#feather river temple

[latterdaysainttemples]

Inside the Feather River California Temple of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

Read the Church Newsroom article. Learn more about Latter-day Saint temples, their functions, and find a temple open house near you.

#feather river california #california #ca #Yuba city #temple #church of jesus christ of latter day saints #religion #christianity #architecture #photography #interior design

[comfortless]

Everything you write leaves me breathless <333

Sorry in advance for my English

I was thinking about König, (maybe in an ancient rome/Greek settling) being so alone and desperate for connection that he turns to religion: one day he's walking in the woods, deep in thought, when he finds an abandoned temple. The inside is small but lavish, with a life sized statue of what must be its goddess. He sees this lovely sculpture, abandoned and alone and sees himself in her. He becomes a dedicated, fanatic and soso lovestruck worshipper. Unknownly to him his goddess, woken by his prayers, has been watching him and listening to him. One day while he's praying in front of her her statue moves and talks and now his deity is in front of him. Looks like he has an opportunity to worship her like she deserves ;)

granting you ten million kissies for this prompt and your sweet words! your English is perfect, little wisp! <3 also… giving me an excuse to write more loner/loner and mutual worship?! you have spoken to my heart…

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. historical/myth au; vague time period, brief mentions of violence, fluff, pining, not very explicit smut, mutual worship.

The spirit of the temple feels disorienting, though the architecture is a still, white marble, the floor riddled with leaves and dirt, creeping up the sides of the building as if river water had washed the entire thing ashore… Something feels very alive here, feathered out on the air, a pulse of thunder, the breeze beneath dove’s wings, enthused and yawning. Hungry.

It only becomes more apparent the closer he steps to the statue.

She is unlike any he has ever seen before, carved with the same skill, but so much smaller than the other statues in their temples, so much more lifelike that he almost thinks to greet her. She’s been painted unlike most, a perfect vision bathed in color where she stands out amidst the sea of white and green surrounding her. The temple has not been stained with blood, no offering strewn before her bare feet, left for the rot or dragged away by the dainty hands of this very goddess. No maidens sit in prayer, no men lower there swords to her…

There’s nothing to tell him just who she is, either.

Despite his better judgment, his hand does find her side, a swift draw up from the vision of her thigh peeking from her robe upward to curl over her hip. Her beauty is unmatched, impossible to describe and the call seems almost tangible, shrieking at him in whispers to bend a knee and let her in. So, he does. He prays to her in the silence, alternating between whispers and his own thoughts.

He tells her of his struggles: a soldier brought in from a small tribe up north, robbed from his parents as a boy, how all he knew now were the Roman ways yet could rarely comprehend their customs and deities. Maybe she could offer him some counsel or solace…? Make the weight of his blade feel less heavy as he struck down men that could very well be his own brothers? Give him something to return to when old wounds reopened and he bled, hurt with no one but himself to tend to his heart or his injuries.

The goddess only blesses him with silence: the wind does not pick up outside, there is no disembodied laughter, no sudden thought of an offering or new words to speak to her. She is void of an answer just as the very temple she waits inside is empty of all else.

This does not dissuade him from returning.

Returning to the city after another battle some months later, his first thought is to return to her, to leave the things he’s taken from dead men at her feet, to paint the temple with the blood lingering on his weapon. There is honey, wine, meat and jewelry made of stones from the sea. There is brittle, dried flakes of blood polished from his blade and left to settle onto the floor like the leaves of late autumn. He presents these things to her with a grin, thinking that assuredly this goddess would call back to him then, grant him with a love so consuming that all of the evasion and emptiness cursed upon him would be untwined.

He kneels before her statue, presses his cheek to her thigh, sighs content at the feel of cold marble against the ever-burning of his flesh, gazes up at her like an adoring dog.

Assuredly, if this temple were built for a being that did exist at all she would know just how she was all that this lonesome soldier had, would know the way that he loved her and waited with bated breath and heartstrings pulled taut for her to love him in turn. A greedy, begging muzzle that utters his prayers, words he’s never spoken to anyone whether deity or mortal, only to her in the quiet of the forest.

It’s not madness that provokes him, but the gentleness of her face and the tender look in her eyes, an expression that no other had ever offered to him, no one but this little forgotten goddess. Whether pitying or loving, he did not know. It was only enough to keep him returning: for many days, his path from the city led straight to her feet, even some nights were spent lying upon her floor, finding peace finally being able to sleep next to something apart from lonely walls.

The sun rises and sets each day where he sits and speaks to her as though she were a living, breathing woman. Occasionally he reads aloud to her in the stillness, cheekily tells her when another goddess’ name is brought up within the lines of poetry that they could never hope to compare.

It’s ridiculous when he does not even know what purpose she serves, but this silent figure is his only companion, the only thing that sets his heart ablaze and mind focused in battle because above all else, he has to return to her. Though she can not share his words, he knows somehow that she shares in his loneliness.

Finally, he thinks to ask her the question that has been burning at the tip of his tongue for weeks and months. One, that he has tried to hold back, display a patience that he lacks. It’s after a night of sleeping on cold marble, an ache in his neck from its hardness and his own refraining from bringing a cushion from his own home in his desperation to return to her.

“Why won’t you speak?,” he asks, somber as he makes his way to leave the temple, only halting in place to cast her a fragile look from over his shoulder. He has read the epics, heard the stories and seen the blessings of other deities… Yet no matter what he does or how often he tethers himself to her leg and dotes upon her, she still meets his devotion with nothing but her silence in return.

König is left with the thought that his gifts are not enough, that he, himself, is not enough, even as her sole devotee. To keep his mind preoccupied, he keeps to the city for a time. The bed is cold, the people still see him as a barbaric outsider, and the horrible coil wound around his heart only seems to tighten its grip further. He feels as though he has left a part of himself out there in the forest within the four chalked walls of her temple.

This loneliness does not feel like one he is forced to swallow down, it feels like a vicious sort of ache, the twisting of a dagger beneath ribs to sink in and steal away what little of a life he does have.

He returns to her the following night, with a furrowed brow and a grave look upon his face. There’s an intent to demand she free him of her, that this longing finally pass, but as his sandals reach the entrance to the temple, those thoughts fall away from his mind like droplets of rain, a cool drizzle that begins to fall outside the very moment he is sheltered.

The statue— the goddess moves.

She tilts her head and inspects him fondly, the perfect mouth he has envisioned speaking to him so many times prior tilts upward in the gentlest smile as her bare feet move to carry her body forward.

“A test,” she explains as though answering his question from only the past day, almost saddened by her own words as her gaze lowers to the space between them.

König’s heart does not roar then, it only melts with the knowledge that someone like her has been left alone for so, so very long that she felt the need to prove to herself that he would return to her side. He would. Time and time again he would. When she raises her head to look him in the eye, her own clouded and misty, he only silently prays that she could see such a vow upon his face.

“I am worthy then?,” he questions, forcing himself to remain rigidly in place despite the call- the urge, to circle her, just once, drop at her feet to then feel her pulse beneath his fingertips. Anything. Even an assurance would be reward enough, but there is always a greed in the hearts of men, one he feels burning a hole through his very being even now.

Her lips press to a line and her gaze seems faraway, lost in her own thoughts that must be as mighty as Olympus itself. After a time, she only answers in a soft whisper, “It is I who am unworthy of you.”

All discordance in his chest pulls to a halt at this, all apprehension and sadness are whisked away when she instead comes to kneel before him. She curls her arms around his leg, presses her cheek to his thigh as he had done so many times before. The goddess gazes up at him with not just affection… but reverence, as though he were the strongest warrior of myth, deserving of even the love of something only as ethereal and sweet as she could provide.

His breath catches for a mere moment before he lowers himself at her side. The stares exchanged from both are full of an unspoken wonderment, all of the things that words alone would fail to speak in truth.

He waits out the rain there, sat beside her with the air surrounding them charged with such a great and unspoken affection that even Venus would taste a bitter envy on her tongue should she pass by to see.

She tells him she can not recall what she was the goddess of… or if she was ever truly any goddess at all. The marble surrounding her was put up for a purpose, but she’s never seen the Elysian Fields or climbed Olympus on her own. Her memories are scattered blurs, and she confesses that she feels tired when she tries to parse things together in a way that he will understand.

He listens while he tends to her by offering the honey and dried meat left in offering for her here, then fetches fresh water from the stream that brooks several yards away and returns to her side with a face both damp and flushed.

König tells her of his life too, how during every battle since stumbling upon this sacred place he has kept her in mind; he has no wife to return to, no other women to bed, that since their meeting his life has become hers. He confesses he had the intention of returning only to force a curse upon this madness that had enveloped him, but… he could never have brought himself to do so, even if she had not appeared to him warm and breathing.

Her laugh then could have prompted waves of flowers to bloom and birds to sing in tune, whimsical and so precious he only begins to feel himself fall, truly. Not out of sheer desperation, but with genuine affection.

When her exhaustion does take her, she does not mind the way his arm curls around her middle to tuck her body closer to his own. The goddess has no fury within her, only mirrors his own feelings with a fluttering of lashes and a soft sigh.

So she sleeps, pulled close to him like a lover rather than a stranger. When dawn breaks, when König knows he’s to be called back to train and fight with the other soldiers, have dull talks about what land to cross and take for their own next, she tells him she will wait there for his return.

He can not concentrate as well on his training this day. The plans for future wars and battles do not send flurries, hot excitement through him. The world is an endless gray, reflected above with darkened clouds threatening further rain. There is only one place he wishes to be, one that yearns for him more than his own home or the women waiting on the street for coins the other men readily supply. When one, a native Roman, does ask him why he does not just venture to the brothel to put himself in better spirits, König only grits his teeth to still his hand from quieting him eternally. These men knew nothing of the love he feels, and certainly they didn’t deserve to.

The temple is no different from how he found it the night prior. The goddess sits with her hands curled in her lap, smiling just as fondly at him as she had before. His heart shatters at the thought that she had sat there waiting for him in such a way all day. He swears to her that he will have a proper bed made for her, bring her the softest of furs and cushions stuffed with downy feathers to lie upon. For now his offering is only fruit and wine, things that she shares with him while she shushes his concerns with quiet words and gratitude that he had returned.

She lowers herself again before him after pulling her robe free and lying it upon the floor. It is no proper bedding at all, but she swears that it is enough, that his own warmth is just enough for her to be sated and comfortable. His head swims when she kisses his thigh, drags her lips up from his knee to rest there with that reverent look in her eye. Mortals coupling with deities was not unheard of, but to think it could happen to him…

She is a goddess. How is he supposed to… How could he ever dirty her with himself? He thinks to refuse her before she tugs away the barrier of fabric between them and takes him into her mouth. Stunned, he only watches her, feels her in a way he has never felt a woman before until he finds his voice again.

“Lie down,” he breathes, shaky and tentative as he rests his hand upon her cheek. She complies, giddy and content when she’s splayed out on the white robe beneath her, legs parting immediately and her arms reaching upward to invite him into her hold.

There’s no tact when he lies atop her, feels the warmth of her thighs around him and her arms curled over his neck. His forehead is pressed to her own when togetherness is found, and when she sighs so soft as she envelops him in full, his mouth descends upon her own.

She doesn’t praise him, doesn’t need to in words, because the muffled sounds and cries that leave her lips are more than enough to spear him onward. König, however… he babbles ceaselessly, overwhelmed and overcome by such a profound joy, he can not keep himself from reciting every word that comes to mind, whether vile or pure.

“My goddess,” he whispers into her hair, eyes half-lidded and dazed with each shallow thrust. “We could have had this for a season… you have made me wait so long, hm?”

The way she feels is unmatched, he thinks, when her breathing shudders and she only seems to constrict him further. To think he could bring a goddess to ruin… the grin that crosses his face when he pushes his head against her neck is bordering on both ecstatic and cruel.

“I will give you a demigod,” he hisses against her throat, not at all subtle about just how far he was willing to go to keep her here. With him. More than Olympus, she belonged beneath him, and the tremor that wracks her form then is all of the confirmation he would need.

She sobs his name when the tension becomes too much to bear, fingernails graze the flesh of his shoulders as she shudders, falls into such bliss that her words of praise come incoherent and weak. He follows her to a saccharine abyss with a guttural groan.

The aftermath is softer than any other moment he has shared with her. There are an abundance of kisses pressed between them, littered across her flesh and his own with whispers that leave his mind cloudy. Her worship is subtle by comparison to his own, coming in honeyed stares and such words he would never dare to repeat, no lowly poet deserved to ever hear them, their voices could never compare to her own.

The goddess holds him close, bumps his nose with her own and makes a promise; she tells him for as long as he shall live that this temple was as much his home as it were his own. That even when this body of his does die, she will seek him out in the Elysian Fields, lie at his feet as he had done her own; that no matter what may come, they will never be apart.

#könig x reader #konig x reader #storing your other request for now angel! <3 #someone kick me and make me write! so sorry to anyone who has sent something in that i have not gotten around to just yet #i see them and i promise i am working through them! my heart soars any time i am entrusted with a König prompt!

[elizaleclerc]

two hearts, one home ☁️

charles leclerc x reader

summary: charles comfort after fem mc comes home from work with a migraine <\3

author's note: first post ever lol hope u like :,) also taking requests for more little blurbs! just message me

song: sweet creature by harry styles

word count: 1k

As you trudged through the threshold of your apartment, every step felt like a heavy burden on your tired feet. The long day at work had left your body drained and weary. On top of that, a sharp migraine had taken root in your head, making the second half of the day a struggle to get through. You could feel the tension radiating from your temples, as if tiny hammers were pounding away at your skull. Each breath was a chore, and you longed for the comfort of your bed, hoping it would alleviate some of the pain and exhaustion that consumed you.

Migraines were a familiar foe, often forcing you to retreat into the safe cocoon of your bed, shutting out the world and all its distractions. But today was different; there was no luxury of seclusion or quiet solitude. A crucial deadline loomed over your head at work, leaving no room for rest or respite. The persistent tapping of keyboards and boisterous conversations bombarded your senses, threatening to tip you over the edge with every passing second. Each sound felt like a sharp jolt to your throbbing head, aching with intensity. Tension coiled tightly in your mind, ready to snap at any moment.

With each step, the sharp click of your heels reverberates through the empty apartment, the sound echoing off the stark white walls. Yet even this noise is quickly engulfed by the incessant pounding in your head, a steady thump that feels like a constant reminder of your stress and anxiety. Your throat is dry and scratchy, evidence of a day filled with tension and worry. The faint taste of coffee still lingers on your tongue from a rushed morning, adding to the overwhelming sensory overload.

You languidly laid your purse on the counter and flicked your heels off your worn feet. It was a sluggish and melodious movement, as if your body was being pulled along by a slow-moving river and your actions carried the weight of the world.

Charles, clad in comfortable sweats, practically flew towards you with open arms. His embrace was warm and enveloping, his vanilla-scented skin bringing back memories of lazy Sundays spent in bed together. But today, that scent sent a sharp pain shooting behind your eyes. You mustered up all your energy to hug him back, but he immediately noticed something was off. He pulled back, his emerald eyes searching your face for answers.

“What’s wrong?” His voice, like a soothing balm, caressed your ears with its gentle murmur. It was as if he could sense the fragility of your body and mind in that moment, his tone soft and compassionate. His words were like a warm embrace, enveloping you in comfort and understanding.

Your eyes fluttered tiredly, “Migraine.” It was all you could manage to say, each word feeling like a heavy weight on your exhausted shoulders. Every uttered syllable and slight movement caused your already weak body to grow weaker.

Charles’s entire demeanor shifted as he tenderly placed his hands on either side of your face, his touch as gentle as a feather. “Oh mon chéri, I’m so sorry.” You managed a small smile for him before he took your hand and led you to the bathroom. “Let’s get you feeling better,” he said softly, his concern evident in every word and action.

As his fingers delicately traced the lines of your face, Charles used a soft cotton pad to remove each layer of makeup with gentle and precise movements. In between, he would pause to press light kisses against your lips, as if trying to revive you from a deep slumber. The pain in your head remained, but his tender affection brought some relief. Once finished, he slowly ran a brush through your tangled locks, his eyes focused on every move to ensure your comfort. You watched him through the mirror, admiring the love and care he showed towards you in such simple actions.

Each delicate touch was like a precious gift, cherished and savored amidst the throbbing pain in your head. With Charles by your side, it seemed as though all pain in the world faded away. His love was like a fragile, golden thread weaving its way through every moment spent together. As you sat there, exhausted from work and burdened by headaches, he presented you with your favorite silk pajama set and helped you change out of your stiff clothes. His skilled hands moved up to your shoulders, kneading away the tension as you closed your eyes in relief. Soft kisses trailed along your neck as he continued the massage, his warmth and presence alone enough to soothe your entire being. As the minutes passed, you couldn't help but feel better under his loving care and attention.

Your final destination, a luxurious white comforter and perfectly plush memory foam pillows beckoning you. As you settled into the soft embrace of Charles's arm, your mind finally began to let go of all its worries. Lying in bed, with your head still nestled against his chest, you couldn't help but marvel at the peacefulness that had come to you. Charles's heart beat steadily like a metronome, guiding you into a deep state of relaxation. With each rise and fall of his chest, you felt yourself sinking deeper into tranquility. In this moment, wrapped in his warm and protective embrace, the chaos of the world slipped away and all that existed was this safe haven of peace and love.

Your ultimate goal was not to drift off into sleep, but rather to simply ease the strain on your overworked mind by resting your heavy eyelids. Migraines often robbed you of the ability to sleep, making relief seem like a distant dream. Charles grabbed a book from his nightstand, propping it up to read on his lap. As he silently lost himself in the pages, the predictable sound of flipping paper lulled you into a peaceful daze. He would pause to place tender kisses on your temples, while his other hand held you protectively at the waist. Despite the struggles and hardships of migraines, you were grateful for moments like these when Charles's love enveloped you like a warm blanket, soothing both body and mind.

#formula one fanfic #charles leclerc #formula 1 #formula one #fanfiction #fanfic #f1 x reader #scuderia ferrari #x reader #hurt/comfort #formula one fanfiction #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader

[reyla-the-black-wolf]

My heart speaks for you (Part 2)

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Pairing: Eris x f!reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: angsty fluff?, angst, hints of anxiety, anxiety attack, nightmare

Summary: Y/n is the youngest child of the High Lord of the Night Court and lives a slightly different life than the rest of her family. But what happens, when an unexpected visitor enters the stage and decides to completely change her life?

A/N: Hey guys! It took me a bit longer to write this chapter than I had planned to (accidentally deleted a part of the story ups) but finally did it! And I recommend you listen to "Remember that night" by Sara Kays and "The night we met" by Lord Huron.

Anyway, enjoy reading! 😙

Part 1 ⎮Part 2 ⎮Part 3⎮Part 4⎮

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Six days. Six days had passed since the incident in the conference room. Six tough days and not a single glimpse of him. No word, no letter, no message of any kind.

The water of the Sidra washed up on the shore in mesmerising waves, each time stealing a bit more of the glittering sand. Sunlight reflected off the mirrored surface, magically illuminating the facade of the River House. 

The hammock I sat in swayed gently in the afternoon breeze and, thanks to Elain, the sun didn´t bother me too much. My aunt had planted two Illyrian oaks in our garden the year I was born, providing shade now that they had grown from tiny sprouts into strong, sturdy trees. As I became older, I found my favourite reading spot underneath them. They stood a few feet from the River House and were the perfect place to relax and simply be. 

A piece of bark crumbled onto the pages of the book I was holding right now. `Feathers and Fire´ was written in large, ornate letters on the leather-bound cover. Nesta had borrowed me one of her novels to keep me company, as I had spent the last few days mostly by myself. 

I give up! After reading the same paragraph for the third time in a row, I finally slammed the book shut. I had really tried to concentrate on the story in the last hour, but my mind had drifted off more than once. And always back to the same place. 

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I was in shock. Or so I thought, as I couldn´t think clearly. My mind was racing and my heart was pounding so loudly that all of Velaris must´ve heard it.

Mate. Eris Vanserra was my mate. 

I couldn´t believe it. I mean, he doesn´t even know me?

The beige sofa under my legs felt too soft, as if it wanted to pull me into a hug and never let go. And the ticking clock on the opposite wall made my ears twitch in annoyance, so I decided to get up and pace around the living room, trying to quiet my mind. I was massaging my temples to ground myself a little when a soft touch stopped me in my tracks. Small, gentle fingers starting to trail along my shoulder in a soothing rhythm. 

„Sweetheart, look at me, please.“ My mother´s calm voice made me turn to her. „Everything´s going to be all right.“ She radiated pure love. „Whatever happens next, I want you to know you´re not alone. I´m here for you, okay, honey?“ It helped slow down my racing heart a little, but not enough. I sincerely hoped my father and his brothers hadn´t beaten Eris to death just out of anger. 

Just as I thought of them, three men winnowed into the living room. With long strides, my father rushed towards me, some of his darkness still clinging onto him, and cupped my face with both hands. „Darling, are you all right? Are you hurt? Do you need anything?“ He asked worriedly as he inspected me for any injuries, whatever he was looking for. 

I withdrew from his grasp, spun around once to show him I was fine, and put on my most reassuring smile to calm his worries, making his tensed muscles relax. „I´m so sorry. I never wanted you to see this.“ Regret seeped into his voice. „But…“ He paused, visibly struggling to find his next words. „Did the bond snap for you too?“ The question caught me entirely off guard, as I thought he was angry with me, trying to argue. I could almost feel my family holding their breath, dreading my answer. Silky hair fell around my face, casting tender shadows on my features as I shook my head. A quick glance at my parents and I knew they were having a silent conversation. Sweat formed on my palms as I unconsciously clenched my hand into a fist. With each passing second, an unpleasant feeling returned to my stomach, making me want to throw up.

It spread even further when my father turned his attention back to me, and my heart sank as I noticed the sudden change in his expression. A completely blank canvas. The mask of a High Lord. Others probably wouldn´t see through his masquerade of deceit. But I could. I did. I had studied his features over the years, every time he put it on. How his jaw tightened just an inch, noticeable only to the trained eye. How his eyes shimmered in a more vibrant shade of violet. I´d seen him in his role so many times that I´d learned to watch out for him. The real him. Not the High Lord, but my father. He kept his face sealed, but I could see what he hid behind that mask. Fury over Eris. His worry. But the strongest emotion was his love for me. 

„I want you to stay away from him. Or even talk to him.“ Someone had just knocked all the air out of my lungs and punched me in the guts. I hadn´t been braced for what was to come. My pulse skipped a beat and the blood in my veins began to boil. He can´t do this! Voices shouted in my head and a lump formed in the back of my throat. But why? I didn´t even know Eris, even though he was my mate. I shouldn´t be so disappointed. He is practically a stranger. 

At a loss for words, I stared at my parents. „We don´t want to make decisions about your life, but Eris is a... complicated man.“ my mother interjected. You mean dangerous. 

„Wait, Eris is your mate?“ I flinched and turned around, only to spot my brother hidden in the darkness with a shit-eating grin on his face. „Finally something interesting is happening.“ he chuckled, earning him a slap on the neck from Cass. „Hey!“ he cried out as my father shot him a warning glare before continuing his lecture. „Darling, listen. We only want to protect you and make sure you don´t get hurt. And Eris is not good company. He has proven that several times in the past. So please believe us when we tell you to stay away from him. We have our reasons.“ And what are they? A knot tightened in my stomach when I heard Azriel whispering from behind: „Especially after what he did to Mor.“

But he is my mate! Even if we don´t know each other well, don´t I have the right to figure out what´s happening between us? My mind screamed at me. Say something! Anything! You know you can! I forced my thoughts to shut down. We would not have this conversation now. Fight back! But I didn´t. I understood that my parents were trying to protect me. They were angry, no doubt, but with the love in their eyes, I couldn´t argue against them. 

So I only looked up and nodded, giving them a coy smile, even though it felt wrong. So terribly wrong. 

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This moment had been stuck in my head for the past few days. Although I´d agreed not to approach Eris, somehow I still hoped he would talk to me. Maybe to explain when and how the bond had snapped for him. 

Starlight? Az is waiting for you in the training ring.

Oh, right. I looked at the sun, which was already sinking deeper into the sky. Uncle Az had asked me yesterday if I wanted to train with him. We usually met at the same time every week to train, but over the last few days he had become more careful around me, giving me more space.

I quickly stowed the book away, not wanting Nesta to get upset if something happened to her beloved book. Changing into my fighting gear, I winnowed to meet Azriel. 

„Faster!“ Azriel shouted, lunging forward, but not fast enough. I sidestepped his punch to the right, and in the brief moment his defence was down, I landed three swift blows to his ribs. He groaned in pain and tried to sweep me off my feet in one smooth motion. Just as I was about to dive again, my back hit the sandy ground, Truthteller at my throat. A sweaty Azriel lay on top of me. 

He pulled me up, brushing the sand from my clothes. „That wasn´t too bad, but you´re less focused today.“ A questioning look crossed his face for a second as he looked down at me, then it returned to his usual straight expression.

I opened my mouth slightly as if to reply, but shrugged instead and walked towards the edge of the training ground, breathing heavily. Az only threw a knowing look in my direction. He knows. He knows how I feel. 

We had been training for about two hours and I didn´t know how my muscles were still able to keep me standing, but anyway, I was grateful for them when I winnowed us back to the River House for dinner. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

After a quick shower, I now sat opposite to my brother at the wooden table eating dinner and it was truly a symphony for the senses. Wine glasses clinking. Knives scraping against plates. The aromatic scent of grilled steak and vegetables wafting through the room as my family engaged in a huge debate about who had the biggest wingspan. All I could do was smile at the silliness of it all and feel it seep into my soul. 

My father stroked my back lazily beside me, probably to keep calm, as Nyx started throwing peas across the table at Cassian, who dodged them. It really was ridiculous. „Seriously! A little decency, please!“ Amren hissed at this `display of strength´. Mor chuckled, „They´re Illyrians. Do you really think their egos would just ignore it if someone with bigger wings came along?“ My mother nearly choked on her wine at this comment, earning an amused look from her husband. „Can we all just calm down a little before the whole dining room is decorated with pieces of food?“ A quick, stern glance around the table from the High Lord and everyone resumed eating, interrupted now and then by a few giggles.

Ten minutes had passed, and the others had just finished chatting about upcoming events in Velaris, when Amren apparently decided to break the comfortable silence. „So y/n. Has anything been happening with the Autumn Heir lately?“ The wicked smirk on her face made her look like a cat that had caught a mouse to play with. All of a sudden, the room fell silent and everyone stopped eating. I felt my father stiffen beside me, his muscles tense. „Amren.“ Azriel warned, a low growl escaping his throat. „What? Just a sincere question.“ Not impressed by his threatening face. Not in the slightest.

Of course, the incident with Eris had spread around the River House throughout the last few days, fuelling rumours, but the others hadn´t said anything to me yet. I should have guessed that it was only a matter of time until the tension would blow up.

I think I might throw up. I certainly wasn´t in the mood to talk about it with my family. Not today. My blood froze as I gathered the strength to look into Amren´s cold, steely eyes, which were fixed directly on me. She didn´t even flinch when my father shot her a terrifying glare that would send shivers down your spine. 

Words began to flow into my mind, begging to be heard and a familiar feeling crept through my entire body, making my nerves go blank. It felt like I couldn´t breathe. 

„Are you all right, dear? You look a bit pale.“ she said, making me feel even more nauseous. „Amren, don´t.“ Everyone had stopped breathing by now. „You don´t have to answer her question, darling.“ My father´s hand darted out to graze my fingers, but I pulled back at the sensation. „You are his mate y/n, aren´t you? Must be desperate to know why.“ „Enough!“ Pure darkness collected in the corners of the dining room, ready to consume everything. I´d never seen my father so pissed off. „Why would you say such a thing?“ Mor uttered. „Exactly! She´s my sister, I´m the only one allowed to make fun of her!“, Nyx joined in. „I´m in the mood for some trouble.“ she responded honestly, taking a sip from her wine glass, completely untroubled. 

Everyone began to talk over each other, making it difficult to distinguish the individual voices. Tears welled up in my eyes as I covered my ears. The noise was becoming too much to bear. I sniffled, holding back a cry as I stood up and took a few steps away from the table. My chair scraped along the floor, causing everyone to turn around to me and all the shouting stopped. The tears began to trickle down my cheeks as my mother noticed them first, „Sweetheart, we´re so sorry.“ She stood up too. „We didn't mean to make you cry.“ Mor tried to reassure me, guilt clouding her voice. Everything felt too overwhelming. Leave. Walk away. Get out of this situation. 

„Starlight, come here. It´ll be fine.“ He took a few steps in my direction, but I quickly held my hand up in front of him to keep a distance between me and my father. 

„Y/n. Darling, we´re…“ But he stopped when I shook my head and scowled at him. Stared at all of them, anger written on my face, before I winnowed to my room. Leaving them all guilty and silent. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

With my back against the door, I sank to the floor, tears streaming down my face. It´s my life! I get to decide how I deal with Eris! Why do they keep talking about it like it isn´t my decision? Like it´s not my life? 

My nails scraped the floor, attempting to hold on to something, anything, as I spiralled down a path I didn´t want to go. A guttural sound escaped my lips as my hand clenched into a fist and slammed into the expensive wood panels beneath me. Pain shot through my knuckles, making me want to scream. Anger. Fear. Emptiness. These emotions ran through my mind as my body shook with sobs. Why can´t I just talk? I want to, but I can´t... I don´t know... the words just won´t come out when I try. It made me even angrier when I thought about it. Do I not feel safe enough around my own family to talk to them? Or is there something wrong with me? 

A knot formed in my stomach. I had never had a big problem with myself before. Not with my body, nor with my inability to speak to others. But now I wished, longed to talk to someone. Just someone who understood me. Someone who...

A certain scent wafted through the room making me pay attention. Was that smoke? I sat up straighter to observe my own bedroom. Books were scattered across the floor and the door to the neighbouring bathroom was open. My bed was made, covered in indigo silk sheets that shimmered slightly in the moonlight streaming in through the closed windows. A few plants hung from the frescoed ceiling. Nothing more.

My eyes were no longer watery and my heartbeat had stabilised. But I could still smell that there was... something. Parchment.

I looked over at my desk, which was littered with various rolls of parchment, papers and pencils of all kinds. But right in the middle. Something had changed. 

Slowly, on shaky legs, I got up and walked over to my desk. A crimson envelope lay there, and next to it a shiny golden feather with light brown spots. I couldn´t remember putting anything like that here. It smelled of an open fire, fresh rain and a hint of vanilla. 

Deep down I knew who must have sent it. I opened the letter with trembling hands.

 ・✧✵✧・✧✵✧・

Hello Princess,

Do you remember the night we met? To be honest, I can´t forget you. Standing on the balcony in your stunning gown, watching the stars fall upon you, even though they couldn´t diminish your appearance. At first I wasn´t sure how to approach you, but I did it anyway.

And it turned out to be one of the most wonderful nights I have ever had, and I wanted to thank you for it.

I could almost hear him chuckling to himself as a warmth filled my heart.

As you probably know by now, I'm your mate, but I don´t want you to feel obligated to anything that concerns me. It is your decision whether or not you wish to meet with me. ( Though I wouldn´t mind, of course) 

A blush spread across my tear-stained cheeks and I instinctively smiled. He had thought of me. He really had. My heart melted like snow in early spring. Something about him made me feel complete and understood. 

But if that´s the case, winnow to the border of Autumn in two days. I´ll be waiting for you under a birch tree when the sun sets. You can´t miss it. Sleep well, Princess! 

His letter also contained a small note. 

(Oh, the feather and the paper you write on will appear on my desk as soon as you write back).

・✧✵✧・✧✵✧・

I was speechless. Not just because he had thought of me or wanted to meet me. No. But because he would let me decide for myself. He wouldn´t force me to accept the bond, even if it hadn´t snapped for me yet. 

Not wanting to think clearly at the moment, I did the only thing that seemed right. I broke the agreement with my parents. 

I pulled out the chair, sat down, picked up the quill and wrote back. 

Half an hour later, I was lying in my bed, surrounded by fluffy pillows and a gentle night breeze caressing my form. A few candles were lit to provide some sort of night light. 

Just as I was falling asleep, footsteps came from the hallway and my bedroom door creaked as it slowly opened. I quickly closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep, not wanting to talk to whoever it was. „Darling, are you still awake?“ My father´s voice echoed through the room as he peeked out from behind the door. 

Just breathe. He won´t recognise it.

And he didn´t. He only walked over to my bed and tucked a few loose strands of hair behind my ear, while the last thing I heard was him whispering: „I´m deeply sorry, Starlight.“ before he silently walked out of my room, leaving me alone. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not the slightest flicker of light. Total darkness consumed everything around me. No light, nor sun, nor any kind of something... soft. Something to keep me warm as the cold crept up my body, like a hidden shadow from the depths of darkness. 

I gasped for some air to reach my lungs, but all I could inhale was dust. Air! I need air! My lungs began to burn from the lack of oxygen and a tingling sensation shot through my entire being.

I felt like a flame being smothered as a deep, dark wave crashed over me, trying to drown me, as if I were nothing. As if I didn´t matter. 

The darkness drew closer with each passing second. Minute? Hour? Time didn´t matter in this place of emptiness. A place without walls or windows or even solid ground. The only things that trapped me were my own thoughts and the giant beast I couldn´t see, but felt. It swallowed everything around it as its claws raked along my skin, my soul, leaving scratches all over me.

I screamed, but all that came out of my mouth was... nothing. Every sound, no matter how small, was absorbed by the emptiness of this place. 

My body was drenched in sweat and my voice must have been hoarse by now from screaming my heart out for I don´t know how long. Slowly my body was losing consciousness and I was drifting further and further into the devouring void as I frantically tried to breathe. Please! I need to breathe! My heart stuttered for a moment. Help... help me! Somebody! Please, I... Hot tears streamed down my face and my eyes slowly closed as I was suffocated and drowned by the beast that guarded this place. My body went limp, tired from fighting. 

A gentle brush of soft fur against my back was the last thing I felt as I drifted into nothingness. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

I jolted out of my sleep, my heart racing and the sheets beneath me damp with sweat. You´re awake! Everything is fine! I placed my hand over my chest, feeling my pulse slowly steady as I realised it was all just a nightmare. The silver curtains swayed slightly at the open windows and the moon shone so brightly I had to blink my eyes. `Shh, it´s all right, Little one. I´m here´ it yearned to say. My breathing had normalised and I ran a hand through my sticky hair. It was just a dream. I lay back and tried to sleep again, but I knew it was going to be a long night. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

@tele86 @circe143 @impossibelle @st4r-girl-official @cherry-cin

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra #eris x reader #acotar fandom #chapter 2

[stalkerofthegods]

Artemis Straight to the point info 

Herbs • Artemisia, plants that bloom under the moonlight, Cypress, Chamomile, thyme, Lavender, Mugwort (poisonous if used in large amounts and can irritate skin), Birch, Juniper (poisonous if used in large amounts and can irritate skin), Mint, Pine (poisonous if used in large amounts and can irritate skin), Sage, Thistle (poisonous if used in large amounts and can irritate skin), Yarrow (poisonous if used in large amounts and can irritate skin), Angelica (poisonous if used in large amounts and can irritate skin), Bay Laurel (poisonous if used in large amounts and can irritate skin), Coriander, Dill, amaranth, cannabis, cedar, cypress, daisy, date palm, hazel, mugwort, myrtle, ox-eye daisy, silver fir, willow, laurel trees, fir trees, Various nuts or nut trees, Asphodel, Wormwood, wild flowers, Tarragon

Animals• deer/stags, geese, wild dogs, fish, goats, bees, hounds, all animals (she is the creator of all Animals in some discriptons), Calydonian boar, partridges, guineafowls, lions or leopards, bees, bears especially, bulls 

Zodiac • Cancer, Sagittarius, and Scorpio 

Colors • Silver, green, blood red, moonlight silver, Yellow

Crystal• moonstone, Black jasper, Clear quarts, Opal, White or black pearls, Amethyst, Black tourmaline.

Symbols• quiver, hunting spears, a torch, and a lyre, deer 

Jewelry you can wear in their honor• You can veil, and wear a maternity outfit in her honor while giving birth. 

Diety of • Unmarried Girls, Girl Childhood, hunting, chastity, menstruation, fast and easy death in childbirth, nature, childbirth, wildlife, healing, sudden death, animals, lakes, springs, virginity, young women, archery, and the moon

Patron of • childbirth, and fertility (Virgin means unmarried when she got the title before the meaning of it today, she helped Apollo be born, which accords to fertility), lesbians, unmarried women, hunt, chastity, archery, and the wilds, she protects girls and women during childbirth, menstruation, the moon, Nursing infants, Maiden dances, Maiden song, nurses/doctors who help with childbirth

Offerings•  •Bows and arrows, Images of Artemis, Game meat, Amphiphontes (round cakes topped with tiny torches, These are likely a reference to the full moon. White-frosted cupcakes with white or silver candles may be a suitable substitute), Cakes, cookies, pastries shaped like animals (ex-particularly deer), Red wine, Red grape, popomegranate, cranberry juice, Honey, Luxurious clothing, Wildflowers, almonds, goats, Honey, Hunting tools, javelins, nets, traps, masks, flowers, animal bones, tusks, taxidermy, tusks, animal hides, clothing (your favorite clothing or a garment you bought specifically for her), Owl and quail feathers, your hair 

Devotional• Donate to childbirth charities, donate to young girl charities and programs,   Dancing, Herbalism, Donating woman and girl clothes, taking nature walks, enjoying nature, give her offerings at midnight, make arrows, devote your hunting (invoke her before and thank her after), have a feast of her favorite food in her honor

Ephithets & titles • ACRAEA/Akraia - given to various goddesses and gods whose temples were situated upon hills, AEGINAEA/Aiginaia - when she was worshipped at Sparta, AETO′LE/Aitôlê - when she was worshipped at Naupactus, AGORAEA/AGORAEUS/Agoraia/Agoraios - protectors of the assemblies of the people in the agora, AGRO′TERA/Agrotera - the huntress, ALPHAEA/ALPHEAEA/ALPHEIU′SA/Alphaia/Alpheaia/Alpheiousa - derived from the river god Alpheius, who loved her, AMARYNTHUS/Amarunthos - a hunter of Artemis, A′NGELOS/Angelos - when she was worshipped at Syracuse, APANCHO′MENE/Apanchomenê - the strangled goddess, ARICI′NA/Arikinê -from the town of Aricia in Latium, ARISTO/Aristô - the best, ASTRATEIA/Astrateia - she was believed to have stopped the progress of the Amazons, BRAURO′NIA/Braurônia - from the demos of Brauron in Attica, CALLISTE/Kallistê - when she was worshipped at Athens and Tegea, CARYA′TIS/Karuatis - from the town of Caryae in Laconia, CHITO′NE/Chitônê - represented as a huntress with her chiton girt up, CHRYSAOR/Chrusaôr - The god with the golden sword or arms, CNA′GIA/Knagia - derived from Cnageus, COLAENIS/Kolainis - from the Attic demos of Myrrhinus, CORDACA/Kordaka - derived from an indecent dance called kordac, performed in honour of the goddess after a victory,  CORYPHAEA/Koruphaia - the goddess who inhabits the summit of the mountain, CORYTHA′LLIA/Koruthallia - from Sparta, at whose festival of the Tithenidia, CRANAEA/Kranaia - derived from a temple on a hill near Elateia in Phocis, Kunthia and Kunthios - surnames respectively of Artemis and Apollo,  DAPHNAEA and DAPHNAEUS/Daphnaia and Daphnaios - surnames of Artemis and Apollo, DE′LIA and DE′LIUS/Dêlios and Dêlia or Dêlias - surnames of Apollo and Artemis, DELPHI′NIA/Delphinia -Artemis at Athens, DERRHIA′TIS/Derriatis -  derived from the town of Derrhion, 

EURY′NOME/Eurunomê - from Phiglea in Arcadia, GAME′LII/Gamêlioi theoi - the divinities protecting and presiding over marriage, GENETYLLIS/Genetullis - the protectress of births, HECAERGE/Hekaergê - a daughter of Boreas, who were believed to have introduced the worship of Artemis in Delos, HEGE′MONE/Hêgemonê - leader or ruler, HEMERE′SIA/Hêmerêsia - soothing goddess, HEURIPPE/Heurippa -  finder of horses, HY′MNIA/Humnia - when she was worshipped throughout Arcadia, IMBRA′IA/Imbrasia - surname of Artemi, ISSO′RIA/Issôria - derived from Mount Issorion, LA′PHRIA/Laphraia - surname of Artemis among the Calydonians, LEUCOPHRYNE/Leukophrunê - derived from the town of Leucophrys in Phrygia, LIME′NIA/LIMENI′TES/LIMENI′TIS, and LIMENO′SCOPUS/Limenia/Limenitês/Limenitis/Limenodkopos - the protector or superintendent of the harbour, LIMNAEA/LIMNE′TES/LIMNE′GENES/Limnaia/Limnêtês/Limnêgenês - inhabiting or born in a lake or marsh, LOCHEIA/Locheia - the protectress of women in childbed, LYCEIA/Lukeia - a surname of Artemis, LYCOA′TIS/Lukoatis - surname of Artemis, LYGODESMA/Lugodesma - surname of Artemis whose statue had been found by the brothers Astrabacus and Alopecus under a bush of willows, LYSIZO′NA/Lusizônê - the goddess who loosens the girdle, MELISSA/Melissa - alleviates the suffering of women in childbed, MUNY′CHIA/Mounuchia - derived from the Attic port-town of Munyhia, OENOA′TIS/Oinôatis - surname of Artemis, O′RTHIA/Orthia/Orthias/Orthôsia - regarded as the goddess of the moon, ORT′YGIA/Ortugia - derived from the island of Ortygia, PARTHE′NIA/Parthenia - the maiden, PHERAEA/Pheraia - surname of Artemis at Pherae in Thessaly, PHOEBE/Phoibê - regarded as the female Phoebus or sun, PHO′SPHORUS/Phôsphoros - occurs as a surname of several goddesses of light, PITANA′TIS/Pitanatis - derived from the little town of Pitana in Laconia, where she had a temple, SARO′NIS/Sarônis - surname of Artemis at Troezene, SARPEDO′NIA/Sarpêdonia - derived from cape Sarpedon in Cilicia, SOTEIRA/Sôteira - the saving goddess, TAU′RICA/DEA/hê Taurikê - the Taurian goddess, TAURIO′NE/TAURO/TAURO′POLOS/TAURO′POS/Tauriônê, Taurô/Tauropolo/Taurôpos - originally a designation of the Tauran goddess, 

THOANTEA - a surname of the Taurian Artemis, UPIS/Oupis - assisting women in child-birth, Αγροτερη/Agrotera - Of the Hunt, Δικτυνναια/Dictynnaea - Of the Hunting Nets, Φεραια/Pheraea - Of the Beasts, Ελαφιαια/Pheraea - Of the Deer, Δαφναιη/Daphnaiê - Of the Laurel-Tree, Κεδρεατις/Kedreatis - Of the Cedar-Tree, Καρυαι/Karyai - Of the Walnut-Tree, Καρυατις/Karyatis - Of the Walnut-Tree, Λιμναιη/Limnaiê - Of the Lake, Λιμνατις/Limnatis - Of the Lake, Ἑλεια/Hêleia - Of the Marshes, Ευρυνωμη/Eurynômê - Of Broad Pastures, Λυκειη/Lykeiê - Of the Wolves, Λευκοφρυηνη/Leukophruênê - Of the White-(Bird?), Παιδοτροφος/Paidotrophos - Nurse of Children, Φιλομειραξ/Philomeirax - Friend of Young Girls, Ορσιλοχια/Orsilokhia - Helper of Childbirth, Σελασφορος/Selasphoros - Light-Bringer, Φωσφορος/Phôsphoros - Light-Bringer, Σωτειρα/Sôteira - Saviour, Ἡμερασια/Hêmerasia - She who Soothes, Ὑμνιη/Hymniê - Of the Hymns, Ἡγεμονη/Hêgemonê - Leader (of Dance, Choir), Κορδαξ/Kordax - Of Cordax Dance, Αριστη/Aristê - Best and Excellent, Ευκλεια/Eukleia - Of Good Repute, Καλλιστη/Kallistê - Very Beautiful, Πατρωια/Patrôia - Of the Fathers or Ancestral, Βασιλεις/Basileis - Princess/Royal, Ἱερεια/Hiereia - Priestess, Πρωτοθρονιη/Prôtothroniê - Of the First Throne, Μουνυχια/Mounykhia - Of Munychia (Attica), Βραυρωνια/Braurônia - Of Brauron (Attica), Κορυφαια/Koryphaia - Of Mt Coryphus (Argos), Αιγιναιη/Aiginaiê - Of Aegina, Δερεατις/Dereatis - Of Dereum (Laconia), Αλφειαια/Alpheiaiai - Of Alpheus R. (Elis), Αλφειωσια/Alpheiôsia - Of Alpheus R. (Elis), Αλφειουση/Alpheiousê - Of Alpheus R. (Elis), Λυκοη/Lykoê - Of Lycoa (Arcadia), Σκιατις/Stymphalia - Of Scias (Arcadia), Στυμφαλια/Skiatis - Of Stymphalus (Arcadia), Κνακαλησια/Knakalêsia - Of Mt Cnacalus (Arcadia), Αιτωλη/Aitôlê - Of Aetolia, Αμαρυσιη/Amarysiê - Of Amarynthus (Euboea), Αμαρυνθια/Amarynthia - Of Amarynthus (Euboea), Φεραια/Pheraia - Of Pherae (Thessaly), Ροκκαια/Rhokkaia - Of Rhocca (Crete), Μυσια/Mysia - Of Mysia, Αστυρηνη/Astyrênê - Of Astyra (Troad), Κολοηνης/Koloênês - Of Coloe (Lydia), Εφεσια/Ephesia - Of Ephesus (Caria), Κινδυας/Kindyas - Of Cindya (Caria), Περγαια/Pergaia - Of Perge (Pamphylia), Σκυθια/Skythia - Of Scythia, Ταυρια/Tauria - Of Tauric Chersonese, Ταυροπολος/Tauropolos - Of Taurus-City (Scythia), Ιφιγενεια/Iphigeneia - Of Iphigenia (heroine), Σαρωνις/Sarônis - Of Saron (hero Argos), Κναγια/Knagia - Of Cnageus (hero Sparta), Ελαφιαια/Elaphiaia - Of Elaphius (hero Elis), Καλλιστω/Kallistô - Of Callisto (heroine Arcadia), Λαφρια/Laphria - Of Laphrus (hero Phocis), Σαρπεδωνια/Sarpedônia - Of Sarpedon (hero Lycia?), Προπυλαιη/Propylaiê - Of the Gate, Ορθια/Orthia - Of the Steep, Αγοραια/Agoraia - Of the Market-Place, Απανχομενη/Apankhomenê - Strangled Lady, Λυγοδεσμη/Lygodesmê - Willow-Bound, Αστρατεια/Astrateia - Stayed the Advance, Ἑυριππα/Heurippa - Horse-Finder, Πειθω/Peithô - Persuasive, Πυρωνια/Pyrônia - Of the Fire, Κολαινις/Kolainis - Hornless,

Docked (Animal), Κονδυλεατις/Kondyleatis - Of Knuckles? (kondylos), Λευκοφρυνη/Leukophrynê - White-Toad?, -Bird?, Κοκκωκη/Kokkôkê - Of Berry-Seed? (kokkos), Κνακεατις/Knakeatis - Of Wolves? (knêkias, knakias), Αναιιτις/Anaiitis - (Lydian Goddess?), Ισσωρια/Issôria - unkown, Νεμυδια/Nemydia - unkown, Πωτνια Θερων/Pôtnia Therôn - Queen of Beasts, Ποτνα Θεα/Potna Thea - Goddess Queen, Λητωις/Lêtôis - Daughter of Leto, Λατωια/Latôia - Daughter of Leto, Λητωιας/Lêtôias - Daughter of Leto, Ἑκατη/Hekatê - Far-Shooting, Ἑκατηβολος/Hekatêbolos - Far-Shooting,Ἑκαεργε/Hekaerge - Worker from Afar, Ιοχεαιρα/Iokheaira - Of Showering Arrows, Χρυσηλακατος/Khrysêlakatos - Of the Golden Distaff, Χρυσαλακατος/Khrysalakatos - With Shafts of Gold, Αγροτερα/Agrotera - Of the Hunt, Θηροσκοπος/Thêroskopos - Hunter of Wild Beasts, Ελαφηβολος/Elaphêbolos - Deer-Shooting, Χρυσηνιος/Khrysênios - Of the Golden Reins, Χρυσοθρονος/Khrysothronos - Of the Golden Throne, Ευστ��φανος/Eustephanos - Well-Girdled/Sweet-Garlanded, Κελαδεινος/Keladeinos - Strong-Voiced, Κελαδεινη/Keladeinê - Lady of Clamours, Ἁγνη/Hagnê - Chaste/Pure, Παρθενος/Parthenos - Virgin/Maiden, Αιδοιος παρθενος/Aidoios Parthenos - Revered Virgin, Προστατηρια/Prostatêria - Standing Before/Guardian, Αρτεμισιον/Artemision - Temple of Artemis, Ταυροπολιον/Tauropolion - Temple of Taurian Artemis, Εφεσιον/Ephesion - Temple of Ephesian Artemis

Attedees• OKEANIDES Cloud-Nymphai (only 60 of the 3000), NAIADES Fresh-water Nymphai (only some), BRITOMARTIS Goddess of Nets, Apotheosed girl-companions (ex- Phylonoe, Polyboia, Iphigeneia, Oupis), Mortal hunting companions (ex- Kallisto, Hippolytos)

Equivalents• Diana (Roman), Selene (Greek), Artume (Etruscan), Flidais (Celtic), Skadi (Norse), Bendis (Thracian goddess), Bastet (Egyptian goddess), Perasia (Cappadocian goddess), Tauria (Taurian goddess)

Signs their reaching out• Sudden pull to research her, to hunt, suddenly meeting people hunting, being a girl group all of sudden, focusing on yourself and not sexuality. 

Vows/omans• being a sacred Virgin/unmarried forever 

Number• 6 

Morals• Morally dark.

Personality• Introverted and independent temperament, practical, adventurous, athletic, and prefers solitude, she loves hunting, she is focused. 

Home• Mount Olympus but does spend a lot of time in the forest. 

Mortal or immortal • Immortal

Facts• Artemis was both a hunter of wild animals and their protector, she helped Leto birth to Apollo (suggesting that she was already mentally developed in the wound.)

Curses• miscarriage, Stunted growth, Illness & disease, Sudden death, plague 

Blessings• Success in hunting, fishing, and fowling, Successful delivery, good health

Roots• She was first mentioned on 700 BC, by Hesiod, In the Theogony she was born on the island of Delos.

Parentage• Zeus and Leto 

Siblings• Apollo (twin brother and full sibling), Aeacus, Angelos, Aphrodite, Ares, Athena, Dionysus, Eileithyia, Enyo, Eris, Ersa, Hebe, Helen of Troy, Hephaestus, Heracles, Hermes, Minos, Pandia, Persephone, Perseus, Rhadamanthus, the Graces, the Horae, the Litae, the Muses and the Moirai.

Pet• Deers/Doe, they pull her chariot 

Appearance in astral or gen• usually depicted as a girl or young maiden with a hunting bow and quiver of arrows

Festivals • Mounukhia, Artemisia (6th June, Modern festival of Artemis where anything goes, celebrating freedom and modern inspiration),  Elaphebolia (6 Elaphebolion, March-April, Festival of Artemis the deer hunter), Kharisteria (6 Boedromion September-October, Festival of thanks to Artemis for Athen’s survival of the Persian assault at Marathon), Mounykhia (16 Mounykhion April-May, Festival of Artemis the light bringer), Philokhoria (Modern observance – Summer Solstice, A joint festival of Artemis and Apollo), Sixth (6th each month, Sacred to Artemis), Thargelia (6-7 Thargelion May-June, Birthday of Apollon and Artemis, first fruit offerings and purification festival)

Season • April and March

Day • Monday 

Secred places• Ephesus/Turkey, Island Delos, Aitolia in Greece, Greek Island Lykia in Anatolia

Status• Greek goddess, in the theoi.

Planet• Moon, (some also believe Venus.)

Her Tarot cards• the high priestess, the temperance card, and the page of wands

Scents/Inscene • Jasmine and lemon, mrryth, frankincense

Prayers• 

Prayer 1

Welcome beloved Artemis, our keen-eyed queen, I beg you hear me now. I pray you guide me that I might find the way. I pray you strengthen me that I might persevere along it. Make my discernment as yours that I might find worthy aims. Make my instinct as yours that I might seize worthy opportunities. Welcome sister of Apollo, golden huntress, we honor and thank you.

Prayer 2

Fleet-footed Artemis, keen-eyed daughter of Zeus and gentle Leto, sister of bright Apollo, we see your shadow in the woods, the curve of your bow, the flex of your arm, we hear the wind whisper as your arrows seek their mark–deadly your art, flawless your aim. Huntress you are, O Artemis, slayer of the stag and the boar, slayer of men and of women, death by your hand is death unforeseen. Maiden are you, goddess, and friend of maidens; ever-youthful one, your favor falls on the young, watching over young girls as they brave the world’s wonders, comforting the mother in the throes of her labor, keeping in your care the newborn babe. Artemis, shining maid of the wilderness, who takes pleasure in games, in contest and in merriment, who leads the nymphs in their carefree dance, whose clear voice we hear in the songs of young women and the hunter’s cry. Artemis, strong and tall, I praise and honor you.

3rd Prayer 

I praise bright Artemis, fair as the budding branch, fair as the spotted fawn, brave as the young bear. From crafty Hephaistos you took the artful bow, the sharp-barbed shafts; from father Zeus you claimed your calling. Far-shooting Artemis, through the thick of the darkened wood you make your way, trailing boar and hare, swiftly and silently, your aim ever flawless, ever kind.

Prayer 4

Artemis, light-bringer, mountain-dweller, graceful one who runs through thorn and thistle with never a scratch, goddess unparalleled, friend of mothers in their travels, friend of maidens, friend of the pretty nymphs, in old Arcadia you roamed the wilderness, in Tauris you took the blood of men, in Ephesus you wore the mural crown. The fire of youth is in you, goddess, the bold and valiant spirit that marks a child as yours. Free-hearted Artemis, worthy daughter of Leto, I honor you always.

5th Prayer

I praise you, Artemis, free-hearted child of Zeus and blessed Leto, courageous goddess who roams the wildwoods with silver bow at hand. Artemis of many names, Artemis of many lands, your temples stood shining and tall, in cities and in villages. In the long days of summer the maidens dance in your honor; in Brauron were the little she-bears under your care. Artemis, the mountains are yours to wander, fleet-footed and firm of step; the wilds of the world are dear to you, O guardian of wood and of beast. Goddess who takes joy in dance and song, companion of the laughing nymphs in all their play, of all young maids you are the swiftest and the strongest, the fairest and the first, in skill and grace the greatest.

Websites/sources in comments.

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Artemis who is the light, and the arrow in the bow, and the bullet in a hunting gun, and the same string In a lyre and a bow. May we all praise the wise huntress, Who is gentle to young girls and the bringer of Swift death from her golden bow.

———————-

Payment to my friend Bri https://www.tumblr.com/briislame

#the gods #hellenic devotion #hellenic polytheism #hellenic worship #doing the research for you #greek gods #greek mythology #ancient greek #greek pantheon #artemis #greek goddesses #artemis deity

[digitalagepulao]

Eldest and Youngest

Sun Wumiao, or Witch Sprout (fairy crane demon)

An eternally youthful and ethereally beautiful lady, who wears draping silks and brocades. She has a lovely lilting voice, calm gestures and easily soothes anyone's troubles with kind words. Often bears a feathered fan in her hand and a pinewood sword at her waist. There once was a tall, old pine tree by the river side at Water-Curtain Cave. One day, the pine shed its branches, leaves, bark, and roots, and from it sprang a young and bright crane. She was promptly presented to the Monkey King, who didn't bat an eye and embraced her into the family. Though the monkeys all adored her, their loud and rambunctious nature didn't agree with her demure and graceful disposition, and she requested to leave for the mountain's foot and establish a temple there to honor her adoptive father. Since then, she's been the head priestess and tender of the Huaguoshan temple to the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, where she accepts demons, animals and humans alike to petition the King for intervention or good fortune.

Sun Danxia, or Cinnabar Cloud (orphaned human child)

One day as Wumiao went to tend Wukong's temple, she found a babe left behind in a basket by the altar. Reaching out to her father, now a Buddha and often dwelling in his jingtu, the boy was embraced by the monkey into his family. Wumiao worried this might become a habit of mortals, leaving behind children at their doorstep, so Wukong decided that if that was the case, then they should create an orphanage wherever there was a temple dedicated to him. Despite growing up surrounded by demons, immortals, and fairies, the boy had no contempt for his peers, instead striving to learn as much as he could to keep up with his siblings.

i am still cooking several things but today i needed a win against the brain fog and finishing this one was it uwu

#Sun clan au #jttw au #journey to the west #xiyouji #jttw #jttw fanart #sun wukong #monkey king #bell dragon art

[fioreofthemarch]

yearnings

[✨ this was written for zelink week 2023 organised by @zelinkcommunity and is a companion piece to 'repast' and 'kin'] Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Pairing: Link/Zelda Words: 1140

Despite all that time has taken from her, the Light Dragon can still recall names.

The skies in which she swims belong to Hyrule, and her sister dragons that she shares them with are Naydra, Farosh and Dinraal. Yet the Light Dragon no longer has a name, and her heart cries out in search of one — though she does not know why.

Each day at sunset, her sisters join her above the clouds. Sister, they say, come with us, to where the land meets the sky and where the mortal beings dwell. Each day, for many years, the Light Dragon cannot accept. She awaits another, one who will awaken on the Great Sky Island that she dutifully guards. This purpose, though its details are lost, burns within her.

When the swordsman finally awakens, the Light Dragon senses him immediately. She watches with muted curiosity as he begins to explore her island in the sky. Why had he come to this place? Were all the mortal beings so small? Soon she finds him on the ancient circular landing behind the island’s temple, and watches as the sword in his hand disappears in golden light. She is drawn to him then, called by a voice within: the swordsman must have a sword. Perhaps on the surface, where her sisters call to her, he will find another. Determined, the Light Dragon splits the clouds guarding the island from the world below. The swordsman does not wait; he leaps, surface bound. The Light Dragon follows.

The vast lands below swallow the swordsman whole. There are deep valleys that cut the earth and mountains that pierce the skies. There are churning rivers and yawning bays. There are open plains, marshy swamps, and rolling deserts. He must be out there, somewhere, and across all four corners of Hyrule the Light Dragon searches.

In winding canyons flooded with water, she meets her sister Farosh. Have you seen a swordsman? she asks. Farosh answers: None with valour and courage enough to impress me, sister.

Among rocky crags and cooled lava, in the shadow of a great volcano she meets her sister Dinraal. Have you seen a swordsman? she asks. Dinraal answers: Hyrule has seen many, sister, for blood flows here as easily as water flows to the sea.

Between gentle mountains, as snow feathers down, she meets her sister Naydra. Have you seen a swordsman? she asks. Naydra answers: Yes, he flies as we do, sister. I am sure he will visit you soon.

But he does not. The sorrow the Light Dragon feels at this is powerful and achingly fresh. Against her will, tears well in her eyes. She begs them not to fall; each time they do, they take more of her with them. She tries to hold on, and hold fast, but the tears fall anyway. The Light Dragon forgets why she was crying.

It is not long after this that he finds her. And it was as Naydra said; the swordsman could fly like the dragons, capturing the winds to soar through the sky. He lands softly on her back, his footsteps tickling, almost pleasant. Then he is holding onto her mane, holding very tight; is he worried he might fall? Then she can hear weeping. She hopes he is not unwell.

After some time, the swordsman speaks: “Is that really you, Zelda?”

She does not understand nor does she answer the question.

“Gods… you have the Master Sword. You’ve really had it all this time…”

Then he is moving, light feet padding about her mane. “Sorry, old girl, I’ve gotta take it from you.”

She is just thinking that she likes the gentle weight of him when a blinding pain rips through her head and down the length of her body. She lurches skyward, roaring, but the pain doesn’t stop, and it’s like something is tugging very hard on her head. It is not nice! Whatever it is should let go! It is her fur there! It keeps her warm! Let go! Let go!

The sky suddenly flashes white, and next she knows she is enveloped in clouds of shimmering gold. Calm washes through her and she relaxes, allowing herself to float. The swordsman is still there, murmuring: Hylia help me, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that’d hurt— Are you okay?

Yes, it is all going to be okay. She closes her eyes and recalls the final piece of her memories that had not yet slipped away; she has the sword, which she guarded much as she guarded her island in the sky. How this came to be, and why, is lost to her. But it is no matter. Her purpose is fulfilled. She is at peace.

After this, the swordsman visits her often. He brings her apples cooked in butter, which she eats even though she can’t really taste them, doing so because it seems to make him happy. Then he brings her flowers, threading them into her mane, which she likes for the soft pull of his fingers through her hair. Sometimes he comes to talk, telling stories of the surface, using words she doesn’t understand but enjoys for the sound of his voice. Sometimes he just comes to sit, clinging to her mane, always clinging.

Then, the last time he comes, she is sitting with him on top of the temple on the Great Sky Island, dozing. Her sisters have teased her for this. Sister beloved, what need does a dragon have for sleep? The swordsman sleeps, she has told them, and often sleeps for entire days. It seemed a pleasant activity to try, and she has found it helps her to enjoy the feeling of the sun on her back.

On this final day, she awakens to find the swordsman brushing her mane, running his hands through the strands.

“I have to go soon, Zelda,” he says. “I’ve stalled for a long time. I need to finish what you started.”

He has an apple in his hand, which she obligingly eats. “If I don’t come back, old girl, you know I love you, right? If there’s even a tiny bit of Zelda in there, I want her to know…”

Zelda. She yearns to understand this word. Is that a name? If it was, could it be hers? She does not know how to tell the swordsman this — that she can be his Zelda, if he wants. Instead she pushes her snout into his hand, nuzzling against him.

In response he wraps his arms around her, holding tight. At his back is a noble sword, in a scabbard of blue and gold. Then he lets go, runs a gentle hand across her fur one last time, and departs.

The Light Dragon Zelda returns to the sky, unmoved. He has left her before, and always returns.

Content to wait, she flies away free.

#totk #tears of the kingdom #zelink #light dragon #zelink week 2023 #ive been consuming a lot of dragon content i just wanna write a dragon sitcom #my writing #marble skies

[ramayantika]

Krishna (mystery academia)

I was inspired from that old Vishnu post and that Delhi vala post so here we go. No idea how this will turn up though par dekhte hain.

No, it can't be a dream. You have pinched yourself twice, and your sister has been calling your name out from the past five minutes, but you can't help yourself. Your eyes are transfixed at that giant grey cloud hovering majestically in the sky. A face is etched on the cloud. He looks enchanting.

Your books have fallen on the floor. A mysterious flute tune rings in your ear. You haven't heard it anywhere recently, but the melodious tune starts to grow too loud. Look carefully, who is the girl in a pink saree, her golden bangles blind your vision and you hear a boy's sweet laughter before your legs give out.

It's Janmashtami night. The clock struck 12 and kids from your society broke the pot. They jump around in getting some money from the dahi handi while the adults clap and call their kids to come home. Everybody chants jai shri krishna and bows down folding their hands. You too close your eyes. Once you raise your head to look at the Krishna murti, your eyes see a person standing behind the murti, twirling a flute with his nimble fingers. Someone snaps their fingers beside your ear. The figure vanishes.

'yada yada hi dharmasya glanir bhavati bharata abhyutthanam adharmasya tadatmanam srijamyaham' Goosebumps rise on your skin and a divine vision graces your being. The sun and the stars collide, but everybody keeps breathing. The sound of a conch fills your mind and you see someone larger than any human, than any other organism on earth stand in a battlefield. He looks fierce once and then in a blink turns as calm as a river.

'paritranaya sadhunam vinashayacha dushkritam dharma sansthapanarthaya sambhavami yuge yuge' Tears flood down your eyes as you wake up from yet another dream of this all pervading misery encircling the world that has given itself to crimes and murders, forgetting that the quest for lust, greed, pride and ruthless power has gone in vain. Once again you stand on a battlefield witnessing hundreds and thousand of mighty warriors flanked by their elephants and horses. On your side stands one man. Just one man -- wielding a chakra and a large mace. He charges off at every soldier. In seconds bodies pile up on the battlefield and a guttural cry pierces your ears. The lone warrior clutches every fallen body and weeps.

The sweet smelling fragrant chandan makes you smile. The old temple priest, a gentle soul patiently applies tilak to all the devotees. After ten people comes your turn to apply the tilak. The priest's eyes brighten as if he has known you since long. You don't know him. This Krishna temple is far away from your home. The priest looks back at the beautifully decorated Krishna murti and smiles. You blink and turn your eyes to a pillar beside the garbhagriha. There stands a boy too gorgeous to be real, a form so enchanting that it etches itself on your eyes. You feel your heart thumping as the fragrant chandan clouds your senses. You are about to fall, but that lovely looking boy catches you in his arms. Flowers fall on your head and a sweet voice whispers, "Will you finally come back, sakhi?"

The night sky is full of stars tonight which is highly unusual for this busy city. Two stars gleam the brightest. You try to figure which constellation they belong too until hundreds of stars come together forming an image of a peacock feather.

At Prem Mandir in Vrindavan, you eagerly watch all the moving sculptures showing different pastimes of Krishna. Somewhere nearby, a group of ladies are singing Meerabai's songs. Your feet tap on their own accord and you feel yourself sway. When did you raise your arms to the sky and twirl? Nobody knows. Your family watches you laugh and dance in the temple. You look at no one but Krishna. The handsome boy from the temple is back again wearing bright yellow clothes -- not too hard to miss. A rough shake on your shoulders makes you open your eyes. The devotees in the temple are staring at you, but you blush in awareness of a certain dark one looking at you.

You sit gazing at the cool waters of Yamuna, the river which played an important role in Krishna's life. She saw his arrival into Gokul and his departure to Mathura. The texts and the old say that she later accompanied him as his wife to Dwaraka. You bow your head at her and dip your feet into the water. Nobody is at the ghat, it's all quiet and peaceful. Yamuna cools your body and a sense of calmness pervades your mind. You feel yourself slipping somewhere. The river like a gentle mother's touch touches your skin. "Do not fear, friend."

The car is about to cross the borders of Vrindavana. You feel your heart cry for an unknown separation. All these nights, you heard female voices whispering, "do not leave." At dawn you woke up with the sounds of a flute and sometimes your evenings were blessed with a boy gracing your hotel's terrace at sunset. He carried a peacock feather with him. You never shared a word with him nor did he with you. The steep silence yet felt comfortable.

Should I stay? Should I go? Should I call that boy and say goodbye, but how do I find him? What is this feeling in my heart? I feel it break into pieces. The driver caught your eye in the mirror and you hear a screeching break, The small flute replica hits the backside of the mirror and there you see a divine view once again.

Surrounded by cows, his feet crossed, he stands with a flute donning yellow garbs. You see the sun and the moon in his eyes. The universe gleams in his limbs. He appears magnificent. The divine sound of the conch rings again and you fall at his feet. 'I am all yours, Shyam.'

'Glad to have you back finally sakhi...' Red palms touch your forehead and the figure in front shines with bright white light like a halo around him. A lotus flower is placed on the last page of your book over Krishna's photo. The afternoon sky is now grey and far away you see a dark cloud emerging towards you.

"It shall start again, isn't it?"

Tagging the sakhis: @sanskari-kanya @shut-up-rabert @krishna-sahacharini @ketchup-jar-ka @arachneofthoughts @jessbeinme15 @ma-douce-souffrance @tumhari-bhairavi @manwalaage @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @reallythoughtfulwizard @bambioleo @morally-gayy @krishna-priyatama @kaal-naagin

#krishna #mystery academia #krishnablr #hindublr #desiblr #indian gods #desi aesthetic #samridhi writes

[talonabraxas]

Amun: The Hidden King Of Gods In Ancient Egypt Talon Abraxas

Amun, also called Ammon, is an ancient Egyptian god who played a significant role in Egyptian mythology and religion. He was originally a local deity worshiped in the city of Thebes, but his importance grew over time, and he eventually became one of the most powerful and widely venerated gods in ancient Egypt.

Who Was Amun?

Amun was often considered a god of the air, and his name itself is thought to mean “the hidden one” or “the invisible.” This reflects his association with the mysterious and unseen forces of the universe.

Amun was often depicted as a man wearing a tall, feathered crown or a double-plumed headdress. He was sometimes shown as a ram-headed deity, known as Amun-Ra, particularly when associated with the sun. Amun-Ra represented the merging of Amun with the sun god Ra, emphasizing his solar aspects.

Throughout ancient Egyptian history, Amun was linked to the pharaohs and their divine right to rule. The pharaohs often claimed to be the earthly embodiment of Amun, reinforcing their divine status. The city of Thebes, with its grand temples dedicated to Amun, became a religious and political center during the New Kingdom period.

Amun was also associated with fertility, creation, and the annual flooding of the Nile River, which was essential for the prosperity of Egypt. He was sometimes depicted with a ram’s head because the ram was a symbol of fertility and virility.

As Egyptian religion evolved, Amun’s influence waxed and waned, and his significance in the pantheon changed with the political climate. During the reign of Akhenaten (around 1353-1336 BCE), Amun’s worship was briefly suppressed in favor of the sun god Aten. However, after Akhenaten’s death, Amun was restored to prominence.

The worship of Amun continued until the decline of ancient Egyptian civilization, and his temples and cults remained important religious institutions for centuries. When ancient Egypt was absorbed into the Roman Empire, the worship of Amun gradually merged with the worship of other gods.

Amun in Ancient Egypt: Creation and Roles

The number of deities that can be identified within Egyptian mythology is astonishing. With over 2000 different deities that are officially recognized, the storylines are ample and diverse. Many stories contradict each other, but that doesn’t mean that the general ideas of Egyptian mythology are impossible to identify.

One of the most important Egyptian gods was the god Amun. In fact, he was by far one of the most important figures, deemed even more important than the ones like Ra, Ptah, Bastet, and Anubis.

Amun Created Himself

Amun is believed to have created himself and the rest of the universe too. Still, he distanced himself from everything as the original and indivisible creator. Since he is related to hiddenness, this would only make sense. He first created it, but then he was void of the thing he created. Quite the conundrum, but a reality for the Egyptians who worshiped the deity.

Eventually, Amun would also be related to the most important solar god by the name of Ra. When Ra and Amun merged, Amun became both a visible and an invisible deity. In this ambiguous form, he can be related to Ma’at: the ancient Egypt concept of something that resembles balance or the Yin and the Yang.

Amun is first mentioned in one of the pyramids at Thebes. In the texts, he is described in relation to the war god Montu. Montu was a warrior who was seen by the ancient inhabitants of Thebes as the protector of the city. His role as protector helped Amun to become quite powerful over time.

But, how powerful exactly? Well, he would later become known as the king of gods, which emphasizes his importance to the Egyptians. Amun was given this role based on several of his characteristics, as well as his relationship with Ra.

The most important one in relation to his role as the king of gods was that Amun could not be related to a clear concept. While many other Egyptian gods were linked to clear concepts like ‘water’, ‘the sky’, or ‘darkness’, Amun was different.

Amun Definition and Other Names

Why exactly he was different can partly be explored through dissecting his many names. Little is known about this early version of Amun, but we do know that the meaning of his name is ‘the hidden one’ or ‘mysterious of form’. This could mean that Amun could transform into whatever god the Theban people required him to be.

The deity also was referred to by many other names. Besides Amun and Amun-Ra, one of the names that were applied to the deity was Amun Asha Renu, literally meaning ‘Amun rich in names’. It should be noted that Amun-Ra is also sometimes written as Amen-Ra, Amon-Re, or Amun-Re, which derive from other languages or dialects in ancient Egypt.

He was also known as the concealed god, in which he was related to the untouchable. In this sense, he would represent two other things that could not be seen or touched: the air, sky, and wind.

Is Amun Special Because He Can Be Interpreted in Many Ways?

Indeed, only through the many things that Amun represents can the god be fully understood. In turn, all the aspects that he relates to are too many to grasp while being covert and overt at the same time. It affirms the mystery surrounding the deity and allows for multiple interpretations to arise.

Is this any different than other mythological figures? After all, seldom one finds a god that is univocally conceptualized. Often multiple interpretations can be seen surrounding one god or being.

Yet, Amun definitely distinguishes himself from the rest of the mythological figures in this regard. The vast difference between Amun and other deities is that Amun intends to have multiple interpretations, while other deities claim only one story. Indeed, they are often depicted in many different forms over time, yet the intention is to be one story that is ‘for certain’.

For Amun, being multi-interpretable is a part of his being. This allows for a playful existence and a figure that is able to fill the voids that the Egyptians experienced. It tells us that spirituality or a sense of being can never be one thing and one thing only. Indeed, life and experiences are plural, both between people and within the same individual.

The Ogdoad

Amun is generally seen as part of the Ogdoad. The Ogdoad were the original eight great deities, who were primarily worshiped at Hermopolis. Don’t confuse the Ogdoad with the Ennead, which is also a collective of nine major Egyptian gods and goddesses that are regarded as of the highest importance in ancient Egyptian mythology.

The difference between the two is that the Ennead was worshiped exclusively at Heliopolis, while the Ogdoad is worshiped in Thebes or Hermopolis. The former can be seen as a part of contemporary Cairo, while the latter was another ancient capital of Egypt. The two cities, thus, had two distant cults.

Amun’s Role Amongst the Ogdoad

The Ogdoad is based on several myths that already existed before Egyptian mythology would see the light of day. The main myth that the Ogdoad related to is the creation myth, in which they helped Thoth to create the whole world and the people in it.

The gods of the Ogdoad helped, but unfortunately, all died soon after. They retired to the land of the dead, where they would obtain and continue their god-like status. Indeed, they allowed the sun to rise every day and let the Nile flow.

Yet, it can’t be said that Amun too, would reside in the land of the dead. While all other members of the Ogdoad were clearly linked to certain concepts, Amun would mainly be linked to hiddenness or obscurity. The idea of an ambiguous definition allowed anyone to interpret him as exactly what they wanted him to be, which means that this could also be a living deity.

Amun in Thebes

Originally, Amun was recognized as a local deity of fertility in the city of Thebes. This position he held from about 2300 BC onwards. Together with the other gods of the Ogdoad, Amun controlled the cosmos and managed the creation of humanity. Many of the oldest Egyptian pyramid texts mention him.

As a deity in the city of Thebes, Amun was linked to Amunet or Mut. She was believed to be the mother goddess of Thebes, and linked to Amun as the god’s wife. Not just that, their love was actually celebrated widely with a massive festival in honor of the marriage between the two.

The Feast of Opet was celebrated yearly and would honor the couple and their child, Khon. The center of the festivities were so-called floating temples or barks, where some statues from other temples would be erected for around 24 days.

During this whole period, the family would be celebrated. Afterward, the statues would be returned to where they belonged: the Karnak Temple.

Amun as a Universal God

While Amun was originally recognized only in Thebes, a cult grew quickly over time which spread his popularity across Egypt. Indeed, he became a national god. It took him a couple of centuries, but eventually, Amun would rise to national stardom.

He would gain his status as the king of the gods, deity of the skies, or just really as one of the most powerful deities. From here on, he is often depicted as a young, strong man with a full beard.

In other depictions, he is portrayed with the head of a ram, or just a full ram really.

What Does Amun Represent?

As a local god of Thebes, Amun was mostly related to fertility. Yet, especially after his more national recognition, Amun would become linked to the sun deity Ra and seen as the king of gods.

King of Gods Amun

If something is identified as the sky god it automatically cancels the opportunity for that particular deity to be an earth god. Since Amun was related to the covert and obscure, he wasn’t clearly identified. At one point, and to this day, Amun is recognized as the ‘Self-created one’ and ‘King of the Gods’. Indeed, he created all things, including himself.

The name Amun looks very much like another ancient Egyptian deity by the name of Atum. Some might see him as one and the same, but this is not exactly the case. Although Amun took on many of Atum’s attributes and eventually somewhat replaced him, the two should be seen as two separate deities.

So Amun is very closely related to Atum. Yet, he was also very closely related to the sun god Ra. In fact, Amun’s status as the king of gods is rooted in this exact combination of relationships.

Atum and Ra can be considered two of the most important deities of ancient Egypt. But, after a religious reform in the New Kingdom, Amun can be seen as the one who combines and epitomizes the most important aspects of both of these gods. Naturally, this resulted in the single most looked-upon god in ancient Egypt.

Protector of the Pharaoh

The question that remains is: What exactly does it mean to be the king of gods? For one, this can be related back to the ambiguous nature of Amun. He can be anything, so he can also be identified as the king of gods.

On the other hand, Amun had an important role as the father and protector of the pharaoh. Actually, a whole cult was dedicated to this role of Amun. Amun was said to come swiftly to help Egyptian kings on the battlefield or to aid the poor and friendless.

Female Pharaohs or the wives of a pharaoh also had a relationship with the cult of Amun, albeit complex. For example, Queen Nefertari was seen as the wife of Amun and the female Pharaoh Hatshepsut claimed the throne after she spread the word that Amun was her father. Maybe Pharaoh Hatshepsut inspired Julius Caesar too, since he claimed to be the child of the important Roman deity Venus.

[quillsandblades]

Don't say, 'I Love You.'

‘Stay with me dammit!—Don’t you—don’t leave me alone, shorty!’ her cry was desperate, swelling over the crash of the waves like a dying man’s groan. ‘Not like the others!’ He could feel the fractures in her words, feel them shoot into his already battered heart. She was his friend, his companion of more than ten years. It was a need. He had to comply.

Soft hands cradle him as if he’s the most precious thing in the world. A soothing voice whispers stories of lands beyond his grasp, of light, of green, of color and laughter. The fingers are gentle in his hair, and the embrace is warm. Safe.

The sky was bleeding in Levi Ackerman’s eyes. And the pitter-patter of tears from the dreary clouds felt like a mockery. As if the heavens above would actually care for a useless, discarded thing like him. Pain was a constant sting in his limbs, like a sharp slap to reality. Only right now he felt anything but connected to reality, he was happy to drift off in the welcoming darkness that was repeatedly calling him.

‘I love you so much, my wonderful, brave boy,’ she murmurs as he curls against her, warm and drowsy. ‘Mama loves you so much.’

Cold. He felt exposed, unguarded. Stuck in the gloom that shifted around him.

Sounds.

Murmurs, whispers, stabbing his ears like needles. He couldn’t flinch, even if he wanted to. His body wouldn’t obey his will.

A fragile touch on his arm, his shoulders. Pulling him up and turning him around from where he was lying on . . . what? His senses were empty, unable to register anything properly other than the merciless bite of agony in his muscles and the hands on his body. So careful, so cautious, as if they were dealing with glass.

More voices. Indistinct, rumbling messily in his head. His temples throbbed.

But then he heard it. It shot across his ears like an arrow, clear and sharp, yet soft like a feather, words hiding tremors within them,

‘He’s dead.’

The name danced at the edge of his subconscious, slipping into his mind as easily as if it were his own. Hange.

He wanted to tug at her hair, frown at her as he always did and tell her what an idiot she was in believing he was dead, tell her there was no need to worry. But he couldn’t, his stupid body wouldn’t abide.

‘He got caught in the explosion of a thunder spear at point blank range,’ she was saying in a blank voice. ‘I’ve seen similar accidents during training. But beyond external wounds, internal organs would be ripped to shreds and death would be instant.’

Her hand. Holding the back of his head with utmost care. He was helpless in her arms, always had been when it came to her, but perhaps never in this way before. His remnant sense of surroundings faded out, leaving him once more floating in nothing.

‘I love you, Levi,’ says his mother. She is crying, he doesn’t know how to stop it. It’s the first time he realizes how powerless he is. ‘Never forget that.’

Heavy weight kept sloshing around him. He was drenched. The river roared in his ear, merciless.

Strong arms around him. Anchoring him to a body that navigated against the force of nature. ‘Don’t you dare die on me Levi! You hear!’

She was his commander; it was an order. He had to obey.

She was panting in his ears. He wished he wasn’t such a dead weight.

‘Stay with me dammit!—Don’t you—don’t leave me alone, shorty!’ her cry was desperate, swelling over the crash of the waves like a dying man’s groan. ‘Not like the others!’ He could feel the fractures in her words, feel them shoot into his already battered heart.

She was his friend, his companion of more than ten years. It was a need. He had to comply.

He fell. Darkness swallowed him whole.

A hard pumping pressure on his chest pulled him out of the haze. Fingers clasped his nose and something soft pressed against mouth, prompting a sharp burning sting to spread through his face. Warm air blew down his throat and he immediately coughed out. A familiar metallic tang filled his mouth. His eyes wouldn’t open, his head was drifting somewhere and his mind was constantly slipping.

Time was a funny, floaty thing for him. It flew by in a flash sometimes. In other moments he was painfully aware of every trickling second that seemed to lengthen his blinding agony. As if making him feel exactly where he was hurt and how much.

The crackling of a fire teased the peripheral of his perception. Followed by a prickling burn down the length of his face. Feather-light touches on his skin. Fingers were stroking his cheeks. Familiar fingers. Fingers he’d held when they were curled into tight fists and pried them open patiently, fingers he’d entwined with his own when the sun fell asleep, and dusk and silence pervaded the world, fingers he’d slapped away when they playfully ruffled his hair or danced across his shoulder.

Warm breath flew over his face as a hand brushed back his hair. He felt something soft press against his forehead. Warm and lingering. The touch traveled down to his eye, as if wanting to erase the pain rippling through his wounds.

Her lips.

She moved them further down his cheek. Then stopped. Like if she went on, it would break her.

‘I—I love you Levi,’ she whispered.

Stop! He wanted to tell her, Don’t say this.

Because the last person who said that died before his eyes, succumbing to decay in her own bed, in front of her own child. But his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth and his body felt weighed down. She continued.

‘I love you, never forget that.’

Stop.

I don’t want to lose you.

She bandaged his face and talked about the world and all the bastards in it that were running around, messing it up. She told him about Zeke and wondered about their plans. He struggled to stay there, and not drown in the blackness once more. But then she said it, another thing that made him want to shut her up, not because he was averse to the idea but because their world was cruel, and they were simply pawns at the mercy of the universe.

‘Maybe we should just live here together. Right . . . Levi?’

‘I love you so much, my wonderful, brave boy.’

His mother was lying on the bed, lifeless, cold. A bed on which she’d once held him and told him stories of the world.

But Hange was alive and he didn’t want her to end up the same way, but their duty was weighing on them, heavy and unforgiving and the world was watching expectantly, waiting for them to throw away their lives so the rest of them could live normally and hell, was it selfish of him to ask for one fucking thing—one fucking thing with any semblance to normalcy?

Yeah. It probably was.

He stepped on his desires. And he knew Hange was weak right now, but she needed to do the same, so he’d help her, he’d help her when he had the strength to fully wake up. They couldn’t afford to be selfish like this. It’d be low of them

****

The chirping of birds outside his window pulled him out of his slumber. The midday sun was high in the air, glaring through his window. How had he slept so late? Was old age finally getting to him? He yawned and the scars on his face stretched thin. They were a reminder. Of a person who became very dear to him, despite his resistance, despite his fear. They were a sign of someone who had held him when he was broken and put him back, stitch by stitch.

‘I love you Levi.’

The last person who said that to him—

An arm slid around him, pulling him back against a warm body. He turned in the circle of the arms and gazed at Hange, sleeping calmly. Her messy hair was splayed over the pillow and a few strands dangled over her nose. Her eyepatch and glasses lay discarded on the nightstand. He brushed back her hair and leaned forward to gently kiss her forehead.

—was right next to him, warm and alive.

‘Oi, wake up,’ he grumbled. ‘The sun’s up.’

He prodded her and she mumbled indistinctly, trying to brush him off, ‘. . . mmuurrgh . . . don’t wanna . . .’

‘Don’t you have to check up on those plants you were messing around with a few days ago?’

Hearing that, her eyes flew open immediately and she sprang up. It was almost comical.

‘Of course!’ she shouted, grabbed her glasses and jumped out of the bed. She ran out of the house with too much energy. Levi shook his head and got up, making the bed before heading into the kitchen. He should make breakfast.

And so, deep within the forest they lived, done with their duties and, by some miracle, surviving all of that hell. It was peaceful, for once in his life he was happy without a threat of fear.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #my writing #shingeki no kyojin #snk fanfiction #levihan fanfiction #ao3 #love #THIS IS CANON YOU CAN'T CHANGE MY MIND

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Poetry isn’t benign. It can break you. For National Poetry Month:

Girls Are Coming Out of the Woods BY TISHANI DOSHI for Monika Girls are coming out of the woods, wrapped in cloaks and hoods, carrying iron bars and candles and a multitude of scars, collected on acres of premature grass and city buses, in temples and bars. Girls are coming out of the woods with panties tied around their lips, making such a noise, it's impossible to hear. Is the world speaking too? Is it really asking, What does it mean to give someone a proper resting? Girls are coming out of the woods, lifting their broken legs high, leaking secrets from unfastened thighs, all the lies whispered by strangers and swimming coaches, and uncles, especially uncles, who said spreading would be light and easy, who put bullets in their chests and fed their pretty faces to fire, who sucked the mud clean off their ribs, and decorated their coffins with briar. Girls are coming out of the woods, clearing the ground to scatter their stories. Even those girls found naked in ditches and wells, those forgotten in neglected attics, and buried in river beds like sediments from a different century. They've crawled their way out from behind curtains of childhood, the silver-pink weight of their bodies pushing against water, against the sad, feathered tarnish of remembrance. Girls are coming out of the woods the way birds arrive at morning windows—pecking and humming, until all you can hear is the smash of their miniscule hearts against glass, the bright desperation of sound—bashing, disappearing. Girls are coming out of the woods. They're coming. They're coming.

#missing #native women #indigenous #Tishani Doshi #poetry #poem #tragedy #women #native american #red #girls

[youroomwasquare]

imagine anne boonchuy. imagine anne being revered by everyone around her. not in an angel, “holier than thou” god anne way. more in a.. you’re so much better than we could ever be. so much more patient, and kind, and forgiving. marcy & sasha are forever flawed, forever have the marks of their sins etched onto their skin by blades. blades held by those they loved so much, hands that cared and understood and once comforted them with boisterous laughs and cheeky grins and tender touches brushing away baby hairs made sticky by wet tears. the amphibians are flawed in their own ways. none come close to the benevolent anne. always understanding. always throwing herself into the fray for those she loves.

and even though she’s still anne.. still messy and has a horribly funny laugh and sticks straws up her nose because she still has the humor of a prepubescent boy. still has little bits of dirt and dust under her nails where she paints them bright colors, pinks and blues and purples. still has her hair tangle endlessly, the kinks and knots needing to be worked out by both sasha and marcy’s fingers, each with their own individual calluses and nicks and marks, burns and patches and lines carved onto them. like a stamp, one that speaks of experiences inconceivable, spoken only under the soft cover of white moonlight. sasha’s touches are feather light, worried that anything rough will teeter off the edge of what is okay and what is not. fear of ripping apart the still fresh boundaries loosen her fingers and soften her touch. she must be soft. she doesn’t know how to. marcy’s touches are less light.. more sure, knowing. she’s done this forever, and even though they’re still relearning the way they are around each other, this is something they’ve always done. something they’ve always had. each curl smoothed out is a testament to their love, and a promise that the previously worn strings of their friendship has been woven into something new.

it still feels sacred. after what they’ve all went through, a part of marcy and sasha will always see their friendship— and anne, the fact that she’s still with them, still moving where they go despite all the pain and grief they caused her-- as sacred. anne may be the saint, but she’s also human, and humans are born with sin on their backs. in moments of deep, raw, all consuming guilt and hatred, marcy and sasha convince themselves that maybe, just maybe, they are the biggest sin on anne’s back.

anne thinks they’re wrong. no, she knows they’re wrong. she doesn’t know how to tell them that she is not a diety worshipped in hushed temples, chants of forgiveness spilling out of blood red lips, creating tears that burn down cheeks, leaving behind rivers of ash and decay. offerings of baby pink lotus flowers and vivid orange marigolds left on the foot of a cracked and weeping stone statue.

anne and sasha wear matching pink hair ribbons from time to time. sasha threads hers through a low pony, clean and pristine as ever. anne closes hers around a higher ponytail, ties it carefully through her hair to make sure it doesn’t get caught between the curls. it has pink spots on parts of it, residue from the time marcy accidentally dropped a bottle of berry blitz and it exploded everywhere.

one time, while talking in anne’s room, marcy’s absentmindedly thumbing through the different drawers of anne’s dresser. she finds a few old bottles of nail polish, and three specific colors stick out to her— green, blue, and pink. they’re not the most accurate shades— the blue’s more of a cerulean, and the green’s more of a sage green than a lime green— but marcy brings it out and shows it to them anyways. sasha’s the one to open the first bottle, and they all inhale the familiar scent of chemicals and girlhood. marcy quips that taking a deep whiff of the stuff isn’t very good for their respiratory system, and anne giggles and places marcy’s hand on her thigh. they each take a hand, and get to work. by the time they all finish, their hands are colorful and fun and they haven’t felt this pretty in a while. anne spins around her room in a fit of delight, and marcy blows on her nails to help them dry faster. anne cracks a joke they’ve heard her make a thousand times before, and sasha laughs and laughs until tears are streaming down her face. it wasn’t very funny, but anne and marcy laugh with her, and soon they’re all in a heap on the floor, clutching their stomach and getting bits of nail polish on their shirts. they stay like that for a while, admiring their nails. each girl painted their middle finger with their respective color, and painted the other nails alternating between the colors of the other two. sunlight streams through anne’s window, catching the light on their hands and sending streams of pinks and blues and greens dancing across their fingers.

anne wearing a baby blue silk dress with sheer organza sleeves and light blue eye makeup with tiny flowers drawn onto her lids to prom— anne watching sasha get ready by doing her makeup and hair perfectly (eyeliner with a spare dagger because she still can’t break the habit of keeping daggers on her)— sasha doing anne’s makeup and anne lightly tracing the marks on her thighs as she tries not to let the blush creeping up on her cheeks show— sasha and marcy tenderly rubbing and kissing away anne’s tears whenever she wakes at night, dreaming of charred, burning flesh and red stained cheeks and the vast emptiness of space as you’re left behind and your body crumbling apart like a rock being chipped away at slowly by the natural elements— anne borrowing sasha’s pink bubblegum lipgloss and wearing it whenever she wants to channel sasha’s natural charm and strength— anne and marcy sharing the same hoodies because they both have the same comfort level and anne likes the marcy smell left behind by the hoodies she wears— fabric softener and a light dusting of earth from all the times she eats shit whenever she falls, and pencils and pens kept inside the pockets of her hoodies with little notes that say “thinking of you :)”— anne and sasha and marcy anne and sasha and marcy sashannarcy sashannarcy sashannarcy

#amphibia #sashannarcy #I love writing abt these girls at like 1 AM #they’re so gay your honor #keep in mind this is *my* interpretation of these three 🫡 #sorta messy writing

[minhxiao]

a drabble for prompt #25: a kiss on the forehead xiao/aether | rating: G | words: 719

Aether stirs the pot of black back perch stew, crushing in a few stems of violetgrass. 

“... and Brother Bosacius had drawn some marks along my face in black ink in a moment when I wasn’t aware…”

It’s a blissfully idle afternoon in his kitchen in the Serenitea Pot and Xiao is telling him a story of his time with his old comrades. Undisturbed sunlight spills in through the windows of his abode. Aether loves how Xiao’s voice always dips into something gentler when he talks about the other Yakshas, his brows soft and reminiscent as he casts his gaze into a long forgotten memory. He was much more uninhibited with his words, when they were alone like this.

“... I had only noticed some time after, when I happened to catch my reflection in the river― all to say, Brother Bosacius was truly… never a boring character…” 

Aether turns to look at him, stifling an amused smile as he tries to imagine someone daring to play such a childish prank on someone like Xiao. His eyes rove over his face, catching absentmindedly on the mark at the center of Xiao’s forehead. 

And perhaps it’s the story Xiao’s just willingly shared, or the unguarded look on his face, but Aether is suddenly filled with the urge to catch him unaware. Xiao is endlessly amusing to tease― Aether has a feeling he would’ve gotten along quite well with Bosacius. 

So he leans in when Xiao is mid-sentence and kisses him right at the mark above his brow. He lingers there for a few seconds, intentional and slow.

Xiao makes a quiet, astonished sound as he freezes. Then, the most remarkable thing happens. His body briefly glows with threads of dark Anemo before his wings manifest in a soft flutter of feathers behind him. A kind, startled wind stirs a small draft in the kitchen. 

Aether leans back slightly, blinking in surprise. That’s new. 

Xiao’s mouth is slightly parted, clearly caught off guard as his wings curl inward behind him.

His surprised expression fills Aether with such fondness that he tugs the adeptus closer by the waist, the stew already forgotten. 

“Did…” Xiao quickly attempts to recover, but Aether can tell by his distracted gaze that his mind is now clearly drawn to the present. “Was my story not interesting enough for you?” 

“On the contrary, I found the story quite endearing,” Aether pulls him close, taking a moment to admire the beauty that is Xiao’s face, “So… what exactly did he draw on your face?” 

“I, uh…” Xiao’s eyes stir as he looks up at him, flicking down once to Aether’s lips before shying away. “I can’t… seem to recall…” 

“Mm, I see,” Aether’s hands rise to wrap around the nape of Xiao’s neck. Then, he dips his mouth to graze his lips along Xiao’s temple before finding the pale purple mark on his forehead once more. “Was it here?” 

Xiao inhales softly, reaching to wrap a steady hand around Aether’s scarf. His eyes slip shut as his wings almost instinctively seem to flap once. This time, the excited draft nearly knocks the placemats off of his kitchen table. 

“Perhaps,” Xiao breathes as he almost imperceptibly tilts his face forward, as if wordlessly asking for more. 

“Still can’t remember?” Aether’s eyes brighten, his lips hovering over Xiao’s forehead. He stores this newfound knowledge carefully into his mind with a private smile. So he likes it when I kiss this mark…

“I… '' Xiao falls silent as Aether kisses him there again, and then down his temple, across his cheekbones. He explores the contours of Xiao’s skin with his lips until the adeptus’ face is pleasantly warm beneath his hands. He kisses him everywhere except his lips and bites back a smug smile when he feels Xiao’s wings flickering restlessly behind him.

Xiao tugs Aether closer by the scarf, his eyes molten. His voice is barely audible. “It… may have been lower.” 

“Lower?” Aether raises an innocent brow. “Where?”

Xiao pulls him down against his mouth with an impatient sigh. 

Aether’s not sure how long he stands in his kitchen, kissing him lazily against the counter, but he’s sure that he wouldn’t mind doing it forever― it’s only the sound of his perch stew boiling over on the stove that eventually pulls them apart.

#feel free to leave more requests! #this was for a twitter user but i may as well cross-post here #i'm soft at the idea that xiao can also ramble and talk a Lot but only with ae when they're alone #this one was fast because... xiaoae lol but i'm excited to get to the other two! #i had to actually restrain myself from writing them kissing for 500 more words.. #drabbles are great exercises in practicing being concise #ficlets #drabble #kiss prompts #xiaoaether #aexiao #xiaother #xiaoae

[positivelyruined]

Ohhh, for the Tam prompts!!

“I miss you.”

let’s practice the idea of alternate timeline, but not alternate universe | send my muse prompts (Tamlin Edition, ACOTAR gets redeemed)

It had been six weeks since Feyre moved from the estate and into a small cottage by a nearby river. It shouldn’t bother him. He’d given her the freedom to settle anywhere on his land and Feyre was anything but domestic. Tamlin had noticed at once that the fine carpet, heavy curtains, and marble flooring in his home made her uncomfortable.

It was uncomfortable, but not completely unknown. Perhaps, she had not always lived in the poverty in which he’d found her; but this was a simple guess on his less-than-simple guest. He couldn’t read her mind, after all.

He paced the corridors of his chambers. The moonlight fell across his shoulders from the open windows and cast shadows across his feet. It made him appear much larger than he was and certainly much larger than he felt. Vulnerability was something he was particularly bad at. He had a poor way with words. More often than not, they streamed through his mind, but remained trapped on his tongue.

After a few more laps down the hall, he threw himself face first onto his bed. This was getting ridiculous. Surely, he couldn’t be attached to this tiny, feral human girl whose sharp tongue made him bite his own, whose impatience made him long to run, whose eyes twinkled with buried gold — daring him to find the treasure within.

Tamlin took the feather pillow from the front of bed and buried his scream into it.

No, no, no — no!

Not again. Not after what happened last time. He had sworn on every grave that he would find a way to defeat Amarantha without barring his heart to the wild, wicked ways of love. Yet, his heart betrayed him. It beat wildly in his chest, only quickening as the bright memories of Feyre’s shy smile and crinkled eyes when she first saw the gallery.

It was pure awe and before that moment, he’d never realized why humans were so divisive amongst the fae. Without the guarantee of tomorrow, everything they saw or touched was precious. Every moment was valued.

And Feyre wanted her moments in a small cabin, by a river.

He rolled over, rubbing his temples. She misses her family.

That…was not something he could understand. His family was his blood, but nothing more. Yet Feyre saw her blood as a bond. Despite their imperfections, everytime she spoke of them, her devotion was clear. Their brokenness bound them together.

Tamlin reached for another pillow and cemented it over his eyes as sunlight began creeping through the window. Yet, another sleepless night was crawling to a close. He crawled to his feet with a tired groan. Even immortals got miserable after a certain amount of missed sleep. She’d asked for privacy and so far he had managed to respect that.

Lucien had kept a close eye on the border of the land and he spent whatever time he had away from the border concealing the small shelter from the evil that so often wandered into the Spring Court.

The sun rose and left a pink and gold cast on the stone floor. Gracefully touched by color, it was another thing on the endless list of things that reminded him of her.

He rose from his bed, washing and dressing himself, and headed into the morning sun. His steps were brisk and he followed the garden path away from the house — largely lost in thought.

It was early spring. The mornings were still cold. His cheeks were flushed with a warm pink.

Before he knew it, he was standing at the door of a cabin which had once been stained a dark mahogany. The dark wood still shined, but it was the white paint of circular flower design that caught his eye. It wasn’t just the door, either. The window boxes, the fence, the stone path — all of it was covered by her handiwork.

You may paint anywhere you like.

His own voice echoed in his mind. There was a sharp pain in his chest. Tamlin flinched and turned away. Feyre was painting. Just not for him.

He breathed in the harsh, cold air, and forced himself to walk away. Step by step — each one more painful than the last.

The cabin door creaked open. Tamlin froze; but he didn’t dare to turn. He truly didn’t dare to hope.

“My high lord?” Feyre’s voice was hesitant and softly edged with sleep. “Is that you?”

Tamlin looked over his shoulder. His heart pounded in his chest.

“Feyre…” His voice was hoarse.

His deep green eyes met her tawny brown ones. Her gaze was soft, curious, and very sleepy. The sharp guard that she’d carried while in his home was beginning to leave her. Tamlin thought that he could fall into those eyes and disappear. They were quicksand. He was drowning.

“You look awful.” Feyre tilted her head. Her genuine bluntness began returning as she woke up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

He choked on his laughter, grimacing, at the ground. He should go. After all, he’d promised her privacy. “I suppose I probably do.”

He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his cloak and began walking away, quickly.

“Wait!” Feyre called after him. The door slammed open and her footsteps bounced on the new growth of grass.

Tamlin stopped and turned around. She ran straight into him. If he hadn’t been so surprised, it would never have happened. He was a trained warrior — steady on his feet; but sleep deprived warriors were no better than the average mercenary. They collided.

He fell to the ground, just barely managing to break her fall with his own body. The bright color in Tamlin’s cheeks flushed into a much deeper one as he found Feyre sitting on top of him. By the cauldron.

“My lord.” She whispered. Both her hands were braced on his chest. Her eyes glued to his.

“Feyre.” He breathed. Her curiosity drew him in.

He knew she was strong. If she wanted, she could stop this.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and tightened his hold on her slender body. Tamlin pressed his lips against hers — bringing warmth into the cold air.

She accepted him, smiling against his mouth, and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Tamlin barely remembered what smiling felt like, but it was natural when it came to her. He held onto that kiss for a moment, before pulling back, and pressing his forehead against hers.

“Feyre.” Her name was lyrics on his lips and a song worth singing.

“High lord?” She whispered.

“I missed you.” He swallowed, hard. It wasn’t easy for him to talk about his feelings. He had a hard time letting people inside his heart.

“I…missed you too.” Feyre whispered, tracing the lines of the golden mask on his face.

How he longed to rip it off — when she looked at him that way. Perhaps, there was hope. He bit his lip, looking up hesitantly. “Please. Call me Tamlin.”

#asked and answered #prompts #muse: Tamlin #pro tamlin #I just woke up and stayed up for two hours to write this wow

[mithoskuu]

Had a desire to dip into the lore of my tallbird race, the Rokas

Standing approx 3m (9' 10"), these distant relatives of the Kobolds and Vobolds live primarily in the high mountains and valleys of the Dragon's Jaw mountain range. Juveniles have thick coats of brown feathers, molting into stark white plumage in adulthood. Males have a distinctive beard just behind their beak, while females tend to be physically larger.

Rokas Priests ritualistically bath themselves in a dust bath of fine ruddy soil, and are often called upon to perform rituals or recount legends. The Rokas view the great river that cuts through their mountains as a spiritual representation of life itself. More traditionalist individuals view these tales as literal rather than metaphorical, and believe the lowlands downstream of their mountains to be the lands of the dead.

Warriors bath themselves in charcoal, and are usually found guarding temples or hunting in the valleys. Some enterprising warriors make their way out west to the coastal lowlands to sell their services as mercenaries to the local human kings, they are often referred to by humans as the Bone Eaters

While generally isolationist, they do have a thriving trade with their Kobold neighbors, exchanging coffee beans and other high mountain crops for precious gems, metals, and for colorful cloth woven in the human lands

#lowpoly #scalie #dnd #avian #kobold #rokas #bearded vulture #kenku #lore #3d #indiedev #oc lore

[addernspire]

Cultural Symbolism of Snakes Across Civilizations

Snakes have slithered their way into the mythologies, religions, and folklore of cultures around the world for millennia. Their unique physical attributes and mysterious behaviors have inspired awe, fear, and reverence. This blog post delves into the rich tapestry of snake symbolism across various civilizations, revealing how these fascinating reptiles have come to represent a wide array of meanings and concepts.

Ancient Egyptian Reverence

In ancient Egypt, snakes held significant symbolic power. The cobra, in particular, was revered as a protective deity. The uraeus, a stylized upright form of the Egyptian cobra, was often depicted on the crowns of pharaohs, symbolizing their divine authority and protection by the goddess Wadjet. Wadjet was believed to protect the ruler and the land, embodying the snake’s dual role as a guardian and a bringer of wrath against enemies.

Greek and Roman Mythology

Snakes played multifaceted roles in Greek and Roman mythology. The Greek god of medicine, Asclepius, was often depicted holding a staff with a serpent coiled around it, a symbol that endures in modern medicine. This representation underscored the snake’s association with healing and renewal, as snakes shed their skin and seemingly rejuvenate themselves. Conversely, the Gorgon Medusa, whose hair was made of living snakes, represented a more fearsome aspect of snakes—danger and transformation. Those who gazed upon her would turn to stone, illustrating the potent mix of allure and peril that snakes symbolized.

Hinduism and Buddhism

In Hinduism, snakes, or nagas, are considered semi-divine beings residing in the underworld and are associated with water, fertility, and protection. The god Vishnu is often depicted reclining on the serpent Ananta, representing the eternal cycle of creation and destruction. Similarly, in Buddhism, the naga Mucalinda is revered for sheltering the meditating Buddha from a storm, symbolizing protection and spiritual awakening.

Mesoamerican Beliefs

Snakes were deeply woven into the mythologies of Mesoamerican cultures. The Aztecs worshipped Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent, who was a deity of wind, air, and learning. Quetzalcoatl's feathered form blended the earthly with the divine, signifying wisdom and the dual nature of existence. The Maya also revered a similar deity, Kukulkan, whose imagery adorned temples and ceremonial sites, emphasizing the snake's connection to power, divinity, and the cosmos.

Indigenous Australian Lore

In Indigenous Australian lore, the Rainbow Serpent is a powerful creator being associated with water, rainbows, and fertility. This serpent is said to have shaped the landscape, creating rivers, mountains, and valleys as it moved through the earth. It represents life-giving forces, the cyclical nature of seasons, and the interconnectedness of all living things.

Conclusion

From guardians of pharaohs to symbols of medicine, from protectors of spiritual wisdom to shapers of the world, snakes have played diverse and profound roles in human culture. Their symbolic significance varies widely, reflecting both the admiration and fear they inspire. These varied interpretations underscore the complexity of human relationships with nature and the creatures we share the world with.

What do you think about the cultural symbolism of snakes? Have you encountered any interesting snake myths or symbols in your own culture? Share your thoughts and stories in the comments below!

#addernspire #snakes #pet snake #exotic pets #snake #reptile #snake lover #reptile lover #animals #herpetology #reptiles #reptile owner #serpentine #snake photography #serpent #snakes of tumblr #snakesoftumblr #snake-spotted