#one must search long and hard for the sources of true joy

[seekfirst-community]

The following reflection is courtesy of Don Schwager © 2022. Don's website is located at Dailyscripture.net

Meditation: How forceful are honest words! (Job 6:25) Jesus addressed the issue of honesty and truthfulness in one's conduct and speech. What does it mean to be true to one's word? To be true to oneself and to others requires character. Unfortunately many people today miserably fail here. No wonder we don't trust many in positions of leadership and influence. God is the source of all truth and there is nothing false or deceitful in him. His word is truth and his law is truth. His truth liberates us from illusion, deceit, and hypocrisy. Jesus told his disciples that the truth will make you free (John 8:32).

We can count on God's word because he is faithful and true to his word and promises

Why is it so hard to be true and to speak the truth? Truth demands commitment - that we live our lives according to it and be faithful witnesses of the truth. Jesus teaches his disciples the unconditional love of truth. He speaks against bearing false witness and all forms of untruthfulness and swearing unnecessary oaths to God. A disciple's word should be capable of being trusted without verbal rituals to give it validity. Christ's disciple must speak truthfully without "stretching" the truth by adding to it or by compromising the truth by speaking untruth or by leaving out what is necessary to convey what is truthful.

Do you allow God's word of truth to rule your mind and heart?

Thomas Aquinas said: People could not live with one another if there were not mutual confidence that they were being truthful to one another... (In justice) as a matter of honor, one person owes it to another to manifest the truth. Are you true to God, to yourself, and to others? And do you allow God's word of truth to penetrate your mind and heart and to form your conscience - the way you think, judge, act, and speak?

"Set a watch, Lord, upon my tongue, that I may never speak the cruel word which is not true; or being true, is not the whole truth; or being wholly true, is merciless; for the love of Jesus Christ our Lord. "

The following reflection is from One Bread, One Body courtesy of Presentation Ministries © 2022.

a year in god’s word

“Then Barnabas went off to Tarsus to look for Saul.” —Acts 11:25

It was no small task for St. Barnabas to go to Tarsus and “look for Saul” (Acts 11:25). To journey the 150 miles from Antioch to Tarsus, and then return to Antioch required weeks of travel. Once Barnabas arrived at Tarsus, he had to search diligently for Saul (also known as Paul) in the days before GPS, text messaging, phone calls, etc. Tarsus was a large city, estimated by some scholars to contain over 100,000 people, and it could have taken quite some time for Barnabas to locate Paul in Tarsus.

Sts. Paul and Barnabas taught the members of the Church in Antioch for a year, likely involving daily Scripture study (Acts 11:26). This year in the Word of God changed the members of the Church in Antioch so profoundly that they had a name-change to “Christians” (Acts 11:26).

God encourages us through His Word (see Sir 17:19) and through people like St. Barnabas and St. Paul, who teach us the Faith and His Word (Acts 11:23). May you encourage many and lead them to a strong faith. “Encourage one another” (Heb 10:25).

My son and his fianceé discerned to read through the Bible daily in the year leading up to their wedding date. They will have a strong foundation for their married life together. Would you commit to a daily, year-long Bible Study?

Prayer:  Father, may I love Your Word so much that I devour it and consider it my joy and happiness (Jer 15:16).

Promise:  “The gift you have received, give as a gift.” —Mt 10:8

Praise:  “There was a certain Levite from Cyprus named Joseph, to whom the apostles gave the name Barnabas (meaning ‘son of encouragement’)” (Acts 4:36). Father, make us encouragers too.

Reference:  (This teaching was submitted by a member of our editorial team.)

(Vacation with your Family and the Lord June 20-24 at our Retreat Center in Adams County, Ohio. The days are filled with faith-filled activities, fellowship, and fun. Call 513-373-2397 or e-mail [email protected].)

Rescript:  "In accord with the Code of Canon Law, I hereby grant the Nihil Obstat for the publication One Bread, One Body covering the time period from June 1, 2022 through July 31, 2022. Reverend Steve J. Angi, Chancellor, Vicar General, Archdiocese of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, Ohio November 18, 2021"

The Nihil Obstat ("Permission to Publish") is a declaration that a book or pamphlet is considered to be free of doctrinal or moral error. It is not implied that those who have granted the Nihil Obstat agree with the contents, opinions, or statements

[madfantasy]

I haven't seen you post in a while, I hope you've been doing okay? How is everything? Hope it's been a good year so far for you 💕💕

You're too kind, u & everyone who made inquiries, bless ur hearts.. im sorry for disappearing, but yeah, I don't have net— using my phone credit and hope this posts..

I tried to record my voice answering this, like I sometimes did on tik, suddenly ended up trying to muffle the floods of my burning tears, so now I have an awkward vid of me talking then weeping out of nowhere, which a good reason for me to keep up the no cry habit, heh.. but seriously, I suppose I'm fine till I be conscious of it.. its much easier for not to talk .. even tho I'm aching to be back in thy company, lonely in my foresight to catch on to the present that joins us, hand held out to reach like minded souls but shying from the fear of forgetfulness occurring..

I'm fine tho, did few new stuff, merely drowning in too muchness and nothingness as usual, this month I guess you could say I took an act of mad fury in search of any happy source because the echoing silence and the swarm of sadness nipping on my brain cells thickened, and the reasoning merged with the obscene. So instead of giving my guardians the usual of 3/4 of my earnings last month for net and groceries, I spent it all. Ya know, as it was told to me it mine to do as I please? As being prevented any chance of work if it was possible, 't was supposed to be spent on art supplies & measly delights craved for years ?

Before hand, I've been begging them to take me for months to get any clothing or whatever, be it the first time I ever see a shop, then just to drive around, then just me peaking to the outside when the front door is open, merely seeking change I suppose. They kept vaguely promising me until they refused point blank— getting tired of my nagging, then their car just stopped working till this day. Its in the workshop rn..

Anyway, befouled by despair, needing the mere basics of life and not granted, I was delighted when i found a site to buy from cheap & pretty, I pressed buy without any further considerations, or taking their permission and thrilled to be able get gifts for my siblings too. I say gifts but really they are deprived necessities too and not even much just one each cuz well, they are 5 of my babies and to start with the top of priorities; we all draw

I could already see it, they can't help themselves; heck seeped through the clenched gates of their mouths, trying desperately to poison me with undirect attempts this time, cuz I bought for my sibs they're out of the option of calling me selfish. I was upping the same trance like state of vague existence dealing with them, absorbing their insults and degrading just to make sure my shi arrives safe.

Unfortunate for me, the site chose the worst carrier in this country

I did everything in my power to make it into their convenience, by embarrassingly messaging the carrier daily, they took a week of promising to deliver and flanking so my guardians reached a heated level of threatening, waving their hands nd almost tossing shi at mE saying that they don't care if they came and if i dared to order something again they'll do this and that. Not allowing me to open the door for the delivery guy when he comes, blaming me for missing vaccination dates (they kept missing them even before)& missing going to important places(again, they just didn't go to for ages), made them loose sleep, etc etc— in turn, I seen red and regretfully blew up.

I screamed at them its literally the only time I ever did this, it BECAUSE it easier on them & I'll do what I want whatever anyway, & to stop interrupting me while I try to explain things , then they suddnly back done and be like I'm not mad at u I'm mad at the delivery ppl, that they are proud of me for being able to do all this, and such sort. I left them to cool in my room, Idk how I did it but must have slam-gripped something so hard it chipped most of my short nails & cracked one, was glad I didn't hurt my drawing hand but yeah, goofy mani

They robbed me of the joy of anticipation & the dissipation of apathy, I started to lose sleep again and my liberating dreams left me and I don't think I remember leaving bed.

But still, If not force myself to do things.. there'll be nothing for me if I don't.. at least I know im able of that

I got my guardians happy tho after another tiresome refusal, by trying out one of those Uber-eat like local apps here, since they have no car and being disabled & ill, I ordered McDonald's for the first time. Slythry behind their backs per habit, told them someone coming and they had that look again, but thankfully the guy came through and didn't steal my money, heh. For a big 1800 calories meal I suppose it was passable, the happy fam faces I got was the real treat..

Oh with that thing with the credit card stating I owe them money, waited weeks & nobody got back to us? They started taking from my guardian's account directly to pay it, saying oh we did send you warnings--- TO THE SHADOWY LINES OF THEIR POSTERIOR A.K.A NOWHERE. Thankfully the account is mostly empty nd just for random transactions, i alerted my guardians not to use it. And again, my god, another round of endless calls and promises started, and we wait again so they just don't act as if we owe them a frking 17k dollars that we don't have.. was panicking cuz I have nothing and but my guardians were weirdly comforting about it and told me not to worry

One thing good bout no net is it made me stop thinking about life in general, and stop the tiny unnoticeable prick of misery when I have no input to share, trying not to helplessly compare people just living, in inflated style or not, in media, to my isolated-most-of-my-life style and missing much of that organic "life experiences and chances", heh. At least, my situation would be favorable to me if it was ever possible for it to let me have peace, or have the simple knowledge I'm not virtually imprisoned and have never familiarised with nothing of this world but the surrounding walls.. its nice to have more time to be consumed by muse and day dreaming that flutters life through my dull being and sing chorus of inspiring means for art to flow and finds its way delicately onto my realised canvas.. but no, I continued drawing whilst sight blurred with salty droplets contradicting that happy tintin dance on tiktok I worked so long on just cuz I couldn't stop, not the tears or the mad scribbles of determined intention to visualise the mourned excitement I need, hating everything I make

Somehow the lilac dream still intrudes, visualising me friends, living, in a quaint home, maybe we roommate, arm in arm we go to make every fracture of fate's encounters a disgusting adventurous thrill, like building a maze of cardboard or chasing each other in the dark.. maybe getting that half bleached head and endless ear pericings ... then it dies and I totally forget it..

But what those awesome headphones helped me do, literally blocks all their voices listening to Sev losing it and I can Waltz around not feeling gutted to go and interfere or play the referee each time. But I can't wear them forever, gives me a bad headache, and honestly; I can't be too neglectful.. my sibs hates me for it already hehe

At least these clothing came true to their measurements, felt the new sensations on how everything I wore hugs me & learnt the baffling ways on how "gender" and region plays different tunes on the same measurements. Getting fitting things felt like suddenly there's hope to be, for myself to be me, and ease this severe disassociation between who I am, and what my body is .. from how little I see myself nd consider it worthy of anything because of how long it been living like a phantom among people.. to numb this dysphoria until it be gone one day

Saddened that the only site I can't order from again if they keep using that awful carrier

...

I missed our country's 91 national day, too. They made sales everything 91 riyal so.. but knowing the sellers here, I don't think most of em went true with their offers.. Horrible news tho on the celebrations, sigh

I turned this into a dear diary, guess bothered you enough today, sorry

So thankful to yous, Idk if I can be back, but I'll remain creating, and will keep the thought alive of being tickled when sharing my creations with your viewing pleasure somehow

'till then my precious dears, take care 💛🙏

26.9.2021, 8 pm, sleeping

#ask #text #diary #personal #my art #miss

[iulia-caesaris]

I like to think Philza actually adopted them all from random sources, and the fridge thing is the way he scrambled to explain How Babies Are Made to his kids because since he didn't make them he cannot do he classic "when a mommy loves a daddy". And they just never questioned it even into adulthood because they live in a magical world, it might as well happen.

I think it was a spurt of the moment for (a mildly immature at the time) Phil when little Wilbur asked him where he came from he simply said "from inside a fridge!"

And later on Wilbur started to rationalize how that might actually be true and concluded with all confidence that a fridge must have been pregnant with him, and if Phil is his dad that means that Phil made that fridge pregnant, because one parent makes the other pregnant, right? Right.

Since Wilbur died I think he would preserve this belief forever because he has a hard time processing new information and making new memories as a ghost, even if someone explained that this is not what actually happened or Phil admitted it.

It's simply sad that maybe Wilbur will stay forever his young age, with his young person understanding and idealisation of the world, while both Techno and Tommy will (probably but not certainly) outgrow his age.

Someday Tommy will wake up and think "I'm older now than Wilbur was when he died".

Or maybe in life Wilbur understood that the fridge thing was not a thing (maybe after he found himself in the same situation that Phil was once in... Yes my Fox son, I, your human father had you with a Salmon mother) but the memory of the funny fridge story is one of the things that brought him joy and after death happy things is all he remembers.

I also think while Wilbur as a child took in the idea so seriously and Techno and Tommy might have as children too, influenced by Wilbur's confident leader attitude, Techno managed to rationalize away from the fridge story as he grew older than a toddler.

I think none of them were told that they're actually adopted orphans, it's a very uncomfortable, heart wrenching and unnecessary conversation to have with children, and while Wilbur might not have come to the realization until he had Fundy, Tommy doesn't pay his parentage a second thought for a long time.

But Techno must be a different story, I think he must have felt some kind of call that sent him in a search for who he really is, exploring the nether and sort of studying the piglins, wondering if this maybe is where he truly feels at home and where he actually belongs.

And despite biology and behaviour similitudes with the nether pigs Techno still feels something is amiss among them.

#sbi #sleepyboysinc #ph1lza #technoblade #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #dream smp #Minecraft #since he adopted even tommy while the other two where still close to being babies i think they shouldnt remebr each adoption #the exception being tubbo #whom they understand was found 'in a box at the side of the road' as a bigger child #anyway some thoughts i had #i love lore like this #the ages dont add up very well but imagine phil is just 10 years older than philza irl #mcyt

[escapewithbts]

Breakdown - Seokjin

———————————————————————

You heard the front door open and close from your spot on the couch. You muted the tv and waited for your boyfriend to appear in your shared living room. As soon as he turned the corner you smiled, but it quickly faded when you saw the look on his face. He looked burnt out, and sad, and he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. This was the fourth night in a row he had come home like this.

“Hi my Jinnie-ah,” you said to him, “How was your day?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his dark brown hair, placing his keys on the entry table.

“It was fine,” he mumbled, still not meeting your gaze.

“I made kimchi stew, your favorite,” you told him, “There’s some leftovers waiting for you to heat up if you want.”

He nodded then sauntered into the kitchen. You followed behind him.

You took a seat on one of the stools at the island and watched him open the refrigerator. He placed the stew container on the counter across from you and took off its lid.

“This looks really delicious, thank you Jagi,” he said to you softly.

“Of course, my love.”

Jin placed the leftovers in the microwave and started it before coming back over to the island and leaning down to place his head in his hands. You frowned.

“You know I don’t want to pry Seokjinnie, and you can talk to me when you’re ready, or not, but please know I am always here for you.”

He sighed and rubbed his tired looking eyes with his palms. Then he looked down at his hands and fiddled with his fingers.

He whispered something so quietly you barely heard.

You cocked your head.

“What was that?”

He stood up straight and took a deep breath.

“I want to quit Bangtan.”

Your felt your heart fall into your stomach, and you couldn’t help your eyes getting wide.

“Oh Jin-ah...Don’t say things you don’t mean..”

He shook his head and finally looked up at you, a darkness in his chocolate brown eyes.

“I’m serious, (y/n).”

Your heart started pounding.

“But... why?” You squeaked out.

You loved Jin more than anything in the world, and you knew how important not only his job was to him, but also his fellow members who were basically his brothers. Knowing he hurt so much to want to leave and hearing him even say those words broke your heart.

Jin’s fist clenched and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Because I’m just... not important. They don’t need me. I don’t add anything. I barely have any verses in the new songs we’re working on. Since Dynamite and BE, everything is going to Jungkook-ah and Jimin-ssi and Taehyung. I feel like I don’t matter. Maybe they think I can’t add anything anymore.”

When he opened his eyes they were filled with tears, a couple running down his cheeks.

“Oh Jin...”

You got up and ran to him, wrapping your arms around his thin yet muscular torso and pulling his head down to rest on your shoulder. You stroked the hair on the back of his head gently with your fingers.

“Of course you matter, my love. Of course you do. Those boys love you so much. You’re their oldest hyung, their mentor, their source of joy. And you’re so talented. You have worked so hard on your vocals and have improved so much. You sound beautiful, Jin, and I’m not just saying that because I’m your girlfriend. You add a softness and lightness to your songs that no one else can.”

He shook his head against your shoulder.

“I’ve just been in such a funk lately. I haven’t felt like myself. I feel like I’m disappointing everyone. The fans, the staff, the members. If I can’t be my normal, goofy, lovable Jin then who am I to them?”

You lifted his head off your shoulder and cupped his face with your hands, staring into his now wet and puffy eyes. You wiped more falling tears from his cheeks with the soft sleeve of your sweater.

“You are so much more than that though. So what if you’re not feeling like being silly? It’s okay. Being your ‘normal self’ is just being true to you. If you’re not feeling happy, then don’t be. It’s okay to be in a funk, Jinnie. You’re human. It’s been a weird past year for everyone; you’re definitely not alone. It’s okay to feel stressed or scared or angry. And it’s okay to show it,” you smiled at him and ran your hand through the bangs covering his eyes, “You cannot hide from your emotions, you must face them and challenge them and get through them. I know it’s hard because everyone expects you to be a certain way, but those who matter won’t mind, like your members. They know your worth. You just need to know it, too.”

Jin nodded in understanding.

“How did you get so wise?” he asked, a small smile appearing on his plump red lips.

You smiled back at him and shrugged.

“Years of experience.”

He wrapped his long arms around you and buried his face in your neck.

“How do I know it will get better?” he questioned softly, “What if I’m truly not happy being in BTS?”

You sighed.

“Only time will tell that, Jinnie-ah. If I’m being honest, I feel like performing in front of an audience is more of an outlet and stress reliever for you than you think it is. Do you think so, too?”

He nodded in agreement and lifted his head up.

“Yes. It also reassures me that ARMY is still there for us. It is so difficult now with only being able to read over the internet. It’s hard to filter out the bad. I hope soon we can all be together again.”

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“And you will feel better when that time comes. I’m sure of it.”

He stared deep into your eyes, searching for reassurance.

“And you’ll be there for me through it all? No matter what happens?”

You grinned up at him widely, stepping on your tiptoes and wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

“I will be here for you through anything and everything, Kim Seokjin. Because I love you.”

His face relaxed for the first time in days. He blinked at you slowly before placing his forehead on yours.

“And I love you, (y/f/n) (y/l/n).”

*

Masterlist

#bts #bts army #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts imagines #bts drabble #bts jhope #bts jungkook #bts jimim #bts suga #Jin #bts jin #jin bts #bts kim seokjin #kim seokjin #seokjin bts #seokjin #namjoon bts #jin imagine #jin x y/n #jin x reader #bts x reader #bts x y/n

[cherrybombusa]

GROUP TWO  - THE SOUNDBOOTH. FAILURE.

PLAYERS:

THE THESPIAN - Dominic Logan. THE SLACKER - Jamie Dyer. THE FALLEN ANGEL - Alice Alder.

MEMORABLE MOMENTS:

- JAMIE FELL 50 FEET FROM THE SOUNDBOOTH’S EMERGENCY EXIT AND BROKE HIS LEG.  - ALICE DIDN’T ELECTROCUTE HERSELF DESTROYING THE SOUNDBOARD. - THE GANG USED ALL THREE TRIES IN THEIR PUZZLE AND FAILED. THEY DID NOT FIND THE KEY TO SAVE THEIR FRIEND.  - THEY WERE BLAMED FOR THE CANDY GIRL’S SHOW. THIS WILL COME BACK TO BITE IN-GAME.

Setting up for shows had never exactly been smooth-sailing, but with Mac missing for the last ten minutes things were slowing to a halt. Everyone seems frustrated - nobody seems to know where he’s gone… Except for a forgettable boardwalk worker who looks like they’d rather be anywhere else. He says he watched Mac go up to the sound booth across from the Main Stage. Typical musician. Jamie better go drag him back before their set is supposed to start. @indyerneed​

 Plans between the twins shouldn’t have even really been called plans; plans had the unfortunate chance of falling through. No, when they said they were going to do something, it was set in stone - so when Libby isn’t anywhere to be found before the ribbon cutting ceremony…? Well, it’s certainly grounds to be worried, isn’t it? People are crowding into the area around the stage, but it’s only a moment before one of the Boardwalk workers taps Dominic on the shoulder. Apparently Libs found a better place to watch: from the sound booth across from the main stage. Damn her connections to the Hargroves, right? Oh well. Dominic better go find her before the show starts. @dominiclogan​

Alice, Alice, Alice. The Candy Girl’s fascination with the Fallen Angel of the group had rhyme and reason, but somehow it was still a mystery of it’s own. Did she really favor the girl, or did she just have plans for her? Did she want to avenge Alice, or torment her - just like Lux did before she died? Who knows. Either way, when the message came in, ‘I want to meet.’ How could anyone refuse? They picked a time and a place - 7:30pm in the sound booth across from the stage. Her special instructions? “Bring no one.” I guess she didn’t want anyone crashing the little party she had planned. @alicealder​

THE NARRATOR: Reunions were supposed to be pleasant occasions, weren’t they? They were supposed to bring feelings of joy, and nostalgia; you were supposed to forget the awkward haze that had plagued your senior year of high school, and pretend like the good old days were actually just that. Good. Absence did make the heart grow fonder and all that, didn’t it? 

Though, maybe it’s silly to wonder why this little reunion, in the Sound Booth that towered above the boardwalk, might not be so pleasant. It was only a week ago, after all, that they were all huddled into Harvey’s basement, playing at the whims of a suspected lunatic. Not even ‘a Day in Carousel Cove!’ could smooth over that awkward little blip, could it?

Still, the three of them made their polite, albeit stilted conversation. Jamie laments about being late for his set, and Dominic insists he has to go find Libby… Alice may or may not be wondering what the hell is going on! But the unmistakable sound of the lock clicking in the door behind them should be enough to stop all conversation. Jinkies, kiddos! Wonder what’s in store for you this time.

MAKE A CHOICE: SOMEBODY RESPOND.

DOM: If it had seemed like they’d stumbled into a bad horror movie before, things were apparently only going downhill from here. As if having to make painfully stilted small talk with the two people in this god damn town that he did not want to be stuck anywhere with wasn’t bad enough already, the sound of the lock clicking behind them made his head whip around. “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Dominic muttered under his breath, heading straight to the door to try the handle -- because maybe, he was just finally going insane and hallucinating the worst case scenario.

THE NARRATOR: A clock in the corner of the room strikes 7:30pm just as Dominic tries the handle - truly, and surely locked - but it’s only the beginning of the panic. It’s time for the festivities to begin - whether they’re all there or not. 

Dean Hargrove steps  onto the Boardwalk’s stage that’s laid out below them; Lux’s parents entered only a moment after. It really would be a lovely place to watch the show… If the Candy Girl hadn’t had other plans for the gang that day. Hargrove hardly says Lux’s name - hardly gets into his plan to honor the girl with the ‘Lux Lewis Memorial Carousel’ before  he’s cut off by a voice they don’t quite recognize. A voice that might just damn them all.

CANDY GIRL:  “REST IN PEACE TO OUR DEAR OLD LUX, BUT I HAVE NEWS THAT THE CHERRY TIMES IS TOO SCARED TO TELL! THIS WAS NO SUICIDE. LUX WAS MURDERED. THE QUESTION IS - WHICH ONE OF HER FRIENDS DID IT?” THE NARRATOR:  At that moment, a sheet unfurls behind Dean Hargrove, and a projector that’s been crudely wired into the soundboard flips on. The image it casts is a shocking sight to the crowd - you might even be able to see a couple of them wince if you squinted hard enough - but to our little ragtag slice of the gang, the Cherry Bomb logo was all too recognizable. It was a blown up version of her latest issue, and - surprise, surprise! - Lux is once again the star.

What they weren’t expecting, though? The crime scene photos that the projector begins flipping through, one by one.

CANDY GIRL: “AND TO THAT LITTLE GANG! MAKE SURE TO CHECK OUT THE LATEST ISSUE. IT’S FULL OF FUN, NEVER-BEFORE-SEEN IMAGES OF LITTLE LUXIE’S DEMISE, AND A SPECIAL SURPRISE JUST FOR YOU: SOMEONE IS MISSING, AND YOU’RE THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO CAN FIND THEM BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE. GOOD LUCK!” THE NARRATOR: It would have been impressive timing if it weren’t so fucking frightening, but at just that moment, their very own issue of the Cherry Bomb slides beneath the door, skidding to  a stop, right at their feet.

The cover is collaged with photos of Lux, the inside? Those same crime scene photos. There’s no pictures of her body, of course - that would be crude, even for the Candy Girl… kind of. But images of the blood soaked into her carpet; still pictures of her bedroom, flaunting a life once lived, those are there. A shot of her suicide note, ‘I’m sorry, I love you,’ and all.

 And right there, in the middle of the spread, like a centerfold? A note, written in Sharpie - just for the gang, of course!

CANDY GIRL: GET OUT,,, GET OUT, WHEREVER YOU’RE LOCKED!!!! NOT A FAN OF SMALL SPACES?? I’LL STICK YOU IN A BOX. SOMEONE IS MISSING, BUT I WON’T SAY WHO… FIND THE KEY, AND FIND OUT WHO. 

YOU MUST STOP MY SHOW, AND YOU’RE ON THE CLOCK!  BUT LET TIME RUN OUT, AND THEY STAY IN THE BOX. WILL THE TIDE COME IN? HMM, MAYBE IT WON’T. OR BETTER YET? MAYBE YOUR FRIENDS WILL FLOAT.

DO YOU LIKE IT, FREAKS, DO YOU LIKE MY NOTE? I HOPE YOU DO, BECAUSE IF YOU DON’T! ALL OF CHERRY WILL FIND YOU UP THERE… 

AND ALL OF THE BLAME WILL BE YOURS TO SHARE.

THE NARRATOR: Oh...my. Now, that’s a predicament, isn’t it? I suppose we’re at least lucky that the Candy Girl leaves the rules simple, right? Find a key, stop the show, and get out before someone can blame all of you for the horrific slideshow!

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU MUST ESCAPE THE ROOM, BUT FIRST YOU MUST FIND THE KEY. YOU MUST ALSO STOP THE CANDY GIRL’S SHOW… THAT IS, UNLESS YOU THINK THE THREE OF YOU CAN GET OUT BEFORE SOMEBODY FINDS YOU UP HERE.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO STOP THE SLIDESHOW? OR DO YOU THINK YOU CAN GET OUT IN TIME?

THE NARRATOR: Is stopping the slideshow selfish, or noble? It’s not exactly up to me to decide - yet - but either way, with the hell that Cherry has been through lately - and Lux’s parents at that - the town probably deserves this one. 

The soundboard had clearly been tampered with long before they found the gang found their way in the soundbooth. There’s wires that have been ripped out and duct taped into new places - there’s a soldering iron off to the side that was still warm to the touch. Whoever did this must have worked quickly… and gotten out right before they arrived. Fucking creepy. It looks like there’s a few ways you can stop the show, though.

There’s always the route of champions - pulling wires until something goes dark. You could look for a power source - it all has to be plugged in somewhere, right? Or… you could just destroy the board.

MAKE A CHOICE:YOU MUST STOP THE SHOW. DO YOU START PULLING WIRES [LUCK], LOOK FOR A POWER SOURCE [PROBLEM SOLVING], OR DESTROY THE BOARD [FIGHTER]?

ALICE: It seemed like the most obvious solution, right? Pulling the wires could, like, electrocute them… right? Then it wouldn't matter if they were caught, because they'd be bacon! Searching for a power source? ...Too long. And they had to stop it some way! “Alright, that’s enough.” And with that… Alice went Wreck-It Ralph on the projector.

THE NARRATOR: It was a crude solution - that much is true - but hey! If it works, it works… And what else could you really expect from Alice? It takes a few minutes, but before long the board is sparking and the projector is stuttering to a halt. They can’t exactly figure out how to stop the music, but, somehow that seems like a lesser priority. 

Congratulations! You’ve stopped the show… but you've taken away an option that might have helped you out later. Woops.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU MUST ESCAPE THE ROOM, BUT HOW DO YOU IT? THERE HAS TO BE A KEY SOMEWHERE, SO HOW DO YOU FIND IT? BY LOOKING FOR CLUES [PROBLEM SOLVING] OR BY TEARING THE ROOM APART? [LUCK]

JAMIE: Jamie gave Alice’s destruction a disparaging look before glancing at the other two. The question of ‘really?’ was dry and all in his eyebrows. He shook his head and started surveying the obvious surface before methodically moving to concealed space, looking for clues that might lead them to the key out of there. “No point in making any more of a mess here if we have to find a needle in a damn haystack.”

THE NARRATOR: Good thinking, Jamie. While he stays focused on the sharpie scribbled riddle in the ‘zine while the other two raid the room for something useful. Not so useful, but strange enough to take note of? A cherry red briefcase, shoved into one of the dusty, storage lockers.

Not only that… but maybe there’s actually more to the note than they thought.

CANDY GIRL: GET OUT,,, GET OUT, WHEREVER YOU’RE LOCKED!!!! NOT A FAN OF SMALL SPACES?? I’LL STICK YOU IN A BOX. SOMEONE IS MISSING, BUT I WON’T SAY WHO… FIND THE KEY, AND FIND OUT WHO. 

BUT WATCH OUT, WATCH OUT! YOU’RE ON THE CLOCK! LET IT RUN OUT, AND THEY’LL STAY IN THE BOX. WILL THE TIDE COME IN? HMM, MAYBE IT WON’T. OR BETTER YET? MAYBE YOUR FRIENDS WILL FLOAT.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU MUST FIGURE OUT THE PUZZLE. GET THE BRIEFCASE OPEN TO FIND THE KEY.

DOM: This was absolutely ridiculous. Dominic was here to see his sister, not play god damn games. Speaking of which -- all that talk about someone being in a box and his sister decidedly not being here continued to ramp up his heart beat with every passing moment. “God damn it -- here,” he paused to lean over Jamie, fingers working quickly to put in the code: 2, 1, 3, 4.

MAKE A CHOICE: WRONG CODE. TRY AGAIN.

ALICE: You know, there were a lot of red flags popping up right now. The threat of a friend (yes?) dying (drowning, she took it? So much aquatic language!) was really just… overdoing it. “Let me try,” she sighed, pushing Dominic away from the briefcase and entering ‘3214.’

MAKE A CHOICE: WRONG CODE. TRY AGAIN.

DOM: They were running out of time and stable nerves. They had to get out of here, they had to find that god damn key and figure out what the fuck was going on here. So, with a last effort, Dominic reached forward again, this time entering 3421.

MAKE A CHOICE: WRONG CODE. YOU'VE LOST ALL CHANCES OF SAVING YOUR FRIEND.

THE NARRATOR: The sound of the clock ticking in the corner of the tiny room is almost ominous as it continues on in it’s effort; keeping a steady beat to their struggle. They’ve lost all hope of saving their friend, but they still have to get out, or they might be framed for the Candy Girl’s little show at the Ribbon Cutting ceremony.

At least they have a few options. They could always try to break down the door - it would take some might, but it’s possible. Maybe. Someone could always climb out of the window, and take the emergency ladder down - it would be easy to let their friends out from the outside! Just watch out. It’s a long fall down if you miss a step. 

Or, if they’re really desperate… They could always try to call for help.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU MUST ESCAPE THE ROOM. DO YOU BREAK DOWN THE DOOR [STRENGTH], TAKE THE EMERGENCY EXIT [BRAVERY], OR CALL FOR HELP? [SURVIVOR]

JAMIE: Jamie stared at the stubborn suitcase only for a single beat, deciding that they were wasting a lot of time. “Yeah, okay. Plan B, I guess,” he said without fanfare, moving to the window and shucking it open. Really, it was the thought of Mac that compelled him sling his leg over the barrier. He wasn’t thinking about how much he wouldn’t have minded a long fall down or how the other two were were probably worth more noble deaths. “I’m gonna try and get around. Wouldn’t recommend looking out here if you don't hear from me in a bit.”

THE NARRATOR: Don’t look down. Don’t look down. It’s nearly fifty feet off of the ground - a single slip might mean a broken leg, but somehow they manage to keep their footing… That is, until they don’t anymore. It’s a split second of hesitation, but they slip, and down, down, down they go! They’re not dead - they know they’re not dead once they hit the ground. Their leg, on the other hand…? That's probably broken. Definitely broken.

-

Bruised, broken, and thoroughly played by the Candy Girl’s games, maybe this little ragtag slice of the gang wasn’t expecting a rescue… And a rescue didn’t exactly come either. They waited for nearly half an hour - Jamie outside, fifty feet down and trying to scream for help over the music. They were all convinced they would spend the night here - but when the door swings open, it isn’t anybody looking for them out of concern… It’s Dean Hargrove. And he wants to know what the hell is going on here. 

Maybe if they had been a little more cunning - maybe if they had made better choices - they might be able to talk him out of his accusations. They might be able to convince him that they weren’t responsible for the cruel show… But it’s no use. The Candy Girl set up the trap, and now they were going to be paying the price. So much for saving your friend.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU FAILED YOUR EVENT. YOUR FRIEND MAY MEET THEIR DEMISE.

#bio rp #town rp #oc rp #skeleton rp #small town rp #secrets rp #gossip rp #gossip girl rp #90s rp #classic rp #plot event 001. #plot event 001 - the soundbooth.

[triforceangel13]

An Accidental Mating Ch. 14 (A Sidlink Omegverse Story)

Chapter 14 :Escape

Link let out a disgusted grunt as he pushed the last piece of a banana past his lips, threatening getting sick as he forced himself to swallow it. He couldn't afford to get sick now. This was his only source of food from these terrible people.

Over ripe bananas. He knew he needed more nutrition for the baby but they didn't care. It would be a miracle if Link was able to get out of this alive with his child at this rate before he ended up getting horribly sick from malnutrition.

He had no idea how long he had been with them. It felt like weeks at this rate but he honestly had no idea at all. Though with each passing day Link w  losing more and more hope that someone would come and save him.

They would be looking, he had no doubts about that. There was no way that Zelda and Sidon wenre't out there combing through all of Hyrule in search of him.

But he knew the Yiga. He knew they were cunning and how they hid amongst everyone in plain sight. They wouldn't just let themselves get caught and expose where they were, escecially since they had the champion of hyrule in their grasp.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he tossed the peel out of the cage, panting softly as he fought his aching stomach.

“I know baby,” he mumbled to his child, a little foot pressing agianst his hand from inside. “We'll be out of here soon I promise. Then we get to eat all the salmon you want.  Just you...me...and your father.”

Another little foot hitting his hand made him laugh softly, caressing the small bump. He wanted to make sure he gave the promise to his baby. Anything was better than rotting away in this cell in this place.

“Talking to the child again I see?” came that familiar voice again. Link sighed, glaring over his shoulder as Ezra stepped towards his cell with a plate of hot steaming food in his hands. Just one smell had the baby wiggling in his stomach again, wanting whatever it was he had in his hands. He tried to hide his urge to ask for it but it was clear on his face.

As well as the loud growling of his stomach.

“I'm allowed to talk to my child,” Link snapped at him, turning his back towards him again. “They're the only one pleasant in this place.”

“Well I don't know about that,” Ezra said, stepping into the cell and set the plate of food down next to him, but took several steps back. He had learned from the last time he had been alone with Link in his cell. “This child is the cause for this mess you're in.”

Link furrowed his brows at the sight of the food and looked up at the Yiga who pulled back his mask and crossed his arms.

“Alright let it go to waste. Thought you'd want something else other than mostly rotten bananas,” Ezra growled. “The big boss man thinks those things are the only thing that can keep the two of you alive. If he wants to use you both there's no way that's gonne happen like that. Now eat up before you get sick or something.”

Link sighed and he grabbed the plate, starting to dig into the food with his dirty hands. He closed his eyes slowly, holding in any noise of joy that would come from him. It was some sort of savory chicken dish with rice and it was one of the most amazing things to eat since he had been eating bananas for several days.

Thouhg there was something off about it.

“Why are you giving me this?” he asked with a frown after a few mouthfuls, skeptical of why out of nowhere he had gotten a meal out of this.

Ezra sighed, moving towards the door, shutting it behind him. “Let's just say that I've grown attatched to that little fish you've got in there alright. I don't want to see it die.”

Link frowned pushing more food into his mouth.“Just because you gave me this doesn't mean I trust you.”

As he said it his vision was starting to swim. Ezra turned back to him with a smirk, resting his arms on the cell bars.

“Good. Because I'm still a Yiga.”

As those words left Ezra's lips Link crumpled to the floor, his vision going black.

*

“I hate how it took us this long to find this place,” Sidon said angrily, keeping to the shadows as he followed Zelda, Riju, Buliara, as well as several Gerudo guards up the steep hill towards the Yiga Clan hideout. “Are we even sure if we found it?”

“I'm sure Sidon. The Gerudo people know what they're doing. They didn't have the evidence that Link did. But now they know. They know theses desserts well,” Zelda explained to him, wanting the prince to keep a level head during this. “Also that symbol they have will be in small subtle places. Look, there's one now!”

The princess went right to a half buried statue of a frog, an upside down sheikah eye painted in faint red glaring back at her.

“It must mean we're getting close,” Riju said, hope in her eyes as she looked about her. “Let's keep looking for more symbols.”

The group started looking, finding hidden symbols in obscure places but none of them were able to find the entrance.

That is until Sidon spotted the last one hidden high above any of them able to see up close unless they were in fact as tall as Sidon or one of the very tall Gerudo women they were with. But they all had been looking below.

“There,” Sidon said, making quick strides towards the opening of the cave. That was when he caught it. The faint smell of his mate. This was where he was.

“Sidon, wait,” Zelda called after him, looking amongst the room with large banners surrounding the circular room. “We don't know where to go next. It looks like a dead end. We must be smart as well. These people are masters of disguise and disappearing. No doubt they wouldn't leave their entrance just glaring out in the open.”

“I can just follow his scent,” Sidon retorted with a scowl. “Do no stop me. We are so close to finding him I do not want to lose him again.”

Zelda sighed, pinching bridge of her nose. “I know that Sidon but we cannot be hasty here. We don't know if they caught on that we found them.” “They are known for their tricks,” Riju said as she stepped inside, picking up one of the traveling torches and lit it with the torch that sat in the middle of the room. “But my mother had told me stories of how they liked to hide.”

She approached one of the banners and held the flame up to it. “See how there's a bit of an air current coming from this one?”

The group remained silent as she lit the banner, it going up quickly and burning away to reveal a hole in the wall, no doubt the passage they had been looking for.

With a smile Riju turned back to Sidon. “Let's go get him shall we? But as the princess said, we must make haste but we also must be diligent. If we want to get him out in one piece we must work together in a smart way.”

Sidon let out a heavy sigh but nodded his head. He knew she was right. If he rushed forward he could risk losing Link again.

“Let's go then. Together,” Sidon said.

*

Link slowly blinked open his eyes, looking around the room he was in. The stone ceiling as well as the wooden rafters of the Yiga hide out stared back at him making him shut his eyes again, wishing to just pass out again.

He had been dreaming as he had been knocked out. Dreaming of holding his baby close in his arms, wrapped in a damp blanket her big blue eyes looking up at him as she cooed. And with his arms around them both was Sidon, holding them close as they sat by the fire to keep warm. It was dream that he wanted to come true.

But the rope around his wrists and the pain in his head reminded him that it was very much a dream and that being in the Yiga hide out as their prisoner was his reality.

“He's awake,” one said to the large man next to him. “We should get on with the procedure before he gains his barings.”

“I suppose you're right,” the large man next to him said. Link opened his eyes again, glaring up at him. From what he could tell this man was the new leader after Kohga. “Though quite frankly I really don't care if he feels it or not.”

Link tugged on the ropes but froze once more when he felt the coolness of the blade touch his stomach. Gritting his teeth he glared daggers at the men and women surrounding him. The cold stare of their masks of the upside down sheikah eye glared back at him.

“What do you want now?” Link asked with a growl. “The baby isn't ready to be born yet.” Though that was a lie. Link had lost track of time and he had no idea when he would go into labor. How long had it been since he had even gotten pregnant?

“That is precisely why you are here,” the large man sneered, dragging the flat part of the blade against his stomach. “We are tired of waiting and we believe we can gain the child now. We have no use of you any longer.”

Link's eyes widened and he started to struggle again. He was going to die. His baby was going to die. There was no way they could survive without water if they were a zora child. He had to stop them! He had to save his baby!

“No!” Link yelled loudly, his voice ringing through the cave walls, his body struggling hard and he started to kick his legs to get some leverage to get out of this. His heart beat loudly in his chest and he felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes.

“Hold him down!” the leader barked at them, several other members coming to grab at his legs. That was when they heard the loud noise coming from the entrance to the hide out. The leader let out a heavy sigh.

“Go see what that is,” he said annoyed, passing the blade to another member. “Cut the kid out Ezra. Prove to us you're one of us.”

All of them but Ezra shuffled out of the room to see what was the cause of the noise. Ezra stepped forward, tilting Link's chin up with the tip of the blade.

Gritting his teeth Link stared up at the mask on his face. He had to do something. The life of his child was at stake here and Ezra words rang through his head from when he had given him the sleep inducing food.

“Let's just say that I've grown attatched to that little fish you've got in there alright. I don't want to see it die,” is what he had said to him.

“You and I both know they won't survive if you cut them out,” Link pleaded “Please....please let me go.”

The mask stared blankly at him and then a heavy sigh passed his lips, the knife quickly moving to the rope that bound his hands.

“We only have a few moments before someone comes back,” Ezra stated, pushing the mask up from his face, conflict clear on his face. Link nearly crumpled to the ground but Ezra was quick to grab him, holding him up against him. He smoothed the hair out of his face despite Link tried to push away from his touch.

“Maybe in a different life it would've worked out between us,” he said, pulling away and held Link by the wrist, quickly making his way to the back entrance of the hideout. Link shook his head but followed. He had no choice but to trust him.

Then the piercing warning whistle came. Ezra's eyes widened and he shoved Link towards the stone door between them and the exit.

“Go!” he said, pulling the sickle on his back and urged Link through the door. Link clenched his teeth and did something he never expected.

“Come on! They'll kill you!” Link yelled to him. Ezra paused but started to follow through the door only for a blade to be run through his gut.

He let out a cough as blood dripped down his chin. Link's eyes widened in horror as Ezra silently told him to go again with the wave of his hand only for the door to be sealed between the rest of the clan and Link.

He was free.

Scrambling to his feet Link ran as hard as he could, doing his best to keep to the shadows of the desert sand.

He was home free! Until a pang in his stomach sent him to his knees and a dampness collected in his pants. His water had broken. The baby was coming!

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#breath of the wild #sidlink #an accidental mating

[demon-winchester]

Tremors Behind The Veil Chapter 8

-Chapter 8- Sylvia's POV: You need to pull yourself together I thought to myself as I was leaving my cover. "We meet again" I screamed at Abigor. He glanced at me and I could feel he was smiling. "Hahaha, the small girl survived... I still remember the splendid taste of your brother little vamp" Abigor replied. That broke something in me... Vengeance was calling my name. I started rushing towards the knight, he still had Aiden on his grasp and it was time to free him. I summoned my Twin Sickles and I started stabbing him. The attacks did nothing and I could see Aiden turning purple. I dashed back and I started rushing again. I jumped on some tables, I grasped my sickles tightly, I stretched the chain and I lept on Abigor. I tied the chain on his neck and I started hanging from him. He started sidestepping and I heard him choke, that's when I knew I needed to apply even more pressure. He threw Aiden on a wall, he grabbed my chains and he started gasping for air.

Aiden's POV: I started gasping and gasping trying to catch my breath. This fucker actually came close I thought to myself. I saw Sylvia hanging from him with her chains tied around his throat. "Oh so you finally decided to join the fun?" I sassed while getting up from the rubble. "Oh shit" I whispered. Abigor managed to free himself and he grabbed Sylvia pushing her to a wall. I picked up my gun and I started shooting him. The bullets were affecting him but he wouldn't stop. He kept hitting her while she was down. "You have no magic to help you this time little vamp" he growled. I kept shooting and shooting and after two magazines he screamed in pain. "Erebus...Drag your hand across its blade and let it cut you" Sylvia managed to say while Abigor started to push through the pain. I removed my gauntlet and I followed the instructions cutting myself. As the blood was touching the sword when I was dragging my hand, the blade started changing. It grew wider and somehow purple, it was shining and whatever was inside the blade it was moving around.

While the blade was getting transformed I started losing my armor and my wings, I was now a simple human with simple clothes holding a big shining purple sword. What the hell I thought to myself. I know I need to work fast. I rushed towards Abigor significantly slower than before and this time the sword was actually doing damage, it was really scratching his armor and it left an aftermath of energy after every attack. Red smoke was coming out of every scratch. He was in terrible pain... His screams would shake the ground but he would still not let her go. "You know what...You have taken a toll on all of us...I am ending you" I growled. He started laughing as I was letting the energy from the sword travel through me. I closed my eyes and I took a deep breath as I was trying to contain the energy. One breath, one movement, one moment and this torment would stop. I breathed out and a purple ray flew from the edge of the sword hitting Abigor on his chest. The blast left a hole on his body and red smoke was flowing out of it, he finally fell down helpess. I helped Sylvia up and we slowly approached him. I held the sword on top of his neck. "Sylvia, grab the handle along with me... It's closure for you too" I said to her and if she hadn't been through hell she would smile. "Any last words?" I asked Abigor. "Curse you, your children too. And their children, forever true." he answered as he was chocking. That made me smile. "So...Shall we?" I said to Sylvia. "May God have mercy upon your soul because I won't." I sighed and we pushed the blade through his neck. And with that, complete silence. He stopped moving and what was once the club was now a building in ruins. "Bastard" Sylvia said and she spit on him. "That's a great time for a drink" I said with joy and I headed to the few bottles that weren't destroyed with Sylvia right behind me. I jumped behind the bar. "Pick your poison love" I said.  We agreed on a bottle of red wine and we were ready to start drinking. "You know what, it's the perfect time for a toast." I exclaimed. "To putting an end to unfinished bussines." she said raising her glass. "To lady death and may she be on our side on the approaching fights." I continued and our glasses met. "Are you old enough to drink?" she asked. "We killed an executioner that had returned from the dead...Do you want to see my ID or does that cover you?" I sassed. She started laughing. "Calm down boy..let me jest" she answered and she kept laughing. "Anyways, with your club destroyed what are you going to do?" I asked. "Well, good question actually...I've always wanted to move to another country for a fresh start and I don't think I'm getting a better chance... I can't help but see hope throughout this mayhem and well, a fresh start is all I need...I hope. What about you?" she said. "Hm, now that I'm powered up again I need to find Circe though there's a talk I need to have with Lydia." I continued. "How so?" she asked. "Well, you see she doesn't have powers and she came all the way here in the middle of the night while we were fighting...She could've been killed, I told her to stay away from me" and as I was saying that a slap hit me. "She came here to help you, you fool and you're going to hold it against her? You know, you might know how to fight but you really need to learn to understand people more..." she said with anger in her voice. "So what do you think I should do?" I asked. "You should figure it out yourself" she said and she took a sip, "Also about Erebus" she continued. "Oh yeah what's up with that... My armor went away while I transformed it" I said. "Well that's the thing... The hunger this blade has while transformed is insatiable, it draws energy from whenever it can and your armor is a great source, you should remember though... Don't hold it in this form for more than a few minutes after your armor has gone away, it starts eating life force and that's not ideal." she continued. "Alright then, I'll have it in mind" I replied. We talked for a bit more, about her story and about mine too, the bottle had reached its bottom. She placed the glass on the table, she got up, she took a sealed one and she started walking away. "It's time to say goodbye Aiden and about Circe you should try searching in abandoned churches, those places are rotten grounds, perfect for Harbingers...Give her my regards." she sighed. "Bye then, I'll take your words to heart and I hope we meet again." I said with a smile. "You shouldn't hope." she said and she closed the door behind her. Time to head out I thought to myself so I grabbed a bottle of wine and I returned to the hideout..It was morning by now and people have started gathering around the ruins of the club. It took me some time but I reached the hideout and that pun in the entrance always makes me laugh. I jumped on the couch and I fell asleep almost instantly.... I hadn't slept that good in ages. I woke up and I checked my phone. A text from Lydia saying hello sent 10 hours ago....God how long have I been sleeping. "Hi there" I answered and she instantly started typing.

Hello                    Hi there                    What's up MY GOD YOU'RE ALIVE                    You're not getting rid of me that easily ...... Look we need to talk                    Okaaay, feel free to say what you want Not here... I mean talk in person                    What's going on? Look, can you be at the garden behind the hotel at 12?                    Like... Midnight? Yes                    Alright... I'll be there

And so time came to pass... I dressed up and I headed to the garden. The place was beautiful. Bushes with unique colours all around... A fountain in the middle frozen from the cold with patches of icebound flowers surrounding it, benches placed under old lamps and snowflakes longing to hug the frigid landscape. I saw her and I approached her, we nodded and we both started looking at the frozen fountain. "Look" I told her, "I know I haven't been the most supportive friend. I've been so caught up with the -whatever the fuck this shit is- and I never took a moment to think that I didn't act the way I should have". She raised her eyebrow. "No matter how difficult this thing is, I should have considered how nerve racking must be seeing a friend you've known all these years put himself on the grasp of death..." I continued. "Could you please tell me what you did that you think was wrong?" she asked. "Well, for starters, when I talked to you about this situation you wanted to help and I did my best to stop you from that, even if I wanted to protect you I should have been a bit more careful. Next when I lost my bluetooth I didn't even try to contact you another way which led you to coming to help me.. I should have escorted you out of harms way that very moment but instead I screamed at you and I returned to the shitshow... Lastly, I should have contacted you the moment I was safe..." I replied.  "Hm" she said, "Do you know why I called you here?". "No" I replied. "Look, I do want to apologise myself... I felt like a burden coming on the club, I shouldn't be something else you have to have your mind on".  "Wait" I said interrupting her, "I never got to tell you that but thank you... You weren't a burden... on the contrary, I don't know how that fight would have ended if you hadn't stepped in at that moment".  "Nevertheless, we had a deal and I broke it... The moment that I saw those pieces of rubble fly towards us I knew that I shouldn't have been there and the fact that I made you endure the hit really made me feel bad" she continued. "Please don't do this... You were the best support I could have asked for" I said. "This world isn't for me and I can't pretend that I am able to withstand the anxiety that comes with it... I don't know if I can help you anymore and that includes comms... It's hard for me to say that you know" she sighed. "I understand... The moment I saw him approaching you... I've never felt so much concern and so much hate, not towards him... Towards me for dragging you into all...that" I said. "What I'm trying to say is I'm sorry and thank you.... You were a big help and I'd feel happy to have you on the comms if you're up to it..." I said with a small smile. "There's another thing... The trip ends in a couple of days and you'll be alone here which will make the situation even worse. I'm asking you... Leave this behind and come home with the rest of us" she continued. "I can't do that... I would love to return to how things were but now that's something I'm unable to do... My plan now is saving Circe, returning home and finding a way to get these stuff off of me" I sighed. "That sounds fair" she said, "So, all good?". "It seems like it..." I replied, "We still have a night to spare, what are you in the mood for?". "Okay, I have a great idea. We head to this great 24/7 diner, get a bite, a drink and then walk in the old city" she said excited. "You know what... I dig that, let's not waste a moment!" I replied. And so we begun. We headed to the diner and we bought some snacks and hot chocolate . We started walking around talking laughing and just enjoying this part of the city. The cold was stinging a bit but nothing we couldn't handle, I didn't really mind because it was just what was needed for the scenery to look like that. Roofs covered in snow all around, tall trees almost crystallised by the cold and snowflakes dancing in the breeze. The time was passing fast and after walking around for hours we concluded that we should return. We were moving in an alley to save time and we saw a person emerge from its end. I have a bad feeling I thought to myself, I looked behind us and I noticed someone was on our tail. "Give me your gloves" I said with a low voice and that's exactly what she did. I summoned my gauntlets and I covered them with the gloves. We had almost reached the end of the street but the man was still blocking, he now had his hand inside his jacket... We were getting closer and closer. "Look what we have here" the man said while drawing a knife , "such a great night to do a good deed and help my poor soul". We tried to step back but a woman was in the way with a knife on her hand as well . "I don't think they are really into charity love" she said to who I presume was her boyfriend. "Here's the thing kids, if you give us your stuff we'll let you go, it would be terrible to stain this street with blood wouldn't it" the man said to us, "I like your pink gloves dude, really... Manly" he continued and the couple started chucking. "Oh you have no idea" I said under my breath. "Don't" Lydia told me. "We don't have all night, start with your wallets" said the woman. "You heard the lady, now hurry... It would be a pity for something bad to happen to your lady friend... You get me dude, man to man, you know how that is, she looks like fun" the man said and I felt my heart pumping. "You done fucked up" said Lydia. "Stop talking girl" said the man while putting the knife closer to her throat. I grabbed the hand and I smashed his elbow, a loud crack echoed in the alley, the man fell down and he started screaming in pain and in disbelief. "You little shit!" screamed the woman and she tried to stab me but I blocked the knife with my gauntlets. "What the fuck" she muttered and I grabbed her head with my arm, I smiled and I smashed it on the wall letting her drop down unconscious. His screams were still going and I saw Lydia kicking him in the guts. "His stupid voice enrages me" I said to her and I approached him. "Nah I got it" she said, she took a few steps back and she kicked him in the head knocking him out. "Ouch, that's gonna hurt like a bitch when he wakes up" I chuckled. "Thank you... Exactly what I was going for" she replied and she started laughing. "I hope you won't kick me too but I may have stained your gloves with a tiny bit of blood" I said. "Nah they make them look less childish... You know, the blood really brings out a murderous intent the normal pink just can't" she replied smiling. "Cool point of view... Does that mean I should stain your pyjamas too?" I said with a grin. "Sheesh, I'm trying to make a joke here and you take it as a chance to hit more people" she laughed. "On my defense I read on a fashion magazine that scarlet red is gonna be worn a lot this year" I continued. "Admitting you're reading fashion magazines isn't a great defense per say but you do you" she replied with a laugh. "We should probably call the police shouldn't we?" I said and she pulled out her phone. "Already on it" she Said. She left an anonymous tip and we continued our wall back. Some time passed and we finally managed to reach the hotel. I followed her to the lobby "So I guess this is goodnight" I said. "Oh, you're not going to your room?" she asked. "We shouldn't give miss old hag the chance to ask questions should we" I replied. "Fair" she said, "That was fun... You know, up until the mugging part". "Attempted mugging you mean... But yeah, it was fun" I said. "The trip days are running out" she continued, "we should do something tomorrow". "I would love to but I have a lead for Circe that I need to follow... Can't wait for when I get back so we can hang out more" I said. "Likewise" she said and she yawned, "I guess it's goodnight then". "I guess it is" I replied with a smile, "Goodnight". "Night" she answered and she started going up the stairs. Time to go back to the hideout and be all alone I thought to myself and I sighed. I walked out of the hotel and the sun was rising.

#fantasy #darkfantasy #supernatural #dark #fiction #book #writing #writer #author #books #dark fantasy #dark fic

[neurosengarten]

• Learn how to learn from those you disagree with, or even offend you. See if you can find the truth in what they believe.

• Being enthusiastic is worth 25 IQ points.

• Always demand a deadline. A deadline weeds out the extraneous and the ordinary. It prevents you from trying to make it perfect, so you have to make it different. Different is better.

• Don’t be afraid to ask a question that may sound stupid because 99% of the time everyone else is thinking of the same question and is too embarrassed to ask it.

• Being able to listen well is a superpower. While listening to someone you love keep asking them “Is there more?”, until there is no more.

• A worthy goal for a year is to learn enough about a subject so that you can’t believe how ignorant you were a year earlier.

• Gratitude will unlock all other virtues and is something you can get better at.

• Treating a person to a meal never fails, and is so easy to do. It’s powerful with old friends and a great way to make new friends.

• Don’t trust all-purpose glue.

• Reading to your children regularly will bond you together and kickstart their imaginations.

• Never use a credit card for credit. The only kind of credit, or debt, that is acceptable is debt to acquire something whose exchange value is extremely likely to increase, like in a home. The exchange value of most things diminishes or vanishes the moment you purchase them. Don’t be in debt to losers.

• Pros are just amateurs who know how to gracefully recover from their mistakes.

• Extraordinary claims should require extraordinary evidence to be believed.

• Don’t be the smartest person in the room. Hangout with, and learn from, people smarter than yourself. Even better, find smart people who will disagree with you.

• Rule of 3 in conversation. To get to the real reason, ask a person to go deeper than what they just said. Then again, and once more. The third time’s answer is close to the truth.

• Don’t be the best. Be the only.

• Everyone is shy. Other people are waiting for you to introduce yourself to them, they are waiting for you to send them an email, they are waiting for you to ask them on a date. Go ahead.

• Don’t take it personally when someone turns you down. Assume they are like you: busy, occupied, distracted. Try again later. It’s amazing how often a second try works.

• The purpose of a habit is to remove that action from self-negotiation. You no longer expend energy deciding whether to do it. You just do it. Good habits can range from telling the truth, to flossing.

• Promptness is a sign of respect.

• When you are young spend at least 6 months to one year living as poor as you can, owning as little as you possibly can, eating beans and rice in a tiny room or tent, to experience what your “worst” lifestyle might be. That way any time you have to risk something in the future you won’t be afraid of the worst case scenario.

• Trust me: There is no “them”.

• The more you are interested in others, the more interesting they find you. To be interesting, be interested.

• Optimize your generosity. No one on their deathbed has ever regretted giving too much away.

• To make something good, just do it. To make something great, just re-do it, re-do it, re-do it. The secret to making fine things is in remaking them.

• The Golden Rule will never fail you. It is the foundation of all other virtues.

• If you are looking for something in your house, and you finally find it, when you’re done with it, don’t put it back where you found it. Put it back where you first looked for it.

• Saving money and investing money are both good habits. Small amounts of money invested regularly for many decades without deliberation is one path to wealth.

• To make mistakes is human. To own your mistakes is divine. Nothing elevates a person higher than quickly admitting and taking personal responsibility for the mistakes you make and then fixing them fairly. If you mess up, fess up. It’s astounding how powerful this ownership is.

• Never get involved in a land war in Asia.

• You can obsess about serving your customers/audience/clients, or you can obsess about beating the competition. Both work, but of the two, obsessing about your customers will take you further.

• Show up. Keep showing up. Somebody successful said: 99% of success is just showing up.

• Separate the processes of creation from improving. You can’t write and edit, or sculpt and polish, or make and analyze at the same time. If you do, the editor stops the creator. While you invent, don’t select. While you sketch, don’t inspect. While you write the first draft, don’t reflect. At the start, the creator mind must be unleashed from judgement.

• If you are not falling down occasionally, you are just coasting.

• Perhaps the most counter-intuitive truth of the universe is that the more you give to others, the more you’ll get. Understanding this is the beginning of wisdom.

• Friends are better than money. Almost anything money can do, friends can do better. In so many ways a friend with a boat is better than owning a boat.

• This is true: It’s hard to cheat an honest man.

• When an object is lost, 95% of the time it is hiding within arm’s reach of where it was last seen. Search in all possible locations in that radius and you’ll find it.

• You are what you do. Not what you say, not what you believe, not how you vote, but what you spend your time on.

• If you lose or forget to bring a cable, adapter or charger, check with your hotel. Most hotels now have a drawer full of cables, adapters and chargers others have left behind, and probably have the one you are missing. You can often claim it after borrowing it.

• Hatred is a curse that does not affect the hated. It only poisons the hater. Release a grudge as if it was a poison.

• There is no limit on better. Talent is distributed unfairly, but there is no limit on how much we can improve what we start with.

• Be prepared: When you are 90% done any large project (a house, a film, an event, an app) the rest of the myriad details will take a second 90% to complete.

• When you die you take absolutely nothing with you except your reputation.

• Before you are old, attend as many funerals as you can bear, and listen. Nobody talks about the departed’s achievements. The only thing people will remember is what kind of person you were while you were achieving.

• For every dollar you spend purchasing something substantial, expect to pay a dollar in repairs, maintenance, or disposal by the end of its life.

•Anything real begins with the fiction of what could be. Imagination is therefore the most potent force in the universe, and a skill you can get better at. It’s the one skill in life that benefits from ignoring what everyone else knows.

• When crisis and disaster strike, don’t waste them. No problems, no progress.

• On vacation go to the most remote place on your itinerary first, bypassing the cities. You’ll maximize the shock of otherness in the remote, and then later you’ll welcome the familiar comforts of a city on the way back.

• When you get an invitation to do something in the future, ask yourself: would you accept this if it was scheduled for tomorrow? Not too many promises will pass that immediacy filter.

• Don’t say anything about someone in email you would not be comfortable saying to them directly, because eventually they will read it.

• If you desperately need a job, you are just another problem for a boss; if you can solve many of the problems the boss has right now, you are hired. To be hired, think like your boss.

• Art is in what you leave out.

• Acquiring things will rarely bring you deep satisfaction. But acquiring experiences will.

• Rule of 7 in research. You can find out anything if you are willing to go seven levels. If the first source you ask doesn’t know, ask them who you should ask next, and so on down the line. If you are willing to go to the 7th source, you’ll almost always get your answer.

• How to apologize: Quickly, specifically, sincerely.

• Don’t ever respond to a solicitation or a proposal on the phone. The urgency is a disguise.

• When someone is nasty, rude, hateful, or mean with you, pretend they have a disease. That makes it easier to have empathy toward them which can soften the conflict.

• Eliminating clutter makes room for your true treasures.

• You really don’t want to be famous. Read the biography of any famous person.

• Experience is overrated. When hiring, hire for aptitude, train for skills. Most really amazing or great things are done by people doing them for the first time.

• A vacation + a disaster = an adventure.

• Buying tools: Start by buying the absolute cheapest tools you can find. Upgrade the ones you use a lot. If you wind up using some tool for a job, buy the very best you can afford.

• Learn how to take a 20-minute power nap without embarrassment.

• Following your bliss is a recipe for paralysis if you don’t know what you are passionate about. A better motto for most youth is “master something, anything”. Through mastery of one thing, you can drift towards extensions of that mastery that bring you more joy, and eventually discover where your bliss is.

• I’m positive that in 100 years much of what I take to be true today will be proved to be wrong, maybe even embarrassingly wrong, and I try really hard to identify what it is that I am wrong about today.

• Over the long term, the future is decided by optimists. To be an optimist you don’t have to ignore all the many problems we create; you just have to imagine improving our capacity to solve problems.

• The universe is conspiring behind your back to make you a success. This will be much easier to do if you embrace this pronoia.

[crowleyellestair]

Hi, could I ask a favor? I’m sure you’ve done a few of these before but one more could never hurt. Would you mind writing a geralt x reader where the reader is having a depressive episode and needs a little tlc? I am Big sad right now and who doesn’t love soft geralt? Tyia

AN//// I hope you get out of sad hours soon :) Soft Geralt is here to help

  The sun was a bright star that always shown, no matter if one could see it or not. The moon would always reflect the sun, and is the only way we could see it, or illuminate the night. Of course, there’s always the dark side of the moon. People of the continent might not be able to see it, but it was always there. An unknown patch of darkness that no one can traverse. Sometimes that darkness creeps around, when the sun and earth were dancing their own jig, and encased the space rock. It happened in phases, but that darkness always creeps.

That darkness that lived in Y/n couldn’t be tracked as easily as a lunar phase, but that too always lingered. When a humble bard and Geralt of Rivia had entered her life, it seemed the world stopped moving. All that mattered was adventure and friendship and finally moving forward in life. No more was the woman who longed for something more. A healer stuck in a small backwater town that had little money or resources found joy and companionship after a wild childhood leading to a rough start to adulthood.

Jaskier, the eccentric poet, had a large heart and love to spare. He had open arms that she fell into, fine silk cushioning her fall. He was quick to become what she came to realize was a best friend. His bubbly atmosphere had wrapped around the healer, and let the day last forever. But the sun was found in Geralt. Despite his normal demeanor, the true kindness in his heart is what gave Y/n’s day light. Those golden eyes were beams that shone on her, giving her soft looks, and prideful glances when she had done something. Y/n finally made someone proud. It seemed like the night would never come, but what comes up, must come down.

It had been months of traveling with her two friends, but this was the first time the woman was alone. Jaskier had a court arrangement, and left the two with the promise of finding them again soon. Geralt and Y/n continued East, the former continuing his search for work. She still lived on high, happily trailing along side the witcher, even when he suggested camping out instead of an inn. Y/n hadn’t cared where they slept as long as they had a tomorrow they could wake up to and traverse together. This contract had pulled the two apart, but that hadn’t mattered. Y/n lived her whole life alone, and this was no exception. The cave they had set up camp was safe and she trusted her own skills enough to protect herself.

It had only been a few hours since she watched Geralt and Roach disappear in the distance. Her sun was setting, and the earth had started to move again, letting the darkness grip her with its claws. It had started innocently, and dusk had approached slowly. There was a lot to reflect on, some good, some bad, but all bringing contentment. The summer heat had set just cool enough to give a slight chill, but nothing her blanket couldn’t fix. But then there was also that drip that echoed through the cave. There was a period where she started to slink around, trying to find the source, but she couldn’t. Soon, she moved to the mouth of the cave, but she still heard the sporadic sound. After another handful of hours, Y/n felt her heart beat hard against her ribcage, bringing her attention to the beat. It was just as sporadic as the dripping sound, and she tried to calm it through breathing. Nothing worked, and her breath started to speed when she couldn’t slow her heart.

The cave had grown dark due to night falling, but it hadn’t worried her. She was with Geralt when he did a sweep, but the shadows seemed to start dancing. They morphed from unknown figures to the ghosts of her past. They fell over each other, trying to claw their way to her, closing in the space around her. Her eyes started to sting, the pressure building in her head and nose. It wasn’t long until her throat started to constrict, but she let her eyes fall. She could handle these figures. There was no explanation for them, and she didn’t know their motive, but she was strong. Tapping her foot, the sound quickly drowned the drips. A steadily tempo-ed counting started to fall from her lips, and she focused on nothing except keeping her voice steady. Memories and regrets started to beat against the walls she built, despite them being just as complete as the ruins of Kaer Morhen. The sadness started to seep in, but she refused to open her eyes. She had faced those ghosts, but no matter what she did, they were never appeased. Never, unless they had some part of her to take as they receded. Her price for calming down had been joy, sorrow filling her bones. Her eyes finally fluttered open, and it had worked. She was alone.

By the time dawn struck again, the agony still had yet to leave. There were plants she had scouted throughout the day, and Geralt had trusted her enough to replenish certain potions, so by the time he came back, he wouldn’t have to worry about it. Though, the witcher still worried as when he made his way back to the cave, sadness stunk the air. Pain, anger and fear all had different scents, the former smelling of mud. It held the consistency of a flooded field, one where carts would get stuck and the fields would take days to dry. Pain was mixed in, smelling like a storm. The electricity of a wound strikes trough the body and heart, mixing with the mud, letting the witcher know that something was wrong. It was all laced with his healer’s general scent, and the fact that it was a clear day gave off warning signs. When the man entered the cave, however, everything looked to be in order.

A small smile was graced to him as Y/n’s gaze fell on him. The job had been easy, though he played up the work so that the embezzling alderman wouldn’t jip him of coin. Despite that, he was on edge, knowing something was being covered up.

“You look better than usual. Did it go okay? I pulled out the rub, but I think I’ve perfected the scrub, so it doesn’t feel so rough.” There was a deeper undertone that laced her voice, but nothing looked out of place. He nodded, starting to shed everything from his person. He had taken longer, and they day was almost over.

“It was fine.” She held out her hands, and he instantly handed her the specialized pouch on his belt that held vials of potions. Her eyes flickered to his, but her whole body turned away quickly. The lingering touches and gazes were never missed by the witcher, and was something that showed him her requited interest. They were small things that brought them into the weird dance of affection they were currently in. Even if her gaze hadn’t lingered, the speed at which she tried to hide was astounding and alarming. “What’s wrong?” Her head tilted over her shoulder, but again her gaze didn’t cross him. His hands, free of his gloves, gently landed on her shoulders. They were tense, but didn’t tense upon him touching her, so he knew she was holding something.

“It’s nothing. Really.” Geralt didn’t move his hand, even if her own movements sped up. There were a couple of moments when she hesitates, but continues to refill the vials. Finally, she stops, her head tilting towards him again. “I honestly wouldn’t even be able to tell you. Sometimes things just pile on, and comeback to haunt later. I…” Y/n turns to Geralt, standing and holding his hand in her own. “I’m so happy with you and Jaskier too, when he’s around. Sometimes, things just… happen.” Geralt nodded, bringing a hand to cup her head, and lead it to his now unarmored chest. His chin rested on her, and the hand still entangled with hers simply squeezed.

A thumb started to rub gentle circles on the back of her neck, and his chin lifted off her, only to be replaced by his lips. The man would shrink away from affection towards him, or showing his own emotion, but he couldn’t stand for this. Y/n had done nothing to anyone in this life, and she didn’t deserve to be spit on just for trying to make her way through it. There are countless times where her knowledge had saved not only him, but others through different towns they had passed through.

“Thank you.”

“For…what?”

“Helping. Staying. Caring.” His hand dropped hers to bring her even closer, enveloping her in a tight embrace. “You don’t need to go it alone. I’ll be here for you as you have been here for me.” Y/n let out a breath, and slightly snuggled into him. They stayed like that for a while before Geralt let her go on her way again. Bedrolls were moved close to each other, and a spiced dinner was made for her. He didn’t want to press, and he knew simple food and closeness wouldn’t keep those ghosts at bay. But it was a start. Geralt would be there for her, and do anything she asked of him. Y/n didn’t deserve to be in the dark, and though he didn’t know he was a sun, he wanted to at least be her torch.

#witcher imagine #geralt imagine #geralt x reader #witcher x reader

[alamhigyoooo]

nameless

you have lived a thousand thousand lives, but at the end you are still the same boy who fell in love with her under the moonlight.

(emet-selch/hades x warrior of light)

[read it here on ao3]

Your name is Hades, and you are just a boy when you fall in love for the first time.

She is standing in the ocean waves, clutching her robes to her chest. Tiny little turtles waddle from the sandy shore into the dark abyss of the sea, floating with the current around her ankles.

“Just think, Hades,” she says, kneeling down to peer at the infant turtles. “So many lives, traveling out to explore the world. Isn’t it exciting?”

“Exciting?” you echo, unsure if you agree. “The world is so big, and we’re just children. Doesn’t the thought of the unknown scare you?” The ocean, pitch black and endless, roars back, as if it hears the trepidation in your voice.

“Of course,” she says, and when she turns to you the moon shines through her eyes, refracting into a hundred shards of light across her cheeks. “Of course I’m scared. But that’s why I want to go and see it all, someday. It’s only unknown if we never seek to know it.”

Profound words from such a young soul -  and the moment is broken by the crash of a wave that sends sea spray into her face. She shrieks in surprised joy, and you watch as she flounders in the water with hearty laughter.

(Your breath catches in your throat, and you’re not sure you understand why your chest feels so tight, but as she laughs in the waves you think that you’ve never heard anything so beautiful.)

--

Your name is Hades, and you have just become a different man.

“Hades!”

You turn away from the Convocation members - your new peers - and try not to smile too big as she floats across the room towards you. “I wondered where you’d drifted off to,” you call out, striding to meet her halfway. Behind you, there are soft whispers, amused chuckles, as the Convocation disperses into the greater crowd - but you pay them no mind.

“I certainly tried to find you, but you were swept up by someone else every time I got close,” she laughs, beaming. She reaches out and takes your hands in hers, and you feel your heart stop. “Congratulations! I told you that you’d make the Convocation one day.”

Ordinarily you’d smirk and agree with her - but as she looks up at you, kaleidoscope eyes peeking through her mask, your arrogance withers and you find yourself content to do nothing more than bask in her praise, her confidence in you.  

“I’m thankful to have had your support,” you say stiffly, failing utterly to convey the gratitude you feel. “Someday you’ll be on the Convocation with me, too.”

She snorts, but squeezes your hands gently. “I don’t need to be.”

“You’re still going?” you ask in surprise, unable to hide some of the disappointment in your voice.

“I always said I would,” she tells you, and she squeezes your hands once more. “But you needn’t worry. I’ll come back, and I’ll have so many stories to tell you.”

There are too many things you want to say, and not enough time to say any of them. So you smile and say, “Very well. Safe travels, my friend.”

(It takes all of your willpower to not beg her to stay, and as she slips from your grasp you wish you’d said “I’ll be waiting for you”, too.)

--

Your name is Emet-Selch, and you feel the weight of the world upon your shoulders.

Her steps through the grass rouse you from your thoughts. Though your eyes are closed, you hear her settle beside you on the ground. “Brooding again?”

You crack one eye open and frown. “I’m not brooding. Unless you think the world’s impending doom isn’t worth the extra thought?”

She looks down at you, before slipping off her mask - her new Convocation mask, marking her status as Azem. Her crystalline eyes are full of worry. “You spend too much time alone and upset. No one could solve a problem, much less the fate of the world, in such a way.”

With a sigh, you push yourself up and face her. “Well, what would you have me do?”

Her back straightens, and she leans close to you. “Come with me,” she says earnestly, and you’re lost in her prismatic gaze. “Come travel the world with me. There’s so much to see - there’s bound to be something out there that will help you.”

It’s a touching sentiment - but nothing more. Your place is here, in Amaurot, as the guiding hand of your people. You offer her a tired smile. “Surely if there was a solution in the wider world, you would have found it already.”

“My mind is hardly as acute as yours,” she replies, and she pulls back. You know she’s heard the rejection in your words, and though you find relief in her acquiescence, her withdrawal still stings. “Perhaps if you were to see something with your own eyes, you might find inspiration.”

Her compliment soothes some of the ache in your heart, so you tell her, “Your faith in me is inspiring enough.”

(In another world, you would have said yes, because deep down, you long for her to whisk you away, to show you the world - to set you free.)

--

Your name is Emet-Selch, and you have lost everything there ever was to lose.

As you wander through the rubble of what used to be your home, you’re not sure if it’s possible for a man to lose anything more. Every being, every soul - splintered beyond repair, halved again and again, into pitiful shadows of the majestic creatures they once were.

Every being. Every soul.

Save yourself, of course; yourself, and Lahabrea, and Elidibus. The three of you now comprise the final remnants of what was the greatest people to ever walk the land.

“Architect,” says the Abyssal Celebrant, emerging from the ruins of the Capital. He is pale-faced, haggard, and you see in the lines of his body the same deep, deep horror you feel in your own.

“No one?” you rasp, even though you know the answer. You have known the answer.

He shakes his head; you close your eyes and swallow down a sob, a scream.

(She had been there, to warn everyone, to warn you - and you turned her away like a fool, bitter and hurt and blind. That is all you will ever be, now and forever: a fool, who missed and missed and missed his chances, and will never have another chance again.)

--

Your name is… you aren’t sure what your name is, anymore.

What life is this, your eighth? Your fifteenth? You can’t keep track anymore. These lives, all too brief and empty, somehow manage to blur together into a mass of nothingness, but you must persist.

Zodiark demands it.

Perhaps you are a lord - perhaps you are a peasant. Perhaps you are ruling an empire, pretending to care about the ants who mill about this world and believe bloodshed to be their birthright.

You tried - heavens know you tried. You tried so very hard, in the beginning, to let go of the past, to live and love and die among the newfound stewards of this star, these stars. You gave it your all, gave them your all, and still they failed you.

You will not be failed again.

So you tread through these broken shards, silent and deadly, seeking your fallen comrades spread thin across fourteen planes. Igeyorhm, Naibrales, Mitron and Loghrif. Viciously as you work to tear down the walls between worlds and return the Source to its true self, just as tenderly do you press each crystal to the hand of its bearer and restore their memories, their minds.

It breaks your heart to see their faces when they begin to understand their reality, what happened to their home. Ten times do you restore an ally, and ten times must you witness that heartbreak - your heartbreak - all over again.

(Alone, you shut your eyes and imagine finding her. When you find her, when you press the crystal you made for her into her palm, you pray that she will take peace in your presence, that you will not have to watch her heart shatter as well.)

--

Your name is about to disappear, and you are there to watch Azem die.

It isn’t her, not really - but you know that color and would know it anywhere, despite being muted and dulled by the Sundering. Millenia since you have seen it, but it is etched into your heart with clarity nonetheless.

You see her color first, in the gaggle of souls who think they will escape the doom of the Third Shard. At first you think it might be a figment of your imagination, a ripple in the magic which makes you invisible to the untrained eye.

But it flashes by again, and again, and you are too weak to resist this chance to finally see her again. Like a moth to a flame, you let yourself be drawn to her color, pushing aside everything in your way to make it to her in time.

Time, after all, is dwindling - if not for you, then for her, and whose fault is that?

When you catch up to her shade, the ground is falling away at her feet, and she clutches to the side of a cliff wall with all the strength left in her body. Slowly, painfully, you let your magics slip away, revealing yourself with silence - a contrast to the howling of the earth around you.

The shade takes you in with wide eyes - eyes that are not right, not like hers. Violet, round, and afraid - not like hers.

Azem’s crystal is heavy in your pocket.

“Do I know you?” says the shard, and you are taken aback. You had expected a plea for help, a prayer for salvation.

You are not ready for the hand the shard reaches out to you, and like always, you miss your chance as the cliff fails her and she falls to her death far below.

(Nobody will ever know, but you search the Lifestream for her after, even though you know it will be in vain. She is gone, and you hate yourself for wishing she wasn’t. You vow that you will never look for her again.)

--

Your name is Solus zos Galvus, and you are bored.

“A toast, to Varis yae Galvus!” rings out through the dining hall, followed by a chorus of voices repeating, “To Varis!”

Boring. So very boring. A wedding for your grandsire, High Legatus Varis. As Emperor, it is your duty to attend such events, put on a show to bolster morale - but you despise it. There is nothing left worth celebrating in this world, you think.

The groom, your grandsire, rises from his seat, tall and imposing, so much like your son. Your pitiful dead son. You watch him lift his own glass, hear his voice booming through the hall, as he mechanically thanks the attendees for their blessings.

“How wretched,” you mutter under your breath, before wheezing as you push yourself into a better sitting position. The body you inhabit has cursed you with old age, feeble and decaying just like the rest of the sad remnants who surround you, and you long for a time when you may finally be free of it, to walk the world in youthful flesh.

At the sound of your fussing, all eyes in the room break from your grandsire and fixate on you, and you take small amusement in watching the bravado slip from your grandsire’s grasp.

Then his bride turns to look at you as well, with crystals glinting in her hair, and they reflect light in a way that makes you say “Pah!” and hobble your way out of the hall.

(Thrice cursed, in one night - to suffer through your own emotional failure, to sit through it all in an ailing body, and to be reminded of a love you will never see again.)

--

Your name is Emet-Selch, and your companions are useless.

Useless, you call them, though you tell yourself it’s well-meant. No matter how much you feud with them or gnash your teeth in frustration at them, deep down you love them. You can never say it, though - it lies in a box which cannot be opened, else other forbidden things come tumbling out.

But of course they would be useless when it comes to Hydaelyn’s champion - and suddenly, as you gaze upon the shard that people hail as “hero”, you are thankful that you locked away your love so long ago.

For who among them could turn on her shade?

Lahabrea tried, and failed twice. Naibrales lost, blinded by righteous fury and hate. Igeyorhm, too, silenced forever.

It’s cruel, but - you note with bitterness - cruelty seems to be your reality forevermore. Hydaelyn has chosen her, has chosen what’s left of her, pitted her remains against you in a grand cosmic match that, were you not utterly dedicated to your cause, is tragic enough that you would lay down your arms to weep.

You hate this shard.

(When you meet the shard for the first time, really meet her, her eyes are white - and they are too close to hers and yet not near enough anyways. White though they may be, they lack the fleeting colors which danced within - and every time you meet the shard after, you tell yourself to look into her eyes to draw strength from what she lacks.)

--

Your name is Hades, and you are finally free.

Though you have died a thousand thousand times, this is the first death that you really feel. It burns, it’s agonizing, and yet you have never felt so at peace.

She faces you - and it feels so good to finally, finally stop denying that it is her. To stop needing it to be her.

Remarkable, you think, that this life of hers is the one which ends yours. Dark hair, and white eyes, passion etched in every line of her face.

She is as beautiful as the day you lost her, and to admit it makes you weep.

“Remember us,” you tell her, at the edge of the world where your heart breaks and heals at the same time. “Remember that we lived.”

Silence, and though you know you are at peace for a moment your soul wrenches in agony. Maybe it is too late - maybe you have pushed her too far. And here, at the end, you must admit that you have.

Irony is ever so cruel - reunited at last, finished at last, and you are going to die in front of the one you love, in a body she hates because you made her hate it.

But she isn’t - she isn’t cruel.

“I will remember,” she says, surprising you like always. “I promise I will remember.”

(You fill your last moments with the memory of her eyes: they are no longer pure white, you realize, but now have the faintest hint of a rainbow at the edges, a gift of her impromptu rejoining. You think back to a night on the beach where the moonlight turned her gaze into diamonds and smile.)

--

Your name doesn’t matter, but she calls it anyway.

“Emet-Selch!” her voice beckons you, and you stir in the Lifestream. “Hades!”

(She needs you, and as you feel yourself pulled towards her warmth, you think that you’ve never heard anything so beautiful.)

#ffxiv #ffxiv writing #emet-selch #hades #warrior of light #emet-selch x warrior of light #ffxiv spoilers #spoilers for shb and 5.3! #also posted on ao3 #i hope you guys like this! #ala writes

[tea-and-marigold]

Wings of Fire - An Autobiography by APJ Abdul Kalam with Arun Tiwari

APJ Abdul Kalam was an impeccable man, loved and respected by all, and a source of inspiration and pride for every Indian. He was a humble and a compassionate man with devotion for his country and aspiration to fly high in his heart and soul. ‘Wings of Fire’ is a gracefully written account of his life.

“We are all born with a divine fire in us. Our efforts should be to give wings to this fire and fill the world with the glow of its goodness.”

The book gives us an insight into his journey from being the son of a little educated boat owner in Rameshwaram to becoming one of the greatest defence scientists this country has ever seen through sheer determination and hard work. It gives us an understanding of the adversities he faced in his lifetime and how he overcame them.

“God has not promised

Skies always blue,

Flower-strewn pathways

All our life through;

God has not promised

Sun without rain,

Joy without sorrow,

Peace without pain."

Along with being an extraordinarily skillful and imaginative scientist, he was also a leader with a vision. Not only did he accomplish his own goals and give wings to his own ambitions, he also inspired and motivated his colleagues and juniors along the way to realize their true potential and cultivate it to fulfill their purpose.

“Desire, when it stems from the heart and spirit, when it is pure and intense, possesses awesome electromagnetic energy. This energy is released into the ether each night, as the mind falls into the sleep state. Each morning it returns to the conscious state reinforced with the cosmic currents. That which has been imaged will surely and certainly be manifested. You can rely, young man, upon this ageless promise as surely as you can rely upon the eternally unbroken promise of sunrise... and of Spring.”

His life is a testament to the fact that dedication and commitment towards one’s goals can go a long way in achieving them. His ideas and perspective towards life in general have had a profound impact on me and have given me clarity of vision and thought.

“This is my belief: that through difficulties and problems God gives us the opportunity to grow. So when your hopes and dreams and goals are dashed, search among the wreckage, you may find a golden opportunity hidden in the ruins.”

It’s a must read, especially for the youth of our country. Everyone, irrespective of their academic, religious or social background can read and gain inspiration from his life.

“I am a well in this great land

Looking at its millions of boys and girls

To draw from me

The inexhaustible divinity

And spread his grace everywhere

As does water drawn from a well."

#wings of fire #apj abdul kalam #arun tiwari #autobiography #books

[tenglows]

Hi!! Could you write a Jaemin IdolxFan fluff angst with a happy ending and 33+43?? Thank you!!

[ 33: do you think we're meant to be? ] + [ 43: i wrote you a song ]

the prompts

it was a summer afternoon when you almost had a heart attack.

you were at your new job, the second day to be exact, when a boy came through the door. but it wasn’t any boy, it was na jaemin. nct dream’s jaemin. a member of your literal favorite band. was standing in front of you.

you didn’t recognize him at first, bucket hat covering his hair and a part of his face hidden behind a face mask. but when got closer to you and told you his order, it just had to be him. there was no other way.

hesitation came when you had to write his name on the cup, the marker frozen in your hand. should you directly write his name? but doubt washed over you, fearing that he wasn’t actually jaemin and you would make a fool of yourself. so, to be sure:

“what’s your name?”

he stared at you expressionlessly for a couple of seconds. your heart pounding within your ribcage. he pulled down his mask a bit, and then it was obvious. it really was him.

“noah”

what the fuck?

lying on your bed that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about today’s event. you had genuinely met your favorite idol, who got coffee and a muffin at the shop you’ve only started working at, and you didn’t react. you couldn’t, when he lied about his name. noah, seriously?

you tried to not give it much thought, assuming it had something to do with the fact that he didn’t want to be recognized in the street. but sleep was hard when you couldn’t stop hearing the boy’s voice in your mind.

two days had passed and you weren’t that stirred about the issue anymore. you accepted it as the one funny anecdote you would tell your children.

until, the boy was standing in front of the register giving the same other from before. there wasn’t anything hiding his hair this time, and you noticed it was blonder than from the pictures released a few days ago.

when you asked his name, you were surprised about him not paying attention to your question.

“you are new here” he stated.

“um, yes” you nodded, bemused. “how do you know that?”

“i always come here and i haven’t seen you around” he shrugged, a monotonous tone conveyed through all his sentences. “and the name is noah”

seeing jaemin wasn’t something that out of your routine anymore. the next time it was later than the others. you were in charge of closing the shop and were about to turn the ‘opened’ sign when he bursted into the place. slightly bowing, he tried to calm himself down.

“please, don’t close yet” he was out of breath, and you figured he had ran here. “i need coffee”

you made your way back behind the counter, jaemin following slowly. his hair was sticking to his forehead, drenched in sweat the same way his sport clothes were. he had probably been practising.

“are you okay?” you dared to query as you served him the coffee.

“yeah, too much work. that’s all” he gave you the money and smiled at you, going towards the door.

“wait” it came out of your mouth before you could keep it inside, and now that jaemin had turned around you were sort of regreting it. but hey, this things didn’t happen to everyone. “do you want to sit? i could stay open for a few minutes”

he nodded and thanked you, sitting down on a chair. he also told you to join him, and after preparing yourself a strawberry yogurt smoothie, you did.

“do you want some?” you offered and he made a face.

“no thank you, i don’t like strawberry flavored things”

“oh that’s right” you smiled, remembering the characteristic from him and drank some of your beverage. of course, you almost spit it out when you realized what you had said.

he had either not noticed it, or definitely brushed it aside. because he kept talking with the same indiference and tranquillity.

“what’s your name?” it was funny that he was the one making that question now.

“y/n”

“what do you do, y/n? apart from working here” he positioned his face on the palm of his hand, observing you attentively.

“i’m an aspiring songwriter. hadn’t had any luck yet though” you giggled. “what about you?” it felt out of place asking that when you already knew the answer.

“me? i’m an intern at some company” okay, not really a lie. “and don’t lose hope, i’m sure you’ll do well”

of course he had to be somehow sweeter in person.

it was getting darker and though you didn’t want to interrupt this moment, you really needed to lock up and get back home. jaemin apologized and said he should get going as well. under the moonlight, he gave you the brightest smile and promised to find you tomorrow.

he always kept his promise after that. and it wasn’t long until you guys started dating, shy coffee chats turning into all types of dates, during which you confirmed jaemin was indeed the most considerate and kindest person.

what happens is that jaemin kept going by noah. he never told you what his actual job was, and you never came clean about knowing his true identity. not because of anything in particular, only that it had already been so much time you had no idea how to bring it up. and you were too lost in your romance story to give it the importance it deserved.

jaemin was currently resting his head on your legs, the tv being the only source of light in your living room. neither of you were very concentrated on what you were watching, jaemin playing with your fingers.

“you know” you started, smiling at the boy beneath you. “i wrote you a song”

jaemin’s mouth opened wide and he stood up straight, quickly pausing the movie.

“show it to me!! now!!!!” he shook your arms.

“i will, i will” you laughed. “but first, i’m gonna go to the bathroom. you can search it in my notes in the mean time. it’s called strawberry kisses” you cringed at the embarrassment saying it out loud caused you.

jaemin squealed in excitement, grabbing your phone from the table.

with a big smile, you came back to the living room.

“you have to promise me you won’t laugh, i was really emotional when i wrote it and i” you stopped at the sight of jaemin having a tight grip on the device, the previous joy not having left a single trace on his face. “baby?”

you walked towards him slowly, vision growing blurrier when he didn’t look at you, his chest going up and down.

“what is this?” he showed you your twitter account. you shut your eyes, you had left the app open. “what is this, y/n?” he repeated louder this time.

“i can explain” oh how you hated that phrase. but it was the only thing that seemed to come out, voice already starting to break.

“yeah? how can you explain that you knew who i was all along? not only that, but that you have a fan account of me and my band?”

tears streamed down your cheeks. it was probably the first time jaemin had spoken like this to you, that he had stared at you like that.

“baby”

“no! no baby” he mocked you. “you lied! you fucking lied”

“i’m sorry” you blubbered. “i didn’t know how to tell you”

“i felt safe with you. i felt like i could be myself, not na jaemin, the idol. but me. whoever that is” tears had formed in his too, and your sobs were loud in the room. “but it was all fake”

“it wasn’t” you tried approaching him, your hands despairingly trying to touch him. “i was really selfish, i was so caught up in how amazing everything felt i didn’t think about the consequences. about what you would feel. but it was all real, jaemin. i swear”

it was the first time you had said his real name out loud, and he wished it had been in another context. now it only managed to send a dagger through his chest.

“i’m so sorry” he stared at the ground and the silence killed you. it was when he fixed his eyes on yours for a second that your heart stopped, but it continued stinging when he walked off.

“no, please don’t leave. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry” you begged and cried and tried to block the door. but he didn’t reply. and he left. that easily. leaving you a sobbing mess against the wall.

you hated yourself for hurting jaemin. and as you continously mulled over the matter, you did even more. you couldn’t imagine how betrayed he must have felt. when you put yourself in the shoes of a famous person, you then saw how scared of being used they must be. honesty was all jaemin expected from you. and you hurt him.

the café felt lonely without his presence, but when he showed up again, it showed it was probably for the best. you did your best to hold back your tears as you wrote down his order.

“why did you write noah, huh? it’s not like you need to pretend anymore” he said harshly and exited the bar. you had to excuse yourself and run to the bathroom so you wouldn’t break down in the middle of your shift.

he didn’t reply to any of your texts or calls. and you would have gone to his place, even if it meant settling in his doorstep until he talked to you. but you didn’t know where he lived or where he practiced at. you thought that was the worst part of it all. knowing there wasn’t a single thing you could do to make it right.

you were walking down the street when you passed through the café. you didn’t work on tuesdays, and jaemin knew that. little did you know that was the only day he would go get coffee now. because he knew you wouldn’t be there.

but as soon as you saw the tall boy getting out of the door, you crossed the street speedily.

“wait, wait!” you yelled out and he stopped, looking at you with the same disappointed eyes from that night. “talk to me, please”

“i don’t want to talk”

“then” you gulped and handed him a sheet of paper. “here. that’s my song. i didn’t get to give it to you the other day, but i wanted you to know how i truly felt” the boy inspected the paper. “i’ll leave you alone now”

it was officially a month since you had screwed up your relationship with jaemin. it didn’t get better with time, as people said. and you still couldn’t have anything with strawberry because it reminded you of him.

you now hated being in charge of closing the pub. the lonesomeness felt bigger when it was empty and with no reason to brew more coffee. another downside was that you were alone with your thoughts, meaning you would end up dwelling on the empty spot jaemin had left behind.

you were rearranging the storage at the back when you heard the bell.

“i’m sorry, we’re closed” you shouted rushing in the main area.

but he was there. he was holding your song, and he was crying.

“jaemin?” you whispered from where you were standing, not sure if you should come nearer or not.

“i really liked your song” he sobbed and your heart shattered. “my favorite part was the one where you said ‘do you think we're meant to be?’ because i do” he moved to your direction and wrapped his arms around your waist. “i do think we’re meant to be”

you were crying with him. both of you hiding in each other’s shoulders, allowing yourselves to let out everything you were holding.

“i regret it so much. i could have done better” you weeped.

“you can now” he moved his face closer to yours and weeped off your tears.

“i never used you, i never viewed you as the jaemin” you babbled, desperate about explaining yourself. jaemin nodded and stroked your hair, giving a kiss to the top of your head.

“i know” he kissed you again. “i know”.

#jaemin au #jaemin scenarios #jaemin #jaemin fluff #jaemin angst #nct au #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct fluff #nct angst #nct #jaemin imagines #nct jaemin #nct dream au #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #na jaemin #angst #fluff #idol au

[omnitf]

Death’s Soliloquy

You know, I’ve been around for a very long time.

My purpose was and is a simple one. I exist to guide what once was into the great beyond, the what will be, if you will.

Every day of your mortal lives, I am working, watching, travelling silently among you.

Sometimes, I linger. Other times, I do not.

I don’t decide my timetable. I am neither cruel nor hateful. I do not steal life, nor do I feast upon it like some glutted animal. I am not the source of ailments or hunger or conflict. You can attribute those things to the other horsemen, and more importantly to Man. We do not sow that which we embody. Man calls us. And we come, because we must. It is our Duty.

And before you get any ideas, I don’t inflict myself on others. I come when I must, and I perform my Duty. That has always been my purpose, and for all I know, it always will be. Or perhaps the time will come when I can retire and pass this burden to another with the birth of a new world and a new creation. Who can say? It is one of those “great mysteries” that you mortals love to ponder so much.

I am content with my lot. I am seen every day, but so few of you mortals recognize me or even talk to me. It is both blessing and curse, I suppose. The Veil, I mean. You know, I honestly think humans are the reason the Veil exists in the first place. Not that it was placed as some punishment, but because man reached a point where he simply feared the spiritual. So many men think fear is essential in life. It pushes one to great acts that may seem otherwise impossible to achieve. And, indeed, in that way fear can be very useful. But like any tool or naturally occurring phenomenon, it can also be exploited. I suppose over time, it has also served as a necessary defense mechanism, but we can discuss that later.

You know, I honestly think that’s what comprises the veil most, exploitation. The idea that man must rely on himself alone, pushing their will over everything else. And like the sudden cough of a combustion engine, the smog of their will bursts from them to clog the ether.

It’s perfectly harmless on its own, but magnify that expulsion by billions upon billions and, well, you can barely see the hand in front of your face at that point. The only thing I’ve noticed that’s strong enough to cut through it is a pure, unwavering faith, the kind that’s not forced or thrust by the will of others, but born of devotion and love gained through personal experience and hard work. That, or a complete openness and acceptance that borders on the divine.

I had many wonderful conversations with the one you call Terry Pratchett before I came for that most important visit. He was such a one as I listed above. I like to believe he fell a little under both exceptions to the Veil. Much of our discussions wound their way into his work. I quite liked his portrayal of me. The idea of searching for meaning, a chance to experience joy and life as humans do. Yes, I very much approve of the world he crafted, a world where the ideas that mortals seem to cling to with such certainty and passion can be thrown on their heads in an instant and leave them to ponder, to wonder, and perhaps to think openly and clearly for the first time in their lives. Perhaps, one day, he will be able to do so in a reality that he forges in that great beyond, rather than in written word and the portals of his mind. Yes, I would not mind knowing such a Death, nor travelling such a world.

Ah, but of course, it would have to wait until my Duty is complete in this cycle of the Eternal Round.

Now, then, where was I?

Ah, yes. I was talking of Man and his perceptions. Many think me to be cruel. They beg me to send them back or allow them to remain. Some run. Occasionally, they are allowed to return, their time extended by the higher power that I serve. Others are allowed to linger, because their will is simply that strong. Among those, sadly, many grow angry at the living and lose their way. They forget who and what they are, so warped by that expulsion of certainty that others do not deserve the time they have been given in life. Those sensations of anger, jealousy, and rage fester and decay until their hosts are little more than husks driven and bound by these emotions’ whims. It is a sad fate, one that I wish to help as many as I can to avoid. But it is also why the Veil is there. It protects Man from these aberrations, and from those other forces that seek to manipulate or harm them directly. Ah, but that war is one in which I must remain neutral until the end. Until that time, I must attend to my Duty.

Which brings me to today.

Ah, yes. Today, I face a different challenge in the form of a, “Woke” generation, I believe they are called. A pale rider on a pale horse is not often welcome, and I have been called by many names as a result. Words that are untrue, born of grief, of regret, of countless losses in opportunities and actions that can no longer be performed or seized. I have faced this in many generations before. It, too, is a part of the Eternal Round. I cannot even begin to count the number of -ists and -obics that I have been called over the years as I helped these spirits to accept their ends. It is my hope to guide them to a new beginning, one that can be beyond such petty grievances and pains that Man has inflicted and accrued over the course of their existence.

For many, I succeed. For some few, I am ashamed to say that I fail, and I must leave these spirits to their fates and the hands and voices of others to sooth or manipulate as the spirit wills.

It brings me great joy when my Duty calls me to one of these after finally being led to accept what they would not before. And I am glad to have them ride with me. It is in this instance that my paleness no longer offends or inflicts fear. It is in this instance where I can experience for a few fleeting moments that joy of friendship, of brotherhood that Man both embodies and rejects so readily. Some apologize. Others are merely silent as they lean into my back and hold my waist. We both know the truth, and so there is no need for them to speak. I give them a final ride, and then usher them unto that great beyond.

But, as ever, it must be their choice to take that final step. I often wave and smile reassuringly to them, and that puts those who see my true nature at ease, a well wishing to bolster their courage in this final sendoff. I cannot pass beyond those portals myself. Not yet.

I have a unique memory. It allows me to see what my passengers were, who they were. But more importantly, it allows me to see who and what they can become. It is that sight, more than any other, that motivates me most. Indeed, I believe I can say, with absolute certainty, it is that very sight that motivates all the heavenly hosts you mortals have called upon and invoked and personified throughout your lives.

Man needs faith, because without it, miracles and wonders truly would cease, and that beautiful potential I see every day will become smaller, smaller, smaller still, until it withers away to dust scattered across the empty void from which their matter was first organized and formed.

I cannot judge. That is not my place.

But I do know, because I can read their lives, all lives. And whether they be sentenced to paradise or a hell of their own making, I will be there to help them onward to that next step.

I always have been from the day of Man’s fall, whether that be because of one God or many gods or one Devil or many devils or the will of Man himself.

And I await the day when I will no longer be needed, when my purpose ends and I can finally say, It is done.

And what will become of me after? Well, who among you can say? My vision, my memory, if you will, reveals their potential and their lives, but it does not necessarily apply to my own existence.

Still, I like to hope that those who went before me will be waiting to guide me as I did them, and to welcome me with open arms into that Eternity beyond those gates. Myself, and my fellow riders, to usher us into the end of the cycle and the beginning of something new.

Until then, I will fulfill my Duty. After all, I am Death. I can wait.

The End

#omnitf #fiction #fantasy #Death #embodiment #personification #4 horsemen #four horsemen #soliloquy #terry pratchett

[slightly-nerdy-rambles]

Robstar Week Day 4: Real Magic (Prompt: Fantasy AU)

Hoo boy, I was excited when I saw this prompt. Fantasy is my jam, and it’s a fun experiment to imagine what characters would be like in various AUs. My first instinct was to go for the classic swords and sorcery concept (it’s one I’ve played around a bit with before), but then I realized there was no real limit on what kind of fantasy AU we had to do, and was suddenly struck with the urge to do urban fantasy monster hunters. It was an interesting challenge  – giving readers a clear enough look at how this world works while still finding time to make things mushy in the course of a prompt oneshot. Enjoy!

Real Magic

The dim blue glow of his computer screen washed over Dick’s face as he leaned forward, poring over the case files for the umpteenth time that day. He rubbed his eyes, took another swig of long-cooled coffee, and then squinted at the screen, searching for some subtle pattern he may have missed before.

He was finally pulled from his thoughts by a sound of heavy, yet surprisingly gentle buzzing. He looked up to the source: a faintly luminous young woman, who at that moment was touching down beside his desk and folding gossamer wings behind her.

Many would have found themselves caught up just looking at the faerie, entranced by her ethereal beauty. Dick would know – he’d seen it happen several times, and loathe as he was to admit it, even he sometimes felt a twinge of her mystical pull. A distraction, that was all it was.

Now, though, his only reaction was a half-smile and a friendly nod. “Need anything, Kori?”

Koriand’r was one of his comrades and closest friends in the Titans, a modern-day monster hunting team commissioned by local law enforcement to deal with dangerous cases of a supernatural nature. The Titans were a particularly diverse group – Dick was the only one without some personal tie to the supernatural, and alongside the literal faerie, the team included a sorceress, an enchanter and a werebeast.

Kori leaned over his desk, brows furrowed as she reviewed the screen. “You have been studying that for a very long time,” she said. “Did we not already apprehend the culprit? Is there something we missed?”

The ‘culprit’ in question was a vampire who’d been responsible for a rash of attacks in the past week. Dick sat back and rubbed under his eyes.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” he admitted. “This kid looks like he came out of nowhere. Just starts running around, leaving people half-dead from blood loss… I think he was either just turned and couldn’t handle it, or someone lured him here specifically to wreak havoc.”

His partner frowned doubtfully. “Those are certainly options, but I fail to see why they are the only ones... Or how staring at the reports of his attacks will help you determine so. Can you not ask him in interrogation?”

“Not tonight. I’m just looking for any possible patterns that might lead us to a sire or… whoever could have set this up,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “You know, specific targets, locations that might be significant…”

But Kori had already seen through his deflections, as he saw when she narrowed her eyes at him. “You mean you are looking for a chance Slade was involved in this.”

Dick winced. He had a… complicated history with the elder vampire who called himself Slade, and his teammates knew this wasn’t the first time he’d let it color his view of other cases. Still, he schooled himself into a hard expression and didn’t back down.

“Yes, Slade is one possibility. You can’t deny that it would fit his profile. I’m not going to let a possible lead get away from me.”

Kori sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know we must catch him, and we will. But wearing yourself out searching for clues you cannot guarantee are there though methods that will tell you very little is not the way to do it. You must take care of yourself, Robin.”

Dick let his gaze drop. “You know you don’t have to call me that off the field,” he muttered in a weak attempt to change the topic. “Those names are just to keep dangerous fey from using our true names against us.”

Kori leaned down until she was in his field of view again. She had a warning look on her face, but he caught the hint of a teasing smile.

“And I am not a dangerous fae?” she challenged him.

Dick couldn’t help but smirk. “Fair enough, Star.”

Kori’s expression softened. “You need to take a break from this.” She stood up straight and took his hand, pulling him up with a strength that belied her delicate appearance.

Dick let her, if a little reluctantly, and together they made their way out past their other teammates who were wrapping up for the evening. Vic was meticulously polishing his custom enchanted armor, but he paused when he looked up to greet them.

“I can’t believe it. You actually got him away from that computer,” he said with a smirk. Dick tried to ignore him, but what he couldn’t ignore was his own increasing awareness of Kori’s fingers still curled lightly around his own. It was… nice.

No, that’s just because she’s a faerie, he told himself. And that’s not fair to either of us.

He never could understand why she was so distracting, when he had such a good handle on dealing with other fae.

Unfortunately – and predictably – Vic noticed too, and elbowed Gar none-too-subtly to bring it to his attention as well. Gar quickly joined in, shooting Dick a wolfish grin as he passed.

“Where ya headed?” he asked innocently. “Are we allowed to come with, or is this personal?”

Kori paused in the doorway, confusion evident in her face. “Do you wish to join us? I fail to see why you could not.”

Dick just rolled his eyes and pulled her outside. “Ignore him, Kor. It’s just a juvenile attempt at teasing,” he said dryly.

It was darker outside than he’d expected, and he was privately thankful that Kori had dragged him away from his work when she did. She cast him a skeptical glance – doubtless puzzled by the antics of her mortal friends – but then her expression softened and she swung around to take his other hand.

“I believe what you need is a new perspective,” she said. “You are troubled, and if you remain in that troubled state for too long then it will hamper your investigations as much as your mood. I wish to bring you to a place that allows me to relax and reflect. I believe it will do the same for you.”

Dick smiled. “Yeah? And where’s that?”

As he spoke, he turned his gaze to the side – and stopped. While he’d been focused on Koriand’r’s face and words, she had brought them into the Faerealm without him realizing. He could see the results of the subtle influences the physical and fae worlds had on each other: a small hill with a sort of burrow in the side stood where the Titans headquarters had been a moment ago, and massive boulders covered in glowing moss seemed to take up the rough positions of most other buildings. The pink-and-purple sky overhead held a perpetual twilight, and in the distance, he could see towering trees that marked where a small forest could be found in his own realm.

It had hardly been Dick’s first time in the Faerealm, considering his occupation, but the nature of his usual visits meant he rarely got to take in the sights. He turned back to Kori and gave her a little lopsided grin, shaking his head. “Okay, you got me. I should have seen this coming.”

Kori wore an innocent little smile as she replied, “It is good to know I can still surprise you. Now, it is not very far to where we are going, but I will need to fly you part of the way. Is that all right?”

It was, of course. A short flight brought the two of them over the misty bay, to one of several small rocky islands that dotted the water. Tiny glowing lizards and shy coastal spirits scampered out of the way as they touched down, and strangely glimmering water lapped gently at the shore. Without fanfare, Kori plopped herself down on the moss-covered ground and looked out over the water, sighing quietly to herself.

As Dick sat beside her, he watched her from the corner of his eye. She seemed to… fit in this quiet and beautiful place, and not just for the obvious reasons. In a metaphorical sense, her presence always lit up Titans headquarters on the stressful or boring days, and she brought hope to the scene whenever they faced off some mad wizard or ornery ghost. Her veins ran thick with literal magic, of course, but that intangible sense of joy and spirit – what his father had always called “real” magic, in days long gone – shone even brighter than her natural aura.

It was then that he realized what he truly saw in her. It was not her beauty, mesmerizing him with its subtle pull or even piquing more than a reasonable amount of mundane attraction. And it was not that she could do something like this, hopping back and forth between realms and flitting over obstacles and conjuring powerful light magic with ease. Those were just excuses, reasons he could use to justify ignoring or fighting how he felt.

It was that she would do this, that she’d leave her world behind to experience and aid another, and that she’d take the time and effort to bring someone like him back to her special spot just to get his mind away from stress. It was that she wondered, and that she cared, and that she put her beauty into whatever she set her heart to.

Koriand’r caught his gaze, and he realized belatedly that it had not been as subtle as he’d thought. With a small twitch of her wings, she leaned forward on folded legs. “What is it?”

Dick felt heat prickle on the back of his neck, and he cleared his throat and faced forward again. “It’s… it’s nothing. Just lost in thought, I guess.”

It doesn’t matter. This is unprofessional, he chided himself. She’s your teammate, and your friend, and…

But even as the old arguments instinctively gave way to new ones, he could not help but thrill at the intimacy of their private moment.

#Teen Titans #Robin #Starfire #robstar #robstarweek #writing #prompt #fanfiction #AU #Dick is so deep in denial here #oh noooo now I want to make this universe into a series too

[katsukikitten]

Once upon a time

A/N welcome to day three (almost day four. Nothing like procrastinating) of Kitten's valentines day event. Here is a request by anon for a cinderella au with those horrid red crocs. I tried blending seriousness with a touch of comedy (God knows I specialise in angst) hopefully it comes off well. Bone apple teeth.

The ball to find your prince was tonight. A long awaited night as you brush your hair staring into the vanity. Lips and cheeks painted with light pinks with a blush dress to match. The dress acting as a preview for what is to come, a mock wedding dress if you will. Elegantly and obnoxiously long train, paired with the classic princess ball gown that flairs at your waist.

Heart pounding in your chest you stand waiting in your glass slippers, hair braided and pinned half up and half down to frame your face as it trundles down to your delicate shoulders.

"And now for our lady of the night, Princess Y/N!" A quick gulp before you step through the opening doors, smiling brightly at the throngs of men who have attended all wearing masks of blinding colors in hopes to be seen.

To be remembered.

Your night is spent mostly whisked around in nauseating circles handed off from man to man. You go from two toned hair, to a blabbering bright blonde, passed off to a jaded eyed man before you're head is spinning.

The jade eyed man is, how can you put it nicely?

Well you can't he's boring. An utterly ball of nerves boring. His hands are slick with sweat and he can barely hold eye contact to save his life as he says sorry every step of the dance despite not making a single error.

"May I?" A smooth voice inturrpts the emerald eyes apologies. You drink in the handsome man in stunning deep red that makes his gem eyes pop. Finaly excited for the first time tonight.

"Y...you may." He stammers passing your hand to a calloused hard working hand. A feeling you are unused to as most of the other men's hands were smooth. His other hand finds the small of your back as he sweeps you into a pleasantly slow paced dance.

"Your name my dear?" The first you've asked for this whole night. He smiles a sharp toothed smile as his velvet voice caresses your before agitated nerves.

"Ejirou." A shiver runs down your spine as you fixate on this stunning broad shouldered man.

Another turn before you notice that he has swept the two of you onto one of the many balconies just off of the hall.

"Ah look at the moon over head Eijirou!" He hates to admit that he loves the sound of his name on your lips. He bites his own trying and failing to remind himself that he does not truly belong here.

But a night with a beautiful princess is all he ever wished for.

You brace yourself agaisnt the railing as you stare into the face of your favorite celestial body. All the while ruby eyes watch your dainty form.

"Isn't it beautiful?" You sigh melting as you swoon over your first love. Eijirou places his hand on the balcony around you, pressing his hip to yours.

"No where near as beautiful as you." He breaths, leaning down to kiss feather soft lips. Rough hand pulling a slender waist impossibly closer as he deepens the kiss.

Bells chime overhead causing him to gasp out.

"Its midnight." He sounds panicked as he tries to take a step back. Eyes frantically looking for the exit.

"Why yes," You blink confused, hand clutching his blood red lapel, "But the party is until sunrise."

"I've got to go. Now. I'm sorry." He says as he rushes away while you're right on his heels.

Although he is much faster and much more hardy than you. You stop to catch your breath as he rushes down the endless stairs in front of the castle.

"Eijirou how will I find you?" He stops short at your request turning ever so slightly, disappointment and sadness well in his eyes as he answers.

"You can't." Another chime rings out sending him into a full on sprint as one of his blood red dress shoes fall wayward on the long stair case. You rush to clutch onto the shoe another chime rings out and by some magic the deep crimson dress shoe distorts into something horrifyingly grotesque.

A birght red slipper with holes and a band that would sit atop the heel or the top of the foot depending if one wanted it to be in "sport" mode or not.

You scrunch your nose especially after seeing little charms of different shapes and sizes ranging anywhere from a fire truck to the classic cartoon meat bone.

"What the fuck?" You murmur to yourself as you look over the odd shoe, debating if it would be worth it to attempt to find the handsome man with terrible taste in footwear.

A flash of ruby red burns hot in your memory as you stand calling off the rest of the ball to summon your best scouts.

"We will go over the entire land to see who fits this shoe!"

True to your word you spend countless weeks that bleed into months exhausting all resources to find your prince charming.

Men across the nation line up outside of their homes in hopes of fitting the red shoe. Some men spy the shoe and turn inside, while others step out in a clearly immitated bright red holed filled slipper.

Still your search is fruitless as you begin to run out of both men and houses to check. You stand in front of your last house for the day as two men rush from the door as a window shutter is slammed shut overhead.

"Princess!" They sing song in unison, "We brothers are the owner of the shoe!"

Your eyes rove over a bright blonde male and a short purple haired boy whose eyes pop from their sockets as they stare at your form. Even as you're wearing pants.

"Hmmm, my prince to be had red hair." You state, "Men we are mistaken let us leave at once."

"W..wait your highness, you have not even tried to place it on our feet yet! At least give us that much." They beg as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

"Fine." With a snap of your fingers the horrific item is presented to you atop a velvet black pillow. You grab onto the item and place it to where a foot can be slipped in.

The blonde tries first, his toes poking out through some of the holes, popping out a fire truck charm as he attempts to shove his foot in.

Immediately you withdraw to present the shoe to the small boy. His foot barely fills the slipper causing a great sigh to leave your lips.

Tears threaten to spill over as you think that you may never find your one true love. You place the slipper back onto its pillow before you begin to climb the stairs to your carriage.

"Princess wait!" That velvet voice you had grown to love shouts as your frantically look for the source. He comes out in tattered clothes, soap suds clinging to his elbows as stains litter the cloth.

All the while the other two men are dressed in finary that could rival your own.

You look down to see he is wearing what must be the other slipper. As more of those ghastly charms twinkle in the dying light of the sun.

"Ah this is just our step brother. Please pay him no mind." The blonde says before elbowing him harshly, "Get back into the house you idiot!"

He clutches the scrub brush in his hands, ruby eyes glancing between you and his evil step brothers. He turns on his heel only for you to shout, fearing you may lose the man of your dreams again.

"No, he will be sized by the shoe. Should it fit he is mine to wed." The slipper is brought back to you once more, delicate hands wrap around the bright material as the red head presents his foot to you.

The God awful footwear fits and tears of joy stream down your face.

"E...Eijirou is it really you?" He nods shyly, embarrassed that he is in essentially a potato sack compared to what he wore the night he met you.

It was all with the help of an angry godfather who loomed in the courtyard the night of your ball.

"So you're just gonna let these assholes tell you you can't go?!" The Godfather had yelled, fingers popping with magic.

"Don't be a bitch." He bites out, turning a rotting carcass into a stunning white horse, "You're going and that's final."

Popping hands burning through Eijirou's tattered rags. Just a Phoenix something new rises from the ash. A beautifully tailored suit adorned with a bright red mask glimmering in the night like sparkling rubies.

"But you have until midnight to get the hell out of there." The GodFather snarls, "What are you waiting for a fucking invitation? Go kiss the damn girl! Just remember I said midnight and don't fuck this up."

He had left after that in an oversized explosion leaving nothing behind but the smell of sweet burning caramel.

Eijirou silently thanked the Godfather as he spun his princess around, cheeks burning from smiling so hard and feet sheathed in firetruck red crocs.

And they lived happily ever after.

#kirishima x reader #eijirou x reader #kirishima eijirou #eijiro x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha eijiro kirishima #eijirou kirishima imagine #bnha eijirou #bnha ask #bnha cinderella au #bnha au #kitten valnetines day event! #ask kitten #bnha event

[vcrtigoes-a]

anon sent  /  Drabble about how Mike feels in regards to each of the other entities besides the vast. which ones does he prefer? which ones does he hate? if he had to pick another one to serve? etc.       —  meme

blanket cw for not super explicit mentions of body horror, dysphoria, death, unreality, and too many tense errors i don’t care to fix. 

the corruption started with the little things. of course, anymore he does not fault himself for not knowing ( though he did, he did, he carried that weight like a pair of body bags wrapped around his neck for years before he recognized how pointless it was. anything was. ) food went bad within hours. roof shingles crumbled to dust and flaked apart. the sickly-sweet odor of rot seeped in brief whiffs from the very walls from an otherwise very well kept family home. of course there was the book, slick with something unknown, causing agonizing pocks and rashes upon his hands, but for a blue sky he found it a trivial price to pay. struggling from the ruins it caused, tome clutched in his scarf, listening to the chorus of earthworms and boring beetles and silverfish that had made their home there, it turned his stomach, but he did not answer their song.

the dark was his next attempt at refuge, a venture he regards undertaken with a childish mindset. he knew just because he hid beneath the blankets the world with its flickering, flashing light only seemed all the more brilliant and hard to adjust to. its laughter still sounded like snapping wires, and he left it nearly as soon as he found it. 

the flesh - viscera, he truly thought was his first break. he had been searching for months, tangled in infinite dissertations, the branches between magic and madness, mathmatics and spiritualism, and with the buzz of blood in his ears he pressed through the boneturner’s tale like it would hold the answers. it does, though of a different sort, and he learns several truths to himself:  to be made one must be unmade first and he is marked at the very bones. for two weeks he tears himself apart, strips skin from muscle from marrow and realizes that he is branded, cracking everywhere his fingers touch with jagged lichtenberg lines. the other, that he could stomach doing what he needed to, if he needed to, slaughter tastes like bile with iron and holding a man’s twitching lungs outside of their body in a split reaction of panic is somehow not the strangest thing to happen to him. 

he knew then, there was something of flies and rot, something of flesh, and if there were a thing of darkness it did not hear him. so what, then, did the thing that followed him belong to, made of lightning and laughter that sounded like television static? the spiral lived nestled in his flesh, in his very bones, the thing of doorways and blinding white pain, of breaking storms, the dizzying edge of madness and constant twisting nightmares. the scent of ozone trailed after him like an afterimage, a ghost and legacy he would grow into one day, but today staring at his reflection in the mirror he does not run from it. he does not give it the satisfaction. 

it is the very nature of this aversion that leads him away from the stranger, the edges between the unknown and lying too close to warrant anything closer than a morbid sense of curiosity. 

the eye finds him of its own accord in hand-bound leather he could not read, and for awhile, he didn’t mind it. certainly it was more quiet and unobtrusive than what he had dealt with so far, and was he not himself desiring of knowledge? still more than that, of course, beholding meant to be seen, known and realized in ways he did not want to be, and while mike did not do much secret keeping, he did not enjoy feeling so transparent on terms that were not his own. it was too close, perhaps, to the chords of anxious paranoia already plucked away upon during the sleepless witching hours already.  mike was not sure why he gave the book to the lonely, in turn. ignorance, perhaps, or maybe some vague sense of kinship, for had his feet ever really touched the ground? for all lives fallen in and out of, there was nothing, no one at the other end of the tether. it was not with joy he considered his lack of companionship, it was not how he wanted to live. he put the book in the ground and moved on. and on.

the buried he elected to pass after, he doubted there were enough earth to ever bury his history and found himself a little nauseated in tight spaces. the hunt went around the same, if not with more disdain, for he knew what it was to be prey, and relished in no long-lasting pleasure to imagine himself on the other end. 

desolation was no stranger to his life; senseless, total loss, the white-hot pulse of flesh constantly burning. he found himself something of a guest to the lightless flame for a time, an observer, complicit, seeking something like family in the arms of that searing heat that split him into fractalling, spiraling shards. immolation was its own art form, but pain was never any true calling to inflict. theirs was an admirable dedication to their patron, and one, all the same, he could not find himself participating in. it made parting, understandably, not on the best of terms.

the end was, in its rightful place, the end of things. always there, a patient shadow in his peripheral, somehow, coldly, the only source of stability he would ever claim to have ever held. it did not change, waiver, or disguise its intent - it simply was, in all its forms, and for that mike found some macabre source of comfort. death would wait, so incredibly liminal in a life lived in infinites, and with every step into open skies he begs the question, how long?

#( 𝒊𝒊. ) —— study. #this took 3 days with no braincells and this is probably an oversimplified wordvom version #obviously there's quite a bit of hc thrown around but that's why we're on this platform right #this is also an attempt to be a bit chronological too so.