chanting monks

anonymous asked:

i know you already did shinee as professors but if you have time can you maybe do them as high school teachers too? thank you for this blog btw, it's so great!!

thank you so much, u lovely anon u! high school teachers are definitely a whole other ballgame for sure & taemkitten i know that you wanted to see shinee as high school teachers as well! 

korean kids call their teachers 쌤 (ssem) which is short for 선생님 (teacher) bc we literally shorten everything it’s ridiculous 


  • biology teacher 
  • students bring him chocolate chip cookies from the cafeteria and it makes him super happy (”thanks kids i’m gonna eat these when we’re not dissecting frogs”) 
  • he shares them with ot4 bc they always bring him wayyy too much 
  • the school installed a smartboard in his classroom and he absolutely hates it bc it sucks 
  • makes the dissection frog dance and frog juice dripped on him gross
  • mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell


  • choir teacher 
  • when he’s conducting, waves his arms very enthusiastically so that he’s sweating by the end of the class
  • his extra credit is bringing a song that he’ll like that he hasn’t heard of and his students are always bringing in random shit 
  • when he puts in the earphones to see what they got for him he’s already singing along (students: daMMIT) 
  • they’ve even brought in like monk chanting and he knows it bc “you don’t think students haven’t tried this??? try again~ good luck~” 
  • kim-ssem is an unstoppable human jukebox 


  • english language teacher 
  • begins class like “what’s up” and the class responds “nothing much”
  • uses a lot of pop culture in classes from a various of english-speaking countries and shows different music/films 
  • lip syncing to gaga when he shows one of her songs as a reference
  • has confiscated at least two cans of axe from boys (”i didn’t even know they had these in korea did you import these from america??”
  • the horror 
  • also supervises yearbook and his kids always make him pose with the best-dressed students and it’s become tradition now 


  • physics teacher 
  • his coffee mug says students’ tears 
  • believes in practical application which is why they’re on the roof dropping eggs in parachute contraptions 
  • everyone calls him coach even if they’re not on his soccer team(s) 
  • sometimes they fly paper airplanes off the roof too and once he got in trouble but like … it’s still physics so now he’ll bs a lesson plan before they go out and fly airplanes
  • beat the system o ya 


  • physical education teacher 
  • merongs at minho all the time (minho: you might be the gym teacher but i’m forever coach!!!) 
  • likes watching the kiddos play dodgeball and yells excitedly when someone dodges well / or hits someone
  • convinced the school board to get a giant jungle gym thing that you have to wear a harness and everything to scale 
  • just really wanted to play on it 
  • no one actually gave him apples so he buys himself apples and eats them during class


  • they all eat lunch together and talk about their classes which is too cute by e

I was working out like a real slug at my gym when I saw him. I know 707 is Korean, but I swear I saw this Western guy and his red hair *got me walking side to side* (sing like Ariana Garde)!!!!!!!! Fuck thats reallyyyyy 707 in real life!!

I stalked… I mean unconciously followed him to men closet door and then my rational brain finally kept me out (amen). I didnt have my phone with me so I cant take a picture so now Im drawing this with so many regret huhu

While drawing this Im chanting like real monk: Im a good Jumin trash, Im a good Jumin trash, why he looked so hot, still a good Jumin trash…



The Holy Tranfiguration Monastery is a Serbian Orthodox monastery in Milton, Ontario. The impressive, vibrant and colourful frescos in the interior were painted in multiple phases by an artist from Belgrade, Dragan Marunich. Though on the outside the building is one solid colour, once inside, amidst the kaleidoscope of rich, narrative driven colours, heady scent of incense, and echoing chants of monks, it is difficult to tear oneself away from this mesmerizing space. 

The grounds around the monastery boast sprawling acres of greenery, a donated water fountain considered sacred and holy by Orthodox communities and picnic areas frequented by Serbian and Ethiopian Orthodox families in Canada.

© Mariam Magsi, 2017 

Let Me Warm Your Heart Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 |

Words: 1491

Summary: Being an Auror, sudden epiphanies are always appreciated. But Y/N has other things on her mind. A nervous, tormented soul who could do with a world of love to be exact. Credence isn’t any different though. Just be aware, strange tidings are approaching.

Disclaimer: I don’t own FBAWTFT or any of its characters besides the ones that I create from my imagination. GIF credits to the owner.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, slight language

Everything had clicked into place the moment she had seen his scarred hands. Maybe it was just her Auror senses that were tingling but Y/N knew to trust them completely; they had saved her life on numerous occasions. She might not know the exact details and it was more guess work than actual factual knowledge on her part, but the way Credence behaved around his mother and his anxious demeanour at the mere mention of her was enough of a give away. Mary Lou’s confident and seemingly charitable persona was nothing but a facade. An illusion hiding an abusing, probably controlling, utterly rotten and cold hearted bitch. The things Y/N would do if she got her hands on that nasty woman!

She sighed loudly and let the anger dissipate from her being, rubbing her temples to dull the throb in her head. It would do no good to Credence or her for that matter to viciously lash out at Mary Lou Barebone in public. At best, it would only get her a hard rap on the knuckle and at worst, she would no longer be an Auror like Goldstein. Y/N suddenly whipped her head out of her hands and stared unblinkingly, coming to an abrupt stop outside a random florist’s shop. Of course, that must be what must have happened with Tina! Being the principled woman that she was, Tina would never let injustice like this slide.

Y/N made up her mind. She would speak with the demoted Auror the moment she reached the office to get a full grasp on the situation. Ask for case files, get her view on things. Maybe Tina had even met Credence and could tell her more about him. After all, this was a part of the case… right? Y/N let out a weary sigh and resumed walking. Whom was she kidding? She knew it was a feeble excuse and her mind was just lulling itself under a false sense of responsibility towards the case. She cared for Credence and his well being, may be a bit too much than was necessary.

There was something about that oft bowed head, stooping demeanour and the anxiety lurking in those wide, brown eyes that made Y/N’s heart reach out to him. At times, he seemed like a taut wire, ready to snap under some immense pressure and that worried her the most. They had met more than once after that fateful encounter in the playground and it brought a smile on Y/N’s face at how flustered he was every time they did. He would fumble, stutter or turn an adorable shade of beetroot red and it was endearing to see a different side of him. She was glad that there was more to Credence than a gloomy, abused man oppressed by his own mother.

True, some of those meetings were more by design than chance. She needed to keep an eye on the Barebones and though Credence seldom said anything, his polite nods and quiet greetings were definitely signs that he was warming up to her presence. Her eyes lightening up at that thought Y/N quickened her pace, maybe today was a good day.

The bustling hubbub of the Broadway saw its fair share of visitors even in the afternoon. The milling crowd should have proved to be an excellent vantage point for Credence to gather people interested in their cause. However, luck as always didn’t seem to be favouring him. The majority of the crowd ignored his attempts to hand out the NSPS leaflets. The ones who paused gave him faint looks of incredulity. And the ones who took them either crumpled the leaflets soon after or worse, mocked him for wasting their time. He was careful enough to try and avoid those. After all, there wouldn’t always be kind women coming to his rescue if he met hooligans again.

Y/N. He remembered the way her name had sounded on his tongue the first time he said it. The way she smiled at him across the crowd at the next rally after ‘the incident’ (that’s what he called it) and all he could do was give a barely noticeable nod. The way her fingers had lightly brushed his when she took a flyer from his hands. The way she had brushed away croissant crumbs from his threadbare jacket that time when he had almost fainted from exhaustion and hunger (Ma had punished him for not distributing enough flyers, he had taken the ones Modesty couldn’t finish), the croissant had been thrust into his hands along with a buttered scone and accompanied by a very stern expression.

The way her laughter echoed like a melody in his ears that time they had both eaten hotdogs (much to his reluctance, he didn’t like mooching off her but she always insisted) and got matching mustard moustaches. That time he had found a child lost in the crowd following a rally and she had taken its hand, assuring him they would find the kid’s parents (they did) and the way she had given a small sigh, finally glad that the world was restored to its balance by their small deed of kindness. The way she whipped out a bandage from her purse when she noticed the fresh cuts on his hands, fingers quaking with barely suppressed anger directed at his mother. Thankfully she had said nothing, just held his bruised fingers gently; warmth, understanding and compassion radiating from her grasp (she had infinite reserves of those, he was sure).

It was this and many other things that made Credence fall for her even more deeply. It felt as if the world had been a drab, dreary place & she had suddenly entered it like a blazing sun banishing away the gloom. Well, the world was still cold and hard especially with the oncoming winter, but Y/N was the winter sunshine that brightened his days. Y/N. He often repeated her name mentally, to calm his jangled nerves. Like a monk chanting a meditative mantra.

A warm hand gently held a leaflet that was fluttering in his hands. Credence opened his eyes to see the very woman whose name he was chanting, a playful smile on her chapped lips. Had he been saying her name out loud? His face burned with embarrassment and turned noticeably red. “Careful with that. It’s getting a bit windy.” She didn’t say anything about his weird antics so she probably hadn’t heard him say it. Or perhaps she had heard him and was saving him from the mortification of being caught. Probably the later, Credence thought.

“Thank you” he mumbled his gratitude. She gave him a smile in return and said, “I’ll take this one.” She grabbed a few handfuls of them. “That’s more than one” he observed. “Are you complaining, mister?” she narrowed her eyes. He shook his head in vehement denial, “No…no…not at all.. I just… People usually don’t… You… I…” She stopped his stuttering with a smile and a shake of her pretty head. “I was just kidding, Credence. These are for… colleagues.” She had been doing this a lot lately. Ever since she had found out about the starvation for not passing out enough flyers she always took a dozen or so under the pretext of giving them to colleagues. Maybe she dumped them where nobody would find them but he was glad for her help. Ma hadn’t starved him even once ever since.

Y/N stowed the leaflets in her bag, glad to have lightened his burden or maybe something nice had happened to her at work. Or perhaps she was just in a good mood. Whatever it was, her face glowed with happiness and Credence couldn’t help the small smile that touched his lips. It was a fleeting one but she caught it nonetheless. She gave him another one of her own dazzling ones in return. “I saw you smile, Credence”, she whispered in a conspirational tone. Y/N had been using his name a lot more too. Every time she did, he felt his heart flutter like a bird giddy on its first flight in the air. “You should smile more. It suits you.” At this, his heart soared. He was truly awed by the joy that bubbled within him and filled his being with love. Credence nodded bashfully, the smile flickering on his face at first but solidifying into a beam that crinkled his eyes. “I will, definitely.” She just hooked her free arm around his in response. Maybe he could get used to this smiling business.

Originally posted by typhongeneocratis

Unnoticed by them both, a silent shadow hidden in a nearby alley observed their linked hands with derision. As the two figures trundled along the path, the person’s eyes lingered on Y/N’s form. A thought bloomed about how unnecessary gnats needed to be flicked away before they become a nuisance. The plan would go as planned, they would make sure of it.

A/N: Sinister developments seem to be developing on the horizon. This is short and a bit rushed but I hope it’s good. Excuse any typos and do let me know how you found it! Feedback is appreciated and devoured with the urgency of a starving beast. 😛
~mystical reading nerd

Moving to the pagan sound |

All Souls Night - Loreena McKennitt | Rhiannon - Fleetwood Mac | White Rabbit - Jefferson Airplane | Roses Blue - Joni Mitchell | Caribbean Blue - Enya | Wuthering Heights - Kate Bush | Marco Polo  - Loreena McKennitt | Return of the Birds - Mediaeval Baebes | I Am Eve - Mediaeval Baebes | Frozen - Madonna | Summertime - Janis Joplin | Orinoco Flow - Enya | Ave Lucifer - Os Mutantes | Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun -  Pink Floyd | Hijo De La Luna - Sarah Brightman | Earth Intruders - Björk | Gravediggress - CocoRosie | Wolf - First Aid Kit | The Bannered Mare - Jeremy Soule | Scarborough Fair Canticle - Celia Pavey | Genesis - Grimes | Fuga N° II - Os Mutantes | Hunter - Björk | A Winter’s Tale - Jeremy Soule | The Great Gig In The Sky - Pink Floyd | Der Holle Rache - Diana Damrau | O Venezia, Venaga, Venusia - Nino Rota | Core Chant - Meredith Monk


I have a plan for where this story goes, trying to decide if I should actually bother drawing it all.

I had the idea of Fiddleford encountering Stanley while his mind was still intact enough to figure out who he was. (Stanford surely mentioned he had a twin, after all.) Fiddleford wondered why Stanley was living under his brother’s name and in the course of trying to suss each other out, each of them learned the others’ story.

When Stanley realized that this guy helped Stanford build the portal, he got very excited and tried to mine him for information on how to operate it. …Information that had probably already been memory-wiped away.

Not that it mattered, as Fiddleford had no intention of helping someone reactivate that terrible machine. …Quite the opposite, in fact.

Pro tip, Fidds. If you find yourself walking slow circles around someone and saying things like “I’m sorry it had to come to this” you might be on a bad path. You know what another bad sign is? Matching robes and chanting. Just saying.

Our Father

Hey friends, I said I wasn’t posting for a while but was reminded that I had this idea for some time and really needed to write it. I saw a moodboard post a while ago and the idea never left me. With that I give you 1,228 words of Fraxus. This can be found on FFN and AO3.

If you’re curious, I was listening to few things while writing this including (1) monks chanting, (2) Lacrimosa, (3) the mansion music from the first Resident Evil, (4) the police station main hall music from Resident Evil 2, and (5) the witch’s theme from Left 4 Dead while I wrote this (kind of a mixed bag but it helped with my concentration haha)!

This one is called “Our Father”.

The remnants of the original structure of Cardia Basilica had been lost to the elements nearly three decades prior. What was left of the crumbling eighteenth-century baroque building, had been incorporated into the new two-story structure. It sat nestled between the main road and a backstreet in the densely populated second arrondissement, quietly adjudicating the populace that roamed the filthy and narrow streets.

The last evening mass had ended two hours prior, leaving the redolence of burnt incense. The lights remained dim, leaving the candles at the end of each pew to illuminate the main aisle.

Laxus stood before the alter and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, careful to keep the lit match in his hand from lighting his loose robes. He held an old, thick prayer book open in his other hand, its pages worn from use and stained from the smoke of previous masses, and quietly read from it, chanting the prayers. Steadying his hand, he lit the offering candle and muttered the blessing.

Keep reading

The Humming of the Universe

I’ve heard it. Have you? The humming of the universe. You can hear it in the sound of the monks chanting the Om, in the thrumming of a didgeridoo, the hollow sound of a bassoon or in the deep roar of the high surf on the beach. It is the same note and the same tempo. Low and pulsing. Harmonious and peaceful. Powerful like the sound of the stars.

It is no coincidence that our word “hum” is exactly pronounced as “Aum”.



1) Sakamoto and Kagura find out they’re both fanatics of a ridiculously indie edge-space band. They rock it out to music everyone else can only describe as a cross between “techno distressed whale sounds and cutsey monk chanting”.

It’s soul-destroying stuff.

2) Takasugi can’t help but extend the torch of knowledge to a fellow kid with visual field defects. (And sass Gin simultaneously). Pattsuan is wary but also a little chuffed. 

(24) the paper money of hungry ghosts

around and around and around
(some ghost immortality)
swirls the cycles for my life
little ripples in the river-concrete
clattering rocks
burning morning and twi-light.

i walked into a valley down
the flights of flagstone stairs
emerging into the streets
of brick and mortar fair.

i remember mountains
…hailing onto tin-pan rooves
trickling glaciers’ frozen rain
wearing out new springtimes’ grooves

red-gold lanterns swinging
through the lamp-streets’ halls
bald monks chanting buddhist prayers
that echoed off the walls.

around and around and around, i squatted
i got lost in concrete there
found the paper money
that scattered into ash.

hungry ghosts…?
hungry ghosts…!
hungry ghosts….
be full, be full, be full.

in the distance
…………daylight broke

and i hurried.
to school…?
to school…!
to school….

(white and gold, the marbled roofs)
(daylight washing over river rocks)

(around, around, around.)

I am not interested in what Bourdieu, or Kristeva, has to say about grief. I don’t want a grid, I want arms. I don’t want a theory; I want the poem inside me. I want the poem to unfurl like a thousand monks chanting inside me. I want the poem to skewer me, to catapult me into the clouds. I want to sink into the rhythm of your weeping, I want to say, My grief is turning and I have no way to remain still.

I am not interested in feeling by proxy; I go to the hollow when I want to empty, I go to theory when I want to sit with someone else’s thinking, I go to myself when I want to see you.

—  Sina Queyras, from ‘Water, Water Everywhere’ in MxT