#sugary-sea-snails

[merakiui]

애인 in anthill.

floyd leech x (female) reader cw: violence, blood, death, murder, unrequited love, angst note - if yellow is the color of insanity, then blue is the color of tragedy.

Laid out on the ice, blood swirling through the cracks, Floyd looks up at you and grins something wild. His eyes are blown wide with adrenaline. A vermillion snail trickles from his nostril, landing plip-plop in tiny drops. Standing just a few feet in front of him, clutching a thick-paged dictionary, you eye him with frigid disdain.

Like the strange boy he’s always been, Floyd says, “You’re fun.”

“You’re not going to hit back?”

“Nah. I don’t hit girls.”

“What if I wasn’t a girl? What if I was something else?” you press, fingers curled tightly around the book’s spine. “There’s a word for creatures like you. Masochist—someone who takes pleasure in receiving pain.”

“That right?” He tilts his head at you and lifts himself up on his arms. Gingerly, he wipes at his nose and sniffles back the clotted blood. “You throw a mean punch.”

“And you’ll never throw at all.”

“So what? I ain’t gonna hit a girl just cuz she’s itchin’ for a fight. I was always told it’s not right to hit girls.”

“Even if they hit you?”

“Especially if they hit you. Someone used to say that if a girl hits me it’s prolly cuz I deserved it.”

“You did,” you agree, sifting through your words carefully. “You’re a miscreant.”

He blinks at you, unfazed. 

“A malefactor.”

“Hmm? That come from your book of big words?”

“It did, in fact. I have another one for you: delinquent.”

He throws his head back and laughs. Blood spurts from his nose in a liquid arc. “You got a word for the end of the world?”

“What? An apocalypse? Worldly annihilation? Catastrophe? Disaster? Cataclysm?” Before he can reply, you scoff. “That will never happen.”

“We’ll be dead by then, won’t we?”

“What does it matter? You never answered my previous question.”

He rises to his feet. You’re taller than him. He’s insisted before that once he hits his growth spurt it’ll be over for you. Even with the height difference, you doubt that would stop Floyd. He’s always pestering you, be it for answers to daily assignments or for snacks. Weirdly, despite the fact that he is a quotidian nuisance whose devil-may-care attitude goes against everything that encapsulates your character, you humor him every time.

“What?”

“If I wasn’t a girl, would you hit me?”

“You’re talkin’ like you wanna get hit.”

“You shouldn’t let the fact that I’m a girl stop you. If someone hits you, isn’t it fair that you hit them in return? An eye for an eye—that is one of the foundations of Hammurabi’s Code. It was a very human concept, you see. So then, disregarding the concept of gender, would you hit me if I was anything besides a girl?”

“Anything but a girl… Like what?”

“Like an insect.”

“You wanna be a bug? Ain’t that too easy? All I gotta do is crush ya and—”

“Then it would be revenge repaid.”

“Sure.” He smiles lazily. “If that’s what you wanna go with.”

“You’ll never get anywhere with that mindset. What if—”

Cracks spiderweb through the ice, splitting it apart in chunks. As it thaws and melts, revealing the floor beneath, Floyd trots towards the door. You follow after him, gracefully stepping out of the ice rink with your dictionary held close.

“Even if you were a bug, I’d put ya in a little locket and let ya stay safe forever. That way, even if someone wants to punch ya, they’d have to get through metal first.”

You stare at him and his broad smile. “That makes no sense… I would suffocate.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yes! Do you realize how—hey! Get back here! I’m not done speaking!” You storm after him, fuming from your ears. 

Both of you forget that there are no insects here, just as there is no surface world to be salvaged.

There are monsters in the deep sea.

The types that latch on with lithe limbs, curling and coiling. The types that kiss you farewell before bodily destruction. The types that offer sugary daydreams before the nightmarish end. Some of them are bright and brilliant, sparkling like stars in the black void. Some of them are not, choosing to camouflage and dwell in silent stealth instead.

But all of them must feed. That is an irrefutable fact. Very raw and grotesque.

Standing at the grand window, you watch your classmate sink into the clutches of a beast. She drowns with a whimsical smile, her eyes rolled back in ecstasy and her body peppered in sucker pinches.

Floyd whistles behind you. “You trying to get transferred?”

You eye his reflection with a frown. “I’m trying to test a hypothesis.”

“Lemme hear it.” He leans against the window and folds his arms over his chest. He’s taller now, so much so that he’s more limbs than torso, and all of his teeth have grown in. They’re sharp like knives. Sometimes you wonder why he refuses to use them.

“If you are predatory in nature, you will fight. If you are not, you will submit to the role of prey. In other words, if you are raised on feeble ideals, you will always find yourself cradled in the arms of Death before you can start your life.”

Floyd casts a cursory glance at the waterlogged corpse. “That why you killed her?”

You gaze at the defensive scratches on your arms with clinical indifference. “The experiment failed. I’ll try a different approach next time.”

He hums. “Sounds tough.”

“Science is not easy.”

“If you’re gonna get moved to Worker Level—”

“Azul tells me they’re overpopulated. The Throne is open.”

Floyd worries his lip between his teeth. “They’re doin’ a purge down there—another Queen of the Colony. You aimin’ for that?”

“I’m not just aiming. I will secure that position for myself.”

“And then what? You become Queen and leave the rest of us up here? Don’t you wanna stick around?”

“Why should I? I’m at the top of our class. I only stay because it’s easy and I don’t have to work.”

“We’ll miss ya. Jade and me. Azul, too. He won’t have anyone to compete with.”

“Like there’s much competition to be had.”

“He thinks you’re evenly matched.”

“Of course he would. We have nine brains.”

Silence wedges itself between the both of you, creating a cavernous gap. Floyd rests his head against the glass and sighs. You watch your classmate as she’s dragged further into the dark until, eventually, she disappears from your sight.

“At least stick around for another month or so. Courtship’s comin’ up.”

You raise a brow, suddenly suspicious. “Since when were you interested in Courtship?”

“I’m not.” He smiles blithely, but you see the pink in his reflection when he turns away. “Just thought it’d be cool to go. Eat good food. Let loose and dance.”

“I don’t understand the point of Courtship.”

“Neither do I.” Floyd’s hand twitches towards yours. He pulls away, his arm hanging limp at his side. “We could find out together.”

“Just us?”

“Just you and me.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” He swallows thickly. “I… I think it’d be fun,” he adds in a whisper.

“If I agree to go, will you hit me?”

His brows pinch together on his forehead. “You’re still set on that? It’s been years.”

“Will you do it?”

“Course I won’t. I’m not gonna hit ya for no reason.”

“Then I’ll give you a reason.” You roll your sleeve up, revealing the identification code on your wrist. Floyd has one just like yours, only his string of symbols is different and it’s branded on his neck. “Will you do it then?”

He looks like he’s considering it, mulling the possibility over in his mind, but then he laughs in your face. “You sure you’re not the masochist here?”

A harsh slap resonates through the empty hall. Backdropped by bioluminescence in the deep sea, Floyd smiles through the sting.

“Wait for me,” he tells you, rubbing at raw skin. “I’ll get down there to see you.”

“That’s foolish. You have potential up here.”

“Doesn’t mean anything if you’re not gonna be here to hit me.”

“So now you play the masochist card?”

“Only for you.”

“I should’ve tossed you out the hatch. Let them eat something promising for once.”

You strut away in a huff.

Floyd pushes off from the window. “You know I’d survive!”

“A most confounding variable, considering your proclivity to waltz right into the arms of danger.”

“It’s funner that way.”

“‘Funner’ is not a real word.”

“It’s gotta be if I’m using it.”

It doesn’t matter, though. You are a threat just like everyone else here. Perhaps what’s most dangerous is the thing festering in his heart. Unlike the octopus, Floyd only has one heart. That’s not enough to house the parasite slowly chewing through his chest.

Still, he follows danger because she’s never looked more enticing.

The collar is hooked around his throat and Floyd is sentenced to Worker Level.

He has three days before he’s cast into the bowels of the Colony. You have one. If you were afforded another day, you’d have made it to Courtship.

Instead, you sit in your dorm and eat fruit.

“Courtship’s gonna be lame anyways,” he declares around an apple slice.

“One night is not enough to foster real love. It’s all physical attraction. Biological imperative.”

Floyd turns his hands over, admiring spotless skin. There was blood on them last week, coating his fingers and drying under his nails, from when he stuffed them into the chest of a classmate and tore his heart free. He had three. Floyd is certain he could have spared just one. But a heart is useless if it is not pumping inside a person, and so he was left with nothing but a lump of organ.

“One night is enough for us.” You turn to look at him, silently bewildered, to which he elaborates: “For you… You’ll die either way, right? You and Azul. That’s why there’s no happy ending for you.”

“It’s why we avoid Courtship. Our internal systems are wired for death after copulation. We become so tunnel-visioned. So…enthralled in the survival of our young that we neglect ourselves. There is no love for us after that.”

“There is—could be.” Floyd bites down hard. The apple slice snaps in half. You lean in to snatch the half from his lips before it can fall. He blinks at you, mystified. “You don’t gotta die…”

“I won’t. I’m going to become Queen.”

“Yeah. Right. Course you will…” Mismatched eyes cloud over.

You chew with confidence. “And as Queen I can choose what to do with my life. I won’t have to worry about the rules up here or down there.”

Floyd nibbles at a strawberry next. He decides he doesn’t want to dive deeper into this subject. “Fruit makes a good last meal, yeah?”

“Mhm.”

He opens his mouth and then shuts it, conflicted. 

“When I’m Queen, I’m going to demand fruit every day. Luxuries like these are uncommon here in Aquarium.”

You suck the juice from another apple slice. Floyd watches it bob between your lips like a buoy on choppy waters. And then, feeling like his world might end in the next second, he covers the distance.

“Sagwa,” he murmurs, closing his mouth around the untouched end of the apple.

You meet his eyes, startled, and allow him to take the slice. When he pulls back, you search his face for answers.

“Read it in a book. A human word with a double meaning.”

“And that would be?”

“You don’t know?”

“If you’re going to be obtuse, I have no interest in learning.”

He giggles and reaches to wipe the juice from your cheek. “It means apple.”

“And the other meaning?”

“That’s a secret.”

“You do realize I’ll eventually figure it out, right?”

“I know.” He leans in again, his arm right by your side. You’re pressed against the wall, cornered like a captured criminal. “Hopefully you’ll let the suspense linger for a bit. Would be a shame if ya got it right before I could tell ya.”

“I can wait.”

“Really? How long?”

“How long are you going to withhold it from me?”

“Dunno. Wanna find out?”

You pluck the final apple slice from the plate. Pressing it to Floyd’s lips, you offer him a lopsided smirk. “Not particularly.”

He bites down. It’s bittersweet.

Floyd opens the assignment envelope, half-expecting another scrap with a small fry. There isn’t any challenge here; he hates it. He’d rather gnaw his arm off than continue participating in what he finds is the easiest culling of his life. Plenty of Workers have been vying for his cell since his transfer, and Floyd’s been keen to defend his place. It’s devilishly good exercise, invigorating and refreshing all at once.

Still, he loathes the lack of stimulation. A challenge isn’t really a challenge until it’s got him turning life and death over in his head. Until he’s faced with a dilemma so devastating it destroys him, body and mind.

Sometimes he misses Aquarium. He misses his brother and Azul. He misses waking up hours before class and pulling Jade from his sleeping nook, in which the latter was purely dead weight. He misses the fights he’d get into—mostly the ones with classmates. He misses scrapping with Azul, bickering back and forth like fry.

He misses you. All the time, in fact. He never doubts your capabilities, of course. If you wanted to kill him, you could. There’s comfort in that—in knowing the things you could do. You could kill him, but you don’t. He likes to think it’s because you care.

Love is a complex thing in the Colony at the bottom of the sea. Like the monsters that lurk in the open ocean, it comes in many sizes and forms. Love is brutal and bloody, cutting down an opponent with enough mercy to grant a quick death. Love is agony and sorrow, bringing forth tarry tears and persistent aches. Love is gentle and soft, a mother’s cradle at birth and stifled laughter late into the night. Love is everything and nothing—insanity and tragedy.

Floyd thinks love is none of those things. For him, it’s sharing fruit in the silence of the dormitory. It’s insisting he’ll never hit you because of a reason he doesn’t want to confess—a reason hiding behind his unusual philosophy. It’s allowing himself to be slapped because, most often, he’s earned it, and what else is to come from his ceaseless provoking if not friendly violence?

But if love is achieved through forgiveness, then he can’t possibly forgive this.

He recognizes the photo. The name. That unsmiling face forever set in grim neutrality. 

It’s you.

Suddenly, he understands.

The outcome of this fight will determine the next Queen.

Somehow, you and Floyd have made quick work of the overpopulation problem in Worker Level. In the year you’ve been here, living in separate spaces, never to cross paths, your fates are intertwined once more.

Only this time he isn’t meeting you at the ice rink, nor will he be there to linger in the doorway of an empty classroom.

Floyd’s heart drops down to his stomach. He traces a claw over your portrait.

“Well,” he mutters, his voice a guttural echo in this little cell, “better a final reunion than no reunion at all.”

He combs a webbed hand through his unruly bedhead. 

If you are predatory in nature, you will fight. If you are not, you will submit to the role of prey. That’s what you hypothesized long ago. Come tomorrow, he’ll prove that it’s nothing but conjecture.

Floyd rests his head against the wall. He watches the bioluminescent jellyfish float aimlessly in crystal lamps. It casts a sickly yellow-green glow over the interior of his cell. 

He thinks he’ll prove something. What that is, he’s not sure. Maybe all he’ll have to show for it are the remnants of what he truly is: a cowardly creature who couldn’t quell the parasite nestled in his heart.

Your spots are showing. Blue rings bleed through layers of flesh, carved on like you’re a fresh canvas. They flash warnings in hypnotic patterns, broadcasting destructive tragedy.

Floyd, a fool mesmerized, could watch you forever.

The bars of his cage are lifted alongside yours. He smiles and waits for you to close the gap. You do, albeit just enough to save space. Tension blankets the air. Neither of you takes the initiative to attack first.

“I couldn’t compete with you up there, but down here we’re about the same.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You inspect your claws and hum. “You made short work of your assignments.”

“Wasn’t really ‘work’ if ya ask me…” Even though he’s vocally casual, his body language is pulled taut with stress. He is more evasive than he is offensive. It’s in his nature to lie in wait, to strike only when the time is right. Patience isn’t his language, but he’s spoken it for the entirety of his life, toeing the line of too much and too little. No matter what, it’s never enough. “You still set on being Queen?”

“Most ardently.”

He laughs. Even without the dictionary, you’re still the same fry from his youth: erudite to a stuffy level. Sometimes he thinks you’re less fish and more textbook when you speak so humanly.

“You can have it. I don’t wanna be Queen.”

A shadow passes over your face. “I won’t settle for victory by default. That’s not fair.”

“Well, I’m givin’ it to ya. Fair and square.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Yes, I can.” He sticks his tongue out at you, defiant. “But if you’re not gonna take it, I might as well hold onto it. Bein’ Queen ain’t half bad if it’s something you want.”

“You—”

“Well?” Floyd spreads his arms, palms up, and beckons you closer. “If you want it, take it. That’s what they taught us in Aquarium. You gonna let me keep another thing from you?”

Gritting your teeth, you yank a boning knife from the sheath at your hip. You’re a weapon yourself, yet you choose to cut him down with a blade. In Floyd’s mind, the implication has never been more romantic.

If you are predatory in nature, you will fight.

So then what should one do if they’re cowardly?

Floyd braces his feet against the floor. It’s rugged stone, a pit hollowed in the panopticon that is this undersea prison. In the tower just above, with a view on all sides, the desolate throne of the next Queen waits.

Everyone is watching, even those up in Aquarium. He’s certain Jade and Azul are fixated on whatever screen is broadcasting it, glued to the edge of their seats as they await the inevitable. Perhaps they’ve already guessed the victor of this match. How astute of them. It’s never been Floyd’s goal to please others for the sake of it. He swims at his own pace, unbound by social conventions and expectations. 

Floyd is the definition of abnormal. Not because he’s inherently peculiar but, rather, because he is unabashed in being himself.

“I hope you know my sympathy ends here,” you warn, but he’s only half-listening. Your rings are distracting.

“I know.”

He always has. For a creature with three hearts, you could never hope to use any of them to love him.

“No hard feelings,” he adds with a whistle.

Now let’s make you Queen.

Your grip on the knife tightens. You don’t hesitate, a facet Floyd is most fond of. Even when you were small, you were quick to react—quick to retaliate, lashing out with all of your limbs. He carries the memory of your hands with overwhelming pride—the way they felt on his shoulder and face, a fast brush of flesh. He’s burned your expressions into his retinas—every single one, even those that were brimming with silent resentment.

Perhaps that’s what’s so perplexing about love. It’s impossible to see at first, a phantom so silent and sneaky, but when you finally confront it at the last moment it gains vivid clarity and bursts like a supernova.

He can’t say whether every interaction was the product of love. Maybe you simply tolerated him because of who he is. Maybe there never was any love at all. Maybe it was just in your nature to remain at arm’s length, a creature condemned to solitude by biology.

Would you hit me if I was anything besides a girl?

Of course not. Because doing so would only hurt him and bring about his emotional ruin.

Even now, when life and death is put on display for all, he remains unyielding in this.

When you lunge towards him, he’s ready. In your fierce eyes, just past horizontal pupils, determination blazes. You’re going to kill him. He’s made peace with that.

Floyd leaps back just as you swipe at him. The blade cuts through empty space. He’s not fighting seriously when he twirls away from your next attack, his tongue between his teeth. Your footsteps echo in the arena, tapping out a one-sided song of pursuit.

“Quit playing!” you snarl, driving your blade down. It narrowly misses his shoulder.

Floyd zips around you with eerie agility, precise and slippery just like a moray. “Aww. Why? You mad I’m not putting in any real effort?”

“Yes! Stop avoiding it and fight! You’re not prey, so why are you so intent on running?”

“Can’t I have a little fun first?”

“Absolutely not! Be serious!”

He waits for the opening. Three seconds slip by. Just a little longer and then… 

There it is!

He catches your wrist just as you swing with a curled fist. He would’ve been content to let it connect with his jaw, but that could cost him. One error and you’ll tear him apart, meticulous like a scientist, hungry like a monster.

Floyd would know of no greater bliss.

Unbothered by the threat, he tugs you towards him. You stumble, caught wholly off guard, and fall into him. In one fluid motion, Floyd sweeps you into a waltz. The knife falls to the floor in a noisy clatter. Your attempt to swoop down and procure it is useless, for he just pulls you along. 

You look at him next, confusion smoldering in your questioning gaze.

He smiles. “Wasn’t gonna have the chance at Courtship. Might as well do it now, right?”

“You…wanted to dance with me? That’s all?” 

“I wanted to watch some other small fry scoop you up,” he jokes, but the humor doesn’t reach his eyes. “Course I wanted to dance with you.”

“Why?”

“So even someone smart like you doesn’t have all the answers.”

You scowl. “Stop avoiding the matter at hand.”

“Who said anything about that? Ain’t I givin’ the Colony what it wants? A show.”

You try to protest, but it sticks in your throat when he forces you into a twirl. You pull back just enough to break free from his hold, and then you’re lunging for the knife. It’s within your reach—your fingers brush the handle—and then Floyd’s hand closes around your wrist, and you’re yanked back into the dance. He glides to a silent melody, his feet clicking out a rhythm you’re unfamiliar with. In an effort to gain an iota of control, you pull him in the direction of the fallen blade. Though your movements are stilted and awkward, you keep up with his tempo to the best of your ability. Floyd allows you to edge closer and closer to the knife and, just when you think you might finally secure it, he kicks it away with the tip of his shoe.

“You have every opportunity to hit me and win.”

“I do.”

“So why aren’t you doing it?” you seethe, gripping his hands tightly. “Why won’t you fight me?”

“Cuz I’m not predator or prey. I don’t fit in your little hypothesis.”

“But you do. The moray eel is—”

Floyd spins you once and then, while you’re still reeling from the sudden change, drops you into a smooth dip. You cling to his shoulders, your chest heaving—whether from frustration or shock, he’s not sure.

“I don’t wanna hit you.”

“The law of life and death dictates that—”

“Yeah, yeah. That you gotta survive no matter what. No matter the cost.”

“So why… Why are you so… Why won’t you…” You shake your head. The words are jumbled on your tongue. “You’re an enigma. I truly can’t understand you.”

“What’s there to understand?” He lifts you up, keeping you at a proper distance. “If ya pull me out from under your microscope, you might see the things you’re missin’.”

“I’m not missing anything,” you argue with an indignant scoff.

“Sure you aren’t.”

Your retribution mirrors your own disposition: brutal and punctual. You hook your arms around his neck and pull. He lets his body crumble and you, swift like a hatchet, stick your leg out to catch his ankle. He falls but not before he brings you down with him.

It’s quiet like the grave, save for your haggard breaths. Floyd props himself up on his palms and peers at you. 

You’re looking right back, tracing the markings under his eyes like they’re something to fear. “You—” you suck in a shaky breath; sweat dribbles down your cheek— “are the most infuriating creature I have ever had the displeasure of knowing.”

He chuckles. “You like me.”

“What a lofty, baseless allegation.”

“Don’t need proof when it’s the truth.”

You sneer at him and crawl towards the knife. Floyd grabs your ankle and drags you back. It earns him a kick in the ribs, but it’s worth it. You wrestle him on the floor, grabbing at his ear fins and tugging. Still, for all of the pain you put him through, he doesn’t budge.

Finally, you break.

“You’re the worst! I don’t understand… Everything… I’ve done everything and you still won’t fight back. What must I do?”

Floyd chokes on his laughter.

You’re crying.

For the first time since he’s known you, real, raw tears run from your eyes in thick, black globs. Your rings flash, albeit much dimmer than before.

“An utter nuisance… I’ve never understood you.”

He opens his mouth, revealing rows of razored teeth, and he almost says it: I love you.

Instead, he lifts his finger to your eye. You blink at him, paralyzed. You look scared and small, uncertain.

His shoulders slump, but he manages a strained smile. “No shame in bein’ a masochist.”

He waits for the bite of a deadly backhand. You pat his cheek weakly and sniffle.

“I was so rude to you… Nothing but a mean-hearted bully.”

“That’s fine.”

“I gave you some ghastly bruises.”

“You did.”

“And you just…took it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“If it was me—”

“You’d get ’em back, yeah? I don’t work like that. Not with you.”

“So you truly are a shameless masochist.”

Floyd flashes his teeth at you in a gleeful grin. “Only for you.”

“Hah… Right. Of course.” Your lips quirk with wry amusement. “I was never going to succeed, was I?”

“Failed right from the start.” When you don’t reply, he tries again. “You…would’ve hated Courtship.”

“It was lame, wasn’t it?”

“The lamest.”

“Yeah, I had a feeling it would be.”

Silence stretches between you. Gingerly, you reach for his face. Your thumbs trace a path from his jaw to his nose.

It’s over. He’s had his fun.

“Thanks for stickin’ with me all this time. If I’d known we’d be here, I woulda done somethin’ for ya. Gotten a gift or…found ya some fruit. Made ya something artsy—I dunno. Anything to say congrats.”

“You’re strange.”

“I get that a lot.”

“It’s not a bad thing.”

“Yeah?” At your nod, he chuckles. “Good. That means you’ll have a harder time forgetting me.”

“As if I would ever forget you. But if I did, would you come back to hit me?”

“You’re askin’ like you’re not already aware of the answer.”

“Futile as it may be, it was worth a try.”

Floyd takes hold of the knife. It glints in the light, a harsh reminder of what’s to come. Dutifully, he presses it into your hands and remains propped above you. His hands are at either side of your face; you’re pinned beneath his shadow.

“You said one night isn’t enough for real love. Do you think that’ll ever change? Maybe one day you’ll finally—”

Harbor the same parasite as me.

Disregarding the knife, you grip fistfuls of Floyd’s shirt and wrench him towards you. He spies liquid cobalt leaking from your lips just as they connect with his mouth. It’s a messy first kiss, a tangle of numb tongues. You pursue him hungrily, sweet and sour like fruit that’s on the precipice of ripe and not-yet-ripe. In the haze of it all, Floyd forgets to savor it.

He loses the feeling in his throat by the time he remembers to do that.

Your lips separate. A thin, translucent string of saliva comes apart with you.

“That word you kept from me—its meaning—I finally figured it out.”

“Yeah?” he asks, growing hazier by the minute. “What’s it mean?”

Like a beached whale suffocating on land, his systems are shutting down. Amidst the fog, he watches your rings undulate like waves lapping at an eroded shoreline. The sea will always take in the same fashion it gives: suddenly and magically, a rush of salt to sanitize sin. He’s happy, but perhaps that’s just the tsunami of endorphins flooding his brain.

“Sagwa, a human word for apple, also means apology.”

Floyd smiles in his daze. That’s his Queen, always so clever.

“You probably learned it that same night.”

“I won’t confirm or deny that.”

“How long am I gonna have to wait to know?”

“How long are you willing to wait?”

He blinks down at the blade in his stomach. You twist until you find bone.

If it hurts, he doesn’t feel it.

The edges of his world are darkening at a rapid pace. He can only see you and your beautiful, ugly expression. It’s all he’s ever wanted: to behold you at your most primal.

“Forever if I have to.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?” You look surprised. Is it really that startling?

Floyd smiles, and this time the corners of his mouth meet his eyes. It’s a peace he’s never known before. Bittersweet like apples and apologies.

“Only for you.”

And then, like he did at the start of his first pulsation, when his feet touched ground for the first time, he falls.

You’re there to catch him. It’s the first and last time you’ve ever done so.

[vanillablankcanvas]

Favorite food? and least favorite food

John Dory - Troll equivalent of beef jerky. Bug jerky? Yeah let's go with that. 😏 Snail jerky, cricket jerky, worm jerky! And steak! 🥩 Hates mushrooms! 🍄 There was a time when it was all he could find when foraging! Yes it kept him alive, but it was disgusting!

Bruce - absolutely LOATHES eggs🥚At one point when he was younger, to keep up his physique he would eat only boiled eggs for days at a time. He quickly got sick of them! His favourite food now is fried chicken wings 🍗. Yaaaasss!

Clay - Clay likes sandwiches. 🥪 They are efficient! They can be custom made to whatever he is craving or whatever is he has available. They are quick and easy to make and he can pack one to eat later. At the Hole n Fun, sunflower seeds were a staple. They could make them into flour, then into bread. Clay hates sea food. Can't stand the smell of it! He tolerates it the best he can when visiting Bruce, but if he can avoid it, he will! 🐟

Floyd - he likes a specific dish that's made by the Hard Rock Trolls. It's a very spicy pizza-like meal from a restaurant called 'Upper Crust'. 🍕 He has tried to recreate it but it never quite tastes the same. Cannot stand the taste of olives. 🫒 He will sit there and pick every last one of them them out of a dish before he can eat it.

Branch - If you ask him he will say his favourite food is he will say potatoes. 🥔 They can become many different meals, he can store heaps of them and regrow them from cuttings. Buuuuut secretly his favourite food is his Grandma's Fluffleberry Cake. 🍰 He likes sugar like any other Troll but he can't tolerate OVERLY sugary things e.g. candy floss, meringue. Too much of it reminds him off the taste of Ring Pops and it makes him sick.

Fun fact - All of the brothers like the taste of coriander/cilantro. To Poppy and Viva it tastes like soap. 🫧

[phillycheesesteakcore]

Thanks for the tag!

1. Do you make your bed?

Absolutely not I'm a slob.

2. Favorite number?

I don't think I have one? Maybe 17? I like prime numbers.

3. What's your job?

Currently doing an internship at a radio station.

4. If you could go back to school, would you?

Currently in school and absolutely not. Once I get this degree I hope I never see the four walls of a classroom ever again. I like learning but I am absolutely not built for academia.

5. Can you parallel park?

No, I don't even drive.

6. Do you think aliens are real?

Yeah, kinda. It's a big universe, there's probably something out there. The idea makes me feel less lonely

7. Can you drive a manual car?

See question 5

8. Guilty pleasure?

Spending waaay too much money on food. Like, having to walk instead of taking the bus amount of money on food.

9. Tattoos?

Not yet but hopefully someday.

10. Favorite color?

Don't have one. If I had to pick then like that rainbowy silver glitter glue. That's my favorite color.

11. Favorite type of music?

Currently on a Hozier kick so I guess folksy alt rnb? Whatever his genre is.

12. Do you like puzzles?

No. I get frustrated when I have trouble figuring something out

13. Any phobias?

Creepy crawlies: worms, maggots, slugs, snails, millipedes, centipedes, etc. Things like that. I hate 'em. Oh, I also get claustrophobic sometimes.

14. Favorite childhood sport?

Swimming

15. Do you talk to yourself?

Constantly

16. Tea or coffee?

Tea. Really sugary steaming hot spiced tea.

17. First thing you wanted to be when you grew up?

Rockstar

18. What movies do you adore?

Ponyo. Ferris Bueller's Day Off. The Prince of Egypt. The Princess Bride. Atlantis: The Lost Empire. It Happened One Night. The Road to El Dorado. Charade. Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas. How to Steal a Million. A Monster in Paris. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. Everything Everywhere All At Once.

Tagging: anyone who wants to join in!

ty for tagging me tessa @clayvedevs !!!!!!!!!

1. Do you make your bed?

NO. making the bed is evil and also too hard

2. Favourite number?

uhhh UHHHH 12 ? 12 is a good number i liked being twelve. 67 is also a good number !!

3. What's your job?

divine prophet of The Bog (extremely unemployed)

4. If you could go back to school, would you?

yes !!!! i lovee school i lovee learning & my hs? extremely chill

5. Can you parallel park?

yes fire emoji fire emoji fire emoji

6. Do you think aliens are real?

I feel like the possibility that there AREN'T aliens is extraordinarily low, even if they haven't evolved yet or would be completely unrecognisable as a form of life to us. the universe is still comparatively so so young so i feel the chances that at some point in the next quadzillion years that the circumstances of earth won't be replicated at least in part is hugely unlikely

7. Can you drive a manual car?

technically? i learnt to drive in a manual ute that is ABSOLUTELY not roadworthy but i did not get a manual licence :( sort of regret that but im sure if i got back in a manual i could do it again. probably

8. Guilty pleasure?

thinking in depth and forever abt my girl in middle earth oc hobbit fic that i havent properly written since like 2021. she means the WORLD to me i could make it sooo good if i just got over the evil puritans in my head telling me it is cringe

9. Tattoos?

soon!!! one day!!!! trust and believe!!!!!!!

10. Favourite colour?

loveeeeee yellow i love yellow so much soo much. unfortunately i am ginger.

11. Favourite type of music?

idk if i have a favourite TYPE of music persay? but ive sort of been bouncing between a mix of folk rock and Silly Power Metal and i will hit up the odd soundtrack also. wait actually this is untrue i am, embarrassingly, really into hyperpop (UNDERSCORES I LOVE YOU)

12. Do you like puzzles?

yeah! they're kind of evil and i am not great at pattern recognition and they hurt my back. but also v satisfying to do

13. Any phobias?

ants i fucking hate ants i HATE them (i stood in a bullant nest when i was 2) + also maybe thalassophobia? idk though that may have also been cured by the time i played 130 hours of subnautica in a week in december

14. Favourite childhood sport?

touch footie!!! i was very good at it lowk and i miss playing it terribly

15. Do you talk to yourself?

LMAO YEAH. when im thinking about writing especially. or doing literally anything. i will talk to myself

16. Tea or coffee?

TEA I LOVE TEA I LOVE TEA SO MUCH. i cannot drink coffee because The Side Effects + caffeine does not seem to have the intended effect on me, so i don't really drink caffeinated tea that much either? i absolutely LOVE rooibos with honey in it though one million out of ten

17. First thing you wanted to be when growing up?

i wanted to be a scientist because i was under the impression that scientists blew things up and that it was exclusively their job to do that. i still want to be a scientist tbh but for different reasons

18. What movies do you adore?

im so normal and regular and fine about the hobbit extended edition trilogy. so normal. no but fr i love unexpected journey i have watched it more than twenty times total and. five times in the last week and a bit LOL

Tagging:

@sithfox @hastalavistabyebye @patchmates @rockcattomato and anyone else who would like to !!!!

[kirby-the-gorb]

reply roundup

trying a new format this time which is less nice looking but a tiny bit faster. (it still takes a long time to format these -n- ) under a readmore for length.

on [borth]:

@petewave said: THANK YOU SM!!!!!! IM SO GLAD WE BECAME FRIENDS!!! HERES TO ANOTHER YEAR MY FRIEND!!! <3

yeah!!!! yeah!!!! being friends with you is rad!!!!! <3

@monchursouls said: Happ birf korb!

he says thank you!

@baekko said: !!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THEMMM

kirby and frog are natural friends!

on [headache]:

@the-halo-of-my-memory said: me too gumdrop, me too. hope that headache got better too op

it did, thank you <3

@dragonofcupcake said: I hope you feel better soon! headaches really suck...

I’m lucky because they only ever last a day at a time, so I’m okay! they are the worst tho, for sure.

@sugary-sea-snails said: nO WHO HURT THE PORB

the pain was coming... from inside the body! :0

@baekko said: Puffin up with the angy . Relatable

like a cobra. something wrong? get Rounder

on [ice pack]:

@the-halo-of-my-memory said: gumdrop sick, i shall cure him with a dozen kisses twice a day every day

kirby will be better in no time with that kind of medicine!

on [hello]:

@baekko said: His feet look fuzzy ....... i would like to tuch ..

they really do, I love textured brushes

on [wholesome games]:

@esmmazing said: So adorable 😍

thank you!

@dragonofcupcake said: ooh- good to know

they also have a steam curator profile if you ever need to go shopping lol

on [t-pose]:

@inexplicably-spookified said: A S S E R T  B O R B I N A N C E

he is H E R E

@pillowah said: god bless this, what a delight

aww, thank you!

@acoustictreble​ said: it took an embarrassing amount of time to get it

it seems that either kirby t-posing looks especially strange, or it’s not as prolific of a meme as I thought. (you weren’t the only one confused, that’s for sure!)

@sugary-sea-snails​ said: I would make a bad pun but it's in french

je comprends francais, si vous voulez me dire! (please tell me the french pun if it’s not too late!)

on [stroll]:

@poltergeist-draws-probably​ said: he!! daily dose of serotonin. love him!!

this tag makes me super happy, thank you!

@inexplicably-spookified​ said: there he goes!!!!!!!!!!!!! where's he walkin' i want to join him

he is going to the park! he wants to touch some grass. he would love to have company. :>

@akirenhell​ said: THERE HE GO! A GOOD BOY

the BEST boy!

on [shark]:

@dragonofcupcake​ said: now im just imagining if the next kirby game had more of a focus on water. like we have water based levels in pretty much every game but its mostly about bringing down the next big bad thats doing something related to water. Shark (though maybe it would be called fin? Who knows) would be the new copy ability and maybe help with water mobility? and maybe do some sort of underwater spin attack... hmm

that could be really interesting, I know in most of the games power usage underwater has been either limited or completely unavailable so having water-specific powers would be nice. kinda reminds me of the jet power that turns up sometimes, so it would definitely be doable!

on [ballet]:

@the-halo-of-my-memory​ said: look at him doing his best. my lil gumdrop

he works hard!

on [gamer]:

@kirbyaes said: cute ! the little waddle dee and kirby !!!

thank you! everyone enjoys a good kirby game, including kirby.

on [jaws]:

@inexplicably-spookified said: splish splash!!!

he’s just havin a good time!

@the-halo-of-my-memory said: oh my god this is the coolest, and cutest. nvm i have baby shark stuck in my head again

you’ve passed on the curse, and now I must pass it on as well. lol (thank you!)

on [mochi]:

@the-halo-of-my-memory said: i saw this at like 3 am last night and had like a surrealist moment because i didnt know what i was looking at at first. gumdrop is just eating something that looks like him not looking at himself in the mirror while also being eaten by a bigger version of himself lol anyways this is cute af

it didn’t occur to me until I saw these tags that it really should be tagged as cursed image lol, that must have been wild

on [floor]:

@inexplicably-spookified said: *anime meta knight voice* it is....... pancake kerby......

I really can hear it in his voice lol wild

@akirenhell said: he...

it is!

[reallyhardydraws]

for the OC asks (this applies to all of them but you can answer for specific ones too)

Favorite color(s)? Coffee or tea (and sweet or unsweet)? What’s a food that they don’t exactly Like but they’ll probably eat it anyway if it’s on their plate?

thank you johnny you're a star 💖

ronnie: colour - hot pink & lime green. coffee or tea - artificial blood flavoured frappuccino with eyeball garnish. an okay food - any pizza from mario ganghouli's local pizzeria (hector loves it there and orders the one with olives, ham, snails and caramelised spiderwebs. ronnie will eat it but she'll pick off the snails first.)

hector: colour - neon purple. coffee or tea - he'd go for one of those canned super sugary cold coffees you get at convenience stores, but he's a soda guy at heart. an okay food - graveyard-grown pumpkin pie.

annie: colour - seafoam green & black. coffee or tea - deep sea seaweed bubble tea with tapoica pearls. an okay food - the chum casserole her mother likes to make. it's fine, she's just had it a lot growing up.

nico: colour - mustard yellow. coffee or tea - tea if he absolutely had to pick, one or the other, as long as there's more milk than tea. an okay food - oven-cooked pre-frozen thick-cut chips, as long as he can drown them in mr. zombie brand ketchup.

(send me characters developing asks for my OCs?)

[tribbetherium]

The Middle Glaciocene: 110 million years post-establishment

Ice, Ice, Buggy: Terrestrial Invertebrates of the Middle Glaciocene

The Therocene not only saw an explosive radiation in the diversity of hamsters, but in the abundance of the terrestrial invertebrates: namely the various insects that, as on Earth, dominated the planet in a stunning array of forms. From a small collection of pollinators and decomposers initially introduced to balance the ecosystem, a wide diversification has since taken place, filling ecological gaps left vacant in the food web. The Glaciocene, however, has hit the insects quite badly, but many of the survivors would develop new adaptations to ensure that they, or at least their progeny, will survive the periods of cold.

One of the clades still flourishing are the neotenic moths: lepidopterans that, partially or completely, have retained larval features even into adulthood. The spooders (clade Saturnarachnidae) are one such partial-neotenous moths, that have since become predators of other insects: losing their wings, modifying their proboscis into one better geared for piercing the bodies of other invertebrates and feeding on their fluids, and retaining the silk glands they possessed as a larva: allowing them to spin webs to catch their prey, in an uncanny mimicry of the arachnids of Earth. These false spiders would primarily thrive in the warmer equatorial regions, where they would become desert-dwelling burrow-diggers like the spaders (Lepidoarachnus spp.), pond-dwellers such as spoodstriders (Saturnolongipes spp.) or small undergrowth-hunters like the mollantulas (Arachnomimus spp.)

Even more neotenic are the caterpedes (clade Permalarvaedes) that completely avoid metamorphosis entirely and mature in a caterpillar-like final molt, becoming millipede-like deritrivores on the forest floor and in the soil where they feed on decaying vegetation. Some of these would become predators, such as the centipede-like gnathopods (Cilopholarvum spp.), thriving in damp regions such as under rocks and logs, where they feed on small insects that they hunt using their formerly leaf-chewing mandibles now grown into lethal killing implements.

The ants too would be one insect clade that would be affected by the Glaciocene: many would retreat underground, safe from the freezing chill, and manage to survive by exploiting aubterranean food sources like small mites and fungi. They would retain quite a bit of diversity, though remain fairly conservative with their usual colonies of breeding queens and sterile workers and soldiers: however one very aberrant clade, the lonestingers (Solomyrmex spp.) would do something very unexpected of an ant-- they would become solitary. All lonestinger females are always born winged queens, who, instead of forming a colony, would instead feed on nectar for their own sustenance but forage for their larvae, and lay one egg at a time on larders of chewed-up plant matter, or paralyzed insects for the carnivorous species, for the larva to feast on. No longer do they produce throngs of wingless workers in service to the sole breeder: now they take on lifestyles more akin to solitary wasps where a self-sufficient, flying female is the sole provider to her young.

The beetles, meanwhile, would significantly decline, but still remain very diverse, overwintering their eggs and larvae and taking advantage of brief warm spells to mature, reproduce, and die en masse once the cold sets in. The most remarkable of these is the periodic glowing herald (Ambiguannulus impraedicta), a beetle that can spend anywhere from two years to up to fifteen years as a subterranean larva, depending on the climate and delaying their metamorphosis on especially cold winters--a common occurence in the Glaciocene. Once the weather is sufficiently warm, however, a hormonal trigger causes all the larvae to metamorphose at once and emerge as bioluminescent adults in the brief summers, gathering in massive glowing swarms at night, breeding, laying their eggs, and ultimately perishing once the job is done, all in the span of less than a month as an adult.

Another remarkable beetle is a descendant of the eusocial treeroyals: the honeybugs (Melliflorcoelopteryx spp.). This small, yellow, social beetle is one that weathers through harsh winters by storing food: namely, sugary fluids such as plant juices, tree sap and flower nectar, which they gather into specialized stomach pouches. They also feed on pollen, which they carry in clumps stuck to their legs, gluing it together with regurgitated nectar, which they then roll into balls using their hind legs as food for their larvae, or something they eat for themselves. These sticky, sweet-smelling spheres, however, bring the honeybugs into conflict with their sworn enemy: the shrooh (Soricimimomys winiae), a furbil from the chrew family that relishes honeybug pollen balls, and their larvae as well. This nest-raider is not met without resistance from the honeybugs-- adults defending their young and their stash will bite with their mandibles or spray irritating secretions from their abdomens to fend off the unwelcome, bothersome house guest.

And while insects are the predominant invertebrates on land, a few other phyla thrive during the Glaciocene. Gastropods, abundant in the sea in a stunning diversity of forms, are present on land too, though far less remarkable than their marine cousins, resembling mundane slugs and snails that are practically identical to those on Earth. A few notable exceptions exist, however, such as the Fissoric snhale (Cochleotitan megalis), an otherwise-typical land snail that is remarkable due to its size: able to grow to weights of up to a pound and on some of the islands of the Fissorian Archipelago are its sole land herbivores. Others would include the marsh snorlok (Sanguinocochleum nosferati), a half-shelled "semi-slug" native to wetlands that has become a leech-like bloodsucker that attaches to larger animals and files a wound in the skin using its toothed radula, and the neon toxslug (Noxiolimax vibrans), a shell-less "slug" species that sequesters toxins from the plants that it eats, primarily bleedweed, and uses it to protect itself from predators-- its concentrated toxins make it downright lethal if consumed by predators, and uses its bright, vibrant coloration as a warning sign of its nature as a deadly meal to any hungry creature.

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

[dog-day-morning]

PROSPERING IN MIND SOUL & SPIRIT MENTAL PROSPERITY

We can get so caught up in Church we forget about our mental health, and the God we serve. If your mindset is a temporary mindset of what you can see, touch, and feel you're lost in Church. That's like a 4yr old child in Highschool you know belongs in Head Start. If you can maintain your natural habitat, protect your spiritual health, and control or eliminate those things that tempt us, the battle is almost won if you also address it through divine counsel.

John 14:30

30 Hereafter I will not talk much with you: for the prince of this world cometh, and hath nothing in me.

The angel of death is who I liken this man too. You may call him someone or something else. Whatever the case his mind’s stuck on stupid, clinical insanity, and Haterade. This man cannot entertain nothing from God because of his mentality.

James 1:6-8

6 But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering. For he that wavereth is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed.

7 For let not that man think that he shall receive any thing of the Lord.

8 A double minded man is unstable in all his ways.

If you can impose mind “flesh” over matter, in this case spirit the Christ's assignment for your life can be made known to you personally; HAUL TAIL!!! When Jacob wrestled with God or the angel, did he impose his will over the angel's? No, he made up his mind that Esau would not take from him what God had promised him when they were both in the womb. God had already said he would be the father of the anointed seed while he was wrestling in the womb with Esau. Jacob wasn't going to run in fear of his brother Esau any longer. He wanted what was his, and to be reassured by the Father that he was chosen by the Lord to be safe from Esau, and one of the 3 grand patriarchs of the 12 major patriarchs of Israel. After the Lord saw His faithful servant, a man He called friend, stand up, and fight for his posterity throughout the night into the morning light He was moved to work ever the more in Jacob’s favor. God never reneges on a promise. Jacob was fearful. It wasn't till God saw Jacob's diligence that He was convinced by his determined faith to claim what the Lord God said is yours. Jacob was reminded of this covenant with the Lord for the rest of his life by his hip he dislocated, and injured wrestling with the angel. Christ overcame this world giving us the power to do likewise. Side trek: If we had the mind of Christ would we eat pork, shellfish, deer meat, chicken or in some cases possum, or armadillo uuhg. All the revelation we've obtained concerning our health we deny, and throw it away like refuse, but why? Because we love butterfly shrimp, shrimp scampi, lobster tail, catfish, oysters, crab legs, and some of you like Calamari, snails, Chinese food etc, etc. A nutritionist will tell your obese aunt and uncle to lay off sugary foods, and starch because they’re borderline patients for diabetes, and death. Those trained health physicians have something to offer you that school never did. When I took up Home Ec in middle school we cooked everything that's killing my age demographic without learning the essentials of how to cook, and eat healthy. We cooked, and ate French pancakes, and waffles, brownies, cookies, and all the things that are killing your children who don't play in the schoolyard or backyard, they're playing on a PlayStation 5 in their bedroom on the 75in Smart TV you bought Jr for his last birthday. Jr is 11yrs old, and 5’1', he weighs 231lbs. If it didn't come from your teachers that most of us didn't heed or listen too, we brush it off like it was second hand news, the equivalent of throwing the baby out with the dirty bathwater. When you develop your mind or your mind develops, certain things have a greater influence, and definitely hold more water than your instinctive wisdom that reeks of Cro-Magnon halitosis. We have to deal with how we think, how we feel, and what we do. Athletic coaches, and drill sergeants, will test your metal, which requires expanding the limits of the human spirit through hardship, torment, distress, agony, and pain. You're going to suffer. Anything that can traumatize the human spirit they will use to tear down an athlete or GI systematically for a purpose knowing it’s for their better good. A good instructor will never leave you confused or feeling as though you've been violated without indoctrinating or instilling some positive instruction in your spirit in the majority of cases. You have to be strong. The US military isn't the most arduous on planet Earth to give your allegiance, but if you go in halfcocked with that Big Man on campus attitude you're gonna get humbled quicker than a one legged jack rabbit probably injured in a way that will leave physical as well as emotional scars. You'll be wary of filing a lawsuit against Uncle Sam out of fear for your sanctity. That rabbit hole runs deep with a bunch of dead bodies rotting at the bottom. Life’s hard, life lessons can be brutal. This is what the Holy Spirit is capable of doing, and greater without causing one to suffer unless you desire to reign Supreme with Christ, and His 24 judges. Is it not better to serve, and praise

God who promised us a diadem of gold, a robe of white, and a Mansion in His Father's House if we endure for His testimony in this Tribulation? He's our friend, our healer, our greatest blessing, our keeper, our conqueror, our Alpha and Omega, our promise of salvation, the way the truth, and the life, our redeemer, our lover, our comforter, He's more than you, and I can comprehend, but why does your 2yr old nephew have an iPhone? You're giving your children what they don't need, and maybe shouldn't ever have. You're walking around with an android while Jr has an iPhone 13 that'll become obsolete in about 5 months that he's trying to flush down the toilet, because it wont play the SpongeBob Square Pants cartoons you programmed for him while he was sitting in his car seat at a stop light to stop him from crying while you were in the middle of a nervous breakdown. He can't understand the manifold purposes that's a luxury to some, a simple amenity to others, but always a necessity. When you give a toddler something to play with, what's the first thing they do with it? 9 times out of 10 they put it in their mouth, and try to eat it. They're not necessarily hungry, but hunger is a natural function of the human body, and we love to eat to satisfy our stomach even if we're not hungry, it's human nature. That's why your child drinks from the toilet after grandpa Simpson just dropped 20lbs of Thanksgiving turkey, ham, and stove top stuffing in your toilet and didn't flush. Jr comes out of the bathroom smelling like whodunnit, and grandpa Simpson just did it. Jr has a mouth full of last year's tuna casserole surprise around his mouth except it's brown, and smells like Bull Creek, and the Chattahoochee river. If your mind, and heart can faithfully access God's healing power, you can decline, and dismiss your doctor's remedy Rx for your ailments, and infirmities. Jr needs his stomach pumped, some penicillin, antibiotics, and a colonic. It takes a greater faith to believe when all seems lost that Jesus didn't see in all of Israel, but He witnessed in a Roman Centurion.

Luke 7:6-10

6 Then Jesus went with them. And when he was now not far from the house, the centurion sent friends to him, saying unto him, Lord, trouble not thyself: for I am not worthy that thou shouldest enter under my roof:

7 Wherefore neither thought I myself worthy to come unto thee: but say in a word, and my servant shall be healed.

8 For I also am a man set under authority, having under me soldiers, and I say unto one, Go, and he goeth; and to another, Come, and he cometh; and to my servant, Do this, and he doeth it.

9 When Jesus heard these things, he marvelled at him, and turned him about, and said unto the people that followed him, I say unto you, I have not found so great faith, no, not in Israel.

10 And they that were sent, returning to the house, found the servant whole that had been sick.

Your greatest adversary can show a greater faith in your God than you with all of your anointing. When you accept Christ and begin to walk in your calling, it’s good to humble yourself before Him or like the parable of the seed sower says, only ¼ of us will take root, and walk in God's favor to see better days. Revelation says only a remnant of the remnant will enter New Jerusalem, that's ⅓ of the remaining survivors before God destroys the Earth with fire. Your latter years on Earth can be better than your former. You have to focus on the one who stands before you as your friend, not as an adversary. "Jesus said unto him, If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth." Focus on things that are good for your status, but realize that these things which are temporary here on Earth are not able to maintain you in the Kingdome. God loves to forgive the righteous, but how do you say if we’re righteous that we need to ask for His forgiveness?

Psalm 51:5

5 Behold, I was shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me

You were cursed from the womb, before you became a zygote. Before the sperm found the egg. Read it again. "In sin did my mother conceive me." We were dead before we had a chance to live. As long as Satan could destroy us with fear, sin, and death we were his captives. God did not give us the spirit of fear.

2 Timothy 1:7

7 For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

Luke 22:42

42 Saying, Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done.

You don't know what will happen when the junk hits the fan. Nevertheless thy will be done. Your spirit must push forward beyond the temporary for God knows this too shall pass. This is when your metal is tested, the power of spirit over flesh. This concerns Yeshua, and everyone who's going through. A moment of weakness is a precursor for a greater reward, your freedom, and Jesus' blood covering against all the attacks that come from the enemy, and the inner you or your enemy. You can overcome all things in your life if you're willing to give your soul over to Yeshua.

1 Peter 1:7

7 That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ:

Man was born to suffer in life this is made clear by the way the world keeps its foot on our neck. Jacob carries the weight of Earth's burdens on his shoulders… for now. The Kingdome isn’t what people falsely hope, and believe it to be. It's not one, big, Hedonistic, Bohemian Orgy. Life’s a mystery, and so is the Kingdome to those who deny its truth. If your history is nothing more than a revisionist lie, you've quashed, and disqualified its veracity, nullifying the Holy Spirit that cannot, and will not work in unclean vessels. I'm preaching to myself. That's the truth coming from a man who sinned before he woke up this morning, and went to bed last night. Jacob was blessed before he was shapen in iniquity inside of Rebecca's womb. He was reassured after wrestling with the angel because he had a determined spirit to get what was his. Job eloquated the life of humankind the meek, the humble, and the wicked with these words:

Job 14:1-4

14 Man that is born of a woman is of few days and full of trouble.

2 He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down: he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not.

3 And doth thou open thine eyes upon such an one, and bringest me into judgment with thee?

4 Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean? not one.

We’re held responsible for ourselves after the age of 18. Some of us are on our own from the start, dropped in garbage dumpsters, and left on peoples doorsteps. Children who live in the comfort of a suburban home, with a 2 parent household may be living a nightmare or a gilded life. Those of you who envy them should be wary of unfounded jealousies. All that glitters isn't gold. People who grew up terrified, and traumatized in their homes on the outside seemed stable to us, yet they caught hell from the unlikeliest source, but in someone else's fancy they're privileged. That's foolish, but understandable to some. To the shallow, and incomprehensible we're in need of instruction. These victims can either continue with the cycle of abuse or break the pattern of trauma, terror, and pain by giving that hurt to Christ. The poorest family you know can be happier than the most affluent in this region or this portion of the Southern US States. You can faun, and fetishize over someone's life meaninglessly or live your life which can have a greater purpose to guide, and help people like them. You are not what they say you are. You are who God determined you can be. You must find the pathway to your calling that God has prepared for you. How do you find your calling if it’s God who calls you out for His work? Jacob sought Him out after the fact, and received a greater anointing which was certified reassurance to his spirit. Seeking out the truth is your first step, knowing who, and what is the truth can be difficult. God made provision for every soul to know of the name Jesus, Yeshua, Yahweh, Jehovah, Elohim, Yeshiva, and the many other names of God. He sent His angels so that no one person on Earth would have to go to the grave without knowing the Gospel of Christ in these Last Days.

Hebrews 8:10-11

10 For this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, saith the Lord; I will put my laws into their mind, and write them in their hearts: and I will be to them a God, and they shall be to me a people:

11 And they shall not teach every man his neighbour, and every man his brother, saying, Know the Lord: for all shall know me, from the least to the greatest.

People living in 3rd world countries, and super advanced nations that live under strict religious regimes that worship an alien god or an atheist society who worships no god, are curious about the God we worship, and serve. Now that we have knowledge that we ourselves were once denied by the very ones who enslaved us who said we were brute savages, and foolishly believed they came in the name of our Lord, bringing freedom, and Democracy to the Earth only to bring death, and destruction. To quote my mother, a Chihuahua can't give birth to an elephant, and people lie. Amerikkka's failing hype machine whose PR, propaganda, churning contraption is all but dead has come to this. Babylon will be left to bleed out its open wound before a world that seeks its blood. Before you can minister the truth to a people you need to believe it. Teach the truth that goes against the spirit of lies which is the spirit of Baal. You're still trying to force Africans to worship a white Messiah. These people have been colonized, but many of them refuse to worship Him as such because they know that's the farthest thing from the truth. The book of Leviticus says that white skin, and yellow hair are an abomination unto God. This refers to leprosy, and the fallen angels who threw a monkey wrench in God's creation. The people of Alkebulan have passed down knowledge of the truth that Amerikkkkans hate along with the rest of the Western hemisphere. You're fooling yourself, and destroying innocent lives by falsely influencing people, and filling them with self-identity issues. When the West kills African leaders for the purpose of controlling Alkebulan’s resources, and other reasons. You literally talk with devils from the heaven's, not God. Satan's children are bound for hell. Every indigenous person on Earth has a right to this planet that's conducive to their nature. Dark melinated, and even lighter toned Black skin is a blessing other people wish they had. Your walk with God has been made easier by the sacrificing of His only begotten Son that people can't understand. Many just don't care. Privilege is not a blessing from God when people weaponize it to get a person murdered. It's sinister, and satanic in so many ways it has you working overtime in a sick attempt to win a battle you've lost. The truth will bless God's children, the falsehood of living, and believing a lie will destroy those who hate the truth, and God. Jacob, we must change our mindset, and seek mental prosperity. The wealth of spiritual peace built on the Holy Spirit, and doctrines of Christ are far better than the wealth of man. Thanks Elder Vaughn, Elohim. 10/9/2021

[dnpdudes]

Liveshow #3 notes

•Discover dog talk

(Off hand hair talk)

-he got dropped off at the wrong spot

-walked a dog

-Gilbert !!

-Gilbert is a 4/7

-weird golden retriever video

is-this grandparents had a lovely golden retriever who growled at Martyn but loved Phil

•Bit sore throat

-Drinking some apple and cinnamon tea for his throat

•tryna set up lights in the apartment eye

-phils bad at electronics

•Project hint!!!

-halloween!!!

(My younow said fuck you so I missed somethin)

•Went to a Cat cafe in London

•Norman Cam!!!!!!!!!

-he investigate

-whats in the grass norman leave the snails

-Norman is the real star

-we dont deserve anything Phil djdjdj

-SNAIL CAM!!!!!

-He hasnt learned how to sex snails

-Chonky snail named Shelby!!!

•Phil's playing Apex

-mains Gilbraltar

-stan a gaymer

•Talkin bout meeting up with Kat

-they got fancy sushi

-still cant use chopsticks yeeted a sushi into the soysauce

•HE SAID VAGINA SCREAMING

-likes spicy tuna roll

-he cant speak

•News of the week

-"Theives wanted to steal something while a man is speaking at uni, they see he left a big rucksack, they want to steal it, the guy finished his lecture bout reptiles, there was snacks in the rucksack."

-ofc this was America lmao

-karma is a beach

-Phils been spit on by a llama before when he was little rude llama.

-(Phil's hair looks really good)

-"listen queer trash can stop hitting me"

•Charlie and the chocolate factory talk

•Wants to go back to Japan

•Dreamt that he owned a seal n half the lounge was the seal tank

Transported the seal in a totem back to bring it out to the sea he cried cause he didnt want to release the seal. Seal got swept out to sea. Woke up sobbing over the seal

•Favorite dog was the corgi

•Spooked by the ghosts

•wants a corgi shibe mix

-!!!!

•Candle haul

-Cider house(smells like apples)

-Golden Chestnut (manly after shave mixed with a sweet cake)3/5

-Sweep maple chai

(Smells like sweet sugary coffee bit of spice) 5/5

-Haunted hallow

(Strong, smells like smokiness and herbeness for big room)4/5

•LESBIAN RIGHTS

-king of the lesbians

•Liked Lights up by Harry styles

-very sexual

-Lots of sweaty grinding

•Rights for everyone!

-Fish rights

•Cosplay for Halloween Phil pls!!!

-....furry rights....

•RIP Goose Game

•Liked the scrapbook

•S in the chat

•He helped a lady with crutches use the elevator cause she was scared of it

•Played Grow, it's a flash game

-Started with tree

-rock

-tree leveled up

-Chest, leveled up a lot

-Water

-Hole

-Tree turned blue

-House

-Tree leveled up again

-Castle

-Tower

-We lost

-Rip Timmy

•The shibes had a big fan base

•Smily boy at the end :"D

•Might be a new video next week and hopefully something for Halloween

•Pfft Phil cant end liveshows

[evilrevan]

Fragmented

The good ending @christinedabae requested a long ass time ago. While it is a good ending for Reyva, there is angst and pain in this fic for obvious reasons. Can’t have a sugary sweet ending in tyranny, can we?

Light and darkness flickered in and out of existence, sweat trickling over her brows as her consciousness flowed between the two. Fragmented blurry images of her companions cuddled around, garbled words which sounded like Em and Lantry; faded with the dizzying sensations of unimaginable pain lacing her entire body, and the odd cooling sensation chasing away the feverish burning scouring every inch of her skin. Everything else came and went far too fast for her battered and bruised mind to process. From there time was nigh on impossible to discern. 

One second Reyvanna saw pinpricks of light shattering through the darkness, and then, a sea of consuming blackness swallowing up the faint rays of light. In the pitch black sea her consciousness ebbed and flowed like waves on the shore. 

Memories of being held against her will within Kyros’ domain plagued her. Thin razor sharp needles plunged through shallow, bloody tissue, vile bubbling liquid of swirling colors draining at a snail’s pace into her bloodstream as Reyvanna was forced to watch mutely, gagged and chained to the rough stone walls of her cell with not even an inch of room between her back and the scrapping brickwork. Twisted mocking words followed bouts of pain, rusted chains rattling as her body convulsed and reacted to the intensity torture. The bitter tang of copper flooded what little senses rose to the surface, floating atop the shifting mass of shadows and death, the edges tinged with the sweetness of color slithering through. 

Blurred images of figures crowded around her, her eyes finally picking out details in her broken state of being. Sound eluded her. A faint ringing in her ears drowning out any hope of deciphering if she was still within the clutches of Kyros’ minions or safe in the Court’s halls. Reyvanna didn’t hope for the latter. Choosing to succumb to the former in an effort of preventing Kyros from prying more from her bloodied broken body.

Strong and defiant. Unbreakable and resolute. 

A mantra she recited over and over in her head as her body endured starvation, chunks of flesh torn from her body, broken bones, bruised skin, and….

Darkness crept into the light once more, devouring all color and life rendering her in a state of floating… of never-ending pain mixed with horrors, she’d rather forget.

Beneath a wall of nothing, Reyvanna could hear the splattering of blood hitting the ground. A pool of crimson flickered behind her eyes- scarred broken legs dangling just above the pool. Limp and unresponsive. 

Blood-curdling screams filled the emptiness of perpetual silence. Warped and hollow they ceased to die off, the sharp earth shattering shrill tone ringing within her skull like a migraine, rocking the world as chasms split her skull asunder. Fire swept the back of her throat. A scratching dryness overtaking her senses as the screams continued. Reyvanna wasn’t sure if they were hers. 

Swallowing back the urge to cry out in pain as the fire began melting the worn parched tissue inside her throat, she remained strong. For two months they didn’t break her. Merely skin and bones shattered and bled. Her mind? It stayed intact. For as long as she could bear the pain. They wouldn’t be the ones to break her. To hear her screams of agony. To witness her beg and plead for the pain to cease, to savor the feeling of flesh and bone mending instead of running red with fresh blood and splintered bones breaking through the skin.

At the edge of the abyss, Reyvanna felt things prod and poke at her bruised and aching flesh. Unlike previous, instances, they didn’t maim her body. They were gentle and brief. A reprieve from the swirling vortex of blood, screams, and unending memories laced with the sweetness of death. She was blind and deaf to the real world for the longest time. Even the briefest glimpse of color was pried from her vision, darkness encapsulating all of what linked her to the outside world. It was maddening. Terrifying. But she endured. Letting the frigid blanket of darkness wash over dark, slick, and inflamed skin. 

A jumble of voices cowed withing her skull. Joining the chorus of unidentifiable cries of pain and anguish. Some voices were soft. Reyvanna strained to hear them above the din of fury and vulgarity lacing the more vocal voices in her head. 

“She still alive?” 

The choir of voices began to dwindle until only a few were left. Quiet and patient. Heinous and vile. 

“She’s still breathing. Lost her wrist and still alive. How far you think the Savage can go until she loses her mind?”

“We’ll find out when the bitch wakes up. Still got the rest of her left arm attached. Need to remedy that.”

As their voices faded into the cold abyss Reyvanna felt the hellish pain of someone slamming her wrist against the cold stone. Nails digging into her oaken tinged skin until thin rivets of blood came trickling down from the tears in the skin. Sharp teeth clenched the wad of foul smelling fabric shoved inside her mouth- mentally preparing for what was to come.

In the dimly lit prison, there was a glint of metal, a jagged rusted blade drawn in plain sight. The wielder pressed the dull blade just below the wrist, the blade sinking into the flesh at an agonizing pace. With the edge dull it took more effort to saw through flesh and bone purposely letting the sharp unimaginable searing pain ricochet throughout her entire body for as long as possible. Bloodied fingers curled up against her pain in sheer torment, shaking and tearing into the skin like the blade still sawing away at part of her body. Quickly she lost the ability to feel… anything. Even her fingers. Bloodloss mixed with shock and the horrid sight of flesh and bone splattering against the ground below drew her into the darkness.

There the pain stopped. For a time. When she awoke it was to the stinging of a metal gauntlet crashing against the side of her face, a woman and a man shouting at her to wake up. From the wrist, they moved to her elbow. Sawing off anything below the joint as they had with her wrist. She blackened out then too. The shock proving too much for anyone to handle. Least of all herself. When they slapped her awake again they sawed halfway up her arm…

“How shall I make you suffer in the sweetest way? Mangle your body until even he can’t recognize you? Tear out every single cursed tooth in your rebellious mouth? Sever your tongue so you can’t speak again? Perhaps all three?”

”It seems only fair I break his toy, as you broke mine.” 

Nails raked across the underside of Reyvanna’s chin, a chill running along her spine as the voice continued to speak. Sweetly whispering in her ear of things to come…. of what would happen to her and Tunon.

“You are a false empress. A festering blight on all of Terratus in need of removal- diced and burned until there is nothing left to infect my world.”

“I wonder just how much he can feel after centuries of being devoid of humanity. Will he crumble when I present your shattered body to him, barely breathing as you struggle to cling to life for a few more precious minutes you can squeeze out?

 Would the puppet try and strike me? Will he submit? Or will he simply crack under what he can’t comprehend?”

“I guess we’ll find out together, false empress.”

Everything came rushing in like a dam bursting at the seams. Colors chased away the darkness- lungs heaving as fresh air filled them, inflating the organs to their fullest inside her chest. Breathing hurt. It was like a fire licked the insides of her throat, burning away the flesh as she struggled to control her own breathing.

Wildly wide eyes flickered side to side, up and down, and diagonally. Bright colors such as gold and red were muted in the dim light- a sole candle lit beside where she lay.

Then the pain came crashing. Everything ached. Everything itched. Some places Reyvanna couldn’t even feel in the midst of scathing pain scouring her body. Faint hints of blood remained on her tongue. Old blood. But there none the less. Slowly scents wafted in her nostrils. Pungent herbs and blood mixing in the air like a bad dream. It smelled different than when she’d wake. Blood, the metallic scent of iron, rotting flesh, and feces frequently greeted her senses.

Here it smelled clean. Fresher. 

Despite the hints of color bleeding into her eyes, painting a dark blurry image of objects such as chairs, bookshelves, and a single nightstand; there was little evidence to suggest she was free. Focusing on steadying her breathing Reyvanna felt something wrong with her chest. As if something had wrapped itself around the skin- compressing and soaking up beads of sweat tinged with the faint scent of blood. Half lidded eyes flicked to her torso spying a swath of white bandages dyed a multitude of colors ranging from crimson to a ghastly yellow-green color. The latter could be anything. An herbal poultice. A vile festering infection stewing in and around open wounds yet untreated.

Mentally preparing for the onslaught of pain Reyvanna tried to rise from the bed; creaks and groans echoed inside the eerily quiet room as the bed vocally protested against the shifting weight placed upon it.

Horrid pain shot up her spine. Flames of heat and what felt like being stabbed over and over again throughout her body, cascaded rapidly over her earthen skin, seeping deep into her very being until her very insides screamed from what felt like a thousand daggers stabbing into her abdomen repeatedly. She could barely breathe as her breath came out in ragged, hurried gasps.

Everything hurt. From the skin on her scalp all the way down to her toes- everything screamed out in bloody murder.

Above the chorus of blood, sweat, and physical strain something creaked. Something which wasn’t the bed’s doing.

Warily Reyvanna mentally kept track of what sounded like footsteps growing closer, the source of the noise emanating from whatever creaked and groaned from the corner of the room.

One. Two. Three. Fou- 

The noises grew closer with each beat of her heart. On principle, Reyvanna refused to look towards the source of the noise. Instead, every muscle, whether it screamed or bursting into flames, tensed. The pain was expected after two months of torture. The instinct to survive and bear the brunt of Kyros’ insidious machinations blocked most of the pain. It manifested when she was held captive by the Disfavored and it continued to hold fast even now. 

Breaking apart was never an option. No matter what Kyros threw at her. 

“You.. are awake.” Reyvanna froze in place, her dim eyes wide with shock and skepticism. Part of her yearned to turn her head to the left, to solidify the notion he was here with her. And not some ploy of Kyros. Something curled up within her throat, a lump filled with hope and joy. Reyanna swallowed it. Buried the feelings deep within as it left a swath of molten metal and ash trickling alongside the discomfort inhibiting her will to answer. 

Reason whispered she was fine. Safe. Survival dictated she should be wary of everything. That this place wasn’t safe. The two side warred inside the confines of her skull. Both providing valid arguments as the footsteps grew louder. 

“Empress?” Tunon’s baritone voice bounced off the walls, concern leaking from the singular word.

If this was some magical spell conjured by Kyros’ hand, she at least got his voice right. The way his emotions slid into his words ever so slightly. Teetering between propriety and casual speech when it came to her. 

The young archon didn’t respond. Listly listing to the sounds emanating all around her instead. She needed to know if this real. To know her heart wouldn’t fall to pieces if the spark of hope roared like a wildfire only to have it extinguished within the palm of Kyros’ metal palm. 

The sound of fabric rustling and the floorboards creaking drew her eye- a blur of black and red settled by her bedside- a white mask and a pair of familiar simply glowing gray eyes stared straight at her. Their stormy color made it impossible to know what the man behind the mask felt, kneeling next to her, a single gloved hand clenched around his gilded staff. Even in her weakness, she could see the rough chafing fabric crafted into the robes Tunon always wore. unyielding and unpleasant. He wore them to remind himself of his position. Of the struggle.

He didn’t deserve comfort.

Cut lips bruised black and blue pressed together. Words crawling from the depths of her stomach, where the lump resided, to the very tip of her tongue. The desire to reach out, to touch him grew stronger with him so near. But she hesitated.

Fear plagued her mind. The image of smoke slipping through her hands as she reached out to him, to touch his mask left her reeling.

This couldn’t be real.

The glove wrapped around his gavel, his staff, strained the material as he tightened his hold on it. As if fighting something unseen. “Reyvanna.” Tunon never shortened her name like others did, rarely used it even in private, only letting it slip when things grew serious. Like when she ordered him to stay as she headed off to fight Kyros...

Gray eyes shifted. Swirling in the eye sockets as they churned like the winds in a hurricane. So many things flashed within. A dizzying madness of emotions her brain couldn’t process. 

All at once Reyvanna could feel her desire to defend herself rise. Anger bubbling to the surface like the foam building on the ocean’s churning waves in a storm. Anger numbed the pain. Kept her sane. Kept her alive.

Sharpened teeth flashed behind the torment; lashing out to protect herself from being mentally ruined. “No! You are not real!” She hissed like some kind of wild animal. Her voice rising as allowed denial to run ramped. Fury swept across her sickly ashen skin, drowning out the smell of herbs and blood mingling together. Faint scents of Ceder and pine crept into the world. But she ignored it.

“Rey-” 

She cut him off before he could continue. “Quiet! I don’t want to hear anymore! I will not play your games, Kyros!” Like a cornered animal Reyvanna attempted to move from him, to flee from the bed but found herself unable. Sharp pains and the scent of iron-infused blood rendered her unable to move. This time anger didn’t save her. Merely covered up the wounds with a temporary bandage until something better could tend to them. 

Teeth dug into the flesh of her bottom lip. Something hot graced her lips. Something red. Her blood. Two months. Two agonizing months she suffered in silence. Endured the pain inflicted as if she deserved it. Never made a sound. Never gave them the satisfaction,

And now? Warmth flowed from the corners of her weary eyes. Tears. Pain. Anguish. Sorrow. 

Haggard eyes refused to look at what she considered a false image. An illusion meant to shatter her to her core. “Haven’t you had your fill yet?” Reyvanna whispered quietly, almost to the point she couldn’t even hear her own words. Yet he had. Tunon heard the way her voice trembled and cracked as if unable to bear stress any longer. Like a statue left to the elements, she was finally crumbling.

For a moment everything was quiet. Like the calm before a storm. Only, in this case, there was no storm bearing down upon her, no wildfire ready to consume all life in its path... only peace. 

Warmth touched the side of her face, gently passing over carefully placed bandages to protect and hide wounds still left open. With no strength left Reyvanna submitted as the warmth ghosted further down her face. The warmth rested upon her chin, slowly willing it to turn, along with her entire head, towards the figure still kneeling beside her still dressed in red, black, and gold. 

The first time her eyes fell upon him the mask was fixed to his face. The hood draped over the edges of the mask to conceal what laid around. No skin was shown. No discernable evidence to claim the man behind the mask was a living, breathing, human being capable of thought and feeling.

The second time there was no shield of white. The mask resting on the bed, the hood lowered and pooling around the back of his neck. Sharp narrow gray eyes stared back at her- weary and bone tired as she felt now. His high cheekbones cast shadows on his face as the singularly lit candle danced in her room. All of a sudden he didn’t look like he was in his forties. Here he looked as if he had lived centuries in strife, in war, in hell. His lips were pressed into a tight line. His entire face strained as pieces of his long dark brown hair fell over his eyes. Tunon didn’t brush them away. All he did was look at her.

It took only a moment to realize the warmth she felt upon her chin was his hand, the glove tossed aside in favor of allowing him to feel her as she wished to do to him. 

His pale skin contrasted with her dark reddish brown skin, the color of the redwood trees she used to climb when she was younger. The difference never bothered her. Never mattered.

Right here and right now, she couldn’t have been happier to see it. To feel his hand on her. To know this wasn’t some figment of her imagination or Kyros’ doing.

What was once held behind a dam burst open in a torrent of water. Unfiltered, raw, and uncontrollable. 

Tiny streams of tears became like rivers down her face. Tiny pitiful sobs erupted from within her battered body, lips mouthing ‘how’ and ‘why’ like a mantra. As if she still couldn’t believe it.

His pale fingers moved from under her chin, drifting upwards towards the streams of water cascading down her cheeks, wiping away some of the fluid with his thumb or forefinger. A small comforting gesture to soothe her where words weren’t something easily produced. 

Tired and drained Reyvanna willed herself to try and reach out to him. Her left side didn’t respond. Didn’t feel anything move when she tried. It was as if nothing was there. Confused flickered across her features, breaking apart the mixture of joy, despair, abandonment, anguish, hope, and anger eating her away from the inside. 

Only a glimpse was needed to break it. To wipe it clean and replace it with the memory of excruciating pain as the saw bit into her skin- shredding through flesh and bone at a snail’s pace in an attempt to ensure the procedure was as hellish as humanly possible.

What was once her left arm now was a small stump. The end bound in bandages and foul smelling herbs and salves to fight off infection. There was no elbow to speak of. None of the green patterns fading to black she bore in honor of her tribe. Nothing. Just ruined flesh. 

His hand pushed her face from the sight. Brought her attention to back to him as his features displayed something of remorse. Guilt. “There was more to it than what you see before you. It was heavily infected. The skin diseased and falling apart. If left it was bound to poison you...” Tunon’s voice was softer, kinder. Spoken in hushed tones as if trying to spare her the details of the unspoken. She used to have something there. But now.... nothing. With the loss of her left arm, she would no longer be able to use a bow, see the parts of her past etched on her skin in harmony, or to live out her days as she normally could.

Another thing Kyros took from her.

“How?” She questioned, not referring to her arm. Tunon regarded her for a moment, his expressions mixed. Reyvanna couldn’t decipher them even with his mask no longer hiding him from her. The ancient Archon considered the best way to respond. Parsing words together without breaking down himself.

“What do you remember?” His prodded carefully, cautiously. It almost sounded as if he was unsure. “Not... much,” Reyvanna confessed meekly, flashes and voices screaming in her head of events long past echoed in the silence which followed. In them, she saw him kneeling in the grass. His head bowed and his gavel firmly planted in the dirt submissively. Something cold and hard was clamped around her neck and her mouth stuffed with something repulsive. Blood and screams came after. 

A warped body of red fabric and metal laid in a pool of reddish-black blood. Kyros.

Swollen eyes widened in astonishment and shock. Slowly they shifted to match the look of terror mixed with fury glossing over her features. “Tunon you-.” She began, struggling to process the sudden rush of sensory, auditory, and visual overload washing over her. 

“I told you to stay.”

The Adjudicator’s face hardened. Resembling the mask of Judgement as if it were molded from his face alone. “I did as you ordered, Empress.” There was an icy tinge to his words. His voice resembling that of the court as he pronounced those who sought him out as innocent or guilty. Power leaked within, carried it through the spacious audience hall, through the doors of the court, and out into the streets. 

And just as it came- the edges began to soften. “You died, Reyvanna. Thrice.” Suddenly the young archon couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Four words. Four words uttered from his lips, his voice cracking and crumbling to dust as they came tumbling out shattered her. 

His hand upon her face trembled lightly. “Your heart stopped the moment you entered the court after the confrontation with Kyros. You suffered massive blood loss, several broken bones, lacerations, your left arm cut off, and a raging infection coursing through your bloodstream.” Again his facial features shifted into something else, something foreign to her as Tunon struggled with emotions he hadn’t had to deal with in the past. And thanks to her, his control was being tested. 

A fire lit up in his eyes, faint but growing stronger as the seconds ticked by. “The Sage suggested something. The use lightening to restart your heart. It worked. For a time. Over the past three weeks, you died three times.” Her head spun. 

But it didn’t end there. Tunon continued to speak, battling with his emotions as he tried to remain composed- and failing. “You-” His hand fell from her face as he tried to place his staff against a nearby wall. Reyvanna understood what he was trying to do. Ground himself.

With her left arm nothing but a stump, she reached out to him- pushing her body to it’s limits as she sat up to touch his face with her right hand. With him being so tall, even kneeling down, it proved difficult. There were mild protests n his behalf. Every single one of them quickly silenced when her dull sickly hand caressed his face running her fingers along his angular jaw, up over his cheekbones, and then sliding back down to the right side of his face. There it rested, soaking in the warmth and feel of his skin against her’s. With her fingers so badly injured, his skin felt soft in comparison. And she savored it. Drowned in it.

Later they would need to talk. When she was feeling better... when her wounds healed and she could walk on her own. But now she wanted to comfort him. For she wasn’t the only one wounded by the turn of events. Watching her die several times.... unable to do anything. 

A simple tug was all that was needed to bring him closer to her, leaning over her bed as she dragged lightly pulled his face towards her, pressing her lips gently onto his starving for more than just a simple touch. Tunon didn’t question it. Didn’t argue she needed rest rather than engage in something like this.

He sought it out as eagerly as she did. Two months apart. Two months of hell on both sides. They both needed confirmation this was real. 

What happens afterward is left to the wind. Smothered by the desire to ensure they both breathed the same air as one another. 

Reyvanna is the one who pulls away from him. Her mouth not even and inch from his as she stares as him warmly, “I am not going anywhere, my Imperator.” This was a promise she intended to keep this time. Gray eyes continued to gaze at her, conflicted yet softer. Instead of replying he initiated the kiss, his ungloved hand running through her damp, unruly, and curly dark brown hair. 

[viralhottopics]

Moroccan street food: 10 things you’ll want to try

(CNN)There are two things you can be sure of when it comes to your taste buds in Morocco:

1. You’ll drink enough sugary mint tea to send your dentist into a spin.

2. After a couple of days, you’ll be sick to your back teeth of tagine (if you have any left).

What’s a hapless (and hungry) traveler to do?

As most locals will tell you, the best Moroccan food is found at home, not in restaurants.

Unless you can wrangle an invite to a local’s home, your best bet is to dive into the maze-like medinas and head to the food souks.

Bourdain tries a Moroccan pigeon pie

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Vendors gather in guild-like fashion, so you’ll find honey sellers in one area and a row of butchers down another alleyway.

The best cities for street food include Fez (head toward the Achabine area), Marrakech (in Djemaa el-Fna and surrounding streets) and Essaouira (near the port end of Place Moulay Hassan).

“A lot of visitors miss out on street food because they go back to their hotel between 6 and 8 p.m. for dinner,” says guide Gail Leonard, who runs food tours of Fez, the culinary capital of Morocco.

“This is when Moroccans promenade and snack, before dinner at home at around 10 p.m.

“It’s also the time when you get to connect with Moroccans, because that’s when they’re out eating.”

Street food is also popular for breakfast and lunch and draws on Morocco’s mix of Berber, Arab and European cultures.

Best of all, it’s fresh, filling and yours for a few dirhams.

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1. Bread

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Crusty bread (khobz) baked in communal wood-fired ovens is a Moroccan staple.

The souks also serve an array of pan-fried, waistline-busting loaves.

Particularly good is beghrir (spongy bread, a bit like crumpets), harsha (buttery bread made of fine semolina) and rghaif (flaky, layered flat bread).

Topped with honey or goat cheese, they make a good snack while you’re out exploring. Expect to pay from MAD 2-10 ($0.24-1.18), depending on the topping.

2. Bessara

A bowl of hearty fava bean soup, mopped up with the ubiquitous khobz, is a popular workers’ breakfast and costs just MAD 5 ($0.59).

Hole-in-the-wall eateries also dish it up for lunch with a glug of lemon-infused olive oil and a sprinkle of cumin and chili.

The soup is made with loads of garlic (about a kilogram per large vat) and the stallholder will simply shut up shop once he’s sold out.

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3. Crumbed liver

Moroccan’s are big on nose-to-tail eating.

You can chow down on cow udders, tongues, tripe, even feet.

Too adventurous? There’s the Moroccan version of a wienerschnitzel: smooth and buttery calves’ livers, crumbed and fried.

Food in souks is sold by weight and a decent portion costs around MAD 10 ($1.18). The vendor will chop it up and serve it in a sandwich or with a handful of fries.

4. Steamed sheep head

This delicacy is usually eaten for breakfast after a home slaughter during the Islamic festival of Eid al-Adha (Feast of the Sacrifice).

In the souk, sheep heads are steamed for about five hours and ready by lunchtime.

“They’re sold as a half (MAD 15/$1.77) or whole head (MAD 30/$3.55), with or without eyes, although the brains are sold separately at another stall,” says Gail.

To eat a head, wait for the vendor to scrape off the fur. Then sprinkle it with cumin, salt and chili, and scrape out the tender cheek meat and tongue.

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5. Spicy sardines

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Morocco is the world’s largest exporter of sardines, making the little fish a street food staple.

Sardines are stuffed with a spicy chermoula paste made of tomato, coriander, chili, garlic, paprika, cumin, olive oil and lemon juice.

They’re coated in a light batter, fried until crisp and often served with a fried green chili. Again, they’re sold by weight, but MAD 15 ($1.77) will buy you a tasty sandwich.

6. Aubergine fritters

Vegetarians can happily scoff their way through the souks, too, with plenty of fresh, organic produce for sale.

Sliced aubergine dipped in sweet smoked paprika batter then deep-fried go for MAD 1 apiece ($0.12).

The silky, smoky slices are served with spicy lubia (white haricot beans stewed in tomatoes, cumin, paprika, garlic and ginger) or fresh salad.

7. Brochettes

Follow the billowing clouds of smoke and you’ll find mini-chicken kebabs cooking over charcoal.

The meat is rubbed with salt and spices, such as paprika and cumin. Spiced ground lamb or beef (kefta) is formed around a skewer and grilled.

Brochettes are served with khobz, harissa (red pepper sauce), red onion, cumin and salt and cost around MAD 20-30 ($2.36-3.55).

8. Snail soup

Stalls selling steaming vats of snail soup are popular across the country. A bowl costs between MAD 5-10 ($0.59-1.18).

First you pluck the snails from their shells with a toothpick before slurping the soup.

“The snails have an earthy flavor, a bit like shitake mushrooms,” says Gail.

Flavored with a concoction of around 15 different spices, Moroccans believe the broth is good for digestion and fever, so some drink it without snails.

9. Stuffed camel spleen

For an alternative take on sausage, how about tehal (stuffed camel spleen)?

Stuffed with ground beef, lamb or camel meat, olives, spices and a little bit of hump fat, the spleen is sent off to be baked in a communal bread oven.

It’s sliced, griddled and served up in a sandwich (MAD 15/$1.77). The texture is soft and creamy, like liver, and tastes gamey.

Or you can pop into Caf Clock in Fez for one of their famous camel burgers served with fries and salad (MAD 95/$11.23); 7 Derb el Magana, Talaa Kbira; +212 535 637 855; www.cafeclock.com.

10. Desserts

Super sweet pastries and biscuits are big in Morocco, especially during Ramadan, when Muslims fast from sunrise to sunset.

Each evening, they celebrate breaking their fast with succulent dates, pastries and savory harira (lentil and tomato soup).

Some of the most irresistible (and calorific) goodies include briwat (deep fried filo pastry triangles stuffed with almonds) and shebakia (flower-shaped, fried sesame cookies).

Both are dipped in honey and go for around MAD 1-3 each ($0.12-0.35).

Plan-It Fez offers a half-day souk tasting trail in the ancient Fez medina for MAD 960 ($113) per person; +212 535 638 708; www.plan-it-fez.com.

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from Moroccan street food: 10 things you’ll want to try

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The Island of Gozo

Gozo forms part of the Maltese Islands, and is the second biggest in the archipelago. It is typically called the “island where time stood still” considering that it is one of the few Mediterranean locations which is mostly unspoilt. Although Gozo types part of Malta, it is rather various in both its customs and culture. In reality, even individuals are very different. As Joseph Bezzina put it, “the Gozitans are Maltese inasmuch as the Scottish are British, or the Sicilians are Italians”!

Gozo is an exceptionally stunning island, which can be admired throughout the year. In the summer time, water sports, and swimming in the beautiful bays are a must. Diving is exceptional here and infact, Gozo has begun to establish itself as an all year-round diving destination given that the winter season is really mild – comparable to an English summer season – and the visibility stays extremely great. In addition, there is nowhere in Gozo that is more than 20 minutes far from the coast.

From autumn to spring the Gozitan countryside returns to life after the hot summer season months. The Maltese Islands turn green and by late spring a thousand or more species of plants blossom. Gozo boasts a lovely countryside – a few of which has been left untouched by the 20th century! This part of the island is necessary for farmers and farmers since the majority of town life centres on the farming and fishing seasons. It is wonderful to see that these towns still protect their old way of living, where old ladies and males work the fields or go out at sea. Guidebooks have actually been created, that draw up perfect walking tours from one town to another.Speaking of picturesque, Gozo is likewise embellished with lovely natural harbours, valleys and cliffs. One especially remarkable natural beauty is the’Azure window’which is a megalithic archway cut by methods of the crashing waves for thousands of years on the lower layers of the rock. Other extraordinary websites are Mgarr ix-Xini bay, the Citadel, the caves at Xaghra, Lunzjata Valley and Wied il-Ghasri. Ramla l-Hamra is another stunning website which includes a long sandy beach made up of red-tinted sand! The women of Gozo are renowned for one of Malta earliest craft

tradition, lace-making. From the time of the Knights, life in Gozo in addition to the rural parts of Malta was fairly extreme. So, craft markets ended up being a primary source of income for rural families, namely embroidery, weaving and lace-making. The standard lace is known as’bizzilla’and this craft was first presented to Malta from Genoa around the 1800s It was called bobbin lace and was very popular for ruffs and collars in the 16th and 17th centuries. Maltese bobbin lace is made with a variety of threads which are wound upon an extended wooden bobbin or spindle. A special long cushion called’ trajbu ‘is utilized as a base for the lace production. Although parts of Gozo have been modernized for tourists, one is mainly exposed to the raw character to the island, not just in customs, landscape and craft, however also food. One incredibly popular year-round meal is the’Fenkata’where Maltese households go to really casual and usually small specialized bars and dining establishments in order to consume a meal of rabbit. This is normally comprised of a first course of spaghetti with bunny sauce, followed by bunny (typically fried in garlic and tomatoes ), and lastly nuts and sweets. The sweet that is frequently combined with the bunny is the’Helwa tat-Tork’ which is a sweet sugary mix of crushed and whole almonds. Another dish that is often served before rabbit, however can likewise be found in lots of normal Maltese restaurants, is ‘Bebbux’. Bebbux is the maltese word for snails, which is a special in Malta. When checking out Malta or Gozo, make certain to provide this a try! Gozitan ‘gbejniet ‘(goats cheese )are a delicacy that is finest coupled with fresh Gozitan bread. Prickly pears, a delightful seet fruit, are likewise common here and can be discovered all over the island, both cultivated and wild.With concerns to archaeology, the islands of Malta and Gozo consist of among the wealthiest, most fascinating megalithic cultures of all time. This Neolithic culture developed big temples

out of orthostats which functioned as routine websites to the luxurious mom goddess. The earliest one, Ggantija Temple, lies in Gozo and is the oldest freestanding structure in the world-much older than the Egyptian pyramids! It is over 5000 years old. Gozo is also the home of other historical sites, particularly Phoenician and Punic ones.Gozo is a really devout island and is cluttered with marvelous churches of gorgeous architecture. One of the most lovely, and with the oldest story, is that of the Citadel. There are no less than 50 churches and chapels around Gozo, half of which are committed to the Virgin Mary. Most of the churches are in the Baroque design and were frequently built over even older buildings. One incredible chapel is that of Ta’Pinu which has become a trip for those from Malta, Gozo and abroad. This Short article has been offered by AX Hotels Malta -a leading operator of Hotels in Malta. The AX Hotels, Malta Hotels Portfolio includes Accommodation in Malta in 2 prime traveler localities with three hotels in Sliema and

2 Qawra hotels(including the Sunny Coast Resort Club and the Seashells Resort at Suncrest)campaign