#this is one of those times where I wish I can lucid dream

[mamingle]

I’ve had this weird reoccurring dream these past few nights where no matter what the context of the dream is, it would always end with this random girl wearing a shitty blonde wig and ill-fitting Supergirl costume going up to me, poking my shoulder, and saying “You’re super tagged.”, before running away with a shit-eating grin.

Needless to say, I always wake up confused and slightly miffed that I didn’t get the chance to tag her back.

#irl stuff #who even is she #maybe I'll never know #this is one of those times where I wish I can lucid dream

[st-eve-barnes]

Pretty little liars (chapter 1)

(Felix Catton x fem Reader)

Summary: Felix Catton was the embodiment of everything you hated, yet you loved him like you never imagined one human being could love another. But as with all good things, you didn't know what you had until it was stolen from you.

This Chapter: Your first experiences with Saltburn and the infamous Felix Catton

Word count: +3500

Warning for the entire fic: 18+ for explicit content and language. Enemies to lovers vibes. Oral (fem & male receiving), p in v sex, fingering, ... Jealousy, voyeurism, secrets, toxic relationships, mentions of death. Oliver being his creepy little self.

ANGST/smut/fluff (do I ever write anything else? lol)

***

Saltburn has altered my brain chemistry and Felix won't leave my mind so I had to give him his own mini series. Tag list is open for those who want on it ;)

***

All these and older fics are also on AO3 If you want to support my writing you can Buy me a KoFi or feed me with a lovely comment ;)

***

You weren’t just in love with Felix Catton. It would be an insult to the depth of your feelings for him to call it that. You loved him like you never imagined one human being could love another.

Felix Catton was sunlight personified. He lit up a room like no one else could, drew people to his light without even trying.

You couldn’t see it at first, blinded by the riches and the money. But it wasn’t about that.

Felix was more. More than you bargained for, and far more than you deserved.

But as with all good things, you didn’t know what you had until it was taken from you.

He was staring at you but looking right through you, no life left in his teary eyes where he lay on the ground in the middle of the maze, golden wings spread out beneath him. He looked so pale, almost inhuman. Like an angel, fallen to the earth. 

It was dark and quiet in the maze, the statue looming over you like a bad omen.The music and happy chatter in the distance might as well have come from another planet. Behind these walls there was no music playing, no laughter, only grief.

Your hands were shaking, grabbing at his chest almost violently, your sadness turning into anger. Don’t you fucking leave me here alone in this place. You promised you wouldn’t leave me alone out here.

Elspeth’s desperate sobs kept filling your ears: “He’s not breathing, my baby’s not breathing, oh god he’s not breathing.”

You wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole, swallow every single person here and the whole of Saltburn with it. 

What good was it without him? What good was any of it?

What good were you?

***

1 year earlier

The first time you set foot in Saltburn you had no idea where to look first. Everything was so beautiful, shiny, luxurious, authentic. Excessive.

You had heard all the stories about the infamous Catton family and their household but to walk through it, observe it all with your own two eyes, was a much different experience.

It felt like a lucid dream and in the midst of it all stood him.

Felix Catton. 

Beloved son and brother, life of the party, everybody’s best friend, infamous fuck boy.

He had a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other, chatting away to whoever gave him attention, male or female, it didn’t matter, they all hung on his every word.

You couldn’t stand him. Not even specifically him but people like him. Pretty rich kids. Life was so easy for him it just wasn’t fucking fair to the rest of you.

“Here,” your friend shoved a drink into your hand and gave you an encouraging smile,”It’s a party, Y/N, can you at least try to look like I’m not holding you at gun point here?”

“Sorry,” you sighed, taking a sip from your drink as you followed your friend through the endless garden of the estate.

It was hot, it had been like this for a couple of weeks now even though officially the summer was yet to start. The only relief was a soft evening breeze and the ice cold drink numbing your throat. You weren’t even supposed to be here, your friend had snuck you in, encouraging you to experience a true Saltburn party for yourself. You’d been curious as hell, so of course you’d said yes.

A decision you were already regretting.

You hated these people, it was all so shallow, and meaningless, and a million miles away from your world. But you didn’t want to seem ungrateful for the -unofficial- invite so you danced with your friend and drank, smiled and pretended to fit in. At least the alcohol made it easy for you to fake your way through the night.

You were losing yourself in the music when your friend leaned closer to you on the dance floor with a grin and a whisper into your ear,“He’s been staring at you for the last 10 minutes.”

“Who?”

“Felix. He’s so fucking hot, girl, you should go to him and go for it.”

You laughed while you continued dancing,”I think not! I may be drunk but I’m not that drunk, Bella.”

“Come on,” she tried to encourage you.

“No thanks, why would I even be interested in him? He’s just a rich asshole,” you pointed out, taking another sip from your drink while your eyes drifted off to Felix. He was standing with a group of people by the side of the dance floor and the maze and his eyes were already on you. You looked away again quickly, shaking your head with another chuckle while you finished your drink.

“See?!” your friend poked into your side with a grin,”You sure you’re not interested?”

“I’m not interested in spoiled little rich kids.”

“Girl, there is nothing about that man that is little,” your friend joked and then almost choked on her own laughter. You couldn’t help but join in.

“Shut up,” you pushed her back playfully.

“No but for real, Felix is a good egg, the best out of all of them,” she pointed out and you rolled your eyes in judgment.

“That isn't saying much, is it? They're all rich assholes.”

“Felix is nice though,” she insisted,”He’s always kind, and so welcoming, and always in a good mood.”

You snorted,”Please, if my family was this rich I’d always be in a good mood as well, fuck. That guy hasn’t had to struggle a day in his life.”

“That’s pretty presumptuous of you,” she pointed out.

“It’s written all over him, come on, he’s a walking cliche, Bella.”

You friend shrugged her shoulders,”Alright, whatever. It’s your loss, I hear he really knows how to please a girl.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again,“That guy? I highly doubt it. Everyone wants to fuck him anyway, he doesn’t even have to try and be good at it. Girls will lay at his feet either way. And guys.”

“I’m just saying, you could take the test and find out for yourself, what have you got to lose?” she teased.

“I think I’ll manage fine without having Felix Catton in my life, thanks. I’m gonna go get another refill.”

You left your friend on the dance floor but you quickly came to regret that decision.

You’d been fine on your feet while dancing but now as you were trying to move through the crowd you suddenly felt dizzy, as if someone had put something in your drink, or you were just a whole lot more drunk than you had initially thought. The ground seemed to be moving under your feet as you fought to keep your balance. Something you were failing horribly at and just as you were about to lose the fight entirely and fall down onto the grass two strong hands came to rest on your shoulders, holding you up.

“Whoa, hey, you alright there, love?”

You looked up to meet his eyes. God, he really was freakishly tall, you had never felt smaller in your life.

“Felix,” you breathed.

“Hi, there,” he smiled at you and opened his mouth to say something else but it never reached your ears as you were too busy vomiting out your guts all over his shirt and shoes.

***

“Here,” Felix handed you a glass of water with two pills in it. 

You were sitting on the edge of the counter in one of the guest bathrooms downstairs. It was a blur how you got here, you vaguely remembered Felix carrying you into the house and holding your hair back while you threw up into the fancy toilet.

You looked up at him, your vision still blurry. You noticed he had changed shirts and was barefoot now.

You hesitantly took the glass from his hands but didn’t drink it yet.

“It’s for your stomach, I’m not trying to drug you, promise.”

His voice was kinder than you'd imagined and you carefully took a sip and then another one until you could feel the liquor settle in your stomach. It wasn’t making you feel worse so you drank some more. 

“Thanks,” you whispered.

“I haven’t seen you at one of these parties before,” Felix stated.

“No, I…I’m new.”

He smiled. Felix Catton smiled at you and it was like looking directly into the sun.

You took another sip from the drink he handed you, avoiding his gaze, giving yourself a moment of respite. He really was breathtaking up close, even you had to admit that.

”I’m really sorry about your shirt,” you then sighed.

“That’s quite alright. You’re not the first girl to throw up on me.”

You laughed.”Okay, good to know I’m not special.”

Your words made him chuckle.”So do you have a name, new girl?”

“It’s Y/N,” you answered hesitantly.

Felix repeated your name attentively. Why did it sound so much better coming from his lips than from your own?

“You can crash here tonight if you want,” he suggested,”Plenty of guest rooms to choose from. Or one of our drivers can take you home.”

“One of your drivers?” you shook your head with a smile, his words bringing you back down to reality really fast,”Jesus, fuck, you and I come from such different worlds, it would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic.”

“I can ditch you outside of the gates and make you walk home,” he teased,”But that would be cruel, wouldn’t it?”

You shook your head with a sneer and then sighed.

“Look, it’s whatever you prefer,” he added casually.

You finished the last of the drink and got up,”I think I’d just prefer to go home, by myself. Thanks for this, but I’m okay now.”

“Okay then,” Felix nodded, a small intrigued smile forming on his lips as he watched you leave the room.

“See you at the next one, new girl,” he yelled after you.

***

The second time you talked to Felix was two weeks later. You had been going with Bella to the Saltburn estate a couple more times since then. She had developed a little crush on Oliver, one of Felix’s new friends who seemed to hang around the house all the time. She had felt a little anxious going there on her own, so she begged you to accompany her and you did what any good friend would do.

It had nothing to do with Felix or Saltburn. Not back then anyway.

You had spent the entire afternoon lounging around the pool with a big group of people. Bella had taken the opportunity to get closer to Oliver who seemed charmed by her interest in him and happily engaged in conversation. You mostly stuck to yourself and soaked up the sun while you read your book. Felix hadn’t approached you once but that didn’t stop him from stealing glances at you every time he thought you weren’t looking.

When the sun was starting to go down you said your goodbye to Bella and Oliver and decided to head back home. You had called a cab to come pick you up by the gate, where Felix found you having a discussion with the taxi driver.

“I have the money I just don’t have it on me right now,” you pleaded but the asshole wasn’t budging.

“Money now or I’m not taking you anywhere, sweetheart,” he insisted.

“I can give you half now and the rest when I get home, come on, it’s not a problem. Do I look like I don’t have money?”

“You rich kids always think the rules don’t apply to you, don’t you? Pay up front, or you’re walking.”

You sighed annoyed, ready to plead your case some more when suddenly you heard someone calling out your name.

It was Felix.

You weren’t sure what surprised you the most, the big beaming smile with which he walked up to you as if you were close friends, or the fact that he remembered your name. You hadn’t spoken to him since your embarrassing display at that party weeks ago. He’d seemed happy to ignore you after that and you had done the same, feeling no interest in getting to know him further.

“You forgot this, love,” he smiled at you and wrapped a jacket over your shoulders, the sleeves were about four sizes too big for you and the whole thing almost came down to your knees. 

You were completely lost for words.

He leaned in a little closer to whisper in your ear,”I think you left your money in there as well.”

He tapped on the pocket with his finger and you could see a few 10 pound notes sticking out.

“Felix,” you sighed,”You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” he feigned innocence,”This is yours, now pay the good man before he ditches you and makes you walk home.”

“I…okay, fine,” you sighed, giving in and taking out the money needed to pay for your ride home.

“Perfect,” the taxi driver grinned,”Pleasure doing business with you.”

Felix stood with his hands in his pockets and a satisfied grin on his face while the man opened the door and waited for you to get in.

You sighed again and looked back into his big brown eyes.

“I’ll pay you back,” you whispered before getting into the car.

“That’s not necessary, new girl,” he called after you and gave you a big wave as the car drove away with you in it.

You hated that it made you smile.

****

You hated to admit that you were starting to enjoy the weekly parties at Saltburn, it had become your guilty pleasure weekend activity.

Bella and Oliver had grown closer together and you couldn’t deny you enjoyed his company as well, he seemed different from all the other rich kids and you had a strong feeling that he was just pretending to fit in, much like yourself. Neither of you spoke of it but when you looked into his eyes you knew, and you knew he knew as well. Neither of you belonged here.

Felix was mixing drinks behind the bar when you put the money you owed him on the counter.”Here.”

He gave you a smile and shook his head,”I told you that wasn’t necessary.”

“Yes, it is,” you insisted.

“Really it was nothing, it was barely 4O pounds.”

“And I’m sure in your world that’s considered nothing but in mine it’s….,” you swallowed the rest of your angry words before you would say things you’d end up regretting later.”Just take the damn money.”

He lifted his hands up in defense and laughed,”Alright, fine, I’ll take the money, thank you for paying me back, what the fuck?”

You sighed annoyed and walked away from him, leaving him shaking his head in confusion.

You went back to ignoring him for the rest of the night, or at least trying to. You couldn’t help but find yourself looking at him from time to time. He was always chatting to someone, always laughing and drinking and looking like he was having the time of his life. You wondered if at least part of that was an act, if it ever exhausted him to play the ever friendly host and life of every party. Nobody was happy all the time, weren’t they? Not even Felix Catton.

You looked away when he stared back at you, ignoring the emotions that started bubbling up in the pit of your stomach. You felt strangely drawn to him, and you hated yourself for allowing that feeling.

Bella was the one to pull you out of your thoughts and onto the dance floor and you went willingly, losing yourself in the music and the rhythm. When a few guys came to join you both you didn’t think much of it and you happily let them dance close to you. It wasn’t after some time that you noticed Bella wasn’t there anymore and there was one guy in particular who seemed to have some issues with personal space. His hands were traveling further up your hips and under your shirt while he started grinding up against you.

Your hands on his chest tried to push him back a little bit as you tried to dance away from him but his hold on your hips was too strong.

“Hey, come on, stop that,” you politely tried to create some distance between you both but the guy ignored all your attempts. When his hand tried to slip under the hem of your skirt to feel up your ass you were ready to throw punches at this jerk. Just before you could make your move someone grabbed your hand and slowly but firmly pulled you away from the guy. 

Felix.

Before you realized what was happening your back was pressed up against his large chest, his hands on your waist as he danced behind you, his face buried into your hair while he made eye contact with the guy in front of you.

“Sorry, mate, she’s one of mine, off limits,” he stated, as if that explained everything.

And apparently it did because the guy just smiled apologetically at Felix and stepped back immediately.

“Hey,” Felix winked at the guy,”India over there is looking like she could use some company, shoot your shot, man.” 

The jerk gave him a big smile and two thumbs up.

You wanted to punch both of them. 

You were no longer in need of rescuing but Felix still kept dancing with you. His hands were gentle on your hips, keeping you close but not too close, giving you the freedom to step back should you choose to.

But you didn’t make that choice. 

Your body betrayed you by leaning into him, allowing him to nuzzle your hair and your neck, putting goosebumps all over your arms and Felix smiled when he noticed. When his lips brushed your ear your brain finally kicked back into gear and you broke out of his embrace, surprising him.

“Some nice mates you have there,” you pointed out as you turned to look at him,” And one of yours? Do you have like a spare set of everything? Even girls?”

Felix just shook his head with a bashful smile.

“Of course you do,” you then sighed,”Why am I even surprised? God, you are so…”

“What?” he asked, a playful grin on his face,”What am I?”

“Annoying,” you blurted out,”Privileged, full of yourself, ignorant.”

Beautiful, enchanting, mesmerizing.

“Alright, don’t hold back on me now,” he laughed, seemingly amused by your anger and that only angered you further.

You bit your tongue and then shook your head,”You know what, forget it, I don’t even know why I bother.”

You wanted to turn on your heel but Felix reached for your hand, lacing his long fingers with your much smaller ones and keeping you close to him.

“Why do you bother?” he then asked, intrigued, eyes locking with yours,”Why do you keep coming back here when you clearly hate everything about this place?”

“Because my friend…”

“No, no, no, your friend isn’t even here tonight, that’s an excuse. Why are you here?”

Your mouth opened but the words weren’t coming out. Because you would rather die than admit why you were really here.

“I like big parties where I don’t have to pay for anything,” you lied, avoiding his gaze. Felix just laughed and God, you wanted to wipe that beautiful smile off his gorgeous face so badly.

Then he leaned down to be able to stare deep down into your eyes, his voice nothing but a whisper,”You’re a pretty little liar, new girl.”

His deep voice and intense stare were enough to shut you up entirely and you had to look away from him to find your voice again.

“I had him, I didn’t need you,” you then blurted out.

“Didn’t look like it to me,” he shrugged.

“I would have handled it,” you insisted.

“The right thing to say is thank you, Felix, that was pretty nice of you,” he teased, making your blood boil.

“You…ugh…,” you angrily turned your back on him and stormed off the dance floor.

“You’re welcome,” he yelled after you with a big smile on his face,”See you at the next one, Y/N.”

“Asshole.”

You wanted to hate him, you really did, Felix Catton stood for everything you despised. But you could still feel the warmth of his hands on your hips, feel where his breath had grazed your neck until your skin erupted in goosebumps, feel how deeply his eyes bored a way straight into your soul.

You hated how you didn’t hate him at all and above all else you hated how he reduced you to just another Felix groupie. That wasn’t you.

He had no idea who you were. 

And he could never find out. 

#felix catton x reader #felix catton x you #felix catton fanfic #jacob elordi fanfic #saltburn fanfic #oliver quick fanfic #please show up in the tags this time!

[lotusmi]

whew, so this is a LOT for me right now, I felt really down about the void because I kept trying and couldn't enter yet I came across the post about the DMT video where everybody seemed to get either lucid dreams or enter the void. I read that the video will at least give you something, so I was really excited to try it since I thought that the fact that Almost every post I read is about somebody getting some time of results from the video ,I would too. But to my disappointment nothing happened, I tried again and again yet nothing. this is making me very frustrated and I'm bringing my anger on everybody around me, I'm hating on my family members and blaming my religion because I think its the reason why everyone can enter but I can't. I feel like crying because whenever I try for the void and it didn't work I would brush it off and not care even though deep down it hurt. Time is going soo fast and I'm scared I won't manifest in time , at the beginning of the school year when we had a four day weekend I was like this is my time to shine yet nothing happened, I didn't give up hope and decided to try again during winter break, yet to no avail and now its spring break and the school year is basically done and I couldn't even get one wish granted from my wish list,I'm scared the spring break is the last long Break I have to make I change, What if it doesn't work, then I spent a whole school year basically getting nothing. I really feel like the spring break is my LAST chance because there is so many things I wanted to happen that I still have hope can happen if i just enter the void.

dude, if you expect me to pet your head while you had the audacity to write me all this text obessing over the void you were very wrong...

I am very firstly just start saying AGAIN that I am not a void blogger and all those void shit are not my business at all and it seems that you did not even read the posts I made about the void, I know if you did read you would not be despaired like that.

"I read that the video will at least give you something, so I was really excited to try it since I thought that the fact that Almost every post I read is about somebody getting some time of results from the video''

NOTHING in the outside world has more power than you. And there's nothing to change or 'expect' to save you. Nothing outside of YOU can save YOU because the creative power of the whole universe is in your imagination. You do not need the void, a method, a sub, you NEED yourself.

"The great importance of knowing all you need to tap into the void is SELF is that you will stop checking new subliminals, new methods, seeking for information or trying to wonder what you are doing 'wrong'. You have to go straight to the wish fulfilled feeling, you change SELF. All you are searching for is Self." READ THIS POST!!!!!!!

"But to my disappointment nothing happened, I tried again and again yet nothing"

Yes of course, and nothing would NEVER change if you won't change your assumptions about yourSELF. This is not even about the void anymore. As you keep this state of never getting in the void or even this state of 'my life is shit' shit will keep happening to you and this is never going to stop unless YOU DECIDE TO. 'tried tried tried' I don't want you to try anything, you don't have to try. You just have to accept a completely new concept (assumption) about this by deciding you are at your new, desired state. Creation is finished, it is done. There's nothing to create. You just have to understand it is done. And if you read my posts, you would know I would recommend you revising this 'failure' as it never happened, don't accept it! By keep thinking and thinking you are only creating more failure, you can revise or ignore, but keep dweling in failure like a victim will imply your victim state.

"this is making me very frustrated and I'm bringing my anger on everybody around me, I'm hating on my family members"

I don't even know what to comment. This is not your family problem, it is yours. Why keep putting the fault in others? You should be embarassed of guilt trip others like that when you are The Creator of your reality.

"I think its the reason why everyone can enter but I can't"

well the problem will NEVER be outside. It's always within. So it there's any reason, the reason is you. You are the Cause. "The entire outer world is solely produced by imagining." + The power in you is the exactly same power in everyone that succeeded. The difference are the assumptions you hold.

"Time is going soo fast and I'm scared I won't manifest in time"

Time is not real and fear is an illusion. + Creation is DONE. There's no such a thing as not having time. You have to understand that manifesting is done in IMAGINATION and there's no past or future in the mind, there's only NOW. So assume you are and have what you want NOW.

"yet nothing happened"

Nothing happens 'out of nowhere'. You have to assume in your favour. You have the power. No one is coming to save you or to pick you and put you in the void. YOU have to take control.

"I couldn't even get one wish granted from my wish list"

You are the only creator in your reality, if you had knew that your imagination was your real reality and accepted your desired there by fulfilling within your desires, ALL your wishes would be granted now. “Dwelling on past irritations or hurts perpetuates them and creates a vicious circle that serves to confirm these negative emotions.” Neville Goddard

"I'm scared the spring break is the last long Break I have to make I change, What if it doesn't work, then I spent a whole school year basically getting nothing."

What you won't see is that the future is being made by you RIGHT NOW. It's not some random crazy thing that will happen to you. But what you assume to your life. Again, there's nothing to change outside of you, all you have to change is yourself, within. EVERYTHING STARTS FROM WITHIN, YOUR IMAGINATION. + Why are you concerning by it won't working at this point? Literally, I already said that you have to start ignoring those doubts, you already know that doubts are not real and you should not pay attention to any of those annoying thoughts since thoughts DONT manifest. What you accept and identify yourself as being or having DO. You are literally assuming failure to your future omg...

"I really feel like the spring break is my LAST chance because there is so many things I wanted to happen"

Why would it be the 'last chance'? This does not even has any sense at all. You can revise all your past literally as you want. + Just assume those things already happened in your future

"I still have hope can happen if i just enter the void"

The void is just a method. Omg. Stop obesessing over it. You can have all you want my fulfilling your desires within. Stop putting a method in a pedestral. This literally looks soo unhealthy not gonna lie. Work in your Self Concept, manifest without the void WHILE attempting to tap, learn better about the law. Read this, this, this, this.

"All changes must first come from within himself; and if he does not change on the outside it is because he has not changed within. But man does not like to feel that he is solely responsible for the conditions of his life" - Neville Goddard

#loa advice #neville goddard #law of assumption #loa blog #loa tumblr #living in the end #manifesting #lotus's advices #the void #the void state #void state

[zoeysdamn]

There shall be night - Part.1 Morpheus x priestess! reader

Religious themes (Ancient Greece)

The Morpheus x reader doesn’t start right away, I’m not good at making things happening quickly lmao

Also, English isn’t my first language, I apologize deeply for the possible grammar mistakes!

Enjoy ♥

There used to be a time where gods were worshipped by mortals, way more than the modern times ever could. Those times were the era of temples and devoted beings, of prophecies and offerings. Some gods took pride in having so many signs of devotions in the followers and temples dedicated to their names. Some simply never answered the prayers, remaining silent and absent to their devotees’ words. And some of them had peculiar worshippers, who would gladly serve them through their own duties. Even though ageless, the young Dream of the Endless knew that his priestesses belonged to the last kind of worshipers. Back then in Ancient Greece, even before he married Calliope, he discovered his first devotees. 

The first one was already a middle-aged woman when he first met her in the Dreaming. Back then, lucid dreamers were still a relatively new phenomenon in his realm. When he saw the woman consciously wandering through his realm and interact with other dreamers, he said,

“Who are you, dreamer?”

“A simple woman” she said 

“How come you interact with other’s dreams?” asked the Dream Lord, perplexed by such action.

“So they can go through their sleep as it was intended, my Lord”

Narrowing his eyes and still unsure of her intentions, he asked her “Are you here to try to change the course of those people’s dreams, woman?”

“That is not in my power, my Lord” she said humbly. “I am but making sure they carry on their sleep, for they need this place as much as the feeling of the earth beneath their feets when they have woken up.” 

A long silence hung in the air. The King of the Dreaming took a long look of this woman, already a long way through her lifetime, considering the era ; her kind eyes and strands of grey hair, the shawl on her shoulders and her hands humbly tucked together before her, reminded him somehow of the Hekate. Nothing made him believe she could be lying, although he still didn’t really understand why she wanted to make sure the dreamers stayed the planned time in his realm. 

“Why are you helping those dreamers, woman? Do you have any interest in doing so?”  asked Dream. 

“None but helping you through your duties, Oneroi” she answered calmly with a bow of her head. “Dreaming is a powerful thing that we humans may not always understand. I merely wish to help those who seek answers for this part of their lives. For I believe this realm is no less real than the grounds we’re walking on day by day” 

Dream inhaled deeply, quite impressed by the clarity of this mere mortal’s mind. For he knew every single creation of his has a purpose for dreamers, it was rare that someone else shared his opinion. 

“Very well” he stated slowly “If you wish to serve the Dreaming, then you shall. Help the dreamers, in your world or mine, woman.”

“I am at your service, my Lord”, bowed the woman in response. 

And thus, the first Priestess of Morpheus was created.

When she was a little girl, (Y/N) had heard her grandmother's story countless times. Her grandma may have been close to a hundred years old, she would always take time for her precious granddaughter if she asked for the story one more time. They would sit together on the temple’s stairs, the old priestess and the young child, talking for hours until the sun went down. 

“Grandma, what's Dreaming like?” asked (Y/N) while playing with the hem of her white robes. 

“It is a place where all became possible, my child” respond the eldery woman “You can feel everything and more if you open yourself to the land of Dreams”

“Is that why you go there so often? To feel things?” frowned the child, not entirely sure of what it meant. 

“No child, I already feel plenty of things in the Waking World. But the experiences in the Dreaming helps me to see things differently here, for we all have a lot to learn from our dreams” 

“Even…from our nightmares?” (Y/N) asked in a small voice. 

Her grandmother looked at her fondly and cradled her grandchild in her arms “Yes, even from our nightmares. That is why there is no use to deny ourselves from dreaming. Wonderful things can comes from it, however the Dream Lord has shaped it for us”

(Y/N) hummed pensively in response, like she slowly understood what her grandmother said. She knew that her grandmother was this old thanks to the Dream Lord’s doing. Her own mother once told her that some sand gave her a longer life, in reward for her duties. (Y/N) didn’t understand it yet, but it was alright: her mother and grandmother often spoke in mysterious terms to her, but she knew that it would make sense one day. All the other priestesses say so, too. 

“Did you have another dream, my child?” asked her grandmother as the setting sun rained his golden light on the temple.

“Hmmm” hummed the little girl. “I dreamt that Poeinos, the fisherman’s son, would find a rabbit behind Athena’s statue near the place. Argis’ nephews were there, too.”

“And what of it?” 

(Y/N) stayed silent a few seconds before answering “It happened this morning, just like in my dream”. 

Sensing the uneasiness of the young girl, the old priestess ran a soothing hand in her hair.

“Does it frighten you, my child?”

The young (Y/N) shrugged a bit “I don’t know. A little, maybe”

“You are gifted with a precious skill, young one. For premonitory dreams are quite rare, even among us priestesses”

“Will I make a good priestess, grandma?” she asked, looking up at her parents. 

The old woman looked at her fondly. She gazed at her granddaughter, remembering her smiles, the small frown of her eyebrows when she tried so hard to understand things, her willingness to always help those who visited the temple and seeked other priestesses’ help, and the devotion she already unconsciously helds for the Dreaming world. She was thankful and happy to have lived long enough to see her granddaughter grow, already becoming a better priestess than she ever was. 

“You will be, my child. That you will be”

(Y/N) smiled brightly at the older woman, and squeezed her into a tight hug. Before them, the sun was dying on the horizon, colouring the sky with red and orange hues. High on the celestial vault, dark shades of blue were already spreading ready to envelop the Waking world into the familiar embrace cherished by the two women on the stairs. 

“There shall be night” said the old priestess in a calm voice. 

(Y/N) nodded, already used to the Dream Lord’s followers' usual saying.

“There shall be night” she repeated.

[Part.2]

A/N: I literally haven’t write anything since 2019 lmao I have 0 clue of what I’m doing rn *sobs*

This was supposed to be a simple reader insert and now boom, I’m already writing part 3, plz help me

#morpheus x reader #dream x reader #Dream of the endless x reader #the sandman #dream of the endless #lord of dreams #reader insert #the sandman netflix

[borbsbirbs]

To Dream of Reality ~Lantern Rite ft. Ningguang~

"lantern rite, and festivities"

MASTERLIST ~~

You are not one to lucid dream.

Usually, your dreams are like those of a butterfly's-

Flying through the air, helpless to the winds that surround.

And yet, tonight, the world of your dreams is perfectly intact.

Lantern Rite in Liyue.

The golden lights, so warm in your eyes, floated around you, each lantern a wish sent off from someone, from someone's heart, from one of your beloved children of Teyvat.

The warmth from the lanterns, the sound of festival cheer, the smell of food…

It felt strangely like home.

A plate of freshly cooked skewers laid upon your lap as you sat on the harbor docks, your feet swinging gently off the pier.

This… was nice.

If only this was reality.

~~

Lantern Rite's main festivities had ended, the Concert bright and exciting. The remaining week was left to bask in the festival itself, in the musicals and operas, the food and lights and colors.

If the main stage was for tourists, the remaining festival was for the locals. Liyueans, with the streets cleared, were finally able to enjoy Lantern Rite as it was meant to be celebrated- to welcome the Moon in the New Year.

Most Lantern Rites after the Main Festivities were quiet, as was this one.

Until they appeared, in ethereal glory, asking for nothing but a snack.

The Creator had appeared many times before within Mond, and reportedly thrice within Liyue, consulting with the samurai from Inazuma, the strange man from Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, and the Vigilant Yaksha.

Only once had the Creator appeared for non-vision wielders, and only a brief meeting.

As the Tianquan of the Qixing, Ningguang wanted to welcome the Creator, but as they appeared in their mortal form, would it be rude to call attention to them?

Rumors had it that the Creator was gentle and calm, appearing mortal yet undeniably divine.

As she saw them swinging their legs off the docs, humming along to the songs of the harbor, she understood. Just how mortal that form was, just how mortal they appeared.

Rumors had it that the Creator had not fully descended, that their form was partially transparent, and that their form was like that of glass. Ningguang had faith in those rumors, but perhaps the truth has merely changed. Their hand firmly grasped the skewers, their face opaque as they turned around, eyes widening as the stood to bow.

"Hi, Ningguang!" Perhaps the rumors weren't true after all. Perhaps the words of the Creator were not that formal, not that... forced. Perhaps this was what Mond wished to keep secret, the informal, gentle speech of the True Divine.

"You know my name?"

"Of course! Lantern Rite is so pretty this year... I'm glad I get to experience it for real this time. As real as I can be, here."

As real as I can be, huh?

Ningguang looked at the Divine, wondering what thoughts ran through their mind.

"I wish I could stay." they said, eyes soft as their hand reached out towards the sky. "I wish I could keep d̴̡̝͉͇̰̬͍̭̊̃͂͑̃̂̚͜͜͝r̶̛͉͈̂̔́̒͐̈́̋̊̒́̀̕͝è̸̢̙̝̼͖̹͔͎̄́̂̋̐͑̆́͌̊̐̆̈́̽ä̵̢̳͖̖̺͙̦̹̙̙̣̼́͊͛m̷̛̳͇̹̰̰͍̗̮͇͇͈̣͕͗̄̓͂̆̋͛̀͘ͅi̶̟̟̭̩̗̝̼̬̭̜̯̳̝̎̾͜ͅǹ̶͓̳͔͉̰̊̋̿̆͌͐̉̉́̂́̄̕g̸̢͎̱̖̻̝͉̖̟̅̉̓̂̒ of this place. Living here n' all."

It's strange, Ningguang thought. How mortal their divine sounds. How utterly human a God appears.

Until their body became transparent.

and they uttered another few words.

"How I wish to grant the wishes of Teyvat. How I wish to assist this world, how I wish to return home at last."

Their body shimmers, becoming the same color as the Xiao Lanterns, light reflecting off the ocean waters as they vanish. Ningguang raced back to the Jade Chamber, summoning pen and paper to draft a letter. The Creator wished to return home to Teyvat, and Teyvat would welcome them with open arms.

To prevent those heart wrenching words from being spoken again, she'd guarentee it.

~~

You rarely lucid dream, and on the lucky nights where you do get to control your sleep-thoughts, the control slips away just as fast. You remember your dream, for once. The taste of Mora Meat and Grilled Ticker Fish remain fresh in your memories as you looked out the windows, at the harsh white-light of cities and electricity.

Nothing like the golden lanterns of wishes that Y̶͕͑́̎̚ǫ̸̛̛͔͖̪̱̥̦̭͕̎̾͊̿̄͠u̴̟̦͈̺̤̫̣̲̼̅̋̈́͆̀̋̇̕͝r̵̨̗͎͕̄̃̀͑͒̋̓̀͑̊̒̌̅͜͠ ̷̢͇̩̰͓̳͈̖̲̝̞̝̦̇̑́̈̈́̅̓̔̎̍͂́̏͝b̵̢̢̜̪̼̩̭̺͔͕̤͇̥͊́͘e̸͓̙͚̩͈̲̤̎̒͒̿̈́̓͆̇͑̃̂̈́́̕͝l̵̳̫̟͋̏̏̓̏̈́͛͂́̕͠ǒ̵͉͖̹̼͚̗v̸̦͎̳̮̩̻̅̐̉͋̄́͒͘ȇ̶̱͖̆̿̊̐̌̍̀̀́̾͛̈́͒ď̶̡͖̹̺͓͇̬͎͇̒̽̒͗̈́̿̽ ̷̥̫͙̱̣̏̈́̔͘c̶̢̛̦̦̼͍̥̬̻͇̣̰̗̗̟̑̄͗̓̒͗̎̾̎̂̾h̸̨̯̝̲̏͘͜͠ì̵̘̳̞͚̃̏͛́̕l̶͔̳͉̺̠͔̣̥̳͋̃̄̅̂̊d̶̯͚̹̣̲̗̬̗̟͚̞̼̿̑͛͊͝͝͝r̶͍̳̄e̸̪̞͔̘̔̽̽̀͒̚ṉ̷̗̺̱̊͐̾̓̓̈́̽̎̓̃̀͘ ̷̫̹͚͓͂̽̕ọ̶̯͎͎̑̎̎̍̈̈́̈́̐͐̋̅͌̕͠f̶̨̡̡̧̛̛̞̹̰̻̩̺̟̱̣̬͊̈ͅ ̵̨̣͒̃̑̈͊͛̄̃̋͜͝͝T̸̢̪̟̰̠̞̙̘̬͍͆̾̂̿̾͗͑̋̑̓͝͝͝é̵̡̖̰̝̳͍̲̤̰͖̫̎̋̈́̉̓͑͜ẏ̶̨̨̺̱̣̺͎̖̙̘͈̭̐̉͊̈͆̆͊͑͘͠ͅv̴̬̮̘͂͌̀́͋́͝a̶̪͚͚̟̻̼͉͌̐̆̃ţ̵̢̧͉̳̘̖̤̓̈́͒̽̔̑͌̆̀̍́̃͂̉ had scent up to the skies.

...huh?

#borbs writes #borbs sagau #borbs tdor #tdor sagau #sagau tdor #genshin impact #lantern rite #genshin sagau #inspired by how this one time #i had a nightmare? about forgetting my homework #but dream me realized that we were driving in the middle of the road #so i realized i was dreaming #and lucid dreamt my summer camp #but then as soon as i dream teleported #i could not lucid dream #i was aware i was dreaming but i could not control #so that was fun #anyway #genshin lantern rite #genshin impact ningguang #anyway i like writing tdor #please keep asking me about it #send asks #i don't know how to interact with yall

[talesfromtheasterism]

The Starweaver

To the Recipient, Whose Name Will Be Safely Withheld,

I have decided to answer this lofty question of yours. For I do pity your described imposition, stepping from such grand adventures to the suffocating quiet of the Commune. It would be unwise for you to seek this knowledge from your current residence, and through my efforts of trade, despite my reservations on the topic, I must be one of the most well-equipped people alive to inform.

Know this firstly: transit between the realms of the Asterism is a poorly understood process, even to those as well-travelled as myself. They share no tangible borders, separated instead by the fathomless unworld, untouched by the New Tapestry. Yet each realm contains a region where the fabric is frayed - a wide, invisible rift that casts those who enter across the gulf to whatever destination they feel a strong enough requirement to visit. Traders and smugglers such as myself require clarity of purpose to will themselves through time after time, or we simply end up where we started with a moderate headache.

I have made every effort to remain conscious of my surroundings during these aetherial river crossings. Neither the warm alchemies of the Floodlands nor the chilling medicines of Bloodstar could maintain my waking. All I manage is to more keenly feel my lucidity fade as the dream state takes me, and as the faint visions of the unworld dance within the blinding shine of the blue haze. No matter where I enter or exit, or with what narcotics in my veins, she is there every single time.

Only in echoes and shimmers is the Starweaver detected - sometimes only felt, through sixth and seventh senses beyond human reckoning - but her presence is clear and absolute. I hear chrysolite eyes burn through the sapphire. Her radiant painted hat and impossible crystalline robes reach my eyes, with their paradox patterns and non-euclidean folds of gold night and azure sun. What is her pale skin, now? Flesh, still, or the light-bending porcelain of fallen deities? Grooves and spikes, subtle, hidden in her form - have the nephilim changed her, or did she take their traits willingly, as respect? I know she was not born so. I remember times I have never seen or known, as though I knew her as an old friend before godhood. She was younger, lighter, before her blooming of the Weave tempered the spirit. I can almost taste the secrets of where, the land she walked before she fell, before striking their bondage and shattering this prison for gods.

No matter how close I come to further revelations, I suffer the same fate as other pilgrims. I wake from the reverie in my realm of termination, equipped with whatever mercy required to see me safely to mortal civilisation. Should I journey for Port Poiseuille, I stir with sore arms, having rowed a gondola of smooth, iridescent gemstone across the Sea of Solace for an unguessable time. My returns to the Mirror Capital see my eyes open slowly, slumped against the window in a seat of a shuttletrain, coasting upon the star-seas of the Lucid Weave. I've an inkling that the Starweaver herself bridges the realms to allow Asteri to cross, summoning these accommodations to ensure we arrive in good health.

There is no doubt in my mind: she wishes her presence known within the dream, for one of such power could just as easily shield herself from mortal senses. Perhaps this is how she reminds us of her vigil from within the Skyloom - or, more fantasically, perhaps her image steals our attention from horrors of the unworld we are not ready to know. I hear her whispers, sometimes. Her strifeless voice reverberates with many heights and depths, like strings, chords. The words themselves are always obscured, as though of a foreign language - not Ancestral, which I can interpret with some competency. A tongue of gods.

But I can make out one word, occasionally. A name. The one we are chastised as children for uttering in vain, and oft never speak again. Some say, when they think our gods cannot hear, that it is a name stolen from a star in an old world. I wish she could wear it more proudly again. To take identity in theft from the heavens, to rail against ultimate power - that is the mark of defiance the leader of the Asteri should bear.

Her name was Vega. And her dream is our awakening.

Please, make especially certain that this letter is destroyed along with the others. While it is my privilege to convey such exalted topics, the repercussions if we were discovered would be far worse. The Commune does not tolerate attempts to understand those above us, for reasons you are well aware.

We will meet in person again soon. I trust we will have much to organise.

Your Friend in Commerce

Editor's note: this letter was written to one of the Friend in Commerce's anonymous business partners in the Commune of Whispers several years ago. It was originally meant to be burned to hide their dealings, but the recipient handed it back to the Friend when they next met, insisting it be preserved as a testament to the Starweaver. I am again tagging this as OC as is convention, so hopefully describing patron gods as my property doesn't have negative consequences.

#creative writing #fantasy #fantasy world #stars #writeblr #writers #writers on tumblr #writing #asterism #tales from the asterism #oc #original character

[pixiewritesstuff]

Hii!

This is probably going to be a long ask I'm sorry 😭

I got into Undertale and the AUs when I was like nine I think and I'm like thirteen now and sans aus have been such a huge comfort to me!

I discovered your tiktok account around a year ago and you inspired me so much immediately! Your characters were so cool - Smudge was the first one I saw.

Sadly I stopped watching your account for a long time because I deleted my tiktok account but I remembered you a couple of weeks ago and was like GAHH I HAVE TO FOLLOW PIXIE!

I have been at a low - girl I'm like Ink, I have such a fear of being forgotten- I want to make an impact in this fandom and I thought I couldn't but then I was like 'wait...' and you've given me inspiration to make a blog called askbittersweet!

Maybe I won't get asks, but you gave me the inspiration and confidence to and you're just so important to me!

this was supposed to sound so much cooler but my words failed.....

also your art style is so pleasing lol! I had a lucid dream where I had your artstyle it was kinda weird but it was cool n stuff (jeez lousus i'm bad at talking)

I HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT DAY AND NIGHT AND WEEK AND YEAR YOU'RE SO COOL <333333

Awww thank you!! I got into the Undertale AUs when I was about 11/12 and now I'm turning 19 in a few hours, so I definitely relate to that sense of comfort!

And thank you for your support. :3 I've been working every day to give everyone content they can like. I love this community and honestly it's my honour to be giving everyone content that they enjoyed. Secret be told, I didn't think anyone would like my work considering my writing isn't all fluff and sunshine, but I was completely blown out of the water with support and love from such amazing individuals. I've met and made friends with so many amazing individuals, each fan interaction I have makes my absolute week because there is nothing I love more than cooking up content.

I wish you luck on your own content journey! As long as you have a passion for what you do? There is only one way for you to go and that's up. Since I'm feeling nice today, I'll give you a few tips ٩( ᐛ )و

★ Use what's trending to your advantage -

Tik tok, Tumblr, Twitter/X all follow an algorithm of sorts, if you see bunch of videos following the same pattern... Take the leap! Make sure to add your own spin on it, not only will that help you stand out but copying others makes a story so bland, bleh!

★ Be brave, be confident -

I know putting yourself out there can be scary, it's literally throwing yourself on a stage and slowly building an audience hoping you'll attract your kind of people. But you'll never get anywhere if you stand around timidly and be too scared of that attention. Sell yourself, be brave, what makes you different from everyone else? What makes you special? What makes your amazing work so amazing? What can you do to bring something different to this multi verse?

(For me? I can bring adorable characters with a horror aspect, but what makes me different? There's no one quite like our lovely princess Smudge, is there?)

★ Don't be afraid of interacting with people but withstand your boundaries.

Unless those people are total dickwads and have no life, making interactions with people is a great place to start. You'll build a solid support system, people who aren't just interested in your stories but genuinely want to see you thrive! Little side note- don't let people stand on you either. I've had many a time where people thought they could push my boundaries and got kicked to the curb. Don't be a door mat, how will anyone respect your characters if they don't respect their creator?

★ Last but certainly not least - believe in yourself!

Okay, this one is a little corny and I know what you're probably thinking. 'But Pixie, I have low self confidence and esteem. Being confident doesn't come naturally.' And I'm super sorry to hear that. You're a wonderful person with flaws, but those flaws don't undermind your best traits one bit. If you don't believe in it, believe in us to believe in you. Would there be hundreds of people lying to your face? Really? No. There would be some merit behind their words, right? I faked it till I made it. Now? I have the ability to trust my own talent. I find love in my work and in my characters. I can only hope you do too, you can do amazing things if you set your mind to it. That's something I live by.

AND YOU'RE JUST AS COOL! KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK AND I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOUR IDEAS AND WORK!! THANK YOU FOR THE KIND WORDS, YOU CAN DO IT!!!

#pixiepeptalk

[memeingovermemes]

the blackout club -- sentence starters ( ii ) :

feel free to change titles / pronouns / places where appropriate !

❝  can we go already?  ❞ ❝  come on! before i lose my nerve...  ❞ ❝  game faces... let's do this!  ❞ ❝  if you guys need me, i'm there.  ❞ ❝  i'm ready. i mean... reluctantly.  ❞ ❝  ready, you guys ready?  ❞ ❝  ready?  can we please do a cool slo-mo walk this time?  ❞ ❝  while we're young, maybe?  ❞ ❝  can't do much, but i can aim.  ❞ ❝  i best not miss.  ❞ ❝  i am the night! ...kinda. i'm... night flavored.  ❞ ❝  sure. i drank three sodas and climbed a rope... once.  ❞ ❝  what?  i like heights.  ❞ ❝  i want the shocker... heh.  ❞ ❝  stun gun's rechargeable, so...  ❞ ❝  club's calling, y'all.  ❞ ❝  focus, guys, new mission.  ❞ ❝  new message from the club.  ❞ ❝  gotta catch my breath...  ❞ ❝  (panting) hang on! hang on, hang on... ❞ ❝ h-hold up! ...i'm wrecked...  ❞ ❝  i gotta' rest a sec...  ❞ ❝  i'll be -- i'll be okay...! i think...  ❞ ❝  two seconds... okay, ten seconds...  ❞ ❝  knock it off!  ❞ ❝  flashlights down! i'm gonna' take that thing away!  ❞ ❝  get that light off me!  ❞ ❝  hey! you're lighting me up!  ❞ ❝  don't wanna' die down here. just give me a nice... breakfast nook!❞ ❝  how long did it take them to build this place...?  ❞ ❝  how far down are we...? never mind. don't tell me.  ❞ ❝  i know this place...  ❞ ❝  i love this, just loving this! the darkness, the dirt, and cold. it's like an evil spa.  ❞ ❝  i'm not scared... just living my best life.  ❞ ❝  it's all real. this is... real.  ❞ ❝  it's like a real life dungeon...  ❞ ❝  i've seen this before... dreams, but... not mine...  ❞ ❝  looks like a... what does it look like?  ❞ ❝  sleepwalkers built this? how in god's name...  ❞ ❝  the place feels, uh... familiar.  ❞ ❝  this place... why with this place?  ❞ ❝  wonderful... back down here.  ❞ ❝  stuff happens, parents worry, that's how it works. haha.  ❞ ❝  c'mon, mom, the rule is, my music in my room, right? haha. and i love this song.  ❞ ❝ for my hour of tv this week, can i please just watch the news with you, mom? i miss you.  ❞ ❝  I'm just gonna' practice my 3-point shot, dad. Jeez. It's like the perfect summer day.  ❞ ❝  okay, mom. i won't do it again. dad, you know i respect like, 99 percent of your opinion. haha.  ❞ ❝  that's a great joke, dad!  can i post that online?  haha, see what i did there?  ❞ ❝  the sun looks amazing today. not sure why i never seem to notice. just look at it. i mean, wow.  ❞ ❝  yes, dad, i've been studying. hah, no, maybe not as much as i'm supposed to, but i'm only human.  ❞ ❝  i saw one of the bad kids, mom! make them leave!  ❞ ❝  make them go away, dad! they have a bad attitude! ❞ ❝  those bad kids are back! help!  ❞ ❝  my dad is going to call your dad!  and then you'll see!  ❞ ❝  you guys are in so much trouble! get away from me!  ❞ ❝  and... i'm back. am i back?  ❞ ❝  it's you! you brought me back... i owe you one.  ❞ ❝  that... was not good. thank you.  ❞ ❝  you... you saved me.  ❞ ❝  damn it, no! not you too... ❞ ❝  i'll tell your folks... i'll tell 'em... something. ❞ ❝  no... goddammit, you weren't supposed to...  ❞ ❝  oh jesus... this could be any of us!  ❞ ❝  shit... shit. i am so sorry... ❞ ❝  he was our friend! now he's...  ❞ ❝  that was a person... oh god.  ❞ ❝  this is too real...  ❞ ❝  creepy enough?  yes.  ❞ ❝  okay... file that away...  ❞ ❝  you getting this?  ❞ ❝  and what's the club got to say?  ❞ ❝  cool. so what was next?  ❞ ❝  good, right? texting hq.  ❞ ❝  hey! look at us! technically competent.  ❞ ❝  man, i wish i could post this on... something.  ❞ ❝  i'm the best that's ever been.  ❞ ❝  we came, we saw, we... still need a catchphrase!  ❞ ❝  wooo, woo, woo! woo, yes!  woo, woo, woo! you're the best! woo!  ❞ ❝  over there!  ❞ ❝  that way.  ❞ ❝  mine now.  ❞ ❝  dibs on everything.  ❞ ❝  strongbox! what's in it?  ❞ ❝  but stealing is wRoNg.  ❞ ❝  don't mind if i do!  ❞ ❝  evidence of spooky conspiracy. confiscating.  ❞ ❝  someone forgot to pick up their toys.  ❞ ❝  it's locked.  ❞ ❝  who's got lockpicks? oh yeah. me.  ❞ ❝  another door.  ❞ ❝  doors are my nemesis.  ❞ ❝  quiet! sleeper!  ❞ ❝  remember. sleepers could be family.  ❞ ❝  sleepwalker.  ❞ ❝  they're not evil... just hypnotized.  ❞ ❝  lucid here.  ❞ ❝  camera. stay out of the light.  ❞ ❝  they got cctv.  ❞ ❝  it's that stalker kid!  ❞ ❝  stalker! stalker!  ❞ ❝  there's that creep!  ❞ ❝  body here. still alive.  ❞ ❝  just sleeping. don't touch 'em.  ❞ ❝  get down!  ❞ ❝  quiet!  ❞ ❝  i have such savings to offer you...  ❞ ❝  oh-oh! evil corp's calling!  ❞ ❝  personal call to work. shame, shame.  ❞ ❝  prank calling... now!  ❞ ❝  i can't believe that worked!  ❞ ❝  target neutralized!  ❞ ❝  that's for bells, asshole!  ❞ ❝  bad guy down!  ❞ ❝  wow, that worked! really well...  ❞ ❝  got that little shit!  ❞ ❝  how's it feel, shithead?  ❞ ❝  i got 'em! uh, what now?  ❞ ❝  okay! holding this one... for now!  ❞ ❝  see how you like it!  ❞ ❝  stay down, stay down...!  ❞ ❝  that's right! how you like me now?!  ❞ ❝  angel coming!  ❞ ❝  close your eyes! close your eyes!  ❞ ❝  guys, please! not the angel!  ❞ ❝  it's after me! oh god...  ❞ ❝  it's here for me!  ❞ ❝  no! not the shape!  ❞ ❝  the angel! i'm the target!  ❞ ❝  angel's gone... i think.  ❞ ❝  it left me... it left.  ❞

#rp memes #rp starters #sentence starters #rp sentence starters #the blackout club #the blackout club sentence starters #death mention tw #swearing tw #violence tw #brainwashing tw #grief tw #death tw #child death tw #ask to tag // #long post

[thegrapeandthefig]

Thank you for answering about why you chose Thasos. You said you could do a whole post on the UPG and the inscription alone. No rush but when you have time I'd love to read it!

(This took me much longer to put together than I wish it had, my apologies for the wait. Fair warning to everybody who isn't the anon, this is a follow-up question to this post. I strongly recommend you read this preliminary post first for important context).

Let me start with the inscription, since it requires a bit of commentary. Here is my translation (from French to English; as it was published without the full ancient Greek text):

For you, an open-air temple, enclosing an altar, and its cradle of (grape)vine, O prince of the Maenads, a beautiful evergreen cave. That is, Dionysus Bakkheus, what Timokleides, son of Diphilos, founded; and for the initiated, a venerable oikos where to sing evohe, and the wave of the Naiads Nymphs with pure radiance; this is what with your grace, willing to mix the sweet nectar that pauses the worries of men has consecrated your priest, O blessed one; and you, in your turn, keep a physician in Thasos his homeland, keep him safe, you who always return young from year to year.

*the Greek term here is θυηπόλος which means “who performs sacrifices”, “priest” but also “diviner/soothsayer”. The French translators chose the term “minister”, and I’m choosing “priest” for simplicity’s sake, but while Timokleides was clearly the one performing the sacrifice that is linked to this dedication and this altar, but it’s impossible to say if he was a “Priest” from the term alone (as in city, temple-bound priest).

To give some background: This inscription was found in Thasos and dates back to the 1st century AD. It gives us information on the dedicant - Timokleides - who self-describes as a local doctor. The overall context, which is supported by other, more fragmentary, inscriptions from Thasos is that the island was the home to private dionysian associations (thiasoi, but not always) whose presence on the island span between the 1st century AD to the 3rd century. What hints at an associative context here is the mention of “the initiated”. The altar Timokleides was dedicating was both for his personal use and the use of the member of the association he was a part of.

But what made this inscription stand out to me isn’t the associative context. It was those first few lines: “For you, an open-air temple, enclosing an altar, and its cradle of (grape)vine, O prince of the Maenads, a beautiful evergreen cave.” and it is precisely this description that led researchers Jaccottet and Wyler to write a dedicated article about it. Before I start summarizing their analysis on the matter, let me explain where my UPG comes in the picture.

My UPG was specifically a very vivid (lucid) dream in which the setting corresponds to the description given, with emphasis on the words I’ve put in bold. If I were to choose a picture to illustrate it, I’d choose something like this:

Except it was denser, wider, taller and seemed endless. I can recall the yellow-green colour of a harsh sun hitting the leaves, very much like on the brightest parts of the picture above. He was there, mostly silent, if not for a sentence about a ring on his finger that was of a stone sharing the same hue of bright green.

So when I read that description, a good few months after having this UPG, it rang a massive bell, but as I said in my last post, I had no clue what to do of the information and let it simmer. And it also didn’t come to me to check the location the inscription was linked to at the time.

Then I found the article, titled ‘‘Le bel antre toujours vert’’ : une architecture éphémère, entre texte et imaginaire by Anne-Francoise Jaccottet & Stéphanie Wyler. It was impossible to miss, because “un bel antre toujours vert” is the French translation to “a beautiful evergreen cave”. In this article, the authors focus on the ephemeral quality of certain altars, and especially the ones for Dionysus. They contextualise the important role of the idea of a cave in Dionysus’ myth (think the cave in which Semele gave birth, and then where the nymphs raised him.) They argue that the Ancients, in order to replicate the mythical idea of the verdant cave of Nysa and to link themselves with the Dionysian retinue (maenads and satyrs), have found architectural alternatives to create a vegetal “cave”, which has taken various forms throughout the centuries.

Now, concerning the Thasian inscription in particular, the authors come to a very similar conclusion to the one I ended up with through my UPG:

“Si ce temple en question n'a pas de toit en dur, le feuillage vert de la vigne se charge de lui en fournir un dont la nature sied particulièrement au dieu que l'on y compte honorer, Dionysos, dieu de la vigne et du lierre. Que cette structure, couverte de l'entrelacs des pampres, comme une tonnelle, soit reprise dans la dédicace par les termes d'"antre toujours vert" ne saurait dès lors paraître incongru. La verdure de la couverture végétale du temple fait écho au qualitatif aeithales, alors que la forme extérieure de l'ensemble, structure bâtie pour sa base et couverture de pampres, se conçoit assez naturellement comme une métaphore de l'antre.”

“If the temple in question does not have a hard roof, the green foliage of the vine provides it with one, the nature of which is particularly suited to the god it is intended to honour, Dionysus, god of the vine and ivy. The fact that this structure, covered with the interlacing of vine branches, like an arbour, is referred to in the dedication as an "evergreen cave" cannot therefore seem incongruous. The greenness of the temple's plant cover echoes the qualitative of aeithales*, while the external shape of the whole, a structure built for its base and covered with vine branches, is quite naturally conceived as a metaphor for the cave.” *ἀειθαλής = evergreen

The article itself is a call for historians to revisit the existing archaeological evidence with the knowledge of the existence of this type of structure, which might have been hard to notice.

So there it is. The full explanation of how I lost my mind trying to make sense out of this mess. In hindsight, I am glad it all spanned over several months to get from the UPG to Jaccottet's thesis to the last article I summarized, because otherwise the overload would have been real. It's only after all this that I decided to dig deeper into Thasos as an island, which links back to what I described in the first ask you sent. I am typically wary when it comes to sharing UPG because it is intrinsicly subjective, but this is a case where I feel I have enough material outside of it to justify why this isolated inscription was the turning point in my (very) personal practice.

#thasian recon #upg #very sorry if there are typos #I've finished writing this after a day of work and it's late and I'm tired lol

[kuipernebula]

Talk about your Exhalted characters, KP. This is not a question.

I appreciate the sentiment, but like. I dunno. I really wish I could talk about this shit in a context where people understood what I was talking about.

I'll shorten the list to just the shortlist of Sidereal Exalted I've developed to be played. I actually have more Sidereal PC's I wanna play than this but these 4 have received the most development and cook time in my brain. I need to make it 5 to hit the last Sidereal caste(/closest thing to classes the game has) but only one idea has hit me with any lucidity and it was like, a week ago, so it needs to cook some more.

Listed in order that the maidens are generally listed (Coincidentally, also the order of their planets)

The Journeys is a young man born in an independent city state in the jungles of the South East, one of the rare few cultures around the Dreaming Sea with few imperial ambitions. Here, members of [PC's] family were bonded to a tiger cub at birth, to act as their sibling and protector. Such was his life, until he came of age. Then, the Prasadi Empire sought to finally incorporate his home into its imperial regime. Guided by visions of a golden tiger, [PC] and his brother led his people to a hidden grotto beyond the notice of Prasad - but not heaven. Now, [PC] and his brother act as agents of fate, helping lead others to where they must be. Well. When they feel like it.

[PC] is loud, obnoxious, messy, and immature - but he's forceful, charismatic, and diligent, so he tends to get by just fine. His brother, by contrast, is serious, chooses his words(?) carefully, but refuses to raise a claw if its not in his or his brother's interest. At essence 2, [PC] gets a charm that lets him turn his brother into a God that works fro the Bureau of Destiny, meaning they're OFFICIALLY co-workers, and also his brother gets a human form and can talk.

His charms aren't as solid as the other ideas yet but he's a Tiger stylist, and fights in tandem with his brother. They're kind of attached at the hip. And if you try to say they're not brothers or bring up blood relation then they'll both probably try to kill you. (I need to pick a Sidereal Martial Art for him but I haven't found one I like quite yet.)

The Serenities is a former slave to House Cynis on the blessed isle. [Here there's some gray area in his backstory, as the specifics of his slavery and how he got there juggles in my head, and his exaltation isn't super clear.] Now he is forced to work alongside such figures as the Goddess of Slavery (who keeps calling him) and the Bronze Faction (set up a status quo that allows slavery to flourish.) To avoid killing his coworkers, he became a drunk, but became so enamored with wine and alcohol that he also became a legendary brewmaster. Most other Sidereals think of him as a laissez-faire drunk with a rude but friendly demeanor.

Though he works diligently for the Bureau of Destiny, he is largely entrenched in his own personal revenge project: burning all of House Cynis to the ground. The corrupt house that enslaved him cannot be allowed to stand. He will do anything to curry favor and allies to this goal, and will equally hide all his intentions about it until he knows for sure they can be trusted.

His fighting style is the Drunken God style, which isn't in the game yet so I haven't nailed down a lot of specifics. He also uses Augmented Implements of Strive to improve his use of Improvised Weapons, allowing him to turn any bar fight into a huge spectacle. (His Sidereal Martial Art could be a few things, but Sapphire Veil of Passions might lean the best into his Drunken Fist shenanigans, while the unreleased Amaranthine Chains of Samsara might be better thematically if it's about breaking those chains.)

The charm synergy I'm most excited for with him is that he gets a craft charm called Elemental Vision that gives you bonuses based on your Maiden's element; among other things, this includes that Elementals and Dragon-Blooded of the appropriate element have an automatic tie of Patience towards you. House Cynis is famously Wood aspect. Venus is the Maiden of Wood.

The Chosen of Secrets is a lightly Sun Wukong-inspired Super Thief. A huge adrenaline junkie that finds infiltration and larceny to be the height of excitement, he got his start in the Scavenger Lands, working under a Scavenger Lord picking apart First Age ruins. There he found his first true score: a seemingly-ordinary walking stick with a band of prismatic metal on his tip. He knew it, and himself, were destined for more than this particular Scavenger Lord, so he absconded with it. He was picked up by heaven shortly thereafter.

His various heists are viewed by most of his coworkers in the Bureau as an eccentric hobby and nothing more, mostly because he mostly sticks to Creation-based targets. Which isn't to say he hasn't considered Heavenly targets - he just needs the right plan. Either way, he has no interest in Faction politics, and regards the affairs of the Bureau as a day job he has to entertain for his salary.

His walking stick is the Starmetal artifact Gnomon, once wielded by a Solar Phantom Thief who famously stole it as a cutting from one of Heaven's Peach Trees of Immortality. Now it's our guy's, and it's main power is to stop time for brief moments, often to assist in a fight or in a heist.

He combines the above with Monkey Style Martial Arts, his Sidereal Charms (like most of the Larceny tree), and later on, Emerald Gyre of Aeons style. (It's the Martial Arts style about Time Loops, Eternity, and Time.) (Monkey Style and Gyre both styles that use Staves as weapons, and Gnomon is a staff. Synergy!)

The Endings is my Exalted character I've developed the most, Kyon Shi. Orphaned while still an infant in one of the Hundred Kingdoms, he fell in with other urchins. When he was learning to walk, he earned his name from a kindly old widow who would give food to the urchins. She found his awkward hops endearing, and thus called him "my own little kyonshi" in jest. The name stuck with the urchins, who found his pale skin and haunted eyes eerie.

As he grew, he became more and more enamored with death and funerals, consuming as much information as he could from the undertaker, from adults, from priests, whoever would let an orphan ask them questions. They, as with the urchins, found it off-putting, but sometimes humored him.

When he was still young, the other urchins decided they had enough of him. One of them - a boy that Kyon had once awkwardly expressed interest in - offered to meet him, alone, at the graveyard that night. He excitedly went to find his whole gang of street toughs. They proceeded to beat him half to death, stick him in a grave, and attempt to bury him alive. Kyon lost consciousness and the next thing he knew, he was above ground, with the boys having run away.

When he was old enough to make the journey himself, he hitched a ride on with a merchant caravan to the tomb-city of Sijan. There he, like many other morbid youths, joined the ranks of the city's mortuary students. He felt like he lagged behind many, but not all, of his fellows, but after much hard work, graduated top of his class.

His first assignment as a fully-fledged Sijanese funerist was to enter and clean one of the oldest tombs of the city. Inside, however, he found an old, dying man, who claimed that his sucessor was found, and it was his time. Kyon Shi felt compassion for the dying man, and performed a short funeral service for him. When he exited the tomb, he was greeted by a woman who introduced herself as The Green Lady.

Now he works for the Bureau of Destiny and is a key member of the Convention on the Dead. The Green Lady has taken him under her wing, and he has been given the impression he's being groomed to take over her position as Chair of the Convention one day, a position he'd be excited to accept. He trusts her implicitly, and would do anything to please or impress her, but since she's James Bond in The Underworld she can be... enigmatic. (In large part he views her so highly because she's the first person to see potential or promise in him; at every turn before hand, he had to earn it.)

His secretary is a ghost named Peach Blossom Princess, who lives in his manse in heaven and helps handle his paperwork. His manse, for what its worth, is contained in a folded space under a Torii. Enter it one way and you enter the Memorial of the Starless Soldier, a solemn and sacred place built by Saturn and Sol Invictus shortly after the Divine Revolution meant to honor the un-Exalted mortal soldiers of the Revolution. Enter the other way, and you are right outside Kyon's home, a temple-mansion-dojo where he (and his secretary) live (and train) between missions. (No matter which way you enter the Torii, it appears to be under an eternal starry, moonless sky)

Primarily he wants to build up relations between ghosts in the underworld and the bureaus of heaven; he thinks a future can be built where the dead can be part of the affairs of destiny, where all can be met with compassion. Secondarily, he wants to build relations with ancestor cults, as he thinks this, too, could be a valuable function of their alliance. This is idealistic, of course, but it's why he's tentatively aligned with the Gold faction.

He fights with the extremely deadly and unsettling Hungry Ghost Style, which emulates the movements and hunger of the angry dead. He is also a skilled necromancer, having been trained by The Green Lady herself; he maintains the ghostly bindings of his secretary himself. He also has most of the undead stuff in the Medicine tree, and also the charm where you become legally dead to heaven by performing your own funeral and thus get to be considered undead when it would benefit you (like if you are underwater).

He may eventually learn the Albicant Sepulcher of Extinction style, a Sidereal Martial Art made by one of the Deathlords. (How is up to debate...)

The other thing I've spent a ton of time on with him is that he has TONS of fun acts about various funeral practices around creation. I wrote down tons of them. I should write down some more.

#cw: long post

[manwalksintobar]

First Elegy: Rotten Lake // Muriel Rukeyser

As I went down to Rotten Lake I remembered the wrecked season, haunted by plans of salvage, snow, the closed door, footsteps and resurrections, machinery of sorrow.

The warm grass gave to the feet and the stilltide water was floor of evening and magnetic light and reflection of wish, the black-haired beast with my eyes walking beside me.

The green and yellow lights, the street of water standing point to the image of that house whose destruction I weep when I weep you. My door (no), poems, rest, (don’t say it!) untamable need.

*

When you have left the river you are a little way nearer the lake; but I leave many times. Parents parried my past;the present was poverty, the future depended on my unfinished spirit. There were no misgivings because there was no choice, only regret for waste, and the wild knowledge: growth and sorrow and discovery.

When you have left the river you proceed alone; all love is likely to be illicit; and few friends to command the soul;they are too feeble. Rejecting the subtle and contemplative minds as being too thin in the bone;and the gross thighs and unevocative hands fail also. But the poet and his wife, those who say Survive, remain; and those two who were with me on the ship leading me to the sum of the years, in Spain.

When you have left the river you will hear the war. In the mountains, with tourists, in the insanest groves the sound of kill, the precious face of peace. And the sad frightened child, continual minor, returns, nearer whole circle, O and nearer all that was loved, the lake, the naked river, what must be crossed and cut out of your heart, what must be stood beside and straightly seen.

*

As I went down to Rotten Lake I remembered how the one crime is need. The man lifting the loaf with hunger as motive can offer no alibi, is always condemned.

These are the lines at the employment bureau and the tense students at their examinations; needing makes clumsy and robs them of their wish, in one fast gesture

plants on them failure of the imagination; and lovers who lower their bodies into the chair gently and sternly as if the flesh had been wounded, never can conquer.

Their need is too great, their vulnerable bodies rigidly joined will snap, turn love away, fear parts them, they lose their hands and voices, never get used to the world.

Walking at night, they are asked Are you your best friend’s best friend? and must say No, not yet, they are love’s vulnerable, and they go down to Rotten Lake hoping for wonders.

Dare it arrive, the day when weakness ends? When the insistence is strong, the wish converted? I prophesy the meeting by the water of these desires.

I know what this is, I have known the waking when every night ended in one cliff-dream of faces drowned beneath the porous rock brushed by the sea;

suffered the change : deprived erotic dreams to images of that small house where peace walked room to room and always with one face telling her stories,

and needed that, past loss, past fever, and the attractive enemy who in my bed touches all night the body of my sleep, improves my summer

with madness, impossible loss, and the dead music of altered promise, a room torn up by the roots, the desert that crosses from the door to the wall, continual bleeding,

and all the time that will which cancels enmity, seeks its own Easter, arrives at the water-barrier; must face it now, biting the lakeside ground; looks for its double,

the twin that must be met again, changeling need, blazing in color somewhere, flying yellow into the forest with its lucid edict: take to the world,

this is the honor of your flesh, the offering of strangers, the faces of cities, honor of all your wish. I say in my own voice. These prophecies may all come true,

out of the beaten season. I look in Rotten Lake wait for the flame reflection, seeing only the free beast flickering black along my side animal of my need,

and cry I want! I want! rising among the world to gain my converted wish, the amazing desire that keeps me alive, though the face be still, be still, the slow dilated heart know nothing but lack, now I begin again the private rising, the ride to survival of that consuming bird beating, up from dead lakes, ascents of fire.

(from A Turning Wind, 1939)

#poetry #Muriel Rukeyser #American poetry #1939 #fire #America #on fire #survival #politics #war #want #madness #loss #desire

[the-bug-jar]

Memories

I wish I could forget the past, but it's still out there. One last piece. Him. Or what used to be him.

The Nanite Event took everything from me. My hometown, my parents, and him. All of it, gone in flames, become something I could no longer recognize. That day was years ago, but sometimes it will return in a nightmare. At first, just being back in that forest, where we were walking as the explosion shook the world, was enough to wake me up. But I've become too dull to it, I guess. I just relive it. No amount of lucid dreaming training was enough to make it stop.

In the forest, it's just us. Me and the dog. He was distinct with his all- white coat. It was something of a miracle I managed to get him, the pure whites go quickly. And a miracle in another way. Friends have always been hard to come by for me, and as it turned out, a pet was something that could help alleviate that loneliness. There were also times where he saw people who were out to hurt me when I wasn't in the sharpest state of mind. Needless to say, getting him was one of the rightest choices I'd ever made.

In the nightmare, we walk the same trail every time, that leads around in a nice circle. It was a nice getaway from the dark thoughts that were already plaguing me. Sometimes, there are problems you can't confide to anyone, they're just not equipped to answer those questions... Of course, this taste of peace didn't get to last.

One minute, the trees above are brimming with the colors of autumn. Reds, oranges and yellows. The next, they're much brighter and deadly. The shockwave from the explosion knocked us off our feet. I struck my head hitting the ground and lost my grip on the dog's leash that I was holding onto him by. I was too disoriented to recall what he did next. My head hurt like hell and my focus was stuck to the canopy that was now on fire. Slowly regathering myself, I took a moment to internally ask what was even happening. An invasion, or an accident? Well, it is an invasion of sorts.

It sinks into my stunned mind that staying in the dirt would get me burnt alive. So, as much as my body protests with sharp pain, I force myself back on my feet. My blurry vision starts to clear and I see the growing flames all around me, but not my dog. Screams echo through the woods in the distance. Screams of people and other things. We're all used to the raucous noises EVOs can make today, but no fiction can prepare someone for hearing them the first time. The noises, the blast, the flames and just an odd sensation in the air I couldn't explain at the time. Everything is so surreal, as if actually a dream, but pinching won't bring me out of this.

I call for the dog, more than once and at the top of my voice. I can't hear or see him. As much as I know that I needed to turn back, to get home before the flames consumed the forest, I can' just leave him. Apart from my parents, who live on the other side of town, he is all I have, really.

Ignoring my hurting joints, I search. Break away from the trail to climb the sloped earth, with the dead leaves crunching beneath me. Oh yes, death is everywhere. I call out my dog's name more. I call out for anybody. We passed a few other people before the explosion. I don't see another person in there, those few weren't anyone I knew... And I won't see them again.

But inching atop one hill, there he is. Well, what the nanites have made of him. There is still his white fur, but these splotches are all over his arms. Arms with claws like sickles. Arms attached to these giant shoulders of metal. Blue metal, accented in a dull gray. More of it encumbers his torso, his legs. Legs, he is standing upright. He was a large dog before, and now he is several times my size. And his eyes... He realizes I'm behind him and spins around. My eyes meet his. Red and bright and on a robotic face surrounded by a white sort of mane.

In that mane is the leash.

There on my knees, I stop and stare. I'm petrified and completely clueless of what to do, even with the fires. It didn't make sense, nothing is making any sense. I don't understand what he is or how it's even possible and it puts my mind in a gridlock. He doesn't say a word, doesn't make a sound. All he does was take a single step forward, and that's enough to snap me out of it. I have no idea what he is going to do next, and my instincts urge I shouldn't stick around to find out. I listen to them and back up, tumbling down the hill. Adrenaline kicks in and I'm bolting out the woods as best as my limping legs can carry me... Usually, that's where the nightmare stops before I wake up in sweat.

He probably didn't follow me. I never looked back, not until I was out of the forest and back on the sidewalks, but I was in no shape to outrun him. The fires never came too close to injure me, or cut off my route, but by the time I was back in town, that was one of the lesser of my worries. There were other monsters prowling the streets. Other people and animals who turned in the initial blast... But that's a whole story I still can't bring myself to tell. Not even now that Rex Salazar has cured the world and therapy for the Nanite Event is almost free these days.

Between that day and the worldwide cure, though, I knew the dog was still out there. Somehow, he found his way to that EVO land, Abysus. He was working for Van Kleiss, that man with the dark hair and golden arm who tried to threaten some world leaders at a conference, but failed. Honestly, I was more fixated on my dog, who was still out there and somehow talking, as seen in interviews on the news for that mess. What a menacing voice he has. Well, is he really mine anymore?

The knowing just made me even worse. I was still writhing over what I lost in the past, and seeing him didn't help. I tried to learn what I could about him online, but nothing. All I could do was try to keep him out of my swirling thoughts. Other thoughts were already lingering, like my missing parents. They disappeared during the explosion without a trace, and with all the other missing people during that time, their cases fell into neglect. I have my suspicions on what happened to them, and where they might have been taken to be 'dealt with', but... I don't want to believe it. I don't think I even want to know. Is that okay?

My condition was improving towards the end of the EVO era, as I came to call it. I was having that nightmare less and less. When I did learn all the EVOs had been cured, even those said to be incurable, it was like a weight slipped off my shoulders. I probably wouldn't see my dog again, but knowing he wasn't that thing, assuming he even still lived, brought some sort of closure to my pain. Pain from my past that was blown into pieces beyond repair. All I can do I sweep up the shards and start anew.

But no, it's never easy.

It was quiet evening in my dark apartment. I was on the couch, just browsing video feeds. Most of them were just dumb, but something stupid to laugh at was what I needed. And I was laughing, until a video about something in Hong Kong came on autoplay... And there he was. Not as a dog, but still an EVO. Lurking the nighttime streets with another of those Abysus EVOs, some green lizard thing with a club for a hand. Nobody knew what they were doing, apart from causing property damage. But that didn't concern me. What did was that somehow, he was still EVO. Somehow, he was still walking in that horrible form, a walking reminder of those days. That surreal feeling from the day in the burning forest came back and I went blank for a minute.

Then, I had one thing on my mind. Keep up on him the best I can. Book a flight to Hong Kong. Find some of those special weapons that are flooding the markets in that city. Find him. End this, no matter what needs to happen... And here I stand in this dim, dirty public bathroom, in some part of Hong Kong I didn't bother to check the map for. I've just been wandering the streets, really, on the offchance I actually run into him. But I doubt he wants to be on streets full of people, with whatever he's up to...

His name was Skoll. Such a stupid name, I know, but I liked it. They call him Biowulf now. Which are you more, Biowulf? Do you remember what you were before? Do you remember me? Or did the transformation blot out those days? Will I really have to put you down? As much as I think I'm ready to do that, after a bit more planning and preparation, could I actually bring myself to? Does it really have to be this way? Probably, but I have to wonder.

Does he wonder? Does he even know his old name? Does he even know my name anymore? Tristan Sunderland. The surname is a longshot but my first name, I feel like there's a chance. This plan, I don't really care if it's dangerous or not. I just want to close the book, so to say. Burn it, if I have to. I want to move on, but he stands in the way. I will find you, Biowulf. Skoll. And this time, I won't run.

#Generator Rex #Fanfiction #Biowulf #OC #Freewrite

[give-soup-please]

I took a nap after I made my post, and I had a dream, but not about the narrator

(yeah, i know personal posts can be irritating. it won't happen often. But I need to talk.)

Before I got into TSP again with the new re-release, my biggest obsession was with Good Omens. Crowley and Aziraphale, my beloveds. It even got to a point where I wrote a poly (crowley x aziraphale x reader) fic. Which is pretty funny because it clearly means I have a type, if one thinks about it.

I dreamed about them. All three of us went shopping together for all the little supplies one needs when one moves. Shower curtains, storage shelves, pots and pans, etc. And it was just- so nice to see them again. Aziraphale was really special to me, because I used to daydream about him when I lived at my parents place. He would protect me from them by offering shelter and comfort, and a space in my own mind to retreat to during the darkest times. I used to picture him with wings outstretched, standing at the foot of my bed, and no harm would come to me.

It was so wonderful to be a part of that couple again. We joked, flirted, and... I don't know how many people have this experience, but, the ambient company of having friends/lovers shop with you is a very excellent experience. Have you ever goofed off in a store with someone you liked? Gone helping with their chores or they help you with your errands? There's something really special about that type of hangout.

I don't remember much about the dream, but I do remember three things.

I kissed Aziraphale. He very much wanted to, but asked if I was sure twice before we did.

Crowley and I laughed over books that were the sort one would hide from Aziraphale. We saw him coming towards us and we hushed each other and slid it back on the shelf before Aziraphale could see what we were looking at, still trying to hold in our laugher.

And third, and most tragically, was when I began to wake up. Usually, when I wake up from dreams like this, there's a kind of shifting that doesn't happen in other dreams. I feel a part of myself sort of split off, and I begin to literally drift away from the scene. It creates a physical distance between me and whoever it is, and then everything fades out. I started to drift away from them, as I realized that I was about to go. I did my best to activate my lucid dreaming, because I was still in the dream and aware of it. I couldn't manage it, and everything began to splinter apart.

I remember Crowley reached out to me, and the look in his eyes... I wish I was an artist so I could capture it. He looked like he was in pain at seeing me go. He looked so, utterly devastated. Those orange/yellow eyes of his burned. And there wasn't anything I could do to comfort him.

Aziraphale saw what was happening, and said, "No, don't bother. Let him go, He's about to wake up." He looked and sounded completely resigned to the inevitable. I stared at the two of them in shock. Aziraphale looked depressed, Crowley looked heartbroken.

I???????? I've never had someone I dream about be aware that it's my dream before. That's new. Not unheard of, but new for me. It was them, their characters, their expressions, their voices, everything. That was so weird. That was... I just lay in bed for a few minutes, trying to process that. Dunno what I should be doing, if anything.

What's up with these fictional characters, huh? They're up to some wild stuff in my head.

#personal #not tsp related #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #dream journal

[halonicheart]

Cherry Taste

Content Warning: nightmare, prosaic descriptions of gore, blood, death, drowning

Summary: Labault dreams of an event from his childhood he wishes to forget... the memory is warped and gnarled. He expects this dream to end the same as it always does, with him drowning in a pool of blood. This time around, he does not drown, someone in blue saves him...

A/N: this was an Aymeric+OC piece originally posted to my Ao3 but I took it down for personal reasons. I've decided to reupload it here and stew on if I should reupload it there too. It reads more as a lore piece for Labault and Lovette tbh? Its not a great piece. Rough at best but I want to put it out there none the less.

___

To dream sweetly was a luxury, one that Labault did not care to afford. The times he was able to dream were almost always nightmares even regardless of how they started.  He often was lucid enough to know he was dreaming but never quite in control of the landscape. That didn’t stop him from trying, when he was a child at least, yet it was to no avail. Now grown, Labault simply submits to his night terrors, letting them consume him until he finally wakes up. He never screams. Rather he can’t scream. Something always seemed to be clogging his throat when the dread reached its worst. Nothing can be quite as cruel as one’s own broken cognition. 

Broken perhaps wasn’t the right word. Warped? Skewed? Tormented? No amount of words can truly grasp what goes on when he’s drifted off to some dark corner of dream land, curated from his own fears. He has once more entered that very dark corner tonight. It starts just as it often does, as a memory. He is a child again, bed ridden with a fever. His father is by his side in a rocking chair, dozing in and out with a book that has long since fallen by his feet. 

“… where is mama…?” Labault wheezes. He already knows the answer. 

His father mumbles with a tired smile as he pats his sickly son’s head. “She went for a walk with your sister Bault… they’ll be back before you know it…” He punctuates with a yawn. “Get some rest, I’ll wake you up once they’re back okay?” 

The young boy doesn’t verbally reply. He nods once and closes his eyes. It didn’t take very long for sleep to envelop him. Labault didn’t sleep for very long. The sound of his mother shouting startled him. 

“Valencia! Valencia! We need to hide the kids!” He never heard his mother sound so shrill. In between her shrieks, he could barely make out his mother softly cooing at Lovette. “We don’t have much time!” 

His once sleeping father was awake and alert, already scooping up Labault with the blanket bundled around him. “Isette- what is going on?!” Valencia tried to no avail to keep his tone even. 

“The knights!” Isette sputters! “They- they’re marching this way!” With Lovette in her arms, she marches towards the closest. “Armed to the teeth, we haven’t much time, come- bring me Labault!” 

“Should we not make a run for it instead?” Labault is promptly plucked from his father’s arms. “Surely we can’t take on the Knights of the Holy See! Isette!” 

“What choice do we have?! They would catch up to us no problem. I’ve already warned the rest of the village… those able will fight them off until… until help arrives…” 

“What help?! There is no one willing to help the sanctuary for our kind! ” He watches as his wife arranges the insides for Labault to comfortably lay. “Fury be damned!” 

“I know. I know but… Dunyasch! The other men that came with him!” She retorts. “I know! I know he left not long ago but he can’t be far! Someone went after him! You told me how much you trust him with your life and so do I! He will not abandon us!” She ushers Lovette inside the closet. 

“…. I…. By the Fury….!” Valencia grits his teeth. Time and options were limited. They really did have no choice but to bide their time and fight until his longtime friend returned with reinforcements and a way out of this hell. “This isn’t right! None of us did anything wrong!” 

“As if they would believe us… they’ve already branded our names….” Isette sadly replies. “Valencia… come…” She motions for him to crouch with her just as she finishes situating their children. Isette speaks up once more just as he kneels down. “Now listen, both of you… no matter what you hear… do not open this door!” She kisses their foreheads. “Mama will come back for you okay! You’ll be safe here! Look after each other alright?” She can’t keep her tears at bay. 

“Mama what’s going on?” Lovette cries. “What’s gonna happen?!” 

Labault tries to speak. He can’t. He can only weakly reach out for his parents. His mother grasps his hand. 

“… scary things will happen, Love… mama and papa don’t want you to see that! We’re going to protect you okay? Both of you! Once the scary things are gone we’re going to come back for you and go somewhere nice!” 

Valencia has bitten his lip raw. Rather than speak, he pulls his wife and kids into a tight embrace. 

“It will be our very own adventure! You just need to stay put and wait for us…” She gives her kids one last kiss. “My stars above… I love you so much…” She stands without another word, even when her daughter cries out, her resolve remains true. 

Their father’s eyes are glossy. He smiles at his children. “We’ll be back.” He stands. And closes the door. There was shuffling just outside the door, hushed whispers and soon something was dragged across the floor in front of the door. 

The young Lovette tried her damndest to reel in her emotions to sooth her trembling brother. Fat tears rolled down her chubby cheeks. She tried to coo between sobs. She only managed to work up her brother into sobs as well. Those sobs only worsened when the noise outside reached a deafening cacophony. 

Metal clanging, screaming, crying, animal shrieks, banging, crackling of fire… A choir of chaos surrounded the poor young children until… it all came to an abrupt stop. The silence did not bring them comfort. They waited with baited breath. 

The two screamed when they heard something crash outside and the door swung open. 

“Shh it’s alright! You’re okay!” Their screams stopped when they finally realized it was their father. He was covered in dirt, bruises, blood caked his once pink hair. “Papa’s here! Come on!” He scoops up his kids. “We’re going to go somewhere nice… your Uncle Dunyasch is going to take us there!” It’s a frantic babble to sooth them. 

Labault finally finds his voice. “…. Where is mama…?” He croaks, voice hoarse from crying. 

Valencia takes in a trembling breath as he makes his way out of what was once their home. “…. Close your eyes…” He tells his children before he steps out of the threshold. “Close them and don’t open them until I tell you…” 

Lovette squeezes her father’s neck before obliging. Labault does the same. They should have listened to instruction. They should have kept their eyes shut. The curiosity got the better of them the moment they could smell the havoc left behind. 

It was at this point in the dream that Labault was no longer his younger self. He was a grown man watching his past self be carried away on his father’s shoulder, his sister in tears while he was just stared… wide eyed and deathly still. Even with blurry vision, gods only know where his glasses ended up at the time, he could make out the corpses. 

Labault watched as his younger self and his sister were ushered into the carriage, alongside those who still lived. He watched as a grim-faced hrothgar asked his father where Isette was. He watched as his father broke down as he climbed into the carriage as well. He watched that carriage disappear into the bleeding horizon. 

And then. He was alone with the skeletal remains of what was once a close knit village on the outskirts of a once green Coerthas.

 He begins to walk through the carnage. Perhaps it was his mind's way of understanding what his young self saw at the time, but the corpses didn’t look… the way they should. In place of gore, fleshy Rafflesia bloomed from the bodies like an infection. They blossomed out of eye sockets, mouths, even from the gaping wounds. Some of the corpses were so overtaken by these flora that they were barely recognizable, being reduced to a stinking pile of bloody, leathery petals. They oozed viscous red from their centers. The air was thick with the taste of copper. If Labault listened closely, he could hear the flowers pulse and writhe. There was a time where the stench of meat made his stomach turn. Not anymore. He was all too used to the stench of death rotting around him. 

It was nothing but red, red,  r e d… save for the center of the village. There was a makeshift fountain. For some reason it remained intact in his memories. He fondly remembers playing in that fountain with his sister as well as the other children. There was always someone waiting by that fountain. He used to look forward to the surprise of just who it could be… back during those halcyon days, that is. Labault makes his way towards it. He can vaguely make out the shape of a person. “Who will it be tonight…” He mumbles. 

It’s a woman tonight. She’s on her knees, back to Labault, and sobbing as it would seem. The closer he steps, the more the stink of rotten meat is replaced with something else. It was a sickeningly sweet smell permeating from the woman. The smell of a dead woman prepped for her coffin. He’s come to call this smell Sweet Cadaver, along with noting how it suspiciously stank of cherries. He’s come to hate cherries for that very reason. 

Labault now stands directly behind the woman whose sobbing sounded more like distorted wailing now, akin to a banshee. Fear began to nestle itself in the pit of his stomach, paralyzing him. He can only numbly watch as the woman stands. 

“My Star… oh my Star…” She jerks and jumps as she turns towards Labault. “Mama is so sorry my Star… come to Mama…!” The voice, distorted and devious, was directly in his head, accompanied by the sound of crunching bones. 

Labault shuts his eyes. He wished not to see what mockery of his mother his mind had conjured up this time. It was always worse than the last. 

“What’s wrong…? Why won’t you look at Mama…? Come now…!” She giggles with malice. “Open…. Those eyes of yours…!” Ice cold hands cup his face. “My sweet Star… open your eyes…! Mama loves those eyes… just like your father’s!” She hissed every word. “ I said… o p e n!” 

Something cold and slimy opened his eyes, tendrils from the Rafflesia. Despite his best efforts, Labault was left with no choice but to stare into the empty sockets of his mother’s mummified face. He wants to scream. He can feel it bubbling up his throat like bile. Nothing comes, he could only pathetically gasp for air. 

“Let’s go…. somewhere nice….!” She cackles. “Come… my star..!” 

The two of them begin to sink. When Labault looks down, the ground has turned into a field of corpse flowers. The tendrils from the Rafflesia have wrapped around his ankles tight enough to cut circulation. He winces as its squeezes tighter, wondering briefly if it squeezed hard enough would his feet simply pop from its socket. A merciful end that would be. Down, down, down they descend- his mother laughs as he struggles to breathe. 

Labault is neck deep amongst  the corpse blooms and blood when he finally manages to flail his arms. His mother has long since been submerged into this blood ocean. He stares up at the black sky, the stars he loved slowly began to flicker out one by one leaving behind a ghostly glow. He was dying. It felt like he was dying. The only solace was knowing he would soon awaken. 

He stopped flailing. Labault thought it best he let the flowers drown him. His vision begins to blur. Just as the darkness was ready to consume him… something in the dream shifts. Amongst the swirling backdrop of crimson and rustic orange… was a bright blue. A familiar blue. 

“!tluabaL ,em htiw yatS” 

The voice was deep, warm… whose voice was this? Where has he heard this voice before? He’s delirious from the pain, his memory is failing him.   

“!uoy evael t’now I”

Labault couldn’t understand what this man was saying. A sign it was too late. He could no longer see that brilliant glowing blue. The very last thing he sees is the glimmer of something shiny, like a crystal. The liquid fills his ears. He can not hear the shouting of his name. 

He weakly reaches out a hand. The man grips it and almost comically and literally pulls Labault from his nightmare. Labault awakens. He sat upright, arm reached out to no one. His heart sinks when he sees it’s still dark out. Normally, on such occasions, he would opt to read to keep his racing thoughts at bay until he could finally sleep again. However this particular night he felt antsier than usual. Given the circumstances it only makes sense really… he’s been having nightmares more frequently since his apparent exile. 

“A walk… perhaps would do me some good…” In truth he had no desire to take a stroll in the middle of the night. However it beat sitting in a room with a copious amount of scarlet and wallpaper that looked as if it was squirming in the moonlight. He’s afraid to blink, lest those flowers start to invade his waking world too. 

Labault awkwardly shuffled out of bed. The nightgown he wore was soaked in sweat. He freshens up best he can, dresses in dark heavy clothing, ties his long hair back and sets out into the night. The poor man paused for just a moment, wondering if he should at least leave a note for his sister should she find him missing. The thought of going back inside made his stomach churn. So he pressed on with no destination in mind. Labault simply walked the streets of Ishgard aimlessly as he glanced up at the stars to reassure himself they were all still there. 

Much to his chagrin, Labault finds himself pondering what or who that glowing blue was. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s dreamt of someone trying to save him. Often it was his sister trying to pull him out but… she inevitably was pulled in with him, the both of them drowning in a pool of ichor. Never before has he actually been saved from his dream… or he thinks he was saved at least. It happened much too fast to process. 

It clearly had to be someone he knows. Heavens forbid Labault has reached a point of desperation that he’s begun to subconsciously create mystery men to save him. Though the blue man sounded familiar, his voice was too distorted to truly decipher. Worse yet, he could not make out any distinct features… he could only speculate from the Royal blue glow the man gave off. Labault feels flushed when only one man comes to mind. Somehow he finds dreaming of Aymeric saving him was worse than conjuring fictitious men. Gods, he could never tell Lovette this. She would tease him relentlessly. 

“… how am I going to look him in the eyes…” He prays he forgets this dream. It was bad enough that he had fallen for the Lord Commander by simply hearing him laugh. He curses his heart for falling for someone so terribly unattainable. Though perhaps that was a blessing in disguise. It would be easier to let go of. There were much more important things at hand, Ser Aymeric was a busy man and Labault is… unsuitable to be loved by him. To be involved with a man in exile would spell disaster for Aymeric’s reputation. Last thing anyone needs is a scandal on their hands, or… another scandal he should say. 

There was more to this worry, more than he’s willing to voice. It’s been slowly pecking away at his psyche ever since he set foot back in Coerthas. There was a potential uncomfortable truth neither he nor his sister have come to terms with. 

The reason they were never allowed to set foot outside the village when they were young… 

The reason their mother would sneak out under the safety blanket of night to peak at Ishgard… 

The reason their parents were so secretive as to circumstances that led him here…

It all points in a terrible direction and with nothing as well as nowhere to look to prove otherwise… he could only assume the worst. Every day that goes by the more Lovette and him feel as if they shouldn’t be here. If they were to stay too long they fear what could happen, what truths will be bestowed upon them. No one loved Ishgard more than their parents…. But that begs the question if Ishgard loved them. Labault did not wish to think of them as liars. However, given all the surprises as of late, he can’t rule out the possibility. Whether it be true or falsely accused… heresy may have been involved in some way. 

Just what he needed… to be the son of potential heretics! 

Labault can hold out hope until proven otherwise. He couldn’t possibly tarnish Ser Aymeric’s image if heresy truly was attached to his name. It wouldn’t be too hard to keep him at arm’s length or so he hopes. Not to mention one very important detail Labault nearly overlooked… To worry about ruining his image would imply Aymeric wished to be involved with him for more than professional reasons. It wasn’t as if they spoke like friends on the regular… gods did he want to… with that in mind, it was almost conceited of him to think there was ever anything to worry about as far as Aymeric was concerned. 

The Fortemps family on the other hand… a matter he will tackle another night when his mind isn’t racing with thoughts of Aymeric and gory Rafflesia unfortunately. He dares to wonder where the dream would have gone had he not woken up just as Aymeric pulled him from the bloody abyss. Would he have pulled him into his arms? Or would they have both been dragged back under? He removes his glasses to fully rub the exhaustion from his eyes. Labault doesn’t get much relief when images from his nightmare flicker in his mind, nearly dropping his glasses in the process. He ponders if he’ll come to even hate the color red at this rate… 

He does not hear the voice calling out to him. Labault can’t really make out much sound at all, he’s retreated into his own mind. 

“tluabaL” 

The voice is a touch closer. Was that his name being called? He wasn’t sure. 

“!tluabaL” 

Whether it’s his name or not, someone was most certainly trying to get his attention. He swivels his neck only to realize he still had not put his glasses back on. All he could see was a mass of blue, black and gold slowly approaching him. Labault squints as the person steps closer… soon he can make out who it is though… it should have been obvious. 

“Lord Commander!” He yelps as he’s pulled out of his stupor. Halone must have it out for him, truly. Punishment for a past life mayhap? He tries to muster up whatever pseudo charisma he has left in hopes of not making a fool of himself. “Wh-what… brings you here…?” Curse his bubbling nerves. 

“I should ask you the same, given the time of night. Though I suppose I am no better. My duties have rendered me a bit of a night owl.” Labault had once noted the bags of under eyes. To refer to himself as a bit of a night owl seemed like a very kind way to put it. “What of you then? What brought you here?” 

Labault’s glasses were finally nestled back on his face. His surroundings are once again clear… it would seem he had wandered just outside of The Congregation of our Knights Most Heavenly of all the places. He makes a mental note to cease his nightly walks so long as he remains in Ishgard. “Ah… well…” There was no graceful way to explain his situation, if he even should explain anything at all. “Just… a walk…” It’s the truth at least. 

“So late at night?” Truth be told, Labault wasn’t really sure what time it was. If Aymeric’s inquisitive stare was anything to go by… terribly, terribly late was his best guess.  “Not to mention, you are quite far from your current residence…” 

“…well I…” He must look terribly suspicious. Labault would rather not have another set of accusations placed on his lap, more so now given the fact he could potentially drag in uninvolved parties. “… I’m not up to anything if… that’s what you’re concerned about…!” He tried to sound playful. 

“If I wasn’t before I most certainly am now.” Aymeric gives him a hard stare. 

Labault tries to keep the panic at bay. “… ah…” It’s become difficult to form words. His mind is racing. “I…” He must look like a fool, trying to speak normally only to make strangled noises. It feels as though his skin is crawling, the nervous sweat down the back of his neck felt too much like the slimy tendrils that clung to him in his dream. 

In truth, Aymeric had no genuine suspicions that the other man was up to no good. It was painfully apparent something was amiss given his disheveled appearance. Whatever it was that brought Labault out here in the middle of the night was going to remain a mystery for now. Labault seemed unwilling to share, or more accurately, incapable of sharing the reason. Aymeric can’t help but compare Labault to a startled kitten. 

“I…” Labault holds his breath for a moment before releasing a solemn sigh in a pathetic attempt to steal his nerves. “I know how this looks.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “I-I really am just- out for a walk… I find it… helps me clear my mind…” He prays no questions are asked. 

Aymeric could tell he was telling the truth, albeit leaving some pertinent details out. It will have to suffice for the moment. “I believe you.” He makes note of the relief that washes over the other man’s visage. 

“Thank you…” Labault loathes the way his voice trembles, as if on the edge of tears. He debates on bidding Aymeric good night, on simply marching back to manor and crawling back into bed. The thought of having to sit amongst red walls convinces him otherwise. If he ever were to have a place of his own, he makes a mental note to keep his walls plain. Filigree of any kind was the enemy of a man whose mind conjures things in the dark. “... thank you…” He says once more. 

From his peripheral, Labault could tell Aymeric was sizing him up. He didn’t take it personally really, were roles reversed he would do the same. Still, that doesn’t stop the worry. Ser Aymeric had a particularly unwavering poker face, such is to be expected of a man with his status and responsibilities. He suddenly feels shy under his gaze, shifting from foot to foot as he subconsciously starts to tug at his hair tie… the tension from it was making his head start to pulse. 

“Forgive me if this seems a bit too forward, but you certainly seem a bit worse for wear…” Aymeric says carefully. That was certainly a kind way to put it. Labault was already a ghostly pallor to begin with but he somehow seemed paler in this moment, making the dark circles beneath his eyes seem all the more prominent. It doesn’t come as a surprise when he sees the slight twitch from the other when he takes a tentative step closer to him.  

“... you look about as exhausted as I feel…” Labault answers without thinking. He winces when he registers what he just said. 

Despite being taken aback, Aymeric laughs under his breath. “Fair play, though last I checked I don’t appear as if I’ve seen a phantom.” He truly doesn’t. Though he does look like an overworked man who really shouldn’t be awake. Although, the bags under Aymeric’s eyes were more charming than Labault would like to admit. 

“... a phantom is one way to put it…” He ponders if he should share what is on his mind. Labault has no desire to share the semantics of his turmoils but it would be nice to voice them. Perhaps he could rationalize them, confront them even. “...I suppose death is… a phantom of a sort…” Aymeric remains silent, though he could tell he has his full attention. “Often do I dream of death…” His heart feels heavy when he thinks about how he may always dream of death until the very end of time. “No one teaches you how to mourn, no one prepares you for the first corpse you ever see…” How could one even begin to do such a thing? “It will always be thrust upon us…” 

Aymeric gives a thoughtful hum. “Awfully grim sentiments, ones I am well acquainted with admittedly.” 

“... you may come to find I have a grim personality…” Labault says with a sad smile. “Though… I suppose most of us have our darker points…” Though perhaps gloomy was a more fitting descriptor, not that he was about to correct himself. Grim and Gloom often go hand in hand. “Such is one of many burdens that comes with life…the burden of carrying on…” He clears his throat a bit too loudly when he feels his eyes begin to water. “Though-! I suppose with that in mind… it makes finding the joys of life all the more important…!” Labault pauses in hopes of Aymeric picking up the conversation. He begins to panic when he doesn’t reply and scrambles to come up with an example. There were a slew of things he could have said, books being an obvious one, being able to adventure with his sister, song, dance… anything at all. Instead, he blurted out the first thing that popped into his head when he finally noticed the bottle that Aymeric was holding. “Such as wine! Mayhap a bit of a luxury but…” He trails off. 

It was at the mention of wine that Aymeric starts to inspect the very bottle in his hands with an unreadable expression. “I can’t say I indulge myself much. This here is merely a… diplomatic gift shall we say.” He twists it around for Labault to better see its label. “Cherry wine as it would seem!” 

Labault can’t suppress the severe grimace that takes over, his stomach is once again churning. “I’m… afraid I’m not too fond of cherry flavor… or cherries at all for that matter…” He isn’t too fond of drinking wine either, not since recent events at least. There was a time when he partook in a glass or two late at night accompanied by a romance novel. Not anymore. 

“I shall keep that in mind for future occasions then.” He says with a thoughtful rub of his chin and a boyish lopsided grin. 

Labault is tempted to ask what occasions Aymeric was even referring to. He ultimately opts not to, concluding he’s more than likely overthinking a simple statement. “... pardon me, I really shouldn’t keep you from your rest with my rambling…” He really means he’s made enough of a fool of himself. 

“And here I was hoping you indulge me with your company for a bit longer.” His smooth voice sends a shiver down Labault’s spine. 

“... why…?” He asks, blushing fiercely. “... I can’t imagine you would wish to speak more of death…” Furthermore, he’s certain the Lord Commander would wish to retire to his home at some point and sleep at least for a short while. If he even sleeps at all… a concern to pry about another time. 

“Mayhap subject is irrelevant.” He gives another boyish grin. “Have you considered that I may simply enjoy your company?” 

Labault’s heart jumps into his throat. “N-no, quite frankly!” It makes him giddy nonetheless. “Forgive me but I must question your judgment if you find me enjoyable company.” He doesn't mean to be so harsh on himself really. “Lest you enjoy the gloomy types that speak of death at the wee hours of the morning…” 

“I admit the timing is unfortunate but a silver lining is I have gotten to hear you speak without fear of interruption. Judge me as you will, I find you quite charming Labault. I wish to know more of you. I hope to have more moments like this, just us two.” 

Were he a braver man, Labault would call Aymeric a cruel man for saying such sweet words. “I…” He wishes to return the sentiment, truly he does but the crushing weight of reality has nestled itself in his chest. There are things Labault does not even know of himself, of his heritage, the place he was born… the truth. He fears what the answers might be. He fears Ayemric seeing him in a different light. “I should… head back… as should you, Lord Commander…” He bows stiffly. 

Just as Labault was about to step past Aymeric, said man gestures for him to wait. Aymeric holds out his hand towards the other man with a serene smile. Labault’s fingers twitch, he feels he shouldn’t but… like the fool he is he places his hand in Aymeric’s. He watches dumbfounded as the back of his gloved hand was tenderly kissed. “You may call me by my name when in private company.” 

If Labault could vanish into thin air he would. His poor heart couldn’t handle this. “A-ay…” It didn’t feel right to refer to him with no honorifics, even with the permission. “S-Ser… Aymeric…” He prays the man doesn’t notice his grip tighten ever so slightly. 

“I suppose that will suffice.” Aymeric softly laughs. He lets go of Labault’s hand. “Sweet Dreams Labault.” 

He can only stand and stare for a moment with burning cheeks. “... r-right!...” Labault begins to walk past Aymeric. “Sweet Dreams!” He parrots, trying not to swoon when he notices Aymeric stare at him with something akin to fondness, though it melts briefly into visible concern. Labault can feel Aymeric watching him, even well after he was out of sight. 

The journey back to Fortemps Manor was thankfully uneventful. It’s terribly still inside, no one has yet to awaken, not even the servants it seems. It suits Labault just fine. He really was in no mood to humor a series of questions as to where he went. Against his better judgment, he trudges back to his chambers to attempt to sleep. Labault sits at the edge of the bed in a fresh nightgown, praying that he falls into a dreamless sleep. He passes out the moment his head hits the pillow. 

He dreams despite his prayers for none. 

It starts off as it did before. The remaining pieces of his heart shatter as witnesses that terrible night once again. It all carries out the same as before… even the blue man has returned, albeit now his form is much more clear. It almost seemed like he was glowing much brighter amongst the dark gore ridden landscape. 

“Stay with me, Labault!” 

Labault dared to hope that being able to understand what he was saying was a good sign. Maybe this nightmare would end differently. “Aymeric!” He has the strength to flail more, to reach out to him. 

“I won’t leave you!” 

Just as before, Labault is pulled free from the ocean of stinking Rafflesia, though he does not wake. He is pulled into a tight embrace, a hand stroking his hair and sweet words of comfort are being whispered into his ear. He allows his dreamself to sob. All he could manage to say over and over was Aymeric, Aymeric, Aymeric! He sobbed until his voice ceased to function. Labault pulls back to look at the other man, the man of his dreams… The man he falls for more and more with every meeting. 

Aymeric stares at him like a starving man. His eyes flicker down to Labault’s lips. Without a word he steals a deep, suffocating kiss. Labault begins to sob once more when he realizes Aymeric’s lips taste of cherry. He awakens with a harsh gasp, followed once more by blubbering tears. 

“So much for sweet dreams…”  

#cadaverous creations #labault vairemont #aymbault #I guess??? I mean it is but... not the main focus I realize #I realize I could have just dropped a link to the fucking google doc #but the idea of me opening it and seeing someone on there fills me with dread #assuming people even see it #I dont mean that in a super negative way I now it sounds that way #just small audience and algorithm does not favor me #ech its fine this is mainly for me anyways #If I need to list another warning let me know Im not too sure if I covered all bases #anyways moving on

[kayssweetdreams]

Maestro Hiccups 2 Nightmares Unleashed Part 13

"When we were entering the Night Dimension, we had gotten stopped by these...things, They were like Negati, but didn't have the masks, or the marks, and they all attacked us..." Yuri explained. NiGHTS hands then clenched into fists and their eyes narrowed. Owl let out a sad 'hoo' at the description "Those...were Nightmaren. From the dark realm of Nightmare...The Terrible creations of Wizeman the Wicked" He explained.

The name sent chills down the humans spines "W-Whos Wizeman?" Cass shivered. "He is the God and Ruler of Nightmare, He aims to take over the Entire Night Dimension, as well as the waking world. But he can only do that through the power of Ideya." The old bird explained. "And...what IS this 'Ideya'?" Cal asked.

"Ideya is pure dream energy, all of Nightopia is created by the light of Ideya, however, Wizeman targets dreamers that have it, as they bring him closer, and closer to taking over both our world and yours." Owl said. Leo frowned "And here I thought Lance having hiccups that make your worst nightmare a reality were bad..." He said.

Owl let out a hooting chuckle "Hoo Hoo! Not to worry! The Nightmaren don't seem to be here right now!" He said. However, NiGHTS didn't look so relieved "Yeah...in fact, there's none here at ALL. There would usually be a few 3rd levels here and there, but there are none here..." they said, flying around the Plaza and darting around like a humming bird.

"Now don't worry NiGHTS, I'm sure that the Nightmaren are just plotting, But if they're not attacking, this means that you can help the visitors get your cousins cure." Owl said, flying up to NiGHTS level. The jester still found it suspicious that the Nightmaren weren't attacking, but floated back to where the inhabitants were regardless.

"Well, I can take you to the Dream Berry bush if you'd like, I do miss my cousins from time to time." NiGHTS said with a smile. The inhabitants smiled back "Thank you NiGHTS! The sooner we find Lance's cure, the better." Emma said. The others agreed as NiGHTS led them to a nearby door...unaware that they were being watched...

Meanwhile, Somewhere else in the Night Dimension...

Lance was grateful that he still had his powers as he searched for the Lucid inhabitants "I knew i should have found the cure on my own, I just wish I did before Balan had known..." He said, searching for them in the area between asleep and awake. The Negati King was worried, hoping that they hadn't gotten captured or attacked by the Nightmaren yet

Suddenly, Lance felt something grab at one of his tentacles. He turned around and saw what looked to be an orange sheep with multcolored horns, but no legs. Lance gave an annoyed grunt, it was a small Nightmaren, but still a bit annoying...especially since it had started nibbling on it now.

"OK small Nightmaren, This has been fun, but now you're going to have to let go little one." He said, but the small Shleep didn't give up that easily. Instead, it had let out a very loud bleat, one so loud that it hurt Lance's ears. Just then, a bunch more Nightmaren surrounded them, and they looked a bit too eager to get Lance.

The negative maestro readied himself for a fight, when the same Shleep flew up to his face, and strong force came from behind him and forced him to his Knees "YOU FIENDS!! LET GO OF ME!!" Lance yelled, but the small Nightmaren blew a cloud of yellow dust into Lance's face, making his eyelids grow tired...

And it all went dark...

#Balan Wonderworld #NiGHTS into Dreams #NiGHTS Journey of Dreams #Balan #Lance #NiGHTS #Owl #Leo Craig #Emma Cole #Jose Gallard #Fiona Demetria #Yuri Brand #Haoyu Chang #Sana Hudson #Cass Milligan #Cal Suresh #Iben Bia #Attilio Caccini #Lucy Wong #Eis Glover #Bruce Stone

[tyriq092]

Juice Wrld: The man The myth and The legend

The loss of a loved one cannot be avoided, in my opinion. The oddest of all feelings, loss strikes us on a deep level while being pushed upon us from the outside. Even though grieving is unavoidable and death is predestined, we can ultimately choose how we handle the passing of a loved one while we are still living. In doing so, we may make our lives count and motivates others.

Loss combines the most challenging and most wonderful component of being human. Why? Because of how much you love that person, the worse the loss is. The more we love, the more we grieve in a bizarre equilibrium. A life without loss is a life without love, so that love is worth it.

Early in December of 2019 Juice Wrld boarded a private plane for what would be his final flight before he passed away. For a man who celebrated life in and out of wax, it was a shattering conclusion. I distinctly recall the first time I heard Lucid Dreams' most well-known song. This particular song captures the moment when a breakup feels like war and turns into a struggle for one's own survival. The song became an enduring symbol for me and hundreds of millions of other listeners, and Juice Wrld was established as a rising star. 

Juice's admirers, whose hearts are weighed down by their own sorrow and suffering, were moved by his honesty and sincerity. His discography was adopted as a soundtrack for self- and relationship-related grief. In a society when being harsh is both expected of him and required, he showed softness.

His death at even a tender age is especially tragic because his songs imply that he could never see himself in any other situation. He advised knowing deep down that reaching old age wasn't a privilege only enjoyed by those who shared his background, emotions, and profession. I believe that Juice Wrld wanted to live even if his most heartbroken tracks, like Dark Place and Burn, among others, frequently seem like suicide letters laced with addiction and misery.

Despite instincts that would lead him to do the contrary, he was trying to get clean and was loving intensely and loudly. In order for those of us who were alone in our private lives to feel less alone, he battled his issues in public. He even provided his phone number for anyone who wanted to contact him.

There are issues with living in a place where we are required to repress our feelings and not exhibit signs of weakness, which hasn't been easy for me and Juice Wrld likewise. In order to numb our suffering, we tend to interest ourselves in all kinds of activities to make the agony go away. However, Juice compelled us to pay attention as he frequently spilled out his feelings, concerns, fears, and insecurities in gruesome details, creating scenes of melancholy and loneliness with unflinching sincerity.A wailing melodic flow that imbued his hip-hop blues with drama and intensity was the foundation of his blue-stricken hip-hop blues. He risked everything by barring his soul in an act of unrequited love while hoping he would pass muster. Though he rapped primarily about heartbreak and pain brought on by breakups as well as by life, problems with brain chemistry, and methods people use to numb themselves, such as pills, alcohol, or lean, the relationships that he absorbed were just another way for him to vanish and feel something else.

Along with his deceased colleagues Lil Peep, who died at the age of 21 from an accidental overdose, and XXXtentacion, who died at the age of 20 from gun violence, he was a crucial component in the commercial growth of emo rap and one of the genre's most influential proponents. What's the twenty-seven club? We ain't making it past twenty-one, goes a line from his song "Legend," a homage to X and Peep, that hangs over his life like a shadow or premonition. 

 The world frequently speaks about us black males and our fury, but rarely of our grief as is seen in Juice Wrld's song Wishing Well, in which he sang: ’Ring-ring, phone call from depression You used my past and my memories as a weapon On the other line, I talk to addiction, huh Speakin' of the devil, all the drugs, I miss them This can't be real, is it fiction? Somethin' feels broke, need to fix it I cry out for help, do they listen? I'ma be alone until it's finished’’. For his fans and even for himself, his drug addiction has been a source of concern. which he said that in a song called burn that ’’Gotta put the narcotics down, I can feel 'em fucking up my kidney And punching my liver If I let it kill me, my mama'll never forgive me Ain't numbing my feelings, if I let it kill 'em, my baby will never forgive me’’.

Following Juice Wrld's passing, I have been diverse. I used to try to conceal it a little, but now that I have a channel, I can be different while also attempting to educate people about how using drugs to numb our feelings will just cause us to forget what our true concerns are. His life and songs were and will continue to be a spark for all of us, even after his death, proving that the demons he sang of did not triumph. 

 In the comments, please🙏!

Love to you all😍😍.

#juicewrld #popular #sad #loss