Summary: Akaashi pulls a muscle and Bokuto offers to help him with yoga. Akaashi knows a bad idea when he sees it, and he really only agrees because he’s suddenly acquired a deeply rooted desire to see Bokuto do yoga.For multiple reasons.
Summary: Realizing he’s got it bad for his setter is the easy part. Getting his feelings across might be the hardest thing Bokuto’s ever done, not counting his literature final or putting out the flames on that birthday cake he tried to bake for Akaashi last year, or—or a lot of things, actually.But the point still stands. Reaching out to Akaashi is a leap in the dark, and he wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything (especially the smoking remains of a cake he baked before he really understood his feelings, but knew that it’s what you attempt with your own two hands that matters).
There’s a lot of things Bokuto isn’t sure about now that he’s in university. His program, his new team, his future. There’s only one thing he’s absolutely sure of. He is not dating Akaashi Keiji. Not even a little bit.
“How long do you think we’ll last without those supplies? We’re looking at a twenty mile trek, okay? So if we want to get there before dark we need to leave. Now” Clarke was trying to get people to move. The ark had dropped them on the wrong mountain, and without the supplies they would die quickly.
“I have a better idea” Bellamy spoke up, “You go and find it for us. Let the privileged do the hard work for a change.”
Delinquents shouted a ton of “yeah”’s in the air.
“You’re not listening. We all need to go” Wells spoke up, gesturing with his hands to try and get some motivation.
You stood near Bellamy and Octavia. You had ventured off not soon after landing, looking around the earth around you. You got back quick enough however, to see your boyfriend pick a fight with someone.
Notes: trigger warnings! Implications of sexual abuse, mentions of torture, swearing, injuries, memory loss, recuperating, fluff, angst, smut.
A/N: Part four! Bucky goes to see Banner and finds out more about his past with Y/N, while they find out about that something in his head.
Oh, and things get sexy.
Banner is nice enough. He keeps calling me James, though, and it’s a little confusing. Everyone here keeps calling me Bucky, and getting used to that one name was tough enough as it is. Now that I remember.. some difficult times, it’s a little exhausting to remind myself to answer to ‘James’ as well.
But he’s nice and lets me know what everything he’s using is for, so I decide to keep my trap shut and just roll with it. They’re trying to help me, after all. See how long it’ll take before I regain all of my memories, and I can’t wait for that to finally fucking happen.
A voice from the ceiling startles the living shit out of me when Doctor Banner asks some one called Friday what my brain-scan tells her.
Alan Hardy a supposed business man took over the club and clearly had no intention to run it, never came to a game and showed support for the girls, will pay a large chunk of his own money for Puma to be next year’s sponsors, pay to open a new bar and give away countless free goods to the men teams fans but fails the pay all those involved with the Ladies teams, when he took over the club it was clear the debt and mountain he had to overcome to get the club running again, in January he should’ve made the decision then to fold the club, do it in dignity, let our loyal players have 4 months to find new clubs and up root their lives, don’t leave them heartbroken and shattered two days before their first fixture, without a job and source of income
Alan Hardy you sir are an A class PRICK
Summary:Based off “Are You Happy Now?” by Rascal Flatts (feat. Lauren Alaina). Listen Here.
Side Note: The other song I used is called “Just A Man” by Somo”.
Baby, just look at you now, barely holding it together. We’re so in love, but you gave that up. Just look around, are you happy now?
It was too soon to tell whether or not it was going to last. But you hoped it did, my god, how you prayed that it would. Expect that’s not how it turned out. Relationships crash and burn, they test your limits and give you all these wonderful memories, only in the end to haunt you with them.
Archie Andrews, your next door neighbour, turned first crush, which led to him becoming your high school boyfriend. 6 months later, he become another face in the hallways.
Laying across your bed, eyes begging for some rest after 2 and half hours of homework. You obeyed and leaned against the headboard. It was extremely difficult to not peer through the window to see if Archie was still awake. Most nights when the two of you weren’t suppose to be out so late, meaning grounded, he’d text saying to meet him at the window. You did, and the two of you would sit looking across, texting one another and not going to sleep until the early hours of the morning.
Now, it was nothing. No text. No grabbing mountains of pillows, blankets and getting comfortable near the window. No staying up late. All that remained - memories.
You switched off the light and with it those painful reminders.
I saw her light go out. Apart of me hoped she’d come to the window, just like old times. But why would she? I screwed up, I am the reason why our relationship ended. Sighing in nothing but sheer frustration, I punched my pillow.
Eyeing my phone on the bedside dresser, it was far from a smart idea. Ignoring all the warning signs, I picked it up in my hands and clicked on Y/N’s contact, opening a new message. All of our old ones still there, but my eyes fixated on the last one. The message where we only had positive things to say. No screaming match, no arguing - just pure love.
Come to the window? - Archie
Archie, it’s 1:00 in the morning - Y/N
I know, but I promise it’ll be worth it. And if not I’ll definitely make it up to you ;) - Archie
Fine. I’m at the window, what is it? - Y/N
I love you - Archie
Only you, Archie Andrews, would wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me you love me - Y/N
I love you too. Now I’m going to bed, I’ll see your handsome face in the morning - Y/N
Goodnight, beautiful. Dream of me :P x - Archie
I remember that night so perfectly. It was day that Y/N and I said our first I love you’s, by accident, but that held no relevance because we both felt the same. The entire day I texted her I love you randomly. She responded with those 3 little words and I know I’m not suppose to admit this, but my heart skipped a beat whenever she did.
I was wide awake and couldn’t sleep, so that’s when I texted Y/N. Truthfully I love you wasn’t the only reason I texted so late. The other reason, I wanted to see her face even if it was from a distance.
Deciding against my original idea, I too turned off the light and let my mind dream of happier times.
You awoke to the pesky alarm that wasn’t going to shut up unless forced too. Hitting the snooze button, Friday had arrived. Getting ready for the school day didn’t take long at all, not when you plan all your outfits the day before. Wanting to get there a bit earlier than a certain red head, you settled for a muesli bar for breakfast and left.
Meeting the gang at the usual table outside, Betty had already saved a seat for you.
“So what’s the plan for tonight?. Pop’s, a movie or perhaps we can let loose and attend a party, I hear Reggie is planning one?”. Veronica asked, lifting an eyebrow.
Exchanging a glance with Betty, you were both thinking the same thing. “Sorry V, but I’m just looking forward to having a quiet night in my room”.
Betty interjected, declining as well. “Yeah, and Jughead and I already have plans”.
“Kevin, you are my last hope”. She gabbed his hands dramatically, making each of you smile.
“As much as I would love to be your knight in shinning armor, I have a date tonight”. His eyes fluttered straight ahead. “Hey, maybe you can ask Archie”.
At the mention of his name, your body automatically went numb. Betty reacted by placing a hand on your shoulder. “I forgot, I need to talk to a teacher about an English assignment. I’ll see you guys later”.
“Wait, what? There is no English assign-”. Jughead stopped mid-sentence when he saw the real reason why you wanted to disappear. He bit his lip and watched, along with the others as you walked past Archie.
“Y/N!”. Avoiding eye contact, you picked up the sped. “Y/N!?”. Archie jogged after you across the yard, catching up in no time. “Please, I want to talk”.
Clutching the strap of your bag, it was almost laughable. "I have nothing to say to you".
“But I have something I want to say to you”. His eyes pleading for you to hear him out.
“That your sorry, or that you made a mistake?”. The bell rang and the timing couldn’t be perfect. “I have to go”.
Jughad appeared beside me. “She needs time, Archie. After-”.
“After she saw me and Valerie in the music room? I wasn’t cheating on her Jug, I’d never hurt her like that”. Rubbing my face. “I love her”.
He put his hand on my shoulder, a remorseful expression. “You need to tell her that, Archie”.
“How? I’ve tried but she doesn’t believe me”.
Another bell rang, meaning that whoever didn’t make it to class on the first one was now officially late. “Then find a way to make her believe it”. Thinking about what Jughead said, there was only one way I knew to make her hear me.
After School - Still Archie’s POV
Everything was set up. Veronica and Betty were in charge of making sure Y/N turned up and Jughead was helping me set it all up. My phone beeped.
We’re 5 minutes away - Betty
I breathed nervously and wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. “She’s 5 minutes away. Thanks for helping, Jug”.
He smiled. “You and Y/N are meant to be, so if I can help get you guys back together then I’m all in”. Patting me on the back, he left, wishing me luck.
The sounds of voices could be heard throughout the hallways. If anyone found us at school at this time, there would be trouble. But this was important. The gym door opened and Y/N came in first, Betty and Veronica no where to be seen.
“Before you leave, please just listen”. I asked her, picking up my guitar. She didn’t attempt to head for the door, that was a good sign.
I strummed it once, twice, and begun singing.
Maybe I’m foolish, maybe I’m blind Maybe "I’m sorry”’s outta line Maybe I’m selfish, I should’ve tried You know I lost it, but I’ve been found
I know I’m wrong Baby, I’m wrong, so wrong For letting you hurt so long Ohh
And I can’t let you go, don’t you know Whatever it takes, I will do I’m down on my knees Begging you please
‘Cause I’m just a man, and you are my world I’m half what I am, with you I am whole 'Cause I’m just a man, and you are my girl Just give me a chance to bring my love home I’m just a man I’m just a man
I stood from my chair and made my way over to her. Standing in front, being as vulnerable as I could, through my music.
But I won’t let you go, don’t you know Whatever it takes, I will do? I’m down on my knees Begging you please
'Cause I’m just a man, and you are my world I’m half what I am, with you I am whole 'Cause I’m just a man, and you are my girl Just give me a chance to bring my love home
I softly sang the last line, she had tears in her eyes. “Y/N, I was-am an idiot. But nothing happened between Valarie and I, please believe me”.
Extending her hand, I was slightly confused. “Hi, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you”. I broke out into a smile, she was offering a clean state. Shaking her hand, I replied. “Nice to meet you Y/N, I’m Archie. I could use a milkshake, what do you say? Our regular table at Pop’s?”.
Y/N pushed back her hair and smiled. “I would really like that”.
Taking her hand, we both walked out of the school. We still had a long way to go, but I was willing to do whatever it took to get us back to how we used to be. Because I, Archie Andrews, only had eyes for one girl.
“Y/n,” Fili moans as you, once again, make a grab for his mustache braids.
You were an elfling at the mere age of five that Thorin had found on the journey to Erebor. A child that was all alone.
Although Thorin despised elves (a/n: it is actually canon that he does not hate them at all.), he could not leave you behind and so he had picked you up, but you gave him a hard time.
Always crying and talking back and pulling at his braids. He grew tired of carrying you and dealing with your incessant nagging so he handed you off to Fili and you instantly went quiet.
From then on, you were stuck with him and you continued to stick with him even though you were supposed to be living in Mirkwood and the mountain was reclaimed.
“Grabbing my braids actually hurt,” he says, putting you down so you could walk.
Your adoptive parents were elves from Mirkwood, but since you cried for Fili almost every night, they moved to Dale so you could be closer to him.
“But Fee has pretty braids,” you say, clutching his hand tightly.
“But fee needs those braids,” he argues back.
You look up at him confused. Your five-year-old brain could not understand why he needed braids or why any dwarf needed braids for that matter.
“Will Fee die without them?” You ask curiously and he laughs a bit.
“No I won’t die, but they hurt a lot when you pull them,” he explains again, wincing at all of the hair-pulling memories that seemed to pop up.
You bottom lip quivers and Fili quickly pulls you up into his arms.
“I’m sorry Fee,” you hiccup. He sighs. “That’s okay, y/n. You can pull on them whenever you want as long as it’s not too hard,” he says and you smile again.
“Lets go and bother Uncle Thorin. I’m pretty sure he needs a few good tugs on his braids,” he says, shifting you in his arms so that your arms are wrapped around his neck. You sigh in content, happy to be close to the one dwarf you loved the most.
“I’ll meet you again in the next life.” Words that have carried through time and ones that Cassian knows well. He offers words of a similar manner to Nesta when he thinks the end has arrived - for he will always find her.
Words: 1.3k | Tags: Angst, Nessian
Brutality ran through his veins. That was who Enalius was. An Illyrian warrior, the first of his kind, and leader to those he commanded.
For the past few months he had been negotiating with the Night Court’s High Lord for territory in the northern mountains for Illyrian training camps. He was supposed to maintain focus on that one goal alone, but that was before he met her.
Anessia was a fae princess from lands far East. She came into Enalius’s life as if she were a storm. And the Illyrian commander was swept off his feet by sheer beauty and ferocity that she possessed.
They had become increasingly intimate in the time they shared. Drawn together by something neither could comprehend. Slowly their relationship grew into something that Enalius became fearful of. He shouldn’t be consumed by the need that gripped him tight. Desire he understood. He had bedded females before, but Anessia…Nes…she was more than that. He couldn’t resist her and those rare smiles he would give him. Or the brief touches when they were out in public.
Enalius was not supposed to be at the mercy of a female who held his heart in her delicate hands.
Hands that were currently resting on his bare chest in the early morning light in his bedroom at the Night Court.
Enalius cursed the dawn. For it meant that there time together was ending. He knew what he had to do. Knew that to protect her he would need to do the unthinkable.
He glanced down at Anessia. She slept peacefully against his scarred body. Her shoulder and the top of her breasts peeked out from underneath the sheets that Enalius covered her with when they were both exhausted from a night of love making.
Silently the Illyrian found the strength to leave the bed and search for his clothes that were scattered on the floor.
“Why do you always feel the need to get up so early?” Anessia mumbled against the pillow and cracked her eyes open to watch Enalius pick up his pants. It was a pleasant sight to wake up to in the morning and Anessia smiled as she started rise up from the bed.
“You’re people will be leaving today,” Enalius said without turning. “You need to prepare for the journey.” Anessia and traveling group were only meant to pass through the Night Court to reach other lands to seek alliances. One of those potentially being that Anessia, heir to the throne, would be married to a high-born fae. Someone with a better standing than a bastard Illyrian warrior could offer.
Quietness settled over the room.
“And what if I didn’t want to go with them?” Anessia questioned.
“You are the heir to your court. One day you will be a queen,” Enalius responded stiffly. “We both knew from the start that this,” he gestured to the bed. “would never last.”
“I want to stay here,” Anessia stood from the bed. Determination hardening her voice. “I want to stay here with you Enalius.”
“Nonsense,” Enalius gritted out and tossed Anessia her clothes. “You should be marrying a king or someone of higher birth. And I am far from that.”
“I don’t care about your birthright,” Anessia walked forward. Her fingers tenderly touched Enalius’s back. Tracing the tattoos there and slowly brushing up against the base of the dark wings.
“I love you Enalius,” Anessia breathed and kissed the skin between of her lover’s shoulder blades.
A sigh threatened to escape Enalius at the gentle touch of the soft lips on his back.
“Nes,” Enalius breathed. He almost lost all of his willpower right then and there. His hand shook with restraint as he barely resisted the urge to reach for her.
“You also promised to take me flying,” Anessia continued. A hint of desperation sinking into her tone as she realized that Enalius still refused to turn and face her. As if he was seriously considering that they part ways.
“We – I can’t do that,” Enalius stepped away from Anessia. His heart being crushed as he could feel sadness radiating from behind him.
“Are you ashamed of me? Is that why you won’t talk to me in public? Or why you push me aside when your friends are near?” Anessia’s tone became laced with confusion and fury. She hated that their relationship had to be kept secret.
“Of course not,” Enalius found his shirt and tugged it on. “But this would never have lasted.”
“That’s only because you’re afraid to fight for it! To fight for us!” Anessia’s voice cracked as tears welled in her eyes. “Ironic how the greatest Illyrian warrior is to afraid to fight for love.”
Anessia quickly put on her clothes and brushed by Enalius on her way out. Her hand froze on the doorframe and she turned to look back at him one last time.
“I will look for you,” she whispered softly. “In the next life.”
Then she was gone.
Enalius watched her go. Every passing second making it difficult to restrain himself from chasing after her. Begging her to stay.
But this was for the best. She deserved better than a bastard warrior with no other title than the bloodshed that followed in his wake.
He ran her last words over in his head again and again long after Anessia’s departure.
I will look for you in the next life.
It was the farewell he had taught her about. One reserved for your closest companions. To those more precious than anything in the world.
Because it was a promise to meet again after death claimed them.
And Enalius knew that he would never see Anessia in this life again. She was bound to follow her duty to her subjects. And he was bound to live a life filled with war.
Weeks later Enalius felt a tug in his ribs. It felt so familiar to what he and Anessia shared yet he ignored the pull from the invisible string and did not answer the call that thrummed deep in his soul.
The string pulled taut as a wave of fear washed over him that was quickly replaced with a sense of peace so startling that it made Enalius buckle against one of the brick buildings in Velaris. Enalius heaved in gulps of air knowing that something was not right, but he had no understanding of what it could be.
He soon discovered the next day why he felt as though the world had been pulled from under his feet and anguish filled his lungs.
The Summer Court sent word that Anessia’s people had been ambushed.
And Anessia was killed during the attack as she died protecting her little sister.
Ennalius felt nothing but a murderous calm settle over him as the Summer Court messenger explained in detail what happened. Hearing what they did to Anessia – to her people who she cared for more than her own life – it sharpened the blade that twisted in his heart.
The High Lord of the Night Court requested that Ennalius and his group of warriors eliminate the threat that the rogue fae posed. By that point the Illyrian was already grabbing for the blade he always kept at his side.
Ennalius would destroy the beasts even without an official order. These bastards would pay dearly for what they had done.
It didn’t take long for the flying Illyrians to track their targets and kill them. Ennalius cut down his opponents with swiftness followed by a trail of screams and blood. All the while making sure he made them suffer. A quick death was far too merciful.
When it was all over Ennalius still felt empty in the depths of his sould amid that carnage at his feet. Usually battles kept him at ease, because bloodshed was all he knew, but he knew there was a void in his heart that could not be filled.
“I will find you again in the next life,” Ennalius whispered to the chasm of emptiness in his chest. Hoping his voice would reach Anessia – his Nes – wherever she was in the next world.
Cadewyn is amazed by the beauty of Terrasen. The towering mountains, crystal clear lakes, and enormous, flourishing pine trees that surround the capital city of Orynth is completely breathtaking. As he follows the Captain of the Guard, Aedion, around the palace grounds, he is struck by how different it is from the Night Court.
In Velaris, his parents do not own a large castle, or a huge plot of land. There is Aunt Elain’s garden, but Cade is sure she would love to see the one in Terrasen thrice the size of her own. Only in the last few years has Cade been able to venture down to the Court of Nightmares, and the difference between the two capitals is practically palpable.
Terrasen is fresh, new, and clean, with smiles passed between everyone and a calm atmosphere. The palace, which Cade has learned was built only in the last couple decades, is pristine, though old fashioned, and though it is enormous, has an incredibly homey feel to it. Hewn City is dark, extravagant, and the tension that is constantly floating in the air gives him a headache whenever he visits. The architecture is old and, though it is kept very clean, feels dirty.
Quickly, and without much effort, Cade finds himself at ease in the company of the captain as they stroll along the edge of the forest and make polite conversation. Aedion only looks a few years older than Cade, but the boy knows better. The captain may not have pointed ears or elongated teeth, but Cade can recognize the smell of fae blood in him.
They have been walking a few minutes in silence, just admiring their surroundings, when Cade finally works up the courage to ask. “So, how old are you?” He wonders, trying to be nonchalant about it so as not to seem rude.
Oh my goodness your writing is beautiful! <3 If you're open to it, now that we have a fic of Zelda realizing she's in love with Link, can we have one of Link realizing he's in love with Zelda?
Thank you so much!! This has actually been requested a couple times, so without further ado;
The first time he saw her, she had been nothing more than a flash of golden hair. He was at the training grounds, sparring with the other aspiring knights. It wasn’t much sparring on his side rather than easily defeating anyone who approached him for a challenge. Link had grinned at one of his friends, mopping sweat away from his forehead when he saw it – a flash of golden and royal blue out of the corner of his eye. It disappeared almost immediately, but he was left feeling awe.
“Hey, Link, you okay?” One of the others threw their arm around him, and Link’s smile returned.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thought I saw someone for a moment. Nevermind.”
They went back to sparring, but not before Link could look back once more at the spot where the gold disappeared.
Any advice for someone who's god has left them? (Due to said persons own stupidity and stubbornness)
First, I’m terribly sorry you feel you’ve been left. That’s a really shitty thing to have to feel, whether from a human or otherwise. Second, sometimes, what feels to us like leaving may sometimes be when we’re being given room to work through things on our own terms, rather than having them to refer to.
I don’t know what your situation is, though it sounds like you’re blaming yourself. I could say definitively that it isn’t your fault, but that may be somewhat disingenuous so, instead, let’s acknowledge the fact that gods aren’t like us, shall we? After all, if they were like us, what would the difference be? We might as well be gods, mightn’t we?
Sure, many stories and sacred texts tell tales of the gods acting in ways we recognize as humans, but that doesn’t change what they are. They’re still gods, are they not? Even if they might once have been human, as is the case in some traditions, now they’re not.
A god is a god, even if you’re not sure what a god is It’s that difference, that sacredness which trips something in the human mind makes you go Bugger me, that’s a god, that is!
sacred (adj.)late 14c., past participle adjective from obsolete verb sacren “to make holy” (c. 1200), from Old French sacrer “consecrate, anoint, dedicate” (12c.) or directly from Latin sacrare “to make sacred, consecrate; hold sacred; immortalize; set apart, dedicate,” from sacer (genitive sacri) “sacred, dedicated, holy, accursed,” from Old Latin saceres, from PIE root *sak- “to sanctify.” Buck groups it with Oscan sakrim, Umbrian sacra and calls it “a distinctive Italic group, without any clear outside connections.” Related: Sacredness.
See that the quote above includes accursed? That which gods do is, to quote a certain German philosopher Beyond good and evil. Sure, gods can do things which might offend common morality, but that doesn’t make it good or evil in an absolute sense.It just makes it a thing a god does. Hell, I’m an Odinsman and my god baldly introduces himself as Bolverk, which translates as: worker/doer of harm, injury, ruin, evil, mischief, wickedness.
Does what it says on the tin, right? To human morality, killing nine thralls, tricking people, obtaining things by deception, are not OK. Yet here’s Odin, tipping his hat and giving us the proverbial wink.
Why this crash-course. this reminder of the ambiguous that comes with practical theology?
Because each god has an individual character, because they are persons and not people. You believe your god has left you? I assume you mean that you can’t/haven’t felt their presence? Or maybe they’ve told you goodbye?
I don’t know. I don’t know who you are, either. Shall I tell you what I do know?
I know you’re not the first to behave stupidly. You’re not the first to behave stubbornly. You’re not the first person to have felt their god have left them. Even Christians have a name for it - The Dark Night of the Soul.
Do you think that, in the course of an immortal being’s existence, you are the first one to fuck things up? Do you think a being who’s lasted generation after generation actually picked just you to walk away from, completely and utterly?
Nah. They’ve done it before, right? They have to have, otherwise, frankly, you’re disturbingly special. Are you, the one who behaved stupidly, and stubbornly, that special? Are you something and someone so special that, in another age, they’d compose a poem, an epic tale - The Saga of Anon the Stubbornly Stupid?
Think about it, seriously.
Because if you’re not that freakishly special, then you either belong to a select group of people from whom your god walked away, and you’re not as alone as you think. Or, the departure isn’t what you think it is.
It’s the old chestnut - when things pass beyond our ability to experience them with our senses, do they still exist? Only idiots and philosophers would question whether a person or a building might pop out of existence when they pass beyond our senses, Now, as a philosopher, I’d refine the question:
Does our felt sense or image of a thing cease to exist when that thing passes beyond our ability to sense them?
Obviously, the answer is yes, right?
Except, sometimes the obvious is just a surface reading. Because much of we sense uses memory to fill in the gaps. When we are able to sense a thing, think of it as a live update to the memory, recorded for later recall.
(And let’s not even get into the delay between things actually happening and us sensing them, because that’s a whole other story.)
Memory works on triggers - we recognize someone by their face, their posture, their speech, their clothes etc. But there are times when something changes that doesn’t jive with our memory. How many times have we had to say: I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there, or I didn’t recognize you with you new haircut/glasses - you look so different?
We rely on how things were rather than how they are now. The relationship you had with your god is over, done and dusted. Now, there, is only you and the kosmos, the All-That-Is. Mourn, grieve if you wish, there’s nowt wrong with that. Then dry your eyes, and take a look at the world.
You’ve probably been here before, and, back then, certain things happened which led to a relationship with your god. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, that things like that happen. That gods and spirits abound, and if you want them to be part of your world, you have to think and act in a way that isn’t exactly ordinary. You have to be observant (in all its senses) open to the rich and strange variety of the kosmos.
And you have to realize, deep within, that contact with gods leaves you different. You cannot be near them, or they you, without change:
Being a god is the quality of being able to be yourself to such an extent that your passions correspond with the forces of the universe, so that those who look upon you know this without hearing your name spoken. Some ancient poet said that the world is full of echoes and correspondences. Another wrote a long poem of an inferno, wherein each man suffered a torture which coincided in nature with those forces which had ruled his life.
Being a god is being able to recognize within one’s self these things that are important, and then to strike the single note that brings them into alignment with everything else that exists. Then, beyond morals or logic or esthetics, one is wind or fire, the sea, the mountains, rain, the sun or the stars, the flight of an arrow, the end of a day, the clasp of love. One rules through one’s ruling passions.
Those who look upon gods then say, without even knowing their names, ‘He is Fire. She is Dance. He is Destruction. She is Love.’ So, to reply to your statement, they do not call themselves gods. Everyone else does, though, everyone who beholds them. - Lord of Light, Roger Zelazny
Even by their supposed absence, the god influences you. Drives you to ask a question of me, makes you ask for advice, because there is a gap, a space-between, a difference between what was and what is.
Now, I’m no oracle, no prophet. Just some bearded frothing madman on the internet. You might read this post, and disagree with everything I’m saying, every secret, subconscious implications that the hidden part of your consciousness picks up without you noticing. Not because I’m a crippled Gandalf, casting spells on those who read my words, but because that’s the way language works.
Because language works, for good or ill. It conceals and reveals, guides the mind - and if it’s worked well, perhaps the soul as well.
So you ask my advice, seek my view. You ask of a man who’s had his own counselling session today, whose counsellor wondered at certain events and how to interpret them. You ask me what I see, what I sense, from your question; where it meets my experience and what it conjures up to type, to post here.
And, if you’ve read this far, I’ll let you into a secret: I stepped aside long ago, and let the conjuring bring these words forth. This is coming from a place that is different to an ordinary consciousness.
I’m no oracle, no prophet. Just a man with a mission of words, to answer every question I can. So, here’s the deal, laid out on the table, like blackjack. Just how much do want to remain as you are?
How much are you willing to protect the idea you have of the you-that-was? How much do you want safety? Because, let me tell you, it’s gone, Even if you’ve noticed some changes, I wonder how long it’s going to take you to notice the ones you’ve not noticed, until now?
I wonder, how long until you remember that everything is connected? How the difference between a blessing and a curse is merely a point of view? How distance and space are always filled with something - whether that something be something else, or your very own self?
Agree with this, or disagree because I don’t know you or your situation, because I’m just firing words at a page, and because things became richer and stranger than you supposed, maybe?
And also maybe, because it hurts, and you’re not sure what to do, or where to turn. Because what you thought you knew and trusted, is no longer so. Because I’m telling you what you already know - stimulating action and reaction. Each word, in each context, has meaning. Change the context, the meaning changes also. The cues, the triggers, connect to different memories, conjure different things.
I wonder what conjures you? What calls-you-forth in spite of yourself?
Because we can talk about summoning gods and spirits ‘til we’re blue in the face, but humans surely are not the exception. We too are spirits, wights amongst the vast thronging conclave of the Pandaemonic All.
One of Many, and so we might suppose that change is constant, and what we see as singular is in fact complex, multiple and interconnected.
Your situation is subject to multiple influences; your feelings, your reading of my words - how you interpret their flow, directed with a particular purpose by me - your background, your actions, inactions, and your relationship with your god.
As I’ve said, perceived absence exerts an influence, just like the spaces between and within the glyphs we call letters, which represent pieces of language, all put together with a particular aim.
An aim that loops and repeats, that comes again and again, like sea washing against stubborn stones, all roar and hiss and spray on the surface, all dark pulsing current below, infinite benthic patience. An ocean of time, composed of an obscene number of individual droplets, each moving into and out of each other.
Rocks erode, barriers dissolve.
Such are the actions of the gods.
As the Moon pulls the waters, so the salty tides ebb and flow and rise; water kisses skin as we swim, surrounded by the same. The lunar influence directs us, its gravity dictating, moving with the changes in temperature, Sun and Earth bringing conjoined influences to bear.
Are we not mostly water? Is our blood not salty as the sea?
And yet, do we not think ourselves free from such influences, with our lighted streets, our taps and faucets, our climate change and Prime Ministers and Presidents?
But still the gods cross into the sphere of our senses, interface with our bodies and minds, coil themselves in our blood, steal our breath and replace it with their own?
Still, the sheer madness of their existence in the 21st century, passed from tongue to text to television, brought forth from books and bodies. From the voices on the wind, the mounds of earth, the whispering leaves, the roar of traffic, the light-laden threads of fibre-optics, the sewer-swelling. From the cracks and the edges, from ancient statues held in climate controlled prisons-cum-museums.
(And lo, I do not recall typing prisons, but there it is. Statues of lion-headed goddesses, all properly open-mouthed. The falcon’s scream, all cold and seeking soaring thermals, full of cruel, sharp-taloned knowing.)
You, who feel bereft? Who feel a hole within your heart? Take a breath, and hold it. Bear down upon that random passing divinity, all unspoken, all unknown. Feel it surge, the blood pound in your ears, and then, when you can no longer bear the weight, and then let go.
Again and again; so you breathe. so you live.
Influenced and influencer, deep behind the skin of your mind, down deep and deeper still, is that which you do not know. That which changes, alters itself on the unseen altars. Believe me or not, all this, going fore and back, is true.
It is as true as your tongue, your teeth, your nails that grow and hair that pushes from skin and scalp.
By now, we’re lost, you and I, dear reader, in a labyrinth of words, as one without Ariadne. The unseen monster at the centre of the maze is a portal, a passage to divinity. It lives, it breathes, it shits, it drinks, it eats, it pisses.
It lives, just as you do. It has been at the centre of things since just after the Beginning, when Mother wove a cradle from the entrails of Father. Dwells in darkness, so it does, for all things have long since burnt out in competition with its starry shine.
It led Magi to Bethlehem, burning in the hollowed heavens, bringing offerings to a King amongst them, things that the Anointed would use to rise as premier Magus above all.
And there, standing at the crossroads, we find the sacred heart of All, blood flung in all directions - hallowing the world entire.
Signs and wonders, anon, portals and portents, things that happen, are happening. Symbols rise and fall, are seen and unseen, coming together with us when we are in the right time, place, and state of mind to receive these Strangers, these visiting dignitaries and potentates from Behind-and-Within-and-Through.
It is not about you. You have have been touched, changing even now as I write, You are becoming. When the change arranges for you to receive, then and only then does the unknown become known, the familiar become strange.
You wanted advice, and this is it. Serve yourself, and realize that it was never was, what you think it was. And neither are you who you thought you were.
He’s only seven years old when Noctis is pulled into the Crystal, he’s a smart child but he is still also very naive. When Gladiolus, Ignis and Prompto return he questions very innocently about Noctis. Prompto explains to the small boy that Noctis had to go away for a while. Prompto doesn’t have any other way to explain it than that until Ignis makes his way over kneeling before the boy explaining to him that Noctis has a royal duty to do that it is something he is doing for everyone’s sake.
The boy understands though he does ask often if today is the day Noctis will come back, he will ask everyone even strangers because to him everyone should know about Noctis and his adventures. If a little kid like him knew then well everyone must. The people are use to it and amuse him none want to break it to him that it will take a long time for Noctis to come back. “Definitely tonight, Talcott!” or “By the weekend for sure!”
It’s not until he’s in his teens does he realize that Noctis won’t be back for a while. But with all the love everyone has for Noctis he doesn’t rebel he doesn’t hate Noctis. Talcott wants to become someone useful to Noctis when he returns.
“I’ll prove to you Prince Noctis that I worthy of your kindness and sacrifice!”
Talcott learns from Ignis and Iris for fighting and survival skills. He would ask Gladiolus but he finds him a bit intimidating. In this he develops a crush on Iris, he’ll do whatever she asks of him he’s quite smitten with her at the age of 14.
He learns to drive early, no one is really patrolling for under age drivers right now bigger things on their plates. Talcott works quick to deliver things back and forth to the towns as needed. He thinks about Noctis and how he is doing often. Keeping all the Cactuar statues the Prince got for him on his dash to remind himself who he is doing all of this for.
Because he could have grown up a selfish child, yelling at Noctis for leaving them, for putting them in darkness but he didn’t he picked himself up and went forward.
She is only 15 when Noctis is taken into the Crystal, she has strong emotional attachments to Noctis. She has quite a school girl crush on the handsome Prince, so to hear from a emotionally shut down Gladiolus what had happen upsets her.
She lost her father, nearly lost Gladiolus, lost Lady Lunafreya and now she lost Noctis to this Crystal that was suppose to protect them? It breaks her down a lot she doesn’t want Gladiolus to see her cry though she knows it would hurt him so she just nods walking off for “fresh air”. Not until she is far from view and earshot does Iris cry.
Cry for her father, for Noctis for King Regis, for Lunafreya. She cries until she cannot any longer, deep ragged breaths, hiccups and puffy eyes she is done. How is she suppose to continue? How are things going to get better?
“What is the dear little flower crying over, you cry anymore and you will wilt my dear.” A smooth female voice calls out to Iris from the shadows.
“This is too much!” Iris shouts
“Too much? For one so small perhaps it but do you want to know how to get those mountains of problems become anthills?”
The young woman looks up wide eyed tears still flowing down her face, she expected pity, to be hugged not offered how to fix it. The silver haired Dragoon standing before her smiles comely offering a hand to her. Taking it, Iris begins secret lessons with Aranea.
She learns quick from the woman, she uses this knowledge to make her Iris the Deamon Hunter. Iris feels at peace with Aranea learning from her at night and during the day helping Monica out. She gains a addiction to Ebony due to the lack of proper sleep but she views she’ll sleep when she’s dead.
Iris hunts responsibly and treats the party she works with like a troop, just like Aranea taught her. People look up to her and admire her they accredit all her success to her family heritage, Iris just smiles. Just smiles and runs after the next Deamon.
She will be bigger than her problems and she will be ready to help Noctis when he returns.
Cor is aware of what happens to Noctis upon hearing it from Gladiolus, he knew it would come to something like this. He just wish his instincts were not correct. There is this guilt in his stomach that he didn’t prepare the young prince well enough that he didn’t help out enough but he was needed elsewhere.
Surely the king had picked proper companions for the prince to get to Altissa for a wedding but were there proper to go past that? That is why he had to see Noctis in person once the Fall of Insomnia happened, he needed proof.
Perhaps he should have done more than check. He feels lost about this, Cor knows he has mission to deal with still.
He has outlived two kings just to add to the title Immortal, surely surviving Giglamesh was a mistake. Cor wanders around saving anyone he can from children to old people who are trying to make their way to Lestallum and other safe spots. He feels that is where he does best.
Cor knows that trying to thin the hoard of Daemons is pointless, strike one down ten more will pop up, it’s how it works in his eyes he’s dealt with a lot of Deamons before.
Cor knows where everyone is at all times, he mocks himself renaming himself “Cor the Immortal Shadow” as he never lets them know he’s checking up on them. He can tell you where Gladiolus was at 7 “am” and what candy bar Prompto bought from the gas station. He needs to know that the soon to be King’s retainers are safe and doing well so he watches ever vigilant.
Cor knows more than he lets out about the situation but he’s always been that way, stingy with what he knows. Knowing that keeping the best cards until the end is worth it than telling all the trade secrets, it’s what has kept him alive for this long.
There are days when he does feel like he’s “shoveling shit against the incoming tide” but he doesn’t let it get him down for very long. It takes a relaxing day to solve it, a day in which he sneaks into the lounge that Ignis plays at to listen to the music and sip a whiskey sour.
Cor will continue to move refugees to Lestallum and other safe harbors awaiting dawn to come.
I suppose I should come clean now that we’re here. Doesn’t matter anymore, hm?
Believe it or not, Saph and I were shopkeepers before this. She was called Mythos Imporium… Yes, we sold eyeballs, and also any “deity-related item you can think of!” (That was our slogan. Which, I’m pretty sure doesn’t have to be truthful.)
I haven’t talked to Saph about it, but perhaps once things settle we can stop being mountain hermits and have a real business. I’d like that.
Hi! First of all I love your blog and happy (belated) birthday!! Hope you had a great day. :) Also, I was wondering, is Mac supposed to go all the places his owners are taking him? I see a bunch of pictures of him on the train, on a mountain, at the beach, etc. Like I get wanting to show off your pet but are those safe spaces for him? Thanks for your time and keep up the great & informative blog! 😊
Thanks! I did. :D
The answer to that is yes and no. There are some places where it’s safe to take tegus! Taking them to new, safe places is really good for them- it provides physical and mental stimulation. It’s always best if you can control the environment- but so long as the place is safe, the animal’s needs are met, there’s no other people who might freak out and call animal control, you can legally bring the animal there- it’s not so bad to take your tegu somewhere new. Kaiju, for instance, goes to work with me sometimes. My office and department welcome her and she doesn’t stay for long. Sometimes she even has a job to do as a demo animal! I’ll also take her outside on a harness. Tegus aren’t small prey species, so they’re not going to be as stressed out as a smaller lizard might be, and if you’ve got a well-socialized animal that works well on a leash, a carefully supervised trip outdoors is actually a good idea.
Buuuut then there’s the train thing. Frankly, it’s a terrible idea for them to be taking pictures of him on the train. Amtrak doesn’t allow non-service animals, even if they’re contained. They know that, actually- in this video, the guy talks about how they have to sneak him on the train in a bag. Amtrak does allow pets, but only cats and dogs up to twenty pounds. They won’t let you take a lizard on the train. I know. I’ve asked. Not because of this video but because I’ve considered it as a travel option, and Amtrak is very clear: cats and small dogs only (excluding service dogs). Furthermore, the train vid is from 2014, and Amtrak didn’t even start allowing pets until 2015.
But in this video, which got 13k views on instagram, there’s no context- it’s just the lizard on a train. This video’s an excerpt from the first one (at about 3:23 in the first vid) and it looks like they’re just taking their lizard for a fun train ride. This is super annoying because their following is mostly people who go “awwwww cute!!” and then talk about getting a tegu themselves or trying this with their lizard. The Amtrak situation? They got lucky. Some other person might try that and get caught and then get in financial trouble because Amtrak slapped them with a fine.
As much as we love our pets, they’re not welcome everywhere. This is especially true for reptiles, which are far less accepted by the mainstream as pets than a cat or a dog. Bringing a lizard into a place where lizards are prohibited is just asking for trouble.
At my doctor’s appointment today, the nurse who was checking me in and doing the preliminaries asked me if I was an athlete. I laughed out loud…but apparently she was serious!!?!?! I have never considered myself an athlete or even “athletic”…Maybe because for so many years of my life I wasn’t? I don’t know. These days, I do consider myself fairly fit, but perhaps I shouldn’t laugh about or scoff at the idea thatIcould be an athlete. It’s funny…you think you’ve gotten so far past all of the negative opinions you used to hold of yourself and then something reminds you that perhaps you still have some work to do.
¯\_(ツ)_/¯ For example, I am always hesitant to call myself a mountain biker–even though I am out on the trails usually at least three times a week or more–or a runner–even though I run…perhaps I should work on that. Do I have any fancy gear or devices related to those activities? Nope. Am I the best at them? Nope. But, would I withhold the label of “runner” or “mountain biker”–or “athlete“ for that matter–from others just because they weren’t the best or the most well-outfitted or techy? NOPE. Hmmmm. Something to think about, I suppose.
In other news, it was a damn fine day! The weather was no less than perfect! I got up early to go to the bake sale some of my gym friends were having at their offices, brought back treats for my environmental engineers group from Samsung (some of my favorite people), left at 1 to meet my friend Shannon for a patio lunch, mailed my Tumblr Secret Valentine package, and then spent the last three hours on my bike and walking Walter! Now: waiting for the husband to get home so we can go out for MORE patio dining–hello Greek salad and happy hour sangria–within walking distance!!!! ;)
Here are some initial impressions after watching the episode: "I drowned a lot of people" Wow is Lapis blase about human lives or what? I actually find myself disliking her more and more with her complete disregard. But then, I'm sure you have your thoughts on that.
My reactions are twofold:
First I’m interested that you interpret that as Lapis being completely uncaring on the subject because she says that while very determinedly avoiding Connie’s eye contact. For a while now, Lapis has been kind of at conflict with how powerful she is and how willing she is to use that, with her own tendency to go too far. That was quite evasive for Lapis.
(also, to split hairs, “I almost drowned a lot of people”- one implies Lapis has a kill streak, the other doesn’t. That said, that ‘almost’ also doesn’t tell us for sure Lapis has never killed before- it’s noteworthy that she knows very effectively how to kill a human by cutting off oxygen- not something that works for Gems, nor would that be effective restraint for one.
Which suggests Lapis has developed specific lethal tactics for humans, which is.. interesting)
The bigger thing I have here is… the fact that Lapis is morally complex and kind of shady isn’t exactly news. At all. Heck, just consider the event that they’re both referencing here.
Hello to everyone and welcome back! Yes, I finally updated the next prompt of Gajevy week (I’m incredibly sorry for my lateness… I went on a road trip for the weekend and couldn’t finish this sooner). So, I bring you Day 3 - Pillow Talk
Summary: Gajeel and Levy talk about anything and nothing at all and the conversation suddenly turns serious.
Warning: This is going to be a rollercoaster of emotions, so fasten your seat belts and I hope you enjoy the ride!
Rate: Gajeel’s potty mouth
Timeframe: Cannon-verse; after their time at the Council, before Alvarez war. They aren’t a couple (yet), just very good friends.
I would like to ask you a favor: if this gets any reaction on you I want you to share this on tumblr/leave a comment with what was your reaction (‘I squealed’, 'I awww’, something like that). It helps me to know if what I’m writing is getting the desired effects.