#a heavenly diversion

[reel-fear]

Honestly, every single time the whole 'poppy playtime is a bendy rip-off' stuff ever shows up I find it all extremely unconvincing and silly.

For one thing, rip-off usually is meant to imply that it's a cheap lazy copy of a better more polished thing, and uh. Sorry but even from chapter 1? Poppy Playtime is a better game than Bendy, it has a simple but understandable story, the game manages to be thrilling, creepy, and very intense at times... I mean that Huggy chase in the vents ALONE puts it way above Batim for me.

I mean BATDR had the most slow stupid chase I've ever seen [and every other encounter with the ink demon is text telling u he's there and then a timer goes down and u get jumpscared] and batim's chases were either silly or just not nearly as theatric or terrifying as that.

When making the vent sequence I mean not only is it absolutely horrifying to realize how fast Huggy is in there but also it's so theatric and cool? The fact that you round a corner after thinking you escaped only to see a terrifying animation of that thing crawling toward you is awesome! I wish Bendy had stuff like that!

And all the stuff it shares with Bendy are generic things Bendy ripped from other horror games/media anyways. I'm not saying Poppy Playtime isn't inspired by Bendy I for sure think it is but Bendy is such a generic story that somehow fails to do tropes 100 other horror games have done any comparison only makes Poppy Playtime look better.

"It has employees being sacrificed for their company" That is not a concept Bendy invented, literally look at any of the sci-fi horror series Bendy is very inspired by. This is literally a twist in the original Alien.

"It has a scary woman forcing you to do tasks for her" Once again, not a concept Bendy invented, a scary mysterious person forcing you to do fetch-quests is a concept found in tons of horror media. And at least Poppy Playtime gave you a chase with her and let you defeat her, look at poor malice. She's barely on screen for more than 10 minutes before she gets stabbed.

"It has a cult worshipping the monster" This is something tons of horror games and media have done too. I mean In The Tall Grass has a guy who worships a giant magical rock in the middle of a grass maze, Bioshock [which Bendy has only been taking more and more direct inspiration from while failing to grab any of the compelling parts] also had a lot of themes of religion and cult-ish behavior, almost every horror media franchise has at one point done a cult thing.

Bendy couldn't even come up with a reason Sammy worships the ink demon, the best motivation we've ever gotten is just that 'he's crazzyyyy the ink made him insaneeee'. Who is the cheap rip-off here?

At least Poppy Playtime gave their cultist a motive for worshipping the monster + a proper boss fight that feels intense and looks awesome! Bendy didn't even let you kill Malice [she got stabbed in front of you and then just collapsed on the floor how thrilling] meanwhile you get to kill three of the villains in Poppy Playtime and the gameplay and action in those scenes have only gotten better as the game went on.

I mean Sammy walks into a room and goes "AAA SCARY I'M BEING MURDERED" then later shows up and for NO REASON sees a normal human man and assumes it's the ink demon before once again someone else kills him for you. In Poppy Playtime you defeat Catnap as he floods the world with this horrible nightmare-inducing gas that intensifies the color palette and his design. Fight off versions of him that are illusions that you need your flare gun for, then watch in a wonderful animation as he mistakes the monster for his savior before getting killed by it, in a brutal way I might add, which game are we accusing of being cheap, lazy garbage again?

I just find this argument to be people who Really Really need to find a reason to hate Poppy Playtime which I think is silly. The devs being weird, shady people is already enough reason to dislike the game, you don't need to invent reasons why secretly every part of the game is malicious or bad. But esp when I see Bendy fans saying they don't support Poppy Playtime or dislike it bc of its devs or even saying its cringe ummmm.

I have bad news about the fact Bendy's devs are worse and it took not one, but TWO over an hour long videos to cover it all. Plus the Bendy games are just the worse games in every aspect, if I could sell my batim copy for a copy of Poppy Playtime I wouldn't hesitate at all.

Saying this as a bendy fan, we have no right to be super judgy towards Poppy Playtime. If Poppy Playtime is embarrassing cringe, Bendy is too and is way more embarrassing of an interest. We shouldn't spread misinformation just because we all want to hate Poppy Playtime, you can dislike Poppy Playtime without making up a bunch of nonsense to justify it.

Honestly seeing people just blatantly be unfairly mean to Poppy Playtime only makes its critics look worse and makes it hard to take any backlash to the games seriously. Because surprise surprise if you spread misinformation to make a point people will quickly stop listening to Anything you have to say bc they won't trust you're telling the truth anymore.

[onewomancitadel]

Big Flower wants you to think that roses without scent are worth it for bouquets of roses that last weeks without dying. Big Flower is wrong!!!! What's the point of a rose if you can't smell it?

[carlocarrasco]

I Love Israel: Israel and the Philippines sign business agreement

I Love Israel: Israel and the Philippines sign business agreement

The relationship between Israel and the Philippines moved forward some more as they recently signed a major agreement related to investments and economic cooperation, according to a news report by The Jerusalem Post. To put things in perspective, posted below is the excerpt from report of The Jerusalem Post news report. Some parts in boldface… Finance Minister Avigdor Liberman and Filipino…

[amateruomi]

taggies.

[cryptotheism]

Since you just mentioned Buddhism being without gods, and I'm pretty sure you shared the Journey to the West Daily thing, what's up with Buddhist stories where the Jade Emperor and other heavenly beings are there? I know at least some of them are said to be boddhisatvas, but is that just a syncretic thing or do similar things exist in Indian Buddhism?

Buddhism is quite diverse! There are versions with gods, and versions without em. That's one of the fun bits about it.

[mezz-merizing]

gosh the experience of trance is like, literally the best thing ever. nothing tops it!!

it's because it's so varied and diverse. among subjects, among hypnotists, among inductions,no trance ever feels exactly the same, but it always feels heavenly

sometimes the hypnotic sensation intertwines with the sensation of sleep and it's like "mnh,," as you can't stop swaying on your feet... you're trying to have thoughts but it's like trying to swim in syrup- every thought just drifts lazily through your mind and fizzles out, and it would be so easy to just close your eyes and let the last remnants of your consciousness fade out, but you can't! not when those pretty words in such pretty tones are twisting and twirling around your sleepy head, crossing right past your barely-conscious mind and into the depths below to etch themselves into your psyche <3

sometimes it's different, in a way i've talked about before! sometimes instead of deep and consuming sleepiness, it's a crystal clear sort of focus, an unbreaking clarity on one single thing. there's nothing around you but you and them, it's all just a black void, as you sit, with your hands folded in your lap, your eyes wide open and staring, but the mind behind them off, the gates open, begging entry. sometimes it's an engulfing focus that takes you over, that subjugates you, that demands your attention, and seizes it, and never lets go

sometimes it's emptiness. sometimes it's a serene sort of endless blackness that engulfs your mind and your soul, a complete lack of thoughts, a hollowing-out, an erasure. sometimes it's a wiping-away of everything you were and are, just for a time!! it's almost nirvana... you just exist, free of burden and free of thought. and of course, exquisitely programmable, too... an empty bowl like that mind of yours begs and pleads to be filled, and surely the person who did this to you has no shortage of ideas on how to fill it <3

sometimes it's the exact opposite, sometimes it's chaos!! not sleepiness, not focus, not emptiness, but a sort of fullness that you can't even parse, where words and thoughts and phrases and concepts swirl around in your mind, with you standing in the eye, barely-aware, and certainly not comprehending!! and it would be so easy for someone to just slip yet more into that vortex, so when it finally calms and you manage to organize everything back into its neat place in your psyche, all those fun things that drifted in get sorted back in with the rest~

sometimes it's delight in your complete lack of understanding- sometimes your trance just dumbs you sooo far down that all you can do is giggle and smile as your hypnotist tells you what you're to think, and say, and act like <3 sometimes you can't help but feel anything but giggly and happy about how deeply entranced you are, because you're sooo hypnodrunk that all your fuzzed-out mind can feel is pleasurable euphoria!!

and sometimes it's order. the very purest order. when your mind is dismantled and restructured into the perfect machine, when all the chaos is carefully extracted from the equation, and your complex consciousness is reworked into an efficient, effective, purpose-built thing. when your mind is designed. and of course, when your mind is designed by someone, they can redesign it however, and whenever they wish~.

and the really fun part?? the craziest part?? sometimes it's all of those things!! sometimes it's one, sometimes it's some, sometimes it's something completely different, and it's always something nobody's ever quite felt before! the incredible beauty of hypnosis is in its infinity, how you can go deep day after day for year after year and still discover brand new things you had never even conceived of before!!

hypnosis is art!! trance is expression!! and i, for one, think i'm extremely lucky to have fallen accidentally into a kink that has taught me more and brought me more fantastical experiences than any other ever could :3

[fanonical]

btw!!! you should check out this humble bundle of multiplayer videogames with fan-favourites like Heavenly Bodies, Stick Fight The Game and Ultimate Chicken Horse and more. these games are a great way to kill time. it's only $10 for 7 games! the bundle ends October 27th

or if videogames aren't your thing you should check out this manga bundle instead! i don't know much about manga but some of this stuff looks really cool & is supposed to be really diverse!!! you get 18 volumes of different mangas for $18 so again, really cheap -- normally you'd be buying, like, one volume for $20 but this is 18 for a dollar each!!! this one ends October 18th

and if both videogames AND comic are up your street, you should check out these Assassins Creed comics. you get there's a bunch of really sick shit in there, totally worth picking up if you're a fan or wanna get into the series. it's only $18 for 29 comics which is fucking absurd value for money frankly. the offer ends October 20th

by the way proceeds go to support both this blog & a charity of your choice, so it's a win win win for everybody; make sure to boost this so others can see before the deals are over!!

[writingforstraykids]

Whispers of the Moon - Birthday Special

Pairing: Minchan (short mention of Felix / very short mention of the other boys)

Word Count: 6325

Summary: In the heart of Seoul, beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and ancient palaces, lies a hidden world of magic and mystery. Chan, a gifted healer, and Minho, a shapeshifter hiding as a sleek black cat, find their destinies intertwined in this enchanting underworld...

Warnings/Tags: magical!au, shapeshifter!minho, healer!chan, angst, fluff, strangers to lovers

A/N: The happiest birthday to my dear unnie @zehina. I actually went all nerdy and wrote loads about the world as well since I know you love it (and included the rest of the boys that way hehe). I hope you like it, love🖤

Seoul, South Korea's bustling capital, is known for its towering skyscrapers, historic palaces, and vibrant street markets. It is a city where ancient traditions and cutting-edge technology coexist in harmony. However, beneath its well-lit streets and modern facades lies a hidden realm—a magical underworld known only to a selected few. This subterranean world, rich with history and mystery, operates parallel to the everyday life of Seoul's residents, governed by its own rules and inhabited by beings from myth and legend.

The gateway to Seoul's magical underworld is not a grand archway or a secret door; it is a modest, unassuming teahouse in the bustling district of Insadong. The teahouse, known as "Moonlit Haven," has been in operation for centuries and has been passed down through generations of the same family. Its wooden exterior and traditional hanok architecture blend seamlessly with the area's historic atmosphere.

To the ungifted human, Moonlit Haven appears to be an ordinary teahouse serving fragrant teas and traditional Korean sweets. However, those who know the secret can access the portal to the underworld by ordering a special tea called "Moon's Whisper." Upon drinking this tea, a shimmering door appears at the back of the teahouse, leading to a stone staircase that descends deep into the earth.

The staircase spirals downward, lit by glowing blue lanterns that float in mid-air. The walls are adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes with magical creatures: the nine-tailed fox, the dragon king, and the heavenly warriors. As one descends, the air grows cooler and tinged with a faint scent of jasmine and pine.

At the bottom of the staircase, a grand archway looms, its surface covered in glowing runes. This is the true entrance to Seoul's magical underworld, a threshold between the mundane and the extraordinary. Stepping through the archway, one is immediately enveloped in a world unlike any other.

The magical underworld of Seoul, known as Secret City, is a sprawling subterranean metropolis that mirrors the city above but with its own unique twist. The sky here is an eternal twilight, illuminated by floating orbs that mimic the phases of the moon. Streets are paved with luminescent stones, and buildings are constructed from materials that shimmer with an inner light.

Secret City is divided into several districts, each with its own distinct character. There is the Enchanted Market, where vendors sell potions, enchanted artifacts, and rare ingredients. The Celestial District is home to beings of great power, including dragons and celestial foxes. The Whispering Woods, a dense forest of silver trees, is said to be haunted by spirits and home to elusive forest guardians.

The residents of Secret City are as diverse as the city itself. Humans with magical abilities live alongside mythical creatures. Among them are the Gumiho, nine-tailed foxes who can shapeshift and possess immense magical power. There are also Dokkaebi, goblins, mischievous but generally benign beings who love to play tricks on humans. Dragons, both Eastern and Western varieties, make their homes in the Celestial District, guarding ancient secrets and treasures.

The city's governance is overseen by a council of elders, composed of representatives from each major group. The council ensures harmony between the various inhabitants and that the secrets of Secret City are kept from the surface world, which is why any sort of magic is forbidden in the mundane world. 

The Enchanted Market is the heart of Secret City, a bustling bazaar where the air is filled with the scent of exotic spices and the sound of lively discussions. Stalls line the streets, their wares illuminated by lanterns that float overhead. Vendors shout out their goods, from enchanted scrolls and rare herbs to mystical artifacts and talismans.

One of the most renowned vendors in the market is Master Hyun, a potions master whose shop, "Elixirs of Eternity," is a treasure trove of magical concoctions. Shelves upon shelves are filled with bottles of all shapes and sizes, each containing liquids that shimmer with otherworldly light. Master Hyun is a man of twinkling eyes and ethereal beauty, always ready with a story about the origins of his potions.

One of his most sought-after potions is the "Dream Weaver," which allows the drinker to enter the dreams of others. Another popular item is the "Phoenix Tear," a potion that can heal any wound or ailment. Master Hyun's potions are known for their potency and reliability, making his shop a favorite among both the magical and non-magical residents of Secret City.

Another notable figure in the Enchanted Market is Ji-Sung, an artifact dealer whose collection is the envy of many. His shop, "Treasures of Time," is filled with rare and powerful artifacts from across the ages. Among his prized possessions are a mirror that shows the true nature of any being, a fan that can summon the wind and a sword that can cut through any material.

Ji-Sung is a mysterious figure, always dressed in elaborate silk robes and adorned with jewelry that seems to pulse with magic. He is known for his keen eye and sharp wit, and it is said that he never forgets a face. His shop is a place of wonder and danger, for while many seek his artifacts for their power, they often come with a price that is not measured in gold.

The Celestial District is home to some of the most powerful beings in Secret City. Dragons, with their majestic forms and ancient wisdom, reside here in grand palaces that float above the ground. These palaces, constructed from crystal and gold, radiate a light that can be seen from anywhere in the city.

Each dragon in the Celestial District guards a specific aspect of magic or nature. There is Aran, the dragon of water, whose palace is surrounded by a moat of liquid silver. There is Seraphine, the dragon of fire, whose abode is perpetually surrounded by a ring of flames. These dragons are both protectors and advisors, and their counsel is sought by the council of elders and other residents of Secret City.

Sharing the Celestial District with the dragons are the Gumiho, or nine-tailed foxes. These beings are both feared and respected for their immense magical power and their ability to shape-shift into beautiful women or men. The Gumiho live in harmony with the dragons, their abilities complementing the dragons' strength and wisdom.

The leader of the Gumiho is Jeongin, a fox spirit with silver fur and piercing dark eyes. Jeongin is known for his grace and intelligence, often acting as a mediator in disputes and a strategist in times of conflict. His palace, the Silver Moon Pavilion, is a place of beauty and tranquility, where the moonlight dances on the surface of a crystal-clear lake.

The Whispering Woods is a dense forest of silver trees, their leaves shimmering like moonlight. The woods are said to be haunted, with whispers echoing through the trees that speak of forgotten secrets and ancient magic. The path through the forest is winding and treacherous, known only to a few who dare to venture into its depths.

The Whispering Woods are guarded by forest spirits, ethereal beings who protect the ancient magic within the trees. These spirits, known as the Guardians, are invisible to most and reveal themselves only to those they deem worthy. They are led by Elder Bin, a spirit of great wisdom and power who has watched over the woods for centuries.

The Guardians are both protectors and guides, aiding those who seek knowledge or refuge in the woods. They are also the keepers of the Sacred Grove, a hidden sanctuary where the most potent magical energies converge. The Sacred Grove is a place of healing and renewal, its waters said to grant visions and its flowers capable of curing any illness.

Among the trees dwell the Spirits of the Lost, souls who have wandered into the woods and never found their way out. These spirits are not dangerous but rather sorrowful, seeking closure or redemption. They often appear as faint, glowing figures, their presence marked by a sudden chill in the air.

The Spirits of the Lost are guided by Lix, a gentle and compassionate spirit who helps them find peace. Lix is a beacon of light in the darkness of the woods, his soothing voice and kind heart offering comfort to those who have lost their way. Under his guidance, many spirits have found the closure they seek and moved on to the afterlife.

Scattered throughout Secret City are hidden temples dedicated to various deities and elemental forces. These temples are places of worship and power where the faithful come to seek blessings and guidance. Each temple is unique, reflecting the nature of the deity or force it honors.

One of the most revered temples in Secret City is the Temple of the Moon, a place of serene beauty and quiet reflection. The temple is built from white marble, its domed roof adorned with silver filigree that glows softly in the moonlight. Inside, a large pool of water reflects the light of the floating orbs above, creating an ethereal ambiance.

The Temple of the Moon is dedicated to the moon goddess, Haneul, who is believed to watch over Secret City from the skies. The temple is tended by a group of priests known as the Moon Brothers, who perform rituals and offer prayers on behalf of the city's residents. The head priest, Brother Seungmin, is a wise and gentle leader, his presence bringing a sense of peace and tranquility to all who visit the temple.

Another secret society is the Shadow Blades, a group of elite warriors and assassins who protect Secret City. They are skilled in martial arts and magic, and their training is rigorous and demanding. The Shadow Blades operate from the Shadowsong Keep, a hidden fortress deep within the Whispering Woods.

Commander Ji-Won is the leader of the Shadow Blades, a formidable warrior known for being both ruthless and just. Under his command, the Shadow Blades carry out missions to protect Secret City from external threats and internal strife. They are the unseen guardians of the city, their presence felt but rarely seen. Minho is one of them, slowly working his way up the ranks but facing struggles with his colleagues. He’s not as powerful with magic as most of them but has the ability to shapeshift into a cat, making him perfect for secret missions. Which pissed a lot of people off. 

Throughout its history, Secret City has been protected by heroes who have risen to defend the city against threats, both internal and external. These heroes, known as the Chosen Ones, are individuals of great courage and power, often possessing unique abilities that set them apart from others.

No hero is complete without a healer, and in Secret City, that role is filled by Chan, a gifted healer whose touch can mend even the gravest of wounds. Chan is a member of the Temple of the Moon, his gentle nature and healing magic bringing comfort and hope to those in need. He carries a staff, the Moon's Grace, which enhances his healing abilities and allows him to channel the power of the moon goddess.

Seoul's magical underworld, Secret City, is a place of wonder, danger, and beauty. It is a city where the mundane and the extraordinary coexist, where ancient myths come to life, and where the balance between light and dark is constantly maintained. The residents of Secret City, both human and mythical, live in harmony, their lives intertwined by the magic that permeates their world.

As the gateway between the two realms, Moonlit Haven reminds visitors that there is more to Seoul than meets the eye. For those who dare to seek it, a world of magic and mystery awaits, hidden beneath the bustling streets and modern skyscrapers of South Korea's capital. In Secret City, the impossible becomes possible, and the ordinary becomes extraordinary—a true testament to the enduring power of magic.

-

Minho had always been different. As a member of the Shadow Blades, the elite warriors and protectors of Secret City, his abilities made him a target of both admiration and envy. Unlike many of his comrades, he lacked powerful magic but possessed a unique talent: the ability to shapeshift into a sleek, agile cat. This ability made him invaluable for espionage, slipping unnoticed through shadows and tight spaces. However, his success and the recognition it brought only fueled the resentment of his peers.

The tension reached its peak after a particularly challenging mission. Minho had been instrumental in retrieving a stolen artifact from a rogue mage, but his success was met with scorn rather than praise. Whispers of jealousy and accusations of favoritism swirled among his colleagues, resulting in an unjust decision by his superior officers. They accused him of withholding information and acting independently, charges that were untrue but impossible for Minho to refute without pushing himself even further away.

"You think you're special because of your abilities," spat one of his fellow warriors. "But you're just a liability. We don't need someone who can't follow orders."

The decision was swift and brutal. Minho was stripped of his rank and cast out from the Shadowsong Keep. The sense of betrayal cut deeper than any blade. He was alone, exiled from the only family he had known, forced to fend for himself in the vast, mystical underworld of Secret City.

With nowhere else to turn, Minho fled through the Whispering Woods, a dense forest known for its haunting beauty and perilous magic. The silver leaves of the trees shimmered in the eternal twilight, casting an eerie glow on the winding paths. Here, the whispers of ancient secrets and lost souls filled the air, a symphony of sorrow and mystery.

Exhausted and wounded from his escape, Minho made a desperate decision. He transformed into his cat form, hoping the change would allow him to navigate the forest more easily and evade any pursuers. The transformation was both a relief and a curse, offering him agility and stealth but stripping him of his human voice and hands.

As a cat, Minho's senses were heightened. He could hear the rustle of leaves, the distant calls of nocturnal creatures, and the soft murmurs of the forest spirits. His fur provided some protection against the chill, but the pain of his injuries persisted. Despite his resilience, the journey through the Whispering Woods was grueling, each step a struggle against fatigue and despair.

Lix found him curled up beneath a tree and noticing his injuries he knew there was only one way to save him. He scooped him up from the ground and soothingly caressed his head, able to tell there was more to him than just an innocent, hurt cat.

After days of wandering, they finally reached the Temple of the Moon, a place of serene beauty and powerful magic. The temple, constructed from white marble and adorned with silver filigree, stood as a beacon of hope amidst the dark woods. Its domed roof glowed softly, reflecting the light of the floating orbs above. Lix set him down on the ground and gently shoved him forward. “I’m not allowed to enter, but you are, little friend. Go and accept the refuge they have to provide.”

Minho hesitated at the entrance, his feline instincts wary of the unknown. He had heard of the temple's head healer, Chan, a gifted young man whose touch could mend even the gravest of wounds. Desperation outweighed caution, and Minho limped into the courtyard, collapsing near the temple steps.

Moments later, a figure emerged from the temple. Chan, carrying a staff that radiated a gentle light, approached the injured cat. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the wounded animal, but his expression quickly softened into one of compassion.

"Poor thing," Chan murmured, kneeling beside Minho. "Let's get you inside."

Chan carefully lifted Minho and carried him into the temple. The interior was as serene as the exterior, with moonlight streaming through stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the marble floor. Chan placed Minho on a soft cushion and gently examined his injuries.

"You're in bad shape, but we'll get you fixed up," Chan said soothingly. He placed his hands over Minho's wounds, and a warm, healing light emanated from his palms. The pain began to fade, replaced by a soothing sensation that spread through Minho's body.

As the healing progressed, Minho watched Chan with a mixture of gratitude and curiosity. Chan's touch was gentle, his expression focused yet kind. There was something inherently calming about him, a presence that put Minho at ease despite his recent ordeal.

When Chan finished, he sat back and smiled. "There you go, little one. You should feel better soon."

Minho meowed softly in response, his eyes conveying the gratitude he couldn't express in words. Chan chuckled and scratched behind Minho's ears. "You can stay here as long as you need to. I'll take care of you."

Days turned into weeks as Minho recovered under Chan's care. He adapted to his new life at the Temple of the Moon, observing the daily routines and rituals from the shadows. In his cat form, Minho found a strange sense of peace. He was safe from his past and had a chance to start anew.

Chan grew fond of the cat he had rescued, naming him "Moonshadow" for his sleek, dark fur and the way he seemed to blend into the twilight. Minho, in turn, became Chan's silent guardian, following him around the temple and offering companionship.

Whenever Chan was away, Minho would revert to his human form, cleaning the temple and performing small tasks to help ease his guilt for deceiving him. He hoped that his actions would repay some of the kindness Chan had shown him, even if Chan never knew the truth.

Chan, however, began to notice the small changes around the temple. Rooms were tidier, supplies were replenished, and the garden seemed to flourish under an unseen hand. He attributed these miracles to the blessings of the moon goddess, unaware of the true source.

Five months later

In the eternal twilight of Secret City, the Temple of the Moon was a sanctuary of tranquility and magic. Within its serene confines, Chan sat cross-legged on a plush cushion, his gentle eyes scanning the pages of an ancient tome. The moonlight streaming through the stained glass windows cast a colorful, ethereal glow around him, creating an atmosphere of peace and contemplation.

Beside him, Minho, in his cat form, stretched lazily, his sleek black fur shimmering in the soft light. As he yawned and settled into a more comfortable position, his eyes never left Chan. There was a bond between them that went beyond mere companionship—a connection forged through trials and a deep mutual understanding.

Chan noticed Minho’s gaze and smiled warmly. “Hey there, Moonshadow,” he said softly. “Come here.”

Minho’s ears perked up at the sound of Chan’s voice. With a graceful leap, he landed beside Chan and began to nuzzle his head against Chan’s outstretched hand. Chan’s fingers moved instinctively to scratch behind Minho’s ears, a spot that always made the cat purr contentedly.

“There we go,” Chan murmured, his voice soothing and gentle. He could feel the vibrations of Minho’s purrs under his fingertips, a rhythmic reminder of the trust and affection between them.

Minho closed his eyes, leaning into Chan’s touch. The sensation of Chan’s fingers running through his fur was blissful, and his purring grew louder, filling the quiet room with its soothing sound. It was moments like these that made all the hardships and uncertainties of their lives seem distant and unimportant.

Chan chuckled softly. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

In response, Minho rubbed his head against Chan’s cheek, a gesture of affection that made Chan’s heart swell with warmth. The simple act of being close to Chan brought Minho a sense of security and happiness he had never thought possible before meeting him.

“You’re such a sweet kitty,” Chan whispered, continuing to scratch Minho’s head and under his chin. Minho’s purrs grew even louder, and he started to knead Chan’s chest with his paws, his claws retracting just enough to avoid scratching the fabric of Chan’s robe.

Chan shifted slightly, leaning back against the cushions and creating a more comfortable space for both of them. Minho took this as an invitation and climbed onto Chan’s chest, circling a few times before curling up in a tight ball. His tail wrapped around his body, and he rested his head on his paws, looking up at Chan with half-closed eyes.

“You look so peaceful,” Chan said, his voice barely above a whisper. He rested one hand gently on Minho’s back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

Minho’s eyes closed fully, and he let out a contented sigh. The warmth of Chan’s body, combined with the rhythmic motion of his hand on his back, lulled him into a state of deep relaxation. His purring continued, a soft, steady sound that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the temple.

For Chan, having Minho close was a source of immense comfort. The bond they shared went beyond that of a healer and his pet; it was a connection of souls, a partnership forged over time. Chan found solace in Minho’s presence, a sense of completeness that he had never experienced before.

As the minutes passed, the tranquility of the moment deepened. Chan’s thoughts drifted, the worries of the day fading into the background. All that mattered was the gentle weight of Minho on his chest, the soothing sound of his purrs, and the warmth of their shared affection.

Minho, on the verge of sleep, shifted slightly and nuzzled his head against Chan’s chest. He felt safe, cherished, and loved—a stark contrast to the loneliness and betrayal he had once known. In this sacred space, with Chan’s heartbeat as his lullaby, Minho found a peace that transcended the physical realm.

Chan continued to stroke Minho’s fur, his touch light and tender. He could feel the trust dripping from the small creature in his arms, a trust that was both humbling and empowering. Chan knew that, no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, their bond unbreakable.

“I promise to always take care of you,” Chan whispered, his voice filled with emotion. 

Minho’s purring intensified for a moment, as if acknowledging Chan’s words. Then, gradually, it began to fade as sleep overtook him. His body relaxed completely, his breathing slow and steady. Chan watched him with a soft smile, his own heart filled with a profound sense of gratitude and love.

The Temple of the Moon, with its timeless beauty and serene atmosphere, bore witness to the deep connection between Chan and Minho. In this sacred place, under the watchful gaze of the moon goddess, they found a moment of perfect harmony—a testament to the enduring power of love and trust in a world filled with magic and mystery.

As Chan closed his eyes, his hand resting gently on Minho’s sleeping form, he knew that their journey together was far from over. But in this moment, they had everything they needed: each other. And that was enough.

-

One evening, as Chan prepared for his nightly prayers, he looked at Moonshadow, who was curled up on a cushion nearby. "You know, sometimes I feel like there's more to you than meets the eye," Chan mused aloud. "You're special, aren't you?"

Minho's ears perked up, and he watched Chan with wide, curious eyes. Chan smiled and continued, "I think the goddess sent you to me for a reason. Maybe you're my familiar, a guardian spirit to protect and guide me."

The words struck a chord in Minho's heart. He had always felt a deep connection to Chan, a sense of duty and protectiveness that went beyond mere gratitude. Perhaps there was truth in Chan's words, a destiny that had brought them together.

That night, Chan performed a ritual to bind Moonshadow as his familiar. He drew intricate symbols on the ground, lit candles, and recited ancient incantations. As the ritual reached its climax, a surge of magical energy enveloped Minho, strengthening the bond between them.

Minho felt a profound shift within him, a merging of their spirits that filled him with newfound purpose. He was now bound to Chan, his protector and companion, their fates intertwined by the magic of the moon.

-

As Chan's familiar, Minho took his duties seriously. He remained vigilant, always on the lookout for potential threats. His heightened senses allowed him to detect dangers before they could reach Chan, and his presence provided comfort and reassurance.

One day, trouble arrived in the form of dark mages seeking to disrupt the balance of magic in Secret City. These mages, practitioners of forbidden magic, targeted the Temple of the Moon, believing its powerful magic could be harnessed for their nefarious purposes.

Chan was in the garden when the attack began. Dark figures emerged from the shadows, casting spells that warped the air and sent tremors through the ground. Chan's staff glowed as he raised a protective barrier, but the dark mages' assault was relentless.

Minho, sensing the danger, leapt into action. He transformed into his human form, his body a blur of motion as he intercepted the attackers. With a combination of agility and ferocity, Minho fought off the dark mages, his cat-like reflexes and strength giving him an edge.

Chan, focused on maintaining the barrier, was unaware of the true identity of his savior. He glanced over in shock as he saw a young man fighting with the grace and power of a guardian beast.

Despite his best efforts to hide his true nature, Minho's ears were visible, a telltale sign of his shapeshifter abilities. As the last of the dark mages fled, Chan lowered the barrier and approached Minho cautiously.

"Who are you?" Chan asked, his voice a mix of awe and confusion. Their eyes met and Chan’s eyes widened recognizing those soft brown orbs he’d come to love so much. His eyes wandered up where Minho’s dark cat ears peaked from his messy brown hair. "Are you... Moonshadow?"

Minho hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Yes, I am. My name is Minho. I'm a shapeshifter, exiled from the Shadowsong Keep. I've been living here in my cat form, afraid you would kick me out if you knew the truth. I know we aren’t very welcomed around here.”

Chan's expression softened, and he reached out to touch Minho's shoulder. "You protected me, Minho. You've been by my side all this time, helping and watching over me. I don't care about your past or your abilities. You are my familiar, and I am grateful for everything you've done."

Tears welled up in Minho's eyes, a mix of relief and gratitude flooding his heart. "Thank you, Chan. I promise to always protect you, no matter what."

-

Minho’s revelation had lifted a weight off his chest, but it also left him feeling vulnerable. Living as a shapeshifter meant hiding his true self, something he’d grown accustomed to. Yet, in front of Chan, he was completely exposed. For Chan, the revelation was a mix of shock and intrigue. The gentle healer had always felt a special bond with Moonshadow, but knowing that the affectionate cat was also a brave young man named Minho deepened that connection.

Their daily routines continued, but with a newfound understanding. Minho still shifted into his cat form, now more out of comfort than necessity. He still enjoyed curling up on Chan’s chest, feeling his rhythmic breathing and the warmth of his body. Chan, on his part, welcomed Minho’s human presence when he transformed, appreciating the help around the temple and the companionship Minho offered.

The first night after Minho’s revelation, Chan found it hard to sleep. He kept glancing at Minho, now in his human form, tidying up the temple’s main hall. The moonlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a soft glow on Minho’s face. He moved gracefully, his actions efficient and almost mesmerizing to watch. Chan felt a strange flutter in his chest, a mix of admiration and affection.

“Minho,” Chan called softly, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

Minho turned, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. “Yes, Chan?”

Chan hesitated, then smiled. “You don’t have to push yourself so hard. Come sit with me.”

Minho’s expression softened, and he abandoned the broom he was holding, walking over to where Chan sat. He settled down beside him, their shoulders almost touching. There was a quiet intimacy in the moment, a shared silence that spoke volumes.

“I never thought I’d find someone like you,” Chan admitted quietly. “Someone who understands and accepts me for who I am.”

Minho looked at him, his eyes sincere. “I feel the same way. You’ve given me a place to belong, Chan. For that, I’m grateful.”

They sat in silence for a while, the bond between them growing stronger with each passing moment. Chan’s hand moved almost instinctively, reaching out to hold Minho’s. Minho’s fingers intertwined with his, the simple touch sending a warm feeling through both of them.

-

As days turned into weeks, the relationship between Chan and Minho deepened. They developed a rhythm, a balance of shared tasks and quiet moments of companionship. Minho’s presence brought a sense of stability to Chan’s life, while Chan’s gentle nature provided Minho with a sense of peace he had never known before.

Chan’s duties as a healer often took him to various parts of Secret City. Minho, always in his cat form, accompanied him, providing silent support. He became Chan’s shadow, always alert and ready to protect him if necessary. Their bond as familiar and master was strong, but it was the bond of friendship and growing affection that truly defined their relationship.

One afternoon, while Chan was tending to a patient in the Celestial District, Minho, in his cat form, explored the area. The dragons and celestial foxes were impressive, their majestic forms and ancient wisdom evident in every interaction. Minho’s keen senses picked up the subtle undercurrents of power and respect that flowed through the district.

As Chan finished his work, he called out for Minho. The sleek black cat appeared almost instantly, weaving through the crowd with ease. Chan smiled as he picked Minho up, cradling him gently.

“You always know where to find me,” Chan said, scratching behind Minho’s ears. Minho purred in response, nuzzling against Chan’s cheek.

Their return to the temple was peaceful, the twilight sky casting a serene glow over Secret City. Minho transformed back into his human form once they were inside, stretching his limbs as he did so.

“Another successful day,” Chan remarked, setting down his staff.

Minho nodded. “You’re an amazing healer, Chan. The way you help people… it’s inspiring.”

Chan’s cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. “Thank you, Minho. But I couldn’t do it without your support.”

Minho’s heart swelled at the words. He was finding it harder to keep his feelings for Chan hidden. The healer’s kindness, dedication, and the way he made Minho feel valued and appreciated—it was all becoming too much to ignore.

Their bond grew stronger with each passing day, but so did Minho’s feelings for Chan. He found himself drawn to the healer in ways he hadn’t expected. Chan’s smile, his laughter, the way he cared for others—it all made Minho’s heart race.

One evening, as they sat together under the soft glow of the moonlight, Chan turned to Minho with a thoughtful expression. “Minho, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Minho replied, curious.

“Why do you stay in your cat form most of the time?” Chan asked gently. “I mean, I understand it became your natural state by now, but you can be human whenever you want. Why do you choose to be a cat?”

Minho looked down, his ears twitching slightly. “It’s… complicated. When I’m in my cat form, I feel safe. I can protect you without drawing too much attention. And it’s easier to hide my true feelings.”

“Your true feelings?” Chan echoed, his curiosity piqued.

Minho hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Chan, there’s something I need to tell you. Ever since you took me in, I’ve felt this… connection. It’s more than just being your familiar. I care about you deeply, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. But I’ve been afraid to show it, afraid that you might not feel the same way.”

Chan’s eyes softened, and he reached out to take Minho’s hand. “Minho, I care about you too. You’ve become an important part of my life, and I can’t imagine it without you. I think… I think I’ve been feeling the same way.”

Minho’s heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

Chan nodded. “Yes. I’ve been trying to understand these feelings, and now I realize that I’ve fallen for you, Minho. Not just as my familiar, but as someone I want to be with.”

Minho’s eyes filled with tears of relief and happiness. “Chan, I’ve loved you for so long. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Chan pulled Minho into a gentle embrace. “You don’t have to hide your feelings anymore. We’ll face this together.”

Minho clung to Chan, the warmth of his embrace filling him with a sense of belonging. They stayed like that for a while, holding each other under the moonlight, their hearts beating in sync.

-

With their feelings out in the open, Minho and Chan’s relationship took on a new dimension. They were no longer just healer and familiar; they were partners, united by love and a deep sense of understanding. Their bond grew stronger, their affection for each other evident in every touch, every glance, every shared moment.

Chan continued his work as a healer, and Minho remained by his side, providing support and protection. They faced challenges together, their love giving them strength and resilience. Secret City, with its magic and mystery, became a backdrop for their blossoming relationship.

One day, as they walked through the Enchanted Market, Minho in his human form, Chan took his hand. “I have a surprise for you.”

Minho looked at him curiously. “What is it?”

Chan led him to a small shop filled with beautiful artifacts and magical items. The shopkeeper, a kind young man, greeted them with a warm smile.

“Welcome, Chan. I see you’ve brought a special friend today,” he said.

Chan smiled and nodded. “Yes, Minho is very special to me. And I want to give him something to show how much he means to me.”

Jisung’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, I have just the thing.”

He led them to a display case and pulled out a delicate silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon. “This pendant is filled with protective magic. It will keep the wearer safe and strengthen the bond between two hearts.”

Chan took the pendant and turned to Minho. “I want you to have this. It’s a symbol of our bond and my promise to always be there for you.”

Minho’s lip quivered slightly as he took the pendant. “Thank you, Chan. I’ll cherish it always.”

Chan fastened the pendant around Minho’s neck, and they shared a tender kiss, sealing their love with a magical promise.

-

Their love continued to grow, but so did the challenges they faced. Dark forces still threatened Secret City, and Minho and Chan found themselves in the midst of several battles. Their bond was tested, but their love gave them the strength to overcome every obstacle.

One evening, as they returned to the temple after a particularly difficult mission, Chan collapsed from exhaustion. Minho caught him, his heart pounding with fear. “Channie, are you okay?”

Chan smiled weakly. “I’m just tired, Minho. I’ll be fine.”

Minho carried Chan inside and laid him down on a soft cushion. He tended to Chan’s wounds, his hands trembling with worry. “You’ve pushed yourself too hard, Chan. You need to rest.”

Chan reached up to touch Minho’s face. “I’ll be okay, Minho. I have you by my side.”

Minho’s eyes filled with tears as he leaned down to kiss Chan’s forehead. “I love you, Chan. Please take care of yourself like you do with everyone else.”

“I love you too, Minho,” Chan whispered, closing his eyes. “Thank you for being here with me.”

Minho stayed by Chan’s side, holding his hand and watching over him as he slept. The trials they faced only strengthened their bond, their love a beacon of hope and resilience in the face of darkness.

-

As time passed, Minho and Chan’s love continued to flourish. They built a life together, their bond unbreakable and their hearts intertwined. Secret City, with its magic and mystery, became their home, a place where their love could grow and thrive.

One evening, as they sat together under the moonlight, Chan turned to Minho with a smile. “Do you remember the day we first met?”

Minho nodded, his eyes filled with affection. “How could I forget? You saved me, Chan. You gave me a place to belong.”

Chan took Minho’s hand, their fingers intertwining. “And you gave me a reason to believe in love. You’ve made my life complete, Minho.”

Minho leaned in to kiss Chan, their lips meeting in a tender, loving embrace. “I promise to always be by your side, Chan. Forever.”

Chan smiled, his heart filled with joy. “Forever.”

As they held each other under the soft glow of the moonlight, Minho and Chan knew that their love was eternal. In the magical underworld of Secret City, their hearts had found a home in each other, a love that would endure through any challenge, a bond that would never be broken.

Together, they faced the world, their love a guiding light in the darkness. And in each other’s arms, they found a love that was truly magical, a love that would last forever.

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

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[sumedhaaaaaaaaaa]

Hello there, it’s me Momo🩷

Here’s a little description of things I love and envy

I’m from the Indian subcontinent.

Spent my entire childhood between mountains and valleys. For a change shifted to Delhi which I regret tremendously.

I love farming, gardening, stitching clothes, crocheting, writing poems and maintaining a journal.

I enjoy long walks and bicycle rides.

I prefer going to a bookstore or a restaurant all by myself. I love self-dates.

I want to settle someday at an unknown meadow with mountains and lakes at a cottage core house, with big windows and minimalistic furniture with a wooden chimney, a library with some cats and the man I love.

I’m a student, fortunately academically gifted/blessed.

I did my undergrad from Indraprastha college for women under the university of Delhi in the discipline of geography Hons. Currently pursuing my masters from Jamia Millia Islamia.

I love movies; and my favourite genre is dystopian reality. So far I have watched 750+ movies which include almost every linguistic diversity as I strongly believe in the adherence of, “you can’t find gold unless you dig the dirt.”

I love reading books, like a lot. I can speak 5 different languages and out of them, 3 languages are engraved within my system. Starting from Greek Literature Iliad by Homer to metaphysics by aristotle; reading short stories of Rabindranath Tagore in Bengali as well as reciting Gazals of Gulzar in Hindi itself, I believe I have defined base in my own culture as well as to others. Again, when it comes to dystopian, I envy reading The Hunger Games and The Maze Runners. Do Androids dream of electric sheep? Comes under my top 5 dystopian reads; as this book was later adopted into a world class movie franchise called The Blade Runner. I lean towards Harry Potter more than The Lord of the Rings. I have read A song of ice and fire which people are so batshit crazy about and famously known as the “Game of thrones.” I didn’t watch a single episode but I know more than any fan I believe.

If you intervene and ask, then yeah you can think of me as a “nerd” hehehe because my preference and taste of things leans towards being more of geek tbh🩷🩷

I also enjoy watching animated series/anime and sit coms. I’m a sucker for The Big Bang Theory and Young Sheldon and will rewatch them for an eternity if asked. My favourite anime is Gintama but the list is peculiar and long as I have been watching anime/reading manga since I was 9 years old. My first anime was Dragon Ball z and Pokémon. I also watched Doraemon and Shinchan series/movies. The list goes on when it comes to entertainment but mine is more restricted than common which people watch out of peer pressure. Below are some examples for understanding my taste and likings.

My favourite dystopian movies are (Top 20)

1. Shutter Island.

2. Interstellar

3. The Dark knight

4. The Dark knight Rises

5. Captain America: the winter soldier

6. Rouge one: a star war’s story

7. Tron legacy

8. Harry Potter and the prisoner of Azkaban

9. The Hobbit: the desolation of Smaug

10. Star Trek Enterprise

11. Star Wars: the empire strikes back

12. Blade runner

13. Blade runner 2049

14. Dune

15. V for vendetta

16. Maze runner

17. The Hunger Games

18. Oblivion

19. The Truman show

20. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind

Top 15 Anime

1. Gintama

2. Neon Genesis Evangelion

3. Berserk

4. Mob psycho

5. Steins Gate

6. Violet evergarden

7. Monster

8. Parasyte

9. Heavenly delusion

10. Ergo proxy

11. Full Metal Alchemist

12, That time when I got reincarnated as a slime

13. Campfire cooking in another world with my absurd cooking skills

14. Barakamon

15. Bunny Drop

Top 10 Anime Movies

1. Princess Mononoke by Studio Ghibli

2. Up from the poppy hill by Studio Ghibli

3. My neighbor Totoro by Studio Ghibli

4. The End of Evangelion by Hideaki Anno

5. Spirited Away by Studio Ghibli

6. Perfect blue by Satosi Kon

7. Akira by Katsuhiro Otomo

8. Ghost in the Shell by Mamoru Oshii

9. Violet evergarden: the movie by Taichi Ishidate

10. Doraemon: Nobita’s new dinosaur by Kazuaki Imai, Toshihisa Yokoshima, in collaboration with Kyoto animation studio Wasabi Mizuta, Megumi Ohara, Shihoko Hagino.

I know it may seem boring and I usually don’t find people with such diversity, but it would be good to be a part of this community. I envy people who respects art and literature of every culture and not demeaning them.

Have a good day people muah 🩷

[blueiskewl]

Ancient Roman Elite Necropolis Discovered in Italy

A two-year dig to install a solar power plant near Rome has unearthed an ancient Roman necropolis containing 67 skeletons buried in 57 ornate tombs.

Archaeologists were baffled by the find — thought to date between the second and fourth centuries — not least because the skeletons were discovered wearing golden jewelry and expensive leather footwear, inside tombs designed to resemble their homes.

The discovery, on a 52-acre patch of land close to the ancient city of Tarquinia, north of Rome, was a surprise to authorities, despite the area being renowned for such findings.

Silver rings with amber and engraved initials, precious stones, terracotta pottery, coins, shiny glasses, amulets and even items of clothing were found alongside the golden necklaces and earrings.

“We found several skeletons still wearing their expensive stockings and shoes,” Emanuele Giannini, lead excavation archaeologist at the site said. “All these riches, and the fact that the bones show no sign of stress or physical labor, (leads us to believe) these weren’t local farmers, but upper-crust members of Roman families coming from cities.”

Giannini said techniques of “pre-emptive archaeology” such as field surveys and trial trenches were used to identify potentially ancient constructions below ground.

“We did have a faint idea that some treasure could lie there, as historical sources mentioned the location of a postal station for travelers near the site,” explained Giannini. “Many Romans would stop (here) for the night to eat and rest, but the magnitude of the discovery is unmatched.”

The diversity of funerary objects laid near the remains, and the luxurious designs and linings inside the tombs, have led archaeologists to believe that the occupants wanted to recreate heavenly spaces similar to their earthly homes. The interior of many tombs originally featured elaborate cloth linings, or were surrounded and covered by tiles or terracotta pieces like little houses.

Giannini said another astounding aspect is that most of the discovered tombs were communal — built for at least two occupants who likely shared a family link. A few skeletons were found wrapped around each other.

“Building tombs for entire family nuclei is a typical ancient Roman trait,” he said, “but these are outstanding in their inner decor, which shows wealth and status.”

The shallow tombs were found just 20 inches below the surface — almost popping out of the grass — yet nobody had ever noticed anything peculiar.

The site’s unique state of preservation has been attributed to the fact that “huge limestone blocks that stick out of the ground (made) ploughing, seeding and modern farming impossible in the area,” said Giannini. “It has remained untouched (for) centuries.”

Findings from the dig, which started in 2022, are being preserved as they’re found and many are going on show at the castle of Santa Severa in the coastal town of Santa Marinella. The skeletons however, are being analyzed to determine their origins and will not be put on display until forensic tests have been carried out.

Whatever their genesis, authorities are certain more hidden wonders will come to light as digs for the solar park move to another nearby site.

“We are excavating a huge rural area to redevelop the land and are balancing the need to avoid ruining such unique wonders with the goal of boosting clean energy production,” Margherita Eichberg, art heritage superintendent of the provinces of Viterbo and southern Etruria for Italy’s Culture Ministry said. The area where the necropolis has been discovered will not form part of the solar park and will be cordoned off for safety reasons, without public access.

“This is the fascination and beauty of Italy: Each time there’s a dig, incredible wonders from the past come out of the ground which need to be preserved.”

By Silvia Marchetti.

[carlocarrasco]

I Love Israel: Israel and the Philippines celebrate 65 years of friendship and diplomatic ties

I Love Israel: Israel and the Philippines celebrate 65 years of friendship and diplomatic ties

Since August 9 of 1957, Israel and the Philippines had been friends and the diplomatic ties between them prospered through the decades. In 2018, then President Rodrigo Duterte and a contingent of officials visited Israel. There, then Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu met with Duterte. During the COVID-19 crisis, Israel assisted the Philippines in varied such as having Filipinos in Israel…

[talonabraxas]

The Rose in Alchemy

The cross stands wound densely round with roses. Who has put roses on the cross?... And from the middle springs a holy life Of threefold rays from a single point. — Goethe, Die Geheimnisse (1784-1786)

In alchemy, the white and the red rose are well-known symbols for the lunar and the solar tincture, from which the "precious rose-coloured blood" of Christ-Lapis flows. And the Shehina, the brilliance of celestial wisdom on earth, is understood in the image of the rose, and "the collection of honey" stands for the common inheritance of theosophical knowledge. “Thus the whole parable of the Song of Solomon finally refers to the object of our rose-cross: 'I am the rose of Sharon and the lily of the field'”. As regards "the correct procedure for attaining the rose-red blood of the cross that is poured (as quintessence) in the centre of the cross", Fludd used the image of wisdom: the work of the architect as a labourer of God on the building of the temple. — R. Fludd, Summum Bonum, Frankfurt, 1629

Symbolism of the Rose

A highly complex symbol; it is ambivalent as both heavenly perfection and earthly passion; the flower is both Time and Eternity, life and death, fertility and virginity. In the Occident, the rose and lily occupy the position of the lotus in the Orient. In the symbolism of the heart, the rose occupies the central point of the cross, the point of unity. The red and white rose together represent the union of fire and water, the union of opposite. In Alchemy, the rose is wisdom and the rosarium the Work; it is also the rebirth of the spiritual after the death of the temporal. In Hebrew Qabalism, the center of the rose is the sun and the petals the infinite, but harmonious, diversities of Nature. The rose emanates from the Tree of Life. In Hinduism, the lotus parallels the symbolism of the Mystic Rose as a spiritual center, especially in the chakras. For Rosicrucians, the Rose-cross is the Mystic Rose as wheel and cross; the rose is the divine light of the universe and the cross the temporal world of pain and sacrifice. The rose grows on the Tree of Life which implies regeneration and resurrection. The rose in the center of the cross is the quaternary of the elements and the point of unity.

In the Grail legend, the invocations addressed to the divine heart of Jesus contain the feminine element. It is extolled as "the temple in which dwells the life of the world," as a rose, a cup, a treasure, a spring, as the furnace of divine love "ever glowing in the fire of the Holy Ghost", as a censer and as a bridal chamber. Jesus receives the souls of the dying into his heart which "burns glowingly", "as red gold burns and melts in the fire", and the soul dissolves therein, "as water mixes with wine". All of these symbols are feminine and are therefore very closely connected with the motifs of the Grail legend and of alchemical symbolism. --Emma Jung & Marie-Louise von Franz, The Grail Legend (1986)

[thowawayuntilfurthernotice]

Last anon is defo making a bad faith criticism of HB, that connection just doesn't even exist.

Now, a better criticism is that the first character who doesn't look like a damn twig being a total pig and the antagonist of the episode. I thought it was well-known by now that it's shitty when the only point of diversity for a show is in its antagonists.

It's kinda sad how the only other rotund character this show had was that Dr. Robotnik looking guy from season one.

Really don't get why Viv seems to be obsessed with making everyone super skinny, I get that her style is heavenly inspired by Invader Zim and Jhonen Vasquez. But even Jhonen Vasquez had more variety when it came to character design than Viv does.

Not a lot of people seem to remember Randy Cunningham 9th Grade Ninja (Which is a shame because that show was great.) but Vasquez was the main character designer for that series, and he did show that he was able to design characters who weren't super skinny.

I think I said this before, but it kinda blows my mind how the best designed characters on Helluva Boss are the background characters, why? Because they were clearly designed by people who have a basic understanding of what makes a good design, something Viv clearly lacks.

[foranpo]

◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑` rumours heard by... .༊

‧₊˚. synopsis: gojo had vanity in his wings. perhaps, among the entire celestial realm, gojo's wings were the most beautiful and purest of them all. ㅤhowever, the contamination of a single feather makes the angel nervous about the destiny of his wings, leading him to ask god about the fate of corrupted wings. ㅤdriven by curiosity, and guided by god, gojo quickly finds his way to the underworld, where his mission to protect the devil leads him to discover truths that should not be revealed. ㅤwill the fate of his wings be more important than the truth about his own god?

‧₊˚. fandom: jujutsu kaisen. ㅤㅤ˖°. characters: getou x reader. ㅤㅤ˖°. genre: long-shot. ㅤㅤㅤ˖°. au: celestial! ㅤㅤㅤ˖°. content: angst, major character death. ‧₊˚. word count: ~3k each part // 10k total.

RUMORS HEARD BY THE ANGEL; ㅤㅤ–where the angel receives a new mission.

The sky was made of hundreds of celestial beings –small, magnificent and diverse creatures that effortlessly beautified the eternity of the kindest souls. However, of all existing creatures, the one that always stood out, the one that was always famous, was, without any doubt, the angel.

Everyone knew that to be an angel, to be worthy of possessing two beautiful white wings, one had to be, above all, beautiful. Of course, beauty was a subjective matter, with different perspectives shaping the meaning of the word itself; but the reality is that, in the celestial world, for someone to be beautiful, it was enough to be pure.

In the celestial world, where the color white ruled all beings present in paradise, the purity and innocence of that brilliant color dictated all laws and, as such, it was only natural for all celestials to be pure of heart. And, among so many candidates and so many angels, the purest creature of them all was, without a shadow of a doubt, Gojo Satoru.

There was not a single soul in that world who knew the origins of that angel or why he was considered the purest creature of all; however, everyone knew the reality that involved Gojo: of all the angels, he was the one who had the most beautiful wings: large and extensive, his feathers were extremely soft, making all creatures want to run their hands through them; the crown designated to Gojo, the small yellow daisies and gardenias, offered an extreme shine to Gojo's white hair, the play of colors hypnotizing so many creatures; the angel's eyes were already bright by nature, showing that that celestial being had already seen a lot, had already seen all of humanity's purest and darkest natures.

All this and much more made Gojo Satoru the most beautiful celestial being in that world –after all, Gojo not only had an interior that radiated white and yellow light, welcoming any being that spoke to him; no. Gojo Satoru also had unique physical beauty, hair and eyes, hands and lips, wings and words. Everything about Gojo Satoru was, in fact, beautiful.

However, it wasn't just that angel's singular beauty that made the celestial being someone to respect or admire –what really distinguished Gojo Satoru from all angels and creatures was the choice of pronouns he had decided to use. Choosing something as banal as a gender, Gojo's other colleagues began to treat him with respect, they began to congratulate him, to envy him.

Gojo Satoru was, in fact, one of the few angels who chose a gender, his rare decision being driven by the altruism of his heart, the hope of facilitating various conversations and missions showing the purity of Gojo's heart, making him the best angel in the heavenly world.

And, with Gojo being the best angel in the celestial world, it was only natural for god, for you, to constantly recruit him for your most important and cherished missions, Gojo's entire curriculum being filled with successes in missions of guidance and advice, Gojo's only failure being painted black on one of the smallest feathers on his right wing.

For, in the celestial world, missions dictated the wings of angels.

You didn't like to forgive as often as was believed, as you once did. After being betrayed time after time, you lost trust in your companions, your generosity was so characteristic that it was only exclusive to a few, to those who showed themselves worthy of your trust.

As such, you would like to punish the angels for their vanity.

By staining their wings with black petroleum, the feathers became tiring, the weight of failure making them so heavy that, if they were not compensated for in subsequent work, they would eventually fall off. However, if one was successful in their mission, the feathers would once again become extremely white, their lightness increasing their softness, forgiveness being conquered one feather at a time, the vanity of the angels losing importance after recovering their purity.

In fact, Gojo only had a single small black feather, so small that it was practically impossible to see; but Gojo knew it existed and knew that if he didn't make up for it, he would lose one of the feathers he treasured so much.

As such, and determined to show you that he was still capable of carrying out missions and erasing his failure, Gojo knocked lightly on the brown door in front of him, patiently waiting for your voice to sound on the other side.

“Come in,” you said monotonously, tired of such a long and exhausting day, wishing you could retire to your room and finally rest.

Upon your permission, a long, drawn-out sigh greeted Gojo as he entered, the desperation of your work being shrouded in hurt and tiredness –and Gojo shivered; he had never anticipated finding you in such a bad mood.

“Oh, Gojo. Do you need something?”

Your bright eyes quickly found Gojo's beautiful figure, the smile stuck on your lips being formed from the moment you pronounced your favorite angel's name.

Gojo had been to your office enough times to know that your affectionate greeting was your way of allowing Gojo to really enter the office –and he did so. With uncertain and calculated steps, Gojo carefully stepped on the red carpet of your office, his eyes always fixed on the chair he had to occupy.

In a few minutes, Gojo carefully sat down on the chair, arranging his beautiful wings so they wouldn't get deformed, and, when he was already comfortable on that wooden seat, he waited for you to speak to him –you always had to have the first word.

“So? To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

There was a certain tension between you and Gojo; there has always been tension between you and Gojo –ever since the angel remembered that tension filled the air when the two of you met, and what really worried Gojo was that he couldn't tell if the tension was something negative or if it was due to the fact that you respect Gojo like you've never respected anyone else.

There was a brief moment of silence filled with doubts on Gojo's part, curiosity slowly growing in you and, unable to bear the endless wait, you let out a new smile, a smile that carried with it the impatience you felt.

And Gojo shuddered.

As soon as that curved line formed on your lips, Gojo shivered, feeling obliged to speak. The angel took a deep breath in an attempt to gather all the strength that had abandoned him from the moment he entered the office; he swallowed hard, searching for the right words in his mind and, adjusting his right wing, Gojo finally spoke:

“I wanted to make up for the failure of the mission that stained my wing.”

You allowed Gojo's request to hang in the air like angels' feathers, the lightness of his words being transported to a universe far from you, Gojo's bright eyes unable to meet your face as you waited for Gojo's speech to come to an end.

But how could the angel finish his reasoning if he didn't even know what to do?

The reality is that Gojo had heard rumors.

During his time in the celestial world, there were several rumors that roamed the corridors of the great palace, the whispers of the various angels and archangels becoming so common that one thought they were true stories.

Rumors were told in laughter and whispers, some more detailed than others, the sweet and bitter words that slipped through the lips of the various celestials carrying lives and hopes, destroying reputations and goals.

In fact, the rumors in the celestial world were something that was on everyone's lips; even though no malice was found in the pronunciation of the immense words, the reality is that all the consequences that those simple rumors could bring were inevitable.

And that was why Gojo avoided them at all costs –after all, Gojo was the best angel in the celestial world.

However, there was a rumor that seemed to entice Gojo, the devil's own hand guiding the various words to the angel's ears every time that subject was mentioned by others.

Because, quite simply, Gojo couldn't ignore rumors about angel wings.

Gojo has always had a special liking for the various wings that existed, admiring the different shapes and sizes, the textures of the feathers and how they changed depending on a mission. Wings have always been something that intrigued Gojo. Yes, the angel always felt amazed at the various wings that were found in the celestial world, so it was only natural for him to hear the various rumors that alluded to such a delicate and gentle topic.

Several rumors had been heard by Gojo, all of them carefully considered in an attempt to understand the complexity of those gossips, trying to unravel which were true and which were the most absurd. However, the reality is that in a world where everything has to be true, it was quite difficult to find something that was a lie.

In this way, Gojo always feared.

There were several rumors that he heard, true, but most of them were filled with a negativity that should not be so simple for celestial beings to pronounce.

Gojo always lived under the illusion that angel wings were something guaranteed, something that one got as soon as they reached heaven and proved their worth to god, to you. However, with so many rumors running through the angel's ears, Gojo began to value his wings more, stroking his feathers three hours a day, washing them with precision and care, his most precious possession being those two gifts offered by you.

“Is the black feather bothering you?”

No response.

No reaction.

Of course the feather was bothering Gojo. Spending a life immersed in the purity of white, having a small black spot that carried malice with it was everything that bothered that angel the most.

Gojo sighed, unable to find the courage to speak anymore, hoping that you would be the same as always and continue your thought out loud, giving Gojo a small opening to finally speak.

“Why does it bother you so much? You’re not the only one who only has a dark feather,” you smiled, as if finding the whole situation amusing, as if delighting in Gojo’s concern.

And Gojo knew.

Gojo knew that he was not the only one who carried with him the consequences of poorly executed missions, he knew that there were many angels and archangels who vainly displayed the beauty of all their feathers so that all who deigned to see them would know that they had stories to tell. But Gojo wasn't like them. Gojo was different. And, being different, he wanted to remain pure, he didn't want to be corrupted by failure and, as such, he was determined to have a mission that would compensate him for that small, shy black feather.

“I have heard rumors, my liege.”

Gojo began to speak quietly, the angel's tired eyes focusing only on your table, the various manuscripts and illegible letters becoming everything that Gojo saw. “And, honestly, they are the ones that bother me the most.”

“What rumors?”

You seemed to be genuinely interested in the angel's words, putting down your pen that you were writing with and resting your elbows on the table top, while you let your star-stained hair entice Gojo to look at you –as soon as the shine and smell of your hair became intense, the angel could no longer retreat.

Gojo stared at you, losing himself for brief moments in your intense eyes, falling into the stories they told with each wink.

“Gojo?”

“Rumors of…”

Should Gojo tell you the truth? To his superior? What if the reality of all the rumors he heard was just that? Mere rumors that had no basis of truth? But still, there was a small part of Gojo that believed these rumors, a small part that wanted to know the truth about them, that little black feather enticing Gojo's lips to utter the question that had lodged itself in the angel's throat for so long.

 “What happens when an angel has all his wings painted black?”

“Is that what worries you?” The laugh you let out was loud and melodious, the echo of the fun you felt echoing loudly in your office, bringing a little comfort to that large room. “I doubt you’ll let your wings get all contaminated.”

“But what happens?”

Gojo's insistence was something unusual for the angel, after all, Gojo had never let his curiosity and fear tarnish his purity. That is, until he finally got a black feather.

The silence that followed was different, filled with doubts on both sides.

Your eyes showed a bit of concern in their intense shine, the smile you always wore on every occasion fading as soon as Gojo's insistence was felt in the angel's inappropriate words.

The wait that existed to find out who would be the next to speak seemed endless, with neither of you wanting to take the first step to reestablish the conversation.

In fact, a lot of time has passed since Gojo's last words hung in the air, you looking at him attentively, Gojo looking away from your figure, completely consumed by the shame of his actions –Gojo shouldn't have asked that.

“Gojo, let me ask you something.”

You carefully dragged your chair just enough to give you room to get out, your feet lightly stepping on the office carpet as you walked to the golden shelf, the shelf that was meant for the more complicated missions, the missions that were only assigned to the best angels of all.

“You've been here for a few centuries. I'm sure you've seen a lot. Both in our world and in the ancient world. So let me ask you… Have you ever seen an angel with completely black wings?”

Your question was dragged by the turning of pages of the book you were holding, the sight of your delicate movement calmly and patiently dragging the question to Gojo's ears.

As soon as the angel heard the words, as soon as he processed what you had asked him, Gojo realized that, in fact, he had never seen anyone with completely black wings. Yes, he could have seen large wings stained with black, but some purity and innocence of the white of the angels always managed to quickly contrast in those wings. No celestial being was wearing fully black wings in that world.

“I deduce that, from your silence, your answer is negative.” You once again adopted that smile that was so characteristic of yours, the various meanings that that simple curved line contained had yet to be revealed. “I confess that I am not the best soul to answer you, Gojo. So I think this mission will be useful for you. For your curiosity, I mean. And, if you're lucky, who knows, maybe for your feather as well.”

When you spread out a single sheet of paper, Gojo realized that a new mission was being assigned to him and, consequently, a new opportunity.

As such, and determined not to make a mistake that time, Gojo grabbed the sheet of paper, decoding some letters where the ink was still drying, quickly discovering that this was a mission written by you in that short space of time while you hoped that Gojo would answered.

However, it wasn't the speed with which you wrote the mission that surprised Gojo –no. What caught the angel's attention the most were the small, detailed letters that spelled out the name of the being that Gojo was supposed to protect and guide, those five letters coming together perfectly on the white paper, forming a single, powerful word.

“Creator, it must be a mistake …”

Gojo didn't want to believe what his eyes read over and over again, the name of the being insisting on being read by Gojo, stealing his voice and his concentration.

“There’s no mistake, Gojo.”

And there was your smile once again, as you watched your pupil read the name of his new mission over and over again.

“Your new mission is to be the devil’s guardian angel.”

And, in fact, it was no mistake.

Gojo's descent into the lost world was long and fearful, so many doubts and fears arising in Gojo without the angel's permission, a fear for his stay becoming increasingly overwhelming with each step closer to his destination.

The underworld was, in reality, something totally different from the heavenly world and Gojo did not feel at all comfortable in it. To begin with, the angel had to hide his beautiful wings, refusing to dye them black for fear that they would remain dark; Around him, darkness and obscurity tried to tarnish Gojo's purity, enticing him to the darker side of existing beings, trying to pull him into that dark and cold world. The angel looked around, the lack of beings intriguing him, the atmosphere differing from the celestial world in every aspect.

How was Gojo supposed to last six months in that world?

“Are you lost?”

A laugh echoed in that cave, a shiver taking over the angel as the echo amplified the malice hidden in that innocent question.

Gojo looked to the side, seeing a tall and handsome young man with a smile on his face, a bit of uncertainty being brought out in his intense gaze. Gojo stared at that man, the angel's tired eyes admiring the figure before him, wondering how someone as beautiful as him could be in such a dark and wicked place.

“You’re new here, is that it? Well, welcome to my kingdom!”

His kingdom?

Gojo opened his mouth gently as he looked at the man, the darkness of the cave now shining with a bit of light that the full moon provided at that moment and that was when Gojo really saw it: wicked smile on his lips, dark eyes shining with mischief, small, curved horns coming out of the man's head showing his evil nature, and denouncing that he was, in fact...

“The devil…”

Gojo's sigh quickly evaporated into the darkness of the underworld, the coldness of that atmosphere quickly freezing the angel's realization, not making it walk very far from the two of them.

Gojo didn't want to believe it.

He knew that the underworld was full of malicious and dangerous souls, people who had strayed from the path of kindness, angels who had betrayed you; however, Gojo never expected to find a figure as beautiful as that man, something different about him pulling Gojo more and more towards the malicious ways of the world, the darkness that existed around him focusing only on the devil, on his beautiful figure, on his wicked smile, on his cursed essence.

When he heard his name, the man expanded his smile, his eyes adopting a new and mysterious shine, his lips carefully, sensually and persuasively pronouncing the words that quickly escaped his mouth, traveling throughout his world, making shake all the inhabitants of his kingdom:

“In the flesh.”

ㅤ

RUMORS HEARD BY THE DEVIL; ㅤㅤ–where the devil resembles an angel.

The first time Getou arrived in the underworld, there was nothing. An overwhelming darkness covered the entire length of that place, no light, plant or being deigned to take root in that soulless place.

The first time Getou arrived in the underworld, there was nothing. He was lost, his body still very trembling from the fall he suffered, his eyes still burning from the disloyalty he suffered, his head filling with unknown voices, with voices that shouldn't be there.

The first time Getou arrived in the underworld, there was nothing. Therefore, overcome by the anger that consumed him and the feeling of betrayal, Getou decided to act.

The beginning wasn't easy, after all, Getou didn't know what to do, let alone how to do it.

It had been several days in which Getou stood observing the ancient world, waiting patiently, looking for ways and means to get some company –but oh, what a fantastic job the angels were doing in guiding the many lost souls. But the loneliness became desperate at that moment, the voices ringing loudly and enticing Getou to act, to do something for him once in his eternal existence.

And, since he never had the ability to rebel, Getou decided to follow the orders of the voices inside him.

Getou's voice began to sound like a melody in the ears of many people, encouraging them to disobey their angels, intriguing them with his company, leading them down through dark and dead-end paths.

As such, little by little, with your rejection of the evil paths they followed, Getou decided to welcome the abandoned souls, building a small kingdom of his own –a small kingdom that expanded over the centuries, Getou's need of not feeling alone calling so many different people.

But it was never enough.

For some reason, no matter how many corrupted souls Getou harbored, he always felt alone. And, as he was corrupted by the feeling of loneliness and betrayal, Getou's kind nature found itself destroyed by the shadows of his new kingdom, the darkness of the underworld hiding all the good and bright memories, leaving him with only the anger of a betrayal he would never forgive, nor understand.

“What’s your name?”

In addition to managing that new kingdom, one of Getou's many jobs was to guide souls lost in the underworld, giving them a shelter and an occupation, knowing perfectly well that an eternity could become boring if it wasn't occupied with a good hobby.

Getou guided the newcomer through the turbulent paths of the underworld, his eyes always attentive to all the activity that was going on, trying to understand if something was out of place or if someone needed something –maybe there was still a little kindness left in the midst of his destruction.

The girl didn't speak, shy for being in the presence of the devil, scared for being away from her relatives and friends; it was a premature harvest, indeed, but it was something necessary for the existence of that little soul, since, if it spread its existence in the ancient world, the result could be much worse.

“You’re not alone here. I guarantee you that at least one member of your family is here too.”

Getou stopped walking and faced the young girl.

Having been ruling that kingdom for centuries, Getou's patience had been corrupted with tremendous ease, especially because none of those souls that roamed there deigned to facilitate his work –not that Getou was afraid of punishing them, he just hadn't time for that.

So, just one look from him was enough to make the girl speak, her name escaping from her lips in fear and respect, the smile that appeared on Getou's face being malicious as he realized that that new soul was not, in fact, alone.

“You helped her.”

Gojo appeared behind Getou, confusion expressed in the beautiful features of his face, Gojo's eyes wandering with some curiosity to that girl's embrace with her aunt.

“Shouldn’t I?”

Getou laughed a little, walking away from that tender scene and heading towards the office –there was so much work pending.

“It’s just that…”

“You just thought I was a heartless creature who just wants to see disorder in this world and the ancient one.”

Gojo did not respond, following Getou at the pace dictated by the sovereign, waiting for him to continue speaking, as he always continued to speak. “I heard those rumors. My subordinates insist on telling me everything that involves my name. A creature’s imagination goes beyond unreachable worlds.”

“So it’s not true? That rumor, as you called it.”

Gojo was feeling strange, completely confused by what had happened, wondering for two months now if all the rumors he had heard about that place were, in fact, true.

“Oh no,” Getou laughed and entered the office, a space quite similar to the one you used, the choice of furniture and colors being made on purpose to tease you. “It is true. But seeing destruction all the time becomes boring. Every now and then, a good deed can bring joy.”

Gojo's eyes were fixed on Getou's figure from the moment he sat down at the desk and, very reluctantly, began to observe all the papers of the various and infinite souls that still roamed the ancient world, carefully reading their entire journey, mentally asking himself who should come and visit him and when they should do it.

As much as he wanted to deny it, and even though he was already used to his mission, Getou always felt discomfort when it came the time to choose the next soul to be harvested; at first it seemed to be easier, his loneliness and hatred constantly driving his bad actions –but now everything changed, and Getou couldn't understand why.

And Gojo stood staring at Getou, forgetting that his job was to help him choose between those piles of less fortunate candidates.

However, the reality is that Gojo was never able to help Getou, and was still pondering the devil's words; Gojo found himself less and less capable of carrying out the obligation that was given by Getou from the moment he arrived in the underworld.

Gojo was, above all, an angel, and, being an angel, it was against his nature to choose the corrupt destiny of anyone, especially the various souls that roamed the ancient world –but Gojo just had to fulfill his obligation, his disguise having to remain intact for another four months.

However, at that moment, everything seemed complicated to Gojo.

Seeing Getou there, so reluctant to choose anyone, hearing him mention kindness with purity gracing his lips, everything seemed strange to Gojo. Everything seemed like a lie and he didn't seem to be able to understand what was really going on.

“How did you become the devil?”

Gojo's question had caught Getou off guard, his words forcing all his movements and attention to focus only on those simple words, his entire body shaking involuntarily when remembering a past that Getou just wanted to forget.

“Don’t call me that.”

Getou was proud to be the devil, that was true, but seeing a creature as beautiful as Gojo uttering a word denoting such hatred and corruption, made Getou feel angry without knowing why. “Devil. Lucifer. Beelzebus. What’s-the-name. None of them should be pronounced by you.”

“Why?”

Gojo wanted to stop being so confused by everything that was going on: his entire existence in the underworld was marked by traces of confusion and struggle –nothing seemed true to him. Gojo felt like he was living in a lie, that kingdom of Getou keeping secrets in all the shadows and coldest corners, no one being able to clarify a little the ideas of that angel so devoted to his work, and his wings.

“Because an angel shouldn’t be surrounded by corruption, much less verbalize it.”

Getou returned to his work as if nothing had happened, his observation catching the angel completely off guard, his lips uttering empty words without any meaning, no response being able to be constructed by Gojo.

“How do you…”

“You said it yourself the first time I saw you, remember?” Getou raised his head and faced Gojo, no smile filling his face, no sparkle beautifying his eyes. “I am the devil. As such, I know everything. More than your boss. More than you can imagine.”

Gojo took a deep breath.

How should he act? If Getou knew he was an angel, he certainly also knew what mission he was carrying out, what meant the failure of his mission, what meant another black feather in his repertoire.

“What should I call you, then?”

No. Getou couldn't know that Gojo was playing the role of his guardian angel; Getou's choice to use Gojo as his secretary was pure coincidence, the angel just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Getou didn't know about Gojo's mission.

“I was once known as Getou.”

There was a trace of longing stuck in his name, the memories of when he had an identity outside the underworld tormenting Getou from the moment he uttered that name of his that caused him so much hurt.

“What changed?”

The angel's question hung in the air for some time, Getou trying to escape that question by focusing on his work, all the letters becoming blurred when his eyes decided to shine with the longing for his past.

“None of the rumors are true…”

Getou gave a dull laugh when he remembered the barbarities he had heard about his story –that was why Getou began to hate angels. Living in a perfect world, where everything is guaranteed, none of those celestial creatures knew the cruel reality of existence, none of them knew the truth.

However, it seemed that all the angels had an opinion to give, rumors roaming the upper realm with tremendous ease, no true basis to support them, no one really wanting to know the truth.

“What rumors?”

“Didn’t you hear?” Getou sighed and let his body relax in the chair, his eyes closed in an attempt to contain all the pain he was feeling at that moment. “That I betrayed god and that's why he expelled me from your world. Or that I made so many mistakes in my missions that I fell. That I am the first fallen angel. Didn’t you hear any of that?”

Gojo had, in fact, heard all those rumors and many more, the mouths of the various angels being stained by the dark stories of this world and its sovereign.

Gojo had, in fact, heard all those rumors and believed them all, as he had always been taught that the devil was the evil figure in all existences.

Gojo had, in fact, heard all those rumors, but since his stay in the underworld he realized that maybe, but just maybe, all those rumors were false, the devil he met in that place being totally different from the devil portrayed by angels and humans.

“What did you come here for? To my kingdom?”

Waiting for a response from Gojo was proving tiring, Getou's time being precious as his work increased with each birth in the ancient world. Getou wanted to end the conversation, not quite knowing how, not being able to figure out what direction it could take, Gojo's curiosity being something different, something unexpected in an angel as beautiful as him.

“I came on a mission.”

There was no reason to lie, to hide anything.

During those two months in Getou's kingdom, Gojo learned that he couldn't stand lies and he wanted to try to be as honest as possible; that is, as honest as possible without tarnishing his precious wings.

“I came to find out what happens to the wings once they all turn black.”

A new moment of silence appeared between Gojo and Getou, this time the angel's words taking the devil by surprise.

Getou stared at the angel without any expression other than pure perplexity, his words flying so delicately to the safest corners of the office, settling in inappropriate places for words as pure as those.

Getou stood up abruptly, his eyes seeing nothing but Gojo's beautiful figure and, without realizing it, he spoke in a small, prolonged whisper, his voice, always so lofty and powerful, becoming submissive before Gojo's mission.

“Let me see your wings.”

Gojo remained static for a moment, staring at Getou and trying to understand whether his request was driven by madness, curiosity or simply his knowledge of wing anatomy.

Gojo didn't want to take any chances –after all, they didn't know each other at all and he had already heard several stories that addressed Getou's perversity and malice. But Gojo had also seen a different side of him, a side that no one talked about or was even remotely interested in, especially because Gojo was sure that no one knew that side of Getou.

And, preferring two months of coexistence with Getou to centuries of rumors heard about him, Gojo allowed his wings to tear his black clothes, their whiteness and purity able to proudly illuminate Getou's office.

The wings were large and long, Getou's eyes bet that they were extremely soft, and the gentleness with which they moved in the air as they adapted to their original shape was of an extremely delicate and beautiful nature, worthy of the most beautiful of angels.

Getou cautiously approached Gojo, totally mesmerized by the innocence of those white feathers, and, with care and delicacy, Getou allowed one of his hands to touch Gojo's feathers and smiled: they were really soft. Getou gently stroked some feathers on Gojo's right wing, his smile showing a bit of longing and some sadness was trapped in his eyes, threatening to come out at any moment.

“You have beautiful wings, Gojo.”

Getou had one rule for himself and one rule only: he never allowed himself to address any soul that inhabited his kingdom by its proper name. For centuries, he created nicknames and baptized people with new names, all because he believed that no one deserved to have their name tarnished with his words and voice full of malice.

But at that moment, nothing mattered. Nothing mattered when he had the softness of pure wings in his hands once again. Nothing mattered when their innocence managed to convey a little hope in that world, in Getou's world.

“I don’t think you have to worry about black wings.”

Gojo didn't say anything.

With a quick but calculated movement, he lifted the wing that Getou was stroking, the small black dot standing out in the midst of so much purity –and Getou watched that feather carefully, memories quickly passing through his mind with that simple scenario.

Getou sighed and slowly returned to his place, standing, facing Gojo and, without any use of words, his own wings appeared on his back, tearing his shirt, exposing himself in his grandeur.

At the beginning, there was an intense, white light, Getou's wings being short but abundant, his two wings having a simplicity and beauty that made them unique. But then, as quickly as the passing of a lifetime, Getou's wings were all stained black, the softness giving light to harshness, the weight of corruption becoming so much that some feathers began to fall out.

And at that moment, Gojo was able to see.

Although when white they covered its entire length, when black there were empty spaces, tremendous flaws in that picture that could be so beautiful when observed carefully.

Getou's wings showed the weight of deception, the weight of failure.

And at that moment, Gojo hesitated.

“It’s not as bad as it seems.”

Getou tried to smile a little, tried to laugh a little, but the pain he still felt was strong, taking over his words, his emotions.

And Getou, without meaning to, was already crying. “It’s much worse.”

This time, Getou managed to laugh, a sound that was once feared by everyone, now brought regret with it, Gojo feeling overwhelmed by the whole sight –it was all happening too fast. Gojo didn't know how to act.

“You…”

“Yes, I was an angel. Yes, I was the first fallen angel. That part, at least, is true.”

Getou was ashamed of his wings: not because they were black, for he found beauty in their darkness; not because they were short, as he found tenderness in their shape; but rather due to the fact that they were less and less when exposed and Getou knew what would happen when all his feathers fell with the weight of a betrayal unknown to everyone.

“But I didn’t make a mistake. I didn't fail. Maybe... Maybe my only mistake was too much devotion. But I didn’t deserve my fate!”

Getou wanted to continue speaking, he wanted to warn that beautiful angel who stood before him, but his suffering spoke louder, choking him with a long-awaited cry, the anger he felt for all the angels and archangels being expressed in his silent screams that trapped his heart, that prevented him from feeling anything other than hatred and sadness.

Getou was suffocating in his own feelings, in his own pain, and there was no one who cared, there was no one who wanted to know.

There was no one until Gojo decided to shelter Getou in his arms.

Not only did Gojo hug the devil tightly, protecting his body from all the hatred that could be felt in that compartment, but he also made use of his delicate nature. In a gentle and somewhat quick movement, Gojo's wings carefully wrapped Getou, offering a little tranquility to his tormented mind, sweeping away with the movements of his wings any and all hesitations that might exist in Getou's anguish.

And the angel waited.

Letting Getou let go of all the negativity at that moment, Gojo waited for him to calm down, for him to be at least comfortable to continue that conversation, not being able to understand very well what had happened.

It all happened very quickly: the exposure of Getou's wings, his words, his hurt.

Gojo had hesitated the whole time, not knowing how to respond, or if he should –after all, Getou was the devil.

But if Getou was the devil, it meant that, at a certain point, he had been an angel, and if he was chosen from among the most diverse souls to carry the weight of purity and generosity, it meant that Getou, at a certain point, had been kind. Not only that; Gojo swore that Getou still held onto his true nature with strength and pride, his small gestures of kindness bringing him peace of mind.

Because Getou, quite simply, had been an angel before being the devil.

“I didn't do anything,” Getou's voice came out hoarse, oppressed by his crying, tired from so many centuries of loneliness and sadness; but at that moment, he didn't feel alone. “I did nothing. It’s all their fault.”

“Their?”

Gojo walked away, curious about Getou's words, a little afraid of what might follow –because, deep down, Gojo already knew which way that confession would take.

“The one who kicked me out of your world.”

Getou's words were filled with hatred and bitterness, something so characteristic of the character he had adopted so long ago. His eyes burned with tears, yes, but beyond the glow of sadness, the glow of hatred reigned, his lips pronouncing with clarity and spite all the words that followed, showing Gojo that he remembered perfectly what had happened centuries ago. “Your sovereign. Your god.”

ㅤ

RUMORS HEARD BY THE GOD; ㅤ���–where god confessed their secret.

In the beginning, you weren’t called god.

Before the beginning of all things, you had a name, a single word that was spoken with satisfaction and respect by all the souls that inhabited the celestial world. To match your unique beauty, you were called YN –a name so unique and unusual, a celestial magic clinging to each different pronunciation, a ray of hope and forgiveness clinging to each syllable of that name you adopted, that name that Getou gave you.

Yes, because, in the beginning, you only had Getou.

Before the beginning of all things, you created Getou, the most beautiful soul that would ever exist.

For long eternities, Getou had been your only company, his presence making you grow, his unpredictable nature making you always curious about Getou. Because, even though Getou was your creation, you couldn't figure him out.

Getou was unique, even in a universe where only darkness, you and him existed. Getou was different, even in a universe where only shadows, kindness and curiosity existed.

And, because he stood out from all the darkness and light, you idolized Getou, the master becoming the student in the teachings of essences, an immense desire to satisfy him taking over you.

Your relationship with Getou was complex, a mutual respect and admiration was born as natural as the first star in the sky –as the first gift from you to Getou.

Getou captivated you with his words, speeches on subjects yet to be studied enticing you to want to know more about them, to want to show that he was right or to prove that he was wrong.

And, after the first star, the first planet appeared.

Small creations appeared after Getou's arrival in the universe, the need to complete Getou moving your hands, no plan passing through your mind beyond that curious look and Getou’s lips dyed by malice.

Getou was darkness before you and goodness after you. Getou was your downfall, the prevailing of darkness. And you knew it, and you feared Getou for it. For, from the moment Getou decided to name you god, his lips contained all the power to destroy the universe.

Your name never sounded so melodious when spoken by Getou, and you knew it. It was the way his lips moved perfectly, the way only he got the correct pronunciation of your name, the way a smile clung to his lips every time he said your name: YN. YN. YN.

You were afraid of Getou. You were afraid of the power you had given him by allowing him to create a new word that portrayed god. YN. That should be a forbidden word, a swear word even, all the power that that simple word contained being extremely dangerous for Getou, for you, for the universe.

But you always forgot your fear every time a new creation was requested by Getou.

After so many stars and constellations, entire galaxies were home to planets and colorful clouds, nebulae and stars decorating what was once just darkness and gloom. There was water and trees on Getou's favorite planet, flames and ice in the spheres that proved theories wrong. Getou was the cause of all creations. Getou questioned you and you responded, creating all his doubts and provocations.

Perhaps, if you hadn't let yourself be dazzled by Getou, you would have realized all the malice that was hidden beneath his angelic words.

It was only a matter of time before other beings were created, the celestial world being home to so many beautiful creatures –angels, archangels and souls too pure to be placed in the confines of the universe; several beautiful and imaginary creatures became your friends, a vast network of family members forming from the moment Getou confessed to you that just two souls couldn’t control the immensity of existence.

And that's why guardian angels were created.

Getou wanted an activity that would occupy him now that all possible creations had already seen the light of your hands. Getou wanted something that would make him as curious and happy as questioning you. Getou wanted to continue to have some power, even subjugating himself to you, to his god.

As such, and always thinking about satisfying him, you created humans.

Souls without any experience of the universe were spread across the most diverse planets, teams of angels being deployed to different parts of the universe, Getou leading all the angels –after all, and since he was your right-hand man for all eternities, it was only natural for him to be the first guardian angel and the one who commanded all the others.

Yes, it was hard work, quite complicated even, Getou's entire attention focused on angels and humans, endless piles of resumes and information flooding your favorite angel's dark and cozy office.

It was complicated, yes, but you were always by Getou's side.

You were in charge of guiding Getou, helping him understand when a human needed help and when the time was right to let angels follow those lost souls.

Entire generations were spent in each other's company, nothing changing since it was just you, Getou and darkness.

You became god of all existing creations and Getou became the guide of all souls in the universe.

And you two were happy.

Engaged in tasks and with new things emerging depending on the creatures' evolution, you and Getou were happy.

The universe was in harmony.

Guided by the wisdom of so many pure souls, there was no disorder or malice in existence. Kindness prevailed. Every time a mistake was made and admitted, you forgave and Getou guided the right path to that soul. Everything was perfect. Everything was light. Everything was good.

But nothing lasts.

Gojo Satoru was a human like any other, with the only difference being that Gojo carried on his shoulders the overwhelming weight of a life guided by tired angels. Several guardian angels had been put in charge of Gojo, all of them giving up when they saw his simplicity, when they realized that, in reality, Gojo didn't need them, all of the angels believing that the young human was fine on his own.

And so many angels neglected Gojo that even the human began to neglect himself.

For where the light of the angels does not shine, darkness prevails.

Getou heard about this story.

Getou learned of Gojo's situation, and Getou studied Gojo's situation, and Getou became interested in Gojo's story.

Getou wanted to help him. It was obvious that he wanted to help him, after all, he was an angel –a guardian angel. As such, Getou spent endless times in the comfort of his office, papers and plans rushing through Getou's hands and mind at such a speed that it resembled the speed at which rumors flew in the celestial world.

Rumors that were heard by you.

Since Getou never directly took care of any soul, since he didn't have time to do so, whispers and sighs were created so quickly, telling the news of his new project to whoever heard them, culminating in your docile ears.

Getou hadn't told you anything: why bother you, the supreme sovereign, with a mere human? And perhaps that was Getou's mistake –because, in the existence of goodness, there will always be malice.

Angels were the most gossipy beings in the celestial world. Spending eternities getting to know each other and uncovering their own secrets, it was always fun to embrace their curiosity for worlds beyond the upper one –and, in that decade, Getou was the chosen one. And you listened.

Stories of how Getou allowed himself to be bewitched by a human crossed the most beautiful lips of the angels, phrases filled with perversity and malice roaming the corridors of the celestial world, theories and conspiracies about how Gojo was as beautiful as you being the foundation of the belief that Getou was, in fact, in love with the human.

And you listened. And you didn't forget. And you didn't forgive.

So, on that fateful day, when Getou finally managed to guide Gojo on the path of kindness, you called Getou, promises of gifts and happiness to entice the angel, to make him believe in his god, in your always so altruistic and kind nature.

And it was with the belief in this temporary goodness that Getou was corrupt.

You were jealous of Gojo. You wanted Getou all to yourself. There was no one more beautiful than you –you were god itself, your soul and figure were simply sublime. So why had Getou chosen a human? Why didn't he see you the way you saw him? Why didn't Getou want you like you wanted him? Had you neglected Getou's soul? Had you taken Getou's existence for granted and simply let the laziness of taking care of him get the best of you?

Had you, the god, failed?

No.

Impossible.

God never fails, god is always right, you were always right. It had been Getou. Getou is the one who allowed a soul as dirty as Gojo's to corrupt Getou's heart with the beauty of his figure. Getou is the one who allowed the malice of humans to entice him to give his heart to a soul other than yours.

Yes, you were certain that Getou had caused all the destruction.

And therefore you were consumed with anger. And as if devouring everything in front of you, you stained Getou's wings with the black ink you used to create missions, with the ink that Getou had offered you at the beginning of all things.

And when you saw Getou disappearing into the blackness of his wings, you swore never to forgive again. When you saw Getou screaming for justifications and explanations, you swore never to love anyone again. Seeing the black paint clinging to Getou's wings and clothes, you swore never to use the name he had given you again. Seeing Getou begging for forgiveness and falling through worlds and universes to the underworld, you swore never to remember him again.

As such, you now looked at Getou in complete shock, his black clothes and wings forcing your mind to remember all of your history, all of your destruction.

Getou had changed.

Getou was no longer an angel.

His eyes stopped adopting that shine that mesmerized you so much, only to be dyed by the burning of infinite tears that flowed every time he remembered you. Getou's delicate, ever-present smile was now non-existent, no curve on his lips showing the kindness he once possessed. And his wings... the wings that you loved making most, the wings that gave you the most pleasure creating, were now practically non-existent: all the feathers were black, some torn, others struggling to stay strong, and others letting go of Getou tiredly. Black dust beautified your carpet every time one of Getou's feathers came loose and clashed heavily with the purity of the celestial world.

Getou was different.

Getou had changed, but his stance was still immense, filling an entire room with his energy. However, what was once light and kindness were now shadows of a past shrouded in betrayal and destruction.

“I was forced to come.”

Getou crossed his arms as a small teasing smile was drawn across his handsome lips, his dirty finger pointing at Gojo.

And you faced the angel.

Yes, you swore never to remember Getou again, but the feeling of his loss corrupted your heart, a nostalgia for paradisiacal eternities forcing you to do something you had never done before, something you yourself never thought of doing: moved by guilt, guided by anguish, you stopped giving Gojo's soul a body, taking him to the heavenly world and making him the angel he was now – maybe, with Gojo's presence by your side, you could alleviate the sin that no one knew you had committed.

“We want the truth.”

Gojo had also changed.

In just two months, Gojo has changed.

His soul was still beautiful, but the white glow that the angel once emanated had now been dyed by black rays from his stay in the underworld, characteristics that were forbidden to angels.

“The truth?”

You laughed and leaned your body on the desk, arms crossed, sparkling eyes showing that you feared nothing. After all, no one knew your little secret and Getou couldn't prove the authenticity of his words.

“The truth is that the devil betrayed me.”

Getou clenched his fists to contain his anger.

What right did you have to baptize him with such an unfortunate name again? What right did you have to tarnished an entire past of hope and light only to corrupt it with a single name. A single word. Devil. It should be a forbidden word, a swear word even –but you made that word so banal, so common, so feared.

“True. I once ate an apple without telling him.”

Getou's sigh was caught by the raise of your eyebrow. Had that been sarcasm? Had Getou acquired a new trait? You didn't remember him like that. You didn't remember at all. At least, that's what you would always say.

“You know perfectly well what you did. Don’t make me look bad and don’t deceive my subordinate.”

This time it was you who sighed and looked reproachfully at your best angel. “You should know that the devil’s words are tinged with wickedness.”

“Funny,” a hollow smile gently carved itself onto Getou's lips as he approached the office's bookshelf. “You used to like my words, YN.”

“YN?” Gojo looked at you with some confusion, the look you wore being worthy of the devil himself, intense anger burning in the pearls of your eyes, your lips pursed showing that words were being kept in your throat. “Is that your name?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Getou replied at the same time as you, his voice sounding louder than yours, the delicacy and false naivety of his response encouraging Gojo to look at him. “I was the one who gave them that name. Pretty cute, isn’t it?”

Getou's laugh installed silence in that office.

Getou sounded like you remembered, he sounded like you wanted to forget.

A single laugh.

Of everything Getou could do, he had to laugh, to make that sound you loved so much, to unlock memories you swore to forget. With what audacity? With what power had Getou laughed? With what tenderness?

“What do you really want, Getou?”

“Oh?”

Getou turned his heel to face you, eternities in the underworld making itself feel it in his words, in the provocation of his smile.

“I haven’t heard that name in ages! I see that the matter is serious.”

“I don’t have all eternity.”

“Very well,” Getou walked back to you, his arm gently resting on Gojo’s shoulder as he looked into your eyes. Your eyes met for eternal moments, an infinite amount of anguish and anger running through the eyes of both of you. “I want you to tell me word for word what I did to you to get me kicked out of here.”

Getou's lips were tinged with evil, a smile and words so perverse that you, for a moment, weakened. Getou wasn't the devil for nothing. But you took your position as god and moved away from the desk, eyes always fixed on Getou's, a figure always straight and tall. And, without any thought or regret, you made your voice loud and powerful, the entire room being filled with the belief of a betrayal, with a secret about to be revealed.

“You betrayed my trust by taking an interest in him.”

A simple gesture of the head was enough for Gojo to realize that he was the one you were referring to.

Getou had told Gojo about his last mission, how he knew Gojo was an angel when his disguise was spotless. Getou told how he had been the one to guide Gojo along the paths of kindness in his first life and how he had given decades of his existence to the study of ancient humans.

So it wasn't a complete surprise that Gojo heard the mention of his soul in the conversation –what really caught him off guard was how you had used his soul in the conversation. Gojo didn't remember any betrayal in Getou's story.

“So you're telling me that I, a former angel, the angel of all angels, shouldn't have helped a lost soul? I thought that was why you called us guardian angels.”

“You let him corrupt you.”

And that's when confusion set in Getou.

All his confidence, all his provocation dissipated when you pronounced those words so boringly, as if that story had already been told for an entire lifetime.

Another sigh was lost in the office when you reflected on Getou's face, in his confusion, and pain moved your remaining words: “You let his physical beauty entice you. You let his charms move you. You fell in love with Gojo.”

“No…”

“Yes.”

“No!”

Gojo trembled at Getou's roar, darkness coming out of his wings and flooding the entire office, staining all the purity there.

Gojo moved away from Getou.

Small drops of the devil's anger painted irregular patterns on his wings –and you remained quiet, showing your position with a firm and strong gaze.

“Where did that come from? How did you think I would be interested in a mere human? I was an angel!”

“A corrupt angel.”

“Do not forget that I am your fruit. If I am corrupt, so are you.”

Silence.

Darkness.

Anguish.

“How did you fall for his charms?”

You insisted on an unfounded truth, a simple rumor that wandered further than it should have. And Getou couldn't bear to hear his existence being defamed by the very soul that created him, anger giving way to disgust, anguish turning into suffering.

“I didn't fall for anyone! Gojo was just a human who needed help. You know that. Stop being blinded by rumors without any truth! Gojo needed clarity and comfort and I provided that. I was an angel. My job was to help.”

You didn't respond.

Gojo flapped his wings frantically in an attempt to loosen the darkness from his wings, all the angel's attention focused on his own vanity, forgetting what brought him to the celestial world prematurely.

But darkness prevailed in Gojo's soft, beautiful feathers –black and sticky, Getou's centuries of suffering and discrimination were spread across the office with the aggressive flapping of Gojo's wings, latching onto every purity and naivety and corrupting them until ashes.

“We spent eternities together. You were the one who created me. Do you really think I would be corrupted?”

“And you weren’t?”

You didn't know how to shut up. Since you are god, it was easy to lose the sense of humility in a conversation.

But you forgot that you were talking to the devil and, above all, you forgot that you were talking to Getou. In a new wave of anger and despair, anguish escaped Getou, crawling through the office door, staining with perversity all the goodness beyond the comfort of those four walls.

“Because of you! Because you sent me down there!”

Getou had spat out his words with hatred and disgust, piercing screams shaking an entire kingdom, Getou's pain being known to everyone. “You created me and I was loyal to you! I was always with you. I helped you create your empire. I loved you, YN!”

Getou's confession hit you with the last gust of wind provided by Gojo.

Dyeing you with the power of destruction created by Getou for centuries in the shadows of the universe, Gojo stopped fighting, allowing the softness of his wings to gain a new shine, a new essence, a new courage as they began to descend Gojo down the universe, sending him without any warning to the underworld.

Screams of anguish and terror flooded the corridors as all your betrayal consumed the various creatures, the unveiling of god's greatest secret bringing with it all the destruction you feared, all the destruction you knew Getou would bring to the entire universe.

And, with the suddenness of a confession, the entire celestial world ceased to exist.

With eyes fixed on your figure, Getou allowed his loneliness to take over the entire upper world.

Darkness and gloom haunted every corner of what was once pure light and goodness, no creature standing still to fight Getou, no soul remaining pure to stop him from consuming and corrupting everything his anguish touched.

And you remained silent, staring at Getou as you watched him conquer your entire kingdom, his confession still resonating loudly and vividly in your mind, everything around you becoming darkness and pain, just a mere reflection of the former sovereign's heart.

For, driven by betrayal, blinded by pain, enticed by revenge, Getou conquered all worlds and kingdoms, uniting all worlds and existences in his anguish and malice without any permission or request.

As you watched him burn with black flames all your creations, all the creations of the two of you, you slowly approached Getou, the use of that strong word still ringing so loudly within you.

Getou loved you.

You had been loved.

You had been loved by Getou.

But, even before you reached Getou, even before your hand managed to touch Getou's face one last time, like in the past, Getou denied your love.

With red eyes emanating revolt, with black wings falling off and leaving him as bare as his soul, Getou simply sent you to the former underworld, now an eternal prison for those who betrayed Getou.

For in that instant, in that moment after Getou unravel the truth, he emerged every world in his eternal suffering, no forgiveness on Getou's lips to be noted as he uttered his new name like a roaring storm. In that new world of Getou, in that new universe of his, Getou would show everyone why he was called the Devil.

foranpo © 2023, all rights reserved. please do not repost or steal my work. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤfeedback is appreciated ♡

[swaps55]

this might be random, but i NEED to know, what's the risotto recipe you have in mind? I love cooking and, not to be cringe, but I have made a few of the dishes you've mentioned in Opus if they catch my eye or I have enjoyed making them before and fancy giving them a whirl again. But I don't remember you ever quite specifying the risotto and I was wondering if, well, there was a specific recipe or if it was just risotto. I was planning to just wing it but, well, food is a very conscientious theme throughout Opus and I knew there was a chance you might have an actual recipe in mind!

First, that is not cringe, that is amazing, and I am now dying to know what you have made.

Second, FUNNY STORY.

I do a lot of due diligence when I write. Food is a theme that runs throughout this series, and honest to god I look things up before I slap them on the page. Kaidan has a much more multicultural background than I do, and I didn't want to be That Asshole who assumes my narrow culinary experiences are universal. So when I mention a dish, it's safe to say I put some thought into it. I even have the actual drink recipes for the 'Yang Gang's favorite cocktails, thanks to @pip-n-flinx.

There is one notable exception to this.

It's the risotto.

I'm gonna be honest. When I made risotto the coveted Alenko dish, it went something like this:

Me: Ok, I need a funny reason for Shepard to be willing to go pose as Kaidan's partner with his parents. Also Me: How about a legendary home cooked meal. Me: Perfect. What's the Legendary Home Cooked Meal at Casa Alenko? First thing that comes to mind. Also Me: Risotto. Me: Great. Wait, what is risotto? Also Me: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Me: Doesn't matter, we're rolling with it.

I'm not even kidding. When I made Lora Alenko's Risotto the most mouth watering meal in the galaxy I didn't actually know what risotto was. I thought it was some kind of pasta. See why I research?

You have to understand, this all started with Sonata, and Sonata was supposed to be an AU one shot that was maybe 7k words TOPS. It wasn't supposed to be part of Opus. It wasn't supposed to dictate the tone and establish everything about how Opus ultimately unfolds. And because I wasn't writing it with that in mind - it was just this silly, supremely self-indulgent diversion to distract me from the stupid thing I was stuck on in Cantata - I, uh. I just winged it.

(I have since looked it up, since had it, and DO actually know what it is, please stop laughing.)

So I have no idea what the recipe is. I feel like it's one of those things that can't have a recipe, because the reality will never be as good as Kaidan's boasting.

But also consider this alternative: Sam has the worst tastebuds in the galaxy. What If Lora Alenko's "risotto" was just some elaborate home made cheesy rice that was kid!Kaidan's favorite meal, so he has some big time nostalgia glasses on about it, Sam is insane over it because he's a basic bitch, and there has not been a marine on the 'Yang who doesn't love it because marines' idea of a good snack is a box of crayons.

Just saying. XD

(That said, if you wind up with a heavenly risotto recipe you recommend, I'm uh, open to suggestions....;)

[santoschristos]

The Rose in Alchemy

The cross stands wound densely round with roses.

Who has put roses on the cross?…

And from the middle springs a holy life

Of threefold rays from a single point.

--Goethe, Die Geheimnisse (1784-1786)

In alchemy, the white and the red rose are well-known symbols for the lunar and the solar tincture, from which the “precious rose-coloured blood” of Christ-Lapis flows. And the Shehina, the brilliance of celestial wisdom on earth, is understood in the image of the rose, and “the collection of honey” stands for the common inheritance of theosophical knowledge. “Thus the whole parable of the Song of Solomon finally refers to the object of our rose-cross: ‘I am the rose of Sharon and the lily of the field'”. As regards “the correct procedure for attaining the rose-red blood of the cross that is poured (as quintessence) in the centre of the cross”, Fludd used the image of wisdom: the work of the architect as a labourer of God on the building of the temple. --R. Fludd, Summum Bonum, Frankfurt, 1629

Symbolism of the Rose

A highly complex symbol; it is ambivalent as both heavenly perfection and earthly passion; the flower is both Time and Eternity, life and death, fertility and virginity. In the Occident, the rose and lily occupy the position of the lotus in the Orient. In the symbolism of the heart, the rose occupies the central point of the cross, the point of unity. The red and white rose together represent the union of fire and water, the union of opposite. In Alchemy, the rose is wisdom and the rosarium the Work; it is also the rebirth of the spiritual after the death of the temporal. In Hebrew Qabalism, the center of the rose is the sun and the petals the infinite, but harmonious, diversities of Nature. The rose emanates from the Tree of Life. In Hinduism, the lotus parallels the symbolism of the Mystic Rose as a spiritual center, especially in the chakras. For Rosicrucians, the Rose-cross is the Mystic Rose as wheel and cross; the rose is the divine light of the universe and the cross the temporal world of pain and sacrifice. The rose grows on the Tree of Life which implies regeneration and resurrection. The rose in the center of the cross is the quaternary of the elements and the point of unity.

In the Grail legend, the invocations addressed to the divine heart of Jesus contain the feminine element. It is extolled as “the temple in which dwells the life of the world,” as a rose, a cup, a treasure, a spring, as the furnace of divine love “ever glowing in the fire of the Holy Ghost”, as a censer and as a bridal chamber. Jesus receives the souls of the dying into his heart which “burns glowingly”, “as red gold burns and melts in the fire”, and the soul dissolves therein, “as water mixes with wine”. All of these symbols are feminine and are therefore very closely connected with the motifs of the Grail legend and of alchemical symbolism. --Emma Jung & Marie-Louise von Franz, The Grail Legend (1986), p. 100