#Supreme Beggar

[dailyadventureprompts]

Monsterhunt: Savogorg, Demon of Deliciousness

Demons reflect the most destructive impulses of the living and while most default to primal feelings like fear, pain, and despair... the feeling this saccharine salamander embodies could best be described as "the irresistible urge to stick your finger in a freshly frosted cake".

Driven by an indulgent need to taste all the finest things without ever worrying about hunger Savogorg crashes feasts, burgles pantries, and pinches pies from windowsills heedless of the chaos it causes in the process.

It takes an act of supreme immoderation to summon the demon of deliciousness, an inability to be satisfied that goes so far beyond hedonism that it wounds the soul. A ruler who beggars the realm with their elaborate feasts, An epicurean restaurateur who seeks ever more exotic experiences for her exclusive clientele, the taverncook who insists that this time he'll finally be able to make his grandmother's recipe as good as he remembers it. Those that suffer this affliction find themselves beset by bouts of reckless appetite, and with every mouthful the demon's stake upon them grows until it is finally able to manifest in the world.

Adventure Hooks:

Everyone knew it was a bad omen when the earl's secondborn shot the white stag. Legends of earning lordship be damned, it was plain as day the creature was beloved by the forest goddess. Butchery and trophytaking was bad enough, but to serve the flesh to your spoiled friends only to spit it out as "gamey"... now that truelove was worthy of some divine wrath. Now the noble lad wanders the wood in a state of ragged confusion, delirious from hunger and mushrooms and fermented berries, sometimes asking passersby for help, sometimes attempting to bite them. Folk susspect he's become a werewolf, and the earl is offering a rich reward to those who can bring his boy back and break the curse, while his firstborn is willing to pay extra to ensure that doesn't happen. She's become convinced her brother desires her inheritance, and what could it hurt if he stayed mad?

A prestigious culinary competition has been thrown into chaos after a series of disastrous incidents and atleast one contestant going missing. This is an excuse to riff off your favourite baking shows while the party plays detective trying to find who's eating the supplies... and the staff.

There's no such thing as forbidden snacks when you're a hunger demon. Having slithered into an elven temple dedicated to the god of earth and wine, Savogorg has laid it's greedy fingers on a sacred artifact in the form of a heavily laden bunch of grapes each sculpted from a precious gemstone and swallowed it whole. Ignorant of the demon's existnace the elves are incensed at this trespass, and begin hunting and questioning would be thieves. Tracking the demon might be easier than expected, as the holy artifact has given it divine indigestion, and the amphibious fiend keeps burping up minor mirracles as it moves about the city looking for a place to sleep off its tumymache.

Challenges & Complications:

Despite it's bulk, the demon's squishy body allows it to pass through any opening the size of a fist, allowing it to slip into unexpected places through drains, chimneys, and cracked doors, leaving behind only a sugary slime. This also allows it to unexpected escapes should it be cornered by the party. Experementation may reveal that extensive cold damage may cause the demon's body to semi-solidfy, preventing this ability.

As a demon of appetite, Savogorg is sustained by the act of eating, and will freely regain hitpoints anytime it focuses on chowing down rather than fighting the party, or if it's swallowed one of them whole. Poison can be useful here, souring its stomach and preventing it from actively eating anything more.

Artsource

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Vice surrenders

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in LA with Adam Conover at Vroman's, then on MONDAY in Seattle with Neal Stephenson, then Portland, Phoenix and more!

Vice died the way it lived: being suckered in by smarter predators, even as it trained its own predatory instincts on those more credulous than its own supremely gullible leadership. RIP, we hardly knew ye.

For those of you who don't know, Vice was a Canadian media success story. It was founded by a motley clique of hipsters, one of whom – founder of the Proud Boys – has since grown to be one of the world's great fascism influencers. Another perfected the art of getting young people to work "for exposure" even as he built a massive, highly lucrative media empire on their free labor:

https://www.canadaland.com/podcast/vice-oral-history/

Eventually, Vice transitioned to a string of progressively worsening corporate owners, each more dishonest, predatory – and gullible – than the last. The company was one of the most enthusiastic marks for Facebook's infamous "pivot to video" – in which Mark Zuckerberg destroyed half the media industry by tricking them into thinking that the public was clamoring for video content, based on fraudulent viewing numbers:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pivot_to_video

Vice went all-in on video, spending hundreds of millions to finance Zuckerberg's doomed attempt to conquer Youtube. But unlike other the rubes who got zucked, Vice found greater fools to scam, convincing giant, slow-moving meidia companies that the best way to get in on the Next Big Thing was to shower them with vast sums of string-free money:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Viceland_(Canadian_TV_channel)

And yet, at every turn, through a succession of increasingly incompetent owners who bought the stumbling, declining Vice at fire-sale prices and then proceeded to hack away at the wages and tools its journalists depended on while paying executives salaries so high that they beggared the imagination, Vice's reporters continued to turn out stellar material.

This went on literally until the last moment. The memorial posted by 404 Media rounds up a selection of major stories Vice's beleaguered, precarious writers produced even as Vice's vulture capitalist leadership were pulling the rug out from under them:

https://www.404media.co/behind-the-blog-vices-legacy-and-the-idea-that-the-internet-is-forever/

True to form, those private equity scumbags locked all those workers out of the company's CMS without notice – and then forgot to lock down the podcasting back-end. That allowed a group of Vice veterans – Matthew Gault, Emily Lipstein, Anna Merlan, Tim Marchman and Mack Lamoureux – to gather for a totally unauthorized, tell-all session that they pushed out on an official Vice channel:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TKT4OtDEJRA

It's a hell of a listen. Not only do these Vice veterans have lots of fascinating history to recount, but they also describe the conditions under which those blockbuster stories of Vice's final days were produced. As the "visionary leaders" of the company paid themselves millions, they halted payments to key suppliers, from Lexisnexis to the interview transcription service the writers depended on. Writers paid out of pocket to search PACER court records.

Not only did Vice's reporters do incredible work under terrible and worsening circumstances, but the Vice writers who got out ahead of the total collapse are also doing incredible work. 404 Media is a writer-owned investigative news publisher founded by four Vice escapees – Samantha Cole, Jason Koebler, Emanuel Maiberg and Joseph Cox, which is both producing incredible work and sustaining the writers who founded it:

https://www.404media.co/

All of which leads to an inescapable conclusion: whatever problems Vice had, they didn't include "writers don't do productive work" and also didn't include "that work isn't economically viable*. Whatever problems Vice had, they weren't problems with Vice's workers – it was a problem with Vice's bosses.

Which makes Vice's final, ignominious punishment at the hands of those bosses even more brutal, stupid and inexcusable. According to the leaked memos emanating from the company's investors and their millionaire C-suite toadies, the business's new strategy is abandoning their website in order to publish on social media.

This is…I mean, this,..

This is…

Wow.

I mean, wow.

The thing is, the social media business model is a giant rug-pull. They're not even bothering to hide their playbook anymore. For social media, the game is to encourage media companies to become reliant on third parties to reach their audiences. Once that reliance is established, the companies turn down – or even halt – the ability of those media companies to reach their audience altogether. Then, they charge the media companies to reach their audiences:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/06/save-news-we-need-end-end-web

Now, this wasn't always quite so obvious. Back when Vice was falling for Facebook's "pivot to video," it wasn't completely obvious that the long con was to take your audience hostage and ransom them back to you. But deliberately organizing your business to be reliant on social media barons today? It's like trusting your money to Sam Bankman-Fried…in 2024.

If there was ever a moment when the obvious, catastrophic, imminent risk of trusting Big Tech intermediaries to sit between you and your customers or audience, it was now. This is not the moment to be "social first." This is the moment for POSSE (Post Own Site, Share Everywhere), a strategy that sees social media as a strategy for bringing readers to channels that you control:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/19/now-we-are-two/#two-much-posse

Predicting that a social media platform will rug the media companies that depend on it today doesn't take a Sun Tzu – as cunning strategies go, the hamfisted tactics of FB, Twitter and Tiktok make gambits like "Lucy and the football" look like von Clausewitz.

The most bonkers part of this strategy is that it's coming from private equity bosses, who laud themselves as the great strategists of the 21st century, whose claim on so much of our global capital and resources is derived from their brilliant insight, which allows them to buy "distressed assets" like Vice, "restructure" them to find "efficiencies" and sell them on.

The reality is that PE goons – like other financiers – are basically herding animals. Everyone's hit on the tactic of buying up beloved media companies – from the 150-year-old Popular Science to modern publications like CNet – and then filling them with spammy garbage in the hopes that Google will fail to notice and continue to award them pride-of-place on search results pages:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task

The fact that these billionaire brain-geniuses can't figure out how to "turn around" a site whose workers a) produce brilliant, popular, successful work; and b) depart to found successful firms that commercialize that work tells you everything about their ability to spot "a good business opportunity."

PE – like other mafiosi – only have one business-plan, the "bust out," where you invade a business that produces useful things, force them to pay your chosen suppliers sky-high fees for things they don't need, extract massive fees for your "management" and then walk away from the collapse:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/02/plunderers/#farben

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/24/anti-posse/#when-you-absolutely-positively-dont-give-a-solitary-single-fuck

[sgiandubh]

JAMMF, 303

James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser is today 303. Born to both strife and greatness, on Beltane Day.

Fictional characters never die for good, their energy keeps on lingering somewhere, in a corner of our heart. So, here's a heartfelt Happy Birthday to a formidable character that one day chose to possess Herself's imagination and brought us all together, in this strange digital limbo of sorts.

Despite his rock-solid appearance, JAMMF is a real chameleon. My favorite JAMMF is perhaps the least talked about one. The Diplomat. Of course.

This guy, playing chess at Versailles (in reality, it's Prague, and a sizably different kind of Baroque, but let's not nitpick, here). A wonderful metaphor for what diplomacy was, is and always will be: a sophisticated game of chess.

While in Paris, JAMMF is acting, in plain sight, as a diplomatic agent of sorts on behalf of Bonnie Prince Charlie's embryo of a government in exile. Desperately hoping and fruitlessly waiting for more. And making a very bad, emotional job of it all, when emotions are least needed, despite all those best laid plans. Still, he does exactly what a diplomat posted abroad would do. He meets all the important honchos, he brilliantly entertains all those people at his open table, he mingles with princes and beggars alike and of course, he dutifully reports in writing about all this, back to Scotland.

It is, therefore, a pity and a shame that Herself did not utter a single word, in Dragonfly in Amber, about the real Jacobite meeting place in Paris: Sorbonne's Collegium Scoticum/Scots College, or Collège des Écossais, founded in 1333, by an edict of the Parliament of Paris (what we would call today the local council) and as a belated, yet important consequence of the Auld Alliance treaty between France, Scotland and Norway:

This is a place with a rich and minutely documented history, so much so that the adjoining street soon came to be known as the rue des Ecossais (Scots' Street), instead of rue des Amandiers (Almond Tree Street).

The building is still there, albeit with a different destination, a private Catholic elementary school. And a plaque inside the main building tells part of the story, in Latin:

Meaning:

In 1325, under the reigns of Charles the Fair, in France and Robert the Bruce, in Scotland, David de Moravia, bishop of Murray founded this college. In 1604, Jacques de Bethun, archbishop of Glasgow made a seminary out of it, given to the perpetual administration of the Carthusian Order's Superior of Paris [later edit, forgot to translate that properly and the French version I eventually took out is incomplete, sorry!]. In 1639, the whole was placed under the authority of the King of France and the Archbishop of Paris, their supreme authority being solemnly ratified by the Parliament of Paris. In memory of the founders, the priests and the alumni, may they rest in peace!

[Later edit]: the eight year difference in records reflects the time it took for the Parliament of Paris to acknowledge the College's existence and offer its due legal protection. So: founded by the bishop of Murray in 1325 and legally authorized by the Parliament of Paris in 1333. Both dates are legit founding landmarks and can be quoted accordingly.

[vomitlover-art]

The inverted tower Supreme Lebab scrapes from the bottom of Anzenmezzeron, marking the first point that the charnel city shall make contact directly with Hell. From this great spiraling tower, the Apöstexx necromancers utilize their connection to the hell below to form pacts with the ease any other necromancer would have with merely raising the dead. Each Pitlord of the great tower swells with Devil contracts, their strained form bearing the curses and blessings of hell. The great cost of their power is far outweighed by their newfound strength.

The ranks of the house Apöstexx are lined with beggars and wishers, looking for a way out of their situations. Mere fodder, a scant few may survive to raise the ranks. Maybe.

THE STEP BELOW HELL - HOUSE 1

[asma-al-husna]

Allah calls Himself Al-Qahhaar— The Subduer, The Ever-Dominating— six times in the Quran. He is the One who prevails over all and to whom all creatures surrender. Al-Qahhaar dominates the whole universe, He is victorious over any opposition, and His will is irresistable.

The Subduer, the Prevailer, The Conquerer

Qahhaar comes from the root qaa-haa-raa, which points to three main meanings. The first main meaning is to overcome, overpower, dominate, or prevail, and the second to subdue and subjugate. The third main meaning is to compel against someone’s wishes.

This root appears ten times in the Quran in three derived forms. Examples of these forms are taqhar (“oppress”) and al-qaahiroona (“the subjugators”).

Linguistically, Qahhaar has the structure of intensification and is the intense form of Al-Qaahir, The Irresistible. Al-Qahhaar is the One with majestic strength. He has the supreme authority and ultimate power to do anything; He can subdue anyone to compel him or her to His will.
The names Al-Qahhaar and Al-Lateef (The Subtle) are sometimes used together to refer to the opposing yet complementary ways of Allah ‘azza wa jall; He is The Subduer, but also The Most Wise and the Most Just. Al-Qahhaar started life on earth by a blow in Adam’s body and ends by a blow on the trumpet.

Al-Qahhaar Himself says: O [my] two companions of prison, are separate lords better or Allah, the One, the Prevailing? [Quran, 12:39] Say, ‘Allah is the Creator of all things, and He is the One, the Prevailing.’ [Quran, 13:16] and . . . Say, [O Muhammad], I am only a warner, and there is not any deity except Allah , the One, the Prevailing. [Quran, 38:65]

The One and His supreme power

In each of the six ayaat in the Quran in which this beautiful name is mentioned it is amazingly combined with Al-Waahid (The One). Allah ‘azza wa jall demonstrates that every single creature submits to Allah willingly or unwillingly and that is by the power and force of Al-Qahhaar; this supreme power rests with Him only.
The skies, the earth, the angels, and all the creatures obey Him. Al-Qahhaar left us the choice: either we come to Him willingly or He’ll make us come to Him anyway. Allah says: . . . then said to it and to the earth, Come up (you two) willingly (or: in obedience) or unwillingly! They (both) said, We come up willingly. [Quran, 41:11]

A Soul-shaking Moment with Al-Qahhaar

One of the greatest examples is that the whole creation is subdued by death. Allah ‘azza wa jall describes to us an amazing scene: The Day when they will (all) come out, nothing of them will be hidden from Allah. Whose is the kingdom this Day? (Allah Himself will reply to His Question): It is Allah’s the One, Al-Qahhaar. [Quran, 40:16]

How Can You Live By This Name?

1. Submit. Surrender.
What does Islam mean? It means you submit and you surrender to the Lord of the Worlds. As his Lord said to him, Surrender, (i.e., be Muslim) he said, I have surrendered to The Lord of the worlds. [Quran 2:131] Surrender your heart, your limbs, your actions, your speech, your senses, your talents, and your skills all to Him by using them to do good deeds. Don’t submit to your own desires and whims; submit to Al-Qahhaar willingly. Know that submission is not a sort of humiliation but rather an apprehension and a beautiful glorification.

2. Ponder how Al-Qahhaar expresses His will.
The sea or the wind can be at times deadly and at other times beautiful and calm. Look at how Al-Qahhaar commanded nature to change at His will: the fire that didn’t burn Ibrahim ‘alayhi sallam, the knife that didn’t slaughter Ismaeel alayhi sallam, the whale that swallowed Yunus ‘alayhi sallam but didn’t digest him. Teach your children the stories of the Quran and ponder the effect of His will all around you, like gravity, water, and fire.

3. Be kind to the weak.
Be compassionate and kind to the weak, especially to the orphans and the poor. Then, as for the orphan, then do not subdue (him), and as for the beggar, then do not scold (taqhar). [Quran, 93:9-10] Imagine facing The Subduer, The Ever-Dominating, on the Day of Judgement, where people are either oppressors or oppressed. Who will be more fearful?

4. Be good to people at all times.
Remember the overpowering attribute of Allah ‘azza wa jall and be motivated to treat people well. Umar ibn al-Khattaab radiyallahu anhu asked his son to put his face in the dust as he was dying so that Al-Qahhaar would have mercy upon him. Umar Ibn al-Azeez ordered his servant to remind him of Al-Qahhaar in case he saw him oppressing anyone. Remind yourself of Al-Qahhaar to be good, just, and fair to others at all times.

5. Abandon your sins.
The Prophet salallahu alayhi wa sallam said: Two eyes will not be touched by Hellfire: An eye that cries from the fear of Allah, and an eye that spent the night in a guard post in the path of Allah (Jihad) [At-Tirmidhee] Al-Qahhaar compels your tongue at the time of your death and you might be unable to say la ilaaha illAllah because of your bad deeds. Have you noticed what a simple phrase la ilaaha illAllah is and that you can say it without even moving your lips? Still it is the will of Al-Qahhaar that will enable you or not enable you to say it. So abandon your sins and remember the power of Al-Qahhaar to subdue your limbs.

6. Ask Al-Qahhaar.
The Prophet salallahu alayhi wa sallam would say when he turned during sleep at night :
None has the right to be worshipped except Allaah, The One, Al-Qahhaar. Lord of the heavens and the Earth and all between them, The Exalted in Might, The Of-Forgiving [Al-Bukaaree, Muslim] Revive this sunnah in your life.

O Allah, Al-Qahhaar, we know that You overpower everything. Make us of those who bow to You in Islam, adorn us with apprehension of You, and aid us to surrender our hearts and our actions to You only. Make us ponder Your power, abandon our sins, and be kind to the weak, ameen!

And Allah knows best.

[neutronity]

Heaven Official Blessing Thoughts

To avoid shouting into my friends' faces about this series, I'll shout some things here. Be warned, spoilers (sort of).

HuaLian is a god tier ship.

Why? Easy. Because it's another take on the fan ascending trope, which is hard to do well. It's a ship that at first, XL is a literal God who has asked a small hopeless and luckless child to live from him. Talk about an imbalance, right?

Well, sometimes those worshipful and obsessive relationships end in tragedy and darkness. But here, while Hua Cheng's obsessive worship never disappears, it becomes something that is consented to. Xie Lian knows of this, and he leans into it.

Add to that, Hua Cheng spent 800+ years growing himself to become someone worthy of protecting Xie Lian. He became matched in power and cleverness to the one who he devoted himself to.

When they finally reunite, Hua Cheng is Xie Lian's equal. Not just in terms of martial prowess either, but in terms of banter and intelligence and power. Hua Cheng might not have been working so hard to guarantee that he was a worthy partner to Xie Lian, but he sure became one.

Fate ordained that their paths would cross and they would be bound to each other by the red string of fate, but it was ultimately their choice too. Hua Cheng chose Xie Lian when he was still a fledgling god, and his choice never wavered. Xie Lian too chose Hua Cheng, over and over again. There is no doubt that although Hua Cheng would continue to protect Xie Lian, he never would force Xie Lian to be with him.

People say that these two invented love, but I think the thing that made this work so beautifully well is not the destined love, but instead the chosen love.

BeefLeaf is what ships are made of

MXTX does a really good job wading into moral ambiguity. The demon kings are good as much as bad, and the gods are as bad as they are good.

So when Shi Qingxuan finds out that his brother stole someone else's fate to make him a god, and that person lost so much because of it, we're faced with asking what the price of revenge is.

We also find out that Shi Qingxuan does not bear a grudge for what He Xuan does to his brother, and that he does not change who he is when he's stripped of godhood and becomes a beggar. He is still cheerful and gregarious, still makes friends easily.

A ray of sunshine who forgives the vengeance-driven (ghost) king of gloom? And once He Xuan has gotten his revenge, instead of fading away, he's still there fixing the windmaster fan? Delicious. Delectable. Scrumptious.

We also learn that most of the gods had abandoned Shi Qingxuan nearly the moment everything fell apart, even with how generous and gregarious he always was. Xie Lian is one of the only people who remains his friend.

He Xuan, even against his will, also can't help but remain friends with the former Windmaster.

It's not canon at all, but my BeefLeaf loving brain says He Xuan stays and takes care of Shi Qingxuan until Shi Qingxuan ascends again. And even though it's clear that they're married, He Xuan still denies it.

Banyue and Pei Xiu

Ghost/God pairings are just too good. We know what Jun Wu was going for in setting up Xie Lian to take the fall for Pei Xiu's banishment, but it's also clear to me that instead of making an enemy, Xie Lian's defense and protection of Banyue (and likely jogging Pei Xiu's memory of General Hua) earned Xie Lian another dedicated ally.

I don't think Pei Xiu ever told Banyue that he was in love with her. And honestly, a 200 year banishment into the mortal realm meant 200 years away from Heavenly duties so he could be with his beloved ghost girl.

Another not-canon, but I like to imagine Banyue decides to restore her land and the oasis, and goes the route of the kiln to do so, becoming the third kickass supreme in love with a god.

Ling Wen deserves a vacation

Yes yes, the grandmaster scholar bends the way the wind blows, but can we really blame her? Poor woman has not gotten a break in centuries because she is so damn good at her job that people mistake her for a man and Heaven falls to shambles when she's gone for less than a week.

She is a queen amongst gods, and even as she will stab you in the back if she has to choose between you and her survival? Well... maybe if you gave her a vacation and some rest here and there she wouldn't have to plot your demise, okay?

Xie Lian seems to be one of the only people who comments on this and actually insists she take a vacation, and Hua Cheng is basically the worst person in the universe to make an enemy of, so perhaps Ling Wen will determine that loyalty to Xie Lian is the best way to go, and even finds that she doesn't hate that fact.

What can I say, I am a Ling Wen stan.

[thebennettdiaries]

Inspired by this post

She contemplates finding a bucket of paint and laying a strip down the middle of their version of Mystic Falls.  It seems like the easiest solution (albeit time consuming).  

It is bad enough knowing that she is sharing this space with him --- she does not need him stopping by whenever he likes. 

(which is nearly daily at this point) 

Bonnie should probably thank her lucky stars that she is a witch.  Magic got them in this mess, magic will get them out.  He needs her alive and since she can’t kill him without hurting her friends, they are at a standstill.  He knows this and therefore he delights in visiting.

She can only slam the door in his face so many times before he threatens to rip it off the hinges.

“You do know that this...” She indicates the space (or lack there of) between them.  “...is not conducive to me figuring out how to get us the hell out of this place, right?  I can’t do anything with you breathing down my neck.”

“Because I intimidate you?” He practically preens.

“The word is irritate,” she corrects. 

He glowers. 

Still, she has delivered a blow to his pride and he actually avoids her for a few days.  She gets a chance to breathe, to take stock of their situation, to actually think without looking over her shoulder at the same time.  It is kind of nice.  For the first time in a long time, she isn’t in a constant state of worry. Oh, she knows it is not far off but at least she is getting a break from feeling like her heart is in her throat. 

(part of her wonders if she had been here alone would she have just embraced the relative peace instead of trying to scramble for a way out)

By the fourth day, she feels the frustration creep in.  She has gathered all the grimoires she can find and poured over them.  Nothing.  She is going a bit cross eyed and realizes she hasn’t slept in awhile.  When she opens a new book and the words appear to the dance on the page, she realizes something.

Two heads are better than one.

Groaning, she gathers up a few of the books and stuffs them in a bag.  Each step she makes helps her frustration build.  She hates that she has to do this.  She hates that it is him of all people but beggars can’t be choosers.  

She finds Klaus in the biggest house in this town.  Since his self built monstrosity doesn’t seem to exist here, it is the Lockwood mansion.  She thinks there is something supremely wrong with him lounging on the furniture of a woman he killed but that is a conversation for another day.  She pushes past her reservations, walks into the living room and ignores the way he smiles at her presence.  Instead she drops the books on the floor, letting the echo fade before she speaks.

“Okay, let’s get one thing straight.  There are a million other people I would rather be stuck here with but since it’s you, you are going to help,” she tells him firmly and he sits up, smug look intact.  “We are in this together.”

He stands, his head tilting in just such a way that she wishes she could knock it off his shoulders.  “Together.”

[carrera-ffxiv]

Side Story: Blood & Sand

Can a Torrential Abyss drown an Inextinguishable Flame?

Abstract musings for a bored mind. The fighting was mediocrity incarnate.

There were few things that would help sate her lust for violence-- when all else failed, and there was nothing that could be done, she would visit the Bloodsands in Thanalan.

Usually it would be a mere distraction but was it really helpful watching people drink from an oasis if you were dying of thirst? Then again, beggars can’t be choosers. These were serious but friendly bouts void of malicious intent. She could not slake her thirst with such a reserved display; it would be just a tease to even participate. Still, part of her found some small measure of joy in watching raw violence being committed in front of her. It was better than trying to hide the evidence of a capricious murder.

Carrera found herself engaged in idle chit-chat with another spectator, one from Garlemald covered in scars. A well-meaning person who had empathy in their heart for the plight of their people. This meant little to Carrera. Sure, now that your people suffer it’s easy to see that civilians are innocents, but what of the countless innocents in Doma and Ala Mhigo that were murdered in droves for Imperial Occupation. If there was ever proof that becoming an Imperial province would not bring peace, those two nations were demonstrable facts. For a quarter-century they only knew oppression and strife; Doma almost succeeded in freeing itself of its own strength once, only to be betrayed from within and stamped out violently by the Garleans.

She would glimpse a red flash, a burning sensation searing at her left eye followed. It was nothing sinister or intentional, nor anything anyone else seemed to witness, but her aether-sight would catch a glimpse of something unnatural. She focused with her normal eye: The source was a person, dressed somewhat like a knight. Regal golden armor with engravings, and a sword and shield that somehow looked much like a modern day relic: new and serviceable, yet ancient all the same. Unmistakably Hyuran aether was emanating from her, but aspected with fire. Was she tempered?

She wore her crimson hair in a ponytail and wore a polite smile as she challenged an Elezen knight waiting for a fight. Neither tall nor imposing, she gave the air of supreme confidence without a hint of arrogance or looking down on her opponent. A mix of dashing and winsome, Carrera noted.

Looking again with her aether-sight, the witch was mesmerized. There was no way what she saw was her imagination, this person was suppressing fire aspected aether and compressing it into their person. The intensity and density would be masked on top of being rendered to somewhat normal proportions. Sure, it was skilled and practiced, but Carrera saw through such tricks-- trickery and subterfuge were her domain after all.

The battle was an intriguing spectacle. Both bore a sword and shield; the Elezen’s shield crackled with lightning aspected aether. The golden knight appeared to move and fight earnestly but her expression, breath, and casual introduction mid-battle painted an entirely different picture. She would dodge the Elezen’s attack by a hair’s breadth. An ordinary on-looker might have assumed that she had moved out of the way at the last second-- Carrera was anything but. Her eyes narrowed as she meticulously observed this creature. She would wait till the very last second, dodging only just enough to move out of the way of the danger by an ilm, making it seem like she was either lucky or just quick and practiced enough to barely evade. One strike on the Elezen. Two strikes. The Elezen would actually land a blow, albeit, an ineffective one with an unexpected pommel strike.

A finishing blow would be offered by the red haired knight, one of fire aspected aether emanating from her blade-- one might have assumed this was some finishing move of a sort but Carrera noticed it was barely a fraction of a fraction of her aether casually activated to overpower an opponent in a friendly bout. Friendly; At this moment, Carrera could be anything but. Her hunger for violence grew insatiable and her thirst for knowledge would not relent.

Pleasantries were exchanged and healing done. The redhead identified as Sagira used some sort of metabolic acceleration to expedite healing at an unnatural rate. It was magic of some sort, she was sure of it. What manner of creature was this woman? When she came to the sidelines Carrera couldn’t help but issue challenge.

She had avoided these fights until now-- she viewed it as a practice in futility when it came to her hunger. It also wouldn’t help keep her appearances as an amateur mage. But she needed to know what this creature was and she found it a necessity to obtain a sample for research. The conversation was a blur, quick introductions were made-- all the fighting had dwindled down and the makeshift arena cleared entirely, leaving them front-and-center as the only two in a match. 

As if the twelve wanted to add to the cliched mockery of the fighters, rain started pouring down around them. Of course all attention would be on their fight so Carrera couldn’t go all out; And now the dramatic rain. Ugh.

It was irrelevant, the fight would unfold regardless. Carrera rested her left hand on the hilt of her katana. A menacing smirk creeping into the edge of her lips. "Well then, Red." she bladed her body to the side, exposing only her left to Sagira. "Shall we?" Her opponent smiled politely before shifting to a somber expression. There was a hint of concern and wariness pointed toward Carrera. She suspected ulterior motives and couldn’t understand why Carrera would wager for a lock of her hair. The knight drew her weapons, moving into a more combat-ready stance. This time her posture was meticulous; steady and somber, ready for anything. She seemed to be taking this fight, particularly, overtly serious.

Myriad patterns of battle all unfolded in Carrera’s mind: She would keep her katana sheathed and use her magic to oppress the woman with unrelenting pressure, assaulting her from all sides and allowing for no breathing room. This would be child’s play as she toyed with her victim. A malevolent grin broke only momentarily as she licked her lips and bit down on her lower lip. The duel continued to unfold in her mind’s eye and the Hollow echoed within her, ringing possible futures and movements, all of which she would formulate a plan and backup plan for. She would start by unleashing red dust to ignite to flames-- 

Back in reality a small cloud of dust emitted from where Sagira’s feet once were. 

The speed was drastically different than the fight Carrera had witnessed prior. There was an alarming sense of urgency as Carrera had no time to react; Sagira’s blade surged forward with grace, precision and speed mere ilms away from her. She had no time for games and no chance in hiding her abilities if she wanted to keep up-- all her scheming was thrown out the window. Normally, she would keep her cards close to her chest but this was no time; this woman aimed to maim her without hesitation.

In spectacular fashion, Sagira opened the fight with intent to end it as quickly as it started. If her opponent couldn’t use her weapons or abilities, then victory would surely follow. This was the knight’s stratagem.

Surprise painted across Carrera’s visage. She could no longer hold to the intention of not drawing her sword. No matter, a quick iai technique to parry the strike was all that was needed. A quick parr-- was she bleeding? Was this pain? Carrera huffed indignantly. "Fast." She whispered in lament, turning her forearm at the last moment so her tendons would not be sheared and rent, instead leaving a deep laceration above the wrist. She channeled aether into her blade to strike with an unaspected quickdraw. It was too late to defend so she used the momentum for offense instead. 

‘Surely, the best defense was overwhelming violence.’ She thought to herself. Fortunately, her left was only used for holding the sheathe at the moment; Blood flowing freely down the scabbard.

Sagira was, too, caught off guard. It seemed they both did not expect instant action and reaction to follow. She scolded herself as the blade slashed against her armor, shaving off several of the engravings and leaving a noticeable indentation against the metal. The sheer force of the torrent of aether knocking the Hyur back an ilm. It was difficult to track for some since the exchange lasted only a fleeting moment.

The fight was far from over, however. Gripping her blade firmly, Sagira’s gauntlet grew red as in her previous match yet this time there was absolutely no comparison in intensity. The energy was magnitudes more threatening this time; Her blade igniting in a bright and brilliant crimson, fire-aspected aether dancing along its edges. 

Another iai technique was incoming and this time Sagira would raise her shield in defense to knock Carrera's blade away in such a way as to leave her wide open. Sagira’s blade surged forward this time to cut at her right arm. Weaken, disable, victory. A sensible strategy.

Carrera seemed confused in the moment: She was taking this seriously. She was going full speed. She was no longer hiding the fact that her true form was not swordswoman or a simple witch, but rather an intertwining of the two. So, why, why was her sword not finding purchase-- it made no sense. Another high-speed strike from Carrera that would decapitate most others was parried with a shield and now a sharp pain shot through her right arm. To her, Sagira seemed to be a bit of a sadist, torturing her victims by slicing at their extremities. A smirk broke into her expression; she admired the art, after all.

She used instantaneous movement to create some distance-- kicking a backstep while keeping her grip firm and forming a series of mudra with her left hand slick with blood, splattering it along the sands. She would utter an incantation as she did so. ‘So she’s a spellblade as well?’ She mused about her opponent and invoked the ability by name, “Katon: Tenka Goken.” [<“Fire Element (technique): Five (Greatest) Swords under Heaven.”>] She would slash what appeared to be once by onlookers who couldn’t track her movement. It was a series of blurs; five slices shot through the air consisting of razor-sharp aether backed by explosive flames.

Sagira would be pushed back for every hit; she was countered. She was definitely doling out her share of the damage but Carrera would somehow respond in kind every time while keeping up with her in a high speed battle, this felt most unusual for Sagira.

The fiery aether from the Tenka Goken charred away at the cloth of her armor and singed most of the rest. The residual aether of the technique was gathered by Sagira and drawn into her blade, augmenting it and amplifying the intensity; Fire to feed fire. She hoisted her blade up by her face, then pointed straight at Carrera, loosing a bolt of fire, then another, and another. Three condensed and focused blasts of the Fira spell flew from the blade. Was she taking this bout a little too seriously?

Carrera mused, ‘What would have happened to her previous opponent if she fought with such intent and ferocity?’

Her body acted on instinct, she didn't have time to consider whether to dodge or counterspell, her entire body simply acted with a survival instinct; holding true to the strategy of violence employed earlier, she went on the offense. Aether shined blindingly as a torrent erupted from the katana. 

One-two-three, she quickly slashed in succession rending the flames inert. While her body reacted with defense, her mind was already on the attack. She was uttering an incantation as she parried, and when she finished, she invoked the technique by name: "Blizzaga." A flash of frost froze everything about them, freezing the rain into tiny needles that would all whirl into Sagira as if caught in a vortex.

Violently slammed by the sheer force carrying the ice needles, her shield dropped first under strain of the unrelenting assault. Her blade soon followed. Carrera’s previous strikes were employing an effect that drained aether, which she had failed to notice until it was too late. The battle happened much too quickly for both to take accurate stock on events and their efficacy of aether usage. Half their battle happened to be instinct and practiced movement. 

This final assault of unforgiving frost and rime proved overpowering-- at least not without taking it a step violently and murderously further. Still, she could never kill a stranger in cold blood, even if they did look as suspicious and sinister as Carrera did. As she fell to a knee and the weight of the armor paired with ice finally got to her, "Very well... victory is yours this day." She would fall back into the mud after conceding, needing to take a moment to take stock of what just happened. This woman dressed like some casual witch with a sword happened to use the same principles of aetherial combat as she did and with no small measure of skill. An instance heretofore unseen by Sagira.

Carrera Blackheart did her best not to let the blood seep into her grip but all the movement of battle proved too much. She stood triumphant, a malicious and animalistic grin across her face but her katana extinguished and slipped to the ground. She looked down to see a mixture of mud and blood. "Ah. It seems I may need help with my katana.” she seemed to retain some level of normalcy and control. “And someone to check on my opponent." she uttered in front of the crowd.

She wobbled a bit and fell to her knees while a tall Paladin tended to Sagira. The witch assessed her situation and discovered her aether expenditure was much higher than anticipated; She was usually so precise. She picked up her katana as best as she could while she was down there and awkwardly sheathed it with trembling hands and lacerated arms. It seemed the adrenaline was wearing off. She got back up to her feet to meander toward her opponent, reaching into a pouch and chugging a potion she pulled out only to toss the empty vial over her shoulder like trash. Another was pulled and offered to Sagira expectantly, "Are you alright? You still have to uphold the deal." The potion offered was covered in mud and blood from her hand.

Sagira looked up at the two looking down to her as trickles of blood leaked from her wounds. "I'll be alri-... thank you, that does help." She relented and admitted to the Paladin weaving healing magics. She pushed herself up and into a sitting position. "You hit hard, but I do not need a potion, no. I will heal naturally in time." Her hand reached up to hold itself on her chest, where the first hit had damaged her armor.

Carrera shrugged, "Suit yourself. I need to mend my arms anyway." She drank the second potion, chugging it in its entirety before tossing the bottle. She uttered something, complaining about almost having her hands severed, while she moved to the sidelines and plopped down to allow her forearms to heal. She would need to replenish her depleted aether but she would have her prize and continue enjoying the show for now. 

She was satisfied with the results; The down of a phoenix is quite potent after all.

[mayxthexforce]

I've Spent Half My Life Out There || Luke & Vader

Plotted starter for @corruptedforce

He'd been doing so good. For two months, Luke managed to keep a low profile, stay out of trouble, all while also excelling in his classes and training sessions. What should have been the simple, mandatory six months as a trooper on Tatooine right after he turned sixteen, just to keep the Empire off his family's back about none of them having ever gone through Imperial school, turned into him being sent to spend those six months working maintenance in a star destroyer. It was more than Luke ever thought he'd achieve this young. Owen and Beru were far from thrilled– they weren't happy at all about him being sent away. But Luke was beyond himself. Nobody back home could believe that little Wormie Skywalker could make it into an imperial vessel of such importance

And the Executor sure was an important, if not the most important, vessel.

But he'd screwed up. It'd been a well intentioned mistake. Luke has been tasked with running maintenance on none other than Supreme Commander Vader's starfighter, a TIE Advanced x1, while his supervisor was busy talking to other higher officers. As they usually did with low ranking members of the army, they acted like Luke wasn't right there with two completely functional ears that, oh surprise, worked even as he busied himself with fixing the damage on the hull. So, he hears when one of them pointed out that they'd had to fish Vader out of an asteroid field after he flew too far away from the Executor and couldn't make it back on his own before the starfighter ran out of fuel, and ended up pulled by the gravitational field of the asteroids.

That wouldn't happen if starfighters could reach hyperspace. That was the thought that doomed Luke Skywalker.

To the boy that built a winner Skyhopper and multiple landspeeders out of parts that were all either bought from scrapyards, provided by Jawas, or procured from Beggar's Canyon and the dune sea, finding a way to install a hyperdrive on a Skyhopper wasn't a matter of skill, it was simply a matter of time. Fortunately —or unfortunately— for him, Vader's starfighter had needed more repairs than anticipated before it could be presented to the Supreme Commander once again. So, he had time to spare on his little project– project that, maybe, he should have asked permission for.

In all honesty, he'd never meant for Vader to be the first to test it out. After all, Luke had been tasked with testing that everything worked right once he was done with the repairs, and that's exactly what he had intended to do. But the galaxy didn't wait on anyone, and it didn't wait for him to be done before requiring Vader to take the starfighter. No 'buts' could convince his supervisor to listen to Luke, not until it was too late.

From what he'd heard, at least the starfighter didn't blow up. That was good, no casualties. Just a hyperdrive that had been tested by someone who didn't even know that it'd been installed in the first place, someone who was the head of the imperial army, someone who could court martial him.

He kept his head down and did all he was told while he waited. That was all he could do: wait for the inevitable. It was a matter of time before everyone knew that he was responsible. After all, his name was right there on the list of people who'd been put to work on the Supreme Commander's starfighter: Skywalker Luke, right there at the very top of the list with time stamps and everything, showing every single day —over a week— he'd been working on it.

Uncle Owen would be so, SO mad if Luke ended up in prison.

[abstinencesupreme]

18 for whichever OC you feel like, 77 for your wol, and 2 for Apollo? ^.^

I'll answer 18 for Apollo, because he's my most music-centric OC!

18. What is your OC/WoL's go-to karaoke song? Apollo wouldn't mind singing anything pop-y or classic karaoke, but if you made me pick one song, Mr. Brightside! My voice claim for him is Vlado Saric, of X Factor Australia fame, so he's well-suited to alt-rock. (I actually didn't know he was on X Factor...I found him when I became obsessed with his band Melrose Avenue's song Fool and The Beggar, which happens to be Apollo and Valoren's couple song)

77. What is the name of your OC/WoL's chocobo? In-game, my chocobo is named Chastity...because you know. Abstinence Supreme and Chastity. But in canon, Suki's chocobo is named Yulong, after the "horse" (it's really a dragon) who assists Sun Wukong and the others on the Journey to the West.

2. What 3 scents would you associate with your OC/WoL? Citrus, grass, and ylang-ylang! Sorry, I can't explain what the last one smells like, but you've definitely smelled it before. It's sweet and flowery and used in a lot of perfumes.

[29pageshomestuckeveryday]

Homestuck, page 1,678

Ok. ==>

I CONJURE THIS INTREPID FANTASYSCAPE WITH TEARS BLED FROM THE WISDOM-WEARY EYES OF FIFTY THOUSAND IMAGINARY MAGICIANS. I PULL HEAVY DRAGS FROM THE BRUMES OF INSPIRATION WITH ENCHANTED BELLOWS MARAUDED FROM A GUILD OF CHURLISH MYTHICAL DWARVES. VAST BULBOUS RIDDLESPIDERS PUSH THE SILKEN STRANDS OF PURE WHIMSY THROUGH HIDEOUS ABDOMINAL SPINNERETS AND IT IS THAT WITH WHICH I WEAVE THIS AUDACIOUS COCOON OF EXQUISITE LIES. AND WHEN IT HATCHES A GREAT MOTH OF TITILLATION WILL AWAKEN AND ROAR AND BEAT ITS WINGS, AND THE POWDER SETTLING DOWN WILL ARREST THE HUMORS OF AN ENORMOUS TERRIBLE OLD BEGGAR, RELAXING THE VULTUROUS LEATHERY VICEGRIP HE'S FIXED AROUND YOUR CAPTIVE MIND.

Author commentary: I think this rant speaks for itself. I stand by every word of it to this day. EVERY. WORD. That said, here's some more stuff to say. AH, the character, as the cartoon avatar for The Creator, has a sort of arc, I guess you could call it. There are many facets to the psychological profile of the creative individual. One of them is this preposterously megalomaniacal, self-absorbed, power-drunk persona which, arguably, is often the motivating force behind an individual's desire to create certain things in the first place. A being supremely enamored of art's ability to let them conjure anything out of thin air, manipulate people's emotions in any direction on a whim, and to revel in this whole process as some sort of innate celebration of their ingenuity. In this grand farce called Homestuck, we introduce the AH author-god in this way to set him on a path to reveal different qualities of the creative psyche. More to the point, he is set upon a long-term trajectory from being the supreme goofball-savant in absolute command of his craft to gradually becoming a victim of his creation, as much at the mercy of the forces it unleashes as he was the original architect of their unleashing.

[mckiwi]

One Shots

Knocking on Death's Door

Stephen Strange was a doctor, a good one at that– a great one. He and Death had never been on good terms. She took his family from him, so he took his patients’ lives back from Her. He always stood outside of Death’s door, guarding it, keeping it locked away from others as best as he could. But Death comes for everyone, in the end.

Fighting Your Shadows

Someone is tormenting Stephen's thoughts throughout Multiverse of Madness.

Delusions of Happiness

What good is a Sorcerer Supreme to a world that's lost it's magic? What good is a heart to a man with no one to love? Sinister does this Stephen, like so many others out there, a favor.

End of Story

Part of her felt bad for the other dimensions, specifically their civilians. They always succumbed to Dormammu’s power without much of a fight, if any was given at all. That is until her uncle tried to invade Earth. “Dormammu, I’ve come to bargain.” (The story of how Clea and Stephen first meet)

Abraham’s Side

The time came when the beggar died, and the angels carried him to Abraham’s side. (Luke 16:22) Angels are said to guide humans to their deaths, but what about other angels? Or rather, fallen angels?

[dalesramblingsblog]

Swear to God man, if Tumblr dies I'm just gonna be like... well, shit, I just got here after my Twitter completely died. Genuinely feeling really depressed and I'm not even joking because I poured my heart and soul into this blogging nonsense for six years now and my community keeps fragmenting because the sites on which I used to communicate with them keep dying for reasons totally beyond my control.

I know this is probably a stupid post to see from the guy who posts supremely stupid Star Trek puns day in and day out, but I dunno man. Created this blog in the midst of a mental health crisis and sometimes I do just wonder if any of it was at all worth it.

I try to just write the nonsense I write for my own sake and not to care about any audience I may or may not attain, but it's tough when your attempts are constantly stymied like this.

Fed up, maybe this has all just been a stupid waste and I should have just let myself rot while watching X-Files episodes all those years ago like the sad, necrotic lump I was.

I really don't like getting all depressive in my posting because it reminds me too much of my 2020 era, and 2023 has been an amazing year for the blog all around, but just... I dunno. Anyway. Please do keep reading my stuff, I guess? The serious/longer pieces, preferably, but beggars can't be choosers. I'll keep writing it regardless, I had basically no audience for the first two years of this shit, but I still like the feeling of having built up a decent community.

And I guess if this site goes to shit, I'll have to start using fucking MySpace or something, who knows.

Jesus.

[nsomniacsdream]

The most frustrating thing I'm feeling about the judges finally slapping down the, quite frankly, ridiculous and frivolous motions put forward by Trumps lawyers is that every story mentions, just in passing, that he's been getting away with doing that kind of shit his whole life. And the window into our judicial system that opens for me, which is that everyone was always right! Justice in the US is stupid and ultimately comes down to how much money you have for lawyers to make any stupid argument they can put into words until the other guy goes broke or just gives up.

Courts don't really get a lot of press until you reach supreme court level stuff, and every time you do hear about a lower court it's always some off the wall bs that beggars belief. Like basically everything that comes out of Texas. Or it's because they became so corrupt that someone finally stepped in. My brother had a judge tell him that just because there was absolutely no evidence he did something doesn't mean he couldn't be prosecuted for it. Obviously he didn't say it like that, but that was what it came down to.

[asma-al-husna]

Allah calls Himself Al-Qahhaar— The Subduer, The Ever-Dominating— six times in the Quran. He is the One who prevails over all and to whom all creatures surrender. Al-Qahhaar dominates the whole universe, He is victorious over any opposition, and His will is irresistable.

The Subduer, the Prevailer, The Conquerer

Qahhaar comes from the root qaa-haa-raa, which points to three main meanings. The first main meaning is to overcome, overpower, dominate, or prevail, and the second to subdue and subjugate. The third main meaning is to compel against someone’s wishes.

This root appears ten times in the Quran in three derived forms. Examples of these forms are taqhar (“oppress”) and al-qaahiroona (“the subjugators”).

Linguistically, Qahhaar has the structure of intensification and is the intense form of Al-Qaahir, The Irresistible. Al-Qahhaar is the One with majestic strength. He has the supreme authority and ultimate power to do anything; He can subdue anyone to compel him or her to His will.
The names Al-Qahhaar and Al-Lateef (The Subtle) are sometimes used together to refer to the opposing yet complementary ways of Allah ‘azza wa jall; He is The Subduer, but also The Most Wise and the Most Just. Al-Qahhaar started life on earth by a blow in Adam’s body and ends by a blow on the trumpet.

Al-Qahhaar Himself says: O [my] two companions of prison, are separate lords better or Allah, the One, the Prevailing? [Quran, 12:39] Say, ‘Allah is the Creator of all things, and He is the One, the Prevailing.’ [Quran, 13:16] and . . . Say, [O Muhammad], I am only a warner, and there is not any deity except Allah , the One, the Prevailing. [Quran, 38:65]

The One and His supreme power

In each of the six ayaat in the Quran in which this beautiful name is mentioned it is amazingly combined with Al-Waahid (The One). Allah ‘azza wa jall demonstrates that every single creature submits to Allah willingly or unwillingly and that is by the power and force of Al-Qahhaar; this supreme power rests with Him only.
The skies, the earth, the angels, and all the creatures obey Him. Al-Qahhaar left us the choice: either we come to Him willingly or He’ll make us come to Him anyway. Allah says: . . . then said to it and to the earth, Come up (you two) willingly (or: in obedience) or unwillingly! They (both) said, We come up willingly. [Quran, 41:11]

A Soul-shaking Moment with Al-Qahhaar

One of the greatest examples is that the whole creation is subdued by death. Allah ‘azza wa jall describes to us an amazing scene: The Day when they will (all) come out, nothing of them will be hidden from Allah. Whose is the kingdom this Day? (Allah Himself will reply to His Question): It is Allah’s the One, Al-Qahhaar. [Quran, 40:16]

How Can You Live By This Name?

1. Submit. Surrender.
What does Islam mean? It means you submit and you surrender to the Lord of the Worlds. As his Lord said to him, Surrender, (i.e., be Muslim) he said, I have surrendered to The Lord of the worlds. [Quran 2:131] Surrender your heart, your limbs, your actions, your speech, your senses, your talents, and your skills all to Him by using them to do good deeds. Don’t submit to your own desires and whims; submit to Al-Qahhaar willingly. Know that submission is not a sort of humiliation but rather an apprehension and a beautiful glorification.

2. Ponder how Al-Qahhaar expresses His will.
The sea or the wind can be at times deadly and at other times beautiful and calm. Look at how Al-Qahhaar commanded nature to change at His will: the fire that didn’t burn Ibrahim ‘alayhi sallam, the knife that didn’t slaughter Ismaeel alayhi sallam, the whale that swallowed Yunus ‘alayhi sallam but didn’t digest him. Teach your children the stories of the Quran and ponder the effect of His will all around you, like gravity, water, and fire.

3. Be kind to the weak.
Be compassionate and kind to the weak, especially to the orphans and the poor. Then, as for the orphan, then do not subdue (him), and as for the beggar, then do not scold (taqhar). [Quran, 93:9-10] Imagine facing The Subduer, The Ever-Dominating, on the Day of Judgement, where people are either oppressors or oppressed. Who will be more fearful?

4. Be good to people at all times.
Remember the overpowering attribute of Allah ‘azza wa jall and be motivated to treat people well. Umar ibn al-Khattaab radiyallahu anhu asked his son to put his face in the dust as he was dying so that Al-Qahhaar would have mercy upon him. Umar Ibn al-Azeez ordered his servant to remind him of Al-Qahhaar in case he saw him oppressing anyone. Remind yourself of Al-Qahhaar to be good, just, and fair to others at all times.

5. Abandon your sins.
The Prophet salallahu alayhi wa sallam said: Two eyes will not be touched by Hellfire: An eye that cries from the fear of Allah, and an eye that spent the night in a guard post in the path of Allah (Jihad) [At-Tirmidhee] Al-Qahhaar compels your tongue at the time of your death and you might be unable to say la ilaaha illAllah because of your bad deeds. Have you noticed what a simple phrase la ilaaha illAllah is and that you can say it without even moving your lips? Still it is the will of Al-Qahhaar that will enable you or not enable you to say it. So abandon your sins and remember the power of Al-Qahhaar to subdue your limbs.

6. Ask Al-Qahhaar.
The Prophet salallahu alayhi wa sallam would say when he turned during sleep at night :
None has the right to be worshipped except Allaah, The One, Al-Qahhaar. Lord of the heavens and the Earth and all between them, The Exalted in Might, The Of-Forgiving [Al-Bukaaree, Muslim] Revive this sunnah in your life.

O Allah, Al-Qahhaar, we know that You overpower everything. Make us of those who bow to You in Islam, adorn us with apprehension of You, and aid us to surrender our hearts and our actions to You only. Make us ponder Your power, abandon our sins, and be kind to the weak, ameen!

And Allah knows best.

[neoruby-loves-ut-aus]

Update of Dreamlevel:

Got a new update for Sun Frisk's and Moon Frisk's new powers

The supreme God who blessed their parents for their kindness told them that in Sun's past life she was a beautiful princess who committed suicide by jumping into a fire because her father had insulted her husband calling both her and him as beggars and therefore Sun's hair would be brown like her father but her hair would be golden when too much excited or angry or powerful and she would have powers of fire, light and powerful determination still she would be the most calm person in the world whose anger is the worst and dangerous.

Moon would have powers of water and ice and her hair would also be brown but would not change and both her and her sister would be identical twin sisters and their sisterly love would be unbreakable. He also mentioned that she might turn corrupted but still she would be kind.

The supreme God blessed their parents because he was testing their kindness without them knowing and he disguised as a beggar child asking for food and shelter, instantly they gave him food, water and a house with medical support. He told them that after the King and Queen's death, they would be the Guardians of Heaven and Hell.

So, therefore Sun's children possessed her powers as Hermione has Sun's powers but pink in colour, James is in blue, Clara's power is exactly like Sun and looks like the replica of Sun except for the eyes, half white hair and her behaviour and David is in seagreen.

Moon's children possesses her powers too.

This AU belongs to me and @sofiathehooman