#it better not be as a result of an utter lack of continuity from this movie

[death-and-his-maiden]

am doing my customary/obligatory comfort rewatch of last wish for sick reasons and it's really funny to me to see puss recount his lost lives in the doctor's office and cap off with "and then there was the giant today" as if this monumental dipshit didnt get taken out by the giant bell that he used to defeat the giant in the first place like yea im sure it was the giant in that tiny orange cat brain of yours bro it totally wasnt a death entirely preventable by not being a constantly insufferable and self-aggrandizing douchebag nah you got done in by your own selfless heroism right gimme a fuckin break man death gave you some character development that was desperately needed cant wait for shrek 5 btw

[pizzaapeteer]

coming from a sleepy girl rn, i just really wanted to write something tiny, about sleepy Mattheo who I wanna wrap up in my clothes

“Mattheo!” Another attempt at calling after the rugged boy falls short on his ears and you huff with exhaustion. Having followed behind the disappearing shadow, and snow covered footsteps for the past few corners struggling with little efforts to catch up. He trudged with his hands shoved in his pockets to battle the cold, walking along the aisles down the courtyard.

He wasn’t even walking that fast, a lethargic dawdle much like that of tortoise - yet it still made for a much quicker pace than your shorter legs. They moved with haste finally breaking into a run, being careful not to slip on the snowy cobblestones. Now within distance, you reach, taking ahold of his arm to grab his attention. “Matty!”

His head jerks with sluggish movements at the sound of your exasperated voice, a soft huh exhaling out as he halts his steps barely having time to grip onto your wrist before you can skid straight past him. His voice is low and filled with heavy sleep, his eyes lifting with recognition and he smiles tiredly. “Oh hey baby...what’s up?”

His body radiates with low energy like a car barely keeping its engine alive, unlike his usual comical suave self. His eyes are weary, while his neck struggles to hold the heavy head nearing a dramatic droop. He doesn't want you to fuss over his lack of sleep, knowing these are the consequences of his overachieving cocky attitude, resulting in another essay left last minute and an all-nighter cram.

So he just continues to give you a smile but doesn't say anything deciding with the little part of his brain still functioning, that keeping his mouth shut is best.

You raise an amused brow at his exhausted tone, and grin at his adorable lazy smile, “Good morning! Are you trying to freeze yourself to death!?” You examine his lack of extra layers with a disapproval gaze, dressed in only sweatpants and a hoodie which you assumed he slept in.

He watches the small scoff you let out, the way those pretty eyes of yours roll playfully at his ridiculous lack of care for warmth. Before the heat and softness of your own beanie is squashed down over his curls with a tight pull snuggly. “You look cold.” You comment with concern. "And tired."

He doesn’t protest too tired to even utter a mere grumble as his head jerks sideways in your assault of motherly warmth. He likes when you do things for him, makes him feel special and needed. “Mm’fine baby, I’m not” he pauses, extending his sentence to mid yawn, “-cold at all.” His soft brown eyes continue to blink back the battling sleep threatening to consume him as he denies your words.

“Uh huh, yeah well I say differently.” Your lips brim into a sweet adoring smile, studying his features closely. The tip of his nose beginning to scarlet from the cold, his eyelashes fluttering again as he looks down at you with a droopy lidded gaze trying to stop another ambush of yawns, the warmth of your clothes making him extra sleepy.

He offers a small smile, finally humming a tired acknowledgement at your comment, he knows better than to argue with you. Especially in his weak and weary state. His fingers tighten their grip around the fabric of your coat bringing you further into his embrace, wishing he was more awake to touch you properly. They drum, flexing in an impatient fidget, while happy to see you he knows he's going to be useless towards you until he continues his original goal of obtaining a fuckload of caffeine.

"Did you sleep at all mattheo?"

"mm, maybe..." He comments, rubbing the palm of his hand into his eyes with another deep yawn. "or am I'm asleep right now?.. I do already dream of you." His body jerks forwards at the sudden tug of your scarf now hung around his neck, his feet shuffling between your legs. "woah hey."

You laugh pushing aside your interest in his bad habits, flattered by his ability to charm you on the brink of exhaustion. "does this happen in your dreams?" Leaning up, your hands caress his cold cheeks and grant him a sweet good morning kiss. A burst of warmth and goodness floods him and he groans, brushing his hand into your hair.

It’s quick and soft and when you part you stay close to him, resting your warm lips brushed up against his. “how are you so cute even when your half dead, and looking adorable in my clothes.”

His laugh is soft and breathless, and he offers a slightly brighter grin, "It's called talent baby, and we do far more than just kissing in my dreams." He sighs, "but fuck if I don't get coffee in me soon I will be a deadless zombie all day.

“What my kisses aren’t enough to zing you awake?”

“Nope.”

You laugh rolling your eyes at his blunt answer, knowing whenever he’s this needy for coffee there’s no schmoozing him over. “Alright sleepy boy I’ll lead the way.” The warmth of your hand slides into his, and with an easy tug you lead your poor sleepy boyfriend towards the only thing with a stronger hold over you; a hot cup of jo. ⤷ navigation. ⤷ masterlist. ⤷ mattheo masterlist. ty for reading! ©️pizzaapeteer 2025.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Don't Mess With The Doctor's Wife 💘 | Carlisle Cullen Snippet

Twilight Masterlist Part 1

Characters & Pairings: Carlisle Cullen x female!vampire!reader (romantic), Bella Swan x Edward Cullen, Edward Cullen x reader (platonic)

Content warnings: fluff, light angst, suggestive themes right at the end | female reader (she/her) | wc: 1.4k

Premise: Just some good ole fluff of a married vampire couple of a few dumbass teen immortals.

Note: So many people loved 'The Doctor's Wife' and asked if I could continue it! not sure if I'll make it long imagines but I definitely plan on making small snippets like this that is good ole fluff of the golden couple of the Cullens dealing with their chaotic teenage immortal children. Enjoy and thank you so much for the positive reception on my work!

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

“Honey….,” Carlisle leaned against the door of their bedroom, treading carefully on water he knew better than to cross. But their whole family dynamic was at stake and as the patriarch--and coven leader--he needed to fix it. 

Without any bloodshed.

Her glare, however, spoke against his hopes for peace. “Don’t honey me, Carlisle Cullen.” Clothes flung everywhere, the room in utter disarray contrary to its usually unkempt nature. “He is being ridiculous and you know it.” Tossing a pair of Manolo Blahnik pumps into the suitcase she gave him another look, “And yes, I know he can hear me.” Carlisle had opened his mouth, but closed it, his wife not having to the mind reader in the family to know what he was about to say. 

“You have every right to be upset. I’m not happy about the situation either, but we have to do what’s best for our family.”

Carlisle came over to where she was, beginning to pack his clothes into his own suitcase. Brushing away the stray hairs that fell from her hair scarf, Y/n’s eyes turned serious, “What happened was unfortunate--and it is a shame Bella got hurt. He’s been beating himself over it the entire weekend and I understand that, Carlisle. But what I don’t appreciate is him uprooting us and using you as the excuse.”

Following Bella’s birthday party gone wrong, Edward didn’t waste a second in making the executive decision to the family that they had to leave Forks. Saying they were a danger to Bella and to ensure her safety and no more harm comes to her as a result of his doing, they needed to remove themselves from the picture. And Edward’s genius move was to tell Bella it was because the staff at the hospital were starting to notice Carlisle’s lack of aging. 

“His concern is valid. We’ve been here four years now. It was bound to happen.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve heard people talk at the hospital?” She challenged.

“I don’t need to hear them say it aloud, Y/n,” he tells her with a knowing look. “Their stares are enough confirmation. I had one nurse ask me last week if I had a skincare routine.” His attempt at a joke doesn't work. She doesn’t so much as crack a smile, but he tries again. “Soon they’ll be asking what botox doctor I go to.”

Y/n knew Carlisle had a point. It always happened wherever they moved. They settled down, spent maybe five or six years until all the kids graduated from high school for the hundredth time, then did it all over again. If it wasn’t nosy hospital workers, it was teachers. If it wasn’t the bakery owner she frequented asking how she managed to look 27 after seven years, then it was the engineer she was collaborating with on a project. 

“It’s not fair,” she goes on, carefully folding her dress shirts, skirts, and pants. Not looking forward to having to pack up her art studio. All the supplies, artwork, and projects she was working on. “And I feel so awful for her,” her frown made his own appear, “You see the way she looks at him. It’s utter devotion, as though he was a sentient being sent from the heavens. And Edward,” her voice drops to a whisper, “he worships the ground she walks on. And this decision not only punishes her, it punishes him.”

The pair fall into a silence when the front door opens and slams shut. Edward’s lingering scent disapparating, causing Y/n to groan and place her head in her hands. The anger and not caring if her adoptive son heard her rant suddenly vanished. Replaced with shame. 

Carlisle sighs, setting down the pile of towels he folded to walk over to her. Gently grabbing her shoulders, he brings Y/n into a comforting embrace, letting his hands fall to her waist, allowing her to sink into his arms with a content hum. 

“Listen to me,” she closes her eyes, not wanting to meet his gaze where she’ll find judgement. “I sound ridiculous--and I’m being unfair to him and his feelings on the matter.”

“You care for him dearly,” Carlisle strokes her hair, “he understands that. And I think deep down he knows you’re right, but won’t admit to it because he believes he’s doing the right thing for Bella.” Carlisle leans back to look into her eyes, “Remember, he was turned at a young age--and has never experienced this type of love before. He’s learning all this for the first time.”

“I know,” she mumbles, deflated but understanding. They stayed in their embrace for a few minutes before separating to continue packing up. Edward returned later that night with brighter eyes, indicating he had fed to which resolved some of the tension between the two when they finally sat down to have the conversion they’d been dreading. Him apologizing for uprooting the family suddenly, and for the harm he was to cause Bella. And Y/n apologizing for the words she spoke before he left. They hugged it out, neither able to stay mad at the other, and Edward helped her pack the art room throughout the remainder of the night. 

The time away from Forks was odd but somewhat comforting. Carlisle and Y/n decided to spend their time on the island they owned just off the coast of Brazil. Rosalie and Emmett traveled to New York, Alice and Jasper in Mississippi and Edward in Rio de Janeiro. They spoke on the phone frequently, sent letters and postcards, or emailed. Edward would spend a night or two on the island to hunt, Y/n painted canvas after canvas, and Carlisle worked on a medical textbook he was in the process of writing.

“You hear that?” She asked one night when they were cuddling on the couch. A random movie playing on the TV.

“What?”

“It’s quiet,” she whispered, a grin spreading on her lips. “No kids. No animals. No workers. Absolute silence.” Carlisle mirrored her smile. 

“You’re right. We haven’t had complete silence in ages.”

“More like eighty years--give or take,” she snorted. 

When the shit hit the fan in Italy, Y/n nearly killed Edward herself. Not just for the danger he put himself in but for the whole family. Alice and Rosalie also met her wrath--Rosalie for not explaining clearly to Edward the vision, and Alice for dragging Bella to Italy. 

Yeah, none of them wanted the smoke. 

The sight of the three siblings sitting on the couch with their heads down and twiddling their thumbs while Y/n paced in front of them while shouting a motherly tangent had Emmett straining to hold back his laughter. Carlisle didn’t dare intervene. 

Back in Forks the family settled back into their routines. Carlisle in the hospital and Y/n working on projects. The kids in school and planning for the summer. 

Then shit hit the fan again.

This time in the form of a newborn vampire army created by the red-headed lover of the tracker they disposed of the year prior. Victoria. And she was out for revenge against Edward and Bella. 

Y/n was not the fighting type, but that didn’t mean she did not know how to throw down. She could get her hands dirty if she desired. Emmett and Jasper taught her the ropes, Edward taught her how to anticipate opponents moves. 

“C’mon old man!” she dodged Carlisle’s attack, giggling as she pivoted to kick lightly at his chest. “Don’t be getting sleepy on me now. That’s not like you.” Carlisle smirked, catching her off guard by grabbing her waist and flipping her onto the ground.

“I’d watch who you call old, sweetheart,” he mocked right as Jasper yelled, “Never turn your back on your enemy!” 

Let’s just say…they did more than spar that night once the sun went down. 

[anyasathenaeum]

I Need Some Sleep

A/N: Well, I wasn't kidding when I said I was gonna write the little scenario I described in this post and that nobody could stop me. I've always imagined dancing with Vash to this song from the Shrek 2 soundtrack because it reminds me so much of him. I listened to it while writing, so I encourage listening to it while you read. Enjoy. Warnings: Honestly, none, really. This one's wholesome, I swear

Sleepless nights weren't a new thing for Vash.

Over the many years he'd lived and spent wandering across the deserts of No Man's Land, he'd often found that sleep was just as elusive as the supposed Mayfly of love he had once joked about. Endless thoughts, what-ifs, and memories always seemed to haunt him once the glow of the moons was the only light left, and his mind never seemed to have an off switch. No matter what he did, no matter how many walks he took, no matter how much he tried to meditate or focus on trying to quiet his mind, sleep never seemed to come when he wanted it to.

As he stared at the ceiling of his little private cabin and listened to the steady rumble of the sandsteamer as it chugged along its route through the sand seas, Vash found himself feeling especially restless. He wondered to himself what it was that kept him awake this time - was it the usual, overwhelming sense of self-loathing he felt? Or the guilt that threatened to drown time every time he remembered that he'd failed to save somebody? Or was it just the worry he felt at the fact that you, his longtime travelling companion and one of his best and only friends, didn't end up in a cabin near his?

After what felt like at least a couple hours, Vash let out a deep sigh and gave up trying to identify the cause of his wakefulness, accepting that it was likely a result of a combination of all the things usually troubling him plus worry for you. Simultaneously, he decided to stop trying to force himself to sleep, knowing it would do him no good to continue trying at this point.

'Well... the least I can do is go make sure (Y/N)'s safe.' Vash thought to himself, standing and stretching while trying not to smash his head on the low ceiling of his cabin before quietly heading out to go check on you.

The sandsteamer almost felt abandoned. There wasn't a single soul in sight, not even a single straggler or drunk who'd lost their way back to their cabin. As Vash walked through the halls, he found himself thinking of you, wondering if you'd managed to fall asleep with the rumbling of the sandsteamer and the rare situation of having a room to yourself.

More often than not, you and Vash shared rooms and beds in inns, motels, or whatever accommodations you could find from time to time in order to save double-dollars, and the two of you were more accustomed to falling asleep with the other nearby, the sounds of the other's breathing and the way you both moved in sleep familiar to each other. So, to suddenly be greeted by complete and utter silence and a lack of your warmth was more than unsettling to Vash, more so than he cared to admit.

Not having you tucked up by his side as you slept felt... wrong.

He missed the feeling of your warmth against his body, the softness of you pressed up against him as you slept undisturbed, at peace by his side, peace that he brought you. He missed the sight of your face, somehow more youthful as you slumbered on. He missed the sound of your deep, steady breaths. He missed the scent of you and the way it would linger on his clothes the following morning.

He missed you.

However, Vash was quick to brush those thoughts away, shaking his head to himself as he approached your cabin. He couldn't be thinking about you like that. He couldn't be feeling about you like that. After all, it wouldn't be fair to you. You deserved better than the pitiful, stressful, touch-and go, unsettled life that Vash could offer you, even if he would love you better than anybody else ever could if you gave him the chance. In his eyes, in his mind, it wasn't enough for you. He wasn't enough for you. You deserved better.

However, all his self-deprecating thoughts disappeared the moment he realized that you weren't in your cabin.

'Where did you go?'

Trying hard to quell his rising panic, Vash decided to head up to the open-air decks first and look for you there, as he knew sometimes you, too, had difficulty sleeping. In those times, he tended to find you stargazing, your eyes glued to the heavens, mesmerized by the way the stars seemed to sparkle and dance in the night sky.

So, without wasting a second longer, Vash began to make his way up to the deck.

He walked much faster than he normally did, trying desperately to stop himself from breaking into a sprint all the way up to the deck and preventing his panic from overtaking him completely.

Yet, despite all his efforts, he found himself thinking on repeat, 'Please be safe. Please be safe. Oh, Gods, please let (Y/N) be safe.'

As Vash got up to the deck, he looked around for you, moving around as quickly as he could, desperation and fear beginning to take root in his heart when each place he searched came up empty.

Then, thankfully, he found you.

You sat on a bench on the deck, your head tilted up and your eyes on the heavens, watching the stars as the desert wind ruffled your clothes and hair. When you heard Vash's footsteps, you quickly glanced over to see who was approaching, your body tensing as if anticipating a fight. However, when you realized who it was, you quickly relaxed, an easy and genuine smile appearing on your lips.

"Oh, hey, Vash." You greeted your best friend with a small wave of your hand.

Trying hard not to let his relief be so obvious, Vash came over and sat on the bench next to you, smiling back at you warmly, "Hey, (Y/N). Couldn't sleep?"

"Nah," you answered, sighing softly as you leaned back against the bench, looking out at the endless dunes that passed as the sandsteamer chugged along. "It was simultaneously too loud and too quiet in my room. I couldn't get comfortable."

"I can understand that." Vash chuckled softly, following your gaze out onto the horizon. He let himself relax next to you, all his previous panic and worry fading away as he caught your scent, carried by the breeze.

A comfortable, familiar silence fell over the two of you as you sat there next to each other, taking in the sights of the sea of sand, the night sky and the moons that glowed bright enough to cast shadows. After a few minutes of silence, you allowed yourself to move a bit closer to Vash, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you let out a small sigh.

"It feels weird, sleeping without you being nearby." The words spilled from your lips before you could stop yourself. "I don't like it."

The flutter that Vash's heart gave betrayed the depth of his feelings for you, but he ignored it, focusing instead on answering quietly, "I don't like it, either. I'm not used to sleeping alone, anymore, I guess."

You found yourself looking up at the blonde gunman sitting next to you, a curious look on your face and a hint of worry seeping into your words. "Is that a bad thing?"

Vash couldn't stop himself from looking down at you, his eyes meeting yours as he pondered the answer. Then, after a couple moments, his lips turned upward into a small, amused smile. "No. It's not a bad thing."

You could feel your body relaxing slightly as you let out a breath you hadn't even realized you had been holding. Vash wanted to laugh at just how endearing your obvious relief was, but he restrained himself, instead turning his head so he could tear his gaze away from you, his heart pounding frantically in his chest.

After a couple more moments of comfortable silence between the two of you, you whispered softly, "You need some sleep, Vash."

Your care and concern for him was so obvious, your every word and the tone of your voice so telling that it made Vash want to scream. Instead, he simply offered you a quiet, weak laugh, "Yeah, I know. I just can't seem to get my mind to quiet down is all."

That made you pull away from him, your gaze remaining fixed on his face as you studied him carefully. You knew that Vash struggled with a lot more than what he shared with you, and that he carried a lot more scars than just the physical ones that marred his body. There were scars on his soul, more than you could ever think to know. You could only imagine how heavy a weight he carried on his shoulders and in his heart, and how badly you wished that he'd share some of the load with you. You knew better, though, than forcing him to do so, and you knew that when and if he decided to share any of the burden with you that you would carry it gladly.

Wordlessly, you stood up from the bench, turning so you were facing Vash and extending your hand out to him. Vash looked up at you quizzically, clearly not understanding what was going on. The determination and glint of something he couldn't place in your eyes, however, led him to offer you his prosthetic hand, gently resting it in yours.

Without hesitation, you tugged on his hand gently, clearly wanting him to stand with you. Vash followed your silent requests without complaint or question, but his curious expression remained, his blue eyes trained on your every move. As the two of you stood, you guided one of Vash's hands to your waist, trying hard not to let the heat rise to your face as you did so, before taking his other hand in yours and resting your free hand on his shoulder. Then, slowly, you began to sway the two of you back and forth, as if to some tune.

After a couple seconds, Vash settled into his stance, allowing himself to sway with you on the spot, a small chuckle escaping him. "(Y/N)? What are we doing?"

"Isn't it obvious, Stampede?" You replied, looking up at him with a playful little smile. "We're dancing."

"I figured that much out for myself, oddly enough." Vash answered with a proper laugh, his smile becoming more genuine as he kept his warm gaze on you. "I meant more along the lines of "why are we dancing?"."

You shrugged. "It seemed like a nice night for a dance."

Vash couldn't help but laugh softly at your reasoning, and he let himself relax and enjoy the gentle swaying of the two of you. Tightening his grip on your waist, he gently began to turn the two of you as you swayed, both of you completely unbothered by the lack of music. The thrumming of the sandsteamer's engine, the whistling of the wind, the shifting whisper of the sands, were your music.

You found yourself getting closer and closer to Vash the longer the two of you danced together, unsure if it was you stepping closer to him or him pulling you in or some combination of the two, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. As your head came to rest on his chest and you felt Vash rest his chin on the top of your head, you let your eyes close, focusing on the feeling of Vash against you.

He was your safe space. Your home, in every way that it mattered. Your heart was his, even if he didn't know it, and always would be. And right now, on the deck of the sandsteamer, there was only the two of you in the world, as far as you were concerned. You knew that Vash needed some way to get his mind off his worries so that he could rest, and maybe, just maybe, this would do the trick.

Meanwhile, Vash finally felt his mind fall quiet, his focus solely on you and holding you close to him as the two of you gently rocked from side to side in time to some silent tune. Somehow, just the feeling of you in his arms and dancing with you in the middle of the night on the deck of a sandsteamer was enough to pull him away from the suffering that plagued his mind. You were a soothing balm to the torn, raw and bleeding mess that was his soul.

"You finally dozin' off on me, (Y/N)?" Vash's voice teased you playfully after a couple minutes of silence, a gentle undertone to his words.

You reopened your eyes, pulling your head away from his chest so you could look up into his eyes. "Not yet. I'm just enjoying this. Besides, I don't think I'll be able to sleep when I'm alone again."

A slight frown appeared on Vash's face at your statement, and he whispered back before he could stop himself, "You don't have to be alone."

Your eyes widened as you looked at him, and you could've sworn you saw his cheeks and the tips of his ears darken slightly as he said that. Uncertainty filled you, but so did the overwhelming need to accept Vash's thinly-veiled offer.

All you could bring yourself to ask was, "Are you sure?"

Vash nodded slowly, his eyes not leaving yours for a moment despite the deepening of his blush. "I'm sure. I'd prefer to have you nearby, anyways. It always makes me nervous when you're not close enough for me to protect you."

That made your heart flutter wildly in your chest, and you could feel the heat rising to your own face now as you answered, "You don't always have to protect me, you know?"

Something in Vash's face shifted, a resoluteness taking its place in his eyes as he looked at you, his voice firm and leaving no place for argument or negotiation. "Yes, I do, (Y/N)."

You felt the heat in your face intensify at his resolve and determination to protect you, and while you desperately wanted to ask him where this was coming from, you didn't have the courage to start down that road.

Not yet.

Instead, you asked quietly, "Should we head back, then?"

You could've sworn you felt Vash's grip on your waist tighten a bit, pressing you against him just a little more than before. His expression became warm and tender as he continued to spin the two of you, something you couldn't quite identify shining in his eyes and a genuine smile appearing on his lips.

"Not yet. We've only just gotten started."

[sweet-hearts-and-destiny-knots]

Who’s the highest maintenance out of the boys in your protagonist ships?

After looking up the definition for high maintenance, I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt it's Melli.

Avery is also, albeit to a lesser degree. His shameful status as the family disappointment leads Avery to demand the attention of Gloria, the woman who appreciates him as he is even when that inferiority-superiority complex of his is on full display.

Although Avery has gathered a sizable fanbase for a Gym Leader in the minor division (to the extent his face is featured on a t-shirt), the adoration of a million fans could never satisfy this craving for his rival, friend, and lover's affection.

Both boys feel as though if Gloria and Akari don't look at them they will literally learn Explosion and faint, but at no point in time does Melli mellow out by even the slightest amount. And were a functional phone (from a space-time distortion) ever to fall into his hands, he would become far more of a menace than he already is.

To his credit, he discovers how to use the device (as well as what a factory reset is) before his Clan Leader, or anyone else for that matter, can pry it from his possession.

He's acquired a method of communication that allows him to instantly engage in conversation with Akari no matter where either of them happen to be in Hisui! Surely utter chaos isn't destined to become the result of this development! Additionally, for the sake of the narrative, please adopt the belief that Mount Coronet's special magnetic field is what allows his phone reception.

I have a clear vision of what would occur: Akari checks her Arc Phone following a few hours of surveying only to be met with fifty messages at the very least, all from Lord Electrode's Warden.

Some are only a sentence or two in length while others take up the entirety of the screen and require scrolling to read the complete text. He also sends her a miscellany of selfies - no less than one is guaranteed to involve Adaman scolding him in the background.

A detail I feel necessary to mention is Melli and Akari aren't initiated in a courtship - the former has simply adopted the belief she's fallen deeply in love with him? However, this isn't an entirely unreasonable conclusion for Melli to arrive at either, since her compliments could be perceived as flirtatious...

Much to the continuous frustration as well as confusion of a certain Clan Leader and Ginkgo Guild merchant.

But regardless, as the messages persist, Melli becomes increasingly desperate for a response from Akari - or as he likes to call her during their conversations when in a pleasant mood:

My Favorite Warden: How is my little noodle faring~? My Favorite Warden: This is the part where you're meant to reply with the events of your day thus far as well as something along the lines of, "Oh, but I will be faring much better, once I receive a photo of the great Melli's brilliant countenance!" My Favorite Warden: I can only assume a sudden bout of shyness has overtaken you, so I'll bestow your own Instantaneous Letter Delivery Device with my image regardless of your lack of response. My Favorite Warden: Which I'm not too upset over, just so you're made aware. Your total lack of response thus far. I can't be when I hold the knowledge you're staring at my words, struggling to write a message which properly conveys your feelings of pure adoration while your endearingly round face is pink as a Clefairy! My Favorite Warden: As a matter of fact, I believe that flustered side of you is cute~. Of course only I, Warden Melli, could provoke such a reaction from one as steely as you! You emotional Steelix! But without any further ado, prepare to witness my unparalleled handsomeness and beauty! My Favorite Warden: *The photo attached is of Melli winking and blowing a kiss at the camera* My Favorite Warden: I thought it over and decided you deserve a kiss for encouragement! But is it possible my Sweet Kiss has only prolonged your state of bashfulness? My Favorite Warden: I have become convinced this is why you haven't answered a single one of my lovingly crafted messages as of yet. I understand completely. You're thoroughly overwhelmed by the Beautifly fluttering about inside your belly. My Favorite Warden: Whenever those easily excitable Bug-type Pokémon have at last calmed themselves, feel free to add your contributions to the conversation. My Favorite Warden: It can be any statement at all! From, "Why Warden Melli, your amethyst locks look especially luscious today!" to "Oh, how I wish I could hear your melodious voice whilst reading each of these messages! But alas, I must cope with my memory of its cadence, silky as Cascoon silk." My Favorite Warden: But questions will also be accepted! The great Melli possesses a powerful aura of mystery, which should be especially irresistible to someone who originates from another world! So it's only to be expected if you've accumulated several inquiries since the moment we first met! Now is your opportunity to release them all without restraint! My Favorite Warden: I see... You wish to preserve some of the mystique in our relationship. Very well, I'll keep my secrets then! For now, that is. But I'm certain sooner or later curiosity will take hold of you! I'm simply too intriguing. My Favorite Warden: Unfortunately, my painfully shy little noodle, I have to say farewell for the moment. It's time for Lord Electrode's afternoon nap, which requires my assistance. Yes, Warden Melli serenades his lord to sleep! Every! Single! Day! Aren't I dedicated? Do feel free to praise me~ My Favorite Warden: *The photo attached is of Melli singing at Moonview Arena. His eyes are closed and his expression serene. Lord Electrode is fast asleep with a smile, and Melli's Skuntank, Golbat, and Drapion appear to also be enjoying his song*

My Favorite Warden: Oh, Sneasler's Warden has shown himself... My Favorite Warden: Do you ever ponder what secrets may lie underneath that shabby hat of his? During the exceedingly rare occasions your thoughts aren't occupied by me, that is. My Favorite Warden: What if he's hiding a lack of hair from us all? How scandalous! My Favorite Warden: HE IS!! SNEASLER'S WARDEN IS AS HAIRLESS AS A RHYHORN!!!! My Favorite Warden: *The photo attached is of Melli fleeing with Ingo's hat in hand while the man in question is standing a few feet behind wearing an astonished expression* My Favorite Warden: The topmost section of his head, to be exact. I managed to capture a brief glimpse of my glorious reflection against the surface! So I suppose there is a positive quality to him being devoid of hair there. My Favorite Warden: Now Adaman has appeared. He's leapt to Sneasler's Warden's defense. In other words, I'm enduring a needlessly lengthy scolding! My Favorite Warden: *The photo attached is of Melli rolling his eyes, scoffing, and making a 'blah blah blah' motion with one hand while Adaman yells at him in the background* My Favorite Warden: Adaman has ordered me, with so much volume involved it sent the nearby mass outbreak of Rotom scattering in different directions, to relinquish the Pearl Clan Warden's hat. So if you heard something just now off in the distance which sounded suspiciously similar to Adaman whenever he's angered, that's precisely what it was. My Favorite Warden: Well, I had no intention of holding onto the thing for much longer anyhow! The Pearl Clan Warden is suffering from a severe lack of memory (as well as luscious locks like mine), so only almighty Sinnoh knows where it's been before! My Favorite Warden: Adaman has tried to snatch my Instantaneous Letter Delivery Device! On numerous occasions in the past several minutes! Although my superior height and speed have managed to protect it from his clutches, I'm ultimately left with little other choice but to ascend the cliffs of Moonview Arena to ascertain its wellbeing along with my own. My Favorite Warden: Oh, if only you had been present to observe! You would have certainly fallen madly in love with me all over again! Who else but the great Melli would have been struck with the ingenious concept of clinging to his Golbat and having the Pokémon carry him upwards to safety in an instance of crisis? My Favorite Warden: Although it would be lovely, my little noodle, if you were to overcome your shyness or whatever is happening at this instance wherever you are, and convince my Clan Leader he should abandon all present and future endeavors involving claiming my Instantaneous Letter Delivery Device as his own! My Favorite Warden: *The photo attached is of Adaman shouting at Melli from below the cliff, steam rising from his head as Ingo attempts to calm him. Melli's hand is positioned in a way where, due to perspective, it appears as though Adaman is trapped between his index finger and thumb*

My Favorite Warden: It's tempting to assume all this entirely unnecessary noise would wake Lord Electrode, but absolutely NOTHING is capable of disturbing my lord's slumber! No, not even that nearly earth-shattering boom just prior to the sky turning tacky. My Favorite Warden: To think an obsession with dishware could lead to such chaos... My Favorite Warden: In all honesty, I still find the fixation bizarre. Oh, I do understand the importance of avoiding eating out of one's own hands, or more repulsively from the very ground we stand upon! But those plates, after having seen one for myself, they certainly don't seem worthy of such fuss! My Favorite Warden: Some of their colors are admittedly pleasing to the eye, but each one of them is that single color and nothing else! They're monotone! My Favorite Warden: Where is the STYLE?! The GLAMOR?!?! It's truly for the best that silly merchant has left that phase of his life behind. My Favorite Warden: However, it is possible that I, the great Melli, could provide my artistical abilities in order to improve the appearances of those plates you're holding. Just imagine how gorgeous your dining experience will become with the addition of some floral patterns! Perhaps camellias... My Favorite Warden: All I ask in exchange is a kiss or two or a few along with your unending love and devotion. Although I'm well aware I already possess the latter~ My Favorite Warden: On the topic of that merchant whose name escapes me at this moment in time... Except he's not a merchant anymore, is he? My Favorite Warden: The guild keeping someone around who tore open a lightning spewing, frenzy causing hole in the sky would leave a terrible impression on their customers, I can only imagine. And that commander of yours has stowed him away inside that little shack on the beach next to your village? My Favorite Warden: So that merchant who is no longer a merchant- For simplicity's sake, let's refer to him as a former merchant from here on. I once inquired what the secret to his beauty is. My Favorite Warden: Which I DON'T feel threatened by, just so we fully understand one another! I was merely curious, is all. My Favorite Warden: Anywho, his response was he DOESN'T HAVE a secret?!?! Which I simply DO NOT believe!! My Favorite Warden: I would be willing to bet Adaman's earring Dazzling Honey is involved. I've caught sight of that former merchant collecting combs on more occasions than one - therefore, I MUST be correct! My Favorite Warden: Now the remaining question is how he utilizes it in his beauty routine... Not because I wish to implement his into my own, mind you! My Favorite Warden: The great Melli leads, he inspires others with his luminous self! Thus, the great Melli does not follow anyone concerning matters of appearance, as well as attitude. No former merchant with a previous fixation on monotone dishware can ever hope to outshine me!

My Favorite Warden: Still no reply, hmm...? Not even a single word to spare for your favorite Warden? My Favorite Warden: Could this be... GASP! And GASP once more! The Silent Treatment?!?! My Favorite Warden: Well...! My Favorite Warden: Well, well, well! My Favorite Warden: Welly well well! My Favorite Warden: Well welly well well, well well welly! My Favorite Warden: TWO can play this little game, darling! My Favorite Warden: From this point onward, I refuse to speak another word to you until I receive a sincere apology for this grave offense! My Favorite Warden: ... ... ... My Favorite Warden: ... ... ... ... ... ... My Favorite Warden: ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... My Favorite Warden: *The photo attached is of Melli visibly huffing with his nose turned upwards, a prominent pout on his lips as he side eyes the camera* My Favorite Warden: *The photo attached is of Melli posed with his arms crossed and eyes closed, sticking his tongue out at the camera while his Golbat seems to be sending an apologetic glance from the background* My Favorite Warden: *The photo attached is a close up of Melli seething as he tugs at his hair with both hands, but discernible in the corners of his eyes are tiny tear droplets* My Favorite Warden: CEASE IGNORING ME IGNORING YOU!!

Despite his dramatics, all that's necessary to quell Melli's tantrum is a few sweet words from Akari. She almost always knows precisely what he wants to hear.

Thankfully for everyone involved who isn't named Melli (and Akari, since she actually finds his antics humorous), the above is nothing more than a hypothetical scenario!

...Or is it?

In a scenario where Melli obtaining a phone isn't a factor though, his high maintenance takes the form of following her around Hisui. When Adaman reprimands him for interfering with Akari's survey work in addition to abandoning his duties as a Warden, his brilliant solution is to bring Lord Electrode along!

Or Melli believes it to be a stroke of brilliance on his part. Adaman lets out a long groan when he discovers his adoptive younger brother parading around The Lord of the Hollow while taking nearly every step Akari does, and states this is not at all what he meant. But Melli insists it's clearly superior to whatever he had in mind.

Finally, I would like to close this lengthy and increasingly absurd post with a public service announcement:

Never entertain the thought of indulging in a pairing as nothing more than a joke, because sooner or later it ceases to be one.

[naids4luv]

BALLING INTO LOVE : chp 6 - i did it😁

previous — masterlist — next

(wc : 1629)

apparently peace was a hard thing to find when it came to anything that had Lee Donghyuck in the picture. you just wanted to enjoy your coffee in peace before your long and excruciating lecture that morning, but it seemed that Haechan had other plans. how he found you alone at a park was a question that came to your mind, and with his staring it sure as hell felt like a new torture method he had come up with. 

surely he would keep his distance and stick to staring at you, more specifically staring at the large bruised bump that lays upon your forehead. the bump being a result of yours and Haechans first... encounter. but once again, Lee fucking Donghyuck had other plans.

you're determined to stick to a lack of eye contact with him, praying and hoping he would go away after seeing your eyes looking at everything BUT him. however Haechan doesn’t take social cues too well, at least social cues where he is clearly not welcomed. but still, to your surprise you see Haechan taking large strides your way with an unreadable look on his face. this was not what you were expecting to happen today… or ever.

you quickly whip out your phone, posting a distressed tweet on your private twitter in hopes your friends would see and somehow save you, you highly doubt it though. as you put your phone down and look up to see how much time you have until Haechan arrives, you're shocked to see him standing right in front of you with his hands in his pockets and his eyes staring intensely into yours.

a moment passes where both of you haven’t uttered a word, both unsure about the situation. you unsure on what Haechan wants from you and him unsure of how to start the conversation. another moment passes as you both continue to stare at each other, your body starting to fill with an uncomfortable and impatient feeling. you think to yourself ‘if he doesn’t want to say anything, you may as well’.

“what?” you ask as you cross your arms over your chest. ‘well, that sounded a bit rude’ you thought to yourself as you see Haechan take a step back at your blunt tone. but then again, he did hit you in the head with a basketball… three times. he also got his friend to apologize for him, thinking back on that you feel less bad about your harsh tone towards him. 

Haechan blinks innocently a few times before producing the most heart warming smile you didn't even know he was capable of. “hi” he says as he continues to smile, eyes wondering all over your face and taking in your appearance. however his eyes pause as he looks at the bump on your head, smile faltering before looking back into your eyes.

“hi..?” you say, what else are you meant to say? you're not the one who started this situation. you feel a little self conscious knowing that he has been eyeing up your forehead bump. it's his fault though, it's better to show him what he did to you rather than to cover it up. ‘hopefully that brings him some guilt’ you think as you lightly brush over your bump, making sure not to cause any more pain than you're already dealing with.

you focus back on Haechan and observe the way he scratches the back of his neck nervously before opening his mouth to speak. “I saw you sitting alone and thought it would be better to do this now than later” he explains. 'do what?' you question in your head, however before you can question his words outloud, he continues talking. “just hear me out for a minute.. please” he might as well be begging right now with how desperate he sounds, you guess you can at least sit and listen.

“I truly didn't mean to hurt you the way I did, honest! I had convinced Chenle to play some basketball with me and shoot some hoops. at one point I shot the ball and it rebounded off the backboard and flew behind me and as I looked behind me I watched as the ball hit someone in the head, which I guess happened to be you. I hadn’t even realized you and your friends came to the courts as well, I promise it wasn’t on purpose. and then I didn't expect you to throw the ball to me so I got scared and… hit the ball back towards you, which also wasn't on purpose I swear! and then when I grabbed the ball I went to come towards you to ask if you were ok and I went to reach my arms out towards you and well.. the ball slipped” Haechan rambled on as his hands were flying all around the place, showing how intense he was feeling over this topic.

you kept a straight face as you listened to everything Haechan had to say, taking it all in as his words spilled out. once it seemed like Haechan had finished, you opened your mouth to speak but once again Haechan cut you off. 

“I only had good intentions, I swear!... and I guess also bad luck” he said as he winced at the replaying vision of him hitting you with the ball “I’m so sorry, I truly am. I can do anything in order to show you how sorry I am, I'll even beg for forgiveness” he speedily said as he began to lower himself to the ground in order to kneel.

your eyes widened as you realized he was actually about to kneel before you, now that was absolutely not about to happen. you stood up from the park bench and grabbed Haechan by the forearms before yanking him upwards and away from the ground in one fast motion. once he was fully standing you whipped your head around your surroundings, checking to see if anyone saw this idiot about to kneel before you.

“Y/n i’m so sorry-” he continues to talk before you cut him off. “yes Haechan i get it, please stop apologizing now” you said as your arms shake his body back and forth encouraging him to stop his rambling, to which he does. you drop your arms from Haechan and let out a loud sigh before speaking up once again. 

“thank you… for apologizing i guess” you start off by saying, watching as Haechan’s eyes widen and his smile grows at your words. “however I don’t forgive you just yet”.

as soon as those words left your mouth you watch as shock washes over Haechans face in an instant, confused by your sudden harshness. “what?” he whispers as he processes your words, not knowing where this conversation is going.

“as you can see I still have this stupid fucking bruised bump, which is all thank to you” You let out a quiet giggle as Haechan’s eyes drift over to the bump on your forehead. “I won't forgive you until this bump is fully gone since you caused it, so for now you aren’t forgiven” you continue to explain, not knowing where these words were coming from. it would've been easier to forgive him and leave, so why are you doing all this?

but to your surprise, Haechan’s shocked face slowly changes into an amused expression as he takes in all of your words. he even lets out a laugh after a few seconds, confusing and shocking you even further. whats so amusing about you not forgiving him?

“well then, i guess I'll just have to make it up to you while your bump is healing” he says, providing no more explanation as he admires the confused look that has taken its place on your face. 

you stand still for a moment. What does he mean ‘make it up to you’? you skim your eyes over his face, hoping your overly confused look would encourage him to explain his previous words. but all you can find is a bright smile and his eyes gazing into yours. you come back to your senses and reply to him, “good luck with that”.

as you wait for a reply back from the man in front of you, who is currently too happy in this kind of situation, you watch as he settles on giving you one last smile before walking away from you.

you feel the urge to run after him and get him to spill out the explanation behind his words, but running after him would be the most embarrassing thing you could do in that situation, so you decide against it. watching as he slowly disappears from your view as you stand in the exact place he just was mere seconds ago, your thoughts are racing all over the place.

in a confused daze you grab your phone only to be met with the time, showing you that your lecture was only 2 minutes away from starting. 'how long were we even talking for?' you question as you make your way towards you class.

as you sit down in your usual seat, the only thoughts that seem to make an appearance are Haechan and his cryptic words. you can’t seem to get rid of these thoughts, even when your 2 hour long lecture comes to an end and even when you have already made it back to your dorms. deciding to yourself that whenever Haechan is around or in topic, you will take high precautions as to not be messed with once again, accident or not.

but there’s one thought that doesn’t seem to leave your brain, even hours after the encounter; what could Lee Donghyuck possibly mean by ‘make it up to you’?

notes : this is my first time posting a written thing like this SO I APOLOGISE IF ITS NOT THAT GOOD. i just wanted to go into more detail for this part of the fic, which i why i chose to write it😽 it was actually really fun too write this, i forget how much i love writing, might write some more stuff cause i really enjoyed this🤭🙏 also sorry to those who don't like reading😭

taglist : @haechansbbg @alethea-moon @heartlvrrss @222brainrot @i-kai @tywritesstuff @liliansun @90s-belladonna @fullsunstrawberry @xtrataerrestrial @ahnneyong @n0hyuck @jongszn @artstaeh @polarisjisung @jammingjaem

[pijawki-project]

Field Notes on Prawia, the Blood Mother

1453, January 14th

Dearest Minister, I write to you today with great excitement, my hands trembling as I commit my findings to paper. The hours have slipped away as I consolidate my notes. I believed you when you told me that Prawia, the earth beneath our feet, is a living god—but believing and seeing are two entirely different things. 

I must admit—Before you took me under your wing, Minister, I was a fool. How could I have ever doubted that Prawia is a god? What else could explain the lakes of blood coursing beneath the surface? How can one claim that veins as thick as rivers exist simply for existence’s sake, like the sky or the stars? The skeptics argue that this blood is no different from water, that it is merely another natural element. But how can they compare it to mundane substances when it holds such immense divine properties? Only a fool would fail to see it. But I somewhat understand their aversion to believing the truth, because gods can only live if they are supplied with sacrifice and worship, yet Prawia’s religious influence does not extend beyond a handful of tiny cults. People do not even know of her true name, just referring to her as Prawia or the Blood Mother as they lack a better way to call her. 

I too held such a doubt in the back of my mind until I was met face to face with reality.

Now, let me recount my findings. It all began three years ago during a knowledge exchange with the Disciples of Prone, when I found myself locked in debate with a fellow scholar over Prawia’s nature. The fool uttered a question that, despite its simplicity, gave me pause: “If Prawia is truly a living being, where is her flesh?” A fair point, I admit, as we categorize the living from the dead by their beating, fleshy insides.

But rather than concede, I took his foolish words as inspiration—why argue with that idiot if I can simply prove him wrong? Why not dig deep enough to find out if there is flesh or not? It's rather a simple thing really, and I'm a bit ashamed I did not think of such a logical way of bringing an end to this argument earlier.

With this revelation in mind, I sought out a nearby Church and, with the right persuasion (coin, of course), secured a labor force of enslaved criminals. I ordered them to dig straight away; my curiosity could not wait another second. They worked tirelessly, day and night, many collapsing from exhaustion. Normally, I would have had sympathy for them and allowed more rest, but these fellows fell out of reach of my pity—such is the fate of fools who forsake law, morality, and knowledge.

It took eleven months of digging ordinary dirt until we struck something unusual.

The soil turned deep red, reeking of iron. Oddly enough, while the layers above were dry and compact, this new earth was wet, seeping like an open wound. But the most disturbing revelation was its lethal nature—contact with bare skin resulted in instantaneous death. No sound. No struggle. No visible change. One simply ceased “being.” Exposure to Prawia’s blood is known to induce madness, but this… this was something far worse. Stranger still, once brought to the surface, this soil would melt into a black substance before crystallizing into a blackish red crystal. I have sent a sample of this crystal to you, Minister, though my own tests reveal only that it bears a resemblance to iron.

Undeterred, I paused only to procure protective equipment for my men before ordering the excavation to continue. Breathing grew difficult as oxygen waned, and the earth, soft and treacherous, caved in upon itself time and time again but that was not going to stop me. We devised new methods of reinforcing our tunnels, but fear had begun to fester among the workers, slowing their progress. Though I found their cowardice an annoyance, I could not deny that I too felt the weight of dread pressing upon me. Yet my instincts urged me forward—I knew I was on the verge of something great. 

And then, we reached it.

A miner’s pickaxe shattered a thin layer beneath us, revealing a pale, glimmering substance. At first, we assumed it to be a mineral formation, but we quickly realized—it was everywhere. A vast layer of tightly woven strands, interlaced like the silk of a cocoon. Each strand was brittle, reminiscent of eggshells. But its properties… were monstrous. We brought some mice down to test its potency and… as soon as the mice came into proximity with the white material, they simply… exploded. When brought to the surface, its potency diminished, though it still claimed the lives of any creature that ventured too close without proper protection. We also had some workers die because of it a few weeks, even months later. The autopsies revealed that despite thick protection, their internal organs had been reduced to paste. How they remained alive even moments after exposure then is a mystery in itself. Concerned something happened to me as well, a doctor friend cut me open and examined my innards—but, not to boast, I am likely powerful enough to have resisted the worst effects. Foolish as it may sound, I feel almost honored to have survived.

Despite the danger, this layer proved the easiest to mine—thin, fragile, stable. But when we pierced through it, disaster struck.

A silent calamity erupted through the shaft. Every single worker—above and below—fell to their knees in silent death, before their bodies disintegrated into bloody puddles. I alone remained unaffected, my will and magic shielding me from death. 

With my workforce obliterated, I faced a dilemma. More laborers would only meet the same fate, and I had no plans to seek out a professional workforce as I did not want to put actual innocents on the line for my research. Thus, I had no choice but to seek out him: Garnet, a crimson-armored fool whose mind is ruled by only hunger and fists. His intelligence is so questionable that sometimes I wonder if he is even literate.

Upon my call, he came as usual, seeking to cure his boredom with my “silly projects.” He did not hesitate to agree when I told him we needed to dig, not even asking what horrors lay beneath that caused him to be called in the first place. He just grabbed a pickaxe and asked me when we were getting started. As much as I know his nature, it exasperates me every time I am met face-to-face with it. The gods really have blessed this fool quite a bit for him to have survived to this day with such a simple outlook on life.

Before we went down, of course, I took a few weeks off to enhance our protective gear. And this is incredibly important to mention, but seeing that fool put layers of clothes and protective gear ON TOP of his armor is the stupidest thing I have seen this decade.

More protected than ever, together, we descended once more. And there, beneath it all, we found the final layer—a smooth, pitch-black expanse, glossy like obsidian yet with a deep red shimmer. It was almost like coagulated blood and it looked oddly similar to how the red soil looked when it crystallized. If touched lightly, it flowed like liquid. If struck, it shattered but retained its shape. I would have loved to study it with you, Minister, but its mere exposure had already claimed countless lives above ground, so I dared not bring it to the surface.

And below that—I beheld the truth. That foolish disciple of Prone was an idiot as I suspected.

Flesh. Pulsating. Alive. Prawia was a living entity, without a shadow of a doubt. As awe-inspiring as it was to lay my eyes on it, being in its sheer presence hurt. Even my foolish companion, mighty as he is, faltered beneath its oppressive aura. I think it was the first time I've seen him grimace like that.

Pain was nothing in the face of my curiosity, however. I reached out with my staff, driven by an insatiable need to see if the flesh would react to touch—but before I could make contact, that idiot seized me, dragging me away. I would never forget how fast that battle junkie ran, even collapsing the shaft in his wake as if to try to slow the progress of — something— behind us.

Only once we reached the surface did I realize—my outstretched arm was twisted beyond recognition, its bones seemingly erased. My arm resembled more of a twisted blood bag than the appendage of a living creature. Yet I felt nothing. My sense of pain and touch were gone, it was as if I was thrown into the void. My hearing had vanished as well, and even now, as I write this, it has yet to fully return. Only now do I understand—the workers never realized their insides were liquefying because merely being in Prawia presence stole their senses away. A mercy, in hindsight.

My companion fared no better than me— his prized armor, forged by the world's mightiest smiths, was shattered into smithereens. His limbs were reduced to nothing more than knots of skin and blood. When I went to further check his condition, he was unresponsive as well. The only sign of him being alive being his pupils dilating and focusing, as if trying to remain conscious despite his terrible situation.

After he recovered to the point of speaking, I learned that he took the brunt of what he describes as merely a “confused gaze” of the entity below us. He said he clearly felt no ill intent behind what we experienced, leaving me to question what would have happened if there was any. For us two, especially Garnet, who has the power to rival some gods, to be taken down by a mere “gaze”… how powerful must Prawia be?

But the most fascinating revelation? Prawia can change in response to our actions.

Please be light on the scolding when I get Back, Minister, but I went for another round of digging. I thought that foolish friend of mine would abstain as he was still licking his injuries, but came along as well so I did not need to procure a new workforce. But, we did not get very far. The black layer just above the flesh had risen up almost in response to our previous digging, stopping us from going into even the top red soil layer. It may be a stretch, but I almost felt annoyance from Prawia by such an action, it felt akin to a person shutting a window so flies do not get into the house anymore.

And, it seemed to have also come to the conclusion that this layer was too brittle before, and strengthened it to the point that it was pretty much indestructible. My foolish companion could not breach it, and if he cannot, then truly, nothing can.

May Gamayun’s knowledge be all-consuming. —Signed, your dearest student.

[soyouareandrewdobson]

Level 1: Let's-a-go easy with some illuminated Mario!

What I want to explore at least partly over the course of Nintendo-vember is the fact, that Dobson was biased with a capital b when it came to videogames and Nintendo. To be more specific, Dobson not only hated people who played anything but Nintendo, acting like PS3 users are the scum of the earth (which we can see examples of a lot near the end of the month), but he was also very opinionated what counts as “the true and honest” depictions of his favorite Nintendo characters.

Again, something more explored down the line soon, but to give at least one example for how even the slightest “deviation” from Dobson’s own interpretation can result in him getting pissed, only for things to backfire on him in some sense (partly a cosmic one) let me turn back time a bit to the November of 2017.

Almost 6 years ago, it was announced that Illumination, the studio behind the Despicable Me movies and some really shitty Dr. Seuss based works, would head the animation work on Nintendo’s Super Mario Bros movie. And people were pissed.

Many of them believing that the studio would ruin their favorite videogame character and produce something that was of great disservice to him. And that was something people claimed, before even the voice cast was announced and everyone had a mental breakdown over Chris Pratt voicing Mario.

For your sanity though, don't click on the vidoe of that fat slob from Boston who is more of a disservice to animation than Live Action Disney is currently

Now to be fair, I am myself aware of the quality of Illumination up until the Mario movie came out. The Despicable Me and Minions movies, plus Secret Life of Pets, having been the most successful endeavors of the company, while also creating some rather annoying, though in my opinion funny cartoon slapstick characters. But honestly, I never thought that Illumination doing the Mario movie, could possibly be the worst thing to ever happen. At the very least, even if the company had fucked up royally with Dr. Seuss related content, they actually have some understanding of cartoon slapstick in their work and can in my opinion create some very colorful movies. And let us be real here, Super Mario has never been the most “adult” or deep franchise on the planet. So as long as Nintendo would keep them on the leash (which they did in the end) I doubted the movie would be utter shit. I at least did not expect it to be the Teen Titans Go of Nintendo, dumb like Boss Baby or unfocused and insulting like Wonder Park.

And lo and behold, the movie came out and minor things aside (like using Take on me as a pop song in the background at one moment) it captured the essence of Mario, was very colorful and a smash hit. To the point it was up until Barbie came along still the most successful movie of 2023 and is the third highest crossing animated movie of all time. With the place actually being the second, if the Lion King remake from 2019 wouldn’t be technically considered animated. Heck, you could actually call it the most succesful animated movie of all time currently, if you also decide to look at the list in such a way, that "sequels"/continuations ofalready established IPs don't count.

What I am trying to say is, in hindsight, many people should have just simply tried to be calm and see where things were heading.Give Illumination the benefit of the doubt. Particularly if they decided to first think about what was likely going to happen and analyze the pro and cons of Illumination doing the movie.

But fuck using your brain when your name is Andrew Dobson.

Dobson took genuine offense to the idea of Illumination doing the movie and as such made a “mock art” of what Mario would likely look in their art style.

There was just a tinsy winsy problem with it. The artwork in itself….

Turned out to be better looking, than most things Dobson did at the time.

No, seriously. Considering the lack of a decent art output at the time aside of shitting on nerds via SYAC strips, this, for what is obviously meant to take the piss out on Illumination’s art style reserved for the Minions, actually looks rather decent. Sure, Mario looks like a tic tac, but for a “quick” sketch, it looks nice. Mario looks -unlike Dobbear in 95% of the strips- actually happy by the way he smiles as well as very cartoonish. And considering that the blood and soul of Mario is kinda in the cartoonish nature of the game series -as evident by how ridiculously Mario Wonder is currently- Dobson in my opinion captured here the soul of Mario better than he did in other pics he did way back in the earlier 2000s.

Though to be fair, these pics look decent enough and at least Dobson was experimenting with different styles back then. Perhaps his cartoonish style would have worked best with Nintendo, if he refined it just right.

Which you know, kinda defeats the “purpose” of the picture if you ask me. I mean, it is obvious Dobson just did it to vent and piss on the fact that a company he considered “inferior” to other animation studios, would bring his favorite videogame character on the big screen for the first time since that Bob Hoskins movie. But if he wanted to mock the idea, he failed. Simply because in his sketch he doesn’t really “highlight” why Illumination being behind Mario would be bad. Not helped by the fact Dobson lacked giving more context why in his opinion that was a bad idea. And the few posts he did, painted him just as hating Charles Martinet and believing Charles would be the main voice of the characters in the movie

An as stated earlier, in hindsight, any “criticism” or fear Dobson might have had, proved in my opinion invalid in the end. The movie was not only a success, but it also paid tribute to his “precious” Mario is from Brooklyn background.

Frankly, the only thing I can see in the pic I would criticize is that Dobson a) gave Mario four fingers despite the fact he should know by now he has five (though that may be a cartoony jab at the Minions. Though even that jab is half assed, cause if he wanted to emulate their design, he should have given Mario three instead of four digits) and b) Mario being likely completely bald under that cap. The later just doesn’t fit entirely. Which, considering the Minions are mostly bald, may have been the intention by Dobson, to create an uncanny effect. Unfortunately, the rest of the artwork balances it out mostly, so on average the sketch ends up being visually more pleasing than anything.

Honestly though, the picture’s existence does highlight one thing more than anything: That Dobson would rather create something out of spite and hatred, rather than a genuine sense of enjoyment. That and if Ilumination being announced as a company to animate the movie, I wonder how he reacted in light of the casting or other Mario related news. Like can you imagine how livid he must have been when Mario+Rabbids by Ubisoft was announced and became popular?

[xxx-calibur]

continued from X

"Oh. Oh my." She still hadn't turned to look at Aurora, hand quite expertly milking the elf of all that seed for that load as she continued to write down her notes. "Subjects ejaculation is above average in volume, though as a result it seems the fertility is lower than average to compensate. It lacks the proper sticky thick consistency of an average humanoid's ejaculation, though still remains pleasantly warm. Perhaps better suited to special fetishes involving large volumes of semen instead of as a procreation aide, though further testing is required."

A spell was uttered and all the seed that had been spilled on her rose up, gathered together in a milky white sphere and deposited itself in the flask before it was properly corked up and picked up by an invisible force to be labeled and shelved.

"Excellent work, Miss Aurora. Please, tell me how you're feeling after that ejaculation. You still seem to be up and eager, though this may be the basic effects of the stamina potion. ....Miss Aurora. Miss Aurora? Are you paying attention?"

Her hand finally left that magically gifted cock and snapped a few times in the girl's face, trying to grab her attention. "Miss Aurora, I'm not paying you to space out. These studies are of vital importance and I need you to remain focus. If you need to stop, I could always find a more durable adventurer to take your place and find another way to settle your debts."

@seaofimaginarysins

[apoapsis]

@dimensionalspades // [x]

                   In all regards, the act of sharing a bed with another is a very new and very significant thing to SIGMA– just the same, however, came an unfamiliarity with the notion of rude awakenings as a result of nightmares triggering trauma responses. Sharing a bed with Jack was… complicated at best, a constant tightrope of never knowing when “enough” was enough, trying to wait as patiently as possible for Jack to direct this unusual arrangement at his own, comfortable pace. How small SIGMA attempts to make himself when granted the honor of nighttime companionship, despite his immense size in comparison to the soldier. Maybe it was a result of the close proximity, but when SIGMA had awakened, there wasn’t any immediate indication of what had disturbed him– only the residual, unusually strong sense of anxious dread within the pit of his stomach; an awful wave of malaise that saturates and soaks his very core. Upon discovering that Jack was already awake, however– seeing the haunted look in his eyes– had perturbed him further. 

Then, it had all clicked into place. 

                 An initial refusal to come closer, to even utter a sound in reply to SIGMA, prompts him to speak up for Jack– yet the words that follow are, as always, so very genuine, as he only references his closest assumption, the closest approximation, of what others appeared to be experiencing in the moment. He projects only in an effort to understand, and the way his gentle observation makes the hardened operative, the legendary Jack Morrison, appear to momentarily freeze in place, tells him that he mustn't be that far from the truth. 

“-- I, ah… I know it may not always seem like it– but it is better to endure these moments… tenderly. It is like… tending to a wound. It is okay to acknowledge that the wounds still hurt– even after all this time.” He coaxes, entwining his large body around Jack in a blatantly protective manner, his broad arms coiling around him to ground him by securing him to himself– to his chest, to avoid potentially unwanted eye contact. He’s prepared to release the moment Jack indicates displeasure– but the lack of disapproval encourages him to keep him ensnared… at least until SIGMA could tell that he felt better. “You don’t have to say a word about it to me– it will pass if you give it the chance to.” Comes the deep, gentle, dream-like lilt of his voice from against Jack’s shoulder as he sits up with the other man. 

              And he leaves it at that, opting instead for a slightly more tactile approach as gloved hands rub and trace circles against Jack’s broad, heaving shoulders and occasionally brush slender digits through his hair. Reclining back against the wall behind the bed, SIGMA gently pulls Jack along with him, allowing the soldier to sit tucked between his narrow thighs as he continues to stroke and soothe him. Rarer still, he says absolutely nothing at all, not a sound leaving the doctor as he does what he knows best in an attempt to comfort him through it. It’s well over an hour into his efforts that Jack appears to finally begin to calm, his breathing gradually evening out, as well as the mutually shared knotting of dread in his own stomach begins to dissipate, denoting a marked improvement in comparison to moments prior.

“-- There is nothing to apologize for, Jack.” SIGMA chuckles in an involuntarily fond tone, tracing the patterned swirl of the other’s hair with one of his gloved digits– although when Jack appears to feel well enough to nestle himself into the crook of his shoulder, he shifts a little to lie back down and allow him to make himself as comfortable as possible while slowly massaging the tension in the back of his neck with delicate fingertips. 

                  It’s rare for him to use Jack’s name so casually– yet in that moment, it’s uttered in the most delicate, tender way. The simple act of him casting his arm over SIGMA’S chest made him practically radiate with delight, a sense of accomplishment filling him at the notion that Jack appeared to be doing better than the state he’d discovered him in.  Or, at the very least, Jack had felt well enough to begin masking it again– which was also fine with him. He wanted him to feel comfortable– even if that meant having to go out of his own comfort zone or stand aside to allow him to re-erect his emotional barriers, he could remain patient. 

“... If you wish to stay up a little longer, I would not be opposed to offering you my company– i-if you need someone right now, I mean…” SIGMA murmurs, stroking the palm of his hand up and down the other agent’s back affectionately. “It is… It is okay to not feel okay. I understand that emotions can often be… overwhelming at times– I struggle with mine more than most!” His opposing hand lifts from the bed, depositing itself upon Jack’s outstretched arm assuringly, giving his forearm a gentle squeeze. 

                “... Can I get you anything…?”

[namelesschurch]

Weekly notes 6/30/2023:

Lev: Been testing Impose with the assistance of Sylph. Results have not been promising; admittedly, seeing her fail makes me feel a little relieved. The moment Lev starts really finding a direction in earnest is likely the moment she'll probably be getting into a lot of danger. I haven't really mentioned Crow to her, though she'll probably be reappearing in the next week...I should probably warn her.

Chi: Still do not get her unusual drive for school. Why school specifically? She does not seem to understand her own reasons or just doesn't want to tell me. I'm hoping school doesn't disappoint her...

Kris: His godhood is unusual in the sense that he retains his human characteristics. Usually, gods embody a concept such as rage or order - etc - and are usually engulfed by it. Just goes to show that the multiverse makes things different.

He however can still get bored, tired, listless, etc. Not sure what I have to offer - other than letting him go ham here. And though he does enjoy hanging out with Chi and Lev, it's probably not -fulfilling- he mentioned he likes to feel useful - probably to feel like his extraordinary powers - and potential suffering to get it- had purpose. I mean, I guess letting him deal with crime here would be useful - even if he's restricted by the World Boundary here, he still has the experience and technically can't die for real. It's not like this is the world I knew anymore, and the circumstances that led to the first timeline imploding are not present anymore.

Stupid Radiance. Stupid Dream.

Madison Ruarc (note the name change): He seems to be doing better after encountering two annoying bits of anonymous magic, which is concerning. Is he being targeted because he is an angel or is it something else entirely? The second one seems to be particularly ill-intended/problematic requiring someone else that I cannot recall off the top of my head to partially halt the effects.

He is currently living with some sort of entity known as Sarandiel - or at least was in the same room at one point - they seem non-hostile. What is of concern is that it does not seem that Mads may have his place of work anymore, which he seems to derive happiness and comfort from. He also doesn't like being off-world so-to-speak. Maybe create something that doesn't really require a time requirement here - like an animal shelter here with his assistance welcome as needed?

Chi seems to have already attracted another dog to the Inn on her walk with Lev. So we now have a chicken, 2 ducks, 2 dogs, and two cats (even if one of them is a ghost).

Random note, I am just going to admit this in the privacy of my own head.

I think it is an utter shame Gotham did not employ the Nameless City's stance on dog killers.

Erna: Met one of her friends online, Tataru. From the sound of it, considerations would likely have to be modified since it sounds like there's someone on it. As expected Scions is a close-knit group. Learning Erna having the capability to fight the equivalent of gods in her world is also surprising. Seems to be straining herself in regard to her comatose friends though if convo with Crowley is any indicator.

Crowley: Continues to deal with the hivemind algae thing. Lack of online presence is likely secondary to that. Her plan is interesting in that there's a way to somehow restrict said algae thing to make it seem like it is an ordinary, if probably toxic (red algae blooms?) algae. Makes me wonder how many supernatural things are being hidden in plain sight.

Hermes / saintworks: Still not sure how the "Datalight" went past the World Boundary, still theorizing. He is currently finding a new planet? to inhabit. What's left of his company after the attack seems to be a whole bunch of misfits and malcontents that are working together for the mutual sake of survival and potential new business.

Not quite sure how to approach, given Datalight for some odd reason passes through the World Boundary for no reason. The whole "don't want to draw attention until I figure out what's going on" to the "I can't figure out this person who bounces between rational and guns-glazing" to the whole "cross between AI and human body with some sort of very high-level technology that can pass as magic in any other world.

At least his cafeteria sounds decent. And they have food and housing. Safety, not so much.

Bruce / something-in-the-wayne: Upon my review of the dashboard later at night, he suddenly got very serious when talking to a kid that seemed like she was self-destructing and apparently entering into a dangerous situation. Probably because he's a father himself.

Other than that, not much changes other than some interesting advice from his own perspective as starting out with his inherited company. Which is useful. Unions could be used as a means to deal with annoying shareholders - the problem is I don't have any shareholders for them to deal with. Still cross-training is an interesting concept. No one really aspires to be a grocer after all. I can believe Farmer, but...grocer...Anyway.

And apparently he started using Grindr? again?

Not much happening on his front.

Nata: She seems to be healing from the wound she received (cracked horn) from Damara. And whatever aches and pains she's been feeling - perhaps just from a strenuous day - it seems that even deity / near-deities can still have aches and pains, though Kris also does prove that. Seems like Hermes can port things to her world too. She seems to be doing fine hopefully.

She does singing, which is interesting, though it does not seem like often enough - and the act itself has a special meaning to her.

Yugi: Introductions with Sarandiel have revealed some more of his hobbies, though the favoring of analog games over video games is expected. Seems to be more of a social creature, willing to do more things outside of his comfort level, if his friends are around. Friendship seems to be a big thing with Yugi - companionship and all that. This is assumed to be the main Yugi and not the other Yugi.

Clarification on the "Island Sinking." - so Yugi is not as dangerous as Lev made out. Lev made me believe that Yugi summoned a monster in a duel that accidentally took out the island with it - either that or this was just her exaggerating, which is likely.

Siege - strikingskeletonsiege - Backtracking on the dashboard - was likely one of the sources for Chi picking up the Flesh Suit thing. Also of note, Siege knows Nata - at least assumed given how he commented how Nata gets really stupid anons. He has a very lively personality as seen in his introductions with other people.

----

Lex Luthor - Earth-3 :: An interesting note that Lex has dill-emma's father's phone number - and used it to make sure dill-emma would be retrieved safely from a Joker (clowningachievement). Not much to report on this front though beyond that. He does note himself to be primarily doing meta-gene research and biology? except the way it was put like there's a supernatural element to it.

Lee (ultra-rage) - Well, his username matches his demeanor to say the least. Sounds like Lex really has a handful with him - sounds like that Ultraman (father?) really made a very bad impact on him. Superpowers and being easily provoked are not a good combination unfortunately.

Provocation seems to primarily stem from the feeling of being mocked? Or pointlessness. There's just a lot of disproportionate aggravation with his interactions involving dill-emma.

Has a soft side with Dove. Guess every lid has its pot.

Nightwing - slightlylessdarkknights - Haven't interacted much beyond the initial encounter. Seems to share a universe with thedarkestknight? and maybe kalkalicious? The times he is on, I suspect he is on patrol in the city as a superhero. Has an interesting mindset when at work - that everyone can be redeemed, and I'm assuming he is someone who will not kill another criminal.

His post (assuming again about dill-emma who is the inciting force of this week) is likely referencing her about how he cannot stand being drowned out by someone else. He doesn't like people who don't listen.

Ember and Jack - emberoops and cyberneticlagomorph - Linked due to the interaction. It is interesting that Ember works for Jack in some sort of "desk?" job. And that Ember gets PTO for an unspecified surgical procedure - or maybe it was specified and I missed it. But apparently he can divide into multiple bodies with a shared? consciousness - does having one part work and three part recreation memories lower the strain due to the proportion or amount of time lived?

As for Jack, apparently a somewhat lax boss who gives decent PTO. The kids are interesting, especially Egg who seems to be like in the terrible twos stage or something but perpetually. Jack is managing though. His world is especially interesting too - the Moon producing milk? Talk of fae, etc.

--

Miscellaneous: I'd been under the impression that Grindr is a branch of the Tinder dating website. I am technically correct. It is a dating site, but it is one that caters to the LGBTQ+ community. This explains Bruce's, while maintaining some level of jovial, somewhat taunting / somewhat "shame on you" posts.

[miserereagape]

A short one shot based on this wonderful drawing

Silver blinked. Once. Twice. Then his golden eyes met Sonic's green; furrowed eyebrows adorned Silver's face as he looked at the blue hedgehog in front of him. He raised an eyebrow after a minute or two, while Sonic smirked at Silver's lack of response.

"Heh, gotcha!" triumph overflowed from Sonic's voice as he carried his counterpart in a bridal style. Silver could've easily moved away, or floated away for that matter, but yet he made no move and continued to make a face at Sonic's eat-shitting grin. Just as he was about to say something more, probably just more teasing, Sonic felt a cold hold blanketing his whole body.

And just like that, Sonic was up in the air, looking down at the ground frantically while swaying his arms up and down as if it could somehow help his situation. The hedgehog who's responsible for his situation only grinned, casually leaning on his back mid air while having a satisfied smile on his face, "…. Is this a joke?" He twirled his index finger in a rotating motion, resulting in Sonic's body mirroring the action while levitating.

"It is a joke. You just take things too seriously" Sonic could only pout and cross his arms; Silver just chuckled. It's only a matter of time before he returns to the teasing Sonic liked to give him. With a twitch in his ear, an idea came up to Silver. He slowly brings his body downward and stands on the ground with his two feet, while Sonic is still in midair. Before Sonic could retort about how unfair his situation was, Silver abruptly let go of him from his psychokinetic hold, and the blue hedgehog widened his eyes as he felt his body crashing down. 

It was not that high, but even then, Sonic could only hope his landing wouldn't hurt that much. So he closed his eyes hoping to feel the hard ground, but strong arms enveloped his body instead. Sonic made a shocked gasp, his eyes widening to a touch while his heartbeat picked up with each breath he took.

"Gotcha" Silver made sure to copy Sonic, carrying him in a bridal style and having that smirk on his face while looking at Sonic's dumbstruck face. His heartbeat reached his eardrums, unable to focus on anything but the psychic hedgehog. He couldn't find in him to be remotely pissed at the stunt, not when Silver's arms gently craddled him like a precious thing and those eyes filled with fondness.

"....Sonic?"  a moment had passed and Sonic kept his mouth shut, holding his breath while trying not to look away from Silver's gaze. Then, he let out the biggest sigh he ever did and massaged his face, finding the words in him other than sighs and groans. If Silver didn't know better, he might've thought Sonic was upset, but his ignited face says otherwise. He tightened his hold around him teasingly and Sonic groaned once more in response.

Chuckling for the second time, Silver slowly and gently put down Sonic using his PK, much to Sonic's begrudging disappointment. Sonic still has his hand on his face, a habit he developed whenever he's around Silver, to poorly hide the utter redness of his face. Note to self; don't tease Silver.

carry

[ancestorsofjudah]

2 Kings 13: 7-9. "The Seed."

We just explained the mystery of the Asherah Pole, which is a wish for human completion no one has any intention of satisfying. Anyone who has ever seen a State of the Union Address will understand what is an Asherah Pole.

Asherah Poles are taken down by logic, and then plans for real government, managed to the level of the objectives by real professionals take their place:

7 Nothing had been left of the army of Jehoahaz except fifty horsemen, ten chariots and ten thousand foot soldiers, for the king of Aram had destroyed the rest and made them like the dust at threshing time.

8��As for the other events of the reign of Jehoahaz, all he did and his achievements, are they not written in the book of the annals of the kings of Israel? 

9 Jehoahaz rested with his ancestors and was buried in Samaria. And Jehoash[b] his son succeeded him as king.

The Gematria for the above verses follow:

v. 7:

Fifty Horsemen= The Number is 829, חבט‎, hit, aka, "Do not make waste."

Ten Chariots=486, דחו‎ , reject, are we rejecting God or is He rejecting us?

Ten Thousand Footsoldiers= 1192, יאטב‎‎‎, better, = "conversion."

"Jewish Law states that any non-Jew who feels sincerely convinced of the beauty and relevance of Torah, who is prepared to follow the traditions of Israel, and therefore, wishes to join the community of Israel, is welcomed as a convert.

The conversion process requires immersion in a kosher mikvah, circumcision for men, and acceptance of the disciplines and practices of Judiasim-all under authorized rabbinic supervision."

The Value in Gematria is 1192, יאט‎ב, "It will be good."

v. 8: the Value in Gematria is 7525, זהבה‎ , "golden", meaning "fufilled God's purposes in revealing the true meter of existence."

v. 9:

Jehoahaz=what God has grasped

Jehoash= what God mourned

The Value in Gematria is 6258, ובהח‎, "and in her." "The seed."

"The greatest difference between a man and woman—or, more appropriately, between the masculine and the feminine—can be seen in the first two of the intellectual qualities of a human being.

Chassidic philosophy teaches that there are three intellectual properties alongside seven emotional properties. The first of the properties is that of chochmah, translated loosely as “wisdom,” which is a male principle.

Chochmah is compared to a flash of insight. Physically speaking, it is compared to the seed of a man. It is the beginning of all life, the foundation. Without it, nothing will ever be able to come into existence. And yet, like seed, it is invisible to the naked eye. It has no shape, no form, no meaning. Not yet. It has potential, incredible potential, but it cannot develop or grow or form by itself.

The next property, that of binah, is the feminine property. Binah, loosely translated as “understanding,” is the desire to attach to the wisdom and give it meaning. 

Binah is the formation process, the bonding, the development. In a physical example, binah is the pregnancy. It literally houses the seed, and then, as the seed is within it, causes it to grow, develop and form, until it is ready to be born and exist on its own."

Can we transform our governments and turn them into functional aspects of our lives like the Religion says we must if we want to survive, or will they continue to be side shows? Displays of weirdness and warped realities that grow in the churches and homes of the people who put faith in them and give them power?

We are now no longer in need of any dread of despair, the worst, a new World War has descended upon us, the result of an utter lack fo faith and resourcefulness by humanity. This means we have an unforeseen opportunity: our global connectivity means we cannot hide from the consequences of our leaders' actions and out of fear our plans for happiness may not be real at all do something about them.

As with man, what God mourns cannot last. The Signs have been given, let us accept the Faith is correct and reverse the curse.

[fuck-you-too-world]

(I- I have a thought-)

You know how Chinese women would usually sit down and hold anything in their hand as weapon (usually slipper or hanger or broom) as they sat down calmly but with a deadly look in their eyes because someone fucked up and piss them off (usually their man).

Yeah, imagine Tim bring so feed up with Ra's and so so ready to snap, he knows Ra's watching and always close by when it comes to stalking him. So Tim, so done and had enough because he just wanted to have some peace and eat his dinner in peace without the hidden camera and stalker watching his every move just snap.

Tim slam his hands on the table, chair moved back enough to gave him took to face the door and cross his leg. His face is the embodiment of neutral with no emotions and unreadable, his hands half crossed with one hand holding his hidden dagger (he keep this one gift from Ra's because it's pretty alright, don't judge him!).

Tim : You better get your fucking ass here before I reached 3 *voice calm and neural just like his face, nothing in his body language betray his emotions and Tim also ignore Alfred's disaproving look at the language*

Tim : ... 1

Everyone was looking at Tim in confusion and calculations, they all have no idea what is happening and what is Tim doing. Maybe the lack of sleep finally got him? (If only they knew how normal it is for him to hallucinate)

Tim : ... 2-

Before the Bats could utter a word and say anything about Tim's weird behavior, a shadow suddenly appear and moves towards Tim. They all reflexively stand to fighting positions and let their flight or fight mode take over, only to be shocked at the picture in front of their eyes.

Damian is very confused, very shocked to the point he froze.

Ra's fucking Al Ghul is kneeling in front of Tim, honestbto God fucking Kneel like when a child done something wrong and sat in a kneeling position with head down in front of Tim who is still sitting in his chair!!!

Ra's : Detecti- *sweating bullet*

Tim : Weekend, Ra's. All I ask was you don't plant any cameras or your croonies to spy on me on weekends and what did you do?

Ra's : Plant cameras and spies to watch you *gulping loudly*

Tim :

Ra's :

Batfam :

Tim : And?

Ra's : sending courting gifts to you *head still looking down*

Tim : why can't you get it in that thick skull of yours that I don't want to becomes your heir or bear your children?! *throw the dagger towards Ra's head and missed slightly, only grazing his cheek*

Ra's : *immediately pick up the dagger and give it back to Tim with a love struck face but also a fearful one* But beloved-

Tim : No *glare as he took the offered dagger*

Ra's : *sigh mournfully*

Tim : *continues to lecture Ra's while the creepy old man just watch Tim with a fond look the whole time but there's also an obvious fear in the immortal's eyes* Also did you even give them any day off on the weekend? Look at them staying outside for God knows how long with no rest! Let your assassins have a weekend as their day off, let them live! If not how can you make the world a better place if you're coped up with same old views and not taking the change in world into account to your cause?!

Ra's : *considering it* will you let me take you out on a date if I consider a change in the system?

Tim : *look at Ra's contemplatively, already planning on using the opportunity to change the LoA from inside* I will consider it if the results are satisfactory to me

Batfam : *still trying to process the situation and their brain not braining*

Ra's : very well, Detective. *moves out slowly while still in his kneeling position not once turning his back on Tim with head still bowed* I shall see you again, hopefully on a date beloved.

Tim : *huft out a tired sigh and throw his dagger to Ra's once again when he's out of the dining room door* Get lost and let me have my dinner in peace Ra's!

Assassin 1 : *bring Tim's dagger and bow to him respectfully with a look of awe and wonder* thank you, my Lady *then disappear before Tim manage to reprimand them*

Tim : *groans* fucking Ra's

Then as if the time has been started once again from it's frozen state, the whole family explodes in a fury of questions.

Tim just ignore them and continue with his food, the least they could do is let him enjoy his dinner in peace before they interrogate him and bother him after not realizing anything for years.

Tim : *gave the whole room the same look as he look before he calls Ra's*

Batfam : *froze and immediately retreating to their seats and continue the dinner in silence*

Alfred : Coffee Master Tim?

They all stayed silent, Alfred offer Tim coffee instead of banning beverage. Well, Fuck.

Tim storms into the manor

Damian, teasingly: What has got you in such a bad mood, Drake

Tim: TELL YOUR GRANDPA THAT IF HE WANTS SOMEONE'S DNA, HE CAN HAVE HIS OWN

Damian: What?

Tim, storming out if the main room: AND THAT IF HIS OLD ASS WANTS TO FUCK SOMEONE HE CAN LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND LEAVE MEVTHE FUCK ALONE *slams door*

Damian:

Damian: What just happened...

[cosmicangel888]

The Dangers of NOT DISCERN YOUR OWN TRUTH ~ 5D

It is so sad,  as a true healer, we pray, give light, daily walk in prayer, and sing to better days, and it is not a narrative of us-them, it is a narrative of wasted sacred life and no one is waking up. 

Light workers bring light, offer light, show other ways, and to know, Source, love, light, grace and deep unconditional shifting, transitioning is within - possible and whole to be whatever any wants it to be; and no matter how many times you go, offer, give, in whatever way, there are the staunch 'beliefs' and practices of darkness that will be an utter waste of what is and always will be sacred; 

Beliefs will break you or make you 

Discern how flowing, bendable, detached you are to your beliefs  Ascension, self-actualization will include every day - to detach 

Life is sacred

Your breath is sacred 

Your heart is sacred

Your tissues, cells, brain, all is sacred; and those that play, do relentless magic to make their stories come true while all others suffer, while the energy being forced, and chanted, and deranged means nothing - 

WE ARE ONE

WE ARE ONE

WE ARE ONE

LOVE IS ONENESS

Love begets love

Inner abundance begets outer abundance - it is simply law

THE DANGERS OF WITCH-craft & NON-Responsibility for ONENESS

Any doing spells, voodoo, and witchcraft - if it is not healing, and under your own high self guidance, and if not under universal laws in the enactment - will be karma and return and what is being shown, bathed over all doing so in order to prove to the most staunch stubborn selfish misguided - it is only resulting in destruction, and loss. 

Spell work, sacrifice will result in loss, karma.

Unless this and the core selfish, which is wounding of lack of self, the pit we feel empty in, that makes us do such to get stuff, outcomes, people is a forcing of nature, and others free will - and will be immediate karma and loss;

At what point will people stop playing

* Universal Laws

* Honouring, and being guided by the higher self, and God, (God would never ever guide any to do sacrifices or spell work - for all is within the mind and self loving honour of all life ) all that is before you is a soul lesson, growth, and purpose to love more, be more of inner feeding, inner design - spell work, magic on others to get, take, have a story work out is dangerous dangerous thought patterns and beliefs that do nothing but destroy and hurt, harm, deconstruct the sense of self - period

Who are you?

How sacred life is, our body, our mind, our eternal life that is a gift from Source, the real God, and there are those that will continue in the cycle of spells, harm, and emanating cancerous darkness, negativity to an entire globe, world, and city, affecting all

~ Readers are so very tired, the ancestors, and the guides are so tired to such babysitting to ensure the innocent do not get harmed, and these people still continue

~ When all in the community know what is going on - purposefully, intentional malice to innocent lives and why we offered years ago; sacrifice and spells only impale and implode, and the heavens have cried for years on the degradation done to humanity, to divine ones, and how little any cared to do 'the right thing'  money was your poison to own, control, have outcomes, narratives your way and now the entire group intentions are their intentions story and truth, God are the only way out of the darkness all created

- it is so so so sad

-  Crime, violence, corruption, is not necessary

~ All any need to do is devote within

* heal

* acknowledge, accept, allow light to heal, transform, work with spirit, healing teams, the higher self - all is possible and there simply is no self love, self care to do what is right and many suffer.

* people that do spell work on you - do not care about you - they are deeply wounded and have no sense of self, and use such practices, scams, schemes, to fill what is missing within - and no amount of money, false schemes, spells will correct what is only within to do the work and heal

* how and what are you being told, shown, offered in the outer to discern truth, piercing truth of who you are within - what you are within to change and alter our reality in love, light, promise hope, and discernment for the higher mind, higher self, God, Source, and live in holistic alignment and manner?

I was never in a 3rd party, nor was there ever agreements, discussions, only deceit, denial, and ego's that choose to be better than another, choose money, title, and spiritual honour, life in honour will continue to mean nothing if there is is no healing, accountability - ego, wounding, all is unnecessary

wake up dear ones, please wake up - our world, our health, our inner connection, abundance - who are you and what do you exist within and all is sacred, magical - love is love, life is honour and good will

All is energy Energy is sacred - you are the master in which you choose negative or positive how to affect, direct, intend - may lessons be that of grace and peace, and hope and never ever force another to be with you and on your path when you know it is not right within to do so.

Control none Dominate none Force none

* Right Use of Free Will and NON - Interference #1 LAW

* Law of BALANCE #2 LAW - if the first is not adhered - the balance will not be there and it is 'your life is your proof' sickness, illness, mental, emotional, spiritual confusion and loss, disease, destruction, all is shown - all is energy - and it is showing how sick thought bring sick world - that is corruption and at what cost It has been our message from day one.

So sad.

God, Essence of eternal life is within; deceit, manipulation, spell casting, warping entire lives to get, take, to have a false corrupt title, receive, scam, plot, scheme is no God; dogma or false titles and ways, it is demonic ~ and the ways to understand darkness how will all feel and know that such is the story 

This story is no different than what is planned, agendas, in our collective world, What will you do - how will you know life is sacred, reconnection within, the breath of life within the healing and taking ownership and accountability of your thoughts, words and deeds, All affects the all -

Blessings and good will to the multi-verse -

Joanna

More on Creational Realities; Paradigms Shifting of Consciousness ~ Perfection of the Divine Plan for all life;

For private sessions, webinars, classes or consulting ~

Email me at JoannaCosmicAngel@yahoo.com

DONATIONs; PayPal link here; paypal.me/JoannaLRoss

#ascension

#healinghumanity

#God

#Source

#corruption #healingcorruption #understandingenergy

#Oneness #worldimbalance #love is oneness

#healinghumansdysfunction #healing #lifeissacred #sacredness #life #honour #selfvalue #selfdesign #selfhonour #creationalreality #manifesting #abundance #spiritualabundance #Highfunctioning

[anthonybialy]

Feeling Sicko

The return of virus hysteria is an even worse throwback than the New Kids on the Block reunion.  Some things should remain disbanded.  Government commandeering decisions is a success if teaching everyone what gaslighting means counts.  A movie not starring a Marvel character is as rare these days as not having existence itself dictated by those least qualified.  Old souls favor sadly antiquated notions like plot and autonomy.

Processing 2020 more than halfway through 2023 is just another endless symptom.  Struggling to breathe wasn’t merely literal.  Interdictions are designed to show us who’s in control.  As with providing your insurance, those with enough awareness to recognize what’s sinister notice who claims they provide everything.

The implication that our gods could confiscate necessities is just so you remember to worship fervently.  Remember the casualness with which those who know what’s best for you made your rights disappear to be appreciative for the littlest bits of autonomy.

Lie blatantly if you’d like to protect seized power.  I didn’t say they were clever.  One doesn’t need to invent a convincing excuse when it’s easier to shrug and inquire what the oppressed plan to do about it.  The ruling class is so ridiculous in boldness that you can’t believe someone would fib that openly.  Dealing with sociopaths who think they know what’s best for you is the best endorsement of limited government possible.  Unfortunately, telling people what to do continues to take precedent.

It turns out things running smoothly needs a lack of supervision.  Government ruining everything offers a helpful reminder, and you didn’t even thank your overlords for the interventions.  Making you appreciate life by interfering with it will have to suffice as gratitude.  We don’t notice what a supply chain is until Joe Biden breaks the links.  Bureaucrats ruining what they run is reminiscent of how people used to be able to walk down streets without being mugged.  Fighting crime is now considered elitist, as poor thieves need to cope with the Democratic economy.

Nothing gets demonized by autocrats and their traitorous sycophants like making stuff.  Scoffing at independence comes naturally to useless types who can’t imagine anyone else creating something valuable, either.  The utter lack of empathy seals it.  Trading work for currency is so bourgeoisie.

You lost your ability to make luxury decadent kulak indulgences like decisions.  But at least the virus rampaged.  The prototypical example of authorities not really being in charges created the best of both worlds otherwise.

Lingering side effects should serve as a lesson to any gentle dupes who believe government can and should care for us.  Civics scores are bound to plummet when kids who were locked out of school see politicians enabling themselves to do as they please by shrieking about an emergency while scoffing at free exchange.

It’s bad enough to cede total control of reality.  The worst part is how they totally suck at it.  Couldn’t professional fibbers learn to deliver better ones?  An inability to keep trains choo-chooing matches fecklessness in stopping illness.  A ghastly example from which to learn is the most heartening news in a rather heartless world.

Contempt for your trifling liberty isn’t an exception.  Remnants of restrictions show how they see everything else.  Treating rights as privileges is a given with which you’re not allowed to dissent.

Those who just know they should be in charge substitute arrogance for competence.  The curious swap is reminiscent of how they replace prosperity with free money.  Your self-appointed superiors condescendingly scoffed at peasants who demanded to maintain decadent luxuries like commerce and earning.  Ensuing ceaseless woe taught them a lesson about the economy, namely that prosperity results from trading so people can make what others want and not printing currency.

Unfortunately and as usual, everyone got punished for a fundamental misunderstanding of our world by the ruling class.  When they announce we’re all in this together, they mean everyone suffers for their foolishness.  Authorities are nice enough to let you keep some of their money and utter occasional blasphemous statements about individual freedom.

The crisis is not over.  Sure, the virus seems to have gotten bored enough to dissipate.  But the innately pushy who think they know what’s best for you want to perpetuate the crisis so they can keep making your decisions.  It’s sure uncanny how every solution to nonstop red alerts involves not getting to think for ourselves.  Egypt is a piker when it comes to endless emergency infringements.

The infection of capricious statism still spreads rampantly.  Doing whenever they please is the chief indicator.  There’s bound to be another reason to get nervous.  Freaking is mandated.  You always felt this panicked.  Believe it by order.