#frost bank center

[doublescribble]

Victor Wembanyama and Jalen Brunson

[dailydemonspotlight]

Day 11 - Pyro Jack / Jack-o'-lantern

Race: Fairy

Alignment: Neutral

April 3rd, 2024

On the streets at night in the cold, deep darkness, a candle flickers. You know this means only one thing. Hallow's eve is right around the corner. Introducing the second of the Jack Bros, Pyro Jack!

In Ireland since the 1700's, it's been a tradition to put up Jack-o'-lanterns as the month errs towards Halloween, inspired by the legend of a man known as 'Stingy Jack.' According to the story, there was a tricky drunk in an Irish town with the name Jack, a man who would sell a soul for six silver coins or break into a bank in order to fuel his ever-growing reliance on booze. He was hated, by even the heavens itself, yet soon he found himself at death's door. That is when the Devil came to him, to see if he was truly as terrible as the stories painted him out to be.

One night, Jack wandered the cobblestone roads before coming to a dreadful sight- a body, laying smack-dab in the center of the road. However, it had a face not of death, but rather, devilish envy, as the Devil himself made his presence known. Jack had one last request, one typical of a drunkard- to get one last drink in before the end. The Devil obliged, likely finding it foolish, and took him to a pub, where they both drank the night away. Jack, then, asked the Devil to cover his tab. His idea? To turn the beast into a silver coin. Impressed by his trickiness, the Devil did as asked... only to be slipped into a pocket with a crucifix, held captive by slippery Jack, who had now fucked with the devil himself. Baffled and trapped, the two made a deal- Jack would be given 10 more years on the earth.

Unsurprisingly, when the time came, Jack yet again tricked the Devil, and was granted eternal recompense, as the Devil was forced to make him never go to hell. Ever. When Jack's time came, however, his life of deceit and fraud only gave him a ticket out of Heaven's pearly gates, and the Devil wasn't one to give up on a deal either, so he was eventually forced back to earth, forever to roam as a lost spirit held alive by the flickering light of a lantern within a turnip. Ever since, Jack-o'-lanterns have been a popular tradition of Halloween, originally starting as incredibly freaky looking rutabagas before eventually changing to the far more iconic autumn fruit of a pumpkin.

The idea behind the lighting of the Jack-o'-lanterns is scarcely known, but it's mostly thought to be a tradition to help guide Stringy Jack along the roads and to help his soul find peace in his eternal roaming of the plains of earth.

Pyro Jack, unsurprisingly, is based on Jack-o'-lanterns, though mostly in his pumpkin head. The lantern he carries is likely an allusion to Stringy Jack, lighting the way for his soul to wander aimlessly in the megaten world. Being the second Jack Brother, Pyro Jack is also his counterpart, representing the flame to Jack Frost's ice. Pyro Jack is also based on the phenomenon of Will-o'-wisps, flickering lights that appear in the dead of night with no real explanation, typically around swampland and forests.

He typically appears in every SMT game, mostly as an early game demon, as well as a component to his big brother, Black Frost. Overall, Pyro Jack has a fun and festive Halloween design, some really fun folklore, and, while simple, works as a perfectly effective little spooky spirit in the smt series.

[the-scribe-and-her-scribbles]

iwcb | chapter 14. how to keep wanting without ever getting

It Will Come Back | Chapter 14. how to keep wanting without ever getting | Fae!Prussia x reader

masterlist

chapter summary: Gilbert is left alone in the wake of past and present disasters. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS

word count: 2.9k

chapter warnings: intense violence, blood and gore!, dark! gilbert, character death, fae deceit

tagging list: @jtownraindancer @xxruinaxx @redrosesociety1

(Gilbert didn’t know how long he’d been in his prison. There was nothing that could tell him how much time had passed. 

He’s spent most of it phasing in and out of madness. With the decades of isolation eating away at his mind, he became something unrecognizable, roiling with anger and hate. Every moment of clarity, however small, he used to collect whatever magic he had left in him. Little bits at a time, he collected the sparks of his magic into his center like the hot embers of a smothered fire, until after ages he could form just enough energy to cast Find Soulmate. It’s his last hope, his last shred of self that he sends out, and if it doesn’t work he’ll have nothing left. 

But it does work. 

After what felt like an eternity alone, he finally feels you. You are human, Gilbert realizes. A strange and shocking revelation to him, one that raises problems. You are something Gilbert has never heard of before, a human's short lifespan and lack of magical ability should make them incompatible with the Fae as soulmates. The two of you shouldn’t have been able to tether, but right now, Gilbert couldn’t give a fuck. 

You’re there, your soul is bright and sharp, and just a little skittish, but it's warm. You’re so warm that Gilbert could sob because he’s been so cold for such a long time. 

Don’t step closer, he thinks to himself. I can’t be held accountable for my actions.)

Gilbert can still hear him.  

“I mean really, Gilbert! You should be thanking me. Isn’t this what you wanted? Now your soulmate has no choice but to stay with you! Well, as long she doesn’t drown herself first!” 

Gilbert kneels on the edge of the cliff you just plunged from. His chest is tight and his eyes are wretched wide open in horror and he looks down into the icy river. He waits to see your head emerge through the icy white water, to watch you pull yourself up onto the bank down below.

He doesn’t see you. 

The water continues to rush, the cold bites at his skin, and his breath heaves out of his lungs with a great heaving burn. In his panic, with the tightness in his chest and the pain in his soul, he can’t feel you. The ache drowns you out, and his soul cannot find yours. His stomach drops. No, It can’t be, You can’t be. Vladimir stiffens when their eyes lock. Gilbert pushes to his feet and his fist closes around the hilt of the knife. He doesn’t fully know what he’s done until after. 

His breath puffs into the cold air like smoke coming from his lungs, and his hands tremble with rage. His eyes burn and his vision is red. There’s red everywhere. Splatters of red on the frosted ground, on the leather of his boots, and when he wipes his face, red smears into his white hair. 

Vladimir lies twitching on the frosted ground, he’s choking on his own blood, fresh fear in his eyes and it makes Gilbert purr. “Ple- Pleas- Gilb- Don’t- ah- I won’t-“ He begs in between wet gasps. Gilbert watches him try and crawl away on his belly (It’s hard now that his right arm is torn off). There’s no use in begging, Gilbert wants to say, but he’s too lost in rage to find words. Gilbert is a fae. A cruel, wild creature, a monster that he keeps hidden away inside his preferred form. He’s kept himself locked away for you. For your safety, so you don’t fear him like you did when you first met. 

Vladimir ruined that. You aren’t here now, so there’s no one to temper the monster he is. Ausdaurnd is dropped to the side, close to where you dropped the dagger he gave you before you fell. He won’t need a blade for this. He’ll use his claws, he decides. 

Then Gilbert descends on his old enemy and rips into him. 

Soon again, his senses return. The sound of rushing water just a ways away makes him take a deep breath. A ruined corpse is motionless in front of him, and Gilbert’s whole frame shakes. Warmth tracks down his face, too thin to be blood, and Gilbert lets out a breath that is closer to a growl or a sob. 

He gets up to look for the river. His feet carry him down the mountainside. He looks to where you fell into the water, eyes following down the bank of the ruching river, half expecting to find your body limp in the shallows or your thick cloak snagged on a branch or log, but there’s no sign of you. 

He focuses one more time. Gilbert focuses inward, tries to steady his frantic heart and reaches out once more. 

Please be there, please be there, please be there.

It’s faint and far away, but Gilbert finds you. 

The relief that Gilbert lets out is audible. You’re ok, for now at least, he thinks before it all sinks in. But you’re not here! He takes another breath, but can’t quite catch it. Everything aches. Ancients, what have I done? 

There on the side of a mountain, crumpled in on himself and alone, Gilbert’s heaving turns to sobs, which soon turn to a roar for no one but the wind and trees to hear. 

My love has concrete feet My love has iron bars,  Wrapped around your ankle  Over the waterfall

Gilbert knew that he would need to find his soulmate in order to get out. He didn’t think anything of it. He was Gilbert Beilschmidt, from the house of Beilschmidt. He wasn’t some doe-eyed romantic. No pathetic human would change that. Perhaps it’s for the better. 

Humans live short lives, a near spark in the long lifespan of a faerie. And the fact that your mortal might also mean that you may never feel the soul bond as Gilbert does, certainly not with such overwhelming intensity. 

He doesn’t know how he feels about it. How dare a meek little human yank his soul with theirs and not have to suffer the same torture of longing. 

Gilbert tries to convince himself that this is for the better. If you don’t feel the bond, then he doesn’t have to say anything. He can pretend that it isn’t there. He could grab you from your world, trick you into freeing him, and then send you on your way without any delay. 

(As much as he denied it, some part of Gilbert knew that he was lying to himself. So he could pretend that he never planned to do this to you. So he could have some plausible deniability when you found out. In reality, Gilbert knew he was damned the moment he saw you.)

When the two of pulled yourselves onto the shores of the lake, Gilbert’s first lung-fulls of air were sweeter than anything. He heard you puffing beside him, wet clothes clinging to your skin, and he felt the pull in his chest immediately. It was gentle but clear and obvious. 

Gilbert watched as you stood at the edge of the lake. Your hair was dripping wet, your breath coming in soft, white puffs. You stared off to the other side of the lake, where the Great Veil’s mist had hung like a curtain. That was your way back, and Gilbert found himself holding his breath. 

He shouldn’t have been. Gilbert should’ve been able to speak. You had freed him from the Library. He really doesn’t need you anymore. He could’ve pointed in the direction of the Great Veil, watched you walk through the mist and he’d never see you again. He doesn’t, however. The words aren’t even half-formed in his tongue. 

You were clever and extremely smart. Gilbert wondered if you would figure out that that was where you needed to go to get back, that it was that easy. A ball of dread formed in his stomach. Please, don’t ask me what that is, a tiny voice inside him prayed. I don’t want to lose you yet. Gilbert pretends not to hear it. 

When you looked back at him, none the wiser to the truth of the misty forest, that little voice laughed in relief. You didn’t ask about the mist that swirls on the other side of the lake, and you followed Gilbert up to his old castle. 

A better man would let you go, (I’m just the monster dragging you home)

Gilbert thinks of his first night back in the Wandering Woods. Seeing the ruins of the castle had frayed Gilbert’s nerves. 

Anything from his old life was decayed and derelict and he still couldn’t quite comprehend how long he was trapped away in his prison. He was antsy and half expecting to wake up from this dream to find himself back in that cold dark place, with you having never been with him. 

So instead of wandering around his castle alone, he stays with you. His skin tingles as phantom strings pull him towards you. His chest was tight when he looked at you, standing in front of the fireplace to warm yourself with the burning remains of his home. You’re voice reached his ears and made his head buzz. 

Of course, you asked him if he could send you back, and Gilbert is immediately faced with a problem. In fact, it's his one major problem. Gilbert doesn’t want to send you back. 

He twisted the truth, said he couldn’t send you back, and it’s not technically wrong. He doesn’t think his soul could handle the trauma of ripping you away from it. His half-truth shattered you, and from then on, you were painfully skittish around him. Gilbert knew you didn’t trust him. He tried to comfort you, said he would protect you, but it’s not enough. 

You want to go home. You’re human, being in his realm is unsettling and it seems that the soulbond is only working on his side, a fact that is annoying him more now that he’s the only one feeling its intense effects.

When the two of you encounter Arthur’s thugs in the nearby village, the intensity of the soul bond becomes a problem. 

Since the moment Gilbert found you, you’ve been by his side. You were hiding with him from your attackers, until you weren’t. 

The shriek you’d let out when one of them grabbed you sent ice through him. One of their grubby hands bruised your face trying to force spirit berries down your throat. They made you cry and they paid for it in blood. Everything narrowed down to a pinpoint and he couldn’t stop it. One minute, Arthur’s men were screaming, and the next, they were dead at his feet. His hands were stained black, he tasted the blood in his mouth. 

He decides then that he can’t let you go. He needs to keep you safe, even if right then you trembled when you looked at him. In his worst moment, Gilbert thinks about the spirit berries as a solution. A selfish awful thing he could do to ensure he could have you. It filled him with shame, but that dark voice was still there. You could never leave him, you’d stay forever safely with him, and he could spend eternity earning you’re forgiveness

You and I nursing on a poison that never stung Our teeth and tongues are lined with  the scum of it.

From across the crude dinner table of Ludwig's cabin, Gilbert can feel his younger brother's intense gaze. In that way, he was like their grandfather. 

“Does she know?” He asks, his voice isn’t as angry as Gil expected. It’s only simmering under the surface.

“About what?” Gilbert tries to act clueless

“What?” Ludwig fights to keep his volume down. “You know what I’m talking about! Did you tell her that she’s your mate?” 

“No.” 

“Then what did you tell her,” His tone is low and angry. “Because she seems to think that she’s stuck here.” 

Gilbert cringes and Ludwig’s simmering rage boils over.

“I cannot believe you.” He grinds out.

“Keep your voice down!” You’re still asleep. Gilbert can feel you in his subconscious. His connection to you tells him of your fitful state. He wants to storm up there and hold you against him. He could comfort you. He’d chase away the nightmares, even if they were probably about him. 

“She’s your true mate, your chosen one, and you’re lying to her,” Ludwig whispers.

“I’m not lying. I’m omitting details.” 

“You’re putting her in danger. She’s a human, she doesn’t belong here.” 

“I know that she’s human! I can keep her safe!”

“If you want to keep her safe, send her back.” Ludwig glares. Gilbert finds himself snarling. He crosses the room to where his brother is in a flash. Ludwig steps forward to meet him with a steely face. 

Gilberts growls out, “No! I’m not-” before he catches himself. He looks away from his brother, his rage cooling to distress. 

Ludwig sighs. “Gilbert, she doesn’t deserve this. You need to tell her the truth.”

“If I do that, she’ll leave.”

“She might.”

“She’s my soulmate. I can’t let her go yet.” Gilbert hates how pathetic he sounds. His grandfather would call him selfish. A child. “I just found her.”

“If she finds out what you’re doing, you’ll surely lose her.”

“Then she’ll never find out.” He says those words and feels Fate laugh at him. “It won’t matter,” it whispers like a curse. “You know what’s coming.”

Don’t you give me up, Please don’t give up, Honey, I belong  With you, only you

Consuming spirit berries is nasty business. The juice of one causes the soul of its victim to bind to the Fae realm. It's excruciating to feel your essence bent to the will of the Unseen Realm. Gilbert can feel your soul twist and twitch. The strings of Fate and Fae Deals that connect the two of you tug and pulse with your distress.

A sick thing claws inside his chest. The ache is hollow and consuming. His skin feels too tight, the magic that he normally tries to hide under it to avoid scaring you fights to the surface. His eyes burn. A quick look at his reflection in a frozen puddle shows his sclera are still pitch black, his iris’ still glow like molten iron. It won’t go away now, no matter how hard he tries to make it. 

So Gilbert moves through the forest. Walks until he reaches the border of his woods. He feels it shifting, its trees and their branches creek and scratch as his woods whisper to him in a language long forgotten. He follows the river. His boots fall heavy into the ground and he feels more beast than Fae. Maybe those things are the same. He follows the pull in his chest, as slight as it is. Like a dog, he follows you. 

Just because these woods are Gilbert’s doesn’t mean they are kind to him. To his right, he hears you laugh and whips his head in that direction. He stumbles and nothing is there. In another direction, he hears you whisper. He can’t make it out. From the corner of his eye, he thinks he sees you lean out from behind a tree. When he reaches it, you’re not there but the whispers are louder and living guilt in his chest posits what this vision of you is whispering to him. 

This is his fault. 

He wasn’t fast enough to stop you. He wasn’t strong enough to free himself without you. He wasn’t brave enough to tell you the truth in the first place. 

And now he is left in the wreckage of his choices. His soulmate is off alone in the Unseen World, running from him into more danger than you know. An ancient poison is ripping through you, with no guarantee that a cure would be possible. 

The best healer he knows is on the other side of the woods, and Lukas and Arthur are no doubt getting ready to start their plan, despite missing the third in their trio. No, no, no, he thinks. Gilbert has no time he thinks. Thoughts racing, dark magic and smoke swirling just under his skin as he looks in the reflection of the water. 

He reaches down, and cups his hands into the icy river, bringing it to his face to rinse himself off. When he reopens his eyes, they are back to their normal state, still red like berries but not glowing menacingly. 

Gilbert doesn’t have time. He needs to find you, he’ll worry about a cure when he brings you back with him. 

Freshly disowned in some frozen devotion, No more alone or myself I could be.

Author’s Note

I am so sorry for the wait! It's been a year, OMG! I’ve had a wild time this year, jeez. I was swamped with work, graduated, had a little mental breakdown, started a really intense summer job, then started an even more intense program this fall. So long story short, I’ve had no time to write but I'm so glad I’m back cause I was really looking forward to this chapter. 

quotes (in order)

1. Heavy in Your Arms by Florence + The Machines

2. I stole it from the title of a REALLY fucked up Resident Evil Fanfic on Ao3. Like really, it was fucked up.

3. Sedated by Hozier

4. Dark Red by Steve Lacy

5. Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene by Hozier 

[lyrithim]

[ColinDeli] For Old Times' Sake

Summary: After the end of the Ravening War, Colin and Deli journey briefly together to the Meatlands and do not sleep together. Pairing: Deli/Colin Word Count: 1,304 Rating: M AO3 Link

Dawn was beautiful rising from these frozen shores. Colin had forgotten. Or maybe he never looked closely enough when he had the chance. For a second, watching the folds of frail golden light sweep over the tundra, Colin could almost forgive Deli for everything he had done—could almost forgive himself.

“Up ahead,” Deli said beside him. Past the fork in the road, almost obscured by mist, there was a small thatched hut in the crevice between two great mountains.

Colin was a little surprised. There? That was Deli’s safehouse?

“Yes,�� Deli replied. Then, correcting himself, he said, “Here was where I spent my boyhood.”

They were a full day’s ride away from the closest village. Years ago, the Chieftess had told Colin how she had raised Deli outside of her clan, forsaken by her kinsmen because of a fatherless pregnancy. Here the Chieftess had nursed Deli. Then, when Deli could walk, she returned to her clan and sought revenge on the men who had usurped her and her son’s birthright.

It had only been a week since the last treaty was signed and the war had ended—the war that they were now calling the Ravening War. To the victors fell the spoils; among the victors were the spoils divided. Men who had never before dreamt of riches were transformed by the sudden flood of titles and lands from Ceresian tributes. These men eyed those in the rungs above, where among others Deli stood.

Deli’s absence in the final battle of the war was noted. His mixed parentage was reexamined among the Meatland troops. Basha was loathed to let go his best advisor, his kingmaker. But Basha’s reign had been brief, despite his military victories, and therefore fragile. Deli told Colin that he did not want to force Basha’s hand, but Colin knew that Deli was tired of fighting.

Colin was not. He could no more forget Raphaniel’s last screams and those teeth, those damn teeth of the Fellowship’s god, than he could sheath his sword. Since leaving Saprophus, Colin had been seized with a restlessness he had never before experienced. At the center of the restlessness was a terrible and intoxicating thing: a direction. All his life he had run away from this or that, drifted away, refused to engage, acted in the negative. For revenge, he now became clear-eyed. His life’s mission would be to hunt down the last of the Fellowship until the end of this land. He held this belief without embarrassment.

A hand on his shoulder. Deli’s. “Can we rest for a bit?”

Of course, Colin told him.

They set up camp by a river that was frozen over violently: the surface roiled with stilled currents, and huge solid white waves soared against the river banks. But the river itself was suffocated into silence.

Colin went through familiar motions: arranging twigs around dry land, gathering frost for water, raising the soup pot, waiting as Deli dashed together two pop rocks against the tinder. They stoked the fire. It grew warm and comfortable. Colin took off his outer coat, and Deli took off the fur draped over his bare shoulders.

They ate. This would be the last meal they would have together for some time. Colin understood this. He was serene in this fact—that was, until Deli spoke.

“We were here once,” Deli said.

Did they? Colin did not recognize the place.

“The river looks different now,” Deli said, gesturing in front of them. “It had been flowing. It was summer. And we weren’t here, exactly. We were somewhere more upstream or downstream. But we had pitched a tent around by a grand white fish-bone fir. It was steady. It saved us from the storm.”

Colin remembered now. Not the river or the fir tree, but the memory that Deli had been guiding him towards. It had been so early after they had left Comida. Deli, much younger, exuberant, had won the approval of his kinsmen and been named emissary on behalf of the clan that morning. It was all that was on Deli’s mind and in the glint of Deli’s eye.

In the evening, they had laid next to each other as usual. There had been no fire in the tent; their only source of heat was each other. The storm had lapped against the tent flap. Icy raindrops had sought to penetrate their thin canvas of a roof. They would have died of the cold if either the canvas or the entrance had given in. But little of this mattered to them. Colin listened to Deli talk about a beautiful future and a beautiful world for his people. There would be happiness, Deli said, and Colin had indeed felt great happiness. Then Deli had stopped, looked over at Colin, and kissed him.

“You were the one who told me that I should save myself for someone I loved,” Deli said now. They had proceeded no further that evening.

“I remember,” Colin told him.

“But I do love you.”

The confession stunned him, but it did not surprise him. It was a plunge into a cold pool—the body adjusted to the shock in a heartbeat. Love, love, love. Colin loved him. Of course Colin loved him. How long had Colin loved him. But they were past the time—the biological age? the historical epoch?—when a passionate confession could remedy all ills. How much time had they had to reexamine themselves and each other? How much time had they to say those words of love? Colin wanted to tell Deli that he loved him. The Colin of all of their travels together threatened to burst from Colin’s throat: I do love you too, I do. But Colin held himself back. It was restraint with the slightest edge of malice. Colin knew that he could hurt Deli then. Was it cruel of Colin to still want that power over Deli? He almost wanted to hurt him. Was there a part of him that thought the act of refusal ensured he would stay that much longer in Deli’s mind? Did he think Deli saw Karna when Deli looked at him? Was this fear that he felt fear for himself or fear for Deli?

Instead, he kissed Deli for the second time in his life. Deli kissed him back. What a lovely sight they now made: two figures intertwined together by a fire, the clansman’s bare back against the light and the cold, the man beneath him willing and pliant. How deeply they kissed each other then, as though they would never let each other go.

It would live forever in Colin: this kiss, this love of his, Deli, the young prince, his youth, Colin’s youth. Colin knew it. But everything became a memory as soon as they begun; Colin anticipated the end as soon as they started. Already he was living in the future, looking back curiously, the present in retrospective. He felt desire, he thought. He felt Deli’s desire too. Deli was trembling, was grasping at him, holding onto him, pulling him in by the collar in one moment, pushing Colin into the frozen ground in the next, clashing teeth, nipping at his lips, digging into his skin, forcing Colin to take shape as a physical entity. But Colin only held Deli in an embrace.

And Deli finally gave up on Colin. Deli’s kisses slowed, grew gentle. Then Deli broke away. Colin did not protest. Deli lifted his face to the sky and let go of Colin.

-

Later, on the path back to the harbor, Colin could not be sure, but he thought he spotted it near the horizon: that great fish-bone fir by the river, whose spine stretched into the heavens, next to which he and Deli had set up shelter together so many years ago.

[marvelmyriad]

@house0f3 / @the-innumerable-heroes

500 CE. A small and quaint, medieval Scandinavian burg of 200 people, nestled in the lush green valley, surrounded by towering pine trees and snow-capped mountains in the distance. The village is built along a gentle river, which winds its way through the center of town, providing a source of fresh water and power for the numerous watermills that dot its banks. The houses, constructed primarily from wood, are arranged in a tight, winding pattern, with dirt and gravel streets meandering between them. The buildings vary in size and design, most with modest thatched roofs.

While Asgard was and would always be The Golden City, there were times when Loki would feel suffocated by the weight of expectation met with the crushing realization that nothing the trickster did would allow for an escape from the shadow that Thor and Odin cast.

When it all got to be too much, Loki would walk among the Midgardians. It was one thing that Odin couldn't become upset over, as he too was guilty of the very same thing, as were many others within the pantheon. There were times when disguises were used and times when they were blatant about their true visages. Only their name was changed. Loki, for one, enjoyed feeling like they were needed. They loved hearing the prayers that would echo through the aether and reach their consciousness. They adored the gratification of knowing that their presence was wanted and appreciated.

For this jaunt upon Midgard, they were 'h e r'. And she had adorned herself with the name Sloegr.

Loki had done well to blend rather seamlessly into the burg that she had stumbled upon. With her abilities in seiðr, she had been able to immediately prove that she could offer valuable contribution in various ways. Within very little time, she had earned a fairly honorable, and perhaps a little mischievous reputation. She had been made læknir, and the community's general health and wellbeing flourished.

Even using her magic, Loki still lived a relatively simple existence while amongst the humans. She had done the majority of building her lodgings, though there were quite a few people that insisted on helping in some way. As it turned out, that was something that the trickster would have to get used to. Over the long span of Odin's life, he had forgotten that it wasn't a strength to try to build one's self up without the assistance of others. Resilient as the common people of Asgard were, they also understood that there were some tasks that couldn't be done alone as well as those that didn't need to be done alone.

Her clothes were simpler than what she would wear on Asgard, but they still held the same emerald hue that she had always been fond of. Her dress reached her ankles and her hair was gathered somewhat in braids while also somewhat down. Over the dress she wore a cloth apron and over that, a sheep-skin shawl. Even the sunnier days there had a slight chill to them. She had been spending the afternoon picking herbs that she would need in order to make various medicines and remedies, ones that wouldn't be growing for too much longer once the frost really set in. Loki was able to enjoy the calming task.

Kneeling down at the river bed, she hummed softly to herself and begun to grab all that she saw she needed, placing them in a large leather pouch at her waist.

[lakelewisia]

🍭At the Candy Counter🍫

Winter Releases!

Snow Sprinkles: turn freshly fallen snow into a crunchy, sweet treat with a variety of sugar sprinkles, with colors and flavors that will filter through even large snow banks, can also be used to seed your yard to attract snowfall overnight

Instant Frosting: turn anything from cake and candy to meat and mattresses into an ice cream confection with this fast-freezing topping, not recommended to eat it straight out of the tub unless you enjoy the sensation of frostbite on fingers and tongues

Lollipop Lights: a snack and a safety device for the long, dark nights, these lollipops emit a strong glow when licked that can help you navigate outside while also keeping your spirits bright

Emergency Warming Center Fendler's Sweet Shop will be one of the warming stations around town, available to anyone caught out in the cold. In addition to a warm seating area and blankets, we will be providing free hot chocolate and cinnamon ember drops to help warm you from the inside out.

[thelensofyashunews]

Superstar Mexican Act Fuerza Regida Announces "Pero No Te Enamores Tour," Their Summer 2024 Tour

Led by their smooth-voiced singer Jesús Ortiz Paz, regional Mexican outfit Fuerza Regida has been climbing charts on both sides of the border. Today, the Platinum-selling grupo announces "Pero No Te Enamores Tour," their next headlining tour. Produced by Live Nation and kicking off on June 6th in Austin, TX, the "Pero No Te Enamores Tour" takes the group across North America for a series of dates, including shows in Atlanta, New York, Houston, and more, before closing with a show in Inglewood, CA. The 5-man group saluted their hometown fans with a special mural in their native San Bernardino, CA, displaying the tour artwork and dates in the center of the city.

TICKETS: General onsale tickets will be available beginning on Friday, April 12 at 10am local time at livenation.com.

VIP:  Fans can also purchase VIP Packages, which may include premium tickets, access to the VIP after party with members of the band, Soundcheck, Meet & Greet + group photo with Fuerza Regida, Pre-show VIP Lounge, specially designed VIP gift item & more. VIP package contents vary based on offer selected. For more information, visit vipnation.com.

Fuerza's upcoming nationwide tour is their latest step on the road to world domination, following a 2023 full of new commercial heights and well-deserved accolades. The group shared their biggest album to date, Pa Las Baby's Y Belikeada, which peaked at #2 on Billboard's Latin Albums chart and reached the Top 15 of the Billboard 200. The album generated billions of streams across platforms, led by hits like "TQM" (peaked at #34 at the Billboard Hot 100), "Sabor Fresa" (#26 on the Hot 100), and "HARLEY QUINN" (#40 on the Hot 100), their collaboration with Marshmello that became their first-ever #1 hit on the Latin Airplay chart. The success of Pa Las Baby's Y Belikeada propelled Fuerza Regida to two Billboard Music Awards in 2023, plus the #1 spot on Billboard's Top Duo/Group year-end artist chart.

Most recently, Fuerza released their EP, Dolido Pero No Arrepentido, which arrived just in time for Valentine's Day. The album debuted at #2 on Billboard's Latin Albums chart, and all six songs from the EP reached Billboard's Hot Latin Songs chart. The upcoming tour will feature the first performances of songs from the new EP. 

Stay tuned for much more information about Fuerza Regida in the near future.

 

"Pero No Te Enamores Tour" dates:  *Not A Live Nation Date

Jun 06        Austin, TX        Moody Center Jun 09        Edinburg, TX        Bert Ogden Arena Jun 14        Oklahoma City, OK    Paycom Center Jun 15        Ridgedale, MO        Thunder Ridge Nature Arena Jun 16        Kansas City, MO    T-Mobile Center Jun 21        San Diego, CA        Viejas Arena Jun 22        Phoenix, AZ        Footprint Center Jun 29        Portland, OR        Moda Center Jun 30        Seattle, WA        Climate Pledge Arena Jul 06        San Jose, CA        SAP Center Jul 07        Fresno, CA        Save Mart Center at Fresno State Jul 13        Houston, TX        Toyota Center Jul 20        Dallas, TX        Dos Equis Pavilion Jul 26        Atlanta, GA        State Farm Arena Jul 27        Tampa, FL        Amalie Arena Jul 28        Sunrise, FL        Amerant Bank Arena Aug 02        Greensboro, NC    Greensboro Coliseum Complex Aug 04        Belmont Park, NY    UBS Arena Aug 16        Milwaukee, WI        Fiserv Forum Aug 17        Indianapolis, IN    Gainbridge Fieldhouse Sep 01        Tinley Park, IL        Credit Union 1 Amphitheatre Sep 06        Salt Lake City, UT    Delta Center Sep 08        Denver, CO        Ball Arena Sep 15        Las Vegas, NV        T-Mobile Arena Sep 20        San Antonio, TX    Frost Bank Center Sep 21        El Paso, TX        UTEP Don Haskins Center Sep 28        Anaheim, CA        Honda Center Sep 29        Palm Desert, CA    Acrisure Arena Oct 05        Sacramento, CA    Golden 1 Center Oct 11        Leon, MX        Mega Velaria* Oct 12        Mexico City, MX    Plaza De Toros* Oct 31        Monterrey, MX        Arena Monterrey* Nov 1        Monterrey, MX        Arena Monterrey* Nov 2        Torreon, MX        Coliseo Centenario* Nov 7        Oaxaca, MX        Auditorio GNP* Nov 9        San Luis Potosi, MX    El Domo Nov 16        Inglewood, CA        Intuit Dome

[paintpants]

Here are some behind the scenes teaser clips for the exciting mural project my team and I worked on at the Frost Club in the Frost Bank Center of San Antonio!

This project features the Puro Meter in the Fundamentals Zone with lights that intensify with the crowd volume in the stadium, illuminating the values that tie our Spurs, Frost, and San Antonio communities together.

Stay tuned for more about this mural project as we anticipate the start of the '23-'24 Spurs Basketball season!

Check out my Instagram OccamStudio https://www.instagram.com/occamstudio/ for more!

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 1: Journey of North Wind

Narrated by no one.

Narrator: Silent snow covers the white city outside the window. White houses ring neatly around the crystal castle in the city center.

Narrator: Every yard has only one snow shovel and one broom. Every chimney has been swept, with no fire or ashes in the fireplace.

Narrator: The residents of White Castle, who fear neither frost nor cold, turn in early, but not before reading a chapter of the December Anthology. They even hum notes and phrases from it in their sleep.

Narrator: The north wind sings a discordant harmony as it passes through the empty chimneys. Snowflakes flutter with gossip from the road, falling silently as they hit the ground.

Narrator: The northern pine forest seems to have appointed itself guardian of the land, protecting the frigid Mount Noddley and woods from frozen springs.

Narrator: From there, the north wind winds through the meandering trails, circling the streets and rooftops of White Castle and leaving its cold whispers in every corner, except one.

Narrator: At the edge of White Castle, on the other bank of the ripple-lit river, sits the red city whose lights never go out.

Narrator: Even the well-traveled north wind halts here, doubling back to circle the tall tower in the snow-white city center.

Narrator: After a series of gravity-defying maneuvers, the breeze alights on the queen’s windowsill at the top of the tower.

Narrator: On a feathery bed softer than snowflakes lies the master of the keep - Queen Erika. There isn’t another face finer than hers in White Castle.

Narrator: A crystal ball hovers in the air, rising and falling with the queen’s breathing.

Narrator: It’s always by the queen’s side. Through it, she sees all in her domain.

Narrator: Even the wind wishes to peek into the crystal ball and catch a glimpse of not-yet-visited places.

Narrator: When the queen’s in deep slumber, the ball would show her dreams, and the past of a set of twin sisters hidden within.

Narrator: But now, permafrost glazes the entire ball every night and confines the dreams within.

Narrator: Only faint singing and blurry firelight slip past the frosty barrier, as if from a land far, far away...

Singing: Light the candle and wake up the quiet night... Embrace the traveling snowflakes and collect winter’s warmth...

Narrator: From where comes a voice more moving, a dance more deft than the north wind itself?

Narrator: Even the proud north wind must bow to the melodious voice. Whose voice is it, singing in so deep a dream?

Narrator: The clever and worldly wind recalls a Starsnow long ago, when it combed the most ticklish tree in the castle square.

Narrator: Snow fell off the treetop onto a girl in a white dress. A girl in red next to her giggled.

Girl in Red Dress: Erika, you look dumber than an apple-roasted goose, haha!

Girl in White Dress: Why didn’t you warn me instead of laughing there...

Girl in Red Dress: You only got snowed on ‘cause you were walking so slow. Just your luck - ah!

Narrator: More snow fell, this time on Erinka. The girl in white burst into laughter.

Girl in White Dress: Now we’re both lucky, Erinka!

Narrator: The sisters brushed snow off each other and left hand in hand, leaving their footprints in the snow.

Narrator: Erinka, Erika... That’s it, those were their names.

Narrator: “Ding dong...” The bell in the town square rings as the sun peeks out behind rooftops. It’s a new day, time for the wind to go home and sleep.

Narrator: Roused by the bell, the queen turns over and opens her eyes. The frost of the crystal ball slowly melts away, as if rising with its master.

Narrator: The wind yawns, greets the esteemed queen, and strolls away in the morning air.

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

[valorxdrive]

An undeniable constant was that legend and myth found themselves tucked deep in the durable scales and broad wings of dragons. They served as mighty beasts of vitality, the penultimate challenge for countless heroes to the arrogant hoarders of boundless treasures, the sublime shine being more than enough to annihilate all opposition who dared to trespass.

These peaks of vitality also served as a natural line that held vivaciously powerful Hearts. In short, the perfect meal for the chaotic hands of darkness to draw within it’s insatiable grip through it’s legions. Grim and dreary clouds festered upon the Land of Dragons, allowing violet rays of lightning to crackle and pierce through the heavens as the death throes of these great beasts, serving as a threatening sign that the Dark Realm was taking a more mercilessly approach of seizing this world’s heart.

Wire itself into the very life force of this land itself.

It was only natural that in turn that a certain band of Starseekers; keyblade wielders, would be the counter force that finds themselves endlessly attracted to lands threatened by destruction. Donning brave smiles, boundless experience, further coupled with the shining instruments that serve to strike a visceral rush of fear into the Heartless themselves, causing them to enact on deeper potential due to tightly wired instincts. The constant plucks and thrums of negative emotion resonating within their newly amassed group of Wyverns and Great Drakes would be the testament.

Sora and Phos’s trials never held the luxury of being simple. No, even with Xehanort’s departure to the beyond, the avatars of Darkness were eagerly working away to not just seal up this vacant seat of power, but to forge a greater force due to the destabilization that echoes akin to a festering wound within the Greater cosmos. Their time of travail amidst the frost kissed peaks of the mountain ranges would serve as a testament.

Not even a good ten minutes in and Sora finds himself stuck in a pesky gridlock.

Light found itself exuding and erupting with fiery brilliance from the keyblade, serving contrasting force against the sky born attack, a vicious pillar of sickly blue hellfire being erupted from the heartless drake’s lips, those soulless golden eyes holding no inch of emotion despite the roar escaping it. They keybearer found himself situated upon the rapidly melting bank of snow, the said ground cracking with frosty fissures as he found himself being forcefully pressed into a crater as the metric tons of force intended to scald and burn him all the way down to the mountain’s heart.

“This is..!” Strength flocks to his veins! Light burns within his eyes! “So.. Messed up!” His voice would roar in distaste, a sudden seizing of strength grasped within his heart, immediately bringing strength to limb and blade. A sudden slash of ice energy would be imbued into the weapon, a forceful swing immediately allowing him to slash through the beam of flame, diminishing this attack to pure steam as the Heartless finds itself knocked into a sudden spin, staggering for its stature.

Sora doesn’t miss a beat as he pivots upon his heel, ignoring the precipice of danger in order to reconvene with Phos at her center point of the chaos.. With the way things are going, they are going to need a plan as a crucial detail immediately comes to mind. He briefly catches a whip of her blonde hair amidst her nimble figure while she weaves seamlessly through her foes. After quickly springing into attack, dodging and counter slashing through a small volley of Wyvern’s, his voice is quick to call, recklessly leaving him less cognizant of the overwhelming shadow above.

“Phos! Careful about magic! Normal elements aren’t..!”

“!!”

A shrieking screech signifies the presence of danger as the space Sora occupied was quickly overtaken. The corrosive maw of the beast immediately slammed at his location, clearly working to bite down as surrounding space instantly caved him from the titanic force, leaving no visible view outside the towering walls of snow that briefly erupts alongside bedrock as the unstable ground shudders. Despite the stirring rush of pain, he’s hanging on strong, fixed between the beast’s teeth by enchanted shoes and the sparking resistance of the Kingdom Key keeping that mouth from slamming down.

So.. unexpectedly strong..!

@redfabled​

[arlh0e]

Update: this fucking venue makes you pay for water. Fuck the frost bank center bro.

[doublescribble]

Victor Wembanyama and Chris Paul

[prettygirlgerard]

still can’t fucking believe they changed the AT&T center to the frost bank center brah

[who-is-carter]

Junior H Live In San Antonio (2024)

Another bucket list moment of the list got the chance to Junior H in the Frost Bank Center formerly know as The AT&T Center growing up I watched spurs games, bull riding, Hockey games and many concerts. Finally being able to capture a show there was amazing and finally being able to cross it of the my shot list felt great.

[ezwindows1]

Enhancing Business Security and Aesthetics with Commercial Doors

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Budget: While it’s important to invest in quality, consider your budget constraints. Compare different materials and features to find the best value for your money without compromising on essential features.

Maintenance: Consider the maintenance needs of the door. Some materials require regular upkeep to maintain their appearance and functionality, while others are virtually maintenance-free.

Aesthetics: Select doors that complement the overall design and branding of your business. The right door can enhance curb appeal and contribute to a positive customer experience.