#mammaterasu

soft meme / accepting. @mammaterasu

It was another day of travel for the girl and her, or rather, “her,” doggess. Or wolfess. No, more fitting….. a house pet, really. Through the muck and the mud, the rain and the trod, the two stuck together in the strange world of neither she nor her, similar in vague familiarity but ultimately—-it was different.

She took the towel to her hair and rubbed vigorously, hoping to wring out that bit of water that’ll give her a headache when she’s inevitably nudged awake bright an early. Bright and early.

Golden lamplight flooded the room with its warmth. Citrus-colored beams collected like water beads around the wall where the light met plaster and extended out, iris petals. A girl and her dog. A woman and her wolf. “… Are you happy like this, Miss God?” she asked, calling out to Amaterasu’s reflection in the mirror. The mundane life of wandering to nowhere. Did she enjoy this? As a God who could get whatever she wanted. For free, nonetheless. Anything and everything, whatever she wanted. She could have a temple the size of Kanavan’s own glistening marble with engravings of magic as Serdin’s flowering etchings of stories. She could make a castle in the sky, one that moved to the winds and brought kisses of rain to both those living arid and those whose monsoons defined their gold maize and fluffy cotton plants.

    She could end it all if she wanted to.

                                           But she could save it all if she wanted to.

That is what gods do, correct? She could have done anything she wanted. Contemplative, she pulled the bristled brush out of the drawer and began to run it through her wavy locks. Red and redder. The color of blood, perhaps lovely in its own but on her, was wild and cruel in its color. The color of her eyes, red from ruby to garnet, glimmered with the sheen of death in its core. Like an oyster making a pearl, years and years built around that soft core of hers. Asymmetrical, bumpy, and black to a light held from behind, she was darkened and mundane and every bit human as she were the appearance of a demon. With red eyes and bloodied hands. She yearned to go back—-go back to what she once knew, go back to the past and simply…. maybe, she simply wanted to go.

And yet, the thought of Amaterasu seemed more sad than anything. Any of the warrior’s own pain. Any of the woman’s own losses and misses, and by, she missed those colors that danced about a bonfire so without worry. All of her pain dulled in comparison to a Goddess who could have anything if she wanted, who could call out to anyone if she desired, who could exist like a God and as Gods do, be revered and looked up to. Elesis did not understand. As Amenias, Linsar, Ernasis—-did they long for a mundane life like this? Or perhaps they wanted something more excited? Perhaps they wanted children. They could not have children of their own, so they made Aernas in Ernasis’s name, renaming her Aernas for the land and the steel that made the very sword that Elesis held. Linsar, who granted the world with life, wind, water and souls. Whose name did not change—-because souls are forever. And Amenias, who gave consciousness to those soulful things that people call human, Armenian. To give mind, that was her gift.

Elesis could not tell how much Amaterasu had given this world of hers. Without seeing a single glyph, without a shrine, without a note nor a mention. Perhaps that is simply the fate of the sun. And that, to her, was insurmountably sad. So Elesis never asked nor mentioned it. But she wondered it time and time again—–out of everything the sun, as powerful as she were, could want, was she happy like this? Wandering with a woman whose reality remained unreal among worlds she did not belong nor was she born to. Wandering with a ghost.

She put the brush down and moved to the bed where the dog-god-girl-friend, slept. Sleeping. Perhaps she really is just a normal dog, and all of those dreamlike states of talking were just that—-figments of Elesis’s imagination. She brushed her fingers through the wolf’s white fur, watching the inky red follow the movement of her fingers. Like a painting. She reached up and pet her muzzle and rubbed against her white fur with her calloused, incredibly human, fingers. The markings seemed never in place. As if painted onto a canvas of water, they waded and rippled before going back to whence were. Swirls like wings extended out and mixed in with fur and rippling water, softer than anything she’d ever seen.

Just touching her made Elesis’s worrisome heart rest. Even for those fleeting moments. As if forgetting it all. It let her sleep deeper than she had ever in years. It kissed the red on red good night, did not let even the gentlest flicker of the curtains people called eyelashes dare awake her from sleep. It was that kind of feeling, Amaterasu’s feeling, that Elesis, for the life of her, could not comprehend. Are you happy like this? Miss God. A woman and her wolf. With her marred and always-bleeding skin. With scars all over her arms, back and waist, ugly and lacking in the girlish sweet of a lady ashamed of her hardships. Why was it that she was allowed to feel warm like this? Skin to fur, body to body. Naked from the top down, freshly cleaned, with her hair reaching out and off the bed in waves like a river’s water falling.

Golden lamplight. The five-petal peel of clementines were stacked up on the bedside table. The sweet scent of the day’s dessert eaten together put a smile on the woman’s face, a smile rare and full of warmth, as though she were looking at her own family from a childhood of watching and loving someone her own blood.

we get veterans discount

                             seiken densetsu legen            yoko shimomura  ,  drammatica (  the legend of mana  )

you are very much correct that the entire okami OST would fit without question but that wouldn’t be a very interesting pick on my end .           holy  &&  graceful  &&  good in a way that mortals cannot always comprehend  ,  beloved amaterasu gets a song as wild  &&  beautiful as she  .  it is elegant  &&  uplifting but undeniably powerful through a rise of drums and crescendo of strings  .  but as though to remind you that you do not suffer in vain  ,  it all comes to a close with a delicate embrace of piano  .  a song for the light which pierces through even the darkest abyss  .

@mammaterasu​ asked:  curls up next to him and happily dozes off to sleep

     HE DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH THIS.      An unwavering sense of fear, bitterness, and guilt had overcome him, and the torrent of emotions had driven him to sit at the edge of a riverbank outside of the sheltered little hamlet. Cherry blossom petals fluttered from their branches to drift on the calm stream, their ripples disturbing his reflection on the surface.

     SAKUYA’S words were heavy like a fog in his head. ‘ she is your grandmother, child. she’s waited for so long to meet you. ’ They were words that should be celebrated, and yet Kubo only felt guilt and distrust. GODS were a strange topic to him. He worshiped them and yet all they have ever done was bring him strife and pain for being half-kami. Kubo stood on the fine line between mortal and celestial, and his grandfather refused to accept that.

          ‘   do you still enjoy our dance  ?  ’                                                                                   ❛   WILL YOU STAY WITH US FOREVER  ?  ❜

          »   @mammaterasu . 

   ‘‘   𝐢𝐭  𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭  𝐛𝐞  𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡  𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫  𝐧𝐨𝐰,   ’’   the  flame  evens  finally,  a  sour  and  delicious  and  unrepeatable  new  recipe  sizzling  itself  to  life.  cooking,  as  we  know,  is  just  another  way  of  getting  into  anyone’s  affection  !  or  at  least  gather  some  appreciation,  he  thinks.

u wanna go?????? huh?????

bring it!!!!