#cure lofty

[toanw]

alchemical precure 2024 edition ✨

[kikker-oma]

Thought I'd share this cursed thought with everyone since I tortured @skyloftian-nutcase ( @luinhealthcare ) with it already hehe

Lofty's still on hiatus but that just means she'll get to revisit it when she's back in April😈

Enjoy Healthcare Hyrule with the ✨EMS Mustache✨ (featuring Mo🤭)

[dailyadventureprompts]

Deity: Tergrid, God of Fright

"Terror is the natural state of a child, they know they are small, vunrable, glass fragile. It is only once we grow that we delude ourselves into thinking we are safe, that we are strong, that we have control over the world we live in. Show a grown man how little control he really has, and you will see the child he always was: pissreeking, repentant, and pleading for his mother. " - Gerheart, village executioner

A goddess for those who hold close to the light dreading the unknown or those who wander gleefully into the dark seeking it, Tergrid is a deity of imagined horrors and terrible omens.

Depicted as a young woman always bearing a lantern, myths speak of Tergrid's shadow as a monstrous, murderous thing with a will of its own. Unable to kill the goddess due to the light she carries, it vents it's directionless wrath on those who linger beyond the lantern's glow. This duality, as both as the victim of fear and the source of it defines the brightmaiden's worship; as she is both threat and saviour to those who draw her attention.

Adventure Hooks:

The party arrive at a country roadhouse at dusk, only to find the inhabitants have nailed shut every door and shutter as if preparing for a siege. They say some horrid murderous things are lurking just off the road, and as the light wanes they refuse to let the heroes inside. The roadhouse's residents are terrified and are willing to fight to keep the party out, half convinced the party are themselves the things they should be afraid of... which isn't to say there ISN'T anything else waiting for that door to open. After negoitating their way inside (or forcing the issue) the heroes discover the roadhouse residents were warned of the danger by a mysterious woman who passed through earlier, though none can remember exactly what she looked like.

A knight renowned for his fearless deeds wanders the street in a waking nightmare, seeing threats everywhere and lashing out at phantoms and passersby. Even after being subdued it’s clear he won’t awake, and many suspect interference from jealous rivals in the upcoming tourney. The knight’s meek squire asks the party to help investigate the causes and possible cures of her master’s madness, never suspecting that her suppressed resentment at his recklessness might’ve manifested as a curse.

In desperate need of answers, the party consults an oracle dedicated to Tergrid who has them undergo trials of fear and phantasm so that they might know the truth. Chiefest among these is battling in a dark cave full of shadow monsters, while flickering visions of the future are cast on the wall by the guttering lantern light. The longer they can endure, the more they will know, but that isn't likely to be long unless they fight harder than they ever have before.

Inspiration: Tergrid is a shameless lift from Magic the Gathering's Kaldheim setting, which I've never played but apparently keep returning to as a consistent well of inspiration.

Fear both as a mechanic and motif is something I think is underutilized in D&D which is odd considering it's a game about venturing out into the unknown to face potentially deadly challenges. Fear and risk are what our heroes must endure to experience the wonder and rewards on the other side of their journey. As such it makes sense for a goddess of fear to play a role in the thematic weave of the stories we end up telling.

Speaking in less lofty terms, I also think using the lantern as a symbol for being frightened fucks hard. It's a tiny, fragile, and temporary respite from an ocean of darkness and the threats it contains.

Worshippers: The lost and abandoned, Unseele Fey, Shadowcasters and other denizens of the shadowfell. There is also heavy overlap with the worship of the night goddess Nyx.

Signs: Nightmares, unnatural or living shadows,

Symbols: A Lantern, often surrounded by a circle of darkness.

Artsource

[literary-motif]

I've read all your Zaros fics, and it's so gooood! Btw, since some of it was flower themed, would it be okay if you incorporate hanahaki disease? Hehe. Thank you, and have a good day!

Everything with Zaros is flower themed to my eyes. I try to match their symbolism to the sort of deeper meaning of the scene or story I’m writing and so on. Glad you noticed!

Wilted Petals

Zaros Atha'lin x Reader

Zaros was running out of time. 

He had shrugged off the cough at first, soothing all the worried glances and concerned mutterings of the trials being postponed if he was sick and instead pushing through. 

It was what he always did, never allowing himself to stand still for too long when the reputation of his family and his mother’s expectations weighed heavily on his shoulders. Less than perfect was unacceptable. 

The scratching in his throat had not lessened, no matter the amounts of honey he swallowed or the herbal remedies he tried. The cough seemed to worsen with every passing day, and it was getting harder and harder to hide.

“Look at Sarl Zaros, at it again,” he heard the muttered snicker of a passing noble. Zaros was leaning against one of the pillars, discreetly wiping the blood from his mouth and hiding the daffodil petals in his handkerchief. You did not see him, too engrossed in your conversation with the palace gardener.

It had been easy to hide at first, but now the scratching in his throat had evolved into a tightness in his chest, squeezing his heart and suffocating him as he gulped down breaths in between coughs. Being around you now has that effect. 

He felt like he was dying, and according to his mother, who gave him a disapproving look when she saw the dark circles under his eyes and his ashen face, he looked the part, too. 

“Stop wasting your time in the library,” she had said, shaking her head as they strolled through the garden. “Focus on what is important now. Get rest and take the throne, Zaros. I’m counting on you to succeed.”

That was a lofty goal. He could not even say for certain that he would live to see the sunrise.

Despite the library’s excellent catalog, it had taken him days to find a book relating to his condition, and as Zaros skimmed through the pages hastily — telling him this was brought on by unrequited love, telling him his salvation was a reciprocation of his feelings — the loud thumping of his heart grew deafening. 

He was going to die. 

Zaros leaned back, breathing shakily. It was out of the question that you felt anything but burning hatred and occasional annoyance for him. He was done for.

Everyone died in the end, but what kind of shame would it be to do so now? He would disappoint his mother, depriving her of the opportunity to restore the Atha’lin’s standing in society. He would fail in his purpose to better Serulla and tip the scale in the favor of the people. But most of all, how would it look if Sarl Zaros, contestant for the throne and seemingly arch nemesis of the Earis, was found choking to death on daffodil petals? Someone was bound to know about this disease and figure out the rest.

Yet there was no way out. 

Zaros shuddered, contemplating his options. He could stay in the palace, carry out his duty to Serulla and his family until he suffocated on his love under the scornful gaze of the nobles, or he could flee, abandon everything, and find a quiet place to die, taking this secret to the grave. 

He sighed. As appealing as the second option looked, he knew he could never fail in his duty. He could never betray the responsibility put on him, even if it meant withering away for all to see. 

“Are you sick?” you asked, slipping into the seat opposite Zaros and making him jump. “‘Rare Diseases and Cures’ is not what I’d include in my preparation for the trials.” He choked, feeling his eyes water again as his chest tightened. 

“Exc— me,” he heaved as his frame was wracked by coughs, turning away from you to hide behind his handkerchief. 

You watched him quizzically, contemplating getting up to fetch him something to drink. His wheezes sounded painful and the tears escaping his tightly shut eyes made you wonder just how much this was hurting him.  

Zaros had never allowed himself to show his pain, insistent on keeping tight control of himself at all times. It was hard to make him loosen up a bit, even harder to break down his walls. 

No matter how much you wished to comfort him, you knew that was not the relationship you had. He hated you after all, and you were fine with that, truly. Still, it tore you apart seeing him like this, in shambles as he desperately fought for breaths. 

You resolved to have a talk with the Queen about postponing the next trial, lowering your gaze to the page Zaros had been reading. You froze as your blood ran cold.

“Pardon,” he rasped, clenching his fist around the stained crown of the daffodil and wiping away his tears. This was tearing him apart. He just wanted to have the inevitable over with. Why did the universe need to draw out his torment?

“Who is it?” you asked flatly. 

Zaros raised his eyes, steeling himself for another coughing fit that thankfully did not come as he looked at you. “Who is what?” he asked, clearing his throat while tucking away his handkerchief and hiding the droplets of blood on his wrist. 

Your face was unreadable, not betraying the turmoil raging inside you as your eyes remained fixed on the book before him. He muttered a curse. 

“Don’t test me right now,” you warned, lifting your heavy gaze to stare him down. “Who is it? I will have them brought here. I will make them love you if that’s what it takes. So who is it?”

He sighed, shutting the book. “Not even you can force love,” he said, ignoring the metallic taste in his mouth. There was no merit in telling you, and he quietly resigned himself to his fate instead as he got up, prepared to leave.

Your hand shot out to grab his wrist, yanking him back into his seat. He could feel your hand shaking and looking into your eyes, he saw both determination and heartbreak in them. 

What did you have to feel heartbreak about when it was him struggling to breathe? 

“Tell me!” you screamed, finally losing your composure, but you did not care. There was no point in keeping up appearances when Zaros — your Zaros — was dying because of unrequited love.

It made your heart ache knowing that he adored someone this much when he saw you as nothing but a spoiled brat, but your hurt was overshadowed by the chilling terror you felt at the prospect of losing him. 

You refused to let him die. It was something that you simply could not permit, and if whoever it was that had poisoned his heart did not feel the same, you would move earth and heaven until they did. 

“Drop it, Earis!” Zaros spit, wrenching his arm free as his patience ran short. The tightness in his chest only grew worse by your touch. Every moment spent in your company was a cursed blessing and he hated himself for being unable to enjoy his last days with you, his last moments. 

No matter how much you hurt him — by your actions, your words, or by his love for you — he longed to spend every moment of his time with you, engraving the gentle sound of your laugh and the softness of your skin into his mind forever as his love suffocated him.

“Leech! You think you can just leave me like this?” You grasped the front of his sherwani, pulling him towards you and making him stumble against the table. Your blood was boiling with rage at his stubbornness, fear and desperation making you see red. “Tell me!”

“You!” Zaros screamed, his anger at your insistence quickly bleeding away into sorrow. He sighed brokenly, averting his gaze. This was a secret he had meant to take to the grave. Ironic, since it was the one digging it for him as well.

It took your mind only a moment to process before you pulled Zaros into a kiss. 

‘True love’s kiss,’ the scholar had penned near the bottom of the page, listing it as the only known remedy for the disease, and as you felt Zaros’ hands resting gently against your cheeks while he kissed you back, you were grateful that you had remembered. 

“I do, too,” you said as you broke apart. 

Zaros’ mouth was slightly agape, unbelieving of the pressure lifting from his chest in an instant. He could breathe properly again, his hacking coughs seeming like a faraway memory. That he had ever felt pain appeared absurd when you looked at him with such fondness. 

“I love you too.”

[megumimania]

A BIRTHDAY — suguru geto

summary: geto’s birthday doesn’t come without a period of reflection.

content/warnings: geto x black fem reader, set a couple years after hidden inventory arc, established relationship, semi angsty, suggestive, italics are used to signify past conversations,am i late to the party yes but who cares! i fought tooth and nail for this not to have a happu ending

“so what do you say?” suguru’s hand reached out for yours with a charming smile that made it hard for you to say no to. “i’d say that this is the most insane idea you’ve ever had, but im in.”

you really don’t know why you took up his offer that day.

yes, you could argue that you were foolish. caught up in the fantasy of running away from all your responsibilities as a sorcerer or maybe it was because you were curious to see how his plan of eradicating all the non sorcerers in japan would play out.

the sounds of birdsong resounded throughout the grand estate. acting as background noise whilst you laid against one of the pillars out back as you lit up a cigarette—a habit that you picked up in high school. a time in your life that ended just as quickly as it began.

however that didn’t stop you from reminiscing about the memories. never did you indulge in them for too long though, afraid that you would be clinging on to a life that was no longer yours.

besides you lived a different life now.

you were older and now responsible for two adorable little girls mimiko and nanako. they were your entire world and you made sure they knew of that spoiling them rotten with a bunch of toys and cute outfits.

aside from the girls, you and suguru’s relationship was pretty rocky to say the least—years of built up emotions and unspoken words drove a wedge between you both. for you it grew harder and harder to turn a blind eye to what he was doing.

the constant killing of non sorcerers and consuming of curses changed him as a whole. his goals became more lofty and vague rather than being practical and tangible.this often lead to hushed arguments between you both that caused you both to bring your ideologies into focus, making you question if losing everything was worth it at all.

“don’t you think this is all getting out of hand?” you asked one night, wrapping up your hair for bed. too tired to even start an argument.

“it’s extreme yes but it’s necessary.” he replied with a chilling coldness that was unlike him. it was obvious he’d thought this was the absolute truth and you couldn’t convince him otherwise.

he was too far gone.

“necessary? are you hearing yourself?” you felt your blood run cold. the man you once knew now stood before you a stranger.

“i understand it may not be to your tastes but this is the only way.” he replied curtly, signalling the end of the conversation.

he never apologised. leaving you both in the constant cycle of fighting, fucking and making up with each other. some days you’d be playing happy families, taking the girls to school or the park which made you forget about all the chaos that loomed around you.

other days were spent meeting with potential clients who sought out geto as a last resort; using up most of their life savings or last pay-check in hopes that master geto could cure them of their ails or bad luck. you pitied them the most. they were usually the elderly who rarely never made it out alive unless they paid on time.

with a man like suguru the carnage bled into all avenues of his life; his blood splatters in the hallway, the blood on the walls, even on his robes. the metallic scent of blood still lingered when he buried himself in you. no matter how many times you scrubbed yourself clean, you still felt tainted by him.

however you couldn’t dwell on these thoughts for any longer, you had a birthday to celebrate.

you stubbed out the remainders of your cigarette and headed back inside, plastering a false smile on your face as you greeted the kitchen staff. you were presented with suguru’s cake—a rich chocolate cake that had the girls scribbly hand writing in red icing making you smile.

you and the girls carried the cake and his gifts to his room being sure to knock thrice. he opened the door his usual neat top knot now spilling across his shoulders, his robes quite disheveled—yet he still looked handsome as ever.

“happy birthday papa geto!” the girls said in unison holding out their gifts for him to take. suguru’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at them, taking the gifts and setting them down on his desk.

he locked eyes with the cake and you saw a glimpse of his former self peeking through. “you did all this for me?” he looked at the girls with disbelief, feigning surprise knowing damn well he heard you and the girls causing a ruckus in the kitchen.

“yes we did papa do you like it?” nanako the more outspoken of the duo asks but nonetheless their eyes sparkle in anticipation, eagerly waiting for their dad’s approval. suguru lifts them up into his arms and looks at them with such a rare softness that they only got to see.

“i love it more than anything girls, thank you.” he peppered the girls faces with kisses making them break out into a fit of giggles as they tried to break free from his grasp.

it was a picturesque sight of domesticity that you wanted to capture and relive over and over again until it was ingrained into your mind. until you could live and breathe this moment again.

once he blew the candles and the tendrils of smoke dissipated into the morning sun. mimiko was eager to ask what he wished for but in true suguru fashion he was tight lipped about it, standing firm even after all their pestering.

mimiko and nanako eventually gave up and left to play outside, their burning curiosity fizzling out. you and suguru were left alone and it seemed like the celebratory mood died as soon the girls left the room.

“what did you wish for?” you asked into the echo chamber of the bedroom. the silence was driving you mad. “you.” he replied not missing a beat as he inched closer to you. the way he said it with such conviction almost fooled you into believing him.

your treacherous heart betrayed you once again exposing how much you missed him, how much you needed him.

“you already have me.” you said matter of factly, clearing your throat as if it would quell the conflicting feelings of desire and resentment you had towards him.

suguru picked up on your conflicting wave of emotions and paused. “sorry.” he muttered before continuing “I shouldn’t have—I should go.”

and just like that the axis between you both tilted from growing tension to mild tolerance .

you wondered if you should’ve just caved in and enjoyed the fleeting moment of pleasure he offered, knowing how good his touch felt but you knew it was for the best not to fall for it again.

maybe one day you’ll both come to an agreement that this was no longer working. but you were just fine with dancing around the topic until one of you finally had the guts to end things.

[plaguedocboi]

Tell us more about Moby Dick!! :D

Ishmael is a fascinating little specimen let me tell you. He has a reputation for being a “boring narrator” but that’s complete bullshit. Right out the gate he’s like “hello this is my (fake) name, I’m poor, I’m depressed, but luckily when I can tell I’m about to kill myself I hop my ass on a boat because the water can cure whatever’s wrong with you, also we are all being controlled by the puppet strings of the divine and free will is an illusion. It is now Page Three.”

The entire first part of the book is his story of meeting, falling in love with, and marrying a hot tattooed Polynesian man in what may be the first recorded case of the “there was only one bed” trope and it only gets wilder from there. This really caught be off guard tbh, I had no idea that there was so much gay stuff in this book.

I honestly cannot even pick my favorite Ishmael moment. Could it be him being adamantly on the wrong side of the “are whales fish or mammals” debate? That he suggests narwhal’s horns would be good for turning the pages of small books? When he hides behind the mast and eats some spermaceti because he just has to know what it tastes like? When he tattooed himself with measurements of a beached whale but rounded all the numbers because he also needed room for the poem he was writing on his arm? The gay sperm squeezing chapter? When he made his drunk listeners fetch him a priest and a Bible so he could swear he was telling the truth? And then lied????

Ishmael’s musings range from beautiful, lyrical prose that makes you stop and reread the section because damn, and chapters about How Rope Works and encyclopedic writing about the whaling industry. There are lofty theological debates and accusations about the reader being a fish. You spend much of this book wildly seasick because Ishmael’s voice is manic, hilarious, and disorienting. Once you’ve finished this story, you, too, will feel like you’ve spent three years aboard a whaling ship.

Although the unhinged tangents are often amusing, many people complain because they probably account for 90% of the book with only the remaining 10% devoted to the plot. Surely if we just got rid of Ishmael’s Nonsense it would be better, correct? No. This is Ishmael’s memoir. He knows how it ends. These plot-delaying anecdotes are purposeful; he does not want to reach the end because it is The End. The death of his friends and his husband. The inevitable, unforgiving blade of fate that slices the lives of of the Pequod’s crew short and leaves him alone and adrift at sea. Enjoy his journey, because it may seem long now but it ends all too soon.

[gorgugplushie]

Sprunki.. religous hcs. W sm spec bio.

THE GREAT HARMONY, is the main religion that most sprunkis follow, it is considered a pagan practice that celebrates the diversity of sprunkis and unites them in their sound and music, spunkis celebrate the great harmony with festivals and performances, sprunkis believe the great harmony can influence emotions, create emotions and alter existence. A balance must be kept and all sprunkis must play their part, no matter how small.

Jevin comes for a cultist upbringing that diverges from this belief. The cult believes there is only a select few truly attuned to the great harmony, and it is the great harmonys will to correct and preach to the masses, to sway them from their pagan belief and tune their music to the one and only correct harmony. Choir song is the only form of music allowed in this cult and they turn their noses up at any other form of diverging sound, seeing it as an upfront to the true sound. Jevin sees himself as a redeemer to the rest of the sprunkis, believing it is his will to turn them to the right path. The cultist believe if enough sprunkis are attuned to the true sound, they all will finally live with the great harmony in their otherworldly afterlife. Cultist choirs are strict and rigid with young being raised to follow one song for the rest of their lives.

All sprunkis are adapted to fit their region, other than the sprunkis we know, there are sea sprunkis, finely tuned to living life out in the ocean, while some have catered to a more pirate esque lifestyle, most live out on sea, occasionally coming on land.

Their sounds are exclusive to those that can travel underwater, able to create beautiful lofty music with clicks. Some akin to sirensong or a conch being blown. They can truly get massive, and their bodies are fitted with horns made to make cutting through water easier. They mainly live on a diet of fish, seaweed, clams and crabs, some going as far to hunt and eat sharks.

Choirs that live on land have adapted to hunting their prey by foot, being able to stalk smaller prey like rabbit and birds and take down larger prey such as fawn by hunting in packs. Larger pray is hunted by giving chase, nipping and biting to slow their prey down and disable it.

Sprunkis can eat their meat raw but are evolved enough to have learned how to make tanning racks for drying and curing meat for later, sprunkis are also known to take the hides of their prey for clothing and using the fur for their burrows.

Sprunkis that live on the sea are extremely superstitious, many believe in seeing omens in the life and nature around them, and do readings. while some believe in the great harmony, others follow the long call, a branch of the great harmony, one that believes that the great harmony exudes a long low bellow that all sprunkis must try their best to hear, and follow. Sprunkis that live at sea are adapted to crafting potions and poisons. These rituals are used in their religious belief.

[pi-ying-xi]

I find it more plausible that Murong Jinghe would have a doctor inject leeches into his body, and that would somehow generate an antidote that would cure the poison in Mei Lin's body; all while silently enduring pain others would find hard to bear...

...than that Luomei has fallen so deeply in love with the crown prince, that she is able to put aside her lofty principles to stand by the man she knows has lied and schemed, committed mass murder and has even gone so far as to poison the emperor.

Another actor might have made it convincing; just not this one.

[toanw]

alchepre civilian profiles! cure forms

[gofancyninjaworld]

'I Don't Want To Cure Cancer' OPM Edition

With apologies to Spiderman.

Let's go round and interview a few scientists in OPM, shall we?

Us: Dr. Bofoi, we can't help but notice the extraordinary speed with which you cleared City A and erected a new headquarters, all at a small fraction of the cost that would have been expected. Beyond that, we notice that your capacity to build at scale is unparalleled. With so many people losing their homes to monster attacks and other disasters, why don't you take the next step and cure homelessness?

Dr. Bofoi: I don't want to cure homelessness. I want to bill the Hero Association for every Yen I can get. I assure you, it's going to a far more important cause. Actually, more importantly, how did you get in here?

____

Us: Dr. Kuseno, your endeavours in supporting the hero Demon Cyborg are truly extraordinary. Once people thought the dream of near-infinite clean energy from nuclear power to be a pipe dream, yet you appear to have solved this problem in an incredibly compact and robust way. Why don't you use your technology to cure energy shortage and usher in a new industrial revolution?

Dr Kuseno: Lol, I fear you may have mistaken me for someone with lofty ideals. I don't aspire to anything as grand as a new industrial revolution. I don't mind doing the odd good deed, but my aims are far more simple: I want to develop a killer cyborg through whom I can pour out the fullness of my burning rage against my enemies.

___

Us: Dr. Genus, you have not only understood the rules of life far better than any person but have rewritten them entirely. With your army of you, there are few fields that you do not have a purview of. Perhaps the most amazing thing you could do would be to harness your ability to clone flesh indefinitely to cure world hunger and stop the depredation of the natural world to feed humanity. How about it?

Dr. Genus: Starving is about all the unimproved mass of humanity deserves. I have no interest in curing world hunger. I just want somebody intelligent enough to talk to. Pause Which you most certainly aren't.

[for-thebelievingwomen]

Read, Reflect, Take Heed

The rectification of the heavens of the earth and the uprightness and order of the creation in such a perfect manner is from the most obvious proofs that there is none worthy of worship except Allāh alone without any partners, to Him alone belongs complete sovereignty and praise, He is able to do all things and that every other thing that is worshipped besides Him from the lofty heavens by the mighty throne to the depths of the earth is worshipped in falsehood.

[Source: The Disease and The Cure Pg.445 By Ibn al-Qayyim | Translated by Osman Hamid | Published by: Hikmah Publications]

[snezus-christ-risen]

Somehow this two part En//canto fic turned into four parts?? That’s hedonism, baby! This one has some sneeze references but it’s light on the actual sneezing. Consider it the calm before the storm. Sorry for all the Spanish but I trust you’re all adults who can google if you don’t understand lol. Lots of love to anyone who likes, reblogs, or even just reads this and goes about their day. Thank you for partaking in my literary gruel.

Stubborn Things, Part II - Intermezzo

(Part I - https://www.tumblr.com/snezus-christ-risen/747603245128712192/i-am-both-pleased-and-ashamed-to-debut-my)

Things were not going smoothly.

Somewhere between most of the family heading out to town and Julieta collecting the plates to be washed, Bruno absconded from the room. Typical. She only took her eyes off him for a few seconds, but that was all he ever needed. He could still move pretty fast for someone who just returned from a ten-year sojourn complaining of sore joints and back pain.

Julieta tracked him down with help from Antonio and the two rats that had joined them at breakfast. “They’re worried about him,” Antonio reported, when Julieta asked why they were so quick to “rat” out their companion. He stopped and seemed to listen to the impassioned squeaks of the rat riding on his right shoulder before continuing. “And they’re tired of getting scared and shooken around every time he sneezes.”

Julieta couldn’t help but chuckle. If those noiseless stifles were enough to startle his rodents, she couldn’t imagine how they would handle his sneezes at full force. Once upon a time, the youngest Madrigal triplet was notorious for his huge, house-rattling sneezes. There were times when they quite literally rattled the house, confirming that Casita was not immune to being startled. His sneezing was just as much an annoyance for his mother and sisters as it was a source of amusement. They used to joke that as the man of the house, his sneeze had to be imposing (especially since nothing else about him was). Bruno never found it as amusing as they did and was very much embarrassed by his lack of volume control. Pepa swore he was loud for attention, but Julieta knew he hated the scrutiny and would have given anything to be invisible when it happened. No matter how hard he tried, he just never seemed to be able to get a grip on it.

All of that changed the night Dolores received her gift. Nearly blowing out his niece’s newly hyper-sensitive eardrums was traumatic enough for him to commit to finding an immediate solution. Even if that solution was learning to painfully stifle his sneezes for the rest of his life. Dolores learned to control her gift to some degree, but even with her explicit permission, and the reassurance that his sneezes were but a drop in the ocean of sounds that bombarded her daily, Bruno clung to the habit. It became another form of self-inflicted punishment in his extensive repertoire.

Surely the practice was a boon in the walls, but there was no use for it now. His method seemed to draw more attention and admonishments than ever before; it truly served no purpose under these conditions except to self flagellate. Julieta resolved to help him break this behavior once and for all, but she would have to find him and cure his cold first. She tried not to overthink the loftiness of these goals.

At least finding him was easy enough. The rats led them to the downstairs sitting room, where they found Bruno slumped on the floor between the chaise lounge and a bookshelf. It reminded Julieta of how he used to play hide and seek with her girls, tucking himself away in the most obvious of places just to make them laugh. With the hood of his ruana up and most of his face in shadow, his expression was hard to read; she suspected it lacked the mirth those memories carried for them. Julieta reached down to touch his head gingerly, frowning at the heat that radiated from his skull.

“Brunito,” she said, lowering her hand.

It was more of a gentle command than a greeting. He didn’t decline her helping hand, to her surprise and relief. With a groan and some effort - more than it should have taken, even at their age - Bruno got to his feet. Once he was as upright as he was going to get he leaned into her, allowing himself to be guided back towards the kitchen. His docility was convenient but concerning, a sign that he was too ill to flee or put up a fight.

Antonio suddenly grabbed her other hand, uncertain as he looked up at his tía for further guidance. Julieta felt bad for involving him for this long already. She was still working on not treating the children like little adults, as had been their family’s tradición tóxico for as long as she could remember.

“Gracias, Antonio,” she said, ruffling his curls as she tightened her arm around her brother’s shoulders. “You were a big help this morning. Your tío will be good as new once I’m through with him, won’t you, tío?”

Right on cue, Bruno flashed his nephew a weak smile and a thumbs-up. It was all Antonio needed to feel reassured. He stretched his arms as wide as he could to hug his aunt and uncle simultaneously, then climbed up onto his jaguar.

“Feel better, tío,” he said, giving a little goodbye wave as they lurched towards the front door. “I’m going to see if Abuela needs my help now. Los quiero!”

“Gracias, pollito,” Bruno said, his voice straining against something more than just emotion. “Te queremos.”

As soon as the front door closed he folded into his sister’s side with a series of spluttering coughs. Julieta held him steady and rubbed his back, shushing his choked apologies and flinching as her hand bumped against a mysterious lump. No sooner did it disappear than she heard a thump and the scrabbling of tiny claws against the tiles. Malditas ratas en todas partes. Such a nuisance, but she had to admit their concern for him was sweet. She could hear the pitter patter of at least a dozen little feet as she and Bruno resumed their cortège toward the kitchen.

His body felt warm against hers and his collar was damp with sweat. He was sniffling more after his coughing fit; Julieta could feel his nose scrunching up against her shoulder where his face was buried. When they were just a few steps from the kitchen he stopped abruptly, causing Julieta to nearly trip over their feet.

“Estás bien?” she asked, working to regain her balance and his.

Bruno responded with a series of urgent breaths, scrambling to tuck his nose into the folds of his ruana. Julieta winced as his body shook against her twice, both sneezes tightly and painstakingly contained. She found herself blessing him rather than scolding him, and actively suppressing the urge to do the latter. She didn’t have the heart to kick him this time, either, and quite frankly, she was concerned she might hurt an innocent rat if she tried. Instead she waited patiently while he struggled towards a third sneeze that had no interest in making an appearance. Keeping one arm wrapped around her waist, Bruno lifted the other to hover indecisively in front of his face. A quick glance at the cloudless sky above the courtyard prompted a few breaths that sounded promising, but ultimately failed to deliver. For some reason he didn’t use that little light trick of his again; Julieta suspected he was growing too self-conscious and chose to accept defeat in lieu of further embarrassment.

“Híjole,” was all he could say as he leaned into her again, sounding as woozy as he looked.

“Pobrecito,” Julieta crooned, handing him a napkin from her apron pocket.

They continued on, Julieta keeping a close eye on her brother in case he decided to pull another surprise stop. He did, but only to dig through a pocket and throw salt over his left shoulder. Then he sucked in a breath, held it, and knocked against the doorframe as they crossed the threshold into the kitchen. Julieta snuck in a knock or two along with him.

Just in case.

[chavisory]

Assuming that the only way to engage particular disability communities in the arts is through art therapy is insulting and demeaning. It suggests that the attempt to offer cure or rehabilitation is the only way that able-bodied and neurotypical people can interact with people with disabilities. It may also inadvertently suggest that the arts belong to able-bodied and neurotypical people, who must give or bring the arts to people with disabilities. In fact, writers and artists with disabilities all too often encounter a prejudice that sees their work as therapy: reducing the work of artists with disabilities to the status of therapy is patronizing and devalues their art.

Sonya Freeman Loftis, Shakespeare and Disability Studies

[lifeofresulullah]

The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): Calling the Tribes to Islam, the Allegiances of Aqaba and Migration to Madinah

The Prophet Arrives in Madinah

The Muslims of Madinah heard that the Messenger of Allah had set off for Madinah from Makkah. Therefore, they went to the place called Harra after the morning prayer every day and waited there impatiently until the weather got very hot at noon.

One day, they waited for the arrival of the Prophet for a long time as usual and returned when they saw that it became very hot.

Meanwhile, a Jewish person who was on the roof of his house saw a few people in white clothes walking through the hot desert, mirages and fog. He knew that Muslims were waiting for the Messenger of Allah. He could not help shouting, “O community of Arabs! The person you have been waiting for is coming!” giving Muslims the good news. 

This good news traveled like lightning among the streets of Madinah. The city was like a place of festival because the person who offered peace and happiness to humanity was coming. Muslims took their weapons and ran toward that area.

They reached the Prophet and Hazrat Abu Bakr while they were resting in the shade of a date tree. Hazrat Abu Bakr was standing near the Prophet. They greeted the Master of the Universe, for whom they had been waiting excitedly, impatiently and longingly, who was in a white garment, and started to stare at his luminous blessed face.

After having a rest for a while in the shade of the date tree, the Messenger of Allah and his friends proceeded to the village of Quba, which was to the right of Madinah, together with the people who came from Madinah to welcome them.  

It was a very hot day in the month of Rabiulawwal.

The sun was sending its arrows made of fire down to the earth. The Messenger of Allah and the group of believers with him arrived at the village of Quba, which was an hour away from the city of Madinah, before noon. He went to the house of Kulthum b. Hidam, the leader of Banu Amr b. Awf. The fast journey on the scorching sand exhausted the Prophet. He decided to stay in Quba for a while due to the wishes of the people who wanted to talk to him.

The Prophet stayed in the house of Kulthum b. Hidam, who was quite old, at night and went to the house of Sa’d b. Haythama, who was a single Companion, during the day in order to talk to the Muslims. Besides, the other single Companions stayed in his house, too. Therefore, his house was called “Daru’l-Uzab [the House of Bachelors]”. 

Hazrat Ali Rejoins the Prophet

Hazrat Ali had stayed in Makkah in order to return the valuables and goods that the Qurayshis entrusted to the Prophet to their owners due to the order of the Prophet.

Hazrat Ali fulfilled this duty and left Makkah three days after the Prophet left. He rejoined the Prophet when he was in Quba. His feet had swollen and blistered because he had walked all the way. The Prophet hugged him in tears, prayed for him so that his feet will recover and rubbed them with his hand. God Almighty cured his feet at once. The blisters and pains in his feet disappeared. 

CONSTRUCTION OF THE QUBA MOSQUE

The Messenger of Allah stayed for more than ten nights in the house of Banu Amr b. Awf. During this period, he established the Quba Mosque and performed prayers in it.  

Although some Muslims built a mosque for themselves before the mosque established by the Prophet, the first mosque built for the community of Islam is the Quba Mosque.

The Messenger of Allah himself worked in the construction of this lofty mosque, which was built on Kulthum b. Hidam’s land, where he dried his dates. Once, the Prophet was carrying a very heavy stone. One of the Companions approached him and said, “O Messenger of Allah! May my father and mother be sacrificed for you. Give it to me.” The Prophet said to him, “No, I won’t! Get another stone.”, expressing that he got pleasure from working. Thus, he served as a model with his efforts and hard work along with his other good attributes like, worship, taqwa, loyalty, mercy, resoluteness and courage.

Observing his efforts and hard work, Muslims worked enthusiastically without showing any signs of laziness or fatigue. The Prophet did not stop working until the construction of the mosque finished; he did not treat himself differently from other Muslims.

Importance and Superiority of the Quba Mosque

The Quba Mosque is a blessed monument of the luminous and magnificent period that started with the migration of the Messenger of Allah and that continued especially with his arrival at the village of Quba. Therefore, it was defined as a “mosque of taqwa” in the Quran. The following is stated in the relevant verse:

“There is a mosque whose foundation was laid from the first day on piety; it is more worthy of thy standing forth (for prayer) therein. In it are men who love to be purified; and Allah loveth those who make themselves pure!” 

The Respectable Prophet always went to the Quba Mosque on Saturdays during his life sometimes on foot and sometimes riding and performed prayers there. Besides, he encouraged believers to perform prayers there giving the good news that a person who performed prayers in that blessed mosque in a nice and clean way would receive the reward of an umra.

The Quba Mosque is significant and important because it was built in a period when the barriers in front of Islam started to be removed gradually and the development and advancement of Islam started.

Suhayb b. Sinan Goes to Quba

Suhayb b. Sinan was one of the helpless and lonely Muslims who were exposed to the tortures of polytheists. When the Prophet was given the permission to migrate to Madinah, he could not find an opportunity to leave Makkah.

When he saw that Hazrat Ali was about to migrate, he packed his things, and set off. When some Makkans saw him, they followed him and said, “When you came here, you were poor; you became rich here. You want to take your wealth with you. We will not let you do it!”

Acting upon the courage based on his belief, Suhayb dismounted and took his arrows out of his bag. He said to the Qurayshis, who were trying to stop him from migrating, “You know that I am one of the best archers among you. I will shoot all of my arrows; if I run out of arrows, I will draw my sword! As long as I have one of them with me, I will not let you approach me!”

The polytheists could not answer this heroic call back. They knew that this hero of Islam would not surrender easily. On the one hand, there was Suhayb b. Sinan, who stood up with the courage supported by his belief; on the other hand, there were polytheists who were afraid due to the polytheism in their hearts.

Then, Suhayb made them this offer:

“Will you let me go if I show you where all my wealth is and leave it to you?”

The polytheists, who loved worldly possessions so much, said, “Yes…”

Hazrat Suhayb left his wealth to them and migrated on the way of Allah in order to practice his religion and belief freely.

He rejoined the Messenger of Allah in Quba in the middle of the month of Rabiulawwal. He had a pain in his eye on the way and he was very hungry. There was a bunch of fresh palms with leaves in front of the Prophet, Hazrat Abu Bakr and Hazrat Umar. Hazrat Suhayb started to eat the fresh dates immediately.

Hazrat Umar said, “O Messenger of Allah! Do you see Suhayb? He says he has a pain in his eye and he is eating fresh dates!”

When the Messenger of Allah said, “O Suhayb! You have a pain in your eye but you are eating fresh dates.”, he said,  “O Messenger of Allah! I am eating them with the sound part of my eye.” This witty answer made the Prophet smile.

Then, Hazrat Suhayb said, “O Messenger of Allah! When you left Makkah, the polytheists imprisoned me. I gave them my wealth and bought (saved) my family and myself!”

The Messenger of Allah said, “Suhayb won! Suhayb won! Abu Yah¬ya! The sale turned out to be profitable! The sale turned out to be profitable!”  He gave the good news and made Suhayb very happy. 

Then, the following verse was sent down:

“And there is the type of man who gives his life to earn the pleasure of Allah; and Allah is full of kindness to (His) devotees.” 

They Leave Quba

After staying in Quba more than ten nights, the Messenger of Allah set off to Madinah on Friday. He was on his camel, Qaswa. Hazrat Abu Bakr was behind him; there were about one hundred people with weapons from Banu Najjar, from the tribe of his maternal uncles and many Muslims of Madinah on the right and on the left.

The scene was challenging, pleasing and hopeful. The Messenger of Allah, who was left alone in Makkah, was being accompanied by hundreds of luminous people! They were uttering takbirs (Allahu Akbar); their hearts were full of joy. They had waited for the Prophet, who presented them with the real belief and Islam, which is the source of the happiness in the world and in the hereafter, impatiently for days. Now, they were experiencing and feeling the unmatched joy of meeting him.

FIRST FRIDAY PRAYER IN MADINAH

During the journey, the Messenger of Allah turned to the left side and reached the land of Banu Salim b. Awf. When they arrived at a place called Ranuna, it was time for the Friday prayer. The Prophet dismounted his camel in the middle of the Ranuna valley, the place of the Friday Mosque, and performed the Friday prayer there.

It was the first Friday prayer the Prophet performed in Madinah.

The Prophet recited two sermons, one after the other, there. After thanking and praising Allah, he addressed the Muslims as follows:

“O people! Make preparations for the hereafter when you are healthy. You know very well that every one of you will be asked about the sheep that you left without a shepherd on the Day of Judgment. Then, God Almighty will say to him, without any intermediary, directly, ��Did My Messenger not come and inform you? I gave you property and I granted you many bounties. What did you prepare for yourself?’ That person will look to the right and left but will not see anything. When he looks to the front, he will see nothing but Hell! Then, anyone who can save himself from the fire even with a half date should give it away at once. If he cannot find a half date, he should save himself by kalima at-tayyiba [nice word]. Through it, one good deed is rewarded by ten to seven hundred times. May Allah’s peace, mercy and bounties be on you!” 

The Second Sermon

The Messenger of Allah stated the following in his second sermon:

“I praise Allah. I praise Allah and I ask His help. We took refuge in Allah from the evil of our souls and our bad deeds. He whom Allah guides is rightly guided; but he whom Allah leaves to stray,- for him wilt thou find no protector to lead him to the Right Way.

I witness that there is no god but Allah. He is One; He has no partners.

The best word is the word of Allah. A person whose heart Allah decorates with the Quran, whom Allah includes in Islam though he was an unbeliever, who prefers the Quran to other words will definitely be saved.

Doubtlessly, the Book of Allah is the most beautiful and eloquent word. Love what Allah loves. Love Allah heartily. Do not get tired of the word of Allah and mentioning the names and attributes of Allah. Do not let the word of Allah cause gloom in your heart because the word of Allah distinguishes the best ones among everything. It informs you about the best deeds, the prophets, who are the most distinguished people, and the best stories; it states what is halal and haram. Worship Allah and do not associate any partners with Him. Fear Him truly.  

Do good deeds and confirm them with your tongue.

Love one another with the word of Allah. Know very well that Allah punishes severely those who break their promise.

May Allah’s peace be upon you!” 

In the first pledge of Aqaba, the Muslims of Madinah had promised to protect the Messenger of Allah fully when he arrived in their land.

After staying in Quba for a while, the Messenger of Allah was about to enter Madinah, the heart of their land; it was time for them to keep their promise.

Therefore, the Messenger of Allah finished the second sermon by stating that God Almighty would punish severely those who broke their promise.

[geddy-leesbian]

Sneak peek at a rough draft of the Winterserra wedding + a little bit of the "honeymoon" for Father's Day (mostly happy but one bittersweet scene) :3

The first few days after Rosa's birth are slow and quiet. All Luis really does is sleep and gaze at Rosa with misty eyes, still absolutely baffled that a screw up like him made something so flawless.

While Ethan doesn't get any one on one time with her, due to her preferring Luis and him being obsessed and wanting her laying on his chest whenever he's awake, Ethan still keeps all the lofty promises he made about how Luis wouldn't have to lift a finger because he'd go all out taking care of them. Luis gets at least three meals a day brought to him in bed and a steady supply of any and all snacks he asks for. Ethan helps Luis get up and to the bathroom. Luis insists on being the one to bottle feed her whenever he's awake, but Ethan is the one to go downstairs to get the formula bottles ready.

Ethan also takes a lot of pictures, somewhat because of Luis. Every time Ethan wanted to take a picture of Luis while he was pregnant, he let him, but also playfully rolled his eyes and poked fun at how silly it was that Americans always wanted to take pictures of everything all the time, not just special occasions. But now that Rosa is here, he gets it. He wants every tiny little moment with her preserved forever. Every yawn, hiccup, all her adorable little mushroom pajama sets and princess dresses, Luis wants it all documented forever. Ethan is all too happy to indulge, snapping dozens of pictures of her everyday.

Once Luis is recovered enough to be up on his feet again by himself, activity in the household picks back up. Ethan takes up wedding planning and logistics of them relocating to Valdelobos for a few months. Luis is just too occupied with other things to contribute much. He was itching to get back down into the lab and back at work finding a cure for Ethan, and Rosa too. So far he's found no evidence she's infected, but since he was dosing himself with the mold growth suppressant during pregnancy and giving her the suppressant directly since birth, he's concerned that she is still infected and the suppressant has just done a good job keeping it at an undetectable level. Curing her is still as important as curing Ethan, because he doesn't want her to spend the rest of her life dependent on the injections.

And on top of that, Luis ends up being the primary caregiver. While she does start to warm up to Ethan more, she definitely still has a favorite and has days where she's fussy and only wants Luis, crying until Ethan hands her to Luis. When he's downstairs working, she's either strapped to his chest or in a little bassinet right by his chair. (Ethan still gets plenty of time with her, taking her for a little bit when he brings Luis lunch, doing some of her feedings, sometimes reading to her at bedtime.)

The “wedding planning” isn't exactly hard. It's just a small backyard ceremony, they're not even going to make any of it legal/official for a long while yet. The existence of Rosa María Winters will remain a closely guarded secret until both her and her father are completely cured of the mold, and no longer valuable targets to unsavory scientists. So it's truly a tiny wedding, the only guests being Claire, Sherry, Chris, Rebecca, and, of course, Rosa as the guest of honor, strapped to Luis's chest in her carrier with a pink rose headband. It's the first time Sherry and Chris meet her in person, so Luis and Ethan were excited about showing her off, especially now that she was getting even cuter, features she inherited from Luis beginning to show. Her hair was still dark like his, and her complexion was starting to get tanner too. Her facial features weren't as obvious yet, but the fact she definitely got his coloring is enough to make him happy.

What came after the wedding was harder to figure out– the logistics of moving to Valdelobos with a tiny baby. (Who can't be taken on a normal plane because she doesn't legally exist.) But Ethan figured it out. Chris has a private plane ready for them after the wedding, and Ethan had packed all the essentials they needed to take with them, mostly sentimental things. Once in Spain they buy a truck to load everything into before shopping for everything they'd need that Ethan didn't feel was worth bringing on a plane.

“Just tell me when you start getting tired at all,” Ethan says while they walk from the truck to the village square. Luis has Rosa in her carrier and a small backpack with her light necessities, the standard diaper bag supplies, plus some extra clothing and her favorite toy. Ethan has a heavier weight on his back, Rosa's folded up pack and play. He'll have to go back and make multiple trips to get everything from the truck, but wants to focus on getting Luis and Rosa settled first. “I know you think you're fully recovered, and you have come a long way, but you're still not 100%, I don't want you pushing yourself too hard.”

“I'm fine!” Luis insists. “But I do think it's hot when you pick me up and carry me around like I weigh nothing, so I won't object if you decide to carry me part of the way…”

Ethan grins and doesn't wait, immediately scooping Luis up bridal style, Rosa still safe on his chest. The movement does wake her up and startles her into crying, but settles back down with some soft comforting words from Luis. Once they reach the renovated house, she's hungry and fussy so Luis gets comfortable on the couch and gives her a ready bottle from an insulated lunch box with an ice pack, while Ethan goes back to the truck to get more of their stuff. The rest of the day is just spent getting settled in.

Luis is so paranoid about Rosa getting snatched in the night that he boards up the bedroom window. But after that he has no problem falling asleep. He is safe here. No one looking for Ethan Winters is going to start looking in a ghost town in Spain. And even if they did… Ethan came well armed and, after how attentive to all of Luis's emotions and needs, Luis has no doubts that Ethan would kill anyone that tried to fuck with their little family. Rosa sleeps well too, in her bassinet by the bed, right next to Luis.

“How are your arms doing from all the carrying you did yesterday?” Luis asks while they have breakfast the next morning. “I want to show you the cabin I grew up in, but a rowboat stored near here is the best way to get to it. The foot paths to it obviously haven't been maintained, and have become too overgrown to use easily, but you can get there quick taking a boat across the lake. But I understand if you need time to recover, you did all of the work yesterday, after all.”

“We can go soon. Don't forget I have magic mold,” Ethan smiles while he talks. He never would have smiled so casually about it before, but becoming a father has helped him embrace his infection. “But I'm guessing it'll be a long outing? I'll have to pack everything Rosa might need before we go, and some food for us too. I bet she'll love it. There was one night you fell asleep early and I was watching TV with her. I put on some nature documentary because I didn't want to rot her brain, I think she liked when it was showing the ocean. She seemed like she was watching it.”

“We got a little nature lover? She will love it here. Not a whole lot to do except stare at nature,” Luis sighs. “I really wouldn't want to stay here for so long, if it weren't for the safety aspect. I spent my whole childhood desperately wanting to get the fuck out of here, then the first time I came back I also spent the whole time wanting out, albeit for different reasons, so willingly coming back feels so strange.”

“We won't be here forever, just until we have some better safety plans. We'll figure it out. And it's not going to be as boring, now that you have someone that's never been here. Giving me a tour of everything might make the same old, same old feel a bit more exciting to you. I want to see everything.”

“Everything?”

“Everything,” Ethan confirms. “It's interesting, learning more about you.”

“I was planning to visit where I buried Leon today. I was going to alone, but– Do you..?”

“If you want to go alone, that's okay. But I was serious when I said everything. If you want me to come with you, I will. I'm not going to get jealous. He was important to you, so he's important to me.”

“I would like that. We go there before the boat, it's only a few minutes away from here.”

It's close enough that he doesn't bother getting Rosa into the carrier, opting to just carry her in his arms after getting her into one of her warmest outfits. They walk in silence. There's no tombstone, just a regular flat rock Luis had found and moved after burying Leon, and later carved his initials into. Luis hands Rosa to Ethan when they get to the clearing, then kneels down by the rock.

“Hey, Leon,” Luis looks up at Ethan, expecting to see a judgemental look for talking out loud to a dead man, but he only sees a small, supportive smile. It gives him the encouragement to really pour his heart out. “I really did it. I moved on, kept my promise to you. I'm married now. That fun guy I was telling you about last time. He's not you, but I love him with all my heart, and he does remind me of you. He's as forgiving as you. I thought I was going to get dumped for hiding the pregnancy for so long and generally being a shitty boyfriend, but he forgave me as fast as you did… By the way, the baby is okay. Better than okay. You should see her, she's perfect,” Taking that as a cue, Ethan gets closer and passes Rosa to Luis. Pleased to be back with her favorite person, she starts smiling and Luis can almost pretend it's because she knows he's talking about her. “Perfect. I don't deserve her, honestly. I love her so much, I love being a father. I still feel like I'm a shitty person, but the guilt doesn't cripple me like it used to. There was nothing right about you trading your life for mine, but trading your life for mine and Rosa María's? That's more fair.”

Luis continues to ramble to Leon. A little bit about the wedding and Ethan, but mostly about Rosa. When he's finally done he turns his head back expecting to see Ethan, and instead realizes he's gone, it's just him and Rosa. After a couple minutes of Luis doing his best to not have a panic attack, Ethan returns with a fistful of wildflowers he sets on the stone, before taking Rosa with one arm and letting Luis use the other to pull himself back up to a standing position.

“Thank you for coming with me,” Luis whispers to Ethan, pecking him on the cheek and taking Rosa back. He holds her out and raises her up above his head before shifting to an overly excited tone. “Ready to go for a fun boat ride, maybe see some fishies in the lake?!”

She smiles, waves her tiny arms around a bit, and starts making some of her happy little baby cooing noises that never fail to make Luis's heart explode.

[adureus]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀HOW OFTEN A GENTLE CHUCKLE FALLS SMOOTH FROM LIPS, punctuated by humour ⸻ he plays along, maintains her mischief. Come now, beloved. He permits her this playful edge, just as embraced in youth. Said lips find their comfort at her knuckles, a fleeting visit to their surface, lingering just so. It's all too brief .

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛  How considerate.  ❜

A week ⸻ the stretch was usual. Her absence was not. Lacking the companionship, casual banter, and hushed communication weighed on him so. Their wordless gestures, acknowledged and understood, drove confusion in others. Too reliant, too keen of routine , her leave is conspicuous. She'd round a sentence to completion. He'd honour a preference recalled. They'd orchestrate a macabre dance on the field with blades at the ready, bring about a cohesion just a touch too harmonized. She is his second-in-command, a foil to quell his step, his rationale, a curio to his heart. Where one went, the other oft did, too.

During her convalesce their duties had been altered, puzzled into unbalanced categories of wanted and unwanted, of action and passivity, and she'd been drawn the most undesired sort. She'd been tasked with administrative work. Less active, more sedentary to heed her curse, wounds, and flesh marred and tested. It's contrary to her nature. He hates restricting her so. But Tarja's word is law.

A shift in routine irked and confused not only he, but the Cursebreakers, who yearn for their captain, a steadying pillar among mercurial forces ( as she oft was paired with Clive, too ). But it was necessary until her strength returned ⸻ her wit, however, was honed as ever. And he smirks at that. Her sweet, silvered tongue : always primed with a dry responsiveness, one he could never muster nor replicate himself.

His Lady : she works too hard. Far too hard.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛  Fancy a trip to Dalimil ? I’ve heard the springs cure all manner of ills. Or perhaps we could visit the markets. How long has it been since you’ve bought something for yourself that wasn’t a blade or a gift for someone else ?  ❜

Perhaps it'll be the flight of terraces which heal, carved of ancient erosion, bleached in their substance among rolling sands. Nature is quite the architect, opting for organic beauty among Fallen relics of old, the latter's artificial, over-corrected perfection roused a certain disconnect from natural charm. Luminous blue awaits, as do the palms, towering well heavenward. Verdant. Contrasting. Lofty and remote to blackened earth and these troubled waters. He'd permit the opportunistic encroach of laziness, the swaddling of comfortable heat which sought to melt away what ailed their bones in these desolate, stagnant times. Home at present was a far-cry from spectacle.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀↪ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐃.   ╱  @nievea