#Transient Heaven

[inheaven-mad]

Page 63 is out now 👀

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Transient Heaven is a rewrite of the events of Resident Evil 2 starring Leon Kennedy and Claire Redfield made by Inheaven Mad.

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Read the first chapters on my website and the latest pages on my ℙ𝕒𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕠𝕟.

#Transient Heaven #Fan Comic #Resident Evil 2 #Resident Evil #Claire Redfield #Leon Kennedy #Sherry Birkin #Cleon #mad #inheavenmad

[pocketjoong]

❥𓂃𓏧WHAT IS A SOULMATE?

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (SYNOPSIS): You and Seonghwa go on a trip across Europe and you use this as an excuse to make a little birthday video for him. But on the day of his birthday, Seonghwa feels nothing but grief as he watches the video you made for him.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (PAIRING) idol!Seonghwa x fem!reader

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (GENRE AND AU/TROPE): fluff. angst. meet-cute. nsfw.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WARNINGS) NSFW! MINORS DNI. oral. fingering. unprotected sex (it’s a big no guys, please use protection and stay safe). pet names (mc is called dove). mentions of food. allusions to and mentions of a serious accident. angst. fluff.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WORD COUNT) 4.3k

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (NOTES) @pyeonghongrie-main :) Here's the promised reupload hehehe

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London

Outside the confines of your hotel room, silence blankets the city much like the fog that hangs overhead. The first light of dawn is yet to break through the ink-black sky as the metropolis cradles its inhabitants in the silence of the night. This part of the city is still asleep, each soul embraced by the arms of Morpheus, awaiting daybreak to rouse them from their slumber.

Your gaze fixates on the horizon from between the sheer curtains. A pang of anticipation stirs within you, for out of all the alluring sights of nature, sunrise has always been your favourite. After all, regardless of wherever you are in the world, the sunrise is the only constant in the transient nature of life.

Today, however, as the dark black of the night fades to inky blue and splashes of pinks and purples bloom in the east, the only sight you focus on are his eyes. Seonghwa’s eyes are brighter than any galaxy and softer than the cherry blossoms that have begun blossoming on the tree just beyond the terrace. In that moment, you are happy to forego the sight of the beautiful sunrise to watch the coffee and hazel in his eyes melt to form the most gorgeous shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

It won’t be an exaggeration to say that sometimes, you feel like all of your life—each second, each breath, and each step—amounts to Seonghwa. Every decision you have ever made has been a stepping stone in your journey to meet him that one day six years ago when he was only a trainee.

Close to dawn, you had been wandering through the streets of Seoul to find a spark of inspiration for your first-ever project as a photography major. You knew  you wanted to play with the idea of light and dark meeting together to form the most beautiful of sights, and what was a better time to do so than twilight?

So there you were, braving the winter chill for a decent grade while your friends were sleeping soundly, snuggled up in their warm beds.

But it seemed that fate had other plans for you that morning. You took a sip of the coffee you’d bought from the only cafe open at this ungodly hour, forgetting for a moment that it was piping hot. With a wince, you glared at the beige paper cup as if the liquid energy had personally done something to spite you.

A snicker caught your attention, and you turned around to narrow your eyes at the person, only to freeze in your tracks. Wearing a brown, fuzzy coat coupled with dark skinny jeans, the male looked like an angel sent from heaven. The thought that he was a hallucination of your sleep-deprived and cold body crossed your mind, but you discarded the thought when he realised that you’d heard him, and he scrambled to apologise for laughing.

You didn’t know then, but your life was for him. And, it won’t be an exaggeration to say that your life is all him. As winter melted into spring and spring made way for summer, you fell in love with the colour brown: the lush cocoa of Seonghwa’s eyes, sweeter than any hot chocolate you could find, and the tan of his skin, reminiscent of the buttery sweetness of roasted chestnuts. As the weather became humid and the days turned longer, you didn’t even register the beginnings of love taking root in your heart.

It began slowly, like the dripping of water from a tap. Drop by drop, your heart filled with adoration for him. Starting with an appreciation for the awe with which he experienced the world as if doing so for the first time. Then, it became more serious: you found yourself yearning to be around him, to listen to him talk about anything and everything, to be the only one he’d think of as being worthy of his heart.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, you fell for his voice, a deep baritone with the consistency of honey that you couldn’t get enough of. And the best part? You got to hear it every day before sunrise, for that was his designated time for you in his busy schedule as a trainee and then later as an idol. Dawn was yours, had always been yours, and would always be yours as long as Seonghwa was beside you.

And so, without your knowledge, you fell in love with him bit by bit. You fell as if falling under a spell you couldn’t find a counter for. Not that you wanted to anyway, not when he was there to catch you.

A year later when spring arrived, love and hope sprouted in your heart when Seonghwa’s lips pressed against yours for the first time under the cherry blossoms. He etched himself into the deepest crevices of your soul and your heart. His touch was like that of the sun against your skin after a dark night, igniting your soul in a way that reminded you of fireworks. Under the light of dawn, as he kissed you, you learned a truth. Like the sunrise, Seonghwa is the only constant in your life.

“What are you thinking about?” His soft whisper pulls you out of your reminiscing, and you find yourself gazing into his wide eyes that are brimming with affection and curiosity.

Even after years of being with Seonghwa, the way he looks at you as if you are the one who hung the moon in the sky always floors you. Your skin tingles at the warmth and adoration in his gaze.

“You,” lost in way his thumb grazes against your waist, the word slips out of your lips without a second thought. You almost curse at yourself for being so taken with him when you see a devilish smirk pull at his lips.

“Is that so, my dove?” Chuckling, he lets himself get closer to you, if that’s even possible, considering how you’re basically pressed against him. His hands rise to cup your face, drawing you to his lips.

You lose yourself in the warmth of his mouth. His kisses are softer at first, but soon, his lips are moving insistently against yours. His teeth sink gently into your bottom lip, and he swallows the moan that leaves you almost hungrily. Seonghwa’s hand slides up the side of your body to slide your nightgown off you, exposing you to the chilly morning air.

He pulls back from you momentarily, the loss making you whine, but the protest dies in your throat when he gazes at you with nothing but love and adoration. In what little light filters through the sheer curtains, he looks ethereal with his glowing bronze skin. His dark hair is messy, and yet he manages to look as if he’d just stepped out of the pages of a manhwa. As if knowing what’s going through your head, a soft smile pulls at his lips.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he breathes, voice thick with sleep and desire.

“Like what?” You ask, your own hands finding purchase against his shoulders.

“Like I’m the damn sunrise.”

“You’re more breathtaking than any sunrise I’ve ever seen, Hwa,” you cradle his cheek in your palm, words ringing with sincerity as you gaze at your boyfriend.

Seonghwa ducks down at your words, hiding his face in your neck as you chuckle at the way he reacts to your compliment. Your amusement doesn’t last long, however, when he leans down further to lave his tongue against the marks his teeth had left against the column of your neck the night before. His teeth sink into your skin, cutting you off mid-laughter, while his palms come to cup your exposed breasts, and you find yourself arching into his touch. 

You watch Seonghwa descend the length of your body, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses wherever his lips can reach. His hands slither downwards, fingers digging into your thighs to spread your legs open for him. Bringing his mouth to your core, he smirks when you let out a broken moan, bucking into his mouth. Seoghwa keeps his eyes on you as he devours you.

“Hwa—” you choke back a moan, reaching for him with a trembling hand. You pull him to your lips, tasting yourself on his tongue. “Want you. Please.”

“My beautiful dove.” Seonghwa breathes reverently. His hands are gentle against your waist, cradling you close to him while his lips trace their way up your jaw to meet yours in a sloppy kiss. 

As the sun rises over the Thames River, he ravishes you with a gentleness that feels like the first touch of warmth of the morning light.

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Madrid

“Are you recording me?” Seonghwa laughs, walking backwards on the sidewalk as you fumble with the camera—it’s heavier than what you’re used to—but you don’t mind because you’re more concerned about the quality of the video than anything else.

You can’t help but grin at the sight in front of you: Seonghwa in a beret and a long, dark coat that he has paired with jeans contrasts so well with the potted geraniums in front of the restaurant you had stopped to get breakfast at. The flowers herald the happiness blossoming in your chest at the sight of your lover glowing like the sun while surrounded by the the tell-tale signs of the approaching spring.

Seonghwa jokes that these flowers are blooming because it is his first time visiting Europe with you. You laugh off his silly comment, but in your heart of hearts, you can’t help but agree with him. It’s almost as if nature wants you to document the most beautiful sights while you record Seonghwa in the cities you are visiting.

Before you can answer him, something catches his eyes, and before you know it, he is dragging you to a toy store he has spotted on the other side of the road. His smile as he eagerly scours the store for something to buy reminds you of sunlight upon the tides, bright and blinding as the sun itself on the waves that lap gently at the shore.

Seonghwa makes his way to the sunglasses, trying on the goofiest ones, making you giggle. Encouraged by your laughter, he continues to make a fool of himself, pulling funny expressions for the camera and not caring if people are giving him funny looks. At one point, he tries the poison green alien sunglasses, and despite you laughing at how atrocious the design is, you can’t help but think how easily he can pull off even the most ridiculous of accessories with grace.

Behind him, you spot something that makes you gasp, and you rush to the shelves to grab one of the Toothless plushies. Turning around with purpose, you’re caught off guard by how close Seonghwa is, but you don’t let it faze you.

“Look, Hwa! I found you on the shelf,” you giggle at him, holding the plushie up so that it lines up with his face.

He rolls his eyes fondly, used to such jokes by the rest of ATEEZ and his fans. Despite that, he takes the plushie from your hands and puts it on his head, allowing you to capture him with ease. His touch is careful as he holds the plushie, similar to how he handles everything he lays his hands on. Delicate and light, he touches everything he comes across with care, and that’s one of the reasons you find him endearing—for he’s one of the few people who truly take the time to appreciate the beauty the world has to offer.

“If I’m Toothless, doesn’t that mean you’re my Light Fury?” You watch the way his eyes scan the shelves for something.

“I guess,” you shrug, chuckling as you help him in his search for a plushie of the said dragon.

“Do you think we should buy these?” Seonghwa asks, interrupting your search, and you turn to find him holding up the two plushies. He glances at the two stuffed toys—Toothless and the Light Fury—with his eyes furrowed as he weighs the pros and cons of buying both.

“You have multitudes of these back home, Hwa.” You remind him, in fact, he has so many plushies and figurines that he had to store some in your apartment because his manager had threatened that he would throw them out if he saw one more of the HTTYD-themed merch.

“But—”

“Hwa.”

“Fine, break my heart, why don’t you?” And with a pout, he places them back on the shelf reluctantly. You know he’s joking because when you gesture towards the plushies later on, he shakes his head with a smile.

Throughout the day, you explore the city with him, telling him everything you had learned about the places from the little tourist booklet you had snagged from the hotel that morning. He listens to you earnestly, watching you talk with a smile as admiration settles under his skin.

Later in the night, you find yourself in a cafe. Taking a deep breath, you inhale the scent of coffee that permeates your immediate surroundings. Since the cafe is basically empty at this time of the night, a sense of tranquillity surrounds you, much like the warm coat Seonghwa has draped over you. You watch late stragglers making their way home from their jobs through the window you’re seated against, hands curled against a warm cup of hazelnut latte.

“Dove,” Seonghwa’s quiet voice comes from next to you, causing you to snuggle into his shoulder, humming for him to continue. “Don’t fall asleep. We have to walk back to the hotel.”

“Shall we leave, then?” Stifling a yawn, you ask, causing him to nod.

He leads you out of the cafe, keeping his hand on your lower back as you walk through the sparsely populated streets. The very next moment, however, it begins to rain out of nowhere, and before you know it, you are being drenched in the downpour.

Seonghwa laughs in surprise but turns his face upwards to allow the raindrops to kiss his cheeks. Even though the world is blurred around you and your vision is warped by the drops in your eyes, you can still see him clearly. He basks in the rain, lets himself get drenched by the droplets cascading down his face, neck, and shoulders. The rain is so heavy that the raindrops make streams as they make their way down his body.

Watching him like this, you find yourself reaching out for him. As if on the same wavelength as you, Seonghwa takes your hand in his, lips curling up in a smile when you entangle your fingers with his. Reaching out, he cups your face gently, and it seems as if the world stops around you, your senses failing to register anything beyond his touch. Seonghwa trails his thumb along your lips, wiping the raindrops that have settled across your skin.

Drenched in the downpour with him, it’s easy to think of Seonghwa as the rain and yourself as the earth that craves rain after a dry spell.

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Seoul

The wallpaper drips with grief, mimicking the gloom that has taken root in his heart and doesn’t seem to want to leave. The glow of the streetlights filters through the windows and is the only source of light in his dark room. In the centre of the whirlpool of dread and darkness lies Seonghwa, curled up against the messy sheets he can’t bother to straighten.

The silence is uncanny. He’s not used to it—for years, he has shared a room with Hongjoong, and even though, more often than not, the younger male wasn’t actually there because he preferred the studio or the living room couch to the bedroom, the mere idea of sharing a room with someone always made him feel at ease. Hongjoong has been Seonghwa’s anchor in the years he roomed with him, but now alone in his room, the walls seem to press in around him like waves trying to drown him, leaving him breathless.

If Hongjoong is his anchor, you are his beacon, his guiding light, his polestar. And tonight, as his ship is battered by the biggest storm he’s ever faced, you aren’t here either. Desperately, he searches for something to ground him, but too many days and nights filled with sorrow and false optimism have built up and around him, crushing him with a weight he can’t handle anymore. When love wasn’t enough to save you, how can it be enough to help him stay afloat in the rough seas?

Outside of his room, spring touches everything with its delicate hands. For Seonghwa, however, winter still lingers, and the beautiful weather outside just irks him further. He hasn’t been in love for the last week, and even nature cannot revive him this time around. Without love in his heart, the only thing he feels is despair.

Even now, he can’t forget the way red painted his hands as you lay in his arms. Sometimes, when he squeezes his eyes shut hard enough, he can see your smile. In the very same moment, his heart opens and breaks when the image of you in his arms dances across his vision, and he dies again and again, bleeds until there’s only a shell left behind.

The beeping of his digital clock startles him. The digits read 00:00, distorted from the tears that line his lashes but never seem to fall. For a long time, he had thought today would make the pain bearable, but it persists, lingering in his heart and his room like stubborn rain clouds that linger even after the storm has passed. It is possible that you may not return to him, but he tries to remain optimistic. If he doesn’t believe you to be strong enough to fight for him, for your love, then who will? 

His phone dings, and he looks at the device for a moment. Each beep of his phone has, till now, started him into a sitting position, and every time, it has not what he expected. But foolishly, he still hopes for a miracle.

His phone dinging again with the custom notification he had set for you has Seonghwa scrambling to check his phone. It’s a scheduled email, but your name lighting up the screen renders him breathless. At the sight of your name, the storm raging around him quietens down, leaving him in calm seas. There’s a video attached with the email, and he clicks it open.

[Exterior. Mid-morning. Shots of the streets of London from a car. In the foreground, the text reads Happy Birthday, Seonghwa! A female’s voice is heard speaking in the voiceover.]

Y/N: What’s a soulmate?

[The camera pans and focuses on Seonghwa as he looks out of the window, pointing at all the things he remembers from the few times he has been there with ATEEZ for concerts.]

SH: And that’s the cafe Jongho liked a lot. He said the coffee there was amazing. We should definitely visit it after we’ve settled in hotel room, you look like you could do with some caffeine in your system.

Y/N: [laughing] Not everyone is used to sleeping in aeroplanes.

SH: [shaking his head, he sniffs as if wounded by your comments] Well, if you toured with me, you’d be used to it. You’re the only one who keeps declining when I ask you to come with me! My poor self has to live without you for months just because you won’t agree.

Y/N: Your idea of bringing me along includes you stuffing me into your suitcase. Sorry if I don’t want to be thrown around with the other luggage.

SH: [snorting] It’s your fault for being so small.

Y/N: [sighing] Whatever, Hwa.

[Midday. The video cuts to a shot of Seonghwa walking along the Thames river. He has his arms wrapped around himself. The sky is covered with fluffy clouds, and one can tell that spring is fast approaching with the way little green buds are seen on the trees in the background.]

Y/N: It’s a… Well, it’s like a best friend, but more.

SH: It’s so cold!

Y/N: Should we go and get something to warm us up from the cafe you pointed out earlier? I think it’s close to where we are right now.

[The video cuts to the two of you inside the cafe. The camera is placed on one side, allowing it to capture both Seonghwa and you. You’re laughing at Seonghwa, who took a sip from your iced americano and immediately made a face at the taste. The video skips a bit and Seonghwa can be seen humming along to the music from the speakers while you watch him, enraptured by his vocals.]

Y/N: It’s the one person in the world who knows you better than anyone else.

[The video cuts again. This time, Seonghwa is in a hotel room, standing against the backdrop of the Eiffel Tower and posing goofily while you are laughing in the background. He waddles over to the camera, forcing you to put it on the table as he twirls you around, dancing to a song he’s humming.]

Y/N: It’s someone who makes you a better person.

[The video cuts to a closeup of Seonghwa’s head in your lap as you sit on the couch. He’s sleeping soundly while you run your fingers through his soft hair. His lips quirk upwards in a smile, causing you to halt your motions, but a whine from him has you resuming your actions.]

Y/N: [soft whisper] Did I wake you up?

SH: [hums and shakes his head] Not really… [yawns] I wasn’t fully asleep.

[There’s silence for a while as Seonghwa shifts around to get comfortable.]

SH: I love you.

Y/N: That was so random, Hwa.

SH: Hey! You’re supposed to say you love me too!

Y/N: [snorting] I love you, you overgrown child.

SH: I’ll have you know that’s Wooyoung.

Y/N: Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll bite your arm off or something.

SH: [laughing hard]

Y/N: Actually, they don’t make you a better person, you do that yourself… because they inspire you.

[The video cuts to Seonghwa amidst the geraniums in Madrid before he drags you to the MINISO. His shenanigans from the store can be seen, with him wearing goofy sunglasses and playing with the Night Fury plushie.]

Y/N: A soulmate is someone who you can carry with you forever.

[Seonghwa can be seen busking with a guy playing the guitar. He sings Angel Baby by Troye Sivan, smiling wide when you start swaying one of your hands in beat with the music, causing people to follow your actions. When he’s done, people come up to him, telling him that he’s an amazing singer, and he thanks everyone with a bashful smile while watching you look at him with a look of pride on your face.]

Y/N: It’s the one person who knew you and accepted you… Believed in you before anyone else did or when no one else would. 

[Seonghwa excuses himself from the crowd and makes his way towards you, wrapping his arms around your frame and sways the two of you as the busker starts crooning a song in Danish.]

SH: Thank you for always believing in me, dove. Especially when I didn’t believe in myself.

Y/N: [smiling] I love you, and I’ll cheer you on, especially during the darkest days.

Y/N: And no matter what happens, you will always love them. 

[The camera pans to you in your editing studio, and you wave at the camera with a smile on your face.]

Y/N: It’s quite late [glancing at the clock on your desk], 3 a.m. to be precise, and I’m working on your birthday video. [Laughs] I hope you like this little video I put together with clips from our trip to Europe. Give me a call once you’re done watching this. I love you so much, Hwa! Happy Birthday, my star!

Y/N: Nothing can ever change that.

Seonghwa wipes his tears, sniffing as he gets up from the bed. With a meticulousness characteristic of him, he goes through the motions of dressing up to pay you a visit. That’s the only thing that seems to make sense, so with bleary eyes and heavy feet, he walks through the deserted streets of Seoul.

The staff members at the hospital allow him to see you, used to his untimely visits. The nurse watching over you gives him a sad smile and leaves him alone with you when he enters your room. He notes that the pallor that had settled beneath your skin is now fading, albeit slowly. 

Maybe you’re getting better? But you still haven’t woken up, and seeing your face, he finds himself falling, falling through the memories of the day of the accident. His eyes close of their own accord, and he sighs, trying to get those images out of his mind. Unable to stop his thoughts, he relives the day all over again.

Logically, he knows the accident isn’t his fault but of the person who was behind the wheel.

Or maybe it was, the voice in his mind tells him.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he can’t forgive himself for the events that led up to the accident. If he hadn’t called you to pick him up from the company that night when it was raining, you’d be safe in his arms, celebrating his birthday with him.

No, it wasn’t. Seonghwa desperately wants to believe his own words. But there’s still that small voice of doubt that rears its ugly head, and before he knows it, fresh tears are rolling down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Seonghwa is too emotionally exhausted and too choked to speak any louder. “My dove, I’m so sorry for this whole mess. I’m sorry. Please wake up soon. I can’t do this alone—I can’t live without you. Please. I love you.”

#cromernet #k-labels #wonderlandnet #kvanity #cultofdionysusnet #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez reactions #ateez fluff #ateez angst #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa reactions #seonghwa headcanons #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa angst #seonghwa smut

[shinynewboots]

Staring at the Sun / Adam x Lute Chapter 4

Summary: After the battle, Lute attempts to flee with Adam. They find themselves unable to return to Heaven and must adjust to life in Hell.

AN: Welcome to chapter 4! Hope y'all enjoy! I've loved and appreciated each and every comment/reblog/like! Thank you all so much!

Warnings: Violence, gore, 18+ eventually, Adam-typical misogyny eventually

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

It took a few more days of rest before Adam could even get out of bed without worry of his intestines falling out of his body. Lute sat by as an ever-loyal bodyguard, even when Adam told her she should go rest. 

Even when she did find herself dozing, she typically was awakened by a shooting pain up her non-existent left arm. Phantom pains, she had learned, forever reminded her of what she had lost.

The last few days of Adam being awake had been some of the best days Lute could recall, ironically enough. Most of the days had been spent entertaining Adam as he whined about his incapacitated state. Charlie had brought them a deck of cards and Adam had taught Lute how to play Gin Rummy. 

Besides Charlie and Vaggie, the only other hotel occupant the pair had come in contact with those few days was a one-eyed black and white cat. Lute had been resistant at first to let it stay in the room (even less so when Adam had remarked that the cat reminded him of her) but eventually, Lute lost the battle.

The cat, which they later learned was named Keekee, had a habit of snuggling up against Adam in a way that almost made Lute jealous. Lute, jealous of a cat? The cat would give loud purrs and bump her head against Adam’s side until he gave her pets and chin scratches.

As long as Lute could remember, Adam had always had a certain softness for animals; this one-eyed freaky animal was no different. 

The pair also spent their days planning how to return to heaven. The embassy would be their first in an attempt to get Heaven’s attention. There was a good chance no one knew they had survived the battle and fall. Adam was more optimistic than Lute; he hadn’t seen the portal to Heaven close in an almost deliberate manner the way she had. She wouldn’t tell him that, though, and ruin his hopeful plans. 

Lute had not yet gotten a feel for their status in the hote (prisoners? Begrudging guests?)l. Charlie treated them as though they were transient guests, only around for a vacation. Vaggie was…well, Vaggie. And the shadow creature that had engulfed Lute on that first day hadn’t made an appearance again. However, Lute doubted they would just be allowed to walk out of the hotel without running into any issues. 

Her thoughts were distracted as Adam pulled himself to the edge of the bed, gripping his abdomen tightly. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting out of this fucking bed and trying to stop being a fucking invalid.” He answered, groaning in pain. Bandages were still wrapped around his chest and abdomen, hiding most of his torso from view, but Lute could still glimpse the trail of dark hair that made a trail down into his sweatpants. 

Adam wasn’t necessarily the most fit in heaven, his stomach soft and his muscles hidden. But Lute knew him to be much stronger than he looked, and there were many a day he spent training with the Exorcists. However, she also knew she could beat him in training any day of the week.

At least she could before she had lost her arm. 

“Can you hand me a shirt?” He asked, his breathing slow and controlled in an attempt to reign in his pain. Lute walked over to the dresser that Charlie had stocked full of clothes, the shirts picked for Adam being band tees. Lute picked up the top one ( Vacay to Bonetown by Versosika Mayday) and gave it to Adam. He grabbed the shirt and pulled it on slowly, grunting as he did so.

Adam looked down at the band tee on his body and smirked. “Nice.”

Lute rolled her eyes and moved to help him stand by throwing one of his arms over her good shoulder. He must have been in a lot of pain because he did not put up a fight. She could feel the shirt she was wearing begin to ride up. As expected, she and Vaggie wore similar sizes and so she had been given some of Vaggie’s clothes since her own were covered in blood. Of course, everything Vaggie owned only covered up a fraction of her skin, leaving Lute feeling very exposed. 

“Oh my Satan, Adam you’re up and moving!” Exclaimed Princess of Hell herself, standing in the doorway. She clapped her hand, a dumb excited look on her face. Vaggie was not with her. Surprise. “You guys are just in time for our activity today!”

Adam eyed her warily, his face looking paler than it had been before standing. Lute felt him sway against her unsteadily so she pushed more of her body weight into his side. “You know we’re not fucking guests here, right babe?”

Charlie continued to grin. “Well I mean you’re staying here and eating our food and using our stuff, totally cool with me by the way, and sometimes a spade is just a spade.”

She crossed the room and mirrored Lute, putting an arm under Adam to give him more support to stand. “And I think an activity would be perfect than just spending your day in this boring old room.”

That was how Lute and Adam found themselves in the hotel lobby, eyeing the other occupants from the other side of the couch. The only occupants who seemed comfortable crossing the unspoken line between the groups were Charlie (as expected) and Keekee, who rubbed her body against Adam’s leg.

Charlie glanced around the room, a trying smile on her face as she sensed the hatred of all parties involved. “How about we go around the room and introduce each other before our activity? Ooh and a fun fact! I’ll go first!” 

Charlie cleared her throat and clapped. “My Name is Charlie and my favorite color is red!” 

She looked over at Vaggie, who stood beside her and grabbed her hand. She loudly whispered, “Your turn.”

Vaggie gave her a soft smile. “My name is Vaggie and I like 80s rock.”

It was silent for only a few seconds before Adam chose to speak. “My name is Adam and I think this is fucking stupid.”

Lute looked over at Adam, and she saw him immediately put on his mask of bravado and masculinity that he typically chose to wear in Heaven. Vaggie bristled. “Hey Asshole—”

The spider demon raised up the top set of his hands and stood from the couch. His chest was pushed out and the second set of his arms were on either side of his hips. “No no, my turn. My name is Angel Dust and we all hoped you fucking died.”

Lute immediately bristled and pulled out the concealed fork she had hidden for the first sign of trouble. She jumped from the couch, fork pointed directly at the spider demon. Angel Dust looked down at the weapon and smirked. “What are you going to do, fork me to death?”

“It’s more than you deserve, Porn Demon.”

“Porn Demon? Is that what they’re calling me in heaven? Like a fucking overlord, I’ll take it” Angel Dust replied, laughing at the title. He winked at Lute, who sneered in response. Charlie jumped between Lute and Angel Dust, her hand placed on Angel’s chest. 

“Why don’t we try and be civil and finish introductions?”

“Hard to be civil with fuckers who tried to exterminate us,” The cat demon whispered, taking a sip of the liquor bottle he held. 

“Husk, not helping!” Vaggie exclaimed. “Lute, put the fucking fork down.”

Lute narrowed her eyes at the fallen angel. “Fucking make me, bitch.”

Vaggie came closer, her eyes trained on the fork. Before she could respond, however, shadow tendrils popped up from seemingly nowhere and wrapped around Lute’s wrist, releasing the fork from her grasp. That same heat-sucking feeling came over her, and Lute was taken back to the experience that first day in which was gasping for breath as though she were drowning in the shadows. 

“Now, now, let’s all play nice.” The Radio Demon said, revealing himself from a shadowy area of the hotel. His static voice was unnerving, and Lute could feel the shadows tightening around her legs as well, leaving her immobilized. Even the other hotel guests shivered at the chill in the air courtesy of the Radio Demon. 

“Let her fucking go!” Adam exclaimed, leaping from the couch despite his wounds. He extended his wings, something he hadn’t done since being injured, and furled them around himself and Lute. The shadow creatures seemed to recoil from the wings as they quickly released their grip upon her. Lute found her back to Adam’s chest, as his wings held her close to him. 

The Radio Demon’s eyes narrowed, though the smile never left his features. The other hotel occupants, in Adam’s show of strength, had jumped back from the pair, lest they be hit with a wing. 

“Alastor, Adam! Stand down,” Charlie exclaimed, her voice lower and more threatening than Lute had ever heard. Her patience seemed to be hanging by a thread and her eyes had taken on a reddish hue, similar to how they looked the day of the extermination. Adam refused to back down and continued to stare down the Radio Demon. Lute looked up at him to see his golden shining with fire. 

Lute was so close to him that she could feel his heart beat quickly in his chest. She felt the rise and fall of his diaphragm. And she could also feel something wet seeping from his abdomen. Fucking dumbass had opened his stitches again. 

“Alastor,” Charlie warned once more. He looked at her and sighed before calling back his shadows.  The warmth returned to the room and a collective sigh of relief was taken. Adam still had yet to unfurl his wings. 

“Adam?” Charlie asked, her tone softer than the one she had used with the Radio Demon. He looked down at Lute as if asking for permission. She stared back before nodding. Adam unfurled his wings and let them once again hang behind his back. Lute touched his shirt, the word Bonetown covered in golden blood. 

He looked down at her fingers on his abdomen. “Shit.”

“Hm, looks like you’ve made a mess. I’m sure Niffty would love to help out.” Alastor as he picked at his fingernails, his smile never leaving his face. As if being summoned, a small one-eyed demon appeared in a red dress. 

“A mess?” She exclaimed, running towards Adam at lightning speed. He let out a rather shrill scream and it was by sheer luck that Lute was able to catch the little creature before it made contact with Adam. 

“Keep that little monster away from me!” He yelled. The demon, Niffty, had been the one to deliver the stabs to Adam that almost left him dead. Lute heard two demons laugh (Angel Dust and Husk?)  at the sight. Adam jumped back up on the couch, further causing his stitches to pop, leading to more golden blood soaking into his shirt. Niffty struggled in Lute’s grasp, who held her at arm's length, as she tried to escape to get closer to Adam.

“THE MESS!” Niffty screamed, clawing against Lute’s grip. Alastor stood back and took in the chaos. Charlie frantically looked around the room as her group activity descended into madness.

“Alastor are you fucking kidding me,” Vaggie exclaimed, finger pointed at the Radio Demon. Angel Dust and Husk continued to laugh. Tears were streaming down from Angel’s face, which he wiped away with his second pair of hands. 

“What? There was a mess and I told our dearest maid about it.” Alastor shrugged.

“Scared of a harmless little thing like Niffty,” Angel laughed, walking towards Lute and Niffty. He grabbed the struggling Niffty from Lute’s grasp. 

“That’s it!” A low voice exclaimed. The lights flickered and the room temperature dropped 10 degrees. All occupants looked at the source of the voice and found it to be Charlie, her eyes red with rage and horns having grown out of her head. “Angel, Niffty go to the bar, the garden, or wherever! Just go! You’re not helping the situation. And Alastor, I don’t care where you go, just stay away from Adam.” 

“And Lute, take Adam upstairs and fix his stitches! I will not have Heaven come down on us again because we let him get an infection. Husk, fix me a drink. Please.” Charlie continued, the voice becoming closer to her normal tone on the ‘please’. The occupants in the room looked at her in disbelief aside from Alastor, who could do nothing but laugh maniacally.

“Our dearest Charlie, growing a backbone,” The Radio Demon laughed before disappearing into a swirl of shadows. 

“Uh, come on Niff, let’s go see if we can find some bugs for you to kill in the garden,” Angel said sheepishly, still holding the one-eyed demon in his hands. Niffty nodded her head enthusiastically. 

“Roaches,” She exclaimed as the pair left the room.

Husk moved to the bar and began fixing Charlie what appeared to be a very strong drink. Vaggie seemed to be going over breathing exercises with Charlie to further make sense of the situation. Sensing the need for a hasty departure, Lute turned to Adam and held out her hand.

“Let’s get you patched up,” She said, giving him a sharp look that indicated “no arguing”. Still shaken by the one-eyed demon that had almost caused his demise, Adam nodded.

“Uh yeah, fuck that fucking hurts.” He said, taking her hand and stepping down from the couch. The pair walked slowly back to their room (their room, since when had it been “their” room?), Adam put more weight upon Lute with each step. Once they made it back to the room, Adam collapsed into the chair beside the bed and let out a long sigh. The bleeding from his abdomen seemed to have stopped but she would still need to recheck his stitches. 

“Shirt off,” Lute said, grabbing at the first-aid kit that Charlie had left for them to change bandages. 

Adam wolf-whistled, though it was half-hearted as he hissed in pain at the effort. “If you wanted me naked, all you had to do was ask nicely.”

Lute rolled her eyes and grabbed the alcohol, gauze, and suture kit. Adam slowly removed his shirt, revealing the soaked-through bandages on his skin. His forehead glistened with sweat and his breathing was going at a much quicker pace than she would have liked. Lute frowned and began to remove his bandages. 

“Sit up,” She said, looking over the damage. Adam looked at her with an odd look in his eye before smirking. “Yes, ma’am.”

She rolled her eyes once again and began to slowly remove the blood-soaked bandages. Once they were removed, she was able to get a good look at his chest. While much of the tissue had begun to scar over, some of the deeper wounds still looked as though they had a good ways to go and wept golden blood and serous fluid. 

Lute handed Adam the gauze to hold in his hand. She grabbed the bottle of alcohol and opened it with her teeth. She was adapting to life with only one arm, as slow as it might be. She poured the alcohol on the gauze Adam held, grabbed it from him, and began to pat his chest to sterilize the area. 

“Fucking cunt,” Adam hissed, his body braced in pain. 

“It will be worse before it gets better,” Lute said, putting down the gauze and picking up the needle and thread. “It’s not terrible, most of the deep stuff seems to have closed.”

Lute examined the wound further and decided on a subcuticular stitch. Like she had said, most of the deeper layers seemed to have closed leaving only the dermis and epidermis to be closed. A subcuticular stitch was typically more aesthetic and would scar less. It also was easier for her to do one-handed, as she didn’t have to worry about the constant restarting that an interrupted stitch would require. A subcuticular was a favorite of some of the more appearance-conscious exorcists. 

“Hold still,” She said, beginning to place her stitch. Only one of the gashes, the biggest one, had reopened, so she only had to worry about one. 

“Fuck,” Adam replied, gripping the sides of the chair with pale knuckles. He bit his lip to hold back a scream. 

“Fucking shit Lute, how do you know how to do this,” Adam asked, trying to focus on anything but the fact that Lute was actively sticking a needle into his skin. Lute laughed, continuing her stitch. 

“Training. It doesn’t happen often and not whenever you were there, but sometimes someone would get a lac that didn’t automatically heal with heaven’s magic. Sutures just expedited the process.”

“Fuck, you guys were going that hard at training?” Adam breathed out. “ How in the shit balls did I miss that?”

Lute shrugged. “Easy to hide when we didn’t want you to find out how weak we were. A lot of the girls just wouldn’t make a fuss until after training when you had left.” 

“Hm,” Was Adam’s reply. He appeared to be in deep thought. He had held that expression more often recently, ever since they had been stranded in Hell. 

“Done,” Lute said, finishing off the stitch by throwing a few one-handed ties to keep it in place. Adam looked down. 

“Fucking shit, that looks great!” He exclaimed, running a soft hand over the scar. While it still bore the prior stitch scars, Lute had stitched and pulled the laceration together in a way so that the pieces of skin came together smoothly with no visible scar lines aside from the knot. 

Lute only smiled and sat on the bed so that she looked at Adam head-on. “What’s our plan, Sir?”

“Don’t fucking ‘Sir’ me Lute, we’re past that.”

“Alright, what’s our plan then, Adam?”

Adam nodded and thought for a few seconds. “I think I need a week or two. I hate to fucking say it but there’s no way either of us is going to make it to the Embassy right now. “

“I could fly,” Lute offered. Adam shook his head.

“And risk someone finding out there are two angels still roaming around? Absolutely not. We need to be smart about this.”

Lute nodded. Adam ran a hand through his hair. “I think we should lay low. Do whatever fucking Hell Princess wants. Play nice. Get on her good side. And then maybe she can make getting to the Embassy easy for us.”

Lute frowned. “And you think Hell Princess is just going to let us leave and waltz our way to the Embassy?”

“No, not without good reason. But she still believes in her stupid ass redemption plan. And what better way to kickstart that plan than to get back on Heaven’s good side by helping save two angels?’

“I mean, it could work,” Lute said, unsure of the plan. But, she trusted Adam. And she would follow whatever plan or scheme he came up with. She would follow him to the end if he asked it of her. She almost had. 

“Trust me, Danger tits,” Adam said, holding a fist out at her. Lute looked at it before sighing and returning his fist bump. 

“Fuck yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!” He exclaimed. Lute rolled her eyes once more. 

“Get back to bed. If you pop those stitches, I’m leaving you to bleed out and rot.”

Adam sent her a mischievous look. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I hear you loud and clear.”

Adam returned to bed and was immediately taken by a nap, the events of the day finally catching up with him. Lute stayed awake, however, as she always did. They were so close. So close to returning to Heaven that she could almost taste it. 

#fanfiction #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #lute x adam #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #adam x lute #guitarspear #hazbin hotel lute #lute #adam #adam hazbin hotel #adam hazbin #staring at the sun #lute hazbin hotel

[catslvrr]

heaven sent — 04. amusement park

previous | next

You stared sadly at your phone screen that read your bank account balance.

“This better be worth it,” you sighed, pocketing your phone as Danielle dragged you inside the theme park. 

The first stop was the carousel. You tried to tell her that the two of you would stick out like a sore thumb in the queue filled with kids, but Danielle was adamant, insisting that “We have to start off with a low-intensity ride!”

You had barely moved, just waiting in line for ten minutes, but you could already feel sweat dripping down the back of your neck. It was unbelievably hot, the sun at its afternoon peak, and you observed the rosy flush that was blooming on Danielle’s face. 

She was wearing these stupid carrot sunglasses that she, again, had firmly insisted on buying. Of course, she also forced you to buy a pair for yourself, strawberry-themed, to match hers.

(“You know I’m not rich, right? I’m literally a uni student living off instant noodles.”

“This is a long-term investment!”

“I am never touching these sunglasses again.”

“And that’s your loss. Aren’t strawberries super ‘aesthetic’ these days? It’s a fashion statement.”

“And where did you hear that from? Current Earth Trends 101?”

“Yes, actually. There were lessons dedicated to dissecting the transient nature of social media trends and memes.”

“Wow. Okay.”)

“Huh,” Danielle said, as both of you spun slowly on the carousel. “I thought that this would’ve been a teeny bit faster.”

“I literally warned you,” you deadpanned. “Now we have to spin around in circles like idiots. On these ugly painted horses too.”

“Hey,” she frowned, offended on behalf of the ugly horses. “They aren’t ugly. They’re… unique.”

The rest of the ride was filled with the sounds of parents screaming at their kids to look at the camera which drowned out the annoying children's waltz.

“Well,” she adjusted the carrot sunglasses as she hopped off the ugly horse. “It can only get better from here!”

The rest of the day consisted of Danielle tugging you in all sorts of directions, from the freakishly tall drop tower to twisting roller coasters, bumper cars (your strawberry glasses almost flew off when Danielle rammed into you out of nowhere) to zip lines, and from souvenir shops and carnival games that scammed you out of so much money that you were sure they were run by the devil himself.

You flopped on a bench, wiping sweat off with a tissue and ignoring the judgemental glare that a kid sent your way. “I’m exhausted.”

Danielle was happily munching away on a scoop of strawberry ice cream with sprinkles on top. “But you had fun, right?”

You huffed, “I think you had more fun than me today.”

“Fine,” she pouted. “You choose the next ride then.”

You smirked when you saw her crossing her fingers behind her back. Since the start of the day, she had been avoiding one attraction: the haunted house. You unfolded the park map and traced your finger along its pathways.

“Hmm,” you said, feigning innocence. “I don’t think we’ve been to the haunted house yet. Let’s go with that.”

She froze mid-chew, gulping loudly before faking a smile. “Sure.”

You were greeted with a clown cackling in your face. “Welcome to the haunted house. Enjoy your stay!”

Stepping inside, both of you were immediately hit with a cold blast of air. Danielle squealed, tightly clutching your arm. “I think a ghost just went through me!”

“That’s the air conditioning,” you snorted. “Come on, we can’t just stay in one spot.”

You turned the corner, practically having to drag Danielle as well, to a dark hallway lined with closed doors and decorations you would typically see in a haunted house: cobwebs, fake blood, hanging spiders, and framed pictures of dolls.

You squinted.

“I can’t see the end of the hallway. Guess we have to keep walking.”

It was mostly quiet, besides the sounds of Danielle’s whimpers and labored breathing. The two of you continued to make your way through the labyrinth.

There were occasional distorted shrieks and cackles that echoed in the hallways, most likely from a hidden speaker. Doors would shut open and close at random intervals and the lights would flicker haphazardly.

Every time this happened, Danielle would just squeeze your arm tighter, and you were sure that you would lose your arm from a lack of blood circulation before the ‘chainsaw-wielding ghost’ that she claimed she saw would get you.

You were almost out of the haunted house (you knew this because you could start to hear the crowd outside), when all of a sudden, you heard pounding footsteps behind you. You both whipped your heads around, only to see the clown from before, running towards you, holding an axe (which you’re pretty sure was a fake prop).

Before you could react, Danielle screamed and stumbled forward, swinging a right hook at him, effectively knocking him out.

The actor instantly dropped to the floor, and so did your jaw.

“Oh my god.”

Danielle gasped, hands flying to her mouth. “I didn’t mean to!”

“Um,” you said, slowly backing away. “Let’s just leave. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

The two of you sprinted towards the exit, and after catching your breath for a few minutes, the reality of what she just did caught up to you. 

“I can’t believe,” you said in between your laughter. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

She pushed your shoulder with an exasperated huff.

“It was an accident,” she whined, and unfolded the park map to cover her embarrassed face.

You spent a good five minutes cracking up before you finally calmed down. You hadn’t even noticed that the sky was darker now, the air much cooler and the bustling crowds gone as the sun began to set.

“We’ve only got the Ferris wheel left,” she poked her cheek outward with her tongue. “It’s just ahead.”

Danielle looped her arm with yours, and the walk was filled with seamless conversation.

(“Are you gonna get in trouble with God for that?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, I didn’t kill anyone. And plus, there’s thousands of messengers. I’m sure at least one of them has done worse.”

“Will I get in trouble because I said ‘oh my god’?”

“God doesn’t care about that kind of stuff. He’s kind of busy with, you know, the wish thing.”

“Right.”

“Also, he can’t even punish you.”

“Wait, what? So there’s no real heaven and hell?”

“How would I know?”

“You’re literally God’s messenger.”

“This wasn’t covered in our studies. But we do call our office ‘heaven’, though.”

“So… you don’t know where we go after we die?”

“No clue.”)

Thankfully, there wasn’t a long queue at the Ferris wheel, and the two of you easily boarded a carriage. You let out a long exhale as you leaned back, taking in the view as the carriage ascended.

The people grew smaller, and so did the park, only the blinking neon lights of the attractions now visible. The rhythmic swaying of the carriage was soothing, and for the first time in a while, you felt wholly content.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been on one of these,” you breathed out.

“Really?” Danielle’s eyes were on you now. “Why’s that?”

“I mean,” you smiled wryly. “It feels weird going on it alone.”

“Who did you used to go with?”

“My parents,” you said after a moment of hesitation, the waver in your voice not going unnoticed. It was silent for a few seconds before you continued, chuckling lowly.

“My mom hated heights. Said it always made her feel sick. But whenever we went to a theme park, she’d always make sure that we ended the day with this. Because I loved it.”

You hated the burning sensation in your throat. You hated that whenever you talked about her, it was like you were a kid again.

(You remembered the nights spent curled up in bed with balled fists, shaking uncontrollably as hot tears streamed down your face. You remembered clawing at your pillow, pleading to it to bring her back, and believing that if you hugged it hard enough, you would eventually feel her arms around you. 

You remembered sitting at the dining table, staring into space, feeling like you were more of a ghost than her. You remembered mourning her, and more than anything, mourning the part of yourself that you would never get back. You remembered screaming at her, or what was left of her, screaming that it was all her fault. You hated that deep down, you knew you were talking to yourself.)

But what you hated more was the look of pity on Danielle’s face. She bit her cheek, reaching out to grab your hand, but you jerked back.

“Enough about me,” you abruptly turned to look at the view again. “Tell me more about this ‘heaven’ of yours.”

Danielle blinked, evidently concerned, but complied anyway.

“It’s actually quite similar to the real world…”

Her in-depth analysis of the chain of command of heaven and its hierarchical structure continued until you got off the Ferris wheel, into the car, and all the way back to the apartment. She was an avid storyteller, gesturing wildly with her hands and exaggerating voices for every new person she introduced, and you were grateful for the distraction.

Opening the door to the apartment, you turned around, prepared to say goodbye to Danielle, but she stood there smiling, holding out a polaroid and a photograph.

“What’s this?” You asked, taking the photos. The photograph was black and white, showing you and her in the haunted house, your face stoic while she had you in a deathly grip, eyes wide. 

“Did you buy this?” You smiled, leaning closer to inspect her horrified face. I must’ve been too busy laughing my ass off to notice her buying it.

“Yeah,” she sheepishly scratched her nape. “Figured God wouldn’t mind. It's a good souvenir from today.”

“Can I keep it?”

“No,” she snatched it back from you, tucking it in her pocket. “That’s going with me. The polaroid is yours.”

You frowned, staring at the polaroid. “It’s just a photo of me sitting on a bench. I’m not gonna even ask how you got this.”

“Magic,” she winked. “But it’s not just a photo of you. It’s a photo of you smiling. You look cute.”

You chose to disregard the last part. “Why would I want this?”

“To remind you of today.” Danielle smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. You caught a hint of sadness in her tone. You didn’t understand why.

Before you could ask, she questioned you again.

“So, how was today?”

“I enjoyed it,” you admitted. “Forgot what the thrill felt like.”

She smiled proudly, pulling you in for a hug. “I’m happy that you’re happy.”

There was that familiar pang in your chest again, one that you had grown accustomed to. But it was quickly weighed down by a sinking feeling in your stomach. This is her job, you reminded yourself. She doesn’t really mean it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You wrinkled your nose as she poked it. “Yeah. See you.”

She turned and disappeared. You stood there for a few minutes, a seed of doubt planting itself in your mind.

previous | next

#newjeans x reader #newjeans fanfic #newjeans fic #danielle marsh x reader #mo jihye x reader

[mysillyside]

Was nobody gonna tell me Grelle has not one, but TWO character songs sung by Jun Fukuyama (Grelle's VA)??? And they go so hard both lyrically, musically and vocally???

Shinkou:

Kill in the Heaven:

I added the lyrics below!

Shinkou Lyrics:

The afterimage floating in the moonlit night

is my transient black memory.

In a distorting morning of disgrace,

I sail a voyage of corruption.

If it's an unrequited love,

then at least let us bond in the other world...

I've been making that wish countless times,

like a beast hungry for your blood!

I am after all Butler Death, always ready to kill you or our love.

The curtain that's dyeing the earth red, I'll kick it into pieces.

The cinematic records and the films of souls and memories

are what I earnestly seek, as I strum my blood-stained delusions.

Tonight I've just had a very faint dream,

where I delineate, with my sneering blade,

the eccentricity of the death gods,

in the moonlight.

The old folklore and also some red whine,

please allow me to feed them to you mouth-to-mouth...

As I dye that wish red with blood,

my trap starts to dazzle, as if to numb you.

And still I am Lady Death, always dressed extravagantly.

Being rained down by bloody tears, I dig my nails into the night sky.

In the analog cinematic records, we make lewd noises, heat hazes,

shrouded in drifting ecstasy, inflict woulds to each other, and then start drowning away.

I am after all Butler Death, a brightly crimson butterfly.

As I send a red sigh into the empty air, it blows through and shakes the curtain.

The enticement of love stabs through the cinematic records,

while I simply yearn for a deep crimson dream in the eternity of a brief instant.

Kill in the Heaven Lyrics:

Darling, at some point in the future,

I will sleep in your cuddling hug,

and we will even share the same dream.

I will casually recall and imagine,

from looking at my cup of black tea,

our crimson kiss and rosy secret.

In this eternity of an instant where we've just met,

I'll start weaving our red string of fate.

The feeling of loving you can be summarized as

scorching-hot red blood cells and difficulty to breathe.

If I affix my light-pink heartbeats right next to my window...

Oh my! My heart suddenly feels apprehensive!

Darling, do you feel it?

This miracle that our heartbeats

are horsing around under the night sky.

Unintentionally, I've placed

on the table a bouquet, some lies,

and a crazily raging love song.

I want us to cuddle close in this small red-roofed house,

and together greet the arrival of every morning.

So sweet that I could just die with you,

I'd tickle you into a bittersweet waking in the morning--

--that's how much I'm crazy for you.

In the maze, I murmur to you with my heart-burning tears:

"Ah, in a chapel as white as cotton candy,

I'll walk down the aisle with you in a red wedding dress...

The path would be as radiant as heaven itself...

And then we'll be bonded together forever...!"

You feel both so close to and so far away from me,

and even that aggravating distance of yours is so lovely!

Even if everything were just a dream,

I'll just kill our profusely blooming love in the heaven.

#kuroshitsuji #black butler #grell sutcliff #grelle sutcliff #jun fukuyama #💬 katposts #📌 fandom resources

[zzzzzestforlife]

day 6 of 12 // blue christmas 🐳

today's accomplishments: journal / warm-up + workout / Japanese lesson / Chinese lesson / Korean lesson / Korean song translations practice / heart to heart with my dad / Yuri on Ice (Japanese input) / CYZJ (Chinese input) / read Howl's Moving Castle / meditate

i've been wanting to share some random bits and bobs i've been learning, but i wasn't sure how to organize / present it, so... *dumps everything i've been saving up onto your lap* enjoy! 👩‍🍳🎁

appreciating "now" 😌

지금 and 이제 are both ways to say "now" BUT 지금 is a transient kind of "now" event, like "right now, i'm doing this" while 이제 is more like "from now on, i'll be doing this" or "nowadays, it's like this." it annoyed me a bit at first (i.e. yesterday when i learned it while translating Spring Day), but now (이제), i appreciate that those two kinds of "now" are differentiated!

on meditating 🐸

xu minghao a.k.a. myeongho is a k-pop idol / member of Seventeen who loves meditating and it just so happens that the word for meditating in Chinese is 冥想 (ming xiang) and the word for meditating in Korean is 명상 (myeong sang), so that's how i remembered this word so unusually fast! 🏃‍♀️

aside: i love word association games and multi-language learning is just one big word association game, so of course i would love it 😂

sunny day ☀️

日 and 天 can both mean day in certain contexts in Chinese but not in others because 日 means "sun" and 天 means "sky." so, 日本 in means Japan (sun's origin/source) in both Chinese and Japanese. meanwhile, just 天 in Chinese can mean "god" (i guess because heaven is thought to be up there?). also, Korean for "Japan" is 일(day)본(saw), so like "i saw the day" or something, so it's all connected 📍🗺️ *insert you haven't connected shit meme*

more related similarities: in Japanese, 明日 is tomorrow while 明天 is tomorrow in Chinese

한국어

내가 배운 것을 말이 싶었습니다, 하지만 어떻게 몰라, 그래서 다 여기! 잘 먹게습니다! 👩‍🍳🎁

"지금/이제" 진짜 고맙다 😌

그들은 같은 근데 도 다른. 처음에는, 난 그 짜증난 생각해, 하지만 이제 난 좋아요.

명상에 대하여 🐸

보통 난 신규 단어 잊다, 하지만 내 가장 좋아는 가수 생각하면, 난 빨리 기억해세요! 🏃‍♀️

화창한 날 ☀️

중국어 와 일본어 와 한국어, 다 비슷데. 다 연결입니다 📍🗺️

中文

我想说话你我学的东西，但是怎么做我不知道，所以 这个是一切！好好啊！ 👩‍🍳🎁

“现在”很感谢 😌

这些字同和不同了。第一，我生气，但是现在我喜欢了。

关于冥想 🐸

通常我不记得新字很简得，但是我只是记得我的最喜欢歌手，而我记得很快啊 🏃‍♀️

晴天 ☀️

中文和日语和韩语很同了。一切都是相连得 📍🗺️

💌 translating notes: today i finished translating the Spring Day pre-chorus/chorus which resulted in me singing the song and actually understanding what i was singing for the first time?? which made me so happy!

#studyblr #12 days of christmas #100 days of productivity #100 days of studying #light academia #chaotic academia #langblr #korean langblr #chinese langblr #japanese langblr #student life #study motivation #study inspiration #astudentslifebuoy #zesty's life #glow up #that girl #study notes #it girl #wonyoungism #day in the life #100 days of self discipline #leveling up #level up journey #study goals #study aesthetic #study blog #lifeblr #lifestyle #getting my life together

[hiro-doodlez]

Watch this

Stage 1 - Beaten frowns Stage Stage 1 - Beaten frowns after

Here we experience the first sigs of memory loss. This stage is most like a beautiful daydream. The glory of old age and recollection. The last of the great days.

TRACKLIST & SAMPLES:

A1 - It's just a burning memory | Heartaches - Albert Allick Bowlly . Isador Simon Phillips and His Melodians

A2 - We don't have many days | Say It Isn't So - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone

A3 - Late afternoon drifting | It All Depends On You - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone

A4 - Childishly fresh eyes | Moonlight and Shadows - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra

A5 - Slightly bewildered | Alabamy Bound - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone .. The Wedding Of The Painted Doll - John Turner Layton, Jr. and Clarence Johnstone

A6 - Things that are beautiful and transient | The Waltz You Saved For Me - Harold Wayne King and His Orchestra

B1 - All that follows is true | Medley: It Looks Like Rain In Cherry Blossom Lane - Ronnie O'Dell . Maurice Winnick and His Orchestra

B2 - An autumnal equinox | In A Little Second Hand Store - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone

B3 - Quiet internal rebellions | Water Lilies In The Moonlight - Hughie Diamond . Maurice Winnick and His Orchestra

B4 - The loves of my entire life | Willow Weep For Me - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone

B5 - Into each other's eyes | Smoke From A Chimney - Samuel Gabriel Costa . Maurice Winnick and His Orchestra

B6 - My heart will stop in joy | Room With A View - Mert Curtis . Russel Morgan and His Orchestra

Stage 2 - Pittor Pickgrown in Khatheinstersper

The second stage is the self realisation and awareness that something is wrong with a refusal to accept that. More effort is made to remember so memories can be more long form with a little more deterioration in quality. The overall personal mood is generally lower than the first stage and it a point before confusion starts setting in.

TRACKLIST & SAMPLES:

C1 - A losing battle is raging | Love's Old Sweet Song - Chester Gaylord

C2 - Misplaced in time | Lullaby Of The Leaves - George Edward Olsen Sr. and His Orchestra

C3 - What does it matter how my heart breaks | Heartaches - Seger Pillot Ellis

C4 - Glimpses of hope in these trying times | Grand Canyon Suite: Painted Desert | Paul Samuel Whiteman and His Orchestra

C5 - Surrendering to despair | Sweet and Low - Chester Gaylord

D1 - I still feel as though I am me | Grand Canyon Suite: Sunrise - Paul Samuel Whiteman and His Orchestra

D2 - Quiet dusk coming early | To Be Forgotten - David Rubinoff

D3 - Last moments of pure recall | Into My Heart - Harold Rodman Lambert . Roger Wolff Kahn and His Orchestra

D4 - Denial unravelling | Phillips Dewey . Paul Samuel Whiteman and His Orchestra

D5 - The way ahead feels lonely | Grand Canyon Suite: Sunset - Paul Samuel Whiteman and His Orchestra

Stage 3 - Hag

Here we are presented with some of the last coherent memories before confusion fully rolls in and the grey mists form and fade away. Finest moments have been remembered, the musical flow in places is more confused and tangled. As we progress some singular memories become more disturbed, isolated, broken and distant. These are the last embers of awareness before we enter the post awareness stages.

TRACKLIST & SAMPLES:

E1 - Back there Benjamin | Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra

E2 - And heart breaks | Heartaches - Albert Allick Bowlly . Isador Simon Phillips and His Melodians

E3 - Hidden sea buried deep | Birth Of The Blues - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone .. Piano Medley of Layton and Johnstone Successes: Intro - My Blue Heaven - John Turner Layton Jr.

E4 - Libet's all joyful camaraderie | Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra

E5 - To the minimal great hidden | Paddlin' Madelin' Home - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone

E6 - Sublime beyond loss | Stardust - Charlie Spivak and His Orchestra

E7 - Bewildered in other eyes | The Prettiest Little Song Of All - Albert Benzler

E8 - Long term dusk glimpses | Exactly Like You - Harold Rodman Lambert . Roger Wolff Kahn and His Orchestra

F1 - Gradations at arm's length | [Sample unknown]

F2 - Drifting time misplaced | Lullaby Of The Leaves - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone

F3 - Internal bewildered World | Il Trovatore - Ferruccio Giannini

F4 - Burning despair does ache | Heartaches - Seger Pillot Ellis

F5 - Aching cavern without lucidity | Heartaches - Seger Pillot Ellis

F6 - An empty bliss beyond this World | The Wedding Of The Painted Doll - Victor Salon Orchestra

F7 - Libet delay - Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra

F8 - Mournful cameraderie | Heartaches - Seger Pillot Ellis

Stage 4 - Glitsholder

Post-Awareness Stage 4 is where serenity and the ability to recall singular memories gives way to confusions and horror. It's the beginning of an eventual process where all memories begin to become more fluid through entanglements, repetition and rupture.

SECTIONS & SAMPLES:

G1 - Post Awareness Confusions

Section A: [Sample unknown] | Grand Canyon Suite: Sunset - Paul Samuel Whiteman and His Orchestra | Lullaby Of The Leaves - George Edward Olsen Sr. and His Orchestra

---

Section B: Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra | Heartaches - Seger Pillot Ellis | Heartaches - Albert Allick Bowlly . Isador Simon Phillips and His Melodians

---

Section C: Ancient Court Whisperings - Albert Benzler | The Japanese Sandman - Paul Samuel Whiteman and His Ambassador Orchestra

---

Section D: Don't Put The Blame On Me - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | [Sample unknown] | Belle Of the East - Albert Benzler

---

Section E: The Prettiest Little Song Of All - Albert Benzler | Heartaches - Gaetano Alberto Lombardo and His Royal Canadians | To You - Mert Curtis . Russell Morgan and His Orchestra | [Sample unknown]

..............

H1 - Post Awareness Confusions:

Section A: Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra

---

Section B: Winterreise No. 05: Der Lindenbaum - Gerhard Heinrich Wilhelm Fritz Hüsch and Hanns Udo Müller | The Wedding Of The Painted Doll - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | [Sample unknown] | [Sample unknown] | Any Time, Anywhere - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone

---

Section C: Russian Rose - Samuel Browne . Joshua Alexander Loss and His Orchestra | Melody: Bist du denn Gottes Sohn? - Guildford Cathedral Choir | [Sample unknown] | Heartaches - Seger Pillot Ellis

---

Section D: [Sample unknown] | The Waltz You Saved For Me - Harold Wayne King and His Orchestra | Melody: Und führe uns nicht in Versuchung - Guildford Cathedral Choir | Paddlin' Madelin' Home - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | Winterreise No. 20: Der Wegweiser - Gerhard Heinrich Wilhelm Fritz Hüsch and Hanns Udo Müller

---

Section E: Gradana - Mantovani and His Orchestra

---

Section F: Piano Medley of Layton and Johnstone Successes: Intro - My Blue Heaven - John Turner Layton Jr.

..............

I1 - Temporary Bliss State:

Section A: The Prettiest Little Song Of All - Albert Benzler

---

Section B: The Prettiest Little Song Of All - Albert Benzler

..............

J1 - Post Awareness Confusions:

Section A: [Sample unknown] | The Prettiest Little Song Of All - Albert Benzler | To You - Mert Curtis . Russell Morgan and His Orchestra | In The Mission By The Sea - Maurice Winnick and His Orchestra | [Sample unknown]

---

Section B-a: Into My Heart - Harold Rodman Lambert . Roger Wolff Kahn and His Orchestra | Grand Canyon Suite: Painted Desert | Paul Samuel Whiteman and His Orchestra

---

Section B-b: Say It Isn't So - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone

---

Section C: The Wedding Of The Painted Doll - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | [Sample unknown] | Paddlin' Madelin' Home - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | [Sample unknown]

---

Section D: Ancient Court Whisperings - Albert Benzler | The Japanese Sandman - Paul Samuel Whiteman and His Ambassador Orchestra

Stage 5 - Eptitranxisticemestionscers Desending

Post-Awareness Stage 5 confusions and horror. More extreme entanglements, repetition and rupture can give way to calmer moments. The unfamiliar may sound and feel familiar. Time is often spent only in the moment leading to isolation.

SECTIONS & SAMPLES:

K1 - Advanced Plaque Entanglements:

Section A-a: [Sample unknown] | Black And White Rag - Albert Benzler | The Mocking Bird - Harry Taft | Black And White Rag - Albert Benzler | [Sample unknown]

---

Section A-b: Laura - Charlie Spivak and His Orchestra

---

Section B: The Wedding Of The Painted Doll - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | [Sample unknown]

---

Section C1-a: Was It A Dream? - Richard Ewing Powell

---

Section C1-b: Melody: Prière à Notre-Dame

---

Section C2-a: I'm Following You - Lawrence Gray

---

Section C2-b: Melody: Prière à Notre-Dame

---

Section D: [Sample unknown] | Il Trovatore - Ferruccio Giannini | Heartaches - Seger Pillot Ellis | Winterresie No. 06: Wasserflut - Gerhard Heinrich Wilhelm Fritz Hüsch and Hanns Udo Müller | [Sample unknown]

---

Section E: [Sample unknown] | Alabamy Bound - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | Reckless Night On Board An Ocean Liner - Sydney John Lipton and His Grosvenor House Orchestra

---

Section F-a: Ancient Court Whisperings - Albert Benzler | Black And White Rag - Albert Benzler | Heartaches - Albert Allick Bowlly . Isador Simon Phillips and His Melodians | Heartaches - Seger Pillot Ellis | Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra | [Sample unknown]

---

Section F-b: [Sample unknown] | Belle Of The East - Albert Benzler | Heartaches - Gaetano Alberto Lombardo and His Royal Canadians | The Prettiest Little Song Of All - Albert Benzler

---

Section G: The Wedding Of The Painted Doll - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra | Garden Of Weed - Louis Stone and His Band

---

Section H: Memory Street - Elsa Macfarlane and Stanley Augustus Holloway | Melody: Und führe uns nicht in Versuchung - Guildford Cathedral Choir | [Sample unknown] | [Sample unknown]

---

Section I-a: [Sample unknown] | Garden Of Weed - Louis Stone and His Band | Il Trovatore - Ferruccio Giannini | The Prettiest Little Song Of All - Albert Benzler | Grand Canyon Suite: Sunrise - Paul Samuel Whiteman and His Orchestra

---

Section I-b: In The Mission By The Sea - Maurice Winnick and His Orchestra | [Sample unknown] | [Sample unknown] | Room With A View - Mert Curtis . Russel Morgan and His Orchestra | [Sample unknown]

---

Section I-c: Granada - Mantovani & His Orchestra

---

Section I-d: Water Lilies In The Moonlight - Hughie Diamond . Maurice Winnick and His Orchestra

---

Section J: Grand Fantasia - Paul Samuel Whiteman and His Orchestra | [Sample unknown] | In A Little Second Hand Store - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | [Sample unknown]

---

Section K: Invincible Eagle March - James Fitzgerald | There's Too Many Eyes That Wanna Make Eyes At Two Pretty Eyes I Love - Arthur Jarrett . Wilfred Theodore Wemyes and His Orchestra | Don't Put The Blame On Me - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | Alabamy Bound - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone

L1 - Advanced plaque entanglements

Section A: Don't Put The Blame On Me - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | [Sample unknown] | [Sample unknown] | Il Trovatore - Ferruccio Giannini | Belle Of The East - Albert Benzler

---

Section B1: Russian Rose - Samuel Browne . Joshua Alexander Loss and His Orchestra | Melody: Bist du denn Gottes Sohn? - Guildford Cathedral Choir | [Sample unknown] | Heartaches - Seger Pillot Ellis

---

Section B2: Russian Rose - Samuel Browne . Joshua Alexander Loss and His Orchestra | Melody: Bist du denn Gottes Sohn? - Guildford Cathedral Choir | [Sample unknown] | Heartaches - Seger Pillot Ellis

---

Section C: The Prettiest Little Song Of All - Albert Benzler | Heartaches - Gaetano Alberto Lombardo and His Royal Canadians | [Sample unknown]

---

Section D-a: Black And White Rag - Albert Benzler

---

Section D-b: [Sample unknown] | [Sample unknown]

---

Section D-c: Garden Of Weed - Louis Stone

---

Section D-d: The Wedding Of The Painted Doll - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra | [Sample unknown] | [Sample unknown]

---

Section D-e: The Wedding Of The Painted Doll - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | [Sample unknown] | Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra | Russian Rose - Samuel Browne . Joshua Alexander Loss and His Orchestra | Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra

---

Section E: Il Trovatore - Ferruccio Giannini | [Sample unknown] | Stardust - Charlie Spivak and His Orchestra

---

Section F: Winterresie No. 06: Wasserflut - Gerhard Heinrich Wilhelm Fritz Hüsch and Hanns Udo Müller | Reckless Night On Board An Ocean Liner - Sydney John Lipton and His Grosvenor House Orchestra | [Sample unknown] | Medley: It Looks Like Rain In Cherry Blossom Lane - Ronnie O'Dell . Maurice Winnick and His Orchestra

---

Section G: [Sample unknown] | [Sample unknown] | [Sample unknown]

---

Section H: Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra | [Sample unknown]

---

Section I1: Memory Street - Elsa Macfarlane and Stanley Augustus Holloway | [Sample unknown] | The Prettiest Little Song Of All - Albert Benzler | Medley: It Looks Like Rain In Cherry Blossom Lane - Ronnie O'Dell . Maurice Winnick and His Orchestra | [Sample unknown]

---

Section J: Black And White Rag - Albert Benzler | Winterresie No. 06: Wasserflut - Gerhard Heinrich Wilhelm Fritz Hüsch and Hanns Udo Müller | [Sample unknown] | [Sample unknown]

---

Section K: Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra | Winterreise No. 05: Der Lindenbaum - Gerhard Heinrich Wilhelm Fritz Hüsch and Hanns Udo Müller | The Wedding Of The Painted Doll - John Turner Layton, Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | [Sample unknown] | Russian Rose - Samuel Browne . Joshua Alexander Loss and His Orchestra

---

Section I2: Memory Street - Elsa Macfarlane and Stanley Augustus Holloway | [Sample unknown] | The Prettiest Little Song Of All - Albert Benzler | Medley: It Looks Like Rain In Cherry Blossom Lane - Ronnie O'Dell . Maurice Winnick and His Orchestra

---

Section L: Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra | [Sample unknown] | Grand Fantasia - Paul Samuel Whiteman and His Orchestra | In A Little Second Hand Store - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | [Sample unknown]

M1 - Synapse retrogenesis:

Section A1:

Memory Street - Elsa Macfarlane and Stanley Augustus Holloway | Il Trovatore - Ferruccio Giannini | Heartaches - Seger Pillot Ellis | Heartaches - Seger Pillot Ellis | Meditation From "Thais" - Jesse Crawford

---

Section B1: Black And White Rag - Albert Benzler | [Sample unknown] | Winterresie No. 06: Wasserflut - Gerhard Heinrich Wilhelm Fritz Hüsch and Hanns Udo Müller

---

Section C-a: Heartaches - Seger Pillot Ellis | Ancient Court Whisperings - Albert Benzler | Lullaby Of The Leaves - George Edward Olsen Sr. and His Orchestra | Heartaches - Albert Allick Bowlly . Isador Simon Phillips and His Melodians | Heartaches - Seger Pillot Ellis | Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra

---

Section C-b: Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra | [Sample unknown] | Russian Rose - Samuel Browne . Joshua Alexander Loss and His Orchestra | [Sample unknown] | Gradana - Mantovani and His Orchestra

---

Section C-c: [Sample unknown] | Don't Put The Blame On Me - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | Belle Of The East - Albert Benzler | [Sample unknown] | Heartaches - Gaetano Alberto Lombardo and His Royal Canadians

---

Section A2: London Town (You Haunt Me) - Stanley Augustus Holloway | Heartaches - Seger Pillot Ellis | There's Too Many Eyes That Wanna Make Eyes At Two Pretty Eyes I Love - Arthur Jarrett . Wilfred Theodore Wemyes and His Orchestra | Il Trovatore - Ferruccio Giannini | Winterresie No. 06: Wasserflut - Gerhard Heinrich Wilhelm Fritz Hüsch and Hanns Udo Müller

---

Section B2: Black And White Rag - Albert Benzler | Winterresie No. 06: Wasserflut - Gerhard Heinrich Wilhelm Fritz Hüsch and Hanns Udo Müller

N1 - Sudden time regression into isolation

Section A1: [Sample unknown] | Lullaby Of The Leaves - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | Stardust - Charlie Spivak and His Orchestra | Medley: It Looks Like Rain In Cherry Blossom Lane - Ronnie O'Dell . Maurice Winnick and His Orchestra | Memory Street - Elsa Macfarlane and Stanley Augustus Holloway

---

Section B1: Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra | Winterreise No. 05: Der Lindenbaum - Gerhard Heinrich Wilhelm Fritz Hüsch and Hanns Udo Müller | The Wedding Of The Painted Doll - John Turner Layton, Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | [Sample unknown] | Melody: Und führe uns nicht in Versuchung - Guildford Cathedral Choir

---

Section B2: Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra | Winterreise No. 05: Der Lindenbaum - Gerhard Heinrich Wilhelm Fritz Hüsch and Hanns Udo Müller | The Wedding Of The Painted Doll - John Turner Layton, Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | [Sample unknown] | Russian Rose - Samuel Browne . Joshua Alexander Loss and His Orchestra

---

Section B3: Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra | Russian Rose - Samuel Browne . Joshua Alexander Loss and His Orchestra | Melody: Bist du denn Gottes Sohn? - Guildford Cathedral Choir | [Sample unknown]

---

Section C: Lullaby Of The Leaves - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | Piano Medley Of Layton & Johnstone Successes (Ramona / My Ohio Home) - John Turner Layton Jr.

---

Section A2: Medley: It Looks Like Rain In Cherry Blossom Lane - Ronnie O'Dell . Maurice Winnick and His Orchestra | Memory Street - Elsa Macfarlane and Stanley Augustus Holloway | [Sample unknown] | Stardust - Charlie Spivak and His Orchestra

---

Section A3: [Sample unknown] | Melody: Und führe uns nicht in Versuchung - Guildford Cathedral Choir | Medley: It Looks Like Rain In Cherry Blossom Lane - Ronnie O'Dell . Maurice Winnick and His Orchestra | Memory Street - Elsa Macfarlane and Stanley Augustus Holloway

---

Section B4 (Hell Sirens 4): Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra | Melody: Bist du denn Gottes Sohn? - Guildford Cathedral Choir | [Sample unknown] | Granada - Mantovani and His Orchestra

---

Section D: Winterresie No. 06: Wasserflut - Gerhard Heinrich Wilhelm Fritz Hüsch and Hanns Udo Müller | Melody: Und führe uns nicht in Versuchung - Guildford Cathedral Choir | [Sample unknown]

---

Section E1 (Last Of The Bliss): Hello Tucky - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | Piano Medley Of Layton & Johnstone Successes (Ramona / My Ohio Home) - John Turner Layton Jr. | Lullaby Of The Leaves - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | Winterresie No. 06: Wasserflut - Gerhard Heinrich Wilhelm Fritz Hüsch and Hanns Udo Müller | Melody: Und führe uns nicht in Versuchung - Guildford Cathedral Choir

---

Section E2: Hello Tucky - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | Melody: Und führe uns nicht in Versuchung - Guildford Cathedral Choir

Stage 6 - Necrotonomigaud

Stage 6 is without description.

SECTIONS & SAMPLES:

O1 - A confusion so thick you forget forgetting:

Section A: The Waltz You Saved For Me - Harold Wayne King and His Orchestra | Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra | Il Trovatore - Ferruccio Giannini | [Sample unknown]

---

Section B: The Wedding Of The Painted Doll - John Turner Layton, Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra

---

Section C: Heartaches - Seger Pillot Ellis | interresie No. 06: Wasserflut - Gerhard Heinrich Wilhelm Fritz Hüsch and Hanns Udo Müller | Meditation From "Thais" - Jesse Crawford

..............

P1 - A brutal bliss beyond this empty defeat:

Section A1: Hello Tucky - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | Melody: Und führe uns nicht in Versuchung - Guildford Cathedral Choir

---

Section B-a: Memory Street - Elsa Macfarlane and Stanley Augustus Holloway | [Sample unknown]

---

Section B-b: Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra | [Sample unknown] | [Sample unknown]

---

Section B-c: There's Too Many Eyes That Wanna Make Eyes At Two Pretty Eyes I Love - Arthur Jarrett . Wilfred Theodore Wemyes and His Orchestra

---

Section B-d: [Sample unknown] | Alabamy Bound - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | Goodnight, My Beautiful - Russell Morgan and His Orchestra | Russian Rose - Samuel Browne . Joshua Alexander Loss and His Orchestra | Granada - Mantovani and His Orchestra

---

Section A2: Hello Tucky - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | Melody: Und führe uns nicht in Versuchung - Guildford Cathedral Choir | The Last Rose Of Summer - Jesse Crawford

---

Section C: Winterresie No. 06: Wasserflut - Gerhard Heinrich Wilhelm Fritz Hüsch and Hanns Udo Müller | London Town (You Haunt Me) - Stanley Augustus Holloway | Melody: The Haunted Ballroom

---

Section D: There's Too Many Eyes That Wanna Make Eyes At Two Pretty Eyes I Love - Arthur Jarrett . Wilfred Theodore Wemyes and His Orchestra

..............

Q1 - Long decline is over:

Section A-a: Il Trovatore - Ferruccio Giannini | Weary River - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | [Sample unknown] | The Wedding Of The Painted Doll - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | Grand Canyon Suite: Sunrise - Paul Samuel Whiteman and His Orchestra

---

Section A-b: Weary River - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | Grand Canyon Suite: Sunrise - Paul Samuel Whiteman and His Orchestra

..............

R1 - Place in the World fades away

Section A-a: Il Trovatore - Ferruccio Giannini | Weary River - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | [Sample unknown] | The Wedding Of The Painted Doll - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone | Grand Canyon Suite: Sunrise - Paul Samuel Whiteman and His Orchestra

---

Section A-b: Weary River - John Turner Layton Jr. and Clarence Johnstone

---

Section B: [Sample unknown] | Il Trovatore - Ferruccio Giannini

---

Section C (Last 5 minutes): Melody: Laßt mich ihn nur noch einmal küssen - Guildford Cathedral Choir

---

Section D: [No sample]

[inheaven-mad]

-TRANSIENT HEAVEN-

Page 76

_

Transient Heaven is a rewrite of the events of Resident Evil 2 starring Leon Kennedy and Claire Redfield, made by Inheaven Mad.

_

Read the first chapters on my website and the latest pages on my ℙ𝕒𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕠𝕟.

#Transient Heaven #Fan Comic #Resident Evil 2 #Resident Evil #Claire Redfield #Leon Kennedy #Sherry Birkin #Cleon #mad #inheavenmad

[radical-revolution]

Buddha sat in serene and humble dignity on the ground, with the sky above him and around him, as if to show us that in meditation you sit with open, skylike attitude of mind, yet remain present, earthed, and grounded. The sky is our absolute nature, which has no barriers and is boundless, and the ground is our reality, our relative, ordinary condition.

The posture we take when we meditate signifies that we are linking absolute and relative, sky and ground, heaven and earth, like two wings of a bird, integrating the skylike deathless nature of mind and the ground of our transient, mortal nature.

— Sogyal Rinpoche, Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, chapter 5

[deramin2]

I've head Crowley and Aziraphale referred to as a "will they won't they" story. I can understand that interpretation, but it feels like it misses the depth the historical minisodes add: They will. They always will in the end because they always have. (This isn't the end.)

For millennia they've been drawn together. At first by many chance meetings. And then because they liked each other. Crowley pushed Aziraphale to have free will and examine what he wanted to do and experience beyond what Heaven said he ought to. And Aziraphale saw past Crowley's scowling exterior and associates to the kind person he actually is. They're both answers to questions the other's been asking.

And end of season 1 they were brave enough to choose each other over their respective sides openly and defiantly. When they thought the bookshop had burned down, Crowley offered to let Aziraphale stay with him until it was sorted. Aziraphale turned him down under the excuse that Heaven wouldn't like it. (Even though he's already been kicked out of heaven.)

Season 2 we see the fall out of their defiance. They've had peace but it's transient. Crowley respected that Aziraphale didn't want to live together even temporarily so he never told him he was living in his car. Crowley compared angels to bees. Aziraphale has lost his hive. Even though he has his earthly delights and Crowley, he's feeling very alone. Crowley is used to that kind of loneliness, Aziraphale isn't.

That's the weakness Heaven exploits to undermine his freedom. They promise him he can have heaven and Crowley. All it takes is Crowley agreeing to be a subject of heaven again. But of course Crowley is never going to do that. Crowley knows both sides are equally toxic, manipulative, and violent. He's an abolitionist of the entire system.

Aziraphale is a reformist. He thinks that this is all a big misunderstanding of God's great plan and if he was in change they could get everything sorted out and it would all be how it's supposed to be. He thinks the violence is an accident and not inherent to the system.

For 6000 years Crowley's been trying to persuade Aziraphale to stop being complicit. Their biggest wins are when Aziraphale listens to him. But he doesn't win every time. Aziraphale's entire existence has been defined by upholding the belief that God has a plan and that plan is inherently good. If that's not true, they Aziraphale has no certainty. This is a man who's worn the same outfit for over 100 years. He likes the comfort of the status quo.

Choosing his own way with Crowley is utterly terrifying to him. So he was promised that he could have all his certainty back, AND he could have Crowley. It was a very expertly crafted temptation. And of course it's a lie. He won't have any real power and the power he is given will just make him more complicit and drive him farther apart from Crowley, which is the real goal. If they just deny Crowley to Aziraphale, Aziraphale will fight them. This way they make it look like it's Crowley keeping them apart and Heaven is being the reasonable ones. It's a kind of deceit Aziraphale isn't used to from angels. But it's been shaping his whole life. He's so used to that kind of emotional manipulation that it looks like love. It's an amplification of what happened at the Bandstand.

So this is their trip into the underworld where they have to face their greatest foe: their own selves. But the point on that story form is to come back out again transformed, not just stay there. To be that's not the "will they won't they" trope of straight media, it's the core queer trope of the cyclical fight for the relationship against a world that wants to tear you apart. Personally I wasn't expecting Neil Gaiman to write the tone of Big Eden, I was expecting Torch Song Trilogy. Especially when the story was being written. The adaptation is new, but the story comes from a particular queer media tradition.

Famously Torch Song Trilogy was three plays, but if you tried to stage the first or second play without the third it's just a bummer. The second play in particular has a devastating ending. But add the last play and get to the end of the story and it's a masterpiece. It couldn't hit that high without either of those lows.

Queer love stories are about how love isn't per-destined, it's something you choose and fight for. Sometimes you fight yourself for it. Sometimes you fight your partner for it. But you always have to fight the world for it. And it's worth it. It's so worth it to love and be loved. "The mortifying ordeal of being known." It's about being brave enough to do what you know is right against a world that says established power and decorum is better for everyone.

Queer media is all about cycles. They haven't been waffling about their relationship for trivial reasons. It was never going to be that easy. Their love represents a very real threat to institutional power. as do Beelzebub and Gabriel. Angels and Demons are not supposed to have free will by definition. Free will and choice is supposed to be a human trait. Is love and compassion stronger than God's plan?

Challenging and subverting systems of power like Heaven and Hell isn't a one-and done. They don't lose a battle and give up the war. Crowley and Aziraphale chose their own side but their still combatants. It takes courage to keep fighting and that slips. But I also trust Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett and the places they guide their stories to in the end. The minisodes of Aziraphale and Crowley's history shows that however many times they get cold feet and withdraw, they always come back together. That's their nature, and it's more powerful than Heaven's schemes.

#good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 #good omens meta #crowley x aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #go s2 spoilers #long post

[madnessofmen]

The first chapter of T.E. Lawrence's autobiographical Seven Pillars of Wisdom is some of the best writing I've encountered in ages. He conveys how grueling the conditions were during the WWI Arab Revolt, not with descriptions of weather or terrain or bloodshed, but by their psychological effects. There's almost a grotesque beauty in the way he describes just how mentally unwell they were.

I've put the entirety of the first chapter below the cut because literally the whole thing makes me insane.

As time went by our need to fight for the ideal increased to an unquestioning possession, riding with spur and rein over our doubts. Willy-nilly it became a faith. We had sold ourselves into its slavery, manacled ourselves together in its chain-gang, bowed ourselves to serve its holiness with all our good and ill content. The mentality of ordinary human slaves is terrible—they have lost the world—and we had surrendered, not body alone, but soul to the overmastering greed of victory. By our own act we were drained of morality, of volition, of responsibility, like dead leaves in the wind.

-

Some of the evil of my tale may have been inherent in our circumstances. For years we lived anyhow with one another in the naked desert, under the indifferent heaven. By day the hot sun fermented us; and we were dizzied by the beating wind. At night we were stained by dew, and shamed into pettiness by the innumerable silences of stars. We were a self-centred army without parade or gesture, devoted to freedom, the second of man’s creeds, a purpose so ravenous that it devoured all our strength, a hope so transcendent that our earlier ambitions faded in its glare.

The everlasting battle stripped from us care of our own lives or of others’. We had ropes about our necks, and on our heads prices which showed that the enemy intended hideous tortures for us if we were caught. Each day some of us passed; and the living knew themselves just sentient puppets on God’s stage: indeed, our taskmaster was merciless, merciless, so long as our bruised feet could stagger forward on the road. The weak envied those tired enough to die; for success looked so remote, and failure a near and certain, if sharp, release from toil. We lived always in the stretch or sag of nerves, either on the crest or in the trough of waves of feeling. This impotency was bitter to us, and made us live only for the seen horizon, reckless what spite we inflicted or endured, since physical sensation showed itself meanly transient. Gusts of cruelty, perversions, lusts ran lightly over the surface without troubling us; for the moral laws which had seemed to hedge about these silly accidents must be yet fainter words. We had learned that there were pangs too sharp, griefs too deep, ecstasies too high for our finite selves to register. When emotion reached this pitch the mind choked; and memory went white till the circumstances were humdrum once more.

Such exaltation of thought, while it let adrift the spirit, and gave it licence in strange airs, lost it the old patient rule over the body. The body was too coarse to feel the utmost of our sorrows and of our joys. Therefore, we abandoned it as rubbish: we left it below us to march forward, a breathing simulacrum, on its own unaided level, subject to influences from which in normal times our instincts would have shrunk. The men were young and sturdy; and hot flesh and blood unconsciously claimed a right in them and tormented their bellies with strange longings. Our privations and dangers fanned this virile heat, in a climate as racking as can be conceived. We had no shut places to be alone in, no thick clothes to hide our nature. Man in all things lived candidly with man.

The Arab was by nature continent; and the use of universal marriage had nearly abolished irregular courses in his tribes. The public women of the rare settlements we encountered in our months of wandering would have been nothing to our numbers, even had their raddled meat been palatable to a man of healthy parts. In horror of such sordid commerce our youths began indifferently to slake one another’s few needs in their own clean bodies—a cold convenience that, by comparison, seemed sexless and even pure. Later, some began to justify this sterile process, and swore that friends quivering together in the yielding sand with intimate hot limbs in supreme embrace, found there hidden in the darkness a sensual coefficient of the mental passion which was welding our souls and spirits in one flaming effort. Several, thirsting to punish appetites they could not wholly prevent, took a savage pride in degrading the body, and offered themselves fiercely in any habit which promised physical pain or filth.

I was sent to these Arabs as a stranger, unable to think their thoughts or subscribe their beliefs, but charged by duty to lead them forward and to develop to the highest any movement of theirs profitable to England in her war. If I could not assume their character, I could at least conceal my own, and pass among them without evident friction, neither a discord nor a critic but an unnoticed influence. Since I was their fellow, I will not be their apologist or advocate. Today in my old garments, I could play the bystander, obedient to the sensibilities of our theatre … but it is more honest to record that these ideas and actions then passed naturally. What now looks wanton or sadic seemed in the field inevitable, or just unimportant routine.

Blood was always on our hands: we were licensed to it. Wounding and killing seemed ephemeral pains, so very brief and sore was life with us. With the sorrow of living so great, the sorrow of punishment had to be pitiless. We lived for the day and died for it. When there was reason and desire to punish we wrote our lesson with gun or whip immediately in the sullen flesh of the sufferer, and the case was beyond appeal. The desert did not afford the refined slow penalties of courts and gaols.

Of course our rewards and pleasures were as suddenly sweeping as our troubles; but, to me in particular, they bulked less large. Bedouin ways were hard even for those brought up to them, and for strangers terrible: a death in life. When the march or labour ended I had no energy to record sensation, nor while it lasted any leisure to see the spiritual loveliness which sometimes came upon us by the way. In my notes, the cruel rather than the beautiful found place. We no doubt enjoyed more the rare moments of peace and forgetfulness; but I remember more the agony, the terrors, and the mistakes. Our life is not summed up in what I have written (there are things not to be repeated in cold blood for very shame); but what I have written was in and of our life. Pray God that men reading the story will not, for love of the glamour of strangeness, go out to prostitute themselves and their talents in serving another race.

A man who gives himself to be a possession of aliens leads a Yahoo life, having bartered his soul to a brute-master. He is not of them. He may stand against them, persuade himself of a mission, batter and twist them into something which they, of their own accord, would not have been. Then he is exploiting his old environment to press them out of theirs. Or, after my model, he may imitate them so well that they spuriously imitate him back again. Then he is giving away his own environment: pretending to theirs; and pretences are hollow, worthless things. In neither case does he do a thing of himself, nor a thing so clean as to be his own (without thought of conversion), letting them take what action or reaction they please from the silent example.

In my case, the effort for these years to live in the dress of Arabs, and to imitate their mental foundation, quitted me of my English self, and let me look at the West and its conventions with new eyes: they destroyed it all for me. At the same time I could not sincerely take on the Arab skin: it was an affectation only. Easily was a man made an infidel, but hardly might he be converted to another faith. I had dropped one form and not taken on the other, and was become like Muhammed’s coffin in our legend, with a resultant feeling of intense loneliness in life, and a contempt, not for other men, but for all they do. Such detachment came at times to a man exhausted by prolonged physical effort and isolation. His body plodded on mechanically, while his reasonable mind left him, and from without looked down critically on him, wondering what that futile lumber did and why. Sometimes these selves would converse in the void; and then madness was very near, as I believe it would be near the man who could see things through the veils at once of two customs, two educations, two environments.

#t e lawrence #seven pillars of wisdom #the next couple chapters were were really hard for me 😔 #i don't understand geography and politics in the Arabian peninsula 😔

[iiratix]

I’m just wondering is it okay if i request this like can you do a one shot inspired by the song The other woman by Lana Del Rey but the mc/s/o is the other woman

And any character you want to choose in twisted wonderland

It’s ok if you don’t want to do this and sorry if you can’t really understand this English isn’t my first language and it’s isn’t really my strong point

Replacement

Where there's a new exchange student that replaced the Ramshackle student

Stunning, enthralling, captivating, and enchanting.

That's the only way to define the youthful Y/n L/n. Her beauty knew no bounds; it approached and transcended heaven itself. It seemed as though every speck of beauty had been bestowed on her and her alone. She was attractive enough to attract the attention of others. She was born to be the center of attention. She was destined to have everything in the palms of her hands.

So, in what ways can Yuu compete with her? They, unlike her, are inept pupils who cannot wield a single magical power. They are someone who is well-liked and simple to manipulate. Yuu is someone who easily falls into pleasant deception with an empty promise—an endless lifestyle filled with nothing but deceptive gestures.

Y/n was more essential compared to everything else. She had complete influence over every person in this place. With the flick of a finger, she could make thousands of people become infatuated with her ethereal beauty. It was dangerous, clever, and wicked of her. It was very unfair towards Yuu, who had fought hard to earn a position in this world.

Wrong. Oh, how completely incorrect they were.

Yuu has no idea when everything changed. They had no idea when the Ace had abandoned them in favor of her. It was terrible and depressing to witness their their supposed to be lover cling to someone else. It sparked sentiments of jealousy and insecurity within them. Of course, they recognize their shortcomings in comparison to her, but surely it can't be that horrible, right?

“Good puppy! You succeeded in creating a superb mid-grade potion." Yuu casts a peek in her direction, where she smiles warmly at Crewel. Receiving compliments from one of the harsh professors was difficult. They were aware that it required a complete concentration on a single mid-grade potion. "It's nothing, Mr. Crewel. I was able to brew such a potion thanks to your teachings."

Yuu bit their bottom lip, glancing down at the concoction they'd brewed. It was nothing out of the ordinary for her. "Man, being in the same group as Y/n must have been wonderful." When they heard this, the prefect frowned. They shifted their eyes to Ace, who seemed astounded by her stunning looks.

It wasn't necessary to inform Yuu. They are aware of their flaws, which are the things they have worked so hard to conceal. It made them over think through every possibility. Whether at this point, they're a great partner to have around in alchemy class or not. Whether they're compatible with the new transfer student. Whether somewhere in this society—they still had a place where they truly belonged. 

Yuu was overwhelmed. Everything that's occurring and every single second that revolts against them all. It didn't help their condition that they had been fixing all of the problems at this college. All of that goodwill, though, might have been wiped away in an instant with just one transfer student. They are now back in ostracized land.

A land where their worth may not be recognized. Where neither of them would turn back to face them. They will pretend to be unaware of the call for assistance or their own guidance. Should Yuu live in such a world? They barely understood the concept of magic, so taking away a sociable friend would be far viler than anyone could have imagined.

Yuu wondered where all of that transient joy had gone. The days of all of their friends conversing, playing, or just seeking their assistance are long gone. It was terrible, empty, and lonely. The stars that had adorned the black sky had floated away to a far more enthralling cosmos, leaving behind their moon that had screamed out in agony.

They had no idea that the point of view had shifted. Where the wariness and antagonism transform into a ferocious loathing for the girl. A foul, horrible, and violent set of emotions engulfed their journey — their bliss.

It was unwarranted, even unfair. They had worked hard for it, and the foundation upon which they had relied shattered right in front of them. They have been replaced by a new monarch, who has replaced those sad memories with a great delight that she has disseminated. A happiness that many wanted in this place; whether it was acceptance, comfort, or anything else, she was there to provide it.

Alas, what about them? What about them that had offered it all at once to those ungrateful bastards all at once? The price they had to pay for being polite and helpful has completely stabbed them in the back. It had cloaked their long-standing compassion in resentment and venom. It contaminated their hearts with something Yuu themselves could not recognize.

A tray was placed in front of them, jolting them out of their stupor. Yuu looked up to see the transfer student, who was eating a lemon lollipop and smiling at them. "You must have been Yuu, right?  I never got the opportunity to properly greet you." That's true. They were far too preoccupied with avoiding her, which caused others to question their actions.

"You know, being here at the beginning... Is extremely bothersome." She acknowledged it with a warm grin, sitting across from them and removing their lemon-flavored sweets. "Because I felt like an alien species that had infiltrated Earth, attracting the attention of scientists, you know?"

Yuu moved their eyes over the table till it was pulled to the line where the two Adeuce duo were now trapped, with Grim by their side. "And I genuinely admire you." When they heard that, they trembled and looked towards the Y/n direction. She smiled with her eyes squinted as she leaned her chin on the top of her palm.

That was a risky action, and Yuu was confident that the hierarchies all over this place had altered. As the rumor had it, despite her developed and chilly exterior, she's quite a kind-hearted charmer, and people might let down their defenses around her. Her natural appearance was even more powerful than Jamil's dreadful, unique magic that lay with the help of a magic power.

It is said that Yuu was wary of her. They contemplate the consequences of their ill-mannered intentions. What sort of ploy or schemes have they created before entering this place? What exactly does Y/n seek in this place instead of a studious relationship between two schools? There's no way they would've sent someone that could've been an important assessment to the school to a villainous school. 

 "N/n~!" Yuu nervously turned to face the source of the sound, watching Cater enthusiastically wave his hand about, with Riddle and Trey sitting right beside him. There was an empty place between them, indicating that they had intended to invite her over for lunch. And they weren't so blind as to overlook it.

Such a joyous personality, one that elevates others' emotions and makes them grin. It was pointless to try to get rid of her at this point. Y/n had made a tangle of ties with the individuals they had admired. There will be no unnecessary commotion because a mediator has arrived.

“I’ll talk to you later, Yuu! Oh, and tell Ace I'll meet him after school!!”

These two are diametrically opposed. She, who understands the world — such as the trend, the lesson, and all the wisdom that they could never comprehend. In comparison, they did little more than provide a momentary moment of consolation. It all collapses and vanishes just in front of their eyes. And all that is left is a sense of disdain, sorrow, and torment.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oneshot #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #twst headcanons #twst heartslabyul #ace trappola #twst ace #ace x reader #yuu #twst yuu #yuu x reader #deuce spade #twst deuce #cater diamond #twst cater #trey clover #twst trey #riddle rosehearts #twst riddle #heartslabyul #heartslaybul x reader #female reader #𝙸𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚡™

[basicsofislam]

BASICS OF ISLAM: Fasting & Ramadan 

BASICS OF ISLAM: Fasting: What are the spiritual benefits of fasting?.Part1

Every human being has a body and a soul.

Both the body and the soul have certain desires and they strive for domination over one another in order to fulfill their desires.

Lustful and carnal desires pertain to the body created from dry clay; in connection with this the Holy Qur’an declares:

“Verily We created man from potter’s clay, from mud molded into shape” [al-Hijr 15:26]

“Just ask their opinion: Are they the more difficult to create, or those (angels, the Heavens, and the Earth) whom We have created. Surely We have created you from sticky clay” [as- Saffat 37:11].

“He created humankind from dry clay like earthen vessels” [ar-Rahman 55:14].

The other aspect of human beings is the soul, which is a reminder of the wisdom in the creation of humanity and which guides them toward good and Godly deeds, helping them to contemplate and admire the spiritual worlds. The soul rejoices and relishes in great pleasures even when the body is crying out for a sip of water or a morsel of food.

Fasting helps human beings to understand the dark and heinous nature of certain deeds and avoid them.

When the dominance of the soul over the body weakens or when the body becomes dominant, then human beings become slaves to their carnal desires. They pay no heed to the intellect or to religious admonitions and spend all their energy trying to quench thirst and hunger for worldly delights. Their only concern is to find new ways of satisfying their carnal desires. They have to invent substances that increase the appetite, that aid digestion, or even act as stimulants.

“Such people are like a donkey or an ox even if they are at the peak of science, culture, and civilization.  They will commute between the dining room and the toilet all their life and will have no time for any principles or for the eternal life. All their faculties will die, except for those pertaining to lust, food, drink, and foolish entertainment.”

No depiction can be more precise or more elegant than that of the Qur’an:

“…as for those who disbelieve, they shall enjoy this world and eat as cattle eat; and the Fire shall be their abode” [Muhammad 47:12].

a. Fasting helps the believer to remember Allah

Every hour, even every second of the daily life of a person who fasts leads to the remembrance of Allah, reunion with the Almighty, and the blessings He has bestowed upon human beings. Fasting brings about this remembrance in two ways: It makes the believers long for eternal blessings by showing them that the worldly favors are transient.

The pleasure that the believers who fast enjoy when they break their fast and thus end a form of suffering also makes them remember Allah and the eternal blessings He has created for them in the Hereafter.

Although those who suffer from hunger and thirst from dawn until sunset apparently feel pain, the favors that await them in the other world soothe their sufferings. Moreover, they find pleasure in contemplating reunion with the Almighty Allah; it is for Him that believers abstain from food, drink, and other corporeal desires.

The Noble Messenger, peace and blessings be upon him, says:

“There are two pleasures for the fasting person, one at the time of breaking their fast, and the other at the time when they will meet their Lord.”

#Allah #god #islam #quran #muslim #revert #revert islam #convert #convert islam #converthelp #revert help #reverthelp #revert help team #help #islam help #salah #dua #prayer #pray #reminder #religion #mohammad #muslimah #hijab #new muslim #new revert #new convert to islam #convert to islam #welcome to islam

[thethistlegirlwrites]

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

Olivia Quintero has seen a lot of dead people. 

She never got a chance to see her mother’s body. As soon as they heard what had happened, Joey had bundled them all into the car and they’d run as fast and as far as possible before someone decided they were a loose end.

But she’s seen a lot of them since.

People died in the transient camps all the time, for one reason or another. Age, illness, violent fights, overdoses. She’d been the first to find two of them. It hadn’t really scared her, not like it scared some of the other kids.

She was pretty sure one day, it would be her. When the seizures kept getting worse, and the doctor in the camp kept turning up only half-sober, with shaking hands he couldn’t even be bothered to wash properly and coughing at the end of every sentence. 

But even after they got across the border, got Via into a good hospital, it hadn’t meant the end of death following her. She’d seen patients wheeled out of the building with white cloth over them. She’d watched the girl in the bed next to her in the pediatric ward lose her own battle with her failing body. 

And now, she’s looking at her own sister’s lifeless face in a coffin in a dingy cemetery. Her black dress itches her neck where the collar touches, and she already popped the button off one of the sleeve cuffs, but she feels oddly numb in spite of it all.

Maybe because Joey doesn’t look dead. 

Tía says it’s just what they do at the funeral homes to make people look nice for their families, but Via knows what people look like when cars hit them. She watched a boy playing soccer in one of the camps dart into the road after his battered ball and get run over by someone speeding by. They hadn’t even stopped or turned back to see if he was still alive. 

She can’t see any bruises on Joey’s face or hands at all. There’s a thick layer of makeup on her face that Joey would have hated in life, but Ramona across the hall covers up the times her boyfriend hits her the same way, and Via can always see the purple and yellow underneath. 

Joey just looks like she’s asleep. Almost peaceful, aside from the way her lips curl a little, like they’re pulling back from her teeth. 

Via chews on her own lip. She can taste the vanilla chapstick Tía is always smearing on too thickly, and the saltiness of blood from the spot where she peeled away a bit of the skin. She wonders if that will remind her of Joey now, the way the taste of ripe papaya makes her think of Mami, because it was what Via was eating when the phone rang and Joey went all stiff like she was the one having a seizure and then told them Mami was never coming home. 

Mauri presses something into her hand. Via looks down at it. The faded colors and crumpled edges of the picture of their family that Joey carried with them all the way from home. The only way Via still knows what Mami looked like.

She and Mauri both agreed, Joey should keep it. Maybe she’ll be able to look at it in heaven and think of them. Maybe it’ll help her find Mami if she’s forgotten her as much as Via and Mauri have. 

Via reaches into the coffin and tucks the photo in between Joey’s hands and the lining of the worn leather jacket she always wore when she went out at night. The edge of the photo sticks on a tear in the fabric, and Via pushes a little harder. 

Her hand brushes up against Joey’s. Joey’s skin is cool, makeup smoothing out the roughness in her chapped fingers and her chipped nails, now painted an overly garish red, scraping against Via’s thumb. She pulls back, blood welling up from the tiny gash, a single drop falling onto the corner of the photo, and shoves her finger into her mouth, sucking on the cut. 

Via doesn’t cry when they close the lid on the coffin.

She doesn’t cry when the men from the funeral parlor lower the whole thing into the ground, or when she and Mauri and Tía throw in handfuls of dirt on top, Tía sniffling into her black lace handkerchief the whole time and Mauri’s lip quivering.

She doesn’t cry when people flood their tiny apartment, bringing food and empty words and emptier cards, when the room is filled with so many voices it makes her head hurt.

She wakes up at five in the morning, when the last guests have finally gone, when the smell of spilled tequila has faded, when the moonlight slanting through her window turns everything a pale blue.

Somewhere, out in the darkness, the sound that woke her echoes back again.

A woman’s scream.

Via normally sleeps through those sounds. They’re as common in this neighborhood as barking dogs and crashing pans and breaking glass and angry arguments. But there was something high and harsh and terrified in this one that woke her.

She rubs her fingers against her thumb, slipping one blunt nail under the edge of the forming scab on her cut, and tugs it away again. 

Another drop of blood wells up, glimmers in the moonlight, and falls to her stained blanket. 

Out in the night, something howls. Clearer and sharper than a coyote, but just as mournful. Just as haunted. Via buries her head under her pillow, and lets the sob she’s been clinging to all day tear through her.

(You can read this story and others from this universe on my WorldAnvil here!)

@catwingsathena @nade2308 @the-one-and-only-valkyrie @telltaleclerk @ettawritesnstudies  @writeouswriter @the-lovely-wren

#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday23 #presumed dead #josefina quintero #olivia quintero #tw: character death #but in Joey's case she's coming back #via just doesn't know it #grief