#sariah white

[notyourmotherscomefollowmeblog]

1 Nephi 5- My Soul's Complaint

This Sunday in church, someone quoted the first two lines of "I Know that My Redeemer Lives." As I sat in the pew, I let my mind wander through the rest of the words, and then I was struck by a line in the second verse: He lives to hear my soul's complaint. I immediately thought of Sariah.

The one story where we hear the most about her is when she complains against her husband, the prophet Lehi. Far too often, I've heard people tell this story like it's black and white. Maybe Sariah isn't painted as a true villain but she's definitely treated like an example of What Not To Do.

But I actually really look up to her. As someone who has struggled with expressing my thoughts and feelings out of fear of conflict, I look to this story and wish I could be like Sariah. I'm not sure I like the message it sends to women and girls in the church when we speak negatively about Sariah, one of the few named women in the Book of Mormon, simply for using her voice rather than suffering in silence.

We don't always talk about the fact that Sariah had just lost everything. She lost her home, her ancestral land, her community. And she believed she had lost her sons. Her pain was very real. It should be noted that Lehi never belittled her pain and doubts. Interestingly, even though Lehi spoke comforting words of faith, the text doesn't say Sariah was comforted until her sons returned. I imagine that, even more than just speaking truth to her, Lehi waited with her in her pain and fear and truly listened.

It's important to remember that we strive to emulate a Redeemer who comforts when faint, and wipes away tears. And it's important when you have fears and doubts to open your mouth and let your soul's complaint be heard.

#mormonism #tumblrstake #book of mormon 2023 #1 Nephi

[zillasvilla]

Beyond the Lights

0. Prologue

Disclaimer: All original characters are credited to the author of this content. Please do not repost on any other platform as your own. All media used is credited to the original owner.

Warnings: Implied Domestic Violence. Drug use. Addiction

Summary: Sariah is a RnB Artist in a rocky relationship with a trap artist by the name of Dame. The relationship goes downhill when she takes a family trip without him.

I. Six months Earlier “Happy Birthday, to you. Happy Birthday to you.” The sounds of multiple people echoed across the small, blue and white decorated kitchen. She sits in front of a small, beautifully designed cake. In her favorite colors. Blue and and a lavender purple. In black glittery icing, spelled out her name and the current age she was turning. Twenty-One.” She was officially a legal adult.   “Happy Birthday dear Sariah. Happy Birthday to you.” The singing stops as the lights go out. The number twenty-one candle dimly lit, bringing a fluorescent glow in the room, but only showcasing her face as she made a wish and blew out the candle. “What did you wish for?” Her sister asks, using her own boyfriend as support, as she was tipsy and was ready for her sister to finally be able to join her in her hood-rat activities tonight. “If I tell you; it won’t come true.” They laugh at her superstition. Ever since she was a little girl she believed a spoken wish would never come true. So far none have came true. Although, she was still hopeful. She goes to cut the cake, wanting a slice before her forced high kicked in. “Fuck the cake, you can drink now bitch!”  Her cousin says from next to her, pouring shots forever. “Like hell she will though.” He speaks from the couch. “She good without it.” “I am, it’s my birthday.” Sariah speaks up for herself. He was good at trying to tell her what to do like she was his child. He shrugs. “Pick up a drink if you want to. You don’t need to get addicted to that shit.” “Oh like you did.”  That was a quick comeback. She didn’t realize what he said until it came out. It was quick the way he got up and got in her face. He wouldn’t dare try it here. Not when her brothers are right there. Granted he didn’t get close enough as one of her brothers pushed him back. “Try that shit again, and see if I won’t fuck you up.” Dame looks between him and her.  “My bad man.” Sariah could see the whiteness caked inside his nose, and she was sure if she noticed; everyone else noticed to. “Yeah aight.” He crosses his arms, blocking his path to Sariah. “you gotta go.” “Sariah let’s go.” Dame looks at her. Sariah doesn’t move. It was her birthday. She wanted to go out and she was going to and she was going to have fun. Dame wasn’t going to stop her either. “I’ll see you tonight.” she tells him. She could see something shift in his demeanor. Dame nods, looking at her with looks that could kill as he left. She was completely messed up went she got home. They went to a bar downtown. She had lost count on the amount of drinks she had. She wasn’t sure if she drove or not, but Jonathan, her cousin’s boyfriend and his brother got her home. Dame just so happened to be gone and she was glad. She finds her way to the bedroom, only to be stopped by a woman coming out. “The fuck?” She pushes her way in and there he was in her bed with two other women. That just sobered her up and he had no care in the world that his girlfriend just caught him in the act. 

II. Present Day

“What Dame.” Sariah wasn’t in the mood to talk when he called her. She wasn’t paying attention to the ringer when she answered assuming it was her cousin asking her where she was. Her mind focused on trying to produce this last song for a wedding soundtrack and was in a hurry. She wanted to have this finished before her cousin got married. They trusted her with something so special to them and she wanted it to be perfect.

“I was just seeing if you were home. I need you.”He wasn’t exactly subtle. She could hear his labored breathing and sniffles in the background. She knew what he wanted; she just wasn’t in the mood. She was tired, hungry and had to be at the airport before they leave her. She gave herself another hour in the studio then she was going home to get her stuff and race to the airport. Dame was no where in that time frame.

“I’m busy tonight, plus you know I have Trinity and Jimmy’s thing to go to. I’m only going to be home long enough to get my things.”

Sariah hears the frustration in his sighs. The beat playing in the background as she tried to focus, brows furrowed while lining up the lyrics she recorded to the beat she produced.

“Damn, fuck me then.” He disconnects the call. She didn’t hear him end the call as she had finally finished the chorus and was to busy celebrating, that she almost missed trinity’s call., she found her phone and answered it quickly.

“Hey Trin.”

“Girl, are you in the studio?”

Sariah hums. She was indeed still in the studio, and she had finally finished her song, and the soundtrack was complete. I mean she was a perfectionist and this was a masterpiece.

“Bitch, everyone is at the airport waiting for you. Can you hurry along please.” Bianca had taken the phone from Trinity. She loved the music her best friend makes, but the girl had serious time blindness.

Sariah looks down at the time and it was eight-thirty. She was supposed to meet them at the airport at eight. She curses and quickly saves everything to her computer and gathering all her stuff.

“My bad, lost track of time. Give me thirty minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hurry up.” The call ends. Sariah was grateful to have a studio next to her apartment. It wasn’t long before she was running up the stairs to her apartment. She rushed around her room throwing her SHEIN packed bags into her suitcases. She had mentally thanked herself for doing this the night before. She really should’ve pack before today, but she was in the studio late again. This was her own downfall. She could hear her door open. It was Dame. He was the only one who had a key to her apartment. 

“I thought your flight was at eight.” His voice echoed through her ears. 

“It was, I ran late at the studio. So now I’m rushing.” she zips her bag up. Whatever she forgot she could just buy when she gets there.

He comes up to her. “Do you have to go?” He reaches to grab her, but she moves just as quickly as he got close.

“I’m her maid of honor. I helped plan this trip. It would be a bad look if I don’t go.” That was partially a lie. She suggested the location, since it was a family favorite for trips. She did create the itinerary. It was just being funded by Jonathan’s dad and uncles.

“You never make time for me.” It’s been a while since they’v been intimate, is what she knew he meant. She sighs going to her closet, putting on a love galore hoodie. A gift from a fan.

“Let’s not start this now. I don’t have time.” She grabs her bags, watching him block the door.

“Fuck, you never have time. do I need to show you how to make time.” He stares her down. Usually she would give and cancel her plans. This was a long waited trip, and she was going bruised or not.

“If you’re going to hit me, then do. Regardless. I’m leaving.”

The eye contact between the two never wavered. She was getting tired of everything and was starting to stand her ground. Using some peens up frustration she pushed past him.

“So, you’re really about to go huh?” 

“Yeah. See you when I get back.” She grabs her keys.

Dame watches her leave. “I got something for that ass” He mutters. Sariah managed to get an Uber, and to the airport just in time. In the midst of all that she managed to avoid fans, who recognized her. She sucked at keeping a low profile.

Trinity, and Jonathan stood from their seats, seeing her rush up to them. Trinity squeals, rushing to hug her cousin.

“The RnB princess has finally graced us with her presence.” Jonathan jokes.

“Ha ha.” She rolls her eyes with a smile, dropping her bags to hug Trinity.

“Sorry guys, just lost track of time in the studio.”  She told them the partial truth, she also didn’t want to tell them about the argument she had with Dame that was actually the reason for her being late. She wanted to get over that and just have a good time with her friends.

“It’s all cool. We understand girl, the music doesn’t stop.” Trinity speaks, reaching for her carry on, but Jonathan had already grabbed it. Bianca, Montez and Roman had already made their way through the gates. Sariah had reach down to grab her bag, but another hand was grabbing it

“I got it.” The voice was deep, and raspy. The arm in question was littered in tribal tattoos. She knew all too well who it was. I mean, how could she forget.

“Shit. You okay mamas?” She sat in his car. A busted lip, bruised cheek and a popped vessel in her eye that was sure to be causing her immense pain. He wanted to go in there and fuck him up, but her health was her main concern. ”Don’t tell anyone please.” That would be hard considering she looked like she got into a bear fight. “Where do you want to go?” ”Trinity’s.”

Joshua  

#fanfic #original character #jey uso #jeysuso #wwe #Music fanfic #Rom #roman reigns #romance #romantic #black women #black tumblr #oc #main event jey uso #the usos #jimmy uso #the bloodline #black oc

[emerson-grimes-apologist]

Hihi don't mind me but do you got any voice headcanons for the funky puppets ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ I'd love to hear them

I have a few I'm thinking about :)

Horace: The Peculiar Purple Pieman from Strawberry Shortcake? Possibly? I don't know, he reminds me too much of Waluigi I think

Thade: Either Snufkin or Jon Arbuckle. I see people headcanoning him as having this smooth, posh, elegant voice, but I think it would be funnier for him to look like an elegant goth but have a voice that makes him sound like a silly guy. Because he is a silly guy! To me

Sariah: I can see lots of high-pitched "princessly" voices fitting her tbh, including but not limited to Snow White, Thumbelina, Strawberry Shortcake.... I like Beatrice's voice from Over the Garden Wall because it isn't SUPER gentle and has some sassiness to it, but I think it would be cool if ALL my voice claims came from sources from, like, the 70s or 80s, and have that crackly low-quality sound to reflect that Candle Cove is an old TV show. Maybe I could put her voice through a filter...

Dr. Heartfelt: Ludwig von Drake (I'm kind of on the fence about this because he sounds pretty exuberant while I imagine Heartfelt to be more soft-spoken. I might look for clips of him talking softly and see what I think then. My other choice would be Matthias Schweighöfer, but he sounds too normal to me (as in not cartoony)).

Dr. Mort: Louis Jourdan (I was also on the fence about this for a while because he tends to sound a little too suave and debonair in his roles while I image Mort to sound like a little creep, but I think this clip specifically matches him vibe) (sort of unrelated but here's a clip of him SINGING! I think about it often)

Red Mary: Amanda Palmer

Susan Siren: Probably Ballora from FNAF, but I still like my older voice claim, which is Fiona Apple singing this song specifically.

Roger Rogerson: The Globglogabgalab

Bubba: Kris from Santa Claus is Comin' to Town

Starson: I said before that I was thinking of John from the Beatles cartoon for him, but now I'm thinking of Smart Gary from Spongebob. He just sounds like a little smarty.

I want to make a looooooooong voice claim video at some point so I'm in the process of looking for voice claims, but it's slow work :,) especially since I don't really have a solid "feel" for a lot of the characters (I only really really care about like 5 of them. The rest I'm kind of uninterested in rn, even though I want to develop them more in my head and get more invested in them so I can write fanfics with them and stuff like that). But I want to bring it into existence!

#candle cove #voice claims #horace horrible #thade soben #sariah #dr. heartfelt #dr. mort #red mary #susan siren #roger rogerson #bubba #starson

[mewpirate]

Cc Voice hcs :DDDD

Percy-Shinji ikari from Neon Genesis Evangelion or Wirt from Over the garden wall.

Janice-Lickity split (or maybe Megan) from MLP g1 or Anne Marie from All dogs go to heaven.

Poppy-Jack sparrow from The Pirates of the Caribbean franchise, or Micheal from The good place.

Horace-purple pie man from the 80s strawberry shortcake films, or maybe papyrus from that Undertale musical made by man on the Internet- (Maybe Randy Marsh from south Park or Skeletor from he-man I CANT FIGURE OUT A PERFECT VOICE FOR HIM)

Milo-like every single male British teenage boy, if you can't imagine that then I guess Victor from Corpse bride could do well.

Skin-taker- The skintaker voice impression by David near, or Discord from MLP. (Maybe skeleton from superted)

Sariah-Snow white from Snow white and the seven dwarves.(duh)

Laughingstock-Bubba from Misadventures of flapjack.

Susan-Wammawink from Centaurworld.

Sea-dog-Charlie from All dogs go to heaven. (1st Movie)

I may change these because I wasn't really sure what fits some of the characters ⊙⁠﹏⁠⊙ but I hope you like them!

#candle cove #candle cove creepypasta #candle cove characters #pirate percy #candle cove percy #candle cove janice #janice candle cove #candle cove milo #candle cove poppy #poppy candle cove #candle cove skintaker #horacecandlecove #horace horrible #the skintaker #back from hiatus because candle cove has gotten into my head

[tomatoteddy]

Sariah Albrecht

Name: Sariah Albrecht

Age: 16

Wish: "That everyone will do what is good"

Soul Gem: White cross on forehead

Weapon: Lance

Ability: Hypnotism

Element: Light

Witch/Doppel: Elsa Maria

A very religious young lady. She has a black and white mindset of the world and believes that everything she says and thinks is right. Sariah has no bad intentions with this though, but she is very stubborn in what she believes in.

----- • ☬ • -----  

I forgot I had this in my drafts oops

Anyways uhhh hi!! I still make magical girl ocs from the PMMM witches lol. I have her story planned out but I still have to write it, but I really like her design lol. Idk designs based off lolita fashion are always so fun to make

#tomatoteddy art #puella magi diaries #art #artists on tumblr #oc art #my ocs #magical girl #madoka magica oc #madoka magica #madoka magica witch #madoka magica elsa maria #elsa maria

[luvredvelvetluv]

Modern cc au shit

Ok so basically, Percy and Milo and poppy be livin in a big ass house

That house turns out to be the laughingstock because we gotta put her in somewhere

Sorry to slander ur baby boy but Percy is basically those woke, offended easily,alt,furry,old Tumblr,hates cis white males, twitter people. IDK HE GIVE OFF THOSE VIBES

Milos a fucking rapper but he sucks at it he only sings British rap shit like "base money fancy clothes" or whatever

Poppy is a fucking NFT seller 😭

The crew has this shed or treehouse thing inspired by some 3008 Ikea bases me and my friend made and found

Skin-taker/thade is a fucking fashion designer and judge

He has his own fashion line

Horace is a bartender

Skinny boi and horace married LMAOO

Janice living with Milo and percy

Sea dog is a fucking cocker spaniel

This one was inspired by welcometocandlecove 's headcannons on the cc modern au in a discord chat but basically, poppy has this garden and Percy and Milo would help with. Janice be playing in it too.

Oki so Lillian is a business owner

But she ded in car accident

After lillian died, Thade got into a deep depression because he lost the love of his life and struggled taking care of auburn until he met Horace at a bar.

Calvary and Nathan are just the neighbors lmao

Jojo be a construction worker along with calvary

Rubber fishes crew be robbers lmao

Horace is one of those TikTok witches that be like "oh your a baby witch also here's some crystal healing along with manifestation with a dose of protection spell that is def not made out of cat piss"

Horace has too many fucking plants along with skin-taker 😭😭

This one is inspired by candlecovecorner. So basically Percy is one of those "small business" owners on TikTok lmao he be selling his stuff on Etsy or wish lmaooo

This one is also inspired by candlecovecorner. Kurt be wearing cat ear headphones BUT HE FUCKING LISTENS TO MONSTER CAT AND CRAB RAVE ALL DAY

hmmm how do I put this... Red Mary...uhhhh..she caused the car accident because why not, she a pyromaniac, But anyways she's in rehab.

Milo has fucking rats also his favorite movie is that one ripoff ratatouille named RATATOING

Horace has a shit ton of animals he has a Siamese cat, a white fox, a bat, a fruit bat, a snake, AND A COCKATOO BAHAHAHA

Sariah is a bar singer, she makes TONS of money because sariah slander is not tolerated

Susan is a opera singer. PERIOT.

MELROSE SELLS SLIME

in the creepypasta version of the modern au, the cc characters mentioned in the Creepypasta are actually a band, similar to Gorillaz, the laughingstock is basically a van.

HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA HERE IS MY ESSAY ON WHY I SHOULD BE A CERTIFIED CC CREATOR-

#creepypasta #candle cove #fyppage #candlecove #local 58 #alternate universe #skintaker #candle cove fandom #milo candle cove #candle cove percy #candle cove janice #poppycandlecove #candle cove poppy #poppy candle cove #horacecandlecove #candle cove horace #horace horrible #percycandlecove #pirate percy #candle cove creepypasta #candlecovehorace #candlecovefandom #candlecovepoppy #candlecovemilo

[drheartfeltlover]

Once again, some totally correct Candle Cove quotes:

Sariah: You're the most jealous man I know

Milo: You talk to other men?

Sariah: ... Honestly, sometimes I think about leaving you-

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

Kurt: Sunny can't talk. He stands there, judging us and for what?

Sunny: I can talk but none of you are worth taking to.

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

Boar, talking about Mort: "I can fix him" this, "I can make him worse" that. Yeah but I can carry him over my shoulder while telling him that while violence can sometimes the answer, that doesn't mean he can stab Mary because she breaths.

Lillian: ... That was oddly specific-

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

Percy, watching his friends get hurt or almost die and already having survivors' guilt: How much trauma do I need?! Why am I collecting trauma like rocks?!

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

Schot: Why is part of your hair white?

Conea: Why do you have to make your kid feel like they won't achieve anything if they're not brave? Why do humans treat others poorly at times?

Schot: ... Forget I asked.

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

Auburn: You can't hurt me because I'm a minor!

Red Mary: That's called a minor offence, bitch-

#candle cove #candlecove #candle cove creepypasta #candle cove incorrect quotes

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Unfinished Draft Part 2

The rumble rocked all the occupants of the dimly lit train. Many dozed off like a babes cradled in their mother’s embrace. Others gazed out to behold upon the dark countryside.

Yet, the train was not completely silent on this dark morning. A small trio near the front of the navy and white themed car excitedly chatted among themselves.

A young woman named (Y/N) was dressed in a warm hoodie and her favorite pair of jeans. She was excitedly nodding along to as her two friends discussed happily the recent events in their lives.

Their chatter was cut short when Joel, a man wearing an ACDC shirt and combat pants, clapped getting the attention of his two friends. With their eyes upon him, he spoke. “Do you two remember what we need to do as soon as we got off the train?”

Sariah, an African American with blue streaked her, rolled her amber colored eyes as a dragged out yes left her throat. (Y/N) giggled at the response to the simple question but nodded the same.

Joel looked at (Y/N), his own gaze hard as he doubted her nod. “Alright, (Y/N) tell me then. Because the last thing we need is for you to cluelessly wander off like a two-year-old.”

She froze for a moment before a sheepish smile spread across her face. “W-well, when we get off the train. We go to the bat-.”

“NOPE!” Joel loudly interrupted. “First thing” His pasty hand pointed above them. “We do is grab our bags from the overhang. Then we go find our guide.”

Sariah huffed as she placed her head on her fist. Squishing her cheek cutely as she locked eyes with Joel. “How are we supposed to know who they are? You’ve told us nothing about them.”

(Y/N) nodded again as Joel haughtily huffed. “Obviously, I was waiting for today. That way it stays fresh in your brain.”

Shaking her head Sariah showed her doubt while (Y/N) looked on confused. Wondering why her friend would make them wait on such an important detail.

Joel blushed and muttered obscenities under his breath as he mentally gathered himself. (Y/N) smiled but hoped that no child would hear his harsh language, or else they would have a mother bear on their hands.

Now gathered, he began to describe their guide. (Y/N) was told his name was Matt and that he was a tall, blond, Canadian lumberjack. Joel continued to let your group know that Matt would be waiting with by a large white van to take to start their long hike in the Rockies.

(Y/N)’s jaw opened into a wide yawn. Turning to Joel, she asked “Well now that we’ve got our plans under way, can we sleep for the rest of the train ride?”

“I guess so.” Joel shrugged, “But, don’t be too pissy when I wake you up.”

“Alright.”

As the trio quieted down, trained chugged on, and darkness gave way to daybreak. It was only a matter of two hours before the train finally arrived at the Jasper Train Station.

With blurry eyes, (Y/N) was shaken awake by Joel as Sariah went a started collect their items. Jackets and small bags were huddled in her lap. While Joel kept shaking (Y/N) demanding a response.

Grumbling, she swatted at the man. Letting Joel know that he was not only awake, but over his shaking.

Joel chuckled and let off allowing (Y/N) the space to full wake up.

Her stretch was accompanied by the screech of the train’s brakes. The force of the stopped cause some to slide forward but many remained as they were.

The ding of safe departure broke over the speaker allowing the trio to excitedly follow their plan. Sariah began to throw their bags at their owner. (Y/N) grunted from the impact of her heavier hiking bag, while Joel didn’t seem bothered.

Joel began to walk ahead, exiting the train to look for Matt. Sariah on the other hand, grabbed on to the shorter woman’s backpack to prevent her from wondering off. The attached duo slowly exited the train annoyed at the sardine like conditions they were temporally subjected to.

The fresh air of that came from existing the train felt like mint gum mixed with cold water in (Y/N)’s lungs. It was satisfying despite the temporary stutter in her breathing.

(Y/N) felt a harsh tug as Sariah began to drag her to the right. “I’m guessing, you see Joel?”

“Yup.” Sariah said, as she dropped her hand from (Y/N)’s hoodie.

Keeping pace with her friend, (Y/N) begun to see Joel as the waves of people departed like the Red Sea. She smiled, ready to start her adventure. Excited to meet a make a new friend in the form of their guide.

That fluttery excitement twisted into paranoia and fear as her eyes connected with the tall, blond, lumberjack by Joel’s side.

Something in that moment caused (Y/N) to feel as an ewe standing before a bear.

He appeared to be talking to a large, blond man with a dark five ‘clock shadow. He must be Matt and he fit Joel’s description like a block in a kid’s match the shape toy.

Both men turned to face the women as they finished forming the circle of their group. Once everyone had settled comfortably within the ring, Joel introduced the stranger.

With a wave of his hand, Joel called the new man, Matt which surprised no one. Then with a similar gesture introduced (Y/N) and Sariah.

(Y/N) watched as Matt gave Sariah a simple nod. When the intimidating man’s lavender gaze turned to meet her own (E/C), she jolted as he gave her a small smile. With a caught tongue, (Y/N) coughed and offered a small wave of her fingers, which made Matt chuckle.

She felt the heat of a blush as Sariah snickered. (Y/N) smack her dearest friend as she teasingly pushed her. The feigned shocked made Joel laugh like a dying moose. Which lead to (Y/N) and Sariah to cackle.

As the cackling died, another cough brought the group’s focus on to Matt. His tone was even as he asked if there would be any questions about the plans for the hike.

Joel shook his head, while Sariah just shrugged. (Y/N) rocked forward on her heels, a nervous no chirping from her throat.

Matt nodded and gestured for them to follow as he walked off. His long strides quickly putting distance between him and the inexperienced explorers.

(Y/N) gave an unsure look to Joel and Sariah, they gave small smiles of reassurance, before skipping to catch up with their tall guide.

She watched as the three fell into sync, (Y/N) found herself wondering why he made her nervous. Something about Matt made her stomach flip and shrink uncomfortably as she lagged behind the group.

Hesitantly, (Y/N) climbed in the large all terrain red truck.

#2p hetalia #Fic #unfinished

[drewsdrearydays]

05.02.2018

I AM SO ANNOYED! I AM SO SO ANNOYED. TODAY WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MY.. never mind. Let me start at the beginning. Its just UGH. So I had just woken up and made myself a nice morning brew. When I saw Harry's update. I was so excited that I almost dropped my coffee. I mean its sad that there was a murder but it was my first real job!! How could I not be excited? I was waiting for Antonio to show up so much that he almost fell into my house because I opened the door as he was about to knock. Antonio is such a sweetheart, bless him, he thought I'd faint when I saw the body, he'd even brought me a bit of that rum him and José have for some liquid courage. Gosh was he surprised when I gave no reaction! Anyways I had no time to make a proper autopsy report because of the meeting he'd scheduled. I quickly dressed up and got to the restaurant. Yusuf was already there and motioned me over, he asked me about the body, I could barely contain my excitement as I told him about it. Almost everyone was there. June was sitting with the other women calming everyone down, she looked beautiful even while grieving. Jose also went over to help her. Akira and George were giggling about something together as usual. Mocair was hovering about. I can't seem to place him even though I'm at his bar practically every weekend. I could HEAR Erin and akeno enter from the kitchen, by that of course I mean I could hear Erin. She grumbles like one of those cars that she repairs. Akeno's cute though, he was eating a bright blue popsicle, and somehow managed to look like a child at whatever age he is, I don't know fifty?

Klaudia was there too, she came in late and for once seemed excited and interested in the meeting as well? She's not half bad I suppose. What surprised me was Sariah being there, I did not expect that. Yusuf looked a bit surprised about it too. I guess I'm not the only one with an interest in the macabre. ANYWAYS right after I had my big moment and gave my first ever opinion on a body, HARRY MATTHEWS HAD TO PIPE IN AND RUIN EVERYTHING.  What does he know about the body? Sure he discovered but does he have a degree in forensics? I THINK NOT. The scars will not part of a scuffle and were DELIBERATE. I am ready to die on that hill. And I was going to press my point but Yusuf asked me not to. He said though he trusted me completely he didnt want there to be a fight between the townsfolk at such a trying time. He's so thoughtful. Of course this meant that I had to suck it up as the townspeople murmured among themselves about my NON EXISTENT INCOMPETENCE but who cares. I know I'm right and nothing Harry says will change that. I don't know why he's lying. Perhaps... No he doesn't seem the type. Regardless Antonio thinks its a drifter, and Antonio is almost always right about things like this. All I'm saying is if there's a murder hungry drifter in town, I hope he knows where the press is.

06.02.2018

Anyway. Yusuf came over to the morgue in the afternoon because he wanted to see me do my first proper murder autopsy. I was so excited because this is my first legitimate unnatural death autopsy and I knew Yusuf was excited too. He even said that I looked really professional and cool in my scrubs. He’s always so nice. It is a pity that his spirits did not last till the end of the autopsy. He went really quiet when I removed the white sheet from the body. I hadn’t expected him to be affected by gore but he was. I showed him the stab wounds on the victim- the one’s at his heart and the others that Harry had announced were ‘accidental’. I pointed out the horizontal slash across his abdominal head and one at the back of his knee. This puzzled me to no extent. It was clear to me that the precision with which the cuts were made meant that this had to be deliberate, by why in those exact spots is still a mystery to me. Yusuf seemed really taken aback by the body. I was surprised because I didn’t expect him to be someone who can’t handle some bloody visuals. Yusuf was clearly a bit uncomfortable because of the body so we left soon after. The autopsy report is ready but I’ll give it to Antonio tomorrow. Yusuf and I went to the pub after the autopsy. Things happened there but I am too tired to elaborate on them as of now. 

[doc-roberts]

DWC Day 4: Diligence

Continued from: Part 1 Part 2

The sun had been up two minutes and Sariah was already preparing for the day, her usual flowy skirts and gossamer shirts packed away for clothing more fitting for a dig. Blue denim overalls and a white cotton shirt, thick boots, and high socks to keep the bugs out; while most would wear gloves, Sariah much rathered to get to know the artifacts on her own, the sense of touch telling her so much valuable information.

With a bag packed with her tools, some snacks, and enough water to fill a camel's hump, Sariah began the hike to the dig, hoping to meet others as eager as she but was met with disappointment as the rest of the Company had yet to stir from their adventures the night before.

"No reason to wait, they'll catch up when they are ready." Sariah convinced herself, unpacking her tools and getting right to work within the first chamber of the tomb with so many twists and turns between her and the history buried within. Ancient markings from a long since dead language gave warnings to blind eyes, between the lost knowledge and wear, the words were long since illegible and their purpose lost to time.

Sariah was aware that some tombs came with traps, she had been taught to expect and how to notice when a step could spell her doom but nothing had prepared her for just how heavy the cloud of curiosity would fog her mind, excitement overruled logic as she found a hidden button that opened a door to the next chamber.

She knew better than to go alone, at least someone outside to know if she got hurt or trapped but as the camp dealt with their collective hangover Sariah continued on. The sealed chamber had protected the contents from the blasting of sand and so the carvings and paintings were preserved and in need of a little dusting. Oh, so carefully the delicate bristles of the brush gently cleared away layers of dust and sand to reveal the hidden words, comparing them to her notes from previous digs and adding new ones for context all while trying to decipher their meaning and glean a hint as to where the burial chamber was.

It became apparent that Sariah had dusted in the wrong spot as the door to the chamber slammed shut, locking her inside with no word to anyone that she had even come to the site. The only hint that something was amiss was the bag of food and water still outside on the table, her only hope was that someone would realize and find their way to opening the door as she had, her heart filled with fear that no one would find her in time as the air was limited.

@daily-writing-challenge

#Sariah #Stuck in a tomb #Excitement does not overrule protical kid #maydwc2022 #mayday42022 #doc-roberts

[bookoformon]

1 Nephi Chapter 8, "The Tree of Life."

Lehi sees a vision of the tree of life—He partakes of its fruit and desires his family to do likewise—He sees a rod of iron, a strait and narrow path, and the mists of darkness that enshroud men—Sariah, Nephi, and Sam partake of the fruit, but Laman and Lemuel refuse. About 600–592 B.C.

A “rod of iron” is a male who has become a man and is capable of manufacturing. In this context, he uses it to pierce the darkness:

"Older dictionaries commonly attach our noun ברזל (barzel) to the verb ברז (baraz), to pierce, on account that iron objects were commonly used to skewer things, but fail to explain where the final ל (lamed) might have come from (as this is not at all a common suffix), or why bronze wasn't called after ברז (baraz), since bronze was used to skewer things long before iron was."

Notice the contrast with Eden- there are two pairs of men and one woman with nearly opposite personalities confronted by the Tree instead of a man and a woman.

One pair wants to be free to lollygag, the other and their mother “the Balm of God” want to obey the words of the Angels as a means of escape to Refuge. The old vs. the new with God being on the side of the new.

 1 And it came to pass that we had gathered together all manner of aseeds of every kind, both of grain of every kind, and also of the seeds of fruit of every kind.

Seeds are the male part of the tree, the characteristics inherent to what one desires in the future. They are one’s leftover  intentions. If the seeds are from a pomegranate, for example they lead to the laws and customs of civilization. From the grape seed comes the wine, which signify luxury and prosperity. The Torah says that seeds that fall near a lizard carcass, a person who does not take care of its young and steals heat from others must not be watered or planted.

From Shemeni:

35 Anything that one of their carcasses falls on becomes unclean; an oven or cooking pot must be broken up. They are unclean, and you are to regard them as unclean. 36 A spring, however, or a cistern for collecting water remains clean, but anyone who touches one of these carcasses is unclean. 37 If a carcass falls on any seeds that are to be planted, they remain clean. 38 But if water has been put on the seed and a carcass falls on it, it is unclean for you.

Grains are truth that have to be harvested, shucked, ground and turned into flour- they are scripture.

Flowers are efforts that womb the intentions and turn them into the fruits of the actions.

Fruits are habits or patterns that repeat.

2 And it came to pass that while my father tarried in the wilderness he spake unto us, saying: Behold, I have adreamed a dream; or, in other words, I have bseen a cvision.

3 And behold, because of the thing which I have seen, I have reason to rejoice in the Lord because of aNephi and also of Sam; for I have reason to suppose that they, and also many of their seed, will be saved.

4 But behold, aLaman and Lemuel, I fear exceedingly because of you; for behold, methought I saw in my dream, a dark and dreary wilderness.

5 And it came to pass that I saw a aman, and he was dressed in a white brobe; and he came and stood before me.

6 And it came to pass that he spake unto me, and bade me follow him.

7 And it came to pass that as I followed him I beheld myself that I was in a dark and dreary waste.

8 And after I had traveled for the space of many hours in darkness, I began to pray unto the Lord that he would have amercy on me, according to the multitude of his tender mercies.

9 And it came to pass after I had prayed unto the Lord I beheld a large and spacious afield.

10 And it came to pass that I beheld a atree, whose bfruit was desirable to make one chappy.

11 And it came to pass that I did go forth and partake of the afruit thereof; and I beheld that it was most sweet, above all that I ever before tasted. Yea, and I beheld that the fruit thereof was white, to exceed all the bwhiteness that I had ever seen.

12 And as I partook of the fruit thereof it filled my soul with exceedingly great ajoy; wherefore, I began to be bdesirous that my family should partake of it also; for I knew that it was cdesirable above all other fruit.

13 And as I cast my eyes round about, that perhaps I might discover my family also, I beheld a ariver of water; and it ran along, and it was near the tree of which I was partaking the fruit.

14 And I looked to behold from whence it came; and I saw the head thereof a little way off; and at the head thereof I beheld your mother Sariah, and Sam, and aNephi; and they stood as if they knew not whither they should go.

15 And it came to pass that I beckoned unto them; and I also did say unto them with a loud voice that they should come unto me, and partake of the fruit, which was desirable above all other fruit.

16 And it came to pass that they did come unto me and partake of the fruit also.

17 And it came to pass that I was desirous that Laman and Lemuel should come and partake of the fruit also; wherefore, I cast mine eyes towards the head of the river, that perhaps I might see them.

18 And it came to pass that I saw them, but they would anot come unto me and partake of the fruit.

19 And I beheld a arod of iron, and it extended along the bank of the river, and led to the tree by which I stood.

=An institution that leads to the unity of the people represented by a tree that delivers fruit without bloodshed or corruption.

The River is the Euphrates which ran through Eden, "the Gusher", From (1) ευ (eu), good or noble, and (2) the name Parat, from the verb פרה (para), to be fruitful.

20 And I also beheld a astrait and narrow path, which came along by the rod of iron, even to the tree by which I stood; and it also led by the head of the fountain, unto a large and spacious field, as if it had been a bworld.

The Fountain is the Source, called the Mormon.

Mor= myrrh, "spiciness, heat"

Rimmon= the apex

Myrrh is a component of an anagram of words from Hebrew:

"In the first installment on parashat Ki Tisa, we read part of the Ari's discussion of the anointing oil. The Ari demonstrated how each of the ingredients of this oil - myrrh, cinnamon, aromatic cane, and cassia - all reflected the name Elo-him, which is manifest in the sefirot of bina, gevura, and malchut."

SO a Mormon is not just anyone, it is a person whose "spiciness" or Godliness is the best. The precise nature of how a man, whose soul is ejected from the Fountain of Mormon into the River of Nobility and becomes grafted together with all of his disparate parts is the subject of this handbook, the Book of Mormon:

21 And I saw numberless concourses of people, many of whom were apressing forward, that they might obtain the bpath which led unto the tree by which I stood.

22 And it came to pass that they did come forth, and commence in the path which led to the tree.

23 And it came to pass that there arose a amist of darkness; yea, even an exceedingly great mist of darkness, insomuch that they who had commenced in the path did lose their way, that they wandered off and were blost.

24 And it came to pass that I beheld others pressing forward, and they came forth and caught hold of the end of the rod of iron; and they did press forward through the mist of darkness, aclinging to the rod of iron, even until they did come forth and partake of the bfruit of the tree.

25 And after they had partaken of the fruit of the tree they did cast their eyes about as if they were aashamed.

26 And I also cast my eyes round about, and beheld, on the aother side of the river of water, a great and bspacious building; and it stood as it were in the cair, high above the earth.

27 And it was filled with people, both old and young, both male and female; and their manner of dress was exceedingly fine; and they were in the aattitude of bmocking and pointing their fingers towards those who had come at and were partaking of the fruit.

28 And after they had atasted of the fruit they were bashamed, because of those that were cscoffing at them; and they dfell away into forbidden paths and were lost.

29 And now I, Nephi, do not speak aall the words of my father.

30 But, to be short in writing, behold, he saw other multitudes pressing forward; and they came and caught hold of the end of the arod of iron; and they did press their way forward, continually holding fast to the rod of iron, until they came forth and fell down and partook of the fruit of the tree.

31 And he also saw other amultitudes feeling their way towards that great and spacious building.

32 And it came to pass that many were drowned in the adepths of the bfountain; and many were lost from his view, wandering in strange roads.

33 And great was the multitude that did enter into that strange building. And after they did enter into that building they did point the finger of ascorn at me and those that were partaking of the fruit also; but we heeded them not.

34 These are the words of my father: For as many as aheeded them, had fallen away.

35 And aLaman and Lemuel partook not of the fruit, said my father.

36 And it came to pass after my father had spoken all the words of his dream or vision, which were many, he said unto us, because of these things which he saw in a vision, he exceedingly feared for Laman and Lemuel; yea, he feared lest they should be cast off from the presence of the Lord.

37 And he did aexhort them then with all the feeling of a tender parent, that they would hearken to his words, that perhaps the Lord would be merciful to them, and not cast them off; yea, my father did preach unto them.

38 And after he had preached unto them, and also prophesied unto them of many things, he bade them to keep the commandments of the Lord; and he did cease speaking unto them.

Human equity, national security, and the ability to work and own property these are the hallmarks of civilized persons who live under one flag. These are magnet and steel between the rest. Their opposite, prejudice, terrorism, and apartheid are the opposite and must be cast off.

[emelisecreating]

silhouettas

color negative inkjet prints, 2021

Shot on richly saturated, intentionally over processed color negative film, silhouettas comments on whiteness at large as a master narrative through which we are conditioned to perceive, judge, and control color and the colorful. Featuring unapologetic disruption of Eurocentric beauty standards via the model's (Sariah Borum) eloquent styling and statuesque posing, visibly punctured negatives to cue in a sense of violence, allusion to the shadow of colonialism via striking digital overlay, and reinvention of the traditionally white gallery space, silhouettas seeks to captivate viewers with flashy aesthetics to initiate reflection upon subject matter.

#kodak ektar 100 #color film #35 mm #canon a1 #inkjet #portraiture #image

[sincerity-moi]

Ricky: Killing is wrong and nobody should ever do it, ever.

Shilo: I’d probably kill somebody.

Sariah: I’ve killed before, though I’d really rather avoid it in the future.

Abigail: I was killed without hesitation, I then went on to kill several somebodies, do unto others, bitches.

#origin stories #original characters #ricky the werewolf #shilo the superhero (aka manifest) #sariah white #abigail evans #(More posts about my stupid OCs being many different sorts of feral.) #greywater #a wolf in sheep's clothing #old souls #manifest

[solaceinprose]

December: A Reading Summary

Well, there you have it folks. The last 8 books I read in 2019. Four of these were ARCs from Netgalley, two were free from Prime Reading, and two were physical books. Considering that I was in the process of getting my house in order for a new roommate, finishing up my floors, and working and Christmas, I feel that eight books weren’t too bad. 

I blew my GR reading challenge of 50 books out of the water with 92. I did 50 because I wasn’t really sure I could do more than that, but I guess when I’m in the mood to read, I can knock out some books. I made my goal for 2020 to be 75 books which I feel is a fair amount to challenge myself with for next year. 

My goal for next year is to be more active with a reading journal. @coffeebooksorme​ gifted me this beautiful new journal, and I’ve been looking at ideas online so I’m ready to get started. Since I’m off tomorrow, I’ll probably work on that. I think I could get my first book of 2020 finished either tomorrow or the 2nd, which will put me further ahead than this year when I decided to make IT my first book of the year. 

2019 was a difficult year, and I’m not entirely sad to see it go. I pray that 2020 will be a better year, emotionally, mentally, professionally, and personally.  Happy New Year, everyone. Thanks for sticking with me this far.

#booklr #reading summary #december reads #well met #jen deluca #the plus one #sarah archer #the guinevere deception #kiersten white #mad about you #anna premoli #house rules #ruby lang #moonstruck #sariah wilson #when you were everything #ashley woodfolk #accidental romeo #nicole snow #reading challenge #2019 reading challenge #books #book lover #book nerd #book worm #mine

[desertdollranch]

Full collection of Antonia Snow-Flores, an American Girl. Taos, New Mexico, 1978.

I don’t have a lot of Antonia’s long-term story arc nailed down yet, but I do know where she’s at in her life right now. Antonia is a ten-year-old girl growing up in Taos Pueblo, a place that has been continually inhabited for 1000 years by the Puebloan people. She finds herself inspired by the American Indian Movement, which was at its height in the late 60′s through the 70′s, in making change in her life. She wants to help improve her community as best as she knows how, so she and her friends start a community garden that feeds local families who are experiencing food insecurity. They also raise chickens for eggs, sheep for wool, and bees for honey. When her feet aren’t touching the ground, her head is in the clouds and among the stars. Antonia has been watching and following NASA’s Apollo missions to the moon with great interest, and dreaming of the day when humanity can go farther than the moon or even the solar system. She loves to read, especially science fiction and fantasy. She wants to put her dreams on paper someday and be either an author or a science journalist. 

Antonia’s wardrobe has both full outfits as well as mix-and-match pieces. I gave her a variety of shirts and a few pairs of pants and shorts. The clothes of the latter half of the decade are not quite as bright and flashy as the clothes from the first half, and so I didn’t use much inspiration or pieces from Julie Albright’s collection. The exception to that is the peasant blouse and denim skirt, which is Julie’s, and the skateboard outfit, which is my homemade replica of Julie’s. Her purse in the second picture is my replica of Ivy Ling’s accessory. Other than those pieces, I wanted Antonia’s clothes to be different from Julie’s and reflect the trends the late 70′s. She has more muted earth tones and plenty of stripes, floral prints, and corduroy. I looked at lots of 70′s clothing patterns on Pinterest to get ideas for her collection. The only piece here I didn’t make, besides her skates and other footwear and the peasant blouse + denim skirt outfit, is her blue and white pinstriped shirt; that’s an Our Generation shirt. Some of her clothes work well in the 80′s too, so she shares a few of her shirts with Sariah from 1984. You’ll see her collection in my next post.

Antonia is a JLY #11 that I stumbled upon a few years ago after spending months searching for this particular doll, who can be hard to find for a reasonable price. I got really lucky while I was browsing the new listings on eBay very late one night. After spending a while as a modern character, I decided she had a lot more to give as a historical character. She has not been customized in any way. She’s got a dozen different outfits here, so I consider her collection to be complete!

#historicaloc #antonia snow-flores #handmade doll clothes

[gripefroot]

A Court of Dusk and Shadows ❲32❳

The skies were clear for the final night of Dymas. Casting hues in vibrant shades through the enormous, white-stoned and pillared banquet hall in the heart of the palace. It was filled to the brim with curious citizens, courtiers, High Fae and lesser, servants and visitors from other courts - Helion and the Lady of the Autumn Court, hands-clasped and brightly beaming, Thesan and his escort immaculately mannered, and the Night Court - Rhys in black, Feyre in silver, and the others in their finery not bothering to conceal their pride and happiness. Nuala and Cerridwen stood apart from them, tears in their eyes but not even competition to the waterfall coming from Rumah and mopped into a handkerchief. 

Azriel grinned - but turned from where he stood at the bottom of the dais leading to a carved marble throne bathed in the dusk light, armored and polished and lethal even his peachy-rose Siphons flaring. Prepared to destroy anyone who threatened his High Lady. His High Lady who appeared in the direct line of the setting sun across the hall, drawing all attention to her glowing, vibrant beauty as she made her way slowly through the parted crowds. 

Heads bowed. Brows touched. Murmurs. But Elain only had eyes for him, striding as if he compelled her forward rather than the prospect of sitting on her throne for the first time. 

Orla, pleased at her impromptu party, watched the awe shimmering through the crowd with a feral sort of delight. Azriel made a note not to introduce Orla to Mor - no court needed two females with such eyes for luxury and indulgence with energy to fling it far and wide. 

As Elain drew nearer, Azriel didn’t bother hiding his grin as he saw the intricately painted designs of white that adorned her bare shoulders and neck, creeping up the side of her face and around her eyes. A tradition not unlike the Night Court, though Orla, directing Sariah to apply it earlier that afternoon, had assured them it would wash off. It was a contrast to his own tattoos; black and foreboding - the paint used to adorn Elain was shining, almost iridescent - as if scraped from the insides of mussel shells to gleam every color. 

The designs dipped below the neckline of her gown. He wondered how far down it went...and whether it smudged. He’d enjoy finding that out later. 

The dress, also of Orla’s design, had been made to show off those painted whorls - draped sleeves that fell off her shoulder, the gauzy white trailing to show off the swell of child. Life, life, life - Elain had brought life into the world by freeing these people, Cauldron-blessed to carry a babe of her own conceived on Calanmai. And a crown set atop her half-braided hair, curls bouncing down to her waist - a crown of gold and moonstones catching the light to gleam. They saw a High Lady, a female with power.

He saw a coiled band around her wrist, a ring on her finger. He saw his wife. 

Azriel hummed with pride as she paused before him. Her eyes flickering, just as the golden bond did between them. His lips twisted into a smile, and he did not hesitate to bow low, letting them all see: her bloodsworn, her consort, her husband, her mate - his darkness yielding to her light. 

He held out a hand, lifting his face to grin at her - she laid her fingers over his, not a single tremor to be felt, as he led her up the dais to sit. Azriel took a post beside her, hands clasped in front of him as he stared out at the banquet hall, fully aware of the eyes on her, on him. He didn’t stop grinning, though he allowed it to take on a feral edge that had always been so...effective at the Hewn City.

Touch her and you die. Touch her and you die. Touch her and you die. 

It was like the Hewn City, but unlike it. No fear rippling through the crowd, but respect and gratitude and devotion. Shadows swirled up the dais to curl around him, to thread around the throne. But they inspired no fear. Not here, at dusk, where shadows thrived. 

The music began. Not writhing and wicked, but harmonious and sweet and pure. Crowds dispersed, and Azriel’s eyes slid to Elain’s fingers tapping on the armrest of the throne. 

“Can I go back down yet?” she murmured, only for him. “I’d rather talk to the guests than have them gawk at me.” 

“Let them gawk a few minutes longer,” Azriel said back softly. “They want to see you.” He glared at the shadows curling around her upper arm, daringly near her bodice. It slunk away. Curious little - 

Dymas disappeared beyond the horizon for another year, the sun dimming to leave a sky of rich woad speckled with stars. Elain stood, swaying, and Azriel clasped her arm to help her back down the dais, a small crowd already forming to speak to her first. He suspected it would be a long night - but he kept one hand on her lower back, nodding at a servant to bring water, and let her be fawned over as he kept a steady watch on the hall around them. 

Orla knows how to throw a party, he thought at some point. The food, the music, the dancing and entertainment: lithe males and females using great swathes of fabric hanging from the ceiling as a place to stretch, to push themselves. For those unfamiliar to such things, awe abounded - one peeping shadow whispered to him that Helion suggested to his new lover that they attempt such a sport, but she had laughed and refused…

Azriel saw the slightest dip in Elain’s shoulders with his practiced eye, and felt exhaustion begin to thrum on that bond. But her back stayed straight, her smile sweet and sincere as she met Ishari’s wife (evidently a prize-willing sailor.) He needed to sequester her away...but it seemed the bash would be going on for a few hours yet. Stroking his fingers along her spine, he pressed his lips to her hairline, uncaring that anyone watching would see. Would see his weakness, his heart displayed for all to see. 

Ishari and his wife bowed, disappearing into the crowd as Elain allowed herself to sag slightly. Azriel was there, his arm around her waist to keep her upright. 

“Would you like to leave?” he whispered into her ear. Other well-wishers were hovering, waiting to spring. Elain saw them. He could sense her urgency, her instinct to give more of herself. He loved that part of her, but it was midnight and she was pregnant. 

Azriel met the eyes of those hovering, and showed his teeth. Immediately they scuttled away. 

“I would, very much,” Elain murmured back. “It’s not too early, is it?”

“Not at all. I’m not sure there’s anyone in this hall you didn’t properly greet.” 

Well - except for Rhys. The others had embraced and kissed her, but Rhys was...somewhere. 

Azriel scooped Elain into his arms, ignoring her squawk and flushed cheeks as he began to walk away from the main crush of the crows and towards the tall marble pillars that provided the only protection from the elements. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked. 

“Yes.” Her arms tightened around his neck, but her eyes danced with wary amusement as her crowled jostled. And he grinned. They were being watched. 

At the edge of the marble floor, the palace gave way to a steep cliffside - below, crashing waves beat against the mountain as if begging to get in. Salty wind ruffled his hair, her skirts. He breathed it in, listening to its melody that had sung to him all his life. Urging him, tempting him - Elain shivered, and he tightened his hold. 

And walked off the floor to plunge towards the sea. 

Azriel flung out his wings, catching a salty updraft as his wife laughed, face buried in the crook of his neck as they shot upwards to shrieks and cries of alarm heard on the wind from the party, faces peering out at them in shock. A thunderous flap of his wings took them right past the bright lights and halting music and far above, the stars whizzing around them. 

“You,” Elain muttered, her lips warm against his neck. Her tongue - oh, Cauldron - her tongue was on his neck - his flight wobbled slightly, “You have turned into quite the braggart.” 

“I was only thinking they should get used to having an Illyrian around.” Azriel tilted his head to grin down at her, to bask in the light of her smile. And to watch that curve of her lips, drawing him in. “And see - I barely even ruffled your hair.” 

She clutched the crown atop her head - and then peeled it off with a huff of laughter. Letting her hair stream around them, filling the air with jasmine...

And then she tugged on his head to plant her lips against his throat again, tongue swirling this time; tasting and savoring as Azriel nearly bit off his tongue, the balcony to their bedchamber finally ahead of them. 

“My greedy High Lady,” he managed, though his voice was a rasp. “I thought you were tired.”

“I am,” Elain purred against his skin, and his trousers were suddenly very, very tight. “I’m tired from wearing that crown and I’m tired of the crowd and heat. I am not too tired for you.”

Cauldron spare him. 

The bedchamber was dimly lit when Azriel strode through the open balcony doors. Shadows meandered around, sensing a few stacks of gifts that had been brought in by Sariah and Sabel from more well-wishers - he supposed he should have asked they be put somewhere else. Less distraction, that way. 

Elain was fussing with the ties at the back of her dress the moment he set her on her feet, her cheeks flushed with pink and her eyes bright - Azriel growled and pushed her hands away, thick shadows coming up to undo them, instead. And others...she jolted, eyes widening as she watched him unbelt his bandolier - she could feel them around her ankles too, then. 

“I only have so many hands,” he said by way of explanation, with a shrug that made her laugh, and her dress fell to the ground as she dropped the crown beside it. 

She wore no shift, nothing underneath. 

Azriel’s mouth began to water, his eyes raking slowly down her curved shape and lingering on her breasts, pink nipples budding in the open air. The shadows hustled to him as he stared, tangling themselves in the laces of his trousers to get them off - he shucked off the fingerless gloves that held his glowing Siphons, sleek black pauldrons clattering in a heap - 

And then she was there, her mouth on his as he groaned, that bond throbbing with aching need that only heightened his own. Shadows writhed around them, tickling up his legs and her legs as he hoisted her into the air by her buttocks, her ankles locking beneath his wings. He could scarcely breathe, scarcely think - he set his wife atop the pristine bed but she nudged him over with a knee, eyes bright and ready as he conceded with a grin, laying back against the headboard as she kissed him, kissed him, kissed him; the world blocked by shadow and the honing attention of her warm mouth - 

Elain mounted him easily, the sensation of being enveloped by her driving away all his thoughts - her lips parting his, the stroke of her tongue, her fingers along the tendons of his wings - Azriel grunted, holding onto her waist as she moved, tracing that winding rose tattoo on her ribs that matched his. Each gasp and moan raked through him, Elain finding her pleasure as he found his - 

And so they went on until she was rasping for breath and he was aching for water, parched and limp. 

“Will it always be like this?” she asked, a groggy heap in the bed as he extracted himself from her arms and legs to wobble across the chamber. 

“I don’t know,” Azriel said, still breathing raggedly. He poured a shaky cup of water for his wife at the table Sariah and Sabel had learned to leave refreshment for their pregnant High Lady, stretching out his wings that still trembled from her touch. He managed to be somewhat steadier on the walk back, smiling at her peeping brown eyes combing over his naked body, up and down. 

Cauldron. They had to be up early tomorrow to see the remnants of Zorem’s pegasi with Helion before the High Lord of Day left - 

He retreated. While Elain rested, sipping the water with her eyes closed, he frowned at the piles of gifts. They teetered, as if the shadows had unbalanced the packages - spilling over with jewels or flowers or fabric or even clothes - as Azriel poked around a few with a frown, he saw the shadows lurking. 

“Gotten greedy, have you?” he mumbled to them. They flickered in response, and lifted a deep indigo nightgown. It was cut simply and loosely, clearly with a growing belly in mind, and he noted the shoulder straps were tied together. Easy to remove. Azriel grinned. “I’m flattered you think it’ll look good on me,” he said, and snatched it from the smug shadows.. 

They were getting bold. And far too opinionated. He wondered at the Dusk Court magic, how it would change so much. 

Elain didn’t protest as he helped her slip into the nightgown, or even when he adjusted her breasts so that they sat in the bodice correctly. Content to be spoiled, Azriel sensed through the bond - he grinned at his wife, and kissed her cheek as he plucked the empty glass from her hand. 

“Anything else, my lady?”

“Yes,” she said. “You. Come sleep with me.” 

Now that he would always be content to do. He dangled the glass midair, not moving his gaze from Elain’s, and let the shadows bear it away as he crawled in beside her for sleep to claim them. 

⚘ ⚘ ⚘

Whispering in his ear woke him not long after - at least, the stars in the sky, visible through the balcony doors, had scarcely moved. Elain was fast asleep beside him, her breath puffing against his arm. Gently Azriel slid away from her, wings in tight to keep from jostling anything. He grabbed his trousers to step into briefly, bandolier dangling from one hand, and slipped out the door from the bedchamber. 

Rhys stood there. Hands behind his back. His expression coolly neutral, every inch of him pristine.  

Azriel didn’t speak first, shutting the door behind him with a click. 

“I wish to speak to Elain,” Rhys said at last. 

“My High Lady is sleeping.”

Something in Rhys’s jaw twitched. “I wish to...apologize to both her and you.” 

“I will convey that to her,” Azriel said. 

More twitching. He couldn’t recall seeing his once-brother this uncontrolled under such circumstances; Rhys normally reserved yielding to his baser emotions for his mate or enemies he’d prefer to flay alive rather than address. But after another moment of taut silence, he snapped his fingers, a familiar dagger appearing in the palm of his hand. 

Truth-Teller. It sang to Azriel, as it had long ago when he’d found it washed up on a rocky cliffside and wedged between boulders. The black blade appeared as polished as he preferred to keep it. But he glanced back up at Rhys. 

“I’m not going back,” Azriel said. 

“I gathered that.” Rhys’s voice was dry. Clipped. Rippling with hidden power. “I wouldn’t have dared ask after you...turned your back on us.” 

Us. As if Feyre, Mor, Cassian, Nesta, even Amren - had been responsible for what Rhys had said, what Rhys had done - 

Azriel honed that rage. He’d always honed it so well; icy and sleek, a weapon as dangerous as the one Rhys still offered him. Carefully he bit out, “You turned your back on me the moment you favored Lucien Vanserra - an outsider - over your own court. Your own brother.” 

“It's not as simple as that,” Rhys said. 

“You showed me exactly where you think I belong.” Azriel kept his heartbeat even, his rage cold and distant. “At the bottom. Last of everyone. Unworthy of - of your protection or your blessing. And for once - ” he reached out, grasping the cold hilt of Truth-Teller as Rhys curled his fingers into a fist, purple eyes blazing, “I decided I wanted better than whatever scraps you have left from your perfect life to remember the rest of us.” 

But Rhys’s eyes - it wasn’t just blazing anger. It was...pain. Shadows whispered, overlapping each other as they stroked Azriel’s hair, his face. 

“So you became Elain’s lapdog.” A slight sneer. “Guarding her door, warming her bed.” 

“I’d rather be the guard dog of the female I love than a forgotten mutt at your doorstep,” Azriel snarled. “She made me more than that. More than a spymaster, more than the first line of defense to protect you from getting your hands dirty - I am her bloodsworn, her second, her consort, her lover, yes - and her husband. I was her chosen mate long before our bond was released from Lucien’s severing.”

A single blink. “You have a bond,” Rhys said slowly. Evidently Feyre hadn’t told him. 

“Yes,” Azriel said, allowing a hint of a smile. “The Cauldron used Lucien to smother it.”

“I didn’t know.” Something wrenched in Rhys’s face, just below the surface. Regret, perhaps. But it was too late for that. 

“No, you didn’t. And you didn’t even allow a chance to discover why that twisted, deadened bond inside of me - ” he tapped his ribs for emphasis, “still howled for her.” 

“I’m sorry,” Rhys said. And he meant it. Truly he did. Something cracked the ice in Azriel, but he drew in a breath, keeping it from shattering. 

“You were my brother,” Azriel said in a voice of deadly calm. “And it meant everything to me. Just as it meant everything when you forbade me from my mate.” 

“I didn’t know,” Rhys said again, and there was a tremble in his form. 

“You trusted the Cauldron - that wicked thing that killed you - and the word of Lucien Vanserra - over me.”

“I said I was sorry,” Rhys snapped, drawing back strength as he squared his shoulders. “I didn’t know you were mates - I didn’t know there was a spell. If you had said you suspected as much instead of throwing those blasted rocks at me at Solstice - ”

The love between them was broken. Not...not shattered, Azriel thought, but broken. One day, perhaps, it could be repaired. But not today. Not tonight. Not with the wounds still fresh and raw. Not with the hurts still bone-deep and scarring. 

But he remembered the wisdom both Amren and Elain had given long ago - “You choose which difficulty you live with. The hatred eating away at you, or the effort of moving past it.” 

Azriel let out a breath, turning away from the churning agony in his once-brother’s face. Likely mirroring his own. “I’ll tell Elain of your apology,” he said. “Will you stay until the morning?” 

“Feyre and I are leaving tonight to return to Nyx,” Rhys said. “The others, I believe, have assigned themselves a guest chamber. You may have a harder time extracting them.” 

He gave a base nod. At another time, another life - he could have bantered the teasing. But not tonight. Azriel lifted Truth-Teller slightly, staring at the blade, and then nodded again as a show of gratitude. For returning it. For apologizing for Elain. Rhys would likely understand. 

The High Lord of the Night Court inclined his head, and vanished. 

Shadows poked around the empty air, bringing back whispers of what Azriel already knew. 

Elain stirred when he stepped through the door again. Burnished curls a mess amongst the bedcovers, eyes blinking over at him - he smiled for his wife, but knew she’d be able to feel...to sense…

But she said nothing. Merely pulled the covers back, patting the bed beside her as he crawled in, suddenly heavier than he’d ever been as he collapsed beside her, letting his breath release from his lungs in a huff. To breathe in her, instead. Azriel closed his eyes, shutting out the sight of her sorrow - he couldn’t, not tonight - and let himself be lulled by her soothing strokes along the back of his neck. 

⚘ ⚘ ⚘

The next morning, Elain accidentally disappeared from the bath to reappear about five feet away, spraying both the tile floor and Azriel in a shower of sudsy water. He lowered the razor from his face, blinking over at his wife’s startled expression - she blinked right back. 

“That’s new,” he said in a grave voice, the only sound beside water dripping from her fingertips and wet curls. “I suppose nobody will be surprised you can winnow.”

“I’m surprised,” Elain said fiercely. Curling her fingers into fists, staring down at her hands as if her body was entirely new. Which, Azriel gathered - it was. She still glowed with the sweet thrum of Dusk Court magic - he suspected she always would. 

“We’ll find someone to show you how to control it.” Azriel wiped the last of the shaving oil from his face with the towel on his shoulder, draping it on the tub as he clasped her hands in his, willing the tension in them to soften. Elain took a deep breath, and relaxed, letting his confidence flow into her through the bond. And she smiled again. “You still have soap in your hair,” he said lightly, tugging on a curl - and she stuck her tongue out at him before climbing back into the tub with a slosh. 

Helion and the Lady of the Autumn Court (for now) were already at the stables when they arrived; outside, his own pegasus was tied loosely to a post, which appeared more and more flimsy as the stallion pranced around it, clearly agitated and restless. Azriel gave the beast a wide berth, but Elain reached out a hand - a very small, very delicate hand - to the snorting pegasus. It calmed, enough to sniff her palm and huff out a hot breath - but then shook out its mane, fluttering its wings with an agonized horse sort of noise as Azriel ushered his wife out of biting reach and into the stables. 

“Please excuse us for the delay,” Elain was quick to apologize, kissing the Lady to indicate that their friendship remained, and beaming a smile at Helion, who inclined his head. “I had a few...incidents this morning.” 

Azriel, letting the shadows swarm around him as he watched, hid a smile to remember her winnowing partway down the corridor and causing poor Vint to scream as though the palace was on fire. 

“Incidents?” Helion raised a brow. Behind him, a mare was attempting to nibble at the ends of his hair. He pretended not to notice. 

“Unexpected powers,” Elain said unhelpfully. “What is it you wanted to propose?” 

Helion didn’t take his eyes from Elain, but the interest in them was...not the usual type of Helion’s interest. For that, Azriel could breathe. The Lady of the Autumn Court had worked her own magic, it seemed.  He reached backward, absently patting the curious mare still attempting to eat his hair. 

“Long ago you said that my pegasi would breed again,” he said. “I was hoping you would lend yours.” 

Elain opened her mouth, as if to protest that the pegasi were hers at all - but then closed it. Realizing that the previous High Lord’s stables now belonged to the High Lady. Azriel saw a flush stain her cheeks, and wanted to kiss it. To feel her warm skin against his lips - 

“Certainly,” Elain said, a hint of surprise still in her voice as she traced over her swollen womb. “That is - you’d likely be best served speaking to the stablemaster.”

“I’ll send for him,” Azriel said. 

“Now I’m more curious,” Helion went on, still focused on Elain - a smile flickered his lips, but she did not balk. “Who will teach you to wield that new magic of yours? Have you found a teacher?” 

“I - no,” she admitted. “There are so many things that require my attention first.” 

Helion hummed. And then jolted - the Lady’s fingers curled around his arm, a softness in her eyes as she gazed up at him - unspoken communication passed between them as taut as a bowstring.

“I am sure Elain means to say she cannot linger here all day and answer your silly questions,” she told him - and then he really did tip his head back and laugh. 

“Quite right, quite right - as you can see, she is the best of me.” The last part was for Azriel and Elain, who exchanged a helpless look as Helion kissed his lover’s cheek, pushing away the mare who tried to get between them. “Send for your stablemaster, then. We’ll remain here. These pegasi are truly - majestic.” 

The mare snorted as if to accept the compliment, her wings fluffing out proudly. 

There was so much to do, Azriel thought to himself as he and Elain strode back towards the palace in silence - she held his hand, as if it would keep her from spiriting away. A lingering stablehand had been sent for his master, and after the bash the night before it was unlikely many would be stirring at this hour. So they lingered; a courtyard draped in the last of the summer roses in twisted vines and blossoms, a stone fountain carved like a pegasi spurting clear water from its mouth to sparkle in the sun. 

So much to do. So much to learn. And yet…

He cast a sidelong look at his wife as she leaned over, trailing her free fingers through the water. Fallen rose petals, browned and curling at the edges, had fallen into the fountain. Releasing their rich fragrance into the air. 

That golden bridge between them sang. Elain lifted her head, curls spilling over her shoulder as she smiled at him - that dazzling, brilliant smile that had always turned him inside out, coaxing out his darkness to lighten with her gentle touch. As if she knew, through that bond, the pure love that thrummed through him, deeper than his skin, deeper than his bones. 

Soul-deep. 

Azriel took a deep breath, and smiled. “What do you say we explore the city today?” 

#pro elriel #elain archeron #elain x azriel #shadowsinger #acotar