sune, Sharess, and Lliira, the Grand Revel is a day of dancing, music, and the consumption of sweet treats of all kinds, from chocolate to red firemint candies. Although some of the dancing is wanton and performed for show, large-scale ring dances in the street for all ages are also popular. All the dancing ends at dusk, after which bards and minstrels perform at “love feasts” for families. Couples — or those desiring to become couples — slip away together to kiss, exchange promises, and trade small tokens of affection (often rings blessed by clergy with prayers of faithfulness). Even if you have no paramour, indulge a little in the dance and food of this fine tradition. The night might be cold, but your heart will be warmed.

we learn in the game about sharess, we hear a bit about sune, the goddess of beauty and her temple of beauty in waterdeep in a banter between gale and shadowheart, but lliira is mentioned only in passing: llira is a minor goddess in the faerûnian pantheon. she's called the joybringer and is the embodiment of freedom and happiness, inspiring many poets and musicians. gale does mention her in game - or at least the llirian suites that his piano is enchanted to play.

ches 1: rhyestertide

This holiday is named in honor of Lathander’s first prophet, Rhyester, a young blind boy who was cured of that blindness by the dawn’s light on this day more than seven centuries ago. That holy event occurred in the vicinity of Silverymoon, but Lathander has long had a much larger temple in Waterdeep, and a following to match. Each of the faithful dons bright garb of sunrise hues and keeps one eye covered until the next dawn in honor of Rhyester. If you want to feel like a local, catch the eye of any celebrant you see and wink. Fine friendships have grown from far less.

ches 19: fey day

The veil between this world and the faerie realm of the Feywild is thought to be weak on this day. Though this phenomenon provokes caution in rural areas (with folk avoiding woodlands, putting offerings of food on doorsteps, and the like), it is an occasion of much drinking, singing, and dancing in Waterdeep. The wealthy host elaborate masked balls, while poorer folk don costumes of their own make and travel door to door, gaining brief entry into the celebrations in exchange for performing a song or a short play. All adopt the guises of fey beings and the supposed rulers of the Feywild, such as Queen Titania, Oberon, and Hyrsam, the Prince of Fools. Those inclined to remain sullen in the face of such frivolity had best stay home, for celebrants do their utmost to evoke a smile from those they meet.

chest 21 - 30: fleetswake

This festival celebrates the sea, maritime trade, and the gods of the sea, navigation, and weather. It spans the last tenday of Ches, and includes a series of boat races, the Shipwrights’ Ball at the Shipwrights’ House, and guild-sponsored galas at the Copper Cup festhall. According to custom, the winners of the various competitions don’t keep their trophies and earnings, but deliver them to the priests of Umberlee at the Queenspire, her temple on the beach by the east entrance to the Great Harbor, at the conclusion of the festival. The last two days of Fleetswake are the occasion of the Fair Seas Festival. During this time, there is much feasting on seafood, the harbor is strewn with flower petals, and City Guards go from tavern to tavern collecting offerings for Umberlee. Collection boxes also appear at large festival gatherings. Upon sunset of the final day, the collected coin is placed in chests and dumped into the deepest part of the harbor. This festival has existed in a number of forms since the first trade-meets occurred here more than two millennia ago, and an uncountable amount of wealth remains sunken in what has long been known as Umberlee’s Cache. The area is closely watched by merfolk guardians, whose standing orders are to kill anyone attempting to disturb it. Rumors abound that the chests have magical protections; one story tells of thieves who stole some of the collection years ago and tried to leave the city under false pretenses, only to see a squall spring up as soon as their ship left the harbor. A huge wave shaped like a hand swept the thieves overboard, but spared the ship and its crew.

this festival is one of the few mentioned in baldur's gate. as stated previously gale, wyll and lae'zel mention it in one of the banters between them in act 1:

Lae'zel notes that Gale knows a lot about mind flayers. He responds with information about his training. If there, Wyll chimes in as well. Lae'zel: You strike me cleverer than most istiki, Gale. Multiple tutors, I should guess.devnote Gale: Many a wise man and woman indeed. Waterdeep is the home of myriad scholars. Wyll: Ah, the City of Splendours. Spent a whole Fleetswake there with my father. What a delight.

tarsak 1 - 10: waukeentide

This festival has long gathered a number of older holidays under one name, stretching those celebrations into a holiday season that lasts a tenday. Among the rituals in homage to the goddess of wealth and trade are these: Caravance (Tarsahk 1). This gift-giving holiday commemorates the traditional arrival of the first caravans of the season into the city. Many parents hide gifts for their offspring in their homes, telling the children that they were left by Old Carvas — a mythical peddler who arrived with the first caravan to reach Waterdeep, his wagon loaded down with toys for children to enjoy. Goldenight (Tarsahk 5). This festival celebrates coin and gold, with many businesses staying open all night, offering midnight sales and other promotions. Some celebrants and customers decorate themselves with gold dust and wear coins as jewelry. Guildsmeet (Tarsahk 7). On this holiday, guild members gather in their halls for the announcement of new policies and a celebration of business concluded for the year. These gatherings culminate in a gala festival and dance sponsored by several guilds, which lasts from dusk till dawn and overruns the Market, the Cynosure, the Field of Triumph, and all areas in between. Leiruin (Tarsahk 10). In times long past, Waukeen caught Leira, the goddess of illusions and deception, attempting to cheat her in a deal, and buried her under a mountain of molten gold as punishment. A commemoration of that event, Leiruin is the day for guild members to pay their annual dues and for guildmasters to meet with the Lords of Waterdeep and renew their charters for another year.

waukeen is a goddess and her domain is trade and wealth.

mirtul 6 - 9: the plowing and running

Rural areas around the city observe this holiday in the traditional sense of shared activities of plowing fields and moving (or “running”) livestock. But within the city, the holiday is celebrated with a series of races. Foot, horse, and chariot races are run through courses in each ward, and the winners from each ward compete at the Field of Triumph. If you really want to see the wards come to life, this is the time. Pick your favorite, wear its colors, and cheer alongside its residents. Better yet, if you’re of an adventuresome bent, register in your favored ward and compete! Who knows? Your name or visage might soon have a place in the House of Heroes.

kythorn 1: trolltide

On this day commemorating Waterdeep’s victory in the Second Trollwar, children run through the city acting like trolls, banging on doors and growling, from highsun till dusk. Home and shop owners are expected to give the children candy, fruits, or small items. Those who give no treat can expect to become the target of a trick at sundown. This mischief typically takes the form of “troll scratchings” at doors and windows. Those with more malicious intent sing screechingly in the wee hours, and hurl raw eggs at windows, signs, and the heads of those who try to stop them. Have some candy on hand or some sweet rolls, and all will be calm where you live.

kythorn 14: guildhall day

This day is a time of trade fairs. Most shops are closed, and street sales are suspended for all but walking food peddlers. Guildhall Day celebrates the fruits of everyone’s labor with revelations of new products, innovations, fashions, and signage extolling the extent and quality of guild members’ services and wares. These offerings usually take the form of glittering displays, but guilds sometimes also sponsor brief plays or other hired entertainments (jugglers, singers, magic shows put on by hedge wizards and professional raconteurs) at which prizes or free samples are distributed. Many guilds try to recruit during this time. Guildhall Day is an excellent time to browse the city’s merchandise — and it doesn’t matter if you can’t afford what you see, because you can’t buy it that day anyway.

kythorn 20: dragondown

This day in Kythorn is celebrated with bonfires and rituals to “tame” or “drive down” dragons. In Waterdeep, the celebrations take the form of parades that center around effigies built of wood and cloth and filled with straw. Each effigy is named and has a traditional depiction, for it represents one of a handful of dragons the city has faced in its history. After being paraded to a square near where the dragon was defeated or driven off, the enormous effigy is burned. The height of the celebration comes when the effigy of Kistarianth the Red is burned on the slopes of Mount Waterdeep. A dracolich version of Kistarianth is then carried up the slopes and burned as well. These proceedings symbolize the defeat of Kistarianth first by the paladin Athar, and again decades later by his son, Piergeiron. Tradition dictates that the winners of the races run during the Plowing and Running take the role of the dragons’ slayers, with the champion of the chariot race representing Athar and the champion of the horse race playing Piergeiron.

flamerule 1: the founders' day

This day commemorates the birth of the city. The Field of Triumph is the site of illusory displays that chronicle the history of Waterdeep, as well as martial exhibitions by the Guard and other worthies. Many festhalls sponsor Founders’ Day costume contests, with prizes going to those who wear the best recreations of the garb of historical personages. Once banned as frivolous and distracting, the practice of veiling Castle Waterdeep with an illusion has been reinstated. Several mages come together to produce the effect, which seemingly transforms the castle into the ancient log fortress of Nimoar. The illusion typically lasts from midday to sunset (unless someone has the audacity and magical might to dispel it) and is regarded as a stunning work of magical art.

flamerule 3 - 5: sornyn

Sornyn is a festival of both Waukeen and Lathander, and is used for planning business, making treaties and agreements, and receiving envoys from unknown lands and traditional foes. Much wine is drunk over this three-day occasion when, as the saying goes, “My enemy is like family to me.” If you are a newcomer to the city, this time is an excellent opportunity for you to engage with new partners in business or to gain financial support for some endeavor. My agreement to write Volo’s Guide to Waterdeep was signed on a warm Sornyn evening many years ago, so who knows where your own initiative will take you?

flamerule 7: llira's night

Originally a celebration held only in Waterdeep, this holiday has since spread up and down the Sword Coast. It has received a recent boost in popularity from the custom started in Baldur’s Gate of lighting celebratory smokepowder fireworks — all purchased from Felogyr’s Fireworks of that city, and utilized only by the City Guard, of course. This nightlong festival honors the Lady of Joy with dances and balls throughout the city. Pink beverages, ranging from healthy juices to deadly strong intoxicants, are imbibed. The boom and crackle of smokepowder explosions go off all night long, so you might as well stay up with the locals and enjoy the show.

eleasis 1: ahghairon's day

Many small rituals are held throughout this day, dedicated to honoring the first Open Lord. The Lords of Waterdeep toast Ahghairon and the Watchful Order, and guildmasters toast the Lords in Ahghairon’s name. Commoners leave violets (Ahghairon’s favorite flower) around Ahghairon’s Tower, on his statue in the City of the Dead, and atop the altars of the House of Wonder. Bards perform songs in honor of the wizard all over the city. The Open Lord visits taverns and inns throughout Waterdeep to wish the people well — giving short speeches, offering toasts to Ahghairon’s memory, buying rounds of drinks, or paying for meals or accommodation. Needless to say, establishments of those sorts are generally full throughout the day.

if you are interested to learn more about ahghairon - who is mentioned too by gale in passing - or rather his lost nose - you can do so here: i've written a more extensive meta about him in this post.

eleint 21: brightswords

On this day, the City Guard, the City Navy, and the City Watch — all in glittering array — conduct parades, give demonstrations of martial skill, and stage mock battles. Those desiring to join their ranks are given a chance to demonstrate their prowess, usually with wooden practice weapons in contests against veteran soldiers. Makers and vendors of weapons sell their wares openly in the markets, experts who can hurl or juggle weapons show off their skills, and the wards compete in wrestling and boxing matches. The most anticipated part of the day is when horses are cleared from the Field of Triumph and the surrounding streets so that the Griffon Cavalry can perform aerial displays over the crowds in the stadium. Members of the Watchful Order present the cavalry with illusory foes to fight, allowing the griffon riders to engage in thrilling battles as the people watch.

marpenoth 3: day of wonders

The imaginative inventions of the Gondar are revealed on this day and paraded through the city. These devices range from something as humble as new cabinet hinges to massive mechanical constructs that walk or roll about. Failure is the paramour of invention, though, meaning it is a rare year when there isn’t some notable disruption of the celebration. The flying chair of Marchell was one such recent oddity — a device that worked marvelously on the way up but was incapable of descending. Marchell was rescued by the Griffon Cavalry, but his flying chair drifted away and was never seen again.

marpenoth 7: stoneshar

Stoneshar is an all-faiths day during which folk strive not to be idle. Even children at play are encouraged to dig holes, build sand castles, or construct crude models. Waterdavians consider Stoneshar the best day of the year to begin construction of a building, either by digging out a cellar or laying a foundation. The common wisdom is that folk who undertake new projects on Stoneshar can expect blessings upon their works in the coming year, whereas individuals who do nothing constructive on this day can expect all manner of misfortune to rain down on them in the year ahead.

marpenoth 10: reign of misrule

Swift on the heels of Stoneshar comes the Reign of Misrule. This day honors Beshaba, goddess of misfortune. People of the city are expected to break trust, belie oaths, and disobey the normal order — as long as no laws are actually broken and no rift is made that can’t be later bridged. During the Reign of Misrule, nobles serve meals to their servants, children take control of schools, priests give worship to their god’s foes, and any who wish to may participate in a guild’s trade. Pranks are played by and on many, from simple tricks to those requiring elaborate planning. Sundown brings an end to the festivities, and most folk spend much of the night cleaning and reordering things for the following day. Many visitors decline to participate, but doing so often inspires misfortune rather than avoiding it. For fear of catching the bad luck of cynics, citizens do their best to avoid talking to anyone known to not have played along, or dealing with them in any way until Gods’ Day.

marpenoth 15: gods' day

This holiday observes the anniversary of the end of the Godswar in 1358 DR, when the gods of Faerûn returned to the heavens. Private shrines are brought out into the open, and many people wear holy symbols of their favored deities. A Gods’ Day tradition in Waterdeep strictly limits the use of magic, in remembrance of the wild magic wrought during the Time of Troubles. Though not outlawed fully, spellcasting is allowable only in self-defense or in cases of extreme need. At night, this holiday becomes solemn and serious, as many Waterdavians offer prayers in thanks for the lives they have under their gods. The Griffon Cavalry sets up an immense bonfire at the peak of Mount Waterdeep, honoring the fallen and the risen gods Myrkul, Cyric, Kelemvor, Mystra, Helm, and Ao who appeared here. In thanks for their defense during Myrkul’s invasion and the resulting fires that raged through the Southern, Dock, and Castle Wards, Gods’ Day is also a semiofficial “Be Kind to the Guard and Watch Day” in Waterdeep. Feel free to participate by handing out small gifts and kind words, but be aware that any gift of greater value than a few nibs might be interpreted as a bribe.

marpenoth 30: liar's night

This holy day pays tribute to Leira and Mask. To placate those deities and ward away their attention, folk of all walks of life don masks and costumes (magical or mundane) to disguise themselves and play at being other than what they are. Commonly seen mask styles include the black mask symbol of Mask and the mirror face of the priests of Leira. But there are no bounds on the disguise you don, and the more elaborate and outlandish it is, the more celebrated the wearer. The festivities begin in the evening, when people place candles in hollowed-out gourds or pumpkins carved with faces. Each pumpkin represents a person donning a mask, while the light inside represents the truth of the soul. For as long as the candle remains lit, lies told and embarrassing things done don’t sully a person’s reputation, so celebrations often descend briefly into anarchic hedonism. Misfortune is said to come to anyone who returns to their pumpkin after celebrating to find it unlit, so buy a candle of good quality and put your gourd beyond reach of the wind. Intentionally blowing out someone else’s candle or smashing someone else’s pumpkin is taboo, and risks the wrath of both gods — yet it does occur. Tricks and pranks of all kinds are common on this night, and folk expect lies and foolishness. Pickpockets are rife on this day, so few carry much coin with them, having secreted it away somewhere the previous evening. Instead, people fill their pockets and belt pouches with candies. Traditionally, a pickpocket is meant to take the candy and leave a token in return (a tiny toy, a colorful paper folded into a shape, or the like), but this has changed over the years into adults exchanging candies among themselves and simply giving candy to children who ask for it. By custom, no deals are made nor contracts signed on Liar’s Night, because no one trusts that parties will abide by them. Illusionists and stage magicians (whether through magical or practical abilities) make the rounds to entertain private parties (having been paid in advance the previous day) or to perform in public spaces, in the hopes that a good show will earn them a meal, and perhaps a place at a private party in the future.

uktar: selûne's hallowing

On whatever night in Uktar the moon is fullest, Waterdavians celebrate Selûne’s Hallowing. The goddess is the focus of worship throughout the full phase, of course, but the major ceremony on this night is a parade of worshipers leaving the House of the Moon at moonrise and moving down to the harbor, where the high priestess wields the Wand of the Four Moons in a ceremony blessing all navigators. This holy relic is said to be the mace wielded by Selûne in her first battle against Shar, and again in a fight with her sister during the Time of Troubles. It miraculously appeared in Waterdeep after the Godswar, and has since been the focus of many divine signs. You can view it in the House of the Moon at other times of the year, but only from a well-guarded distance. If you’re lucky, you might see the Wand of the Four Moons weep. Droplets said to be the tears of Selûne manifest on the mace from time to time, and are collected by the priestesses for use in potions that can heal, cure lycanthropy, and be used as holy water.

uktar 20: last sheaf

Sometimes called “The Small Feast,” this day of residential feasting is held in celebration of the year’s bounty. Small gifts (traditionally hand kegs of ale, jars of preserves, or smoked fish and meats) are exchanged among neighbors, and “last letters” are gathered for carriage by ship captains and caravan merchants — so called because they are the last to leave the city before travel becomes difficult. Of Waterdeep’s many celebrations, this one is perhaps the most relaxed and relaxing. Plan to spend a little extra on good food and enjoy a meal with those nearest you, be they dearest hearts or the folk across the hall in the inn.

nightal 11: howldown

In honor of Malar, members of the City Guard leave the city in groups on this day to hunt down known threats to farmers and travelers, including brigands, wolves, owlbears, ogres, and trolls that haunt the roads and wilderness. These hunts typically last no longer than a tenday. During the same span of time, the City Watch engages in its own rigorous hunt for malefactors within the city walls. If you’ve any reason to doubt your standing in the eyes of the law, avoid Waterdeep for at least a tenday after Howldown. With no real hunting to do of their own, the children of Waterdeep spend Howldown engaging in mock hunts of adults dressed up as monsters, and play at the killing of these predators.

nightal 20: simril

When dusk comes on this day, folk go outside to locate particular stars that were lucky for their ancestors, or that were associated with their own births. They then attempt to stay up through the night, celebrating outside with bonfires, song, and warmed drinks. Cloudy nights often draw larger crowds than clear ones, since glimpsing your star through the haze is thought to be a blessing from Tymora. Inside buildings, service folk keep roaring fires and engage in making food to keep celebrants fed throughout the long night and into morning of the next day. If you have no particular star of your own, you’ll find many vendors of star maps willing to divine which is yours — based upon your place and date of birth — and to point you in the right direction for a shard or two.

all information is taken from volo's waterdeep enchiridion.

i hope this was helpful and information to some of you!

🖤

[painted-flag]

From Eden, II - Benjicot Blackwood

✧.* masterlist (part three here)

✧.* pairing: benjicot blackwood x velaryon!oc

✧.* warnings: 18+ minors DNI. fluff with hints of smut.

✧.* note: this is a continuation of this imagine, but can be read as a stand alone work. this is the first of many smaller installments going over events in Daenys' and Ben's life.

✧.* summary: With the coming preparation of her wedding, Daenys finds that she has few moments spent with Ben. Finally, after weeks, they can spend time alone together.

✧.*word count: 1.9k

Daenys sat on a plush lounging chair in her chambers on Dragonstone. The day was waning to evening and she was embroiled in one of her latest books; a Valyrian tome that went over flying strategies. In these pages of parchment, she searched for an escape from the stress coming down on her. Her wedding had arrived sooner than expected, and the plans for everything had begun to compound. 

The day marked three months since her trip to the Riverlands. It was a successful mission, as she managed to catch the eyes of Benjicot Blackwood. The need for a prominent hold over the Riverlands was secured, yet that previous stress had been replaced with a new one. The days she spent with him in bliss were replaced with hours of wedding planning. Monotonous tasks such as picking out flower arrangements and organizing various types of decor became her daily routine. Multiple barriers had blocked off any sense of relief. 

The first barrier was where the wedding would take place. Raventree Hall, while beautiful, would not be equipped to hold such a large retinue of lords and ladies on the scale required of a royal wedding. Naturally, it was set to be in Kings Landing, which Daenys immediately shot down. A day of unity and delight would not be sullied by the Hightowers. Thankfully, Rhaenyra used the excuse of her newly developed pregnancy to argue that she could not travel under such delicate conditions; which led to the ceremony being held at Dragonstone. Daenys, once again, was saved by her mother's aid. 

The second and final barrier was all the planning. Daenys and Jacaerys flew home from the Riverlands shortly after the engagement while Benjicot and his men made their way on land. The days spent without him were bland, but even when he arrived they were both being pulled constantly to various tasks. The day he arrived at Dragonstone, Daenys got to see him for half the morning and then was swept away to pick fabric for her gown - a task immensely more difficult than she had expected. 

It was frustrating - on both ends - to be so close to one another, yet so far. The only positive Daenys saw was how smoothly Ben had befriended her brothers. He and Jacaerys had already established a mutual understanding, but it developed into a friendship as they ventured around Dragonstone and the island. They both enjoy sparing and had a routine of meeting in the morning in one of the courtyards. Daenys felt conflicted about their forging brotherhood. It was gladdening but also drove her crazy with how Jacaerys loved telling embarrassing stories of her youth to Ben. The two men had occasionally teased her together, but she quickly - jokingly - threatened the absolution of their engagement. It was incredible how fast that managed to make Ben shut up. 

The next brother Ben bonded with had been Lucerys. While he and Jace connected over fighting, Ben’s more shy side established a sense of mutual respect between him and Luke. It was their joint interest in a book series of adventures written by a maester many years ago that sparked a conversation between the two. After that ice broke, other topics of discussion came easily. Daenys remembered that particular evening at a family dinner when they talked through almost the whole meal together. Afterwards, Luke had grabbed her hand before she left, and leaned in to whisper, “I like him and I’m happy for you, sister.” 

The little ones - Joffrey, Viserys, and Aegon - were the easiest for Ben to win over. He had packed some toys from the Riverlands, which were specially crafted figures of knights and dragons. Once given to them, they had immediately formed a likening for him. Whenever they would see Ben, their little voices would call out his name and ask if he could play with them - to which if Ben was not busy- he would agree. 

Her mother had been warmed to Ben before he arrived at Dragonstone. The information she got from Daenys made her more than content with the union between the two. Daenys had spoken about his interests and personality over lunches with her mother. She also spoke about how he treated her with kindness and unflagging nature to make her happy every day he could. She spoke of their time together in the Riverlands while omitting the more raunchy details. 

Daemon, however, had not revealed his thoughts on Benjicot. Another stressor that weighed down on Daenys. The two conversed multiple times and all seemed well, but the rogue prince did not reveal anything. They were pleasant conversations, but Daemon had always been good at concealing what he thought. 

Daenys stretched in her lounging position and adjusted the book. The day had been long and her body was sore. She spent most of it standing in her wedding gown as the seamstresses made adjustments, poking her occasionally with needles. 

A low creak sounded from the corner of her chamber. The false wall opened and Benjicot stood on the other side with a mischievous smile on his face. Daenys shook her head as her shoulders moved up and down with silent laughter. She moved back to read her book.

Ben marched carefully into the room. He leaned over the chaise and wrapped his arms around her front, “And how is my lovely bride?” He repeatedly placed kisses on her cheek and temple, while purposefully making a loud smooch noise after each one. Daenys giggled while she clutched her book. 

“Truthfully I am exhausted,” She replied. 

Ben walked around and joined her on the chaise, settling behind her body. He stretched his legs and wrapped his arms around her middled and pulled her into the side of his chest. 

“I heard they finished your dress today.” His nose buried into the juncture of her neck as he placed soft kisses there. 

“After poking me countless times with their needles.” Daenys flipped the page of her book. Ben grabbed one of her hands and lifted it closer to him. His inspection spotted a couple of small scratch marks. He proceeded to kiss them one by one. Daenys soaked up the attention.

“And what has made you so affectionate today?” She questioned. 

Ben sighed and buried his head in her shoulder again. He let out a muffled groan. “It has been weeks since we spent time alone. I only get to see you for longer than a few minutes during dinners and those are spent with your family as well.” 

“You don’t like my family?” Daenys jested. 

“I love your family, almost as much as you.”

She sensed some motive behind his words, “You want something.” 

Ben lifted his head and looked as Daenys craned her neck to glance at him. He shook his head and faked innocence, “I have no idea what you are talking about, my love.” 

Daenys raised her eyebrow at him and that was more than enough to get an answer from the dark-haired man, “I miss you.” 

“I do as well. I have half a mind to cancel all the preparations and run to the nearest sept with you. Get it all over with.” Daenys huffed. Her free hand reached up to brush his chin gently. 

“Do not tempt me.” Ben leaned in to kiss her feverishly. It had felt so long since their last kiss. The past few weeks were full of chaste ones whenever they found little time alone with one another. The passion burned through her. Suddenly, all of the stress she had felt went away in mere moments. The comforting feeling of his arms that encircled her waist made her feel safer than any of the high walls and guards at Dragonstone. 

Ben moved around, only briefly pulling away from the kiss. He slid to the floor and on his knees while still moving his mouth against hers. He settled between her legs and Daenys pulled away, knowing what he was thinking. 

“Ben, you know how risky it would be to do that here?” 

“Dany, I feel as though I am a dying man wandering the Red Waste looking high and low for a drink to save me.” Ben feigned hurt, frowning in fake pain as though he was truly going through what he described, “My saving water just happens to be on low ground.” 

Daenys shoved the book off her lap and crossed her arms, “Do you think sweet words like that will work on me?” 

“They have before.” Ben, despite being on his knees, was still almost level with her face as she sat on the chaise. One of his hands brushed her ankle and slowly moved up her leg in a featherlight manner. 

“You’re insatiable,” Daenys observed. 

Ben leaned in to kiss her before he pulled away, “I know.” 

His hand, now resting on the back of her calf, squeezed. His other hand lifted the skirt of her dress and he quickly ducked under. Ben began to leave light kissed up her leg. His hands moved up quickly, brushing the plush inside of her thighs with his thumbs. His kisses reached the bottom of her right thigh when an abrupt knock on the door sounded through the room. 

Ben groaned against her skin, “I swear to all the gods that I will kill whoever knocked on that door.” 

Daenys ignored his words and responded, “What is it?” 

“The Princess Rhaenyra has called for an early supper, your grace.” A servant's voice sounded from the other side of the wooden door. Ben huffed and emerged from under Daenys dress, a look of displeasure on his face. 

“I will get ready by myself. Send word that I will be there soon.” 

“Of course, princess.” The two of them heard their steps retreat down the stone hall. 

Daenys looked at Ben and saw an intense frown had etched its way across his face. She nearly giggled at his expression. He looked like a spoilt child who had their favourite toy taken away. She cupped his cheeks and leaned in to kiss him. 

“It is not the end of the world, love.” 

“It may as well be.” Ben stood up and pulled her up with him, “Must we wait for the wedding to finally have time together?” 

“All you have to do is wait two weeks. After that, you may take me to Raventree Hall and nobody can disturb us anymore.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and carted her fingers through the hair at the top of his neck. 

“Two bloody weeks,” He kissed the bridge of her nose, “I must go before they find my chamber suspiciously empty.” 

Daenys laughed and leaned in to hug him. They both stood there for a few seconds, relishing in what would be the most contact they will have for many days. Ben rubbed her back and pulled away. 

“We will finish this later.” Ben’s voice gave no room for question. 

“I promise.” 

“Good.” Ben kissed her quickly again before retreating to the hidden passageway in the corner of her room. Upon opening the door, Ben sent her a wink and retreated into the small passage. Once he was gone, Daenys allowed her disappointment to wash over her. They only had a few minutes, and even then that was taken from them. It felt as though the gods were playing a sick trick on her. 

Daenys knew that the next two weeks would feel like an eternity.

_____________

✧.* endnote: this was a little rushed, but i managed to get this done between lectures. i do plan on leaning more heavily into smut, but i know my skills in writing that stuff are nonexistent so i need a little more time.

also, i seriously cannot thank you all enough on the amount of support given to the original imagine From Eden. it has blown me away. you are all amazing <3.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Flower Dance

Haley (Stardew) x She/Her Reader

A/N: I liked the idea, but I don’t think I executed it as well as I hoped I would because I got impatient. Still not too bad though I think. I wrote this in November of 2022. Sharing it now because why not. Word Count: 2,383

“Ew, no.”

Haley had regretted the words as soon as she had spit them out like an defensive cobra.

Hurt was written all over the farmer’s face as she recoiled from Haley like she had been burned.

Haley saw the year’s worth of progress she had made getting out of her shell and becoming friends with (Y/n) crumble before her very eyes. She tried to say something, anything, to peddle back from the harsh way she had answered, but (Y/n) recovered first. At least somewhat.

“…Alright then, sorry. A simple no would have sufficed.” She mumbled. “Excuse me.”

Haley reached for her but froze halfway before withdrawing. Her hands fell to her sides in tight fists.

Why did she say that? It was only (Y/n), the sweet farmer who had taken the time to scale Haley’s walls to find her soft and more vulnerable self within.

Daffodils in the spring, ice cream in the summer, sunflowers in fall, pink cake in winter… (Y/n) had been nothing but nice to her even from the beginning when Haley insulted her clothes and earthy scent. Back then the farmer had been able to brush her off, but Haley’s words definitely had a direct impact this time.

She didn’t mean to speak to her like that. She had just been startled that (Y/n) would even think to ask. The thought of dancing with her made Haley’s face burn and her heart thump in her ears. She wasn’t sure if it was excitement or fear that was causing those reactions, but clearly fear had won out when she opened her stupid mouth.

What should she do now?

“Haley,”

Haley turned to find that Alex was walking up to her. She tried to school her expression into something more neutral before he got too close to notice.

“The dance is starting soon. Are we partnering up again this year?”

Haley scanned the field for (Y/n) and bit the inside of her lip when she couldn’t see her. She was the Flower Queen, she was expected to be a part of the ceremonial first dance. As much as she wanted to go look for (Y/n) and apologize, that would have to wait. It would be better to talk to her when her heart stopped pounding anyway.

“Yeah,” Haley nodded, linking Alex’s elbow with hers, “let’s get in position.”

When they did find their places, Haley watched the usual pairs link up. Finally she saw (Y/n) conversing with Robin and Demetrius on the sidelines. Haley remembered last year, wondering why the new farmer hadn’t bothered to come to the dance. At first, she thought she had some kind of sense of superiority over the townsfolk, but it was a traditional town event after all, not a club in Zuzu City. It would probably have been uncomfortable after only being a part of the community for a couple weeks.

Now a year later, (Y/n) had felt comfortable enough to join in on the festivities and Haley had surely made her regret stepping away from her busy farm life with the utterance of those two stupid words.

Good job, idiot.

She continued to watch over Alex’s shoulder as Leah unexpectedly walked up. Leah? Leah usually danced with Elliot. What was she doing sidling up to (Y/n) like that? Haley looked around for the writer, but he was nowhere to be seen. Was he sick or something?

Haley looked back in time to see (Y/n) smile kindly at something Leah had said and felt something burning within her as Leah offered (Y/n) her hand and the farmer took it.

“What’s going on behind me that has you squeezing my shoulders like that?” Alex asked, craning his head back, “It kinda hurts.”

“Nothing.” Haley snapped.

She turned her head away from (Y/n) and Leah, trying to ignore them bonding over being the newest residents of the valley and how Leah’s first Flower Dance went. How Leah taught (Y/n) the steps, something that could have been Haley’s honor not even ten minutes ago.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Alex winced, “Come on Haley, I can feel your nails through my shirt.”

“Sorry.” Haley eased up a bit, but her steely gaze still lingered on the two women butchering the steps while snickering to each other.

Haley was furious. They were making a mockery of the long standing tradition! That was definitely what was pissing her off. Not the fact that she could have just as easily been in Leah’s shoes, helping (Y/n) find her footing and laughing with her instead—

“Too tight again Haley, damn!” Alex hissed, finally twirling Haley around so he could take a look at what was pissing her off so bad that she felt the need to leave him bruised.

“What am I supposed to be seeing here?”

“Just drop it.” Haley nearly growled.

“Ohhhh,” Alex winced upon spotting Leah and (Y/n) spinning together, “I get it. Well, they could just be dancing as friends like us you know. You’re not out of this yet.”

“What are you talking about?” She grumbled.

“(Y/n) and Leah. I figured farm girl would steal my spot this year. I was kinda hoping for it too,” Alex pulled at his collar, “this outfit is always so itchy.”

“Why would I dance with her? That makes no sense.” Haley shot defensively, not loud enough for anyone else to hear, but loud enough to make Emily peer over Shane’s shoulder to try and see what her sister was so grumpy about.

“Uhh, don’t you like her?” Alex asked with uncertainty, “I could have sworn—“

“I do not!” Haley fumed, heart pounding and face flushing once again, “Why would you think that?”

“The last time we were in your dark room. I mean, dude, like, a loooot of your pictures lately have been of (Y/n)…”

“I needed to have a gallery that showcased humans and nature for an online class!” Haley defended, though her cheeks blushed darker, “I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask that weirdo in the mountains if I could follow him around for a couple days. (Y/n) was the obvious choice.”

“I don’t get why you’re so defensive about it. It’s cool if you like her or whatever. You know I don’t care. Emily definitely wouldn’t. I think no one would mind as much as you seem to, or you’re at least in the minority on the subject.”

“I. Do. Not. Like. Her. Like. That.” Haley gritted out.

Alex sighed heavily. Why did Haley always have to be so stubborn? He had an idea, but it was going to be just a little mean…

“Oh whoa, they’re totally making out.”

“What?!”

Haley’s heart dropped as she yanked Alex around so she could look at (Y/n) and Leah again. They weren’t kissing, nor did it look like they had been. They were still clumsily dancing together as they talked.

Haley turned her eyes back on Alex, who dared to wear a smug little smirk on her face that Haley desperately wanted to slap off.

“You do like her, Hales. You haven’t liked anyone in forever! And as your best friend, it’s my job to help you shoot your shot. Come on, let’s dance over and see if we can’t get you to cut in.”

“No, Alex,” Haley pulled him back, a touch of fear in her voice “I, I can’t. Not after what I said. She must think I’m such a bitch.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She already asked me to dance, Alex,” Haley groaned angrily at herself, “and do you know what I said? I said, ‘ew, no’.”

“No.” Alex sucked in air through clenched teeth.

“Yeah, try coming back from that. She’ll never talk to me again.”

“You could tell her you’re sorry. Say you got so nervous you insulted her. That might help.”

“Oh sure.” Haley scoffed.

“It would be better than doing nothing!” Alex whined. “Haley, before (Y/n), I was basically the only person you ever talked to. You really stepped up this year and I’d hate to see you close yourself off again.”

(Y/n) and Leah seemed to have grown tired of dancing and went to join the sidelines once more and Haley looked to the grass at her feet. She wanted to say to hell with it. People come and go all the time, just look at her parents and their never ending trips. However, she couldn’t bring herself to slip away from (Y/n). She didn’t want (Y/n) to slip away from her either.

“What do I do, Alex? She’s not going to want to talk to me after this.”

“We’ll think of something,” Alex promised, giving Haley one last twirl, “We’ll think of something.”

***

“H-hello?” (Y/n) called out as she entered the Secret Woods.

She had received a letter in the mail that morning, urging her to arrive at her earliest convenience. She had half a mind to suspect it was the bear again, although the only thing she had been instructed to bring was herself, not syrup.

As she wandered further into the clearing, she faintly heard music playing and decided to follow it. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Haley flattening a table cloth over a large tree stump. The sting of yesterday was still very fresh in her mind. Surely Haley didn’t send her that letter… she took a step back, but her foot snapped a twig, causing Haley’s head to snap up.

Haley quickly finished what she was doing, hands moving clumsily from nervousness. She dried her sweaty palms on the back of her skirt and then took a deep breath as she approached (Y/n).

“Hey,” Haley said, her smile looking a bit too pained to be sincere. Much like the polite smile (Y/n) was trying to hold.

“Ah, sorry Haley. I didn’t know—“

“I want you here,” Haley spoke quickly, “I wrote the letter.”

“You did? Why?” (Y/n) asked, her body language defensive. After yesterday, she wasn’t too keen on listening to whatever Haley had to say. She didn’t think she knew Haley as well as she thought she did.

“Because I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I- I was totally out of line. I’m really, really sorry.”

“But why did you say that at all? Haley, that really hurt me.” (Y/n) crossed her arms over her chest.

“I know, I regretted it as soon as I said it. I was just scared I guess. I didn’t expect you to ask me to dance and I know that’s a dumb excuse, but I swear I didn’t mean it.”

“What were you scared for?” (Y/n) asked softly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Because I,” Haley took in a shaky breath, “I like you a lot.”

“You were scared to accept my invitation to dance because you like me?” (Y/n) tested the words on her tongue, finding them just as confusing as when Haley had said them.

“Yeah, well, when you repeat it back like that it sounds dumb,” Haley blushed, “but, ugh! You know me. I’m not easy to get along with. I also don’t like being vulnerable so this whole thing is killing me now, but, I also like you too much to not try to apologize so,” Haley tentatively held her hand out to the bewildered farmer, “will you please let me have this dance in an attempt to redeem myself?”

(Y/n) studied the offered hand for a moment, making Haley so nervous she stopped breathing, but then (Y/n) gave her a small smile and took Haley’s hand.

“Okay.”

Haley inhaled deeply, feeling a weight come off her shoulders. She hurriedly put her free hand around (Y/n)’s waist and took the lead. Her skin tingled when (Y/n)’s hand came to rest on her shoulder.

“Thank you.” Haley breathed a sigh of relief.

“You know, you really surprised me yesterday,” (Y/n) began, making Haley wince, “I know you can be a little grouchy, even mean sometimes,” Haley wished the ground would swallow her whole,

“but the more we got to know each other, the more I got to see who you are trying to protect, the person who are underneath the prickliness. Granted, the prickliness is just as much a part of you, but I think it’s cute when you’re a little snarky,” Haley bit the inside of her cheek. She felt like she should be insulted, but (Y/n) finding something about her cute was making her blush,

“I was hurt when you turned me down like that yesterday, but I was also worried that would be the end of our friendship.”

“Why would you worry about that? If the shoe had been on the other foot, I would have said good riddance.” Haley asked, mentally kicking herself for possibly giving (Y/n) the idea to back away now.

“Yeah, I kinda did feel that way at first,” (Y/n) admitted, “but when Leah helped me cool down, I at least wanted to know why you reacted the way you did. I’m glad you reached out to me before I did, because I honestly had no idea how to approach the subject.” (Y/n) said with a sheepish grin.

“What, are you afraid of me or something, Miss spends-all-winter-in-the-mines?” Haley Scoffed.

“Oh definitely.”

“Really?”

“You are scarier than you give yourself credit for.”

Haley tried not to laugh, but she couldn’t help it. She lowered her head to rest against (Y/n)’s shoulder and giggled, making (Y/n) laugh as well.

They swayed through a couple more songs before Haley pulled back and asked (Y/n) if she was hungry before motioning back to the the covered tree stump. They ate and talked together while listening to the portable radio Haley had brought along. When there was a lull, Haley asked,

“Hey, it’s not exactly the Flower Dance, but there’s always a dance floor at the summer Luau… be my dance partner?”

(Y/n) perked up, giving Haley another smile that gave her butterflies, “I’d like that.”

“Awesome.”

Maybe by summer she’d work up the courage to ask (Y/n) if she wanted to be her girlfriend, but this was perfect for now. Alex was going to need to help her with a plan, but when (Y/n) reached across the stump the tuck a bit of Haley’s hair behind her ear, she was feeling a little better about her chances.

[weebsinstash]

HMMMM. You know what I've never written for, stories OR drafts or prompts or posts. Hanahaki disease!!!

Your yandere is absolutely freaking the fuck out because you're choking up flowers, vomiting on thorns, choking, gagging, blood and petals dribbling down your chin, you're getting sicker, weaker, DYING, but you won't share ANYTHING WITH THEM. They have NO IDEA who it is you love and it's driving them INSANE because one you're DYING and two.... oh. So you. Love someone else. Ok... well. All you need to do to be cured is confess to that person, right? Your 'true dedicated love' can always swoop in afterwards, or so they try to tell themselves...

They're just watching you wither away, you looking absolutely heartbroken, and worst of all, you're starting to AVOID THEM. They're having to stalk you, more than usual anyways, just to check in on you, make sure you're still doing ok, still ALIVE--

Eventually you're laying there in the hospital, at death's door, and your yandere, someone you've known and trusted for some time now, is just, ready to start bawling their eyes out at your bedside as you can barely breathe, begging begging BEGGING you to tell them who you love so they can bring them to you, so you can live, like this is SO AVOIDABLE WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO YOURSELF and your "beloved" is so tormented by the fact they're watching you wither away and they can't do ANYTHING and--

you just. Weakly reach over and grab their hand. and you stare right at them with your big sparkling crying eyes and quivering lips even as more petals and pollen slip out with your breaths,

"but then you'll leave"

and that's when your yandere figures out, oh, it's THEM that you love, and you were willing to die with your secret just to avoid hearing 'no', being alone, not having THEM, losing THEM--

You're laying there feeling the pain and the aching slowly fade from deep inside your withered body, barely energized enough to feel shame, so weak, so vulnerable, and, of course you'll need someone to look after you while you recover, and here's your loyal friend, clutching your hand so desperately, and unlike all of your deepest fears, they're not going anywhere or rejecting you in the slightest. I mean... you might as well have just PROPOSED to them, declaring your love and all, so, surely you won't mind if your crush, who was secretly significantly more mentally unhinged than you were could have imagined, moves you into the perfect scale replica of your bedroom that they have in their house, right? Since you two love each other, you're gonna get married as soon as possible and live together, right? What's that? You're a little turned off by finding out they have stalker shrines of you? Haha, you must still be light-headed from all that coughing! You can't LEAVE YOUR SOULMATE, that's so silly! let them tuck you into bed and get you some pills and they can cuddle you to sleep during your first official night together--

[hurthermore]

Okay, so, absolutely loved the newest chapter!!! Alastor’s POV is always *chef’s kiss*, your iteration especially.

On another note, I can’t get the thought of an AU of Alastor finding reader…not very alive…after the altercation with the husband after the pairs visit to the radio station, just…what would his reaction be, how many would end up dead? Would he keep the readers body? How delulu would he be on a scale of 1-10? Especially seeing the body next to the crushed flowers he gave, and the realisation that those were probably the catalyst…just…so many thoughts

Oh lord… FIRSY TYSM!! I’m sooo happy you enjoyed this chapter! And wow heavy ask HEAVY ASK haha, poorly written as I did this whilst at Uni Lmaoo warnings for death and heavy angst

Realistically, if you had died that night, Vincent would’ve moved your body, but for this ask we will assume Vincent has just left reader dead on the floor.

Alastor would’ve found his way into your house if you hadn’t answered the door. He’d break down once he saw your body on that floor, and I mean. Break. Down. He would obviously see if you were okay first, but once he realised you were dead? Oh honey…

He will delude himself into thinking you were just unconscious, just sleeping, maybe even a coma. Nonono you weren’t dead! You were just pretending; it’s okay! He isn’t mad he promises, just fucking wake up!

Once he looks at the crushed flowers beside your corpse, he will cry. He will cry knowing this was all his fault; but was it really? Why had this happened?

The only finger pointed to your husband.

Alastor will take your corpse to his home; he hadn’t realised things would turn out this way, hadn’t realised what the fuck was going on behind closed doors and that was his own fault; he was so good at perceiving people, how had he not noticed that your husband would eventually do this to you?

He’ll lay you in his own bed, just staring at you for days waiting for you to wake up; he will miss work, won’t go out, and by the time he knows it, he hasn’t eaten in a week.

That’s when the anger will come in. When his need to kill your husband will finally imbed within. And he will; even in such a state, he will murder Vincent.

He will bring you his head, just to show you that he’s no longer here to torment you! So wake up.

Even as your body begins to rot, he will hold you close, even has your bones begin to show, he will kiss you.

It’s only when you finally rot to pure bone that he will accept that you’re dead.

The worst part?

You would wind up in heaven if you died at this point.

[venusandsaturnsrings]

The school year finally ended... I hate college SO much :( but I am alive!! I beg for some crumbs of thoughts on Sunday... -chubby darling anon who is very much alive and finally got a mitsuri scale figure <3

putting all of my other fics, blurbs, and asks on PAUSE for this!! congrats!! no more school foorrr… 3ish months!! after dropping out of uni, i’ve been finally considering going back myself for phlebotomy!! canadas health situation is lack lustre rn and the course is less than one year + paid practicum + immediate job placement which is kinda sweet… CONGRATS ON THE FIGURE TOO!! i recently (like a month and a half ago) procured the hatsune miku jirai kei subculture fashion figure and i cannot stress how pretty she is <3 sits on my pc right now bc my shelves are full… ANYWAYS… love you!!

includes: silly sunday hcs, potential story spoilers, maybe ooc im still feeling him out, praise, degradation, riding crops, his hands…, and gender neutral reader!!

very poignantly the hopeless romantic type. he’s always functioned as a ‘singularity’ of sorts and over the years developed a certain fondness of it, even if it hurts. it’s worth noting he vividly reminds me of the line ‘i miss the comfort in being sad,’ from nirvanas ‘Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle.’ he’s the type of partner to always be stuck in that self-absorbed martyr mindset a little bit.

pragmatic to a fault. Sunday is deeply a skeptic, take his departure from the harmony in favour of the order, as an example. it’s cool because it means you’ll never have to worry about any technicalities but it also means he has a hard time letting go of control or being spontaneous.

very into more subtle romantic gestures and an absolute gentleman. you’ll have flowers at your door at least once a week and he makes sure to take all of your preferences into consideration when planning dates (he will be the one planning). keeps his hand on your lower back most of the time, the waist is far too scandalous!!

not a big texter. he prefers speaking face to face and will call if he can’t come see you. that said, he’ll make sure to like or respond to all of the silly pictures and messages you send, even if it’s a dry ‘haha’ or just a heart. occasionally, you’ll find that he’s sent you a letter, ask about and he’ll shrug and say he simply wanted something more heartfelt if he’s to communicate written. he’s got a special stamp to seal the ones he sends you.

grabs your phone when you go to show him something. no explanation i just feel it in my bones.

although he’s no singer, he’s still a classically trained musician. i imagine he was taught the violin but went on to learn his preferred instrument, the harp, himself. he’s a bit shy about playing so rather than asking, just wait until he thinks it’s late and you’re not around to hear; he’s got quite the set of fingers.

��speaking of fingers, my bread and butter, he’s beyond skilled with playing you. while he enjoys getting down to business, getting to leisurely spread you open and thrum against all your nerves gets him going. could spend hours having you laid out, in his lap, on the floor, wherever, just gently coaxing you open, wet, and pliant for himself.

off of that, he likes you best worn down to soft edges and weak desperation. getting to play the saviour, making you come undone, has him stiff in his pants.

lots of sweet praise and subtle degradation. things like, “you want to be good for me, don’t you my sweet?,” or, “now, now, don’t get greedy on me. be patient, silly thing, and i’ll appease all of your foolish whims,” annddd, “come now, you’ve been so well for me, angel, don’t ruin that with any useless whines.”

he’s not one for being too harsh against you but push the right buttons and you’ll get a ‘dumb’ or ‘stupid’ here and there. Sunday doesn’t curse but he knows his way around how to make you feel inferior and looked down upon.

he likes the power play of staying fully and pristinely clothed while your completely nude, save for maybe a pretty collar he’s got you belled with. if you’re real trouble, say maybe a no good criminal causing problems on Penacony and once arrested you’re at his disposal and oh so pretty, he’ll find a nice muzzle to fix you with.

strikes, no pun intended, me as the type to have an affinity for riding crops over anything else for punishments. you’ll get the same sugarcoated degradation while he comments on how you’re not even good enough to be so close to his gloved hand that he just must use the crop!! (he likes the pretty bruises it leaves).

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

This story, for which there are seven parts, is dedicated to everyone affected by Hurricane Helene. It was not written because of that, but a water-based natural disaster is part of the plot. It does not focus on it, but is a story of hope. The text of section one is under the cut. I hope to post all sections before the end of the Inklings Challenge. Despite this being my third year, this is the first I've actually posted anything other than snippets, so I hope I'm doing this right. I haven't yet written more than this, but I do have an outline for the other six parts, so hopefully that will work. @inklings-challenge

One: Admonish the Sinner

First of all it must be understood that every world is connected, as every village is. Some are just further away.

This is not a story of Earth; this is a story of a world nobody bothered to name, in a village nobody called anything other than the village. But that does not make it any less beloved—by people or by God. Sometime, a long time before this story is set, someone from Earth came to this nameless world and gave them the greatest gift of all, truth: but that is another tale entirely.

The night sky of this world is strikingly different from ours. Most prominently, two moons watch the world below, and every forty-seven years or so, flooding hits the island. They call it Big Tide, for it is the pull of the two moons combined that does this. It is regular enough, and has enough warning signs, that everyone should be perfectly ready for it.

As is common in humans (and these are humans like us, though the world is different), not everyone believes the evidence laid out in the world.

This is a story of Big Tide, specifically the one of the year three thousand, two hundred and twenty by their reckoning. This is a story of Paula McArthur.

%%%%%%%

The wattles were flowering, and it was Paula’s favourite time of year. There were several different wattles, but this was the deep gold ones she loved the best, the ones she gathered by the armful and adorned her home with. Now she only held a single sprig and enjoyed it to the full. It was too close to Big Tide to unnecessarily damage the wattle trees; they could be badly damaged by the rushing waters, and might need everything they had to survive. But one twig wasn’t going to hurt it.

The sky was a clear pale blue shot with fine clouds, a mass of them shining near the horizon with the sun gentle on them. Paula raised her face to the sunlight and closed her eyes, smiling. It was spring, and she never felt more alive than in springtime. 

She had been working all morning to prepare for Big Tide, largely transport. Her hands were tired of the precise positions needed to be held in order to hover exactly enough to transfer items in mid-air between hoverboards rather than landing to do it, which would waste time. Tide waited on no man, but Paula was skilled enough to know when she could be sloppy about hoverboarding, and enjoyed hoverboarding in a more slapdash manner than most people she knew. She had graduated earlier than most of her classmates from a controller to haptics. Tomorrow, though, she might use the controller again to make sure she was fresh enough to hover efficiently overnight during Big Tide itself. 

Presently she took out her lunch, and ate it while walking. In the distance a kookaburra laughed; Paula came to an abrupt halt as a green-blue iridescent flash clued her into the presence of a river dragon nearby. It turned and looked at her, bright blue eyes wise and calm. After a moment of silence and mutual respect, the dragon moved properly into her view and arched its sinuous back, raising its crest. Paula lifted her chin and brushed back the dark fringe to look more intimidating. The only sign the dragon gave of seeing any change was to raise its scales in a largely vain attempt to inflate its size. Abruptly it put down its scales and ran in a blaze of colour, uttering a high keening cry that faded as it retreated.

Paula turned to see who had disturbed her, smiling as she recognised the intruder. “What brings you here, Martha?”

Her friend grinned in response, lighting up her tanned sombre face. “You, actually. I came in search of you.”

Paula half gestured to herself, merrily. “Why trouble yourself?”

Martha grew serious at once. “I care about you. Aren't I allowed to?”

“Certainly, as I do.” 

Martha smiled a little incredulously. “Anyway, surely it's time to go back now?”

Paula raised a single eyebrow, then tilted her head back and assessed the position of the sun. “I guess. Why did you come to find me, Mar?”

“Oh, you know, I hardly see you now.” Her manner was evasive, which baffled Paula. “You're always out walking.”

“It's spring.” Paula waved the sprig of wattle at her. “The best time of the year. What's your favourite season?”

“Winter,” said Martha definitively. “Cold and empty and bleak.”

“Why do you like it that way?” she asked in surprise. Last time they'd talked about the seasons, she thought Martha had waxed poetic about the dying fire of autumn. 

“It's silent,” was Martha's quiet response. “Nobody bothers you.”

Paula paused to assess the time, decided they had to go back and led the way; Martha trailed her. “I thought you liked people.”

There was a short silence. “People don't tend to like me.”

“That's nonsense,” she responded immediately. Martha smiled, sad and sarcastic. 

“I don't tend to like me.”

Her calmness bothered Paula, and she sped up slightly. “Well, I do. You're fun, conversational and well read.”

“Which is why you disappear alone for hours.” She caught up and shot Paula a sidelong look, as if to say, I know your secrets. Except there were no secrets to know. 

“I like spring. It feels so alive and fresh, like all the past year's mistakes are washed away and there's new growth instead.”

“Very poetic.” Instead of amusement, Martha's tone was sour. She dodged past Paula and trotted quickstep the whole way back.

%%%%%%%

“I don't know what I did wrong,” finished Paula, twisting her hands nervously. “She got mad and I don't know why.”

Her mother glanced hurriedly across to check the next load wasn't ready, then turned to Paula again. “When people aren't happy it can be a temptation to take it out on others, especially those who are.”

“She said she was worried, and then she just changed and didn't want to talk to me.”

“Rebecca!” The shout made her mother focus on her own work; Paula moved her hoverboard closer to her father so he could load it up. This one was three bags of flour, heavy on the back and requiring stabilisation, which Paula remained still for while her father adjusted the controls. When it was done, he gave her a thumbs up and she gestured with her gloves, rising away from the site and on the journey to higher ground. It wasn't as easy to handle the unbalanced board; she would have done a lot more, and easier, with a transport hoverboard rather than the jury-rigged family board, but it was more economical and the decree had been that fuel, not time, was of the essence, since they'd planned well in advance. Indeed, today being the day before Big Tide, they had expected to have no more transport to do apart from the people, but someone had been digging too enthusiastically in their garden and cracked an underground storage container, so all of that had to be moved. 

She was most of the way there, wind in her face, when a fast personal hoverboard raced up beside her, village elder crouched to stave off the wind. He matched her speed, then unwound and said, “I'll take over from here. Take my board and go back—we need you to persuade people to go.”

“What?” She was already moving, assessing how to swap boards without any risk of either of them tumbling into the trees below while stepping across. “Why?”

He grimaced. “Turns out there are people who haven't prepared and don't want elders coming to help. Your dad suggested you could try and help instead.”

She started to shuck the gloves, then changed her mind and pressed buttons, keying them to the elder's hoverboard instead. As ownership switched, both boards lurched violently, and Paula barely held her position. The elder was wearing magnetic boots and so didn't run the risk of falling. Once she had stabilised it, she said, “So where do I start?”

“Ask your dad when you get back.” His expression was calm and focused as he adjusted the settings to accommodate for his weight. “For now, just get going. Time is of the essence. Big Tide waits for no man.”

[gatheredfates]

Hi everyone! It's been a hot minute since I did a Compendium update, but I promise I'm not dead. For those who don't know, I got a new job! That meant pretty much the entirety of October was spent wrapping up my old job, going to my new site and trying to learn the new one. I'm on break in approximately two weeks, yay! ☃️

These updates will take on a wintery/Starlight theme to celebrate the season, much like All Saints. I hope you enjoy.

Additionally, myself and the lovely folks at SEAFLOOR are having a Catch up (for) Starlight Challenge! You should join us if you're interested. ❄️

However, without further the following communities have been added to Sea's Community Compendium for XIV Creatives.

LARGE SCALE

The Help Lines—We are a community-based discord to be used to play the critically acclaimed MMORPG Final Fantasy XIV. We host almost all content including DRS and BA, Raiding, Deep Dungeons, Blue Mage and more. Our mission is to create a welcoming space for any individual in need of assistance to reach out and accomplish their FFXIV goals in a toxicity-free environment.

The Aether Entertainer—Founded in 2021 on Aether, The Aether Entertainer is player-made virtual magazine covering music, theatre, art, current events, and Eorzean popular culture.

LORE

Final Flowery XIV—Compiled by ann0yance(bsky)/@sa8oteur, this guide explores the various flowers in XIV, comparing them to their real-world equivalents and meanings.

On Elementals, Accountability and Criticism—An essay written by @morgana96 that explores the lore of elementals and their place in Gridania (and beyond)!

MISC

Vanilla Gpose Tips by Winterdeepelegy—A how-to guide on effectively utilising the vanilla gpose tools to create visually stunning screenshots, written by @winterdeepelegy.

WoL Reference Sheet—Created by @coldshrugs, a handy WoL reference sheet you can build in Canva!

NA GPOSE Studio/Themed Housing Directory—A player-made repository of North American Gpose studios and themed houses!

CHANGELOG

The Scholar's of Nym—The link has been modified at the request of the owner.

Skystone Co.—Has been removed at the request of its owner.

UI Macro Menus—The link has been modified to accurately reflect the bookmark.

Have you thought about joining our Tumblr Community? You can find it here!

Want to submit? You can either fill out the google form here or send me an ask with the relevant information!

Is my space suitable for the Compendium? Most of the time, yes! Below the read more is some more information/stipulations. This is all publicly available on the document. 🦌

Below are the following things I do not accept on the Compendium:

Personal/Single-Character LFC ads. (Though these get posted to the SEAFLOOR Tumblr Community when I find them!)

Content intended for or can be used for bullying, harassment and OOC gossip. E.g. ‘Secrets’ blogs, receipts, callout posts, etc. This does not include IC tabloid blogs or other ventures used to generate roleplay.

Communities that do not have an RP/writing element (large-scale exempt).

Anything I find personally distasteful or goes against the spirit of this project.

Common-sense rule applies.

I want to put my community on the Compendium but we have an application process. Is this okay?

Yes! Just note somewhere in your application that's a requirement. The only thing that is mandatory for the Compendium is that you must be open to new members or have a public-facing/accessible facet. There's no point advertising a community if no one can join it in some way!

I want to put my Community on the compendium but I only have x number of members —

Also totally okay! People don't start with large communities. Activity is a must but, whether your server has two or two thousand members, if you're looking for new people to join, I'd love to help you find people.

I want to put my community/resource on the Compendium but I worry its too niche?

Okay, and? If your Eorzean Fishing Alliance has four members but you roleplay every second weekend, I still want to know about it. The same goes for resources; if it's relevant to the game, it'll be useful to someone.

How active does a community need to be?

If you find a community has not been active in about two/three months, send me a message and I'll take a look at it. Communities have ebbs and flows, especially event spaces that may take hiatuses depending on member interest/life events. I'm not strict in my implementation provided a space isn't dead. If a link or anything is broken, contact me asap!

I have [insert a question not stated here]?

No drama! Send me an ask or use the #Compendium channel in my Discord!

[luckydragon10]

A Very Hum Bar Songkran

This is for @kpquickndirty, remix welcome.

This is ALSO for @songkranfest.

I've written this super-duper quickly, so it's probably a mess, but that's all part of the quickndirty fun. Inspiration from all over but mostly from here and here.

~~~

Porsche is up to something. Yok can always tell when Porsche is up to something. 

“Only hand-sized water pistols are allowed inside the bar!” Ball shouts out as a small group enters. “You can leave your soakers in the bin by the door and collect them on the way out! Your first drink tonight comes with a free water pistol.” 

Hum Bar is always a festive place, but it’s especially festive during Songkran. Yok has taken care to strew the place with fresh flowers, and she’s placed mats on the floor to prevent slipping, as patrons playfully squirt each other with small, brightly colored plastic water guns. 

Everyone is smiling, and laughing, as it should always be in Hum Bar. 

But Porsche… Porsche is far too quiet. He’s been whispering to the other bartenders whenever he thinks Yok isn’t watching, and his eyes shift nervously left and right. 

He’s doing it again right now. He’s watching the door and muttering something to Jet behind his hand. 

Then Tem comes in, carrying a bouquet of flowers. 

“Now!” Porsche shouts. “Jom, get jae now!” 

Yok’s first instinct is to brace herself to be soaked with water, but instead Jom, Porsche’s most precious and loyal friend, takes both of Yok’s wrists in his hands. 

“Come with me, over here!” Jom says, and he guides her to the corner booth, where Tem has cleared space and is placing the flowers on the table.

Yok has an inkling of what’s going on now, and she wants no part of it. “Stop, stop at once!” 

Porsche comes out from behind the bar, carrying a large silver bowl in his hands, full of water and flower petals.

“Hello, attention please!” Porsche calls out, and the din dies down as everyone turns heads to look at him. “Thank you, all of you, for joining us and celebrating Songkran with us! We’d now like to invite everyone to greet our senior, the wonderful, beautiful, talented, wise owner of this bar, Yok! She’s a little shy, but don’t let that stop you.” 

Everyone laughs. 

“I told you a million times, I am not an elder!” Yok objects. Porsche has tried to pull similar stunts before, one-on-one, in the back of Hum Bar or before a shift, but never in the middle of the night. Never before has he done it on this sort of scale, inviting all the guests to participate.

Sneaky, clever boy. It’s much harder for Yok to refuse, especially as the guests shout and encourage her to play along. 

“Please, Yok?” Porsche asks. He approaches the table and sets the silver bowl in front of her, and Jet places the smaller one next to it. Then Porsche turns on the puppy eyes. 

Yok feels her heart swell. 

She’s objected for years, not feeling like it was her place, and also not wanting to feel old. But…

“Please?” 

How can she say no?

“Oh, all right,” she relents, which causes everyone to cheer. “But let’s make this quick, so you all can get back to buying my booze, huh?” That earns her another laugh. 

So, one by one, the patrons bow their heads to her, and they use the smaller bowl to respectfully run water over her hands until her fingers feel soft and tender. She gives each of them a word or two of advice while they listen with folded hands. Her words are pleasant little phrases that lift their hearts and make them smile. 

The bartenders take their turns after the patrons. And of them, Porsche approaches her last. He holds her hands gently and looks up at her with something eager and desperate in his eyes, and Yok’s heart goes out to him. 

After he washes her hands, she puts her soggy fingers on one of his cheeks. 

“So naughty and stubborn,” she says, patting his cheek, and he has the grace to lower his eyes, even though he still smirks. “You finally found a way to make me cooperate, huh? After, what, four years?” 

“Five,” he corrects. 

“Cheeky,” Yok says. 

“Do you have any words of wisdom for me, jae?” 

What advice can she possibly give him? This boy has already been through things that Yok can hardly imagine. He’s practically a father to his brother, and he carries his family on his shoulders.

But still…

“You’re twenty-three now, aren’t you, Porsche?” she asks, and he nods, smiling. “Do this elder a favor and find someone who will fill your heart with joy and maybe look after you for a chance.” 

At first, Porsche looks stunned. HIs face goes slack, like the possibility never even occurred to him. Then he grins and shakes his head. 

“Aww, but flying solo is best way to—” 

“Did I stutter?” Yok glares. 

Porsche looks suitably terrified. 

“No, ma’am.”

“Good.” Yok pulls out one of the water pistols she has tucked into the waistband of her skirt and aims it at Porsche. “Back to work with you.”

She pulls the trigger three times in rapid succession, and Porsche yelps.

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-Chapter Thirty Teaser

Written Snippet Below The Cut.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember you like that."

The rain was an onslaught around us, drenching us to the bone and I shivered but refused to seek solace, not without her. Her blonde hair sticking to her face due to the rain. The confusion in her voice dug the knife deeper into my heart, the blade ripping apart the final bit of string that held our souls together.

"An-Y/N," I forced to correct myself, remembering what had happened earlier when I tried to call her angel. "It's me, Noah."

Those eyes I fell in love with blinked with so much emptiness behind them, making me sick to my stomach. How could she not remember me? Us? Everything we've been through.

I reached for her hand through the rain, and she stared at it for a long moment, nearly reaching back until a voice echoed throughout the parking lot, calling her over.

"Let's go, babe! We've got to make it to the next city!"

A low scowl pulled on my lips when I noticed the familiar tattoos and Y/N looked over her shoulder with a smile. "Two seconds!"

When she glanced back to me, I tried everything I could not to reach for her; not again.

"I'm sorry. I have to go," she gave me a weak smile. "I'm sorry I wasn't who you were looking for. Goodbye, friend."

I awoke in bed with a gasp, trying to stop my heart's rapid beating as I hastily looked around my surroundings. The small bunk with the black curtain secluded me from the outside world. Running a hand over my face, I rubbed away the cloudy vision from my eyes and felt the bunk shift next to me.

"Noah?" A tired shrilled voice called out in the darkness. "Everything alright, baby?"

Blinking away the rest of the haziness, I could barely make out a tattoo design on her back shoulder blade. Flower petals? Scales?

No.

Wings?

[gingermintpepper]

Fate-Master I

I did say I would post more wips of my Zeus and Apollo writing so here's a bit from a series I've been writing concerning a young Apollo grappling with being the up and coming Moiragetes - Master of the Fates.

Do let me know if there's any interest for this sort of thing; I didn't originally intend to post this stuff anywhere, but I've just been so frustrated that I feel like it's necessary now 😂

Apollo marks time by etching notches into a clay tablet. He watches from the edge of the mountain’s summit, six of his crows perched three-by-three atop his shoulders and the seventh casting her gaze down onto the maidens all gathered to pick their flowers. He watches them laugh and joke and throw their petals all about, free and fragrant with an easy camaraderie spread thick between them all. He carves his first notch when Persephone lays eyes on the innocent narcissus; in his visions he could never make sense of time’s passing - he did not know how long she would remain swallowed, merely that it would be long enough for her to be missed, searched for, grieved and avenged.

 It will be worth it all in the end.  

Soon, all the world will delight in the birth of new Seasons, a new system of time to mark the stabilisation of this new era.  

He averts his eyes when the earth crumbles beneath Persephone’s feet. There is no way for him to deny it if he truly does bear witness to the act. Apollo cannot see the pitch-black rider on his earth-dark horses as he grabs the maiden. He cannot see those immortal steeds galloping down, down, infinitely down beneath the earth so their rider may delight in his prize. He does not know the sound of her screams as the ground eats her alive. Only the narcissus remains when he once more casts his gaze down, white and untouched. Innocent. Like Apollo. Neither of them have seen a single thing. 

(But oh, her screams are loud in his ear. Big, reedy yells, wet with phlegm. A fawn crying for her mother, the tittering of a sparrowling swallowed foot-first by the viper. They never seemed this loud in his dreams, like footnotes easily overlooked at the very bottom of the page. Apollo does not see her go, but he hears her. He hopes he is the only one who hears.) 

He calls for his darling crow to return to him, stepping light into the halls of Olympus. His day will continue on as normal but to visit his mother so he can request a particularly thick himation for the coming days. Lemnos clicks next to his ear and Apollo huffs, dismissing his crows in a scatter of bright white feathers and glittering metal. They will watch what he cannot. They will make sure the maiden remains buried deep beneath the earth. 

The subtle cold emanating from his father’s quarters curls about his calves - he did not realise he had already travelled the length of the halls. He does not knock before he enters; the women are all busy this time of day and shrewd Athena is still out dancing with his sister, it will just be Father in his room, bent over his table or pouring over one of his maps. 

“It is done.” 

And Father looks up from his writing, a knowing glint shining in wine-dark eyes. His face remains frightfully still, marble stiff and focused on Apollo with the full weight of his eagle sharp intent. “You did not see it?” 

Her scream is the same as the highest note on the aeolian scale. A wonderfully piercing ‘A’. It is similar to the sound that resonates in the sky’s centre, Apollo cannot stop hearing it in his ear. “I did not.” 

Father smiles then, like sunlight peeking through the rough edges of the storm, “Good. That’s good.” He puts his hand to his face, scratches his chin as he hums contemplative. “How much time do we have before… well, before.” 

Demeter’s wailing will be a much darker sound, phrygian and guttural, discordant. Apollo’s had the score written for months now. He thinks he will hang Persephone’s cry next to it. Maybe he will incorporate their melodies into the song he will play at her return. Maybe it is cruel of him to already be thinking such things. “I know not. Time has never been the clearest to me, even in my most vivid of visions.” 

“It is no matter,” Father leans forward, digs a bolt of bright red fabric out of his drawer. “Here,” When he catches it, Apollo feels a denseness in the fibres he has never known. They’re slick yet springy, far coarser than sheep’s wool but unlike any goatskin or leather he has ever handled. “For the cloak you will ask of your mother.”   

He is slowly becoming accustomed to his thoughts not being his own, to his father living so closely in his head. The woven string connecting them still bleeds dye if either of them pull too hard on the connection, but in these quiet moments, it is a comfort. A lifeline. 

“Chimera skin, so it will not burn when you wear it for your work.” Would Father be this calm if it was Artemis swallowed by the earth? Would Apollo? That watery scream is a persistent ringing, she is still screaming far beneath where none but the rider can hear her. (Apollo hears her. Even now, he can hear the heavy breath of the dark stallions, the ripping winds that sting at her ears. Persephone is a friend, can he really leave her to this fate -?) “Phoebus.” 

Father’s broad palm is warm on his shoulder. It pulls him gently from his spiralling thoughts. The heat is unexpected; even now, Apollo can feel his toes going stiff from the room’s chill. 

“I am well,” he hears himself say, distant like the clanging stallion hooves which carry the rider’s prize deeper beneath the earth. Father does not let him go when he tries to escape. He does not tighten his hold either. His hand merely remains on Apollo’s slim shoulder, a point to anchor him here and not there. Apollo focuses on the faint hum of his father’s power, the gentle whistle of his cloud-hairs as they flow about his head, the muffled shuffling of his crows’ feathers as they settle in the gables to await his return. He no longer hears her. Not her, not the dread chariot. He cannot hear a single thing. “I am well.” 

[eri-pl]

Silm Advent Calendar 3: the Wise

"This I cannot tell thee."

Why? Finrod shouldn't have asked, but here — where thinking and asking were the same — he could not help it. He'd lost so many friends, Mannish friends (mostly not even at his own fault, surprisingly) and all what Andreth had told him was so comforting, it fit so well, it did feel like truth, and yet, to have a clear answer, even a small bit of it—

"Tis not a knowledge meant for the Eldar," said Lord Námo.

But why? Because it did not concern them? And yet it did. There was more time until it would matter, but it would. He knew so little. They all knew so little, despite the tomes of philosophy that had been written during the Long Peace, despite having learned from the Valar, despite calling themselves "the Wise" they knew so very little about anything that would matter in the end.

Even on the small scale… Lord Námo had told him that Beren survived. But what about his quest?

"Their quest. They shall go together from now on."

But Lúthien— childish, laughing, precious Lúthien, who had danced in the forest, and tumbled down the hills! Will she— Can she— How terrible shall it be?

"Thou asketh many questions. But this one I can answer. They shall win the Silmaril, and Elu Thingol shall receive his price and his doom."

Doom. So the sons of Feanor would slay them all in the end? Finrod's brave friend, his sweet cousin—an impossible victory only to perish because of it?

"See, this is the trouble with giving you answers. They only lead to more questions. Not by the sons of Feanor shall they perish, but perish they shall indeed. And what comes after—this I do not know." There was a hint of satisfaction in Lord Námo's words.

Finrod should feel sorry for having so many questions, or at least uneasy for frustrating a Vala. And yet, he could not help but pity the poor, sweet Lúthien, who often used to say so many words with so little thought, and yet it would not be true to call her less wise than any of the Noldor. It was simply a different kind of wisdom. Loving every flower, wishing to catch a star and wear it—

The wave of Lord Námo's attention—his thoughts touching Finrod's in common wonder—was bright, but not painful. Everything was silent—a silence of minds pondering half-understood premonitions that can't be yet put to words.

A memory of Lúthien wishing to see world's most beautiful treasure, to catch a star and wear it as a trinket—And she would.

Time passed in strange currents unlike in the lands of the living, and on the edges of Finrod's attention, tapestries grew.

Lúthien wishing to have a love as great as her parent's but somehow greater, a love that songs would be sang about—And she had.

The tapestries became tangled and strange.

No, not tangled. Interwoven with others, and pins of silver and gold kept from unraveling the loops that waited to connect to events yet unwoven.

Lúthien wishing to find something beyond what even her mother could deram of—

Unsaid, half-understood like a Mannish dream and yet more like a waking world seen from within a dream—

Finrod wished that he had eyes so that they could be wet with tears. He wished that his voice could tremble and he would say that (after he had this moment now, after he'd seen Lord Námo (surprised?) listening to him—to him!) he would not question why Men are given (fragments, shadows, tangled threads of) an answer and the Elves nothing.

There was beauty in that, even if lined with sadness.

But he was dead and there was no voice to break, no eyes to tear up. All his thoughts were bare, and many of them did not make him as wise as names would have it.

"Still, you are much less of a fool than most of the wise. But I must go now." Lord Námo did not have Finrod's limitations, and his voice—mind or not—trembled. "She is here, seeking to say farewells to her love."