#rest in peace to the days when i used to draw daily just for the fun of it

[avonne-writes]

omg for the prompts i love "— “of course i remembered. it’s important to you, so now it’s important to me too.”" and and "— “can i hold your hand? is that weird to ask?”" and and omg "— “i can’t believe you didn’t know i liked you, i thought it couldn’t have been any more obvious.”" for the hs au pleaseeeeee

I posted the hand holding prompt a few days ago, so I'll exclude it here. The other two I'm going to combine with today's Daily Dose of Austin Butler prompt (this will only be at the end of the drabble).

The boys are 15 here, and this is right after they make up following their first serious fight. (Sorry for any typos, I'm very tired.)

TW for brief mention of child abuse

2. Selfie

"I can’t believe you didn’t know I liked you." Gale smiles softly at the small glow-in-the-dark stars that decorate the ceiling of Bucky's bedroom. They're the only source of light in the cozy night as he and Bucky lie there in Bucky's bed side by side. When Gale shifts, Bucky's hand tightens around his where they rest on Gale’s chest. "I thought it couldn’t have been any more obvious."

Bucky's chuckle is so close to Gale's ear that he feels a hot flush run down his neck. "I thought you were just shy."

"I'm not that shy!"

"If you say so, baby." Bucky laughs and hugs him, giddy and warm as usual.

Gale hugs him back and closes his eyes against the sudden pang of pain in his heart when he realizes how much he missed this. Being called baby. Being hugged.

Two months of dating and this is the first time that he’s staying the night. It feels like a dream, especially considering the past few days, when everything seemed to be falling apart because he lied about all the shit he has to put up with at home. Those stupid lies! Why couldn’t he just say, my father is an alcoholic and my mom doesn’t give a fuck?

Instead, he led Bucky to feel like Gale didn’t really like him after all. He confused him. Messed up the first relationship he has ever had. Bucky broke up with him, and Gale cried and cried and threw out all of his dad's booze just to get the slap he felt he deserved. It was... He doesn’t want to think about it. What matters is that his Bucky came back to him, they talked for, like, four hours non-stop, and everything is all right now. For the first time in a week, Gale feels the sweet draw of a peaceful sleep.

When Bucky kisses his cheek, he opens his eyes to look at the plastic stars again.

A few weeks ago, when Bucky had a cold and he came over to cuddle him for a few hours, Bucky told him that he had put those stars up with his dad not long before his parents divorced, but they didn’t finish the whole ceiling. His dad left and had almost no contact whatsoever with Bucky since. All that remains is the longing, an old sheepskin jacket and the stars on the ceiling. Although Gale wouldn’t mind if his own dad wasn’t around, he tries to sympathize. It’s not like he can ever understand, of course, but... well, he tries to do things for Bucky that he would like himself.

"Oh." He covers his face with a hand when he remembers what he has been carrying in his backpack since before their fight. "I forgot to give you your present!"

"Huh?" Bucky pushes himself up, confused, then laughs along with Gale as Gale fumbles to find the light switch. When the bedside lamp finally turns on, they squint at each other blearily in its glow.

A bit self-conscious in his checkered long-sleeved pjs, Gale climbs off the bed and pads over to his schoolbag, where he hopes his gift survived the past few days. He roots around a bit before he emerges triumphant with the small bag wrapped in a Marvel comic page because Bucky's obsessed with those.

Bucky beams in joy at the sight. "Why do I get a gift?" He asks after he takes it from Gale and starts picking at the wrapping.

Gale plops down next to him and tucks his growing hair behind his ear. "For our two-month anniversary." He says, grinning when Bucky gives him a smirk for using that term.

When his gaze drops back to the package, Bucky’s smile fades. "I, uh, got you some chocolate." He gives Gale an apologetic look. "But after - you know. I ate it."

For a moment, Gale stares into Bucky’s sad puppy eyes, then his lips wobble and he bursts into a laugh. "Oh my God."

"I'll buy you something tomorrow!"

Still giggling, Gale lets himself list to the side until his arm bumps into Bucky’s. "It’s okay. I'm not mad."

"Now I feel guilty though." Bucky pouts, but he throws an arm around Gale's shoulders as the contents of his gift finally spill over his lap.

Glow-in-the-dark stars and adhesive.

What Gale expects is a grin and a kiss, and Bucky rambling on about how he finally has enough stars to fill in the gaps on his ceiling, maybe an invitation to do it together, but there’s only silence at first. It’s unusual enough that he starts to worry. Was it a bad idea? Did he do something wrong? He chews at his bottom lip, but tries to find reassurance in the fact that Bucky hasn't pulled his arm back.

"You remembered." Bucky says quietly.

"Of course I remembered." Gale says, surprised that Bucky didn't think that was evident. "It’s important to you. So now it’s important to me too."

A part of Gale worries that he’s being too emotional, too sentimental. Maybe it's too much after only two months? He tried to research anniversary presents but there was no clear answer on the internet. It’s not like he can do much anyway, he barely gets any money from his mom.

The longer the silence stretches on, the more anxious Gale feels, but then, Bucky finally looks up at him, and the raw emotion in his eyes is enough to tell him that it wasn’t a mistake after all.

"Thank you." Bucky says quietly, then tangles his fingers in Gale's hair and gives him a lingering kiss that makes Gale's heartbeat race in joy. When he pulls back, he drops his face to Gale's neck, wraps his arms around him and starts giggling.

"What?" Gale smiles, stroking Bucky’s back.

After a few seconds, Bucky pulls back and kisses him again. "I was going to ask you if -" He bites his lip, uncharacteristically shaky with his words from some strange mix of joy and nerves that puzzles Gale. "- if you'd help me take them off."

Gale stops functioning for a moment. "You want to take them off?"

Bucky cracks a breathy laugh. "Yeah. I thought about it a few weeks ago. I thought we could - it could be a date, I mean - it's dumb but I feel like I don't need them anymore." He looks away, then back at Gale again. "Because I have you."

"Oh." Gale looks at his hands in his lap, trying to process it.

Bucky, who refused to let even his mom touch those stars, is now ready to take them off with Gale's help because of Gale. It doesn't even matter that this makes Gale's present pointless - the warmth of love fills Gale from head to toe. It kind of sounds like as if he was important to Bucky. More important than a memory from the father who left him. After two months. Gale doesn’t really know what this means, but... He likes it. Feeling like he matters is the most amazing thing he has ever experienced.

Slowly, a smile spreads over his face until he’s grinning at Bucky. He gives Bucky's shoulder a light shove. "You’re the least romantic boyfriend ever."

"Shut up, I can be romantic." Bucky laughs and tackles him back on the mattress. "I'm so romantic, you won’t even know what hit you."

"Your bony elbow?"

Bucky snorts, and they wrestle and banter until Gale’s out of breath from laughing and he’s sure his hair stands up in cowlicks. That’s when Bucky throws himself down next to him with his phone in his hand.

"Let’s take a selfie."

"Now?" Frowning, Gale holds up a hand to cover his face. He’s a mess in ugly pjs, and he's pretty sure he has a red spot on his chin too. Utterly unflattering. "No, come on."

"Gaaale." Bucky pleads, turning to his side to cling to Gale. "I'm bored of my wallpaper."

"Just download something."

"I'm bored of that too." Bucky whines. "Please, we don’t take enough selfies. I want to remember this day."

Gale peeks out between his fingers only to see his half-hidden face and tangled hair on the screen of the phone Bucky holds up above them. Grinning, Bucky snaps the photo, then chortles when Gale groans, closes his eyes and drops his hands in defeat.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

When Gale looks up again and sighs, Bucky turns his head, and they meet each other's eyes. Happiness passes between them like a wave of warmth. With an indulgent smile, Gale leans forward and presses his lips to Bucky's.

Snap.

That last selfie ends up being Bucky's wallpaper for months to come until he breaks his phone playing soccer with Curt.

[justmanu]

purple hearts

Summary: Since you've joined the Strawhats crew, you've had a lot of fun and good time. But your capitain is someone who is a little clumsy. And, sometimes, that clumisiness affects you in ways he can't even imagine.

Pairing: Monkey D. Luffy x Reader.

Warnings: It's a little angst to fluff, but mostly angst. But with fluff. And cursing, ig.

A/n: OMG. I had this idea when I was remembering the funny moments between Luffy and Zoro, and I imagined it. It was one of the best scenarios I've ever imagined. Really loved this one. I'm thinking about doing hcs for the Vinsmoke brothers, would you guys want that? They've rented a triplex on my head and I can't stand it.

Words: 1,540 words.

It was another normal day on the Sunny. Sanji was in the kitchen, preparing drinks and snacks for you, Nami and Robin; Usopp and Franky were drawing new machines and inventions to improve things on the ship; Brook and Chopper were playing cards; Zoro was in the crow's nest doing his daily strength training and Luffy was fishing. All seemed to be going normal, but, of course, things on this ship never stay peaceful for too long.

"I got a big one! Usopp! Chopper! Help me out here!", your captain yells and starts pulling his rod at full force. Usopp and Chopper go and start helping him pull it, and then the fish is out of the water. To help him, Luffy used his devil fruit abilities. You were just walking to the kitchen to ask Sanji about your drink when you felt it. The arm Luffy had stretched came at full speed at your back, throwing you against the wooden ship wall.

The wall you hit on was part of the kitchen, so Sanji had a good fright when he heard the really loud thump on the wall. Everyone outside stopped gasped and stopped everything they were doing. This time, there was no way you didn't get hurt. You've been the main target of Luffy's "stretch back on's" for quite some time now. You've only shown how they affected you to Chopper because he was the doctor and insisted on looking at your wounds. You were always covered in deep purple bruises all over your body.

You begged Chopper not to tell anyone, especially your captain, about them. You didn't want the rest of the crew to be worried about your every step because Luffy might hit you. But this time, there was no way to hide it. You hit face-first. You were going to have a huge black eye for a long time. And, come on! That hurt like a bitch! Time seemed to stop for the Strawhats, all of them worried about the hit you just got. But Luffy couldn't have been more oblivious to the harm he's just caused.

When Sanji came out of the kitchen to see what was happening, his eyes widened at you; sprawled out on the floor. Even Zoro got out of the crow's nest to see what was happening. He heard the bang from up there. "Y/n-swan! What happened?!", Sanji asked, running to help you up. Zoro came running as well, worried and curious as to why you were on the floor. You couldn't stand it anymore. You hadn't said a word, trying your best not to cry in front of the whole crew. "I'm okay.", you said, voice a little high pitched. Was all you could manage to say before running to your room, tears already running down your face.

"Hey! Usopp! Chopper! I asked you guys for help, not to stay there looking at the wind!", Luffy said, a little bit annoyed that his friends were not helping him. That's when Nami lost it. "Luffy, are you fucking serious right now? You didn't see what you just did to Y/n?", she screamed at the boy. Luffy was a little taken aback by the shouting. "What do you mean? Y/n is perfectly fine! She's right the-", he pointed to where you were a few minutes ago, resting. He was confused. Where were you? "Luffy, when you stretched your arm to get that fish, while it was stratching back, it hit Y/n with full force and she hit the ship wall at full, too. You hurt her really bad this time.", Robin explained to him the situation.

"Hold the horses, I hurt her?", Luffy asked, not believing what his ears. "Yes, Luffy. You've been hurting her for quite some time now, actually. She asked me to keep this a secret from you all, but I see no point in hiding it now. She is covered in black bruises all over her body.", Chopper said, hoping it would make things a little clearer. "That's why she's been wearing long sleeves and pants? I thought she was sick because there was no way she was feeling cold in these hot days we're going through.", Usopp said.

Luffy hasn't said anything. He was feeling the worst person on the planet. He's been hurting you over and over and didn't even notice! How could he? He was supposed to protect you. Not harm you. He started walking towards his cabin, head low and totally silent. "Are you alright, captain?", Zoro asked. "Yeah, just need to think about the things I've done. I need to think of a way to redeem myself.", Luffy said and walked away. Nami started walking to your room. She needed to make sure you were okay.

When she arrived, she heard you crying from outside the door. She opened and couldn't believe her eyes. She heard Chopper say you were covered in black bruises, but she didn't think it was like this. How were you even standing? "N-Nami! What are you doing here?", you asked, trying to cover your body. "Don't need to hide it anymore. Chopper told us everything, but I didn't know they were this bad!", she said, worried. You couldn't believe it. Chopper told them?! That little reindeer was gonna pay you back.

You and Nami talked the whole afternoon, and you decided you shouldn't be ashamed of the bruises. So, instead of going to dinner in the long sleeves and pants you were used to, you went with a tank top and shorts. When you arrived at dinner, all the Strawhats were shocked at the amount of bruises you had, but didn't dare say a word, and you were thankful for it. You were feeling better not having to hide them anymore. Dinner rolled around pretty light, everyone laughing and having a good time. But something was missing. Where was your captain?

"Hey, guys. Where's Luffy?", you asked, really worried. He never skipped any meal. But as soon as the words left your mouth, the kitchen door swung open to reveal a blood and bruise covered Luffy. "I'm right here." he said, entering the kitchen in most calm of ways. "What happened to you?!", you yelled, worried. That's when he turned to you and saw your bruises. The guilt was eating him alive. He's done all those bruises on you. How dare he? How dare he be so stupid? So distractive. He dropped to his knees in front of you. Turning to look at you, tears in his black eyes. "Please, forgive me. I never, ever intended to hurt you. You are one of the few people I care about most in the world. I can't believe I've done this to you and not noticed! God, I feel so stupid!", he said, gripping his hair as if trying to rip it off.

You couldn't believe your eyes. How did he get this beaten up? "Me and the stupid marimo did it. He asked us to go at him with everything we got, and he didn't dodge one hit.", Sanji said, you didn't realise you said your thoughts outloud. "He said the only way he could redeem himself for what he did to you. If he suffered all the pain he made you feel.", Zoro said, completing Sanji's speech. You were feeling your eyes get filled with tears and a chuckle scaped you. "Stupid, wreckless captain. Of course I forgive you.", you said, gripping his chin for him to look at you. Luffy looked up and searched for your eyes to see if he could find any doubt. He didn't.

He smiled up at you and hugged you tight, you giving him the same treatment. He got up and started spining around with you in his arms. He was so happy right now. When he stopped spinning, he looked in your eyes. You had feelings for your captain way before this all happened, but never told them to anyone. Not even Nami. So when you sealed your lips on a sweet kiss, you were terrified of what was going to happen. But feelings were already all over the place. What harm could it cause adding one more?

The crew went dead silent and focused closely on what would happen next. Luffy looked at you, astonished. It passed a few seconds, and you thought you ruined everything. But then Luffy opened that usual wide grin of his, letting that laugh of his and kissed you again, spinning you around one more time. The Strawhats started shouting, happy for their captain and their crewmate. "Yohoho, I never expected that y/n would have hidden feelings for our dear captain!", Brook commented happy.

All the joy quieted down a bit, and everyone started eating the delicious dinner Sanji had prepared. Luffy sat beside you, not letting go of your hand for one second. You were going to figure out what you and Luffy were, but for now, you were happy to be more than just a friend. "Okay, now that everyone has solved their problems. Can you please stop hurting yourselves? I'm tired of taking care of beaten up crewmates.", Chopper said, making everyone burst out laughing.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

🝊 Curse in Two Bodies: Yule Special 🝊

Masterlist | Summary: With the curse evenly split between them, Adelais and Ninlen struggle through their respective holiday celebrations while pretending they both just have colds. But Adelais isn't doing too well.

Note that there has been a time skip! This is a month or two after we left off. Adelais and Ninlen have learned how to split the curse partially between them, and have started to work together to some extent.

Oh Ievenar, God of Justice, who holds the scales:

Today I come to you with gratitude. For these few hours, I lost myself in the joy of the season, sitting in an easy chair to watch flames consume the yule tree piece by piece in our hearth. What’s a little pain in my body anyway? At an approximately fifty-fifty split, the curse feels, for each of us, like one of the worst sore throats we’ve ever had, but it’s bearable. And it wouldn't work any other way, with the palace festivities happening at the same time as my family's party. I think it was a pretty clever solution. The flannel buttoned up to my chin hides what lacerations there still are, wrapped twice in gauze to prevent visible bleeding. And I am with the people I love, at the little cabin in the valley outside Korsaivar City, where the smoke rises against a golden sky while the sun slowly plunges into the longest night of the year. Home sits on good land, over a humble but deep mana well. I can feel the familiar, energetic strength radiating both from the people around me and from the soil below.

I do love these people, in spite of everything. We aren’t a peaceful family. We claw at one another in our desperation to rise above the circumstances we were born into. I am, at times, tired of being their meal ticket. But they’ve been doting on me all day. They think I have a cold, as an excuse for my raspy voice and my pain on swallowing. It has meant that I can’t hold my newborn niece, Esmerelda, but still, she waves to me across the room in a conversation of curious glances. They’ve wrapped me in quilts, and given me cup after cup of steaming hot chocolate and tea. I feel so cared for… Rarely have I felt so comfortable in every part of my body except the neck. It doesn’t stop me from drawing deep inhales of cedar smoke. Every burning breath is a reminder of how possible it is to be happy even in pain. I am happy, Ievenar.

But I don’t come to you for myself. I come to you, as usual, for Adelais.

It was about three o’clock when he appeared on the television in the corner, tuned to the news broadcast of the royal celebration and national address. Immaculate, as usual, in a pure white military uniform adorned in thin lines of gold, he stood on the balcony overlooking the south courtyard, flanked by his mother and father. Neither of them looked at him even once.

He, too, had made illness his excuse for the way his voice would sound when he spoke his piece on the state of the kingdom and the decrees for the upcoming year. I doubt anyone will question it. He looked positively ashen.

He rested on the cold granite of the railing sometimes, to stop himself from swaying. Those months spent on life support are still haunting his atrophied frame. He’s dizzy, and he’s in at least as much pain as me. Even now, I swallow, and feel that knife-like jab in response, and it makes me uneasy for him.

I don’t want him to suffer so much, Ievenar. It’s as simple as that, what I have to say to you today.

I texted him, because I couldn’t contain myself. “I can see you on TV.”

He was sitting by that point, mercifully, at some kind of long, marble table set up on the balcony. The feed kept cutting to close-ups of his father, who droned on about war bonds, and in those stretches, he was able to reply, “Lovely. /s” His eyes darted across the crowd from one news team to another.

“I’m seeing the feed on your left, from KNZ Daily. And sometimes the one across from you, centered.”

He looked down at his phone, then right at the camera, his face expressionless. “Do I look as bad as I feel?”

Should I have lied? I didn’t. “It’s definitely believable that you’re sick. I don’t know why they have you up there on live news.”

“Neither do I. It’s a PR disaster waiting to happen.”

“You’re doing well so far.” A small shake of the head, and he abandoned his phone pointedly enough that I didn’t bother texting again.

He managed to get to his feet to speak. I couldn’t hear him much over the sounds of the card game going on in my own home. I redirected my attention again and again to the cards on the table and the gingerbread cookies, away from the thready, stumbling rasp of his voice, underpinned with misery even as he forced himself to smile. The warmth and laughter surrounding me seemed to mock him. Just because I was born here, and he was born there, we suffer differently. Where is the justice in that, Ievenar? If it were me, working long hours in the fields, everyone would see the injustice. But because his suffering is the suffering of guilt, no one sees it.

I looked down at my phone again when the card game was over, and at the television. He was seated once more by that time, and the sun painted pink and gold across his bloodless face. A chill wind ruffled the platinum blond fluff under his crown, and he rubbed at his temple. “Ninlen,” he had texted me (some ten minutes prior), “I think I’m actually coming down with something.”

A strange, protective jolt went through my heart. I felt the unmistakable, intoxicating uprush of my body drawing power involuntarily. “Did you feel that?” my mother asked. “Ripple in the mana.”

“Weird,” I lied, and discharged it quietly, flexing my wrists and letting the veins glow under my sleeves until I didn’t feel like I’d explode anymore.

Under control again, I managed to type, “It’s cold out there. You’ll feel better when you’re inside.”

“No. My throat hurts worse and worse. I’m getting congested. And I feel so faint.” He was visibly frowning and sniffling. Did you see him, Ievenar? Were you looking at him? You made him so miserable. Why punish him now, when he’s already in pain? He’s sick. Just lift the curse for a little while, just…

I know that’s not how it works. But it’s how it should work. I’ll say it. That’s what I see. If his throat hurts anyway, why double it?

“Come back tonight. Please. I won’t be able to sleep like this.” The please, from him…that’s really something.

“I can’t. I’ve rightfully taken my paid leave, and I promised my family. I’m so sorry. But I’ll be there first thing in the morning.” He sniffed again and left me on read.

The press conference wore on. Outside the thick lattice of my window, snowflakes started to tumble out of the sky. Heavy and thick, good for a snowman tomorrow. It had started up at the palace too. Despite the overhang above the balcony, a dusting had started to settle on Adelais’ hair and his almost bluish lips. He was shivering too violently to conceal.

“Will they let you go inside, now that your speaking part is over? If you tell them you’re sick?”

“There’s not much chance of that.” But he leaned towards his mother while the mics were cut to focus on the choir performance in the courtyard below. He whispered something to her, and she shook her head. A moment later, she whispered back, turning her whole body for it, lips drawn tight and speaking forcefully. Adelais looked away. His eyes went…a bit dead. A scolding looks the same even in the royal family.

“I’m sorry,” I texted. “This is awful.” He stared down at his lap, at my reply, his face trembling dangerously.

“It’s fine. I deserve it.” It’s lucky I was glued to my phone in a near frenzy of nerves, because the message was deleted a moment later. I looked back up and watched him take deep breath after deep breath, fighting not to cry.

When I tell you I almost drew the entire mana well into my body, Ievenar… God, such a desperation came over me, to intervene. But we were setting the table for dinner, laying out the candles and the sprigs of holly.

I did the only thing I could think to do. I texted Steward Quincy. “The Prince is genuinely sick. Get him inside if you can. If you can’t, get him a coat or a blanket or something warm.”

“In the middle of the Yule broadcast? I don’t even have the authority to do that.”

“Do you want him to pass out on live television?” It was a bit of an exaggeration, but so be it.

A minute later, a member of the PR team stepped up behind him, speaking briefly to him and setting a thick overcoat around his shoulders. I have very been grateful today, Ievenar. But I was most grateful at that moment.

Another wave of emotion seemed to go through him, by the heavy way he was breathing, but he fought it down. He looked right into the camera then, and smiled weakly at me. At me, I’m certain, because a moment later he texted, “thank you.” But I’m also certain that the whole portion of the kingdom who happened to be watching at that moment found themselves thoroughly dazzled by the fondness there.

I’m laying in my childhood bed now, and I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s trying to sleep now and probably can’t. He told me afterwards, in his formal, matter-of-fact way, “It seems I have a fever. Everything hurts. Don’t be late tomorrow morning.”

And I won’t be late. But I also won’t be early enough. So please. Nature is hurting him enough tonight, Ievenar. Can’t you just give him a break, just this once? Before I go mad with protectiveness and draw every spark of power from here to Montagleo, leave him alone.

[nfumbewalk]

Graveyards: All About Them

First, here are things to do in a graveyard. This includes what to bring and what you can do plus some etiquette.

First, have decency and respect.

If you plan on gathering anything, bear the correct offerings. Such as: A small (1/2 oz) of hard liquor, payment (9 to 27 pennies), Jasmine incense joss stick, bouquet of flowers, Florida water (preferably homemade) OR Kananga water, also homemade - both of these are sacred to the muertos, but to draw them to you, Kananga water works best; good sized piece of Quartz, double terminated to use for housing a muerto temporarily (yes, you can put a muerto in a crystal but they must be transferred to a vessel and pacted within 2 days - no more than this.)

For protection in a graveyard, especially if you are very sensitive/psychic: Wear a white bandana on your head before even going in. And don't wear black when you go there. Why? As a daily wearer of black clothing, I noticed a big change when I wore all white to the graveyard. It's actually more powerful. White radiates healing power and seems to quiet the muertos, but it also gives them a sense of relaxation and peace when you are around them. They are easier to communicate with. I noticed that black seems to tangle up communication. I don't know why. I guess that white flows better. But I hate it because I instantly get white filthy. LOL!

Some ppl say that there are no dead souls at the graveyard, that they don't hang out there. That's wrong. Some of the muertos do hang out by their grave, watching over it. Many of them can be like sentinels. Rodolfo says he used to protect his grave but as soon as I found him and started visiting, he wanted to just be with me. I got that distinct feeling, so I picked him up one day. I didn't realize how successful I was!

Graveyard Work: That includes gathering dirt, Siphoning the Earth with a Baston de Muerto, curses and hexes, and other full blown rituals -these can be done - but homage must be paid to the Earth in the graveyard. The best way of doing this is a buried offering of your own blood on a piece of small parchment which is placed in a very small glass corked bottle. This buried offering gives you a real relationship with the land that holds these muertos. It is very deep respect. And no, there is NO gatekeeper in graveyards, That's a widely professed misconception. I have never once been approached or sensed any "gatekeeper" of any kind. All that there is - in a graveyard - is known as the "heart" of the graveyard. This is the central zone. It is sensed by feeling where you notice an electrical charge the strongest and a smell of the freshest air that you have ever experienced. I like to do my work there unless I'm at Rodolfo's grave.

What exactly to expect with graveyard work? Is it dangerous? Don't get your expectations up too high. Graveyard work is great and very powerful, but you are not exactly going to see flashing lights and muertos dancing. It is often very low key. But the results of graveyard work can be fantastic! It is only dangerous if you go into the graveyard with no knowledge of what this work entails. This is NOT for beginners! If you know nothing, you may get a spirit attachment and that can be hard to remove. Try the precautions I mentioned above.

Don't leave empty handed. Gather an item from the Earth of the graveyard besides dirt. I'm not talking about robbing graves. I'm talking about something like a white Quartz that is often on top of graves, or any other rock that has been sitting on a grave. This is another powerful totem that you can use in your practice to represent and draw Death Energy to you, It does NOT need cleansing. Cleansing would ruin it.

Kindness for the Earth and muertos - Please pick up any garbage that you see in the graveyard. People are litter bugs and I hate seeing trash hanging around a beautiful place that I venerate.

What NOT To Do In The Graveyard

Don't take this resting place lightly.

Don't yell or scream.

Do not run around in a graveyard unless there are trails. (We have them here in Oregon). Running is very loud to the muertos. Would you like your grave stomped on?

Don't litter.

Do NOT desecrate a grave, tip over, break, or steal a tombstone. It is not funny.

Do not have intercourse in a graveyard, It is very disrespectful. Not kinky.

Do not invoke/evoke Demons in a graveyard unless you know what you are doing. This can open you up widely for a demon/spirit attachment. I said lowercase "demon." That is my difference between known Demons and demons that are low level "lesser demons" and are not in a hierarchy. They can be extremely dangerous. These demons are NOT worshipped. Never give them blood. Once you have a lesser demon's name, it loses power and it's a lot easier to banish. I've done this four times successfully. It's very heavy and quite difficult but my method works.

Do NOT "ghost hunt" in a graveyard (or anywhere else!). It is extremely disrespectful and the muertos will leave. If there is any EMF involved, the muertos will not come back for a very long time or it will anger them so much that they will retaliate. They do NOT like EMF. That's why they love Shungite and Orgonite so much - gets rid of EMF. This is MY theory that I've studied and put to work. Rodolfo LOVES the Orgonite pyramid I put on his altar. To a muerto, EMF is like a huge bass speaker vibrating in their ears very loudly. Annoying? Yeah, I think so.

Do not talk shit about the muertos in a graveyard. This is obvious, right?

Refrain from drug and alcohol use in a graveyard. Picnics are acceptable though.

Well, I think I hit a lot of angles here. I hope this helps or is interesting. I'm not trying to be harsh with "rules." It is mostly common sense or just rules of thumb to keep in mind for a nice, safe, and meaningful visit to the graveyard for work or general visitation,

M.M.

[lilpunkrock]

where you go (i will go) — part xvi

Summary: With assistance from Destiny, your war with Desire finally comes to an end.

Words: 10.0k+

AN: It's all come down to this. I hope you all enjoy. x

masterlist

. . .

“All I really know is that you’re where I wanna go,

The part of me that’s you will never die;

So when I’m all choked up, but I can’t find the words,

Every time we say goodbye baby it hurts;

When the sun goes down, and the band won’t play,

I’ll always remember us this way.” 

Always Remember Us This Way, Noelle Johnson

. . . 

part xvi

The seven Endless. Destiny. Death. Dream. Destruction. Despair. Desire. Delirium. 

Of the seven anthropometric beings, Destiny was the most mysterious to you. Funny, considering your paths had been irrevocably intertwined for millenia. He was responsible for your creation, the ultimate source of your daily duties. And yet, you’d never spoken with him, let alone seen him, in all of your divine existence. 

You suppose it’s only fitting, then, that you should finally meet. 

When you open your eyes, the Garden of Forking Ways greets you. You’ve heard myths of its serene beauty, but nothing could have prepared you to witness its splendor in person. The expansive garden you find yourself in is low and flat compared to the green hills and snow-dipped mountains that climb upward and outward far in the distance. A pale mist settles in the nooks and crannies of the elevated landscape, partially enshrouding the remnants of monuments, citadels, and temples that dapple the mountainsides. The sky is a peaceful robin’s egg blue. 

And then, there are the walkways. Paths made of yellow sandstone curl and twist and cut across the garden, branching off into walkways that lead in multiple directions. If you squint hard enough, you can see them curl up and over the hillsides, only to disappear into the mist settling over the mountains. 

“It is said that decisions made in Destiny’s garden determine future paths, ward,” the Crone had advised as she rested a wrinkled hand upon your forehead, preparing to send you here. “Choose wisely.” 

You spin in a slow circle, observing all of the possible forks and branches you can take. No path looks particularly different than another. 

And so, you just start walking. 

The air is cool and crisp as you wind down the paths that curl over the grass. It’s at the edge of the garden that you reach your first fork in the path. One sandstone walkway snakes toward a set of crumbling ruins to your right, while the other curls around a towering stone temple to your left. 

How am I supposed to decide? you wonder, glancing back and forth between the two options before you. Did your choices here really matter as much as the Fates had said? Or was it all just tall tales and mythology?

With a deep breath, you close your eyes in contemplation. There’s a peace that comes from removing the sight of the options in front of you. It allows you to think clearly, to look inward rather than outward. 

Standing at the fork in the path, you draw in deep lungfuls of the crisp air. The only sound that meets your ears is the soft whisper of your breathing. 

There. A tiny shift, almost imperceptible, twinges within your chest. It beckons you to the left, toward the towering stone temple. 

When you open your eyes, you take the path to the left with confidence. 

As you walk along the outside of the temple, you alternate between glancing down the sloping hills to your right and into the open corridors of the temple to your left. Each time, you wonder if you might spot Destiny. But each time you find yourself alone, a solitary figure wandering amongst the Endless’s Garden of Forking Ways. 

It’s not the end of the world, you suppose. It gives you time to think of what’s to come. Time to ponder how you’re going to plead your case to the Endless. 

The day you’d died and been reborn, the Fates had declared that your fate was written in the book of Destiny of the Endless. Millenia spent walking as an immortal had taught you its true name: The Book of Souls. It was the book that your daily assignments were based on. A tome bound in leather made from a beast that had never been born. The book within which all things existed, the book that contained the fate of all things past, present, and future. 

The fates of all eros, philia, philautia, erotoropia, storge, pragma, and agape bonds were in that book. The fates of all of Desire’s bonds were in that book.

The universe required balance between love and desire. Shifts and changes tipped the scales in either direction at any given moment. Balancing these scales was an ongoing challenge, and would be until the end of time. But only as long as you were working blind, like you were now. You were working with limited information, fulfilling the steps in years-long prophecies on a day-to-day basis. Meanwhile, Desire did as they pleased, placing attachments without any regard for the scales at large. 

And that was the heart at the center of your theory. What if changing the process by which you worked could turn the tide? What if you could see the future of love and desire on the grandest scale, all at once? You could find the balance between the two. You could determine the events that needed to occur to ensure this balance was fulfilled. You could foster and protect and insure your attachments in advance, so that nothing could prevail against them. 

Maybe you could even protect your own. 

Do you really think you can succeed? the accursed voice of doubt whispers in the back of your mind. Your power had grown exponentially over the past several months. Each bond you fostered felt more concrete than ever before. You were capable of breaking Desire’s bonds now, too, though it came at a cost.  

You weren’t sure what the cost of a feat like this would be, or if you could even pull it off. But you had to believe that you could. To protect the love bonds of humanity for the remainder of time. To finally escape from Desire’s grasp, to make you an equal in their eyes. To protect Dream. 

When you round the corner of the stone temple, you come to a halt. 

You’ve walked onto another flat, expansive garden off the side of the temple. Lining the side of this garden, however, is a row of towering statues carved from pale stone. All but one stand facing the temple. As enormous as they are, their features are easily recognizable to you from afar: Destiny, Death, Dream, Destruction, Despair, Desire, and Delirium. 

All paths lead back to him. 

Your feet carry you toward the effigies in a trance. You’d once heard that, if you stood watch in Destiny’s garden long enough, you’d notice the statues’ almost imperceptible movements. They weren’t just sculptures, after all. They were manifestations, meant to mirror the condition of their living counterparts. 

When you come to a stop directly in front of Dream’s sculpture, you find his head downturned, his carved stone eyes gazing directly at you.

“Oh, Dream.” 

Your palm comes to rest against the cool stone of the effigy’s shoe gently, as if to comfort him. If you were to make things right–if you were to free humanity, Dream, and yourself from Desire’s meddling–this needed to work. You needed Destiny’s assistance. 

Dream had once told you that his elder brother made no mistakes. You wonder if Destiny of the Endless will deem your plan as just or foolish. You wonder if he expects you here now.

“Greetings, Agape, Goddess of Love.” 

You spin so haphazardly that your soul is nearly flung from your body. “Son of a—so you all like to do that, do you?”

Destiny of the Endless towers before you, his head slightly bowed, the upper half of his features cloaked in shadow. “I have been awaiting your arrival,” he says, his voice low and measured. 

Well, that answers that question. 

Standing before the being who foretold your creation, one of the eldest beings in the universe, you observe his features for the first time. Destiny easily towers over you by at least a foot. His slim form is cloaked in beige robes, his bare feet resting lightly atop the path you both stand upon. The hood of his cloak is drawn low over his face, concealing his eyes from you. His shoulders, though broad, are slightly hunched from eons spent crouched over the Book of Souls. The hefty tome itself is tucked under his arm. The chain that permanently links it to his wrist glints in the sunlight. 

To stand in his presence is both awe-inspiring and disconcerting. He was one of the most powerful and ancient beings in existence, after all. Your entire life–past, present, and future–was contained in the book held under his arm, the subject of his musing on any given day. If you thought Dream’s presence was otherworldly, then Destiny’s aura is transcendent, almost alien.

In spite of the obvious dominion he holds over you, Destiny does not appear haughty. Though no smile graces his wrinkled face, his expression–what you can see of it, anyway–appears calm, reposed. Something in the back of your mind tells you he is appeased by your arrival, the fulfilling of a prophecy he’s likely known about since his first breath. 

With a deep, calming breath, you offer him a small smile. A gesture of good will. “Well, if you’ve been expecting me, then I suppose you also know why I’m here.” 

Destiny’s thumb trails along the spine of the Book of Souls, back and forth. “Your arrival and intentions are within the scheme of things, all of which are known to me,” he says. He speaks with a perfect and polite intonation, almost as if reading from a script. You wonder how many times he’s read of this encounter, if he’s ever rehearsed these lines. “Regardless, I invite you to state your intentions for visiting me, as has been foretold.” 

There is a twitch at the corner of your mouth, the beginnings of a smile. There’s something about Destiny that stands out to you. This regality, this formality, this neutrality–it reminds you of Dream, particularly when you first met him. You can’t help but smile in full at the realization. 

“I’d like to look in your book, if it is the universe’s will,” you say, sounding far more confident than you expected to. 

There is a long pause as Destiny considers you. Only the soft whisper of the breeze and the friction of his thumb against the leather book spine intrude upon the silence. “And what is it you wish to find?” he asks, even though he already knows. 

It feels like the two of you are fulfilling roles in a play. You off-handedly wonder if it’s a comedy or tragedy. “I’m sure you’re aware that, since my creation, I’ve been at odds with your younger sibling, Desire. I’ve often struggled to maintain balance between the scales we share. Admittedly, I used to think that love should prevail over desire in all circumstances. But now, I see things differently. My abilities have grown in recent months. I hope to use my new power to establish balance between love and desire. Not just now, but forever.” You work your jaw, mulling over how to word your request. “Right now, I fulfill attachments on a day-to-day basis. I can see the needs of the present, but not the futures that my people are moving toward. If I can learn the fates of humanity’s attachments from your Book of Souls, I believe I can preset and guard the final outcomes of my attachments. In particular, eros, philia, and agape.”

Destiny’s head tilts ever so slightly. “I see the assurance of your function in this plan. But what of my sibling’s?”

“Eros, philia, and agape have always been close to my heart. Romantic love, soul ties, and selfless love–they're three of the most powerful forms of love in existence. Their fulfillment must be assured. Desire will be free to influence mortals in their philautia, erotoropia, pragma, and storge attachments. It will be a trade. A balance.” A heavy pause. You nibble at the inside of your cheek anxiously. “I hope.” 

“You fulfill your role well,” Destiny muses. He inclines his chin slightly, as if to get a better look at you. As his hood lifts, you catch a glimpse of his eyes for the first time. Clouded with a milky white film, they appraise you as if they are perfectly clear. “I must confess, it was unexpected to see the Book of Souls prophesy the transformation of a human into a deity. I did not doubt its words, but it was surprising, nonetheless.” 

Destiny’s words hang in the air, settling over you quietly. Under the subject of his sightless gaze, you suddenly do not feel like a deity, or a goddess, or a diplomat pleading the case of her function. You feel like yourself, like someone with endless questions, finally coming face-to-face with the one who holds all the answers. A mortal standing in the presence of omnipotence. 

“Why let it all play out this way? Pitting a goddess against an Endless?” You gesture to the statue of Desire that stands towers above you several paces away. Their likeness carved in stone is almost as unsettling as it is in life. “The power imbalance is too great. Even now, this plan of mine is just a theory. I don’t know for certain that it’s going to work.” You pause, working your jaw, mulling over how much to say, how big of a risk to take. “It’s unfair,” you finally dare to accuse. 

For a moment, Destiny is still as the stone effigy of him that oversees the garden. When he does finally move, it is to draw the Book of Souls out from under his arm. His palm sweeps over the bronze leather cover with reverence. “I do not dictate the Book of Souls; it dictates me. I do not choose what is to happen; I am the Keeper that ensures all happens as it should.” Destiny’s eyes drift from the tome in his hands to you. In spite of his blindness, there’s something about his gaze that makes you feel as if he sees straight through to your soul. When he speaks again, his tone is low, matter-of-fact, absolute. “All has unfolded as it was meant to, and all is as it should be. There is a reason for all things, but not all are meant to know the reason.”

Your mouth opens on instinct as a protest leaps to your tongue. However, you catch yourself, pressing your lips together quickly. You were speaking with Destiny of the Endless, keeper of the past, present, and future of the universe. You were already asking for far too big of a favor, for far more than you had ever heard of Destiny bestowing upon another being. Best not to press your luck with protests. 

“There is one piece of information you withhold from me,” Destiny says. “There is one being for whom you wish to protect all attachments. Is there not?” 

Your heart flutters in your chest. He’s found you out, your mind chides anxiously, frazzled with nerves. But, then again, could you really be all that surprised? He was Destiny of the Endless. Knowing everything was his function. 

It’s pointless to lie. And so, you don’t. “Yes,” you breathe past the vice that grips your throat. “Love is about being selfless. I’ve tried to be selfless all my life. Just once…I want to do something selfish. I need to protect him.”

A quiet hum rumbles in Destiny’s chest. You’re not sure if it’s one of amusement, consideration, or displeasure. When he speaks again, there is no anger in his voice. You hope it is one of the former options. “Your desire to protect him regardless of the cost is a mortal quality. The preservation of your mortal qualities into your divine existence was long foretold. They have made you a more effective deity to your people.” A brief pause. A sweep of his hand over the Book of Souls. “They were essential to your connection with him, as well.” 

Destiny inclines his head to look above you, past you. When you follow his milky white gaze, you find yourself staring at the statue of Dream. It still looks at you.

Understanding settles into your heart, soft, soothing, and supple. You turn from Destiny then, resting your palm against the smooth stone cloak clothing Dream’s effigy. Where was he now, at this very moment? Was he thinking of you, as you were thinking of him? Did he miss you like you missed him, with a physical force both sweet and painful? Could he feel it through the bond you shared?

“Was I always meant to love him?” you ask, your voice scarcely more than a whisper. Under the gaze of Dream’s sculpture, you feel soothed, at peace. You suspect you could remain here forever, never looking away. “From the moment I was born mortal, was it always meant to be this way?”

“You will soon learn.”

Hope sparks in your heart at Destiny’s words, bright and jarring. Still, you trail your fingers down the cloak of Dream’s statue slowly, fondly, before you turn to him. “You’re going to let me read your book, then,” you say, a hint of a question in your statement. 

Destiny’s clouded gaze holds yours as he extends the Book of Souls to you. The links in the chain binding him to the tome ring as he does so. “All is as it should be,” he says simply. 

Your eyes don’t stray from his as you take the volume from him with gentle hands. In spite of its size, it’s not as heavy as you would have expected, especially for carrying the entire record of the known and unknown universe. Though the book now rests in your hands, Destiny’s chain extends between you, still binding him to it. A reminder that you are only borrowing his function. A reminder of the significance of this gift he’s giving you. 

No matter what it takes, you won’t let it go to waste. 

Your eyes fall closed as you inhale deeply. As the pages of the Book of Souls flutter open under your touch, the sweet scent of ink and paper greets your nose. When you flatten your hand atop the open page before you, it’s with conviction. 

Show me. 

With an exhale, the world around you disappears. 

. . . 

When the Book of Souls pulls you in, it’s as if you’ve been plunged into lukewarm water. Though the world you float in is neither hot nor cold, it’s no less jarring. When you try to draw in a breath, your lungs refuse. When you open your eyes, you find nothing but solid, suffocating darkness. Your palm won’t lift from the page it rests on. 

For a brief, terrifying moment, panic surges through you. You’ve felt like this before—trapped in darkness, unable to move, robbed of air. It’s almost too much, too quickly. 

But then, a familiar feeling surfaces. A stirring in your chest, a hum that calls from your heart like the sweetest song. A sensation you haven’t felt in weeks. That you haven’t felt since you last saw Dream.

The answer is here.

Show me, you speak into the darkness, sweeping your palm over the book’s ancient pages. Show me what I need to see. 

Fulfilling your function has always been a visual endeavor. Fostering attachments, placing premonitions in dreams—it all required the ability to picture events in your mind, to imagine the future transpiring as you saw fit. 

But this—this is different. This isn’t visual—this is a feeling. Standing at the center of the universe, you feel attachments unfurl around you. Expanding outward, they curl and curve and twist like the Garden of Forking Ways. Glowing brightly amidst the darkness, the threads of white, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple spring outward like tree roots. When they reach their destination, a glowing outline of the mortal they belong to springs to life. Suddenly, you’re no longer alone, as millions upon millions of souls are revealed in the darkness. The threads continue to unspool, gaining speed, connecting mortals in an intricate web of divine design, expanding onward and onward and onward—

And suddenly, stillness breaks the rush of momentum. A soft gasp escapes you as you watch seven radiant threads unfurl from your own chest. Philia. Eros. Philautia. Erotoropia. Storge. Pragma. Agape. 

They stretch outward, seven lights that outshine the darkness. When they find their home, a familiar silhouette burns to life. Tall and slender, with a wild mop of hair. When his radiant silhouette is complete, he turns toward you. 

And you smile. 

. . . 

Retracting your hand from the Book of Souls feels like coming up for air. You heave in great gulps of it as your eyes fly open and the book falls shut between your hands. In a daze, you look around, gathering your bearings. When your eyes rest on Destiny, you find him watching you expectantly. 

“Wow. You do that all day, every day?” you ask, still trying to catch your breath. 

“I suspect my experience looking into the Book of Souls is different than yours, but yes,” Destiny says, his voice matter-of-fact. “To do so is my function, and my function is my purpose. 

Yep, he’s definitely Dream’s brother. 

You hand the Book of Souls back to him with care. As it leaves your hands, you feel lighter and heavier all at once. The knowledge you’ve gleaned from it burns at the forefront of your mind. Now that it’s back in Destiny’s possession, a realization settles over you. “You know how this is all going to end,” you say quietly. 

Destiny returns the Book of Souls to its rightful place under his arm. His thumb sweeps over its leather spine with something like fondness. “I do,” he says. 

“And I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give me a head’s up about anything?” 

There is an understanding in the silence between you. 

“I’ll try my best to do right by your book. And both of your siblings. I assure you,” you say, offering the Endless a firm nod. Then, you lift your chin, preparing to make one last request. “Before I leave, I do need your help with one last thing.”

“I know.”

. . .

The coffee shop buzzes with quiet chatter as you step through the front door. In another time–in what seems now like another life entirely–you would have been eager to approach the counter and find a unique item on the menu to try. The local special, something you couldn’t get anywhere else.

But today, your mind is not on coffee. You are focused on how the hum of conversation and the movement of patrons through the small shop will make it easy for you to slip away unnoticed. Your conversation with Destiny from mere hours ago plays on a loop in your mind. 

“The scales of love and desire lie within the pane where the Realm of Attachment and the Threshold meet. The sharing of your scales allows both you and Desire to traverse one another’s realms. Desire crosses this boundary each time they venture into yours.”

“But how do I find the pane? I’ve never seen the place where our realms meet.”

“How do you normally travel to your realm?”

When your fingers graze the shoulder of a mother sharing a muffin with her young son, your touch is featherlight, unnoticeable. The Realm of Attachment beckons you, urging you to step into this coffee shop on another plane of existence. When you reach out and through her, however, you don’t simply seek the alternate reality of this shop. Instead, you have a specific destination in mind. 

Take me to the place where the Realm of Attachment and the Threshold meet. 

A warm breeze ghosts across your cheeks, dancing through your hair. When you open your eyes, the sight that greets you steals the breath from your lungs. 

The world you’ve stepped into has been split in two. The half on which you stand is a kaleidoscope of colors, an intricate web of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, and white threads that braid and twist and intertwine. The tapestry they weave is radiant, prismatic, as intricate and delicate as the fibers of a human iris. 

As the threads stretch out before you, however, they begin to bleed like watercolors. Where the threads blur and dissipate, clouds form in their place. Far in the distance, a humanoid citadel rises up from within them. Hands outstretched toward the sky, an enormous heart lies exposed in the center of its chest. Even from this distance, you can see the pulse of each heartbeat. You can even make out the familiar features on the citadel’s face. 

“So, this is how you’ve been visiting me all this time,” you whisper into the open air. As your feet carry you forward, toward the place where your worlds melt into one another, your hand rises of its own accord. When you extend your palm forward, you feel it rest on a flat surface that is invisible to the eye, but cool to the touch. Like a window between worlds. 

When Destiny had referenced a pane, it seems he’d meant it literally. 

“Fancy meeting you here, darling.”

At the familiar sing-song of Desire’s voice, you immediately pull your palm from the invisible pane. Turning to your right, you watch as the Endless walks toward you, feet ghosting over the clouds with feline grace. That was the thing about windows, you supposed–they worked both ways. 

Throughout your divine existence, you’ve had many encounters with Desire. Often, they incited feelings of panic, terror, anger, or annoyance. But today, it is an eerie sense of calm that settles over you as the Endless approaches. You wonder if they can sense it. 

“Correct me if I’m mistaken, but it appears that you and my dear brother Dream have had a falling out,” Desire coos, drifting from cloud to cloud like a phantom clothed in black. When they come to a stop across from you, they place their hands on their narrow hips, golden eyes wide and flashing. “You just can’t play along, can you?” 

You draw in a long breath through your nose, exhaling slowly through parted lips. Encouraging yourself to remember what your purpose is, the reason you’ve traveled here. One hand slips into your coat pocket, allowing your fingers to dance across the soft cloth of Dream’s sand pouch. Your memento. Your good luck charm. 

In spite of Desire’s taunting, the calm remains. 

You suspect your lack of response comes as a surprise, because Desire quirks one eyebrow at you. Slowly, they begin to pace back and forth on the other side of the invisible pane, eying you like a lamb led to slaughter. “No, I suppose you can’t. You’ve always had a little rebel in you, right from the beginning. Normally, I’d find that endearing.” Desire pauses to tilt their head at you. Their tongue flashes over their bone-white teeth. “Please, though–do share, darling. How did it feel to rip my brother’s heart from his chest? To hold it in your hand and squeeze? I’m dying to know.” 

Your hand closes around the pouch of sand in your pocket, a subtle movement that maintains your composure. “That’s enough, Desire,” you warn, your voice firm and even. 

The Endless’s eyes flash at your retort. Their delicate features contort with agitation. When they speak, their voice is sharp with malice. “Be honest, little goddess. Look at yourself–exhausted, battered, broken, and alone. Was it really worth it? Dying for your dear first love, all those years ago? Just to end up here?”

A thousand memories flash through your mind at Desire’s words, a highlight reel of your entire divine life. A re-living of all the things you would have missed if your life had ended that night by that fire with those hands around your neck. Long conversations with Death at funerals and battlegrounds. The pure elation of fostering billions upon billions of attachments, including Matt and Ava’s. Laughing over cups of hot tea and mugs of cold beer with Hob. Sharing cream cheese and morning cuddles with Theo, basking in the selfless love you shared. Quiet mornings spent reading and organizing the library with Lucienne. Dirty jokes, walks through Fiddler’s Green, and drops of coffee shared with Matthew. 

Seeing Dream for the first time, a single run of black ink against a vibrant wall of stained glass. The thinly-veiled awe in his eyes when you’d shown him your world, when he’d locked eyes with you at the wedding in the forest. Marveling at a sky full of stars when he swept you under his cloak. Quiet hums of intrigue as you fed him ideas for new dreams and nightmares. Teal and lavender stardust swirling in his eyes under a midnight sky as you combined your functions to create something new. 

The feeling of Dream’s warm palm against your tentative fingers. The silken sense of safety you felt as you sat together on the Dreaming’s beach after a night plagued with memories. Tossing him seashells on the honey-gold beach he’d created for you. The surety that had blazed in his eyes when he’d vowed to protect you. The soft vulnerability in his eyes when he’d admitted that he remembered you. 

The sweet cashmere press of his lips against yours. Opening up into each other’s arms on the honey-gold beach under a starlit sky. A vow lovingly whispered into your ear. And the pain that had come after, when the greatest act of love you could give was protecting him by stepping away. It was a love worth giving anything for–worth giving everything for. 

It’s time. 

You smile. “Yes. Yes, it was.” 

And with that, you lift your hand to touch the invisible pane between you. 

When your palm rests against its cool surface, you exhale slowly, reaching out, reaching through. Just like you’ve done countless times before. Under your influence, the once-invisible pane shimmers like stars. 

Desire’s face falls in an instant. “What are you doing?” they ask, taking a jolting step toward you. 

You breathe in and out slowly, maintaining your composure. You can feel the destination that lies not on the other side of the pane, but within the pane. The scales of love and desire call out to you like a song you’ve always known. “I’m ending this,” you say, your voice calm and sure. “I’m balancing our scales once and for all.” 

Desire’s eyebrows raise, then furrow. “Impossible,” the Endless spits angrily. “That’s out of your league, darling. You don’t have the strength.” 

The small smile that had lifted your lips moments ago evolves into a full-fledged grin. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” 

Closing your eyes, you begin to reach out, searching for the realm that calls out to you beyond the pane. The sound of Desire drawing nearer makes you pause. You fight the urge to open your eyes, to display any hint of indecision. “No matter what you do, Love, you still won’t escape me. As long as you love my darling brother, I can control him. And you.”

A pressure builds in your chest, bubbling forth until you can’t contain it any longer. Laughter. Tension radiates from Desire at the sound, prickling against your skin. “You see, that’s the funny thing. You can’t. Because if you do, I’ll throw your scales off-balance.” You can feel the Endless drawing nearer, almost close enough to touch. “You shouldn’t have made me leave Dream. Because it gave me so much time to think. So much time to grow stronger. I’m done playing nice, Desire. Dream doesn’t fear you. And now, neither do I.”

Just as you feel the tips of Desire’s fingers swipe across your forearm, you reach out, reach through. 

For a moment, you’re falling, falling, falling. The world tips and spins like an aerotrim as you slip into the plane between worlds. 

And then, solid ground beneath your feet.

When you first try to open your eyes, the sheer brightness of your surroundings forces you to close them again. It takes several moments for your pupils to adjust to the brilliant white you’re enveloped in. When they do, you find yourself standing in a near-featureless world. There is no ground, no sky, no walls–only a vibrant, endless white that extends in all directions, as far as you can see. 

The only occupant of this void besides yourself is the balance scale that towers before you. It’s enormous–easily three times your height. With its gleaming gold construction and intricate engravings, it looks like it was pulled straight from antiquity. The links of chain that support the scale’s pans clink softly as they tip back and forth, constantly in motion. 

Above one pan hovers a familiar heart cut from black glass, glowing from within with crimson light. Desire’s sigil. Above the other pan hovers a heart cut from clear crystal. Prisms glisten off its surface, catching and scattering in the white light. Though you’ve never seen it before, you know in your bones that it’s your own.

You watch as the scales tip back and forth almost imperceptibly, responding to the fulfillment and expiration of attachments in real time. In spite of their constant movement, it’s Desire’s pan that hangs lower, outweighing your own. They carry the favor–for now.

Breathless, you gaze at the scales in awe, your lips parted, your jaw slack. The scales of love and desire had been a presence in your life for millennia. And yet, they’d always seemed far off, more of a myth than a reality. To see them in person is stunning, awe-inspiring. 

And, above all else, it’s exhilarating. Standing in the scales’ presence is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Your power, normally a sweet hum beneath the surface of your skin, is loud, insistent, demanding. It bellows through your veins like a choir, rattling your bones with seismic force. Your fists clench tightly at your sides as the sheer magnitude of it floods your senses.  It’s almost too much. But it’s not—it’s exactly enough. 

For the first time in your entire immortal life, you truly feel divine. 

It’s time to show Desire what you can really do. 

You cross the space between yourself and the scales with surety. When your hand rests against the golden support between the two pans, the air is ripped from your lungs with supernatural force. Molten warmth pours through you from your soul to your fingertips, a liquid light that illuminates every nook and crevice, filling you up, up, up. It leaves room for nothing else.

“Show me,” you command with a voice that is both your own and a stranger’s.

In an instant, the once-white world around you is cut through by billions of threads. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, white, and black. They cross and twine and interlace across every inch of this world, from the heavens above to the expanse beneath your feet. 

Your heart sings in their presence, every nerve in your body thrumming like a tuning fork. In spite of the intricate design of the tapestry that surrounds you, you can see who each thread belongs to, and exactly where each one leads. The knowledge that the Book of Souls gifted you burns like a brand upon your mind.

Somewhere out there, seven threads call to you. One in each color of the rainbow. The ones that you and Dream are destined to share.

With a shuddering breath, you pull from within, coaxing the future you saw in Destiny’s book to the forefront. All at once, a billion images flash through your mind. A billion meetings, a billion acts of selflessness, a billion touches, a billion ‘I love you’s.’ 

Eros, philia, and agape. All of them, for the remainder of time. The seven attachments you’re meant to share with Dream. All waiting to happen. All waiting on your word. 

“In this way, it shall be.”

And the world around you rejoices.

Every eros, philia, and agape attachment surrounding you illuminates at once, bathing you in red, white, and gold. Though they’re hidden from your view, you feel your own attachments call out to you, singing songs of gratitude, their voices sweet with joy. 

A wave of vertigo washes through you, nearly robbing you of your balance. You grip the pillar supporting the scales with white knuckles, breathless. Before you, the scales creak and groan. Desire’s pan rises slowly as favor tips from their side toward your own, inching closer to balance. 

Then, suddenly, it stops. Your eyes dart to the pointer at the top of the support, the piece that indicates whether the scales have reached balance. It remains tilted ever so slightly to the right. Ever so slightly in Desire’s favor.

It’s not enough.

Panic surges through you in a fury, making you hot and dizzy. No, no, this couldn’t be. You hadn’t come this far, hadn’t sacrificed this much, only to fail. You couldn’t fail. You had to succeed for them. For Dream.

Your eyes scan the tapestry of attachments that surround you, desperate for answers. You can sense the threads of desire that are interwoven alongside a multitude of the eros, philia, and agape attachments you’ve just ensured. In spite of your fortification, you know their presence is still a risk, a threat. 

There’s only one way to be certain that they’ll never be corrupted by desire, a voice whispers in the back of your mind, it’s tone low and grave. 

That wasn’t part of the plan, another retorts, it’s tone urgent, insistent. 

Your breath hitches as they bicker. Blood pounds in your ears, the palm of your hand slick with sweat against the golden support of the scale. Unlike the voice of doubt that often whispered in the back of your mind, both of these voices were earnest. They both spoke the truth. 

But there was only one way forward. Only one way to put an end to this. 

You hesitate for only a moment before flattening your palm against the cool surface of the scale. You hesitate for only a moment before you raise your opposite hand into the air. You hesitate for only a moment before you picture yourself grabbing the threads of desire strung alongside your eros, philia, and agape attachments, and make a fist.

You think of all of them. You think of Dream.

And then, you rip them all apart.

A thousand black threads dissolve from the sky instantaneously. The pan that holds the prism heart shifts downward, falling level beside Desire’s. The scale’s pointer reaches resolution with a resounding ring.

And your body is cleaved in two by a pain unlike anything you’ve ever known. 

A brilliant light floods your vision, swallowing the attachments, the scales, everything in sight. In an instant, you’re ripped backwards, as if pulled along by a string. Agony roars through your veins, blistering your nerves like fire, biting at your skin like ice. 

When you’re flung back into the Realm of Attachment, it’s on your hands and knees. Your body trembles as you hack and wheeze. You draw your forehead to your knees, curling into yourself, trying to shrink away from the pain. It offers no relief. This isn’t a pain you can shrink away from. This is a pain that comes from within. 

Your lungs burn as if lit with kerosene. Your body feels as if it's been drug from a moving vehicle. Blood oozes from your lips in long, sticky ropes. Your eyes throb with exhaustion. When you close them, a familiar darkness swells up to drag you under. 

You’ve been here before. 

“What have you done?” The roar that reaches your ears is guttural, inhuman. With a moan, you raise your head to look for the source. Several paces away, on the opposite side of the invisible pane that divides your worlds, you find Desire hunched over. Their fingers clutch desperately at their chest, as if in pain. 

When their eyes meet yours, there is a fury in them unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Teeth bared like an animal, they straighten, crossing the invisible pane into the Realm of Attachment as if it was nothing. Something instinctive and primal surges through you at their approach, at the sight of their hand reaching toward you. “What the hell have you done, you insolent–”

Adrenaline floods your veins like a drug. In a blink, you’re on your feet. You grip Desire’s forearm with a force that could bruise. “Do not touch me,” you growl through bloodstained teeth. 

Desire’s face falls slack at your command, their skin pale as milk. There is something in the pinch of their brows, in the twitch of their eye, in the tightness of their lips, that you thought you’d never see in them. Fear.

Pain pulses at the edges of your awareness, the darkness crowding close behind. They’re present, but distant. Only adrenaline and sheer will keep them at bay. Just a little longer. 

Your palm presses against Desire’s chest with trembling fingers. Power thrums through your veins like a heartbeat. You wonder if the Endless can feel it, too. “This is over,” you say, your voice a gurgle in your throat. You swallow down the bitter taste of copper. “Leave. And don’t come back.”

Desire’s golden eyes widen. In an instant, the Endless is ripped from your grip, jerked back into their realm as if attached to their own invisible string. In a blur, they disappear from sight, pulled into the clouds. There is a bright shimmer of silver as the pane that once stood invisible materializes, solidifying into a wall that blocks the Threshold from sight. 

You are alone. The world is completely, utterly silent. 

You’ve done it. 

As the adrenaline wanes from your system, a new sensation rises to take its place. Something so sweet and warm, it’s almost painful. Joy. 

A soft laugh of disbelief bubbles up from your throat. It’s cut short by a sharp, piercing pain in your gut, a knife that digs and twists. 

You move to take a step, to turn and walk away from the wall that now divides your realm from Desire’s. But it doesn’t come. Instead, you fold like paper, crumpling to the ground. When you try to stand with a groan, your body refuses. Instead, you sink lower. 

Your breathing is quick and shallow as you lean back, resting your head against the ground. It feels good to relieve the pressure of gravity from your battered body. Too good. When you close your eyes with a sigh, a numbness creeps into the tips of your extremities. It’s…familiar. 

Yes, you’ve been here before. Don’t you remember?

When you’d awoken all those millenia ago to hands around your neck, you’d walked into a future you couldn’t turn back from. You’d had a penchant for doing that all your life. When you’d met Dream. When you’d committed to fighting Desire, whatever the cost. When you’d opened the Dream Lord’s book. When you’d given yourself to him on that honey-gold beach by the sea. 

And now, it seems you've done it again. 

Woozy and disoriented, you almost swear you feel a rush of hot air by your cheek, accompanied by the familiar sound of Desire’s voice in your ear. “Was it worth it?” 

When you open your eyes, you’re alone. The silver wall remains in place, a reminder of what you’ve accomplished. 

But it was worth it, wasn’t it? You had accomplished the task you’d set forth to complete. Your function was fulfilled; the eros, philia, and agape attachments that mortals would share for the remainder of time had been fostered, fulfilled, and protected. Any thread of desire that could hope to overthrow them had been destroyed. And you had made your trade, allowing Desire the opportunity to interact with philautia, erotoropia, storge, and pragma attachments, if they so chose. Love and desire co-existing together. A balance. 

It was a shame you wouldn’t get to see it for yourself. 

And then, of course, there was Dream. The Book of Souls had shown that your life had been fulfilled according to its plan. You were always meant to love him. Always meant to end up here. Your destiny was to share all seven forms of attachment with him. Even if only for a brief time, it was enough. That true, all-encompassing, soul-deep kind of love was one so few got to enjoy. You’d never imagined that such a blessing would be yours. 

“Yes,” you whisper into the empty air. “Yes, it was worth it.”

You needed to tell him. You needed to let him know, before it was too late. 

Your hand reaches into your pocket with trembling fingers. They slip and fumble as they try to undo the cloth tie on the Dream Lord’s pouch of sand. When you bring a handful of grains to your lips, your tongue feels heavy, your mouth bitter with copper. 

“I don’t know if you work the opposite way, but bring me Dream. Please,” you croak. Your lungs wheeze as you send the grains scattering through the air. 

The world is still and silent. Though you wait on pins and needles, nothing happens. When the exhaustion behind your eyes becomes too great, you close them. 

And that’s when you feel it–a breeze across your cheek, dancing through your hair. A gentle warmth unfurls itself within your chest, sweet as honey, supple as silk. Distantly, you remember crafting Fawn with the Dream Lord on your second visit to his realm. The dream that was meant to make mortals feel weightless and free. If she could have visited your own resting hours, you imagine her presence would have felt like this. 

And when you open your eyes, he’s there. Dream of the Endless stands just a few feet away, the back of his long, dripping cloak facing you. Though you can’t see his face, you can sense his surprise. There is a tension in his shoulders as he cranes his neck, looking back and forth, taking in the sight of the silver wall and the rainbow-woven world he’s found himself in.

Then, he turns to you. As he does, he catches sight of the six radiant threads that link you. Red, romantic eros; the white soul-tie of philia; the calming blue of self-love, philautia; the flirty purple of erotoropia; the firey orange of companionship, pragma; and golden, selfless agape. As his eyes follow the trail that connects his heart to yours, the glow of your attachments catch in his pale blue gaze like the aurora borealis. When they rest on you, the outside world melts away, as it always has. Shock, awe, and relief rear in those eyes in equal measure. When the corner of his rosebud lips upturns ever so slightly into the ghost of a smile, it feels like coming home. 

It hits you, then, like a freight train, like a ton of bricks. Just how desperately you’ve missed him. Just how raggedly, haphazardly incomplete you’ve been without him. And just how little time you have left. 

That’s when he sees them–the bloodstains on your chin. The Dream Lord’s face drains of what little color it has.

“Hey, Dream,” you croak, strumming your attachments with quivering fingers. They glow and sing under your touch, infusing your chest with a warmth that serves as a momentary distraction from the pain in your core, the numbness in your toes. You strum them again. “Surprise.” 

The Dream Lord is on you in an instant. Crouching beside you, his hands make a frenzied sweep over your body, searching for wounds. Of course, he’ll find none on the surface. A fresh wave of pain courses through you, sending your eyes rolling into the back of your head. With a grunt, you pull them downward, focusing on him, only him. When your vision clears of stars, he’s looking at you. 

“What are these?” he asks, grazing his fingers along the attachments that bind you. When the bonds hum under his touch, his lips part ever so slightly in awe. You can still remember his first visit to your realm, when he’d tried to touch the elderly couple’s philia attachment. The confusion on his face when his hand had passed through it had been amusing, endearing. This was different, though. These attachments were his. They were yours. Together.

In spite of the pain, you smile. The red of your teeth is reflected in his pale eyes. “There may be a couple of things I haven’t told you,” you whisper. The action pulls another round of coughs from you. Blood drips down your chin like saliva. 

Dream catches it swiftly, wiping the trail away with the gentle press of his thumb. There is a frenzy in his eyes that you’ve never seen before as he assesses problems and grapples for solutions in real time. You wonder if he’s finding any answers. His voice is tight and forced when he asks, “What has happened?”

The numbness creeps higher, edging into your knees, your elbows. You blink hard, trying to focus, but it’s becoming more and more challenging. The world beyond Dream swims, individual threads blurring together like watercolors. “I did it, Dream. I balanced the scales that Desire and I share forever. I saved them.” Your mind tumbles and spins, thoughts set adrift on a fresh wave of pain. You scramble to gather them. “I saved you.”

You wonder if he thinks you’re delirious from blood loss. A thousand questions wage war in his eyes. “How?” he finally asks.

You offer him a half-hearted grin. “Let’s just say you and your brother are a lot alike.”

Dream’s dark brows draw together, carving wrinkles into his forehead. You imagine yourself spending eternity tracing each one with gentle fingers. Yes–that would be a welcome afterlife. That would make you happy. 

“Destiny?” His voice sounds tight, hurt. His blue eyes flash with something sharp and aching. Betrayal. He thinks his brother betrayed him. You shake your head, opening your mouth to tell him otherwise, to explain that this was your plan. Your voice cracks, broken by a fresh spell of coughs that makes the very marrow of your bones throb. When you  moan in pain, Dream’s arms slip around you, drawing you close to his chest. You curl into him eagerly. “We must take you to the Dreaming,” he says, his voice insistent, urgent. “You must be healed.” 

The earnest determination in the steel of his eyes, in the set of his jaw, makes your heart brim with a painful sort of joy. The numbness creeps forth, stealing the pain from your arms and legs, leaving a blissful nothing in its wake. You release a shuddering breath–part relieved, part terrified. Your eyes prickle and blur. When you blink to clear them, you taste salt. “I don’t think that’s my future, Dream. I…I don’t think I’m gonna get to keep that vow after all.”

Dream’s grip on your body tightens. In that moment, a new sensation grips you. Not pain, not numbness, but panic. Sorrow. When you meet his gaze, his rosebud lips are tight, his eyes glistening and wet. That’s when you realize that it’s him that you’re feeling. You’re feeling his emotions, through the bonds you share. 

“No,” he says, his voice firm. He speaks with the authority of a being accustomed to the world bending to his will. “I will not allow it. There must be a way.” 

The concoction of fear and desperation in his chest crushes your own, robbing the breath from your lungs. You’d transcend realms and multiverses to wipe the worry from his brow, sacrifice every molecule of your being to ease the tightness in his chest. You don’t have much to give now. But you’ll give him all you can. 

It takes every ounce of your waning will to lift your hand to his cheek without crying out. When your palm finds the softness of his cheek, your fingers trace the sharp lines of his nose and jaw with adoration. He leans into your touch with reverence. The shared tightness in your chests eases ever so slightly. You breathe a little more deeply than before. 

“Please, Dream. I don’t want to spend this time left on a quest for a cure that doesn’t exist. I just want you.” Your thumb finds the plush swell of his bottom lip, tracing it fondly. When you make your request, your voice is soft and tired. “Take me to the stars, Dream Lord?” 

For a long moment, Dream watches you in silence. His eyes flicker back and forth between your own, searching for answers, searching for a way out. You can see the exact moment his determination breaks, the exact moment his eyes dim when he finds none. As his eyelashes flutter closed, as he presses his cheek into the palm of your hand, the first tear falls. It trails down his nose, plipping softly onto your cheek, mingling with your own. And, in that moment, you know he won’t deny your request. 

In a slow, practiced movement, the Dream Lord grasps the hem of his cloak, whisking it over the two of you in a flourish. You watch in quiet awe as a blanket of stars unrolls itself around you, encasing you both in the gentle caress of the cosmos. Constellations twinkle brightly overhead. The Milky Way arches over your bodies in a dappled stream of black, purple, and pinprick stars. It reminds you of the nights you spent with Dream on that honey-gold beach, the night he painted you a story in the sky, the night you made your vows to one another. You smile. 

You’re not sure what it is about lying amongst the cosmos. Perhaps it’s the peace they instill in you, or the memories you’ve made beneath them, or how being amongst them feels like coming home. But when the numbness overtakes you, dissolving the pain into nothing, it’s not alarming, or frightening. It feels like being embraced by an old friend. Vaguely, you wonder if Death will greet you as you move into whatever lies beyond this. Did she come for gods and goddesses, or only mortals?

Dream must feel the moment the pain dissipates from your body. His hand leaves his cloak in a rush, shifting to cradle your face, instead. Without the pain to ground you, reality is a harder concept to keep a hold of. All at once, the stars above you begin to twist and spin. You blink, hard, but their dance continues. “Thank you. Looking at them…is so calming to me.” Your gaze shifts to the stars in Dream’s eyes, straining to focus. “I told you that once, didn’t I? Do you remember that?” 

A thick swallow works down the column of Dream’s throat. “I do,” he rasps, his voice quiet and raw. 

Your lips lift in a lazy, contented smile. No longer inhibited by pain, you lift one hand to card your fingers through his wild hair. “I’ve always loved the stars,” you tell him. Your voice sounds far away, sluggish, like it’s been reduced to half speed. “Even…even when I was a mortal. I think.”

Dream exhales quietly, a rush of air that chills the tears drying on your cheeks. His hair is feathers between your fingers. Soft as silk. You want to nestle your nose in it, to press your cheek to it. It would be such a soft place to lay. Such a soft place to go to sleep. 

“Look at me, Love.” 

And you are. Of course, you’re looking at him–you can’t stop looking at him. Because he’s everywhere. Because he’s everything. Dark, disheveled hair; pale skin; blue eyes; soft lips. You want to kiss him and kiss him until he stops talking. You want to smooth the worry from his pinched brow, to light up his eyes with laughter. 

I’ve still never heard him laugh, the realization drifts in from somewhere beyond the stars, settling over you in a daze. Your chest aches at the thought, so much more painful than any wound. 

Suddenly, his thumb is brushing your cheek, the other squeezing your shoulder. He’s trying to be gentle, you can tell. You must have dozed off. His voice seems far away now, as if he’s talking through water. You squint your eyes, trying to read his lips. He’s urging you to move, you realize. ‘Moving will keep you alert,’ he’s telling you. But why would you ever want to move from this spot when you can see him so perfectly clearly? You drink him in like a flower in a drought, a drifter in a famine. Memorizing every slope and curve and line as if for the last time, desperately hopeful that you’ll get to take them with you. His voice is a lifeline, but you can feel your grip slipping. 

Darkness pulls at the edges of your vision. You can feel the sweet things it promises–rest, rejuvenation, peace. Your hand slips from Dream’s hair to his cheek, holding his gaze to yours. You have to tell him. You have to tell him, before you go. 

“I have to tell you something,” you say, your voice scarcely more than a whisper. 

The pain in Dream’s eyes is raw and earnest. You can feel it, through the numbness, through your bonds. It settles in the nooks of your heart like the notes of a sad love song, beautiful and devastating, all at once.  When you first met him, you had wondered if you’d ever coax him to shed his armor, to be vulnerable with you. Oh, how little you’d known back then. 

“Do not.” His plea is quiet, his voice gravelly and broken. “I beg of you.” 

Maker, he’s a fool. You know he wants to know. He needs to know. 

“I read the Book of Souls, Dream. And it’s all been for you. Every decision, every moment–it all led me to you.” You turn your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the palm that cradles your cheek. “I was always meant to be yours. You’re what I was running to, even when I didn’t know it. You are what I was running for. You are my dream, Dream.” 

For a brief moment, the torment in Dream’s eyes softens. When his eyes fall to the threads of attachment between you, each one glows brighter under his gaze. He swallows, hard, in understanding. 

His body folds over your own slowly, carefully. As if he can shield you from whatever intends to come and claim you. His feather-soft hair tickles your forehead and cheeks as he leans in. His shallow breath is warm and sweet across your skin. When he presses his lips to yours, it feels like a vow, a prayer, a promise. Salt and copper mingle between your lips. When he exhales, you breathe in. You hold his breath in your lungs, a piece of him to harbor close to your heart, to take with you when you go. 

“Maybe you’ll be there,” you whisper against his lips. “Maybe I’ll get to dream of you, in whatever lies after this.” 

The tip of Dream’s nose trails along your own, then across your cheek. When he finds the tender hollow under your ear, that sacred place that only he knows, he presses his lips into it delicately, adoringly. You close your eyes with a soft, contented sigh. 

“There is nowhere you can go that I will not find you,” he breathes against your skin. His voice is raw, but sure. “I will find you.” 

Your laugh is weak and breathless, but happy, nonetheless. It feels good to laugh without the pain. The numbness feels good.

“So stubborn,” you chide softly, nestling deeper into his arms. His skin is warm through the thin fabric of his shirt. You press your cheek against it with a sigh. Until there’s no place where you end and I begin.  “If anyone could find me, Dream Lord, it would be you.” 

His heartbeat is a lullaby in your ear. It coaxes you into a soul-deep sort of contentment, a peace unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. You could stay here with him, in this moment, in this feeling, forever. Is this what falling asleep feels like? “I…”

Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump, th-thump, th–

. . .

[pokidot]

MANDELA — eight

wc: 1,724

It's been a day that the presentation came around, and you had no thought in your head about the consequences anymore. You hadn't even seen the circumference of news breaking out, and you checked The Cyptid Dailies a lot.

Even when you know you should be finding some peace before your trip, you didn't find interest in kicking a brick wall with your shoe in hopes that it would be fragile enough to break.

You began collecting the fragments of information you had, and with your close precision, started piecing them together on the huge corkboard you left empty until now.

Photographs and sketches you either found from Google images or drew out of pure memory adorned the board. You'd like to think they were capturing haunting visages and elusive forms, but you knew that artistic vision included more than 10 minutes of drawing scribbles up until it looks kind of like something unordinary.

While drawing your hands away, your lips curved into a smile. The effervescent delight said probably too much stimulus until you blinked and looked over at the small sound of a hissing whisper reverberating into your thoughts, and to the rest of the room.

You watched as mist almost flew dangerously close to your face, thank to the fan blowing in the room.

"Protip: if you're in a sticky situation and you don't have mace?" Venti lifted a can of setting spray high above his head, firm and unwavering. "Use this right here. It's practically mustard gas. I don't know what Shining Idol Barbara was cooking when she made this—she put Chemical X in it!"

Xiao placed the cards in his hands down, previously entertaining a game of 'Go-fish' with Aether. "And you know this because...?"

"You CANNOT inhale this if you want to be sent to the pearly gates." Venti shook it for emphasis. "It is expensive for a reason, it is NOT just setting spray. It is hair spray, bug killer, and floor cleaner. It's a 4-in-one, and she knew what she was doing when she did it too."

"Talk about sugar, spice, and everything nice." Kazuha sighed.

You didn't know if it was the sense of relief knowing that you partially succeeded, but you kind of forgot that you were now being accompanied by...the entirety of Teyvat University's chess club.

You were a little confused at the sudden notions; they all seemed to have their own motives as to why they're there. You weren't complaining at all. “Wait, really? She makes product now?” You blinked, your expression mildly impressed as you took the can from his hands, reading the label. “Huh…thought she was on hiatus.”

“If I was as rich as her, I’d forget I was in the shackles of being a juggling clown for people's entertainment too.” Only silence followed with the rest of Heizou's words, and he looked at the rest of them. "What?"

“You bite your words. Being a juggling clown is hard work.” Aether chimed in with defense, before his shoulders slacked. “Not…saying she is a juggling clown, of course, but even if she was...it would be a very high paying ca—(Y/N) what are you working on?”

“Right. I need to make a list before this actually starts," You rose your voice happily, suddenly bathed in an area of instant intrigue, "Not everything needs to be entirely perfect...but all the information we need is for when we actually tell this thing to fuck off, or I will instantly kill myself."

Venti whistled lowly. "Self destructive too," He smiled. "Just my type...just my type."

"Get help. Now." Xiao murmured in response to him, gritting his teeth. "There's no use making two trips if we're going to be there to investigate. We don't even have a lead on what it is yet."

"Au contraire, mon frère!"

"Don't...call me that." Xiao watched with furrowed eyebrows as you shuffled to your bag to take it out, the sounds of flurrying, crumpling loose pages in your bag as you dug deeper.

"God, they're like a real Benoit Blanc." Venti's practically had heart eyes.

He looked at the rest of the group there, staring keenly at you to add to your discovery and sighed through his nostrils. "This was more fun than going to a chess tournament?"

"I'm sorry, did you want us to say no? I'm tired of being demolished by the Kamisatos. I'm convinced they go to those just to one day see us dissolve into cinder and ashes." Aether asked in this suspended moment, Xiao letting out a small grunt at him.

"That's because you get your tricks off Tiktok." Kazuha chuckled.

"Feast your eyes!" You grasped the newspaper in your hands firmly, lifting it aloft as if hoisting a sacred artifact.

The five of them hovered over it to read, "PROJECT MORI IN DEVELOPMENT COMING 2017! MORI GROVE RD CONNECTING TO FREEWAY ON TEYVAT."

"Mori Grove is less than thirty minutes away from us if we use the path that connects the freeway. But! To bring so much equipment with us would mean that it'll take us longer to setup. And...who knows if the alleged 'clone' will show up? It's either we take longer when they're already gone, or we wait with a bunch of cameras for nothing."

"The only thing that I can think of that actually 'shapeshifts' into what you're talking about is a nematode." Xiao said. "I promise you the world's mysteries don't extend that far."

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. That's why you've gotta open your miiiind." You said, scrunching your hands up near your head to make exploding sounds while making the motions (to which Venti playfully followed along).

"Stop that." Xiao interrupted abruptly.

You put your hands down to continue, "And—!" As you were about to go on, your voice trailed off. All eyes turned towards the newcomer who entered the clubroom.

You turned your head towards Kuni, your smile instantly became radiant. "You're here! Come, sit, sit!" You rushed towards one of the free chairs, motioning to it's wooden fashion.

Though it wasn't reciprocated, he looked at your blossoming joy expressed through the curvature of your lips. His dull eyes remained devoid to mask his unease, looking away to the rest of his friends.

"What are these idiots doing here?" He seemed at a general discontent that this club was even a thing, but he was nothing but punctual to a meeting.

"It's so nice to see you too, Zu." Heizou pulled his lips together. "So nice."

"You thought we were joking about going?" Kazuha was so delighted you could possibly see chrysanthemums and blossoms around him. "I haven't had this much fun ever since we went fishing."

"Don't even remind me," The teetering stability of Kuni's voice turned from a smooth neutral to a tension. "I'm still pissed Xiao knocked the biggest fish I caught out of my hands before I could take a picture with it."

"You were trying to slap me in the face with it's tail. Don't be mad at me that your ego got in the way of your picture."

"I don't care if my ego was crushing your larynx the way I want to do to you right now. Ya' neva' go against the family, kid. Neva'." Kuni pointed in the direction of him, a small Italian accent laced in his tone.

"...Why are you talking like that?" Venti snickered.

Kuni shook his head to himself, mentally regretting his actions before looking at you, turning his body. "Don't get too gung-ho about your trip. I think you should reconsider it."

"Ohh, here we go again." You crossed your arms against your chest. "What excuse are you going to come up with now?"

"Not so much of an excuse this time, (Y/N)." Kuni held his phone up to your face. "The pathway to Mori Grove is closed, and the town is considering blocking off access to leave at all."

Your face dropped, eyes scanning the article as your face turned slightly grim. "What."

"Oh no...do you have a backup plan, (Y/N)?" Kazuha asked you, but you didn't know how to even process a response to anybody at the moment.

"...No...I don't have a backup plan." Your eyes glazed with a mixture of disbelief and bewilderment, but though you were previously vibrant and bustling, there may as well have been fire in your eyes. "Because this isn't going to happen. Oh HELL no!"

Kuni couldn't help but scoff. "You're going to go against the national guard? I don't think you're going to get far-"

"There could be a nuclear bomb up my ASS RIGHT NOW, I'M CATCHING THIS SHAPESHIFTER IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO!" You pointed at your best friend to interrupt him, looking at him with unwavering refusal as you grabbed your bag and your laptop. "Meeting over! Get the cars ready at 6AM."

"H-Hey, isn't that a little bit too early for a hunt..?" Aether called out towards you, but before you made a stormy exit, you quickly turned around towards the blond with a squint.

"Six. A. M." And with that, you disappeared from view, and all the six could hear was the faint and tiny footsteps get tinier.

"...Okay, cool. Another sleep paralysis demon to look forward to," Aether thought mildly.

The vacuum left by your absence served as a reminder, the air was so still Heizou broke the silence first, "How does having a nuclear bomb up your ass even correlate to catching..."

"Keep it moving. Don't listen to anything they say." Kuni shook his head, checking the watch on his arm. "It is getting late."

"You heard them! 6AM!" Venti clapped his hands loudly, "They obviously have something they're planning, and we got through a 2 hour dissertation of them hurling out cryptid safety procedures. Bedtime."

Kuni raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry? Who made you co-leader?"

"I did, and if you were as smart as you think you were, you'd be fighting me right now." Venti stuck his tongue out. "No? Thought not."

And naturally, Kuni did want to argue with him, but he kept his mouth shut. He took a sharp breath in, eyes fixated on him until he looked back at the door to see something he swore was peeking from the corner of it. It was now gone.

There was nothing there, and the idea of him being delusional made him slightly annoyed. "Okay. We're leaving, now. Turn the lights off."

prev | masterlist | next

NOTES || filler. don't ask me how long the forum page took me...anyway i'm excited for next chapter ROOOADDD TRIIIIPPPP

TAGLIST: @wisteriarain @akagism2 @murderisokayforme @aeongiies @d4y-dr3am3r @truck-kuns-gf @3lysiaa @ayoitsmarie33 @crucnhice @natsuscrustyscarf @dreamsofminnie @astreaa-express @goj0h @cicibao @xirthia @kylexzz @dollpoetwriting @dreamingkace @strawbxrrytiger

[raevenlyreads]

Daily Tarot Draws

November kicked my ass. It happens. With the end of spooky season, the election, my birthday, and the onset of the Christmas Crunch, November tends to be either a wild blur, or a deeply spiritual month as I take time to carve out little zones of peace. This November was not that kind of month for me, but in the past, I’ve done a 30 challenge I really love by Hillbilly Oracle, the Nonbinary November Tarot Challenge, or simply kept a daily draw journal.

November is a very special month for me. One, birthday (lol). But more than that, November is what I like to call the Void Season. For me, the year “dies” at the end of October, but it doesn’t return to life again until the Solstice. So all November and most of December are “void” months, separate from the rest of the year, a sort of limbo. It’s a time where I like to turn inside, underneath, and downward-- in other words, its a great time for tarot.

One of the things I love to do when life starts to feel too crazy are daily tarot draws. Fear not, I don’t mean “every single day” when talking about daily draws; I am so not an everyday anything kind of person (I’m lucky breathing is automatic or I’d surely forget to do that too :P). I mean “daily” as in “the scope of this card is for a single day”. On days where I remember myself and want to throw a few elbows to crave out space for myself, I really love just sitting with my favorite deck of the moment and my morning coffee, and just idly shuffle til one pops out at me. This card becomes my touchstone for the day (and often, I’ll carry around a literal pocket stone associated with that card to be a physical reminder), a place I can go to to center my thoughts and regain my equilibrium.

These kinds of daily draws are less divinatory in my usage and more sympathetic. Less “watch out for this today!” and more “You need more of this in your corner today”. Some folks absolutely use them the first way, and that’s totally fine. But for me, I tend not to get as much use out of daily divination. My life is simply not that dynamic. If I make a divination spread, it tends to be for broader strokes, longer periods of time. So my daily draws tend to be a lot less external event driven and much more about my internal landscape (This is the same kind of thinking behind my Advice spreads vs my Insight spreads.).

This internal check in is what makes these daily draws such a source of peace for me, why I use them to make room for myself in my own life. When things are hectic, it is so easy to get squeezed out of your own internal monologue, shoved aside by worries and fears and to-do lists and upcoming events and what-ifs and oh-nos and-- yeah. There’s always a million other things vying for our attention. Daily draws can be an excellent way to make sure you take time to listen to yourself and check in with your own needs.

Liked this post? Check out my kofi shop for more how-to's, beautiful deck selfies, and the spreads I have available for commission!

[theprayerfulword]

October 04

Isaiah 45:3 I will give you the treasures of darkness and hidden riches of secret places, that you may know that I, the LORD, Who call you by your name, am the God of Israel.

Hebrews 13:16 But to do good and to communicate forget not: for with such sacrifices God is well pleased.

Romans 8:28 And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.

John 1:13 who were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.

Romans 8:37 No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us.

Revelation 12:11 And they overcame [the enemy of God] by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony; and they loved not their lives unto the death.

May you have no desire to roam or wander, but to come to the Lord with every situation, finding Him to be a safe haven, a peaceful refuge, a sunlit meadow, the source of all you need, your treasure, your most cherished possession, that you may find rest in Him, strength for the day, peace in your thoughts and quiet confidence in your heart. Jeremiah 2

May you return to the Lord, Who is merciful, Who will not remain angry forever, acknowledging your guilt of rebellion against Him, for He will give you shepherds after His own heart, who will lead you with knowledge and understanding. Jeremiah 3

May you call the Lord “Father” and follow after Him in trust and obedience, for He will gladly treat you like favored children, giving you choice blessings, the most beautiful inheritance. Jeremiah 3

May you come daily, closer, to the Lord your God, in Whom is your salvation, turning from the idolatrous commotion of the world, which is deception, and turning with your heart, in a truthful, just and righteous way to the Lord, for He will bless the nations and in Him they will glory. Jeremiah 3,4

May you break up the unplowed ground of your rebellious will and do not waste good seeds among the thorns, but circumcise your heart, genuinely dedicating yourself to the Lord and getting rid of everything that hinders your commitment to Him, to prevent His anger from blazing up like a flaming fire that no one can quench. Jeremiah 4

My child, when you come before Me to intercede in prayer, know that you are entering in the Holy of Holies in spirit, into My inner chamber, drawing near to Me as I sit in My robes of judgment on My throne of authority. Understand that you are in the presence of the awesome majesty that is greater than all of creation and the brilliant, pure holiness that outshines the brightest source of light man can know, penetrating beyond the posture of humility and the words of submission to the purpose of heart and motive of mind. Do not think to bring personal agendas for religious rubber-stamping, and do not seek approval of pet projects. Empty your hands of your own works, clear your thoughts of your own rights, cleanse your heart of your own desires before the threshold. The flesh has no place in the eternity of My presence. As you enter into My presence through the washing of the Word, by the atoning of the Blood, bearing only the sacrificial gift of a humble and yielded spirit with the incense of a chastened and repentant heart, I will give you the burden to intercede for. As you bend your will to align with Mine, I will use you in prayer, in devotion, in mercy, in good works that I have planned out and created you to do in spiritual warfare and intercession. I will make you fruitful and productive in your going out and your coming in. But you must be willing to leave that in which you glory outside of the Holy of Holies, and enter with nothing but an emptiness and a hunger for Me to fill. You must bear only My glory before men as you go forth by the leading of My Spirit to heal the brokenhearted and bind up the wounded, shining like the eternal city not made by hands, situated on top of a hill. My own right hand and holy arm will obtain the victory in all I send you to do.

May you possess the faith in Christ Jesus and the love for all the saints which spring from the hope that is stored up for you in heaven and that you have already heard about in the word of truth, the gospel that you have received, which is bearing fruit and growing since the day you understood God's grace in all its truth. Colossians 1

May God fill you with the knowledge of His will through all spiritual wisdom and understanding, that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please Him in every way, bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to His glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience and joyfully give thanks to the Father Who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light. Colossians 1

May you know God, resplendent with light, more majestic than mountains rich with game, Whose Name is great in the land and Whose dwelling place is established, where He broke the power of the weapons of war and pronounced judgment from heaven, causing the land to quiet itself in the fear of the Lord, for His wrath against men brings Him praise and the survivors of His wrath are restrained. Psalm 76

May you fear the Lord and the King, not joining with the rebellious, for sudden destruction will be sent upon them from the throne and the heavens, and who can predict what calamities will occur? Proverbs 24:21-22

[sen-no-kotowari]

PGR Noan Character Profile

Good day and I'm back with some good news! The formatting plug-in I use is back to normal so everything should look the same like before. Aside from that, I will be posting back-to-back character profiles over the next few days and the first one up the bater is Noan's! You can learn more about Noan under the cut down below!

Voice Line Data

Motion Voice Lines

Lobby Voice 1

Noan: I passed nearby the Arts Association while walking around the other day. If there comes a time when peace will be upon us and an Arts Association is built on Earth, would people who love to draw be able to feed themselves? ...I see. That'd be wonderful.

Lobby Voice 2

Noan: What do you think of having a war memorial on the plaza? ...Huh? What do I think about it? I believe the people in this era making the most of their lives are just as awe-inspiring. Perhaps it's because I've seen too many death that I strongly believe more than ever living in itself is...incredible.

Lobby Voice 3

Noan: (Paints something) ........Hm? Oh, I've been painting a picture with the paintbrush you left. It's nothing fancy, just a simple drawing of a sunflower. If I told you I drew this while thinking of you, would you believe me?

Raise Affection Level

Noan: If I tell you that I want to become closer to you... what will you do?

Repetitive Taps

Noan: What's wrong? No need to be frantic. I'll be right by your side.

Log-In

Noan: Welcome back, Commander. I've been waiting for you.

Online for a Long Time

Noan: Wait a second, let me check your eyes. ...Hrm, now open your mouth. What time did you sleep yesterday? ...(Sigh) Really now...

AFK

Noan: I don't know if you're asleep or you're working hard... Well, maybe it's not so bad, getting to see your back like this.

Shake

Noan: Wha—! Are you okay?! Did you trip?

Offline for a Long Time

Noan: Showing up just now, did you oversleep? Were you having a dream of a calm and harmonious world? If that was a blissful dream, then you should've dreamed a little while longer. Don't worry, I'll continue to wait for you here 'til you show up.

Introduction and Formation

Structure Acquired

Noan: Hello there, Commander. Allow me to reintroduce myself. My name's Noan, that is my real name. Pleased to make your acquaintance.

Level Up

Noan: I have to spare no effort if I want to grow as a person.

Advancement

Noan: Thank you. Does this mean you've acknowledged me?

Model Improvement

Noan: Looks like the things I can do for others have increased yet again. Thank you.

Skill Upgrade

Noan: I'll continue to hone these skills until the day I put them to rest.

Equipment

Noan: This weapon... Hmmm, what should I call it?

Add in Team

Noan: Perhaps I should be grateful to you, who put your faith in me.

Assign as Captain

Noan: You're making me the captain? Yeah, I think I can do it. Leave it to me.

Mission Accomplished

Noan: Okay, mission complete. Do we have anything else to do?

Daily Small Talks

Voice Line 1

Noan: Ever since I left City Number 075, I've been staying at Oblivion's base. I wonder if Watanabe's doing well. I'd like to go meet up with him if there's a chance.

Voice Line 2

Noan: Lee sometimes has this resolute look in his eyes... It's as if he had already made peace. Recently, he— ...Nevermind, forget I said anything. It seems like it's something he wishes to keep to himself.

Voice Line 3

Noan: How have I been lately? Maybe I'll tell you a little secret of mine. I'm actually a super Eden-class ambassador. Since both my conversational skills and presentation skills are perfect, I was able to make friends in Eden and also fit in right away.

Voice Line 4

Noan: My past? You've seen plenty of vagabonds who lost their hometown, right? I'm also a part of those vagabonds. There's nothing special about it.

Voice Line 5

Noan: I've heard from Commander Simon that you were an alumnus who graduated as the top student of FOS Military Academy, right? What kind of things do they teach during class in school? ...Most of the schools on Earth were closed down. It makes you wonder—how many people born in this era were able to receive proper education in their life?

Voice Line 6

Noan: I passed nearby the Arts Association while walking around the other day. If there comes a time when peace will be upon us and an Arts Association is built on Earth, would people who love to draw be able to feed themselves? ...I see. That'd be wonderful.

Voice Line 7

Noan: Ah, that's right. I'm done reading the books you've told me about. Do you have other books you can recommend to me? I want to try reading a variety of books more. The library's just around the corner plus I also have a wonderful guide who'll give me a tour.

Voice Line 8

Noan: The starry sky isn't the only thing that shines in the darkness. Even if the small glowing lights around us aren't as bright as the North Star, they emit a faint light with everything they have.

Voice Line 9

Noan: Everyone used to admire stories about heroes saving the world when they were little, right? But when they grew up, they knew that those are just fictional stories, nothing more—no matter how much you do your best, you can't change the world around you alone. That's why... I'm glad that we both could do our very best here.

Voice Line 10

Noan: I don't regret rejecting the offer of becoming an Ascendant, even if it meant I'd accept how ordinary I am. I would be betraying my heart if I did. Don't worry. I already made up my mind from the moment I told you the name "Noan," no matter what may happen.

Voice Line 11

Noan: You always devote yourself to either listening to other people's worries or what they feel deep down, just like the gentle protagonists from the stories I've read... But why don't you try asking someone for some advice once in a while? I fear you might break someday if you always keep your worries to yourself.

Voice Line 12

Noan: What do you think of having a war memorial on the plaza? ...Huh? What do I think about it? I believe the people in this era making the most of their lives are just as awe-inspiring. Perhaps it's because I've seen too many death that I strongly believe more than ever living in itself is...incredible.

Voice Line 13

Noan: I look forward to the day this world overcomes the harsh winter and welcomes the tender spring... If you also share the same sentiment as I do, shall we make a promise to each other? Of course, I'd want you to be included in that future.

Voice Line 14

Noan: (Paints something) ........Hm? Oh, I've been painting a picture with the paintbrush you left. It's nothing fancy, just a simple drawing of a sunflower. If I told you I drew this while thinking of you, would you believe me?

Voice Line 15

Noan: I don't regret the things I've done in the past. I've used the grief I experienced as a catalyst to move forward without ever denying myself. ...For a brighter tomorrow free from strife, I shall give everything I have head-on so that we won't lose any more people we hold dear.

Raise Affection Level

Voice Line 1

Noan: (Chuckle) You sure have a lot of friends.

Voice Line 2

Noan: It'd be a waste to gift that to me. How about giving it to someone more worthy than me?

Voice Line 3

Noan: I'm happy enough that you're standing in front of me without your guard up.

Voice Line 4

Noan: Thank you... Are you just this kind to anyone you've met?

Voice Line 5

Noan: What are your hobbies? Ehehe, getting to know each other is the first important step in becoming friends.

Voice Line 6

Noan: Should I draw a picture for you in return as thanks? I'm kidding. This present you gave me is far more valuable than any of my drawings.

Voice Line 7

Noan: Despite the countless despair and spite this world has, you still make sure to treat others kindly. You truly are amazing.

Voice Line 8

Noan: I'm fine with any notebook and pen. I feel like it'd be wasteful if I use such a good quality paintbrush for this.

Voice Line 9

Noan: Are we... friends already? Ah, I want to be your friend, your comrade. And from here on out, I wish to stay by your side... That's what I feel.

Voice Line 10

Noan: I don't have much to give back to you in return, but... Please don't hesitate to tell me if there's something I can do for you.

Voice Line 11

Noan: Can I... come meet you again tomorrow?

Voice Line 12

Noan: Thank you so much... truly. It's not just the presents you've given me. I'm thankful for you and the words you said to me back then.

Voice Line 13

Noan: We're still amidst the harsh winter... But whenever you're with me, it feels like it becomes less cold than before.

Voice Line 14

Noan: If I tell you that I want to become closer to you... what will you do?

Voice Line 15

Noan: It's enough for me that we're aiming for the same goal and being able to fight alongside you, but that doesn't mean I'll stop longing for you... (Chuckle) Commander?

Voice Line 16

Noan: Can I take it that you're okay being this close to each other, Commander...?

AFK

Voice Line 1

Noan: Your sleepiness is also making me feel sleepy, hrm... Even though I already don't need to sleep anymore...

Voice Line 2

Noan: It's been pretty quiet, but are you busy with something else?

Voice Line 3

Noan: I don't know if you're asleep or you're working hard... Well, maybe it's not so bad, getting to see your back like this.

Voice Line 4

Noan: Are you asleep? I want to check up close if you're sleeping, but just in case I might wake you up... Yeah, I should stop here.

Voice Line 5

Noan: ♬~Our wishes will outlive us~♪ The light you shine is gentle as you are~♬[1]

Online for a Long Time

Voice Line 1

Noan: Having a lot of missions to deal with seems tough. Is there something I could help you with?

Voice Line 2

Noan: Oh-kay, let's confirm if you're still wide awake. What do you see on this ink blotch? ...It's some sort of abstract matter? Uhh-huh...

Voice Line 3

Noan: You're complaining that your neck hurts because you're always looking downwards. ...Come on, let's do some light stretches. Relax your muscles, and move around your head and shoulders.

Voice Line 4

Noan: Wait a second, let me check your eyes. ...Hrm, now open your mouth. What time did you sleep yesterday? ...(Sigh) Really now...

Voice Line 5

Noan: You've sacrificed your health just so you can finish all your work. I doubt you'd even listen to me, but... Why not rest even just for a few minutes?

Log-In

Voice Line 1

Noan: Morning. Do we have a mission today?

Voice Line 2

Noan: Commander, here's the list of missions for today. If we're all set, let's head out.

Voice Line 3

Noan: Morning, Commander Simon told me to pass along this message to you when I met him in front of the training room. Let's get along, he said.

Voice Line 4

Noan: I've been thinking it's about time you arrive here. I guess we're connected telepathically then?

Voice Line 5

Noan: You're back, Commander. I did several missions while you weren't here the past few days, but I knew I'd think about such a thought... "If only you were here," that is.

Voice Line 6

Noan: Welcome back, Commander. I've been waiting for you.

Voice Line 7

Noan: Did you sleep well last night? Your ability to focus would recede when you're tired, plus the people who care for you would be worried. Hm? Of course, I would be. I'm also one of those people.

Voice Line 8

Noan: Welcome back, Commander. I've been thinking about you. Oh, well you're not wrong that you're in front of me right now. Even so, I just couldn't help myself.

Offline for a Long Time

Noan: Showing up just now, did you oversleep? Were you having a dream of a calm and harmonious world? If that was a blissful dream, then you should've dreamed a little while longer. Don't worry, I'll continue to wait for you here 'til you show up.

Shake

Voice Line 1

Noan: Wha—! Are you okay?! Did you trip?

Voice Line 2

Noan: Stop it, my glasses are about to fall down... Wha- wait... Don't take off my glasses...!

Voice Line 3

Noan: Even if you do that, a coin won't come out from me.

Repetitive Taps

Voice Line 1

Noan: Hm? What the- (Sigh)... I already said I'm not hiding anything. Wait, this isn't a body inspection?

Voice Line 2

Noan: W-wait— th-that tickles! Aha-...Gee, that was unexpectedly childish of you. It's fine, I'll let this slide since I saw your smile.

Voice Line 3

Noan: What's wrong? No need to be frantic. I'll be right by your side.

Activity Task Full

Noan: Our activity level's at max level, let's take a small break. If you have other plans you want to do, shall I tag along?

Battle Dialogues

Battle Start/Character Switch

Noan: I fight so the plights and suffering in our lifetime will be kept at bay.

Voice Line 1

Noan: Let's reassess what their sins are.

Voice Line 2

Noan: This is how the "best duo" pairs up.

Voice Line 3

Noan: Tear through the darkest night.

Ultimate Skill

Noan: Amidst the depths of winter will genuine springtide flourish!

Light Damage

Noan: I'm fine.

Heavy Damage

Noan: No... I mustn't fall here...

Incapacitated

Noan: I'm sorry... for leaving you all alone...

Friend Support

Noan: I don't plan to make you suffer any longer.

QTE

Noan: Aim for a swift victory.

Battle End

Noan: It's over, let's go home now.

Structure Documentation

Document Detail 1

Noan's appearance has established the fact Ascendants can turn humans into Structures. He is currently under surveillance in Eden for associating with an Ascendant. Although he doesn't seem to be disgruntled by the constant surveillance, research, and cooperation with his examinations, most of the "people who know his situation" feels somewhat lonely since Noan acts courteously as if he's keeping them at arm's length.

Document Detail 2

Noan himself named his model "Sojourn." He took inspiration from the time a young boy had preached to him after he left the Azil—"the world around us is a sojourn and all the sorrow they've experienced will one day return to the earth." The world around us is a large place of dwelling. Yes, even this very body he has. He has begun his new journey to the final destination of his life.

Document Detail 3

After he had fitted one of his coatings, Noan was sorely unsure whether or not he'd dye his hair in a rainbow color. However, everyone in Barometz Platoon strongly opposed it and even received harsh criticism from Arts Association Chairman Allen, saying it was "an abstract expression." The white streak of hair strands offset by his raven-colored hair expresses his resolution.

Document Detail 4

Even though Noan could deftly master a weapon and can write in either his left or right hand, he isn't particularly good at handling heavy weapons. It's not because of how incompetent he is, but because he's proficient in keen and nimble combat. The blueprint for his Energy Blade is a gift he received from Rachel on his 17th birthday. The other blade he wields on his other hand is something he had been using ever since he joined the porter company. Until Noan obtained his Energy Blade, his weapons used to be a blade and a gun.

Document Detail 5

He is hardly proficient in long-range weapons. Even the accuracy of the gun Noan previously used wasn't high. When you'd think he missed the mark, he would actually hit the vital target by fluke. There was a time when the bullet Noan fired pierced 3 windows, hitting the billboard across the building, and it fell on the leader of a burglary group.

Document Detail 6

He was able to escape an Ascendant's interferences and hallucinations alone. According to later observations, it was acknowledged that the stability in his Sea of Consciousness allows him adaptability toward Specialized Models. The Science Council still hasn't concluded whether this characteristic was something Noan originally had or was the result of the Ascendant's interference.

Rumors and Secrets

Secret 1 Has read a considerable amount of manga in a stack room. Noan seems to be receptive to any work, possibly because there are also peculiar plots among those he'd read. He would thoroughly read a manga title until the end, especially titles recommended to him by his friends.

Secret 2 To secure some space in his bag, Noan left a manga with a pear blossom between its pages at City Number 075. It was the Gray Raven Team who found that manga when they had visited for a survey. Noan retrieved that manga after that, but he lost it when he was heavily injured in City Number 210.

Secret 3 Noan still occasionally dreams of his past up until now. With how he is now, however, he is distinctly self-aware that it's all a dream and immediately wakes up—because in that dream, there isn't a single scratch on the firefly in his hands.

Secret 4 Although Noan had learned countless skills to survive, the only exception to that is cooking—up until he became a Structure, cooking delicious food wasn't a necessity for him. Now so long as he has a recipe to follow, Noan could cook the dish to a certain extent. Since he frowns upon ingredients going to waste, he inattentively ate the scrap parts of the ingredients on one occasion.

Secret 5 Whenever Noan is at a loss for what to do, he would tell a joke with a serious look on his face and divert the subject matter. He would often make his facial expressions overly serious so the other person would take them seriously. Noan would most likely say "maybe I'll tell you a little secret of mine" whenever he would tell an outlandish joke in the beginning, but he'd immediately give an explanation for his actions if the other person does take it seriously. If he manages to get by each time, strictly speaking.

Secret 6 Noan was once praised by his colleagues in the porter company for being skilled at consoling people and he would usually be the person they rely on to take care of their hammered colleagues at their drinking parties. Although he doesn't drink alcoholic beverages himself, it doesn't mean he wouldn't help them out or ditch out on the people who need someone could lend an ear to them.

Secret 7 Noan isn't good at handling people who are crying—he also can't tell if the other person is actually crying or shedding crocodile tears. To appear calm in front of a crying person even though he's panicking internally, Noan will probably almost nod to every request he generally won't agree on.

Secret 8 He wants to be reincarnated as a seagull in his next life, yet he has never seen either the ocean or a seagull before he became a Structure.

Secret 9 Noan was infamous as a pigheaded person in Passenger Car N until he was 13 years old. Because he recurrently used to incite a reckless feud, he was referred to as a "prickly boy"[2] by the people in that car. The person in question, however, has neither seen a chestnut's burr nor a person getting stabbed by it so he never knew they were referring to him.

Secret 10 Even though he isn't particularly nit-picky when it comes to colors, Noan prefers shades of white that give off a pure and clean feel—it ranges from white fabric, white bird feathers, clear skies, a pristine piece of paper, and so on... But the only thing he hates among the pure white things is snow, especially an endless snowfield.

Secret 11 While he was easy to get along with and had hit off with many friends, Noan had very few close friends he cherished in all sincerity. He's somewhat dense when it comes to emotions and is constantly passive, as he never expressed his desires or his eagerness to someone he was just recently acquainted with—he's the type of person who'd like to know the other person well on top of closing the distance between them.

Secret 12 He would frankly express his emotions to close friends. When the other person shows an interesting reaction to his words, Noan will try to pull a prank using that word. Despite being aware that he still has a childish side, he doesn't plan on hiding this side of himself entirely from his close friends.

This is in reference to the Surviving Glimmer's main theme song.

This may possibly be a reference to the manga "Igakuri-kun" (Igakuri-kun: Young Judo Master) written by Fukui Eiichi.

[smimon]

Vent post

Is it weird that my current grieving song is Non-Stop from Hamilton?

Specifically all those parts, paraphrased to make it about art, although since I'm using art for storytelling this could stay as in original, whatever

---

Why do you draw like you're running out of time?

Draw day and night like it's going out of style?

Are you running out of time?

Look at where you are

Look at where you started

The fact that you're alive is a miracle

Just stay alive, that would be enough

If this could grant you peace of mind

Would that be enough?

How do you draw like tomorrow won't arrive?

How do you draw like you need it to survive?

How do you draw ev'ry second you're alive?

Look around, isn't this enough?

---

Well, spending my early years in constant sense of threat turned me into an impulsive thrill seeker - but I know putting myself in danger would be very dumb.

When I have nothing to do, I feel something is wrong, and I will start panicking. When I am in trouble, I calm down, because this is familiar, because I know how to deal in such a case.

Instead of looking for trouble I am engaging in safe at-home art&crafts activities, setting short-distance goals, keeping myself constantly occupied - because my brain can only rest when it is busy.

Daily drawing challenges are extra helpful because of the deadlines - and I don't worry if I fail to meet them, as my prize is not the finished drawing, but the temporary calmness through the stress that comes before that.

Is this a sort of painkiller for the restlessness and not a remedy at all? Maybe. But through art I find self-discovery, and thanks to this I gradually calm down and find inner peace. Year after year, it becomes more bearable.

But how long can it last? Won't a moment come when I will be out of stories to tell? Will I find peace by then?

[saintsir4n]

9

WARNINGS: ANGST, GRIEF AND SUBSTANCE ABUSE

___

1914

THERE were many things Eden Dawkins hated and being shouted at is one of them.

Since the funeral Tommy hadn't been the same, he wasn't treating her like he once did, as much as she tried to ignore his attitude, his mumbles and rudeness she couldn't, even if it might be a part of his grieving process.

Guilt crept up her spine any time she wanted to snap back and prevented her from doing so.

He's grieving, his best friend is dead, and he's grieving.

Christ knows she would've been worse, god forbid she lost anyone she held dear.

But with Tommy, it felt like he was just having a go at her despite everything she did daily. Entering March, the weather had improved but Eden's mood regressed.

Whenever she wasn't at work, she was with the man she claimed to love.

But with each argument, every bicker, the whiskey coating his tongue grew thicker, harsher, driving him to say whatever, whenever.

Polly was usually there to put a stop to his rudeness, surprised that not even Eden could settle him.

But work did, the King threw himself into his ambition head first, which initially seemed like it did the trick, but he was just growing more distant, pushing everyone away as if they were nothing.

Stood by the sink of his family home, Eden huffed, attempting to scrub up the rest of the broth from the bowl Tommy didn't consume. She heard muffled chatter from the other room between Freddie and Arthur whose voices calmed her. The fact she wasn't alone with Tommy brought her a sought of peace. She cursed herself for thinking it, but he was just getting worse.

Usually, he would be all over her, running his hands over her back and sides, hugging her from behind, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, until giggles escaped her lips before he would press the most passionate, yet chest kiss to them, pouring the devotion he felt into it.

But now... nothing.

"Tommy?" She turned to see him let out an exasperated sigh, "Want me to make you somethin' else? You haven't eaten in days."

Tommy just stared ahead at the glass and the bottle of whiskey in front of him.

"Soup might be good for you," she suggested moving closer, noticing how much his hair had grown out around the sides, the heavy bags residing beneath his eyes, stubble peppering his jaw and the crinkling of his fingers, he needs a smoke, "or a sandwich, or fruit —" she tensed at the empty look he gave her, "talk to me my love."

"Talk to you?" he stiffened when she placed a hand on her shoulder.

She mustered up a smile, "Yeah, we can talk about whatever you want."

He turned away, shrugging off her hand, "What's there to talk about."

Frowning, Eden clasped her hands together and gulped, "I know I'm not her Tommy but you can talk to me —"

He abruptly cut her off with a glare, "That's right you're not her, Eden and you will never be."

His harsh words had her fingers pinching at each other, yearning to tear off the scratch around her nails.

He's grieving, his best friend is dead, and he's grieving. She repeated to herself.

Exhaling she tried again, "Tom-"

"Just leave," he waved her off.

He missed her hurt expression, "I'm trying to help."

"You haven't been helpin', being all over me for days at a time, you call that help?" His condescending tone was like a sharp knife in her back. "You're gettin' in the way, why? Tryna replace Greta ey? Is that what you want?"

Eden rapidly shook her head, "No, why would I want that?"

"You felt threatened when she was alive didn't you?" he suddenly stood up, making her flinch from the way the chair to scratched against the floor.

"I wasn't —"

Tommy came up to her, "She told me what you said, you saw her as a threat."

It was clear that he intended to hurt her, strike some sort of cord and it was working.

That's rich, "N-not like that," she stammered at their proximity, never had she seen the crazed look in his eyes cold eyes, it only made her want to draw the knife hidden beneath her underskirt, use it for protection only, but she felt like she needed it now.

But how could she use it against him?

Would she ever use it against him?

It seemed Thomas Shelby brought her as much love as he did the pain.

"Yeah, I bet," he scoffed, "she was there for me when you weren't."

She took a step backwards as he neared her, "We weren't even together until recently Tommy —"

"Fuckin' excuses, just admit it, Eden, you hated her from the start and you're glad she's dead."

"What?!" Her screech caught the attention of the men in the other room. "I never hated her and I prayed she would get well, how could you think that?"

"Always on me, all over me, suffocatin' me, want me all to yourself," he was going in circles, angry that he even made Eden a priority from the start, when he should've taken better care of Greta.

But it wasn't Eden's fault and despite that, he didn't seem to care.

"I wasn't trying to be all over you, I swear," she could see the shadows lurking behind Tommy.

He sneered, "Just get out."

"What?" she uttered as a tear escaped her eye, kissing her cheek.

"Get out!"

Eden's shoulders slumped as she bit down on her bottom lip, wondering how she ended up being subjected to such cruelty.

Tommy didn't seem to regret a thing, he just wanted to inflict the pain he felt and he'd succeeded.

Coming out from the hallway, Arthur was the first to speak, all while Freddie went to check on Eden who was physically shaking from Tommy's tone.

"Brother–"

"Shut up Arthur," he snapped, keeping his gaze on his girlfriend.

Eden grabbed her things and swiftly moved passed the other two, who stared at her sympathetically, even Freddie reached out for her, seeing the tears flowing down her face, but she shrugged him off, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible.

The sound of the front door slamming pulled Tommy back down into his chair and picking up his unfinished glass of whiskey, all while the men just stand there, one in disappointment the other in irritation.

"You need to get you're fuckin' head straight," Arthur could hardly recognise his younger brother, it disturbed him. He might've been the rowdy one who could never seem to reign in his temper, but Tommy was different, they all knew it.

Tommy tried to ignore them but they came closer, not caring if he was going to yell or scream or even punch.

"Have you lost your mind? Don't push her away. You think Etta would've wanted this," that earned a glare from Tommy, but Freddie continued, "I lost my best friend y'know? You're not the only one."

But the grieving Shelby reached to grab another drink, thinking of the pain in Eden's eyes as he shouted at her, did I really do that? He gulped down another glass, washing away the guilt that was dug at him, like a tunneler at war.

Arthur's eyes flickered between the door and his brother, "You ain't gonna go chase after her?"

He just knew John and Martha would be on his arse when they returned.

"What's the point?" Tommy finally spoke up, continuing with his tour of apathy.

Arthur leaned against the counter, "She makes you smile Tom, she makes you smile."

"What good is that? She ain't here." Tommy grumbled, much to Freddie's dismay.

The Thorne man just shook his head.

Arthur sneered, "And who's fault is that, no one's fault but your bloody own."

Tommy took no note of the words spinning around him, it was all noise, nothing but noise.

So picking up another drink, he laughed, it was a bitter and empty laugh, which they recognised.

He raised it to them, with a resentful look, "To women who leave when times get rough."

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

a/n:

you can't have tommy shelby story without his tommy shelbyness. he's not cut for relationships in my opinion, he's not built like that, whether it's him or external forces, it will either end in misery or tragedy unless he makes a change.

let's hope he changes before the story reaches its conclusion. fingers crossed.

and don't go thinking eden's weak, she's hurt and the first man she has ever loved is acting horribly to her. I take pride in how I write my characters and how they act accordingly, especially in situations where the majority would be shocked or just cry if they are shouted or screamed at and let's be real, tommy doesn't deserve her kindness, especially with how he's acting.

[childofchrist1983]

Take heed, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil heart of unbelief, in departing from the living God. But exhort one another daily, while it is called To day; lest any of you be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin. For we are made partakers of Christ, if we hold the beginning of our confidence stedfast unto the end; While it is said, To day if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts, as in the provocation. - Hebrews 3:12-15 KJV

Every day is another day to reaffirm our Christian faith and faith in Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ. Every day is a "today" for us to avoid the temptations that would lead us into sin. Every day is another chance to help others who might be led into sin and to affirm them in their faith. It is normal and natural that we will have doubts. In fact, if we have never doubted, how do we know that we believe? It is by looking at our doubts and remembering why it is that we believe, that our faith is confirmed and strengthened. It is also important to reach out daily to help the poor and the vulnerable. It doesn't matter how we reach out, just that we do. Each day, we need to forgive and not harden our hearts to those who have hurt us in the past. We can't pick and choose who is worthy of help, or who deserves to be forgiven. Jesus doesn't ask us to make those decisions; that's His job.

Did Jesus Christ say that you or I are guilty, so we won't be forgiven? No, we are all forgiven when we ask Him for it; we are all able to be saved by the actions and grace of Jesus. If we have been saved when we were still sinners, then we have an obligation to follow and serve Him as well as to forgive others and to help anyone who needs it. We do have a tendency to blame people for the trouble that they get into! And sometimes, we think that they should get themselves out of it, even when we don't have all the facts and they are perfectly innocent. Haven't we been falsely accused at times? Let us not harden our hearts but open them to others in love. Let us ask God to help us to have hearts open to Him and to others and give us a willingness to help and forgive without judgment. May He lead us in the direction He wants us to go so that we may seek and serve Him faithfully. God is holy and almighty and deserving of all praise honor and glory. We rejoice in Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ, knowing He is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8). He is the Alpha and the Omega (Revelation 1:8). May our hearts always be filled with thanksgiving and rejoicing. May He help us to praise Him freely and honestly like all believers who came before us. May we live a life that showcases our love and trust in Him and His Holy Word and Spirit as He uses us draw others to Him and His soul-saving Gospel Truth daily. May He continue guide, correct and protect us, so that we continue to grow in Him and not weaken and stray. May we all remain faithful to Him and to this duty and purpose He has called us to. Seek and put your faith and trust in Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ and let Him do the rest. May He humble our hearts and help us focus on following and serving Him daily and helping others with joy and happiness. We lift our voices in praise to Him for His love, mercy, peace, faithfulness and grace. - For EVERYTHING!

It is vital that we remain rooted in Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ through prayer and His Holy Word and Spirit and that we live and walk as a beacon of His light and love and share and spread the Gospel Truth daily, so that the lost souls in this world can come to know Him and be saved. The more we focus on Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ, growing spiritually by building our relationship with Him, leaning on Him and His Holy Word and Spirit, the better off we will be. Thanks to this and our faith in Him, we know that everything will be alright. And we will forever be grateful to Him. As true and born-again Christians, we believe in Him and His Holy Word and we strive daily to walk in His Holy Spirit. We know though our mortal bodies should die, He will raise us up and into new and glorious bodies (The Rapture). We who are truly His and alive at His second coming will never die, and our bodies will be changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, and so shall we ever be with Him in His Kingdom of Heaven forevermore (1 Corinthians 15:51-52, 1 Thessalonians 4:16-17). This is one of many promises given to us by God Himself. Thank God for His strength and guidance when we are faced with sin and temptation. Thank Him for His mercy and grace. Through Bible study and prayer, God reveals His wisdom and guides us to see opportunities to grow closer to Him and grow spiritually. He gives us direction to live our lives daily according to His will.

Jesus Christ is the ONLY way to Heaven (John 3:5, 14:6), the ONLY way to salvation (Acts 4:12, Ephesians 2:8-9) and He is the resurrection and the life (John 11:25-26). Jesus Christ the LORD of lords, KING of kings, the GOD of gods (Deuteronomy 10:17, 1 Timothy 6:15, Revelation 17:14, Revelation 19:16) - He is the Living, Almighty and Everlasting God (Isaiah 9:6, Revelation 1:8, John 3:16, John 3:36, Jeremiah 10:10). There is no other God besides Him (Isaiah 45:5). We MUST humble ourselves before Him, turning our backs on false teachers, false gods and idols and our sinful ways. We MUST repent and turn back to God and recognize who He is and love Him in return for His great love for us. We MUST make God top priority everyday! May we be motivated to spread God's Holy Word and Gospel Truth to all the Earth, knowing that it is the only hope of all those lost in their sins. Let us not hold out a false hope for men to be saved without the Gospel, but instead, strive to do our part to get the Gospel out to a lost and dying world.

Leaning on Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ through prayer and His Holy Word and Spirit strengthens us and our knowledge and wisdom about God and His Gospel Truth, exposing these imposters. May God help us to seek and lean on Him daily to gain the strength, wisdom and spiritual discernment needed to expose Satan and his imposters who seek to destroy us and God's ultimate Truth. Everyday, we must remember to share Jesus Christ's Gospel Truth with the world and to thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for the grace that He poured out for us on the cross at Calvary. He has freed us from the burdens of sin and from the eternal damnation of Hell. In all we say and do, may all praise, honor and glory always be given to Him and His Kingdom of Heaven.

With renewed minds, hearts and wills, let us serve Him humbly and faithfully out of pure love and grateful rejoicing. May He remind us of His presence and to remain at peace, fully knowing that all will be well because He is always with us. Let us seek Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ today and everyday with all our heart and being, looking for His love, light and will for our lives with each step we take. Let us seek to please Him with our thoughts, words, and deeds and seek to advance His Kingdom of Heaven and His glory with our lives. Let us seek Him from a pure and humble heart, and when we so seek, we believe Him and His promise that we will find. May He help us all to be more sensitive to the teaching ministry of His Holy Word and Spirit, relying on Him and allowing Him to speak to us and guide us every step of our Christian journey.

God gave us the Holy Bible - His living and Holy Word - to let us know of Him and His abiding love and care as well as guide and prepare us for all our lives. May He help us encourage one another as we continue our walk with Him and our duty to Him daily. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for being present for all our new beginnings and all our lives. May He redirect any anxiety we feel as He provides countless opportunities for growth and change. May we humble ourselves before God always, asking Him to forgive our sins and make our hearts and lives anew through His Holy Word and Spirit. May He help us make Him and His Holy Word top priority, so we can grow spiritually and grow in our relationship with Him as we apply it to our daily lives. Thank God that we can focus on Him and everything about Him, for that is what keeps us sane and at peace. May our words and actions always be a reflection of Him and His Holy Word and Spirit and will.

May He help us to always walk in His grace and Holy Spirit, not by our own measure. May He give us the humble humility to know that our freedom and eternal salvation is found only in Him, so that His grace may sustain us, and we may never lose sight of His love and light and mercy. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for calling us to Him and to serve Him. May He equip us to do all that He has called us to do so that as He works through us, He may use us to produce fruit, to reach others, and to encourage all brothers and sisters in Christ. May He work all of these things in us and through us for His Kingdom and His glory. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all His creation, for His miraculous ways and for everything He does and has done for us! Keep the faith and keep moving forward in your walk with Jesus! He loves us and He knows what is best for us. Seek, follow and trust in Him - Always!

Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Word and for sending His Holy Spirit so that we might have His grace, not only to awaken us and transform our hearts in our spiritual rebirth and guarantee our eternity with Him, but to also call upon Him whenever we are in need. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all the reminders of His love and mercy and faithfulness within His Holy Word. He is bigger than any challenge or circumstance in our lives. Knowing this within our minds and our hearts, nothing can deter our faith in Him and His Truth. May we all accept Him and His eternal gift of salvation and ask that He would transform our hearts and lives according to His will and ways. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Spirit who saves, seals and leads us. May we always thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His almighty power and saving grace. For He is our strength, and He alone is able to save us, forgive our sins and gift us eternal salvation and entry into His Kingdom of Heaven.

May we make sure that we give our hearts and lives to God and take time to seek and praise Him and share His Truth with the world daily. May the LORD our God and Father in Heaven help us to stay diligent and obedient and help us to guard our hearts in Him and His Holy Word daily. May He help us to remain faithful and full of excitement to do our duty to Him and for His glorious return and our reunion in Heaven as well as all that awaits us there. May we never forget to thank the LORD our God and our Creator and Father in Heaven for all this and everything He does and has done for us! May we never forget who He is, nor forget who we are in Christ and that God is always with us! What a mighty God we serve! What a Savior this is! What a wonderful LORD, God, Savior and King we have in Jesus Christ! What a loving Father we have found in Almighty God! What a wonderful God we serve! His will be done!

Thanks and glory be to God! Blessed be the name of the LORD! Hallelujah and Amen!

[joyoflily]

It was one of those typical rainy, overcast autumn days in London when I didn’t expect much from the moment I woke up—because you know what they say: it’s always raining in London. But what I stumbled upon that day was a rare, sunny Monday, so I wandered through Hyde Park, my mind drifting as I walked, and soon enough, I found myself on an unexpected journey.

This particular journey healed me in ways I didn’t know I needed. The beauty of nature helped me slow down and reconnect with myself. In that moment, it felt like I was shedding the negative emotions that had weighed me down for so long.

By the time I left, both my body and mind felt lighter. Maybe that’s why the “20-minute park effect” (公园20分钟效应) that people are raving about is such a hot topic—it reflects how many young people feel right now. Despite the intense competition and societal pressure, we all want to hold on to our “true selves.”

For Londoners, apparently grabbing a coffee and heading to the park—whether alone or with company—is part of what makes life here feel so relaxed. The city’s urban forests still retain their raw, natural beauty, and that’s what draws me in to wander around. These spaces are real, unfiltered, and exploring them has become my way of reconnecting with myself.

As I walked, I saw towering trees that had grown wild alongside carefully maintained paths. Swans glided freely across the lake, and squirrels and pigeons scurried around, completely unbothered by people. The energy surrounding me quickly pulled me away from the constant noise of the city, guiding me toward a deeper sense of self.

Fully immersed in the scenery, I felt a part of my soul begin to heal. It was as if all the living things around me—the trees, the birds, the grass—were offering comfort, reminding me to breathe. In those moments, nature seemed to come alive, as if the world around me was a poet, whispering soft, romantic verses. Whether I was lying on the grass soaking up the sun or sitting on a bench lost in thought, it felt like nature was celebrating the harmony between us. The rustle of leaves and the breeze through the trees was a melody to the ears.

I’ve come to realize that healing isn’t just about physical rest—it’s about recovering emotionally and mentally. It’s about stepping back from the chaos and reconnecting with your core. For me, even something as simple as a cup of tea or a quiet walk in the park can be healing. It gives me the space to let go of negative emotions, calm my mind, and find my rhythm again.

Walking through a park feels like one of the most quintessentially British ways to heal (or so that’s what people say). There’s a beautiful blend of tradition and modernity, a mix of romance and absurdity, with a touch of rebellion hidden beneath a conservative exterior.

These contradictions are what make Britain so unique, and in a way, they mirror the contradictions we all deal with in life—like the tension between our daily lives and the dreams we hold onto. The real challenge is finding a space where we can feel at peace with ourselves, where we can reconcile those parts of us. In these parks, I’ve found my own version of “zìqià” (自洽)—a sense of inner balance.

That’s also why I feel such a connection with Burberry. Like me, Burberry holds a balance of contradictions. On the surface, there’s this quiet elegance, but underneath, it’s bold and innovative as they are always pushing forward. I approach life and my work in much the same way. On the outside, I may seem calm and collected, but there’s always a strong determination and clarity that drives me. I don’t rush things—whether it’s acting or just living. I love reading and listening, and poetry and literature to keep me grounded, helping me find energy in the small, everyday moments.

London’s parks may be peaceful, but they also carry a sense of romance. Many British Romantic poets have written about nature, capturing its magic in a way that feels healing. Their words, like these parks, have a way of pulling you into a space where both body and mind can find peace. That’s what I feel when I walk through the trees or watch the animals. Nature’s energy feeds my spirit, just as literature does. And now, Burberry’s 2024 Winter Collection that is inspired by the outdoors, wraps me in warmth and bringing a touch of that romantic, British style to my autumn journey.

Edited and re-written by Lillianne, original article by NOWNESS.

[talldarkandroguesome]

13th of Evening Star, Middas

My Spiderlings were full of excitement when we met yesterday.

I suppose since we have had celebrations in our last gatherings, there is an air of cheer to our coming together. Many of them asked if we were to have another competition. After the competition before the Summoning Day of our Prince and last month my having them do a somewhat Boethian competition in honor of our Prince's sibling Prince, they seemed to believe such things were to be the new norm.

It was with some hesitation that I told them it was not to be on this month. Instead, we were to prepare for the old life celebration.

We had a time of reflection. I had them come up with a list of gratitudes and to share what we saw as the progress of ourselves and of our Nestmates. Nearly all of them have been with me for over a year now. I wanted them to take the time to consider where it was that they started and look to see how far it was that they have come.

We also began a deep cleaning of the Harborage. I wanted to stress the importance of having a ritual cleaning of our space. We will do the same to the Cathedral of Webs after the New Life, but I wanted their daily space to feel comfortable and clean for them as they will likely be spending more time indoors with the changing weather.

We had a blanket of frost across the ground yesterday morning and the wind blew cold from the west. A sign that surely winter is just around the corner. So we had the spiders of the nest bundle up firewood and the husks of their discarded meals tossed down the hillside, where they rolled towards the sea.

I led everyone in consecrating water filled with sacred herbs and salt. Every surface was given a good scrub or a wipe with it. Then we burned incense and herbs to drive out anything that might linger in the air. The front of the Harborage opened and we commanded out any lingering impurities.

Once the water had dried and the residue of the salt wiped away, all the smoke having cleared, we sealed the door once more and stoked the fires and decorated with herbs to draw luck or that attracted the prey of our spiders.

Goat and Arrow had made decorations of knotted silk, skills honed from their time mending fishing nets. Each spider was given decorations for their webs and it seemed as though they genuinely did care for them.

The whole Nest felt warmer. It had an air of peace and safety to it.

I could tell the others felt it, too. The way they all seemed to relax made me feel as though it had been the correct call. They were proud of the work they did. Of the home they had built. It was theirs, after all.

Something about being able to contribute to the beauty and success of the place seemed to have sparked a greater loyalty within them.

To reward their efforts, I opened the portal to the Cathedral of Webs and had a huge banquet brought through. In truth, I had spent a great deal of effort to have it prepared and secreted to a spot where I could transport it to the Cathedral of Webs. But seeing how joyful they were at the feast, I knew it was the correct decision.

Everyone indulged to a level one might have easily mistaken us for celebrants of Sanguine. At least, if you ignored the webs and spiders all about.

I sung and played music while they all indulged in their own desires. I allowed them to take as long as they desired. The prayers were already done while they prepared for and concluded their cleaning. The rest of the night was for them. It was a reward.

Tanur tried to get my attention, but I assured him that I was going to allow the Spiderlings to finish before I engaged in anything else.

When they were nothing more than a pile of tired, sated bodies across the feast table, I set aside the instrument, thanked all of them for their hard work and dedication, and called Tanur to come with me to my chambers.

Then, as I had with the others, I indulged him in all his desires. I let his carnal passion flow into me, to drink in the richness of his lust. It was filling as the banquet upon the fest table. My body molded to his desires, hungry for more, until, at last, he was exhausted.

How blessed I truly am by our Prince. Zethith has calmed in light of my return to more subdued requests.

In truth, I desire very greatly to speak to them about what I can do to obtain my connection to Leythen. In speaking of our personal journeys, I cannot help but think to the mer who bestowed this very opportunity on to me. How I wish I had his guidance, his presence.

My heart aches for his absence. I wish for nothing so much as to be able to hear his voice. Perhaps, with the Old Life fast approaching, I can once again find myself in conversation with him and can ask for his advice. To be able to find a way to speak with him more often. To bind him to me as our people do with our ancestors.

The Farseer seemed to be sure there was no way to do this, save for with a part of the deceased. Surely there is another way! Leythen has no body to recover. I doubt that if any of it had remained, that Nocturnal would not have done something wholly terrible to it. That raven villain cost me so much. Cost so many people so much. And for no end, save to destroy all of Nirn and the very fabric of reality.

Foolish desire. I am just glad that I was able to put a stop to it. And that I was able to survive the experience. Well, I suppose I did not, I did die of my injuries shortly after. Still, I could be remade in this life afterwards. That is what matters.

This time of year always has me contemplative. A good time to think when one is in a chair by the fire with naught to do but enjoy the sound and feel of the thing.

If only I had more time for it. So much work to do with the House now. At least with Mother gone and my taking all her duties outside of the Council, I have a little bit of breathing room. Alas, I should send this letter to Fennorian. I promised him a new batch of wickwheat, Dwemersbane, and assorted mushrooms. I will surely forget if I do not take care of it now.

[endthecycle]

Indoor person turned runner

As a child, I’ve always wanted to be active and sporty. Maybe not with ball games like Volleyball or Basketball but with Martial Arts. We didn’t have time back then and I never really voiced out about wanting to try sports. So my main activities before were video games, art and music. Very indoor girl. I would go home from school, go straight to the computer or my handheld console and play for the rest of the evening (except when I had homework). I never went outside to play with other children of my age. I was in my very own peaceful world.

Fast forward to present. I am now a runner. Yes, you read that right. But I’m not the speedy runner that you see on TV or the distance runners participating in marathons, just a beginner runner who enjoys running a good few kilometers and joining small races. So what made me go from being a gamer who spent most of my time inside my room to a person who spends most of her leisure time working out and running? Take note, I am bad at being physically active. It’s like my body just accepted that I will be sitting down the chair and stare at the TV with household chores as my only exercise in this lifetime. I finished my studies and got my first job being just that. What changed?

My partner introduced me to running. He and I met when I was a slightly heavier person. Unlike him, I gained weight when I started working so when I gave running a try, it was soooo difficult and felt like punishment. I could only run straight for 200 meters then I would stop, catch my breath and continue again for the next 200 meters. My form and foot strike were also bad that those are enough proof that I spent most of my childhood life indoor and never played tag with other children.

If I’m being honest, trying out a hobby that I am not good at or makes me feel like a loser is not really my thing. I used to hate doing things that I’m not good at. I loved drawing because I was good at it. I loved playing instruments because I learned how to play them fast. Struggling at something was not new but never really my preference. I will either be good at something in a short span of time, be good at it instantly or not do it at all. But running was different. I suck at running (pardon my poor choice of words). I was so bad at it that I almost felt like giving up. “Running is not for me”, “I am not built to be a fit person”. These were the thoughts that rang inside my head for months. Days and months flew by, I started running regularly. There were mornings when I didn’t feel like running. There were so many times when I lost the drive to keep going and I gave in so many times too. It was only this year that I got serious about running. I bought my first ever expensive pair of running shoes. The pair I used to run with was so light that I felt slower when I ran with my new pair. But it motivated me even more simply because I wanted to be faster in that pair and I also wanted to run in this great location covered with trees (but mostly uphill)…or maybe because that pair was expensive, I didn’t want to waste a 7k worth of shoes!

Going back to getting serious, I started signing up on races, earning medals and reaching mini goals that I set for myself. Who would have thought that I could run? Haha! My parents wouldn’t believe that if I told them the first time. This hobby got expensive, I bought nicer workout clothes, 2 new pairs of running shoes for my daily runs and race days and signed up to more races but I’m loving how it transformed me inside and out. Of course I got slimmer after a year of running but most importantly, I learned how to let go of my ego. I will not always be good at something, I have to accept that being a beginner is okay. Struggling is okay. Being bad at something is okay but one can always aspire to overcome their weakness right? I wanted to overcome my weakness. It brings a smile to my face to know that I, who used to be so bad at running, learned to love it through the hardships. I wanted to enjoy the process of being slow and see how far I can go.

To my partner, my heart and my best friend, thank you for joining me on my journey. It amazes me how we are slowly being transformed, individually, from the person that we were, to the “much better” person today and “even more better” version of us that is yet to come. You were also there since day 1, from being my personal coach, photographer, chauffeur, videographer to someone who is running the same race with me. Let’s finish this race together.

[jdgo51]

DAILY DEVOTIONAL FOR JUNE 29, 2023

God’s Constant Watch

By Lisa Stackpole (Wisconsin, USA)

READ PSALM 121:1-8

"No! Israel’s protector never sleeps or rests!"

PSALM 121:4 (CEB)

"As a child, I was sometimes plagued by vivid nightmares. Once when I was eight or nine, I awoke terrified though I could not remember what had frightened me. It was still fairly early in the evening, but I had been asleep for some time and was quite disoriented. I stumbled to my bedroom door. When I opened it, I could see down the hall into our living room. My father was still awake, sitting quietly in his chair reading the newspaper.

Even now, decades later, I remember the feeling of peace that came over me seeing my father there. He didn’t notice me, but his presence reminded me of the many times he had protected and calmed me in the past. Based on this history of faithfulness and love, I knew that I was safe. I quietly went back to bed and quickly fell asleep.

When I think back on that moment, it reminds me that our God never sleeps. God is always aware of us. God knows our needs and stands ready to come to our aid. We are never far from God. That is truly a reason to be at peace." God is standing with us and totally awake and aware of our needs. He is just "right there" . Call upon Him!

TODAY'S PRAYER

"Ever-vigilant God, thank you for your constant care and protection. In times of trouble, help us to remember your faithfulness." Amen.

Psalm 121:1-8

"1 I raise my eyes toward the mountains. Where will my help come from? 2 My help comes from the LORD, the maker of heaven and earth. 3 God won’t let your foot slip. Your protector won’t fall asleep on the job. 4 No! Israel’s protector never sleeps or rests! 5 The LORD is your protector; the LORD is your shade right beside you. 6 The sun won’t strike you during the day; neither will the moon at night. 7 The LORD will protect you from all evil; God will protect your very life. 8 The LORD will protect you on your journeys whether going or coming from now until forever from now." Allow God to draw you into Him. Accept His protection and care.. He is always there for you. Blessings come to you naturally. Be your best self because of it. Joe

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Joe Davis

joedavis1388

8 minutes ago

Fully Human: Jesus Joined Us on the Floor

Today's inspiration comes from:

This Too Shall Last

by K.J. Ramsey

"The Savior assumed a body for Himself, in order that the body, being interwoven as it were with life, should no longer remain a mortal thing… He put on a body, so that in the body he might find death and blot it out. ~ Athanasius, On the Incarnation"

"Only the suffering God can help.

~ Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison

The year I got sick, I was a resident assistant tasked with emotionally and spiritually supporting a group of nearly thirty college women. I spent hours each day in the library writing papers, the day punctuated by meals and coffee dates with women from my dorm. After copious amounts of tea sipped between fervid research binges, I would walk across the dark, quiet campus to my hall, where I would stay up even later attending to the tears of peers getting over breakups or venting anger about their roommates.1

Suffering has an inelegant way of reversing relationships, and where I was used to being the comforter, I suddenly found myself learning the harder role of recipient. Out of nowhere the majority of my life consisted of crying tears of my own within the confines of four cinderblock walls, too sick on most days to even get out of bed. The body that had effortlessly carried me through the winding, steep paths of my mountainous college campus could now barely hold itself up in bed. The limbs that climbed limestone cliffs between classes now struggled to walk fourteen steps to the bathroom.

At night I often couldn’t sleep because of pain, and after hours of no relief, I’d cry from the excruciation. One suitemate in particular would often find me awake in the middle of the night, weeping on the floor of our shared study room. Instead of turning the other way or quipping about how early she had to get up for an exam, Katie would join me on the floor, massaging my aching hands as I sobbed into her chest.

In the first half of my college experience, I had started to better learn the Gospel story, where weakness is welcome and hurt is held. But I didn’t know it yet in my limbs and ache and shame. I had to learn that on the floor, where Katie came to find me, willingly holding my weak body in her embrace. When I went to college, I signed up for an education of books and lectures. I didn’t realize the education I would need for the rest of my life was the nearness of Christ and His body to the indignity, brokenness, and shame in my own.

This is grace: God joined us on the floor of this earth. God did not stay far from our pain. He did not judge it from a distance. He did not pity it from the other side of the universe. He became it.

Grace is solidarity instead of scrutiny. This is the power that sustains us when suffering lingers.

God took on the human condition you and I so struggle to bear so we could be enfolded in His love.

Love consists in this: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins. — 1 John 4:10

Many of us are confused about the purpose of Christ’s coming and the heart of our hope, often without realizing it, and the confusion amplifies our pain when suffering lingers. The very persistence of suffering might not fit with the hope we thought we had or the Jesus we thought we were serving.

We’ll keep looking in the wrong places for grace in our suffering if we don’t reexamine and rearticulate the substance of our hope and the message of our Lord.

God did not stay far from our pain. He did not judge it from a distance. He did not pity it from the other side of the universe. He became it.

Jesus said His Father’s purpose in sending Him to earth was for Him to bring the Kingdom of God near to us (Mark 1:15; Luke 4:43). But our churches often collapse His message and our hope into salvation from sin. Many unintentionally reduce the Gospel to a disembodied cure and moment of transformation, neglecting to give us the scaffolding of story and solidity of physical experience needed to build a life on God’s promises. Jesus came “to seek and to save the lost,” (Luke 19:10) and He seeks and saves us into a new reality of experiencing His presence, memory, and story. We are saved not only from sin. We are saved to join and enjoy a Kingdom where Christ reigns in love, is restoring all that has been broken by the curse of sin, and is personally present in and among us.2

In His coming, Jesus brought the Kingdom of God near to us, so near that His Spirit now lives in us, comforting us and filling us with a presence that brings life. The Kingdom of God is both our hope and the grace that carries us toward hope’s fulfillment. It is a reality we take part in now, even as we continue to feel the heavy weight of brokenness.3 Right now “the whole world lies in the power of the evil one” (1 John 5:19 ESV). But the Father “has rescued us from the domain of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of the Son He loves.” (Colossians 1:13)

The future of God’s good reign has already been set in motion with the resurrection and ascension of Jesus and the gift of His Spirit. Salvation is already here, but its fullness awaits Christ’s second coming. The wholeness of our salvation is a guaranteed reality that sculpts our present existence. As New Testament scholar Gordon Fee writes, our present is shaped by “the singular reality that God’s people belong to the future that has already come present. Marked by Christ’s death and resurrection and identified as God’s people by the gift of the Spirit, they live the life of the future in the present, determined by its values and perspective, no matter what their present circumstances.”4

Christ has brought His Kingdom near, and He will extend its fullness when He returns. The timing of His return is beyond our understanding,5 but we wait now with a patience powered by the Spirit’s presence and an eagerness to experience Christ’s life even in the midst of death.

Rather than pining after some distant day when we will make it to Heaven, we base our hope on the reality that Jesus is creating a new earth where those who are united to Him will live, play, sing, and love with redeemed physical bodies in a redeemed physical world as a redeemed people united in worship and radiant in diversity.

Our hope is not in being beamed up to Heaven upon death with suddenly perfected bodies. Our hope is informed and colored by John’s vision in Revelation 21: the New Jerusalem comes down from Heaven. Hope in suffering is never for a disembodied day when we can finally escape the bodies, relationships, and circumstances that have caused us so much pain. Biblical hope is expressed not in certainty but in curiosity, hearts that acknowledge and accept Jesus is already King, lives that look for the restoration of His rule right here, people propelled by a willingness to see Jesus turn every inch of Creation from cursed to cured. The relationships that were broken will be made right; our relationship to our bodies, each other, the earth, and God will be fully and finally restored.

The Kingdom is already and not yet; living in its tension rather than panicking for release is the only way to be pulled into the trajectory of hope."

A version of this story first appeared in Fathom. K.J. Ramsey, “The Education I Never Signed Up For,” Fathom (September 11, 2018), www.fathommag.com/stories/ the-education-i-never-signed-up-for. I first heard this concept of “saved from” versus “saved to” in an undergraduate doctrine course at Covenant College with Dr. Kelly Kapic. As citizens of the kingdom of God, we experience two conflicting realities. As theologian and pastoral counselor Eric Johnson writes, “Humanity is unknowingly under the degrading and enslaving influence of Satan (1 John 5:19), along with the ‘powers and principalities’ (Eph. 6:12), and the earth is now the site of a spiritual battle going on between Satan and his forces and God and his, ultimately limited by God’s power and plan.” If we fail to remember this, the bitterness of death will unnecessarily overpower the flavor of life Christ continuously offers us. Eric L. Johnson, God and Soul Care: The Therapeutic Resources of the Christian Faith (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2017), 132. Gordon D. Fee, Paul’s Letter to the Philippians (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), 50–51, emphasis added. Matthew 24:36; Mark 13:32. Excerpted with permission from This Too Shall Last by K. J. Ramsey, copyright Katie Jo Ramsey.