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billie80808 · 3 months ago

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In 2015 I had a strange dream. Or at least it seemed like a dream.

I woke up in the middle of the night absolutely parched. Everyone knows water never tastes as good as it does when you're guzzling it in the middle of the night. Problem is, my bedroom is upstairs, my kitchen is downstairs, and I'm sleepy. Next to my bed is a closet, and on the sliding doors of that closet are two closet-door sized mirrors, and when you slide open either side of the closet, the mirror on the left door is concealed behind the right door. When I look at my closet, I see a tall glass of ice water reflected back at me in the left mirror.

The glass is frosty, like a glass you'd be served a draft beer in. It is sitting in what would appear to be an endless void of white, and it's enormous. It's closet-door sized. I push off my blankets and step out of bed and despite the chill of the air conditioning, this ice-cold glass of water is absolutely tantalizing. But it's weird, because as far as I can tell there isn't a closet-door sized glass of ice-water sitting in front of the mirror in my bedroom.

I open the left side of the closet, and by doing so I block my view of the odd water. When the closet is fully opened, I hear the clink of ice in the glass, like you would if you were to slide a glass of ice-water on a table and suddenly stop it. I also hear a giggle. Impish. Antagonistic. The contents of my closet are the contents of my closet. I slide the door closed.

Something has changed. The ice-water remains, but the configuration of the ice has shifted, not so much as to be unrecognizable but enough to be noticeable, and too much for it to have been caused by the change in velocity. I repeat my experiment.

The same thing happens, another giggle, clearly coming from the plane reflected back at me. The ice-water dimension, I guess. Deliriously I repeat this experiment far too many times for anything novel to happen, and the giggles have stopped. The joke got old. On maybe my ninth or tenth repetition of this cycle, I notice that the ice is melting and the glass is less frosty than it was when it initially appeared in my mirror. And I'm still absurdly thirsty, and the most convenient source of water is getting warmer by the second.

Something in my head is screaming to not drink this water. This is bad water. But I'm so thirsty. I tentatively reach towards the water and am met with the familiar resistance of a glass mirror. Obviously. But it's cold. And when I push, there's more give than a mirror should have. More elasticity. I push with roughly the force required to puncture saran wrap and now I've breached the sacred boundary between reality and reflection. I feel doomed.

I should not drink this water. But my lust overpowers my restraint and my head is pushing through the veil and I'm submerging it in the water and guzzling as much as I can handle and it isn't as cold as it was when it was gifted to me but instead the perfect temperature and there is just enough for me to quench myself and when I'm sated nothing remains but a pile of ice and the shame that I've broken a rule I will never and could never understand.

That's the dream. Every day since has been routine.

Yesterday on my lunch break I went to a nearby coffee shop and sat down to eat my meal. I'm replying to some emails, halfheartedly paying attention to the radio being played through the establishment's speakers.

"In other news, [redacted] Health Department has issued a release regarding an odd phenomenon. Over 500 residents have related stories of an unusually similar, possibly hallucinatory experience in which they find themselves gazing upon the reflection of an alluring glass of deliciously cold water. These mirages seem to appear in the middle of the night, which we all know is the best time to drink some cold water, hahaha. Oh man. Anyways, officials say that these experiences are nothing to be concerned about, so long as you do not drink the water."

I'm pouring sweat and guzzling my coffee and it's too hot and it's burning my mouth and my throat but I feel like I need to sanitize myself from the inside. That really happened? That's all the info they're giving me? Why isn't anyone acknowledging the absurdity of this situation? No one else drank the water? I drank ALL of the fucking water.

I go back to the office and I'm soaking through my cornflower blue button-down and I'm breathing wrong and my brain won't focus on a task long enough to even consider starting it. I need to know what happens if you drink the water, what is going to happen to me.

I call the health department. I argue with a call-screening bot and its fake typing sounds make me want to drown myself in the bathroom. After 15 minutes I reach an operator. I tell her my story as clearly and calmly as possible.

"Hi, I'm calling because I just heard the release about the mirror water and the radio guy said that I should be totally fine as long as I don't drink the water but it'd be nice if I could get a little bit more information about this because that seems like a bizarrely tiny amount of info to give about weird giant glasses of water showing up in my bedroom mirror, and also-"

She cuts me off, "Hahaha, sir, calm down, it's really nothing to worry about. As of right now we're considering it some kind of shared delusion. Social media has our brains all scrambled ya know? There's just too much going on. Anyways, luckily no one has actually drank the water, so there's no cause for alarm yet."

"No, that's what I'm saying, I drank the water. What happens if you drink the water?"

A few seconds of silence. I hear a sniffle, she's crying. Now she's sobbing. She's saying "Oh god, I'm so sorry. Why would you do that? I'm so, so sorry sir."

Dial tone. I call back and I don't even get the bot. I get a busy signal. I call again, I get a "the number you are trying to call is unavailable." I call again, the call doesn't even go through, it just hangs up.

Someone else must've drank the water right? Anyone? Does anyone know what's happening? Did any of you drink the water? What's going to happen to me?

#horror #short story

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elenasunshinemagazine · 2 years ago

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10 reasons for weight gain. Healthy eating is easy!

"Why am I getting better?» Almost every woman has asked herself this question at least once in her life.

Here are the 10 most common reasons why weight grows quickly, but does not hurry to leave?

1. You are on a diet.

Or they used to sit: they excluded sugar, and flour, counted calories, and tried fashionable keto. And you overeat with the very foods that you have forbidden yourself. Any restriction is not eternal, failure is almost inevitable. To break down is to overeat. Why is this happening?

Our hunger is controlled by an ancient part of the brain – the reptilian mind. It does not know the desire to lose weight in order to meet any standards. He is responsible for survival. And with any restriction, it includes both the energy conservation mode (slows down the metabolism) and the food search mode.

So forget about willpower! She doesn't work here! Your ancient mind is looking for food, sooner or later it finds it, and here every calorie will be stored for the future.

2. You are tired, very busy, and responsible on several fronts at work and at home.

The only chance to relax is to sit down at the table with a cup of coffee and a cake. This is your legitimate opportunity for respite, which even a capricious husband does not object to, and the children usually know-mom drinks coffee, do not touch her.

3. You are anxious.

For the future, for children, parents, work, and relationships. Food helps to cope with anxiety.

Anxiety is generally an unpleasant feeling. It is usually felt in the body as a lump in the pit of the stomach. It's like a feeling of hunger, the same pulling. I really want to eat it.

4. You are sad.

A great way to survive sadness is to lie down on the sofa with a bucket of ice cream. You may not realize that behind the sadness there is some very important need for you – for love, care, and understanding.

5. You are annoyed.

Everyone wants something from you. My husband needs to iron his shirt, my mother should not forget to call and remind her about the visit to the dentist, collect Legos with the children, and do homework. And then there is the boss (requires a report on time) and friends (offended by inattention).

You are a good mother, wife, daughter, friend, and employee. And good girls don't get mad at their loved ones. They hide their irritation deep inside and eat it with crunchy nuts and crackers.

6. You do not like your body, you are shy to undress on the beach and in the pool.

Body shame makes you go on a diet. But the willpower is not enough for long, you break down, hate yourself even more and eat up unpleasant feelings.

At the center of any eating disorder is always anxiety, fear of getting better, and body shame. They are the ones that make you go on a diet. The breakdown makes you even more anxious and ashamed. And so on in a vicious circle.

7. You can't get past the food.

The sign of a CAFE, the aroma of fresh bread, a treat at work – for you, this is an excuse to eat even without feeling hungry. You eat and don't notice it if the food is just sitting on the table. Someone forgot a bowl of chocolate-covered halva, and all the candy flew in 5 minutes.

8. You love companies, parties, and feasts

Do not miss home gatherings and grandma's pies. At the common table, you eat a lot, try everything, and do not notice that you have overheated. If someone in the restaurant ordered a fifth pizza (branded, special), you will definitely try it. If everyone decided to take another cocktail and coffee with tiramisu-be sure to join. It is not in your rules to miss the gastronomic joys!

9. Traditions are sacred to you.

The traditions of the feast are also sacred. You are generally a fan of food. The best leisure time for you is tasting new dishes, and the best trip is a food tour. You enjoy food as an adventure, for you food is creativity and relaxation.

10. You don't know when you're hungry.

You don't feel full. Do not understand that the stomach is already full and you need to stop. So you overeat without noticing it. Sometimes you spend the whole day at work and don't feel hungry, and in the evening you can't remember what you ate during the day. You throw yourself on the food and do not understand when satiety comes.

Did you recognize yourself at least at one point? This is an occasion to take a closer look at your needs. Do not blame yourself for the lack of willpower, and do not scold yourself for the gained pounds. And treat yourself sympathetically, as a close person, and seek help from a psychologist who works with eating behavior.

If you don't like your relationship with food. You think about controlling your appetite most of the day. Your dissatisfaction with your body prevents you from living a full life, realize that your problem is not a lack of willpower and not promiscuity. You can gain weight for various reasons. And often, to cope with this, you need professional help.

Transition to a healthy diet

I have never had so little time to prepare a meal as after switching to a healthy diet. It's all about techniques, experience, and having a good supply of healthy foods in your home! And the main thing is the desire to learn how to cook healthy food. And it is also important: a home-made dinner with healthy food will save not only your health but also your money!

Healthy Dinner Recipes

Chicken and carrot meatballs and quinoa salad

Ingredients:

Minced chicken 17.64oz Carrots (Grated on a coarse grater) 17.64oz Large onion 1 piece Breadcrumbs 1 tablespoon Herb mixture 1 tablespoon Salt, and pepper to taste Parsley 1 bunch (to taste) For a warm salad:

Quinoa cereals (can be replaced with brown or brown rice, pearl barley) 2 cups Cooking water 4 cups Dried tomatoes (can be replaced with fresh ones) 3.53oz 2 bell peppers 2 pcs Olives from a jar 3 tablespoons Red onion 1 piece Extra virgin olive oil (cold pressed) 3 tablespoons Red balsamic vinegar 1 tablespoon Mint 1 tablespoon salt and pepper to taste Instruction: In a bowl, mix the minced meat, seasonings, grated carrots and onions, breadcrumbs, and finely chopped parsley. Season with salt and pepper. In a frying pan, heat the olive oil and fry the meatballs in it (spread with a teaspoon, forming small cutlets). The frying time is about 10 minutes. Wash the grits and cook according to the instructions in salted water (10-30 minutes-depends on the type of grits). Finely chop all the vegetables (except the olives). When the cereal is ready, drain the excess water from it and pour it into a large bowl. Mix with vegetables, olives and season with oil and vinegar. Season with salt and pepper. That's it! So much for dinner. 30 minutes. Very healthy, diverse, and not boring.

Vegetable soup

There are also many variations of this soup! Take vegetables in season. This is the best guarantee of taste. And if there is the homemade broth. If it is not there, then broth cubes will do. You can use eco-cubes.

Ingredients:

Large potato 1 piece Large tomato 3 pieces Large onion 1 piece Garlic 3 cloves Celery 3 stalks Carrot 2 pieces Cauliflower 1/2 head Dry beans 5.29oz Basil 2 tablespoons Olive oil 3 tablespoons Vegetable broth 6 cups Instruction: In a large saucepan in olive oil, fry the coarsely chopped garlic, finely chopped onion, and carrot with celery for 3 minutes over medium heat. Pour in the broth and bring to a boil. Add the finely chopped potatoes, reduce the heat.

Dry beans are pre-soaked in water overnight before cooking and cook separately in salted water. After 5 minutes, add the finely chopped tomatoes, cauliflower, and beans with basil. Let it simmer under the lid for about 10 minutes.

Before serving, drizzle with olive oil directly on the plates. Serve as desired with black wholegrain bread. It's simple! Another hearty, simple, and healthy dinner is ready. Bon Appetit!

https://elenasunshinemagazine.com/cooking/10-reasons-for-weight-gain-healthy-eating-is-easy/

#food #cooking #recipes #healthy #health #elenasunshinemagazen

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soldmysoultootomeboys · 4 years ago

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Cuddling with the Brothers

why were some of these so hard to write it felt like pulling teeth omg i'm so sorry Mammon, I couldn't think of anything for you ﾟ(*´□`)ﾟ

Lucifer

A rather tricky demon to sleep on and one that requires immense planning

First of all it has to be private, otherwise expect to wake up alone with only his coat thrown over you.

His room or his study would be the best place to start. And that's what you had originally intended, that is until you hear the solemn notes of a piano echoing through the halls

Having only gotten up for a midnight snack you take a detour wandering past the kitchen until you reach the music room where Lucifer sits playing a somber tune

It's one you don't recognize, but it feels familiar nonetheless

His playing doesn't break in the slightest when he asks you to come in and you wonder how long he knew you were there

You do as he says, sitting down on the great long bench and watching his fingers dance along the keys. It's cold, having only expected to be out for a moment you're only wearing your pajamas

Lucifer says nothing when you huddle closer, resting your head on his shoulder, even though it must be constricting his playing. But he relaxes at your touch

And slowly you fall asleep, to the lullaby of piano and the gleam of stars far above you

Mammon

Like Lucifer he requires some planning, if only because he absolutely melts the moment you try to hold him

As an absolute sucker for cuddles he would be more than happy to be held at any time if not for the fact that he's also a complete tsundere

But with a little effort and a bit of bribery in the form of his recently revoked Goldie (Thanks Lucifer!) you are finally able to get him to sit still

He looks so embarrassed, fidgeting with his shirt and avoiding your eyes but when you finally go to hold him he just melts

Just be prepared for the puddle of cuddly demon that does not want to share you with any of his brothers

Levi

Levi’s labyrinth of a room was something you questioned constantly, filled with all sorts of curious things from sacred treasures (i.e, figurines) to old tombs (manga). However there was something that you knew for a fact, and that was that Levi slept in a tub.

Why? Was it comfortable? Did it hold some weird secret that would explain Levi’s behavior? You had to know.

So you do what any sane rational human would do when living in a house full of demons. You sneak into his room.

Levi was supposed to be out today for the new release of one of his video games.

You peek inside making sure the coast is clear before shutting the door. Inside the bathtub is a mess of blankets plus a full body pillow with a picture of the famed Ruri on it. At the very least it seemed somewhat comfortable.

Time to try out this new bed.

With nothing left to lose you bodily fling yourself over the side landing with a soft whump into the cocoon of pillows.

Immediately the sheets begin to move under you, limbs flailing for purchase and a familiar face pops up from beneath the covers. When Levi sees you he turns bright red, a flustered expression replacing the confusion on his face.

But if anything his thrashing becomes even more panicked. You roll to the side accidentally pinning him under you and he freezes.

“Mc what are you doing here???!”

When you finally explain he looks disappointed

Of course this was just a mistake you didn't want to see a stupid otaku like him

Before he could continue his rant you wrap your arms around his chest

“I guess this is fine.” He mutters still refusing to look at you.

With your new partner secured you’re free to nap as you please

Asmo

He has the BEST bed

Of course you want to get your nap on in his room

The problem is how to do it without implying something more

Knowing Asmo if you tell him you want to sleep on his bed he'll show up au natural which is not something you want to see when you're trying to take a nap, gorgeous skin or not

You decide to sneak in when he goes for one of his shopping trips

Once you actually lie down all your suspicions are confirmed

Asmos bed is amazing

Feather soft and absolutely covered in pillows you feel like you're in a cloud

You're almost asleep when you're awakened by an ear shattering squeal

If you wanted to sleep with him you should have just said so!

Asmo throws himself at you talking of all the "fun" things the two of you could do in his room

Like Levi the best option at this point is to just smush his body with your own, just make sure not to mess with his hair

It might seem counterproductive but pinning him down limits how much he can actually touch and after a few flirtatious comments made by yours truly he'll settle down enough for you to drift back to sleep, now with a new cuddle partner

Expect to wake up to a million new devilgram pictures of you two in bed and an angry Mammon banging on the door

Satan

The hard part is figuring how to do it without him getting mad.

You decide best time to do it is when he's reading or watching a drama as he probably won't move, as long as you don't obstruct his view. It takes a while to actually catch him like this. The man paces.

When you finally do see him in his chair you flop onto him curling on his lap.

He's more amused than angry.

“What are you doing mc?”

“Taking a nap :)”

After that he lets you be.

Satan is a surprisingly good nap partner. No one bugs you since most of the other brothers are too afraid of his wrath making it a good place to go if you want some peace and quiet.

You do notice that he starts sitting down more once you join him. It's more common for him to be already sprawled across a chair with a book in one hand.

It's fun for exactly as long as it takes Satan to get angry at one of his dramas and accidentally yeet you across the room.

He'll apologize but it might be time for you to get a different perch.

Beel

Beel uses the cat rules

If you lay on him he will not move unless absolutely necessary. It could take a direct order from Lucifer to make him budge

But if he really has to go he's taking you with him. Holding you carefully so he doesn't jostle you he'll walk around with you in his arms until you decide to wake up

He will try so hard not to get crumbs in your hair and he mostly succeeds

but at one point he does drip guacamole down the side of your comatose face

Freaks out but it's okay because he uses a chip to scoop it back up and everything

what you don't know doesn't hurt you

lets just hope you don't notice the strange sticky spot on the corner of your cheek

Belphie

The king of naps

Sleeping with him ensures good dreams and deep sleep

It's not hard to find him passed out somewhere and if you flop onto him the most he'll do is give a sleep grumble before throwing his arms over you and burying into your chest.

Just don't expect to get up any time soon

If worst comes to worst Beel is more than willing to carry both of you wherever you need to go

on the rare cases where he's awake and your not he will see how many of Beel's snacks he can stack on your head before you wake up

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me mc #obey me beelzebub #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me belphie #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me satan #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #headcanons #obey me headcanons #imagines

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b-lessings · 4 years ago

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10 lessons I learned from the first 10 days of Ramadan 🌙

(personal, subjective, and in no particular order)

1) It's a constant work and it doesn't get easier. This is the first thing that came into my mind. As a matter of fact, the daily routine of this month is no joke, whichever deeds you try to perform and incorporate in your deen from the 5 obligatory prayers, to the sunnah, to the nawafil, to the azkar, to the Qur'an recitation, to the daily x number of istighfar you promised yourself you'd achieve, it is a lot of work, especially if you have a family to take care of, a job or school to go to, or more critically, if your mental health is not at its best condition. Every day (or night), you get out of bed and you're back at square one, you have all this list of tasks to do, and it gets a lot some times, and you do feel exhausted (but if you are among the lucky ones, then it is the good kind of exhausted), and it's not like your prayers are gonna perform themselves, you have to ger up, you have to act. That's why you need to constantly remind yourself why you are doing this in the first place. What is the point of fasting and waking up in the middle of the night to pray and spending hours throughout the day just remembering Allah swt and reading his book, etc. You have to remind yourself of the ultimate purpose of this month, that we are sacrificing the worldly pleasures for the sake of Allah swt, to gain Taqwa, to be in a state of constante awareness and consciousness of Allah's presence, to get closer to Allah swt the most gracious the most merciful, and that if we don't actually put on some work and effort, we won't get to where we want to go, we won't achieve any of that. It is good to keep things in perspective. Be aware of what you are doing, where you are now, where do you wanna go and what it takes to get you there. If it's constant work and effort, then be it.

2) You can't achieve anything by yourself, your intentions are not enough, you need Allah's support. In fact, for the first couple of days I was so confused, I had to ask my sisters " If the devils are all locked away, why do I feel like I can't focus? " And I was constantly asking myself, if I have already prepared, downloaded the calendars and planners, put up a big board on my bedroom wall, etc., Why do I feel like my Iman is getting low?, AstaghfiruAllah. Aren't we supposed to feel on cloud nine? In a state of pure bliss? And then I came across a khutbah where the Sheikh may Allah swt bless him answered my question. He explained that even though Shaytan is locked away, he has already programmed us, for 11 months (he even made a joke that Shaytan deserves a month off because he has been working too hard for the rest of the year). Anyways, what I realized is even your will and your plans and your excitement about Ramadan and your promises to do so and so deeds is not enough if you don't ask Allah swt for support, for sabr, for guidance, for help, for strength to be able to fulfill those ibadat and carry out the plans you have made for this month. You need to constantly ask Allah swt because who else is our refuge? Who else is our source of strength and patience ? Who else will keep us steadfast on the straight path? And who else is gonna help us against the traps of Shaytan? No matter how willing or excited or determined you are to perform your prayers, finish reading the Qur'an, etc, you still need Allah swt to bless your deeds, every step of the way. Without Him, nothing can be achieved. So in your sujood, ask Him that He give you enough strength to finish that prayer in full Khushoo' and concentration, and after that prayer, ask him for sabr and strength to manage to perform the next one and the one after. Tell Him that you seek refuge in Him from the traps of Shaytan, from laziness and lethargy, from the disoriented heart and the distracted mind. Show Him that you are vulnerable and that even though you are trying to do this for Him, you actually can't do it without Him. SubhanAllah.

3) Forgive yourself when you fall short.

{يُرِيدُ اللَّهُ بِكُمُ الْيُسْرَ وَلَا يُرِيدُ بِكُمُ الْعُسْرَ}

{God intends for you ease and does not want hardship for you}

Allah swt literally said this in Surat Al Baqara (The Cow) when he prescribed Fasting upon us and introduced us to the holy month of Ramadan. Soz read it again. As simple as that, I am not gonna develop this idea further.

4) No matter how much you prepared before Ramadan came, you aren't prepared enough. Well, are you familiar with the saying that Ramadan is like a marathon and you have to prepare for it way before? That's actually true. And guess what? No matter how much you think you are prepared, there are still gonna be some moments when you'd still feel out of breath, where you wish you'd have prepared more. May Allah swt make us reach the end of this month smoothly and seamlessly. May Allah swt bless us and accept our deeds from beginning to end.

5) Our deeds don't get accepted because they're good enough, they get accepted because Allah is merciful. I heard this in a youtube khutba just last night and it resonated with me. Put this in your mind, learn it by heart, print it out on your forehead if necessary! No matter how perfect you think your deeds are, they won't get accepted because you're an amazing slave of Allah swt and you win at worship and ibadah. Don't get too confident, beware of arrogance, control your ego. Stay humble and know your place. The only reason why your deeds would be accepted is because Allah swt will have mercy on you, not because you are so good that your deeds would qualify you for forgiveness and acceptance. So pray that Allah swt accepts our deeds and pray that he encompasses us with His mercy.

6) Don't compare to others, don't get intimidated by others, we are not on the same journey. Walk your own rocky path. I can't stress this enough. I know a lot of brothers and sisters Mashaa'Allah, Allahuma barik, are overachievers, or they might just be out of our league. And sometimes, through social media, we see what they share (in their attempt to motivate us and share some tips and good deeds, spread the knowledge, May Allah swt bless them, accept their deeds and reward them), so we get intimidated. Sometimes it feels like what we are doing is not good enough because it doesn't even compare to what X or Y are doing. And we feel a bit scared that we are not good enough of slaves for Allah swt or that Allah swt wouldn't be pleased with us like He swt would be pleased with them, and we can even feel unworthy and get discouraged ( beware it's a shaytan trap). It is simple though, your path to Allah swt is very personal. What a brother or a sister does only get to inspire you not discourage you or intimidate you. When you see someone sharing something good or beneficial, make duaa for them and make duaa for yourself then leave it at that. Competition is taking over every aspect of our worldly life, we shouldn't let it mess with this sacred part as well. And remember, we are not all on the same journey to Allah swt. It is okay if you can't recite the Qur'an in such a beautiful way or if you can't pray 10 rakaas of Taraweeh, it is okay if you can't read in Arabic or if you don't learn any hadith by heart. Allah swt is patient enough and considerate enough. Scratch that, He swt is the most patient, the most considerate, the most gracious, the most generous, and He appreciates your effort. What matters for Him is your sincerity and the purity of your intentions.

7) The less food you take, the more energy you will have. FACTS. I mean, imagine the struggle of having to pray Ishaa and Taraweeh on a full stomach where every time you get down for sujood you feel like your soup is coming up :/ Allahu almusta'aan. This month is not about feasting. It is literally about giving up pleasures (food being one of them) to focus on Allah. So, Focus on what's important and set your priorities straight.

8) Don't overdue it. Beware of the ghost of Burnout. So yeah, like I already said earlier, it is a lot of work and it requires preparation and constant effort. The aim is to be at our best shape of health and Iman on the last 10 nights because they are the most sacred, the most important, the most blessed. You might wanna consider starting small with your deeds and building up slowly. Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) said, "Do good deeds properly, sincerely and moderately and know that your deeds will not make you enter Paradise, and that the most beloved deed to Allah is the most regular and constant even if it were little." [Al Bukhari]

9) Personalize your ibadat / plans. In other words, do what's best for you and what's beneficial for you. Define your weaknesses and the areas in which you want to improve. Don't just do this or that deed because everyone else is doing them. Do not follow blindly. What is good for you might not be the thing recommended or done by the others. And what you need on your faith journey is not what X or Y needs. You will be judged on your own deeds, your own journey. Have a purpose and a reason for what you are doing and why you are doing that. Also, the more you feel like your plan or your routine is personal, the more you can relate to it and connect with it, the more sincere you will be, the more excited and enthousiastic you will be, and the easier it will be for you to perform your ibadat in Shaa Allah.

10) Too much information can be poisonous. If ,like me, you got into a habit of watching lectures and videos of speakers this Ramadan, then breaking news: it might get confusing. I don't want you to feel lost and confused. Allahima barik the resources are countless and limitless. But also, you have to beware whom you listen to. There are different sects, different perspectives, different rulings on certain things. So, try not take things blindly. Take them with a pinch of salt and always try to do a background check. And eventually, when it gets too much, always choose what's best for your heart, because we are created with an innate sense of "right" , our fitrah is sane, Alhamdulillah. So, try to be critical. Allah swt even recommends that.

I hope this post can be beneficial. Tell me which part you related to the most, and if you have any extra tips, please share. May Allah swt accept our deeds and grant us forgiveness, amen. ��

#ramadan thoughts #tips #ramadan experience #islam #رمضان١٤٤٢ #شهر رمضان #رمضانيات #sabr #muslims on tumblr #muslims #Allah

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ginazmemeoir · 3 years ago

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IT. IS. STORY. TIME.

and here you go with one of my favorite stories, ever.

tagging @dragonfairy1231 @mango-pickle @momo-all-the-way @the-fault-in-our-inquilab @aadyeah @holding-infinity-and-a-book @weird-u-deactivated20210917 @carmen-riddle @the-actual @taareginn @rebelliousrochelle @catsandbooksandstuff

@ people who i forgot to tag sorry

I can feel his breath on my shoulder, his husky, sweet as honey voice whispering in my ear, “Come. Be my queen Shachi. Become the queen of the devas.” I can feel his fingers leaving marks on my arms as I struggle to break free of his grip. I somehow manage to rip free of his clutches, and turn to face him, my face flush with fury. Nahusha, the temporary King of the Devas, had just crossed a line. But he just looks at me, his gaze making me feel as if I am being stripped naked, and then turns around with a smirk, his robes and ostentatious amount of gold flowing after him.

I stomp back to my palace. Indra had always been an impulsive person, but murdering Trishiras was not an accident – it was a paramount sin to kill a god. And now he has merrily fled away, leaving me and the rest of the devas to deal with his mess. I was actually the one who had voted for Nahusha to rule us while Indra was in exile. He was the most exemplary human being, plus being the son-in-law of Mahadev carried some legitimacy as well. Initially he was a better king than Indra - and then followed the same power that had corrupted the minds of those before him. First, he replaced those favoured by Indra, primarily the Maruts, the gods of wind. Then he disrespected Brihaspati. And then he turned his gaze on me. I wasn’t his paramour or his fancy, indeed I was another object of power for him to seize. I was the one who decided who got the throne. And only the man I was married to could become the true king of the devas. I sit on my divan, ruminating thus, and ask an apsara to fetch some soma for me. As the cooling effects of the liquor wash over me, a plan begins to form in my head. A plan which required the assistance of some of my closest friends.

The following night, I invite Guru Brihaspati over. He looks at me with sympathy and then sits down. “Gurudev, Nahusha has grown to be a menace.” “I agree Your Majesty. The council’s decision has proven to be – disastrous, to put it politely.” He says, wrinkling his nose. “As you know, he has now set his sight on me. You might be familiar with the erotic letters and the incident in the Nandaka Gardens?” Brihaspati averts his gaze, his nostrils flaring in anger. “Don’t worry Gurudev,” I placate him, “for I have a strategy to get rid of him, forever.” Having gained Brihaspati’s attention, I describe my plan to him, his face changing from worry to glee. “Brilliant Devarani! I must admit, your political acumen is frightening.” He admits, his hands glossing over the letter I hand him. Smiling, I stamp it with my seal – an elephant with a flower in its trunk – and instruct him to deliver it to Nahusha.

Brihaspati leaves soon after supper, and as the servants dim the lights in my palace, I lay in my bed, restless in anticipation of what was to follow the next morning. The first rays of sunlight break into my room after what feels like an eternity, and with them arrives Usha, the goddess of dawn, and my dear friend. I get up and hug her, her warmth permeating my being and filling it with hope. Her fair skin and blonde hair are in strike contrast to my own dusky skin and jet-black locks. “Shachi, it has been far too long dear friend” Usha says, holding me at arm’s length. “I need your help Usha, and there’s not much time. Help me find Indra.” “Why what happened?” she asks, oblivious as always. “Seriously? Where are you?” I ask in disbelief. “Sorry, it’s just most sneaky activities are carried out at night and not at dawn. But enough about that, follow me!” she replies sheepishly, then grabs my arm, and we both jump out of the window. I use my powers to cushion our fall as we land on her gleaming gold chariot, drawn by red cows and we gallop away into the horizon. Usha travels at the speed of light, as she brings dawn all over the world, scanning the universe for any trace of Indra. The hours fly by, and Usha begins turning her chariot towards the heavens. “Shachi, there isn’t much time left, I have to go back and let Lord Surya take charge now.” I am about to ask her for just some more time, when my gaze lands on Manasarovar, Mahadev’s sacred lake. I ask Usha to land there, and we land on the surface of the frozen lake, dotted by the occasional lotus. Usha assumes her full form, her rosy glow warming the chilly air and wielding her bow and arrow. I inspect the lake, and feel drawn to a particular lotus. I reach it hesitantly, and then cut open its stalk. And there, in the stalk of a random lotus in the Manasarovar, I find the mighty Indra, cowering in its safety. “Indra, it’s me, Shachi,” I begin, when Indra cuts me off. “Please return beloved. I am not worthy of love or respect. I have killed a god. There’s still a long way for me to atone repentance for my sins.” My anger, which was simmering until then, threatens to boil over. “Repentance. So your own reputation is more important to you than your wife and your subjects?” Indra looks at me, his face stricken. “I have been enduring the harshest of tapas here for eons and you have the gall to…” “YOU LEFT US TO COWER IS WHAT YOU DID. You have already repented by slaying Vritra with your Vajra. What more do you want? Your subjects are suffering, Nahusha lords over us, and he’s hell bent on having me. I married you Indra, and that makes you the rightful Devaraja. Come home now.” I reply. Indra looks at me remorsefully, and says, “I cannot return until the previous king is dethroned Shachi.” “Technically, you can’t take the throne while another king sits on it. But you can indeed return back to Swarga. And if I know Nahusha, my plan should be bearing fruit as we speak.” I interrupt him. “What plan?” asks Usha. “You will see. Now we must hasten Usha, for the wedding of all time.”

I return back to my palace just in time. I hide Indra in the gardens, and then ask my maids and apsaras to ready me. They bedeck me in the finest of fabrics woven out of air and mist, and celestial gold infused with Usha’s energy. Parijata flowers are braided into my hair, and I then wait at my palace gates atop Airavata, Indra’s elephant.

Brihaspati has executed my plan flawlessly. The streets of Amaravati are lined with numerous devis and devatas, apsaras and gandharvas, celebrating the marriage of their king to me. Nahusha rides atop an open palanquin, carried by none other than – the Saptarishis, the seven revered sages. I had told him to approach my palace atop a palanquin carried by the Saptarishis, and the naïve fool had agreed.

I can see the excitement on his face, alternating between his anger at the sages for their slow speed. Agastya’s short stature makes matters worse for the other rishis, resulting in the palanquin tilting towards one side. Some more time passed, and then Nahusha lost his cool. He kicks Agastya on his back, and his shout carries throughout the assembly - “MOVE STUPID OLD CRONE YOU WALK AS SLOW AS A LIZARD!” Everybody stands shocked. The sounds of trumpets and drums and veenas cease, while everybody else is mortified at the disrespect done to a Saptarishi. Agastya’s eyes however, blaze with fury. He slams the palanquin down on the ground, and then turns to face Nahusha, his anger making him seem larger than his height. “Listen, O vain descendant of Chandravansh, false king of the devas! I curse you to return back to earth,” roars Agastya, looking at Nahusha with a sly smile, “and spend the rest of your days as a lowly lizard yourself.” The lizard part was a fun addition, but I was indeed counting on Nahusha’s banishment. Agastya’s curse quickly shows its effect, and where once stood a king, now lay a lizard, quickly scampering its way out of Agastya’s legs, who tries to stomp on him.

I beckon Usha to retrieve Indra, who is brought before us in the same dishevelled state I found him in. And then, I begin. “Here you see Devaraja Indra, your true king. Slayer of Vritra, wielder of the mighty Vajra, absolved of all sins. Bow to your king, my loyal subjects, and bow to your queen!”

#story time #indra #shachi #indrani #indra and shachi #hinduism #hindu mythology #mythology #vasu

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quasitsqueeries · 3 years ago

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Love letters to clerics

I know I know, everyone loves clerics, they’re great. But I want to talk about why I love clerics. The first thing is their versatility, not the kind of versatility where you can heal and then cast spiritual weapon and then get stuck in with a mace that you see talked about on the internet. More the kind of versatility where every divine domain brings a different playstyle and a different feel to combat. I’m going to do a set of posts about several of the domains and try to figure out what kind of play their rules support. A lot of cleric features support role play more than combat, particularly with the knowledge and trickery domains. I’ll avoid talking about those because I think their applications are pretty self-explanatory. First, though, I want to talk about some general principles of running clerics in combat.

So, some clerics get martial weapon proficiency and some don’t, and all of them get a feature at level eight that adds their spellcasting modifier to their cantrip damage (potent spellcasting), or adds some in-theme damage to their weapon attacks (divine strikes). Tasha’s, in its theme of letting players build the characters they want to play without penalising them (which is a good thing) adds a feature, blessed strikes, which can replace these two features and just adds radiant damage to cantrips and weapon attacks once per turn. Divine strikes and potent spellcasting are a little more effective than blessed strikes, but blessed strikes is definitely a good option if you don’t want to play your cleric the way the rules suggest. I just appreciate that potent spellcasting encourages some clerics to focus on cantrips to do damage, while divine strikes and martial weapon proficiency encourages others to take maybe a warhammer or a heavy crossbow. Some divine domains get divine strikes without martial weapon proficiency, and they can still do a pretty respectable amount of damage with a light crossbow. The other fun thing about cleric cantrips is that sacred flame, word of radiance and toll the dead don’t make ranged spell attacks, they impose saves, so they’re just as effective in melee range as at a distance. You don’t need a mace to get stuck in, you can do that job with your cantrips.

Other than healing, the thing clerics really excel at is buffing and debuffing. The spells that do this are some of my favourites and clerics can select from a long list of these including aid, bless, bane, enhance ability and hold person, some clerics get faerie fire or heroism too. Focusing on using these spells will mean that you’re not doing massive amounts of damage, but it’s a really wonderful feeling casting spells that make your allies stronger or your enemies weaker to turn the tide of battle in your party’s favour. Casting a spell that gives several of your allies advantage makes them feel good about themselves, and they’ll appreciate you for it. Of course many of these spells require concentration, which can complicate things. If you want to cast a lot of buff and debuff spells, you’ll also want to try to avoid getting hit too much, so it could be worth building your cleric for ranged combat rather than melee. A bow or crossbow, or a cantrip like sacred flame or toll the dead, can be really useful here. You’ll still get hit sometimes, but at least your job won’t be getting into melee and soaking up all the damage.

If you are keen to combine buffing and debuffing with a melee role there are a few spells that allow this without requiring concentration, such as aid, blindness/deafness, warding bond and heroes feast, most of these need to be prepared before a fight breaks out, but they tend to provide long lasting powerful effects. You could also just try to make yourself really good at concentration checks by taking the tough feat to boost your constitution and give yourself proficiency in con saves, followed by the eldritch adept feat allowing you to take the eldritch mind warlock invocation to give you advantage on concentration checks. There are celestial warlock patrons, maybe an angel or the patron saint of paying attention is helping you concentrate on your spells.

The other thing I love about clerics is running a character who is dedicated to something bigger than them. A strong sense of duty can be really interesting from a role playing perspective as your character tries to work through what their duty requires of them, and how to square that with the needs of the party. All classes can be played this way but clerics (and paladins) have this built in with their dedication to a god. It also helps that clerics’ abilities are channelled directly from their deity. I want to try to write something about playing a religious character because it’s something I’ve often seen people struggle with or just avoid, and I think that’s a shame because faith and religion in RPGs have so much role playing potential.

Anyway that’s in general why I love clerics, tomorrow I’ll start writing about why I love particular domains.

#dnd #dnd stuff #ttrpg #cleric #dungeons and dragons

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blossom-hwa · 4 years ago

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Danger: Crown |2| - JUYEON

Pairing: Juyeon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au

Triggers: death, semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 4.3k

Lesson 7: allies can be found in unlikely places.

Previous: Onyx >> Crown: Part 1 | Part 2 >> Next: Stalemate

TBZ Masterlist | Danger | Kingdom

[ Taglist will be reblogged! Send a dm or an ask to be added! ]

Younghoon isn’t lying. The pull of magic only grows stronger as he leads them through winding tunnels, never once braving a reveal on the surface. As wary as Juyeon feels of the Ivory king, he has to admire the sharp ease with which he traverses the underground. Even after so many years in his own palace, he still sometimes needs a guide. Like when he first left.

When they stop, the tug of the stone is so powerful that Juyeon physically has to root himself in place as Younghoon turns around to speak. “There will be two guards in this hallway,” he says lowly. “Somin has them there at all times to watch over the crown jewels. Be ready.”

Juyeon nods, impatient. “Fine.”

“One more thing.” Younghoon doesn’t budge. “Haknyeon leaves now.”

“No.” Juyeon grits his teeth. “Absolutely –”

“I’m unarmed,” Younghoon snaps. “Even if I had a weapon, I’m far less skilled than you at swordplay and you could pin me down in less than a second. And if I remember correctly, you have a mage on your side, and Kevin is a very good shot with a knife.” He fixes Juyeon with his gaze. “If we are caught somehow, Haknyeon cannot be part of this. I can talk my way out of trouble and I have status as king. Somin still needs me, however much she may hate it. But she doesn’t need him nearly as much. He is preferable, but any other citizen could take his place if he... disappeared.”

Which means, if Somin finds Haknyeon with them, he’s dead. Juyeon swallows.

Younghoon’s eyes turn pleading, though a fire burns in them that Juyeon knows he can’t douse. “Haknyeon leaves now.”

He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like having to put his trust in a king he barely knows, doesn’t like having to let Haknyeon go and lose half of the leverage he has over Younghoon.

But Younghoon only has concern for his friend. There are no secret messages passing between them, no subtle eye contact or hand movements that Juyeon can decipher. Younghoon’s eyes remain fixed on Juyeon’s. He doesn’t move.

Juyeon nods sharply, turning to Kevin. “Let him go.”

The knife leaves Haknyeon’s neck. He steps forward, almost, but a warning gaze from Younghoon stops him. The servant swallows, looking supremely unhappy with this, but starts backing away in a soft swish of robes. Then he turns around, but only to hand Kevin his lantern. “You’ll need this more than I will,” he says before disappearing into the darkness.

Younghoon’s already pushing open the door by the time Juyeon turns back, peering out for any sign of life. “Two guards,” he whispers. “Take them by surprise.”

Juyeon slips into the hall and lunges.

The guards are too late. They shout, which makes Juyeon wince – great, now people might hear them – but with a clanging of metal and several well-placed hits on the head between him and Kevin, the guards fall to the floor. Jacob nudges them with his feet when he passes by. They don’t stir.

“Hurry,” Younghoon hisses, running down the hall. “People are going to come soon.”

He’s right. As Juyeon sprints after the king, he hears voices beginning to grow in volume. Several cries have just sounded when Younghoon comes to a stop in front of an unassuming wall. “Here.”

Juyeon almost rips Changmin’s insignia off his neck with one hand as he shifts the other over the wall, looking for a groove, a panel, anything to signal a door hidden in the stone. It isn’t exactly the same as the store of jewels at home, but a piece of the wall finally gives way under his touch, producing a small keyhole. He shoves the insignia inside and twists.

For one heart stopping second, nothing happens. Juyeon’s hands are slick with sweat as he grips the tiny gold symbol between his fingers, hoping, praying –

A click sounds. The wall shifts open.

Jacob stumbles inside, followed by Kevin and Younghoon. Juyeon takes one moment to pull the insignia out of the lock before slipping into a room full of gold and gems sparkling in the light of the lamp in Kevin’s hand.

The wall slides shut, cutting off the shouts in the hall behind them. Juyeon gasps for breath, trembling fingers returning the insignia to its rightful place around his neck as he surveys the glittering walls.

His breath catches in his throat.

There, in the middle of the room, stands a glass case. A silver crown, curiously empty of jewels, shines in its depths, lantern light glinting off the metal to illuminate the black stone lying next to it.

That’s his gem.

And that’s his crown.

Jacob places his hands on the case, closing his eyes as they roam over the glass. “Ten spells,” he says.

Younghoon nods. “One for each of her mages.”

Juyeon clenches his jaw. “Can you break them?”

“Yes.” Jacob opens his eyes. “But I need time. Every spell I break will only make the mages aware that someone is tampering. And…” He swallows. “Some will require my fire.”

A stone drops in Juyeon’s stomach. A mage’s fire is sacred. It’s up to Jacob whether or not he can use it – Juyeon doesn’t know enough about magic to make that decision – but if Jacob rules it as desecration…

Kevin steps forward, placing a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “Do what you think is right,” he murmurs.

“And hurry about it,” Younghoon adds, eyebrows furrowed. “They’re coming.”

The urge to snap at the king grows, but he’s right. They’ll be secure in here as long as Somin doesn’t come running with her key, but who knows when that’ll happen? Shouts were sounding when they entered the room – someone will sound the alarm soon if they haven’t already.

Jacob closes his eyes. Takes a breath. Opens them.

He looks at Juyeon and nods sharply. “Give me as much time as you can.”

Juyeon allows a grim smile to cross his face as he unsheathes his sword. “Of course.”

. . . . .

If dousing a fire is like cutting threads, breaking a spell is like snapping branches in half. There’s a delicacy to it, knowing where to place pressure so the wood will split most easily, but a large part of it is brute force as well, much more than when he was choking the life out of Mage Jung’s flame.

Sweat rolls into Jacob’s eyes as the first spell breaks, then the second, and then the third. They were the easiest, the simplest. They required none of his fire.

Heat bubbles beneath his skin as he focuses on the next. His hands weave patterns along the glass case, grabbing tendrils of invisible magic that shimmer slightly in the air, infusing them with the energy that flows out of his veins. A fourth snap, then a fifth.

He’s overheating. Too much magic. Jacob doesn’t need to see the red tint of his skin to feel the uncomfortable warmth beginning to spread through his body, especially not when Kevin hisses just from standing a little too close.

But he’s only halfway through. And as much as his head feels like it’s about to split in half with how much magic his hands have directed into the shimmering spells surrounding the crown, he can’t give up. Not now, not when they’re so damn close.

The sixth spell snaps. Jacob’s throat grows raw with blistering heat. It burns his insides now, painful warmth crawling through his veins with the magic that bursts from his hands. Only unlike the magic, the heat has no way to escape.

Seven. Even with the roaring of blood in his ears, Jacob dimly hears loud yelling outside the room. Eyes blurred with sweat take in Juyeon standing in front of the wall, sword at the ready.

Give me as much time as you can.

There isn’t much left.

His skin might actually be smoking. He can’t tell. Jacob draws on the dredges of magic hidden deep within his blood, sends it flowing out of the tips of his fingers. The eighth spell bends under his onslaught.

But it doesn’t break.

A stone drops in Jacob’s stomach. He’s reached his breaking point. There’s only one way he can complete this job and it means using his fire.

Anxiety wraps around Jacob’s arms, freezing them in place even though no more magic flows.

A mage’s flame is sacred, the rawest form of power they hold. It is the most powerful and most dangerous form of magic possible, which is why there are strict rules regarding its usage. One of the first things a mage in training learns is how to control it.

Control isn’t a problem for Jacob. That came almost as easily as breathing.

Letting it go, however…

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. Air warm with the heat of his magic blisters his throat further and he chokes, almost falling against the glass. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Younghoon look over with concern, but he can’t register it.

Another breath comes in, slightly cooler this time. Jacob steadies himself on shaky feet. He’s only ever let go of his flame once in a situation that wasn’t meant for practice. He can do it, he knows. But is it a desecration of his magic? Will using his fire in this one instance upset the balance of the Board further?

Will he prove himself the same as his former teacher and current traitor to the orders, High Mage Jung?

A loud yell pierces Jacob’s ears, barely muffled by the wall. His head snaps up as Juyeon stiffens by the wall, hand clenched around his sword. Next to him, Kevin readies a blade.

No time.

Jacob closes his eyes. High Mage Jung proved he was unworthy of magic when he used his flame to aid Somin’s agenda. Jacob is not the same. He has used his magic time and time again only to maintain the balance.

Releasing his flame will be no different.

Taking a breath, Jacob unclenches a fist, one he didn’t even know he’d made. He calls on the stirrings in his heart, warmth and pain and power. Even more heat begins to fill his veins.

Slowly, slowly, a tendril of orange fire wisps out of his palm. It curls around a section of the tenuous spell wrapped around the glass case.

Sweat dripping into his eyes, Jacob snaps his fist closed.

The spell breaks.

A tiny, tiny smile makes its way onto Jacob’s lips.

Two more to go.

. . . . .

When a ragged gasp cuts through the uncomfortably warm air, Juyeon’s attention turns from the wall where the door is hidden. Either Jacob has managed to break through all ten spells or he’s failed and they’re all about to be trampled under the feet of Somin’s soldiers.

He whips around just in time to see Jacob shove himself against the crown’s case with the last strength in his limbs. Glass shatters on the ground.

Juyeon lunges, catching the mage before he drops onto a bed of glass shards. They poke through his clothes and Juyeon grits his teeth as a few cut into his flesh, but he manages to lift Jacob up slightly, hands burning against the mage’s skin before he deposits him on empty ground, groaning.

Glass crunches under Kevin’s feet as he scoops up the fallen crown and the onyx jewel. They glitter in the sputtering light of the lantern as he places them in Juyeon’s hands, metal and stone cool against his burning skin.

Disbelief fills Juyeon’s throat as he stares down at the two objects. They’ve done it. They have all the stones and the crown. They have everything they need to put the Juyeon’s crown back together, but it doesn’t feel real.

Queens. They’ve somehow done it. Now they just need to get out.

Easier said than done.

“Jacob.” Juyeon kneels next to the prone mage, whose eyes have just begun to flutter open from when they lay closed before. “Jacob, can you shift us out of here?”

Jacob sits up with a pained grunt and wiggles his fingers slightly. His face is still flushed red with magic overuse, and Juyeon isn’t surprised when his hand falls and he shakes his head. “Can’t get us far,” he croaks. “Not enough magic. Just…” He swallows. “Just have enough to disappear the crown and stone for now. I’ll get them back later.”

Wordlessly, Juyeon hands over the jewels. As Jacob spins them into nothing, he tries to think of other options. There are no tunnels in this room, no way to escape unnoticed. If they leave, a group of guards stands ready outside to cut them all down. There’s no option other than to wait for Jacob to recover enough to shift them out, but that requires time.

Time they might not have, if Somin comes rushing in with her own key.

“Use me as a hostage.”

Juyeon turns to Younghoon, eyebrows furrowed. “What –”

“Use me as a hostage,” he repeats. “If you say that you’ll kill me the second anyone tries anything, they won’t have a choice but to let you go. Soldiers won’t risk hurting their king.” His jaw clenches. “You know that.”

He does. He knows it very well. Knights are loyal to their kingdom – it’s part of their training and an aspect that the orders evaluate when deciding to ordain a new soldier. But –

“What if Somin comes?”

The ghost of a dispassionate smirk flits across Younghoon’s face. “She needs me more than she likes to pretend,” he says. “If you play your pieces right, she won’t do anything, either.”

It might work. It just might work. If they can get to the tunnel, if enough of Jacob’s magic has returned to shift them away (or, at the very least, he has the strength to run), they might be able to make it out. Juyeon turns to the mage, who’s being forced into drinking water by a belligerently caring Kevin. “Jacob, can you stand? How long will it take your magic to return?”

Some of the red flush has faded from Jacob’s face, which is promising. When Kevin helps him up, he still leans most of his weight on his cousin, but he looks marginally better as he steps carefully around shattered glass. “Give or take some minutes,” he rasps. “I’m not sure.”

Not the answer Juyeon would like, but he doesn’t have a lot of options left. It’ll have to be enough.

Wordlessly, Kevin hands over a knife. Juyeon twirls it around in his fingers, raising an eyebrow at Younghoon. “All right then.” He grabs the king, placing the blade under his chin. “Let’s go, hostage.”

. . . . .

Juyeon fends off exactly one soldier after Kevin slides the door open. They’re extraordinarily well-trained, he muses, staring into the throng. Not a single one moves a muscle once it becomes clear their king is at Juyeon’s mercy.

“I have your king,” he says coldly. His voice doesn’t betray the shake of his fingers as he keeps the knife pressed against Younghoon’s neck. “If one of you so much as touches any of us, I will have him killed.”

One of them, obviously the woman in charge, grits her teeth. For a moment, she stares back at Juyeon, ivory uniform a contrast to his black clothes stained with blood. Will he have to fight?

Then she lowers her sword. Steps aside.

Juyeon walks forward in the silence, knife clenched between white knuckles. Two sets of footsteps and soft gasps for breath reassure him that Kevin and Jacob aren’t far behind. Younghoon walks carefully, slowly, as Juyeon’s arm pins him to his side.

They make it to the end of the hall. Juyeon turns, heading for the tunnel.

And comes face to face with the woman he’d hoped to leave behind at the sword fighting arena.

Feral anger flashes in Somin’s eyes, even as her lips curve into a sweet smile. “So nice to see you here, Juyeon.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Juyeon replies, unconsciously pressing the blade a little further into Younghoon’s neck. “Would you be so kind as to let us pass?”

A sliver of sharp metal glints in Somin’s hand, twisting and twirling between deft fingers. “I’m afraid my answer is no.” She grins. “Though perhaps you’d be so kind as to stay still while I kill you on my palace floors.”

Juyeon scoffs. “Your palace floors,” he mocks. “You say that as if you didn’t order your family killed and aren’t controlling every person around you with someone they love.”

“Finders keepers,” Somin sings, stepping closer. “I fought my way to the throne and the Board ordained me. You, on the other hand…” Her gaze shifts to the side, eyes turning sharp and flinty. “You aren’t king just yet, are you?”

“Maybe not.” Juyeon allows a barbed smile to spread across his face, infusing it with every bit of loathing he’s ever felt for Somin. “But you won’t have your own king much longer if you don’t step aside.”

She sneers. “Why do I need a king? Can’t a queen rule on her own, with or without a useless king by her side?” She leans forward, white skirts swishing ominously against the ground. “If you hadn’t noticed, I am creating a new country, one united across the Board. Who says I need a king in this new world, hm?”

“You destroyed any chance at unity when you stole my crown,” Juyeon snarls. “My people will remember your actions, regardless of whether or not I live.”

Somin waves an infuriating hand. “What does that matter when I will crush them where they stand?” She steps forward again. “And speaking of the crown…” Her smile disappears, replaced with barely-repressed fury. “Where is it?”

A real spark of satisfaction races up Juyeon’s spine. His own grin isn’t faked anymore. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“You will tell me,” she snarls, raising her knife. “You will tell me, or you can say goodbye to your life right here and now.”

“Touch me and Younghoon gets it too.” Juyeon tightens his grasp on the king, who doesn’t even so much as twitch a muscle. He has to admire his ability to remain calm. “I thought you were smart enough to know this?”

“What part of I don’t need a king do you not understand –”

Younghoon’s voice cuts through Somin’s tirade. “Liar.”

The hallway falls silent. Even Somin stops speaking.

“Liar,” he repeats, an ease in his one word that belies the knife pressed under his chin. “You need me, Somin. You know you do.”

“Oh, really?” Somin laughs, wild, nearly hysterical. “Really, Younghoon? You want to tell me that I need you when you are about as useless as a fly stuck on the wall?”

“This fly on the wall is half the reason your popularity among the common pawns hasn’t fallen to the negatives,” Younghoon snaps. “If you didn’t need me at all, why would you threaten me with Haknyeon? Why would you even bother to make a pretense of keeping me under control if you truly had no use for me?” His smile turns sharp, grim. “You need a king, whether you like it or not. Not simply because you are a queen and it is tradition. You need me because you are an unpopular queen who cannot inspire loyalty among her own people. I dare say that Juyeon’s sister might not need a king by her side, but of course, you are no Jisoo.” He smiles. “You are not your sibling, either.”

Juyeon almost wants to clap. He settles for loosening his grip on Younghoon’s arm. Behind him, he hears Kevin whispering a very low “wow” under his breath.

Somin snarls, an ugly flush rising in her cheeks. “If you don’t stop speaking right now, I will –”

“What will you do?” Younghoon interrupts. “Kill him? Haknyeon?”

Dead silence reigns.

“You won’t.” A sharp smile flashes on Younghoon’s face. “Kill him and you lose your only leverage over me. Kill him and you have no other way to control me. There is no one left that I love, not friends, not family. Choosing a citizen at random for execution would lower your popularity even more, and most of them would not believe it if you told them it was under my orders. They know me better and like me better.” An empty smirk crosses his lips. “I believe we are at a stalemate, Your Majesty.”

There’s no warning before the knife goes flying through the air. Only the raising of Somin’s hand, a flash of silver, Juyeon’s eyes widening as it whips past him and towards his friends –

A clang of metal sounds, and Somin’s blade falls to the floor. Juyeon looks back just slightly to see Kevin holding a knife of his own, a trickle of blood running down his hand. “You’ll have to be faster than that,” he says, the curve of his lips mimicking the blade between his fingers.

Somin’s chest heaves. Juyeon smiles. “So will you let us pass?” he asks sweetly, ingraining his words with as much artificial sugar as he can muster. “Your Most Excellent Majesty?”

Silence. A low sound of feral anger.

Then she steps aside.

. . . . .

It takes long, too long to walk down the two halls left to get to the tunnel Younghoon took them through the first time. Especially with Somin’s eyes following every step they take.

But they finally descend into darkness, Juyeon removing the knife from Younghoon’s neck to slam the door shut behind them.

Shouts immediately sound as soon as the tunnel descends into darkness. Footsteps pound outside and Juyeon holds tight to the handle, keeping it shut as Jacob shakily crafts a new door in thin air. Five heart-stopping seconds pass before it’s finished and even then it doesn’t look too stable, parts of the wood frame flickering in and out of existence, but finally Kevin’s holding the door open for Jacob and they’re both stepping to the other side.

“Go,” Younghoon says, taking the handle from Juyeon even as the door begins to shake with the force of those pounding on it. “You need to leave.”

Juyeon nods, stepping towards the door still set in air. Then he turns back. “You could come with us.”

A flash of hope flits across Younghoon’s face, but it leaves as soon as it appears. “No.” He shakes his head. “I would only be a hindrance. I can’t fight very well, and I have no magic. Besides, I have people to protect here. Haknyeon. My kingdom. At least with my status, I can try to minimize some of the damage Somin causes.”

If Juyeon was in the same position as Younghoon, he’d probably do the same. It doesn’t stop him from wanting to take the Ivory king with them, though, if only to have another person safely out of Somin’s clutches. But he nods. “You’re a good king, Younghoon.”

Younghoon smiles. “I hope to say the same thing to you soon, Juyeon, when you are no longer a prince.” His expression turns grim. “Now go. Don’t waste any more time.”

Juyeon steps through the open door with relief and terror shuddering through his veins. The door shimmers into nothing the second he topples onto green grass barely visible in the early morning light.

“Queens,” he mutters, rolling over to face the sky. “Queens.”

Kevin groans next to him. “You can say that again.”

A small swish sounds in the air, and then something tumbles to the ground with a clang. Juyeon sits up, barely in time to catch the crown and onyx stone before they roll past him.

Jacob pulls himself half up. His skin still radiates heat, even this long after he finished breaking the spells, but his eyes look clearer than when they left. “We did it.” He coughs. “We have everything.”

They do. They have the crown and all five stones, four sewn into Jacob’s cloak, the last in Juyeon’s hand. After months of no sleep, pain, death, and endless running, they have everything they need to put Juyeon’s crown back together.

He can barely believe it.

“Do you have the energy to fuse the gems back?” Kevin asks, looking at Jacob with concern obvious even in the dark.

The mage shakes his head, coughing again. “Not now,” he replies. “I need… we need to get somewhere we can rest. Putting the jewels back might require more magic than I even have. There’s a reason Somin had to get the most powerful mages on her side to dismantle it.”

“That’s fine,” Juyeon says. “As long as you can shift us back, Taemin and Sunmi and some of the other mages will be able to help us. We’ll take short trips so you aren’t too drained, Jacob.” He smiles, really smiles. “We have a bit more time, now.”

Jacob returns the smile, sitting up with Kevin’s help. “We do,” he says, the sparkle in his eyes radiating real joy for the first time since he found them back in the woods so many months ago. “We do.”

For a moment, they all sit in silence, sleepily resting under the early morning light. Then Kevin stirs. “We should move,” he reminds them, smile disappearing slightly. “Put as much distance between us and the palace before we actually take a rest.”

“Right.” Jacob stands shakily, hands poised to form a new door. “Where to?”

“As far as you think your magic can hold,” Juyeon says. “We’ll take it from there.”

A door appears, shimmering white on the bed of grass. The pristine handle looks out of place in his bloody, grimy hands, fingers stained red and black, but the sight doesn’t bring Juyeon as much revulsion as it might have before. Because this time, the door doesn’t signal another leg of the journey. It doesn’t represent escape, doesn’t mean they’re running away.

Juyeon turns the handle, smiling a smile so wide it almost hurts.

It’s time to go home.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for everything to go right for once)

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presumenothing · 3 years ago

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we’re doing it to ourselves (or so the saying goes)

(AO3)

Jiang Cheng swears up a storm and a half when he shoves open the investigation room door the next morning to find someone already there.

The red ribbon hanging long down Wei Wuxian’s back blends in so seamlessly with the red thread strung all over the murderboard that it takes slamming his hand against the wall switch to shatter the sudden imagination of his brother’s photo up there with the rest of the clues, just another person they’d failed to save from this case.

Wei Wuxian gives a hiss of half-startled annoyance, blinking from the abrupt brightness, but it frankly serves him right for standing in the dark like a burglar with only the corridor emergency lights filtering in. Had he even been able to see anything? Even demonic cultivation doesn’t give you night vision, last he checked. “Good damn morning to you too, Jiang Cheng.”

“I’m not even going to ask how you got in here,” he replies, because at least half of what he knows about breaking into places he’d learned after Wei Wuxian taught himself how to one boring rainy day in high school. “Tell me all this has nothing to do with you.”

He doesn’t specify what this is, because there’s no need to. Wei Wuxian hasn’t moved from his frozen stance in front of the board of clues, crimson lines running between the serial murders like a bloody taunt, a web Jiang Cheng has stared at long enough over the past week that the afterimage feels burned into his eyelids.

There’s nothing of Wei Wuxian’s usual brash overconfidence in the answering shake of his head. “No. I meant it when I said I’d never go vigilante again, Jiang Cheng. And I haven’t. I’ll swear it again on anything you ask.”

In a different time, Wei Wuxian would already have sworn up and down that the heavens should strike him down right then if he’d lied, but maybe that’s exactly the problem – he had already been struck down once, in almost every way that mattered, and worst of all is how it makes Jiang Cheng more inclined to believe him now.

It’s still not quite enough, though. “Swear it on Jin Ling’s life.”

He doesn’t need to see Wei Wuxian’s expression to know he’s not happy about that. Which doesn’t matter, because neither of them are; the space Jin Ling occupies among them has been almost sacred especially after they’d nearly lost Yanli-jie, but it’s also exactly why Jiang Cheng is asking him to swear on this. He can’t accept anything less.

Wei Wuxian has to know that, too, because he doesn’t argue, only says, “I swear on Jin Ling’s life that I don’t have any direct involvement with this case.”

Jiang Cheng raises an eyebrow and pointedly does not look relieved. “‘Direct’?”

“Duh.” Wei Wuxian gestures, wide and too-careless, at the grotesque web on the wall. “You’ve got a copycat killer, and a surprisingly thorough one at that. I’d be surprised if the original Yiling Patriarch isn’t tied to this somehow.”

“Careful, they might not be able to see your ego from space,” Jiang Cheng bites right back, even though he’s been thinking the same for probably about as long as Lan Wangji has, for all that they hadn’t acknowledged it aloud until the day before yesterday. “How the hell did you even find out about this?”

“Wen Qing did most of the autopsies, didn’t she?” Wei Wuxian answers, pretty much as he’d been expecting. “And before you think about going to yell at her, she didn’t actually reveal any case details to me, just that you and Lan Zhan were investigating something that I might be interested in. Also that she might snap and add one or both of you to the body count if she has to mediate even one more argument between you two.”

How Wei Wuxian’s presence could possibly do anything except exacerbate that, Jiang Cheng has no idea, but it’s not like he can afford to alienate the best medical examiner they have across all the districts. (And he doesn’t want to, either; Wen Qing’s clear expertise had single-handedly silenced all of the brass who’d had issues with hiring a Wen, but there’s never any telling what might get them started up again.)

Still. “I wouldn’t call that mediating,” Jiang Cheng mutters.

Wei Wuxian laughs, because he still doesn’t have even half an ounce of self-preservation, even against someone who could and would immobilise people with just three well-placed needles. “Speaking of which, how much longer are you gonna lurk there, Lan Zhan? I thought the Gusu bureau had a rule against eavesdropping and all.”

Jiang Cheng gets a crick in his neck from how fast he turns, and sure enough – there’s Lan Wangji stepping out of shadows that had hidden him far too well for someone in so much white. (Even after having no choice but to work this case together with him Jiang Cheng still has absolutely no fucking idea how Lan Wangji keeps his clothes spotless even at crime scenes; he’s starting to suspect it’s some kind of cultivation-related trick designed specifically for this purpose.)

“Eavesdropping would require neither of you to be aware of my presence,” he says, like that isn’t just some bit of pedantry, and inclines his head. “Wei Ying. Jiang Wanyin.”

And that’s definitely intentional, putting his name last like Jiang Cheng cares what order Lan Wangji addresses people in. Which he really, really doesn’t, especially not before inhaling at least half the thermos of coffee that always resides in his backpack in avoidance of the acidic slop from the pantry machine.

Wei Wuxian smiles at Lan Wangji, because of course he does, but it’s strangely gratifying to note that he hasn’t put any effort in making it look convincing at all. “Well, Lan Zhan – do I need to swear my innocence in this case to you too?”

“Unnecessary. I believe you,” Lan Wangji says, bearing regal like he’s some monarch issuing a decree, and Jiang Cheng snorts. How easy for him to say that when Wei Wuxian hadn’t cost his bureau and family almost everything they’d been.

It doesn’t make the back of his throat taste any less bitter when Wei Wuxian’s expression warms a little at that, but at this point Jiang Cheng doesn’t think anything ever will. “Enough chitchat,” he snaps. “The paperwork?”

Lan Wangji retrieves a folder from his briefcase and slides it over to the centre of the table wordlessly, while Jiang Cheng crosses his arms and scowls at Wei Wuxian until it sinks through his stupidly thick skull that the paperwork is for him.

The answering groan, at least, is entirely sincere. “What the hell is that for? You know I hate paperwork, Jiang Cheng, I didn’t quit over it but I very well could have.”

Yes, he’s very aware of that, seeing as their weekly paperwork grudge-match marathons from before everything had gone to hell had been held in his office. “Just read and sign the damn thing, Wei Wuxian, it’s the only bloody reason I haven’t already arrested you for breaking into bureau offices ten minutes ago.”

And that has to be enough for Wei Wuxian to already know, because bureau policy hasn’t changed that much in the years since his defection except to get more annoyingly onerous, but still he looks surprised at the contents of the contract. “A civilian consultant?”

“You have a skillset that could be invaluable to resolving this case. It would be highly remiss not to bring you on board.” Lan Wangji still looks perfectly neutral, as far as Jiang Cheng can tell, but that’s more sarcasm-free words in a row than he’s ever heard from him since the start of this investigation. Possibly since their first acquaintance with each other.

“I wouldn’t call ‘being the prime suspect’ a skillset, exactly,” Wei Wuxian mutters, which is something Jiang Cheng can definitely agree with at least. Though the only reason this is possible at all is because there’d never been an official conviction in the original Yiling case, for a whole chaos of reasons including the public uproar in support of whoever had taken down Wen Ruohan and his cronies for good, and because they already had reasonable evidence to suggest Wei Wuxian’s non-involvement in this spate of murders.

The non-suspect in question is still flicking his way through the clauses of the contract, which Jiang Cheng would feel insulted by except he’d also gone through each and every one just as closely, taken his concerns to Yanli-jie who’d taken them to Jin Zixuan until they could be sure this arrangement wouldn’t jeopardise Wei Wuxian in any way.

He reaches the last page, and from the skip of his gaze Jiang Cheng knows instinctively what Wei Wuxian has to be looking at – the grid of signatures starting with his own and Lan Wangji’s as primary investigators of the case, dated clearly to two days before this conversation had even occurred, followed by Lan Xichen’s confirmation both as Lan Wangji’s superior and because Jiang Cheng can’t very well second his own recommendation even as the Yunmeng bureau chief, and finally a space for Wei Wuxian’s chickenscratch initials.

(It’s frankly mystifying, why someone who can draw talismans that flow like the finest art has never bothered with a more elegant signature, but it’s not a mystery Jiang Cheng cares to solve. Better that than the unmistakable signatures the Yiling Patriarch had left at his scenes, at any rate; even he has had nightmares about that.)

Jiang Cheng tosses him a pen, anything to break the sudden silence, and Wei Wuxian catches it without looking but of course doesn’t get right to signing, because that would be sensible. “What is this for, then? There are easier ways to keep an eye on me. Cheaper, too.”

“The forensic evidence is scant, and the culprit has done something to keep the victims’ souls beyond my ability to communicate with,” Lan Wangji answers without further prompting, which is probably more information than they should be giving out to a not-yet-contracted civilian but Jiang Cheng’s not the one with a stick up his ass about protocol in this room and anyway Wei Wuxian had already broken in here. “An alternative method might help.”

“Last I checked, no one likes the alternative when it means resurrecting th– ah,” Wei Wuxian cuts himself off with a flick of his gaze between them, and has the gall to look amused. “So the old coots are desperate enough by now that anything goes?”

“Not anything,” Jiang Cheng grates out, just to be clear. Wei Wuxian hadn’t been wrong; the investigation methods favoured by each bureau differ even just among the four major ones, but the dislike of the way Wei Wuxian had done things since somehow escaping being taken hostage by Wen Chao had been almost universal.

(There’d been a brief period when it seemed like things might work out after all, when Wei Wuxian had demonstrated how undeniably efficient demonic cultivation could be in comparison to their regular methods – even the Gusu musical techniques couldn’t beat speaking to the victim in the flesh, as it were. But then everything had gone to hell in a massive speeding handbasket and Wei Wuxian had been most of the one who’d sent it there.

Possibly Jiang Cheng is being monumentally idiotic in not assuming this time will turn out exactly the same way, but annoyingly enough Wei Wuxian is also correct in that they need this case solved, or everything might just go to chaos anyway.)

“I’m pretty much the definition of anything, I think,” Wei Wuxian retorts, which Jiang Cheng ignores like the obvious nonsense it is. “Don’t blame me if you lot regret this.”

“Pretty sure it’s already too late for that,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, swiping the thermos out from where he’d set his backpack down.

Lan Wangji can deal with filing that paperwork, if he’s just going to stand there in stoic satisfaction. Jiang Cheng needs his damn coffee.

#mdzs #mdzs fic #fanfiction #mine #long post #once again i blatantly plagiarise richard siken for a fic title #yes this was supposed to be the sort-of-pushing daisies au but things happened #/elaborate and unbothered shrug emoji

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dmedrrt · 3 years ago

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It's time to break the rules —

This bible verse wake me up and strike me a lot into my heart at talagang pinatunayan sakin na the world has so much high standard. Talagang araw araw meron satin ipapa-realize ang Lord that we will really never be fit in this world so don't try to become one.

Mark 2:23-28

One Sabbath day as Jesus was walking through some grainfields, his disciples began breaking off heads of grain to eat. But the Pharisees said to Jesus, "Look, why are they breaking the law by harvesting grain on the Sabbath?" Jesus said to them, "Haven't you ever read in the Scriptures what David did when he and his companions were hungry? He went into the house of God (during the days when Abiathar was high priest) and broke the law by eating the sacred loaves of bread that only the priests are allowed to eat. He also gave some to his companions." Then Jesus said to them, "The Sabbath was made to meet the needs of people, and not people to meet the requirements of the Sabbath. So the Son of Man is Lord, even over the Sabbath!"

We people love to follow the rules of the world pero hindi naman natin talaga napapansin na ganon yun because we are being blind by what we can just only see and that is the world. Hindi natin napapansin na sobra sobrang manipulations na yung ginagawa satin ng mundo just to follow their own paniniwala pero hindi natin pinapaniwalaan ang Lord kahit kapag sya yung mas dapat paniwalaan. We love to follow the requirements of this world kaya madalas sobra tayong nasasaktan. Si david they break the rules of the law which is the belief na kapag during sabbath day, only the pharisees are allowed to eat the sacred loaves. Jesus told them this remarkable line for me.

Mark 2:27-28 Then Jesus said to them, "The Sabbath was made to meet the needs of people, and not people to meet the requirements of the Sabbath. So the Son of Man is Lord, even over the Sabbath!"

Like mare feeling ko talaga gold ako nito haha kasi si Lord ang lumalapit sakin hindi na kailangan na ako. Yung tipong hindi na kailangan ma please ang iba bago pa lumapit sayo yung isang bagay na inaasam mo. Iba ang feeling talaga! Tayo talaga ay valuable and worthy lalong lalo na sa paningin ng Lord. Tayo ang papakinggan ng Lord, tayo yung kamahal mahal lagi sa paningin nya. Walang standard or requirements bago ka mapa sakanya. Magkaroon ka lang ng faith sa Lord and obey him yun lang. Imagine you are pleasing the whole world pero ang Lord gusto nya sya lang dapat ang i please mo then you will get that eternal life like sobrang wow.

Hopefully kayo din na strike kayo ng bible verse na ito. Mas kikiligin ka ng malala dito kesa sa jowa mo hehe. Goodmorning and may our day became blessed more.

04.23.22

#spiritual talks

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kkpaaw · 4 years ago

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Seashell Trolls

This is gonna be a. long post so be prepared.

First let me start off with the general. These guys came to my mind randomly yesterday and I just had to make them. So i did. I spent pretty much all day today working on these guys and whole they may look wierd, I love them and am really proud of how they look

So why make a sea based Troll species? Simple. It's because we have literally only one. The Techno Trolls. The ocean is vast and there are so many creatures to base Trolls off of in the ocean so I figured why not make a sea Troll species? We have a bunch of land trolls so let's add onto the sea ones ok? I know these guys may not look like trolls to some of yall but considering that this is basically an AU I'm not worried about that lmao

Anyway lemme stop rambling and introduce yall to the Seashell Trolls!

First thing I wanna show yall is this sheet I made

This basically goes over the important aspects of their anatomy and what makes them seashell trolls

ANATOMY

• Fisrt thing to note is that these guys are small. In fact they actually match Smidge in terms of height(and we all know how small Smidge is)

• Unlike smidge though(who has her strength and hair to make up for her small stature) Seashell Trolls have none of that. They are a pretty weak species and their shells, depending on the size, only add a little bit of height

• Speaking of shells, notice how the center focus Shell Troll has a small shell while the ones at the bottom have bigger ones? That's because there isn't just one size for shells not just one kind either, they can be any kind and any shape.

• Another thing to note is that they aren't actually born with the shells, Shellings(baby Seashell Trolls) seek them out when they hatch, like an instinct sort of thing.

• Because of this, in order to help the Shellings get a shell without going too far from safety. They have an area in their home that specifically has millions of Unused/Unclaimed shells that their parents can take their Shelling to claim a shell.

• Picking a shell isn't just some random thing for Seashell Trolls. It's a sacred one time thing as Shelling's only pick shells they feel bonds with, meaning that their shells mean a lot to them and they don't just swap out or get rid of the shells. They stick with them for life

• Another things to note is the antennae on the Seashell Trolls. They have two different types of Antennas, Prickly/Fuzzy and Coral.

BIOLOGY

• Jumping right to it they can spit water at others(think of a blowhole from a whale or a dolphin but with their mouths) it's not all that powerful it's mostly used as a way to distract a predator or just have fun

• Despite being very small, they are surprisingly fast and can be very tricky to catch if they aren't caught off guard

• They also are amazing trackers, as they can sense the heat trail that living beating emitting and therefore can track others long after they have dissapeared. They also often find all types of valuable items

• Seashell Trolls tend to come in all sorts of crazy colors with many having multiple colors on their bodies as shown below.

• In contrast their shells are usually dull in color. This helps them to blend into the sand if they need too.

• Bonding is something that Seashell trolls take seriously. You don't bond with someone(s) unless you plan to stay mates for life

• When a seashell troll is courting someone(s) they will usually start the courting process by breaking off a piece of their shell and giving it to their person of courting, usually by making a piece of jewelry with it. This is a sign that the troll is serious in their courtship as said above, Seashell trolls value their shells and never separate from them once chosen as a Shelling

• Seashell Trolls can mate with anyone of any gender, but in order to have a kid they would need a mate(or mates)

HOME AND GOVERNMENT

• Seashell Trolls live in groups all throughout the ocean(like shells) the biggest group(and the one I'm focusing on for any future drawings of this species) resides in a small underwater rocky coral reef close to the first level of the seafloor as they like to remain close to the sand incase they need to dig under it to protect themselves

• Due to being such a weak and small species, they actually heavily reli on bigger creatures(like crabs or lobsters) to offer protection from others predators(the kicker is that crabs and lobsters are common predators for them so they are basically seeking help from one of their predators)

• This has created a very unbalanced system for them however, as their protectors often require they work for them and do almost impossible tasks in the threat that if they don't, they won't offer their protection anymore

• This particular group is under the rule of Queen Urbosa, a large Lobster who has offered her protection in return that the Seashell trolls do whatever she says, in which they agreed.

• She's not a good one and often abuses the absolute hell out of her power which ends up going bad for the Seashell Trolls

• She's actually forbid them from singing and dancing outloud unless they are performing for her so if they want to sing they have to be quiet or be secret about it

MUSIC

• Please don't kill me, but I'm making their music genre Nightcore

I KNOW I KNOW, Nightcore isn't an actual official Genre because of the fact that it basically takes pre-existing music and just makes it high pitch and sped up, I'm well aware. However, it still is under EDM like Techno and since I imagine Shell Trolls having high pitched voices(with the exception of a rare few) it works for me

_____

ALRIGHTY

You still here? If so great! You've reached the end!

I truly hope you guys like them because I worked really hard on them and I'm super proud of how they came out(heck even if u don't I'm still happy with em). Do, very much do, expect to see more from the Seashell Trolls as I will be expanding on their universe and introduce you to some characters I'll be mainly focusing on (hint hint you've already seen them)

Bye bye for now!

#trolls 2 #dreamworks trolls #trolls world tour #kkpaaw #my art #trolls oc #trolls dreamworks #Seashell Trolls #i worked very hard on this #i worked too long on this #They are in the same universe as Bayou and Ehani #So they may meet them eventually along with the Techno(and possibly the other) Trolls

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mitsususu · 4 years ago

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Everybody wants to rule the world. In fic, Loki can always be counted on to help Steve and Bucky get together or stay together. Below are my Top 5 Favorite stories:

“Space Oddity” (M, 147k) by crinklefries, cyclamental art (cyclamental), nalonzoo

After the world ends, things happen to Bucky in this specific order: he helps defeat Thanos, he rejects Steve’s attempt to address Feelings, he watches Steve volunteer to put the Infinity Stones back in time, he waits for Steve to come back, he is sad when Steve does not come back, he realizes that everyone thinks Steve disappeared in 2012 (???), he gets taken to space by Carol Danvers (!!!), he meets up with a depressed literal alien Norse God, he and the depressed literal alien Norse God travel through space, he and the depressed literal alien Norse God hit a wormhole and fall into the--Multiverse.

What the fuck.

This is the story of how Bucky and Thor pick up the pieces of their lives, find their own worth, find their own person, and find their way out of a multiverse of 100 realities stitched together with 100 tropes. There’s love, there’s friendship, there’s an extreme amount of Tesseract fuckery, but most importantly there are sexy vampires. Bon Appetit.

+ Endgame Fix-It. Loki and Steve shatter the tesseract in 2012; Bucky and Thor go on a multiverse road trip to find them. Found family, self-acceptance, and the happiest ending.

-☆-

“Shake It Up” (T, 13k) by aurilly

Steve knows he shouldn't try to change anything while returning the Stones, but he can't help himself. A certain God of Chaos is willing to help.

Loki's in for a wild ride.

+ Endgame Fix-It. Steve and Bucky return the stones together. Along the way, they each end up enlisting Loki to help their 2012 versions

-☆-

“Not Another Alien Green Card Marriage” (T, 14k) by crinklefries

“Dearly beloved,” the tired-looking court magistrate said. “We are gathered here today to join this man and this, uh, Norse God in holy...matrimony.” * The bifrost is broken and Thor is stranded on Earth, working for SHIELD without any authorized documents. Loki gets way too drunk and regrettably horny one night and offers to marry the big, dumb superhero for a green card.

This turns out to be a mistake, because even though Thor is smoking hot, the Avengers keep breaking Manhattan, Loki’s apartment suffers an unfortunate setback, and the U.S. government requires way too much paperwork. Also, Loki hates his job and his best friend is in love with Captain America.

This would only happen to him. Loki would take a nap, if anyone would goddamn let him. Instead, he gets bangs.

+ Shrunkyclunks. Modern Bucky and Loki run into the Avengers over and over again. Madcap courting ensues

-☆-

“Bop, Bop, Bop: Bop To The Top” (T, 10k) by attackofthezee (noxlunate)

When Odinson shows up it’s with half the basketball team and a lot of noise that Loki absolutely did not consent to have in his creative space.

His senses are being assaulted.

“This is a sacred space,” He says and he can practically feel Bucky rolling his eyes behind him, but there are points to be made and Bucky’s judgement is not welcome here.

“It’s an auditorium,” Thor says like he doesn’t comprehend Loki’s point, which is fair, because he is, after all, very very dumb. All those hits to the head doing jock things like football and smashing beer cans against his skull really can’t be helping.

Aka a vaguely a High School Musical AU

+ Modern AU. Blonde jocks have been assigned to help with the spring play and theater kid Loki despairs. Bucky however, is delighted, and gets a date to the prom.

-☆-

"Big in Japan” (T, 6k) by gunboots

Steve hesitantly reaches out and takes the object in Tony’s arms to survey it. 'It' being a pillow upon which was an almost frighteningly accurate illustration of Loki, their on-and-off again nemesis. "I don't--how did you even get this? Who would MAKE this?"

Clearly Steve doesn't find the attention-to-detail on Loki's costume as hilarious as Tony does, which whatever. Like he said. Killjoy.

A.K.A The one time Tony buys Thor the world's worst souvenir and it somehow worked out in the end anyway.

+ Post WS. Dakimakura! Thor starts carrying around a body pillow with fanart printed on it. Loki founds out, and Bucky keeps the Steve pillows

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+ More Loki fics in the Space list

#stucky #stucky fic #fic rec #top 5 favs #crinklefries #cyclamental art #nalonzoo #aurilly #attackofthezee #gunboots

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kendrixtermina · 4 years ago

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The “Genocidal Edelgard” Shallowtake

I was not going to make a post about this because it’s most likely futile and not going to convince anyone nor do I believe in dinifying the purity police with attention, but maybe it will let some ppl know that they dont have to let themselves be shamed for liking the wrong video game character

Whatever might have been the case in the distant past when Nemesis was around, by the “present day” the Nabateans are not at all some commonly oppressed stereotyped minority - the setting is chock full of characters that fit that bill a lot better like Dedue or Cyril. Characters that are ordinary humans not magic dragons.

And even that is more founded on general purpose xenophobia than from the specific, relatively new early modernity construct of racism. (the dedue situation probably comes the closest)

Sure, Seteth and Flays have to hide from their old enemy the Agarthans, I see how some might find that relatable etc. but most of the population isn’t aware that they exist at all. They hold high status positions, are worshipped by the local religion and Rhea all but rules the entire continent (and says so herself to Byleth in that speech about how she was just “ruling this wayward country in your stead”, “you” being Sothis) - though that is mostly Rhea’s doing of which Seteth and Flayn are relatively innocent.

The interviews pretty much confirmed that the Nabateans constituted the local aristocracy and that many humans genuinely saw the Elites as liberators - though there was definitely also an element of ppl going around killing random Nabateans to gain superpowers, not to speak of Nemesis’ very obvious very unambiguous mass murder. Not wanting to be ruled over by foreign powers is understandable, though obviously killing them all down to the last civilian was just flat out evil - its certainly not a simple situation, we can all agtree Nemesis & the Agarthans were evil but there is no clear defined good guy.

There are historical conflicts you could compare this to, perhaps some conflicts in Africa or the middle eastwhere different groups took turns being the ruling class after the latest war, but it’s not at all like the modern USA or early modernity colonialism, and forcing every real or, in this case, imagined scenario inherently dependent of fantasy elements, into this one framework from the present or near past isn’t conductive to understanding at all.

And in the present day, by the time Edelgard is alive, we are talking about three specific people that she has good reason to dislike individually. Not any sort of group at all.

She calls Rhea a cruel beast because that’s all she’s ever seen Rhea to be. She’s the shadow tyrant who rules her world, who created the crappy world Edelgard grew up in. It’s no different Cubans thiking badly of the castros after suffering through famines - or, no need for such extreme examples really, ppl call their least favorite politicians monsters all the time.

She’s wrong to assume that Seteth & Flayn are wholly on board with this, but on the other hand, it’s not at all a far-fetched assumption to make: They hold high positions in the church though they ostensimbly just appreared out of nowhere one day. Do you have to be an evil bigot to assume that the brother and right hand man to the tyrannical god-queen is condoning & supporting her actions?

The truth is of course that underneath her pseudo-parental facade Rhea is sort of a scared girl, very lonely, very afraid, and ashamed, in a shallow, childish way, for “breaking the rules” just because they are rules. She says she can’t trust anyone, that she feels lonely & isolated... and while no one can blame her for distrusting humans after the slaughter of her people, but the reason she can’t trust Seteth is that she’s keeping her bad deeds secret from him. He wasn’t there the whole time, he just showed up a few decades earlier.

She sees herself only as filling out for Sothis and doesn’t quite grasp that she’s in charge, very much a follower personality bent on stasis & regularity.

Is Edelgard obliged to try & unravel the complex psychology of the tyrant who rules her home to correctly deduce why she would deceive even her own family? By all intents and purposes, Edelgard is the one getting rid of an oppressive government that doesn’t let ordinary humans let a say at all. A government where ppl of others faiths and nationalities are typically oppressed unless they work directly for the church.

It’s like having a disdain for, say, Ivanka Trump. She holds a high position in her father’s administration despite having no obvious qualifications, she appears to be profiting & making bank from her father’s atrocities, she certainly hasn’t done anything to stop him or disavow him the way that, say, her cousin Mary did - if you suffered under Trump’s regime you’d be very justified in assuming that Invanka is probably a bad person.

Flayn only looks young (She might not if we saw her in other clothes). I mean, Kronya could badly impersonate a schoolgirl. At the very least they’ve supported the regime by refusing to question their own side and they show some however benevolent belief that it is their duty to “guide” the people. Leaving her to the Agarthans is certainly questionable, but no more so than doing it with Rhea herself, under the assumption that she’s guilty and that it’s a sacrifice that will prevent larger chaos. The agarthans had their plan long before they created Edelgard as we know her, and she couldn’t stop their plots all on her own.

You could say that it’s callous, distasteful or a deal breaker - as the death knight is her direct subordinate & she makes a personal appearance in mask, I would argue that she definitely knew & sanctioned the kidnapping - but she’s no more callous towards Flayn than towards anybody else.

Of course, that doesn’t mean they’re evil, or that they deserve to die.... and Edelgard would agree with me. She doing all this to prevent death – flipping the lever on the trolley problem so it crushes one person instead of five so to speak. She always gives her enemies the chance to surrender, unwilling allies the chance to leave, and jails enemies whenever leaving them alive wouldn‘t lead to further death… even the ones she has the most personal reason to hate, like the PM.

As servants of the church who have chosed to back her enemies, she’ll certainly kill them if she has to, but not any more than any other enemy. At no point anywhere in the story does she say anything like that they need to die on principle. Nowhere at all. Indeed there is much evidence to the contrary.

The church paints her as being completely against the religion or even wanting to set herself up as a satanic godess cause it‘s good politics & they don‘t get what she‘s doing – to an extent her own credibility & messaging is compromised by her secretive and at times unscrupulous actions, no one said she was perfect. In truth all she wants is to have the church out of politics, you know, what we have in nearly every modern country outside the vatican and saudi arabia.

You can absolutely let Flayn & Seteth go on CF and there is no word, no fuss about it anywhere. No „make sure to kill em all“ which would certainly be there if the narrative wanted to portray Edelgard that way. It requires the mediation of Byleth as someone they would talk to & not immediately assume the worst of, but, they see the church as the embodymet of all that is good & fighting its enemies as their sacred duty so of course it wouldn‘t be possible for just anyone to talk them down. It‘s framed as Flayn letting Byleth go cause they saved her life once, even if we know from behind the screen that she wasn‘t going to survive a fight to the death against the player-controlled faction.

Heck, even when it comes to Rhea, the one most guilty that Edelgard has the most reason to loathe, she‘s ultimately surprisingly gracious. She gives her the option to surrender – and this is not a lie, she discusses this with Byleth in a lecture question, and seriously ponders the possibility. Here Byleth gets a range of options like „stab her in the back“ and „keep the church under imperial control“ but you know which one nets you the support points? „Strip her of her authority so she can‘t interfere in politics“. She wasn‘t gonna mess with the religious folks & their religion at all, just make it so it‘s separate from government. Rhea could even keep being pope, if she could be satisfied without having complete supreme authority (and ripping her precious artifact out of Byleth‘s chest) – even when she puts her down she‘s not 100% without pity, telling her that „Your duty is done“ (the translators mucked this up)

Couldn‘t be any further from „lets kill them all on principle“.

What really annoys me is how ppl go and twist everything Edelgard says out of context to ascribe a motive to her that just isn’t there.

Common examples:

„If you have Flayn or Seteth fight her she‘ll say they need to die because they‘re nabateans“

Actually what she says is this: „You are a child of the godess. You must not have power over the people!“ Not getting to be privileges rulers anymore =/= being opressed. Stay out of politics =/= Diediedie. Also, this is from the VW/SS boss fight, where they have literally come to get her in her own capital.

„Linhard & Leonie don‘t tell her & hubert about Indech, probably cause he expects that she‘ll go & kill him„

What he actually says is: „Lake Teutates is a place that concerns the saints of the Church of Seiros. It may become bothersome should the two of them find out...“

„It may be bothersome“ as in, „we might get in trouble“, for doing the possibly very inadvisable thing of waltzing into what could possibly be an enemy location to satisfy personal curiosity. If it‘s something related to her agenda she might take over and Linny wouldn‘t get to investigate as he pleases – at very most you might construe it as Linny fearing that they‘ll be accused of consorting with the enemy, but „bothersome“ suggest possible annoyance not imminent murder.

The whole scene ends with Linhard telling Byleth to fill her in later. Doesn‘t sound at all like he expects her to go back with a harpoon.

„She said Claude isn‘t fit to be a ruler cause he‘s a foreigner“

What she actually says: „I understand your ideals are not so far removed from my own. But without knowledge of Fodlan‘s history, I cannot entrust its rule to you“

Now without the additional contexts that Claude won‘t get until after the fight, it might easily feel a bit like the former with the raw spots he‘d have from his backstory, but what she means is that he‘s ignorant of the Agarthan threat – which he is. Edelgard is all for making peace with Almyra and sees fostering isolationism & prejudice as one of the many faults of the church.

Once Claude basically kills Edelgard for information, he winds up having to take care of the storm she had been holding back. But to his credit, he DID „finish the job“ and get the info. But he didn‘t have it at that point.

And I don‘t mean any of this in the least bit as a diss of Claude - He is the smartest character, so there would be no plot if he got easy access to the info. At this point, they both think they can probably do better, and more importantly, both their backstories have made them so that they won‘t let down their guard far enough to cooperate in this scenario.

That‘s also why the outcome in CF is contingent on Byleth‘s choice. - You‘d sort of have to trust that he will also act so as to minimize casualties.

Very disingenious since many players wouldn‘t necessarily trigger these dialogues.

I guess because Adrestia got a vaguely central-european aesthetic (partially; all the countries are hodgepodge mashups and there’s more than enough spanish or ancient roman vibes there) and central europe existed only for those 12 years of tyranny I guess, even though many other places have had similar BS happening, including the US that delights in making craptons of movies about their faraway victory because their governments haven’t added much of value to the planet as of late. -.-

Faerghus (vaguely french/ russian - not at all places where nothing bad happened ever) has actually annexed some territory from their northern neighbors in the recent past, not to speak of the whole Duscur atrocity - but no one seems to go around laying that at Dimitri’s feet, because it would be nonsensical - he was a child at the time and as an individual he is super against it and champions a policy of reconcilliation if he gets to rule. after all, there wouldn’t be much of a plot if the characters inherited three perfect faultless problem free countries.

Edelgard, too, is completely against the previous administration under Duke Aegir (which was in charge during the Bridgid war). She deposed him and is plotting to do the same with Arundel once she can politically afford to do so. For all that one can understand why she would chose the other path (depending on how much she knows about what Edelgard’s doing and why) it makes all the sense in the world for Petra to support her on CF or if not recruited, because again, she got rid of that previous administration.

#edelgard #edelgard von hresvelg #fe3h #fire emblem: three houses #fire emblem three houses

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hungryflowers · 4 years ago

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Sensing Lamentation

Title: Sensing Lamentation

Rating: General Audience

Fandom/Continuity: Balan Wonderworld

Character Relationship(s): Leo Craig/Balan

Character(s): Leo, Balan, Past Character (Unnamed), Lance (Only Mentioned)

A/N: I’ve been in a funk for quite awhile, so I decided to do this to hopefully make me feel better. 2020 was a rough year and these last few days have torn out my soul. I want to write this as a small means of healing myself. Also, I’m a slight out of practice with my writing craft, so if any errors, I apologize.

Other: This isn’t a ship! Regardless of what the ‘Character Relationship’ part says, keep in mind that Leo is fifteen years old and Balan is potentially eldritch aged. He’s seen all sides of humanity, so he gets it. He’s not attracted to the boy, nor will I write him to be. Just putting that out there before y’all get to thinking that he a ‘cradle robber’ who lures in heartbroken kids.

He was more than content with sitting in the whist, luminescent room. Parchment on one end, tar-like ink on the other, the Maestro had made a day for himself to just... create. A tune swirled in his mind, the musings of the melody playing on repeat as he etched time out of his day to put it to paper. The endeavor was not a failed one, yet it hardly yielded the desired results. Feather to temple, Balan stretched his elongated back. Sunlight had eluded him in the short time he sat. Eyes glanced for the nearest time telling device in the room; eight forty-five. He had been at the same table, staying finicky over the same paper for the same tune for nearly four hours. Not a new reaction, yet he was normally more productive. Sighing, he adjusted his wide-brimmed top hat as he moved around to restock, stock, or keep tabs on anything necessary for anymore acts.

The little tims peeped and scuttle along, following the maestro as if he’d been a pied piper. Playful eyes shimmered with glee as he picked up the few that straddled his lanky legs. Placing them on a crate, he kept at his inventory. They still peeped and chimed, more frequent and annoyed.

“None of that...” A quiescent quip from the maestro had them calmed. It seemed that have to find another opportunity to have Balan’s attention.

In the after math of busying himself with caring for little things, the maestro had failed to notice, or hear the subtle steps of a child passing by. The shock of hearing another breathing individual was enough to make him pause. Standing to his full height Balan went around looking for the soul whom had trespassed without him acknowledgement. He was quite forthcoming with introductions or having someone speaking to him before departing. It was in good manner to appear respectful to those around you.

The steps he had neglected to hear before ventured up the stairs to the next floor. Which was quite odd, as only guests that Balan himself invited, or staff that convened there, were allowed upstairs. He had to rectify this immediately. Snooping was not tolerated under the maestro’s gaze. He kept his eyes on a sleeping chamber that was lit behind the sturdy mahogany door as he crept up the spiral staircase. On a normal day, he’d just float up and push open the door, however he still had enough respect to announce his presence before coming in.

Standing in front of the door, his hand went to jiggle the handle, only to stop at the softest sounds of what he knew as sorrow. Eyes widened, his hand came off the knob as if he had been burned by it. There was a little one... softly sobbing in the chambers. He fought against an unusual impulse to shove himself inside, yet the longer he listened, the harder it became to ignore. He reminded himself to adhere to the rules and guidelines he had made for himself and Lance: do not interfere unless the justification is absolute. For some unspoken reason he felt the need to disregard his rule this only time. And with that impactful instinct hammering into him, he gave in.

He knocked loud enough for the little soul to hear yet did not speak, waiting for someone to answer or reply. There was one solid minute without noise, the little one seeming to buck up after hearing the knock. When Balan knocked again, he earned a response, “Who is it? What do you want?”

Balan recognized the young man’s voice instantly. A shadow of sadness glazing his stare as he leant on the door a bit. What was making Leo so upset? Who could have caused such an unrest in the boy’s spirit?

“Leo... It’s Balan. May I come in?” He slid to his knees, in case the boy would open for him. After a moment, the heavy door slowly crept open, for Balan to view the young visitor’s face; that now appears wet from tears.

Instead of asking too many questions, Balan just slid a bit closer to Leo, arms stretched enough to reach but not touch. A simple gesture to show he’d be there for him.

Leo glanced at the gesture, measuring it to see what he’d want to do. His shoeless feet pawed the hardwood as he contemplated what he would do. He thought it would be best for the maestro to disregard the idea of comforting him. He’d remain a soldier fighting a battle on his own. Yet at the same time, he didn’t want that. And that juggle of care and carelessness caused more tears to well in his eyes before he opened his mouth. He barely caught a sniffle before he felt his feet leaving the floor. Blue eyes scanned his surroundings before he gauged that he was in Balan’s arms, embrace pulling him softly to his chest. Agony gripped the young boy as he sobbed into the maestro’s shoulder, tiny hands gripping him as if he’d disappear.

Balan remained on his knees as the boy broke down, sun-yellow eyes closing as he allowed him the ability to let go. To let it hurt... if only for a while. The boy continued to sob as he motioned to stand, going into the chambers as his hands patted Leo’s back, slowing going into his hair to bring him closer. That hymn, the song Balan could not put to sheet, or find the right words to, came back. Only this time, the humming bled into words,

“When there is light, a shadow appears the cause and effect, when life interferes the same rule applies to goodness and grief; for in our great sorrow, we learn what joy means,”

His little visitor opened his eyes in an attempt to look at Balan as he sang aloud. While he could see his smile, the wide brim of his hat obscured the rest of his face. He wanted to look at the maestro fully as he hummed the rest of the tune, rocking and hugging him as a mother would do for a babe.

The maestro himself continued to hum the melody while pressing in as close as allowed. Softening his grip, he brought the little one to look at him. And became overwhelmed with the glowing vision of the boy staring back at him. Trusting him in this way. Words were not required to be exchanged while the maestro strode slowly to the large bed to lay him down. While Leo calmed down, Balan brought a chair over to sit near the bed’s end.

“Leo, what troubles you little one? You can tell me. This place,” he moved his arms around the chambers, “is completely safe. Nothing leaves here. Your sacred words are for my ears only. Words that I will keep close to me. I promise.” He placed his immense hand on Leo’s shoulder as the boy relaxed into it. Taking a breath, he soothed over his raked nerves while he thought of the right thing to say. His chest appeared tighter than normal, fingers lacing together and fidgeting. In spite of his bravery to show his emotions to Balan, he still felt like a wounded, stubborn soldier; unable to admit that his wounds were draining him. His eyes strewn about the room instead of interacting with the tall, lanky figure.

Balan did nothing to prompt the boy to say anything quickly. No means to force him to confess to what was ailing him in this way without volition. So he waited. Patient and understanding. He’d talk when it is time. He watched him take a few short breaths then they locked eyes once more. The fragility was nearly enough to break the maestro’s heart.

“I...I was just really upset about someone I used to know. We were real close. I loved them... they were like a sibling to me,” Leo sniffled as he pulled his hair back, “But then I said something wrong... and so did they. And then we never saw each other again. I didn’t... mean what I said, but I-I was just so-”

“Angry,” Balan stated, “You lashed out at them and now you’re feeling extreme guilt for it.”

“I guess I’m madder at myself because I left without giving them a reason, but what could I say?,” The young teen looked at the bed sheets as he rubbed his nose, “Have you ever been in my situation before?” Leo inquired after a second of thought.

Balan blinked rapidly, the small smile he kept fading in surprise. It was an emboldened inquiry. Aureate eyes slid closed, reminiscing to the time he and Lance fell out. Harshly. Only, it was not Balan who attacked with scathing words. Nothing more could be said between as the maestro departed from the other with bolide of tears streaking the cosmos in his wake. Lance never created the courage to apologize for those words, no matter how many times Balan imagined that he would. It came as an acceptance of bad pride on both ends that kept the healing away from the two of them. Even if Balan was no longer in need of the healing. The words were said, there could be nothing in Wonderworld or in the actual world to change that.

“Yes... but it was at a time I no longer remember.” Balan did not meet Leo’s eyes this time. His words were satisfying enough for Leo but he knew there was more to the story.

“All I want to do is say sorry. But it’s too late.” The young boy put his head in his hands, a miserable whimper coming forth.

“Maybe... maybe not. Leo, I may not be able to give the proper answer about how you can ask for your friend’s forgiveness. However, I do know how you can forgive yourself. And that is to accept that friends can genuinely drift apart. Something in the relationship fissures and causes both of you to turn away from each other. You can accept the blame, Leo. That’s okay. But you shouldn’t be hurting yourself with that blame.” Balan’s gloved hand pressed to Leo’s cheek, making the teen look at him. The way that Balan smiled made Leo’s lip curl in sweet smile as well.

“Thank you... so much. I really needed to hear that. I just felt like it was all my fault.” He pressed himself into the gloved hand, warmth radiating off the limb.

“You’re most welcome, little one. And know that I’m here for you. With any insecurity, I’ll help you in the best way I can,” His head pressed to Leo’s, well not quite. The large hat obscuring leant on the boy’s forehead, which felt annoying for the point he was attempting to make. He half sighed and laughed before standing out of the chair.

“One thing. Remember when I said that sacred secrets do not leave this space?”Balan’s tone hinted at something yet Leo couldn’t find what about it, so instead he stiffly nodded, “Okay good. Because I have a very sacred secret to show you. Only you.” He cooed as his hands went to his hat, the article of fabric coming off his face and head with a slow tug. With a shake, jade colored dreads fell free, his gloved hands fluffing them as he pushed a threaded dread away from his forehead.

“There we go,” He stated mutely as he put the hat on a vanity in the corner, moving to sit back down in front of the awestruck child, “Yes I know. I’m so funny looking.” He grinned cheerily before setting his hands atop the bedsheets.

“No you’re not...”, Leo scooted closer to Balan, the maestro still grinning happily as he did, “You look so beautiful.” The teen breathed whimsically, as if entranced by the sight of him.

The grin was pulled off Balan’s face so quick, Leo felt as if he had offended him. Golden eyes flickering like candlelight in the lucent, yet dark room. For a fraction of a second, the world spun. He could see stars on the brim of his vision. After a great upheaval of air from his lungs, Balan came back.

“Beautiful...? No one’s ever called me that before.” He chuckled sheepishly as he smoothed over his dreads.

“But can I call you beautiful?” Leo became a bit shy, the poor boy looked as if he did something wrong.

“If that helps, then yes. You are more than welcome to call me ‘beautiful’, little one.” The maestro bowed in the chair gracefully. He smiled genuinely while he pulled little Leo in for a hug, the teen leaning into him as he pressed into his shoulder. As they parted, Balan found his moment to press his forehead against Leo’s. Their contact was electric, stunning but completely welcomed as Balan breathed him in softly. Leo reciprocated the gesture, his small hands wrapping around the maestro’s neck affectionately. Oceanic, hope-filled orbs blended with the sunset gold ones in perfection. They stayed like such for a while, neither coming up with any words to justify this moment between them had. When they had to pull apart, Balan was the one who leant forward, as if not wanting the contact to come to an end.

He gets up, still holding the teen, to lay him down on the large bed. Leo relaxes in the maestro’s embrace as he buries his face into his neck. Balan didn’t stop the sweet, light-hearted laugh that bubbled forth as he encompasses the boy, swaddling him in the warmth of his body. They exchange a final look before Leo yawns softly. His eyes, previously stricken with tears of grief, now sparkle with ebullience and peace.

The remainder of the night was of Balan holding the little one as if he were the only thing in the world, his world, to think of at that moment. Surrounded by a jubilant contentment, he lain himself bare in front of this particular visitor for the first time in ages. So long as it was with Leo, he’d do it again.

Over and over again.

#balan wonderworld #balan

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