#new sacred idol just dropped

[so-much-for-subtlety]

#wake up bro #new sacred idol just dropped

[cower-before-power]

Holy, Holy, Lover Divine

Pairing: Gale x Fem Reader

Summary: You've never felt worthy of praise, until it's Gale kneeling at your feet.

Warnings: Implied sexual content, religious imagery, Gale may get a bit blasphemous ha

Word Count: approx 1300

A/N: Just another little Gale ficlet because I love him so much and this idea has been in my head for ages. Thanks for reading!

In this moment, you feel divine.

The term has followed you around, exaltations such as “saviour”, or “goddess” leaving the lips of those you’d saved. But it had never felt right, never felt like such praise should be heaped upon a mere mortal. Right place, right time, is what you always assumed should be your words. A simple soul who simply had the means to do what needed to be done. Hardly god-like, hardly worthy of the celestial.

But here, in the privacy of your bedchamber, under the gaze of your beloved, you finally understand that you are holy.

“You are beautiful,” Gale breathes, dark eyes roving over your face, your body, “I swear, there is no more magnificent creature on this plane or any other.” You feel your skin heat beneath your new nightgown, a flimsy scrap of gossamer lace you’d chosen with him in mind. It seems to be well appreciated.

“Don’t let the gods hear such blasphemy,” you murmur, wanting to both further expose yourself to him as well as shyly hide away, “a few of them might disagree.”

Gale shrugs, and you watch the motion of his broad shoulders greedily. “Let them hear me. I no longer care what she….what any of them think of me, of who and what I devote myself to. That right was lost long ago.”

Your eyebrows raise, but you are not surprised. Magic may still be bound to a goddess, but your lover has long stopped bending a knee. Prayers are offered not out of love, but duty, necessity. He gives thanks for the Weave, for spells and knowledge. But he hungers for her treasures no more.

She has long lost his piety, and you do not complain.

“Oh?”, you say coyly, shifting so your gown slides further up your thighs. You do not miss Gale’s eyes following the movement intently, and your skin burns with want. “And what are you devoted to now, Gale of Waterdeep? Where does your worship lie?”

Gale strides towards you, slow and measured, like a cat waiting to pounce. You know what he will say, but you want to hear it all the same. You want to bathe in it, this new feeling of righteousness, of being the idol of such great love and passion. This man makes you feel as if you have wings on your back and a halo over your head.

You vow you will not squander it.

“I am in service of a new goddess now,” he says, and mirth twinkles in his lust-glazed eyes. Your lips quirk upward-your wizard of words is about display his prowess.

“This,” he gestures to the room you share, to the bed you’ve come together in more times than you can count, “this is my temple. The sacred place I give my humble sacrifices, make my loving prayers, pledge my undying service.”

He’s close enough to touch now, bare chest within reach of your gluttonous fingers. Before you can grasp what you crave, his catches your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to press small kisses to your fingertips.

“These are my offerings,” he guides your hand to touch his temple, down to his chest, and further, further, until your finger brush over his desire. You whimper eagerly. “My mind, my heart and my body, all given freely and eagerly to please the one who has saved me time and time again from my own folly.”

He drops your hand and nudges your legs apart, sinking to his knees as he slots himself between them. You think you might combust with how hot the flame of passion is burning within you. Gale never fails to set you on fire from the inside out, but it seems tonight he aims to upstage himself.

“This is my altar,” his voice grows more sinful, his eyes even darker, “the place I will kneel in reverence eternal. Day after day, night after night, I will worship here, a thrall in my Lady’s service. For as long as she will have me.”

He leans forward, lips pressing against your inner thigh. You mewl softly, threading your fingers through his silky hair. Encouraged by your ragged breaths, he roams the giving flesh freely, littering your thighs with warm, bruising kisses.

“These are my hymns, my canticles of homage. I will bestow them upon every inch of this heavenly flesh. As many and as often as my Lady allows."

A gentle, teasing kiss is placed over your smallcothes. You gasp and tug him closer, a spark of white hot pleasure shooting up your spine.

“Gale,” you beg, thinking you may just go mad from his teasing, his honeyed words. “Gale, please-“

But instead of continuing, Gale pulls back and surges upwards, capturing your mouth in a heady kiss. You delightedly take what you are given, groaning as his taste explodes on your tongue. You will never get enough of kissing him, you decide. Gale always kisses you like he’s trying to crawl inside of you. Like he's trying to merge not only your bodies, but your very souls as well.

It never fails to set you on fire.

“This is my baptism,” he pants as he breaks your kiss, fingers flexing on your thighs, barely concealed restraint pulled taught like a bowstring. “I am cleansed of my sins, my foolish ideals, my bitter and lonely existence. To feel my Lady's love and desire in every kiss, every touch, every time I am inside of her- it is to be born anew."

Gale does not stay parted from you for long; his lips soon find their way to your neck, his fingers brushing your sensitive skin reverently.

And you are drowning. You whine and whimper and mumble intelligible pleas as your lover ravishes you with lovebites and praises. You fingers tangle in his hair and you pull-the groan that rumbles from his throat nearly makes your eyes kiss the back of your skull.

“Let me worship you,” Gale moans into your skin, pushing the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders. His mouth ghosts over the tops of your breasts. Gooseflesh rises in it wake. "Let me show you my supplication."

"As if you aren't already," you giggle breathlessly, falling back on the bed as Gale crawls over you. You welcome the heat of his body as it hovers above yours, close but not nearly close enough.

"Oh, you know I can do so much more," he grins wolfishly, eager hands helping you to slip off your nightgown. When you are spread nude before him, he slides out of his own trousers, laughing as your eager hands grope at every inch of bare skin they can reach.

"Shall I love you now, my Lady?" he asks, settling between your legs. A gentle hand cups your cheek, and you melt into the tender touch. "It is all I desire."

You brush a stray lock of hair away from his beautiful brown eyes. Happiness bleeds through the air around you, encasing the two of you in a world all your own. A sanctum most sacred and blessed.

"Love me then,” you sigh dreamily, “love me, and know how much I love you in return, you darling, wonderful, worthy man.”

And oh, how you are adored! How your lover makes your body and soul sing, more radiant and joyous than a choir of angels. How he plays your desire over and over, bliss unending, until you are left boneless and spent, a puddle of happiness in his arms.

And as you lay cradled carefully against Gale, enveloped in his ardor, you feel as if you are weightless. There is no more stain upon your soul, no mortal tarnish on your skin. No fear, no insecurity, no wondering. You are eternal. You are blessed.

You are divine.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios x reader #gale of waterdeep x reader #gale x reader #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 x reader #my writing

[ophelian-darling]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧.

Yandere Dabi x female reader.

Summary: Hell is the other people, yet that doesn't mean to not have a devil to love in the abyss.

TW: Violent thoughts, Possessiveness, Dub-con, Drug & alcohol consumption, Obsession, Onanism.

This is a NSFW piece, Minors DNI.

enjoy ♡

As if the flames of Inferno hadn't devoured enough of him: his flesh went adust and he metamorphosed into an ugly, grotesque replica of a corpse. It was a lord's grace that he managed to survive -that's what would anyone say to him- Yet what was there to rejoice with still?! The reflection of the stained glass on the wall painted a poor excuse of a human- a failed hope of a legend and the dead blues of eyes that used to be chaste. His skin and scars were attached together in a cruel show of monstrosity, a thin line separated the decaying flesh from the unhealable wounds, and nothing in the world can wash away the hatred and rage boiling inside like the devil's pit. Ever since he swore on destroying the world, every hue of an emotion and any glimpse of a feeling had been sewn shut and imprisoned, filling  the Lilies with thorns and drops of blood to shield what was remaining. 

Dabi couldn't bring himself to offer more oblations- The Idol of heroism and honor, that he used to put on a pedestal and bow down ardently for, is now nothing but a scarecrow: a deceiving figure and a cover for the truly vile intentions; the real salvation  of the world was to set it on fire and enliven it to God's innocent Eden, where no snakes or poisoned fruit will crawl inside. The 'league of villains' were the angels of death and the new Azraels of the fallen world, accompanied together to rescue the unfortunate from corruption; there were no dreams or love to live for, as his goal was the new sacred numen.

His so-called colleagues are puppets, just like he is, moved with different threads and for different roles. He couldn't bring himself to develop anything for them, whether it's fellowship, friendship or fraternity. All of them appeared to get along well: a bond was knitting itself more and more everyday as Shigaraki led them to achieve a seemingly similar paradise, gladly taking their places in a chess war and armoured as pawns, and you were no exception. 

Your features conveyed no sensation, as what a devoted villain should show themself. Unlike Toga or Twice, you were silent as a lamb to the slaughter and serene as a deep sea, not disturbed or strangled, like you gave your soul on a silver platter with a peaceful heart. Others sought solace from the dregs of what had the air of a warm feeling provided by you- love and acceptance, just as they were a little loving family, where you alongside Magne, were regarded as the older sisters, and looked as the weak fraction of a home. 

Poison in honey. Clouds of doubt and distrust bedimmed his mind whenever he conjured up your lineaments: the resting lines across your face and the reverent glamor in the color of your eyes- none of what you showed was to be perceived as evil. all of the fallen from grace around him had a revolutionary flame in their gaze, au contraire of your placidly hollowed stare, promising to cast a long illusion of Kafkaesque awes.

To Shigaraki's pleasure, you were his favorite- or more correctly the most tolerable member of the league. a perfect model of obedience you were: you spoke so little and worked so hard, polished the numen of new heroism with blood and gifted it so many sacrifices -sacrifices that were out of pure love, souls and pieces of the useless- With no fear or selfish intentions. Toga mooned over your figure and clinged to your hip. The little blonde was a childish loon and He couldn't endure her most of the time, while you (In addition to managing to remain a decent human being) hit it off and contained her tantrums just as you did with Twice -That psychotic freak-. He hated everyone equally: His family, His comrades and leader, and he wanted to despise you as well; the wall of an unknown sentiment hitting back what his mind wanted him to comprehend. 

You're giving him a sort of hate that he didn't accept nor understand. Why would he feel irritated instead of apathetic at your surface attitude towards him?! Surely he is in no need of baring someone else's hopes -he'd rather carry his own despair alone-  yet he won't swallow down the thought of you thinking of him as a failure, a maggot that devours rotten carcasses or merely a lost cause, he is indeed a lost cause but never an empty noise in the background of your head, or someone that you can ignore so easily. As he watches you patch up Jin, smile sweetly at Atsuhiro's tantalizings, play cards with Shuichi or chat with Himiko about everything and nothing. The virulent wave of an emotion keeps washing at him; playing a series of cruel thoughts and imaginations that were rather sadistic: bashing your head against a wall till the threads of crimson sewed your calm face, burning your flawless skin until it discolored to a vile, pussed red; all to hear your screams and enjoy the melody of your vocal cords as you cried in agony for him to stop. The scenarios of torturing you blessed his nights with vivid dreams: Unlike what his consciousness wanted to see, his psyche animated you and him in cherry blossom reveries, the lost innocence drowning everything in a blissful haze. He remembered the feeling of your touch and the note of your true voice: soft as silk and meek as milk, the sweet fruit of heaven, not poisoned by satan. He recalls more than a time how his nightdreams were a small warm flash of affection at first, then ignited into a fevered kiss before escalating to a carnal feast. The euphoria of uniting with you was unforgettable: kissing and nipping at each inch of you, from your lips and face down to your neck, a lovely odor fragrancing your shoulders, the mellow flesh of your breasts, gently squishing in his palms and the raw pomes of your nipples and their flavor- how he imagined the graze of his teeth and nails on the pure fabric of your skin, the path of his tongue down to your dripping cunt- your nectarous cunt, generously pouring your essence on his tongue as he lapped your flower, savoring every little drop of fluid in every little spot of each petal while your croons and moans composed a midnight chant. Flames blazed in his loins while your core was drenched; him immediately dousing the heat when he entered you roughly. The scenery was utterly perfect: your cries of pleasure and whines at his dandlings and teasing, the purple blooms across your neck and cleavage, and the full mewl of vigor escaping your throat as you finished, his cock spasming so deep inside; cervix opened up and swallowing his seed. The sweet haze filled everything to a bright sweven, bright as the fullest moon in the darkest night, consumed by the clouds and veiled into the dim. He wakes up- hard and frustrated as he palms himself, cussing at the many shapes of your form within his memory. He needed to feel you, now and next to him. 

Dabi would never unfold his fantasies to you. the idea of revealing such a hidden side of him to anyone (let alone you, the person in concern for his nocturnal musings) was embarrassing; the pride and dignity -even as a morally shattered rogue- he built over the years refused to lower over someone and disclose such a vulnerable part of a parlous evildoer. It's his lucky day- the annoying brat of a leader finally made a good decision of teaming you up together. Shigaraki thinks that you're capable of cooling Dabi's heat while he would warm up your apathy, just as fire and ice would balance each other. And of course, he didn't give a single fuck about the mission's success or the plan as much as he did about getting to start something with you, something that'll hopefully develop into what he had in mind. Soon enough, the dreams of your body on him will come to be a reality. 

Good. you aren't scared away or seem to be disgusted at him. you were pretty docile: he didn't have to call you a name or throw a threat at you to pay attention to him. Dabi colors his attempts to coax you with a hue of bitter judgment and cynicism, hoping to elicit a real reaction from the depths of your mind, not that mild bright look of your eyes, sending him a scattered letters and an unknown message: a feeling of opacity, odd serenity that increased his desire to maim you beyond all of the evils a human can imagine. 

His fantasies became even rougher and more detailed. The brightness of blood and sunlight on your face were equally exciting, and his desire to own you for his jollity increased with each time his hand tried to replace the smoothness of your walls, desperately delineating the scene from a third eye: him burying himself in the heat of your core, clutching your arms in a fist, spitting curses and degradations at your cutely fucked face. The idea of you being a cheap whore and a costly mistress at the same time sparked a fire in his mind; corrupting whatever purity you still had and breaking your sanity- wiping that stupid calm face off and putting a bloodied and scared one in a show for him. The visions were so pleasant that his hands wanted nothing but to beat you broken and burn you dead; drag you to his pit of misery. 

Dabi now shows you a fraction of what he can offer of 'Kindness'. Every Time you happen to converse with him, he aims to provoke you by obscene flirtation or direct teasing, which you respond to with a quick comeback or an eyeroll. The more he pushes your buttons, the more your true nature comes to light for him: you're a cruel, doe-eyed disaster, everything ugly and pretty at the same time; he absolutely loves that.

Anger doesn't rise when you throw your words at him: your insults weren't even insults, whether you laced them with poison or honed their edges sharp, they didn't wound as much as they tickled: everything that came out of that pretty little mouth of yours was sweet, too sweet that made him eager to cut your tongue off and watch blood cascade. He wanted to get a devil out of you, as to take it to a hell of his own, where you would both revel in cutting each other to ribbons. 

The inflicted pain loses its ache with time, and melts into a crippling throe, and grows to a deep blue melancholy. it feels to him -and you as well- that you took comfort in hurting him and him hurting you, like breaking a bone to forget a sharp twist of the heart. indulging in banes was a temporary relief as well: cigarettes and Alcohol, pills and remedies weren't enough to release a lingering burden of shame and acrimony. It happened in a moonless night- a bottle of wine dangling lazily from your fingers, your head on his shoulder and your tongue unlacing its knot, through a blur of tears, all of what had been coffined under your skin teared through and emerged into existence: you were just like him- a torn hope for a legend, a replaceable weapon and a losing card. Just when you believed the serpent's lie of power and grace, your superiors took you out of what used to be your home, your heaven and haven; everything was ripped out from your hands overnight, and tears were no longer an antidote. and he listens- he listens to every word you say, dread filling his cogitation as the familiar scenes are played.

"Was I really a failure all along?" He watched you swallow your words with a full gulp, the red in the bottle swinging within it in your shaking grip. Your eyes were distant as always, but in an exciting way- you seemed hopeless, utterly woebegone, the gleam of your eyes absent to where an unknown corner of your head laid.

"The more I think of it, the more my hatred for them grows… but I can't deny that I used to love them… and I still love them!" 

Sobs lost between gulps; the drink wasn't able to pacify your sorrows. He just simply stares at the mess of you, intrigued by both of your tears and subtle determination of revenge. His imagination creates a scene where your form stood, gazing up to a charred horizon, your head turning around, a numb smile crossing its curved line on your face, while your eyes carried a certain violent gentleness. As he watches you wipe the traces of sorrow on your face, Dabi comes to the realization of who you verily were: an embodiment of the darkest depravity in the garments of the purest piety, that you were the serpent and not the sinner. If this life was hell; then you ought to be the devil itself; a reincarnation of Jezebel's deceit, Circe's eyes and Delilah's lulling.

Your fingers twitched and moved, skimming his scarred hand, spiderlike at first, wanting a silent agreement from him to continue, then bold, obscene as you took his silence as an acceptance.

Now he notices how well manicured are your nails and how neat are your digits, coy when they took both of his palms, to downright prurient when you slipped his hands under your shirt to meet your bosom.

"I've seen the way you look at me" you purred, stars of a far nirvana lustering in your eyes, not like you were just weeping. 

You squeezed his hands, encouraging him to fondle on the soft flesh on your chest, which he did, immediate and eager as he was whenever he recalled that dream.

"You seemed like you wanted to hurt me terribly… and just to let you know, being hurt by you isn't a very awful thought… it's…" you giggled like a vamp "Sexy…" 

He felt like an overflowed dam. just as you let the final words, he planted a forceful kiss to your lips, relishing the taste of ale on your tongue. you moaned into his mouth, arms on his shoulders welcoming him for sin.

The bottle rolled to an unknown corner of the room, its content missing than a few drops. All it took to loosen your composure was a hundredth night of drinking and a tipsy talk. To him, none of the Alcohol was as much of an intoxication as the feeling of you, far more rapturous and surreal than the vistas of violence and vigor he visualized in the dead of the night. Time lost its sense in a complete haze, nothing but the grunts and murmurs caroling the cold air of the small room.

When the first threads of daybreak slipped through the cracks, it all befell you in a sharp remembrance. you recognized the scars on the body beside you, softly snoring and twisting its muscles as it woke up. 

"Round two, Ay, love?" 

You were obviously regretful of what'd taken place nights ago, as you wore your annoyance on your face. He had his way with you during a moment of weakness, claimed himself as a 'boyfriend' and crawled under your skin. In all honesty, you'd found him attractive when you first set your sight on him, the dead blues he gloomed the world with spoke a threat of violence and vengeance, sparking your own fantasies to deprave and go astray with insanity. You thought about breaking him slowly with seduction and faux timidity; succeeding when he allowed his demons to entice him into touching you, but failing when he sought love from you of all people. 

He's not ashamed of letting his emotional deprivation surface. He's a nuisance- constantly clinging to your hip, demanding all sorts of affection regardless of the time. There's a mission? He accompanies you, disobeying the leader's instructions with all satisfaction. You're going somewhere? He tags along, not caring about your protests and complaints of his existence. a hue of joy on his face blinks when you're alone together: He speaks more, attempts to flirt in his words and asks for physical assurance more than he gives (not like you wanted anything from him except sex). His tolerance decreases when it comes to your connections with the rest of the league members; he's now ruder to them and sometimes violent- warning them audibly to stop interacting with you, and you couldn't oppose yourself, feeling gleeful deep down at your capacity to get this side out of him. You were fully aware he had issues, sorts of injuries that didn't stop at his face and limbs, but that wasn't a concern of yours. 

In the silence of everything at the end of day, his head on your chest, Dabi spills out every single letter of what he thinks of you. 

"You're a bitch, and I love that about you… another disaster in my life, but a pretty one…" He rotates his head to look at you, a smug line curving up his lips "Wanna show me how much of a slutty wide-eyed brat you are?" 

You give a sweet smile in return, starting a long night of pain that didn't hurt more than it pleased. The silence of the dark would stretch until the light is poured in heavens, when every aching memory, tear and sob is forgotten and deemed to return in next kisses and bites. The journey of your lives continues to a shared horizon: you both swore on destroying the world together, ruin the scarecrow of falsity and sacralize what was truly sacred: you and him only; your new heaven through the colors of your eyes.

"Mousey…" 

"Hmm?"

"Stay with me forever…" 

"I want to be your world, you're already mine" 

"Let's burn together in hell" 

"Dance with me on their corpses" 

"I love you, do you love me?" 

"I do love you… Touya" 

#yandere mha #yandere bnha #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #yandere touya todoroki #yandere touya #dabi x self insert #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #touya x you #touya todoroki x you #touya todoroki x reader #mha x reader #bnha x you #this is sooooo long and i feel i took it too seriously lmao #dabi x female reader #i swear i tried to make it short #my peanut of a brain is a drama queen #this is a practice on characterization pls don't be mad at me #it's my first post on this fandom and I'm scared #dabi headcanons #dabi scenarios #dabi hcs #mha x female reader #bnha x fem!reader #i appreciate your thought please share them if u don't mind! #sociopath reader maybe? idk

[silenttale22]

STRONG FOR YOU |PJM|

Idol!Jimin x Reader Genre: Fluff, Slight angst

Warnings: anxiety, slight panic attack Note: Hi there Sweetheart, thank You for being here! I still cannot believe what happened with Gguk one-shot but I am so, so thankful for all of you <3 And oh God, I promise I'll do my best and write even more because you gave me so much motivation aishh. So yeah, I hope you'll enjoy Jimin one as well! Thank You so so much one more time!

Your stress level is increasing again, and you don't know where the trigger lies. Is that a boss who walks around pointing out every single detail and driving you insane because none of this is your fault? Or perhaps it's the never-ending calls from an overprotective mother who questions you about everything and nothing even though you're almost 24. Another possibility is that you are experiencing anxiety because of a perceived danger in your head that is making everything around you seem dangerous. All of the muscles are hurting, clenching all the time from stress, and then returning to a relatively relaxed form for the next two days.

Oh, how you just wish for a day off, but not only from work, this is also a wish for your head. Because every other day it seems to be much darker than it used to be, and sometimes you don't know how to grip yourself. Even if everything appears to be perfect on some days, you may believe that things will improve only to wake up another night covered in blankets with lonely tears streaming down your cheeks.

You were almost pulling your hair out from the number of times you had passed the same shelves over and over, losing your way as you rushed through the counters looking for the "home" one. You didn't work here for long, only managing to catch up from time to time on weekends outside of your work at home, but you liked to have everything perfect. No matter how quickly you completed a task, your goal was to get the best outcomes as soon as you could. And because of that, your mental health suffered as a result of frequent, unnecessary stress and frustration. Inside, you were arguing with yourself because you wanted to have a sacred peace of mind, hoping that all the dark feelings in you would eventually die down, but you also added responsibilities or unnecessary worries to your head, which were often not even manageable. You are doomed to your thoughts, no matter how many times you tell yourself that they are not yours and that you don't need to listen to them so intently because they dwarf everything else.

And in fact, all you've wanted for the past few weeks has been to cry. Even though you've done it night after night, hugging a pillow still soaked with the perfume of your boyfriend, whom you now see once in a while, you couldn't free yourself from the feeling of something you couldn't define. On the one hand, you have the feeling that it's an endless emptiness, but it's also some kind of feeling, and it's tearing you apart from the inside, because you don't know whether you feel lonely, tired, or most simply broken into the smallest possible pieces. Your pondering over every little situation and considering other people's words that will probably never have any meaning in your life leads your senses to obsess over the things being said.

Although you badly needed someone's support, you knew you couldn't mention it in the presence of your boyfriend, who, like you, was able to drop everything to help another important person, and you couldn't blame him for anything, he never did anything to make you feel unloved, yet you still don't want to be a burden, and certainly not at this time. You saw him working hard day after day, from morning to night, on his album. He writes songs and focuses on composing new melodies, and you know that one word from you at least close to meaning pain would make him drop everything to help you. What kind of girlfriend would you be, throwing your problems on his shoulders, when he had his own?

You cursed under your breath as another sufficiently loud ringtone sounded inside one of the pockets of the company button-through smock while you were picking up one of the cartons at the shop after finding already correct counters. Then throws the boxes harshly on the floor with the knowledge that there were only towels and blankets inside, so nothing could be damaged by your sudden onslaught of anger.

“If this is another time you call to ask, how are you, are you at work? What are you doing after? Probably sitting on the couch again… then just hang up because I'm not going to listen to how unworthy and lazy a daughter I am.” You almost perfectly mimic your mother's voice and end up talking with a loud enough huff to make customers look at you with confused faces. You hated it. The constant phone calls, the questioning, the controlling… you had been sick to your back teeth. And you really were grateful for everything you got from your parents, but at times all you truly needed was peace and quiet. No intrusive phone calls or messages, but so what if the mere mention of it sparks a heated-up argument? Then unpleasant words are directed your way, and you end up eventually sobbing at night because you are ‘the worst daughter in this world’. Among other things, these were the very thoughts that most often led you to total amusement - I am the worst daughter, girlfriend, friend…no matter how hard I try, no matter how best a version of myself I will be, after all, it can always be better, can't it?

“Well sweetheart, I was about to ask the first three questions, and I would love to sit on the couch with you honestly, but I don't remember we talked about daddy thing and all,” you heard a little laugh from the other side, and your eyes softened along with tightened muscles. You had no idea how strong your need was to hear the melodious voice of your boyfriend. “And how could I even call you an unworthy and lazy daughter when you're like the sweetest one and doing everything the best you can?” Now you chuckled, hearing the feigned pretentious tone, and attempting to stifle laughter.

“Sorry Chim, It's been a rough week.” You sighed and fixed your gaze on the pillows lying in front of you in a metal basket, which had furry pillowcases and tempted you so hard to run your fingers over them to feel the pleasant material under your fingertips. Jimin was one of the few people who, with their voice, could calm your ruffled thoughts and bring you back to a relatively relaxed state. Even the shortest, quietest laugh from his lips could bring tears to your eyes from the sudden comfort enveloping your body. And you were never one to claim that another person could be someone's home or shelter, you usually thought we had to provide our own peace of mind. But when a slightly tipsy boy knocked on your door one chilly evening, with an uncertain smile and asked if he had found Taehyung, who, as it later turned out, was his best friend, you didn't think he would stay in your life for long. And you especially didn't think you'd ever have a romantic relationship with someone so popular. But now, after having Jimin by your side for a good few years, you can't imagine not having him around. "But it doesn't matter right now; how are the album recordings going? You work so hard, I'm so proud of you, Minnie.” You asked, not wanting to worry the boy.

“Meh, could be better. I'm kind of stuck. Also, entertainment forces me to do stupid Tik-Toks, and as much as I enjoy making them for the ARMY, I despise being forced to do them. I really want to focus, but they just think that I'm boring or something. And I miss you so much. Every night wishing to have you in my arms.” You could clearly hear the pout, and your imagination helps you picture his adorable face complaining about not being able to hold you.

That's what you loved most about him. His gentleness and openness in expressing his feelings. That is, in theory, what you didn't have. You rarely let it be known how frail you can be. You put on a mask of indifference and didn't so much pretend that nothing moved you as try not to brood over things in front of people. It was completely different when you were alone or after some time around Jimin. You could just feel yourself with him. His arm wrapped around your waist, his head snuggled into your shoulder as yours calmly rested against his, while your fingers slowly combed through his wet and soft mint-scented hair, further soothing your thoughts. You missed those evenings, and you missed him.

“And thank you, Y/N, I'm so proud of you too! You're still working on this new book translation? Is that why it's been rough? You should call me, you know I would come.” You heard his worried tone of voice, and a wave of guilt flooded your body. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid, and unfortunately, the boy's attention to every detail was one of the things you still couldn't get used to.

You knew very well that one phone call would be enough for him to show up at your door in less than 15 minutes, usually with some snacks so you could end up on the couch watching a movie, but the fact that Jimin put you first, even above his career, never ceased to amaze you, and at times terrify you. It made you terrified of hurting him; you had the feeling that the wrong words could crush him. There have been many fights between you during which both sides suffered heavily and could not get back together, mainly due to the neglect of health. The boy was overworking himself, so you intervened. Because the sudden overwhelm of all the emotions and stress would cut you off from him, he would frequently step in. But you, not being used to having someone else worry about you, would end up yelling and blaming him for your lack of personal comfort or boundaries, which was usually complete nonsense, because, in each of these moments, you need someone to hold you tightly in their arms and simply reassure you that everything would be okay.

“I know I could. But you were working, and I am aware of how important this album is. Besides, as you can see, we'll be able to meet, so I don't see a problem.” You mumbled because of the dizziness that forced you to grab the basket in front of you tighter. A sudden excess of overwhelming emotions and guilt, which your stupid head made even worse, made your body feel in danger, and cortisol levels in your body rose significantly in just a few minutes. Even though you talked to Jimin, who calmed your nerves, you were afraid it wouldn't be enough, and the panic attack would strike in seconds.

"Yeah, sweetheart, of course, we'll be able to meet, but you know, you can call me whenever you want, even without a particular reason; I love hearing your voice. And stop overthinking right now about me being worried; I know you're doing this, darling, and it's not good. I love you and I care about you; take a deep breath now because I can hear how hard your breath became.” And that was your Jimin, soft voice soothing you as always, the anchor was moored, and the excessive anxiety slowly disappeared. It's so good you had him.

“Thank you, Chim, and I'm sorry. Can we meet tonight? My shift ends at 7 p.m., so maybe at my place?" You asked with hope, but you were well aware that he was not going to refuse your invitation.

You immediately heard his light chuckle, which confirmed your words about the meeting. You talked for a while, agreeing on what to bring, and after a few minutes, you hung up to finish the tasks assigned to you in the store today, looking forward to seven o'clock.

A strong blast of wind hit your face when a few minutes past seven o'clock on your watch allowed you to let go of your workspace without further ado. You were tired enough, and the muscles in your shoulders were slowly starting to feel uncomfortable from carrying the boxes. With a quick step, you headed towards the apartment, and in your mind were only pleasant images where you cuddled worry-free into the arms of your boyfriend and no longer worried about the world around you.

However, halfway through, when the billboards above your head appeared in shimmering colors, repeatedly showing the face of your smiling boyfriend, your head began to go haywire. There was a slight dizziness and a sudden wave of guilt that you hated so much, but at the same time couldn't get rid of.

"Think of his fans. Think of him, Think of…" And here we go again, instead of focusing on yourself for once, you put the well-being of others above your own, and even the voices screaming in your head made tears glisten in your eyes and an unpleasant knot tighten in your throat.

Several hurrying people passing you impetuously hit your shoulder, making you lose your balance more than once, but still, by some sort of luck, you stay on your feet and take another step. Your breathing was becoming more shallow, and your attempts to catch gulps of air were coming out with great difficulty. Your hands were shaking, as you pulled out a phone from a pocket and tried to unlock the screen while staring at the smiling face pictured on your wallpaper, completely unfocused as you typed in the pin.

“13101995” you mumbled, trying, again and again, to do it right, hoping to not block your phone forever.

When you finally managed to unlock the phone and dial the right number, the sound of the dial tone only echoed in your head. But when your next three attempts to make the call ended without success, your head was flooded with another torrent of thoughts. "Stop being so damn pushy, enough already that he wants to meet you." You took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down, but another torrent of thoughts slid through your head "Just get a grip and go home, don't be naive that someone will come to your rescue".

A bucket of cold reality was poured over your head, and this was the time when your awareness returned, but was filled with tears. A few bricks were added to the wall that had been built, and the cement was being mixed up all over again. It was one of those moments when guilt stamped so much on your heart that you longed to cut yourself off completely. Your steps, still wobbly, sped towards the apartment, and even the heavy wind no longer bothered you. The only thing you would like to remove now is the uncontrollable tears streaming down your cheeks, blurring your vision the whole way. The lights of neon lights around you shimmered in your eyes, making you dizzy again. Oh, how much you hated living in the city center. How much have you longed for a small cottage on the outskirts, with easy access to nature and fresh air not filled with smog and polluted air…

Your phone had been ringing and ringing for several minutes while you were still moving along the sidewalks of Seoul to get to your place. And when you rushed into the apartment, the smell of soft vanilla and masculine perfume entered your nostrils, making tears stand in your eyes again.

“Oh my, tell me it's you. I've been sick worried.” familiar voice comes up to your ears, making you look up at the worried face of Jimin. When his eyes met yours, his face grew even sadder. The boy quickly came over to grasp your frosted cheeks in his hands, warming them with the gentle rubbing of his thumbs. Not a long moment passed when you felt his soft lips on yours, tasting the tomato sauce with which the corners of his mouth were covered as well as his cheeks here and there. “I am so so sorry I couldn't pick up the phone. It was connected to the charger in the bedroom, and we both know that the kitchen would be burned out if I left.” He looked at you, still rubbing your cheeks.

“It's fine Jimin.”

“It's not, my sweetest one, especially when you call me Jimin.” The boy grimaced slightly, but quickly returned to his smile, hoping you would forgive him for the missed calls.

As he stared deeply into your eyes, he noticed how they sparkled at the sight of his smiling face. Jimin was slowly filled with a warm feeling that made him embrace you even tighter as your hands gently tightened on his forearms to wrap around his waist in a moment and dip your head into his chest. It had been a while since you last met, so when your delicate floral perfume that he missed so much entered his nostrils, all the stress and anxiety that he hid exceptionally well finally began to float away. No matter how hard anyone tried, you were the only one who could bring him such strong comfort. You were his brightest light on the darkest days. Jimin couldn't even imagine himself without you beside him.

“I love you.” Your quiet voice, which was now even more muffled by how hard you pressed your head into his chest, reached Jimin's ears, giving him a new dose of pleasant butterflies.

"I love you too," he said, trying to hug you tighter, but you pushed him away gently to look into his eyes.

"But as much as I love you, I still wish I had my kitchen all safe and sound, and you - Park Jimin - are just burning probably my favorite pan." And a moment after your spoken words, the boy's eyes widened, and he disappeared into a nearby doorframe to eliminate the smell of burning meat and boiled sauce.

You took off your jacket bouncing your head not believing what just happened, and went to the kitchen looking at how the boy is fighting with the sauce, turning off the gas on the cooker. Coming up closer, your nose was filled with tomato aroma and a small hint of burning, that he tried to cover up - miserably. You let out a small chuckle and back hug the boy who after brimming over the dressing on the plates with pasta, started to scrape off dark trails of burning on the pan.

‘Leave it Minnie’ you mumbled into his tightened back, which almost immediately at the contact with your skin relaxed slightly.

‘But-’

‘Nah, don't stress over the dish. Are your hands okay?’ You stopped boy to take his slender fingers and watch them carefully, but he only took your cheeks and squished them adorably, and after leaving a few love-filled kisses on them he let you sit at the already-prepared table to taste his meal.

“I hope it will taste good, I tried my best watching Youtube tutorials.” He laughed taking the seat in front of you.

“Smells amazing” you smiled, couldn't really take your eyes off his soft, clean face.

“I know you can be kinda tired of Korean food so I wanted to make something more uh, yours.” he looked at the spaghetti hesitantly, but you only chuckled “But yeah, now eat up sweetheart.”

“I really appreciate it.” Your mouth was already watering just at the spreading smell, so when you finally tried the food after thanking the boy, you could feel heaven. Your stomach sang happily after not eating the whole day, the same as you, who not only could eat a portion of amazing food, but it was a dish prepared by your boyfriend with his whole heart.

‘It's so good! Damn, my Minnie is so good at everything.’ you said with a mouth fully filled only hearing how boys laughing and leaning over to clean the tomato sauce from your face with his fingertips.

“I'm glad my girl like it”

The rest of the evening was only you two, tangled together with some sort of blanket thrown over when you started complaining that you were cold. The K-dramas put on the TV playing in the background but the full attention was on your or his words. And it was always like that. After not seeing each other for long, even if you could talk about stuff on the phone, together sitting on the couch and talking about everything was your thing. And you loved it. How you couldn't run away from it and just stuck with him chatting till the morning sun welcome you two by the window.

“Namjoon Hyung helped me with that one, but I don't know. Sometimes, more than often, I think it's not enough,” you looked up from the sheet on which was the lyrics of one of the album songs with a raised eyebrow.

“And why my Minnie is again insecure about his hard work, hm? Baby, it's great, really I mean it.” you said quickly, reassuring boy he's doing a great job “‘Watch me go, Now, I sink down, all alone away, Where am I? A dark haze clouding up my eyes’. Can you sing this verse for me?” he did as you asked, and you were in heaven as his voice start to embarrassing you for even longer when he sang a whole song.

“Oh, it's gon' be a good night, Forever you and I” he sang again after a while, bumping your nose with a finger, and cuddling onto your side and the only thing you could do was leave a quiet chuckle and brush his hair softly.

“But why do some of the songs seem so, sad?”

“Sad? I think they kinda fun, with music presents better, I promise” he sends you a confused look, but quickly changes it into a smile.

“Yeah? Alone? Who are you trying to fool?” You said with tongue in cheek, while Jimin made a whining sound hiding his face in the crook of your neck wanting to hide from the world “I'm pretending to be okay every time. I'm so pathetic? Park Jimin?”

“I knew I shouldn't show it.” you slapped his arm lightly, making him look at you “Part of this lyric is old, how I felt without someone by my side, okay? Not all of this is…fresh,” he explained quickly, hoping this will resolve your doubts but you only send him another look, receiving another whine from his lips “I promise.”

“I'm just worried. I want you to know I'm always here for you, and you do not have to ‘Walk in your dark room alone, to say it was okay’ because sometimes we just do not have to be okay.” you said, brushing his hair again, knowing that it calms him down

“Fine, some of it was written when we were together. But only when I was far away from you, when you weren't there to remind me who I am,” you let out a deep breath and pressed your lips to his head, leaving a prolonged kiss on top of it.

“But I am here now. Not going anywhere,” you said, embracing his stronger inhaling his scent, being happy to have him by your side.

“I know. That's how I know it will be forever you and I. I am strong only thanks to you.” he said, sending you a smile and stilling a quick kiss from your lips

“No, no. You are strong by yourself, I'm just helping somehow with keeping it.”

“But you are the reason, so I am strong for you” he chuckled, melting your heart as he usually does.

And oh, if Jimin only knew how many times you wanted to give up, but his smiling face gave you the strength to stand up and fight again, being strong again. Your heart was so happy knowing that he is. That you are not so alone, because there is a person who understands you. Who loved you no matter how bad your condition could be…

Now lying together, your hands intertwined, and one of your hand still playing with his hair. The room is now quiet and you can hear only your heartbeat and his steady breath, knowing that he fell asleep in the crook of your neck but never letting go of your hand. He was always here to keep you safe. And he did it perfectly. With his body language, with his thoughts, with his voice.

Park Jimin was your refuge. The only place where you didn't have to be strong. The only place where you could drop your guard, and he'd hold you as tightly as he could, with a love you'd never experienced before. And you were grateful to have found arms in which to hide at your worst time.

#bts fluff #bts x reader #bts au #park jimin #jimin x y/n #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin fluff #jimin imagine #bts fanfic #jimin hurt/comfort

[dfroza]

‘And God, who can’t be fooled by any pretense on our part but always knows a person’s thoughts…’

Also, the sending of an ancient Letter with instructions to guard the morality of sex and marriage as the lifelong covenant made between husband & wife (the “marital bed” is pure just as virginity is pure, and sex between humans is only supposed to be shared in marriage)

this is sacred spiritual truth.

will you guard it in your heart?

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 15th chapter of the book of Acts:

It wasn’t long before some Jews showed up from Judea insisting that everyone be circumcised: “If you’re not circumcised in the Mosaic fashion, you can’t be saved.” Paul and Barnabas were up on their feet at once in fierce protest. The church decided to resolve the matter by sending Paul, Barnabas, and a few others to put it before the apostles and leaders in Jerusalem.

After they were sent off and on their way, they told everyone they met as they traveled through Phoenicia and Samaria about the breakthrough to the non-Jewish outsiders. Everyone who heard the news cheered—it was terrific news!

When they got to Jerusalem, Paul and Barnabas were graciously received by the whole church, including the apostles and leaders. They reported on their recent journey and how God had used them to open things up to the outsiders. Some Pharisees stood up to say their piece. They had become believers, but continued to hold to the hard party line of the Pharisees. “You have to circumcise the pagan converts,” they said. “You must make them keep the Law of Moses.”

The apostles and leaders called a special meeting to consider the matter. The arguments went on and on, back and forth, getting more and more heated. Then Peter took the floor: “Friends, you well know that from early on God made it quite plain that he wanted the pagans to hear the Message of this good news and embrace it—and not in any secondhand or roundabout way, but firsthand, straight from my mouth. And God, who can’t be fooled by any pretense on our part but always knows a person’s thoughts, gave them the Holy Spirit exactly as he gave him to us. He treated the outsiders exactly as he treated us, beginning at the very center of who they were and working from that center outward, cleaning up their lives as they trusted and believed him.

“So why are you now trying to out-god God, loading these new believers down with rules that crushed our ancestors and crushed us, too? Don’t we believe that we are saved because the Master Jesus amazingly and out of sheer generosity moved to save us just as he did those from beyond our nation? So what are we arguing about?”

There was dead silence. No one said a word. With the room quiet, Barnabas and Paul reported matter-of-factly on the miracles and wonders God had done among the other nations through their ministry. The silence deepened; you could hear a pin drop.

James broke the silence. “Friends, listen. Simeon has told us the story of how God at the very outset made sure that racial outsiders were included. This is in perfect agreement with the words of the prophets:

After this, I’m coming back;

I’ll rebuild David’s ruined house;

I’ll put all the pieces together again;

I’ll make it look like new

So outsiders who seek will find,

so they’ll have a place to come to,

All the pagan peoples

included in what I’m doing.

“God said it and now he’s doing it. It’s no afterthought; he’s always known he would do this.

“So here is my decision: We’re not going to unnecessarily burden non-Jewish people who turn to the Master. We’ll write them a letter and tell them, ‘Be careful to not get involved in activities connected with idols, to guard the morality of sex and marriage, to not serve food offensive to Jewish Christians—blood, for instance.’ This is basic wisdom from Moses, preached and honored for centuries now in city after city as we have met and kept the Sabbath.”

Everyone agreed: apostles, leaders, all the people. They picked Judas (nicknamed Barsabbas) and Silas—they both carried considerable weight in the church—and sent them to Antioch with Paul and Barnabas with this letter:

From the apostles and leaders, your friends, to our friends in Antioch, Syria, and Cilicia:

Hello!

We heard that some men from our church went to you and said things that confused and upset you. Mind you, they had no authority from us; we didn’t send them. We have agreed unanimously to pick representatives and send them to you with our good friends Barnabas and Paul. We picked men we knew you could trust, Judas and Silas—they’ve looked death in the face time and again for the sake of our Master Jesus Christ. We’ve sent them to confirm in a face-to-face meeting with you what we’ve written.

It seemed to the Holy Spirit and to us that you should not be saddled with any crushing burden, but be responsible only for these bare necessities: Be careful not to get involved in activities connected with idols; avoid serving food offensive to Jewish Christians (blood, for instance); and guard the morality of sex and marriage.

These guidelines are sufficient to keep relations congenial between us. And God be with you!

And so off they went to Antioch. On arrival, they gathered the church and read the letter. The people were greatly relieved and pleased. Judas and Silas, good preachers both of them, strengthened their new friends with many words of courage and hope. Then it was time to go home. They were sent off by their new friends with laughter and embraces all around to report back to those who had sent them.

Paul and Barnabas stayed on in Antioch, teaching and preaching the Word of God. But they weren’t alone. There were a number of teachers and preachers at that time in Antioch.

After a few days of this, Paul said to Barnabas, “Let’s go back and visit all our friends in each of the towns where we preached the Word of God. Let’s see how they’re doing.”

Barnabas wanted to take John along, the John nicknamed Mark. But Paul wouldn’t have him; he wasn’t about to take along a quitter who, as soon as the going got tough, had jumped ship on them in Pamphylia. Tempers flared, and they ended up going their separate ways: Barnabas took Mark and sailed for Cyprus; Paul chose Silas and, offered up by their friends to the grace of the Master, went to Syria and Cilicia to put grit in those congregations.

The Book of Acts, Chapter 15 (The Message)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 9th chapter of the book of 2nd Samuel where David stands on his promise to his beloved friend Jonathan:

David: Is anyone from Saul’s family still around that I could honor for the sake of my friend Jonathan?

One servant from Saul’s household, Ziba, was still alive, and they brought him to King David.

David: Are you Ziba?

Ziba: At your service, Majesty.

David: Is anyone from Saul’s family still alive to whom I could show the kindness of God?

Ziba: Jonathan has a son who is still alive; he is crippled, unable to use his feet.

David: Where is he?

Ziba: He lives with Machir, son of Ammiel, at Lo-debar.

David sent for Jonathan’s son Mephibosheth and had him brought to Jerusalem from the house of Machir, son of Ammiel, in Lo-debar. When he arrived, Mephibosheth, son of Jonathan, grandson of Saul, laid facedown on the floor and honored the king.

David: Mephibosheth!

Mephibosheth: At your service, my king.

David: There’s no need to be frightened. I intend to treat you kindly for the sake of your father, Jonathan, who was my loyal friend. I will return to you all the territory that belonged to your grandfather Saul, and you will always be welcome at my table.

Mephibosheth again prostrated himself before the king.

Mephibosheth: What am I to you that the king should look with favor on a dead dog like me? I am as one of your servants.

Then the king summoned Ziba, who had been Saul’s servant.

David: Everything that belonged to his grandfather Saul and his family I have returned to your master’s descendant. You, your sons, and your servants will work on his farms and bring in his produce, so that he and his household will have food. But Mephibosheth will always eat at my table.

Ziba had 15 sons and 20 servants.

Ziba: I am your servant, and you are my lord and king. Whatever you command I will do.

From then on, Mephibosheth ate at the king’s table as though he were one of David’s own sons. Mephibosheth had a young son, Mica; and all who lived in the house of Ziba became Mephibosheth’s servants and worked for him. Mephibosheth remained in Jerusalem, where he always ate at the king’s table. He was lame and could not walk on either foot.

The Book of 2nd Samuel, Chapter 9 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice:

David still remembers his deepest friendship. The loss of Jonathan haunts David, and he desires to show honor to the family of God’s anointed, Saul. David promised his friend Jonathan that if he ever became king, he would treat Jonathan and his descendants with kindness. Their friendship was important to David; and although he thinks all of Saul’s family has been destroyed, he wants to find out if somewhere there might be a relative of Jonathan whom he may honor in gratitude for all Jonathan did for him.

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Wednesday, november 16 of 2022 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about fear (reverence):

In the Torah we read: "And now, Israel, what does the LORD your God ask from you, but to fear the LORD your God, to walk in all his ways, to love him, to serve the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul" (Deut. 10:12). Notice that "fear of the LORD," or yirat Adonai (יִרְאַת יהוה), appears first in this list. The sages say that to fear the LORD means that your fear should be like God's fear. But what could God possibly fear, you ask? Only this: that you will turn away from his love and destroy yourself. To fear God means abhorring the sin that breaks the relationship He desires with you. That is the wound of God's heart, and that is what God "fears."

Of course there is also the fear of going to hell and suffering God’s judgment for sin, but that outcome is the result of that which God fears, namely, your rejection of his offer of grace and forgiveness given in Yeshua... Nonetheless, believers should also fear sinning against God since that makes a mockery of his love. Why? Because if God so hates sin that he suffered and died for you to be free from its power, what sort of insult is it to continue sinning without experiencing fear and trembling? Consider again the great cost of your salvation (1 Pet. 1:18-19). Yeshua was shamed as a criminal, cruelly beaten, mercilessly flogged, viciously lacerated, and died of asphyxiation upon a cross to intercede for your life and to present his blood as atonement for your sin. He didn't die like this so you could go on sinning with impunity, but to redeem your life from the verdict of the law and to restore your place as child of God. Willfully sinning shows contempt for the sacrifice of Messiah and outrages the spirit of grace: “Someone who rejected the law of Moses was put to death without mercy on the testimony of two or three witnesses. How much worse punishment, do you think, will be deserved by the one who has trampled underfoot the Son of God, and has profaned the blood of the covenant by which he was sanctified, and has outraged the Spirit of grace? For we know the one who said, "Vengeance is mine, I will repay," and again, "The Lord will judge his people." It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God" (Heb. 10:28-31).

But be encouraged. It is written that the fear of the LORD is "the beginning of wisdom (רֵאשִׁית חָכְמָה)," but it also the beginning of the experience of God’s love... Without the fear of the LORD, you will walk in darkness and be unable to turn away from evil (Psalm 111:10; Prov. 1:7; 9:10; 10:27; 14:27, 15:33; 16:6); you will find yourself alone, in a place of sadness and vexation, of despair and inner pain. The Spirit of God’s love plainly declares that "the fear of the LORD leads to life (יִרְאַת יְהוָה לְחַיִּים, lit. "is for life"), indicating that it is a healing passion: "The fear of the LORD is for life, and whoever has it will rest and not be visited with harm" (Prov. 19:23).

Some people tend to get this backwards, or they may underestimate the seriousness of the issue. The problem is not that people sometimes sin and therefore risk being sent to hell, but rather that people are incorrigible sinners that presently exist in state of hell... Human nature is incurably sick; the wound of our mortality is indeed fatal (Jer. 17:9; Mark 7:21-23). As Yeshua taught, the way out of bondage to sinful human nature is through the miracle of spiritual rebirth (John 3:3-8; 8:44). When we accept God's love we are delivered from the guilt that justly condemns our souls (Col. 1:13). As it is says "Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God" (John 3:18). In other words, unless you truly repent by accepting God’s love, you risk an eternally loveless existence... It must be remembered that God does not want any one to perish but for all to be in loving relationship with Him (2 Peter 3:9). "God our Savior desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth" (1 Tim. 2:4). However, “hell is a room locked from the inside,” and if you steadfastly refuse to be loved, God Himself will respect your decision...

All this resolves to a sober question about your spiritual identity... Do you believe you are a redeemed child of God? Are you spiritually reborn? Do you accept His love and deliverance, or do you make it conditional, based on your performance? This is not about mere ethics, friends - the world is filled with various kinds of ethical philosophy, after all. No, this is a question about ontology - about who you really are; it’s a question about what you are trusting, and it centers on the presence of the miracle within your heart.

We are saved by hope (Rom. 8:24). May you fall before the cross in fear of your sins, but may you be raised up by the reality of God's love for your soul... May you then walk in the awe of God's glorious mercy, "to love him, to serve the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul." Amen. [Hebrew for Christians]

========

Prov. 19:23 Hebrew read:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/prov19-23-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/prov19-23-lesson.pdf

And another about this week’s global reading of the Torah about finding a bride:

Though he is not explicitly named in the account, the "elder servant" commissioned to find a bride for Isaac was undoubtedly Eliezer of Damascus (see Gen. 15:2). Eliezer (אֱלִיעֶזֶר), whose name means “my God will help,” is regarded as a consummate example of a godly servant, a picture of the Holy Spirit (רוּחַ הַקּדֶשׁ) sent on a mission to find a bride for the Sacrificed Seed of Abraham (i.e., the Messiah Yeshua). Eliezer dutifully departs on his mission and waits by the “well of water,” interceding on behalf of righteousness... He asks for a witness from heaven: “Let the young woman to whom I shall say, 'Please let down your jar that I may drink,' and who shall say, 'Drink, and I will water your camels' -- let her be the one whom you have appointed” (Gen. 24:13-14). Rebekah’s response of kindness and generosity (i.e., chesed: חֶסֶד) to a tired wayfarer demonstrated God’s choice. Note that the test concerned the inward character of the woman, not her status or beauty or other worldly factors. And since a single camel needs about 25 gallons of water and requires 10 minutes to drink, watering ten camels would require 250 gallons and at least a couple hours of work running back and forth to the well - no small task for anyone! Rebekah possessed Abraham’s qualities of gracious hospitality and diligence...

Eliezer’s prayer to find a bride for Isaac (the very first recorded prayer of the Torah) did not appeal for a great miracle such as splitting the sea, but instead relied on the providential and “hidden hand” of God that governs the affairs of life (i.e., hashgachah pratit: הַשְׁגָּחָה פְּרָטִית). His prayer at the well relied on God to lead him to a chosen woman who, like his master Abraham, would extend compassion to a person in need (חֶסֶד). The Torah therefore reveals that far from being a coincidence or chance encounter, then, “before he had finished speaking, הִנֵּה רִבְקָה - behold Rebekah...” (Gen. 24:15). “Before they call I will answer; while they are still speaking I will hear” (Isa. 65:24).

Consider for a moment the great character of the woman God chose to be the bride for the Abraham’s promised heir... Rebekah was willing to leave her family - all that she knew - based on an “otherworldly” promise. Her response to the invitation was simply: אֵלֵךְ - “I will go” (Gen. 24:58). Her courageous willingness was likewise a characteristic of Abraham who was willing to leave his homeland in search of the greater things of God. Like Abraham, Rebekah chose to be ger ve’toshav (גֵּר־וְתוֹשָׁב) - a “stranger and a sojourner” - who left everything behind in order to become part of God’s chosen family... [Hebrew for Christians]

========

Prov. 31:10 reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/prov31-10-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/prov31-10-lesson.pdf

­11.15.22 • Facebook

from an email by Glenn Jackson

November 16th

* Integrity means a person is the same on the inside as he or she claims to be on the outside. He is the same person alone in a hotel room a thousand miles from home as he is at work or in his community or with his family. A man of integrity can be trusted.

...."Many a man/woman proclaims his/her own loyalty, but who can find a trustworthy man/woman?".... Proverbs 20:6 NASB

...."O Lord of hosts, how blessed [divinely empowered and prospered] is the man/woman who trusts in You!".... Psalms 84:10-12 NASB

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

November 16, 2022

Asking and Receiving

“For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.” (Matthew 7:8)

The tremendous resource of prayer is far too often neglected by far too many Christians. If nothing is standing between us and the Lord to keep us from asking effectively (sin, unbelief, selfish motives, etc.), then God has promised to act when we ask by giving us our request or something better. Note just a few of the many promises to those who ask:

“If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God...and it shall be given him” (James 1:5).

“Ask, and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full” (John 16:24).

“How much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?” (Luke 11:13).

“And whatsoever we ask, we receive of him, because we keep his commandments, and do those things that are pleasing in his sight” (1 John 3:22).

“And this is the confidence that we have in him, that, if we ask any thing according to his will, he heareth us: And if we know that he hear us, whatsoever we ask, we know that we have the petitions that we desired of him” (1 John 5:14-15).

“If ye shall ask any thing in my name, I will do it” (John 14:14).

“If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you” (John 15:7).

Obviously, there are conditions. These marvelous promises assume that those who ask are abiding in His commandments, truly desiring His will, having His priorities, thinking His thoughts, and are asking in faith and in His name. HMM

[lovesanmotion]

Hi, can I please request an Ateez reacts to you trying to break up with them because you found out you were pregnant and didn't want to get in the way of their career. / Sacred of the fandom as your relationship wasn't public.

Thanks

ateez reacts: breaking up while you carry your child

💌 This is: Requested

taglist: @yunhobabygurl @atiny-chocolate-chip @minhyukmyluv @yunhoandonly

Hongjoong:

He doesn't understand why you were breaking up with him all of a sudden. Last night, you said you love him. And now you want to say goodbye? Nothing was making sense to Hongjoong that he stopped working on whatever he has on his plate to talk to you. He didn't wanted to lose you, not when the thoughts of marriage have been floating in his mind now.

Seonghwa:

Seonghwa is someone who likes to be clean and wants his surroundings to be spotless perfect. So when he sees in the trashcan a stick test, he would immediately come to you and ask you about it. Confirming that you are carrying his child, it is a sin in an Asian household to have a child out of wedlock. And so with that, Seonghwa would ask you to marry him. You carrying his child and preparations of marriage in place, Seonghwa would only let the closest people know about it first; the members and yours and his family. It would take him some time to write a handwritten letter to the fandom - stating how the person he loves the most is carrying his baby and at the same time, promised her marriage.

Yunho:

Would be so devastated that you broke up with him. He would try to think what went wrong in the relationship. Was it because he always came home late? Complained how you're becoming like his mother? Yunho would try to think of ways on how to get you back, and it would shock him to come face to face with you and your protruding belly. Shocked and hurt by the sudden revelation, Yunho would beg you to take him back.

Yeosang:

You'd think that Yeosang doesn't care about you anymore but in reality, he cares so much about you. And he would be so mad that you tried to get his child away from him. But as soon as he hears your side and how you're scared that you would be harrassed by the public, Yeosang would assure you that if they truly like him, then they would support him in his new endeavour in life. That he wouldn't forever be an idol that dances and sings on stages and that someday, life will catch up with him.

San:

He'd take the matters in his own hands and slowly reveal to the fans how he's dating someone, how when he would go shopping with the members he would be in awe when looking at the baby items and sing love songs that are particularly about you out of nowhere. Just like Seonghwa, San would take some time before he would drop the news to the fans and asks them to keep an open mind about it.

Mingi:

Mingi is someone who is utterly clueless until you tell him face to face. And when he finds out that broke up with him because you're scared that you aren't public and how you're already carrying his first child, Mingi would slightly get mad because you thought of what people would think before you could even think of him and how you tried to put distance between him and his child.

Wooyoung:

He'd feel so sad and broken that you would break up with him. But for Wooyoung, everything was fairly going well in your relationship, but what changed your mind? He wouldn't buy the reasons like you grew tired of him, you want to focus on something or you think you don't see a future with him. Wooyoung wouldn't stop pestering you about the real reason why.

Jongho:

Would be really cautious about how he would handle this matter. First, he would try to talk about the management how to handle about this case and when he gets the permission to go public, Jongho will go public with you but wouldn't reveal any further information about you except the fact that you are a non showbiz person and has been dating him for years already. Slowly and surely, Jongho would reveal one by one how he's marrying you and already carrying a new addition to his family.

#ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez seonghwa #ateez x reader #ateez jongho #ateez fanfic #ateez san #ateez yunho #ateez mingi #ateez fluff #ateez hongjoong #ateez wooyoung #ateez scenarios #ateez yeosang #ateez reactions #ateez x oc #ateez x you #ateez x y/n #ateez x female reader #park seonghwa #choi jongho #choi san #jeong yunho #song mingi #kim hongjoong #jung wooyoung #kang yeosang #ateez angst #ateez ff #ateez

[joyfulhopelox]

Rosy Carnation

Pairing: painter!Min Yoongi x skater!reader (non-idol! au)

Genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst

Warnings: some talk about social anxiety, Yoongi is a bit harsh in the beginning but rest is just pure fluff

Word count: 6k

rating: pg

Summary: There was nothing in this world that Yoongi hated more than busybodies. Unfortunately for him one particular ditzy skater decides to break the peace by crashing into his life and offering him a rosy carnation

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner (thank you @mochi-molala for giving me the artistic approval for this think you didn’t realise how much it helped)

This is part 3 of my Love Blossom series and quite unedited, i tried but some mistakes may have escaped my notice

As always please leave feedback and/or talk to me as i love to hear from you! Enjoy <3

There was nothing more peaceful than being able to sit by the river in the early hours of the morning. Every day without fail, Yoongi would take advantage of the sleeping city and set camp by the riverside situated just on the outskirts.

The place was far from being secluded, its location sign-posted by the popular park that housed it. But he knew that during those hours no one bothered to visit, everyone was busy with their office jobs. It wasn’t that he was unemployed, it just so happened that his job allowed him to work from wherever and at whatever time. In fact, the more scenic the location the better for him. As a painter he had the freedom to choose his office, and his most prefered location happened to be by the riverside. The stillness of the morning, the sun just about to peek out from under the city skyline and the sound of the birds conversing amongst each other relaxed him. And if there was one thing that permitted Yoongi to paint without restrictions, was the tranquility of everything around him.

His normal spot, under a beech tree, was rarely used, the pathway that passed by it not being used by the general population. Sometimes he would spot the occasional cyclist passing by on their way to work, sometimes he would hear the scraping of the skateboards doing tricks in the skate park located behind the wall of trees that surrounded him. But no one ever bothered him, or was bothered by him. And it suited him and his needs just fine.

Yoongi disliked it when his flow was interrupted. Luckily for him, it rarely happened. No one threw him more than a glance as no one found the scene to be out of place. Sometimes he would be pulled out of his thoughts by the yap of a dog that got too excited at the prospect of a new human. Other times he would be questioned by the curious child that has never seen a painter at work. Those did not inconvenience him, the innocence and sincerity of the interference was enough to not disturb him.

However, what he miscalculated that day was the early start of the fishing season. One bad trait of being a painter working under your own schedule was losing track of time. And so when that one morning he trudged along with his canvas and his tools to his sacred spot only to find it occupied by fishermen he almost had a panic attack. He forgot all about that, and so unprepared, he did not know what to do or where to relocate. Pausing for a couple of minutes, his eyes scrutinising the men sitting on the riverbank in complete stillness, he contemplated on setting up his stool next to them. But when one of them yelled in glee at having caught a fish, he decided he’d rather not. Fishermen needed to be still because of the nature of their activity, that did not mean they were quiet people overall.

Disappointed and a bit frazzled, Yoongi picked up his canvas from where he set it next to his foot and left the area to scout for a substitute.

After what felt like a good few minutes of walking in circles, he found himself passing by a small public garden right in the middle of the greenery encompassing the riverside. He inspected it quietly, his eyes taking in the flower arrangements and the neatly cut grass. Has that always been there? Probably, it is not like he ventured out of his safe spot. But now, when forced to he realised that maybe there were other places where he could sit and paint in peace. Determinately, he walked into the small gated garden familiarising himself with the layout. There were some benches strewn across the space, all of them framed by vibrant rose bushes, some young oak trees judging by their height but what caught his eye most importantly was the small gazebo tucked away at the back of the garden gated by rows of variously coloured carnations. He decided that it would be the perfect spot, it would have to do for now. Not like he had any other choice. The morning was almost gone, the heat of the midday sun bleeding its way into the breeze. Soon the park will get busier and busier.

Dumping his belongings on the ground he sets off to unpack everything so he could get started. He felt strangely excited about this new spot he had found. Somehow, the novelty of the environment has given him the inspiration that he needed for today’s session. He normally shied away from new experiences, new people and most importantly unexpected circumstances, but this circumstance was more than welcome.

As he sat on his stool, paint brush in hand, the blank canvas staring at him, daring him to fill it with his vision he bit his lip. Suddenly so many ideas zoomed through his mind that he had a hard time deciphering which one sounded the best.

However, none of them made it on the actual canvas.

A skateboard zoomed straight past his feet,out of control, knocking into his carefully placed tools; acrylics and brushes scattered all over the ground in various corners of the gazebo. An exasperated yell and some harsh pants followed said abomination. Yoongi, who was too stunned to even form a sentence or comprehend what was happening around him, stared as you ran towards him at full speed.

“I’m so sorry, sorry sorry sorry” you repeated zooming towards him at breakneck speed. Still in shock Yoongi still couldn’t process what was happening around him. You were going to barrel straight into him but all he could do was blink, his brain still trying to catch up with the situation. One moment you were running towards the skateboard and the next moment found you laying sprawled at his feet.

“Ouch” Yoongi blinked once, twice, three times, and reality finally caught up with him.

He stared at the mess around him. His canvas was lying on the ground a few good feet away from him, its white clean surface now completely smudged with dirt and his acrylics and brushes were all scattered at his feet. The sight of his paints not only disorganised in such a fashion but also crushed and spilled all over the ground caused his stomach to drop. They were not the cheapest and they were also the only ones he had left. It was clear there was nothing to salvage, he had to go once more to the art store and buy more.

“Ohmygod i am so sorry!” The frantic voice was loud enough to make Yoongi wince.

You were not having a good day, and it showed. You started the morning by burning your toast. Then you forgot to grab your keys, which resulted in you having to beg your landlord for the spare in the early hours of the morning. To say they were not pleased was an understatement. You spilled coffee on your white top on your way to the park. And to top it all off you ended up hurtling towards an extremely handsome man.

You decided in the morning that you would try to learn that late kickflip your friends have been trying to teach you, but as a new skater you decided to practice in the garden just off the side of the skate park. One foot placement went wrong and your skate ran from under your feet flying towards the unsuspecting victim.

Luckily it did not hit him, however it scattered all of his belongings all over the dirty ground. It felt as if you were watching all of that happen in slow motion, when in reality it probably only took you a second to react. Trying to help and get a hold of your skate, you rushed to catch it in time before it disappeared into the row of carnations. But you miscalculated entirely the distance between you and the stranger, his foot halting your run.

And that is how you ended up there, on the floor, at his feet, covered in his paints.

You sprung up as fast as you could ignoring the tingling in your leg and started apologising profusely. However, the harshness at which you crashed on the floor combined with the speed at which you got up were a fatal combination. The blood rushed to your feet quicker than you could process and your knees gave out from under you. In an attempt to not crash onto the floor again you grabbed onto the closest stable object you could. Only, it happened to not be an object but a person. So with a clammy hand you latched onto the man in front of you.

Yoongi did not know what to do. You had grabbed onto him with such conviction that his brain malfunctioned. He hated to be touched, especially by strangers. And so when the fight or flight instinct kicked in he shrugged you off violently causing you to crumple on the floor once again.

“Ouch.” Your butt hurt and you wanted to be annoyed at him, but when you looked up to let your feelings known and your eyes locked onto his panicked ones, you paused. He looked ready to run off on you. “I- uh, am sorry” You tried once more to get up, this time as slowly as you could. You knew there would be a bruise later but it was not something you were unfamiliar with.

Yoongi did not respond to you. He couldn’t, his brain was still ready to shut down. He normally ran away from any human interaction, the nature of his job enough to facilitate such behaviour. Being faced with it and in such an unexpected way caused his anxiety to be at an all time high. And so he did what he normally does best; he retreated within himself completely ignoring your apology.

Silently he stepped away from you and crouched down to start picking up his belongings. With an anguished sigh he took in the mess that his acrylics had become. It was going to cost him a lot to be able to replace them but what other choice did he have?

Taking his silence as a sign of anger, you panicked. If there was one thing you could not stand was to see someone angry. Especially when it was directed at you. In an attempt to amend yourself to him you crouched down next to him and started picking up his stuff. “I am really sorry. I didn't mean to. It was just a new trick that i wanted to learn, and i am a newbie at all this and so i was scared to go to the skate park and try them. And I am a clutz and I knew this was going to happen at some point! The day has already started on such a bad note-”

You knew you were rambling, you were nervous. But Yoongi did not care about that. He just wanted you gone. He wanted his peace back, he wanted to get his work done and retreat back to his home and most importantly, he wanted you to get your hands off of his possessions.

Without looking at you, he harshly grabbed for the brushes that you had gathered in your hand. “Leave” he surprised himself at how resolute he managed to sound despite the slight waver in his voice.

“Are you angry? Oh my god you are! I am so sorry again, let me make it up to you! I really did not mean to destroy your work!” you get up once more rushing towards the canvas that lay a few feet away from the two of you. Picking it up you stare at the blank piece of material.

“Oh, are you an artist?” you turn to him, your eyes sparkling with excitement. Completely forgetting the incident from earlier you giddily walk over, the canvas extended towards him.

Yoongi could not believe his eyes, your brash behaviour in front of a complete stranger that has made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you was baffling to him. He contemplated for a second the thought of you being deaf, but then no because you had clearly heard him the first time. His anxiety quickly morphed into annoyance, if you weren’t going to leave he decided he would.

Taking a hold of the canvas you were handing over to him he pulled it out of your hands and stuffed it under his arm. Crouching down again he hurriedly stuffs his brushes and acrylics in his bag. He wanted to get out of there as quickly as he could before you had the chance to touch any of his belongings again.

“Hey, i-uh. Please don’t be angry. I really am sorry. Look you don’t have to leave, i will go” Yoongi paused, his hand hovering above his palette. Chancing a glance at you, his eyes widened a fraction. You looked completely frazzled. Not even looking at him, your eyes focused on your fretting hands. He could just about see a snippet of your face and the way your bottom lip was trembling slightly made his anger melt a little. Maybe he has been a bit too harsh on you.

“Yes” he offers offhandedly whilst placing his canvas back to where it was before.

At his change in tone your head snaps up and you gape at him. “What?” you breathe out in surprise. His soft but deep voice took you by surprise. It was extremely smooth and you had not expected it to come out of his mouth.

He did not offer you anything else, leaving you gawking at him, watching as he set up his canvas onto the easel. You were silent for a couple of minutes trying to understand what he had meant when it finally hit you.

“Ah! You are an artist! That is amazing, what type of paintings do you do? Is it nature?” you clapped your hands excitedly. “Of course it is nature Y/N, he is in the middle of the gazebo how dumb can you be” you muttered to yourself whilst shaking your head.

Yoongi glanced at you from his periphery. He wasn’t feeling as threatened by your presence as he had before, but that did not mean he was comfortable with you being there. He observed you for a couple of seconds watching as you muttered to yourself for the time being. He took it as a chance to set his palette down and tried to squeeze whatever was left of his acrylics onto it.

You realised a bit too late that you had started daydreaming whilst muttering to yourself and so with rosy cheeks you mutter another apology.

“You apologise too much.” Yoongi did not know where his courage had come from but he couldn’t stop the words spilling from his mouth. “I asked you to leave.” His harsh words caused you to flinch, but your eagerness to see him paint rooted you on the spot.

“Is-uh,” you took a deep breath in trying to calm your beating heart, “is it ok if i stay here and watch you?” You cringed at how voyeuristic that sounded. But you had to admit to yourself, the honey haired guy, with soft plump cheeks and pouty lips has caught your interest and you were not ready to part with him just yet.

Yoongi didn’t respond, he’s made it clear he wanted you gone, but he finally understood that the clumsy human that managed to wreck his set up was a stubborn one. He chose instead to ignore your presence and settle on his painting, giving you unspoken permission to do as you pleased.

Catching onto the meaning of his silence you beamed and sat yourself down.

Trying your hardest to be silent you bit your lip. You knew he wouldn’t appreciate you disturbing him any longer. Soon enough, you slipped into a daydream your eyes focused on the flowers behind the hunched form of the intriguing artist.

Yoongi sighed in satisfaction, his painting was finally finished. He had opted to use greens this time, the nature around him inspiring the concept behind this. However, he could not help but add the dots of red here and there, its fiery tumultuous colour breaking the tranquility of the greens. Just like you had thundered into his life just earlier.

“Woah” broken out of the daydream by the sound of his sigh, your eyes focused on the painting before you. You knew you were easily impressed but this painting was stunning. “That is so cool” you whispered in awe.

Yoongi blushed, he had been complimented a lot on his work, but there was something about the sincerity shining through your statement that frazzled him. He nodded in acknowledgment. He had enough knowledge to be aware that he needed to thank you for the compliment.

“Oh!” you sprung up suddenly the transition making him jump. “I am late!” You quickly picked up your skateboard. “Ah,” stopping mid run you turn back. Rushing to the bushes of carnations you pick one up. With confident stride you head back.

Yoongi watched you, once again his mind completely discombobulated by your abruptness. When you halt in front of him and push the flower into his hands he doesn’t know how to react. Instead he just sits there waiting for your next move, his mind once again preparing him to flee.

“It was nice meeting you….uh?” You realised you did not ask for his name, so as you urge the flower into his grasp you wait patiently for him to offer it to you. When after a minute of silence he doesn’t you try again. “What is your name?”

“So can you like...teach me how to paint?” you eyes brightened at the thought.

“What?” Yoongi sputtered. A week has passed since the first time you decided to literally crash into his life. A week of your mindless chatter. Even so, he had tried his best to ignore you and your childish view of the world. He was ignoring you, but it was not like he couldn’t hear you.

He was not expecting that request, and yet, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him. Your randomness and innocence has been taking his breath away from the moment he saw you. You were all over the place, clumsy and random. He did not want to sit and ponder at that thought, feeling the shiver of anxiety creep back in. Schooling his expression to a neutral one he shook his head and went back to his canvas.

“No” the harsh tone of his voice made you flinch.

Not noticing the effect his words had on you he carried on, “You’d do a very poor job of it, and it hurts to think you’d waste all this material for some doodles.” Not giving you a chance to respond he sighed and put his brush down. “Finally finished.” He sat and observed his work for a couple of moments. He was satisfied, it was not his best work but he liked the outcome. The blue colour scheme gave him a sense of peace.

Realising the silence had gone on too long he turned around to face you. You were unnaturally quiet, your face scrunched up as if in deep thought. He would have thought you’d gone into one of your daydreams if not for the shiny gloss in your eyes. He could not understand why his heart did that flip, or why his mouth formed into a frown mirroring your own. Had he said something wrong? Mulling over his words he decided that maybe his tone was too harsh but you spoke up before he could try to remedy it.

“Ah, i see, you are right” you sniffed trying to mask the tears in your voice. “I am quite clumsy, there is no way i can make something as beautiful as this.” You gesture to his work, the canvas a swirl of blues, it reminded you of the ocean. You did not know why his words stung, it’s not like he didn’t have a point. You were probably incapable of creating something like that. Stick figures were all you could draw, and even those tended to be lopsided.

Yoongi’s heart clenched. “Uhh-” he did not know what to say, it wasn’t as if he could take it back. He did not want to take it back, he wasn’t a liar. But maybe he could have turned you down a bit softer than he has. He may have been awkward in social situations and missed a lot of cues, but the tears gathered in your eyes were hard to miss. Even he could sense the sadness that overpowered the atmosphere.

“It’s ok, i need to, uh go. I’ll see you next time. Here” you quickly drop something next to his brushes and without a second thought you turn away from him and leave as quickly as you’d arrived.

With your back turned towards him, your feet taking you further and further away you could finally release the sob that has been threatening to surface.His words hurt. But you were well aware it was not the words that caused the tear in your heart. It was the unfeeling and harsh way he threw them at you. You contemplated whether or not you should chance a glance behind you, but decided against it. You did not think you could stand the sight of him stepping on the last bit of dignity you had. A rosy carnation.

Yoongi knew he usually missed a lot of social cues. For example when the curator asked him out for a coffee and he told them he stopped drinking caffeine because it caused insomnia. Or when the gallery director had wanted to shake his hand in greeting and he simply just stared at it. It wasn’t as if he was unfamiliar with them, it was just that it took him a lot longer to process these cues than the average human being.

When you’d left him the carnation he simply threw a glance at it but did not give it a second thought as he carried on painting. He almost left it there when he packed up his tools- almost stepping on it. He saw it just in time, the rosy colour attracting his attention. He bent down and picked it up gently; the flower was almost wilted from the heat. Prepared to throw it away he thought of you and stopped. The sight of your flushed cheeks, your distressed eyes and the gleam of your tears weighing heavily on his mind. With a sigh he cradled the flower in his palm, he would put it in between the pages of a book and press it dry.

Yoongi had no clue why he kept visiting the gazebo to work on his paintings. His previous spot so rarely visited that he’s almost forgotten where it was. He tried to convince himself it was because fishing season has not ended and so he would have been bothered by the men setting up around him. He tried not to think of the fact that the thought of not having your voice there, or the noises of the skateboard you practiced with caused him distress. He told himself it was because after a month of having you there with him, you became part of his routine. Like the background noise of a radio in the morning.

He could not pinpoint when your mindless chatter and pleas to ask him to teach you how to paint had become comforting to him. Even at home when he would try to read, he would pick up a book and open it only to come across a rosy carnation drying in between its pages.

You had made it a habit to leave him a flower every time you came to see him. He did not ponder too long as to why, but he’s kept them all. He did not want to ponder too long on that thought either. So he ignored it, but deep down he knew why.

Your eagerness, your clumsiness, your childish view of the world were enough to melt the wall he has built around himself. Somehow, you chipped at that wall with determination just like you did on the first day you met. Ungraceful and uncoordinated.

He knew you’d wormed your way into his soul and just like the flowers he kept pressing for safekeeping, he’s ingrained the memory of you into his brain.

When you’d started to ask more personal questions he found himself answering without a second thought.

“So, uh, have you always wanted to be a painter?” You were sat next to him tinkering with the wheels of your skateboard, from time to time getting distracted at the way his long fingers were clutching the brush. You blushed, thankful he was distracted by his work.

“No,” Yoongi paused to bend down and pick his palette and you thought that was the extent of the information he was willing to provide. “My parents wanted me to be a lawyer.” With a new colour on his brush he squinted focusing on getting the lines just right, the tip of his tongue sticking out slightly in concentration.

The silence that ensued settled heavily around the two of you. “Oh,” your voice did not sound too surprised. Yoongi glanced at you, you were gazing at him with such understanding that he found it hard to tear his gaze away. “Are they happy you chose to do what you love instead?” You carried on, trying out your luck.

Yoongi looked away from you, he couldn’t say what he wanted to say whilst your eyes were digging deep into his soul. “I wouldn’t know.” He shrugged as if to make a point. “I left home to move here and haven’t spoken to them since.”

The words, heavy as lead, echoed in your brain. But they were not unfamiliar. “I am sure they would want to talk to you. My parents died when i was young and i was raised by my grandparents.” Your voice sounded casual, but the slight change of tone made Yoongi raise his eyes to look at you. You were smiling at him, your face not giving away any of the pain you were feeling inside.

Yoongi may have been socially anxious, but he was observant, he couldn’t help it, it was the nature of his job. His eyes picked up on the way your chin trembled and his ears caught the slight waver in your voice. He didn’t know how it happened until he felt the corners of his mouth raising up. And with an uncertain smile in your direction, he managed to erase the sadness that clouded over your face.

“Pick up that brush” his tone softer than you have ever heard it.

“Huh?” You didn’t know where the change in tone had come from, but it managed to take you by surprise.

“Pick up the brush,” he repeated his head nodding in the direction of said tools. “And come here.” He stood up from his stool gently grabbing your wrist and pulling you up. The contact of his cold hands on your warm ones made you shiver, but in the heat of the summer it felt comforting. You savoured the way his gentle hands pulled you into the chair and handed you the brush he had been holding. Softly he guided your hand onto the canvas and your breath stopped.

His hands, the hands you had been observing ever since you met him, were smooth. His long slender fingers imprinting themselves onto the back of your hand. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from the way the pale skin of his slender wrist peeked from under the long sleeve he was wearing. The skin on the inside of his wrist almost translucent enough to allow his veins to show.

“Like this” he steered the brush onto the canvas, his voice so close to your ear it made you your heart skip a beat. When the bristles made contact with the material of the canvas leaving the mark of the acrylic on it, you knew. Just like the doodle he’s made, his mark on your heart would be permanent.

Yoongi didn’t know when he started craving your touch. It just happened. He carried on giving you lessons, finding it ironic how adamant he was at the beginning to refuse you. Little by little he started looking forward to his morning ritual of setting up in the garden, your clumsy self stumbling in the gazebo just as he was about to set his easel down. He would not even sit himself first, he would grab your hand allowing himself to revel in the way your smaller rough hand would fit into his larger one and sit you on the stool. Handing you the brushes he would sit next to your skateboard and watch as you tried to create something on the canvas, your brows furrowed in concentration.

How ironic that you would switch places. He would sit for a couple of hours watching your uncertain movements and listen to the small sounds of glee when you’d manage to get the brush to do what you wanted it to. His heart would pound in his chest when your tongue would flit across your lips subconsciously and the small smile gracing his lips would be a permanent fixture on his face. He did not care that he hasn’t painted in a few weeks. He was more than satisfied watching you.

When your painting session would end you’d end up talking for hours under the shade of the gazebo, the smell of flowers wafting all around you.

And you would always leave with lighter hears and the crinkle of a smile indented in the corner of your eyes and him with a rosy carnation cradled to his chest waiting to join the rest of the others.

When one morning you didn’t arrive at your usual time under the gazebo Yoongi noticed. He decided to wait for you for hours, but when the sun bled under the city skyline and the night settled in he decided it was time to go home. With a heavy heart and an empty hand he returned home hoping that the next day you would arrive and tell him about your day.

But one day turned into two, which turned into a week, which then turned into two- and before he knew it a whole month had passed.

In the beginning Yoongi would wait for you patiently, hoping that he would hear your yelps or even your greeting from afar. When that did not happen, he decided he would use that time to continue painting, maybe you’d arrive halfway through and ask him about it. When that didn’t happen either he noticed that instead of a smile on his face he now wore a frown.

After a whole month of not seeing you he became numb to the feeling. He decided that he would not let his mind ponder too much on your absence. But he could not completely block the way his thoughts would return back to you, and he could not help the wistful gaze he would throw the carnations around the gazebo.

As the months of summer wilted into the chill of autumn, the day he decided to stop waiting for you was the day you once again stumbled into him.

Running as fast as your leg permitted you halted a meter away from him, your breath coming out in harsh pants. Yoongi faltered, the grasp he had on his brush slackening, the tool clattering to the ground. He didn’t say anything, he couldn’t. Instead his eyes took in the way your form trembled with exhaustion, stopping at the wrapped up parcel you had under your arm.

“I am so so so sorry” you rasped, the effort causing you to cough. Looking up at him, your gaze met his dark one. He did not look upset, or even disinterested. He looked concerned, then you realised the state you came to see him in.

Yoongi took notice immediately at the lack of skateboard, this time replaced by a crutch. The way you were favouring one leg over the other concerned him. Had you been in an accident?

“I am so sorry,” you repeated, taking him back to the first moment he’s met you. Your clumsy self apologising incessantly and rambling in nervousness. “I fell one day whilst on the way here, and i broke my leg. I did not mean to stop showing up i promise! I had wanted to come see you as soon as i left the doctor’s office but the injury was worse than i could have suspected and- and” your voice wavered, trembling in exhaustion, still not having caught your breath.

Yoongi got up without a word, his silent form approaching yours. When only a few inches were left between the two of you he places both of his hands on your shoulders halting your apology. Looking up at him your gaze softens, his eyes were glossy but his mouth curled up in a smile.

“You’re ok” he repeated over and over as if to reassure himself. Your eyes now mirroring his own watery ones you nod.

In a flash he hugs you tightly, your crutch clattering to the ground and the parcel under the other arm making a dull thud as it hit the dirty floor. You gasped in surprise, your arms not knowing where to settle themselves. After a couple of seconds your brain catches up and relaxes and you melt into his hug. Despite his hands being always cold, his hug is warm and inviting.

You think back to the first time you met, how his cold words told you to leave him be. The drastic change in his attitude and demeanour make you smile softly. You burrowed your head in his shoulder inhaling his scent. He smelt of oils and acetone with an undertone of something floral, and you gasp. Carnations.

As if remembering something important you pulled yourself away from his touch, the cold autumn air making you shiver at the loss of contact.

Yoongi is confused for a moment, his eyes widening in panic. Has he made the wrong move? Has he read your intentions wrong? His heart clenches at the thought of you not returning the feelings that bloomed in his chest. But when you offer him a reassuring smile and bend down, grabbing onto his arm for support his emotions settle.

“This is for you” your hands were shaking. Handing over the mysterious parcel, you waited patiently for him to take it.

He glances at it uncertainly, but when you push it towards him his hand wraps around it. With as much skill as he could he opened it with one hand. Tearing the paper away he gasped. The corner of a canvas is sticking through the whole.

Looking at you in surprise your nervous eyes urge him to carry on. So he does.

The paper now completely teared open, his eyes settle onto a familiar flower painted onto the canvas. A carnation.

You watched him open your gift. You had tried your hardest during the time you were stuck at home with a cast on to practice and after weeks of painful frustrated tears, you’d finally managed to get it right. You had wanted to convey your feelings in a way that he would understand without feeling the pressure to conform to societal norms. To show him how much his effort to accommodate you and include you in his secluded life meant to you.

“Did you know,” you were whispering, “that rosy carnations mean admiration?”

Yoongi finally got it, realisation dawning over his features. He looked up at you, overwhelmed by the emotions flooding his chest. You were still smiling at him a tear now running down your cheek. “I wanted to convey my admiration for you in a way that would be permanent.” The hand on his arm tightened as if you make a point. “So i tried my best to do that.”

Yoongi smiled, not the uncertain smile you were used to, a full smile, the gums of his teeth showing, his features softening.

“A painting is not eternal, but with the artist the painting it over and over again it can be.” His free hand cups your cheek gently. “So stay with me.”

Main Masterlist

#yoongi #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #min yoongi #btshoneyhive #btsgoldnet #suga fic #yoongi fic #suga x reader #yoongi x reader #s: love blossom #angst #fluff #matsterlist #bts min yoongi #bts suga

[monsoonblooms12]

Priyotomo (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Summary: The Last Day at Amazon and Ethan's first day back at Boston from Ethan and Pooja's POV

Priyotom(o/a): (Bengali) Dearest, Most Beloved

A/N: Time for another hopeless attempt at poetry!! Anyway, this is my take on Dr Ethan Ramsey running to the Amazons. I really hope that this is not absolute crap and makes so sense🧡

Thank you so much to Simone for Pre-reading! Love you Gurl🧡

If you enjoyed the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going🤎

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 1.8K

Rating: General

Category: Angst

Warnings: (Very Brief) Mentions of blood, fainting and drinking

Title Inspo: Priyotomo Hai - Rabindra Sangeet (Rabindranath Tagore's composition)

OTHER WORKS

Pooja

16 years.

The date was displayed with vivid eloquence by the woody beige cubes that adorned the desk, posing a match with the minimalism of the room.

It was a preposterous fact.

Glassy ambers switched perspective in a progressive motion, and they interpreted the solitary shine of the table lamp on the transparent surface.

Four glowing smiles, two tiny toddlers sat on their parents' lap.

It does not feel surreal. Neither a tale of a bygone era.

It was not her past. It was her present, her life's gears were turned by this very photograph.

Her bracelet adorned hand held it close to her heart, which beat in a meteoric rhythm.

The cacophonous tunes from the fiesta painfully pierced through her reverie, cajoling her to close the mahogany doors that lead to her cocoon.

The flamboyant kantha stitched lehenga proved to be burdensome to carry.

With ponderous steps, Pooja settled down on the couch, pulling her feet to herself.

She wanted to be ten again. Not eleven.

Terminate the time when she could be that blithe girl, rolling dices with her mother.

But there was a specific reason why the reminisces came back stronger than any usual day.

Somewhere in the remote land, in a cholera-stricken district, a summery blue-eyed man spent his days in seclusion.

And occupied the chambers of her cerebral hemispheres.

What was the pain of being left alone with only emotions as a companion without as much as a message?

She wiped her cheek, only to discover the black of her eyeliner now adorning her fingers.

She had been crying.

When? She could not feel the tears that left smokey meanders on the map of her face.

The heartbreak and the circumstances had numbed her feelings. All she wanted was an embrace.

Why did his peach lips mark her as his if this was the end in sight?

She refused to accept it. The end.

She placed her foot down, not feeling the pierce of a pin fallen down against her skin.

Drops of scarlet marked her track as she retouched the smear of her face.

Time to go and socialize.

Ethan

Of everything to look at in the shiny cellular, his eyes now traced the pristine form of the lady who now inhabited every one of his senses.

The comely picture made her look ravishing and the adamant neurons started pulling out manila folders with her memories kept in them.

No. He cannot.

The fiery golden liquid disappeared faster than it had been poured.

He had found himself on the crossroad of whether to type out the words that played in a loop in his mind or not.

I miss you!

He always chose the latter.

He had already given her a false hope.

Of a future of them.

He did not want to do it again.

Only now he realizes that it was a hope he had given himself as well when he first took that sacred form of hers into his arms.

And that he ran away. Like a coward.

Ethan Ramsey the coward.

Who could not fight for them.

Who could not fight for her.

Who could not fight for Lo-

No.

He did not let the word complete. The very thought was dangerous.

Throwing the classy cylinder he had been holding with a deathly grip, he poured the last bit of that glass bottle in him.

And walked over hurriedly, the tiny glass pieces stabbing him, to again begin the reset.

One which would never complete.

Next Day

Pooja

The ethereal moon spread out the beams of serenity all over the ceremonious night.

It was a lively affair. Merrymaking and cultural programs went on, as she stood amidst the cheery atmosphere with a sombre expression.

In front of Pooja, was the masterfully sculpted idol of the Mother Goddess, standing majestically as the centrepiece of the celebration. She was the epitome of power, the Mahisasura Mardini.

The recollections of an unforgettable past come as paper-planes drifting in a gentle air, carrying the playfulness, a child's happy smiles. A time when her mother would take Pooja to the mythological lands through her words, and they would get lost like flying butterflies in fairytale land.

The tunes of Bengali music float in the gentle air, and she hums along. The first song her mom had taught her, also for a Durga Puja function. Her mom was deeply rooted in all of them, the culture of Bengal kept alive by her. She was the reason why Pooja could become a part of a community she takes pride in.

Even now, so many years later, things don't change. They hold on to these roots like they are holding onto their life, not letting them disappear.

It feels like holding onto her, keeping her alive.

Recreating a small piece of her favourite Kolkata in Bhopal.

But the aura of calm hid like the clouds covering the sun's shine. The piercing pain of heartbreak came back, the wound untreated.

The soft sand of her life's hourglass prickles, solitary grains floating to join their siblings. The wish of them defying gravity and going back to bring the 10th year of her life had never been so strong as it was now.

The heavy jewellery tugged at her ears, letting her know their presence and the styled hair gave her a throbbing headache.

Her tiredness and exhaustion, now fuelling back in her veins refusing to let her bring back that sense of peace she experienced moments ago.

Around her people wore phoney smiles. All they cared about was unimportant Tommy rot. Not a single one of them stepped back from criticizing the others behind their backs.

It was a saga of inflated egos, of constant competition, to make the next person look inferior.

She was tired.

Of people running away, Of abandonment, Of hopes getting dashed.

Why did his thoughts keep coming back? After all, he did make it clear, didn't he?

But did he really succeed? Did his efforts head? Did his heart finally give in to his relentless demand?

Did he really forget her?

All the messages that lay not replied, unheard voicemails, she was sure he had.

But that colour of his he left on her?

The piece of his heart that was protected by her?

Would he be able to forget them?

An earthen lamp flickered in front of her, bud she did no rush to save it.

If it goes out, then let it.

Just like the never-ending load shedding of her life.

But it didn't.

It was a wish, a hope that kept it alive.

The sweet nothings he had whispered to her, the gentle kisses he lined on her forehead.

They had promised her forever.

His being enveloped her, she doubted if it would ever break.

The hope of him & her flickers every now and then, just like the earthen lamp.

But did it go off?

It couldn't.

Because there was no wind strong enough to extinguish it.

The possibility of him and her.

The realization and a blackness hit her at the same time.

And as she fell, her mind held on to only it.

The possibility of him and her.

Ethan

If the Great Thinkers from BCs before were asked if going to a beer garden after spending 2 months in another continent and a 13hr long flight was a sensible thing to do, they would have watched the questioner in bewilderment.

And he agreed. He was not being sensible, not even 1%.

The urge to see her, to gaze at her moonly face, to know that she okay.

It had never been so strong. He felt his mind would give up on him if he could not locate her today.

Not that he had stopped the forgetting process, absolutely not.

It was just a solace, a bandage to the scars he had given himself.

That she would be okay even if he was not there with her.

Focus fixed on keeping his gaze as unhurried as possible, he looked around, putting the well-trained ears and eyes to work.

And then he saw them.

All her friends clustered at a table, merrily clinking beer bottles and sharing happy glances. His eyes pierced into the scene, but he could not locate her.

A step or two brought him close, the desperateness making his heart go crazy.

But the conclusion shattered every bit of sense and calm, dissipated the hope of getting to see here.

She was not here.

His face fell like someone who had lost the thing they hold the closest to their heart.

She, really, was not here.

He really wanted to ask the residents sitting at the table in question, to get some, any, news on her.

But his rational mind still existed, and it was the only thing that stopped him from going haywire.

She was not here.

He took out the notorious cuboid chiming in his pocket, full of satirical typed phrases his cerebrum refused to decrypt.

But it was adamant to get his attention.

A scoff escaped like a habit.

As if anyone could be powerful enough to take his attention away from her.

He was caught in a maze of her memories, his time in the continent thousands of kilometres away and the ghoul of feelings chasing him deeper into it, making him yearn for her solace, the moistness of a forlorn kiss on his forehead, the gentle swipe of a thumb to take his tears away.

His way was lost in there, every turn making him end up more challenged. But even if he did not want to, he had to find the way out.

His soul was like a thorn who could only hurt the tender flower that she was.

What he did not realize was that she was a rose, her being was amidst thorns.

She had the power to beautify them.

The click of the turn-on sound, brought him back to the piece of work his fingers were creating on the light emanating screen.

And in seconds that passed too fast, he saw his heart's treasure,

She was here.

Not in footsteps & whispers.

She was here.

Not in touches and kisses.

She was here.

Not in muscle and bone.

But in labyrinths of his heart, in filmstrips of his memory, in sensations that made him go wild,

She was here.

(With him forever, she was not the one to leave his side)

PS: I HC the end of 1st year of their residency being in Sept-Oct, which is the time of Durga Puja in India. And since Poo is half Bengali, and she never misses any tradition involving her mom's side of the fam, so she would not have been at Boston then. (Or take it as an excuse to increase angst potential) Anyway, Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day ahead! Love, Manamee🧡.

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[heliosthegriffin]

Sacred Rites

“Do you swear to honor The Heavenly Champion in all your works, Jaune Arc?”

To be a Paladin, to be servant to the divine and defender of the innocent. That was his dream.

“Yes, I swear, from the day I entered the Victarion to now, I have been the Goddess’s to command and lead.”

“Do you answer to our Goddess, and only our Goddess?”

“To no other, now and forever, never shall I let man, law, or force of nature, interrupt me in my quests and duties, I answer to the Goddess and only the Goddess, or those that she speaks through.”

“Will you uphold the oaths of our order?”

“I will feed the starving, 

I will chastise the foolish, 

I will forgive the repentant, 

I will be generous to the poor,

I will help the needy,

I will act when needed, never just when called upon,

I will protect the young, the weak, the weary, and the innocent, I will fight for the common man! 

I will be honorable in all pursuits,

strong in body, faith, and mind,

Never shall greed or callousness, guide my path! 

For I make my own! 

I will guide the weary, tired, and directionless to the warmth of our hearths, and give them guidance, and I will let them go if they desire to be alone, but never close the door. 

I will live with freedom in my servitude, now and forever.”

He didn’t need to look up to know that tears crested the eyes of Champion Maria, with a crack in her normally stern voice she continued.

“Then as Champion of the Victarion, Maria Calavera, I name you Jaune Arc first Paladin of Pyrrha-Nikos, Heavenly Champion, Savior of the Commons, First Apotheosis, she who cast down the Old Tyrants! Hold your head up,”

Jaune did, looking into the silver eyes of the surprisingly youthful looking Champion. 

“you will carry your head high, as you are the first and only true Paladin of Pyrrha-Nikos! Take pride in position, but never let humility leave you, you will carry the weight of the faith on your shoulders, but with the strength of all those with the faith! Now go forth child, and meet those you would cherish and protect!”

With a tear going down his cheek, he turned and looked out at the full temple. He had finally realized his dream, one that he would live forever more.

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

Entering his chambers Jaune collapsed on the humble bed of his.

It had been a heavenly experience after the ceremony, full of friendship, feasting, games, dancing, along with promises and new memories being made. It beginning and ending on a high note, with friends from across the city and continent showing up, and them promising to meet once again as soon as he has leave to go questing. He couldn’t have had a better day if he tried!

It really made the last eight years seem like nothing in comparison. He let out a happy sigh, truly his hardships and sacrifices had paid off. What would the boy that he was at ten years old think of himself now?

Probably that he should have left home sooner. 

Hmm-pf, the thought making him crack up a little.

Laying on his bed looking around his normally bare chamber were full to bursting with the gifts, more than he knew what to do with, but it mattered not, he’d cherish them all.

The masterwork sword that Ruby made him.

The gambeson Coco had made for him.

The tabard Velvet made for him.

The bottle of fine whiskey that Yang made him promise not open till they did quest together.

Emerald had even gotten him back the coin purse that he lost! He enjoyed the embroidery on it that she had gotten done on it.

Brother Ren had come by with Sister Arslan to set up the party, nothing less than what he’d expect from Tenders of Sun Wukong, Second Apotheosis.

Ren had even given him a pair of fine gloves, some potions, and even an alchemy set and basic instructions!

Arslan just promised not to beat him too badly at the next inter temple championship. Also gave him a nice embroidered belt with gold inlays.

Old Port had come by with enough food to feed an army, and left him a nice antler handled skinning knife.

Tukson had brought him some books to read, ranging from philosophy to legend to stories from other continents.

So many gifts. 

A sharp knock on the door took him out of his thoughts.

Jaune quickly moved to answer the door.

On the other side, Champion Maria Calavera. A woman many years his senior looking no older than a decade his senior.

Jaune dropped to his knee, and paid respects. “I’m honored by your presence, my champion.”

“Lift your head and stand boy, we are both equals in Her eyes.”

Jaune rose to his feet, the tall young man towering above the champion, and  he beckoned Maria in.

Maria entered and sat at his desk, and Jaune took a seat on his bed.

“Pardon, my rudeness, My Champion,-”

“As I said we are both equal in Her eyes, so you may address me as Maria, or not at all. There will be no deferential treatment between the two of us, are we clear?” Maria asked sternly.

Jaune’s face blushed, and he scratched the side of his face. “But, My-” Maria raised an eyebrow sharply. “I mean Maria, how can I compare to a legendary figure of the faith such as yourself, when I just became a Paladin today?” Jaune argued weakly.

“Tut-tut, my boy, you sell yourself short, you are the first Paladin of this faith, a faith over a thousand years old and you are the first paladin, the first to actually channel Her power!” Maria jabbed a slender finger into Jaune’s chest. “The first to not be granted her power, but to be a conduit to her greatest, and the first man to join her side!” Maria sly smirked at him. “What makes you think that the Goddess’s chosen is not worthy to refer to her Champion by name?”

A blood-red color over took the poor young man’s face, and he weakly mumbled. “When you put it that way, I suppose I can’t really refute you, can I?”

“Hmm, nope!” Maria answered cheerfully.

“Hah, so onward we move forward, what brings you here at such a late hour, Ma-Maria,” Jaune asked with effort. “I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s getting late, and it has been quite the day.”

Maria smiled at him. “Well, that’s because it has passed Midnight and it is officially time for you to perform your first duties as Paladin, as I have been asked by the Goddess to come gather you to bring you to the sanctum.”

Jaune’s brow furrowed with confusion. “She has? Why has she not called me herself?”

Maria let out a laugh. “Oh, she’s just a bit excited, and didn’t think you could handle her voice right now.”

“Oh!” Jaune said understanding, as the power of Gods control directly related to their emotions. If too excited she might blast him with too much power by speaking to his mind. Conduit of her power he might be, but Maria had decades of time to acclimate herself to the presence of the divinity.

Maria nodded and got up, “Now come along, we shall not keep Her waiting, hmm?

Quickly he jumped to his feet ready to go. “Of course not, that would be folly.”

“Indeed.”

In truth Jaune knew his way to the sanctum, but he did doubt his ability to get in without Maria.

“So, do you know my first duty, Maria.” Jaune asked with any trouble this time.

Maria lightly smiled. “Oh, that between you and Her, Jaune. Hehehe.”

Cocking his head in confusion, Jaune could only wonder what she meant, perhaps it was a test of devotion or strength of character, or possibly his first quest!

Yang would be so proud if he got a quest!

They arrived at the sanctum fairly quick, as said before they both knew the way.

The doors that hid the sanctum were taller than two of Jaunes, and big enough for a dozen men to wall shoulder to shoulder to pass through. Made of a beautiful bronze inlaid with artwork of previous champions.

Maria opened the doors with one hand. “Go on now, try not to have too much fun.”

Jaune looked confused, but went inside anyway.

The door closed behind him leaving him facing a pool of steaming water and the idol of Pyrrha Nikos. 

The idol stared at Jaune down to his soul seeming to strip him down to his most primal components.

Jaune then fell to his knees. “I have come to you, my Goddess.”

A please hum seemed to come from the statue and the entire room.

“Raise my Paladin, it is time to attend to your duties.” The warm voice of his Goddess seemed to echo from behind his ear.

Jaune did as he was told and rose. “What would you have me do, my Goddess.”

Another pleased hum came forth.

A light whisper seemed to dance in his ear. “Oh yes, I like the way you call me that.”

Jaune looked confused. “Why would I call you anything but that?”

“Oh, you little charmer.”

Jaune’s confusion remained. “Ok, but what is my first duty?”

“STRIP!” His Goddess boomed around him, nearly knocking Jaune onto his butt. 

Jaune staggered around drunkenly for a second, a thin stream of blood falling from his ears.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my little Paladin! I got a little excited for this!” His Goddess echoed again, as a holy glow healed Jaune.

“It’s fine, my Goddess, but, um, may I ask why I must remove my clothing?” Jaune innocently asked, finding his clothing rather comfy despite the humidity of the room.

The idol and the room went silent as though his Goddess was in thought, ha, surely not, she must merely be pondering me a fool. Jaune thought to himself.

The Idol’s cut emerald eyes glowed. “My Paladin, my dear sweet Paladin, how am I to embrace you and acclimate you to my power if there is a boundary between us?” The idol's clothes disappeared leaving only a naked metal idol.

Jaune’s face went blush. “Oh, I guess that makes sense...”

The idol seemed to smile at him, a little scary if he might add. “Now once again, STRIP!” The words seemed to drip out of the idols mouth like honey.

Jaune shivered under the Idols words, but did as he was told pulling up his shirt. “WAIT,” The idol cried out as he did. Jaune looked at the Idol again in confusion. “DO IT SLOWLY~”

Shrugging Jaune pulled his shirt down, only to grab it by the hem and then slowly rolled the fabric up, revealing inch by inch the naked, supple and muscular body of Jaune Arc.

The shirt rising like a curtain to show the sharp, deep cut v of his Adonis belt that led into his pants, hiding a treasure Pyrrha would see soon enough. The shirt continued it’s slow trip up, showing one at a time his flat, smooth, uncontainably powerful abs, and smoothly contoured sides of his waist, showing off his powerful core.

The next destination to be revealed was his broad chest that barely contained his two muscular pecs, each looking like they could crush a steel ingot between them! His arms looking like masterfully crafted pieces of art rather than flesh and muscle. Above them was his wide shoulders corded with powerful muscles under his skin, that held up a veiny neck coiled with even more muscles!

Then he folded the shirt and put it on the floor, turning around showing off a wonderfully sculpted back, one so well made she was going to give Maria even more regards. The idol's eyes trailing down his back to see two cute dimples on his back!

Then he pulled down the pants showing off a well rounded ass! They had dimples too! And-

The Idol’s emerald eyes cracked at the sight between his legs, and then instantly reformed.

“Now what would you ask of me, my Goddess?” Jaune said, feeling a little lost about what was going on.

His Goddess said nothing for a while just staring at him.

After a couple minutes passed, Jaune coughed awkwardly into his hand and pronounced. “If you do not speak, my Goddess, I will assume I have displeased you and leave.”

“What, sorry?” His Goddess asked him, must have spoken too quietly.

“I asked if I offended you, my Goddess.”

“Oh, noooo~, I am most pleased, most pleased indeed.” Jaune smiled. If she’s happy, I’m happy, he thought to himself.

“So what would you have me do now?”

“Clean thyself my Paladin, buttttt~, slowly~!” His Goddess asked of him.

Jaune nodded determinedly, as she asked, so it shall it be done!

Jaune slowly walked his way into the languidly steaming water, hissing a little bit at the bite of warmth it shot through his flesh, but endured for his Goddess! Also the hot water started to feel quite nice. Reaching the center of the pool, he was waist deep. He looked around for any soap or oils, a small wooden bowl full of various cleaning agents.

The idol of Pyrrha’s emeralds cracked once again, and then reformed in an instant watching her Paladin bathing.

Jaune eventually emerged from the pool clean as a whistle. “Uuuh, I need to do that more often, I feel brand new. You have my thanks my Goddess.” Jaune said reventently.

His Goddess’s idol did speak, for some reason it’s metal cheeks turning cherry red, why would it do that though?

Finally her voice blessed him again. “And you shall do this sacred rite before me everyday you’re here, my Paladin!”

Jaune then let out a muffled yawn. “Apologize my Goddess, I fear my fatigue has gotten the better of me.”

“It’s fine my Paladin, I have only a few more tasks for you. Anoint yourself with the holy oils, first!”

Jaune did as asked, slowly patting his body with a palm’s worth of holy oil across his body. Smearing a sheen of oil across his sculpted body, all across his body.

A loud crack caught his attention, looking up at his Goddess’s idol to see fragments of emeralds everywhere, but miraculously missing him.

“My Goddess! Are you well, is there an interloper that wishes you harm, please answer me!”

“I’m fine, I’m well! Just a little over excited is all.”

Jaune nodded and returned to finish anointing himself. Finally, his body was ready for whatever his Goddess wished of him.

“I’m finished, my Goddess, what task is next?”

A deep, smile appeared on the idols metal face.

“I require you to cover my idol with various oils to insure that it remain’s form and beauty, this my task for you!”

Jaune nodded. “I will be honored to clean you my Goddess!”

A melodic hum spread throughout the room, giving Jaune a pleasent vibration in his chest.

Jaune knelt before the statue coating his hands in the sacred oils, and put his hands on the feet of the idol, and began working his way up the statue, smearing the oil across the metal of idol, which felt oddly warm, and soft? He didn’t quite understand that, but he was sure that it made sense.

The melodic hum became louder as he worked his way up the legs of the statue making sure to get every inch of it! His duty demanded perfection, and perfection it will have. The grew even louder and louder, practically causing his hands to go numb as he worked in between the legs of the statue, getting each and every surprisingly soft and wet? Inche of the idol till the hum turned into a ringing cry, as he was blasted into the pool, blood leaking out of his eyes and ears.

Jaune would ask his Goddess what he did to offend her when he could see which way was up.

Another holy light descended upon Jaune healing him again.

“My sincerest apology, my Paladin! I merely became over stimulated.”

Jaune gave a shaky thumbs up and got back to work.

Jaune fell from what could only be described as a hole in space into his bed, clearly unconscious, blood leaking from his face before a bronze holy power covered him, cleaning and healing him.

Pyrrha noticed that the power was transfering into him slightly easier than before, her reasoning may have been bullshit, but not complete bullshit, if he was naked he would absorb her power much easier. By the end of the week he might even be able to do small miracles!

That said Pyrrha felt very content with her little Paladin, he even finished caring for her idol! Not even Maria could do that in her first year as her champion, requiring the help of several acolytes each day. Still that was no slight against her Champion, Jaune was just a rare breed that could accept divine power like a sponge absorbing water.

That said she didn’t expect him to make her climax three times, how was that even possible through a statue!

Pyrrha smirked down at her little Paladin, she was very much excited to watch him grow.

Pushing her from the heavens into the earth, Pyrrha put a pair of lips on his, and then whispered, “Oh my little Paladin, you are loved like no other. Now rest, for the world will have need of you soon. Your oaths pusted and pressure, but you’ll endure, and I will support you every step of the way. For you will be my greatest act in this world, this I swear.”

Then she receded back to the heavens. The various gifts in his room briefly shimmering before the light faded.

AN1: This idea came to me as Jaune being a Paladin and Pyrrha being his goddess sugar mama, who constantly feels him up at everychance, but Jaune doesn’t see anything sexual about it so doesn’t mind.

AN2: Unfortunately Jaune is about to learn despite his goddess being good, her mortality is definitely like the Greek gods in terms of consent and free will.

#Jaune Arc #Oblivous Jaune #Pyrrah Nikos #Goddess Pyrrha Nikos #Thristy Pyrrha #Maria Calavera #High Priestess Maria #High Fantasy RWBY AU

[kiranatrix]

Yosuzume. A art (by @ikathemadhatter) and fanfic (by @kiranatrix) collaboration for @deathnotetober​ [Day 8 - Wara Ningyo]

Characters: Beyond Birthday, mentions of L, Roger, and others // Rating: T (occultism, mention of suicide and the LABB case)

Summary: Beyond’s shinigami eyes have always set him apart and given him knowledge no human should possess. His obsession with divining and controlling the future has led him to develop his own rituals, which weave themselves into his life and the events of the LABB case.

I.

Beyond Birthday was under his bed when they came to tell him that A had died, repeatedly flicking a zippo open and shut and counting Roger’s footsteps.

He’d already known something was going to happen today; his eyes had told him the ‘when’ and the birds had told him the rest. He’d laid down in the forest past Wammy’s House and listened, divining how it would happen as he had since childhood-- the patterns, the trills, even the silence held meaning for him. Beyond knew he was magic, was different from others. He was a stranger in this world and yet could channel what magic was here using rituals and systems of his own making.

Magic always had a price and he’d gladly paid it in this case, throwing the needed items into a small fire in the woods. Something precious to him-- one of his Akazukin Chacha manga. Something from the target-- a lock of A’s hair he’d snuck in to clip in the night. Something he’d killed-- an enormous spider he’d caught in the attic. And finally, a piece of himself. Beyond pricked his finger with his switchblade and let the blood drip into the fire. Five or six drops should be enough for this ritual since it was only information he needed. Wasn’t like he was trying to make something happen. Powerful magic required a greater sacrifice.

When Roger had left, Beyond grabbed the straw doll he’d prepared for this, the wara ningyo that would absorb evil as A passed to the next world. Equally important was that it would absolve him of the sin of foreknowledge. He couldn’t have saved A, but he knew it was still a very grave sin and one he didn’t want on his conscience. It was nailed to the sacred tree that the birds had told him of years ago, and when he immediately felt better, he knew it had worked.

II.

A few days later, the birds told him someone important was coming to Wammy’s House. Beyond assumed it was for the funeral but when he asked, they said no, the person was coming for him. There’d been murmurs among students in the halls about who would be the next successor to L now that A was dead. Beyond had the next-highest test scores to A but that didn’t mean he was a shoo-in given what Roger liked to term ‘his instability.’ Roger’s opinion didn’t really matter; it would be L that would pick and Beyond had it on good authority that L was also exceedingly odd.

Beyond craved to know the numbers above L’s head, but L had always stayed away. Roger and Wammy had attempted to purge the school of any mention of L-- certainly any pictures had been spirited away-- but they hadn’t counted on Beyond’s birds tattling on L’s habits. He’d spent quite a lot on sacrifices over the years to hear every detail he could. There were a few old owls that remembered L’s walks in the woods where he would mumble around a lollipop and crouch down to sweep aside leaf litter and draw diagrams in the dirt with sticks. Wild hair, dark eyes, wiry as a willow. Dark crescent moons under his eyes, skin pale as fresh eggs, lips that were constantly worried by a thumb. Beyond laughed when they told him L peed on anthills and once got sick eating the wrong kind of berry.  Maybe L was human after all.

It didn’t diminish his distaste for what L represented. Didn’t make his resolve to best the man any less intense. Like A, once upon a time, Beyond had idolized L and this path they’d been corralled into. But like A, he’d gradually become disillusioned by the pressure and the rigid expectations.

Clean as clockwork, Beyond was pulled aside after A’s humdrum funeral and taken to an office with only a laptop on the desk. It was a test and he knew he was being watched by cameras hidden in old portraits or the pompous school regalia on the walls. It was unfair-- L’s eyes could see him but Beyond remained blind. The man had been in here, though, and just as his ritual predicted, he thrilled to spot a single short, coarse black hair when he bent to tie his shoes. He pocketed his prize, stuck in a piece of chewed-up gum.

He later found out he passed the test and L had chosen him as his successor. Roger offered it with dry congratulations and Beyond forced a smile, but it made no difference to his plans. The ritual had told him he had to leave Wammy’s House forever. His path was not behind L but over him. Beyond would create a case that would baffle L to the end of his days, and then he would die.

Another wara ningyo was nailed to the tree on his way out, absolving him from the sin of leaving all the others behind (he cut a few corners and only included the hair of the kids who hadn’t been dicks to him. Fuck the rest of them). He had no choice. The ritual was never wrong.

III.

Beyond traveled all over the world but listening was hardest when he ended up in Los Angeles. Car horns and the noise of the city drowned out the songs of whatever unlucky birds lived here. There were pigeons galore but they were too stupid and didn’t know anything of value. They knew L told lies but that was hardly anything new so he didn’t bother making the sacrifice for that.

He’d haunt the pet stores instead, whispering to the parrots and budgies and canaries to find out how close L was to finding him. Some were so tame to have forgotten the meanings of their language and only told him gibberish. Eventually, he scraped together enough money to rent a sordid room in Skid Row and buy a few wilder finches from the shop. Finches were always smart. He slowly befriended them with millet and jam and they were full of ideas and revelations. He made his sacrifices in an old oil barrel in the alley behind his apartment building but he had to be more careful these days. He was running out of things that were precious to him and couldn’t spare as much as before.

As the sweltering days of July passed, he made ten wara ningyo just like the finches said. Four dolls for his first sacrifice, three for the second, two for the third, and one for the last and most important victim-- himself. The first nine dolls would banish evil and absolve Beyond, just like the one he’d made for A and the Wammy’s kids. The tenth had a different, opposite purpose, but magic was flexible as long as you knew the rules (his rules). It would be a curse upon L, woven with the strand of the man’s hair he’d secreted away months ago. Beyond didn’t know the numbers over L’s head but this curse would attract some terrible misfortune to L like iron to a magnet. It was the most powerful magic he’d ever attempted but he was giving everything of himself this time; the signs all pointed to success. He would baffle the World’s Greatest Detective and prove himself superior. His magic was something L could never understand.

Beyond released the finches the day he met Misora, hoping their wings would lift them above the smog to somewhere magic hadn’t died. They didn’t know where they would end up and neither did he, he only knew that his magic would work. It always did.

#death note #beyond birthday #deathnotetober #wara ningyo #my writing #ikathemadhatter #l lawliet #roger ruvie #wammy's a #fan art #labb #thank you again for the collab ika your art is beautiful #collaboration

[arjuna-vallabha]

In the years leading upto the Battle of Plassey , Bengal was going through some extremely tough times . Accounts by contemporary writers describes vividly the problems faced by the common man .  This was a period when the East India company was gaining more political power . The true ruling class , the Nawab of Bengal and his aides immersed themselves in luxury and debauchery . On the other hand infamous zamindaars such as Devi Singha made life miserable for the common folk . And then there was famines , epidemics , droughts and inability to pay taxes . But still the people fought on with a smile on their lips . But even that seemed to disappear with the onset of Maratha raids into Bengal in mid 18th century . The “bargee” attacks , as they became popularly known , was so devastating and horrifying that they have been permanently etched in Bengali memory in form of lullaby songs . Even today bengali mothers lull their babies to sleep singing “ Sleep fast my child , for the bargees are coming ! The bulbul birds have eaten all crops , how are we going to pay taxes ? “But who were these ‘bargees’ ?The word bargee is thought to derive from Persian ‘Baargee’ which denoted a cavalry soldier . The other type of  cavalry men used to be called Shiledaars . The government used to provide horses and weaponry to the baargees . The shiledaars on the other hand had to source these themselves . In those times , the sultans of Ahmednagar developed the art of sudden stealth attacks , which came to be known as ‘baargeer-giri’ . This mode of guerrilla warfare was effective and gained massive popularity all throughout the Deccan , including Maharashtra . In the year 1740 Alivardi Khan defeated and killed his master and the then Nawab of Bengal , Sarafaraz Khan and himself sat on the throne of Bengal . But the brother in law of Sarfaraz , Naib Nazeem of Orissa Rustam Jung turned against Alivardi to avenge the wrong done to his brother . Alivardi defeated Rustam Jung and dethroned him from his Orissa office . In retaliation , Rustam Jung went to Nagpur  and sought the help of Raghuji Bhonsle , the then ruler of the region . Raghuji Bhonsle’s Diwan , Bhaskar Kolhatkar AKA Bhaskar Pandit launched an attack on Bengal with all his might . The raids continued for a period spanning 9 years and according to contemporary Dutch estimates , four lakh people died in the bloodbath . It devastated the economy of Bengal and created a period of anarchy and terror . The bargees gradually approached uptill the capital at Murshidabad and sacked the city and plundered the houses of the rich . The Britishers of East India Company on the other hand became anxious about a possible attack on the emerging prosperous city of Calcutta , their main hub . To deter any attack , they began digging a giant moat around the entire town . Luckily the bargees did not attack Calcutta and the work on the moat was discarded midway . The moat was eventually filled up in 1890s and made into upper and lower circular roads ( Acharya Jagadish Chandra Bose road & Acharya Prafulla Chandra road presently ) A certain poet named Gangaram composed a poetry describing the affairs of the bargee raids in his book called “Maharashtra Puran” . Parts of it describe the horrors faced by civilians in those times – “ They round up everyone and loot their gold and silver . They cut off the hands of some . To others they cut off the nose and the ears . For the rest they simply chop off their heads . The pretty ladies they take away and tie them up . Then they take turns to rape until they start crying to be spared . The set the homes of the rich on fire and destroy all the temples of Vishnu . They tie up their captives , fold up their hands and kick on their chest with their heavy boots . Those who have money give it to them and escape death . Those who don’t have money have no other option other than to surrender to death . The Brahmins flee with their sacred books under their arms ! The goldsmiths flee with their measuring insruments . The shopkeepers flee with their wares . The metal workers flee with their copper and brass . The blaksmiths flee along with earthen pot makers . The fishermen flee with their nets . Rich men’s wives unaccustomed to walking flee with loads over their heads ! The khetris and the rajputs also flee in fear dropping their swords . The gosais and the mohants of temples flee on palanquins . The Mughals , sayeds and sheikhs also flee in terror hearing of the bargees . The pregnant women are forced to deliver their child along roadways . “None managed to escape the wrath of the bargees. Numerous temples of Bengal were looted and plundered . Fables narrate how the iconic neem wood deity of Dhameshwar Gouranga ( Chaitanya mahaprabhu ) , worshipped by Bishnupriya ( Consort of Mahaprabhu himself ) also had to be buried for quite a few years to save him from the bargee raids! Such lawlessness continued for almost 9 years . In the end , the nawab of Bengal entered into a pact of truce with the bargees conceding Orissa to them on the condition that they would never return to Bengal . During such tumultuous times , the bargees reached upto the capital of the Malla dynasty kings – Bishnupur . Mallas have been a dominant power in that part of the state for more than a 1000 years ! When the bargees approached , the people panicked and started praying to the presiding deity of the town , Madanmohan . It is said that during this time people saw Madanmohan manifest and rush into battlefield ! He lifted up a giant iron cannon and started firing into the bargee hordes that were trying to enter the city . The cannon would later get the name ‘Dala-mardana’ or “destroyer of hordes” and can still be seen in Bishnupur . Madanmohan successfully defeated the bargees and protected his devotees . This tale has been narrated for centuries in Bishnupur and has become one of the popular religious folklores of Bengal .  But this Madanmohan is not originally a deity of Bishnupur . He is said to have been brought to Bishnupur from elsewhere by Malla king Bir Hambir .One source opines that Madanmohan originally resided at the ShriPaat Chaatraa of Srirampore . This was the residence of Kashishwar Pandita , one of the associates of Chaitanya . Bir Hambir brought Madanmohan to his kingdom and after installing a new deity of Radharani beside him , honoured him with the status of ‘Nagar devata’ of Bishnupur . The entire story raises some fundamental questions and doubts – The first question is , if the marathas are considered the champions of Hinduism and viewed largely as upholders of indian valour , why did they plunder and loot the Bengali temples  ?! The second question that may arise is , did Madanmohan indeed manifest and do this impossible act ? In order to answer this , one must understand that history is never unidimensional and one pointed as we tend to think . History has many complex layers . As the saying goes – “ history is written by victors “ . If we twist it slightly it would be safe to say that history is written by the privileged . Or perhaps , History is most often written with an agenda ! Therefore history , by its very nature , can never be complete nor foolproof . We tend to overlook the fact that in history two opposing ideas can also be true simultaneously . Therefore , every Brahmin need not be a tyrant evil oppressor nor every low caste an oppressed . Every deity taken away from a temple may not amount to a sacrilege and dishonour of hinduism . Taj mahal is not a name changed hindu shaivite temple . Gyan Vapi is not a mosque built on virgin soil . A thousand such historical over simplifications or agenda driven narratives have done more damage to true history than good . It is very necessary to have an open mind while discussing such a tricky subject as ‘bargee attack’ . I will lay down some points which will provide the readers with food for thought . But it is upto them to interpret why the bargees did what they did .1 – Bhaskar pandit organised a full fledged Bengali styled Durgotsav in Dainhaat of Bardhaman district . New pratima was built , new chandi mandap temple constructed and  thousands of sacrificial animals were brought in and grand preparations were begun . But in the night of MahaNavami , Alivardi Khan sent a message of truce and took Bhaskar Pandit into confidence and had him killed . The puja remained  unfinished . Even today ruins of the chandi mandap can be seen at Dainhaat . Understandably , Bhaskar pandit was not anti bengali or anti hindu per se and he embraced Bengali customs and culture . In this context it is worth remembering that the cult deity of Marathas , Tulja Bhawani ( from whom legend says Chatrapati Shivaji received his sword ) is also an image of Mahishamardini . Presumably , the marathas quickly saw the sameness in the rituals and ideas and were glad to adapt . 2- Just like the Mughal army had hindus in their ranks or the british indian army was largely constituted of the Indian soldiers , in the same way the bargees also had men of all castes and religions in their ranks . They even had large battalions of muslim men . It would be unfair to expect that the Islamic bargees would be respectful towards bengali idolators and their practices . 3- human ethics and moral values have underwent massive changes in recent times .  In ancient times , we did not have human rights commission , supreme court or the like . Survival of the fittest was the mantra for the times . In an event of attack it was normal for the army to indulge in plunder and loot . The rulers unofficially allowed their men to have a free hand in ‘exploits of war’ after a hard earned victory . This was a sort of incentive for the men ! Remember in those days warfare had more to do with brute strength and direct combat than with intelligence as it has become nowadays after advent of computer controlled war machinery ! During such post war plunders , rape , looting , rampage and selling humans into slavery became the norm .This was true for the entire world throught history !4 – The temples in Bengal which harbour tales of bargee attacks are mostly vaishnavaite shrines , namely Radha Krishna or Gouranga ( Chaitanya ) temples . Both these divinities would have been unknown to the Marathas whose own brand of Vaishnavism were centered around Vithhal , Rukmini and Satyabhama  . It is possible that unknown gods attracted more wrath .5- But interestingly the marathas were also one of the chief patrons of the Puri Jagannath temple . The hati vesha or Gaja vesha of Jagannath was directly due to Maratha influence over Jagannatha cult .  The  form of Jagannatha too would have been largely unknown to the marathas . That being said , they would have definitely been aqquianted with the tirtha mahatmya of Puri and the name of Jagannath from the puranas and scriptures . 6- In all probabilities Bhaskar Pandit did receive some support from the local hindu populace . The records of his durgotsav mentions throngs of villagers coming to participate in his puja . Presumably , there was both an element of fear and awe working amongst the masses . 7- It is hard to answer whether Madanmohan manifested in form or not , from a point of view of history . Such things are matters of faith and are best left untouched by history ( or even historians ) . However if we introspect purely from a historical perspective some hypothetical probabilities may be suggested . In hindu society when a man narrowly escapes a danger , he often attributes his miraculous escape to the mercy and compassion of his cherished deity . Its common for such a bhakta to say – “ I got saved due to intervention or madanmohan “ . It is very much possible that the Malla dynasty kings who ruled over a jungle infested tricky terrain and whose subjects largely comprised of martial races and tribes , overrun the bargees by their military strength and the pious king attributed the win to the mercy of Madanmohan . In due course of time this popular way of saying aqquired more realistic and literal connotations and became etched in collective memory as madanmohan manifesting in person ! Just a “what if” …. but worth a thought nonetheless !8 – It is also possible that the bargees themselves chose not to attack the malla kings , who in any case had been famous as champions of Hinduism for the last 1000 years . I have laid out the points to contemplate on . It is upto you to draw the final conclusion . History is never straightforward . All we can do is record and mention the loose ends . If the ends meet , well and fine . If they do not , it is best to be honest and admit that history is unclear thereafter  , rather than to try make them meet by force and end up projecting a personal political or sociological agenda unto history . But even after so much , the people of Bishnupur could not keep their beloved Madanmohan in their town . Malla Raja Chaitanya Singha got into a financial debacle and had to take a loan of a thefty sum of money from rich zamindar businessman Gokul Mitra of Calcutta . By this time , the sun had already began to set on the glories of Malla dynasty and Calcutta had begun to emerge as the next economic and political capital of India . In exchange of the money , Chaitanya Singha mortgaged his nagar devata Madanmohan to Gokul Mitra . When Malla king was unable to return the money back in due time ,  Madanmohan was left back at disposal of Gokul who went to build him a grand new temple . Even today visitors to Kumartuli in Calcutta can see the grand temple of madanmohan built in typical greaco roman neoclassical colonial style . At Bishnupur a replica deity was installed which also got stolen a few decades back . A second replica of Madanmohan is presently housed in the original temple back at bishnupur . So did Madanmohan really manifest ? Well, the eyes of a rationalist seek out different things from the eyes of an artist . To an artist , his divine manifestation is of much more importance because it has ‘rasa’ . It has the power to soothe the mind and senses from the drudgery of daily monotonous existence . To the artist , the supernatural is more appealing than the natural . But then again it is the ‘natural’ that gives birth to the ‘supernatural’ .  In this painting I have strived to bridge the gap between the two with the string of bhakti . Jay Madanmohan .

Text an art by Halley Goswami

#Krishna #hindu art #bengal #vaishnavism

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #3

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T/N: Okay, so, this is one of those chapters where the author makes mistakes in linguistics (but she’s trying, guys, she’s trying!). She writes “prasinon” as “prase” for some reason, and I took the liberty to fix it myself when translating.

Connecting Chrysoprase

Jewelry Etranger sat inconspicuously at Ginza 7-choume. The store owner, Richard, was the possessor of a beauty that you couldn’t think was from this world, but no matter how beautiful he was, once half a year had passed, you would get used to it. And as I got used to him, the questions also surfaced.

“Hey, Richard, don’t you have any favorite foods other than sweets? Do you eat ramen or anything like that?”

Mr. Richard Ranashinha de Vulpian looked at me with scrutinizing blue eyes. Sitting on the red sofa, he had been observing the contents of a large jewel box, holding them up over his head against the morning light shining in from the window.

“I find difficult to figure the aim of the question. Why ramen? I have had meals with you numerous times. I eat anything without likes or dislikes.”

“I know. It’s not like it’s limited to just ramen, but you don’t eat that kind of stuff much, do you?”

Like chives. Or garlic. Or grilled meat dripping with juices.

I knew that this didn’t suit his image. He was a man whose features seemed to have accidentally come out of a dream world. If he told me that he could live off eating department store sweets and pink roses, he could probably have me seriously convinced up to about 70%. That was exactly why I would feel like searching for a gap.

As I was about to ask if he understood this logic, Richard replied curtly with a clay doll-like face, “What ill intentions.”

That was true. I wasn’t some obsessive follower of an idol’s personal life or anything. Richard hit bull’s-eye with the deduction that I “probably ate ramen yesterday”. For some reason, things got awkward. I was in a position where it was better to retreat for a while. Time to change the subject.

“What stone is that? Looks like candy and it’s pretty cute.”

“A type of chalcedony. They are in the same category as crystals. In particular, this one with a milky apple-green color is called chrysoprase.

“Ah~...”

What Richard was pinching with his bare hands - because it was safer to touch it with bare skin rather than wearing gloves, he said, as it wouldn’t cause any damage - was a pale green, round stone. It had low transparency, was cut en cabochon and looked like an old-style candy.

“W-What was it again? The name. Chry...?”

“‘Chrysoprase’,” Richard repeated for me.

How many times had something like this happened? The stone’s name was in a Western language. Basically, all of them were in katakana. My ears did register it, but I couldn’t memorize it in one go at all. Richard was a helpful person, so there were times when he wrote down the names in romaji and explained them to me, but I honestly couldn’t keep up with him. There were countless stones in this world.

“Chryso... aah, no good. It’s hard to memorize.”

“‘Chrysoprase’. It is said to be a stone that helps to harmonize and integrate personalities. Medieval European literature also mentions it as a stone that Alexander the Great loved.”

Alexander the Great. A person I had learned about in high school. Even I knew that name. The fact that a stone adored by a warlord who had long passed away was still loved by people of the current times was thought-provoking. The range of the gemstone world was broad. But, well, leaving that as that.

“How d’you memorize stones’ names? It’s not like you’ve got some test to do like in a history class...”

“Do you think anyone would buy goods from a trader who cannot even say their names?”

“I don’t, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s hard. There’s lots of types and they sound like magic spells. Like ‘Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte’. It wouldn’t be weird if you felt like cheating without a care in the world. You got any trick for memorizing them?”

“My compliments to you for being able to pronounce the official name of Sri Lanka’s capital. But I cannot praise the part about carelessly deceiving people. Once your reputation falls to earth, it does not recover so easily. To begin with, your perception of business in general is too lax for someone enrolled in the Faculty of Economics. I know you have the aspiration, but if you do not pair it to practical abilities and skills, you will be running idle. Shouldn’t you try to improve these skills once again so that you can avoid unnecessary hardships in the future? Instead of obsessing over finding out something unexpected about the shopkeeper from your part-time job.”

The arguments were so spot-on that I was at a loss for words. Even so, still with a slightly exasperated face, Richard continued to speak. Most likely, it was his gentle side’s turn from here on out.

“Still, you are right, I do have a trick. If I were to use the capital as an example, ‘Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte’ had its original name ‘Kotte’ being embellished with the title of ‘President Jayawardene’s Sacred City’. When you know the origin of it, doesn’t this line-up of katakana letters that only appears in magic spells turn into meaningful words?”

“So it had that kind of meaning? I see...”

“Is this time to be impressed? Do the same and discover the relatedness of all kinds of matters in your daily life. If you direct your eyes to the depths of your history without sticking to the surface, I guarantee that your world will broaden much more richly.”

“Then what about the chrysoprase of just now?”

As I took a stab at arousing his enthusiasm, the volubly beautiful shop owner smiled gorgeously. I felt that this guy would stay in a good mood forever just as long as I gave him sweets and let him talk about gems. And I liked Richard’s face the most when he was in his best mood.

“This word is taken from the Greek language. It consists of two separate words, ‘chrysos’ and ‘prasinon’. The meaning of chrysos is ‘gold’. The bright golden that can be seen showing through within the green was associated with gold. Prasinon means...”

What happened? His enunciation suddenly got bad.

When I urged him to continue, Richard looked down at the stone in his hand with a dull look and sighed a little. “The meaning of prasinon... comes close to plants such as chives or green onions.”

“Ooh—!”

As I clapped my hands together with an “all paths lead to ramen”, Richard made a face like he had just woken up from a nightmare. What is it? Please laugh.

“In any case, the mental attitude of trying to master something is commendable. I pray that your efforts will bear fruit.”

“Thanks, thanks. Well, will you eat ramen after all?”

Mr. Richard, the jeweler, looked at me with an awfully sharp gaze. What was that face? His facial expression looked like the usual nuance that he was growing fond of my foolishness had increased to about 30%. Did he intend to poke fun on me?

“Yes, yes, I will.”

“What do you prefer? Like miso or soy sauce?”

“A large helping of green onions and garlic. And even then, it is good to grate raw garlic and put in it.”

“That’s a pretty hardcore taste for someone who works with close-contact service business.”

“Which is why this is not something I can eat whenever. I eat it carefully by myself when I do not have to meet anyone the next day.”

As my eyes widened, the beautiful storekeeper raised his chin arrogantly. Did he want to say that this didn’t suit his image or had it just unfolded anew?

“How was it, did you enjoy the so-called ‘gap’?”

“No, it’s not like that’s the main goal.”

“Hah?”

“I can’t invite anyone for a French cuisine restaurant or a high-class sweets store, but if it’s a ramen shop, there’s lots of them near my university. If you like, why don’t we go eat together next time? They’re mostly shops that seem better to drop by wearing a t-shirt rather than a suit, but I wanna try chatting with you while eating this kind of junky stuff every now and then.”

“For you to discover a new unexpected thing about me, you mean?”

“I just wanna get along with you better.”

For an instant, Richard’s facial expression strained hard. What was up? His face looked like he hadn’t known better and bit a sour pickled plum or something. As I furrowed my brows, his blue eyes narrowed, looking glum, while he closed the jewel box with a click and stood up.

“Ah, show me more. It wasn’t nearly enough—”

“The chrysoprase is said to have the power to put the balance of mind and body in order, as well as make it spring up comfortably. Perhaps because its fresh grass color is a reminder of spring. Isn’t this stone unnecessary for you, since you are always in a festive mood?”

“Why’re you angry?”

“I am not.”

“Shouldn’t you take a better look at the chrysoprase?”

“Thank you for the unnecessary meddling.”

Leaving me with things to say, Richard disappeared into the back room. Was it that bad to invite him to a ramen shop? It wasn’t a good idea to let him stay angry, so I voluntarily prepared two cups of royal milk tea in the kitchenette. Having come out into the reception room, Richard said nothing more than the expected as he drank a tea that had a little more sugar in it than usual.

After the customer of that morning had gone home, Richard showed me the chrysoprase once again. Upon a better look, I understood the meaning of that naming, which I couldn’t think of as anything more than a mystery at first. Didn’t the people of ancient times think that this was a plant born from gold? The uneven surface was smooth and wavy like an organic body. Chrysoprase. Gold and green onions. Even though there were several gems in this world, I would probably never forget the name of this one. If I ever got to eat ramen with Richard someday, I would definitely bring up this stone.

“Do you remember that talk?” I would ask.

#jeweler richard #housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #nakata seigi #the case files of jeweler richard #richard ranashinha de vulpian #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #my translation #fanbook #jr short story collection

[arcticdementor]

On the end of “New Atheism”

I’ve seen a few people, referencing Scott Alexander’s recent piece on online culture wars, make the point that online “New Atheism” debates died out because they won — the movement to put intelligent design and “teach the controversy” in classrooms was soundly defeated — and moved on to other things.

But, at least from what I recall of what I saw from the periphery, coming into things rather near the end, is that, with the defeat of the “common enemy,” various rifts split the groups, and they moved on to rather different things.

First, of course, was 9/11 and the GWOT, and the schism between, on the one hand, people like Dawkins, Harris, Hitchens, etc., to whom religious fanaticism is dangerous no matter which religion, and on the other, the people who argued that worrying about Muslim extremists is Islamophobic, and Christianity alone is the threat. (I note that this characterization of the latter group is supported by their tendency, IME, to also “split” from the other group on the issue of TCM and other non-Western “woo” — only “Western” superstitions and pseudoscience are acceptable targets for debunking; criticizing non-Western practices would be culturally insensitive.) One group mostly moved on into other left-wing causes, as noted… while Dawkins has since been increasingly “cancelled” for his dissent.

But there was another big split, which is where I really got introduced to things.

I remember way back in the day, whenever another pro-“intelligent design” documentary or book came out, the result was usually eye-rolling dismissals and quick references to cached arguments and sources at Talk.Origins or such. But then Ben Stein did his, and it had one part that really looked to have hit a nerve, because it resulted instead in angry, sputtering denunciations lacking in the sort of reasoned argumentation and source citations usually given. And that was the bit arguing that evolution is racist.

Because I was around for people pointing out that Lewontin’s fallacy is indeed fallacious, for Cochran and Harpending, for Razib Khan, for the revelation that is was Gould who “mismeasured” the data for political ends, for PZ Myers finding whole new levels of assholery as his environs collapsed into an dissent-crushing dogmatic echo chamber.

And thus the second schism, the folks who have also split off, and been cast further into the Outer Darkness… the “HBD-sphere” and those adjacent to it. (Into which latter “adjacency” Scott, by virtue of his refusal to blanket censor the topic, may well fall.)

What brings this to mind, though, is this recent article from the Daily Mail: “Sheffield University tells staff Charles Darwin was 'racist' and used natural selection theory to justify white male superiority in 'decolonising curriculum' lecturing handbook”

Sheffield University has created a handbook for students and lecturers in its science department to help 'tackle racial injustice' by 'reflecting on the whiteness and Eurocentrism of our science'.

As part of the guide, the department created a list of 11 'problematic' scientific figures - including Darwin - whose views 'influenced the type of research they carried out and how they interpreted their data'.

An explanation next to the 19th century naturalist's name says that Darwin 'believed that his theory of natural selection justified the view that the white race was superior to others'.

But the guide provides no information about Darwin's strong support for the abolition of slavery, something he referred to as his 'sacred cause'.

…

The handbook however says that the likes of Darwin must be historically caveated when lecturers teach his seminal theory of evolution.

It says his voyage on HMS Beagle, when he collected plant and animal samples, was to map colonies.

It also suggests dropping the use of the terms 'founding father', 'idols' and 'geniuses' to avoid 'hero worshipping' scientific figures.'

UK science is inherently white, since the discipline developed from the European scientific enlightenment,' it adds. 'When viewed in this way, it is clear that science cannot be objective and apolitical.'

…

Other scientists named in the handbook include Julian Huxley, a supporter of the theory of natural selection who the Sheffield states 'believed that the lower classes were genetically inferior and should be prevented from reproducing and even sterilised'.

The handbook however admits Huxley was 'a strong critic of Nazi race-theory and published several anti-racist pieces'.

As Vox Day notes of the handbook’s list:

With the exception of James Watson, the list of problematic scientific figures reads like a who's who of atheist heroes. Atheists have falsely claimed that science and Christianity are incompatible for decades, but what they've learned in just three short years is that it is science and social justice which are totally incapable of coexisting.

So, I have to wonder, will all those who shrieked about ‘how dare you accuse evolutionary biology of being racist’ when it was Ben Stein making the accusation (and who call for the fainting couch and the censor at the slightest whiff of HBD) shriek nearly as loudly when it’s the Woke Left “decolonizers” making the accusation instead?

#online atheism #9/11 #islam #islamophobia #religion #hbd #evolution #darwin

[medea10]

Medea’s Worst Year of All-Time Anime/Game Superlative

Nobody saw this year coming…except for maybe Barbara Walters! Who could have predicted that this year would bless us with Australia burning, the entire west coast of the U.S. set on fire, stupid people setting fires because they wanted to reveal a baby’s gender, murder hornets, Ruth Bader Ginsburg dying, an almost war with Iran, serial killer mascots arrested, policemen killing unarmed black folks for having a counterfit $20, policemen killing unarmed black folks for breaking up a fight, policemen killing black folks for holding sandwiches, policemen killing unarmed black folks for fucking sleeping, a wide variety of “Karens” coming out of the woodworks, the end of Bojack, the end of Steven Universe, the end of Empire, and a pandemic so huge it’s killed the economy, canceled fun, and given the U.S. president the dumb-fuck idea of injecting bleach to kill the virus!?

SERIOUSLY, WHO COULD HAVE PREDICTED ALL OF THIS WAS GOING TO FALL IN OUR LAPS LIKE HOT COFFEE ON THE CROTCH?!

At least there was anime this year.

…

At least there was SOME anime this year.

…

Biden won the election and Vickeblanca came out with Black Catcher this year.

Hey internet, it’s Medea here to give you her trashy opinion on this years anime and games that she’s watched or played. Because for some reason, my loser-ass loves to do out-dated as fuck memes! I shouldn’t complain, this shit brings a lot of attention to my page every year when I do this. Yes, 2020 was a complete dumpster fire so large that Domestic Girlfriend is crying foul. Many of us had to go on lockdown and ended up binge-watching the entire 957+ episodes of One Piece. I did no such thing. I am one of those “essential workers” so I didn’t hunker down for 9 months straight. But when I was home, I was watching anime. Actually, I would have done that even without the pandemic. I’m an introvert and find the human race to be deplorable.

You all know how this goes. I go over the best this year had to offer me. I had to search really hard to find the good in this year, especially in the anime world. Many things had to be put on hiatus or were delayed to a later date. Just a reminder, I don’t discriminate in what year the anime or game came out. If something came out in the happier times of 2007, that anime or game counts! Let’s get at it!

First Fandom of 2020: Interspecies Reviewers

Did anyone expect a fan-favorite of 2020 was going to be a hentai? Did anyone have on their batshit 2020 bingo card that a hentai was going to grab everybody’s attention? At the beginning of the year, my mind was set on the Railgun sequel and Eizoken. It wasn’t until licensors, streaming sites, and TV stations in Japan dropped this series that I started to pay attention. And got immediately hooked! It’s about three men going to different brothels and reviewing their time with the ladies. And these ladies are of different species! So with every bang comes possible enlightenment, new kinks, or a night of having your dick sucked off more than humanly possible. This anime blew away all of my skepticism and first impressions right out the window. Maybe it’s because I’m a degenerate and am often curious about sexual content, but this was a guilty pleasure of mine this year.

Favorite Main Character of 2020: Moroha from Yashahime

I know the majority of this story is going to revolve around Towa and Setsuna, but can we please focus a little more energy on the spunky, quarter-demon girl?! I know they’re pitting Moroha as the comic relief, but I’m hopeful that she’s going to surprise us one day. We fans of InuYasha would spend the past decade and some change wondering what InuYasha and Kagome’s daughter would be like. This year, we got our answer with Moroha. She’s got this wild side to her, probably due to the fact that she’s spent her entire life on her own. And while she’s silly at times, she can get down to business in a pinch. She has her father’s sense of smell. She has a sword. She’s able to shoot sacred arrows much like her mother. And to top it all off, she has this special rouge that if she puts it on, she’s able to unleash that ¼ demon power inside her and become Beniyasha! Yeah, I know the power only lasts a minute, she’s only 14, give her a break! I will gladly go through another week scratching my head at the confusion this story gives me if I get to see one more second of Moroha and her crazy antics or her bad-ass slaying.

Favorite Villain of 2020: The Devil Believers from Black Clover

This was one hell of a year for Black Clover. It would have been an easy choice to pick the devil and possible super devil that appeared during the elf fight. But I’d like to give a nod to the filler arc villains. And you can’t blame this group for wanting the power of the devil. They’re literally the bottom-rung of the Clover Kingdom and ones with little to no power or mana. So I can agree with why they would want the power of the devil. For one thing, they’d have more power. And for another thing, they’d be able to exact revenge on those who have wronged them. On some occasions I agree with exacting revenge and when it comes to the nobles and some characters in Black Clover, some folks do deserve death. I mean, have you met the king of the Clover Kingdom? Plus, this town and many other poorer towns get looked over by the kingdom. Peasant uprise! Anyways, I thought these people were really crafty in their crimes. I mean, they were able to knock Asta out on his ass with specially made poisons. I was actually hooked to this story of Black Clover (despite it being a filler arc). I know we’ll never see them again as they have been exiled, but it did have me semi-rooting for them.

Favorite Video Game Character of 2020: Honey from Pokemon – Sword & Shield (Expansion Pass)

Sorry Raymond from Animal Crossing!

Honey is the saucy wife of Mustard…I did not expect that to come out the way it did, but here we are! She has one hell of a team you can fight once a day. She looks out for her husband, the dojo, and the students of the dojo like they were her own children by providing food, drinks, and others. However that does come at a price as you do have to give up a sizable chunk of your watts that you collect in raid dens. I’m sure a bunch of MILF chasers were more than happy enough to give her all their hard-earned watts just so they can have their one-on-one moment on the beach with Honey.

What won me over was when that one guy from a rival dojo bad-mouthed her husband’s dojo and she…I think she kicked this guy’s ass herself. I don’t think she used any of her pokemon. Game Freak won’t show it, but we all know she kicked this guy’s ass to a point where he’s begging for mercy.

Honey, for the win!

Favorite Game of 2020: Animal Crossing New Horizons

This game was just Zen for me. I know the release of this game came with some controversy like Gamestop saying it’s an essential business and will remain open for people to get their copies of the game. Hell, I was one of those assholes in line waiting to get a copy on March 20th. Did I predict that a pandemic was going to rage out of control when I got a prepay copy of this for Christmas 2019? NO! I only predict political things, not deadly pandemics! The good news, we social distanced, didn’t catch the covid and got the game.

Anyways, this game has been a non-stop calming and fun ride. I can even forgive their botch-up of Bunny Day. They even have events for holidays I never thought they would ever touch. I mean, does anybody know when Museum Day is? Probably not until Animal Crossing had an event for it! I’ve been able to let my freak-flag fly with designing my island. And this goes way beyond New Leaf for the 3DS. I can make a sign post with the words “Fuck Trump” on it and post it in my yard. I can dig up trees and plant them elsewhere. I can poop in a toilet. I can craft furniture and put my own design on it. My furniture can have Tracey Sketchit’s beautiful mug on it. I can sit on Tracey Sketchit’s face. I am a sick fuck and I don’t care. I can give Raymond and Bob maid outfits. Magical time in my game! My hopes for next year…I don’t know, get the Festivale furniture, get Papi and Olivia to join my island, maybe visit Danny Trejo’s island, who knows, sky’s da limit!

Favorite Het Couple of 2020: Nasa and Tsukasa Yuzaki from Tonikawa

This is one of the most unorthodox marriages I’ve ever seen. But in this 90 Day Fiance world we’re living in, I shouldn’t pass judgement on these two getting married in episode one and not knowing much about each other. Nasa meets Tsukasa as he was about to be plowed by a truck. Tsukasa saves his life. Nasa says she’s beautiful. Tsukasa says she’ll be his girlfriend if they get married. He agrees. She disappears. Four years later, Tsukasa appears in front of Nasa’s front door with a marriage registration form. Congratulations buddy, you’ve got yourself a waifu! In some way, this felt like watching Yamato and Takeo from My Love Story. I was fascinated with them progressing through their relationship. The only difference is that Yamato and Takeo took the old-fashioned route. This couple did everything ass-backwards in terms of having a relationship. But I couldn’t take my eyes off Nasa and Tsukasa’s relationship during each episode. I find them cute.

Favorite Yuri Couple of 2020: Karin Asaka x Emma Verde from Love Live Nijigasaki High School Idol Club

AAAAAAAAAH! I’M IN IDOL HELL AGAIN! Yeah, no kidding! I came this close to putting Miu x Nicole from that abomination 22/7. But thank God for Love Live! There’s no telling if any of the girls from the Love Live franchise are confirmed to be lesbians. But fuck it, all of them attend all-girl schools, no males exist anywhere, and Sunshine gave us Kanan x Mari! Yeah, you know Kanan and Mari is canon as fuck, don’t at me. So naturally, I found more third-years to ship in the new Love Live series. Now I know I should have put up Ai x Rina or Ayumu x Yuu. Especially the latter due to recent events! But Emma x Karin is my OTP.

Now Emma is an exchange student from Switzerland and in coming to Nijigasaki, she first meets Karin and they became instant friends. When Emma said she wants to become an idol, Karin helped her quite a bit. Even though Karin had no interest in being an idol as her modeling career is starting up, Karin would occasionally help Emma out. And surprise, surprise, Karin ends up fascinated with the idol world and Emma helps her come to the light to be herself there. Okay, I’m totally reading this in some fragmented way, but I’m currently playing Love Live School Idol Festival All Stars and the app game has a lot more stuff involving stuff the anime has yet to talk about. Confirmed or not, Karin x Emma for the win!

Favorite Yaoi Couple of 2020: Eiji Okumura x Ash Lynx from Banana Fish

It took me a while to get here, but I finally made it to 2018’s overlooked gem. Forgive me for not being fully caught up, but from what I’m watching at the moment, I’m sticking to my guns and supporting the hell out of this. I mean, I could have mentioned The Titan’s Bride here…but fuck no, I ain’t goin’ down that mess! Ash has gone through a lot, I mean a helluva lot in his past. His cute boy looks have made him a target on the streets of New York, with mafia dons, and with prison inmates. But dude can kill if you mess with him. Then you have Eiji, who is just a literal example of a “pure cinnamon roll (until episode 8)”. These two are as opposite as you can possibly get. Ash is from New York and Eiji is from Japan. Ash likes hot dogs with everything on it. Eiji likes grilled fish and natto. Ash spent the majority of his life killing on the streets. Eiji was a track superstar. You get my meaning. But when we got these two together it’s quite adorable. Ash is really able to change when he’s around Eiji. Ash isn’t some heartless killer on the street about to kill a thug with prosthetic fingers. When he’s with Eiji, he’s a joker that can easily get scared of pumpkins. And even in later episodes, you got these two acting like a husband and wife.

Fandom That You Didn’t Expect to Get Into: Les Miserables – A Girl Named Cosette

Let me explain a little something. Les Mis! I have never seen the play, watched the movie, or read the novel prior to picking up this anime. Not a single one of those! And that’s a bit of a head-scratcher when you realize I was a bit of a musical theater nut in my teenage years. But one thing I do like is when Japan does an anime based on plays or historical events (like Romeo x Juliet or Rose of Versailles). The second I popped in Les Miserables the anime, I wanted to binge watch the whole 52 episode series. It is by no means a perfect adaptation of the Victor Hugo novel. Several key players end up surviving all the way up to the end of the story! But because this was my very first viewing of anything Les Mis, I took to the story of Cosette and was eager to see what was going to happen next in her tale. Unlike the movies and play, Cosette was the main focus of the story besides Jean Valjean and Javert. And thanks to watching the unfortunate stories of Cosette, Jean Valjean, the Thenadiers, Javert, Marius, and the rest, I thought it was time to watch the OTHER adaptations to Les Mis.

…

Russell Crowe sucks.

Fandom That Made An Unexpected Comeback: Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni

Higurashi or When They Cry is one of my favorite fandoms of all time! So naturally when we heard that it was making a comeback, I was excited. It was also very odd that Higurashi was given this sequel or reboot. Ahem! There’s another franchise that needs a face-lift. Umineko still deserves a better treatment. Plus, now that this series was out of the faulty hands of Studio Deen, Higurashi will get the special care it deserves. Believe it or not, it wasn’t just the anime that made a comeback for me, but the manga as well. Since 2009, I’ve read several volumes (out of order) and would every now and then come back to read the story. Back to the anime, this reboot or sequel…you know what, I’m gonna call it a “rebooqual”! This rebooqual sucked me back to the town of Hinamizawa and all the murders. Every week, I find myself comparing the current episode to one from the 2006 version. But then the fourth episode of each arc seems to catch me off guard.

Where are they going with this story and these twist endings to our favorite arcs? I did not expect Rena to turn a simple attempted murder into the end of School Days! I didn’t expect Rika to die in the most disgusting fashion they could think of. Could someone kill Teppei fucking Hojo? I will pay ¥5000 for someone to do that job. So yeah, because I know how much of this plays out and who does what, I’m usually watching and reading while making wise-ass remarks. But I still have fun with it.

Fandom That Inspired the Most Crack: Konosuba

In a year where I caught up with the popular Isekais like Shield Hero and Re:Zero, I found the wacky misadventures of Kazuma Satou to be amusing as all get-out. From the first 5 minutes, I found myself laughing at Kazuma’s misfortune. Seriously, how the fuck do you mistake a tractor for a car, have a heart attack, piss yourself, and fucking die in the first couple minutes to the series? You can only get away with this shit in gag animes! But it’s not just Kazuma’s dumbass, there’s a mage who only does explosions, but loses all her energy after one blow-up. Then there’s a busty, blonde who gets turned on by getting hurt and can’t strike anything with her sword. Anime’s biggest masochist or Cheryl Tunt incarnate, I haven’t decided which one to believe! Then you have this loud, crazy goddess chick named Aqua. She’s also useless about 86% of the time! Watching their unfortunate missions is all the crack that I need to get through this year. Seriously, Darkness is just all kinds of fucked up, but we love her.

Last Fandom of 2020: Yashahime

That’s right, the InuYasha sequel gets top spot here! Even though week after week I find myself asking more questions than when the episode started, I’m still hooked. If you’re like me, you watched and fell in love with the series InuYasha. So if they’re doing a sequel, you’re expecting to see all of your favorite characters from the prequel like InuYasha, Kagome, Miroku, Sango, Sesshomaru, Koga, Rin, and the rest. Actually, no! Quite the opposite! We’ve got Sesshomaru’s daughters, but no Sesshomaru. Rin is sleeping in a tree we think! We’ve got InuYasha and Kagome’s daughter, but they’re M.I.A. None of the girls even know a thing about their birth parents.

Now are these new characters a catch like the ones from the previous series? Some are! The three main girls, yes! Especially Moroha! I’ve already praised her name earlier in the superlative. Towa and Setsuna do take on some personality traits from their parents. Setsuna is definitely serious like Sesshomaru and Towa sometimes has a carefree yet loyal aura to her like Rin. I know I’m always skeptical when a series gives us a sequel featuring the offspring of the main characters. Especially when you’ve got some lame examples like Boruto and Eureka Seven AO (I might retract my diss on Boruto later)! As each week gives us a new episode, we’re unraveling new clues into a lot of things involving our old favorite characters, as well as the new ones. So I have high hopes for Yashahime for the time being!

#anime #interspecies reviewers #moroha #yashahime #Black Clover #honey #pokemon sword and shield #isle of armor #animal crossing new horizons #tonikawa #nasa yuzaki #tsukasa yuzaki #love live #love live nijigasaki high school idol club #emma verde #karin asaka #banana fish #ash lynx #eiji okumura #Higurashi no Naku Koro ni #konosuba #les miserables a girl named cosette

[howggswouldreact]

🌙 In the moonlight | Chungha

Request: Hey!! I really liked that chungha scenario btw~~ can i request a chungha scenario where idol!reader is stressed bc of a new comeback (pretend this whole virus stuff is gone) and its chungha to the rescue...? kinda angsty but lots of fluff!! ❤❤

Plot: Reader is preparing for a big comeback, has been going through a completely stressful month and decides to disappear to try to calm down. A worried Chungha goes after Reader.

Words: 1,761

Genre: a bit angst, a bit fluff

Notes: i hope i managed to make you feel the emotions that I tried to transfer. hope you enjoy it!

"And 5, 6, 7 and 8 ..."

And one more time, you repeated the movements. It was getting harder and harder to catch the steps of that dance, your dance, and the first day of comeback was getting closer and closer. So close that it scared you.

Am I going to make it?, you asked yourself, immersed in your own thoughts and ended up losing steps.

You tried to recover by taking the next movements and people could tell by the expression on your face that you were unhappy with your own results. You were tired. In reality, you were exhausted. But you couldn't stop. At least not now when your career was going in a great path. And if the sales for this comeback were as good or better than the previous one, you were sure to go on a South Korea, Japan and China tour. That's what your manager said, all happy that your career was doing great. This most likely meant re-recording the songs in japanese and mandarin. You didn't know if you had enough energy for that. You were truly exhausted.

You missed another step and ended up falling to your knees. All the dancers behind you stopped, the choreographer ordered the music to stop and announced a ten minutes break for everyone. There were certainly a lot of worried looks on you, but she threw them out without you noticing it.

“Hey, what's going on with you? You are not usually that distracted.”, the choreographer asked.

“Stressful week. But it doesn’t matter. I have to be professional. I'll take a breath and I'll be right back.”, you didn't wait for her answer, took your cell phone on the floor in front of the mirror and left the room.

You were feeling a slight pain in your knees, but the flow of your thoughts was so fast that you didn't even care about this. You took the path to the emergency stairs so you wouldn’t meet anyone and sat down on one of the steps. You let out a long breath and let your shoulders drop, showing an exhaustion that only you knew existed. You started crying.

You unlocked your cell phone and realized that, by the time, she was recording her episode on a KBS show, you thought it was best to not disturb her. But there was a message from her to you. Even after two years together, your heart was still racing with these little things.

“I hope everything is fine out there. Manager said KBS is the last appointment of the day so I can get home early. I'll wait for you there, babe.”

Attached to the message, she sent you a selfie. That was enough to recharge your energy a little more, make you wipe your tears and get you back to the dance room with more gas and thinking that it would be over soon so you could rest in Chungha's arms.

A week passed and it seemed that every single day had come together in one. Every time you lay in bed it was like when you closed your eyes your alarm went off and you should get up again. You were doing everything as if you were on autopilot.

Every time you went out to practice, it was too early and Chungha was asleep. And when you arrived free from all the schedule planned that day by your manager, it was already very late and she was, again, asleep.

The only thing that gave you strength was always sleeping right by your side and you would not get her out of her sacred sleep. But you were missing her, there was an urge to talk to her about how you felt that maybe soon, like an elastic that pulls too hard, you could disrupt. And only with her you felt comfortable enough to be honest in her arms, to tell her your fears, your insecurities, all the bad feelings that plagued your heart and body at that moment. But you couldn't.

Of course you spoke by message, sometimes you even had time for a call of 10 minutes or less, but nothing was the same as before. This comeback came with so much weight and you didn't feel like you could have enough strength to hold it. But you should. For your fans. For being professional. For her.

Another week has passed and you could finally put into practice everything you were preparing. However, you did not feel ready. It didn't matter how long you spent dancing, how long you studied singing, nothing seemed good enough for you.

And then, with only four days left for your comeback, your manager said that it would be necessary to re-record a scene in your music video on your free day. The only free day you had until the real promotions had started.

"I literally just woke up.", you said, quietly sitting on the bed and trying not to wake Chungha.

"I can't do anything, Y/N. The director found an error in two scenes. One that you recorded in the morning and the other, during the night. I need you to be free at least during this period to give this as closed and go back to your normal activities."

Taking a deep breath, you just agreed that you would be in the studio in less than two hours and ended the call. When you thought you were going to cry, you felt two arms wrap around you from behind. You felt her head resting on the back of your neck and light breathing hitting your skin.

"I miss you," she said, pressing her lips to your skin.

"I miss you too," you replied, sliding your fingers down her arms.

"How are you feeling?", she tried to make you turn to her but you got up and started walking towards the bathroom.

"I will be fine."

On your way to the studio, you received several messages from Chungha, and they were all about how worried she was about you. You replied all of them, trying to reassure her, saying that as soon as you finished recording, you would come home, come back to her.

The day went by your fingers and when the last shot was taken as perfect by the director, you finally felt like you could breathe again.

"Y/N, I was able to schedule an appointment for tomorrow morning on Weekly Idol to show the new performance.", he started throwing the information at you all at once. "Of course, the show will only be aired during the week of the comeback but-"

"For God's sake, do you think I'm a robot?", you asked, letting all the exhaustion out of you. "I put up with this whole week and still came in this ridiculous studio to have no problem at all with you, and I’m here on my day off! I can't breathe, I don't have time for breath! I barely talk to my girlfriend personally and we are living in the same apartment! I agreed to be an idol but I'm still a human being!"

"Y/N..."

"Ah, you know what? I need to breathe. For the first time during this month, let me breathe."

And then, without leaving any space for him to speak again, you turned your back and started walking in a direction that at first did not exist, but it soon took shape.

When Chungha got the call from your manager, she soon took a taxi to the company's studio. When she got there, she made sure to say what was needed. She protected you with her sharp words and all your manager was able to do was nod, with his head down. Chungha could be an angel most of the time, but if anyone tries to do anything to the ones she loves, she will become the devil on Earth.

She tried to call you several times, but the call was not answered. Nobody saw where you went and Chungha knew it was a matter of finding you as she could. Then, her mind clicked and soon she recreated your steps as well as only she could do it.

As she went up the stairs and pushed the terrace’s door slowly, Chungha remembered the first meeting you both had right there. And so many others who came next, in the same place. The air was cleaner and the wind was strong. And the sky... breathtaking, just like you.

She found you, head up but shoulders down, you looked hopeless, without any motivation and that left Chungha with a tight heart. How could you be feeling this way? You were her foundation.

She approached you and realized that you were facing the moon.

"The next time you decide to disappear, you better answer the phone when I call."

You weren't scared. On the contrary, you smiled relieved at her presence. And even with the scolding. She was so beautiful in the moonlight. Before you could even answer, she pressed your lips together in a kiss that hadn't been given for a long time, a kiss that tasted like “missing you”.

"Those days were terrible and I didn't want to bother you.", you confessed breaking up the kiss, putting a few strands of her hair behind her ear.

"You are what matters to me. I need to know how you are, just so I can sleep well enough. If you are not okay, you can be sure that I will feel it and I will not be okay either. Do you understand?", she asked, stroking your cheek.

"Yes. I think I must go back..."

"You don't have to, everything is settled. Your comeback has been postponed for two weeks and you will have that time to relax. With me. Then, vacation. With me, again."

"What-"

"I can be quite convincing.", she smiled at you, arranging the collar of your coat so you wouldn't feel so cold.

You were relieved. You felt your body relax from thinking about the next few weeks and the next vacation. You pulled her body closer to yours and held her waist, joined your foreheads and finally felt at home.

"How did you find me?"

"This is a secret that I will never tell.", she gave you a peck. "But coming to the place where we kissed for the first time and asked me to be your girlfriend? I think it’s a little too obvious."

You laughed and, watched by the moon, your lips came together again. A kiss with the taste of love.

#chungha reactions #chungha scenarios #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #kpop headcanons #chungha scenario #kim chungha scenarios

[the-evil-authoress]

GX Month Day 11: “Cyber Legacy”

No Yu-Gi-Oh! show is complete without a pair of brothers. Today’s stars are Sho Marufuji/Syrus Truesdale and Ryo Marufuji/Zane Truesdale!

Eep! I angsted. Guess that's what I get for deciding to explore their backstory.

Headcanon(?): Syrus was subjected to the "why can't you be more like your brother?" treatment, and that plays a large roll in his anxiety and insecurities.

Headcanon: Zane lost most of his sense of self trying to live up to everyone's expectations (and eventually snaps in s2). Atticus makes him feel like a person.

Syrus thinks they had a good relationship once. He still remembers when he used to follow his big brother around with stars in his eyes. He idolized Zane and, back then, Zane still smiled.

He still doesn’t know what went wrong between them. Was it really that stupid misplay of Power Bond? No, Zane started growing distant even before that. Everything started going downhill after they both started school. Syrus remembers people calling Zane a ‘prodigy’ long before he knew what the word meant. Then those same people looked at Syrus with expectant eyes, and Syrus just wanted to run away and hide.

Zane was the perfect poster boy, good at everything he did, and Syrus was ‘Marufuji’s little brother’, scared and weak and bad at everything. Everyone expected him to be just like Zane, but he wasn’t; he was never good enough.

“You’re not your brother, silly boy,” their mother told him once. “You’re you. So stop worrying about who you’re not and focus on who you are.”

Syrus tries. But the fact remains that he is scared and weak and school tuition is expensive. Their father walked out before Syrus was old enough to remember him. He doesn’t know how well Zane remembers, but he knows Zane holds a grudge against the man; he found out the hard way. Their mother works constant overtime to put them both through school, and sometimes Syrus wonders if he shouldn’t just drop out already. He never tells his mother this.

Syrus loves dueling, but he knows he’s not good at it. He only signs up for Duel Academy because Zane scores a full ride scholarship and their mother convinces him she can cover the tuition for one of her children.

“Don’t let other people tell you what you can and can’t do. Follow your heart,” she tells.

Syrus tries.

But like everything else, he’s bad at this too.

When Jaden barrels into his life like the sun incarnate, Syrus finally finds something to believe in if not himself.

*

“How do you do it?”

Atticus looks up from his half finished assignment, sprawled out on his bed like usual. Zane doesn’t understand how he can work like that. Don’t his arms get cramped? “Gonna need you to be more specific.”

“Alexis. How do you...be her older brother?” Gods, it sounds stupid out loud but Zane doesn’t actually want to take it back. Atticus is the only person who can get past his defenses like this.

Atticus frowns. “I just am?” Because that answer is so helpful. Zane’s irritation must show on his face because Atticus pushes himself up and crosses his legs. “If you mean how we get along, well, sometimes we fight like cats and dogs but others we’re just kinda there for each other. Normal siblings stuff.”

None of that sounds normal to Zane.

This too much show on his face - really it’s sometimes terrifying how vulnerable he lets himself be around Atticus - because Atticus hums thoughtfully. “I guess it just boils down to compassion?”

Ah yes, that lovely word. Zane’s beginning to think he was born without that fundamental human quality. (Realistically, it was probably conditioned out of him by circumstance.)

“She’s my sister, so I wanna protect her and make sure she’s happy,” Atticus continues.

Zane thinks about that day he stopped Syrus from botching a duel by misplaying Power Bond. He did do that because he wanted to protect Syrus, but the results had been less than favorable. Hell, he gave Syrus Power Bond to begin with for basically the same reason. Zane hasn’t seen the boy try to play the card since.

“Compassion is a choice you know.” Zane startles at this new piece of insight. Atticus continues undeterred. “And sometimes it’s a hard choice to make.”

A long moment passes while Zane stares at his friend. “How...?”

Rocking back, Atticus stares at the ceiling with pensive hum. “It’s like...you look at someone and think ‘what would I want someone to do for me?’ and then you do that for them. It doesn’t always work, but the more you do that, the more you’ll learn how your needs and wants differ from those around you and be able to make adjustments.”

It sounds remarkably simple laid out like that, and Zane can finally see where the difficulty between him and Syrus lies. Ever since starting school and being labelled a prodigy and having expectation after expectation piled upon him, Zane only wanted to be left alone. So of course he distanced himself from Syrus. But what did Syrus want?

Zane doesn’t know.

“You look like you’ve figured it out.” Atticus grins, stretching his limbs before flopping back down into his previous position. “So I’ll let you ruminate on what to do about it while I tackle this English assignment from hell.”

“Atticus, you’re better at English than I am.”

“The rules are a nightmare! Nothing is sacred!”

Rolling his eyes, Zane decides maybe he can try his hand at this compassion thing, find out what Syrus wants and needs from him. It may be too late but... Ah, hell, this optimist fool is rubbing off on him.

*

Atticus disappears before the school year ends. When Zane returns home for summer break, he’s in no frame of mind to try mending a long burned bridge.

By the time Syrus shows up at Duel Academy, Zane is too jaded to believe their relationship anything more than a lost cause. He doesn’t want the kid there because he cares, because he doesn’t want his little brother to suffer the pain of disappointment and failure. He’ll be damned if he knows how to convey any of this, and Alexis can’t read him nearly as well as Atticus could. She tries, and Zane appreciates that.

A better brother might try to help Syrus improve, but that ship has long sailed. At least he has Jaden to be the brother Zane never could.

Yeah. Syrus is better off without him.

#gxmonth2020 #syrus truesdale #sho marufuji #marufuji sho #zane truesdale #ryo marufuji #marufuji ryo #atticus rhodes #fubuki tenjoin #tenjoin fubuki #gx #ygo gx #ygogx #yugioh gx #yugiohgx #yu gi oh gx