Aelwyn may do a lot more illegal things in St Owens than in canon, but I support my girlie through all of them, she did nothing wrong she’s my baby and she makes me cry every time I see her
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realizing my dog wanted to also spend time with me before we all actually went to bed so she came to my room to take a before-bed time nap
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looked through my posts from when i was 16 like girl. you are blogging about david bowie every day and saying you’re a ‘starseed’ alien who doesn’t belong on earth. realize you are trans. stop being wiccan
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Offering:
Peonies (I tried)
A lifetime of home cooked food, of your choice, which magically appears in your kitchen without the hassle of having an in house chef
A week in a private, on water bure in the Maldives including a 24 hour individual butler service (all inclusive services), with me in one next door.
Fuck you. That’s better than the offering I gave you and it’s perfect. What a wench.
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jobs need to hire less men and hire more tall and strong looking girls that have doll-like faces
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When I think about Gale and Mystra, I'm reminded of the Greek myth of the moon goddess who fell in love with a shepherd and asked Zeus to place him in an enchanted sleep, so that he would never change. So he would be beautiful and hers forever.
There are different versions of the myth, but this is the one I knew as a kid - and it always made me so fucking sad. And now I see why, because Selene loves Endymion - and her love takes his life from him. A god could not love Endymion as a mortal loves a mortal; she wants his presence to gaze on, to soak in, his body to hold. Perhaps he's a balm to her immortal existence; perhaps his beauty is an inspiration to her - but she does not want him, not all of him, not really. She doesn't want his sheep flock, the evenings where his fingers burn from the cold. She doesn't want his voice, or the lines and experience he'll gather as he ages. She doesn't want to live a life alongisde his.
Selene would say she loves Endymion, and perhaps, yes, Mystra would say she loved Gale. But how can a god love a mortal in a way that a mortal can recognise as love? You soak up his company, you laugh with him, you value his mind and his talent and his deftness with words. His presence is a spot of bright difference in your endless existence. But will you change with him? Will you be vulnerable with him? Will you look him in the eye, as an equal? Will you stroke his cat and put a blanket over his shoulder when he falls asleep reading, make soup for him when he's sick? Would you love him as a person, not a treasure? You can't.
Gale wanted to be loved with a devotion to match his own. Mystra wanted him to live in the enchanted sleep of being hers, something to smile at and hold but never, never to live beside. And she knew - she must have known - how unequal their desires were. She kept him anyway, until she didn't. Until he woke up.
A god's love ruins mortals.
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