#YOU ARE HOLDING THE PUREST ASPECTS OF YOURSELF IN YOUR OWN HANDS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dykeninthdoctor · 3 years

Text

let’s talk about c!wilbur and taste by sleeping at last, aka ava talks about his favorite song + character for a couple thousand words

to preface this, i’ll say this. this is almost where i want c!wilbur to go, rather than where he is now, but it is all based in where he is now, and everything we have seen so far. this is where i hope, and trust in cc!wilbur, that his character will go.

(after the cut, everything is /rp /dsmp unless otherwise specified)

i am alive. i am awake. i am aware of what light tastes like. the curtains drawn, the table set; i want to be. i want to be at my best.

“i am alive. i am awake.” guys,,,guys. he’s alive! one of the things i have noticed thee most about revivedbur’s most recent scenes is that...he’s alive! like. he’s just. he’s happy to be alive. he wants to watch the sunrise and relish in the feeling of rain against his skin, or at least that’s where he needs to get to. he needs to simply live.

“i am aware of what light tastes like.” this is very much along the same lines as to what i just said, but it also comes down to healing. light, in taste, represents healing, and love, and wilbur needs to learn the taste of love again.

when it comes to “the curtains drawn,” in the context of wilbur, i think of a theatre. he has always played a character. his clothes are not his clothes, they are a costume, and his face is not his own, it is a mask for his acted emotions to dance across, and his life is not his own, it is a three-act play in which he is the villain; he is the character that he thinks others want him to be. the best line i’ve ever read to sum this up is from the lumineers’ cleopatra, and that’s “but i've read this script and the costume fits, so i'll play my part.” with taste, the curtains are drawn. to me this means they are closed, and wilbur has finally burned the script he’s been following for his life, he is free of the narrative and he has stepped off the stage.

and with “the table set,” i just. tables are symbolic of family, often, and of union, where you come together, and i hope that that is in wilbur’s future. i want to see him bake with niki, and i want to see him eat dinner with phil, and i want to see him throw an apple to tommy before tommy even needs to ask for food. and i want him to feed himself, in love and in healing and in nourishment of this newly-revived body he has now.

“i want to be.” guys. GUYS. i’m going to go insane. he wants to be. he wants to exist. he does not want to act anymore, he does not want to play a part, he wants to be. please, please, please, c!wilbur, get to this point. please.

AND THEN. “i want to be at my best.” NOT ONLY DOES HE WANT TO BE. HE WANTS TO BE AT HIS BEST. AND YET IT IS A PROGRESSION. FIRST HE MUST LEARN TO BE. THEN HE MUST LEARN TO BE BETTER. BUT FIRST, HE MUST SHED THE COSTUME, SHED THE PART, AND BE. ONLY THEN CAN HE BE BETTER. i’m gonna chew drywall.

okay. next verse here we go:

it’s bittersweet, it’s poetry. a careful pruning of my dead leaves. it’s holy ground, a treasure chest. i’m on my knees and only scratch the surface.

okayyyyokayokayokay. “it’s bittersweet, it’s poetry. a careful pruning of my dead leaves.“ it’s bittersweet! it’s bittersweet!!! healing is always bittersweet. it hurts, to let pieces of yourself go in order to grow, but it is necessary, and sometimes things aren’t perfect, but it’s poetry! it is poetry as well. it’s beautiful, because you’re healing. it’s a careful pruning of his dead leaves! for things to grow, the death must be removed, and so too must wilbur clear the relics of his past that remain in his mind. he is so attached to the past, in many ways, and he needs to move on, he needs to prune his dead leaves.

“it’s holy ground, a treasure chest.” sleeping at last is amazing at framing humans as sacred beings. the holy ground is wilbur himself, his own mind, his own body, that he needs to learn to take care of again. he is worthy of love, full of things that prove himself so, and he needs to learn that too.

and then! “i’m on my knees and only scratch the surface.” he is only beginning to heal! he is only at the surface of this ground that he has broken in beginning his healing process, and there is so much more to come. i think the visual of this line is really interesting too, when you pair it with wilbur’s limbo being somewhere where he clawed at the walls as a plea for escape. and rather than it be that, he is now digging into himself, breaking down his mental walls, in order to heal, something we know he needs when we look at eight and learn that he needs to let people in to be able to heal, and the only way he can do that is to let down his walls. another neat thing about this! is that during “a deck of cards with a green smile on them,” when wilbur begins building the walls to their new hq, he is literally building walls dividing himself and tommy. physical storytelling my beloved :]

okay!! chorus time :D

like fists unraveling, like glass unshattering. we’re breaking all the rules, we’re breaking bread again. we’re swallowing light ’til we’re fixed from the inside

okay so this entire verse is about healing, and the different layers to it, the different things you need to do to heal. first, it’s “fists unraveling,” it’s letting go of your anger, it’s letting go of the past, and it’s unlearning everything you have learned up to this point, because you do not need to be angry anymore, not at the world, because it isn’t necessary to healing. this is also, in some ways, less of c!wilbur and more of his loved ones’, niki being the one who first comes to mind. wilbur’s loved ones need to unlearn their anger towards him, and wilbur needs to learn to let go. the visual aspect of that as well, contributes to letting go; when your fists unravel, you are releasing what you have been holding onto for so long.

and then we come to “glass unshattering.” this line is so interesting, ryan o’neal’s lyricism my beloved. it’s not glass being put back together, it is glass unshattering, the very inverse of glass breaking, as if the actions are being undone, not simply pieced back together but undone. and in the context of wilbur, he not only needs to make up for what he has done to hurt others, he needs to prove he will not do them again, because he can’t undo those actions! he did them and he cannot change that! but he can undo it in the future, by not doing it again. it’s a fun line to interpret especially because glass...can’t unshatter. it’s an impossible action. he cannot undo what he has done but he can prove he’ll never do it again.

and thennnnn we’ve got “we’re breaking all the rules.” guysssss, remember what i said about c!wilbur needing to step off the stage to begin healing? not only that, he needs to directly go against the script that he’s written. he needs to break the rules of the confines he’s trapped himself in. he is not a villain, he is a person, and he needs to tear up his script.

“we’re breaking bread again.” OKAY. OKAY SO. SO. i’m a big bread person. bread is everything to me. bread is love!! food itself is just. pure love!!! one of the purest forms of love you can get!! someone has made that for you and it is imbued with love!! they said here this is a piece of me for you to consume!! a piece of my love, for you to have inside of you!! this is a good compilation post to sum up how i feel about bread, but when you bring wilbur into it? again, it goes back to the symbolism of the table, and how he just. needs to heal his relationships. it’s “we’re” baking bread, it’s togetherness and it’s family and it’s consuming a food that represents love, together. he needs to break bread with his loved ones. (i would also love to see him bake with niki. might expand on this one.)

and then we go from that line to “we’re swallowing light ’til we’re fixed from the inside.” like i said, food is something that someone has made and they have said ‘this is a piece of my love for you to have inside you.’ love is light, and love is food, so food is light, and swallowing light? it’s swallowing love, it’s swallowing the purest forms of love you can get and it is stitching you back together from inside. wilbur needs that.

out of the woods, out of the dark, i’m well aware of the shadows in my heart. i want to feel tectonic shifts. i want to be. i want to be astonished. i want to be astonished. so i propose a toast:

"out of the woods, out of the dark.” wilbur has been trapped in his own mind for so long, quite literally with his limbo taken into account, and more metaphorically with his own mental spirals that he, so far, has been unable to break out of, but in the process of healing he will achieve that. out of the woods tends to mean out of the worst of it, and i think the wilbur we see genuinely already might be. he will escape the darkness of his own mind, he has escaped his own limbo, his personal hell, and he’s out of the worst of it. he has a long way to go, but he’s out of the woods.

with “i’m well aware of the shadows in my heart” it’s so wilbur it aches. it’s like. wilbur’s mind, and mental state, is so very complicated, and he is not aware of the impact he has on others, not entirely, but he also is, because he accepts the role of villain wholeheartedly because he thinks that’s what he deserves from the shadows in his heart, but i think in doing so, he still doesn’t realize what it means for his loved ones. it’s just. he’s so complicated. he knows of his own “evilness,” his shadows, but he doesn’t know of his hurt and pain and trauma because that’s buried even deeper than these created shadows, they are the real shadows, and for him to heal, he needs to become aware of those.

“i want to feel tectonic shifts” goes hand in hand with “this is my sunrise.” he wants to experience the world around him again, to be alive, to feel the earth under himself and the wind against his face. he’s alive and he wants to feel it. and shifts, internally, he wants to feel those too!! he wants to grow.

“i want to be,” i’ve already talked about, and this time it’s paired with “i want to be astonished.” not only does he want to be, to exist, to be at his best, he wants to! experience life! with all the awe he once felt! wilbur at his core is so very loving, and he wants to feel that for the world again. and it’s repeated twice! awe can come, not only for the world, but for the people he loves.

which leads into, “so i propose a toast:” this line goes directly into the chorus, and it’s so specific. a toast is an acknowledgement, a celebration, something i imagine that wilbur used when they won their independence, or before the election, or even in pogtopia, the night before they went into battle. and this time, it’s a celebration of simply. life. of healing. of mending. ryan o’neal, the songwriter (aka sleeping at last himself) said that “Because food builds and rebuilds our bodies, I liked the idea of raising a glass to healing broken relationships, and trying to be at our best. There’s so much vulnerability required to rebuild a relationship, and to just try harder...” this is what the toast is to.

chorus again:

to fists unraveling, to glass unshattering. to breaking all the rules, to breaking bread again. we’re swallowing light, we’re swallowing our pride. we’re raising our glass ’til we’re fixed from the inside. ’til we’re fixed from the inside.

and then the bridge:

we’re nothing less than a work in progress, sacred text on post it notes. we only speak of a world in pieces, let’s make a map of what matters most, where every fracture is a running river leading us back to our golden coasts. here’s to showing up:

these are my Favorite lines of the whole song so. aaaa

we start off with “we’re nothing less than a work in progress” which is. everything c!wilbur needs to learn. he plays his roles, he acts the part, but he doesn’t understand that he’s allowed to be imperfect, that he’s allowed to continue to grow. wilbur is stagnant, in a way, that while he moves from “role” to “role,” first the idealistic general and then the quietly-traumatized president, and finally the unhinged villain, he doesn’t let himself just be. a person, he doesn’t let himself be in progress! and additionally, since it’s a “we,” he needs to learn that other people are not stagnant either. tommy is not the same as he once was, no one is the same as they once were, as everyone is in progress, and wilbur needs to learn both of those things.

AND THEN. “sacred text on post it notes.” GUYS. HUMANS ARE SACRED. THEY'RE SACRED! but they are also messy and imperfect and so, so, fallible, they are post-it notes with scrawled handwriting scattered across the wall that is their life, and sometimes post-it notes will fall off, and sometimes they will be written in pen rather than pencil, and sometimes they are written so messily they cannot be understood, but they are sacred and they are messy and those things coexist and god does ex-gifted kid c!wilbur need to learn this.

“we only speak of a world in pieces.” this is Such a cool line when you consider that the dream smp is made up of complicated perspectives that only the audience is privy to, and the characters are so limited! their world is literally spoken in pieces, especially with the lack of communication. it’s a neat line in meta form, and when applied to wilbur, i think it’s part of the same mentality. it is “we,” and he needs to learn to not only speak of this world with himself, but with others, in order to “make a map of what matters most.” he cannot rely on only the pieces he has, and he must speak with others to glean the pieces that are just as important. map making in itself is a neat metaphor, it tends to mean a direction one could take, or getting more of a full picture in that you’re seeing the whole world (or whatever the map has been made of), rather than just what’s in front of you. in order to make this map, wilbur needs to talk, and begin to understand what does matter, because his concept of that, right now, is skewed.

“where every fracture is running river leading us back to our golden coasts” is soo vivid, and to me it like. it feels so much like l’manburg. l’manburg was their golden coast. and l’manburg is gone, but its people aren’t, and l’manburg was always about the people. and now, these people are all broken, they are fractured, but they are healing, and in their healing, those dynamic rivers, they will find their ways back to each other, and l’manburg, its spirit, will live in them again.

the transition into the chorus this time, is no longer a toast, not explicitly, but it is an acknowledgment “to showing up” and c!wilbur needs to show up to therapy. but also, showing up simply means being present, not only for others, but for yourself, and it is one of the first steps to healing, so, in a way, this is a very non-linear song about c!wilbur’s journey.

then there’s the chorus again:

and that’s it! if you made it this far, i’m kissing you in the forehead. thank you so much for reading, c!wilbur enthusiasts i’m holding your hands.

#c!wilbur #wilbur soot analysis #dsmp #wilbur soot #c!wilbur soot #i have been working on this for the past two days this is why like zero other posts have been rb'd #good lord my brain hurts #aven.txt

42 notes · View notes

shattered-catalyst · 3 years

Text

OCD Subtypes for the RPC

Part 1 is here

Well well well, we are back for Part 2 of the Roleplayer’s Guide to OCD.

Fellow Ocd Folks, I see you in those tags and I'm going to do my best to ensure those obsessions are represented here- BUT understand that physically it is not going to be possible to list every single one because I am one person. Regardless its incredibly brave of you all to rb and add things in the tags, I know its hard to talk about this shit and I see you. I see you.

Resultantly I typed this out and posted it in formatting to assist with accessibility in mind; if you cannot read it still ( I tried Im sorry!) i recommend the copy and paste method or getting the chrome extension bee-line reader.

There will be grammatical and spelling mistakes. Im sure spacing is odd some places, but you have to understand doing this is extremely anxiety provoking for me so Im just getting it done when I can.

Remember to use your critical thinking; not everyone has the same symptoms/compulsions/triggers and all that.

OCD is fluid. Its like liquid mercury. One day its a handful of subtypes another day its another different serving.

If you are in general squicked about certain topics even by mention read ahead with your own judgement. Remember us folks that have OCD have many disturbing and distressing experiences so if you are writing a character who has OCD and you can’t read about it just don’t give them that obsessive thought/ compulsion. Make sure writing is still a safe and enjoyable hobby for yourself first and foremost.

But ethically and morally I cannot and will not leave out the more disturbing bits. You have the ability to scroll by, I and many others do not get the chance to escape triggering content that our own mind creates.

So read ahead with your best judgement or at least skip around the squicky parts and educate yourself on what OCD is so people quite using it as a Obsessive Christmas/Corgi/Cat Disorder thing. Alright? Cool beans.

Okay so you made it passed post 1 and got under the read more. Give yourself a gold star for diving into this monster of a document.

Below is a crash course it is not meant to replace actual psychoeducation, personal research, or google. Honestly most of us do our research extensively but because OCD is treated so horribly by social media, media, and society in general.

I wasn’t sure where to throw these together because the education tools to learn fully about OCD are very specialized and thus very restricted. I found that many people DO have these experiences with OCD though so I will represent them throughout. I’ll also sprinkle some of my own experiences so you can get a good reference of a person who has the disorder and not just a randomly generated person.

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

So OCD is made up of Obsessions, Trigger, Intrusive thought, Misinterpretation/feared consequence,Somatic and Psychological Anxiety, and Compulsions/Rituals.

Your character may not be able to list all of these. In fact if they aren't in ERP therapy they may not be able to puzzle these things out. But YOU as the writer should know them. Your character won’t be walking around talking to just ANYONE that they have OCD. Remember a huge aspect of OCD is it’s Shame. The disorder makes us feel intense shame regarding our intrusive thoughts, as a result OCD goes undiagnosed for years especially if it has pediatric onset.

We won’t tell anyone what we are experiencing or why we are doing x y or z. We act like nothing is wrong because to emotionally react is to admit to yourself- and therefore the world- that you have had this intrusive thought and are therefore by virtue a horrible person.[For further information I would suggest also researching PANDAS].

It may be noticeable if your character has an intrusive thought. They may wince or grimace or roll their eyes certainly, but they won’t open up to Joe at the cafe about how their brain is constantly torturing them. I apparently have a very noticeable eye twitch.

Depending on the nature of the intrusive thought it will get more or less of a reaction out of me. Its usually dependent on how distressing the intrusive thought is and/or if its a new one.

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

You see OCD doesn’t sit still. It never looks the same. You’ll have your long haul intrusive thoughts that are with you for years but then you’ll have weird ass ones that just appear and demand their voice be heard yelling about cars hitting people or squirrels getting eaten.

Some people have similar ones! So while everyone is different there will always be someone out there with an intrusive thought similar to yours.

For instance; I bonded emotionally with a lady on reddit because we both have intrusive thoughts during storms that animals and the homeless are dying. We were both horribly relieved to find another person and also distressed that every snow or rain storm brings horrible images and whispers to your mind that while you are warm and snug in bed someone is freezing to death. And its all your fault.

Some days are better than others. As with all mental illnesses it isn’t CONSTANT ALARM BELLS. Some days it will be all alarms and other days it will be like a gentle whisper on the breeze. You can almost not notice it. Almost.

Obsessive thoughts run the gauntlet from ‘i will/could have/may/may accidentally harm etc’ something that you hold of value. This is any obsessive thought that you have: you think about repeatedly and not by choice, it is very anxiety provoking, it is unwanted, and unwelcome.

Mine run the scale from ‘squirrel will be murdered’ to ‘being responsible for harm’.

Compulsions or ‘rituals’ are any behavior done to alleviate the anxiety from the intrusive thought and trigger object. In short, compulsions and rituals are not fun. they are absolutely not logical, and we know they are not logical but we are forced to do them. Thats why its a disorder.

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

To emphasize from post 1: magical thinking and the faulty link between thoughts and actions are hallmarks of OCD. Magical thinking can be anything from contamination to if I turn around three times or stare really hard at something the bad thing wont happen. Sounds weird and is weird and we know it is thats why its a disorder and not a delusion.

The faulty belief that thought=action is the biggest hurdle it is incredibly difficult to grasp, at least for me maybe some of you that have done further ERP can attest, that the mere concept of a thought not being the same as an action is completely and totally mind blowing.

Free will? Yeah thats terrifying. IDK about anyone else but free will is absolutely terrifying; what do you mean i could do anything i wanted?

Thats how you face OCD(WITH A TRAINED THERAPIST). You give in to ambiguity and the unknown. Its breaking that link between thought and action. Its incredibly difficult and draining. A five minute exposure leaves me in shatters for a week and two five minute ones had me ripping my nails past the nail beds with anxiety.

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

Just a reminder: Do not have your character expose themself or expose folks with OCD to a trigger to “ help us get over with”. That is literally forcing someone with a mental illness into a break down and is not helpful. In fact its worse because a person knows about this intrusive thought and they tried to make it real. More shame and some trauma.

If you have OCD, more likely than not a family member or significant other has tried this with the purest of intentions. But it never works like that. Theres a reason that therapists get special training for this. If people want a post on ERP I can make one at some point.

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

Actually let’s drag me with the squirrel thing as the example- fellow OCD Folks get out a pen and paper and try breaking down one of yours;

Obsession:Squirrel will be murdered

Trigger: seeing a squirrel

Intrusive thought: Graphic images of a squirrel being murdered by a hawk/ impaling depending on the day

Misinterpretation/feared consequence: Squirrel will be killed and its all my fault

Somatic and Psychological Anxiety:intense anxiety, palms sweating, heart racing,

Compulsions/Rituals: Must stare at the squirrel to prevent bad things from happening,

Now imagine if that is every time you see a fucking squirrel. You have somehow become completely and totally transfixed on a squirrel and nothing is going to pull your attention away or the squirrel dies- which your mind is giving you lovely images of btw.

Cute right?

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

Below are the subtypes with general information/example thoughts/ and how some of these have impacted me socially because apparently some people dont understand that mental illnesses impact their social lives?? yall...

Social: This can range from ‘ i am constantly thinking i did something wrong so i have to ask for reassurance that we are still friends’ to completely unrealistic worries. Maybe its an intrusive thought that ‘ your voice is annoying them’ . There’s reassurance seeking, internal and external checking.

It makes friendships extremely difficult and exhausting. You’re not trying to get to know someone with an annoying frat boy egging on anxiety in your brain. This can also manifest as having strict rules for yourself and ethical codes.

My therapist likes to say she could give us (folks with OCD) a pile of hundred dollar bills and come back and they’d all be returned. Because OCD makes you so strict and morally confined. Which ISNT fun. Like I dont get pleasure over having to memorize the entire Code of Conduct!

Social Media: Its the bane of human existence some days and a lifeline the next. But what if everytime your follower count was an odd/even number it sent you into a panic attack. What if you spent all your time with intrusive thoughts that somehow someone misinterpreted a post or that someone is going to be harmed by a post you made about tapirs.

You may be forced to block people to get your number down or keep pornbots on your blog to keep your number what you like (see there is a use for them! We sacrifice those before actual users!) You may be refreshing your page every second because ‘what if you miss a message’. It's going to look a lot like ‘check check check check reassure yourself double check your posts check check check reassure check check FALSE MEMORY check your post etc’

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

Clothing/Body Image: When its not Body Dysmorphia it can be OCD. Sometimes this looks like I obsess about a body part and therefore I choose my clothes/hairstyles to hide those. Some personal examples: as a kid I was sure that mind readers exist ( THIS IS AN OCD THING TOO I was so relieved to find that out) and that if i didnt wear a particular hat they would see all these horrible thoughts and it would be revealed what an awful person I was. So I wore the same dumb ass bucket hat for a year (or more I cannot remember but it was a long ass time).

I was once so fixated on being given a compliment on my eye color that I wore sunglasses (even at night) to a summer camp. And if any of those teen girls in that cabin that stood up and mocked me in a crowded lunch hall by singing ‘i wear my sunglasses at night’ you all owe me 40$.

Even younger still I had intrusive thoughts. Like say, if anyone noticed I was female that i would be kidnapped so I chopped my hair very short. I altered my appearance to be very androgynous and even switched to walking more masculine. Because omg if your hips move someones going to kill you thats just how it works. ( It doesnt help I later figured out I was a lesbian)

Your wardrobe may be impacted by OCD and yes so can your body image.

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

Also yes the fear of mind readers is also a thing; i always thought I was somehow faking OCD because yes that is also a…..

Faking: Do you value telling the truth? Do you detest lying ? Boy Howdy do I have some news for you. OCD is going to try and convince you that YOU LIED. Whether it was on a chastity pledge to get a free sandwich or in a conversation you just HAD. This links a lot with false memory OCD.

Another aspect is OCD makes us doubt we have OCD and tries to convince us we have any other diagnosis under the sun and we are obviously faking our OCD.

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

Sexual Orientation OCD; It is as it is called. Sexual Orientation OCD is what happens when your brain goes ‘hold on what if you’re not this orientation what if you are THAT’. It doesn’t matter where on the LGBT umbrella you fall you will have OCD trying to convince you otherwise. From compulsive staring at members of the same/opposite gender to compulsively reassuring or checking with yourself to ensure that ‘ no no you are in fact THIS orientation.’

This can range in behavior from binge watching porn, staring compulsively to check that there is OR is NOT attraction,self checking past experiences and memories, analyzing your clothing and your lifestyle in painful and intricate methods.

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

False Memory OCD; False memory OCD is basically your brain sitting you in a noir interrogation room, handcuffing you to a chair grilling you. It demands that you did *insert bad thing here*. This can range from anything from something Harm based to pretty much *anything* from other OCD subtypes. Which is quite delightful really.

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

Sensorimotor OCD; Sensorimotor OCD is obsessive body responses. These can be ‘ I have to cough really hard and really feel it right in my chest and if I can’t get it right I have to cough until I do’. This can be counting your heartbeats. Trying to check yourself that you in fact have a heart and checking and reassuring that it is still beating. It can be hyper-awareness of swallowing or even swallowing repeatedly. It is anything with selective attention; ie its an automated process but your OCD is forcing you to be aware of it.

Your OCD makes you aware of the sensation of, say, breathing, and then it convinces you that if you stop paying attention to it you will stop breathing. So now you’re horribly aware and focused solely on breathing and breathing alone. It keeps me up most nights with the pounding anxiety fueled by the pressure of ‘if you stop focusing on breathing you will stop breathing completely’ or waiting to feel that last heartbeat in your chest.

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

Existential OCD; You ever feel existential ? Existential OCD is like having a very aggressive existential crisis that turns you into NEEDING answers IMMEDIATELY. This can look anything from hours panic scrolling the net to panic inducing anxiety because you don't know what happens after death. The thoughts are like foghorns on a misty sea.

This sounds basic and the only example i can give is as a teeny tiny 7 year old I had a panic attack in bed screaming that ‘ what if im a dinosaur and im asleep and i wake up and my whole family is GONE’.

To be fair I did like dinosaurs a lot.

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

Harm OCD; This is pretty self explanatory but I will give more details. Harm OCD is OCD demanding that you will/could/can/may have/might harmed yourself/others/any living creature and that you alone are responsible.

This means anything from getting anxious driving over crosswalks because ‘what if you dont see one and hit someone and its all your fault and you hit someone go back and make sure you havent hit anyone’ to ‘im holding a knife so im going to accidentally stab someone’ to ‘ i didnt see my cat this morning and now im at work and think she must be dead and i am responsible for her demise.’

It can be as simple as ‘if i use a pencil i will stab myself in the eye’ or as complex as ‘ i may accidentally say a slur’/ ‘ i am going to say this horrible thing out loud if i cannot control myself.’ It can also be images of terror or racist/sexist/ableist jokes in your mind that repeat like a broken record.

(Please note from section 1 that this is extremely anxiety provoking and not something you would do. OCD preys on what we respect the most.)

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

pOCD; Tumblr listen the fuck up because I am tired of seeing people get called shit on this website for having this mental illness. People who experience pOCD are not pedophiles, they do not get any pleasure or benefit. The thoughts and images are meant to induce harm to the person experiencing them. Children are normally the trigger for this and the resulting images can be very graphic. Again you aren’t attracted to children- thoughts of them getting harmed hurt you so your OCD makes you see them.

Know this so you can advocate for folks with pOCD in real life. Remember we are here. We are suffering and we are terrified of your children.

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

Poisoning others/or in your food; Life isn’t medieval anymore but sometimes OCD demands we have a food taster or that we obsessively worry that we may kill someone with our cooking. Personally I struggle with colorblindness so I am constantly fretful over cooking any sort of meat so it’s difficult for me to cook it.

However this also comes as; obsessive horrible thoughts of your cooking kill someone or that you have somehow/accidentally poisoned someone’s food (even if you haven’t touched it or been within a foot of it ) or that someone has poisoned YOUR food even if no one has touched it except you. You’re going to be picking apart your food or unable to eat out at all.

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

Emotional Contamination: It’s similar to magical thinking and this terrifying prospect of mind readers. Emotional contamination can manifest as anything from intense worry over somehow gaining someone else’s negative personality traits.

Or that somehow by interacting with any role of someone horrible will make YOU somehow also responsible for the horribleness. There is usually a person or a type of person that is a trigger, but it can also be location based.

This is one subtype where magical thinking and superstition are apparent.

For instance; as a teen if a male was in my space or had physical contact;like shaking hands,giving a high five, being in my room etc. I would have to go around and physically touch all the objects that I perceive they may have also touched as a way to cancel out their presence.

This includes wiping off myself to negate even the touch of family members. It really hurts peoples feelings, my father was especially hurt by this.

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

Physical Contamination: This goes beyond physical dirt and grime. Most of us dont have spotless homes because if you’re having a fist fight with your brain everyday cleaning falls by the wayside just like it would for anyone else. Physical contamination holds 2 things: physical contamination obsessions AND compulsive cleaning behaviors/rituals. We believe that a small amount of a contaminate can cover large surfaces.

Oh, and did I mention its not JUST dirt/germs/viruses. The list is expansive but heres a mixed bag of what they can be: sticky substances,dead animals,glitter (FUCKING GLITTER),negative words or language,colors, numbers, surfaces in general, food, people, and activities. There is also a hyper responsibility to protect yourself and others from ‘contamination’.

Strangely there is a magical separation between the contaminated world and the ‘clean’ one. Spaces designated as clean would be a bedroom/bathroom/workspace where you are most active. That space is where the compulsions and intrusive thoughts occur. Its not I MUST CLEAN EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME. Otherwise I would be working cleaning houses because why the hell not amiright?

A real world example from a colleague would be a young man with physical contamination OCD is struck with such intrusive thoughts about cleaning that they refuse to allow anyone in their room or any animals in their home. But they are not able to even flush the toilet, take out the trash, wash dishes, or do garbage because of their intrusive thoughts.

The most famous would be compulsive hand washing but I feel it is important to also note OTHER aspects of physical contamination because everyone sees the hand scrubbing stereotype.

Other compulsions include intricate rituals, not touching the floor (i played X-treme the floor is lava during college. I couldnt let my feet touch the floor because it was ‘dirty’),excessive showering (2-8+ hour showers guys, 8 hour showers. Thats what we’re talking about.)

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

Relationship OCD: This comes as no surprise that yes you will have intrusive thoughts that you are somehow harming/ will harm/ may accidentally harm your significant other. Whether that be by physical or emotional means. It can look like ‘ I may have lied to her about how much I love her’, ‘ i may not actually love her and I may be leading her on’, and ‘ I must be corrupting her’. These can extend to certain physical activities with false memory OCD as a cherry on top. A great finishing garnish to leave you feeling absolutely dismayed and unable to trust your own perception.

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

Scrupulosity: Religion! Whatever that may be! Its a thing with OCD. With Scrupulosity obsessive thoughts run all over the board from; you committed a sin and forgot about it you monster to having to pray continuously/ a certain time/ until its right. What is right?Ask OCD that’s the only person who knows.

We are fairly certain my grandfather had OCD because he went to church for every single Catholic Mass. Every single day. Every. Single. Day. That’s not a healthy amount of attendance(I'm calling you out posthumously because I care Robert!). This can also look like: praying a certain amount of times. Praying until you do it ‘right’. Confessing every single potential sin. Cataloguing and dwelling over ‘sinful’ things.

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

Symmetry or Just Right OCD: Symmetry OCD is the runner up for ‘most likely recognized on tv shows’ award.

Symmetry OCD convinces you that if *insert thing here* isnt symmetrical or ‘just right’ (a magical position or number of objects that makes 0 logical sense) that something bad will happen.

This can range from the known; rearranging things. But it also looks like buying more objects until you reach the right amount and even throwing out objects if theres ‘too many’.

It can range from ‘the walls are percievably not straight so now i avoid that room at all costs otherwise i will be trapped traveling the edges of the wall with my eyes otherwise it will fall in and murder us ALL.’ to ‘ this historical bust is one inch off to the left and now all i see is visions of it breaking against the ground.’

So that is what I have time for. 9 pages on subtypes and basic information. If you find yourself wanting me information all of this is easily accessible online. So go, be free and dont ever compare people to Monk again. Write Batman and Scott Summers with OCD. Give us ACTUAL representation and not throw away joke lines. We are here. Our suffering isnt funny. We deserve representation too.

#OCD #writing help #OCD resources.#*drops 10 pages onto your dash* whoops

42 notes · View notes

land-of-classpects-and-analysis · 3 years

Text

Knight of Rage

Politeness, manners, obedience - something instilled within us for as long as we can remember, and perhaps even longer than that. Respect your elders and figures of authority, follow the rules or else you will be punished, play within the confines set forth by a system so unfairly created yet largely followed. Do it, or you will forever be a figure who only gets nervous glances, whispers that carry your name like that of a timid hand holding a venomous snake, a person forever viewed as a black sheep. It’s simple - just do as Simon says perfectly, and you won’t lose. At least, it should be simple. It should be, yet there is only so much bland, pristine food that people can choke back before it comes bubbling up like boiling oil out of a pipe. There are only so many times someone can check the way they step, how perfect their posture is, before they get sick of it. When you look into the face of a peer, do you see someone as unique and individual as you dream to be, or do you find yourself looking in a mirror - one which reflects the same dulled, silent expression that you find all around you. Is this really the outside world from the safety of your room - your own personal heaven from the Hell that is society - or have you somehow managed to wander into a maze of mirrors where every last face that looks at you is the same aggravatingly bland, perfect, model face? You don’t know, and you don’t want to know, but before you can stop yourself you have already picked up a weapon - a book, perhaps, or maybe it’s your own fist. You start smashing, and smashing, and smashing the mirror until it’s nothing but dust and sand - its most purest form of existence before it was pressed and thrown into the kiln, made to look just like any other mirror. Your parents are called, again, and as you leave, all those blank, uninteresting faces begin to turn and look at you, again.

The Knight of Rage is a rather interesting Classpect much in the way that the Knight of Doom, or the Seer of Void, were interesting. Classpects that seem to contradict themselves or pose any threat to the people around them tend to raise a few questions for some people. After all, a Knight of Rage - one who protects Rage or protects through it? Why would anyone want to protect something as destructive, dangerous, and downright fearful as Rage, nevertheless try to protect through it? Of course, these will be answered throughout this analysis, but first it’s time to get a better feel for what and/or who the Knight of Rage truly is. To start off with a little bit of a simple summary - the Knight of Rage is someone who could prove themself to be a grand hero, or they could succumb to the horrific, violent tendencies of their Aspect, becoming someone of great selfishness and toxicity. After all, Knights are often well equipped with their Aspect in the beginning of their entire lives, but it is rarely in a way that directly benefits the Knight or really even anyone in their life. For the Knight of Rage, they are someone who is fully aware of their Aspect and also has quite a strong connection to it. What they really struggle with is knowing when and how to use this Rage, this hatred for the obedient masses and systematic oppressions of one’s self brought forth by society. Oftentimes, it will come out at the most inopportune moments, resulting in the Knight partaking in a type of fight with authority figures of all kinds. Whether it is their parents, the principle, or someone higher on the scale, the Knight of Rage most definitely has had their fair share of lectures and reprimandings from those society deems to be better than them.

Another interesting type of paradox that occurs within the Knight of Rage’s life is that of their social life. In a way, it is simultaneously rather lifeless and unexciting, but it is also greatly fulfilling for the Knight of Rage. During one of their many, many outbursts, there most likely would be a few people who would, oddly enough, be touched by the Knight’s passionate, blazing Rage, though not in any negative connotation. Rather, they would hear the points in the Knight’s argument that would bring them to think about and question what really is occurring in the world around them. It is through these people who would come to their own awakenings that they would seek out the Knight of Rage, confessing to the Knight that they are not alone in their revolutionist and overall Rageful mindset. Instead, the Knight of Rage would be able to make a few friends through this mutual hatred of authority, rules, and government, which is indeed all well and good. However, one of the downsides to this growing group of punks and rebels is that, while the Knight of Rage may present themself as someone who is not afraid to speak their mind and snap back at others, the Knight of Rage is still a person who struggles to keep their Aspect under wraps. Their facade is one that only helps to enable their outbursts of anger and protest, mostly due to it being of the variety of the cool, leaderly type of kid who truly knows what they are doing. Fact of the matter is, though, that the Knight of Rage truly does not yet know how to control - how to protect, or hide away - their own Rage, nevertheless protect the Rage of others or protect through their own Rage.

The more and more the Knight of Rage would talk about their ideas of revolution, overthrowing the government, leaving nothing but anarchy in place of a structured and civil society, the more they would be stirring the pot of fascination and excitement for such a thing within their friends. As much as they may want to stop, to shut up and talk about something else, or at least teach their friends how to get their own facades of blind obedience while still having their own small, silent rebellions on the inside, they can’t. They can’t stop because they have never put in the effort nor found a reason to stop. One of the driving forces for the reason as to why the Knight never bothered to find a way to build in breaks on their Rage is because of one major, defining reason for the Knight - as much as they may get a small kick out of invoking fear in others, the Knight of Rage is one who is just as afraid, if not more afraid, of simply appearing to be weak. To be weak is to accept defeat wherever you go, to let authority fully take control of you, and that is simply not someone the Knight, nor their Aspect, wanted them to be. Rather than building a facade that would allow for them to hide away their Aspect, whether it is during a confrontation with a person of power or not, the Knight instead built up a facade of being cold and distant with those around them, but also heated and passionately rebellious to those who thought themselves better than the Knight. They built not only a facade that would push away so many people from them, but would also only help to nurture, grow, and expand their Aspect. It is because of this facade of true and unbridled defiance to anyone the Knight deems to be higher than them that will bring the Knight, and their friends, into great, great trouble.

Posing as someone who seems to have their act together, who knows for certain how to use their Aspect - their Rage - to its fullest and truest ability, can often lead to more harm than good. It is creating this false hope and promise that, when the time comes, they will be able to step up and do what needs to be done. Protecting that Rage, whether it is their own or the Rage of others, from being stomped out and extinguished, or maybe it is protecting through that Rage that the Knight seems to accidentally promise their friends. While, for the most part, their friends do try their best to appear obedient and amongst the majority who dislike the black sheep that is the Knight of Rage, it would become more apparent over time that a few cracks would begin to form amongst their friends. Perhaps one of them would cheat on a big exam, another would steal a thing or few from a store and get away unnoticed, or maybe, just maybe, one of them finally stood up to their overbearing and controlling parent(s). This may sound like nothing too large or not that big a deal, and to an extent, it isn’t. It is only when a candle is left too close to a curtain or piece of cloth for too long, or someone forgets to turn the gas off on a stove, that these things become problems. The Knight of Rage would be unable to try and set boundaries for their friends to not cross - unable to fan down the growing flames of rebellion in their hearts - and it is by this incompetence that everyone involved would become greatly hurt. A blouse sleeve being caught in the flame of a candle, or someone lighting a match in the gas filled room; chaos will finally break down the Knight of Rage’s door and teach them a valuable lesson.

For once in the Knight’s life, this is not a reprimanding nor a punishment they can easily bounce back from - they can’t ignore it, brush it under the rug, pretend it never happened and continue along their way. No, instead they must face the fact that, because of their unwillingness to figure out how to be a proper Knight, they instead allowed their Aspect to get out of control and overtake a very vital and important part of their life: their friends. Everything has a consequence, whether it is good or bad, and the Knight of Rage is one who has been stacking and building up a long, long list of consequential karma on their head. It is only during this crucial moment wherein they had to finally show themself worthy of not only invoking that same passionate Rage in others, while also having to be capable of protecting in one way or another. Unfortunately, as the bringers of fate and chaos saw to it, the Knight of Rage would be deeply and forever reminded of this crucial mistake of neglect, hubrid, and foolishness. While history does indeed have a tendency to repeat itself - someone such as the Knight of Rage must surely be accustomed to now - there would still be hope for the Knight of Rage to turn everything around and try again, this time for the better. It isn’t too late to try and learn how they can allow their Aspect to run wild and take down their enemies while also knowing when to protect it - keep it contained and safe inside until the time is right. The Knight of Rage knows this, and while some may be too far gone, too jaded, not wanting to try and face their Aspect again, there will still always be those who are more than willing to try and learn how they can efficiently equip their Aspect in one fashion or another.

Protecting Rage is a power and task that sounds rather daunting, and perhaps even quite malicious. Rage is the Aspect of chaos, destruction, fear, and so much more, but it is also so much more than that. It is an Aspect that stands against oppression, that refuses to play by a system of rules when they are easily proven to be biased towards only helping one side over the other. It is an Aspect about fighting against the true horrors of this world, and it is, most importantly, an Aspect about revolution and rebellion. It is because of this mixed concoction that is the Rage Aspect that the Knights of Rage who do protect their Aspect are often viewed in a very black and white perspective. To the ones who fear and hold great disdain for Rage, and perhaps may even want to tear it down - to build a foundation of justice and Hope in its place - they only see the protection of such a thing as vile and selfish. To the ones who see and understand the Knight’s perspective and why they seek to protect such a ferocious and near capricious Aspect, they only see someone who cares more about bringing true justice to the people who have been wronged by the system and now wish to seek out a right to bring closure and peace to their wrongs.

At first, the Knight of Rage may not entirely know which parts of their Aspect should be protected and which ones should be left to wither and die out. In a way, it does truly depend on the Knight of Rage and what they want out of their life. If they wish to bring upon a revolution and profound anarchy in its place, ripping apart a government who treats its people as simple stepping stones to more wealth and profit, then chances are that the Knight will be found amongst the people looking to bring an era of equality, riotous love, and peace so desperately battled for. The Knight of Rage has struggled for so long to keep their own Rage contained, but that is only because they never truly had a proper outlet that would allow for their Aspect to properly surge out to the world and benefit those around them. By discovering that Rage can come in many forms of protests and rebellions, and that not all instances of Rage particularly benefit the group in which they want to help, they will slowly be able to learn just what it means to protect Rage. It’s always an uphill fight for the Rage-bound, as their entire beliefs are often those that go against the majority of people, society, and what is deemed as “normal”. They are those born at the bottom of the hill, and while it may be seen as them fighting up that hill to try and live at the top in peace and happiness, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Rather, what they seek is to not only rid the mountain of everyone who lives at the top, but they most likely wish to completely get rid of the mountain entirely - leaving only a crater in its wake so that no one can ever build on it again.

This is what the Knights of Rage, with good intentions in their heart, seek to protect. They are the ones who will not only try to bring as many people as they can on their side of this battle, but they will try to protect whatever sense of righteous Rage is nestled within their allies and friends' hearts. If the Knight of Rage finds the fear, hatred, and yearning for proper justice to be fair, then they will do their utmost best to vouch for, support, and protect that very same Rage. However, as quick as some Knights of Rage are to protect the good types of Rage, there will be just as many who may wish to only protect the pockets of Rage in the world that are meant only to bring pure, unbridled destruction and anarchy upon the people and the world they inhabit. They are the Knights of Rage who took their very own yearnings of demolition and devastation and found people who would crowd around them, creating an echochamber of sorts until, finally, they would become someone who only wishes to see to it that everything in this world burns to the ground - the good, bad, and everything in between. If they deem everything to be unfixable and beyond saving, then they will have no qualms in razing not only the foundation, but every last story in the building and structure of whatever they are targeting until, finally, there is nothing left. They will protect this selfish, horrific Rage as much as the other group of protective Knights will. While one group is scorned for trying to bring proper justice and revolution to the people who have been wronged, the other group is one who only wishes to blot out the sun and every last bit of Hope in their wake, perhaps even going as far as to turn against their pack once all is said and done.

However, there will also be the Knights who would go out and learn how they can protect others through Rage, specifically the Knight’s very own. They have a debilitating amount of their Aspect, after all, and it rarely ever seems to benefit them or really anyone else. From their most recent and easily most devastating brush with their Aspect and the battle it brought on, though, it caused something to spark inside of the Knight. Eventually. As time would go on and the Knight would stumble upon more and more instances of their Aspect, this spark would also come to grow into a light - one that leads the Knight of Rage to realize that they don’t just have to wildly start slashing and throwing verbal blades at anyone their Aspect deemed to be a threat and a target. Instead, they will try to go out and learn how they can turn this passion, this Rage, into something that can be a source of good and protection. For the longest time, it would appear that the Knight of Rage is someone who stands as a lone wolf, looking down at everyone with spite and hatred in their eyes. When, really, they were simply someone who was scared of becoming a doormat for everyone to walk on, and just another bland, boring face in the ocean of people that walks upon their planet. It is this fear that holds back the Knight of Rage from truly pulling their sword from the rock that entombs it - the fear that, once they pull the sword out, they may become another face in the crowd, or that wielding their Rage in such a way will only allow for it to possibly be stolen. They have all that they need to pull that sword out from within themself and then some, but it is this fear that is their reason for being held back all these years.

What the Knight of Rage needs most during this time is not exactly friends, but most definitely a mentor of sorts - one who can teach them how to properly wield and equip themself with their Aspect, and also how to let go of their fear, in the process also giving up their facade. There is no exact way to know whether the Knight needs someone of a specific Class, Aspect, or both, but one thing's for certain, and it’s that they desperately need a teacher to show them the ways of their journey and their Aspect. It may be a slow start for these Knights of Rage, though, as they may become far too prideful to admit that they need any sense of teaching or guidance to figure out how to do it. A teacher is nearly a type of authority figure in the eyes of the Knight, and so it may make them be quicker to dig in their heels and insist that they do not need any types of teaching. At first, their would-be teacher might play along and even encourage this behavior in the Knight, if only because they are well aware of the failure to follow the Knight’s insistence of rebellion. Only when the Knight tries to do things on their own - facing their fear, their facade, and taking back the sword that rightfully belongs to them - the Knight will be brutally reminded as to why they even were directed towards this teacher in the first place. Another failure would most likely befall upon the Knight, and their Aspect would be there to remind them who is truly in control of this show. It is through their fear of falling into the dark, cold depths of their Aspect that the Knight would come running, or crawling, back to their now-welcomed teacher.

It is within the company of their teacher that they will learn how to properly wield their Aspect, and also how they can protect through it. One of the biggest things they will come to learn is that their Rage is not that of fear nor anger, but rather that of passion and great conviction in what they believe in - even if that belief is one of anarchy, revolution, and ripping their foes apart. Having that passion is what allows for the Knight of Rage to go forth and protect those they love - the passion that someday, somehow, they will be able to hang up their sword in pride, knowing that it was them and so many others who went out and fought for what was right. Whether it is a passionate love, or even a passionate hatred, if the Knight is one who goes out of their way to protect you from one threat or another, be sure to show them the highest gratitude and respect in return. They know that not every soul will be able to live to see the world change into a better place, but that will not stop them from going out and trying their best to help, protect, and save as many people as they can, sharing with them that blazing passion within their soul. They are a valuable ally, and a devastatic foe to have, for as long as they have a memory of you that brings forth kindling for their urge to fight for what they believe to be right - the destruction of society and the government, the rise of anarchy, and bringing true freedom and justice for those wronged by the rules - then the Knight of Rage will fight until their very last breath. There is simply no telling for certain, though, on what end of their sword you may end up on.

The Knight of Rage is one who began their life as someone who had all they needed to begin a movement, a cause, a revolution to change things for the better. However, while they have all the Rage they ever needed to pull off something like that, it was their own fear and desperate desire to constantly be fighting, standing up against those who thought better than them, and never allowing anyone even a second to think of themself worthy of stepping on the Knight. What they lacked was discipline and knowing when and where is the best place for them to truly show off and wield their Rage, whether in the form of a barbed shield or the most jagged sword. They were someone who was lost and had no clue how to truly control their Aspect, and so when some of their friends began to pick up on and listen to the Knight’s rebellious ramblings, their fates were sealed when they started to follow in the footsteps of the Knight themself. Unfortunately for everyone involved, all these fates would end in misery, pain, and suffering in one way or another - all because the Knight of Rage neglected finding a way to step down from their facade of emotional distance, coolness, and anger. They could have had it all, and yet they fumbled and allowed for all of it to come crumbling down around them. In the midst of any possible grief they may be experiencing, they would come to realize that, maybe, just maybe, it isn’t too late for them to not let history continue to repeat itself. They want to be a hero, after all, that’s why they have been fighting for so long. This only left one burning question in regards to them becoming this hero; how, just how, would they become one?

For the Knights of Rage who would go out and protect their Aspect, they are the ones who may experience the most controversy and stigma amongst their group of friends and allies. After all, some may misconstrue their act of protecting Rage as merely protecting drama, jealousy, conflicts, and more. While this may be true for a certain selection of these Knights of Rage, there tend to be those who lean more towards only protecting the Rage that helps those the Knight wishes to help, as well. In a broader sense, yes, the Knights of Rage who protect their Aspect do indeed protect drama, conflicts, anger, etc., but it depends on the Knight of Rage as to why they do it. There will be the Knights of Rage who do it out of the goodness of their heart - who believe that this Rage, no matter how many grievances it may bring, is better than any blind obedience. To be angry, to fight, to partake in rebellion is to be alive, and that is what these more positive Knights of Rage are aiming to do - bring people to life in a far more spiritual and righteous way, having them partake in a type of baptism through fire. They are the ones who believe that, in order for a more beautiful and lush forest to grow, the one currently standing must be brought down, and so they will try their best to not only bring as many people to help them in such destruction, but also will try and prevent any from extinguishing their flames. While they may not be the best person to go to in order to resolve a conflict, they are still a friend who will try to help not only bring justice your way, but will also help to keep you reminded that you are indeed worthy of calling yourself a victim - that it isn’t just you being a delusional black sheep who isn’t grateful to be a part of such a rusted and twisted machine. They will hold you, physically or otherwise, and protect the Rage you have from dying out, if only so that you can remain as alive and unique as you are meant to be.

Of course, there will be the Knights of Rage who will only seek out to protect the Rage that only brings about the end of all things, good and bad, as well as bringing great pain and torment to anyone they deem unworthy to live in their anarchist fantasy world. However, their deal is a little more easy to understand, so let’s shift the focus over to the Knights who protect through their Aspect - their Rage. They are the Knights of Rage who have a far more educational path to follow rather than the brutal protector path for the other group of Knights, but their end destination is still one of being a swift and vicious warrior, as well as a devout and sturdy protector. Having learned all that they have from a teacher of some kind, they are someone who has learned to push past their fear of being perceived as weak and unloyal to their cause and Rage, and instead use their Rage as a type of fiery passion - one in which their sword may be formed and perfected within. Their power may be described as protecting through their Rage, it is far more akin to them protecting through their passion and the dedication they have for their dreams and beliefs - their own type of hope that, if enough of their enemies fall, and/or the people who strive towards a world of peace, love, and tranquility outnumber the selfish, cruel masses of the government, then they will finally be able to put away their sword for good. Until then, though, the Knight of Rage will have no qualms in equipping themself with such a devastating weapon, protecting those who may not be able to fight just yet by slashing and battling as many foes as they can. Even if the Knight cannot make it long enough to see such a world come into existence, they will only hope that their Rage will once again be able to reach those who needed a hero - a role model - much like they did for their friends all that time ago.

If there is one thing to take away from the Knight of Rage, it is that not everything that appears scary is born out of ill-will, bad intentions, or anything of the like. They are someone who believes in a world that is not forced into a machine doomed to combust and fail, destroying every piece inside of it in the process. Whatever it was that brought them this Rage, this awareness of how cruel and unjust the world around them is, may vary from Knight to Knight, but there is one thing for certain when it comes to these people - they can be either one of the best allies to have, or they can be one of the most vicious enemies to make. They are the friend you got to when you need confirmation and reassurance of what you are fighting for - who you are fighting for - and why you should keep that fire blazing brightly in your heart. They are the person who may have some questionable morals, but they are more often than not coming from a place of love and concern. They are someone who was given a bad hand of cards to play with, and so they made a completely different game, one where they and every other person like them has a better chance of winning. The Knight of Rage is one who knows time is finite and that the sun will rise whether they do or don’t, and so they fight, tooth and nail, moving further and further up that hill no matter how many people push down on them or gravity tries to pull them back to the bottom. The Knight of Rage is a warrior through and through, but only because they hope that one day, the streets, fields, and trenches of bodies will become filled with happy, colorful faces, bright and beautiful pieces of art, and so much more. They may bring anarchy in their wake, but their ultimate goal will to always bring peace and equality by the time they slip into an eternal sleep.

#Knight #Knight of Rage #Homestuck #Hiveswap #Knight of Rage Analysis #Rage Aspect #Noble November #Rage

34 notes · View notes

max-is-tired · 4 years

Text

Talk to me

Pairing: established Analogical

Characters: Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton, Roman and Thomas are mentioned like, once

Words: 1.442

Warnings: some anxiety, exhaustion, mentions of Logan yelling at and berating the others (it’s all in the past and he’s aware that was wrong), some light Logan angst at the beginning (pls tell me if I missed anything)

Notes: Is it 4am here? yes. Do I care? Time is fake and a constant sleep schedule is a myth, so no, not really. The song this is based on was given to me by @figurative-siren-song and since I’ve been in a big Analogical mood lately I just had to write these two being soft and supportive <3

Commission me!! Buy me a coffee!! Join my Discord server!! AO3!!

Logan was Thomas’ Logic. He was rational thought in its purest form, the representation of his host’s knowledge and intelligence.

Granted, he was very much aware that was not the only thing he was. He knew emotions were a part of him as much as everything else, even if he had tried to viciously deny so in the past.

In hindsight, that had been rather… foolish, of him. His adamant refusal to acknowledge something that was so obviously part of his being had ended up being more detrimental than anything. He’d wanted to put out an idolized image of himself, the image of someone who was always put together, who always knew what the best, most logical solution to everything was.

It had taken a long time for the others to help him see just how much that type of mindset was hurting him, and their famILY as a whole. Patton had been a huge help in that regard, resourceful as he was in giving him guidance in understanding his own feelings. However, Logan knew that the main reason he’d made it as far as he did was none other than Virgil.

Virgil, who had stood by him when things got too overwhelming. Virgil who had refused to leave his side even during the worst days. Virgil, who had held Logan’s hand during those long, endless nights when everything seemed ten times more difficult and the logical side found himself wondering why, why would they all do so much for him even after everything, after all the times he’d yelled, berated them, stomped on their dreams to appear like the mature, logical one he thought he should have been.

A chuckle, a smile, dark eyes glinting in amusement and they looked at him as if they knew the secrets of the world.

”Because we love you, even when you’re acting like a clueless moron.”

Love… such a strange concept, was it not?

Logan sighed, turning his head once again to look at his cluttered desk. From his place on the bed, he could see the script he still needed to revise for their next video, plus the schedule he needed to update to account for all of their future responsibilities and some binders containing Thomas’ most recent acquired knowledge that he still needed to properly archive…

But he’d promised to stop overworking himself, did he not? He knew all of the benefits of having a regular sleep schedule, and he’d sworn to Virgil that he wouldn’t try and do any work after his self-imposed bedtime. He’d made a lot of progress on that aspect, truly -he had managed to sleep regularly every night for a whole month now, resisting the urge to get ‘just one more thing’ done.

But there hadn’t been so many things to get done in a while, and if he could just get one of those tasks out of the way then he might be able to get the revised script to Roman by the following afternoon…

Logan let out a tired groan, grabbing a pillow to press it on his face. He could feel just how heavy his body was, the weariness of exhaustion seeping down to his bones as the clock on his bedside table kept ticking on. All he wanted was to sleep, to fall into peaceful unconsciousness until his alarm was set to go off in the morning.

Still, he laid awake, staring at the ceiling with an irritated frown. He should have been asleep, he knew he needed it for his mental and logical abilities to be in optimal form the next day, and yet all he wanted was to get up and sit at his desk to lose himself into his work until every single one of his tasks was finally, finally done.

Logan was pondering just how quietly he would need to be to sneak into the kitchen for a cup of coffee -and trying to ignore the guilt starting to pool in his gut the more he considered the option- when a knock suddenly reached his ears, startling him out of his train of thoughts.

Frowning, Logan squinted at the door, trying to figure out who would come and knock at his door at 3 am. Then, a familiar, muffled voice came from outside.

“It’s me, L. Can I come in?”

Logan arched an eyebrow but complied, giving a flick of his wrist to unlock the door as he pushed himself in a sitting position. He watched in silence as his boyfriend slipped into the room, waiting until the anxious side had closed the door behind himself before speaking.

“Salutations, Virgil. Is something the matter?” he asked, tilting his head to the side as a flash of worry passed through his gaze -he knew the other side suffered from nightmares, and it wasn’t rare for him to come seeking refuge into Logan’s room when they got particularly bad.

After all, Logan’s room seemed to encourage rational thought, and it often helped Virgil somewhat ‘logic’ his way out of the lingering fears the nightmares tended to leave behind.

“That’s actually what I was going to ask you,” Virgil answered. “I could feel your racing thoughts all the way to my room, and I’m not even exaggerating. What’s bothering you, my star?”

Logan couldn’t help the way his shoulders stiffened just slightly, feeling almost like a deer caught in the headlights as he registered Virgil’s question. Before he could stop himself, his gaze flickered back towards his cluttered desk, all of his tasks and deadlines calling for him.

Virgil didn’t miss that, opting to sit beside his boyfriend with an understanding smile. “Feeling restless?”

Logan sighed, tearing his gaze away from the desk to give Virgil a small, tired smile of his own.

“I suppose you could say that, yeah,” he finally admitted, letting his body slump sideways until he was leaning into the other.

Almost automatically, Virgil wrapped an arm around Logan’s shoulder, holding him close as he nuzzled into his hair.

“Do you think cuddles might help?” he offered, leaving a soft kiss at the top of his boyfriend’s head.

Logan hummed, keeping his head low so that Virgil wouldn’t be able to see just how soft and smitten his smile had become. “That is a theory we could put to the test, if you feel amenable to it?”

Instead of answering, Virgil’s lips stretched into a grin as he dragged both of them down on the mattress.

“You know I love helping you with your little experiments, L,” he hummed, draping the covers over them as they shuffled around to make themselves comfortable.

“I do believe this one will need repeated trials to truly determine its functionality, don’t you agree?” Logan commented, resting his forehead on Virgil’s chest with a contented sigh. “You might need to spend a few nights here in my room. All for the accuracy of the experiment, of course.”

Logan felt more than heard Virgil’s chuckle, deep and rumbling in his chest as his shoulders shook with his laughter.

“Oh, I’m sure that’s the only reason you’d want that,” his boyfriend commented, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Subtlety doesn’t suit you, my star.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, moonlight,” Logan countered, intertwining their legs as he pressed even closer.

Then, an idea popped into his head.

“Virgil?” he called, his voice suddenly growing hesitant as he waited for his boyfriend to acknowledge him. “Feel free to refuse, of course, but would you be amenable to singing something?”

The anxious side blinked down at his boyfriend, obviously surprised by the sudden request. Then, he smiled, fond and smitten as he nuzzled into the other’s soft hair.

“Of course, my star,” he murmured, gently resting his chin on Logan’s head, “any specific request?”

Logan lightly shook his head. “I am sure that whatever you will choose will be fine, dear.”

Virgil hummed in understanding. He knew just the song for tonight.

You don't have to be a hero to save the world It doesn't make you a narcissist to love yourself It feels like nothing is easy it'll never be That's alright, let it out, talk to me.

You don't have to be a prodigy to be unique You don't have to know what to say or what to think You don't have to be anybody you can never be That's alright, let it out, talk to me.

Anxiety tossing turning in your sleep Even if you run away you still see them in your dreams It's so dark tonight, but you'll survive certainly It's alright, come inside, and talk to me.

#sanders sides #analogical #logan sanders #virgil sanders #analogical fluff #song fic #ts fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #maxiswriting

131 notes · View notes

leggomylino · 4 years

Text

Dark Rising☽✮☾Act Two

☽✮☾ Dark Rising Masterlist ☽✮☾

Genre: Horror/Thriller, Drama, Romance, Comedy

Pairing: NCT’s Johnny Suh x fem!reader (x ???)

Word count: 9.3k (we’re covering a lot of ground in this one! :D)

Warning(s): mentions of blood, yandere-esqe themes, cuts/injuries, soul stealing and kidnapping. Possibly more in the future depending on what the original authors decide. They write for ot9 and so do I.

A/N: Main Masterlist in BIO! | This is a spinoff series to the SKZ fanfiction Twisted Karnival, by @gaiyofanfiction. It can be read alone, but you are encouraged to read the original story first. At the authors’ request, I will take this down if asked to do so. I do not own Twisted Karnival or Stray Kids, or Johnny Suh, or any characters used in this. All credit goes where credit is due. The events that happen in this story are not canon in the original story, this is simply a work of fandom and appreciation, and thus will tie into canon events as closely as possible in respect to the original works. All that being said… Thank you. <3

~ ☽✮☾ ~

It was two in the afternoon. After complaining to Johnny that there was no way you were staying overnight in some spooky, definitely-haunted, no-fun funhouse little-shop-of-horrors, he ended up grumbling about how useless you were already proving to be and walking you all the way home. You, useless! When he was the one that came to you for help!! The nerve of that guy!!!

“I have an order for...y/n?” a waiter asked, stopping just at the corner of your table. You smiled gleefully while bobbing your head, smacking the already dish-packed tablespace, pastry crumbs and croissant flakes flitting about the area. “Yeah! Set ‘er right here, please!”

“Hn.” Johnny scoffed, watching disdainfully as you shoveled a double order of German chocolate cake down your throat and washed it down with a caramel milkshake. “Do you ever stop eating? I swear you’ve inhaled the entire dessert menu in less than an hour.”

You kept onto that milkshake until the last drop was gone, eyes peering up boldly to meet his. “...I thought you didn’t swear,” you asked, setting the glass down and going for the cherry that awaited you in its cream-stained contents. C’mere, you! <3

Johnny looked away, albeit for just a moment. He began crunching commands into his phone. “I don’t, but—”

“Then buttout.”

He gave an annoyed sigh. Outside the Urban Grind Cafe, life went on as normal, despite the fact that hundreds of people had gone missing just last night. Whispers filled the streets and alleyways, about sons and daughters who never came home, mothers and fathers and aunts and uncles that never called, never left a message of any possible sudden work meetings or last-minute plans; but no one had the gall to actually say anything out loud. It was as if they were afraid to, defaulting to cling onto false hope: Oh, it’s okay. They probably stayed out so late they decided to crash at a nearby inn. Maybe there was an all-nighter event. ...Who, so-and-so? (S)he’s a party animal, probably went to (friend name)’s house.

“...ou listening to me? Hello? Johnny?”

You’d pushed yourself up to wave the blank cherry stem in his face, lightly poking his nose with it. Johnny flinched a bit, swatting your hand away while you chuckled and fell back into your booth seat.

He groaned. “Y’know, most guys don’t care much for girls that--”

“What? Eat a lot? Talk back? Interrupt your call to the Mothership?”

“...Yes. All of those.”

It was your turn to scoff. “Bite me.” ...Then you had to smirk, pausing a moment as you crossed a spoonful of pudding from bowl to blissful heaven. “...Are you by chance trying to say that--”

“No. Definitely not.” He gave you a serious glare that stopped any giggling rising in your throat. “Enough chit-chat. You can keep stuffing your face if you want, but I need you to listen to me.”

You wanted to throw your spoon at him, but the risk was greater than the reward of seeing him with vanilla pudding all over his face and a black eye. So instead you grunted, shoveling another spoonful of whip cream. “Yeah, alright, I’m listening. But I still have questions for you too. Like, how come—”

“Please don’t talk with your mouth full. No one wants to see that.”

“...”

Now you really were going to throw that spoon. Or you would have, if the same waiter from before hadn't shown up with a helping of creme brulee. Yum! 😍

“......” Johnny folded his hands before his face, leaning in with elbows on the table. “...I’ll start from the beginning. As I told you before, I’m—”

“An angel, yes, I know.”

“...Right. And it’s my mission, along with the other messengers, to combat the evils of this world and defend mankind. However, we can’t always act alone, because we’re not allowed to corrupt freewill...and that’s where matters can get really complicated.”

You continued inhaling creme brulee, eyes flitting back and forth between Johnny and the dessert before you.

“A long time ago...a long time ago, there was a period of peace on this earth. It didn’t last long, but time flows differently in the realm above this one.” He steadily exhaled, and abruptly his face scrunched up in distaste, seeming to decide on something. “...I lied, this is going to take too long, and you don’t need to know everything; at least, not yet. All you need to know is that there was a short period of prosperity, and then...something serious happened, and one of our own was cast out to be…”

He cleared his throat. You paused again, setting your spoon down to listen more intently.

“...She was…” He swallowed. “...She was sent down to earth. But only because of the sacrifice that many of us made on her behalf.”

Your head tilted, drawing a blank. “...Sacrifice?”

“Yes. She was tricked by demons and did some things she shouldn’t have. Her punishment was to be cast out to the other side, but many of the others stood up for her and offered to take her punishment in her stead.”

“Wow...she must have been a true saint.”

The look in Johnny’s eyes was soft and distant. “...She was. She was beautiful, and had the purest heart imaginable. But she failed to guard that heart, and she was deceived into a great sin.”

“So...sort of like, Eve and the Tree of Knowledge?”

He nodded. “In a sense, that’s an accurate comparison. It’s not the same per say, but loosely speaking, yes. That day…” ...His voice grew quiet. “That day, everything changed. The sky grew dark, and everything sort of lost its color, if not just for a single moment. There was a cackle of laughter that echoed from down below, but we could all feel it, with our own intuition. We knew she was gone.” A painful sadness filled his eyes. “And there was nothing we could do. There was nothing...I could do…”

“But...wait,” you said. “I thought you said you all made a great sacrifice for her? And then something about her being on earth?”

He rested his arms down on the table. “We did, and there was. After many trials and God’s grace, she was still stripped of her wings, but rather than being sent to the underworld, she was reborn a human.”

“...That’s...a punishment?”

Johnny scowled. “Think about it. Use that big head of yours.”

“Hey! ...Urk, well, okay…” You frowned, steadily losing your appetite as you shuffled the remaining three bites of creme brulee around. “I guess that makes sense. Life does kinda suck from time to time, and heaven is supposed to be pure bliss.”

“It is,” Johnny assured, the corners of his mouth raising just slightly. “It’s wonderful. And life on earth is no picnic, but it’s much better than an eternity below. Trust me.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I get it…” Paused again. “...Hey, so, what was her name? Can you tell me?”

“Yeah…” He of course, paused for effect. The suspense was practically suffocating, the way his features seemed to sharpen, the hollow silence that filled the small space around the booth the two of you shared.

What if...What if it’s… —Am I…? Could I be—

“Her name is Evangeline.”

...Oof. You mentally shunned yourself for being so conceited as to have thought it could possibly have been you. But then...

An image of a girl with silky smooth hair and bright, passionate eyes filled a blank space in the center of your mind. Quickly, you swallowed down your most recent mouthful you’d forced in too soon, coughing a minute before leaning over a tower of empty dishes, a cup of tea nearly spilling over given how hard you slammed the table. “That...That girl from before.” There’s anxiety rising in your chest, though you’re not sure why. “Was it her?”

Johnny’s eyes widened in slight surprise, almost seeming to have trouble focusing on your own. “Yeah. Good guess.”

Not really. Somehow, you just...knew.

“Whoa...so then…” You slowly descended back into your seat...then jumped back up with more fervor than before, startling a few nearby customers. This time, you did end up spilling that cup of tea. “Those demons have her! They have your one true love! We have to save her!!”

“Uuuu—“ Johnny was leaning back, glaring at you again with even wider eyes. “Whoa, okay, I never said we were in love. And if you can find it in that pea-sized brain of yours to settle and keep your voice down, I’ll agree that you’re right and it is a main aspect of the mission.”

“Wha?!” You did glue your bum to your seat, but as for lowering your voice? Quite the opposite. “Just a second ago you were saying I have a big head, and now I have a small brain?!”

He huffed, crossing his arms. “Isn’t that how it always goes with brazen girls?”

“Brazen?!” You rolled up your sleeves. “Oh, I’ll show you brazen—!”

“E-Excuse me…” Your waiter had partially hidden himself behind an empty tray he was holding. “I’m sorry but, I’ve been getting a few complaints about the volume of noise over here and um...we don’t allow violence in our cafe. If you don’t calm down, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Oop— well, it certainly wasn’t your fault!

“Tell that to him!” You roared, pointing an accusatory finger at...no one.

Johnny was gone, a closing door and the faint scent of aftershave the only trace that he’d ever been.

Something heavy and full of numbers was set down timidly beside you. It carried a hefty burden on your nearly-empty coin purse, causing it (and any excitement you’d had left) to shrivel up and die.

“Your bill, miss. You can pay at the register over there.”

…………

The wails of a heartbroken young woman filled the chattering silence.

~ ☽✮☾ ~

“I can’t believe you just LEFT me!! What kind of a gentleman does that?! Huh?!?”

The two of you were wandering the back alleys of town, taking some sort of shortcut somewhere, you had to assume. All you knew was that you were lucky you had a decent sense of direction when it came to navigating the city and not many people were incredibly tall and wore an old trench coat in the middle of Spring.

Johnny glanced back at you from over his shoulder, at the angry expression on your face where puffs of animated smoke arose, and your hands rubbed raw from having to wash dishes. He smirked. “I never said I was a gentleman.”

You faltered, feeling like a ton of bricks had fallen on your head.

AAARGH! You seriously wanted to pound him into a poundcake for this! You’d only know him for like, what, a day? Maybe two? And he was already unbearable to be with! Did you seriously have to work with this guy…?

“You were supposed to treat me! That was your apology for scaring me half to death and getting me involved in all this! Y’know, a real man would have— oof!”

You bumped right into his frozen backside. After quickly retreating two steps and rubbing your nose, you placed aggravated hands on your hips like some sassy middle school student.

“Oh, what is it now?! Wait, don’t tell me…” You turned one palm to gesture upward. “There’s a demon! Oh NOOOO, what will we— mmph!”

Johnny secured one hand over your mouth, the other balled and ready for action. His voice was tight and laced with concern. “Be quiet, and start walking back, slowly. Get to a populated area as soon as possible. Don’t make a sound you can help, understand?”

What-

“I just don’t understand,” a gruff voice said. “I’m always careful about counting tickets. Jeongin and I sealed the chamber after everyone was accounted for. I know.”

“Well obviously, you miscounted this time.” a second said. The hairs on your neck were beginning to stand. “It’s fine, it’s just one human. That’s nothing compared to the hull we got this time; and anyway, it’s not like they were special or anything. You were probably too distracted by my new sub— I mean, our new plaything, to be paying very good attention.”

The first voice let out an ominous growl.

They were talking about you; you didn’t need the proof of seeing them with your own eyes. Seeing wasn’t always believing. Their voices alone dripped with malice lying secret beneath succulent temptation, the most dangerous of siren songs.

A song...didn’t Johnny mention something about that before?

...Hey, wait a sec. Did those guys just say you weren’t special? 💢 How rude!!

Something pushed you scant but roughly away, towards the faint rays of sunshine feebly reaching out from the nearest shopping district. “Get going. Move.”

You furrowed your brow at the man separating you and danger lurking up ahead. “Okay, okay!” you hissed. “No need to be so rough…”

You’d taken about three nimble steps back the way you came at a cat burglars’ waltz before the mutters up ahead once more caught your attention. When you turned around to look, Johnny had vanished, and you found yourself whipping in every direction before nervously taking shelter behind some pipes jutting out the back of the nearest building.

“Sigh. This is stupid. I could be spending time with our precious doll but instead I’m stuck out here looking for a heap of rubbish.”

The second devil’s eyes grew menacing and serious, a soft purple hue sweeping over the surface. You shuddered at the sudden temperature drop. “My creations are not rubbish. It was just a misfiring of signals caused by the pressure of the oncoming storm. I can ensure that it doesn’t happen again when we get back, now quit whining about your screwup and help me look.”

“...A…” The first demon paused, frowning concern at his partner. “...Not to sound like Jisung, but is that even possible?”

The other snorted, bending down to shuffle through a pile of old broken pipes and other junk. “Han wouldn’t have even known what I’m talking about. But yes, it is possible...ah! Here she is~”

He smiled while pulling out a small toy robot, the hair and paint job looking...rather real. The first demonic being, who you could now see had hair the color of a Halloween sunset and a face full of stars, made a slightly grotesque expression, being sure to hide it stoically the moment his comrade looked back. “Great for you, now can we get back?”

“......” The latter looked sideways, almost seeming to be looking right at you. Your breath hitched, squeezing the pipe in front of you so hard it may well have burst. He closed his eyes with a smile. “...Yeah, sure. But first, there’s something I wanted to get off my chest as well.”

Freckles looked puzzled. “Wha? Right now? To me?” He furrowed his brow with a slightly annoyed pout. “Why? What is it?”

“Well…”

His voice dropped slightly. You leaned forward in a feeble attempt to listen.

“...Do you remember what Chan was saying? About the concern for lack of performers?”

“Huh? When did Chan say— OW! Why did you step on me?!”

The robot man frowned, glaring. “Do you remember what he said now?”

“...Ah…” Freckles glanced around. He suddenly seemed to catch wind of something, smirking the next moment. “...Yes, I do recall hearing something about that. I was, uh...busy...before.”

Mr. Robot rolled his eyes. “...Right...you were at that...thing. Anyway,” he announced loudly, “I don’t know what I’m going to do! He asked me to hire more performers, so I’ve decided to hold tryouts for new talent tonight at 8 pm.”

“Oh? Tonight at 8 pm??”

“Yes,” he repeated rather...automatedly. “Tonight at 8 pm sharp.”

“...”

Freckles abruptly leaned forward, whispering something. Robo-boy heaved a sigh, muttering back, then announced once more, “Oh, fine! We can hold it at 9 pm if that’s what you really want.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to— mm?!” A piece of duct tape was slapped over his mouth from the other’s toolbelt. He began pulling him promptly farther down into the alley, toy doll secured in the other arm.

“Great, so 9 pm sharp then! We better hurry or we won’t be ready for all the star talent!” ...And then they were gone.

You wasted no time scrambling around to find Johnny, wheezing out his name into the dim-lit area: “Johnny! Johnny?! Johnny!! Where are you?”

A flourish of feathers rushed past you from an offbeat breeze, fading into silver dust that vanished in the dank air. Something landed beside you, a bored expression on its face.

“...Don’t tell me you actually believed all that.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

He nodded to where the demons had once been gossiping. “That. Over there. If you couldn’t tell that was a trick to lure you back there, then we have a lot more work to do than I was hoping for.”

Your cheeks inflated to represent a pouting Jigglypuff. “It’s not like that! Don’t be so suspicious, they don’t even know I’m a Sailor Guardian chosen by the Moon!”

“A...A what?”

You grabbed both his hands. “We’ll never know unless we try! This could be our chance to save your one and only true love!!”

“Urk—“ He winced. “...I told you, she’s not my true anything! Quit putting words in my mouth!”

You took a step back. “But—!”

“No.” He groaned. “...I thought you hated being involved in this whole spectacle, anyway. Since when do you want to march into a demon-infested funhouse and pick a fight?”

...You had to think about that a moment. He did have you there; but being a hypocrite was sort of your thing. And what about Evangeline?! “...Since...Since…!” Urgh! “Since I have this! And this!!”

You held up the necklace and whistle proudly, both of which had been resting in your pocket. For some reason, Johnny stared at them in contempt and rising anger. “I told you, these are not toys! And do you mean to tell me you weren’t wearing the necklace this whole time?!”

You’d been cackling proudly until...this point. “...Uh...y-yeah—“

“Idiot!”

“Whaa!” You fell on your bum, the weight of his words sending you flying. Johnny just glared like he had every right to throw you into the nearby dumpsters and trash piles where that toy robot had been. “You’re so naive and dense! I told you, you need to be wearing that necklace at all times! DO NOT take it off, ever, for anything!”

He snatched the whistle out of your hand, leaving marks of anger in his wake. A small hiss of pain left your lips, and you held your breath, gripping the injury in pain. When you let go a second later, a stain of blood greeted your eyes.

You’d opened your mouth to say something back, but he silenced you real quick, waving the silver whistle inches away from your face. “And this is not a toy! You can’t use it whenever you feel like it, or put your full reliance on it! It’s only for a serious emergency when I’m not around, or you get separated from me and need immediate help! It’s strictly for dangerous situations only, as a backup plan! It can’t be your only means of fighting, because I can’t fight all your battles for you! I TOLD you this, I’m not allowed to intervene in the laws of freewill! Why can’t you open your ears and listen to me?!”

“...I-”

“What? You what?” He tsked. “Are you just too stupid and incompetent to do that too? Good grief, you really are useless…hey, wait…” His eyes shifted down, to your hand now nestled in the sleeve of your trendy store-bought Letterman jacket. You were shaking and breaking out in goosebumps all over. “...What’s wrong with your hand?”

You refused to answer him, the silence blaring far and wide. The heated haze gently lifted from over his eyes, awakening him from his rampage; but it was too late.

“...Y/n…” He kneeled down. You let out a hiccup, followed by a sniffle. Guilt quickly took him over. “...Y/n, I’m—“

Your head shot up like a volcano erupting, red-faced and teary-eyed. The atmosphere was yours to command, anger rising over everything. “SAVE IT!” You roared, snatching the whistle back. You ran with all your might down the alley, made a swift turn into civilization, and kept running until you were exhausted and could run no farther, and had to result to power-walking, even after Johnny had called for you to stop, to slow down, to wait, to come back.

You ran all the way home, glaring heatedly at the dumb slender whistle in your hands before tossing it into the blender, and slamming the on button. But for some reason, it refused to start. When you took it out and tested the power, it worked just fine. When you tossed the whistle back in, it wouldn’t start at all.

Letting out another frustrated scream, you instead marched upstairs, throwing open the balcony doors and tossing it as hard as you could into the forest behind your house. You hoped a rabid squirrel or a bobcat would find it and carry it far, far away...maybe swallow it or something.

With a defeated huff you collapsed to your knees, resting your arms and head on the balcony railing. Seriously, why did Johnny have to be like that?! It wasn’t your fault this was all happening so quickly, and there was a lot to take in— forty eight hours ago, you’d been a normal girl just doing your job, minding your own business, living your life. And now you’d been scouted out of nowhere by some tall wack-job claiming to be an angel, when you hadn’t even seen his wings...just a few feathers, and an impulse to believe…

Why? Why were you so gullible? Why would you just believe him without knowing for sure? Even if he did have the strange power to calm you… well, now he’d also hurt you.

Your cellphone buzzed, but you ignored it. The home phone rang, but you let it go to voicemail.

“Y/n, it’s me. Pick up. We need to talk.”

What the heck...how did he get your phone number? How did he…?

Hng. You were starting to learn not to question Johnny, save for the matter of his true identity, in the scheme of how fast things were going. He may be an angel, and he may not be. But he was basically out of your league in terms of being crafty and resourceful.

A notification bell chimed from your computer, the screen coming to life. You could have sworn you turned it off before leaving the house, though…

You sat down at your desk and searched for a notification to respond to, but there was nothing. Strange. Wait...what was this?

There was a window minimized on standby. You opened it, finding a digital flyer for the Twisted Karnival.

The words spoken by the two demons before resonated in your mind: tryouts for new talent. 9 pm sharp.

Your fingers tightened around the necklace still in one hand, and as much as you wanted to hurl it off the balcony as well, you threw it over your head instead, burying the pendant beneath your shirt. You were still mad, but if you were going to do this, you weren’t going to be stupid about it. You’d march right over there and blend in perfectly; you’d put on a disguise so good, no one would be able to recognize you, not demons, not even Johnny! And this necklace would provide you with protection, just like he said! ...That was what he said, right…? ...Whatever. You’d make this work no matter what! Even if it was a trap! You’d just have to turn it around and bust that trap! Then he’d really see who was useless!!

“Who’s resourceful now?” You’d say. “Huh?!”

A sharp sting pierced your right hand, and you winced, shutting down your computer and running across the hall to wash the wound. It really wasn’t that bad of a scratch, so you had no idea why it was stinging so much…

Sigh. There were a lot of things you didn’t know as of late. Instead, glaring back at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you decided to focus on things that you did know.

And one of those things was that you were about to prove Johnny very wrong.

~ ☽✮☾ ~

After taking a nap to be in tip-top shape for kicking demon ass, fueled by rage and determination to prove a point, you awoke just shy of eight to find you’d gained a bit of common sense...in other words, you were starting to have doubts.

According to plan, you were to march into uncharted enemy territory that had a 50% chance of being (...okay, 99.9%...) a trap, without Johnny, without anyone, to fight supernatural beings that possessed freaky powers you likely didn’t stand a chance against. You had no strategy, no combat experience, and no weapon save for the silver cross that was supposed to keep you safe somehow; but you couldn’t even remember exactly what it did. Something about making you invisible, maybe…? ...There was just so much information…

Perhaps you needed to think this through a bit more carefully, now that the previous flames of anger had died down to a subtle wisp of ember. With the smoke clearing, you were now able to see the real danger that lied up ahead; it was like you were standing there all over again, on carnival grounds, watching that girl’s life being sucked away…

No, not sucked away. It’d been corrupted. She’d been put under some sort of spell, and supposedly, you were the only one...or at least, the one chosen...to stop it. Johnny has chosen you for this. There was something he said...there was a reason you were chosen for this. Again, too much information in too little time…

...What if that was you? What if you rushed in there, full of spirit but no power to back it up, and ended up just like her?

...Even if that were to be the case, and you were wrong, and Johnny did turn out to be crazy, you couldn’t just abandon the thought of someone in need. Not when you’d seen her suffering with your own eyes, waiting to be saved.

You still didn’t know why it had to be you, but time was running out, your alarm clock reading 8:15. You’d made up your mind. You’d just have to find out along the way. If you died trying, well, hey— at least you died trying. You wouldn’t turn your back on someone in danger.

And even if I did call the police,what are they gonna do? Heck, the demons would probably brainwash them and have ME arrested instead. 🗿💧 There’s no way I’d be able to afford a bail fee on my school salary!!

Okay, y/n, it was time to get ready! Game on!! —Hey, hold on.

After jumping out of bed with a fiery new spirit, you looked down to your hand before you. The injury Johnny had given you…

...was completely gone.

~ ~ ~

Standing outside the carnival gates was like standing at the gates of a cemetery. As creepy and unfavorable as one could imagine, it was ten times worse.

You hadn’t known what to wear exactly in regards to the demon-slaying-attire department, but you also needed a good disguise, so you’d opted for your one-piece swimsuit from middle school that you miraculously found lying in your closet and just as miraculously still fit your matured body. A solid navy blue, you paired it with some stretchy ballet flats and a trench coat similar to Johnny’s belonging to your roommate, Jisung...more on him later. Basically you’d probably be owing him a new one after this, which may or may not have been more expensive than a brainwashed-officer’s bail fee...since it was…

Givenchy?! 😱 S-Son of a—

“Oh! There you are!”

AHH!

The appearance of Cherry Boy nearly made you jump out of your skin. He was so close, his face smiling sweetly to you from the other side of the twisted black fence, the thickening fog washing out his pale features (other than that blindingly bright red mop on his head). You pulled your Jisung’s jacket like a hug.

“Uhm...y-yes! Hahah, heeere I am~”

A strangely excited glint filled the young boy’s eye. Oddly enough, he didn’t move to unlock the gate for you or anything; in fact, he did the opposite, stepping back into the dense miasma as the gate just...opened itself… “You almost didn’t make it! Good thing you got here on time! Auditions are about to start!”

Your jaw was about to drop, but you did good to snap it shut, not wanting to show any forward emotion that may tip him off. You were an unsuspecting young girl, just trying her luck at auditioning to perform in the risingly-famous Twisted Karnival. No big— ...

Hold on. Cherry Boy had seen you. He’d gotten dangerously close to you and looked right in your eyes and spoken directly to you. But…

Weakly, but with fever, you patted your chest. Checked your pockets.

Johnny’s necklace was gone.

“Are you coming~? No need to be shy! Come on in! Oh, what’s your name?”

You stared horrifically into the blank atmosphere filled with mist. You couldn’t see Cherry Boy anywhere. “...Y/n...I mean!” Shit. “That’s what I wish my name would have been! But it’s really, uh...uh...S-Samantha!”

You could no longer see the demonic redhead anymore, but you could feel his presence twice as strong. His voice sounded as if he were right in front of you. “Samantha…? Hm. You sure don’t look like that name suits you at all. No offense or anything, it’s still such a lovely name for a lovely young lady~”

And then he was right behind you. His breath tickling your ear.

“Say, since you like the name y/n so much, how about we call you that instead? What do you think about that?”

...You thought you were this close to whopping this guy in his cute face and making a break for the shelter you passed two left turns ago. But alas, he was gently walking you forward, escorting you to your doom awaiting you in one of the many striped tents hidden in the mist. No turning back now.

The moment you crossed the gate’s threshold, something instantly didn’t feel right.

“So what will you be auditioning for today?” he asked in a bright, cheerful voice. It stood out like a sore thumb given the dank depressing carnival air. “Oh, I’m not one of the judges or anything, I’m simply curious to know.”

Okay, this was it. You’d decided on the way over that you would be auditioning in some form of acrobatics, since you’d also had minor experience in gymnastics as a kid and well...that’s really all you had to go on…

You sunk your head farther down into Jisung’s thousand-dollar jacket. Man. This plan is already proving to have way too many holes. What should I do?

You had to give him some kind of answer. “Um...yeah, sure! I’m...auditioning for…” You gulped. Felt his eyes glued to you, like a bullet to the back of the head. “...Uh, it’s a surprise! No spoilers!”

You’d jumped forward and spun around, making an X with your hands. Cherry Boy blinked.

“...Oh, I see! Yes, of course...wouldn’t want to ruin the fun!”

“Right?!” Phew.

“Yes, of course~” He stepped around you, pulling open the side-flap of a smaller tent to your left. “Well, here we are!”

“Oh, but…” You examined the size of the tent. No we ain’t. “This isn’t the main tent?”

“...No, it isn’t.” Cherry Boy confessed. He pointed somewhere North, maybe toward the center of the carnival. It was too hard to tell with all this blasted fog in the way. “The Main Tent is that way. I’ll be escorting you there once you finish getting ready! We have a professional makeup artist on standby, so hurry and get changed, and we may be able to make it on time!”

A wha??

“H-Hold on— I already have a costume—!” …

There was no holding on. He’d already pushed and closed you inside.

The tent was small and dim-lit by candlelight, barely big enough for four people. It held a trunk, a narrow wardrobe, and a compact vanity with a box of tissues and makeup supplies. A smiling young woman was waiting for you, one leg crossed over the other in her tight pencil skirt and bright pink lipstick. She looked...a little pale and...out of place. Like she didn’t belong in a circus, or a carnival, or whatever.

The woman didn’t say anything, not even when you slightly waved and muttered a less-than-confident hello. She stood up, gestured for you to sit down, and started mechanically slapping random compacts of powders and shadows to your face. The oddest scent of burnt rubber filled the air the more she awkwardly jerked and moved…

“Um...are you okay…?” You frowned. “Ma’am, you’re kind of...well, your movements are—”

She dropped the blush she was holding and paced over to the other side of the tent, jerkily, where the wardrobe was. Something snapped as she took a step halfway there, and she suddenly dipped, but before you could finish gasping at her expense and leap across the space to steady her she’d righted herself like nothing happened. Uncomfortable with all of it, you stared strangely at the blush that simply rested on the floor.

“Hey, Miss? Are you sure you should be working right now? I think that maybe you oughta go home...also, I’m sorry but, I don’t know the policy here...is makeup supposed to be left on the floor?”

She, again, didn’t answer. Something clicked and sparked while she rummaged the closet, though, and next thing you knew she was wrestling you into a new outfit.

“Hey, hold on, stop it! I don’t need a costume, I brought my own! I’m wearing it! Please— ack!”

Your face smacked into plastic, floor-abandoned foundation shoved up your nose.

After managing to shove her off and sneezing/coughing a few times, you were yanked before a mirror that...definitely wasn’t there before. Spooky…oh, but…!

The girl that greeted you back actually wasn’t that bad. Her makeup was kind of sloppy, but the idea behind it was pretty classy and kinda sexy. The outfit you now wore— a pure white leotard with an open back and a flashy, glittering pink trail (y’know, those skirts that are open in the front, like a cape for your waist), and pristine, matching white gloves— altogether, the ensemble was...dare you admit...actually pretty dang cute.

This woman may have had too much caffeine or been drunk off her ass, but she knew what she was doing in the scheme of things. “Say, this is actually really cute! Thanks!”

She bowed. Very unnaturally. It was way too low, like you were royalty or something, and you could have sworn there was a spark next to her hip. Weird. When she didn’t get back up and you could hear Cherry Boy calling, asking if you were ready, you snatched your Jisung’s coat and skipped out of there, muttering another awkward thanks.

Outside the tent Cherry Boy was grinning at you from ear to ear, a disgustingly adorable rosy tone to his cheeks that counteracted to your false one. Curse him. “Wow, look at you!” He padded closer to stroke your cheek, an action you didn’t call for to occur. It left you stiff and frozen solid, color fleeing where his skin met yours. “...That outfit certainly is stunning...to make a last debut in.”

Those last words didn’t quite make sense to you, but you were more concerned with the way he was examining you, scanning his eyes up and down the length of your body like you were an exhibit on display, and he was an aspiring artist, trying to take in everything that he could…and the fact that he still had his hand on you…

You felt like a corpse. But also, for some unnamed reason, you felt almost angry...

“Jeongin! Hurry up— oh!”

Both you and Cherry Boy— Jeongin, you guessed— pivoted your heads in the direction a new player called from the main stage. After only seeing a silhouette for the longest two seconds of your life, at last, Mr. Robot himself came into view.

Nervously, you gripped the sides of your sparkly half-skirt, shivering from both the chill of settling mist and the heavy negative vibes ascending in the air. When Jeongin released you, you stumbled back a step and a half, gripping the gaping hole swelling in your gut. Your mind clouded with backlash thicker than this impenetrable fog: how stupid this was, how dumb you were, that you should have never come—

You came to a death trap empty handed with no survival skills or redeeming known qualities except that you were somehow “the one.” ...Were you insane?!

Just like Johnny’s outburst, it was too late to escape. You were already too far in. Two of them now knew you were here, and you couldn’t even run if you’d wanted to; fear held you down like a magnet, and the hole in your stomach was beginning to fester.

Yet, beneath that, in the pit of your stomach, in the center of that swirling vortex, there was also something...stirring…

...Maybe you just need to throw up again. “You must be the last audition we’ve been waiting for! Everyone else has already gone, we’re just waiting for you!” Robo-boy smiled like a kid that knew he’d won before the game was over. “Are you ready?”

You dragged your foot a step back, then another, clinging to your coat for dear life. It was a miracle you even found your voice at all. “H-How did you know I was going to audition? How did you know I’d come here?”

...What? The jig was basically up anyway.

“Hmm…” He thought. Or pretended to. “I suppose you could say we had...a hunch.”

And then you aren’t sure what happened, because the next second his eyes were glowing that purple hue you saw in the alleyway, only it was stronger now...brighter...and you were left with nothing but a will to follow him.

Though you could no longer control your movements, you still had an awareness that was all your own. Jeongin and Robot Guy snickered the whole way they led you to the Main Tent, joking about how they wished they’d had more time to play and experiment before it was time for you “to go.” They laughed at the expense of how smoothly you’d just waltzed right into their plan, and Robo Boy in particular stated something along the lines of hoping one “Chan” would allow him to use your body as a spare part (or spare parts) for some side project he was working on...whatever the heck that was supposed to be. It didn’t sound good.

You jerked and jimmied on the inside, pulling back with all your might, but it proved fruitless on the out. Like you weren’t even struggling at all.

Dang it, dammit all! I can’t move!!

Struggle and pull as you might, it was completely useless...just like Johnny had called you. Useless. You really were useless…

The two demons (well one, really) marched you through the back entrance of the mothership, down a dark passageway, and directly to the stage...only to make an unannounced sharper-than-a-knife right turn and up a tall ladder hidden behind some dull velvet curtains. Every step and reach was intensified, like your senses had become twice as strong; you were more than aware of what was happening, being forced to lock in on the current moment.

When you reached the top, you were standing on a thin white platform...with nothing but a thin, fraying rope that led to the other side. To a matching platform some three hundred, four hundred feet away.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Robot Boy called from below. “But I riffled through your brain and found a coherent thought about wanting to try your luck at a game of balance? It should prove to be quite...interesting.”

He let you look downward, only for a moment. If allowed to show expression, your jaw would have hit the floor...er, platform. The main tent was HUGE— way more massive within that it looked outside. It was like a freakin’ coliseum made to look more festive and carnival-istic, though gothic-ly so. There had to be at least a thousand seats, probably more...and all sorts of strange equipment and contraptions littered the stage. Canons, various raised platforms, hoops, some large...vacuum...thing?

The demonic population had grown. Instead of two, there were now seven of them...and after you’d closed and opened your eyes, a whole room full. Every seat had been filled: with a demonic creature, a shadowy blob, or some kind of horrific mortification of the two…

You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t. Tilting your head to face forward again, two of the seven original monsters had teleported themselves to be waiting on the platform opposite to you, one sitting, the other standing. The standing one flashed you a smile that would have been priceless were it not tainted by brutality and fear; the other one, a short but muscular man sitting down, was holding a ball of fire in one hand. He rolled it gently onto the twine connecting the distance between, and the whole thing engulfed in a line of fire. You whimpered, but still couldn’t move.

The Givenchy coat caught onto the flames, or perhaps the flames caught onto it— regardless, it burned away and crumbled to ash, but amazingly the fire didn’t touch your body...or at least, you didn’t feel anything. You were now standing vacantly in the borrowed outfit that was most likely your funeral gown. Nothing but a hollowed version of your former self.

The standing demon that had a killer smile to boot flashed you his pearly whites in the most graceful way possible, and carefully but with little effort he walked into the flames, though he remained completely unscathed. He padded and strolled across the wire with the gracefulness of a swan, pausing when he reached the center. He did not waver, didn’t lose his balance or second guess himself, for an instant, never taking his eyes off of you rather than where he was walking. He extended a graceful hand out to you.

“Come to me...my angel.”

His eyes glowed green, the color of emeralds in a sea of fire. It was beautiful, mesmerizing…

Slowly, you raised you right slipper, taking a placid step forward—

“Y/N!!!”

Huh…? Who—

A blindingly white light pierced the skies, washing out everything around it.

“Release!!!” Someone yelled.

One of the demons cursed, and whatever spell that had been holding you vanished, your heart turning you towards the source. Could it be…? Was it really…?

It was. You smiled.

“Johnny!”

...And then feeling something hot and burning dangerously close, stared into the pits of hell you’d almost walked and fell into. “AAAAAH!!”

Something swooped by and grabbed you, like an eagle catching and carrying off its prey. Fearfully, you tilted your head back to see…

“Johnny!!” :D

“Yes, you already announced that,” he smirked. But wait…

Curiously, you focused blurry eyes on what had been supporting the weight of you both behind him. It was soft and feathery, a mix of brown and white, glowing faintly with a yellow-golden aura…

It was Johnny’s wings. He really was an angel...for real this time.

“Don’t worry,” he said, zigzagging slightly to avoid incoming fireballs and flying daggers. “You’re safe now, I promise. But you have to—“

“WHAAAAAA!!!”

“W-Why are you still crying?! I just told you you were safe!”

“That’s not iiiiiit!” You sobbed. “I...I thought bad of you before. I still didn’t believe what you were saying, but...you were telling the truth all along. ...And…” You looked up to him with teary eyes. “J-Jisung’s jacket...I’ll never be able to pay it off! I’m gonna be poor forever!! Whaaaa…!!!”

“What—?” 💧

“Grrr…” one of the demons growled. “Quit MOVING!!”

A flaming kunai came hurling after the two of you at blinding speed compared to the previous attacks, and at last your luck had run out...or maybe not. Fortunately, though Johnny went down with a hurt wing, the two of you managed to crashland on the nearest platform, and he flicked the knife away like it’d only barely punctured him.

“Goodbye, BLTs…” you sobbed, still too hung up on broke-life. “Goodbye, kpop album collection—“

Johnny gave you the 🗿💧 face. “You can cry about being broke later! Right now, I need you to focus on becoming Sailor Moon and stopping these guys!”

“What?! But why can’t you— aah!”

You both ducked for cover as a flaming frisbee-contraption nearly cut both your heads clean off, slicing through the pole behind you. Gulp.

Johnny scowled, his temper rising again. “I TOLD you already! Don’t make me have this argument with you again, I— ...hnn,” he groaned. “I’m sorry...for the way I treated you before. I should have found a better way of introducing all this to you. I should have known better and I shouldn’t have lost my temper…” His eyes sparked with a fire as he turned to you, determination leaking from every part of him. “But right now I need you to set all that aside and focus on the mission! Please! You can do it, Sailor Y/n!”

“B-But…” You faltered still. “I-I don’t know how! What am I supposed to do?!”

“For starters,” he squinted his eyes, tossing something over your head. “Wear this. And don’t lose it next time!”

“Ahh!” You smiled gleefully, relief washing over your nervous system. “The necklace! You found it!”

“Enough talk!” A new demon you had yet to meet, with smooth parted hair and a tiger at each side of him, smiled up at you from the center stage. “I have orders from Chan. We are to eliminate this girl and the angel immediately.”

Uh-oh. You worriedly took a few steps back, as his eyes glowed a yellow hue that only got brighter. The beast beside him growled and hissed, positioning themselves to pounce and attack.

“All of you stand back. I’ll finish her myself.”

“What? No fair, you and Felix and Seungmin always have all the fun, with your dumb tinkering and running around selling tickets.”

“...That’s Felix and Jeongin, Han.” Robot Demon said.

Han rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Minho and everyone else gets to have just as much fun. I haven’t even gotten to do anything yet!”

“Would you shut up?!” Green-eyes yelled from above. “All you do is ride that dumb bike of yours all over camp! It’s annoying and you’re constantly running into stuff and scaring away potential victims!”

Han’s eyes glowed pink. “Oh-ho! Looks like someone remembered to take his bitchy pill this morning, huh Hyunjin~? PMS still got you down?”

Green-eyes...threw his shoe at him.

Freckles— Felix— sighed, scowling almost as much as Robot Guy (Seungmin?) and the others were. He placed his hands on his hips in a familiar sassy-middle school student pose. “Can we maybe not fight right now? If you haven’t noticed, we have company.”

Hyunjin blinked, shifting his attention to the star-faced boy. “Woah, hey, was Felix actually sensible just now?”

“ENOUGH!” Minho barked. Everyone else snapped to attention. He sighed. “All of you stay out of this and go strengthen the barrier or something. Let me handle these two, I’m more than enough of a match.”

“For a little girl and an old man?” Han scoffed. “I’d hope so.”

“Go.”

“Hmph.” Han swung around over a bike behind him, probably the one Hyunjin had been complaining about. “Fine. I’m out of here.” He smirked. “I’m gonna go cut in line to play with my doll~”

Hyunjin stared at the retreating dust incredulously as he zoomed away. “WHAT?! Oh no you’re not! I have her next!”

He flipped off the tightrope with ease, landing just as gracefully as before and retrieving his missing shoe. He then hightailed it after him.

“......” The man who’d quietly been sitting on the platform (besides trying to kill you with flaming balls of fire) sighed once they left, jumping down the long distance and landing like it was nothing as well. “I better go make sure they don’t kill each other again. You got this, Minho?”

Minho growled. “I told you, I did. Get out of here.”

He held his hands up, rolling his eyes a bit. “Okay, okay. See you later.”

He met your eyes before vanishing, the orbs glowing orange. You “eep”-ed and covered yours, and you heard a distant chuckling as he vanished from sight.

When you opened them, a small fire burned at your feet.

“AHHH! Hot, hot, HOT!!”

You danced and jumped into Johnny’s arms, the remaining demons chuckling at your expense.

“Awww, did Changbin’s fire burn you? It’ll be okay, if you come down here and let my babies eat you, I’ll make sure it’s a swift and painless death.”

“Hey, wait,” Seungmin frowned. “Leave her body in one piece. I may be able to use it for my latest side project.”

Minho frowned more. “You sure as hell didn’t say anything when Changbin and Felix were throwing flaming daggers.”

“That’s because I knew they’d miss. You actually have a chance of mauling her.”

In the background, Felix twitched. “Hey! I did so land a hit!”

“Yeah, one. That did little to no damage.”

“Shut up!!”

They just kept going back and forth like this. Back and forth, back and forth. As they bickered, you followed Johnny’s gaze to one of the far side entrances, where the ones called Han and Hyunjin had disappeared through.

You thought. And pondered. And puzzled. Until…

“Oh!” You declared, landing a fist in your palm. “That must be where they’re keeping your one true love!”

“Huh?!”

The remaining three demons all turned to look at you. Wait, you could have sworn there’d been four, though…? “Hm? Coming up with a strategy to escape?” Minho chuckled, crouching down. “I can’t allow that.”

Now it was your turn to scowl, a new confidence suddenly swirling within you like a vortex. Really, you were just tired of being here, and getting kind of hungry.

You pointed an accusatory finger at Minho, mimicking your best Sailor Moon pose. “Augh, enough already! I’m sick of being here and I wanna go home!” You flashed a few more poses, giving your best fighting stance. “Alright demons, listen up! In the name of the Moon™, I’m shutting this carnival down! Get ready!”

“U-Uh…” Behind you, Johnny began to sweat.

Minho laughed again, the other two standing their ground with a smirk. “Are you now?” He ran a hand down the back of one of his beasts, the creature both purring and growling lowly. “And just how do you plan on doing that? Hm?”

…Well once again, the supernatural had gotten you there. “Uh...I’ll…” You wracked your brain for an suitable answer that wouldn’t make you sound too dumb or inexperienced. “...report you to the BBB! I’ll make sure to leave a bad review, too! No stars!”

Johnny facepalmed.

“......” Minho turned over his shoulder. “...What is she talking about? What’s a BBB?”

Felix shrugged, appearing just as lost. “No idea. Let’s just take her soul and give it to this guy. It’s gonna be my turn to play with our doll soon. ♥ ”

Like beetle juice, Hyunjin reappeared in the doorway, arms stretched wide in prehistoric rage like a certain popular internet meme. His hair and clothes were a mess from the previous battle with Han. “Wha?! No way, Chan said I could have her next!”

Minho began groaning and growling all over again. “Quit fooling around! We have to fight already!”

Felix gave him a skeptical glare. “What? But you told us to—“

“Be quiet!” His eyes shone brighter. “Go get her!”

“Grrrrwar!”

The tigers both pounced in unison, landing halfway up the pole and making an unnaturally powerful climb toward you. You shrieked, latching back onto Johnny and demanding he take you as far and high into the clouds as he could go.

But he didn’t. Instead, he pushed you off (gently...ish), squaring your shoulders to face him as death quickly crawled up from below. “Listen! I’m only going to say this once! You can and will do this! Believe in yourself!”

“WHAT?!” It was an understatement to say you were panicking; you were downright having a nervous breakdown. “WHAT THE HECK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?! I LIED, I CAN’T SHUT ANYTHING DOWN!! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO—“

And then he just...floated away from you.

Your jaw dropped. “JOHNNY!!!”

“Grwar!!”

“AAAA!!!”

You braced yourself as one of the tigers pounced, knocking you back. When someone (Johnny) broke your fall but you still managed to land with a thud, you wasted no time hopping to your feet and making a beeline for the exit, tossing as many obstacles as you could behind you in an attempt to give yourself time.

“Stay away! Leave me alone!! EEP!!!”

You tripped as the other tiger came out of nowhere, tackling you down. Because Johnny intervened and held it back for a fraction of a second, you instead skidded forward, faceplanting a far wall.

“Ow…! Dang it…” You looked back over your shoulder, as Minho and the two beasts were closing in, twistedly stalking closer. Spinning and pressing yourself as hard against the wall as you could, your eyes frantically scanned the area for Johnny, but he was too busy distracting the other two...really three...from ganging up on you, even if Minho had insisted for them not to.

“It’s over…” He mused, splaying an open hand toward you. “Finish her.”

“GrwaAAAAR!!”

“AAAA—!!!”

...This was it. You held your breath. Shielded your face. Closed your eyes. Waited for it to be over…

…But, then…

Time came to a stop. Your stomach churned, swirling, the vortex growing stronger. Stronger, stronger, and stronger, until…

You heard Johnny gasp, the chaos of battle coming to a halt. “Y/n…!!”

“Ahhh...aAAAAAAH!!!”

Something dark and vibrant exploded throughout the room, the source coming from your stomach. The fabric over the area burned away, leaving a sizzling hole, rays of ultraviolet light beaming forth. It sent the creatures fixing to murder you flying the other way, soaring past Minho, who cringed and squinted his eyes, shielding them with one arm. The sudden windstorm caused his hair and clothes to whip around him, all of it like a scene out of a movie…

“What...What the hell…?! ...Nngh, ahh!”

Then he went flying as well. But not from the wind as you’d momentarily thought. When the light faded and the air settled down, a dark shadow landed before you, having attacked Minho. The shadows dripped and slithered into a pool beneath it’s center, revealing…

A boy. A man with purple hair.

From somewhere far off, you heard Johnny say something, remaining as still as the waters of a cysteine chapel:

“...Oh, shit…”

...Guess he did swear after all.

~ ☽✮☾ ~

A/N: Hi, everyone! c: Thank you for reading the Dark Rising series thus far, it’s been a blast to write! If you liked this story, please do me favor and give it a like and reblog! And be sure to leave me your thoughts in the tags or my inbox, it means a lot and I’d greatly appreciate it! Thank you so much for reading; I’ll see you in Act Three!! <3

23 notes · View notes

basicsofislam · 4 years

Text

ISLAM 101: 5 PILLARS OF ISLAM: ALMS AND CHARITY: VIRTUES OF ZAKAT:

WHAT IS SADAQA (THE VOLUNTARY ALMS)?

The term sadaqa carries the literal meanings of truth, acceptance and concurance.12 Yet in the Qur’an and hadith, the word harbors meanings of greater depth as a source of extreme kindness and benevolence, along with the occasional intimation of charity toward others, or simply refraining from harmful conduct. When Yusuf’s brothers implore him by saying, “Be charitable to us,”13 the word they use in place of “charity” is an etymological derivative of sadaqa. Conversely, while designating the eight groups of zakat recipients14, the word used is also an etymological derivative of sadaqa and alludes to zakat.

The profound depth of sadaqa’s meaning can also be verified through the fact that the word has often been used instead of zakat in many hadiths that elaborate the amount of nisab (e.i. the minimum for zakat becoming payable); moreover the term has been utilized to cover other meanings such as performing virtuous acts, lending a helping hand, enjoining good and prohibiting evil. The following hadith may afford us a clearer understanding of the copious meanings sheltered under one word:

When the Messenger of God (upon him be peace and blessings) told the Companions there is sadaqa on every Muslim, the Companions hastily asked “O the Messenger of God! What if the Muslim couldn’t afford it?” The Noble Messenger gave a counter reply “Then with his own efforts he will work, hence he will benefit himself and be charitable (sadaqa) to others.” “What if he still couldn’t afford it?” again inquired the Companions. “Then he will help those in need,” explained the Messenger. “What if he still could not possess this opportunity?” insisted the Companions. “Then he will perform good acts, protect himself from committing evil; this will also be sadaqa for him.”15

The advice given by the Messenger of God to one of his Companions, Abu Dharr, is along the same lines. To receive the recommendation, Abu Dharr once asked, “O Messenger of God! What should I do, if one day, frailty and powerlessness would befall me?” The Prophet replied, “Then hold back from harming others, as indubitably, that will be a sadaqa for yourself.”16

It is amply evident, the word sadaqa, as utilized in the Qur’an and hadith, accommodates an extensive cluster of meanings that virtually encompass a large aspect of life itself. As an Islamic concept, however, sadaqa is the name given to any offer, deed or presentation where the spiritual payment is expected only from God.17 In the present day, this is the implicit understanding derived from sadaqa. Ultimately, if an analogous comparison were to be undertaken, the outcome would be that “Every zakat is sadaqa, although not every sadaqa is zakat.”

WHAT DOES ZAKAT MEAN?

Zakat, literally, holds numerous meanings: to profit, to purify, to increase, to be worthy, nice, mercy, truth, blessing, to extol and to exonerate are just to mention a few. 1 All of these abundant meanings can be sighted in the Qur’an and hadith (sayings of the Prophet Muhammad, Peace Be Upon Him).

For instance, in the following verses, “He has indeed prospered who purifies it (the self)”2 and “Prosperous indeed are those who purify themselves,”3 zakat means to purify and to exonerate, while it is also used to denote prosperity in another verse: “A compassion from Our presence, and prosperity.”4 Additionally, it can refer to purity itself “…and let him see what food is purest there.”5

Moreover in many verses, zakat denotes purification, as corroborated by a hadith that uses the same word in describing the sanitization of soil.6 Consider these references: “…that is more virtuous for you, and purer”, “…for that is purer for you,”7 “…and let him see what food is purest there,”8 “He said ‘I am only a Messenger of your Lord to announce to you the gift of a pure son,’”9 “And Moses said: ‘Have you slain a pure soul though he had killed nobody?’”10

WHAT IS TO BE GENERALLY UNDERSTOOD BY ZAKAT IN ISLAM?

In Islamic terminology, zakat is the process where a certain amount of property or money is collected from those who are sufficiently endowed and then given to needy group of people, with donors, recipients, and the proportion of required donations being clearly specified in both the Qur’an and Sunna.11 Taking this definition into account, zakat (the prescribed purifying alms) is simply spending what has been bestowed by God, in the amount and places designated by Him, for the sole purpose of physical and spiritual purification.

1 note · View note

the-magic-lava-lamp · 4 years

Text

Strange Magic

Summary: ‘The Talisman’ was a shop owned by one Mrs. Sharp who believed in a world much more mystical than others were willing to admit. Her beliefs set the tone for her career path and led her to buying the place several years ago. It was to be run by herself & others who believed in the enchantment of magic that others were blind to.

Ships: Loki/Theo

(Loki, Theo, Mantis & Wanda are in a cute little friendship group & don’t ask me why but this was NEEDED!!)

(Modern AU BUT Loki & his mystical gang have something very similar to the Shining™. )

Word Count: 3,415

‘Psychic Readings

Metaphysical & Holistic goods ’

The tiny blinking neon sign buzzed as it hung against the window to the tiniest brick building. It shared it’s residence with no one else’s business these days, no longer a part of a strip but standing on it’s own.

The Talisman was owned by one Mrs. Sharp who believed in a world much more mystical than others were willing to admit. Her beliefs set the tone for her career path and led her to buying the place several years ago. It was to be run by herself & others who believed in the enchantment of magic that others were blind to.

In the beginning, she’d found herself in the company of one Theo Bell. He’d wandered in as an unsure but elated young man. The allure of the shop & what it stood for was the driving force for his job application. He was just plain interested in having a charmed experience to drown out any skepticism lingering inside of him.

He was Mrs. Sharp’s first hire. He built up most of the antique shop aspect of the store. And he’d accompanied her on her quest to find a round-table of psychics & clairvoyants dedicated to their talents.

Their first and biggest mistake as a team, was hiring the breath of spring air which was Amora. A young woman who possessed many natural abilities & enchanted those in her presence. What she lacked was a sense of her own worth. Her enriched version of what her talents warranted was beyond even her conscious mind.

With her participation, the Talisman became something else entirely...a project for her to build herself (& herself alone) up.

Their first and greatest choice as a team though was also hiring Amora.

Because with the her came another little witch who’d kiss the ground she walked on if Amora asked. Loki was only comparable to a setting-moon. Doe eyes that were far more suspicious than they looked. His glances were fond and fervently unsettling.

That was exactly why Theo fell for the mischievous boy. Mrs. Sharp knew that from the moment they were introduced.

Loki had picked up every single one of Theo’s little gadgets laying around the store during his interview. Tossing & turning each interesting piece of equipment as if he didn’t care much for them...but his warm eyes gave him away.

These days, Theo was having an affair of the heart (as Mrs. Sharp called it) over Loki. He watched day-in-and-day-out as the slick confident young man was reduced to a weaker version of himself whenever Amora came round for her shifts.

: : : : : : : : : : :

It was clear to Loki, while he was sitting at the counter for his early morning shift, that Theo was sucking on his pinkie-finger.

It was a simple little action the smaller boy did when he was off on his own world of thought or trying to clean hot tea off his skin. Loki turned his head, fluttering his eyelashes slightly as he glanced at him. It was a habit that Theo could stand to get rid of, it's not like Loki adored hearing the sound of his spit while he was attempting to wake himself up, but it was sort of endearing.

Theo popped the finger from between his wet lips and lifted the mug up to blow steam.

“That’s a pretty face.” Loki remarked with snarky amusement as his friend hissed from the heat. He clasped his hands together and eagerly rested his chin atop them.

Theo stuck his tongue out in his special little juvenile way and licked at a droplet that sped down the side of the cup. “Nice of you to say.” He winked and turned to fidget with some of the shelves. “Get your darling self over by the books and dust em’ some, will you?” He was now speaking over his shoulder because it drove Loki bonkers.

His witchy little friend remained stationary at the counter and flicked through pages of inventory. Theo playfully rolled his eyes.

“Oh great one?” Theo batted his eyes sarcastically and giggled a little when Loki responded. “Do me the honor?” He picked up the duster and flung it at Loki’s chest.

Loki breezed over to him with a smirk. “With pleasure...” He drew closer and purposefully bumped their arms. “You missed a spot over there.” He leaned over him to point at one of the glass shelves.

Theo held out his palm. “Talk to the hand, Loki.” He said in a poor attempt of an american accent.

“Gladly.” Loki took Theo’s hand and began to trace the lines of his hand gently and with great pleasure.

Theo sucked in some air and tried not to tingle all over as Loki swirled his touch all around the bend of his hand. For a moment, he was confused before he sadly caught on to the joke. “You’re not the palm reader kind. You’ve told me that yourself a million times.”

Loki just hummed and continued to trace every dip in the skin. “That’s true. I'm more of a-”

“Clairvoyant Psychic.”

Theo spoke the identification at the same time, having heard Loki refer to himself that way about a million times now. His friend looked up to smirk again and smacked Theo’s palm.

“I see something interesting though.” Loki raised a thin brow and looked down at Theo’s hand.

“What?”

He attempted to pull-back with interest but Loki was much quicker. He smacked Theo’s hand up to gently smack it against his cheek. Instantly falling into laughter when Theo tried to smack him back.

Loki just clicked away though, the heels of his boots tapping the floor as he picked up the duster to actually start the work.

He had that simple and carefree grin on his face. It was no wonder all of Theo’s attention was right back onto the young man. Loki dipped his chin down like he was being shy before running his tongue across his lips. It almost played off as if it were a move. His moistened lips parted just slightly and the air conditioned breeze ricocheted throughout his body which just had to make him tilt his chin to the ceiling. The smooth skin of his neck now exposed to the suggestive chill-

“Hello.”

The bell over the door rang out as Amora swayed inside the building with the prettiest little smile over her face. Theo jumped as if stung and looked far from Loki.

Amora glided over and tucked her arm into Loki’s, taking him back behind the counter with her. She didn’t pay much of a greeting to Theo who was trying his best not to insist Loki get back to work. He leaned on his cane and frowned.

: : : : : : : : : :

“Hey Trickster.” Amora pulled Loki’s sleeve and leaned her body against his as they entered the back room. He tried not to burst from her delicate touch and allowed himself to be led.

She put him to a stop and draped herself on the tiny couch and when he sank down beside her, a tiny electric shiver shot down his spine. Their knees brushed together and the wonderful woman didn’t pull away. “I had a vision.” She spoke and flicked a piece of his black hair behind his ear.

She pursed her lips in thought and he found himself wishing desperately for her to touch him again. Just one more speck of something; a passing graze of her fingers would do.

Loki creased his brows. “What do you mean?”

Amora smoothed her hands down her pants. “There’s no telling how far I can go, Loki.” She grinned. “I saw myself last night in my visions...” Amora shook her head, blonde hair pooling around her shoulders “I was finally somewhere where there’s magic in the air, Loki. Away from here.”

Loki hadn’t realized the depths of admiration he truly had for her until she blinked up at him again.

“Away from people who don’t believe in us, Trickster.” She didn’t yet touch him again but pressed on with her stunning looks.

“And you were alone in this?” He couldn’t believe he’d allowed himself to ask such a pathetic sounding question but he had to know just as badly as he ached to be appreciated by her.

For a brief second, her shiny eyes resembled a stained glass. “I looked across the cosmos, Loki.” She looked at him as if he were being a ridiculous child. “Of course you were with me. You set the dream off, after-all.”

Loki’s heart flipped with the purest form of...love.

“We were made to use our gift for more than just...” She scrunched up her nose and glanced around the room in a way that unsettled Loki. “Parlor tricks for the blind.”

“There are no parlor tricks here, Amora.” He felt an odd defensiveness steam up from his body like Theo’s earlier cup of tea. Protecting a job he’d once seen as cheap himself, only interviewing for the sake of sticking with the one person in the world who he could speak to. “I-” He paused.

She raised a blonde brow. “You help these people?” She finished for him with a seed of doubt in her tone. “Loki...they don’t truly care for your abilities. They come to get a supernatural taste, tell all their friends about it and then it just becomes a funny story. No one that comes into this cheap mock-store actually believes in us the way they should. Don’t you see that?”

Amora tried to take his hands and for the first time in his life, Loki denied her of a touch.

The woman looked a bit shocked at the action. “You really want to be like your Mother? Or Mrs. Sharp? Holding out the flame for those with no visions just so they can see a tiny bit of what we can always see & feel?” She shook her head.

Loki blinked, thinking of his mothers words. She’d always called it the Shine...their little gift. And he supposed Amora was right. He had been holding out his flames to others without the ability so they could take a quick peek.

Mrs. Sharp thought it to be good work and maybe somewhere along the way...she convinced Loki of that too. He thought briefly of Theo, who never ceased to be amazed by Loki but always kept him humble.

“That sounds like a burden to me.” She frowned.

Loki pursed his lips. “If so, I’m ‘burdened' with a glorious purpose in life.” He shrugged.

Amora stared at him for a while longer before she silently strutted out of the room and out of the building.

: : : : : : : : : :

The rest of the week went as normal, until a tiny distraction flew by the workers on a Tuesday. That wasn't to say the distraction wasn't welcomed. In fact, Loki desperately needed something to get his mind elsewhere.

Though, it wasn't very fun to be stuck holding a tissue under Theo’s pinched nose to keep blood from trickling down his sweater.

Gem was working the register and attempting to shuffle chaotically through papers at the same time when he'd accidentally elbowed poor Theo right in the nose.

And in the blink of the eye, Loki was collecting tissues for his friend and proceeding to hold them for the dazed boy. It was strangely intimate.

“Good Morning.” Mrs. Sharp chuckled as she strutted inside, hanging up her scarf and trying to catch Theo’s eyes.

Loki wiped at some dried blood just above Theo’s cupids bow, feeling the weak tissue crumbling a little. A tingle set off in the back of his mind when his friend blinked up at him with appreciative eyes. He hummed which he’d always found to be a way to harmonize his thoughts with his...visions of sorts.

Mrs. Sharp came over and took Theo’s chin in her hand, subtly tugging him out of Loki’s grasp.

Loki found his hand empty and his chest stung.

“You’ll live.” She chuckled. “Big day ahead of us. I scheduled some interviews to add to our round-table and we’ll need to rush em’ since Amora quit.”

Heat blasted through Loki’s hard chest as he clenched the rusted tissue in his fist. Amora had left? Without so much as a goodbye?

Theo fluttered his gaze back to Loki and his sprinkling of freckles looked much like a connect-the-dots game. What was unsettling was how they mixed with the dried splatters of blood droplets lingering under the soft boys nose. “You alright?” He asked which was unintentionally amusing since it was coming from the boy who was screaming in pain not five minutes ago.

That fact pulled at Loki’s heart slightly. “Just fine.”

: : : : : : : : : :

“Loki?”

The delicate sound of Theo’s voice came from the corner of the shop just a few short hours later. They were the only two left to manage the front while Gem & Mrs. Sharp ran some interviews in the back.

He walked round the corner and slouched against the counter and instead of leaning his cane onto the counter, like usual, he swung it up and laid it across the top. Teasingly acting like he might thump Loki’s head which earned him the slightest grin. “You’re going to ask about Amora.”

Theo wasn’t surprised that Loki knew that to be true. Not only was the man always able to predict shit but Theo was also sort of obvious. “Maybe.” He shrugged.

Loki smiled & shoved some papers around the counter. His slender fingers effortlessly pushed them into a fine & thin stack as he seemed to debate his next move. “She’s moved on.” He blinked.

“You’re not quitting too, are you?” Theo’s tone was uncharacteristically wobbly as he fiddled with the head of his cane.

Loki thought of Amora once more asking him to join her and found no regret in his answer for her. He only found the pain that came from rejecting her.

“You’d miss me too much.” Loki chuckled, not even thinking about his answer before saying it in a sarcastic tone.

“I would.” Theo surprised him with a genuine answer. Not playing by their usual rules of teasing each other. Loki looked up in a sort of alarm which made Theo feel a bit cheekier about it. “Don’t let it get to your head, Loki but I am...fond of you.”

Theo grinned, some freckles falling into the dips of his dimples. “But you knew that, don’t you?”

Loki pulled his lips together and felt the tingle in the back of his mind because...of course, he did know that. He knew things about people. Just another part of his gift. But he had yet to face that fact about Theo. “I did.” He found the amusement within himself to smile.

With the admission actually out there between them, Theo lost some of his confidence fairly quickly. Like the sea running over sand, the man did his best to cover it up.

But of course, Loki knew. “It may not be a secret, Theo-” He started, hoping for eye contact. “But... it’s an idea you can pursue.” He leaned onto the counter and enjoyed it a bit when he blushed.

“How will that turn out for me?”

Loki hummed. “If you want an answer before you try...maybe check your palm cause I'm not your fortune teller, Theo.” He sarcastically gestured to his hand with a bit of a bitter tone. “Give me a quarter will you’re at it & maybe I’ll print your fortune on a cheesy card to show your friends.”

Theo picked up his cane and shook his head. “Not all of us know things like you do, Loki.” He frowned. “I’m not counting on everything but could you just tell me if you’re interested in a guy like me? I’d like to be sure before I try to...impress you. Cause I’ve been wrong about that kind of thing before.”

Loki pulled back slightly. “Impress me? How?” He playfully smirked.

Theo gave him one back. “Oh, can’t tell you everything now can I?” He leaned on his cane and nearly tumbled to the floor. Loki grinned, leaning over the counter again.

“I’m eager to find out then.” Loki fluttered his eyelashes and looked away from Theo for the first time in this long shift.

: : : : : : : : : :

A ruby-lipped young woman who looked as if she might be some devil in disguise was operating the register the next time Loki came to work. Her long dark-toned hair pillowed at her shoulders and framed her peaceful looking face well.

He knew this to be one of the new psychics Mrs. Sharp brought to their now slim round-table. He felt her energy just the same as he guessed she felt his.

She glanced up, knowing his thoughts, and the devil flew from her when she smiled. “I’m Wanda.”

Loki strolled over and shook the hand she offered. “Loki.”

He spent most of his day showing her the ropes of working the Talisman and found her presence quite nice. Wanda was rather serious concerning her abilities and seemed to genuinely appreciate the business.

She had a real sense of devotion to the clairvoyant skills she possessed and got a fond little grin on her face when she talked of it. Loki recognized the expression well considering he couldn’t be more passionate about something in his life than his skills.

: : : : : :

With Wanda, came another young hire who was affectionately known as Mantis. Loki had no idea why that was but he didn’t ask.

Theo seemed pretty happy with the two girls. Relieved to have found more help for the business he absolutely adored. He was impressed with them just the same but Loki knew somewhere deep in his mind that Theo thought they couldn’t hold a candle to Loki.

Which was ridiculously & unbelievably appreciated by him. He couldn’t bluntly read thoughts at all moments but...a lot of the time...he could. Sometimes he could hear them in his own mind if he was close enough both psychically and mentally. Which, was how he ran his appointments.

The group was sitting round the table in the backroom where they took their individual appointments & attempting to explain their skills to the room. Mrs. S, Gem & Theo listened intently.

Mantis was speaking very shyly with her hands folded delicately in her lap. “I have emphatic abilities.” She smiled, eyes taking turns focusing on each person in the room.

Theo brightened. “How do they work?”

The girl’s big eyes grew impossibly wider as she smiled again. “If I touch someone, I feel their feelings. Telepaths know thoughts-” She looked to Wanda and Loki. “Empaths feel feelings...emotions.” She grinned to herself then.

Theo looked positively amazed, his mouth hung a bit open with wonder.

“May I?” Mantis held out a gentle hand to the lovely man. Theo gladly reached out and took her grasp.

Loki watched as the girl was seemingly overcome with something large and...warm. Her cheeks dusted in pink and the grandest smile took over her face. “You feel love. Romantic love.”

Theo chuckled, opening his mouth.

“For him.” Mantis pointed at Loki with no hesitation, looking quite pleased and eager when she did so.

Loki smirked and attempted to hide his blush when Theo pulled from Mantis’s hand. Sure, they’d come to the conclusion that they both knew Theo harbored feelings & was maybe going to pursue them...but that was now open to the whole room.

Mrs. Sharp watched him slowly from over Theo’s head. There was a great sense of protection and hopefulness in her eyes which told Loki that not everyone needed abilities to see Theo’s feelings.

Loki slowly held out his hand for Mantis to take and felt the watchful eyes of his co-workers...his friends. It was odd for him to be on the other end of this sort of thing but...the way Theo was looking at him was what made it worth it.

Mantis giggled. “He feels the romantic love too. For Theo.” She was about the purest little thing in the world when she laid Loki’s hand atop Theo’s for him. “Love for us as well.” She added just before letting Loki go.

The group simultaneously broke into a mocking sort of ‘Awwww’

But Loki was far too focused on Theo to really care that much. “Seems she did all the work.” He laughed. “Guess I didn’t get the chance to impress you, huh?”

Loki grinned. “You’ll have that chance everyday for the rest of our lives, Theo.”

#should there be a part 2 lol?#or does it suck?#im nervous #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #loki/theo #loki where mischief lies #theo bell #my fanfiction #The Avengers #avengers endgame #wanda maximoff #Scarlet Witch #mantis #Guardians of the Galaxy #mrs. Sharp #the shining #lol

2 notes · View notes

weaselle · 4 years

Text

Let’s talk about Witchcraft!

I used to pal around with people who considered themselves witches and pagans. California is a great place for finding people of a similar mindset, and I began a journey into what I then considered witchcraft with books by Aleister Crowley and a skill with tarot cards. Later, I celebrated a year’s worth of Sabbats with a group I joined in Germany. In Alabama I helped a couple people who were struggling with leaving christianity remain connected to a natural spiritualism through concepts such as the Lord and Lady. But my personal witching identity never truly fell in line with Wiccan paganism.

My grandmother had Gifts, I’ve written about them before. She had The Voice and she had True Dreams and some kind of Sight, all of which I personally witnessed before she passed. I share the same birthmark as she, and, present at my birth, she pronounced some kind of minor prophecy regarding me when she saw the mark. My mother died when I was very young and nobody else took it seriously enough to remember this ‘prophecy’; Grandma herself when she recounted the story seemed to feel telling me her actual words would... not be a good idea.

I have my own variation of her gifts, more like Charm than Voice I would say; nothing special about my dreams when I have them at all, definitely some kind of Sight. But these gifts are not the kind of thing that are controlled or used on purpose, and, at least in my own family, come rarely into our lives. Altogether I have had noticeable access to these gifts perhaps ten times in my 40+ years.

However, I have developed a brand of practical witchcraft that suits me and seems more (not to be dismissive of other folks but) more real than what I was participating in when I was spending time with wiccan flavored witchery. Perhaps an example is in order. Let us consider the Athame, the witch’s blade.

Most of the people I’ve known to have an Athame have had some silly ceremonial decorative thing. Some chrome plated jagged shaped enormous monstrosity, and they only use it ten times a year to salute the 4 directions and ritualistically sacrifice some cheese or whatever.

But witchcraft is old. The OLDEST magic, the FIRST magic -- witching is older than the very concept of a decorative knife. Witchcraft, in my opinion, is a very practical practice.

My own Athame is my chef’s knife.

I use it every day. I know its weight, the feel of it in my hand, I’m skilled with it, I care for it daily, sharpening, cleaning; it feeds me, a part of almost every dinner I eat. If I lost it I would feel as though I lost a part of myself. I can use it to create things that will, for example, win over a romantic partner’s family (let’s be honest, cooking and witchcraft are closely tied together). It is well suited to butchering a small animal, if I was the kind of witch that did animal sacrifice, this is the knife I would use.

This, to me, is a witch’s blade.

The rest of a witch’s tool box is just as practical. Knife, music, wand, chalice, candle, pentacle. Other witch’s tools are basically these same things, much the way a torch is basically a big candle. Mystical as they may seem in a modern setting, these things are, in their purest form, simply the things you would need to be different than an animal, and survive as a human being in the wild.

You have fire (candle). A musical sound (bell is often simplest but plenty of witch kits substitute a flute, or a small drum, or some other simple instrument). A pentacle is little more than a flat work surface, like a cutting board, which is far more rare and valuable than we take it for if you live in the wild. And lets talk about the chalice and wand.

A wand is a stick. Possibly the first multi-purpose tool humans ever regularly used. You can use it to dig tubers. Draw diagrams in the dirt. Stir a stew or poke a fire. It extends your reach when getting fruit from trees or poking into holes for small edible creatures. A spear is, at its base concept, a large wand (the chimpanzees we’ve observed making and using spears are mostly mothers btw). And there are two reasons I suspect one might attach significance to waving a stick around in the air.

1: if you see a group of people talking and gesturing, but one of them is gesturing with some kind of stick, that one is in charge or has some special say in things. Right? I mean obviously there will be exceptions, but that basic observation is pretty true. In this way, it confers an invisible power.

2: if you are entering an old holy place, one that you only enter a few times a year, some kind of cave, or small grove, or temple... I can tell you from experience you’re probably going to want to find a stick and wave it around in front of you, around the entire space. Or you’re going to get that icky startle you feel when you catch a strand of spiderweb to the face. Imagine how that whole process might look to someone who doesn’t know what’s happening.

But there’s something else about a wand. A classic wand will have a pointy end (of obvious use in a variety of situations) and a thicker blunt end. This is not just for grip. That blunt end can combine with the chalice or cup to be a mortar and pestle. Now your wand, knife, chalice and candle are really coming together, because when you are done making whatever it is with the knife and mortar and pestle (probably on the surface of your pentacle) you can hang your chalice over the candle and heat it. This is how a witch might make a medicinal tea, or potion.

Sometimes, one might attach something to the tip of the wand to specialize it, so a wand might have a rounded riverstone that would be a greater pestle. Or it might have a crystal that can make fire from sunlight. Or it might have a gem with a point hard enough to inscribe things on stones. All manner of things. Practical Things, though, is what I’m saying. Things that would have bordered on magic when the first humans had access to these tools.

So that for the tools. But what about Spells?

I don’t know how witching on the internet works. I’m old. But I’m going to tell you how a money spell I’ve used works, and that will give you an insight into my brand of witching and magic maybe. What you do is, you put a container on your altar (you have an altar. No, you DO. It’s either that place your keys and wallet always wind up, or the desk you do your creating at, or the spot next to the stove that’s supposed to be clear space but your cutting board and favorite knife is always there in front of jars of your favorite seasonings even though technically all that stuff has other places they are supposed to be kept. Sadly it might be your TV. These places fill altar functions. Unless you have a specially designated altar somewhere else already, of course) ANYway, you take a container, the bigger it is the stronger the spell but also the more time and effort it will take. Anyway, you put it on your altar. You stand in front of your altar and you make a solemn promise to put every penny you find there, in that container. Only literal penny coins, mind you. You vow to fill it to overflowing. You get an image in your head of what that looks like, and you concentrate on that, and you dedicate yourself to arriving in a universe in which this image is a reality. Basically, by spending time and energy on the promise, you make yourself take it seriously. You decide what you will do with those pennies. Be standing there making your penny collecting vow when you decide on that thing. It must be a whole thing, don’t add them to other money for anything, and don’t spend them on things you already set money aside for regularly; ideally you pair what you are doing with those pennies to concepts of reward and/or sacrifice. So you could vow to take them to a wishing fountain and throw them all in yourself or give them to other people to make wishes, or decide to take them all to a dessert place you like but rarely go to, and spend them on your favorite dessert they have for you or your bestie (fountain or cake, you walk away from spending them without owning anything more than when you started - hence an aspect of sacrifice�� eating the pennies as cake or throwing them out as an offering is the same as burning them in a fire in many ways) And - this is important - you think about how money is desirable and vital enough that even the smallest possible increment, the lowly penny, is still worth handling and saving and spending in a planned and disciplined fashion. You THINK about that. Then you go about your life. But as you do so, you pick up and pocket every single penny you see. Pennies are worth so little, that we would often rather dump one in the garbage than pick through the dustpan to save it, but that’s not you anymore. Now, you will cross the street to pick one up out of the gutter if you see one. You’ll still put your change in the tip jar, but you’ll hold back the pennies. The more crazy into this you are, the stronger the spell… top-tier witches doing this spell would wade waist deep in cow poop to acquire a single shit-stained penny. You’re on a mission. You’ve made a promise. And you’re witching. When you get home with these pennies, at some point you’ll put them in the container on your altar. Each time you do, because of how brains work, you’ll be reminded of your promise. You’ll see your vision of overflowing coins again. You’ll imagine how fun the wishing fountain is going to be, or how delicious the cake is going to taste. And - this is important - you’ll think about how money is so desirable and vital that that even the smallest possible increment is worth handling and saving and spending in a planned and disciplined fashion. It may take you weeks to fill the container. It may take you months. But when you are done, when you have completed your vow, dispense the pennies as you planned. Don’t forget to give it extra time here. Look lovingly at the vision you have manifested, at the overflowing container when you have filled it. Feel the weight of it. Count them, roll them, recognize specific pennies that look different, think about pennies you collected in memorable ways. Fill yourself with pride and satisfaction, and carry that feeling with you to the fountain, to the dessert shop. Let your planned activity at that place magnify those feelings, reinforce those feelings. This is the culmination of the spell, the fireball leaving the tip of the wand -- experience the wonder and power of what you have done. See, true witching is, at its heart, extremely practical. It’s just a way for a human being to use intuition to reach truths housed in the dark mystery of our beings that science is only recently able to shed some light on. Things like how wearing clothes you perceive as “tough” will actually make you produce more “tough” chemicals like testosterone and adrenaline (according to studies that measured hormone levels of people switching between wearing leather jackets and pink dresses) or how if you BELIEVE a substance is medication, it can have some curative effects even if it’s just a sugar pill (placebos). Witching is often just working with these realities without access to detailed knowledge of all the science behind it.

Anyhow, when this spell is done, you will see money differently. Your spending habits will be different. You’ll think about money differently. Throwing your change in the tip jar won’t be a mindless activity, and maybe it makes you realize how little you’re actually putting in there and you wind up spending more money on tips than you used to - that’s okay, that’s good, the fact is, the thing you are doing with that money, how you chose to allocate your change from buying a cup of coffee, that is no longer an activity that you don’t really pay attention to; you put thought into it now. Money will have more value, now that not only are you WILLING to pick though dirt for a single cent, but it is actually habit to do so if you see one. Now something is no longer “just a dollar” it is ONE HUNDRED CENTS, and you have a visceral understanding of how much each of those cents is worth to you. And - this is important - you have completed an exercise in money management, wherein you dedicated to a planned expenditure, saved up the necessary funds, and followed through, laying paths in your neural network that take long enough to become habit and end in reward experience (it doesn’t have to be cake, simply completing your plan will give you the reward feelings, like finishing a video game level). You did this without having to change your finances, expenditures, or budget. It was just pennies, it wasn’t like when you try to save for a vacation and the saving is like a new bill you struggle to pay. This fit into your budget like it was nothing. Like it was extra money from nowhere, like it was… magic. The effects will keep spreading, rippling, transforming your life, your RELATIONSHIP with money will have been transformed, in a way too big to fully understand all implications - maybe people see a change in how you are with money and become more likely to trust you with it, more willing to loan you some when you need it. Maybe this will have filled you with ideas for other money management goals and the confidence to see them through and who knows where that will lead you? There is so much mystery and interconnection in this universe, the effects may well be long lasting and incredibly impactful. And that’s how a witch does a money spell. imo. Obviously, if you’ve read the first part of this post, you know I’m not saying this is how all magic works, or that there is no true mystery -- after all, did i not get suddenly taken to a casino for 15 minutes one morning so Grandma could win that poker jackpot with a royal flush in clubs that her late husband told her about in a dream? Clearly there is a great mysticism in the universe. But in my experience, much of the day to day experience of life and magic for a witch is rooted in practical practices.

Now go have fun darlings, and make magic happen

#witching #witchcraft #witch #witchery

3 notes · View notes

gloster · 5 years

Text

Favorite Fanfics of 2018

So after seeing so many booktubers and book people make a list of their favorite books of 2018, I figured why not do one for fanfics. After all, they are stories done by insanely-talented, creative people who deserve more love. Why not make a list of the favorites that really blew you away this away-along with hyping the people up who need more love?

I implore you all to try, especially: @kila09, @scarlet47, @awjiminie, @profoundfelicity, @dreamydrarry, @sebbies, @goldentruth813, @sasuhinas-fan, @l0vegl0wsinthedark, @oh-my-fancan, @eyelashesandentropy. Show some love to your fics, share the recs.

My favorite fanfics of 2018:

1). The Changing Lights by @lazywonderlnds (drarry, featuring fem-Draco)

Summary: Harry returns for an eighth year following the end of the war and soon realizes that although he's put his own animosity towards Malfoy aside, no one else seems to have done the same. When a hex leaves his oldest rival in the body of a female and ridicule doubles, Harry discovers that his hero complex is a difficult thing to fight.

THIS. FUCKING. STORY. OMG. OMG. First off, I have to thank @scarlet47. It is because of her and the insanely amazing fanart she did that I discovered this hidden gem. And I thank her for it since this has to be the best drarry fanfic I’ve read in the longest time.

It has been too damn long since a drarry fanfic had me hooked the way this one did. First chapter in, halfway through, I was hooked. I blew through the chapters, and am anxiously, eagerly waiting for more because it was so good.

I also love it since I’ve been wanting to read a fem-Draco story. I know some drarry lovers don’t love genderbent drarry but I love it. I’ve read plenty of fem-Harry but sadly hadn’t come across fem-Draco. And the ones I managed to find were just okay. This one though...set and fucking broke the bar. It makes me CRAVE and want more (feel free to send any recs featuring it). And I loved it so much that I wanna reread but I have to resist since I have a mountain of fanfics to go through.

2). Oh Darling, Stand by Me by @beatitudinembty (BTS, taekook)

Summary: Kim Taehyung had never coped well when there was an angry alpha around, no matter that he wasn't the object of their fury. Wisely choosing to keep his mouth shut, he had ignored the flaring annoyance building up inside of his chest at being treated like a frail and delicate porcelain doll who did not know any better, once again.

He was not frail.

He was not delicate.

And he was also not anywhere near ignorant.

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Alpha Jeon asked eventually, tiredly taking a seat when he realised that Alpha Kim was not about to open his mouth any time soon.

"How else, Alpha Jeon," Alpha Park said easily, an eerie smile taking over her lips as she regarded both the Kings levelly, "Just like we have sealed our alliances with one another, of course."

If you would have told me that I would fall in love so hard, so quick with a royal-AU, I would either look at you like you are crazy or say...”That would have be one of hell of a story to get me hooked.” Most love royal-AUs, but I typically get too bored with them. Most take forever with the romance, others become too UNNECESSARILY angsty. The political aspect gets so tiring. This one though was the fucking JACK-POT.

We have a royal-AU with both parties wanting to make the most of the marriage and go from friends to more, which I love and adore so much. Set in an Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamic world done so well. We have feisty, independent Taehyung who may be an Omega but sure as hell doesn’t let people’s narrow mind-sets get him down. We have Jungkook who’s the sweetest in the most softest of ways-and possessive in the most delicious of ways. READ. IT. If you love reading BTS stories, READ IT. If you love royal au with taekook, READ. IT. if you’re in need of a new BTS story, FUCKING. READ. IT.

3). Love Yourself Series by @profoundfelicity (BTS: namjin, taekook, sope, yoonmin)

Summary: Linear stories revolving around themes of love, self-acceptance, and understanding.

This is a 3-story series following various couples:

Pretty In Pink follows namjin

My Lovely Lilac follows taekook

Under Pressure follows Yoongi, JHOPE, and Jimin

This series, this goddamn holy grail of a series-I could not just pick one story of them. Had to say the entire series since it’s THAT GOOD. All stories connect to each other, so even though one story focuses on one couple, the side pairings and characters still play a massive part in them. All stories tackle sexuality, gender norms, trauma, parental abuse and neglect, self-discovery, self-understanding, self-love. ALL. ARE. FUCKING. AMAZING. ABSOLUTELY, RIDICULOUSLY, UNBELIEVABLY amazing. AND NEEDS TO BE READ BY ALL.

I feel like this series is painfully underrated, since not too many BTS-fans I talk to know of it. And it’s so good. I honestly learned so much about sexuality, the different branches of it, and the harms of gender norms, rethinking the gender norms through these 3 stories than all the years I’ve been in school. It’s amazing. And is so important during the turmoil we’re currently in. Also the writer is a fucking, perfect, precious cinnamon roll who deserves all the nicer things in life.

4). It’s The Most Wonderful Time (Of The Year) by @awjiminie (BTS, yoonmin)

Summary: Park Jimin is only three years old when he meets cooler, older, and smarter Min Yoongi for the first time, and is immediately enamoured.

For the first time in his entire life, Jimin feels an emotion he never thought he would feel: infatuation.

Not that he even understands what that feeling means.

All he knows is that there’s a small, pale boy at the front door of his home, right under the hanging mistletoe, firmly gripping his father’s hand and his mother’s skirt as he stares unabashedly into Jimin’s eyes, rendering him absolutely speechless.

childhood best friends yoonmin growing up together and experiencing the complexities of love & relationships, as well as, the harsh realities of growing older over the years, on Christmas day

OH. MY. FRIGGERING. GOD. Warning to all: you will most definitely need a cavity filling from the vast amount of sweetness in this story. It is that fucking cute and so damn good.

This, to me, is the epitome of sweet holiday goodness every person needs in their lives both during and even after the holiday season. Along with a nice mug of hot chocolate. Or something insanely delicious to go with it. We have yoonmin meeting as kids during the holidays and instantly falling for each other, we have side-taekook that comes along, we have the sweetest, most perfectly-done vmin friendship that just proves they are the definition of platonic soulmates (you will die reading chapter 3).

This story also holds a special place in my heart since I read it during a difficult time and needed some sweetness. Also got to know the author @awjiminie who is the sweetest, purest human being alive and needs love.

5). Fate Worse than Death by @awjiminie (BTS, taekook)

Summary: For an immortal, five hundred and sixty-six years passed by in the blink of an eye, as time was endless and life was infinite. Yet, for Kim Taehyung, five hundred and sixty-six years of a meaningless existence passed agonisingly slow with each second dragging on to the next as he waited for the day that he would finally see his beloved once more. His beloved who had been ripped from him just as they were on the cusp of freedom. Freedom to finally live and love together without any barriers.

Kim Taehyung lived every day feeling as lonely as he did when he lost him, even when he had his coven to call family, his maker, Min Yoongi, and his lavish lifestyle in one of Seoul's richest districts where he studied at one of the most influential universities.

But nothing was the same. Not without him. Never without him.His lover, his life, and his everything.

His Jeon Jungkook.

If I could sum up this story in two words, it would be this: HOLY. FUCK. If I could sum up the writer with the plots and twists and fucking cliff-hangers she throws my way, one word in my best Josh Peck’s voice: EVIL. Pure, goddamn evil. And I know for a fact @scarlet47 can agree with me on that one. But it is so damn good.

Once upon a time, middle school me, along with high school me, was the BIGGEST, die-hard vampire fan. You can thank Twilight for that. And also Vampire Diaries, before season 4 ruined it all. However, like most vampire fantatics, my love for vampires died. Even though I have read the occasional vampire-trope in fanfics with my OTPS, it was just okay.

This fucking story came out of nowhere and snatched me by my hair and didn’t let me until I got to the recent chapter. It reminded me why I fell in love with vampires in the beginning. Along with that, it also carries so many things I love, so many beloved tropes: reincarnation (which I need more of), enemies-to-lovers, a slow-burn that is so excruciating and so well-done with so many possibilities attached to it, the sweetest taegi platonic relationship that melted my heart. It definitely gave me Buffy the Vampire Slayer vibes, and those good, non-annoying alluring feelings Twilight brought to us when we first read it.

Basically if you love vampires/in need of a vampire story/love angsty enemies-to-lovers story, you will love this.

6). EPOCH by Sharleena (BTS, Yoongi, Jimin x Hoseok)

Summary: “It's kind of fucked up that we feel like this, don't you think?” Yoongi asks.

“Yeah.” Hoseok says, Jimin shrugs.

“Maybe we should take this as a sign.” he says.

“A sign for what?” Yoongi looks at the boy and his thumb is rubbing circles on the soft of Hoseok's stomach.

“That maybe we should stick together.” Jimin whispers.

Yoongi doesn't speak for a long time after that, eyes staring at the ceiling where the red lights keep flickering.

“Yeah.” he finally murmurs, words almost getting lost in the echoes of the music “Yeah, we should.”

Or, they are different, but they were lost and their paths still crossed.

Before the end of 2017, if you had told me that I would be into poly-relationships...there’s a good chance I will give you a look questioning your sanity. I could never get into them. To me, it always felt like one person was being the shared toy between two people. That all changed thanks to several stories, including House of Cards (SO FUCKING GOOD) and Guns, Knives, and Lace that were discovered by chance, were read, and completely changed my mind on them.

This story made me fall deeper in love with poly-relationships. So well-done, so-addicting, and you can feel the love equally shared between the 3 main characters who are all so different but fit each other so perfectly.

It’s the kind of story that’s so good, you’re stunned by the number of chapters.

7). Hear the Harmony Only When It’s Harming Me by @horsegirlharry (drarry, fem-slash)

Summary: Before the war, Draco was so certain of her looks, her breeding, knew exactly how to dress to accentuate her curves without ever looking cheap or tawdry. Now, her body feels strange and extra, like something that she’s forced to carry around with her, a lump of scar tissue that only fires a nerve impulse if it’s brushing knees with Harriet Potter over tea and stolen scones.

---

Or, Harriet and Draco finding themselves (and each other) after the war.

*lets out a low whistle* You know one of those stories you happen to find at random? The story you see on someone’s else’s favorite lists or their collection of favorite stories and become curious? Or, in my case, see a story with an intriguing summary and beautiful edit and you think, I’ll give it a try? And as soon as you finish the last line of the story, you are so grateful to past you for deciding to read it since the story ended up being one of the best perfect stories ever?

Well this is that story.

I know a lot of people aren’t the biggest fan of genderbent, especially with drarry. Even I who loves reading about fem-Harry or Fem-Draco get picky since most time you read a story with them, but they don’t feel like them. That wasn’t the case here. Despite the obvious genital changes and names, they felt like drarry. Personalities were right on point, their relationship development was perfect. It was seriously amazing.

I suggest you give it a try.

8). Pas De Deux by @julietsemophase

Summary: Harry has a show to put on and the last thing he needs is prima ballerina Draco Malfoy messing things up. But when Draco is injured, the two end up spending more time together and Harry wonders if maybe there's something between them after all?

Muggle AU. Smut.

Really, do I need to say anymore? Given how popular this drarry fanfic writer is? Given how insanely sweet and brilliant her drarry stories are? Do I need to say anymore more?

I will say this: Ballet-Draco + Stage-hands Harry= one very, very, very happy reader.

9). Say the Words (Say Them Out Loud) by @goldentruth813 (drarry)

Summary: When Draco gets assigned as the Auror to guard Harry Potter day and night, he is sure nothing good will come of it. But as the days go on Draco is forced to evaluate himself and things he thought to be true about Potter and relationships. Sometimes it's not love at first sight. Sometimes, first, it's miscommunication and misunderstanding. A story in which Harry and Draco learn to accept the things they want from themselves and from each other.

Again, we see the name. We know the name. We love the name. We love the stories. Do I need to say anything more? Maybe not, since again, we all know and love this person and her amazing stories, but I will make this.

One of the major things I loved about this story is the fact consent was a big part of the story, of the relationship. Safe to say, we learned, given the BS in the news, that sadly not too many people know the meaning of the word. Don’t seem to grasp the meaning. And this story definitely enforces it and I love it.

Also LOVE how she did this story. How she wrote their relationship, which was snarky and witty but not tiresome or too annoying. Also, slight spoiler, but the career Janel had Harry be made me so happy.

This whole story had me so happy, and I loved it so much.

10). This Isn’t A Dream (Let Me Love You) by...surprise, surprise (NOT) @awjiminie (BTS, yoonmin)

Summary: As captain of his high school’s basketball team, Min Yoongi dedicated all of his attention to his team and their games. His focus on the game never waned, not once for anything or anyone.

Well, until head cheerleader Park Jimin flashed his abs during a solo cheer and made him fuck up his shot.

As we can tell, I clearly gained a new favorite fanfic writer. Seems fitting since I did join a new fandom, aka the phenomena that is BTS.

What on earth can I say about this story? I feel like it’s one of those that you have to read for yourself to understand why it’s so good. Let’s face it, whenever we try to describe something and hype it up, it’s usually a fail and can never match the goodness of the story. But I will attempt.

First off, if the summary doesn’t make you the least bit curious, I don’t know what will. Does it sound like a typical high-school AU? Yes, I mean we have basketball player Yoongi and cheerleader Jimin. It is a typical AU? Nope, definitely not. There is so much humor, so much angst, so much slow-burn that drives you nuts and makes you wanna kill the author for the way she ends her chapters but at the same time makes you 10x more thristy for the next chapter.

Also for reasons I cannot explain, but because an inside joke between me and @awjiminie, this story seriously unleashed the High School Musical fangirl in me. I don't know why. It's hardly anything like HSM but every time I read it, the songs play in my head. Especially Troyella.

This is definitely a story I cannot recommend enough. Cannot gush enough over. Please please read

And thus concludes my top 10 favorite fanfics of the year. To the writers who created them, thank you so much for your wonderful stories. I honestly you guys share the fanfics you absolutely loved this year. Doesn’t have to be 10. It can be more than 10. Less than 10. Whatever and how many you love

#fanfics #fanfic recs #fanfic favorites #harry potter #drarry #bts #bangtan boys #taekook #yoonmin #namjin

117 notes · View notes

secretgamergirl · 5 years

Text

RPG Campaign Setting Thoughts - The Planes

Sometimes you just get kinda burnt out writing stuff for other people’s settings and have to write stuff about your own. Expect a series of these, maybe, my track record for long-form stuff on this blog sucks. Today though, here’s some notes on just the fundamental underpinnings of the setting. Let me know what you think here, because eventually if I get enough of this I might like, kickstart a book on it (with, you know, good art) and/or write adventure paths or something.

The world as we know it, the sun, all the stars in the sky, and everything between them comprise what some refer to as the Prime Material Plane, Creation, or The Great Canvas, onto which Brin [bad placeholder name there] paints our world and some speculate many others, creating the land, the sky, and all that ever lived.

Much like a mortal painter, Brin holds a Great Palette [ethereal plane?], which holds the raw stuff of creation - the elements. Fire, earth, air and water, in their purest forms. [Probably also Positive/Negative energy, para/quasi-elemental planes too] Were one to travel to the Great Palette through magic, they would not experience these as blobs of pigment on a board, but each as their own reality, as infinitely vast as the Great Palette, but lacking its variety, each comprised in its way only of a single element, and magical beings born thereof. As these elemental planes are closer to Brin, they are sometimes known as the Inner Planes.

Beyond the Great Canvas, and indeed, beyond the reach of Brin entirely are the Outer Planes, or the Great Beyond. Home to the other deities, and the destination of souls after death. [And that’s all I’m really inclined to say here because I don’t particularly have any tweaks for the outer planes beyond avoiding the copyrighted bits, but if I do a book, yeah.]

While the Great Canvas is a singular whole, always representing the entirety of our physical reality as it presently stands, Brin’s work is never-ending, their hand always at work, repainting some corner of the canvas, touching up details, or painting over vast swaths in a sudden fit of inspiration. Our own world is a small enough part of the whole that such drastic revisions are rare, and thought by many to be a portion of the canvas Brin particularly favors, but over millennia, our world has been vastly revised several times, and in more recent years, the strokes of Brin’s brush have made alterations to several individual regions. [So there’s weird unexplored places near major population centers!]

When Brin’s brush repaints the world in this manner, what once existed is never truly lost. Much as one with a careful hand can chip away the paint on a heavily revised canvas to reveal an earlier state, so too is the Prime Material plane comprised in truth of many layers, and in rare places, cracks of sorts allow safe passage beyond our present layer and one that lies beneath. Portals, in a sense, to cities, countries, perhaps even entire worlds Brin felt the need to replace, some still home to creatures and civilizations at odds with the world as we now know it. [This is the Big Blank Check of the setting. With care, ‘cracks in the paint’ like this allow for mind-blowingly huge underworlds, Underdark/Hollow World style, weird distorted early sketches for the world like Pathfinder’s First World and Shadow Plane, or a nice compromise if there’s some particular aspect of a different campaign setting you just can’t bring yourself to leave out of a new campaign and want to grandfather in without messing with the rest of the world. And yes, this whole conceit comes with the very meta implication that every Main Campaign World for a major fantasy RPG are layered on top of each other like this.]

[A couple notes on races here too, because they’re tied in to the above and I don’t know if I’m up for dedicating a whole update just to them. My first instinct was to just not have races. I’ve never really been a fan. They encourage power gaming for stats, a whole lot of actual racism, flat simplistic mono-cultures, screwy language rules, and it never makes sense that everyone’s living in the same cities in the same population ratios. BUT I’m really striving for backwards compatibility, so...

Halflings and Giants exist because Brin isn’t always especially consistent with scale and perspective. There’s just parts of the world where people were created really big or really small next to common frames of reference, like in medieval paintings where a person is somehow the same height as an entire tree and also a dog or whatever.

Half-Elves and Half-Orcs are their own distinct races. A human and an elf can’t have a kid together, nor a human and an orc. They came about because Brin was revising the world, and some people were in living along the edges of where new races, which ended up as somewhat blend areas so the new additions wouldn’t cause too much contrast. This is also why they’re fairly rare.

No particular plans for doing anything weird with dwarves and gnomes yet. Dwarves might have dug their way up from an older layer? I like Pathfinder’s take on gnomes as First World immigrants but that’s probably infringe-y. Maybe bring pointy hats back?

Also? Orcs are white people. Like, not literally, still going to be green (with maybe lighter, near white shades in the mix too). Culturally. Bunch of monotheistic, patriarchal, self-aggrandizing, colonizing brutal scumbags, prone to wearing powdered wigs and impractical clothes with ruffles and buckles everywhere, as a major villain for the setting as a whole. Too many works of fiction, which is to say all of them, have depicted orcs as “primitive evil savages” and then just blatantly depicted them as Mongolians/black people/Native Americans/whatever group they have unfortunate subconscious issues with, so, screw all that, time to do them as the actual evil marauding empires trying to conquer and enslave the whole world for a change. Deal with it.]

BRIN - TN Deity

Home- Beyond the Planes (with command over the Inner Planes and Prime Material)

Domains - Air, Earth, Fire, Water, Weather

Common Worshipers: Artists, Crafters, Explorers, the Dissatisfied

Goals: Perfecting the world, in an artistic sense.

Direct Interventions: Brin is capable of sweeping drastic changes to the Prime Material Plane or any of the Inner Planes, but is completely unconcerned with most mortal and even divine concerns. They are only likely to intervene directly in events causing drastic changes to the Prime Material Plane outside of their vision for it, and tend to do so with sweeping changes to the fabric of reality.

Blind Spots: Brin never intervenes with, nor even observes anything in the outer planes, and will not grant spells to worshipers who travel there.

[Brin is kind of a terrible pick for a deity to worship, honestly. Bit on the alien side, and if you really get their attention, it’ll be more likely that your home town is now a beach than anything helpful to your situation.]

#game design #worldbuilding #RPG campaign setting #D&D

5 notes · View notes

kotas-dump · 5 years

Text

Medusa

If you know the story of medusa you might like this remix. That being said there’s a slight tw.

The wet pounding of hooves on mud, men shouting and barking out orders into the night filled your head. It was to dark for you to see much of anything at all let alone the muddy road in front of you. It didn’t help that your body was weak from the beating your husband had given you the day before.

The cold bit into your feet, your fingers and it crept into your bones with it’s painful numbness but you pushed on. You couldn’t go back to face your ‘crimes’. There was to much blood on your hands, clothes, soul, to be washed away with the storm.

“She’s heading for the caves by the shore!” Shouted one of the men behind you. They were catching up fast.

“Kill the damn murderer!” Another shouted.

The caves! Your blind running paid off. If you got into the caves they wouldn’t dare follow you. They were a deathly maze for one, two there were legends of a monster lurking in them who turned men to stone just by looking at them.

You’d take your chances with the monster.

The rain of the storm made the ground slick and your foot slipped. Your body crashed to the ground and mud caked the side of your body, tumbling down the rocky slope down to the caves. The uncontrollable slide only stopped when your body and face slammed into large rock.

Scrambling to all fours you feel along the ground as the light from their lanterns starts to light your path. The rocks feel weird... jagged and bumpy on one side but smooth in other places. To odd to be worn by the sea but you didn’t have time to worry about the shape of a fucking stone.

Frantic you quickly find your footing, grabbing the big rocks for support as a wave of nauseating pain shoots through your head and down your back. Staggering away from the rock your heart races as your feet slide over the weird stones.

“Down! After her!” The man barks.

Glancing back you see their shadowed figures sliding down the rocky slope after you. Spinning back around you come face to face with a woman. Chunks of her soaked hair whipping in the fierce wind of the storm.

Your eyes go wide in shock as she stares right over your shoulder, to the men behind you. Frozen in place you just stare as she pushes past you to face the men. You must of hit your head far to hard because you could have sworn you heard the hiss of a snake as she passed. Nevermind that... you needed to get to the caves! Lurching forward you tripped over something thick and smooth but caught yourself and kept running.

“It’s the -” One of the men cry, cut short by something you didn’t dare to look back and see.

The small group of men cry and shout, each and every one cut short. You weren’t about to stay and watch that’s for sure. You ran for the caves. Only crumpling to the ground once your feet hit dry stone.

When you wake you’re warm, a light wool blanket wrapped around you and you lay on something soft and downy, heated from beneath. The splitting pain in your head pulls a low groan from your lips as you sit up and rub your eyes.

“Keep your eyes closed.” A feminine voice demands.

Freezing you feel a light touch of fingers on your shoulder before a hand pulls your hands from your eyes and a thin linen cloth is wrapped around your eyes. You can feel the heat of her breath on your face as she fastens it loosely in place. Again, there’s a soft snake hissing...

“There. I didn’t expect you to wake already.” She says, a laugh in her voice. “Lay back down and i’ll get you some water and some food.”

You do as your told, a habit of sorts. “W-where am I exactly? Who are you?”

She doesn’t answer you but you can hear her rummaging through some pots not to far away. The slosh of water as she scoops a ladle into the pot and pours it into a cup. A dragging, sliding sound follows her as she tears a chunk of bread and comes back to your side and sets them down on a table next to you.

“You’re in the caves.” The women finally answers. Helping you sit up and shoving another pillow behind you. “I don’t get many visitors so i’m afraid I only have bread at the moment I hope that’s alright.”

You nod, turning toward the sound of her voice. Her calloused hands take your own, flipping them over and placing the bread in one hand and the cup of water in the other.

“Can I ask you a question?” She asks.

You’ve already shoved half the chunk of bread into your mouth, far to hungry to care. Nodding again you bring the water to your lips and take a gulp to help the dry bread go down.

“Who are you?” Again there’s a slight hiss of snakes that fills the silence as you finish your mouthful.

“Me? I’m just a-” You cut yourself off, swallowing. “I’m no one really.”

The woman shifts and you can hear her chuckle. “You were hurt, covered in blood that wasn’t yours... Are you a...criminal? Why were you running?”

She’s suspicious, you can hear it in her voice. Sighing you take a deep breath. “I was running from the guards. I...I- I killed my husband.” You blurted.

“...Was he the one who did this?” Her voice is soft now, barely a whisper as fingertips brush over the bruised skin of your arms where he grabbed you when you were fighting.

No doubt she could see the cut on your neck as well where he held the blade to your neck when he.. he...The hand holding the bread falls and you can feel the tears burning your eyes. “I didn’t mean to. I mean he- he drew the blade first..held me down- If I didn’t stop him he would have- He would’ve-”

A light hand ran over the top of your head and cut you off. “Shh. No need to explain.” Her hand runs over the top of your head again, petting you until you calm enough that your throat relaxes. She pulls away and you could hear the faint dragging sound of her dress on the ground as she walked away. “Get some rest. You’re safe here, we can talk more later.”

Listening you hear her rummaging through her things again, then the creak of wood. The hissing of the snakes grows louder and she shushes them. “We have a guest can you be quiet for once?” She whispers, chastising the...snakes?

Swallowing you set the bread down and reach for the linen she’d wrapped around your eyes.

“Don’t.” Her voice snaps.

Jumping you spill water on your lap. Wiping at the water on the blanket you ask the question.“...are you the...the monster?” You ask.”The one the stories tell?”

She scoffs. “Monster? What stories have you heard?”

“They say a monster lives in the caves... one that can turn people into stone just by looking at them?” You ask.

The woman is silent and you feel stupid for asking the question. How could a woman be a monster?

“I am.” She answers, sighing. “But monster is rather harsh. After all they are the ones who made me this way...It isn’t like I fancy living in a damp cave. Alone.” there's a loud cacophony of hisses and she laughs. “Well not completely alone.”

Stunned, your not quite sure what to say to that. Instead you finish your meal and feel for the table and set your water down. Laying back down you curl up under the wool blanket, pulling it over you as you make yourself comfortable as you can. Small cuts and bruises covered your body, most of them probably from the fall down the slope. Never the less it made the aspect of comfort an impossibility.

So you opted for conversation. “What’s your name..?” You wonder.

“...Medusa. Yours?” You hear her come closer, settling down beside your bed.

You answer her and then laugh. This all seemed... peculiar.

“What’s so funny..?” Medusa wonders.

The laughter trickles off and you shake your head. “The fact that i’m talking to a legend or the fact that you don’t know who I am probably.”

She laughs and the bed shifts as she leans against it. “Are you a monster from the village?” Medusa jokes.

“I guess I am now. Before I married I was known as the ‘purest maiden in the land.’” You figet with the hem of the blanket. “So to now be...rescued by the monster of the caves seems...”

“Ironic?” She supplies, a smile in her voice.

You both burst into laughter.

“I mean if it makes you feel any better I could make it look like I ate you in some weird sacrifice ritual?” Medusa offers, still laughing. “Oh that would be bad though. Imagine all the poor virgins that would get ‘sacrificed’ to keep me appeased. I can barely feed a surprise guest let alone a small army of virgins. Then again an army of virgins...”

Silence falls between you and you both erupt into a second bout of giggles.

---

The days pass by quickly. Medusa didn’t even let you leave your bed except to relieve yourself for the first few days. After that she watched you like a hawk as you staggered about her cave home. Eventually it all became second nature to you.

The two of you had grown rather close as well. No one came after you since that night and despite her desperately trying to convince you otherwise you ventured from the cave regularly, only during the sunrise or sunset, to go the forests and pick berries and other edibles.

It was nice to be outside, blindfold left behind in the caves. You would watch the sun rise, or set respectively, and then back down into the caves you went. Even in the darkest parts you knew your way well enough to even avoid those pesky toe-stubbing stones.

It wasn’t until months after she’d rescued you did you ask. “Can I see you?” You sat across the cave from her, working on some rope to keep busy.

She’d been cooking up a stew from a rabbit that had ventured to far into the cave. Potatoes and various other things you’d found also joined in.

“Why would you want to do that?” She asked, brushing it off in a joke. “I’m nothing special.

“You have snakes for hair Medi.”

“You’re not wrong.” She laughs. “But it’s dangerous to look at me and if you turned into a statue I just-” Tsking she cut herself off. “Where WOULD I put you?”

Rolling your eyes you reach for the familiar linen blindfold. “Haha, so funny.” You mock.

“Wait... let me turn around.” There’s that familar dragging sliding sound and she stills. “Okay.. go ahead.”

Pulling the cloth from your eyes your eyes strain slightly. The cave was lit from above, a hole in the roof covered by the interlacing roots of a large tree. The dappled sunlight flooded the small cave clearing and for the first time you could see her.

There had been times where you’d tripped over her. Enough so that you knew her lower body was that of a snake. Times where you’d both been laying asleep and her snake like hair burrowed into your milky white hair.

Your mental image of her had nothing on the real her.

Her hair was shorter than you thought. The snakes holding themselves up and in the air. Stacked ontop of each other and resting just above her slender shoulders. A clean length of linen cloth had been wrapped around her torso, covering her breasts and thrown carelessly over one of her shoulders.

Her scales were white, splotched with crimson, orange, and black scales. The whole lower half of her body was impossibly long and as your eyes followed it you were surprised you didn’t trip over it far more often.

Standing up you walk closer.

“W-what are you doing?” Medusa stutters, turning further away from you.

“Oh the purest maiden scares the monster?” You tease. Reaching around her you cover her eyes.

Her hands clasp over yours and she takes a deep breath. “I’m not scared of you. You couldn’t even kill the rabbit.”

Slowly you peak around her shoulder to see her face. The snakes of her hair slithering up your arm, wrapping around your wrists. “In my defense I couldn’t even find the knife.” You joke back, keeping the mood light despite the danger of the situation.

Even the features of her face were human. Hardly monstrous at all. Full lips, round face, normal nose and cheeks. “Its kind of... lacking.” You tease. She was beautiful it was kind of infuriating. How dare they call her a monster. What did that make you? A clump of white mud? Hardly flattering.

“Now that’s just being rude.” She hisses, a smile pulling at her lips revealing normal human teeth.

“You even have normal teeth!” You laugh. “Hardly monstrous. I’m disappointed. I want my money back.”

Medusa laughs, her hands relaxing and sliding down to your arms, brushing the snakes away. “As if we have money.”

You let your hands slide from her eyes and walk around her to be face to face with her.

Her eyes are clamped shut, hands still gripping your arms as her brows furrow in concern. “Go cover your eyes. You got your look.” She chastises.

You hum, mulling it over and instead of leaving you bring your hand up to her brows, smoothing them. Her face relaxes but you can tell she’s still scared by how the snakes cling to her head and shoulders.

Brushing them away from her face you hold them back. “Can...Can I kiss you?” You whisper.

She swallows and her tail pulls in around her, around you both, and she nods.

Tentatively you lean in, mindful of the snakes as you press your lips against hers. You’re both unsure but she kisses back, fingers running along your arms and down to your waist, pulling you close. Snakes invade your hair, caress your cheeks and lay their own kisses feathery kisses along your neck.

Her nails dig into your sides as she breaks away for a gasp of air before diving back in. The kisses get slopy, both of you to starved from affection for to long. If it wasn’t for the slight acrid stench of the stew burning you both would have melted to the floor right then and there.

Pulling away you rest your forehead against hers, staring at the ground and laughing breathlessly.

Medusa bites her lip and pulls her hands away. “I got a bit carried away.” She admitted sheepishly.

“I noticed.” You pulled away, eyes closed again as you venture back to the bed and grab your blind fold. Tying it back into place you head back to the fire and sit down beside her. “I didn’t think...” You trail off, unsure of your words or where you were even going with that thought.

Placing a bowl of slightly burnt stew into your hands she shifted. Her massive tail sliding along the ground until it wrapped around you completely, the tip of her tail resting in your lap.

Leaning against her you sighed contently and began to eat.

After a long bout of comfortable silence she finally broke it. “Will you stay here?” She asked, a hint of sadness lingering in her tone.

Nudging her you rest your chin on her shoulder. “I’m already here.”

Scoffing she ran a hand over your head, fingers tangling in your hair. “I mean... Would you live here with me? Forget the rules of man, their laws and their land. Would you stay here with me and love me?”

Snake tongues flick along your cheeks and you kiss her shoulder. “One kiss and you’re already wanting me to live with you? You move fast.” You tease.

Medusa laughs, “I suppose so. I mean when I was given this body, this power... I never in my life thought i’d find someone I’d love. I was raw and feral. I couldn’t care less about the lives of the mortals I’d left behind. Statues, frozen in fear for the rest of eternity.” Turning to you she sets down her bowl, taking yours from your hands and holding your hands. “I should do this how it’s expected of me. The legendary monster of the cave.”

You both giggle and you take a deep breath. “You need me to scream and run?” She shoves you playfully and you laugh. “Alright. no screaming and running.”

A trembling hand touches your cheek and you lean into the touch. Reaching up she grabs your blindfold and pulls it away. “My ‘curse’ as it were... Only effects those who wish to do me harm... Prove your intentions now. Open your eyes.”

Sucking in a deep breath you keep yourself from laughing. “This is a big moment huh? Would have been better to do this before I already saw you.”

Cackling Medusa tries to muffle her laughter. “Shh! Do it right.”

Containing your laughter you let your face be serious and open your eyes.

Round ruby red eyes greet you and for a moment you’re frozen. A bit of excited adrenaline making your heart race.

19 notes · View notes