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blessed1neha · 1 year

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Surya & Shani

Astrology's Sun and Saturn Conjunction

Astrologically speaking, a native with the Sun and Saturn in conjunction is disciplined, mature, and has a strong sense of self. They don't have to put in as much effort as others do to get successful. They have a clear sense of who they are and what they desire from an early age.

Saturn represents our life's limitations in astrology. It imposes limitations on what we are capable of accomplishing. Saturn serves as a wake-up call by illuminating the reality and truth of life. In order to achieve our goals, we are compelled to be more methodical and disciplined as opposed to engaging in esoteric research.

In astrology, the sun stands in for the soul. This can be interpreted in the broadest and most open-ended manner possible. The term "soul" refers to a person's deepest and purest essence, as well as their highest sense of self, source of inspiration, and goal. Surya represents a person's fundamental characteristics, such as their feeling of identity, ego, self-worth, sense of purpose, etc. Characteristics Sun and Saturn Alignment: Conjunctions of Saturn with the Sun are not as dreadful as you may expect. According to mainstream astrological publications, Saturn and the Sun are rivals because in ancient legend, the Sun betrayed Saturn. In actual life, a father and son frequently do not get along. The Sun and Saturn are engaged in a tug of war.

However, this conflict only breaks out when Saturn and the Sun are at 9 to 14 degrees apart. Beyond 14 degrees, the Sun and Saturn are too far apart in the house to have any meaningful interaction. Saturn is combust within 9 degrees and lacks the ability to oppose the Sun. When Saturn and the Sun are not too close or too far apart in degrees, a delicate interaction between them occurs. They battle for fairness and defend the monarchy, or in modern times, the ruling regime.

They take full responsibility for their own acts and are extremely mature for their age. This conjuncture denotes obligation and devotion to a higher authority. You are not a slave as a result of this. In the modern era, it denotes employment with the government or as a senior executive in a business. Working in government information technology, business, or even the entertainment industry, one of their skills is organising and directing larger departments. These things are the subject of a great deal of obligation and responsibility in the home where this conjunction is taking place. For instance, the person would have a lot of responsibility for the family and home if this happened in the fourth house.

If the Sun is weak during this conjunction or if Saturn and the Sun are both in the sign of Libra, the person will have regular reality checks that will keep them grounded.

Another generalisation is that the exalted planet will always share some of its strength with its weaker friends when it is seated with weak planets. In this scenario, Saturn will save the Sun while simultaneously drowning in the Sun.

What in astrology is Saturn? Grief is a sign of how we react to time in astrology, and Saturn represents it. Grief is a feeling we get when time seems to be moving too slowly.

The position of Saturn in the chart demonstrates how enduring, synchronous, and eternal our connection to the light of consciousness is, supporting us through even the most trying circumstances. A correctly placed Saturn demonstrates that the individual knows when to go slowly and quickly and to always allow this light to guide them. We can continue to perceive ourselves as beings of light even as we acknowledge the boundaries of where light can travel in our current relative existence. A difficult Saturn will enable the person to veer off the path, where no light can penetrate and sorrow rules. The person could ponder whether things will ever get back to normal if Saturn isn't shining.

According to Vedic astrology, Saturn represents your uncle, the kind of boss you'll have, your good and bad deeds from this life or the past, how hard you'll work, your true career and wealth, your level of maturity, and aspects of your life that might be limited for at least half the time. It also represents how hard you'll work. According to Vedic astrology, Saturn can restrict various elements of your life based on the sign and house it rules, but after the age of 35, it normally releases you from its effects. Saturn represents boundaries, restrictions, structure, order, and law, as well as barriers, delays, concentration, and isolation. The Army's general is Saturn. What in astrology is the Sun?

Sun in astrology signifies the soul, hence it indicates our awareness of the limitless, enlightened essence of our soul. A really well-placed Sun might point to a certain level of spiritual clarity and an unwavering understanding of who we are at our core. This "solar light" offers self-assurance, personal power, leadership, and health when it is glowing brilliantly. This light will dim in Vedic Astrology when the Sun is in a difficult position, making it difficult for the person to believe that the centre of their existence is a unique reflection of the divine light.

Lack of connection to one's own inner source of power will subsequently result in low self-esteem, poor interactions with authority, and trouble juggling one's ego with that of others. What do astrological conjunctions mean? Planets are simply together when they are in conjunction. When two or more planets are located in the same house in a birth chart, they are regarded as being in conjunction. There are many different kinds of conjunctions, including virtual conjunctions, near conjunctions, exact conjunctions, and loose conjunctions.

Lack of connection to one's inner source of power will subsequently result in low self-esteem, poor interactions with authority, and trouble juggling one's ego with that of others. What in astrology are Conjunctions? A planets' union is known as a conjunction. Any birth chart will consider two or more planets to be in conjunction if they are located in the same house. Conjunctions come in all different shapes and sizes, including loose, exact, close, and virtual ones.

What exactly does a conjunction in a birth chart mean astrologically? They establish a purpose for your life and give it significance. Either they give you something or they take it away. Conjunction can have both beneficial and bad effects. Yogas are known as the positive effects, and doshas are known as the negative effects.

Planets are merely energies, and when two forms of energies combine, a mutant or new type of energy is produced. Your life will experience a circumstance as a result of the new form of energy that carries out the conjunction's destiny.

Here are a few observations of mine:

Sun and Saturn are father and son, as you are all aware. Despite this, they are ferociously at odds with one another. While Saturn issues a death warrant, the sun offers birth and life. Both are in utter conflict. What occurs if they combine into one rashi or sign at the moment of birth? Let's talk about a few fascinating facts. Father will not be home at the time of this child's birth. He might be on tour, far away, abroad, or otherwise engaged in work-related trave. Father may not be living together or is separated or is living away for job or may not be alive at all, if this Sun Saturn is more affected in the 6th, 8th, or 12th houses. Father may have been having trouble with his job at the time of the child's birth.

The father may have been having difficulties with his job or his business at the time of the child's birth. When this youngster is older, there won't be good tuning with them. There are always different openings! While the child is growing up, the father is having a successful career or business. When this child reaches adulthood and begins to earn well or land a good career, the father's decline begins,In other words, they cannot both live happily under the same roof or in the same house. If the child is relocated to a rural area or abroad, the father's situation can improve. Since Son has grown up, I can honestly say that he no longer wants to live with his parents!.

The situation will be different if Daughter's chart contains this combo! Daughter is very attached to her father because she would be leaving the family home after marriage. She gives her father excessive care, loves him ferociously, and develops into the house's most dependable young lady. I've also noticed in numerous charts that daughters refuse to be married only to take care of their parents and sacrifice their goals at the age of marriage! She may choose to remain alone in order to shoulder family responsibilities in some cases!

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mimivanilla · 7 months

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bweird’s OCtober Prompts Day 7 - Personality

An interview with the last known living Guardian of the Lunar Vault, Lysé, conducted by a journalist from the New Lunar Kingdom

This one gets a bit funky

ⓘ This interview was published by The Orbital Daily, which receives funding from the New Lunar Monarchy.

As Lysé entered the interview room, I offered her a seat which she respectfully declined. She stood opposite me, wearing the same traditional armour she had likely been wearing for millennia.

Q: I suppose the first question I’d like to ask is what it’s like to be alive for so long?

A: I don’t really have a frame of reference to answer that question in a way that would be helpful for you to understand what my existence is like. I have seen lunar civilisations rise and fall, I have watched the gods fall to dust, I have gained and lost more than you could ever imagine.

Q: It’s interesting that you bring up gods. The Lunar Vault is said to be the last remaining remnant of the Lunar Gods, is this true?

A: There are other reminders of the Lunar Gods, you just haven’t found them.

Q: And the Lunar Vault is one of them?

A: Yes, I was one of the 6 guards ordered to protect it.

Q: Forgive me for prying, what happened to the other 5 guards?

A: Your kingdom waged a war.

Q: It’s interesting to hear about the war from your perspective.

A: That’s not a question.

Q: What’s inside the vault?

A: .

Lysé doesn’t offer any elaboration on this topic, so I decide to move on.

Q: What led you to accept this interview?

A: I wanted to see what would happen.

Q: Have we met your expectations?

A: Fully.

Q: What has your stay in The Basin City been like?

A: Strange.

Q: Strange?

A: I suppose it’s a culture shock, as until now I haven’t stepped out of the Golden Palace’s boundary. I was surprised to see…humans.

The “Golden Palace” she is referring to is nothing more than an empty crater.

Q: So your people knew of humans?

A: Of course, the “ways of old”, as your people so often put it, were still in place when they first landed on the moon.

Q: Do you believe you are the last remaining Ancient Lunarian?

A: .

Lysé stops answering my questions at this point, I decide to end the interview there. Despite her initial claims of wanting to clear up a misunderstanding and share the truth, she comes across as openly hostile. Her views are outdated but the Lunar Monarchy hopes to continue to reach out to her and help her realise the truth of modern living on the moon.

#bweirdoctober #oc-tober #mimiV fiction

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a-ruby-is-a-sapphire · 2 years

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Agamemnon at Epidauros; Summer 2022

I can't tell you the first time I stepped foot onto the Ancient Theatre of Epidauros. I was too young to retain those details, but what I do remember is the magic that this space brings forth. To stand where performers stood thousands of years ago? It is an honour. Even as a child I could grasp that this theatre is a legacy being shared with me.

You don't have to be Hellenic or Mediterranean to feel a connection to this location, of course not. It is a stage that any theatre-lover is owed the opportunity to visit and adore. However, I believe that like any historic site, we must all be aware of the meaning it has to certain peoples. So when Ulrich Rasche of the German group, Residenztheater, brought his rendition of Agamemnon to the stage, I was angered.

We jest amongst friends about each other's histories, about the food or the music or the regalia. It is amongst friends, it is an excused mockery. Rasche holds no excuse for what he presented at Epidauros.

For those that do not know, you can drop a penny on the centre of the Epidauros amphitheatre stage and an audience member in the back row will hear it. Such is the natural acoustics of this historic site. And yet, Rasche disrespected Epidauros by using speakers. If only the discomfort of this performance ended there. It would be seen as a mistake, a lack of understanding, ignorance displayed towards this location.

If only. Before the play even began, a noticeable sign was being displayed, seemingly in protest. A handful of audience members were holding up a sheet with the words "He's a RAPIST" spray-painted onto it. Many audience members stood to take photos and shifted in their seats, curious to know more, concerned that their ticket was going to support someone unsavoury. To whom the statement was directed at, I never learnt, but my own doubts towards the justice surrounding Rasche biases my opinion of him to be lesser.

Unfortunately, the bitter taste in our mouths proved to only sour to greater extremes as an entire half hour of the performance had passed and all that had happened thus far was the performers donned in black walking laboriously across the stage as it rotated ever-so-slowly. A friend of mine leaned over and joked “Das Sound Machine,” the fictitious, German a cappella group from Pitch Perfect 2.

The audience members had begun to exit the theatre at this point, groups of five or more at a time. My own group of five found ourselves struggling to remain in our seats as flood lights were lit upon the rotating stage and blinded us. Considering this play was being performed in Greece, subtitles had been set up in Greek, and considering that most of the world does not speak Greek, a second set of subtitles displayed the English translation as well. Of course, it does not matter if the German spoken was being translated to other languages if the audience is too blinded to read the subtitles.

Finally, the breaking point, “He-le-na! He-le-na!” Eleni is a common name in Greek. Helen is a well-known name in English. Even Helena in German is not an incredibly rare name. Arguably, no one wants to hear their name being yelled in breathy screams, a guttural scratching of the soul. Yet, Rasche directed his cast to do exactly that. Sickening yells of Helen of Troy are heard again and again throughout the play. Not calls for justice, nor shouts of grief, simply growling. I wish I never have to use the word 'growling' to refer to human speech ever again; I never had the desire to do so initially, until this line: “He-le-na!”

I’d love to tell you that the play drastically improved after the first hour and a half which I had sat through, but it didn’t. The performers walked across the stage in their panting breaths, the percussion played quietly despite the aid of speakers and offered nothing more than distraction from the natural sounds of cicadas at night, and the lights continued to blink in and out of existence, choosing different portions of the audience to blind. The play was stagnant.

In an article released in the days prior to the opening night of Agamemnon, Rasche is quoted to have said “[s]omehow we give you back your poetry.” I spit at his words, and I leave a message for all those that have their art appropriated, do not tolerate anything less than utter respect. We are more than the messes foreigners make on our lands.

I did not stay until the final scene, and considering the nudity that was to come after two hours of heavy breathing, I can't say I'm sad I missed it. Clytemnestra stripping naked to lie with a man in no way offers some sort of conclusion that would ever replenish the time I spent in that seat, growing with anger and disappointment with every step the performers took. I will return to Epidauros in the near future, and I hope to see the respect it deserves.

To be offered the privilege and opportunity to join the thousands of years of performance history held in that space is something to be taken seriously. It is not a jest between friends. Rasche has no right ripping to tatters our legacy as Hellenes and theatre-lovers. Let Katerina Evagelatos, the artistic director of the Athens Festival at Epidauros, be more critical in what she allows and not excuse it as "push[ing] limits" of theatre "as artists."

Final words: An embarrassment of Greece and of Epidauros. Theatre pushed to become so niche that it transformed into the world's dullest audio book. The only struggle displayed was that of the audience. You could say the play "cannot leave you unmoved," because many, many audience members did move, in the direction of the exit.

[All images except the first image of Epidauros and the image of Das Sound Machine came from the official Athens Festival website.]

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ares-mars-odysseus · 2 months

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HI! I am posting the Prologue of my play "TACV" for your pleasurable viewing experience. At your convenience, I would appreciate any feedback. What could be changed or what you found good or such. All the best!

PROLOGUE

VOID: Centre stage. Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, I hope you’re well and that you’ve settled into your seats comfortably. Welcome to our IMAGINARY WORLD.

[TELEO is reading. CYNICUS is trying to light an opium pipe. ANIMA is exercising – doing pushups]

CYNICUS: Thanks for having me, VOID. What are you up to now?

VOID: Smiling, because everyone is watching…

CYNICUS: Oh, everyone...

TELEO: He expects you to ask who this everyone is.

ANIMA: Have you taken your happy smoke, VOID?

VOID: No.

ANIMA: You should take your medication. CYNICUS, pass him the hollow-rock...

[CYNICUS is inspecting the hollow-rock, curiously whilst VOID continues]

VOID: This imaginary world shared by all of us is a cave which floats in emptiness. Don’t become intoxicated with it - the truth of this world’s existence resides in mere delusion. A construction of something false. A trauma impulse.

ANIMA: Void, I really think you should take your medication.

VOID: Can you stop!? I don’t want it.

ANIMA: Fine. I just think you’re going off the deep end again.

VOID: I’ll tend to this story, nurture it and see you all grow, especially you, ANIMA. Besides, we’re in the prologue, things are just getting started.

CYNICUS: The pro- what?

TELEO: Prologue. It means the introduction to a story.

Premise 1) The verb to nurture means an extension of care.

Premise 2) Your responsibility, VOID, is to get us raw food and water and fire parts.

Conclusion) There is no nurturing. Your acts are purely transactional/

CYNICUS: Transactional for that comfy floor you get all to yourself...what a shame it would be if you stopped getting us what we needed and lost the privelege of sleeping on it.

VOID: Well, I’m more than happy to continue these responsibilities and nurture my own role as someone with heart – enough heart to leave this cave and get all those things which you need. Who knows TELEO, maybe I can find you a heart from out there...

TELEO: Oh yeah, and why do I need a heart?

VOID: Why else? To eat, of course. In fact, you could go out there and get yourself one.

[TELEO remains silent]

[CYNICUS finally gets his opium to burn and takes in a deep breath of the pipe]

CYNICUS: So appetizing…[CYNICUS breathes out smoke] OoOoOoOoOh YEAAHHHHH, turned you bonkers, didn’t it – leaving – this cave? ‘O, the atrocities in the outer world are like no other’ [CYNICUS breathes in his opium] Why’d he leave this place?

VOID: Because this performance requires you lot – him - to have some heart.

CYNICUS: Heart? Wonder how it tastes.

[CYNICUS chokes on the smoke and starts coughing it out]

[TELEO stands up and stretches. He walks towards VOID and stops. TELEO slaps VOID and twists his head]

[BEAT]

CYNICUS: MY MY! I knew you were a dominant alpha, TELEO, but not this rutheless…it seems you, VOID, stepped out of line and were disciplined by our lord and savior hunk. So masculine how my honour was threatened and you just disciplined him right there and then.

TELEO: I didn’t do it for you.

VOID: You both have no balls.

CYNICUS: No, no, TELEO knows the reason he slapped you – he knows just how BIG my balls are. He’s simply protecting the truth…[deep sigh] I’m a bit jealous you got his first slap though… he’s been unwilling to do that to me for ages now… [fake sobs]

TELEO: Can you stop?

[BEAT]

[VOID soothes the redness on both his cheeks with both his palms]

VOID: My treatment by him, by – them - only matches what they feel deep down inside about themselves. But little do they realise; I will give them the heart to face that inner hurt in due time.

TELEO: The only heart giving that will be done is a smack to yours if I’m not given a new Ancient Greek book which tells me of how to be virtuous man in- due time [He clicks his fingers]

CYNICUS: HaHaHaH. I LOVE YOU WHEN YOU’RE SO RUTHLESS…YOU REALLY KNOW HOW TO GET MY HEART PUMPING, BABE.

TELEO: OH MY DAYS, CAN YOU STOP!?

[BEAT]

VOID: Swiftly moving on, in this cave, three white sheets made of a woolly type of hide layer the granite ground: they loosely string together the image of three beds. Sandstone columns amass behind each ‘bed’, erecting high,

CYNICUS: Ohh YES, so ERECT they are, all for me [Turns to Teleo] babes.

TELEO: [grunts]

VOID: They seemingly uphold the cave. From the audience’s left to their right, from your left to your right, there is a Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian column. All social venues such as the Acropolis, Symposium and Auditorium, sorry to say, have not yet formed, but the characters of a contemplative, ruminative fiasco of flying theatrics which fumbles with fumes of philosophy do perform.

CYNICUS: Oh, we’re performing, hey? What is that again – ‘performing’ - when you play pretend?

VOID: Indeed.

CYNICUS: CAN I DO IT WITH YOU PLEAASE? HAHAH. SeRioUsLy, I’m used to it anyways...when I play pretend, I’m usually playing TELEO’S submissive, innocent –

TELEO: SHUT UP!

ANIMA: Performing? Some non reality, is it, VOID? Hmm. No I don’t do any of that - this is truthful life - being kept in this cave so long that our minds begin to twist in on themselves – that’s why I exercise – to keep my mind right. Void, your mind isn’t right at this moment – it’s blatantly obvious and people see that as weakness and assert themselves over you- that’s just how it is, I’m sorry- but on the days that you can’t even identify yourself –your role, who you are, it’s not all that bad - atleast you have us to ground you down. Whatever this charade is you’re doing with yourself right now is certainly not grounding. Let me ground you, Void. Let me ask you a question - what is outside this cave?

VOID: What’s outside the cave...it’s all just VOID.

ANIMA: what does that even mean?

VOID: I can’t put it into words.

ANIMA: See, I hate it when you can’t even answer questions directly. Do you know how hard it is to have a normal conversation with you? When you’re this way, it’s hard to speak to you – you need to take some of CYNICUS’ happy smoke.

VOID: I said I don’t want it. How could I even smoke that thing without taking this mask off?

CYNICUS: ‘this mask’? OHH you mean that carved rock which we put on your face. [in a frenzy] WE PUT IT THERE AND NOW IT DOESNT WANT TO GO, IT’S STUCK THERE – FOREVER!!!!

Joking. Your face is hideous. Don’t take it off.

VOID: [speaking to audience] Everyone wears a mask – you, them; it just so happens that they projected that intuitive insight onto me.

TELEO: Look VOID, I’m just trying to help you out, see, a virtuous man doesn’t need a face to be good. Don’t focus on the beauty of your face – that’s why you have a mask on – focus on the beauty of your spirit.

CYNICUS: I wonder how that’s not satirical…

[BEAT]

VOID: [speaking to audience] Moving on, standing on their feet are a pantheon of three – you haven’t been formally introduced yet, so let me do you the honour - there’s: TELEO who’s characterized by the pursuit of his end goal of goodness, wisdom and rational knowledge.

TELEO: Mhm, that’s the type of lullaby I like you to sing.

VOID: He also shits out his instincts and pees out virtue. He’s the GOD OF PISS.

TELEO: The what of piss? In no way am I related to piss, so please, kindly go fuck yourself before your other stony cheek is bruised.

VOID: There’s ANIMA who’s characterized by life experience.

ANIMA: Wait, ‘characterized by life experience’ – doesn’t that go for everyone? What’s my actual character then, to you?

VOID: You are poetry.

ANIMA: What is poetry?

TELEO: They’re artistic writings which are completely detached from this world - flowing with passion and lacking in reason or truth.

ANIMA: Oh, well – heh, that’s not me, heh, But thank you.

[BEAT]

VOID: There’s CYNICUS who’s characterized by cunning sex appeal and satire.

CYNICUS: Yes sir, that’s me! And then - beyond all of that stunning characterization - there’s a precious darling who takes centre stage for himself – he is artistically inclined - he gives me the heart to keep going – he likes to make people feel special ways –

VOID: Thank you-

CYNICUS: Huh? No, not you- silly. Awww. You’re so cute when you’re so silly. You’re something else, babes – you’re my BOY who runs errands through the ghastly forest of the outside and brings me back all kinds of bones, such as what I was referring to – my sublime, my fabulous, MY WONDERFUL LOVER - COOKED OPIUM. MmHmm.

TELEO: Nah, your ‘BOY’ bathes in the outside world of water and finds bubbles of delight for me, because he’s my raw fish boy.

VOID: [Clears throat] Mostly alert, the pantheon of three are blind - not by the lack of light – perhaps it’s to what lies just outside the cave – but just as quick as that thought passes, I ask – who are we?

TELEO: [with command] Raw fishboy, why don’t you go fetch me a book about Ancient Greece?

VOID: For any objects that pop out of nowhere, just imagine they’ve popped out the VOID, that is, I, VOID - the stagehand, dressed in black. put these objects on stage, delivering them from well offstage – from well outside the cave.

TELEO: raw fishboy, chop chop!

VOID: Don’t forget your daily stretches guys- bye! [goes offstage]

#script #playwright #writing #creative writing #theatre

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thepinklotusacademia · 1 year

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Journey Into the Soulful Art: The Yoga Teacher's Training Certification Course with The Pink Lotus Academia in South Delhi

Introduction

Yoga, an ancient practice etched deep in the heart of Indian culture, stands as a powerful tool for transformation. It's not just a mere exercise regimen, but a holistic approach towards health and life. Today, we'll dive into a unique opportunity that exists right in the heart of South Delhi - the Yoga Teacher's Training Certification Course with The Pink Lotus Academia.

A Glimpse into the Pink Lotus Academia

Nestled in the bustling cityscape of South Delhi, The Pink Lotus Academia is more than just a Yoga training center. It's a haven for those who seek peace and are eager to embark on a journey towards self-discovery and spiritual awakening.

Establishing the Connection with Yoga

This vibrant institution believes in nurturing individuals who have a deep-seated desire to understand and share the wisdom of Yoga. It's a place where you don't just learn Yoga; you live Yoga.

Transcending the Physical Realms

Unlike the conventional Yoga studios, Pink Lotus Academia delves deeper into the spiritual essence of Yoga. It embraces the transformative power of this ancient practice, enabling you to transcend beyond the physical realms.

The Yoga Teacher's Training Certification Course with The Pink Lotus Academia in South Delhi

This exclusive course promises a deep and enriching journey into the heart of Yoga. It's not just about mastering the asanas, but also about exploring the philosophical underpinnings of this spiritual discipline.

A Comprehensive Curriculum

The course curriculum is intricately designed to cover the various aspects of Yoga. From the historical roots and philosophical theories to the practical application of asanas and pranayama, this course offers a comprehensive learning experience.

Expert Guidance and Personal Attention

The Pink Lotus Academia prides itself in its team of experienced teachers who are deeply committed to their practice and teaching. They provide personal attention to each student, fostering an environment of learning and growth.

Cultivating the Teacher Within

Through this certification course, you'll not only deepen your own practice but also cultivate the skills necessary to guide others on their Yoga journey. You'll learn to instruct with compassion, patience, and precision, ensuring a safe and rewarding experience for your future students.

Why Choose the Yoga Teacher's Training Certification Course at The Pink Lotus Academia?

Accreditation and Recognition

The course is internationally recognized and accredited, offering you a credible certification that will open doors to teaching opportunities across the globe.

Uniquely Designed Training

The Yoga Teacher's Training Certification Course at The Pink Lotus Academia is designed to ensure you become a knowledgeable, confident, and compassionate Yoga teacher. It instills in you the holistic understanding of Yoga that extends beyond the mat.

A Deep Dive into Yoga Philosophy

The course offers a profound understanding of Yoga philosophy and its application in daily life. You'll gain insights into the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, Bhagavad Gita, and other timeless texts.

A Supportive Community

The Pink Lotus Academia fosters a community of like-minded individuals who are passionate about Yoga and holistic living. You'll be part of a supportive network that encourages personal growth and continuous learning.

FAQs

1. What is the duration of the Yoga Teacher's Training Certification Course at The Pink Lotus Academia?

The course spans over a period of 200 hours, typically completed in one month if undertaken as a full-time course, or over a few months if chosen to be completed part-time.

2. Do I need to have prior experience in practicing Yoga to enroll in this course?

No, you don't necessarily need prior experience. The course is designed to accommodate both beginners and advanced practitioners. However, a basic understanding of Yoga can be beneficial.

3. Does the certification enable me to teach Yoga internationally?

Absolutely! The Yoga Teacher's Training Certification from The Pink Lotus Academia is internationally recognized, enabling you to teach Yoga anywhere in the world.

4. What does the course curriculum include?

The course curriculum is comprehensive, covering Yoga philosophy, asanas, pranayama, meditation techniques, anatomy and physiology, teaching methodologies, and ethics of a Yoga teacher.

5. What is the student to teacher ratio at The Pink Lotus Academia?

The Pink Lotus Academia ensures personalized attention by maintaining a small student to teacher ratio. Typically, there's one teacher for every 10 students.

6. How does The Pink Lotus Academia support its students post-completion of the course?

The Pink Lotus Academia believes in fostering a lifelong relationship with its students. Post-course completion, students can access mentorship, continuous learning opportunities, and be part of a supportive network of Yoga practitioners.

Conclusion

To put it in a nutshell, the Yoga Teacher's Training Certification Course with The Pink Lotus Academia in South Delhi is more than a mere certification program. It's a transformative journey that paves the way for personal growth, self-discovery, and the ability to share the profound wisdom of Yoga with others. Whether you're an aspiring Yoga teacher, a seasoned practitioner, or a beginner with a passion for Yoga, this course promises an enriching and life-changing experience.

So why wait? Embark on this soulful journey with The Pink Lotus Academia, and unlock the door to a world of possibilities. The power of Yoga awaits you!

Learn More: thepinklotusacademia.com

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xaracosmia · 1 year

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ꕥ — WELCOME TO CATA COSMIA, PRINCE AVARITIA MAMMON MMD. 🌕

ꕥ — OOC INFORMATION;

name / alias: bram age: 26 pronouns: he/it ooc contact: maxillaries @ twitter other characters in xc: bradley bain, the narrator, hirofumi yoshida, hermes

ꕥ — IC INFORMATION;

name: prince avaritia mammon mmd age: 3000yrs old pronouns: he/him series: original character canon point: n / a app triggers: religious themes (demons and hell), mentions of fire, possession

PERSONALITY:

mammon is a… colorful character, to be sure. as a demon, taking the seat of greed, he’s exactly what you would expect of him. loud-mouthed, arrogant, stingy, and casually violent. he takes what he wants, when he wants, with absolutely no concern for who his actions may hurt. he’s also.. kind of an idiot.

most demons pride themselves on their cunning, their grace, their ability to manipulate and deceive.

mammon lacks all of those traits. he’s more one for brute force and simple thinking. he’ll lie and cheat, yes, but he’s almost embarrassingly straightforward and obvious about doing so. subtlety is not a word that’s compatible with his worldview. still, incompetent as he may seem, he’s powerful and he knows it. he doesn’t cow to tradition and expectations for a reason, nor does he break them out of insecurity; in his eyes, individuality and personal strength are far more important than following ancient rules for the mere fact that they’re old.

something your muse struggles with: exercising tact in delicate situations, being taken seriously

your muse’s greatest strength: his ability to act under pressure, his forward-thinking and ‘progressive’ nature

HISTORY/BACKGROUND:

for many demons, becoming one of the seven crowned princes of hell is the ultimate goal. in an existence where your life has no natural end, power is a rare and coveted commodity; if you could rule forever, why wouldn’t you? most are satisfied there, with embodying a sin for as long as they can.

mammon is not.

from the moment he was taught of hell’s workings, he knew he had a single desire. he would not only take a seat of sin, but he would rise to the title of satan as well, usurping the ancient, primordial king of hell. it was something few had tried and none had managed, but he’s nothing if not foolhardy. this aspiration has not changed since his childhood, perhaps only strengthened as he grew into his distaste for the stuffy, traditional structure of hell.

so, he began to work for it. he would reach for the kind of world he sought; chaotic, and blinding, and wholly his. he would defeat demon after demon, consume soul after soul, covering his lack of strategy with pure desire and raw strength alone.

he took the seat of greed after only five-hundred years of life, making him one of the youngest to gain a crown, and he would dig his claws into that piece of leverage for as long as he could. even as much as his fellow princes (and the general population) would come to despise him for his unorthodox behavior, he’d continue to hold that seat for another two-thousand and five-hundred years undefeated by challengers.

and he would, no matter what, keep striving for that lofty ideal.

POWERS/ABILITIES:

hellfire. mammon possesses the power to generate and manipulate fire. he can control the speed at which it burns something, the temperature and color of it, its size, and so forth.

shapeshifting. any demon worth their salt can shapeshift. he can change his form to any myriad of things, excluding objects. his transformations need not follow the typical laws of anatomy, allowing him to twist his visage in horrific, unnatural ways.

possession. the ability to enter and control the bodies of other beings. mammon is particularly proficient in this.

transmutation magic. his expertise in witchcraft; he can turn things to gold, for example, with a simple utterance or gesture. he can share a portion of this magical ability at will, usually through a contract.

INHERENT ABILITIES:

angelic allergy. as a particularly powerful demon, religious symbols, text, or figures do little to cause him any real damage. however, they do give him allergy-like symptoms upon exposure; especially physical contact.

heartflame. less of an ability and more of an organ. mammon’s heart is a brightly burning flame, which he can control the size and location of. if this flame is snuffed out and not quickly re-lit, his power will rapidly decline until his death.

healing factor. so long as his heartflame burns, his body heals far faster than most creatures’ would; minor injuries close within seconds, and would-be fatal ones within hours.

demonic physiology. being a denizen of hell, his makeup is — of course -– infernal. he’s immune to the effects of heat and fire, is several times stronger and faster than even other demons, can see in darkness, and does not need to eat or sleep.

soul sight. another common trait of demons, he can see the souls of living beings. thanks to this, he can innately understand their emotional state and track them as if through scent. beings that lack souls or soul-analogues are functionally invisible to this sense.

soul consumption. finally, though he need not eat, he can consume the souls of others for a boost in energy. this can be done through making contracts — siphoning a certain portion of the other party’s life force upon completion of the contract’s terms — or through removing it with brute force, which kills single-souled victims immediately.

items / weapons:

bindings of midas. mammon’s weapon of choice, a set of golden handcuffs. these can be used in multiple ways, changing their shape or size to accommodate this; from lengthening their chains to be used as a lasso, to becoming form-fitting for use as brass knuckles.

starting ability: shapeshifting

starting item: bindings of midas

extra: *trips and falls and 1000s of failed jackpot tickets spill out of my pockets*

discord id: AVARICIOUS#2870

passcode: kill everyone

#mun: bram #xc application #cata cosmia

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oumaheroes · 3 years

Text

Old Age

Word Count: 1772

Characters: Canada, England, and France

---

There were some days where Canada truly felt his age.

Most of the time how old he was didn’t really hit him. He happily pottered around work or home as easily as he imagined most humans his physical age did: running for a train he was almost certainly going to miss, tripping down the last few steps on a flight of stairs because he was staring at his phone and wasn’t watching his feet, or spilling coffee on himself when he missed his mouth taking a sip.

His colleagues, despite knowing who he was, spoke to him as an equal and Canada could happily pass weeks, or sometimes even months, without consciously being aware of how old he was- or even really what he was.

It was easy to forget, surrounded by humans every day, that he was not one. His ministers and co-workers spoke to him without questioning his position that high in government- that was admittedly unusual for a face as young as his. Occasionally, he’d bump into a young intern or graduate who didn’t know him and he’d have a nice, genuine interaction before a look of shock crossed their face when someone high up greeted him respectfully. It was a helpful, yet stark, reminder.

But overall, when you were surrounded by people who did know it never really hit him that his presence or job was something he took for granted and the passing of time was something he didn’t really take notice of. It was normal. He was there, he was called Matthew, sometimes, or Canada, but both were his name and the potency of what he was, was surprisingly quite forgettable.

Of course, what he was was never something he could completely avoid. Someone would mention a time, or a date, or a thing that had happened and Canada would immediately feel the distance widen between them all as it was made obvious that, to everyone else, what they were discussing was history. It was something passed, something that had happened to other people too long ago to properly connect with on an emotional level. An old battle, an old political bill; something that someone long long dead had said or written that now remained only as faint ink on curling, dusty paper.

But to Canada it was there in his head, the words clear and as easy to recall as if they were spoken to him yesterday. A benefit of nationhood, he supposed, to be fully aware of things that had political consequence, to be able to trace the makings of himself back through time and see how they spiralled and grew.

History wasn’t just words, to him, or mere events. Such things made up the foundations of himself, the building blocks of his life and he felt them thrum through him like a song, twisting and moulding him into being.

Becoming aware of his age and the difference between himself and humans were when Canada really felt the weight of the years he carried. Over three hundred of them made themselves known, hanging off his shoulders and settling down to his legs to hold him up. It was easy to briefly forget how old he was, but that knowledge was impossible to rid himself of entirely- Canada was made up of history, of the bones of time and they cracked together as he moved through his life to remind him of who he was with every step.

He had burned, he had bled, he had died. He had seen.

That was the point of him. To watch to passage of time and remember it, to hold the memory of his people within him and use their voices and experiences to push for the continuation of the future. Their future.

Canada was his people, was made by his people for his people and as he sat amongst them, discussing old old moments long gone with humans who could only read and dream of them, the distinction of what he was would hit him like a thunderbolt.

It was heavy, to be so old. To have seen so many things, to have lived through so much. To be what he was.

He had just had one of those instances. He and his cabinet had spent the entire morning discussing the founding of their nation and its independence in order to plan for the yearly celebrations and Canada had suffered through the whole time feeling every second of his age press against him.

When talks finally drew to a close and he could escape, Canada dragged his ancient body towards the centre of town. England and France were visiting, along with the rest of the UN, and he’d promised to meet them both for lunch before they too were pulled into an afternoon of far more internationally inclined meetings.

If he were honest with himself, what Canada really wanted to do was go home and watch TV; switch his brain off so that he could numb himself with bad reality shows. It was a good pastime that he enjoyed with guilty abandon and one that he would much rather have preferred doing. However, he’d made a promise and Canada was nothing if not a nation of his word.

Sadly.

England and France were already there when he arrived, tucked away in a corner table. France glanced up as the door jingled with his entrance, waving him over with a smile. Canada nodded at the waiter who motioned him through and settled himself down in a chair at their table between them.

‘Good afternoon,’ France greeted him with his usual cheek kisses, hair tickling Canada’s nose as he leant in close, ‘you arrived just on time, I was about to throw Arthur out of the window.’

‘You wish,’ England looked up from his phone and shot him a quick, but warm smile, ‘Hello Matthew.’

Canada’s heart sank. He really wasn’t in the mood to play mediator today, ‘Dare I ask why?’ he said, turning to France.

France gave an effortless shrug and settled back in his seat, ‘Do I really need a reason?’

‘Yes.’

Both England and Canada spoke at once and France gave a sly grin, ‘I won’t darling, you don’t deserve the trouble,’ he patted Canada’s knee soothingly and politely ignored England’s muttered “as if you could” from across the table, ‘but the idiot seems to think he’s correct about something which he very much is not.’

‘Oh, of course,’ England retorted immediately, ‘you can’t remember properly but I’m the one who’s wrong.’

‘Yes.’

‘No.’

‘What is it?’ Canada interjected quickly. The waiter who had greeted him at the door was shooting their table looks of alarm out of the corner of his eye and Canada smiled at him apologetically, ‘Maybe I could help.’

To his surprise, England and France shared a look, something unspoken passing between them, ‘You weren’t about yet,’ offered France, sounding apologetic.

‘When was it?’

‘Oh, not too long ago,’ England waved a hand airily, ‘only six hundred years or so.’

Canada blinked, ‘Six hundred?’

‘Or there abouts,’ England frowned again, ‘I’m not sure when exactly, but I know France is wrong.’

France scoffed, ‘You can’t remember when it is, but you know I’m wrong?’

‘Obviously. I know it was about fifty years after Agincourt, I’m not sure of exactly when but-‘

‘Well, there you go! You’ve muddled it up with something else.’

‘I haven’t! You held that ball, the one with the fucking shit tonne of flowers everywhere, and were displaying those golden goblet things you were so damn proud of and I gave you that stupid painting-‘

‘No!’ France interjected angrily, ‘You took that painting and then were made to give it back.’

‘I didn’t! It was my bloody painting- Jesus fucking Christ,’ England held his head in his hands, ‘that’s not the point, I’m using that as a reference-‘

‘Yes well, pick a reference that has a grain of reality in it, would you?’

England opened his mouth to argue back again but Canada didn’t hear him, by now long tuned out of the conversation.

Only. Only six hundred years ago. Canada couldn’t even imagine that amount of time, couldn’t imagine having lived so long that six hundred years was considered to be a mere drop in the ocean.

But to these two, it was. England and France had both been alive for millennia, had known each other for that long and had been alive without each other for even longer before that.

Sitting next to them, his own existence suddenly felt like nothing, felt insignificant in the history of mankind. What had Canada seen, that these two had not? He couldn’t even begin to imagine. Three hundred years felt more than enough.

It hit him, then, how long most of their kind had lived. He’d realised this before, of course, but still the comprehension about the difference in age between him and most of the world left him dumbstruck anew. Fuck, what about China; Lord only knew how old he really was. There wasn’t a point in history that it didn’t seem as though China hadn’t been around to experience, even from across the world. Whole empires and civilisations had risen and fallen and most of the nations Canada knew had personally been involved in them somehow. It was astounding to consider all the people who had lived throughout the centuries that, to Canada, felt like nothing more than characters in a story.

What on earth was three hundred years to age like that? To history that felt so ancient to him, so disconnected that it didn’t really even feel real, but that was as normal to most nations as his own history was.

How many years would Canada have to live until three hundred was something he would describe as ‘only’?

‘Are you alright, lad?’ Canada was jolted out of his spiral to find England looking at him with concern, a hand on his arm.

‘Yeah, sorry,’ he shook his head, ‘it’s just- you’re both so old.’

England coloured and France laughed, ‘We’re not old,’ England jabbed a thumb in France’s direction, ‘Well, he is.’

‘It is more about how you feel and act, dear, that’s more important and in that regard, you are far older than I.’ France yelped suddenly as England kicked him under the table, ‘Does the truth sting, Arthur? Is that why you felt the need to vent your frustrations on me?’

‘As if I need more of a reason-‘

They began again, in earnest, but Canada let them continue uninterrupted, silently and guiltily enjoying the feeling of being a child once more.

---

AN:

I must admit that not much thought or plot went into this. I wanted to write something short and somewhat silly as a treat for spending most of yesterday editing. Ideally, one day I want to take this concept and explore it more with greater care and detail because I think it’s something a newer nation like Canada would really struggle with.

300 years is a long time, and I’m sure it must be hard for him to feel that age and then go and speak to anyone from the Old World and be met with the reality of how truly old their kind can be. Canada is a baby, despite the centuries he has collected for himself, and I feel like there would always be that conflict within him about how old he feels around humans comapred to how old he is next to other nations. Maybe this idea is best explored as a headcannon rather than a fic, but I had a fun time writing it.

Anyway, that is my tuppence worth- thank you for reading!

#aph canada #hws canada #aph england #hws england #aph france #hws france #hetalia fanfic #hetalia #aph #hws #hetalia fanfiction #matthew williams #francis bonnefoy #arthur kirkland #my writing #i will put fruk into literally anything i swear #i cannot be stopped

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ssplague · 3 years

Text

Chapter 0ne

“And so it begins”

Katsuki B. X Reader

Rated M

Warnings: Gaslighting, manipulation, power play, light degradation

The day before the two of you left for UA; Your best friend gave her word to your mother that she would always look after you. Now that the two of you are in your third year she’s officially FED UP with your attitude and childish antics. Mentioning her dilemma to your shared group of friends results in the most unlikely person offering to be her solution to the problem that is YOU.

A/N: The girl in the banner is NOT how the reader is “supposed” to look, it was just a drawing I did specifically for this. You look however you want to, I don’t really make any specific references to your appearance in this story.

🌅

Its Saturday morning; Ive been awake for about five minutes now, but I’m not ready to open my eyes and embrace the conscious world just yet. Hearing the door of my room unlock and open does the trick though. Only one person (other than myself of course) has a key to my dorm room.

“I made breakfast for the both of us, its your favorite” announces Euphie as she walks in, kicking the door shut behind her. I sit up, just as she’s pushing my black out curtains to the side I let out a hiss of disdain as sunlight immediately begins to permeate the room.

“Thank you Euphie” I say with a yawn.

She hands me a plate before settling down on my bed, acknowledging my thanks with a nod as we both tuck in.

“We have plans this afternoon, can you be ready by at least 12:30? No need to get super made up but at least out of your pajamas?” Euphies voice is gentle, but I catch the underlying “I’m not asking, but telling you” vibe she tries to hide.

“For sure”

She smiles at my seemingly agreeable mood so early in the morning and we easily segway into our standard start of the day discussions. “Are we um…Are we going to be busy all day? I….I kinda planned on going to hangout with-“ Euphie cuts me off as she picks up our plates: “No worries you’ll have plenty of time for that, I promise!” Giving me a wink before shutting my door.

She didn’t even know who I was referring to, or what I was going to say….

At 12:55 Euphie reappears to rush me out of my room.

“Hey I forgot my purse I-“

“Don’t need it”

“But my wallet is-“

“Not necessary”

Her tone is clipped, and she has a death grip on my wrist as she quite literally drags me down the hallway. Initially I was taken aback, not being used to receiving this type of treatment from her. My bearings have started returning along with growing frustration each time one of my questions are receiving one word answers, or met with a complete dismissal. Reaching my limit I fail to notice that she’d began to slow down, and I’m wrenching my wrist free of her grip at the exact same time she’d come to a stop.

“What in the fuck is your problem?! You told me that we had plans to go out this afternoon, and you’d treat me to whatever I want!

This-“ I’m interrupted again.

“I certainly wouldn’t do anything for a fuckin’ brat throwing a tantrum like this”

My eyes snap to the side where I see the irritated scowl of one Katsuki Bakugou, as he leans against his door frame glowering at me. Embarrassment further fuels my anger as I turn toward him, pointing an acusatory finger as I begin “No one fucking asked you, stay out of it Katsu-“.

Kirishima suddenly emerges from Bakugo’s room, giving Euphie an enthusastic greeting

“Hey there! You look nice, ready to head out?”. The red head is flashing his signature shark toothed grip at my best friend as he offers her his arm. “You know it” she giggles, taking hold of his muscular bicep. The two of them start to walk off, confused and furious I start to head after them, but a large hand grips my shoulder grounding me in place.

“Bakugo told me he wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on you while Kiri and I went out this afternoon, this way you’ll stay out of trouble and get to keep the plans you’d made with him, bye!” The closing elevator doors add a sudden finalization to her brief explanation.

“Plans?” Bakugo questions while uncermoniously yanking me backwards.

I stumble back, falling through the doorway and landing flat on my ass in front of the now closed door (Which he is standing in front of). Glaring up at him as he continues: “She must have me confused with the local brothel, because thats the only place I’d imagine wearing a skirt as short as that would be deemed appropriate”. His insult doesn’t deter his crimson eyes from roaming the length of my body, lingering on the aforementioned skirt. Getting to my feet, he walks around me and move towards his desk, taking a seat behind it.

“Oh fuck you Katsuki, you can be a real dick sometimes, I dunno what stupid Euphie told you about keeping and eye on me, but I dont need a fucking baby sitter! So ill be off now” with a huff you turn towards the door. “________, I’m not in the mood for bullshit today so just sit down and shut up” he growls, not turning to look at you. He always feels embarrassingly giddy when you adress him by his first name, thats why he insisted you call him by it. That in itself should be an indication of how he seems to favor you.

It makes him almost feel a bit guilty for using a harsh tone when he’d spoken to you. Despite how he treats others, Katsuki is hardly ever outright mean to you; He’s never even given you a derogatory nickname like he has for everyone else. Today’s an off day though…He’s just not used to running on little to no sleep. That paired with his already non existent level of patience makes for a blow up. Especially when YOU were the cause of his latest bout of insomnia….turning to look at you has his thoughts beginning to wander.

Those lips of yours flapping away as you berate him…

They sure would look a helluva lot better wrapped around his-

“-Not even fucking listening to me are you?!” You snarl, starting towards the door again. “I cant believe I woke up this morning wanting to hangout with YOU, guess I’ll change my plans and hangout with someone not so shitty to me…. Like Deku!” A loud crash comes from behind you. The now enraged man had stood up so abruptly, it sent his now vacated chair careening into the wall and toppling over.

“You really just cant help yourself can you?”

His voice is so eerily quiet as he turns to face you, something unidentifiable flashes in his rapidly darkening crimson orbs. You couldn’t exactly identify it, considering it disappeared as abruptly as it had originally came.

“Course you cant, I already know that”

A menacing smile appears on his face as he takes his first step toward you, immediately triggering your natural “Fight or flight” response.

“I know what you need”

He’s only an arms length away when you start to step back.

“You dont know shit”

You somehow summon the courage to speak, but are unable to summon any false bravado to keep you from betraying how unnerved he’s got you feeling as he takes another step.

“I know that your best friend cant stand what a spoiled fuckin’ brat you’ve become, I know she’s so fed up with your shit that she’s about to write you off completely”

The defiant expression you’d worn all this time finally starts to falter.

This marks the first time Katsuki has ever seen how you look when your confidence begins to ebb away, only to be replaced with a mixture of uncertainty and fear.

His sadistic side emerges with glee as your now saddened doe eyes meet his.

“You’re constantly disregarding everyone’s opinion of you unless it aligns with your own, but you dont even know what to think of yourself now that your faced with the possibility of being alone now…do you?

You remain silent, taking yet another step back as he continues speaking.

“You need someone who isn’t afraid to correct you, but they’ll have to of earned your respect….So when you inevitably step out of line, you wont put up a fight when you get put over their knee”

Your back hits the wall.

You swallow down the panic that slowly begun to rise from your chest up into your throat as you realize there is nowhere left for you to go.

“You desperately want to be a good girl, just dont know how to be one, huh princess?”

It’s so adorable the way your bottom lip juts out, but at the first quiver it quickly gets sucked between your teeth.

“That’s why you’re acting out right now isn’t it?

I bet you drench your cute little panties every time you get a rise out of me. Always hoping that its going to be the time I yank you the fuck up and put this brat in her goddamn place, hah?”

You shamelessly lean into the large hand thats now cupping your cheek, letting out a sigh as his thumb caresses your soft skin.

“Mhmmm”

It’s horrifying how easily you just admitted your most guarded secret! The triumphant smirk he sports makes it even harder to accept.

His tone is surprisingly gentle when he starts addressing you once again;

“I can do that for you baby….Let me be the one that finally brings the princess down on her knees”.

Your eyes are practically sparkling at the feel of a sudden pressure being applied to your throat. His calloused fingers squeezing the delicate skin of your neck, effectively making it harder and harder for you to breathe. The thrill of this foreign feeling is instantly addicting.

“Tell me if thats what you want: If its not then shake your head and we never speak of this again”

Bakugo has to at least give the illusion that you have a choice in the matter. Even though its more than obvious that you need want this just as much as he does.

“I want it, I want you” your words come out in a breathy whisper as he releases his hold on your throat.

“I wanna hear you say it princess, what do you want me to do with you”

“I want…no I NEED you to….t-to make me into your good girl please…”

He gestures for you to continue, his raised brow implying you must be forgetting something.

“Please make me into your good girl….Daddy”

The pleading expression and twinge of desperation in your voice stirs something deep inside Bakugo. It was something akin to the last vestiges of some ancient seal had disappeared: The monster that it had rendered dormant had finally roused from its slumber, intent on wreaking havoc.

“You do understand that you’re mine now right ________? Every part of your being belongs solely to me”

Gorgeous ruby eyes scrutinize your face carefully, searching for a single trace of fear, uncertainty, or possible apprehension. All they found was admiration and girlish excitement, and this earned you a genuine smile from the almost always scowling young man.

“Yes, every part of me belongs to you now Katsuki”

“Better get used to this then”

Before you could inquire what he was referring to, he was kissing you.

❤️‍🔥

A/N: So concludes chapter one

Oh god I hope this is well received.

Should I get a tag list together? Is it too soon? If anyone would be interested leave a comment. SMUT in the next chapter, we’re moving faster here because let’s be honest; Smut is what all of us want! 💦

#katsuki bakugo #bnha #daddy bakugou #bakugo x y/n #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #husbando #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #tw daddy kink #tw gaslighting #bakuhoes #Plaguescorrection

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silverdragon-imagines-blog · 3 years

Note

For headcanons how about Twilight who has never seen a rabbit discovers he is allergic to rabbit fur, or Time Sky and Legend compare their experiences time traveling, or as group cook Wild tracks what everyone eats and pays attention to what everyone likes or dislikes but gets frustrated because Fours keep changing

[So many good prompts but time travel my beloved. So take some 3 am bonding between these three ^u^ Hope you enjoy.]

Warning(s): Some spoilers for Skyward Sword and maybe Ocarina of Time and Oracle of Ages. Also swearing, but that’s just how I write them

Sky turned over for what felt like the fiftieth time. He turned onto his back with a sigh, rubbing at his eyes for a few minutes. Then he sat up, moving the sheets off him and touching his bare feet to the chilled hardwood floor of the Inn room. His gaze landed on the four other occupants of the room he had ended up sharing with.

Unsurprisingly, Wind was splayed out on his bed, sleeping peacefully, and causing Sky to let out a huff of laughter at the spot of drool collecting on his pillow. Warriors was on his back, still and stiff as he slept, while Hyrule was curled up in a ball with his back pressed against the wall. Legend's bed, however, was empty, the sheets thrown to end of the bed. His gear and boots were still in place at the edge of the bed. Sky furrowed his brow in confusion, though there was only one other place he could’ve gone.

Quietly, Sky walked over to the door to the room and slowly opened the door. He paused, listening closely to hear if anyone else had woken up when he had moved. With no new sounds of shuffling, the coast was clear, and he headed towards the main area of the Inn.

As he approached, the strong smell of what some of the others called coffee hits him, causing him to cover his nose at the surprisingly abrupt smell. If he wasn’t already struggling to sleep, that at least would have woken him up. Once he recovered, Sky continued, entering the lobby, and looking around.

There was a counter off to the side of the stairs, a woman with a beige apron and bandanna tying her hair back tiredly wiping it down. The room was relatively empty, no one sitting in the worn couches near the entryway and most of the wooden tables behind them empty of people. Sky could easily see two familiar figures sitting at one of the tables in the corner of the room. The Veteran sat slightly slumped forward, a steaming mug in hand, with the Old Man sitting across from him with a mug of his own, though it was suspiciously not steaming.

Sky approached the table, waving tiredly. Time acknowledged him with a nod as he took a seat while Legend raised an eyebrow.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Sky shook his head, crossing his arms and laying his head on top of them.

"Mind wouldn't shut up. Didn't hear you get up though."

At this, Legend chuckled, holding out his hand and flashing his many rings.

"Magic ring, let's me pass by unseen."

Sky looked impressed.

"Sounds pretty useful."

Legend smiled wider.

"Yeah, if only it existed."

Sky frowned, slightly glaring at the now laughing Veteran. Time was chuckling as well, taking a sip of his drink, the white streak on his upper lip showing that he was drinking milk.

The woman that had been behind the counter then approached with a tray at her side, looking at Sky, who now sat up straight.

"Did you want to order anything?"

Sky shook his head then paused.

"A glass of water maybe."

With a nod, the woman left then returned a moment later with a glass and a pitcher on her tray, placing them on the table and pouring water into it, the ice clinking as it hit the sides of the cup. Sky quietly thanked her as she left, watching as she returned to her station behind the counter, then he took a sip of his cold drink.

It was quiet, the three heroes quietly enjoying their drinks and lost in thought. The only audible sounds were that of the quiet creaks of the old building settling and the Inn worker moving around in her area. Then Legend set down his mug with a sigh.

"The silence is killing me, someone start talking."

"About?" Time asked, raising an eyebrow.

"How about your adventures, not like there's very much else to talk about."

"Anything in particular?" Sky questioned, running his now cold fingers over his sleep tunic.

"Have any of you time traveled?"

Time subtly flinched, while Sky hummed in thought.

"A few times maybe, though not for particularly long. Unless you count items that altered time in a small area," Sky replied, ignoring the prickle of his skin at the thought of the final fight he had in the past. He scratched at his arm, hoping that the action wasn’t questioned.

"So? What did you do?"

"Well, there was Lanayru Mines and the Sand Sea. There were these gems called Timeshift stones that altered time in a small area. It was pretty mesmerizing to watch the sand turn into grass or water after striking the gems."

“Fascinating,” Time spoke, “just those two areas then?”

“Well, kind of? It was all over the Lanayru region in my area, all spread out and if you struck one, then the one you had struck earlier lost it’s power. I enjoyed myself quite a bit while there, especially once I found a few treasures I had never seen before, though that was just because I had never been on the surface before.”

“Treasures?” Legend perked up at that, eyes seeming to glitter slightly.

“What you and I consider treasure are quite different, my friend,” Sky chuckled, shaking his head with an amused smile, “The Timeshift stones brought back ancient things, including flowers and insects. I ended up with quite a collection of those flowers.”

Legend shrugged, leaning back in his chair, then turned to the Old Man.

"Being called the Hero of Time, I bet you've done some time traveling as well."

Time sighed, running a hand over his face.

"I have, though not all of it was particularly pleasant."

"You don't have to talk about anything you're uncomfortable with," Sky said, giving what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Well... there was the time I caused a particularly interesting time paradox," Time replied, smiling as he took a sip of his drink, “I learned a song in one time period that I then taught to the same man in the other time period.”

"Been there, done that, got anything more interesting?" Legend asked, crossing his arms with an unimpressed look on his face.

"I've done that too," Sky smiled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

"Fine then, how about going through a dungeon twice, once in the past and once in the present?"

"Okay, I’ve done that too, but go on."

Time rolled his eye, then leaned back in his chair.

"There was this dungeon in the middle of the desert that I could only get to after proving myself to the tribe that lived there. Once I got access to the dungeon, I had to first navigate the desert wastes to get to the entrance and then go back to the past to go through it the first time. Took a fair bit of time too," Time spoke, though he sighed after that, "That was only one half of the place though, and I had to do the other half in the present. Though I didn't mind doing that, it took much longer than any other dungeon I had done before."

"I can understand that" Sky nodded, "the ship I had to enter while at the Sand Sea took longer to get to the end of than I thought it would, but it was quite enjoyable."

Then Sky and Time glanced at Legend.

"I don't believe you've talked about yourself just yet," Time spoke, raising a brow with his arms crossed.

"Okay okay, you're right. Give me a second to think," he sighed, taking a swig of coffee.

After a minute or two, Legend put the mug back down.

"My second or third adventure, hard to say which was which, I met an Oracle who could control time. I had to save her from this witch by using her Harp to travel through time myself. As far as interesting events, I stopped this one idiot from killing his ancestor and making himself no longer exist."

"Time paradox, been there, done that," Time smirked, Legend looking annoyed at being quoted.

"Fine then, I did some similar bullshit to you. There was this one cave that I had to go through in two different eras, had to switch it up while I was inside it which was all sorts of disorienting. Got a new item, fought a mini-boss and a boss, got an important quest thing, you know the drill.” Legend sighed, picking up his drink again, “Fucking water temples pain in the ass.”

He mumbled that next part, though Sky laughed quite loud, startling the poor worker and Time, the latter of which looked somewhat concerned at the outburst. Sky’s face burned with slight embarrassment, though he giggled for a while longer.

“It wasn’t that funny, Sky,” Legend rolled his eyes, though the self-satisfied smile betrayed how he really felt about Sky’s reaction.

When he finally calmed down enough to speak, Sky wiped the small bit of tears that had gathered at the corners of his eyes.

"That's pretty cool," Sky said, stretching his arms above his head, "So was that all you did then? Granted, I guess I didn't say anything much about my adventure."

"Eh, there really wasn't much else to talk about, I guess. Did some bullshittery, met some ancestors, and saved a different land and a few people. You know, regular hero stuff."

This earned a chuckle from all of them.

“You met your ancestors though? I think that’s a new one, if you’re willing to share some of it.” Time said, gesturing for the other to continue.

Legend sighed, running a hand through his hair and slumping forward.

“I guess it’s fine to share, but don’t expect me to tell you my life story or anything,” with an accepting nod from both heroes, Legend continued.

“His name was Sir Raven, and he was knight of Labrynna, the place I was saving at the time. He was serving the current Queen, and he knocked me around quite a bit when we first met. He was honorable, taught me a few things too. Of course, with my fucking around with time, I changed his history. He was a more high-ranking knight than before, not that anyone noticed though, so I guess that’s a win for me.”

“That’s really impressive though,” Time stated, “I think it’s more than others in our group can say as far as knowing our families.”

Sky nodded, taking a sip of his drink, then clearing his throat.

"Okay, I guess I have one more thing I could share. There was this guardian dragon in Lanayru, but in the present, he had died. I had to use the Timeshift Stones to talk to him and figure out how to revive him. It took a while, but I figured out he needed a specific magic fruit to get his strength back. Took some moving from place to place and going back in time to plant the seed, then back to the present to get the tree fully grown."

Sky drank some water then, watching Legend's interested look and Time's nearly rapt attention. With a smile, he continued.

"Then it was just a matter of delivering the fruit back to the desert via a robot who hated my guts."

Legend laughed at that.

"Somehow I can see a hunk of junk hating only you for no particular reason."

“Would you believe me if I said he had a crush on the spirit of the Master Sword?”

The admission caused the table to erupt in laughter, the joyful sound echoing in the quiet space. The Inn worker loudly shushed them from her place, Sky and Time shooting apologetic looks her way as they calmed down. When the laughter subsided, the three sat in silence again. It was only broken by a loud yawn from Time.

"I think it may be wise to at least try to sleep. We're heading out early after all."

The two nodded, watching as Time left a handful of rupees on the table and headed back up to his room. Legend sighed, running a finger along the rim of his now empty mug.

“He has a point, but I don’t see myself actually sleeping much tonight. Ah well.”

He stretched as he stood up, then turned back to Sky.

“You coming?”

“Yeah, just give me a bit.”

The Veteran shrugged, making his way up the stairs and back into the room. Sky sat alone for a moment, thinking about the other things he did on his adventure and how the happier picture he had painted didn’t quite match up with reality. Finally feeling the pull of sleep, he left his glass on the table with a handful of rupees, making his way back to bed and finally falling asleep.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #linkeduniverse fic #linked universe fic #lu sky #lu legend #lu time #silver writes #lu

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myhauntedsalem · 2 years

Text

The Eerie Apparition of White Rock Lake

Dallas Park, Texas

Those who have reported seeing ghosts have long been the subject of jokes and derision but the experience is far more common than people realize. It’s the stuff of history, with sightings in every culture throughout the world recorded in myriad, ancient records. In Dallas, Texas, the White Rock Lake Ghost is no laughing matter. The familiar sighting is of a young woman in a drenched evening dress, who waves down drivers to tell them she’s been in a boating accident. She asks for a ride to a house, hops in the back seat, and then completely vanishes.

It’s a beautiful spot, and on a clear, warm day, there are cyclists, runners, families having picnics, and kayaks cutting lazily through the glassy lake. But there’s something more to this lake than meets the eye of the recreational visitor.

Dallas Morning News posted a 1964 story from its archives about the beautiful ghost of the lake, who reportedly wore a dress from Neiman Marcus. A 2004 story from the Advocate traced the beginning of the legend to the Texas Folk Lore Society, which published a story about the ghost in 1943. In that version, a couple picked up the soaking-wet woman on the side of the road and drove her to the address on Gaston Avenue. When they saw that she had disappeared, they walked up to the house. A man answered the door and explained that he had a daughter, but that she drowned in the lake two years earlier.

The New York Post conducted a study of 2,000 people, which showed that 60 percent said they had seen a ghost in their lifetime. Also, more than 40 percent of those surveyed think their pet has seen one too. The research also found one in three people had either lived or stayed in a house they felt was haunted.

It All Started Back in 1943

According to the official White Rock Lake website, a woman named Anne Clark wrote the account of the Lady of the Lake legend and published it in 1943 under the title The Ghost of White Rock. Clark’s report stated that a young couple was parked on the shore of White Rock Lake, and when they turned on their headlights they saw a young girl in a sheer, wet, white dress coming toward them. With a faltering voice, she told the couple, “I’m sorry to intrude, and I would not under any circumstances, but I must find a way home immediately. My boat overturned. The others are safe. But I must get home.’” Next, she climbed into the rumble seat and gave the couple an address in Oak Cliff. When they asked her for directions, they turned around only to find their rumble seat empty and wet. Curious, the couple continued to the address the girl gave them. There they met a sad man at the door who told them, “This is a very strange thing. You are the third couple who has come to me with this story. Three weeks ago, while sailing on White Rock Lake, my daughter drowned.”

The Dallas Morning News reported that many Dallas residents wrote to the newspaper to share their encounters with the girl. In the archives of the News, reporter Frank Tolbert had run two emphatic pieces of the event in his column called Tolbert’s Texas. In 1964, he wrote, “Hundreds of people have called or written this department about the so-called Girl Ghost of White Rock Lake, who sometimes, by testimony of sober witnesses, makes guest appearances in dripping wet evening dress along the shores of the Dallas lake, always at night and in the spring of the year.”

Just because someone hasn’t seen a ghost doesn’t prove that ghosts don’t exist. Logic has nothing to do with it. If you see the ghost of a dripping wet young lady by White Rock Lake and nobody else is around to confirm, does that mean it never happened?

#The Eerie Apparition of White Rock Lake #ghost and hauntings #paranormal #ghost and spirits #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem

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flameohotwife · 3 years

Note

Okay, #41 for the fluff prompt!! (I feel so powerful, hahaha!)

41. "Darling, I love you and all but please step out of the kitchen."

This turned... long! And sad-ish in parts, so I'm sorry! Maybe more hurt/comfort? But there is still fluff. I hope you enjoy!

Rated T. 2.2k words.

“Aang? Have you seen the dumpling pan?” Katara was crouched down, head and shoulders deep in the cupboard, looking for the right pan to crisp the dumplings she was planning on making for dinner. Her husband was flitting about, albeit slower than he once could, on the other side of the kitchen with what she assumed were fruit pie ingredients for dessert. The original Team Avatar were travelling to Air Temple Island from all over the world in a few hours to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the war ending, and their 50th anniversary together. They always tried to get together the week they’d met in Ba Sing Se at the Jasmine Dragon to remember what they’d lost, and to see how far they’d come. Though Aang and Katara hadn’t gotten married until several years after the war, they always counted that day on the balcony as their anniversary, as the only thing that had truly changed with their marriage was the world’s recognition of their relationship and its permanence. They were devoted and dedicated from the very beginning. Perhaps even before that.

“Oh, I’ve got it over here, Sweetie,” Aang called back to her. She jumped up, almost bashing her head on the top of the cupboard before wriggling properly out to stand and face him. Even in his old age he still maintained a certain twinkle in his eye when he was up to something, and Katara’s hands flew to her hips when she saw it.

“What are you doing with my dumpling pan?” she asked, warily.

“I thought I’d cook tonight,” Aang replied, though his hand rubbed the tattoo on the back of his neck tellingly. “I wanted to add some Air Nomad dishes to the menu. Sokka will be bringing some Water Tribe food already, Toph and Suki will have Earth Kingdom, and Zuko and Mai will bring Fire Nation… I just thought I’d add something of my own in.”

Katara’s throat caught for a moment, as it always did when she remembered. His loss always felt bigger on anniversaries, though his grief was an ever-present emotion. It rose and fell like the tides, but was always there, under the surface. Most people saw his smiling face and kind, loving spirit and forgot that there were only two airbenders in the world and why. That Aang had actually known and loved so many of the ones Sozin had murdered. He masked his pain well, but took that mask off around Katara from time to time, when he needed to.

“Sweetie,” she began, stepping forward to grasp his wrinkled hands. “Oh Aang, I was going to make Air Nomad food, too. I would never leave you out like that.” Her tone wasn’t defensive, only calm and reassuring, as she rubbed gentle circles on the blue arrows that adorned the backs of his hands with her thumbs. She wanted to remind him with her touch that his grief didn’t have to be his alone to bear. That she would remember his people with him. Just as she had taught their children old Air Nomad fairytales when they were small, and celebrated their holidays with him, and learned to cook their food. Katara was Water Tribe through and through, but her soul was bound to an Air Nomad. Moreover, she was bound to Aang, and she always felt his loss. Even when he hid it well.

Aang melted into her, then. A hug that was so deeply meaningful it was reminiscent of the one they’d shared on Iroh’s balcony, but with all the weight of his pain crushing down on them along with that promise of love and acceptance. It was as though through this hug she was able to share that weight with him, so she held him tighter. Half a century after learning about the deaths of his people, sometimes the wound still felt fresh, and Katara was always the healing balm to whatever ailed him, even when she knew she could never heal it completely.

Katara stroked his back lovingly with one arm as he clung to her. She waited for his breathing to even out, for his muscles to relax. Waited for a sign that she had taken enough of his grief that he could function again. Finally, he moved his head to kiss her sweetly. It was wet, and salty, but his movements were lighter again. She moved her hands to his face, wiping his tears as she pulled him closer, and he deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms fully around her waist and pressing against her.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He knew his grief was never hers to bear, and yet she did so willingly and with so much love. He could never thank her enough for the way she cared for him when he hit his lowest points. He wasn’t sure he could have made it without her. Sometimes the weight on his shoulders was so heavy he felt like he would sink without her unending love and support buoying him up, keeping him afloat.

“You’re not alone, Sweetie. Never.” Katara continued to caress his face as she looked into his sparkling, sad eyes.”Do you want me to help? I can make the dumplings and the butter tea. I never quite mastered the tofu but I could try if you want…”

Aang silenced her with another kiss. “You’re wonderful,” he said, pressing his lips to hers again. “The best wife, partner, and friend in existence.” Yet another kiss. “I think I’ve got it from here. Why don’t you take a break before everyone gets here?”

Katara laughed, not quite knowing what to do with herself. She reluctantly removed her hands from her husband and settled on making herself some tea and sitting at the kitchen table to observe him. Even though he was aging, Katara still enjoyed watching him when she had a moment, whether it was bending practice, or working hard on something, or even something as simple as cooking. She still appreciated the lithe way his body moved, the smooth, airy motions he made, the way his tongue stuck out when he was concentrating…

She sat back in her chair, grinning over her teacup as she watched him chop vegetables and boil water and roll dough. Sometimes observing him do the most trivial things—like cooking dinner for friends, or braiding their daughter’s hair when she was small, or working in the garden—reminded her how lucky she was to have him in her life. He was the Avatar after all. He could have maids and cooks and servants and never lift a domestic finger in his life, but that was never in Aang’s nature. And he could have chosen anyone as his companion, but he had always and only ever chosen her. Over and over. It was somehow both humbling and assuring all at once.

After some time, she rose from her seat, walking behind him to wrap her arms around him, reveling in his warmth. She couldn’t see the smile on Aang’s face, but she knew it was there when he pressed one arm over her interlocking ones, squeezing lightly with his hand.

She leaned up to press a light kiss to the back of his neck.

“You’re awfully distracting, you know,” Aang chided. He turned in her arms to peck her on the nose. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to watch you cook. I forgot how much I enjoy it.” She gave him a very pointed look and he laughed heartily.

“Well, by all means, enjoy the show,” he said, wiggling his hips for her benefit as he extricated himself from her grip to keep working. Katara giggled. She was about to return to her seat when she noticed the clutter Aang was leaving in the kitchen as he worked, and decided to help him by tackling some of that so he could focus on the food.

When Katara cooked, she was very methodical. Every ingredient, pot, pan, and chopstick had its place, and was immediately returned to that place when she had finished with it. She knew if she didn’t keep up with the mess as she worked, it would pile up to the point that she would feel overwhelmed at the end, so she tidied continually. Aang, on the other hand, was much more impulsive in his cooking. He would think of an ingredient to add mid-stir, and leave the remnants on the counter, never quite sure if he might want to add more later. He would wait to clean up all the messes at once.

There was a time in their marriage where this had driven Katara crazy. The kids were still very young at the time, and the extra mess on top of the cacophony of kid-sounds and clutter and Momo swooping around the house would become too much, so she would constantly buzz around him, taking things and washing and putting them away before he was even finished with them. He would turn around for more of an ingredient and find it wrapped up in the icebox. More than once, he had had to take Katara by the shoulders, kiss her gently, and exclaim, “Darling, I love you and all, but please step out of the kitchen.”

Now, much like in other parts of their relationship, she had learned which parts of the mess to let be, and which ones she could handle that would actually help him. She sat up with him at night while he transcribed ancient Air Nomad texts and histories; her presence a comfort as he worked through it all and felt the loss more keenly. Tenzin joined him now, of course, when he was home, but Aang still felt more able to work through his grief when she stayed too. When they were younger, she had sewn Air Nomad clothes for Aang and for the acolytes, and eventually taught the acolytes to make them herself not because Aang couldn’t sew or teach them, but because it was one of the things that they both could do. Something that she could take off of his already over-heaped plate.

They balanced each other. He was her rock on full-moon nights or when she missed her parents or when her emotional storm was raging. He was her center of calm when she was worried about the kids or about the world. But today, Aang needed her. So she washed the used dishes for him to use again if needed, and cleared the wrappings for him, being sure to leave the ingredients on the counter. She made sure to give him gentle touches as they worked; a hand to the small of his back as she passed him, a bump of the hip as they worked side by side. Loving smiles and stolen kisses as the afternoon sun fell lower in the sky.

Eventually their friends would arrive and they would be able to laugh and joke and remember together. There would be group hugs and arm-punches and happy sounds and smells would fill their home as they reminisced. Through all of it, Aang would sneak looks across the table at Katara, with a special smile reserved for her. Fifty years! They’d made it fifty years together, in no small part because of everything they had learned through their struggles as they grew together. Because of the weights and grief they shared with one another instead of bearing them alone.

“I may be old, Twinkletoes, but I can still feel your heartbeat when you look at Sugarqueen like that,” Toph jabbed as Aang snuck another glance at his wife. “How can you two be together for fifty years and still act as disgusting as when we were teenagers? I’m not going to have to pull you out of a linen closet at the official event tomorrow, am I? Because we are all too old for that.”

Knowing that she still sent his heart a-flutter the way he did to her warmed Katara’s old bones from head to toe, and she sent a look of her own towards her husband. Aang’s face reddened.

“Oh, no,” groaned Sokka. “Oogies! I’m out.” He rose from the table, pulling Suki along with him. “Dinner was great guys, and I’d like to keep it in my stomach, thanks. So, we’ll see you all in the morning when the kids get here?”

“Sounds good,” replied Zuko as he and Mai rose to join them. “We should probably turn in anyway. It’s getting late.” Aang and Katara stood as well to accompany their guests to the door before everyone went their separate ways.

“Thanks for a wonderful evening as always, guys,” Suki added as she hugged them both goodbye. “Try not to wear yourselves out too much tonight, hmm? It’s not as easy to recover as it used to be and we have a busy day tomorrow.”

Katara feigned shock at her sister-in-law’s tease but Aang only blushed further as Sokka faked retching and promptly exited with their friends. Aang was always so open about his emotions and intentions when it came to Katara, whether or not he intended to be. She simply smirked back up at him and took him by the hand, waving to everyone one last time before pulling him back to their bedroom. And, maybe they were a little extra tired the next day, but it was worth it. Loving each other through the many ups and downs of a lifetime together would always be worth it. Even when Toph berated them for it outside a linen closet door.

#kataang #kataang fanfiction #kataangtag #fluff prompts #katara #aang #atla #sweeties #slightly hurt/comfort #sorry!#adcurtis #asks

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icyteaa · 3 years

Text

It was no longer just an iffy feeling; it was a truly bad feeling. It was a terrible feeling, the type of feeling he would have if the God of Death would appear in his dream tonight and ask him to share a meal or something.

—Trash of the Count’s Family, Chapter 667

Note: those sentences floats in my head ever since I read it and now I couldn't resist but write this crack headcanon down. Hope I will not get caught for writing this cursed headcanon 😂

TCF CRACK HEADCANON

[Nightmare]

Cale had a bad feeling ever since he brushed his teeth and prepared to go to sleep. He had a bad feeling even when he hushes and humming the children to their dream. And after he caught up in his own sleep and found himself in an unfamiliar room in his dream, he knew something was up to him. Again.

Cale frowning while his mouth let the sound of clicking. He scanned the room that he was dreaming of. It was a room that was filled with elegant property and seemed very expensive. It is all stuff with Victorian Era style, just like his world as Cale. But instead of glittering with gold, this room was filled with luxurious black. It's like everything in the room dyed black, and even his own shirt changed to black. Cale had a scowl on his face as he could tell what had happened even if he didn't want to.

"That mother fucking bastard!" Cale cursed as he found himself sitting up in the dining table with a plate in front of him. His frown was as deep as ever when he realized that he could feel the soft seat he was sitting in. This dream felt too real and if he just never experienced these kinds of weird dreams, he would think this was real and he just moved or transported to another place without him even wanting it. Just like every time that goddamn had done every time. And Cale didn't want either of that, so he still hates this.

"You shouldn't curse like that, my child." Cale can figure out the owner of this voice right away and it makes him gritted his own teeth tightly out of anger. After all, this voice is always chiming in his head every now and then in his sleep or when he is conscious ever since the war ended a year ago. But this is the first time he can feel the dream this real. Cale breathed heavily as he tried to stay calm in this damned situation, "Just what are you trying to do this time?"

There is a sound of footsteps echoing around the room. Someone appears from the shadow that Cale presumably is the realm form of his biggest distruber that he continuously considers to seal because of these deeds it does very often. God of Death, the realm that took man form with long black hair and black outfit, smiles widely. Undaunted even if it knew the annoyed tone in Cale's voice.

"There is nothing, my child. I just want to have a meal with my child." The God of Death paused a few moments as his hand reached his chin as if it was thinking, "In your world, it's called a date, right?"

Cale can feel shiver down his spine and he finds himself having an urge to throw up. Didn't want to hear more about this disgusting topic or see that annoying look on its face. Cale tried to use his power as he shouted, "Just sent me home already, you bastard!"

But nothing happened. Cale finds himself unable to use his ancient powers. He couldn't hear them either. He glared at the man that laughed loudly as he took a seat opposite from him. "We are in your mind, and there is no one who can distribute our sweet talk here. So give up trying, my child."

Cale never felt this disgusted in his life. Not when he found almost everyone on the continent called him a Hero or Young Master Silver Shield. Not even when he saw the sparkling eyes of crazy bastard Clopeh Sekka and his rambling about legend. No. This is at a different level of disgusted. He felt really annoyed and furious. And every word that goddamn god lets out just makes it worse. And within this outrage that overwhelming him, Cale found himself couldn't understand what this god wanted. Just why is that god disturbing him so often?! Is this god didn't have anything to do except annoy him?! Now he felt frustrated as well.

As it didn't care how red Cale's face was because he held his anger, the God of Death flicked its finger and a feast filled the wide dining table. "I know you like eating, my child. Eat as much as you want."

Cale huffed and let out a very long sigh. He stared at the face that was very handsome that couldn't even be compared to the ancient dragon Eruhaben, but Cale didn't give a fuck even a little bit of it as his hand reached the plate. It was very subtle, because he tried very hard to not change his expression when an idea passed his head. Without any moment coming to waste, Cale throws the plate and any food he can reach to the god's face. "Just what do you want from me?! Let me out of this and out of my life! You disgusting goddamn bastard!"

Cale felt very angry and tired. After he shoved anything he could throw, he panted so heavily. Cale forgot when he was this emotional with a negative meaning. He was very calm and collective person after all. But this—this existence, always puts him in rage every time. It pissed out of him.

Cale stared to the front again when he heard the cuckled voice. Very unfortunately, there isn't any food or whatever he throws hurt that god form. All of it stopped with a bumped sound in the air before falling to the table as if there was a wall in front of the god. "My child, you are very spirited today. Are you feeling happy after seeing my face now? Just so you know, you are the only human I ever showed my face. So you should feel grateful because of that."

Cale hissed with very sharp eyes. He really wants to use his ability to seal this god now. "Just spit out what you want. Now. Stop talking nonsense because I never felt great or happy to hear your voice or see your face."

Now as it realized Cale had already in his limit of patience, the God of Death shook his head before standing up. It slowly walked around to approach Cale before saying, "Alright. I will say what I want now, even if I want to do it after we have a nice meal together."

Cale turning to the left where the God of Death approached him. He shut his mouth with an odd expression as he felt this wasn't going to be right. But before he could anticipate what the god did, he saw the God of Death kneeling in his way before opening a small box that suddenly appeared in his palm. "I realized I just said this to you through my other child, so I want to say this myself now. You are a very interesting child and everything you do is very fascinating to watch. I think we will be fit to work together. So Cale Henituse, will you be my Holy Maiden?"

"I WILL NEVER FUCKING ACCEPT THAT POSITION, YOU BASTARD!!" Cale breathed abruptly as he shouted until his lung felt hurt. His body was full of sweat as he finally found himself in his own bedroom and finally woke up from the biggest nightmare he had ever experienced. The children immediately woke up after hearing the shout and even everyone that had sharp ears in the villa woke up from their slumber and rushed toward the 5th floor to check his condition. Cale felt his stomach hurt and his complexion was very pale. "That goddamn bastard...." He hissed in his heavy breath.

Everyone who knew who was the existence that could bring this much rage into Cale's face turned with rage too. That god ... it still disturbed our young master even after all the crap it did to Cale? It's what they thought as the anger within them makes the atmosphere in the room very hideous and makes Cale get another shiver.

Even without Cale asking, everyone was so fired up and contacted Cage to help them so they could hunt down a certain god. While Cale had a long rest that day because he felt sick because of the nightmare.

[End]

Note:

This headcanon is very cursed and I feel bad for Cale. But yeah, I regret nothing for writing this😂

#trash of the count's family #tcf #lout of count’s family #cale henituse #tcf headcanon #god of death #god of death proposed cale #is god of death/cale a thing?#Idk but I feel like I tutored Cale #sorry cale but I laughed so hard when I wrote this #cale's nightmare #just wait god of death #cale's squad will hunting you down #I regret nothing for writing this

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quazartranslates · 3 years

Text

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH53

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 53: Purgatory Reunion (V) {cw: attempted suicide, religious guilt}

There were too many demons. There were too many demons.

The space by his feet had already been filled with corpses, and the whole lake of fire was floating with the stench of sulfur and demon blood, but it seemed that no matter how he killed them, he couldn’t kill them all.

Ning Zhou watched the steady stream of demons, from the initial tension to the final numbness. He tried every demon with Maria's sword of judgment, and finally… tried himself.

After entering Purgatory, the burning wounds on his abdomen had become more and more painful, lost consciousness, and there was no divine power in the body that had once been filled with holy power to protect him. Then, the evil power had gradually returned to him.

Ning Zhou already knew what it was. For many years, his mother Maria's worried eyes and her awkward words have planted too many questions in his heart. Now, he finally understood.

When he was young, he had once asked her who his father was.

Maria had sat by the bed and watched the sunset, remaining silent for a long time.

He persisted in asking his mother again.

Maria took his little hand and gently answered him, "He was someone who was lost."

"It's a long, long road, and no one knows where the end is. Your father and I met unexpectedly. We walked along the same road, passed many beautiful sights along the way, and left many beautiful memories. We said goodbye briefly at a fork in the road and agreed that we would continue walking. But he got lost... He walked a long way and gradually forgot everything from the past. He gained power that ordinary people could not imagine, but he even forgot his name."

"Did he forget you, too?" the small Ning Zhou asked anxiously.

A faint smile appeared on Maria's pale face: "No, he hasn't forgotten me. He didn't forget me all his life. On the day we met again, he looked at me for a long time and asked me... ‘who are you?’"

Ning Zhou looked at her in confusion and asked, "’Who are you?’ Doesn’t that mean he forgot?"

But he didn't know that a man who had forgotten himself and everything else had found his true love in the vast sea of people. At that moment, no matter what question he asked, it didn't matter.

The fact that he could find this person had already shown that he had never forgotten his love.

　　&&&

In a dark room, a long table with more than a dozen seats was surrounded by people, each of whom silently looked at the magic mirror suspended on the table which displayed this scene of carnage from the bottom of his heart.

"Is it okay to let him kill like this again?" the Witch of Nothingness asked gently, with her eyes closed and her hands folded on her lower abdomen.

The Witch of Desperation, covered in a black robe, looked at the bright red lake of fire in the magic mirror, but there was no magic in her empty eyes: "It doesn't matter. As long as he can fully awaken his original force, it doesn't matter how much of that trash he kills."

"I'm afraid he won't want to. Don't forget, he was originally from the Holy See," the Witch of Nothingness warned.

"Haha, have you forgotten? His Majesty was also very close with the Holy See. To be precise, he and the Holy See’s Holy Nun was the object of his affections. Even when his original force had awakened fully and he forgot his whole family, he was still holding a Canon all day long. But wasn't it him who finally took us into the human world?" the Devil of Evil smiled, not sharing his colleagues’ worry.

The Witch of Resentment held her forehead in one hand: "Please, don't remind me of the days when I studied hard to please His Majesty with the scriptures. I have no interest in the things of the Holy See. I would rather boil my potions."

The Witch of Nothingness smiled faintly. "Have you ever noticed that all the Devil Kings have some abnormal hobbies? When you count them carefully, none of them looks like a normal demon. However, compared with the subordinates of the Devil of Slaughter, we should feel content."

The group of higher demons laughed meaningfully.

To the demons, following a Devil King did not mean that they agreed with that person’s personality, but that they followed the force that that person represented. Just like this group, who had tied their own destiny with the force of destruction, who had known both glory and utter ruin. In the twenty years after the fall of the old Devil, their power had also declined to even less than half of its heyday.

They were too eager to have a new Lord of Destruction and renew destruction’s original force. As for who that person was, they didn't care.

"I heard one thing. Our new Majesty had a lover whom he loves deeply, but he died. It's a pity that the Devil of Fraud killed him. If he was still alive..." The Devil of Evil smiled with interest. "How interesting it would be."

"Why did the Lord of Fraud kill her?" the Witch of Nothingness asked doubtfully.

"God knows. Oh, by the way, he’s a man."

"Isn't His Majesty a follower of the Holy See?" Even the Witch of Resentment was shocked. Those who had been around since the old Lord of Destruction were familiar with the Holy See’s teachings, and they were very clear about the Holy See’s attitude towards same-sex love.

"He was drained of the power of faith and expelled from the Holy See. Otherwise, do you think that with such little stimulation alone he could awaken the Devil’s force sealed in his body? That's the seal left by Maria." The Devil of Evil laughed very exaggeratedly. "Ah, for love, I am willing to abandon the glory of God! ...It is really a romance branded in blood."

"Unfortunately, it seems that this time I can't see the touching love story," the Witch of Resentment sighed faintly.

"Attention, His Majesty is beginning to show the form of a magic dragon. Record the time. It is... 8:47 in the evening. If you’re optimistic, he could be completely demonized within 24 hours. I can't wait." The Devil of Evil looked at the Devil's black body in the lake of fire and the human who had begun to show the Devil's characteristics, and couldn't help but smile with expectation.

"I hope nothing will happen in these twenty-four hours. Contact the Dragon Ant Queen and order that Purgatory be sealed off now, especially in the area around the lake of fire," the Witch of Desperation said. "Don't say it’s in our name... The seal on the Devil of Slaughter is suspected to be loose, other people will naturally associate this with the Devil of Power."

"I’m afraid that the Dragon Ant Queen can't be contacted. Considering the time, she is now busy with 'life events'," said the Devil of Evil.

"Then contact her maid, she still has the authority to deal with this matter," the Witch of Desperation said.

　　&&&

He was already in hell.

Ning Zhou looked at everything around him and suddenly had this thought.

After the crazy battle, there were countless bodies of demons floating in the lake of fire, some of which had been swallowed up by lava, and some of which were rushing towards the lower reaches of the valley with the burning current.

The air seemed to be filled with scorching flames, burning from his mouth to his heart, and even his soul was ignited.

He stood in Purgatory’s lake of fire, inexorably transforming from a man into a devil.

How fragile human will was, that it couldn't prevent a man from dying, or a saint from degenerating into a demon.

Sharp talons grew on his hands, and his skin became cold and rough like a cold-blooded animal. Black scales spread all over his body like a plague, and a pair of bat-like wings grew behind him. He couldn't control the power of destruction. He had lost his human form and turned into a huge magic dragon.

A devil among demons, a Devil King among devils, an evil magic dragon symbolizing destruction. According to legend, the ancient world was destroyed by such a magic dragon, which had woken from chaos, flew while spraying angry flames that spread in all directions, and destroyed the whole world.

This kind of magic dragon had really appeared once in history. Twenty-two years ago, when the Devil of Destruction had led the demons to break through the seal and come to the world of humans. His demon form was just such a magic dragon. He held the law of destruction, but also the madness of destruction, wishing to destroy the world at all costs.

What had been a vague feeling had finally come true. When the force of destruction awakened, he understood everything.

It was ridiculous. Those who fought against the demons eventually became demons. Those who stared long into the abyss finally fell into the abyss. The evil force sleeping deep in his body laughed at him: Your whole life is a joke.

Fate had taken away everything from him: his only relative, his beloved, and now it wanted to destroy his last treasure.

Everything about him as a "human" had ceased to exist. What else could he do? What else could he do for this miserable world? What was the value of his existence?

Immense grief struck his soul, and the desperate black dragon roared and wailed at the sky blocked by rocks in the lake of fire. The force of destruction even tore the rock wall and let the distant light fall into Purgatory.

He looked at the light dazedly, as piously as when he had prayed so many times.

"He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, He will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.”

But why had fate given him such a cruel temptation? And he had been banished from his homeland; would God still help him and protect him?

Not anymore.

He was doomed to fall to such temptation.

Because God had given up on him.

Like the man who gave him half his blood, he would gradually lose himself to the original force of destruction, forget everything about himself, forget how he had once guarded the world, and finally bring endless pain and despair to this world.

Let it all end here.

Suicide was a sin, but if he lived, he would eventually bring more disasters and misfortunes to this scarred world.

He couldn't end the cruel fate imposed by this world, so at least he could not bring more suffering to this world.

Let him end it with his own hands!

In this lake of fire in Purgatory, holding warm memories, he would put a full stop to his life with this heart that still belonged to mankind.

But at that moment, he heard a voice that was too familiar to be a memory: "Ning Zhou—!!!”

He stopped at the edge of destruction and looked up.

Looked up to see the love of his life, returned to him.

-----

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ragewerthers · 3 years

Text

Relaxation Therapy

Summary: Iwa has gotten himself so caught up in his paper that he feels he doesn't have time to relax. Luckily his boyfriends know just the way to get him to listen to reason. A little relaxation therapy is definitely in order!

A/n: Hello there!

This is written for a prompt sent to me from @lady-namo!

She asked for:

'matsuhanaiwaoi? iwaizumi is really, REALLY stressed by whatever and they try to relax him. actually i don't mind how exactly you do it, i'd just be happy with teasy af mattsun!'

This was so much fun to write as I've never gotten to write these four before, but they are ridiculous and amazing to write banter between! I hope that you enjoy it, my friend!

You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28599321

Enjoy! :D

Word Count: 3937

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

Iwa growled in frustration as he ran a hand through his hair, staring hard at the readings laid out before him on the kitchen table.

If this civilization wasn’t already lost to history, he would be cursing the ancient Minoans as the texts he looked over spoke of them. How dare they be so god damn interesting that he decided to write his history paper on their mysterious disappearance? How dare they lure him into trying to read through dusty old texts that only offered up the same three conclusions each and every time?! Three conclusions does not a paper make!

With another deep growl he let his head fall to the table with a resounding thud that he immediately regretted more than the Minoans existence. His pen had been in just the perfect spot for his forehead to land against, sending a nice little shockwave of pain through his forehead and making him reel back in his chair with a shout. Sadly the force that he’d pushed himself away with was enough to send said chair tilting backwards at lightning speeds and his life flashed before his eyes.

Sadly the only thing his mind supplied was the Minoans.

The bastards.

Squeezing his eyes shut he waited for the cold, hard impact of the floor, but soon just found himself suspended mid-air.

Slowly, almost fearfully, he let his eyes peek open only to be met with the amused and gentle smile of Mattsun.

“Issei?” Iwa said a little dumbly, having thought his boyfriends were still out of the apartment for a grocery run. When Oikawa was involved this usually meant that the trip could last hours and it felt like they’d only just left a few minutes ago. Oikawa shouting something sassy from the hall, Hana rolling his eyes and Mattsun promising that they wouldn’t lose Tooru… again.

Now, it seemed, they had all returned just in time to see the Minoans attempting to take him out with his own pen.

“The one and only. Appears we didn’t get back too late for me to be your knight in shining armor, Hajime,” the taller man said lightly, ducking down to press a careful kiss to the red line already starting to appear over Iwa’s forehead.

“What was that thud we heard when we came in, Iwa?” Hana called, carrying in at least four grocery bags collected on his arms and trying to carefully place them on the table and avoid Iwa’s work.

“Yeah, Iwa-chan! Mattsun literally jumped the sofa to get in here when he heard you yelp,” Oikawa said with a teasing smirk, putting his own single bag of shopping right on top of Iwa’s work and spreading out his papers even more.

Matsukawa quirked an eyebrow at Oikawa before carefully setting Iwa’s chair back down on the floor.

“This coming from the man who literally elbowed Hana in the face trying to unlock the door when we heard the commotion in the hall. Don’t act all cool and collected now,” Mattsun teased, watching as Oikawa’s ears tinged red and he puffed his cheeks out into a pout.

“I did no such thing! I know Iwa-chan is more than capable of handling himself in any situation,” Oikawa huffed, turning around and heading back toward the living room to drop off his coat, scarf and shoes.

“I thought he was going to cry,” Hana whispered to Iwa as he passed by with a few frozen pizza’s in hand, apparently deciding to put away their frozens before taking off his things. Though he also seemed incapable of dropping a kiss to Iwa’s brow before continuing on and making the man's cheeks warm up more at all of this attention. Though the thought of Oikawa blubbering in the hallway did make him chuckle a bit.

Soon Iwa felt a strong hand lightly starting to massage the back of his neck and the chuckling instantly quieted down into a soft hum of content. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head forward reflexively, feeling the way Mattsun’s hand worked its way up to his hairline before soothing gently circles back down toward his shoulder.

“You still didn’t answer the question though, Hajime,” Mattsun said softly as he watched Iwa slowly melt in front of him from the simple contact. “But if I had to guess, I’d say this paper is putting up a fight?”

Iwa gave a little nod, though he tried to stay as still as possible to enjoy the gentle attention he was receiving. “The Minoans have decided to haunt me from their graves. But be careful what you think of them. They’ll attack you with pens and tipped over chairs,” he grumbled, getting a little snort from Hana who was somewhere near the cupboards now.

“They also seem to be able to turn your muscles into nothing but knots and stone,” Matsukawa murmured softly, bringing his other hand up to start massaging along Hajimes shoulders properly and earning himself a deep groan of pain and contentment. “Why don’t you take a break? When the ghosts of dead civilizations start to attack, it’s usually a sign you need to take a step back.”

“Did I hear that right? Iwa-chan is allowing papers to attack him now?” Oikawa cooed as he came back in, grabbing one of the other grocery bags and the table and carrying it to the counter. “That’s what turned Issei into a track star?”

“And you into a panicked mother hen?” Hana teased, getting a swat to his arm with a bag of milk bread Oikawa had moments before had cuddled to his chest like a gift from heaven.

Iwa blinked his eyes open to give him a little half-hearted glare. “No, Shitty-kawa. I just… got a little stuck in my thesis and it got away from me a bit. But I’ll still conquer this paper. I just have to focus more,” he mumbled before giving a little whimper as Mattsun’s fingers kneaded deeper into the muscles of his shoulder.

“Hajime, I can actually feel your muscles coiling up again as you speak,” Mattsun murmured in his calming baritone. “I think it would do you some good to take a small break with us. Just a little breather to get your thoughts refocused?” “I can’t,” Iwa said quietly, a little scowl starting to reappear over his features. “I only have a couple of days to get this all sorted out and I know that if I keep going I’ll be able to break through this little writer's block I have. I’m sorry, but… maybe later once I get some thoughts on paper I can take a break with you all.” Leaning forward slightly, Iwa gently broke the wonderful contact of Mattsun’s hands from his shoulders. He could hear a little exhale of air from behind him as he picked his pen back up and knew that wasn’t what the man had wanted to hear, but it’s what he needed to do. Reaching forward he began to try and reorganize his papers from the mess Oikawa had made of them.

“Oh Mattsun-kun. You should know better than trying to get through to Iwa with gentle words,” Oikawa said as he drew closer to the table.

“Yeah, Mattsun,” Hana teased from his spot by the sink, turning to watch with a little smirk playing over his lips, his arms crossed over his chest. “You know that Hajime is only just slightly less stubborn than Tooru.”

Iwa grumbled at that, hunching his shoulders to try and ignore his boyfriends talking about him as if he wasn’t there. ‘ Now where did that pen go? ’

“I mean… you’re not wrong,” Oikawa chuckled and Iwa could hear him moving around the table to stand next to Issei. “But… if there’s something I’ve learned about our sweet Iwa-chan it’s that there are better ways of getting your point across.”

Sadly, Iwa was now starting to get back into what he hoped was a groove for this paper and didn’t notice the shared look between his three ridiculous partners.

“That’s right,” Mattsun said, his voice still sounding measured even as the hint of amusement tinged his words.

“Gentle words aren’t enough,” Hanamaki agreed, his voice sounding closer and making Iwa hunch more into himself. God, why didn’t he grab his earbuds to drown out these idiots ?

“That’s right,” Oikawa’s voice purred, making the back of Iwa’s neck prickle slightly. “Hajime needs to be persuaded out of his bullheadedness…,”

“Pfft… you’re one to talk, Trashy-kawAHAHA!” Iwa startled as he felt two strong hands send a couple quick squeezes against his lower ribs, making him jolt out of his seat and sending some of his books and papers tumbling down to the floor. Turning around he saw Oikawa’s hands still extended forward, Hana and Mattsun flanking either side of him with twin looks of mischief and determination on their faces.

The world seemed to pause in time for a few heartbeats as Iwa’s eyes looked over the three of them… his mind racing to catch up with what was happening when all of a sudden the moment of stillness was broken with two words.

“Get him.”

Hana and Mattsuns smiles turned devious as each of them took flight. Taking off from either side of Oikawa to race around the table toward Iwa and looking for all the world like those evil winged hell monkeys the wicked witch of the west had sent off after Dorothy.

Though to be fair, Oikawa’s accompanying menacing cackle would’ve even sent a shiver down that witch’s spine! Iwa instantly turned and ran out of the kitchen and toward the hall, his heart beating thunderously in his chest as he realized what sort of doom awaited him if he were caught.

“Fly my pretties! Fly!!!” Oikawa cried from a little further down the hall as Iwa heard Mattsun and Hana slowly starting to catch up to him as they neared the living room.

Oh yeah… Oikawa was never allowed to watch the Wizard of Oz again!

“Get the hell away from me!” Iwa called over his shoulder, only hearing a rumbling laugh far closer than he expected.

“Sorry, Hajime… not gonna happen!” Mattsun called back, his fingers just brushing the back of Hajime’s shirt and making Iwa yelp as he raced around one side of the coffee table… only to find the pair once more splitting up to give chase.

“Damn it!” Iwa shouted, though he was surprised to find the barest hint of a smile tugging up at the corners of his lips from this stupidity! “Kn-Knock it off! I’m trying to get some work done! OOF!”

Iwa had glanced behind him for only a second and that was apparently all it took for Oikawa to make his grand entrance, quickly catching Iwa up in his embrace as he attempted to make a break for it toward their bedroom.

“Oh, what have we here?” Oikawa cooed in that far too smug voice, practically bearhugging Iwa to his chest. “Why... I think it’s someone in desperate need of a study break!”

“I told you! I don’t neheheed a breahahahak! AH! Stahp it!” Iwa instantly bit down on his lower lip as growly giggles already started to bubble up from his chest. Oikawa’s fingers dug lightly into that spot under his lower ribs making his legs already feel like jelly as his body tried to twist away from the tingly touch. “Was that grumpy and sassy Iwa just now?” Hana teased as he and Mattsun drew closer.

“M’nahahat!” Iwa giggled despite his best efforts, a little yelp escaping as he felt a third hand reaching up to lightly tickle against the side of his neck as another hand began to squeeze near his hip.

“What was that, Iwa-chan? Did you just say you weren’t being grumpy? Because I’m positive I heard you trying to defy me and not take a break,” Oikawa murmured back dangerously as Iwa tried to weakly swat at the hands seeming to come at him from all angles.

“Stahahahap it! I… I hahahave to gehehet back!” Iwa gasped out between giggles, soon finding himself being lifted off the ground as another pair of arms wrapped around him.

“Oh no. I think you are in desperate need of a bit of relaxation therapy,” Mattsun said softly, seeming to be the one doing most of the lifting now before Iwa found himself unceremoniously dropped onto their sofa.

Before he could sit up he found Oikawa already straddling his thighs, Mattsun pinning his wrists overhead and Hana settled on his calves.

“And if I remember correctly, a little bit of laughter can go a long way in helping someone relax,” Mattsun teased. The look in his eyes instantly making Iwa try to wriggle his hands free from the former blockers grasp.

“No! R-Really! You guys don’t have to do thi-HIHIhihihis! Hahahana nohohoho!“ Iwa gasped out as he felt the light scribbling of fingers against his arches, his legs trying to weakly kick out, but with Oikawa and Hana both settled on his lower half he knew he wasn’t going anywhere soon. Oikawa turned to catch a glimpse of Hana’s focused attention on Iwa’s poor feet, chuckling at the reaction it was already causing. Turning around he caught Issei’s eyes and gave him a devilish smile as he listened to Iwa’s giggles already bubbling up so sweetly. “Well, Mattsun-kun… we can’t let Hana have all the fun. We need to be here to help our sweet, Iwa-chan too!” he teased, his fingers sneaking under Hajime’s shirt to start lightly fluttering along the sides of his tum, just barely scribbling as they moved lower and lower toward his hips.

“NO! NO nahahahat my hihihips, Tooruhuhuhu!” Iwa squeaked out, his body already starting to shimmy side to side in the hope to block some of what was to come. “Oh, Hajime,” Mattsun crooned in his deep voice. “I think you have so much more to be worried about then just your hips.” Iwa only had a moment to try to register what Mattsun was saying before he felt the man's fingers settling on one particular rib on his left side. His eyes instantly widened and he began to squirm more as he knew what was coming. “WaitwaitwaitwaAHAHAHAGAHAHAD! NOAHAHAHA!” Iwa instantly cried out as Mattsun began massaging and vibrating his fingers deeply against that particular rib. Years ago he had cracked it during a match and a bad collison and somehow upon healing it had managed to become far too sensitive to even the lightest touches. He regretted ever letting these bastards find out about this particular weakness!

“I think Iwa is really enjoying his study break! Look at how big he’s smiling!” Mattsun called over Hajime’s laughter, bringing his hand up to flutter against one of his exposed armpits and making the poor man try to tug his arms free once more.

“Look at that sweet blush! Oh Iwa-chan I wish I had my phone to capture this!” Oikawa crooned softly, his hands moving to settle into the little dips of Hajimes hips, his thumbs starting to rub deep, quick circles right against the hyper ticklish spot and nearly sending himself and Hana flying off the sofa with the way Iwa jolted.

“NO PLEHEHEHEASE! I CAHAN’T! I CAHAHAN’T!” Iwa cackled wildly as Oikawa’s thumbs found a rhythm that had him bouncing what little he could on the sofa. His head was tossed back against one of the throw pillows and his entire body felt like one giant sensitive spot. Hana snickered from where he was lightly tracing his fingers over Iwa’s socked arches, making the man's toes curl and his feet twitch from the light contact. “Can’t what? Escape? We know that already, silly Iwa,” Hana teased, finding a nice little spot right in the center of his partners arches that seemed to make the poor guy shriek. “Oh! I think I definitely have the best spot!”

Tooru huffed from his spot on Hajime, looking down at the mans face already turning pink from laughter. His own hands had paused as the light tickles to his feet from Hanamaki seemed to be driving him into hysterical giggles.

“That’s not fair, Hajime! How come you let Hana have your best spot? You always told me it was your hips! Were you lying to me, Iwa-chan?” he asked with mock suspicion, narrowing his eyes and fighting a smile as his hands gave Iwa’s hips a few warning squeezes.

“NO! NO Tooruhuhu! I… I didn’t lie! I dihihihihidn’t! AHahahagahahad!” Iwa cackled, turning his head into his outstretched arm to try and hide a snort that escaped him when the squeezes turned into scribbling fingers that raced up his sides before quick and nimble fingers began to vibrate over his tum.

“Hmmm… I don’t know. Sounds like this is also a good spot! Have you been hiding them on me?!” Oikawa gasped dramatically, though this time he didn’t bother hiding the soft smile he had on his face as Iwa laughed so brightly and openly.

Mattsun had paused his own tickling as well as he watched Iwa losing himself to his laughter from the other two. His goal had been to make Iwa relax and really this was already having the desired effect. Iwa’s brow was no longer furrowed in grumpiness, his expression soft and bright with laughter pouring out of him.

However, this didn’t mean that he didn’t still want to truly drive home how much Iwa deserved this and how much he needed to listen to his boyfriends every once in a while.

“Oh, Hajime. I think you were keeping secrets from us,” Mattsun teased as he lightly fluttered his fingers against his right armpit and then his left, making Iwa jump with each soft attack, his giggles always intensifying when he did it.

“Nehehehever! I w-wouldn’t! I prohohomihihihihise!” Iwa squeaked out, his laughter already starting to become quieter as he neared his limit. Unlike Tooru, who seemed to gain energy during their tickle attacks on him, Iwa always seemed to have one big burst of energy before becoming absolutely compliant in their arms.

Mattsun chuckled at that and shook his head. “Hmm… I don’t know… you’re getting pretty jumpy with these tickles here. I think the best way to make sure you aren’t hiding any more secrets from your boyfriends is to attack all these good spots at once. What do you guys think?” he asked, watching as Oikawa and Hana both perked up with bright smiles, their resounding ‘YES!’s’ easily covering up Iwa’s frantically giggled ‘NO!’

“I think the majority wins! Ready, Hajime?” Mattsun murmured fondly, though judging from the way the man was already giggling so hard his cheeks were turning pink he knew he wasn’t about to get a proper answer. “Then here we go, on the count of three! One!” he counted, fingers wiggling just above Iwa’s torso and making him shiver.

“Two!” Hana called, letting both of his index fingers zip up Iwa’s soles in warning of what was to come, a startled squeal and wriggle the only answer from Hajime.

Oikawa glanced down at his Iwa, watching as the man peeked his eyes out from where he had been trying to hide against his arm, his smile bright, carefree, but still with that little bit of challenge behind them.

Oikawa’s smile grew at that in return. Never one to take a challenge lightly.

“Three!” he cried, and instantly, all of their hands were on the attack… and Iwa lost his mind.

Hanamaki’s fingers scribbled and traced all of his soles, moving from his arches to under his toes and drawing out the ugliest snorts Iwa had ever heard himself make. Tooru’s fingers exacted lethal attacks against his stomach, sides and hips. His fingers would massage and vibrate against the bones of his hips before moving up to massage deep circles against his lower ribs and then moving to scuttle around and vibrate against his sides and tum making him bounce and jump at the deeply ticklish touches.

And finally there was Mattsun, the instigator to all of this if Iwa had to name someone. He’d abandoned his hold on his wrists to use both hands to attack his upper ribs and armpits with fluttering fingers and scribbles that had made Iwa shriek before dissolving into wild and carefree laughter.

His arms had instantly clamped down on Mattsun’s hands and he tried for all his worth to try and wiggle away or curl into the sofa, but there was no escaping three evil boyfriends hellbent on teasing him into relaxation and oblivion all in one.

“NOHOHOAHAHAHA! PLEHEHEHEASE I… I CAHAHAHAN’T! IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES SO BAHAHAHAD!” Iwa cried out through his hysterical laughter, his mind completely taken over by nothing but ticklish sensations and absolutely nothing left to remind him of his earlier troubles, the Minoans, the paper… nothing but how terribly his boyfriends were wrecking and how much it tickled! “Do you think Iwa’s had enough?” Mattsun chuckled, already starting to slow his tickles as Oikawa and Hana both smiled softly at Iwa. Even their fingers started to turn from terrible tickles to lightly soothing over those spots.

“I think Iwa has learned his lesson,” Oikawa cooed softly, his hands soothing against his boyfriends sides as Iwa slowly regained back some sanity, giggling and panting even as he felt the tickles starting to subside.

“L-Lehehesson?” he giggled, voice a little hoarse from his laughter as Mattsun nodded. “Yes. To listen to your boyfriends. To take a break. To enjoy some relaxation therapy. To not take your papers so seriously they almost hurt you,” Mattsun listed off, carefully removing his hands from under Iwa’s arms and making him shiver before starting to sooth his fingers through his messy hair. “This is really all we wanted to achieve, Hajime. For you to have a moment to just let loose and step away from those things that were stressing you. Apparently we can only get that across that stubborn brain of yours with some well placed tickles.” Iwa felt his cheeks flushing a bit, giving a little hum and closing his eyes as his breathing started to calm more and more as he felt the gentle touches now moving over him.

“I’m… sorry I didn’t listen sooner,” he chuckled, melting a little more as Oikawa began to lightly massage down his arms and Hana moved, lifting Iwa’s legs so that he could sneak to sit on the sofa, letting them rest in his lap so he could soothe along his feet, ankles and calves as well.

“No need to apologize, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa murmured softly, ducking down to press a few soft kisses against his boyfriends pink cheeks before carefully moving off of him, sitting beside the sofa as he watched Iwa starting to relax more and more. “Besides… we achieved what we wanted. You’re relaxing and taking a breather now, right? So we’re really all winners here.”

Iwa gave a gentle, tired chuckle at that, his eyes already closing as he was pampered so lovingly by them all.

“Re… Remind me… to do this… more often,” Iwa murmured, his voice already growing softer as sleep carefully called to him after his intense tickle attack.

“I think we can do that,” Mattsun murmured fondly, giving Iwa a soft tickle behind his ear, making the man giggle softly before his breathing evened out and soft snores could soon be heard.

If this was the end result of their efforts to get Iwa to relax, they would definitely have no problem reminding him time and time again.

#haikyuu!#my fics #tickle fic #matsuhanaiwaoi #matsukawa issei #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #hanamaki takahiro #I hope you enjoy this my friend!#I'm sorry it took me YEARS #it was a lot of fun to write though!#These boys are ridiculous and hilarious to banter with!

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