#chron week

[elliezst]

ANOTHER CHRON WEEK POST I LOEV CHRON WEEEKKKKK EEEEEEE

Forgot to post this oen on the second day I ws sick and couldn’t finish it on time i ws sorta late but whatever 😭😭😭😭😭

Also bonus , don and flower chris art

[also by the flower chris art , it ws a reference to a certain game so if you’ve seen it / played it and then you recognise this reference in the art ily:3]

I immediately forgot to put the official hashtag before posting chron week art bc i js noticed it I double checked the og image so I couraged myself to put it 😭

[mey-rin-is-fabulous]

Okay as anyone who’s been around for any amount of time since 2021 knows I have colitis. And I’m gonna run through everything that happened before and after my diagnosis. Under a read more to save your dashes.

I first started having problems after easter 2014. Constant diarrhea and constipation and it was switching between the two constantly. It started off by me only having bowel movements every three days and I found my bathroom usage got worse after either eating high fiber foods or pizza. And as I kept going through highschool it got worse and worse, I had a hard time going to school and staying in class, my guts were constantly churning and accidents were not uncommon. All throughout this I had no idea what I was experiencing was a bowel disease, I just figured it’d clear up eventually. 

My mom and me thought it was a diet thing, so we tried adding more electrolytes, these blueberry smoothies and I tried to add yogurt. None of it helped. So now we’re coming up to late 2018 the end of my highschool career and start of my failed college career. I went to my doctor, he sent me to a specialist. I filled out a form, said specialist told me to just take metamucil, I thought that was the end of it. It wasn’t the metamucil did nothing.

2019 I was still experiencing problems. Went back to my doctor, said hey I think this specific type of food is setting this off. My doctor agrees that I should cut it out. I find out on my own somewhere along all of this about the gluten free diet and celiac disease. So I decide to go gluten free, it helps.

2020 since our family doctor retired me and my mom go see a satellite doctor, a small little cubicle in our local pharmacy with a nurse practitioner and the doctor on video call. I tell him about the problems I’ve been experiencing and he writes up a recommendation to send to a specialist.

Late 2021 I receive a call from said specialist, I have been scheduled for a colonoscopy early 2022. Colonoscopy gets pushed back a month from late January to early February. I go for my colonoscopy and after I am told that I have ulcerative colitis. I was prescribed an enema for like 2 weeks and mezavant(big pills we started at like 4 daily) which was constant. After that I had to get a TB test to make sure nothing would affect any current or future medications. Went back in March for a sigmoid( get yourself knocked out never do it while awake.) We scheduled another sigmoid for May, this time I would be knocked out for it, things were looking better. Also throughout this whole time, I was getting bloodwork off and on. Went into my doc’s office in September and my levels were looking good but around that time I accidentally had non GF spaghetti. After September things got rough for me again.

Now in early 2023, I had my first sigmoid of the year in April. My doc told me instead of ulcerative colitis it was looking more like chron’s colitis. I was told to stop taking my mezavant and was instead prescribed a steroidal medication as well as calcium tablets and vitamin d tabs. I was also prescribed another steroidal medication that required constant bloodwork. About a week or two on the new meds I was told to stop taking the new steroidal meds because my liver enzymes were up. Makes sense because I was extremely sick and after I stopped taking the medication I started feeling better. Saw my doc again end of June so now we’re in July and I’m getting a chest x-ray done this Friday and if everything’s good probably starting my new medication treatment after. the medication is delivered through IV but can be given through a needle injection after, it’s called entyvio.

[courtingchaos]

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[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 10.2 K Warnings: MAJOR ANGST MOMENT Prompt: Alone, desperate, lonely. How did you end up like this? How will you recover? Is recovering even possible? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by Lovely @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 56: Who Wants to Live Forever

There's no place for us

What is this thing that builds our dreams, 

yet slips away from us

You sighed, it was a game. Your father had designed a game, and if you wanted to get to the other side you’d have to follow his instructions or solve his riddle. The weird thing was, how much it seemed to be targeted to you. As if he knew one day, you’d have to enter the chamber without him, or without the key. It was fishy, but you still wanted to know what was on the other side. 

The riddle was way too elaborate for him to have created it since Christmas, so you ruled out the chance of it being a trap. You would have gone as far as to say that he hadn’t even thought about you visiting theVault he’d given you yet, as if he expected that to be way later on. It was true that you’d gotten an obscene amount of pocket money on Christmas, and he did suggest you could save it in your vault. But still, there was something odd about the entire thing. 

You read the riddle again “In shadows deep and whispers soft, a secret lies, though hidden oft,” you muttered. “It must be somewhere in here.” You looked around, raptor-like, analytical, and cold. Solving a riddle was a brilliant way to take your mind off everything it was insistent on thinking, and you weren’t going to reject the opportunity. “Whispers soft,” you repeated. In one of the corners stood a long and tall harp. You could barely see it, it was as if it was sucking the light out of the room. You grabbed the star ring you’d seen earlier with a handkerchief and walked closer to it. Nothing seemed to move, but as you walked closer, you could hear it: the faintest sound of the harp, a soft and haunting melody. 

You instantly knew what it was, “The Song of Seikilos”. You swallowed, there was no question about it anymore, this riddle had been designed for you. The Song of Seikilos wasn’t the most common song out there, but you knew about it, and Silas knew that you knew. The summer before the trip with the Blacks, your father had taken you and your mother to Denmark for some political business. You’d begged him to let you visit the muggle museum. He said he too was interested in visiting it and told you to wait. 

A week later you were all in the museum. They had a special music-related event, and inside one of the showrooms you got to see the marble columns that held the poem. But there was also a man next to it, playing the same song on the violin while a lady dressed in Greek robes sang the song. 

You placed the ring closer to the harp, and surely, there were Greek inscriptions on its side. You breathed and took a closer look. You couldn’t read or speak Greek –let alone ancient Greek– but you were familiar enough with the alphabet, and it wasn’t hard to find the “Σεικίλος”. 

You were right, it really was The Song of Seikilos. 

You tried to remember what the poem was about, the small caption next to the piece said something about it being a dedication for Seikilos’ wife. But this had happened years ago, how the fuck would your father expect you to remember? You went back to the inscriptions on the harp. You looked through the text again, paying attention to each of the letters. Was there anything you could read? 

φαίνου? No idea what that might be. λυποῦ? You weren’t even sure how to pronounce that. χρόνος? hronos… Chronos… The titan of time! 

“Of course!” You said excitedly. “The song of Seikilos was an epitaph! A poem for his dеad wife.”

 It said something about Chronos demanding it’s due. About time demanding his due. Time… time… time… you pondered. “Through twists and turns of mind and fate. Seek the truth, but never late.” 

But what could the truth be? Dеath? That was too simple, too obvious. 

Silas would never go for something like that. You leaned closer to the harp, the ring held high illuminating as much as possible, the harp still sucked the light out of it. Either way, right in the corner of the room, under a couple of books you saw something that looked interesting. An old journal. But not just any journal, it was a dream journal. 

“In echoes of dreams untold, the key awaits, in tales of old,” you whispered and leaned in to take it in between your hands. It was heavy and old. Blue leather cover and silver engravings. You pulled it out and held it to the light of the vault. You checked the clock again. 10 minutes. it had been ten minutes since you took your bag. If only you could slow time or make yourself faster. There were plenty of spells that allowed you to do that, none of which you could perform with her wand. 

You took a deep breath before opening the dream journal. Empty. It made sense, after all it said dreams untold. But if they’re not told then… could they be shown? 

You looked at the page and placed your hand on it, closed your eyes and waited. The tick-tack of the grandfather clock and the faintest whispers of the harp the only sounds in the room. You waited a little more… tick, tack, tick, tack… nothing… No dream, no visions, nothing. 

You turned to the harp again, perhaps you missed something. Maybe on the echos old, instead of in the dreams untold, you thought. But there was nothing on the books either. You grabbed the journal, closed it and started inspecting the cover… there was something odd in some of the patterns. You slid your hand over the spine. and suddenly, something clicked. You frowned and opened the journal again, right there in the middle of the book there were a few hollow pages and inside one of them a small locket. 

You grabbed the locket and left the book on the side, on the back, in cursive so small it was almost unreadable, it said:

While you live, shine have no grief at all life exists only for a short while and Time demands his due.

“It’s the poem’s translation,” you whispered. “But why would I need the poem’s translation?” You looked at the book with the poem again. “Through trials dire and trials fair, only the wise shall find it there.” 

Echoes old, and dreams untold, you recited. Echos old, could be old books, you’d already seen a few old books, there were very many in that corner behind the harp. You pulled them out towards the centre of the room. The Tales of Beedle the Bard, The Arcanum Codex: Legends of the Ancient Wizards, The Chronicles of Avalon (that one was fae), The Divine Comedy, The Chronicles of Mistwood Manor, The Iliad, Paradise Lost and the Odyssey. So many ancient books: wizard, muggle and fae;  but how would you know which one to take? 

The poem… the poem was Greek. You took the three books. in your hands. The Iliad, The Divine Comedy and the Odyssey. But which one to take? 

The Divine Comedy was about hell, but it was also about dеath, which could have a connection to the Seikilos’ poem. On the other hand, The Odyssey perfectly reflected the “trials dire and trials fair, only the wise shall find it there” line of the riddle. 

You were hesitant as you picked the book up, you’d read it before. Your mother had given it to you a few years ago as proof of one of the best muggle-wizard collaborations. With the fact that Homer had been a wizard and because of Circe and Odysseus’ collaboration, proved that while wizards were powerful, and could be evil, they could also be benevolent and help humans. But that was before wizards had decided to seclude themselves from the world, and when they were actually trying to integrate themselves into it.

The book was the version you remembered your mother had given you; green cover, and written in verse. You flipped through some of the pages, and right in the middle of one of them, you found a recipe. 

“Shut up,” you whispered as you looked at it. It was sleep draught. “Fine then, that’s it,” you said annoyed. You were stuck. Except, what if you weren’t? You took the locket from the table in which you’d place it, and stared. The key awaits, in tales of old. 

What if the locket really is a key? But a key to what? 

You spun around in your place, paying a closer look at all the things scattered in the room. The harp and the clock jumped at you at once. 

You walked towards the clock: χρόνος. Chronos was such an important character in the poem, it made sense for it to be an equally important character in the riddle. In seconds you were right in front of it. It had been 15 minutes since you started. You placed your hand over the clock, there were many intricacies detailed all over. From a wonderfully sculpted story on the cover to details of the moon, stars, and planets on the face. It had not two, but eleven hands, 2 for hours and minutes, and then one for each planet. They were right around the clock, and moved ever so slightly each day, mirroring the real movements of each of them. 

And then, right behind the small cristal, there were the winding ports. You took the locket in your hands and cranked it open. Right inside of it, there was a small winding key. You placed it on a spot, and there was a soft chime you took in a breath. Good, now you had to find the rest of the keys. 

You grabbed the book and went over some other lines of the riddle: In silence vast and darkness deep, the answer lies, in dreams asleep. but wake ye now, and heed the call, for time is short, and darkness falls. You glanced at the clock, there was something there now that wasn’t there before. The moon phase section was changing every couple of minutes. It went from crescent to quarter in less than 5. “For time is short and darkness falls,” you whispered as you took a deep breath. “Fuck,” you said when you realised that you didn’t have much time. 

It felt like you were spinning around and around and yet you didn’t get the result you’d hoped for. You turned to the rest of the books. You frowned and turned to the riddle again. There was something about the wise: only the wise shall find it there.

“The wise,” you repeated as you pondered. Greek, the Illiad, Wise. “Athena! But where?” You thought of looking in the book, but something told you that might not be the solution, you had already found enough things in books, there was no way the rest were in them too. 

You looked around the room again, there were so many things it was like looking for Waldo, or worse yet since when you looked for Waldo you knew exactly what you had to find, a small man with glasses and a red striped shirt. Now thought? You had no idea what you were looking for. Still, you looked around and focused. 

That’s when you spotted it, right at the top of one of the huge shelves that held piles and piles of things, there was a statue of an owl. You scoffed when you realised what kind of owl it was, a fucking Athene. You used one of the hundreds of piles of books to lift yourself enough to pull the owl from its place. 

That had never been an issue before, a small spell would be more than enough to have it float gently towards you, but you had to improvise now. You almost tripped and fell, but you managed to hold your balance and took a deep breath once you were back on solid ground with the owl in your hand. You started to twist it around, looking at all his sides. But there was nothing, not a single thing. 

That’s when an idea popped into your head, you took a deep breath and dropped the entire statue into the ground. It burst into hundreds of smaller pieces, and yet they all looked like they had been designed to crack a certain way. You looked at the floor, they had somehow arranged themselves, one line towards the clock, and the other one towards a small cabinet in the far end of the room. You walked there and started opening all the small drawers. 

They had ingredients for potions, and jewellery and– bingo! A vial. Clear liquid, a simple, omnibus label: φάρμακο. You suspected what it might be, the horrifying thought sinking in like a doxy’s fangs. You sighed as you unclogged the cork and brought the potion up to your nose. 

You took a deep breath. Nothing. You concentrated a little bit more, you used the same technique you had developed lately, and while you didn’t physically turn into Vixen, you called upon her sense of smell. There it was, cleverly cloaked, clearly done by an expert, it must have been worth a small fortune. But it was clear as day: Valerian Root and Sopophorous Bean. 

Draught of Living Dеath.

Rather proper, since φάρμακο is old Greek for both poison and cure, you remembered Slughorn had mentioned that once.

If you thought it through, there was no way you were drinking to a different potion. While a simple sleeping draught would have done the trick, like the one in the small note still in your pocket, there was no way time allowed you to brew such a thing, not with the moon already being full, and with half of your time gone.

Now, you knew how dangerous draught of living dеath could be, and this is when the dire trials came back, you could either drink it, do the brave and reckless thing, or you could try and brew the other potion. With no wand, and barely enough time to find all the ingredients.

You took a deep breath, if you took only a drop, really a drop, nothing more than that, and if the potion wasn’t concentrated enough, then perhaps it would be enough for you to fall asleep and wake up before the moon was dark again. 

It was now or never, you took a small hairpin from one of the corners and dipped it in the small bottle. Your breath was short, breathing had become harder as you moved the small, poison-filled pin towards your face. It’s what was expected of you, your father knew how reckless you were, if he had left that there it was for a reason. Not many would be brave –or stupid– enough to drink Draught of Living Dеath, except perhaps someone as stubborn as you or him.

You stuck your tongue out and gently brushed the hairpin right on top of it. You placed the bottle on the side and looked around. Nothing, perhaps I should take more, you thought, and then the walls started to change, coating themselves in a black gooey substance before disappearing entirely. 

“So I’m dreaming,” you said, there was an echo of your voice, going all the way to the end of the seamingly endless room you were in before coming back to you, in a voice eerie similar to yours but also vastly different. 

Deeper, richer, sinister, “So, you are dreaming.” 

You swallowed, it was pointless to ask where this was, or anything regarding the nature of the place, you knew you had a limited amount of time and no matter how different time was in dreams, you couldn’t afford to lose any of it, not unless you wanted Chronos to demand his due.

“I’m looking for a key,” you said, your voice echoed again, louder this time, and then, out of nowhere, something, or rather someone appeared right in front of you.

“We know,” the thing said. It was a figure, almost a mirror to you but with no face, all dark and smooth like a mannequin. Only a sunken mouth, awfully reminiscent of a Dementor’s. It didn’t move as it spoke. “Why do you want it?” 

“I need to get to the other Vault.” 

“The mirror,” a whisper said.

“She wants the mirror,” another whisper returned. 

“I just want the key,” you replied. “I need to see what’s on the other side. It may be dangerous.” 

“It is dangerous, child,” the voice said. 

“It’s a terrible idea to go,” a different one added.

“Perhaps… I still have to do it,” you retorted.

The creature in front of you smiled, a sharp, shark-like grin, “that’s what we wanted to hear,” it said. 

“Two paths lay ahead of thee,” one of the voices started.

“One of us always tells the truth.” 

“The other one always lies.” 

“You may ask one question.” 

“To either one of us but not both.” 

“Ask away, little sprite.” 

“Or stay in the darkness and relent.” 

“It is your choice.” 

You sighed. You knew this riddle, your dad had given it to you when you were 10, you couldn’t find an answer and you begged him to give it to you. He’d said one day you’d guess it yourself. 

“But what if I don’t?” you’d asked, concerned.

“Then you’ll go through the wrong path and something bad would happen.”

“But you could tell me now. Then nothing bad would happen to me.” 

“And you wouldn’t learn a thing,” he had answered indifferently. 

You held back a resentful groan, as you bit your lip. This stupid game was getting beyond annoying.  If this was his way to have you solve his stupid riddle, if he thought you ought to learn something from putting your life at risk, then he might be even worse than you thought. This wasn’t even tough love, this was a reckless gamble of your safety, whatever lesson you were supposed to learn from it was in no way worth it.

And yet, you’d go through with it either way, and he knew you’d go through with it, you were obdurate and determined, and you had to know what was on the other vault. The dream beings had confirmed how dangerous it was, you could not leave it on his hands. Not on the same hands that had cast crucio on your mother. The action that made you react harshly and cause that fire, the action that had caused her demise. 

You turned around, you could hear a faint echo of the clock and the sound of the moon phase section changing again, you were running out of time. 

“I–” you staggered. How could you trick them? One question, what could you ask? 

You turned to one of the paths and pointed at it, “Would the other Omnius voice tell me that this is the way to the key?” 

There was silence, and then the voice said, “No.” 

If it was lying, then the truth would have said “yes”, and it would have changed it to “no”, which meant it was the right path. If it were telling the truth, then the lying voice would have said “no”, and it still would be the right path. 

“Then this is my way,” you said and walked towards the path. 

“Are you sure?” one of the voices said.

“You might be wrong,” the other one added.

“Or you might be right.” 

“Logic in the dream world can be different than back on earth.” 

“What if we switch?” 

“What if we both lied?” 

“Then the riddle would have always been unsolvable by logic,” you said with a shrug. You were confident in your answer.  

“And magic?” 

“Potions?” 

“Veritaserum?” you asked. “That would be cheating.” 

“Isn’t it worth it? To fulfil your task?” 

“Would you drink it voluntarily?” 

“Of course not!” the voice said, irritated. 

“Then it wouldn’t,” you replied. “Unlike Silas, I do not think things can be achieved by any means necessary.” 

The voice laughed, a loud, horrifying cackle that resonated and echoed through the entire room. “She really thinks she’s so much better for following her moral compass.”

“Where has that led you, child?” 

“Alone.” 

“Abandoned.” 

“Motherless.” 

“Loverless.” 

“Straight towards despair.” 

You looked at them, their heinous words echoing in your head, each one stronger than the last. All of them ringing truth to your ears.  But you weren’t going to put your happiness above the one of those you loved. You were not going to let them suffer at your expense. Not when you tried to help Nina and not when you broke up with Sirius. 

“Well then, I’ll walk there gladly, as long as I can still protect the ones I love,” you replied, tears prickled in your eyes as you ventured into the path. 

It was dark and it seemed to grow smaller the deeper you were. But you pushed on, after a long walk, you entered a chamber. You looked around, it was empty, except for a deep plunging drop, and a floating slab of concrete in the middle. And right there in the centre of the island, there was a small jewellery box, with the same engravings as the Grandfather clock in the real world. You knew how dangerous of a jump it was, but you had to take it. 

You took a few steps back to build momentum and you ran. You crashed chest-first into the side, it knocked your breath out and you barely managed to hold onto one of the raised tiles in the floor. Tears prickled in your eyes as you struggled up. How did it always look so much easier in movies and comics? This was almost impossibly tough to achieve. And you had relatively decent arm strength. There was a wand lying on the side, just within reach.

 You hadn’t seen it before but you took it and pointed downwards. “Confringo!” you shouted, the impulse the spell gave you was enough to flip you upside down and have you crash, back first, onto the concrete, your head slamming with an unsettling loud thud. You groaned as you looked up at the nothingness above. 

And then you heard it again, like a faraway whisper: Tick, tack, tick, tack… The ever-so-constant reminder that you had no time to rest. You exhaled wearily and groaned your way into a sitting position. You took the small jewellery box in your hands and tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge You were about to smash it into a wall out of exasperation, a riddle within a riddle within a fucking riddle, it was getting out of hand. 

But there was a small glistening thing in the side of the box with some kind of engraving: ᾄδειν Σεικίλος. 

Of course, you thought and recalled the poem you had memorised just in case, “While you live, shine,”  there was a click inside the box. “Have no grief at all,” another click and then a twist, “life exists only for a short while,” a louder sound came from the box, like a small bell, “and Time demands his due.” 

The box opened in a second, surely, there was a key, mirroring the one that had been inside the locket there. You grabbed it, expecting to wake up, but nothing happened. You looked around, there were other trinkets scattered all around, but none of them had anything that could help you wake up on the outside.

There were unlabeled potion bottles, there were other wands like the one you’d used earlier, there were some bones in the corner and there were even a few books– the same ones that had been next to the harp. But there had to be a way to wake up, there had to be a way to get out. 

And there was an infallible one, one that you had heard of before and that your father had made sure to drill into your head in the past. 

“Darling, our little girl is having nightmares.” 

“She is?” he asked as he leaned down to look at you, you must have been four or five.

“There’s dragons, and trolls and big scary dogs that want to eat me.” 

“And where are you in the dream?” 

“Running through the forest, and then I reach a cliff, I can’t run anymore, they,” you sniffed. Those small child eyes, normally filled with wonder, were filled with tears, “they eat me. It hurts.” 

“A cliff you said?” 

“Yes!” 

“Then jump.” 

“Ju-jump?” you staggered. “But it’s dangerous and there are pointy rocks at the bottom, I would diе.” 

“Is the best way to wake up from a dream.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” 

“Wouldn’t being stabbed by rocks be less painful than being eaten alive?” 

“Silas!” your mother chided. 

Your father threw her a look and then one at you, a small smile playing on his lips, “Then… You learn how to fly!” he said as he took you in his hands and twirled with you in the sky. Your laughs filled the room, your mom was clapping and he looked at you with the purest of smiles when suddenly, out of nowhere, he let go of you and you plunged into the floor. Of course, you fell into a mattress he had apparated there, but the fall hadn’t been any less jarring. 

On the floor, you looked at him with a terrorized expression. 

“Silas!” Avis said angrily. 

“It’s so she learns it’s not that terrible to fall,” Silas responded as he pointed at you, a dismissive sort of look. “Children like it.” 

“She’s horrified!” 

“She is not! Look at her!” 

Both of them turned to you expectantly. You were small, but you knew if you said the wrong thing, the two of them would fight, and you could never tolerate their fights. With your heart hammering in your chest, you smiled faintly and then started to laugh. The tears that left your eyes, were considered laughter-induced rather than the terrified ones they actually were. “Again,” you managed to say, to sell the idea further. 

That’s when you decided you had to become an expert at flying, you couldn’t allow Silas to throw you again.   

And yet, here you were, back in a dream and you would not only allow Silas to push you down a cliff, but you were about to plunge into the dark abyss, willingly. “He always gets what he wants, doesn’t he?” 

You leaned over the edge, looking down, there was no breeze, nothing that could indicate how far of a fall it might be, if there was an end to it at all. You had learned how to fly so you wouldn’t fear the fall. You hadn’t been afraid when you fell from your broom and you wouldn’t start being fearful now. 

You extended one of your legs, your feet dangled over nothingness, you took a deep breath and then you plunged. If you screamed, the hollowness of the place made the sound disappear. The rush of the fall was there, the same plunging sensation you felt sometimes on a broom, it was beautiful and harrowing at the same time. 

And then, you woke up. Your breath was short, there was a thin coat of cold sweat over your limbs and the place seemed way brighter than you remembered. The key, was in your hands, it was lighter here than in the dream, but it was there nonetheless. 

You opened your palm, it was almost the same as the other one, except for a slightly darker colour. You stared at it as you tried to catch your breath, you wanted to laugh and you wanted to cry, but you glanced at the clock instead. Third quarter, you sprung up from where you lay and ran towards the clock, placing the key straight on its spot. The moon phase went from Third Quarter to Waning Gibbous. It wasn’t much, around 4 more minutes than before, but four minutes were enough to make the difference. 

You took the book with the riddle and went through the last lines, the ones that you hadn’t used before Paths diverge, yet all converge to where the truth and secrets surge. Choose wisely, seeker, lest you fail, and in the end, your efforts pale.

“Choose wisely, seeker,” you thought. Could he mean?

You turned around, looking for something, and right there in the middle of one of the bigger shelves, there was a golden snitch. When you stepped closer to her she released her small wings and started to fly around the room. 

You had no broom, but you had experience, if she thought you weren’t looking at her she would lean closer to taunt you, that was what they always did. You walked towards the pile of books you had left in the centre of the vault and grabbed one of them, flipping through the pages while keeping an attentive eye on the clock. The moon was back in Third quarter. You were running out of time. You were just looking at the pictures in the book, the Peverell bothers talking to Dеath, Dеath giving them the hallows, you’d heard the story many times before. You waited: one look at the pictures and a short glance at the clock, the tick-tack almost maddening as the small snitch kept buzzing around the room.

And then it happened, the small golden ball flew close to you, right in front of your face. You were as quick as humanly possible and took it with one of your hands. You could feel it melt at your touch, suddenly you no longer had a snitch but a small shiny key. Its colour lighter than the other two. 

You turned to the clock: Waning Crescent. The tick, tick of the handles seemed to get thicker as you approached it, louder, so loud it was almost deafening, but you never stopped walking and lodged the key straight into the one remaining hole. 

Three paths, three keys, they all converged into one single clock, into a master of time. The bottom door of the clock opened itself, and on the other side you could see nothing but darkness. 

You had solved it, and yet the next step was as daunting as some of the trials you’d already accomplished. You took a deep breath and walked inside. Darkness, darkness, darkness, and then… light. Not blinding but enough to make you squint. A vault, twin to the one you had been on, and yet vastly different. All the things had been piled to the side, and in the centre back there was a large something covered by a thin fabric, it draped down the sides of it, allowing you to see a shape, it looked like some kind of door. 

You walked outside of a clock, exactly the same as the one in the other room, and towards the large thing at the end. You didn’t hesitate to pull the thin white sheet from it, there was a small cloud of dust that wafted through the air due to the harsh movement and then, once the dust settled, the sheet fell on the floor with a gentle thud. Not a door, but… a mirror.

Except it wasn’t quite that either, you could see your reflection, but there was something odd about it, it was you, but, there was something about it that looked different. 

You looked at the mirror, there seemed to be an inscription at the top “riapsed dnaht urt d niflla hsuo yt ini htiwt nemrot ren niruoy tubega sivruo y ton tcel feri ” 

It was English text, which surprised you since you assumed it would also be Greek, everything seemed Greek that day. You read it aloud, it didn’t sound like Greek either –you thought it could have been the pronunciation rather than the spelling. You pulled back a little, trying to get the big picture. The mirror was tall, far taller than you, even Remus would have fit inside of it perfectly, and it would have surpassed him. It had a silver frame and it had pointy ends, it reminded you a lot of Hogwarts Architecture. 

You wondered if you’d ever seen a mirror like that, and you didn’t quite remember such a thing. Yet, it was oddly familiar as if you had seen it before, perhaps in a dream. You reread the words again, and that’s when you realised what it said. It wasn’t Greek, it wasn’t even a different language, rather, and quite proper of a mirror, it was in English, but spelt backwards.

"I reflect not your visage but your inner torment, within it you shall find truth and despair,” you read aloud. There was a slow chime as if it had come from the clock behind you and not the mirror itself. The reflection in the mirror wobbled as if the screen had turned into a silvery pool instead of glass. 

You walked closer again, you knew reading the inscription had activated whatever was inside of it, but the idea of seeing your inner torment was not something you were eager to do, it wasn’t something that you wanted to face. You’d been running from it incessantly since Christmas, and you did not want to stop now. 

But you had to.

Whatever was inside the mirror was reason enough for your father to make that dreadful riddle, and if it had been that hard to accomplish, then there was definitely something worthy inside of it. You looked at the mercury-like screen ahead of you and took another step towards it. You placed your hand on it and saw how the entire thing wobbled alongside your small push. It seemed to almost stick to your finger before releasing it and going back to its place.

You remembered what one of the voices in the dream had said, the echo so present in your head, it was as if they were speaking to you again, “Straight towards despair.” 

Right in front of you stood a mirror of despair, and you would walk right inside of it. Head high, and breath calm, even as your heart hammered inside your chest. You took a deep breath and took another step, and then another. The metal liquid surrounded you completely, and suddenly you were somewhere else. 

You were falling, and then you crashed onto a mattress. Avis and Silas were there. 

“Mum,” you said, tears prickling your eyes. “Mom, you’re here!” 

“Look what you’ve done!” She said angrily at Silas, “She’s crying.” 

“No! No, I’m–” She looked younger, far younger than you remembered, far younger than she’d been when your chimaera swallowed her. 

“She can barely speak.” 

“She must learn! She must become stronger! If she wants to survive she–” 

“Silas!” 

You knew what this was, you didn’t want to see it. You stood up in an instant, “It’s fine, I’ll go to my room,” you said before exiting the living room as far as you could. You locked yourself in one of the closets, and things were calm only for a second. The doors opened, your room was different, and you, or another version of you was there, writing something furiously on some parchment, bunching it up and throwing it on the side. 

Regulus’ letter was on your bed, you walked towards it and picked it up, you now knew what it said, how much heartache would have been spared if only you had given Reggie a chance. “Read it,” you told her. 

She turned to you, tears in her eyes and a scornful smile, “you have no business here,” she replied, snatched the letter from your hands and threw it towards the fire. 

She watched it burn with a tear sliding down her cheek and then went back to writing the letter she was working on, you looked over her shoulder “Sirius, This is the last letter I write. I’m sorry for…” you knew exactly what she was writing, what you had written. 

You sighed, and walked toward the door, next thing you knew, you were in the shack. Remus had a cloak, and he was panicking, looking at the bIood in his hands, breath sharp and desperately looking at James and Peter. 

“Where is she?” He asked, you could hear the desperate crack in his voice. 

“She’s okay, she’s with Sirius,” James said with ease. Peter was looking at the broken metal door with a confused face, and trying to place it back into place with a spell. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he pressed, there were tears prickling in his eyes, he looked livid and terribly upset. “This is her bIood,” Remus said, his voice breaking near the end. “It smells like her!” 

James licked his lips and took a deep breath. “Yes, you accidentally scratched, nothing else. You know,” he said. “You remember.” 

“No, I–” Remus breathed, he was entirely forlorn.  He frowned, “I lost track of them! She was there and then she wasn’t and then–” Remus shook his head and sat back on the bed “–There was a fox.” 

James nodded, “She’s the fox.” 

“Moony was trying to bite her!” 

“That didn’t happen,” James reassured. “There were no bites.” 

“So, she’s okay?” 

“She needs to get patched up,” James said, “but she’ll be fine, she’s tough.” 

You wanted to walk towards Remus and give him a hug, to tell him that you were all right, that you would be all right. That it wouldn’t even be the hardest thing you’d go through in the past few months, but the scene dissolved into another one. Remus, James and Peter turned into dust, so did the room, and it slowly rearranged into a larger room. 

You heard the door close behind you and then turned to the only person remaining in the room. Evan. He stared at the door dumbfounded, a mix of hatred and relief evident on his face. You weren’t sure why you were there, and you were about to follow yourself when you heard a sob. You turned around to look at Evan hesitantly, a small confused frown knitting your eyebrows together. He was crouching down on the floor, face hidden in his hands and a stream of tears leaving his eyes. 

You stared at him confused. A part of you wanted to place an arm on his shoulder and tell him things would be all right –not that you could actually interact with him– the other part, the one still sad and angry about what happened in November was almost thrilled he was crying. But the first one won over the second and you approached him cautiously. 

He was muttering incoherent things as he spoke, something about Arkalis, about you saving him, about hate and compassion and Merlin knows what else. You swallowed, when you implied to his father that he was straight, when you manipulated Arkalis into thinking you had kissed his son to get him off Evan’s back you were just doing what you considered was right, you never expected for that to mean so much to Evan. Let alone break him down into tears. 

It made sense now, that he and Barty had helped, what you’d done there was a lot more than you initially thought, your simple, almost dutiful act of kindness had meant a lot more to them than it had meant to you. You had earned the help they’d given you, simply by being kind. 

You stood up, it was not your place to be here, in fact, you assumed Barty would be here soon anyway, for some reason you seemed to be surrounded by tragic love stories. You looked at the clock in the corner, and then you heard a scream. 

You were paralysed by it, your breathing caught in your throat, a small sob leaving your lips. You knew what that was, you knew who that scream belonged to. 

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, no, no,” you repeated, breath sharp and chest heaving. “Not this again, I don’t want to go through this again.” 

Suddenly Evan wasn’t on the floor anymore, he –or a distorted shadow of him– was right in front of you. Tall and imposing and as terrifying as he seemed that night in the forest. “Go,” he said, although it wasn’t quite his voice. 

“I don’t want to,” you replied, voice small, filled with anguish.  

The world around dissolved and you were back in the hall. Nina was being held by two wizards while her mom was being tortured on the floor. 

“I don’t want to see this!” you insisted. The door from the terrace where you were with Reggie was still closed. You were both still there, this was before you arrived. Nina was crying, and screaming and her mom’s jarring shrieks were even louder. You closed your eyes, but the sounds became even more vivid, louder and overwhelming, you felt like your ears would bleed if you didn’t open your eyes again. 

Bellatrix shouted, there was a blinding green light and then Nina’s mother fell on the floor with a hollow thud, eyes shiny and completely defocused. 

Nina let out a shrilling cry, something so loud and harrowing that you knew instantly what it was. The one you had heard from the terrace. Bella started saying several things, and you saw yourself leaving Reggie on the chair and speeding to the area, determined to do something, determined to save her. If only you knew that determination would lead you nowhere. 

The second you spoke, and Nina turned to you, the entire scene dissolved. Now it was your father looking at your mother after she’d been stepped on by the Chimaera, you gulped, his screams had been swallowed by the commotion that day, but today you were closer to them. In your father’s gaze, there was anger and desperation and he looked both irked and terrified as he held your mother’s charred body. 

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled, tears welling up in your eyes as you saw your father filled with despair. “I’m so sorry, I just wanted to do what was right, all I wanted was to–” 

The scene dissolved again, now it was Nina taking your face in her hands and telling you that you had to keep moving. You looked completely appalled, desperate, borderline hysterical; but Nina looked at you with a loving gaze, a calm, lake-like balminess emanated from her celadon eyes as she spoke, loud and clear. It hadn’t felt like that in the moment, but Nina had spoken to you for several sentences before you caught what she was saying before she told you to look at her, to really look at her and then told you how it wasn’t your fault. 

The scene dissolved as you and Nina walked towards the window. The scorching heat of the Chimera dwindled and was replaced with an eerie coldness. Your heartbeat paced rapidly, you knew what was coming, and you didn’t want to face it again. You shut your eyes as the scene around you started to darken, “Please,” you begged. “I don’t want to live through this again, please.” 

But if there was an architect to this ordeal, he either didn’t hear your pleas or chose to ignore them. You felt something cold graze your cheek, and when you touched it you realised it was snow. You sighed, you were surrounded by hedges, the moon high above you, bright but nonetheless harrowing. You knew that moon, you knew what she’d witnessed, what you were about to witness again. 

Suddenly you and Nina passed by, running fast as Lucius appeared, throwing a spell and taunting you over the dеath of Cygnus Black. You fought, fierce and determined and strong. Lucius wasn’t all that great of a duelist, but you were weak, marred and using a stolen wand. Had he been any better you would have lost to him after the first couple of spells. Then he made the hole in the ground you threw a spell on him and started to repair it. Nina saw Lucius get out, she saw him pointing his wand at you, and then she saw something else. Something behind Lucius. Whatever she saw, you hadn’t seen it then and you still weren’t able to see it now. 

She nodded and pushed you, the spell hit her and she fell on the floor. You –the other you– instantly crawled towards her with a raw scream, the bright shining light was there again and then from behind Lucius appeared Evan and Barty. 

You were crying and pleading and telling her it would be all right even if the two of you knew that wasn’t true. You turned your gaze to the side, trying to avoid looking at it again, but then you turned back, tears streaming down your face as you stared. You wanted to see Nina alive again, you wanted to hear her voice, even if it was her last breath that you’d hear.

Seconds later you were crying and trying to use the wand to revive her, but nothing worked. You knew nothing would and yet you harboured an inch of hope that maybe in this dream, Nina wouldn’t diе, that she would wake up and run the hell away from that hedge with you. 

Barty approached you and tried to pry you off Nina’s body for a few minutes before he actually managed to do it. Nina became butterflies and you saw one of them lean closer to you, to the real you, not the dream you crying on the floor; but the spectator of it all. 

“Nina,” you whispered, the butterfly batted her wings and flew along the rest of them. 

The scene dissolved and you saw Sirius, he was in what you quickly recognised as James’ bathroom. He was on the floor and panicking. He was saying something about it not being a dream and about you being in danger. 

“It was real, and she’s alone, in the snow, pretty much passed out, we have to do something. Maybe I can apparate there or–”  

“You’ll splinch.” 

“Damn it, James!” Sirius snapped. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing!” 

He looked absolutely desperate, terrified, you wanted to hug him and tell him things would be all right but then James spoke. “Remus!” he said. The scene dissolved again. Now it was Remus running through the shack, looking at the fence and then at the window you had used to save the butterfly. He ran through the snow, desperate, out of breath until he found you. 

You had been too numb to see his reactions, but when he touched you, with that tenderness that he managed to always pull off, you saw how scared he was, as terrified as Sirius as he pressed his hand onto your face and realised how cold you were. He had stuttered several times until he managed to get proper words out, he carried you. And then, just as he apparated away, the scene dissolved. 

This time it took longer for the next scene to appear, all of the mist around you changing colour and slowly solidifying into something else. It was you and Sirius, in the Potter’s kitchen. You sucked in a breath. The entire scene passed over, how you asked Sirius if he liked Remus, how you told him you would leave, and how he begged you not to do it. 

Sirius’ tears were gut-wrenching, you wanted to run and hug him and hit the person who had made him cry like that. The problem was, it had been you, you had been the one to make his eyes well up in tears, the one to make his voice crumble, and the one to cause him all of that distress. 

You held back the tears, “I get it!” you said loud and clear, your voice heavy with emotion you tried to conceal. 

“I get it!” you repeated as you turned around. “I cause despair, I’m the source of it on everyone around me, people cry because of me, people diе because of me! Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

Nothing, absolute silence. The scene in front of you, of Sirius plopping down on the floor with tears in his eyes, of Sirius crying and in distress, was there, and then it wasn’t. It dissolved, leaving you in an eerie nothingness. It was so vast you weren’t sure where it started and where it ended, there was silence, and it was cold. Not as cold as the snow but cold enough to send a chill down your spine. 

It felt like you were not only alone but forsaken. 

“You get it,” an echoing voice rang in your head.

“She thinks she does,” another said.

“She’s wrong and she’s right and she’s confused, and so, so alone,” a third voice said, mocking pity on every word. 

You looked around, but there was no one, the voices seemed to slam directly onto your head.

“But you don’t have to be,” the first voice said.

You did not like where this was going. You had read plenty of ghost stories, any offer too good to be true was probably laden with some secret evil. This place, the entire trial felt exactly like a horror story. And yet you felt so lonely, that you listened. 

“There’s rock,” the second voice said.

“It will help you bring me back, my love,” you froze, it was your mother’s voice. You turned around, tears welled up in your eyes as you saw her. It was not your mum, but the charred remnants of her that the Chimera had left, but it had her voice, and it had her eyes, your eyes.  

Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart hammered in your chest as you looked at her. Trying to think of a way to help her. You were walking towards her when there was another voice from behind you. 

“You can bring us back.” 

You sobbed and turned around, you had recognized her voice, you had missed that voice, a tear rolled down your cheek as you looked at her. She was as you remembered, cheeks pink with the cold and blonde waves stained with crimson. She was looking at you like you were the last hope she had, the one thing that would stop her from despair. 

“Nina,” you said, voice so quiet it was almost a whisper, you sniffed as you tried to breathe. 

She smiled, the smile you knew so well to be hers. “With this,” she said softly and extended her hand towards you. “Spin the stone three times, and we’ll be back.” 

She extended her hand, she was holding a ring in between her fingers. You looked at the ring, you were hesitant, but you took it. Her hands felt like Nina’s, but cold. You looked at the ring, a dubious frown accompanied your sniffing. 

“Spin it three times and bring them back,” one of the voices said. 

“Bring us back,” both Nina and your mother said at the same time. 

“You will bring me back, won’t you?” Nina asked, her voice soft, hopeful. 

A stone that can bring someone back from the dеad if you spin it three times. “It’s a Dеathly Hallow,” you said in a soft, surprised exhale. 

“It is, dear,” your mother said. Her charred hand was upon your shoulder. You turned your head to look at her, out of the corner of your eye you could see how burned her entire body was, “you can use it to bring us back,” she added, with a smile that looked so much like her and so much unlike her with all the charred skin that you shivered. 

“Mum?” you said, your head cocked to the side, your voice nothing but a whisper.

“Go ahead, pretty girl.” 

“Save us,” Nina said. 

You tried to hold back the tears, but it was useless, you took a breath that got stuck in your throat. You had read the Tales of Beedle the Bard, you had read other muggle fables, doing it was a bad idea, and bringing someone back from the dеad was about the worst thing you could do to both them, and to yourself. But with your mum being charred and with Nina’s hair turning crimson rather than blonde, both because of you, you wanted nothing more than to fix your mistake. 

You desperately yearned to have them back, to hug them again, for their scent to fill your nostrils like it had so many times before, the light wood-like smell of your mother and the blue lily and lavender perfume Nina used to wear. The images in front of you, although faithful to the last time you’d seen them both were nothing other than a brittle and shallow reflection of them. 

The imitation was almost perfect, the slight ups and downs from the way they spoke, the colour of their eyes, the way their faces moved, the way the light hit Nina’s freckles. They were so similar it was easy to be fooled by them, but beyond that and if you looked closer, they were nothing more than a mirror of who they really had been, a frail reflection of the women you’d once loved. A projection, beaming at you from the distance, light shining from a dеad star.

You had read that once in a book, and you hadn’t quite grasped the magnificence of it until you too, felt it. 

“Darling?” your mother said, cocking her head. “Spin the rock! What are you waiting for?” 

“Three times, and then we’re back,” Nina chimed.  

“Are you not going to bring us back?” Your mother asked, it sounded angry. 

“Why wouldn’t you?” Nina said, her eyes welling up with tears. “I thought we were friends.” 

“No,” you said to yourself as you shook your head. “No, no, please don’t do this to me.” 

“Darling,” your mum said, her voice was that of a reprimand, cold and stern, she sounded more like Silas than herself. “Spin it now, bring us back!” she urged. 

You were taking steps back, away from the two of them but they stepped towards you as you did. Your mother was angry, even beneath the charred skin you could tell she was seething. Nina was sad, crumbling, cheeks red and stained with the track of her tears. 

“Please,” you begged. 

Nina fell to the floor, knees crashing onto nothingness with a loud thud, “I don’t understand… We were friends. I loved you. I was in love with you, why did you not love me back? If I were Sirius or Remus you would spin that stone in a heartbeat, wouldn’t you? Am I not enough?” 

“Nina,” you said. 

“I diеd for you!” she screamed. “I’m dеad because of you!” 

You stopped cold when she said that. She was right, and she was dеad because of you. You took the stone ring in your hands, held it closer to your face and touched the stone, tentatively, only with the tip of your finger. And then, out of nowhere, a small blue butterfly landed on your finger. You looked at her, it was the same butterfly you had helped enter the shack. 

“Have you also diеd because of me?” you asked bitterly. “Do you also want me to bring you back?” 

You put your finger back in the stone, but the butterfly got in between, not letting you touch it. You frowned as realisation hit you. That was not Nina, Nina would never say those awful things to you, no matter how many times you had said them to yourself. 

The butterfly on the other hand? The one trying to stop you? That was a lot more like the Nina that tried to snap you from your destructive thoughts back at Evan’s manor. Like the Nina that had hexed Bellatrix without hesitation to defend you, like the Nina that had pushed you out of harm’s way, like the real Nina. 

Nina whispered your name, and you looked up at her. “Bring me back,” she said. “I want to live again.” 

“No,” you said. 

“What?” your mother asked, the steady but furious tone you had come to know so well. 

“I said no,” you repeated louder this time. “I can’t help you.” 

Nina’s face fell to the ground, a tear streaming down her face while your mother stalked towards you angrily. Nina looked up at you, anguish and despair so evident that it was almost heartbreaking. “Is it because I’m not good enough?” 

“It’s because you’re not her,” you said simply. “She wouldn’t want me to do it.” 

“But I do!” She said distressed. “I do! I want you to bring me back! I want to live again! I want to feel the sun on my face and hear the hollow sound of the wind and taste chocolate on my tongue and see you.” 

“I can’t.” 

“But you kiIIed me!” she said desperate, her face morphing into an expression that you weren’t sure Nina was capable of making. “You murdеred me, I diеd because of you! Why won’t you bring me back?” 

“BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT NINA!” you shrieked, your voice breaking near the end. The figure pulled back. “You don’t know how much I wanted you to be her. How much I wanted to see her again, how much I craved to hear her voice again. But your voice, although similar, is not hers. And your eyes? They might be the exact same colour, but they don’t twinkle in the way hers did. You,” you looked at the charred figure. 

“You both are nothing but an illusion of who they both were, of what they were…And you could never be anything but. Because…” you hesitated, you didn’t want to say it. “Because you’re both dеad.” 

The figures dissolved in an instant. 

You crumbled onto the floor and sobbed. The nothingness embraced you like an old friend and you allowed your tears to stream down your cheeks in a cascade of pent-up emotions. All the denial you had forced through them, all the times you had blinked them away. 

You cried and cried and mumbled incoherently how sorry you were over a hundred times. Nina was dеad. Your mother was dеad. They were both gone, and they would never come back. You pulled the ring from your fist, you’d held it so tightly that the shape of the stone had etched itself onto your hand. You held it between your fingers and stared. 

Not even this rock would bring them back, even if it was a real Dеathly Hallow, even if it had the power to bring people back from the dеad, you were sure the price you’d pay for it would be far more devastating than the crumbling ghost of the person you knew that it would bring back. 

“Truth,” a voice said, echoing in your ears the same way it had done inside the dream.

“She saw past despair and looked at the truth,” the other continued. 

“You may go now, child.” A third one said. The reflective-like screen appeared in front of you. You could see the colours of the vault on the outside. You blinked and then turned your eyes back to the ring. You extended it right in front of your chest, holding it in the palm of your hand, before turning your hand upside down and letting it fall to the floor. 

“You won’t bring it with you, child?” the second voice asked. 

“No,” you said simply. “Something like this shouldn’t exist.” 

“Destroy it then.” 

“I can’t,” you said, you had felt the power within it. It was dark and dеadly. “You know I can’t.” 

“Then someone else might take it. Use it.” 

You let out a breathy scoff and then sniffed, your nose was still filled with snot from the tears. “Not if it’s unfindable,” you said and stepped out of the mirror. When you turned back to look at it, Nina and your mother were tapping at the crystal desperately. As if they too wanted to get out as if you were the only one who could help them.

You reached inside your pocket and took Nina’s wand in your hands. You looked at it with a sort of sorrowful look, eyes glassy with tears and then pointed it at the mirror. You took a deep breath, “Reducto!” 

A flash of light came from Nina’s wand and crashed onto the face of the mirror, turning it into shreds. The wand had worked better than any wand you had ever used in your life, as if she had been made for you. 

Unbeknownst to you, your spell hadn’t trapped the ring in the mirror forever, but rather, transported it back to its original place, Gaunt House. And it would remain there for years, until someone else, someone much weaker to the whispers of the dеad, tried to use it.

There's no chance for us

It's all decided for us

This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us

Who wants to live forever

Who dares to love forever

Oh oo woh, when love must diе

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: I questioned myself for making them suffer so much while revising this chapter. Some of Sirius' words are just heart wrenching to me, I swear <3

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[inyourwildestdreams22]

Can I be complete delulu for a second.. mid budget movie.. can likely shoot in 8 weeks…. If rob is free in first week of Oct, shooting can technically start without him cause they don’t film in chron order.

EU doesn’t start til Jan…. Sooooo do we maybe get blondedaya in a movie???

I mean she bleached it even more after challengers press. And if things are rolling with this movie so quickly, she definitely knew about it.

It’s very possible. Tland posted that Rob finishes the movie wih JLaw in October and I bet this one will be quick to film so they could finish December easily and she can go back to her natural hair, exciting!

[sorryimananti-romantic]

i've been reading fanfictions and online novels for so many years (too many really) and for a very long time there was one common event or phenomena within the writing community that i never experienced myself: finding that ONE fictional novel that you will never let go, whose plot just will not leave your mind and you come back to reading it over and over again like you're a broken record.

most of my time in the recent weeks was spent commuting across country and when's a better time than to read fiction all by my lone self? trains, busses and bustling fading into the background and acting as a form of white noise. (blame it on growing up with ghibli)

tldr; i've picked up Horizon again lol

and i wanted to once again come here and extend all and every compliment towards you for writing (the entire series tbh!). it doesn't get old and it has once again sent me down an endless spiral of emotions even when i already know how it ends. how my adoration for the characters continue to grow is a mystery even to myself. and it's amazing how with every read-through, i find more and more clues and details to complete the bigger puzzle that i hadn't even picked up on during my first reads.

gotten so bad that i'll see the word Horizon, listen to the actual song Horizon and i can not stop myself from thinking about horizon!san and gaeul (also neve my baby).. google, can you be downbad for a fanfiction? asking for a friend.

getting lost in thoughts again and distracted by this universe, i have yet to bring up why i'm even writing this essay lol

after collecting my thoughts and my notes (and rambling a friend's ear off about the series and the universe and more..) i believe i have found that ONE fictional novel that i will never forget about and know will always end up coming back to - which is Horizon ♡

there's not much more to say other than just that, if i'm quite honest (otherwise we'd be here all night and i'm not willing to test if asks have a character limit lol)

but i do know that unless readers verbalize their thoughts and feelings for a piece of writing, the writer will never know the impact they might have had on someone else with something they wrote by themselves without expectations to reach such great distances and touch so many hearts (definitely mine). writers might be masterminds but even they can't read minds through a screen. (i hope..)

also as i am writing this, what a humorous coincidence that it's been exactly one year since the release of Horizon :') <33 happy one year ♡

all the hugs and kisses to you yumii 🩷 ○ chron

chron- 😭 first and foremost let me apologise bc i went to check if horizon really turned one year old today and foound your lovely feedback reblog that i. missed.???????? HOW DID I MISS THAT?? but also nice time discovering it bc after reading this ask and feeling some sort of way (emotional asf is what it is) i went on to read the reblog and i-

look, i'm really not an emotional person but i had to physically stop take a breather drink some water I DON'T CRY MUCH BUT THIS. THIS MAKES ME CRY 😭😭

and secondly, i love you so much 😭😭 your presence here and feedback and the encouragement and everything literally means so much to me you have no idea how good i'm feeling right now 😭 (be replying to the reblog on horizon soon btw i have no idea how i missed that gem)

i'm honestly beyond honoured. i don't know if you know but take me home/horizon lore is so so precious to me! it's literally my baby and i'm ngl i live in that lore. you'll catch me randomly thinking about it and coming with potential ideas for the future if i write another installment (honestly want to for every member one day) but horizon being that ficitonal novel for you? i'm clutching my heart rn 😭❤️

we're both ghibli kids hehe it's def been a solid influence on my imagination! ghibli movies were literally the first ones that i watched i'm glad my dad got me cds of them without having any idea what they were LMAO but the influence is there and i'm happy to find another ghibli enthusiast <3

and omgg finding more details on the sec read? ahaha that's lovely to hear :') i love how the fic horizon is now an additional with the song horizon for you hehe and neve, ugh. everyone's baby daddy neve :')

i'm honestly so thankful that you took the time to send this message, that you feel this way (and the reblog lord it's making me cry i'll reply to it soon too bc wow.) take me home was my first fic and i have no idea how i came up with the story (covid times, vacation, and first time worldbuilding was a dangerous combo lmao) and i honestly had zero plans for another installment in the lore but so many take me home san enthusiasts kept me engaged even long after take me home ended. thus horizon was born- i needed to do san justice after hinting that he and yena might have been sth.

horizon is my baby. i think horizon is one of my favs because i was ngl a big brain with how i extracted points from take me home to create the premise for horizon. like it's the most unplanned planned thing i've ever written? if that makes sense. i had a hard time coming up with twists but everytime i connected some event of horizon back to take me home i would literally evil smirk LMAO and i'm so glad you enjoyed it so much! it makes me feel proud that i wrote it 😭❤️

as you can tell i can talk about the lore forever. it was so fun to plan and write it and to find someone who appreciates it so much? literally in shambles rn. and to find this message and that reblog on the one year anniversary? god, i wish i could tell you how i'm feeling rn 😭❤️

again, thank you from the bottom of my heart! if i ever find the time to write another installment in that lore (idk if many will read it tho lmao but i could literally write another series for you) i think i'll def come to you for brainstorming :') i know the next one is going to be woo x darkling or yunho x some ice-user faerie (with more neve features bc they literally can't do this without him anymore LOL) and ahh i should stop writing now you're literally making me want to drop everything and start writing this ahaha

[rotationalsymmetry]

Doing election research, doot do doot do doo.

It is annoying, doot do doot do doo.

Why did the Chron let me see stuff last week but is demanding a subscription this week? doot do doot do doo.

[secret-engima]

Any snippets or headcanon rambles for Calling for Rain? I’m sick and unable to sleep because of how stuffy my head is so I’d love to hear more about Yuriko and Iruka and Hayate’s genin days.

*kicks down door in the All Might Pose* I AM HERE WITH TEAM IRUKA SHENANIGANS FOR THINE AMUSEMENT AND RESTORED HEALTH. @a-world-in-grey

SO. Genin shenanigans with Team Iruka, or should I say *TEAM 7*. Because you just known I gotta distribute that cursed luck around a little. Besides that I feel like there's a very confusing and rapid cycle that the team numbers undergo, with numbers being available for reassignment either when a genin team graduates and separates or are wiped out, or if an intended team is failed by their sensei and sent back to Academy or into the corps. And so *really*, "Team 7" as a moniker by rights should be passed down at least once in between Kakashi's genin years and Naruto's. Probably more than once, considering the fanon that Team 7 has a Reputation™.

Their sensei is a civilian-born OC that I'm still working on the details of but so far I've decided that their sensei is a woman, who is small but mighty (and feral). Has sharp teeth that tends to be seen more often in those descended from the islands of Mist Country, but if you say that in her earshot you better be prepared for the consequences. I want her to have a special skillset but I'm still debating what kind. Anyway.

Like every Team 7, their first C-rank goes absolutely *pear shaped*, this may or may not have been the infamous Mission to Tea, but probably isn't? I cannot remember if I've state otherwise previously but my gut says that their first C-rank was likely something involving not so far afield. Like dealing with bandits bothering merchants in Land of Fire, or running supplies to some of the Konoha outpost towers dotted around the border. This is after the war mind you, so a supply running mission or a bandit dispersal should be a milk run.

I haven't hammered out exactly what happens, but I do know that things go hard south, be that an attack from rogue ninja or from bandits who are more skilled than a C-rank bargains for, and the genin get separated from their sensei in whatever chaos occurs, and during that, Hayate gets a lungful of something poisonous used by the attackers.

You might see where *that* is going down the line in his life.

Cue three kids, running around for at least a few *days*, possibly a week, separated from their sensei, green as grass and feral as wolf pups, trying to stay alive and also keep each other alive. Especially Hayate, who is not doing too hot. They end up running for the nearest village, hoping for a doctor, with Iruka and Yuriko trauma bonding very hard over keeping a wheezy, semi-conscious Hayate alive. The local village doctor *is* able to save Hayate's life, but not completely undo the damage that has been done, which is what leads to Hayate's chronic health/lung issues we see in the canon timeline. Despite his new wheezy condition, all three genin are able to rally and, using Yuriko's spiteful brain, Iruka's genius for traps, and Hayate's streak of common sense, they're able to essentially turn the entire village into a much more lethal version of Home Alone for the bad guys that come after them.

The leader of the bad guys who chased them probably gets through the traps and is Fully Ready for some mass villager and child soldier slaughter but that's about the second their sensei shows up, injured herself but having bested like- the entire rest of whatever group started this conflict, and mauls the guy. There's a lot of blood involved.

Taking Hayate *back* to Konoha to get looked at by medical shinobi is able to improve his condition somewhat, but by now only a healer on the level of Tsunade could fully cure him from the damage that's been done. For most genin, especially a sponsorless orphan genin like Hayate? That would be career ending. Very few jounin would want to deal with the added complications of a chronically ill genin, let alone sit back through the long recovery and rehab/adjustment period he needs to go through.

Hayate's sensei decks the first jounin that tells her to ditch the brat and either pick a new one out of Academy or throw the other two in the corps.

Hayate's team closes ranks around him, helping him through his adjustment period, and even helps getting him a sword master teacher, something he has always been interested in, but had thought impossible after his injury. His sword master, a fierce and elderly Uchiha woman, teaches him not only to master the blade, but to master his body and learn how to wring every drop of strength and lethality out of his new limits.

The team dynamic that formed in that hectic C-rank gets solidified and honed into something tight. Iruka is the trouble magnet, but also the trap master. Yuriko, who grew up in a wealthy merchant household, is the face of the group during anything that involve infiltration (the only time she bothers to use her etiquette lessons). Hayate, with his sword and health limits, is the backup (and often the braincell). Their sensei is basically there to haul their collective butts out of whatever fire Iruka set and forgot to arrange a way to put out. She also grills them on training, running them through team building exercises until they drop.

Some additional things now that I've done backstory building:

Iruka and Hayate have a very respectful and healthy fear of women thanks to their genin teammate and sensei. Arguably especially Yuriko, because they spent more than a few missions sharing a tent with her and know the power of her grudge holding abilities.

Iruka revenge pranks anyone who mocks Hayate for his health issues. *Anyone*. Anbu Hawk of that era had a very very very hard time explaining to his coworkers why his hair spontaneously turning fluorescent blue was totally his own life decision and not that he made the mistake of telling a genin with a cough to "know his limits" while in his chuunin identity and the genin's 14 year old teammate somehow stalked him to his apartment, dismantled his anbu grade security, and put an unremovable, scentless dye in his shampoo and now he has to wait for the dye'd hair to grow out enough to cut the colored part off.

Yuriko's parents were very :/ about her being put on a team with "mere orphans" instead of a clan kid because they already disapproved of her becoming a shinobi (but legally couldn't stop her), but at least if she was on a team with a clan boy there was a chance for marrying in. Yuriko took this as the sign to befriend her two orphan buddies and be the Most Ride Or Die Kunoichi Teammate to ever live. You might have noticed by this comment and the one in CfR about her becoming a genin corps member specifically to get disowned by them and realized she has Issues with her family. Like. Just in general. It's not just her parents. But that's a talk for another post probably.

Their chuunin exam took place in Kiri when Iruka was 16, not long after Iruka decided he wanted to become a chuunin teacher at Academy rather than a jounin (even though he had the potential to do so) which was basically fun trauma times for all. When their teacher told them they had basically been voluntold to go to the exams in Kiri rather than let any of the teams with important clan kids go, they all had a powwow about what they wanted out of this deathtrap of an assignment. Hayate wanted to be promoted to chuunin because he had his sights set on becoming a jounin sword master that would be eligible to take on an apprentice someday, Iruka wanted to be promoted so he could immediately sign up to be an Academy teacher.

Yuriko: I wanna wash out into the genin corps.

Iruka and Hayate, who know that of them Yuriko is actually the most terrifying when it comes to frontline combat: ... um.

Yuriko: my parents have been talking about arranging a marriage of suitable value once I make chuunin or jounin.

Her two friends: ...understandable, sounds like a plan.

You have no idea how many genin from other villages these three managed to terrify. No idea. And the confusion when Yuriko dropped out at the 3rd stage of 1 vs 1 matches was huge.

They were *probably* the only one of the three Konoha teams sent to survive? The other villages had similarly bad losses, one of them (Iwa or Suna maybe) potentially lost *all* the teams they sent. The three of them surviving an exam in Kiri should be far more of a warning flag of these three's skill in general than most people actually realize.

All three of them still hang out when they can, usually just hanging out in an apartment and chatting, but sometimes they spar and let loose, which is *hilarious* and chaotic when you consider their various specialties and that only Hayate officially has jounin rank.

Their sensei is still alive! And doing good all told. She may or may not have another group of brats following on her heels during the current part of CfR's timeline. She comes and checks in on her only Team 7 when she has time.

[jmtorres]

[img description: post from @horrortragedies (who probably turned off reblogs to avoid getting inundated):

@staff @cyle @wip if y'all do anything to get rid of the chronological dashboard me and every single other "content creator" on your whack ass website is gonna delete their accounts the lack of algorithms is the only reason i use this as my main social media if that goes away there's literally nothing keeping me here

reblog by @cyle

we are not getting rid of it, reverse chron Following feed will always be an option. i rely on it too!

end description]

I would find this more comforting if I hadn't recently had a support ticket that went:

me: this new feature is an accessiblity issue

support: oh let us fix that for you!

me: *somewhat baffled* thank you!

app: updates

me: um it's broken again

support: this is an intended functionality!

me: i thought so. but it's still an accessibility issue.

support: you can send an ask to our account whose inbox is open 8 hours 1 day per week!

me: I'd rather not, I sent this ticket under the subject "feedback" under the impression this was a valid way to send you feedback

to be fair eventually this got fixed in another update. but like. I don't super believe the right hand knows what the left is doing

[buckbumbleenthusiast]

The jewish experience is having at least one day per week where you question whether G-d has decided it's your turn to get chrons disease

[jenetranslations]

The Good Child and the Fox Spirit (イイコと妖狐) by Kikuo feat. Qi Xuan - Subs and Translation

Wake up babe new Kikuo song just dropped.

Read here or on my Wordpress.

Translation: JeNeTranslations and kwant Proofreading: Ng Wen Juin, Spicy Sweets, Chron Subs: Chron

Good child, good child, you’re a very good child Go to sleep forever like the good child you are I’ll give you good dreams forever and ever I'll always be with you up until you die (La la la. . .)

Hey, hey, hey, hey, what do you like? Fl-fl-fluffy fluff fluffy things? Poof! It'll appear when you open your eyes See, this is the power of the mysterious fox spirit!

Hey, hey, what do you like? Yip¹, yip, it's the magic of the fox spirit. Punching out a hole in the midst of the dark night See, you can tell whatever lies you want

Good child, good child, you’re a very good child Go to sleep forever like the good child you are I’ll give you good dreams forever and ever I'll always be with you up until you die

Good child, good child, you’re a very good child Keep listening to me like the good child you are Love you! I love you I love, love, love you! I love when you're a good child

Good child, good child, good child, good child Good child, aren't you such a good child? Good child, good child, good child, good child Good child, you're a good child, aren't you?

But in the dishonest, dreamlike, month of the equinox² The sun and moon merge into one Gulp gulp, drink it all up I don't want anyone to leave me behind

Hey fox spirit, why, oh why? Why, oh why did you save me? Sharpening your claws in a lonely shrine Possess me, possess me, did you possess me?

Good child, good child, you’re a very good child Go to sleep forever like the good child you are I’ll give you good dreams forever and ever I'll always be with you up until you die

Dishonest child, dishonest child, you're a very dishonest child I'll always believe you, dishonest child Love you! I love you as well I love, love, love you! I love your dishonest self

We're friends! Yip yip, yip yip We're a very lonely, lonely family You can keep living on my back Keep on being merry right up until you die

We're friends! Yip yip, yip yip We're a very miserable, miserable family The real me has been completely discarded This fun power, give me more, and more, and more, and more…

(Ah… La la la…)

(Ta ta ta ta ta ta la, Hmm…)

Translation Notes

¹ What does the fox say? In Japanese, “kon kon.” Kids might also just say the sound in place of the word “fox.”

²This equinoctial period is referred to as Higan, and is a week when the gate to the other world/afterlife is said to be open. Astral Travel was released during Higan!

[elliezst]

CHRON!!!

unfiltered

IT WS SO FUN 2 MAKEKEKSNDHHHSGSG I DID ITTT

[fandomloverangel]

Don't get rid of reblog chains. One, that is something that many people on here love, two, that's something that is almost uniquely tumblr, three, that's how a lot of people joined this site, through screenshots of reblog chains that made them go "oh, I want to join in on that and have my comment seen".

If you remove the reverse chron, it changes the fundamental website. The same is true for reblog chains. At the most, have it as an option to toggle off, don't just default it. AND don't just make it like Tumblr Live, where it has to be toggled every single week.

Tumblr’s Core Product Strategy

Here at Tumblr, we’ve been working hard on reorganizing how we work in a bid to gain more users. A larger user base means a more sustainable company, and means we get to stick around and do this thing with you all a bit longer. What follows is the strategy we're using to accomplish the goal of user growth. The @labs group has published a bit already, but this is bigger. We’re publishing it publicly for the first time, in an effort to work more transparently with all of you in the Tumblr community. This strategy provides guidance amid limited resources, allowing our teams to focus on specific key areas to ensure Tumblr’s future.

The Diagnosis

In order for Tumblr to grow, we need to fix the core experience that makes Tumblr a useful place for users. The underlying problem is that Tumblr is not easy to use. Historically, we have expected users to curate their feeds and lean into curating their experience. But this expectation introduces friction to the user experience and only serves a small portion of our audience. 

Tumblr’s competitive advantage lies in its unique content and vibrant communities. As the forerunner of internet culture, Tumblr encompasses a wide range of interests, such as entertainment, art, gaming, fandom, fashion, and music. People come to Tumblr to immerse themselves in this culture, making it essential for us to ensure a seamless connection between people and content. 

To guarantee Tumblr’s continued success, we’ve got to prioritize fostering that seamless connection between people and content. This involves attracting and retaining new users and creators, nurturing their growth, and encouraging frequent engagement with the platform.

Our Guiding Principles

To enhance Tumblr’s usability, we must address these core guiding principles.

Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Retain and grow our creator base.

Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Improve the platform’s performance, stability, and quality.

Below is a deep dive into each of these principles.

Principle 1: Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Tumblr has a “top of the funnel” issue in converting non-users into engaged logged-in users. We also have not invested in industry standard SEO practices to ensure a robust top of the funnel. The referral traffic that we do get from external sources is dispersed across different pages with inconsistent user experiences, which results in a missed opportunity to convert these users into regular Tumblr users. For example, users from search engines often land on pages within the blog network and blog view—where there isn’t much of a reason to sign up. 

We need to experiment with logged-out tumblr.com to ensure we are capturing the highest potential conversion rate for visitors into sign-ups and log-ins. We might want to explore showing the potential future user the full breadth of content that Tumblr has to offer on our logged-out pages. We want people to be able to easily understand the potential behind Tumblr without having to navigate multiple tabs and pages to figure it out. Our current logged-out explore page does very little to help users understand “what is Tumblr.” which is a missed opportunity to get people excited about joining the site.

Actions & Next Steps

Improving Tumblr’s search engine optimization (SEO) practices to be in line with industry standards.

Experiment with logged out tumblr.com to achieve the highest conversion rate for sign-ups and log-ins, explore ways for visitors to “get” Tumblr and entice them to sign up.

Principle 2: Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

We need to ensure the highest quality user experience by presenting fresh and relevant content tailored to the user’s diverse interests during each session. If the user has a bad content experience, the fault lies with the product.

The default position should always be that the user does not know how to navigate the application. Additionally, we need to ensure that when people search for content related to their interests, it is easily accessible without any confusing limitations or unexpected roadblocks in their journey.

Being a 15-year-old brand is tough because the brand carries the baggage of a person’s preconceived impressions of Tumblr. On average, a user only sees 25 posts per session, so the first 25 posts have to convey the value of Tumblr: it is a vibrant community with lots of untapped potential. We never want to leave the user believing that Tumblr is a place that is stale and not relevant. 

Actions & Next Steps

Deliver great content each time the app is opened.

Make it easier for users to understand where the vibrant communities on Tumblr are. 

Improve our algorithmic ranking capabilities across all feeds. 

Principle 3: Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Part of Tumblr’s charm lies in its capacity to showcase the evolution of conversations and the clever remarks found within reblog chains and replies. Engaging in these discussions should be enjoyable and effortless.

Unfortunately, the current way that conversations work on Tumblr across replies and reblogs is confusing for new users. The limitations around engaging with individual reblogs, replies only applying to the original post, and the inability to easily follow threaded conversations make it difficult for users to join the conversation.

Actions & Next Steps

Address the confusion within replies and reblogs.

Improve the conversational posting features around replies and reblogs. 

Allow engagements on individual replies and reblogs.

Make it easier for users to follow the various conversation paths within a reblog thread. 

Remove clutter in the conversation by collapsing reblog threads. 

Explore the feasibility of removing duplicate reblogs within a user’s Following feed. 

Principle 4: Retain and grow our creator base.

Creators are essential to the Tumblr community. However, we haven’t always had a consistent and coordinated effort around retaining, nurturing, and growing our creator base.  

Being a new creator on Tumblr can be intimidating, with a high likelihood of leaving or disappointment upon sharing creations without receiving engagement or feedback. We need to ensure that we have the expected creator tools and foster the rewarding feedback loops that keep creators around and enable them to thrive.

The lack of feedback stems from the outdated decision to only show content from followed blogs on the main dashboard feed (“Following”), perpetuating a cycle where popular blogs continue to gain more visibility at the expense of helping new creators. To address this, we need to prioritize supporting and nurturing the growth of new creators on the platform.

It is also imperative that creators, like everyone on Tumblr, feel safe and in control of their experience. Whether it be an ask from the community or engagement on a post, being successful on Tumblr should never feel like a punishing experience.

Actions & Next Steps

Get creators’ new content in front of people who are interested in it. 

Improve the feedback loop for creators, incentivizing them to continue posting.

Build mechanisms to protect creators from being spammed by notifications when they go viral.

Expand ways to co-create content, such as by adding the capability to embed Tumblr links in posts.

Principle 5: Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Push notifications and emails are essential tools to increase user engagement, improve user retention, and facilitate content discovery. Our strategy of reaching out to you, the user, should be well-coordinated across product, commercial, and marketing teams.

Our messaging strategy needs to be personalized and adapt to a user’s shifting interests. Our messages should keep users in the know on the latest activity in their community, as well as keeping Tumblr top of mind as the place to go for witty takes and remixes of the latest shows and real-life events.  

Most importantly, our messages should be thoughtful and should never come across as spammy.  

Actions & Next Steps

Conduct an audit of our messaging strategy.

Address the issue of notifications getting too noisy; throttle, collapse or mute notifications where necessary.  

Identify opportunities for personalization within our email messages. 

Test what the right daily push notification limit is. 

Send emails when a user has push notifications switched off.

Principle 6: Performance, stability and quality.

The stability and performance of our mobile apps have declined. There is a large backlog of production issues, with more bugs created than resolved over the last 300 days. If this continues, roughly one new unresolved production issue will be created every two days. Apps and backend systems that work well and don't crash are the foundation of a great Tumblr experience. Improving performance, stability, and quality will help us achieve sustainable operations for Tumblr.

Improve performance and stability: deliver crash-free, responsive, and fast-loading apps on Android, iOS, and web.

Improve quality: deliver the highest quality Tumblr experience to our users. 

Move faster: provide APIs and services to unblock core product initiatives and launch new features coming out of Labs.

Conclusion

Our mission has always been to empower the world’s creators. We are wholly committed to ensuring Tumblr evolves in a way that supports our current users while improving areas that attract new creators, artists, and users. You deserve a digital home that works for you. You deserve the best tools and features to connect with your communities on a platform that prioritizes the easy discoverability of high-quality content. This is an invigorating time for Tumblr, and we couldn’t be more excited about our current strategy.

[dfroza]

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures

for the 8th of november 2024 with a paired chapter from each Testament (the First & the New Covenant) of the Bible

[The Book of Luke, Chapter 3 • The Book of 1st Samuel, Chapter 15]

along with Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms with Proverbs 8 and Psalm 8 coinciding with the day of the month, accompanied by Psalm 48 for the 48th day of Astronomical Autumn, and Psalm 13 for day 313 of the year (with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 3rd revolution this year)

A post by John Parsons:

The Angel of the LORD...

In Hebrew, an "angel" is called "malakh" (מַלְאַךְ), a word that basically means “messenger” or representative (from the root לאך, meaning “to send”). God created many angels, of course (Psalm 68:17, 103:20), but there there is one malakh who stands out from all the rest of the malakhim (angels) as a King stands above his subjects. This “King of Angels” is called Malakh Adonai (מַלְאַךְ יהוה), or "the Angel of the LORD." Unlike the other angels that function as emissaries of God, Malakh Adonai is the supreme representation or Message of God Himself. His Word/Voice is “one” with the Person of God, just as the Spirit of God is “one” with the Person of God. Since the glory and power of God’s infinite Being is incomprehensible to finite creatures, the Angel of the LORD is a form of God’s condescension in a visible or audible manner so that an angel or a human being can apprehend His message. This is sometimes called a “theophany” in theological jargon.

This unique King of the Angels (מלך המלאכים), or “Angel of the LORD,” is named in about 50 verses of the Tanakh (i.e., “Old Testament”), though he is alluded to in various other places as well (e.g., Gen. 18:1-ff; Gen. 48:16, Exod. 23:20-23, etc.). He is first mentioned in our Torah portion for this week (Lekh-Lekha) where He is clearly called God (Gen. 16:7-13). After he spoke with Hagar in the desert, she called him “the LORD” (יהוה) and identified Him as El-Roi (אֵל ראִי) -- the “God who sees me” (Gen. 16:13). He later appeared to Abraham in the grove at Mamre (Gen. 18:1-ff) to reaffirm the promise of his coming heir, and later still, during the most terrifying moment of the sacrifice of Isaac, he cried out to stop Abraham from bringing down the knife upon his son (Gen. 22:11, see also Gen. 22:15-ff). And note further that it was the “Angel of the LORD” who appeared to Moses in the “burning bush” and identified himself as YHVH, the “God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob” (see Exod. 3:2-ff).

Other examples from the Tanakh should be noted. The Angel of the LORD helped Gideon deliver Israel from Midian (Judges 6:11-13); He prophesied regarding the birth of Samson (Judges 13); He led Elijah to Mount Horeb (1 Kings 19); He commanded David to build an altar which later became part of the Holy Temple (1 Chron. 21:18), and he is mentioned in Psalm 34:7 (“The Angel of the LORD camps around those who fear him”) as well as in Psalm 35:6-7. In light of all this, it is clear that that Malakh Adonai is nothing less than a manifestation of the LORD Himself. Indeed, the prophet Isaiah calls him the “Angel of His Face” (מַלְאָךְ פָּנָיו, Isa. 63:9). And since Yeshua is the “radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, who upholds the universe by the word of his power” (Heb. 1:3), it is clear that He is the Angel of God’s face -- the “Message of God” -- that was “sent” (לאך) in human flesh (John 1:1,14). Yeshua is the one and only “King of Angels” (מלך המלאכים), the LORD God who assumed angelic form, the theophany to man and the myriads of angels. Amen! Yeshua is none other than Melekh Ha-kavod (מֶלֶךְ הַכָּבוֹד) the King of God’s Glory (Psalm 24) and Adonai Tzeva’ot (יהוה צְבָאוֹת), the LORD of the heavenly host.

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

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Psalm 34:7 reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm34-7-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm34-7-lesson.pdf

11.7.24 • Facebook

from Today’s email by Israel365

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

[mattanaministry]

Mattana Ministry

Welcomes YouTo:

Worship Program: 25 July 2024

Theme: What It MeansToWorship (4)

Scripture: 1 Chron. 16:23-31; Ps.139:7-10; Ps.145;

Isaiah 40:13-14; Matt.19:26 & Eph.3:20

Message:

We worship by adoring God.

We don’t worship God because life is good. We worship God because He is good! —Darlene Zschech

For the first three weeks of this plan, we discussed what worship is and why we should worship God. It’s easy to worship God when we have ample blessings in our lives, and when He says yes to our prayers. We can and we should worship Him for those things! But, first and foremost, we worship Him for who He is.

Did we know that God is omnipresent, omniscient, and omnipotent? What do these big “omni” words actually mean? Well, omni is a Latin root that simply means “all.” And while none of these words are actually mentioned in Scripture, they do identify the truth about God that we gather from it. Let’s dive in a little deeper to each of these attributes of God.

Omnipresent.

God is “all” present. He is everywhere, all the time, close to everyone and everything. He fills all of heaven and earth. Often as Christ followers, we might pray, “God, please be with me today.” While the petition of God’s presence shows our need for Him, this prayer is actually unnecessary. He is already here and there and elsewhere and all over the place, all the time. What our request should be instead is, “God, please make me aware of your presence.”

Omniscient.

God is “all” knowing. In regard to knowledge, there is no limit with God. He has it all, and He knows it all. Literally. There is not a second that goes by where God is not aware of everything. There is absolutely nothing that He should learn or have to think about. He is never caught off guard or surprised by anything, ever. He just knows. Mind blowing, isn’t it? And isn’t it comforting to know that God knows our needs before we even ask?

Omnipotent.

God is “all” powerful. All power belongs to God. He possesses it all. He can do anything and everything. He never gets winded, and He never grows weary. His strength is never zapped, and He never has to take a nap. We may see impossible things in front of us, but with God, all things are possible.

It truly is phenomenal to even comprehend just a portion of who He is. That is where our worshiping Him for who He is should come easy. When we don’t understand something, just worship.

MM

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https://www.soulcenters.org/directory/mattana-ministry/#listing-reviews

[crossoverglobaloutreach]

HIS BUILDING HIS BRIDE

"Then the LORD God made the rib He had taken from the man into a woman and brought her to the man" (Gen 2:22).

The Spirit used an interesting verb in this passage to tell us God made the woman. The verbs used in the Creation Week were "barah" and "asah," to create and to fashion. God "created" man and He "fashioned" the sun and moon. But here it is "banah" - "build." He built the bride.

The verb "banah" is used elsewhere for building altars, homes and cities. Even more importantly, it is used for building the Lord's temple. But its first and primary use is in the declaration that the Lord built the Bride of Adam.

Well, the Lord Jesus declared He would build His bride, the Church (Matt 16:18). The Greek verb Christ used for "build"? The same verb the Jewish scholars used in Gen 2:22 when they made their famous Greek translation of the Old Testament, the Septuagint. So, just as the Lord built a bride for the son of God at the dawn of history, so the Son of God, who is the Lord, is building His bride at the culmination of history.

But we are not like Adam during this great, final construction. We aren't mere spectators to the building going on. As it is written, "the Bride has made herself ready" (Rev 19:7). As Paul describes it, "the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work" (Eph 4:16). That is the same verb. Paul further counseled the Church to "encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing" (1 Thes 5:11).

Now all of this is done through the anointing of the Spirit of Christ: "Therefore, since you are eager for manifestations of the Spirit, strive to excel in building up the church" (1Cor 14:12). So, Christ is in His Church by His Spirit, anointing us and helping us. This is why we are told He gave gifts and callings to the Church: "for the equipping of the saints for the work of service, to the building up of the body of Christ" (Eph 4:12). He enables us to prepare ourselves even as He builds us into His Bride.

One last thought: "The house, while it was being built, was built of stone prepared at the quarry, and there was neither hammer nor axe nor any iron tool heard in the house while it was being built" (1Kg 6:7). "Prepared at the quarry." It may not seem like it, but we are in the right time and place for the work of God. Our current situations are the quarry of God where we submit to Him and work with Him so that we are perfectly shaped to properly fit into His coming Temple.

Here and now Christ is building His Church. Here and now the Bride is making herself ready. Believe the hand of God is working in your life! Believe all things - even "bad" things and frustrating things - work together for good for those who love Him, who are called "according to His purpose." Well, what is His purpose? That we might be "conformed to His image." This is essential! After all, Adam first surveyed all of life looking for a suitable bride but couldn't find one. Only then was she made from Adam that she would be made like Adam that she could be made one with Adam.

We are invited to take part in a great marriage that is looming on the calendar. We are invited to be part of a great temple that is even now being prepared. "Take heed now, for the Lord has chosen you to build a house for the Sanctuary; be strong and do it" (1 Chron 28:10). Let's not be among those who make excuse, nor be one of those who disqualify themselves by despising the call of God. "Not that we have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at our goal, but let's press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of us" (Phil 3:12). Yes, "for this we toil, struggling with all His energy that He powerfully works within us" (Col 1:29)!

- Matthew Schilling