People get tattoos once they've found there soulmate
-people wearing shorts to show off that one tattoo that’s just formed
-people wearing a tonne of clothes on the summer just to hide the lack of tattoos
-people loving someone but the Tatoos not showing so they draw them on
-a girl crying in the rain as concealer is washed away revealing ratios everywhere,
Her soulmate died and she was left with them and she’s trying to move on
-or she takes pictures of them not wanting to forget him as they slowly fade away
-adults moving because the baby’s soulmate was the same gender and they found out through a play date
-the child growing up with a single tattoo on his shoulder
-his grandfather is deathly I’ll so they have to go back and he meets the pizza delivery guy
-a tattoo begins to form on his wrist as he hands the money over
-a man and a woman bump in the street coffee spills everywhere and as it soaks through you can see a tattoo beginning to form
The amount of beauty you see in the world speaks volumes of the content of your own soul. The way you interpret outer world tells a lot about your character. The actions, words, gestures and every subtle way reveals your true self.
You’re sitting in a Starbucks facing the busy New York City traffic, slowly working on a paper that was due at 11:59 PM, on the dot. You smash the backspace button rapidly for the hundredth time, leaving you back at square one.
A male, donning a black mask and matching baseball cap catches your attention with a wave. With the way he’s dressed, he resembles one of the many foreign tourists that wander around Times Square, so it doesn’t bother you.
“Can I help you with something?”
You shut your laptop, not that you were getting anything done, anyway. He nods, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiles at you from beneath his mask.
“My friends and I are kinda… Lost,” he admits, gesturing to the large group of males, wearing a variety of masks and hats. You raise an eyebrow at him, and he chuckles nervously. “I was wondering if you could help guide us back to our hotel? I should know, but I didn’t live here for very long.”
at ur huge movie after party, harry accidentally announces ur sortaa private relationship with him cuz he was a lil' tipsy and he doesnt know how the world finds out the next day, akudirnqiaofiwnf
Girl, I found this concept hilarious, I’m sure that baby duck would be in that level of clumsy lmao.
It is hot in the fancy club. Warm lights are travelling all over the place, enlivening the atmosphere. The loud music swallows all the murmur formed by the conversations being held in each and every corner of the crowded room.
And Harry is taking part in one of them.
He’s been buzzing all night, happy because you are happy. Seeing you light up the room with your smile gives him the greatest bliss, which can only be dimmed by the distance from where he has to stare at it. He can only think about how bad he wants to congratulate you for your success in the form of a passionate kiss, not caring about anyone seeing you; but for the sake of the relationship, he has to limit to just watch you blush at the thousand compliment of the night from the distance.
The heat in the room makes the glasses of cold champagne running around the constraints of the club appetising all of a sudden. His eyes close in pleasure when he feels the cool liquor run down the pipe of his throat, satisfying his needs and marking his system with perky touches.
He soon becomes addicted to the feeling. Glass after glass, the alcohol starts to take over his system, making him the most talkative person in the room.
“Mate, m’girl looks amazing tonight, doesn’t she?” He babbles, pointing at you.
“Sorry, who?” The man he’s just become best friends with asks him, interested.
“Y/n. Tha’ red dress looks great on her” He drags a high-pitched chuckle.
“Uhm… yeah, I guess?”
“I’m so proud o’ her. She’s worked her socks off for this film, yeh know? I look up on her the most, she’s so passionate about what she does. She deserves this and more.
Gosh… I love her”
“Hold on, are you and Y/n having a fling?”
“We’re not a fling, yeh dummy. We’ve been together fo’ two years, but none o’ you have noticed because we’re so good at keeping things private. We’re the best fuckin’ couple” Laughing to himself, he lifts his hand in the air and gives himself a high five, cheeks all flushed and drowsy hiccups concealing badly the great reveal he’s just made.
He’s too drunk to realise he’s not so good at keeping secrets as he claims, but the joy, mixed with how tipsy he is, makes everything in his mind a blur and his mouth a clear and open way to expose himself.
Still, he finishes off the conversation with a:
“I dunno wha’ we’d do if somebody ended up finding out” As he takes another sip of the golden liquid.
The next morning you wake up to a bunch of notifications announcing “The brand new, yet surprisingly old, Hollywood couple” You are a confused mess when you read the most accurate of the details spread on the covers of the header international gossip magazines, shaking hurriedly the sleeping body beside you, until he’s as awoke and puzzled as you.
“Wha’ the hell? How did they find out” He says rubbing his temple to ease the headache the alcohol has left behind.
“According to this… “Sources claim the big news was spilled by Harry Styles himself, in a tipsy and clearly disastrous impulse” Harry! What in the world made you do that?” You yell, driving your gaze from the screen to his bewildered profile.
“I- I don’t remember doin’ tha’, Pet, I promise. I mean, I did have some shots, yeah, but I don’t recall doing such a thing”
You glare at him before returning your vision to the article.
Wanna know the funniest part? According to the anonymous source, Styles mumbled something along the lines of “We don’t know what we’d do if anybody found out” after messing things up. What a hilarious guy!
“Harry freaking Edward Styles, you’d better tell me this is a lie”
“It is a li- hold on…” He halts when everything comes back to his mind in an overwhelming rush. And, right then, he brings his hands to his face, covering it fully and muffling a:
“Hey! I’m here for Frank Castle. 😁 could you do an imagine where you are trying to tease him/flirt and he’s trying to stay his normal grumpy but can’t help but smiling and giving witty flirts back?”
Warnings: stripper!reader, strong swearing, slight fluff, sexual content, quite a big age gap between the reader and Frank
*yn* turned around on her make up chair (ok it was actually an empty beer crate but a girl can pretend) to see Adrienne storming angrily towards her.
“Addy nice to see you, your nose job looks good.” *yn* complimented before turning back to the cracked mirror to keep applying her mascara. “How’d you afford it? You finally give some sugar to your sugar daddy?”
“Cut the shit, slut. You totally stole my shift! You know I work Friday nights.” Adrienne snapped, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she stared daggers at the back of *yn*’s head.
Siva is supreme consciousness, the Supreme Being and only Absolute Reality. He
is Pati, our Lord, immanent and transcendent. To create, preserve, destroy,
conceal and reveal constitute His five powers.
Siva is a one being, yet we perceive Him as three perfections: Absolute
Reality, Pure Consciousness and Primal Soul.
Absolute Reality, Shiva is in an un-manifested form, unchanging and
transcendent, the Self God, timeless, form less and spaceless.
Pure Consciousness, Shiva manifests as a primal substance, pure love and light
flowing through all form, existing everywhere in time and space as infinite
intelligence and power.
Primal Soul, Shiva is the five-fold manifestation: Brahma, the creator; Vishnu,
the preserver; Rudra, the destroyer; Maheshvara, the veiling Lord, and
Sadasiva, the revealer. He is our personal Lord, source of all three worlds.
Our divine Father-Mother protects, nurtures and guides us, veiling the truth as
we evolve, revealing it when we are mature enough to receive God’s bountiful
Shiva is beyond our conception, a sacred mystery that can be known in direct
communion. Yea, when Siva is known, all is known.
Vedas state: “That part of Him which is characterized by tamas is called Rudra.
That part of Him which belongs to rajas is Brahma. That part of Him which
belongs to sattva is Vishnu.”
Pairing: T’Challa x Reader (with a little bit of Sam Wilson)
Request: Hi! I loved your latest T'Challa imagine! Can you do one where the reader (Sam Wilson’s sister) and T'Challa are out on a date and several robbers try to attack them and the reader is super nervous but T'Challa doesn’t ever panic and just cracks his fingers before whipping some serious ass? That’d be hot! by @cupcakequeen1999
Words: 2109 words (ok, I got a little bit carried away.)
“Woah, woah, woah. Hold on!” Sam’s voice echoed loudly in the
empty living room of the Avenger’s compound.
You stopped dead in your tracks and cursed yourself. I was so close! You thought.
Thou shalt not say put in the summary, “Summary sucks, I suck at summaries/etc…” - Please stop. If your summary sucks, then what do you think I already think of your story? I am not saying this to be mean, but if you can’t write a summary, I’ve doubts right off the bat. Do this: I hate writing summaries because I never know what I what to conceal or reveal, so rather I like to take a quote from the story that I think really amplifies what the story is about or stick to the basics “Somebody Wanted But So Then” (This is the summary technique I’ve taught 4th graders, it works well). Talk about who the main character is and an overview of the main conflict.
Thou shalt format thy story. - I was a graphic and web designer. One of the number one ways to make someone not read your story (or any piece of information) is to have a super large block of text. It’s overwhelming, and it takes a lot of work for the eye to follow. Do this: Skip lines between paragraphs, at the very least. Also, make sure when you upload your story it stays in the intended format. Make sure the reader can follow what is going on, which brings me to the next….
Thou shalt check thy work. - I AM GUILTY AS FUCK. I AM THE FIRST TO ADMIT IT. I will straight up finish a chapter and post it without looking at it ever again. I despise editing and revising! I know the feeling of working on something for hours or days and just wanting to be done with it. Also, it’s exciting to post a new chapter or story especially if you’ve been struggling with it. I get it, but horrific continuous errors can ruin the readability of a story. I have seen errors that include main characters names being misspelled (repeatedly), not starting sentences with uppercase letters, not ending sentences with punctuation, not formatting dialogue correctly. Yes, I have stopped reading in the middle of a story (or of a first chapter) because it was so hard to understand. I am not saying this has to be a perfect endeavor, hell there are probably errors in this, but it should be reasonable. Do this: Read over your work. Put it away for the night or for an hour and read over it before you post. You could also have a beta reader look over it and help you make edits.
Thou shalt not hold thy story hostage for reviews. - You know, once you finish a chapter someone says “I’ll continue if I receive 5 reviews”. I’ll admit, I did this when I first started writing fan fiction. (And it’s not as common as it was years ago.)Yea, it worked sometimes, but when it didn’t it made me mad because I didn’t receive reviews, and I put myself in this uncomfortable situation of continuing the story of abandoning it. Do this: Continue or discontinue a story because YOU want to. It’s wonderful to have people support and praise your work, but it shouldn’t be the only reason you write. Yes, people should support the arts, in a perfect world, but ultimately in the world of fanfiction, you are using a lot of time and energy to write novels for free. Love. What. You. Do.
Thou shalt not annoy writers to write your favorite otp. - The keyword here is annoy! Of course it doesn’t hurt to ask, but don’t overdo it. I understand there are some authors that take requests. Some don’t. I take requests. If you see that an author does not take requests, don’t annoy them. And, consider what you are asking that author to write. I consider myself a multi shipper in some fandoms, in some fandoms I have one tried and true otp. Some authors have preferred pairings and types of stories (adventure, romance, smut, humor, etc…) they write. So, know who you are asking and know they might not be inspired to write it! Do this: Respectfully ask the writer if they would write it. Know who you are asking and don’t be offended if they decline the idea. And writers, nicely decline if you aren’t into the idea or pairing. If the author decides not to take a request, you could always write it yourself, so don’t be afraid to do that. If you really believe in the idea and/or the ship then contribute!!
So… What else would you guys add to the Commandments of Fanfiction?
Andrew Logan Montgomery’s
WALKING THE CROOKED PATH, some thoughts on Qutub.(2013)
Andrew D. Chumbley died suddenly, on his thirty-seventh birthday, of a severe asthma attack. There is a qabbalistic irony in that I think he might have appreciated. Thirty-seven is the number of the Perfected Man, the seven spheres of the tree of life below the abyss crowned by the divine triad above. It is Adam before the Fall. For a man who had so obviously mastered very deep arcana, departing the world after thirty-seven solar revolutions is an eerie coincidence. This doesn’t mitigate the tragedy of losing him at such a young age; it would have been extraordinary to see what he might have produced next.
I never knew the man, but I knew his work, and would comfortably place him alongside Austin Spare or Aleister Crowley in the list of the 20th century’s greatest occultists. This was not another self-help, mass market, Llewelyn New Ager. Chumbley had tapped into very deep magic, terrific and terrifying, awesome and awful. His Azoetia is probably the first genuine grimoire written in centuries, and his second work,Qutub, is a black jewel. Both are now nearly impossible to find, commanding prices of one to two thousand dollars when you do, despite being less than twenty-five years old. It’s hard to imagine any occultist in possession of them being willing to let go.
Qutub is, like the Emerald Tablet or Crowley's Liber AL vel Legis, a work of extreme brevity but tremendous depth. It’s seventy-two verses took a year to write and one could profitably spend ten times that puzzling them out. As Crowley said in his “Initiated Interpretation of Ceremonial Magic,” the world of magic is a mirror, and Qutub explores this riddle in slowly spiraling mysteries. Magic is both a mask and a mirror, a projection and reflection, a lie and the truth, and the point where these opposites merge into one. That place is Qutub, the Arabic word for “point." The verses of this meditation are designed to bring you there.
Qabbalistically speaking, "nothingness” or “zero” is a kind of code word for God (or “ultimate reality,” if you prefer). God contains all things, and thus nothing is all that can be said of it. It cannot be said to be “good” because that denies it “evil,” it cannot be said to be “male” because that denies it femininity, it cannot be said to be “light” because that denies it darkness. This is why the Buddha called it nirvana, and why the Hebrews didn’t give it a name. God must contain all opposites because it is the source of all opposites. Aleister Crowley nicely summed this up as n + -n = 0. If you take all opposites and add them together, they become nothingness, perfect, without definition or limits, eternal and unchanging. Nothing lasts forever. Nothing is perfect. From the Qabbalistic perspective, by stripping God of its “darker” attributes and assigning them to Satan, the Christians are committing a very serious kind of blasphemy. God must be the totality of being. They are cutting it in half. (I have always found useful here the notion of “nothing” as an empty sheet of paper…because it has nothing on it, it has the potential to become anything. Once you start to write or draw on it, you start limiting it, defining it, and stripping that unlimited potential away)
The Point then is that first breath God took before it said “let there be light." A point exists, but is without length or breadth; it is unity, but right on the very doorstep of being nothing itself. After that breath, the moment God says "let there be light” we now have “Two,” the duality of light and darkness. But that initial “One” is the very first stirring of creation before that happens.
Qutub then–which enumerates to 111, also the number of the Tarot Trump “The Fool,” symbolizing the beginning of the Journey–is the start and the finish, the initial step out the door and the moment of arrival, the alpha and the omega, if you will. It is where something comes from Nothing and returns to Nothing. This is the sense in which Chumbley uses it. It is a cosmological code word for the ultimate mystical experience, the dissolution of the ego and the sense of becoming “one” (or Nothing) with everything, as well as the act of creation.
This is all pretty standard mysticism. A Sufi, a Buddhist monk, a Hindu ascetic, and a devout Christian contemplative could all relate to it. But Chumbley takes us there along the “crooked path,” a phrase which at once reminds us of both the Qabbala’s “lightning strike” of creation and something more sinister. And by “sinister” I mean the Latin for “left-hand.”
The Left Hand Path (properlyvamamarga) is a Sanskrit concept that arises in some tantric practices. Without getting side-tracked, what it amounts to is a “short-cut” to enlightenment through antinomian practices. If the goal of the Right Hand Path is to overcome the Self through bhakti (love and faith) or karma(work and meditation), the Left Hand Path seeks to do the same through jnaya(knowledge and experience). Byintentionally breaking taboos, not out of animal weakness or by accident, the seeker breaks down all barriers between him and the Infinite. He overcomes the Self by dissolution. Thus in India the tantric would do things like eat meat, drink wine, or engage in ritualized sexual activity with “unclean” women. The point was not to party, but to unwind the Self and undo identity.
The term shows up in Western esotericism in a somewhat bastardized sense, but with some similar characteristics. Here it takes on more Jungian dimensions; the merging with the Shadow. It attempts to reach that essential state of Nothing by embracing the negative and darker characteristics of the personality as a lover; again, n + -n = 0. The Seeker makes a bride of those things in himself he has been taught to reject. This is in defiance of conventional religious law, which keeps the individual divided from himself, told to embrace only the “good” within him and reject the “bad." The Left Hand seeker embraces both in an attempt to know the totality of experience and being, and from this vantage point sees opposites reconciled.
Thus Qutub invokes some very dark characters in its verses. Chumbley himself says of it ”…this work treats the Arcanum of the Opposer, a magical formula of the Crooked Path concerning the Powers of Self-overcoming.“ That Opposer–again the Shadow–is encountered in the work at various turns as Lilith (the first wife of Adam from Jewish folklore who refused to obey and was replaced by Eve), Iblis (the Islamic satan), and Melek Taus (or Malik Tawas, the "Peacock Angel” of the Yezidi religion, believed to be a Lucifer that rebelled but was later forgiven and redeemed). But this is where we must remember magic is a mirror…if you look into the darkness and see only evil and sin, that is because your brought them there with you. As Chumbley says at the opening of the book, “he who is illuminated with the brightest light casts the darkest shadow." This is precisely why the Peacock Angel is the epitome of transformative redemption.
The whole of Qutub has a very intentional Arabic, "Sufi-esque” vibe. Indeed, one of the “non-dark” figures invoked by the poem is Khidir, a sort of Sufi “saint” or “boddhisatva” who appears in many guises to help people discover the Infinite. Qutub is a shadowy reflection of the poet Rumi, who wrote of God as the Lover and the Other. My old mentor, the Sufi and religious scholar Seyyed Hossein Nasr, often cited the Sufi teaching that there were many revelations and many paths, all leading to the same center. This imagery is referenced again and again by Chumbley as the poem unfolds, as are many other images drawn from Arabic and Persian mysticism. Looking for the center is like seeking an oasis in the desert.
And where does the poem lead? What is the destination? “The main purpose of magical practice,” Chumbley tells us in the poem’s commentary, “…is to refine, develop, and eventually to transmute the Entire Being of the Magician, this process being in accordance with his Will, Desire, and Belief. It is to recreate oneself in a form aligned unto one’s True Nature. …Although the (magickal) Current (which originates and flows from the center) affects all Nature, it has conscious direction through the Initiate, who, being possessed of the Gnosis, actively works to manifest this Current: to become Magick Incarnate. This is the subject of the poem Qutub." We seem to be seeing a variation here of Thelema and its doctrine of "True Will,” a concept far too large to properly enlarge here but which, in essence, states that all things in the universe have their own path or trajectory proper to them, determined by composition, position, and in the case of sentient beings, disposition. It is not fate or destiny becomes it does not claim to know the end, but merely the proper direction one should head in. For Thelema, the main thing is to discover your True Will and to do it, and thus you will have the “inertia of the universe behind you." Chumbley’s own Arte Magickal seems to embrace a similar line, with the magician discovering his True Nature and embracing it, taking his rightful place in existence. In doing so he becomes the current of magic flowing from the center of all things into the world, he becomes the very path he walks upon. Those familiar with the Tao Te Ching or certain schools of Buddhism will recognize the concept.
But the question we are left with, is “doesQutub deliver?” Can it actually help one discover himself and follow his path? This is a valid question for any esoteric document, and the answer is always the same; “yes…and no.” Chumbley is very up front with this in his commentary;
“…The mystical and symbolic language of the Poem is, in a literal sense, occult; it simultaneously conceals and reveals the sum of its meaning by way of cipher. The eternal nature of Symbols is revealed facet by facet, moment by moment. In being cast out before the Mind their timely significance is divined and, like a mirror, will reflect the Beholder. Do not blame the mirror for that which it reflects. Look Beyond–Look Within!”
In short, this is not one of those New Age works that crowd the shelves at Barnes & Noble. This is not force-fed consumer illumination. Qutub is challenging and will unlock only for the right people, something that can easily be said for theTao Te Ching, Liber AL vel Legis, or a thousand other esoteric works. But it is a genuine work of esotericism, and a very powerful instrument for self-realization, something few modern books on the “occult” can actually claim. For this reason I cannot but recommend it highly for the serious student. With time and contmeplation, Qutub not only unlocks its doors, but yours.
The Champions+ Link and Zelda meeting Midna, and Link being adorable and hugging/following his new friend.
You were expecting Blue to write something cute and fluffy BUT SURPRISE. IT WAS ME, LONELY VOE!
“Well I suppose it’s not outside the realm of possibility,” Zelda mused. “There are records and legends of numerous parallel worlds that border our own, as well as Hyrule’s interactions with them. many in fact become swept up in the Cycle of Calamity.”
Midna nodded. “The Twilight Realm does indeed have a fair amount of history with your kingdom, beginning with the exile of my ancestors to live there and most recently with the invasion of the Usurper King, Zant. Fortunately we were able to bring a stop to him.”
A snort came from the corner and Urbosa stepped forward. “You speak of the Twilight Invasion as if you were actually there. The records may be old but they all place the event at over 15,000 years ago. That would make you impossibly old and yet you look barely older than our Princess here.”
“When I last left this world I severed the connection between your world and mine,” Midna explained. “My researchers have suggested that in doing so our time streams were knocked out of sync. While ages have come and gone for Hyrule…” Her voice quivered slightly, a flash of grief crossing her expression before fading quickly back into regal calm. “Time in my own world has moved far slower. From my perspective it’s only been about five years since I last walked the World of Light.”
Smiling, Zelda leaned forward and clasped Midna’s hands in her own. “Well we are happy to have you. Come with us, I’m sure the other Champions are eager to meet you.”
“Do we have any idea what this about?” Revali grumbled. He was seated in Zelda’s antechamber along with Link, Mipha and Daruk. Tired of waiting he had taken to idly toying with the silverware at the small table in front of him.
“I believe we have a visitor, somebody new to our kingdom.” Mipha said. As always she stood near Link. Most of the champions knew of her feelings for the hero but nobody spoke of it. “Somebody important.”
Daruk sighed. “Hell of a time for them to show up. The signs are there, the Calamity may return soon.”
“Which makes this even more a waste of our time.” Revali stood and strode to the window, spreading his wings to fly. “I should be training with Vah Medoh. You all can fill me in later.”
Link’s ears twitched and he looked up from his solemn vigil. “They’re coming.” Nobody questioned how he knew, most of them just chalked it up to his instincts as a bodyguard and a warrior.
The doors to Zelda’s inner chambers swung open on oiled hinges and the Princess stepped out with Urbosa, each moving to either side of the entryway. With a grin, Zelda announced their guest. “Please allow me to introduce Princess Midna of the Twilight Realm.”
From the room beyond stepped a figure utterly alien in her beauty. Long orange hair framed a face the color of the southern sea from which two sunset eyes glowed. She was clothed in black cloth, both concealing and revealing at the same time as one could hardly tell where the clothing ended and the black patterns swirling across her chest and abdomen began. Ancient symbols, etched in pale blue, illuminated her arms and legs with a soft light.
Dipping her head in a respectful nod, she spread her hands. “I am honored by the warm hospitality of Hyrule and her peoples. May the darkness never take you and the light never forsake you.” Rising from her bow, Midna’s eyes swept across the room as she took in the remaining champions. When her eyes landed on him her breath caught in her throat. He looked almost exactly as he did when she last saw him, though now he wore blue instead of green. In her mind she knew it couldn’t possibly be him but in her heart she yearned for it to be true. He had the same hair and those same, piercing blue eyes. A gaze at once fierce and gentle. It was’t until she felt her hand taken and shaken vigorously that she realized she was being spoken to.
“… and as Champion of the Goron I bid you welcome. Please feel free to visit our village whenever you like. Just uh… make sure you prepare for the heat.”
Midna’s eyes snapped back into focus and she gave the Goron a polite smile, resolving to try and glean his name from conversation later. “I would love to visit, especially if the hot springs are as wonderful as I remember.”
Revali stepped forward next, performing a sweeping and extravagant bow. “I am Revali, Champion of the Rito. If you find the dry heat of Daruk’s mountain to be too much for you handle I would humbly suggest you visit our village, cooled by the mountain winds. Rito hospitality is among the finest in the land and has a tradition stretching back thousands of years. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”
Laughing, Midna shook her head. “Forgive me sir, but this is the first I’ve heard of a race such as yours. When I last visited Hyrule the bird people I encountered where short of stature with peculiar heads like a shaved man’s. But such creatures could not possibly be related to a race such as yours that features such beautiful plumage.”
Grateful that he had feathers to hide his blush, Revali murmured a word of thanks before retreating to his windowsill.
Midna turned to Mipha. “You are a Zora, yes? I must admit your race has changed much since I last visited. Almost enough to make me think that perhaps the Rito did evolve from those tiny bird… things.”
Revali let out an outraged squawk from the window but was quickly silenced by a glare from Urbosa.
“I am indeed a Zora.” Mipha responded and curtsied. “My name is Mipha, daughter of King Dorephan and Crown Princess of Zora’s Domain. Should you require anything at all, please do not hesitate to ask.”
“And this,” Zelda interrupted, grabbing Link by the arm and dragging him in front of the Twilight Princess, “is Link, my appointed knight and Chosen Champion of Hyrule.”
“You even have his name…” Midna half whispered.
“Hmm? What was that?” Zelda asked.
“N-nothing. It is a pleasure to meet you, Link.” Midna forced herself to avert her eyes lest her face betray her heartache. “I am sure that Hyrule will prosper under your capable guard.”
Introductions complete, the Champions fell into their usual routine of conversing and
camaraderie. They told the Princess of their many adventures and escapades, their duties as Champions and of the impending Calamity.
As the night wore on, Midna excused herself from the merriment and left to get some air on the balcony. She was surprised when Mipha joined her a short time later.
“You know,” Mipha began. “Zora have very good hearing.”
Midna looked at her confused for a moment before realization dawned on her. She turned away to hide the blush.
“He reminds you of someone?”
“Someone you cared about?”
The two stood in silence as the stars rolled slowly across the sky.
“I realized it a few weeks later.” Midna began. “That I had made a terrible mistake.”
Mipha said nothing, instead placing a comforting hand on Midna’s arm.
“It all seemed so obvious at the time. My people were banished from this world because of the havoc they had caused and the first thing that happened upon our return was yet more chaos and strife. Of course our people could not coexist.”
“That wasn’t your fault, or your people’s,” Mipha interrupted. “The Calamity Ganon visits Hyrule in every age and in many forms. Just because it chose one of your people as its vessel does not put your people at fault.”
Midna smiled woefully. “If only that insight had reached me before I returned home. Unfortunately by the time I had realized this it was too late. The way was shut. I immediately set my researchers upon finding a way to reconstruct the gate. Progress was slow, due in no small part to the fact that in the past the gate had always been opened from the World of Light. Trying to find a way to open it from our world was like a man trying to force his way out of a steel cage with a blunt spoon. But I had to see him again. I had to be with him.
“When my sages finally found a way, I was overjoyed. While the mirror had been shattered, a shadow of it still remained. After years of searching and planning I finally had the chance to return to him. Of course when the gateway opened and I stumbled out into what used to be the Arbiter’s Grounds I knew something was off. There was no way a tomb and structure of that size could be buried and forgotten by the desert in a mere five years. That’s when my sages found out about the time differential and when I gave up hope of seeing him again. If Urbosa’s soldiers hadn’t found me I may have just wandered off into the desert there and then.”
Mipha squeezed Midna’s arm. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad to have met you.”
“Thank you,” Midna replied. Turning, she looked back towards the room where the rest of the Champions laughed and talked. “But then I come here and there he is. I know it isn’t him. I know it can’t be him. And yet he looks exactly as he did. The hair is a little different but his face and eyes are the same as they were when I left him standing on the pedestal at the Arbiter’s Grounds, too afraid to admit my feelings to myself let alone to him with the knowledge that I would be severing our two worlds for what I believed to be forever. By the Goddesses he even has his name. The only thing he lacks is the memory of me. There is no recognition in his eyes when he looks at me.”
Blinking away tears, Mipha pulled Midna into a tight hug. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” She choked back a sob. “You’ve been through so much, I can’t even imagine…”
“Do you have feelings for someone too?”
Mipha pulled away at Midna’s question. “Y-yes.” Her gaze drifted to where Link was sitting back in the room. “I don’t think I could bear for him to look at me as you described. To see me without knowing me.”
Midna brought the Zora’s gaze back to match her own. “Whatever happens, don’t repeat my mistakes. You hold on to him as tightly and as fiercely as you can. The last thing you want in love is regret for things left unsaid and undone.”
Just then Zelda came running out onto the Balcony, pulling Link out with her. “We just had the most wonderful idea. Why don’t you have Link show you around the Kingdom for a while? I’m sure much has changed in the 15,000 years since your last visit.”
Quickly regaining her composure, Midna smiled. “That sounds like a wonde-”
“Don’t let the young Princess fool you, my lady.” Urbosa called from the door. “She’s just trying to get the boy out of her hair for a while.
The Gerudo shrugged. “Honestly, how can he possibly protect you if you’re trying to duck away from him at every turn.”
“Another time, perhaps.” Midna stepped back toward the room. “I’m afraid that I have many duties to attend to in my own kingdom. I wouldn’t be a very effective monarch if I ignored the needs of my people in favor of a tour.”
“You’ll come back though, won’t you?” Zelda asked. “Perhaps after we’ve put this whole Calamity matter to bed?”
“Of course,” Midna replied. “Our time streams should be back in sync now that the connection is restored. I look forward to a bright future for our two kingdoms.”
With that, the Princess of Twilight bid the Champions a good night and retired to her guest chambers, preparing to set out for home the following morning.
Request: “How bout some nice
PASSIONATE sex with Kylo? Like you’ve been with him for a few months, but he’s
always so distant and withdrawn, but with great understanding and patience from
you, he’s now opening up more–especially in the bedroom where he’s able to
convey his affections better physically rather than verbally. hell yeah hell
Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader
Word Count: 1940
A/n: I DIE FOR ROMANTIC KYLO AHHH SORRY BYE also wtf this turned
really poetic-ish at the end but I’m kinda really digging it? Lemme know what
you guys think! x
Your hands slid across each other as you passed in the hallway.
You frowned, turning back to the tall shrouded figure as your gripped a crumpled-up
piece of paper in your hand. Kylo continued walking without peeking back to see
your reaction. Under his menacing mask he wore a playful grin.
You unfolded the paper, wondering why it needed to be passed in
secrecy. It wasn’t as if your relationship with the knight of Ren was being concealed
from anyone, so you considered the act to be quite strange. The note was
written messily, but your eyes flicked firstly to the wonky heart drawn at the
bottom of the page. You then began to read.
meet me at my quarters in 5 minutes. I have a surprise.
You couldn’t help but let out an excited giggle at the
out-of-character note, clutching it to your heart as you twirled on your feet,
heading straight for Kylo’s room. Once you arrived, you rocked on your heels
impatiently. A familiar protocol droid then passed by the hallway, and you
engaged in light conversation as you waited. A couple minutes passed as you
spoke, then suddenly you were engulfed in large arms from behind, being picked
up and spun around. You let out a surprised squeak, but once you realised it
was Kylo who held you, you burst into a wide grin.
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.
Light and darkness both at once
Sun and moon aligned
Almost kissing but not quite
Darkness that burns
A shadow, a ring of fire
Mysteries once concealed, now revealed
In that brief instant an eternity of separation breached.
Two lovers once again united in the sky
Their love for each other eclipses all others
1. “Our lord! Accept (this service) from us, You are the hearer. the knower.” 2:127
Our Lord, and make us submissive to You, and from our descendants a community submissive to You. And show us our rites, and accept our repentance. You are the Acceptor of Repentance, the Merciful.”2:128
3. “Our Lord! Grant us good in this world and good in the hereafter, and save us from the chastisement of the fire” 2:201
Our Lord! Bestow on us endurance, make our foothold sure, and give us help against the disbelieving folk 2:250
Our Lord! Condemn us not if we forget or fall into error” 2:286
Our Lord, do not burden us as You have burdened those before us.” 2:286
7. “Our Lord, do not burden us with more than we have strength to bear; and pardon us, and forgive us, and have mercy on us. You are our Lord and Master, so help us against the disbelieving people.” 2:286
“Our Lord, do not cause our hearts to swerve after You have guided us, and bestow on us mercy from Your presence; You are the Giver.” 3:8
“Our Lord, You will gather the people for a Day in which there is no doubt.” God will never break His promise.
“Our Lord, we have believed, so forgive us our sins, and save us from the suffering of the Fire.” 3:16
“Our Lord, we have believed in what You have revealed, and we have followed the Messenger, so count us among the witnesses.” 3:53
“Our Lord, forgive us our offences, and our excesses in our conduct, and strengthen our foothold, and help us against the disbelieving people.” 3:147
“Our Lord, You did not create this in vain, glory to You, so protect us from the punishment of the Fire.” 3:191
“Our Lord, whomever You commit to the Fire, You have disgraced. The wrongdoers will have no helpers.” 3:192
“Our Lord, we have heard a caller calling to the faith: `Believe in your Lord,’ and we have believed.
Our Lord! Forgive us our sins, and remit our misdeeds, and make us die in the company of the virtuous.” 3:193
“Our Lord, and give us what You have promised us through Your messengers, and do not disgrace us on the Day of Resurrection. Surely You never break a promise.” 3:194
“Our Lord, we have believed, so count us among the witnesses.” 5:83
“O God, our Lord, send down for us a table from heaven, to be a festival for us, for the first of us, and the last of us, and a sign from You; and provide for us; You are the Best of providers.” 5:114
“Our Lord, we have done wrong to ourselves. Unless You forgive us, and have mercy on us, we will be among the losers.” 7:23
“Our Lord, do not place us among the wrongdoing people.” 7:47
22. “Our Lord, decide between us and our people in truth, for You are the Best of Deciders.” 7:89
23.“Our Lord! Pour out patience upon us, and receive our souls in submission.” 7:126
24. “Our Lord! Make us not a trial for those who practice oppression; And deliver us by Your Mercy from those who reject You 10:85-86
“Our Lord, You know what we conceal and what we reveal. And nothing is hidden from God, on earth or in the heaven.” 14:38
O our Lord! And accept my Prayer” 14:40
“Our Lord, forgive me, and my parents, and the believers, on the Day the Reckoning takes place.” 14:41
“Our Lord, give us mercy from Yourself, and bless our affair with guidance.” 18:10
“Lord, we fear he may persecute us, or become violent.” 20:45
30. “Our Lord, we have believed, so forgive us, and have mercy on us; You are the Best of the merciful.” 20:109
31. ‘‘Our Lord, avert from us the suffering of Hell, for its suffering is continuous. It is indeed a miserable residence and destination.” 25:65-66
“Our Lord, grant us delight in our spouses and our children, and make us a good example for the righteous.” 25:74
Our Lord is Most Forgiving, Most Appreciative.” 35:34
“Our Lord, You have encompassed everything in mercy and knowledge; so forgive those who repent and follow Your path, and protect them from the agony of the Blaze.” 40:7
35. And admit them, Our Lord, into the Gardens of Eternity, which You have promised them, and the righteous among their parents, and their spouses, and their offspring. You are indeed the Almighty, the Most Wise. And shield them from the evil deeds. Whomever You shield from the evil deeds, on that Day, You have had mercy on him. That is the supreme achievement.” 40:8-9
“Our Lord, forgive us, and our brethren who preceded us in faith, and leave no malice in our hearts towards those who believe.” 59:10
37. “Our Lord, You are Clement and Merciful.” 59:10
“Our Lord, in You we trust, and to You we repent, and to You is the ultimate resort.” 60:4
“Our Lord, do not make us a target for those who disbelieve, and forgive us, our Lord. You are indeed the Mighty and Wise.” 60:5
“Our Lord, complete our light for us, and forgive us; You are capable of all things.” 66:8