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just-another-blog-of-fluff · 3 years

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Fools in Love

Word count: 6200

Warnings: Slow burn, pining Loki

This one is based on a couple of prompts - one prompt by 🩰 anon requesting a reader who laughs at horror movies, and another prompt by @angstymorow requesting a love story where one is painfully in love and the other is painfully oblivious 💚

I hope I captured these prompts well!

Years ago, Loki had ridiculed his older brother for his foolish desires, his love of a mere mortal. A meager blip in the entirety of their lifespans. He’d sworn he’d never understand what made him care so much for such a fragile creature – so easily injured, so prone to falling ill. What good was a mortal – a human – at the side of an almighty god?

Never in a million years did he expect to fall victim to the same predilection.

At the very least, Loki could say he hadn’t fallen hard and fast for you the way his brother had fallen for Jane Foster. In all honesty, he hadn’t even realized that someone new had joined the gang of heroes at first. After all, Loki mostly kept to himself. He didn’t much care for the rambunctious bickering and hollering that the other tower inhabitants seemed to enjoy. It wasn’t as though they missed his presence anyhow. What motivation was there for him to participate in their juvenile game nights and group training sessions?

He first saw you in passing, just a fleeting glance as you walked past the open door to his bedroom while he was reading on his armchair. You hadn’t even paused to look inside the door – you’d just strolled on by, none the wiser that there was an unfamiliar face sitting on the opposite side of the doorway. You had caught his eye, however. Partially because you, too, were an unfamiliar face to him. He’d never seen you around, and suddenly, there you were, wandering about the tower as though you owned the place.

A part of him was curious. There was a certain strength and confidence in the way you moved – you didn’t walk with your shoulders hunched or your head down like so many other mortals Loki had known, you held your chin high and glided gracefully with each step. There was an air of elegance in the way you carried yourself. You were intriguing, though not so much as to draw Loki out of his comfortable spot in his chair to follow you and learn who you were. If you’d truly come to stay here in the tower, he’d stumble across you again in due time.

And stumble, he did.

Days later, Thor had finally succeeded in dragging Loki to the training room for a one-on-one sparring match. Loki had tried earnestly to decline the invitation, but Thor wouldn’t have no for an answer, insisting that Loki was becoming too complacent with his own training routines. With a melodramatic sigh, he’d left the comfort of his bedroom to join Thor in the empty gym, insisting he’d only agree to a match if Thor didn’t use his damned hammer. He was not in the mood to be pinned to the floor for an hour today.

A particularly heavy blow sent Loki reeling backward across the sparring arena. In an empty gym, it wasn’t a problem – he’d regain his balance after a few steadying steps and launch himself back at his brother.

But the gym was no longer empty.

His back collided with a solid being, nearly making him shout out in surprise. You, however, didn’t withhold the yelp that leapt out of your throat as you stumbled backward with arms flailing to recover your footing. After being struck with the full weight of a god, Loki was shocked to find you didn’t fall to the floor on impact.

Thor shouted your name as you collected yourself, apologizing that he ‘didn’t know his own strength.’ Loki’s eyes turned toward the ceiling at Thor’s humble bragging.

“I apologize. My brother is a bit arrogant on occasion.”

You looked him in the eye, a wry smirk gracing your lips. “I’ve heard you can be a bit of a narcissist yourself, Loki.”

His brows shot up his forehead, a bewildered look on his face. He wasn’t sure if he should be appalled or impressed that you had the gall to speak to him in such a manner. When you laughed and assured him it was merely a jest, introducing yourself, he decided it was the latter. He’d never encountered a mortal so quick to bite back. Perhaps you would amount to a formidable teammate.

Loki began to see you more frequently around the tower after that. A chance passing in the hallway, an overlapping of workout times in the gym, a late-night snack venture in the kitchen. Each time, he lingered a little longer, said a bit more. His curiosity grew with each encounter. He needed to learn more about the mysterious mortal who had him so intrigued.

So, he did the unfathomable, and attended a team training session one morning.

He didn’t come to participate, of course. He had no interest in training with the overbearingly upbeat group of heroes. He merely arrived at the same time as the scheduled session to complete his own training independently.

Loki situated himself along the far wall where the targets were, magically conjuring up a few of his daggers for some throwing practice. He didn’t need the practice, of course, but he supposed it never hurt to exercise his skill every once in a while. As he paced out to stand behind the throwing line, his eyes wandered over toward the team. You were standing in the sparring arena, crouched in a fighting stance, with Steve facing you. The sight made him cringe. A mortal going up against a super soldier? He hoped Steve would go easy on you.

He had to turn his back on you to face the target, which was likely for the best. He didn’t want to see you get laid out by the righteous captain anyhow. Loki gripped the hilt of one of his daggers in his hand, flinging it across the room at the target with a flick of his wrist. The twirling metal glinted in the harsh gym lighting as it sailed toward the target, ultimately burying up to the hilt in the dead center of the wooden circle.

Before he could toss another one, he was distracted by a sudden uproar in the direction of the sparring arena. Loki turned his head to look over his shoulder, not wanting to appear excessively interested. He was somewhat surprised to find you kneeling atop the blonde-haired soldier, your forearm pressed against his throat, pinning him to the floor. The others were watching, apparently cheering for you for winning the match. Loki made a mental note not to underestimate you – clearly you were stronger than your average mortal, or at least more skillful.

Loki continued to practice with his daggers for a few more throws before growing bored, deciding instead to move to the heavy bag to release some energy. It was a bit closer to the sparring arena, so he could get a better view of what was going on. Not that it was necessary for him to see, of course. It was merely an added perk.

He threw a few warm-up punches, his eyes flitting over to the arena where you were now up again to spar. This time, Natasha was your chosen opponent. She certainly didn’t possess the same brute strength that Steve did, but she was cunning and swift. It would be interesting to see how you handled this interaction.

Seeing you in action was quite the spectacle. You moved gracefully as you fought, but with a fiery ferocity behind every move. Your steps were unpredictable – as soon as Nat fell into any sort of pattern of blows, you’d suddenly tuck and roll out of the way unexpectedly, throwing her off just enough for you to get back on the offensive. It was no time at all before she, too, had been defeated by your clever fighting style.

He had to admit, he was somewhat impressed.

Loki finished up with his exercises a few minutes before the team had wrapped up with the group session. He busied himself with retrieving his daggers from where they still sat by the targets while Steve gave his usual revoltingly optimistic speech to the group for ending a successful training session. He headed for the door as Steve finished speaking, trying to duck out before the crowd filtered out into the hallway.

He was more than a bit surprised when you called his name as he strode past, causing him to pause and look at you. Your face was coated in a thin sheen of sweat, hair mussed and sticking up in a couple places. You offered him a sly grin.

“Next time, you should join us instead of just watching from the sidelines,” you suggested. “Unless you think you’d be beaten.”

Loki chuckled, a smirk crossing his face. “So confident in your abilities.”

You shrugged. “I just like a challenge, is all.”

“A challenge?” He shook his head, smirk broadening. “You say that as though you’d stand a chance against me.”

“Don’t I?”

Feeling a bit mischievous, he suddenly lunged toward you, aiming to grab your wrist and pin your arm behind your back just to prove a point. It was as though a switch flipped inside you the moment he began to move – your hand shot out and grabbed his wrist before he could grab yours, yanking to redirect his full momentum toward you and hooking a leg behind his knee. He fell to the floor, flat on his back, blinking silently in shock.

You stood over him, grinning as you held out a hand to help him up. Forcing his jaw to shut, he allowed you to assist him to his feet, eyeing you more curiously than before. With a quick wink, you grabbed your water bottle from the corner and sauntered out of the room without another word.

There was no denying it now – he was definitely impressed.

Perhaps that interaction was what you both needed to really break the ice. Loki began to make more of an effort to spend time outside of his bedroom in the common areas of the tower. He found that you were about as much of a night owl as he was, frequenting the tower at all hours of the evening and sometimes into the early morning. At first, the two of you would merely share brief conversations in passing – you’d ask what he was reading as he sat at the kitchen table when you’d enter to make a cup of tea, or he’d ask how your mission had gone when you drifted in with a heavy look in your eyes after being out all day.

Gradually, your conversations became more substantial and lengthy. He began to learn more about you. That your family lived across the country, but you visited them at least a couple times a year. That you’d once hoped to be a paramedic, but found you liked a different sort of action and instead began training with SHIELD. That your favorite meal of the day was breakfast, but you hated waking up early, you just liked the food.

Loki hadn’t realized he’d become your friend until the day you learned he’d never been mini golfing before. It amused him that you were so surprised by this fact – clearly he wasn’t the sort of person who would frequent such frivolous places. Still, you insisted he’d been missing out his ‘entire life.’

“Seriously, Loki, we’re going mini golfing tomorrow. You and me. I’ll show you how it’s done,” you assured, a determined look in your eyes. He’d nearly laughed out loud.

“You want to take me to a public recreational facility? Are you certain you haven’t fallen ill and grown delirious?”

“Why wouldn’t I? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

You’d said it so casually, so matter of fact, as though there was nothing unusual to you about calling the former would-be tyrant a friend. There was not a hint of sarcasm in your voice, not a glimpse of a sly smirk to indicate you were making a jest. You left no room for Loki to doubt your intentions were pure, that you’d meant what you said.

A small, involuntary smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he’d nodded in response to your question. Yes, he supposed you were friends. He certainly could use a friend.

You made good on your promise, taking him to an indoor glow-in-the-dark mini golf place the following afternoon. His presence earned you both a number of curious looks, some appearing even a bit concerned. If it bothered you, you gave no indication that it did, instead focusing all your efforts on explaining the rules of the game to the inexperienced god. After the first couple of holes, he began to get the hang of it. You’d been right – it was quite enjoyable. In the end, he beat you by a couple strokes.

You insisted he cheated. But he’d never admit to it.

Now that you’d been made aware of just how little modern Midgardian entertainment and culture Loki had been exposed to, you made it your mission to broaden his horizons. Sometimes you invited others on the team to join your outings, and others you would just ask Loki to come alone. Thor had possibly been more excited than anyone to join in a game of laser tag. Typically, Loki found his older brother’s unyielding enthusiasm to be off-putting, but he found he didn’t actually mind spending time with the team if you were there. You acted almost like a buffer between Loki and the other Avengers, providing him with a source of comfort to return to when the others simply became too much. They, too, seemed more sociable with Loki now that you’d been dragging him out on group outings.

The day you’d organized a group outing to a local carnival was the day he realized he loved you.

A fearless daredevil, you wanted to ride every thrill ride the carnival had to offer. Most of the team was happy to join you on your crazed search for adrenaline, hopping on almost every ride. Loki wasn’t exceedingly thrilled about relying on poorly constructed Midgardian machinery to swing him around or flip him upside-down, but he supposed he’d humor you, and joined in with the rest of the team.

There was one ride no one else was willing to touch. Two seats were situated within a metal sphere, which was attached to two long support beams with taut wires. The moment the ride operator pressed a button, the only restraint holding the sphere to the ground would release, sling-shotting the riders hundreds of feet into the air before they fell once again, the process repeating until the vertical momentum had stopped. Even Bucky and Thor, the biggest thrill seekers next to you, declined to ride. The look of disappointment on your face made Loki’s heart ache for you.

As you stepped into line to ride all by yourself, Loki decided that if no one else was bold enough to step up and be your riding partner, he’d do it himself. Your face rapidly morphed from disappointed to ecstatic excitement, seeing your friend willing to take a leap of faith and ride with you. He assured you there was no part of him that was scared to ride this – that the others were simply cowards for refusing to join you.

When he found himself at the front of the line, strolling along behind you as you hurried into one of the two seats to strap yourself in, he decided that maybe the ride made him a bit uncomfortable. Certainly not scared, though. He was an almighty god, after all.

The shrill scream you released as the two of you were catapulted into the air was nearly deafening. Reactionarily, you reached over and grabbed hold of Loki’s hand in yours, squeezing tight as you began to laugh through the terrified screams. Loki made no sound at all – he merely listened to the sound of your voice, felt the warmth of your fingers laced through his. As the momentum slowed, you stopped screaming in favor of laughing hysterically. He’d listened to your laugh countless times, but today it was bright and bold and exploding with excitement. The sound was music to his ears.

You’d turned to him as the ride gradually lowered you back down to the ground, gushing with appreciation that he’d been willing to join you, that it was so much better with him than it would have been alone. Loki couldn’t help but notice your fingers were still intertwined with his, even after the stomach-swooping drops had finished. He found that he didn’t mind. In fact, he felt a sense of loss when you finally did release his hand to unbuckle the restraints when the ride had touched down on the ground.

What was this unfamiliar ache in his chest? This sense of longing, this feeling of desire for your touch, your voice, your mere presence? He couldn’t find any other explanation:

He was in love with you.

The old Loki would have felt resentment. He’d have scolded himself, said he was ‘going soft’ for daring to allow a mortal to get under his skin and toy with his emotions. But you hadn’t done this to him; at least, not intentionally. You were just… you. And he was smitten.

You hadn’t even appeared to notice his gradual change in demeanor around you after that day. He wrestled with his yearnings to wrap you up in his arms, to hold you tight and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, to kiss you until he’d fulfilled his euphoric desires. But you continued on as though nothing had changed. As you had told him – he was your friend, and you treated him as such. Yet he so desperately wanted to be more than that.

On one particular evening, you’d invited Loki to join you in the common room for a horror movie marathon. He’d seen one or two Midgardian horror movies but hadn’t really paid them much attention. You’d demanded right then and there that he sit with you and watch some of your favorite films.

So, there he was, seated on the sofa while you pulled up the first film of the evening. You flipped off the lights, leaving only the glow of the television screen to see by, before flopping unceremoniously onto the opposite end of the sofa. You stretched your legs out across the couch cushions in front of you and threw your blanket across your lap, your feet resting only inches away from Loki’s leg.

“Getting comfortable, are we?” he asked teasingly, gesticulating toward your legs that were nearly encroaching on his personal space. Not that he minded, of course. He just enjoyed the adorable, scrunched-up expression your face took on when he teased you.

“Yes, actually. I’m very comfortable,” you responded haughtily, wriggling deeper into the couch cushions. “Now, hush! The movie’s starting.”

Loki rolled his eyes outwardly, fighting back an amused grin as he turned his attention to the television. You’d selected what you insisted was one of your favorites to start off with, a black-and-white movie clearly developed before your time, but you still seemed to know it well. He settled back against the couch cushions, watching the movie play out on the screen.

Early on, he realized that you reacted uniquely to the horror scenes. Of course, you still reacted to the jump scares, jolting just the slightest bit as though it startled you, but it was quickly followed by a bout of rapid giggles. Perhaps you were laughing at the fact that the movie had succeeded in frightening you, Loki thought. Until you began to laugh hysterically when a particularly gruesome murder scene began to play, that is. That made him turn his head to observe you with a confused tilt of his head and a concerned raise of one brow.

“I didn’t realize you found murder to be particularly amusing,” he quipped.

“Nohoho! Sorry, noho, it’s not the murder part,” you explained, “it’s just so over-the-top ridiculous! I mean, she decided to go for a walk alone at night, after multiple murders were reported in the neighborhood… who does that??”

“And the vivid depictions of wounds and blood don’t scare you?” he asked curiously.

“Noho, that’s just as funny! It’s all so theatrical! It’s clearly not real!” You turned your attention back to the screen, where a man had just discovered the woman’s dead body on the side of the road. Loki followed suit, wondering if maybe he was the one taking the film too seriously. For poorly enacted Midgardian acting, it did look fairly graphic. Not that it bothered him, of course – he’d seen a number of real wounds in his time, and was sort of desensitized to it, but to a mortal, he could understand why it may appear jarring.

When the first film had finished, you decided to switch horror genres and popped in a zombie movie. Only twenty minutes in, when the first zombie appeared at the door and attacked one of the protagonists, you were already giggling like a fiend. Loki shook his head, chuckling endearingly at your ridiculousness. He certainly wasn’t complaining – he absolutely adored hearing you laugh. Your reactions were quite possibly more entertaining to him than the films themselves.

“Darling, can’t you just be serious for a moment? I’d like to watch the film,” Loki groaned teasingly as you laughed over a scene where another protagonist was dragged into a hungry pile of zombies to their death.

“I’m sohohorry! I cahan’t help it, it’s just soho funny!” you insisted.

“Yes, I’ve gathered that – clearly you find being eaten by zombies to be an amusing fate.” He smirked at you across the couch, amused that he was getting you riled up.

“No! I do nohot! It’s just overdramatic, is all!”

“Mm. I’m going to recommend Banner perform a psychiatric examination on you after this.” You narrowed your eyes, still grinning from the residual amusement of the movie scene. Loki merely winked at you.

Your laughter was infectious, serving to make him begin smiling at some of the frightening scenes as well. He longed to wrap you up in his arms and squeeze you close to his chest, his heart swelling with every new fit of giggles you erupted with. He couldn’t say that he saw the appeal of these ridiculous movies, but if the scenes continued to draw sweet laughter from your lips, then he was willing to sit with you all evening.

During the third movie in, you were beginning to become nonsensical, unable to string together coherent sentences between your hysterics. Admittedly, this movie was particularly cheesy, with long, drawn-out build ups to each murder scene where the victim made horrifically poor decisions that led to their ultimate demise. Loki began to find that making snide comments about the actions of the protagonists made you laugh even harder. Naturally, he began to do it more frequently, just to egg you on.

One particular scene, where one of the characters was running straight down a street away from an oncoming car, had you rolling on the couch. You pointed at the screen and laughed, even as the driver of the vehicle succeeded in his goal of driving over the person, simply incredulous that this person didn’t think to just walk to the side of the road instead of continuing to wander right in the vehicle’s path. It was beginning to surprise Loki how dull humans could be in these ridiculous films.

In the process of your newest bout of hysterics, you kicked your legs out and accidentally struck Loki’s leg with your feet. His head whipped around to glare jokingly at you.

“Pardon me – don’t you have enough space on your own three-quarters of the sofa?” He reached down and playfully fluttered his fingers across the bottoms of your feet. He was quite taken aback by your overzealous reaction, jerking both feet away swiftly as your giggles pitched up in octave.

“HEHEY!!” you scolded him as he began to laugh.

“I apologize – I hadn’t realized you were so ticklish,” he insisted.

“I’m nohot usually! Not there, anyway.”

“Oh-ho! Somewhere else, then?”

Your eyes widened at the mischievous expression that was now etched on Loki’s face. Immediately, you began stuttering out protests and giggling in anticipation, planting your palms against the couch cushions beside you to scoot yourself away from the impish-looking God of Mischief. But now that he had an excuse to get closer to you, a ruse he could use to justify his actions, he wasn’t about to allow that to slip through his fingers.

He shot his hands out and grabbed hold of your ankles before you could scoot out of his reach, dragging you closer to him again with one effortless tug. You shrieked in surprise, bursting into hysterics as he caught your ankles in the crook of his elbow and began scratching along the soles of your trapped feet. Either you were already weak from your hours of boisterous laughter, or you just simply didn’t mind his sudden attack – either way, you weren’t fighting him very hard as you threw your head back into the couch cushions and laughed with abandon as he sought out the spots on your feet that made you jolt a little harder.

“LOHOHOKI YOHOU’RE MAKING ME MIHIHISS THE MOVIE!!” you whined, tugging at your ankles now that he’d discovered the spot along the outer edge of your foot that made you release squeaky giggles.

“Darling, you know as well as I that movies can be rewound,” he retorted. Growing curious about where else you might be ticklish, he shifted to grab hold of your ankles once again, pinning them to the couch as he adjusted to kneel on the couch cushion he’d been sitting on. With a smirk, he suddenly scribbled his fingertips up the backs of your calves, pausing to dust along the undersides of your knees. You shrieked, immediately moving to try to bend your knees and protect the sensitive spot. He caught on quickly, grabbing hold of your ankles and dragging your legs out straight before placing a shin across both of yours to pin them in place.

“No-no, ahah Lohoki wahait this isn’t fahahair! You’re so much strohonger than me!” You made your eyes go all soft and pleading, a bright grin on your reddening face. He shook his head with a laugh, slipping his fingers underneath your knees once again to scratch lightly at the sensitive skin. You flopped back against the sofa once again, hands flying up to your face to cover your mouth and suppress the desperate giggles tumbling out of your mouth.

“Now, darling – don’t try to hide your laughter now – you’ve been giggling since we began this marathon of ridiculous films.” Scooting closer to your side of the couch, he planted himself on your upper legs and began to tickle his way swiftly up your sides toward your underarms.

“EEAHAHAH LOKI YOHOU MEHENACE!” you cried, arms clamping down to your sides before he could get further than your lower ribs. No matter, he thought to himself, sliding one hand down to claw at the center of your belly while the other dug mercilessly into your ribcage simultaneously.

“I’m appalled you haven’t informed me about this before,” Loki teased, watching you squirm hopelessly under his fingertips. “How could you keep something like this from me?”

“WHY-AHAH-WHY WOHOULD I WANT THEHE GOD OF MISCHIEF TO KNOHOW THIS??” Your fingers closed around his wrists, feebly attempting to push away his hands from your ticklish torso. Loki knew that you knew your attempts were futile.

What happened next, though, he didn’t expect.

Suddenly, you surged forward, lifting your back from the couch so you could latch your hands onto Loki’s ribs. You wasted no time in wriggling your fingertips deep into the spaces, your eyes wide and hopeful as you gazed at his face. He tried to fight it, but you’d caught him so off guard that he couldn’t help the deep, rumbling laughter that your touch drew from his chest. The triumphant, ecstatic look on your face was worth the embarrassment. Your eyes gleamed, an impossibly broad grin on your face so wide your cheeks lifted and made your eyes scrunch up.

“HA!” you exclaimed victoriously, trying to maintain the upper hand as you moved to claw at his belly. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Eheh… I don’t tell any-HA-ahanyone about this,” he countered. Despite how unbearable it was, he tried not to immediately push you off of him, wanting to at least allow you a moment of fun. But when your delicate fingers found the hypersensitive spot just below his navel, he couldn’t help himself from fighting back. He slotted his hands up underneath your arms and wiggled his fingers deep into the softest part of your underarm, laughing sinisterly as you screeched and toppled sideways against the back of the couch. All efforts of trying to tickle Loki were forgotten as he pinched and prodded at your uppermost ribs, relishing in the hiccuppy laughter exploding from your chest.

“I-HA-IHI HAVEN’T GIHIVEN UHUP!” you contended, pressing your arms down against your sides as hard as possible. Loki was impressed that you actually were succeeding in limiting his range of motion.

“Still trying to fight me, darling? Just accept your defeat.” He yanked his hands out from under your arms, flitting his fingers around your neck and ears and grinning as your shoulders shrugged up involuntarily. The volume and desperation of your laughter had faded a bit to more of a stream of bubbly giggles.

“Ohohoh I dohohon’t THINK soho!!”

He’d allowed you too much of a reprieve, providing you with the opportunity to grasp the muscles just above his kneecaps and squeezing rapidly. With a bark of a laugh, his fingers left your neck and shot down to close around your wrists. He had a lower threshold of tolerance at this point, pushing your wrists away from his knees. You whined, throwing your weight into trying to break past his defenses and reconnect with your target spot again.

Loki was laughing even though you were no longer tickling him, twisting his hands to link his fingers through yours. You pressed your palms against his in an attempt to shove him. He gave in just the slightest bit, allowing you to push his hands back a few inches before suddenly pushing you right back with a smirk. You grunted in frustration, your eyes narrowed with sheer determination.

He wasn’t expecting you to suddenly throw yourself forward, hurling all of your weight into his hands. He’d been planning to let you push him a little bit, so his hold was too loose to prevent you from shoving him. Your body collided with his, knocking him onto his back on the sofa as you fell down on top of him.

Time stood still for a moment. Loki simply laid there in shock as you lifted yourself up on your elbows to look him in the eye. Your face was bright, eyes shimmering with the exertion of your laughter, lips drawn up into a wide smile. A strand of your hair had fallen into your face during the struggle, but you didn’t seem to notice. You emanated beauty in its simplest form.

Gods, he wanted to kiss you.

He couldn’t bring himself to do it. Even if you’d remained hovering over him for a few more moments, he knew he wouldn’t have the courage to try. But none of that mattered, because your fingertips found their way to his sides and began kneading into the sensitive spot through his shirt, and he lost his mind.

“Ha-HA! I discovered your weak spot, didn’t I?!” you exclaimed gleefully. Attempting to save face, he began yelling threats at you through his bright laughter that he clearly didn’t mean, trying desperately not to hurt you as he tried to pry your wrists away from his sides. “Loki, just admit that I win!”

“OH-HOHO NO, I THINK NOHOT!”

Loki wrapped his arms around your waist, digging into the backs of your ribs. You collapsed on top of him in a fit of hysterics, fingers stilled against his sides as you laughed into his chest. He desperately hoped you interpreted his rapid heartbeat as the result of his frantic laughter. He tickled you until your shoulders shook with silent laughter, finally halting his attack and rubbing a firm hand up and down your back as you released the last few giggles pent up in your throat.

You mumbled something incoherent into his chest, the vibrations of your voice buzzing against his sternum. Chuckling warmly, he tapped you gently on the back of your shoulder.

“I didn’t understand a word you just said, darling.”

You lifted your head up, leaning your chin against his chest. “I said you cheated.”

“Whahat? You’re the one who literally threw yourself on me,” he argued.

“Uh-uh, you made me fall on you!” you retorted. With a smirk, you added, “Better be careful – people might get the wrong idea if they see us like this.”

Loki was silent for a moment, gazing up at you with wide eyes. Gradually, your teasing smirk fell from your face, replaced with a slight frown of confusion. You pushed yourself off the god, kneeling on the sofa beside him as he sat himself upright.

“Loki? What’s wrong?”

“I…” He found he couldn’t hold your gaze any longer, turning to look down at his hands in his lap. His mind was reeling, trying to find the words, but he was coming up short. He tried not to flinch in surprise when he felt your hand rest on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Loki,” you mumbled, your voice hushed and timid, a tone he’d never heard you use before. So uncertain, so unsure. So uncharacteristic of the fireball he knew you to be. “I didn’t mean to insinuate.”

“What?” He finally turned to meet your gaze again, finding he couldn’t when he saw your eyes were turned down to peer at your hands as you played absently with your fingers.

“I just mean I didn’t intend to make you uncomfortable. Joking about you being… intimate with a mortal.”

He sat up straighter, turning himself to face you more fully. On pure instinct, he scooped up both your hands in his and squeezed them tight. Your face tilted up to look at him, confusion written all over your face.

“That doesn’t make me uncomfortable. Not in the slightest.”

Your face softened a bit, still with an air of uncertainty. “Then what’s wrong? If you weren’t upset with me?”

“I… it’s just…” He struggled to find the right thing to say, gazing down at your hands cupped in his. Your hands were soft, your fingers slender, gentle but strong. Resting in his own larger hands, they looked so small. But nothing about you was insignificant. Your hands fit perfectly in his own, the warmth of your skin pleasant against the coolness of his.

“Oh.”

Loki’s head whipped up to look at your face again, seeing a sudden light of recognition in your eyes. He felt a prickling warmth in his cheeks under the weight of your gaze.

“You… like me?”

“Like you?” He laughed despite himself, and suddenly the words began spiling out. “Norns, darling, I’m surprised you haven’t noticed in all this time. I don’t like you, I’m in love with you. I love you.”

“Oh.”

The tiniest of smiles tugged at your lips, making Loki smile broadly. He released one of your hands in favor of reaching up to cup your face in his palm, losing himself in the color of your eyes.

“I… I’d like to kiss you. Would that be alright?”

You giggled, gods that adorable, beautiful sound. “Yes, Loki. I’d like that.”

He leaned in, slanting his lips across yours at long last. You surged into his touch, throwing your arms around his neck and returning his kiss with a fiery passion that was much more like the person he’d fallen in love with than the timid one you’d been moments ago. His fingers slid around your neck and tangled in your hair, his other hand wrapping around your waist. It was pure bliss, kissing you. You tasted sweet like strawberries.

You broke away from his lips to breathe, a radiant smile plastered to your face. Judging by the way your grin widened when your eyes met his, he, too, wore an impossibly wide smile. Seemingly unable to contain yourself, you launched yourself back at the god to capture his lips with yours once again. Loki allowed himself to melt into your embrace as you kissed him fervently.

Yes, Loki had come a long way in the last few years. Gone were the days where he'd ridicule his brother for falling in love with a mere mortal. Because you weren't 'merely' anything. You were a bright light in Loki's world.

And he honestly, truly loved you.

#ticklish!reader #tickle fluff #loki tickle #tickle fic #marvel tickle #switch!reader #switch!Loki #loki x reader #loki x gender neutral reader #loki x you #loki fluff

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srbachchan · 3 years

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DAY 4801

Jalsa, Mumbai Apr 20, 2021 Tue 11:09 PM

.. the path to goodness and well-being is paved with prayers ..

.. among the darkness that envelops the environ about us here , the lighted ray of goodness and achievement glides past in the pride and appreciation of the Father in prayer ..

.. the Big Bull does 10 million streams in 10 days .. is No. 1 and there is the emotion that it rides within ..

.. nothing more to be said , or expressed ..

43 years of film ‘Kasme Vaade’ .. and the poster of the film when it released in Israel , as provided by Moses .. and its popularity there ..

.. he also gives me information of the 1978 releases .. Kasme Vaade, Don , Trishul , Muquaddar ka Sikandar , Ganga ki Saugandh .. all blockbusters .. in one year .. !! doing 50 to 100 weeks ..

.. those were the days ..

.. to those that suffer, prayers and wishes each hour for well being .. for those that come out .. God is Great and kind and benevolent .. may HE ever be in the protection of all ..

.. each hour is filled with despair of news and information of the conditions of loved ones .. but the medical and front line warriors work relentlessly to save to serve to bring relief .. they are the Angels of the Almighty ..

.. in the silence of our homes .. in the company of those that be family , we spend time together .. learn each hour .. read the consequences and considerations .. give opinion and discussion .. view points from all directions give a vast panorama of the situations around .. communication of and to all has made it possible to get diversity .. and be known .. not to say that it was not there before, it was, but never so widespread and known as now .. a delight and at times a distraction .. at times its honesty .. at times its mistrust .. and most of the time on the learning of any news an immediate react to whether it be correct or fake .. whether hacked or genuine .. and that be the tragedy .. reality shall perhaps ever be presented with several question marks .. each question mark demarcating barriers - non existent , perhaps - but there all the same .. minds and thoughts have all been through the washer , detergent smacked , perfumed in temperature controlled laundry .. some having exclusivity with all of it yours in one .. or in one all of it .. ironed and folded hung in placid hangers by the cupboards of time .. noticed at times of need .. or never noticed at all .. forgotten .. unknown when in time was it ever worn ..

.. wear your prayers in the purity of its being .. in its inherent divinity ..

Amitabh Bachchan

Birthday ABEF team - Arijit Bhattacharya .. Wednesday, April 21 .. birthday greetings and wishes to be safe ..

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jaeminscoffee · 4 years

Text

The midnight man | l.ty

Pairing- Lee Taeyong x reader

Mentions- Lee Donghyuck, Na Jaemin, Liu YangYang, Nakamoto Yuta, Seo Johnny, Kim Doyoung, Ten Lee, Lee Dong Wook.

Genre- Horror!au, angst, crack, part fluff.

Warning(s)- Evil entity!Taeyong, Manipulation, Major character death (lmao you'll actually punch yourself towards the end), sexual themes suggested, impulsive decision making, talks with religion.

Word count- 11.83k

Synopsis- 'Lust though pleasurable, innocent and vice, thee shall stay loyal to thy partner regardless of wants. To betray thy partner is to deceive thy people and hence the kingdom. Thou shall pay for thy soul shall remain wandering, driven by the desires but, shall not be able to feel the human love thou took for a grain of salt. And all who shall follow thy steps shall face the same wrath.'

@kpopscape

This story is pure work of fiction and therefore doesn't speak about the mentioned members' personality in real life. I, in no manner, am trying to encourage hate speech towards the members so please don't come at me. This story was written using a mix of a bunch of urban legends and few made up by myself and therefore it isn't going to be spoken about the same way as it is in google. I also worked really hard on this piece and it's by far, the longest story I've written so feedbacks would mean a lot!, also it could get a little boring since i took time to focus on the side characters too. Make sure not to repost my works and sign it off as your own because that's a little disheartening and mockful towards the writer. So all credits reversed to @jaeminscoffee 2020©®

If anyone here doesn't know the story behind the midnight game, then read on! Because I've described it throughout the story! Happy reading!

29/10, Thursday, 10:57PM

"We need to do something this halloween man, Y/n come on!"

Your friends all collectively whined as you constantly kept rejecting their proposal.

Halloween is bullshit. It's overhyped and in all honesty, childish. You'd rather prefer staying home than go house to house and make a fool out of your existence. Not to mention you were all past the age of trick or treating. And to add on top of that came all the sugar rush you'd all go through at the end of the day. "For the last time, Hyuck we're not dressing up like crewmates and going trick or treating. I've got other things to do for the love of god" you grunt, rubbing the scrunched up skin to soothe the pain at the temples. University has been acting up again and so has life. "If your 'other things to do' is binge watch high school musical then no, you have no other better things to do" Yangyang bites back.

"It's just, I don't feel like it anymore, alright? It feels too weird going out asking for candies when we're all literally 19 and above. It's time to up the notch." you say, plopping down.

When Haechan called for an emergency meeting in pure 'among us' style back at the guys' dorm, you'd expected it to be about something along the lines of having to console Jaemin or someone for having been stood up on a date. What you didn't expect was to have the boys prepare an entire presentation on who'd dress up as what character from among us and who'd be the impostor, do a little play and then say 'red is sus' and then ask for candies. What made it worse was that you thought they were just pulling a prank on you when in all reality, they were dead serious which made you go, 'oh, oh they aren't pretending to be stupid, they're just in their original form.'

"It won't be that bad, doll. It's a genius plan if you ask me" Jaemim chirped in on the conversation finally after looking back and forth between you, Donghyuck and Yangyang caught up in a meaningless fight. "I don't see how any of this is genius, Jaem. If this plan's anything, it's stupid." You pull out your phone after making your way all the way to the headboard of Jaemin's bed. "How about we try out one of these creepy pasta games?" Yuta finally spoke up. Jaemin's brother, an early graduate, senior and of course a dear friend of yours. Yuta, despite the age difference between your classmates and you, had little to no trouble blending in with the tiny group of yours. Probably the only one who didn't behave like a toddler and the most sane one according to you. Yuta's been an amazing planner since junior year where you first met Jaemin, Yangyang and Donghyuck who then proceeded to introduce you to their senior friend group that consists of Yuta, Johnny, Doyoung; Donghyuck's cousin and Ten. You guys had a friendship the entire campus was envious of. But two year after you getting into the university, the seniors had to graduate. But that didn't stop all your bonds from staying as strong as ever. Not even after Ten got his posting in a town a little far away from the one you guys lived in. The distance didn't change anything between you guys and you were as close as you could ever get.

"Creepypasta?" Donghyuck inquired, looking straight at the guy who aimlessly scrolled down the screen of his device as Yuta didn't even bother looking up while passing the confused boy a nod. Sitting up cross legged from his previous side sitting posture, Yuta showed his phone screen to Donghyuck, who immediately got surrounded by the other two while you stare at the oldest in the room, slightly intrigued by the idea. "Creepypasta's like these horror-related legends that have been copied and pasted around the Internet by people who're too bored for their own sake." you explain as Haechan took the phone out of Yuta's hand who agreed to your explanation. "I read some sick games that I kinda wanna try out and see for myself," he said, looking at you with expectations and then the rest who seemed too immersed in surfing the website.

"Yuta, you of all people should know better than to think all these made up crap's real" you say nonchalantly.

Yuta's a huge skeptic, and so were you. Which is why you got along really well despite the mentioned age gap. The night gatherings back at the boy's dormitory or the girls (in this case, girl, yours) would always end up in narration of on spot made up stories of all genre, mostly horror because apparently according to Jaemin 'Rom-com's overhyped, sci-fi won't be fun when you narrate it out loud, mystery can easily turn boring, comedy, meh i guess, but a good horror story narrated properly, -yes, like you, Haechan- while adding jumpscares here and there could actually result in y'all being too scared to use the bathroom on your own'. And yeah, you'd startle here and there but the stories weren't believable enough for you to actually be scared. On the other hand, Haechan and Jaemin were scaredy cats. Literal toddler's who're so gullible, you could literally tell them there was an alien invasion news flash two minutes ago and they'd be hiding under their bed. And then there's Yangyang, he just doesn't care. He goes along with the plans solely for the fun of it and for the other's' (Haechan and Jaemin) reaction. "That's the point. I don't" he shuffled around to shift closer to you,

"Which is exactly why i want to try them out"

Maybe it's the feline that crossed over his body, maybe it was the fact that his spirit just wasn't ready to leave the human realm yet. Maybe it's the mourning of his family or maybe it's him himself knowing full too well his potential was truly wasted due to the fast departure. Whatever it was, his spirit was definitely made restless.

The world is a cruel place where harsh actions are always sugar coated by honey like words. It's how he knew the doings of his people were wrong that made him disappointed. The practices of the people, his people, were stupid, meaningless and only harmful to the human kind. They fend off the satisfaction of their almighty even if that means that there needs to be sacrification of their loved ones, their nemesis, or them themselves. And it was his ancestors fault for starting all these practices.

Passed down generations from generations was the curse put on the first of their bloodline by the princess he'd defied to go out and be ruthless by disregarding his duties as a husband, a father, a member of the royal courts and as a human being.

Lee Dong Wook. The root of all evil, the main reason the males of the family line faced the same wrath as him, all cursing at him but one namely enjoying his role. The pagans, dating back to the roman times era had a very, let's say, interesting method of punishing. The said lords they'd worship, the people following the religions had a strong belief that nature is sacred and that the natural cycles of birth, growth and death observed in the world around us carry profoundly spiritual meanings. Gods and goddesses of life, or say, death or anything else that exists beyond life and death, they believed in all.

The doings of his ancestors started off innocent. Sacrifices to the lords of goodness and tranquility, a peaceful life by the towns and outskirts, forgiveness for wrong doings and of course, happiness. It's how any religious rituals would go about and all were happy until the said betrayer of the group came in with that curse of his. 'The doings of his shall be repented for all the men following shall be the one paying it,'

At first glance when the man returned back to his royals, there were little to no suspicions of a curse being casted on him. He seemed normal to his family, his people except for the occasional forcing people to do something they despised. And it wasn't just the men of the family instead, it was all. But mostly the men, unless the same sin were to be committed by the females. Obscure behaviors have been asked to follow starting exactly at midnight to the witch's hour be it hurting your loved one, your enemy, doing sinful things, allowing self to get manipulated and mostly, shortening their own life time in the human realm. It was all unexplainable. Why was he asking people to do things like this but most of all, why are they even listening to him?

It wasn't until they discovered that Dong Wook, for one, was never the one who returned home. On a second note, he, 'Dong Wook' mainly only targeted the men whose doings were similar to his that was fueled by the same sin that had him going. Which only remained undiscovered. The curse was unbeknownst to all still, Dong Wook himself remained undiscovered. Or proposed by the elders of the community, his body remained undiscovered while his spirit roamed restless among the people.

The pagan romanticists are, in most cases, ignorant of the “paganism” they praise—the redeemed paganism of Christianity depicted in the transfigured water of the True Well of Life. Wrestling with the Greek gods, however, leads us to see the hyper-anthropomorphization of the gods with one intention in mind—justification of sexual lusts and displays of power over the weak.

The oldest written account of the Greek deities is from Hesiod. His Theogony, literally “birth of the gods,” charts out the genealogies of the major and minor deities in two branches. The first set of gods come into existence without sex. The second set of gods come into existence with sex; often very graphic and violent sex and they continue to have violent sex after their birth.

As Hesiod continues to describe the birth and death of the gods and great monsters of antiquity, the chaining of Prometheus to his eternal torment is described. So too is Hades’ rape of Persephone. Battle is depicted left and right, and “a terrible din arose from their dreadful wrath, and the work of power was revealed”. Lust, sex, and war reign supreme in Hesiod’s telling of the birth of the gods. Moreover, it is from this brutality and carnality that Hesiod gives them praise—only those with enough cunning and ambition are worthy of having the praise of the muses.

That the gods birthed through sexual lust are themselves lustful was not missed by Christians of the pagan community. Though St. Augustine received the Romanized version of the Greek myths, he goes to great lengths and laborious pains—using the pagans’ own prophecies —to highlight the moral depravity of the gods in Confessions and City of God.

His sin, after all the years, was lust and the want to dominate.

'Lust though pleasurable, innocent and vice, thee shall stay loyal to thy partner regardless of wants. To betray thy partner is to deceive thy people and hence the kingdom. Thou shall pay for thy soul shall remain wandering, driven by the desires but, shall not be able to feel the human love thou took for a grain of salt. And all who shall follow thy steps shall face the same wrath.'

Oh, how lust was a dangerous feeling.

29/10 continued. 11:28PM

It's how you all circled around in the living room like any other day that was comical to you. Instead of reading out your own made up story, it so happened to be the Creepypastas Yuta screenshotted for what he wanted to try out and see for himself. It wasn't even his idea to read them out. Haechan and Jaemin's 'too curious for their own sake' selves were the ones who wanted to read it out loud. "How about we sit in the order of who's gonna read out what and when?" Yangyang suggested, standing up from his seat. "Yuta read out the topics and we'll pick randomly."

"No fun! Hold up," Haechan did some pretty exaggerated hand actions before getting up and heading to his room, well, Jaemin's room to do who knows what. "Okay? I'll get the candles!" Yangyang said, him getting out of his seat too, "And I'll go get the bible, jesus christ" and Jaemin was out of his seat too. You look at Jaemin in a funny manner, as though questioning him with your eyes if he's actually going to get a bible or not, "What? I don't want to die young, I'm too hot for that" he said, before following Haechan's steps to his bedroom, "Yikes, you aren't going to die dude"

"Okayy, I'm back, make way bitches" Haechan dictated to which he earned a few groans and a smack on the ankle from Yuta, "Jaemin! I can't find the candles!" "It's beside the Reese's cups! Second rack inside of the refrigerator!" Jaemin says while walking back up to your tiny circle with an empyre comic in his hand and a cross pendant dangling off of his neck, "That's a bible?" you question. "Shush, do not question the power of avengers and fantastic four." Jaemin replies, holding the comic up close to his chest. You all collectively dismiss it with a concerned look directed towards the male, "Are we not going to question the fact that Jaemin keeps his candles inside the fridge?"

"So here's what we're going to do, I've got these tiny papers which have numbers from 1 to 5,because we're five people and I've folded the paper into chits, once i toss it, we pick random sheets and the number you get is when your turn to read is, any objections?" Haechan explained, "Even if you have any, keep it to yourself because I don't care" he bites in again while juggling the folded sheets in a closed palm while the other supports his body by it being planted behind him. "Okay I'm back with the candles" Yangyang finally joins in on the circle, completing it, "You took that long to find one candle?" Yuta asks, "No i was eating the reese's cups" he replied, wiping his hand on your jean clad thighs earning him a loud whine of 'Eww that's disgusting man' and a little too far from soft smacks on his shoulder, "You piece of sh-" Jaemin starts, "Okay all, Focus!" Haechan cuts him off, ready to throw the bits onto the space between the five of you in front of the now lit candle (Thank you, Yuta), and so he tossed it a little high up from the ground, letting the paper fall of his palms and onto the floor while being cautious of not throwing it anywhere near the flame.

"Now let's arrange ourselves according to the numbers, who's number one?" Haechan asks, Yuta raises his hands while pointing at where he's sitting, "I'm not getting up, y'all arrange yourself so that the person going second is to my right and the last person would be to my left", you all look at him nonchalantly, "What?" with a shake of your head, you proceed calling out numbers, "Number two?" Haechan shoves Yangyang back to take his place beside Yuta, "bitch." Yangyang seats himself beside Haechan, followed by Jaemin and lastly, you.

"First, Yuta!" Jaemin slurs the elders name, receiving a death glare from his cousin. Nevertheless, Yuta cleared up his throat and switched his attention to his phone screen, "The first urban legend is from Japan, ironically." He states as a matter of fact, "It's called Aka Manto."

"Aka manto is an urban legend related to toilets—particularly those in elementary schools.-"

"Is that why you take a relatively long time inside of the bathroom? Are you, you know? Tickling pickles with Aka Mant-ow! Sorry!" Yangyang was wasted as he was tackled onto the floor by Yuta, while the rest of you cracked up, "Now let's get a little serious, come onnn!" Haechan whines.

"This phenomenon is known all over Japan, with countless variations on the same theme. It usually takes place in a specific stall in a specific bathroom in the school. Usually it is an older or seldom used bathroom, often in a stall with an older style squat toilet. Often the fourth stall is the cursed one, as the number four is associated with death." "I'm so glad our university has only two stalls," Jaemin chimes in, suddenly grasping the cross pendant.

"Most stories follow this general pattern: while at school late in the evening, a student suddenly finds him or herself in desperate need of a toilet. The closest restroom available is one that is normally avoided by the students; it is older and less well-kept, separated from the rest of the school, and is rumored to be haunted. But with no time to search for a different restroom, the student enters. He or she does their business, and when they have finished, they reach for the toilet paper only to find that there is none. Then they hear a strange voice" Yuta looks up from the phone screen, "“Do you want red paper? Or blue paper?”"

"None bitch, give me the classic white,"

With a roll of his eyes, Yuta continues, "If the student answers, Red paper, moments later, they're stabbed and sliced up violently that blood seeps out of them, painting the walls of the stall red and it soaks up into their body, making them appear red", "And if the student responds blue paper, then their blood is going to be sucked up dry, leaving them dead and blue-faced on the floor."

"But! If you try to outsmart Aka Manto, by replying to question with, i don't know, "Yellow paper" then too, dead is inevitable, you will be shoved onto the floor where the spirit is said hold your head down in the dirty toilet water until you drown and well, die" Yuta ends with a shrug of his shoulder, "Seems pretty bullshit to me" and you agree alongside, though, it could be a little creepy if the existing legend did turn out to be true. "Okay next!"

Yuta leans back a little more, pressing onto your side which you took as an invitation to lean on his shoulder. When you did so, all Yuta did was beam at you and wrap his arms around you to keep you close after handing the phone over to Haechan, "If you want me to start reading you have to give it up for me. Give me the grand welcome that i deserve" the lad said in a childish voice which again only earned him a few smacks and half hearted applauds. "So this one is apparently called, the one man hide and seek" though all narrations were being taken on a lighter note, the mood set in the room gave you enough space to picture the stories, added to that came the factor that Donghyuck knows exactly how to narrate what.

"The "One-Man Hide and Seek", also known as the "One-Man Tag," is a ritual for contacting the dead. The spirits, which are wandering restless on the Earth, are always looking for bodies to possess. In this ritual, you will summon such a spirit, by offering it a doll instead of a human body." He lowers his voice while focusing solely on the screen.

"The warnings say that if you have any psychic abilities, you may feel unwell or be prone to accidents during the ritual." He raises his eyebrows, looking at all four of you in a curious manner. The things you need for this game seems lowkey sketch"

"One stuffed doll. It must have limbs, Rice, enough to stuff the doll full. One needle, and one crimson thread. One pair of nail clippers. One sharp-edged tool, such as a knife, glass shard, or scissors. One cup of salt water. Natural salt would be best. A bathroom, with a bathtub and some form of counter. A hiding place, preferably a room purified by incense and ofuda. There must be a TV in there." Haechan's face contorts with each requirement for the game. Letting out a defeated sigh, he hands the phone over to Yangyang, "Of all the stories i could've narrated, i got chosen for this and for what? Just to contact stupid poltergeists. Just play a ouija board and go"

Giving Haechan a sympathetic pat on the back, he takes the device. Looking through the screen he cracks up a smile, "Alright, listen up closely. This is an Urban legend classic"

"The Slender Man-" a bunch of 'aahhs' of realization resonate through the room

"-is a supernatural creature that is described as appearing as a normal human being but he is described as being 8 feet tall and he has vectors or extra appendages that are described to be as sharp as swords. The creature is known to stalk humans and cause many disappearances. He is described as a shadow creature that has a missing face. The creature fits into many mythologies in legends from nations such as germany and celts which brings up the possibility that he could be real." Yangyang pauses to add in a little more life to his reading while all of your paid full concentration to him

"A man named victor Surge found this legend and made his own version of it which he called slender man. The slender man is not exactly evil according to mythology but victor Surge’s version shows him as an evil creature that stalks humans to kill. In mythology he was actually trying to save you from a painful death by taking you to the underworld early." he ends, placing the phone down in front of him, screen down. "Kills you to save you from a death and collectively shortens your lifespan? Seems legit to me" Jaemin chimes in while the rest of you chuckle whereas Haechan pouted at the device in front of his friend, "I should've gotten that story"

"My turn!"

"So, ahem-" Once the focus is all on him,Jaemin looks down onto the device containing his part of narration. "- This is an urban legend about a girl named Daruma who was a young Japanese woman that died in the bathroom, which upon entering to take a bath, it stumbled and her forehead ended up against the edge of the tube, destroying it the brain, at the same time that her eye embedded in the tube , leaving it in consequence, one-eyed key and later , dead by bleed out." "Oh god ouch" You hiss as though your forehead was the one that hit the edge, " Her appearance as described is apparently; black hair that is entangled, her clothes rotting and made shreds. She only has one eye. Her left eye is completely open and injected with blood." "That's gruesome," Yangyang adds, earning a nod from Jaemin who's eyes were still fixated on the screen. "And apparently there's a ritual that you can follow to summon her into your house for twenty four hours straight" At the silence, he continues. "I'll shorten it, so you have to begin it right before your bedtime, shed all your clothing and enter your bathroom, turn off all the lights and fill in your bathtub, climb into it while being seated facing faucet, close your eyes and start washing your hair while chanting "Daruma-san fell down" and keep chanting that until you're done washing your hair, and yeah don't open your eyes."

"If you did it right then you'll get this image of a japanese who'll slip and fall in front of you. Even if you hear a noise behind you, do not open your eyes, no matter what it takes, Ask out loud, 'why did you fall in the bathtub' and let that hang in the air. With your eyes still closed, get up and out of the tub and be careful not to slip and do not drain the tub. Go to your room, don't turn the lights on, shut the bathroom door closed and sleep. Wake up the next day and carry on with your day and you'll apparently feel her presence alongside you all day. She'll constantly try getting close to you, when she does, scream 'Tomare!',"

"That means stop," Yuta adds to which you all hum in understanding.

"To end the game, capture her gaze from over your shoulder and say 'Kitta' which means 'I cut you loose' while swinging your arm in a chopping motion. If you followed the procedures then you'll be rewarded but if not then, run. That's all it says here" He stops, looking a little shaken at how he created an image of it all in his mind. "They didn't say how to get rid of her if you fail following the procedure?" you ask

"No." Jaemin shrugs it off

"Alright boys, my turn"

30th October, Friday, 10:53PM

It's probably how you read out your part of story telling, or it was how he felt the game was a little too unrealistic that had Yuta hooked onto the urban legend.

Yuta found himself at his dorm doing a little more research on the midnight ritual. A backpack already consisting of all the elements required for the game, 'could it really be played just by one person?'. Whatever it was, he really wanted to do the game. He wanted someone to accompany him, of course. But knowing his friend group, not many would be ready to play it alongside. Doyoung was probably busy preparing his resumes for his job interviews. Johnny's all the way back in Chicago for a little family time. Ten was a little too far from your town so he'd feel bad calling him all the way over just to perform a probably demonic ritual. Donghyuck and Jaemin are out of the question, they'd obviously say no. Yangyang has a company party to attend as the heir. And you had to study for your test on Monday so he didn't really feel like disturbing you though, he did inform you that he was going out to have some fun and that you could join him anytime. Closing his laptop with a sigh, he gets up and walks over to where his bag was sprawled across the floor, picks it up and makes his way out of the studio apartment like dormitory after grabbing his car keys.

Not like he believed it was real, it's incase if the legend turns out to be even the slightest of reality, he wasn't going to get his dormitory haunted, instead opting to perform it at the house he grew up in, his childhood house. That was left abandoned ever since they moved out months before his younger brother was born after his father had an episode still unknown to him inside the place. It was convenient enough to perform the ritual in and no one lives there anymore, and it was just a few minutes from where his house was anyways.

Reaching the place and swinging the backpack over his shoulder, he makes his way into the surprisingly still intact house. Not much time to waste, looking around, Yuta slowly made his way up the wooden stairs, the wood creaking with each step he took to prove the existence of this house dated long back. The guest room shut lock from lack of human souls even when they used to live there. The paintings still hung off of a single screw, nostalgia hitting him straight as he recalled the one time he was playing catch with a neighbor's kid and ended up breaking the glass frame. The wallpaper's adhesive seemingly had gotten weaker from how they had started coming out from nooks and crannies of the walls. The place, without doubt, looked a little creepy but nonetheless felt homely.

Switching on all switches from the main controller that was in the control room right by the end of the hallway, the entire darkness was replaced with light as the bulbs shockingly still seemed to function. The warm white colour of the lights took Yuta all the way back to his growing up years, missing all the fun he'd had there and all the memories he'd created. He, though grew up mostly by himself from how busy his parents were on the weekdays and sometimes the weekends, missed them more now that they live far off in Japan with his mother's family. Especially now that he was in the place they spent the most time together in. Shaking his head, he had no trouble navigating his way to his childhood room. Where he set the bag down.

He reached out to his back pocket to get out his phone, switching it on as the screen illuminated, 11:28PM, the screen read. To kill the time, Yuta set up all the items required in place to proceed the ritual smoothly. He pulled his laptop out of the backpack once he was all set to maybe watch something on the internet. It being other peoples attempt at the ritual he was about to perform.

11:55PM.

Yuta inhaled, having only a few more minutes until he had to proceed. He recalled your words,

"Alright boys, my turn" You snatch the phone out of Jaemin's hand who seemed really immersed in finding out more about the legend he just read out about, earning a pout from him. "I was reading" he let out in a whiny tone immediately going stoic after receiving a 'do i care' look from your end. "Okay, so the story I'm going to read out is called the midnight man, or the midnight game" You scroll back and forth through the pages the oldest of the group screenshotted. "From what he's gathered, there's not much backstory, but apparently it's a ritual or mostly a punishment that the pagan's use to punish the betrayer of the group who failed to stay loyal to their lords or the group. One of the people of the religion will summon the midnight man to an abandoned house where they lock up the said betrayer who'll then be put through god knows what by the midnight stranger," You stop to look up from the screen to look at each of your friends before letting out a sigh.

"My take on this though is that it's highly impossible since the rules here state that once you start the ritual you aren't allowed the leave the place until the game is completely done unless you want the midnight man to follow you around for as long as you live, so unless the midnight man actually favored the pagans, there's no way they could punish the betrayer without one of the loyal ones passing away along with the one being punished" you state, "But what if, it's the midnight man that they preach? You know, like, they could be praying the midnight man" Haechan adds in a point which seemed to make sense, "That's possible too"

"Why would someone preach an evil entity? That's so sketch" Jaemin asks perplexed. "They did a lot of sketchy things back in the days, Jaem. I wouldn't question it," Yuta chirps. "Is there any other backstory given about the midnight man?" Yangyang finally speaks up, "Well not really, but when i was taking screenshots of this it apparently started with a curse on someone whose identity is unknown to most. There was no such thing as the midnight game or ritual until the said bewitched man came back into town. I only know up to there, but there are high chances that he's probably the origin of the ritual." Yuta explains. "Why does Y/n get the best always, that's so unfair" Haechan's dramatic self whines while leaning onto Yangyang who rolled his eyes but nonetheless threw his hands around the latter's shoulder, "Anyways, the procedure for the ritual is given here."

"You need one candle, a lighter or a match box or anything that ignites fire, a piece of paper, something to write with, a sharp object, it could be a pin, it just needs to be something sharp enough to draw blood, a wooden door, and salt for protection-" You read out, "Now why the fuck would they need blood," Jaemin asks, shaken up. "That's for them to know and us to find out"

"Here's how the invitation for the midnight man goes. Begin prior to midnight,"

Yuta stood up from his bed, and walked up to the backpack on the floor, picking out the papers he'd brought along and took out a blunt pencil.

"Write your full name- first, middle, and last- on the piece of paper with your writing implement." He wrote syllable by syllable, Nakamoto Yuta. "Prick your finger with the pin and squeeze until a drop of blood appears. Dot the blood on the paper and allow it to soak in. Turn off every light in your home." He took out the small safety pin he brought along from his jean pocket, pressing his fingers hard and pricked into the skin as hard as he could, keeping in mind to not draw too much blood. Yuta let the droplet fall right in the space between his last name and first.

"Place the paper with your name and blood on it in front of the closed wooden door. Light the candle using the matches or lighter and place it on top of the paper. If you are using a taper, make sure it is placed in a candle holder." He walks up to the door and places down the paper with his name and blood on it, with the half melted scented candle he brought along. Yuta took out his phone once again, 11:59. "Knock on the door 22 times. The final knock must occur precisely when the clock chimes 12am. Open the door; then blow out the candle and close the door. Relight your candle immediately." He starts to knock on the door, drumming on the dusty wood, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

He checks the time once again, 12:00AM.

He leans down to pick the glass jar containing the candle, relighting it,

"I welcome you."

Taeyong loved the tiny creatures in the human realm. They were so naive and so, stupid but weirdly smart at the same time that made playing with them ten times more interesting. The callings from them, or the way they say it in the human realm, summoning the spirit was the only way he could gain access to enter the place. Summoning wasn't even necessary. Saying his name out was more than enough for him to go up to you. Midnight man, midnight stranger, midnight visitor, pagan's god, What not had the human's named him.

The only one besides his ancestor of said curse that enjoyed the power of punishing people was Taeyong himself. The youngest of the bloodline and the freshest of pagan's spirit, he loved the power he had. Sure he had no access to love, instead besides lust and range he felt nothing, maybe amusement too, but none other than that and he seemed perfectly fine with that. Human's always seeked lust more than love either way so he found no problem in being void of feeling a vulnerable emotion. Instead, he found love pathetic. Watching human's from where he lived, he'd seen all from men and women seeking love by going to heights of trouble only to waste away your remaining life with one partner. Leeching off of pleasure at times when you had a significant other. He always got a hearty laugh from all of that. According to him, if you want someone, get them. Instead of tailing them and trying to be a goody two shoes, just make them yours in a way that's inevitable for them to fall for you. Control how they feel. Easier said than done since he was the only one with the ability to do so, 'how fucking pitiful'.

So when he saw you and your small group of friends discussing about him, laughing at all the assumptions you made along the way, he wanted each of you to himself. "My take on this though is that it's highly impossible since the rules here state that once you start the ritual you aren't allowed to the leave the place until the game is completely done unless you want the midnight man to follow you around for as long as you live, so unless the midnight man actually favored the pagans, there's no way they could punish the betrayer without one of the loyal ones passing away along with the one being punished" you're smart and that was intriguing to him. He liked the way you thought of things and the male beside you too, you both seemed to take tales of him as a grain of salt and that, besides angering him, made him feel the want to prove himself to you. Taeyong found the other three cute, seemingly scared of him just the way he liked it.

His ancestor's who held the same power as him, the curse actually, came to be known as said lord because of their power of manipulation and to inject in their worst nightmare into their minds that had the people divide themselves into groups. One that believed the power they had was for the good and considered them to be their god, their savior. And the other being the one's scared of their power and the fear that the same faith would bestow upon them that had them pray for forgiveness for sins they never committed. So your friend had the point a little, but it was inaccurate. They believed him. Believed Taeyong and feared his power. He loved people bowing down in front of him, eyes trembling and body shivering. It gave him a sense of dictatorship. And he had set his mind to have both of you non-believers fear him.

Having been brought up with little to no love, Taeyong followed down the same path as his great grandfather. Not having enough time to feel the vulnerable emotion, he chose to go down the path of pleasure and power play. His powers though, seemingly stronger than the past generations, probably due to the fact that he was young, ruthless and free of care. He could make himself appear physically in the human realm in any shape and form, though he always preferred to go in his original, but less scarier form. His visuals were out of the world. He didn't have to scare people to make them obey, instead all he had to do was pretend to be there and just be himself and that only made humans seem even pathetic to him.

"Relight your candle immediately"

12:01PM, The main event.

"Keeping your candle in hand and your salt and matches or lighter close by, begin to move about your home. Should your candle go out, you must relight it within the next ten seconds. If you are successful, continue moving about your home. Do not stop moving until 3:33 am. If you are unsuccessful in relighting the candle, immediately surround yourself with a circle of salt. Remain inside the circle until 3:33 am. At 3:33 am, it is safe to stop moving or to step outside your circle of salt. You may also turn on the lights. The game Is Over."* You conclude. Hissing slightly at the sudden pain by your shoulder that was exposed from the minimalistic clothing you'd adorned, the stranger looking over it all smirked to himself. 'Got it'

Yuta opened the door again, mindful to keep his phone back in his jean pocket along with the lighter and of course, the salt be brought along. Starting from the end of the hallway, nothing seemed to change except now, the eerie silence was starting to bother him, 'Just 3 hours to go,'. He didn't miss a single corner, walking room to room, corner to corner, mindful to stay inside all the way. The temperature of certain rooms seemingly lesser than others. A cold pocket.

"There are few warnings too," you swipe the image to go to the next one, "At 3:33 am, the Midnight Man will leave your home. After he has left, you may safely end the game. Do NOT turn on any lights during the game. Do NOT use a flashlight during the game. Do NOT go to sleep during the game. Do NOT use a lighter instead of a candle during the game." Check. He had a lighter on him just to relight the candle anyways.

Taeyong, following the guy seemed to be quite impressed by his bravery. Not even the slightest of shaken up as he proceeded to walk about the villa. That's good, no slip ups and he seemed too good to mess anything up either ways, and that bored the entity. Where's the fun if he just succeeded?

To avoid the candle from going off at the sudden flickering, Yuta covered it up the best he could with his hands and checked around whether any windows were left open. Darkness engulfed the surrounding all of a sudden, the lad being taken aback, 10 seconds. He rushed to take out his lighter, 9, pressing the button repeatedly to ignite the flame only to get a small blue flame instead, huh? 8, running back full speed happy that he was in the premises of where his backpack is, he pulled the spare lighter, a brand new one out of the side pocket, 7, repeating the same process of flicking the button over and over, 6 until a bright orange flame engulfed the dark room, 5, he immediately grabbed his candle from besides the bag, 4 reaching in close by the wick, burning himself slightly in 3-, the process. Yuta heaves out a sigh of relief, while the spirit laughs at the frantic boy. 'He's cute.'

For a breaker, he took out his phone, looking at the time that seemed to pass by quickly throughout the ritual, 2:47 AM. A little more while to go until he'd finally get it over with. "Do not attempt to provoke the Midnight Man during the game." You ended for the nth time that night, "Which idiot would-" Yangyang asks "Haechan-" Jaemin pretends to cough while blurting out his best friends name, the mentioned feigning offence while tilting his head to the side, tongue poking at the insides of his cheek. "Seems like that's pretty much it." you shrug while the older guy beside you leaning back on both of his hands, "I kinda wanna try that out" Yuta raised his eyebrows at you. "Halloween night? We all go together" you chirp in, both of you whipping your heads to look at the three perplexed boys. "Uh, I have to water my fish on halloween? She'd get pretty thirsty". Jaemin's eyes wandered about, coming up with an excuse, "And I gotta walk my rock yo, physical fitness." Haechan adds, "Can I bring my fish along? She could use some exercising".

"Come on guys, it won't be that bad, we'll stick in a group?" You pleaded, trying your best to muster up the cutest puppy eyes. "I'm down" Yangyang shrugs. You do a tiny seal clap, looking expectedly at the other two, Yangyang and Yuta doing the same. "We stick together?" Haechan asks, to which the three of you nod your head,

"Alright then we're down too"

[3:04AM 30th, October. ]

A few more minutes left until he'd succeed, Yuta was starting to grow tired of constantly roaming. He'd usually not the one to wear out that quickly, but for a reason unknown to him, he felt utterly sleepy, tired, hungry and just wanted to lie down. He decided to take a small break, the candle still light, dangerously flickering but yet still intact. Yuta sat by the foot of the stairs as Taeyong looked at him with the same cocky smirk on his face, contemplating whether to pop out or not. 'Maybe let's make it subtle? '

Taking up the form of a black humanoid figure, Taeyong makes his way towards Yuta whose eyes seem to be dropping low with each passing second. Upon hearing the sounds of footsteps Yuta looks up, a hand on his forehead from the sudden throbbing headache. Letting out a loud yell at the figure in front of him that disappeared almost immediately, he rushed to grab his lighter again. The sudden temperature drop made him shudder. Taking out the new lighter, he pressed the button again and again as the time limit started to exhaust, 6, at a successful fire, he reached for his candle, only for the flame to go off when it neared the candle wick. "what the fuck.." 5, "come on.." he stated in a rushed voice, sure that he just saw whatever he saw once again. Finally flicking the button one last time, he succeeded in lighting the candle.

Contrary to popular belief, the midnight man didn't always radiate death. Sometimes he just messes around with the humans because the underworld could get a little boring. And as the curse states death and wrath is only to be faced by those who sinned and the boy playing right now seemed to be of no threat. All Taeyong wanted to do was get the guy to believe in his existence. Skeptics were like an insult to him. So if he had to prove himself and his existence on his own, then so be it. He gets some pretty good experience out of it anyways.

Yuta stood up immediately, remembering the warning's you'd stated, "Do not stop moving until 3:33am", walking back up the stairs, he took out his phone to check the time, 3:29am. Almost.

The same sounds of footsteps resonated from behind him, Yuta took an immediate U-turn. Going back down the stairs and roaming the empty, dark hallways, making sure to enter each and every room, keeping a mental note to thank his parents for having a slightly confusing infrastructure. The wax was almost completely out in the glass jar, but he had to hang in there for a little longer than 2 more minutes when he felt something brush his shoulder, much similar to how a friend would drape their hands over his/her friends' shoulder. He could've brushed it off as anything if it weren't for the sharp pain he felt right after the feeling of someone touching him. He's getting the proof he wants. Almost as if someone pulled his hoodie, Yuta stumbled back, letting out a shaky scream, tripping on his own foot, landing butt down onto the floor, catching a glimpse of the same humanoid figure he'd been seeing. He needs to get out of there.

Stumbling back onto his feet, Yuta bolted it upstairs, grabbing his phone once again to check the time, 3:32am. Reaching his room, he set the candle down right beside him, vary of the windows and doors, starting to back his backpack, the sounds of rushed footsteps running start to where he is ringing through his ears, hands shakingly packing his bag. Keeping the candle closeby, contemplating whether to draw a salt circle or not since there was only less than half a minute left when the same humanoid figure neared him with fast footsteps, reaching by the door frame with a loud agonizing scream only to disappear immediately.

Not realising the stress of tears flowing and the tresses sticking to his forehead, Yuta looked at the door frame in a perplexed yet confused manner. What the fuck was that.

Taking out his phone once again while grabbing his backpack, laptop and the car keys in the other hand, 3:34 am. He'd made it through. After reaching the front door, not even bothering to close it, he rushed to his car, starting it before pulling up your contacts, seeing the messages he'd never sent you.

Yuta san 1:39am: The boys said they won't make it tomorrow, it's gonna be just you and i

Y/nleE 1:43am: Why not?

Yuta san 1:45am: Dk, they said they aren't interested. So come near xxxx tomorrow at 11:30. I'll meet you there.

Y/nleE 1:48am: Coolsies.

Yuta san 3:38am: Y/n don't come here, gather the boys and meet me by Haechan's dorm tomorrow. The game's no fucking joke.

And with that he started driving away quickly to his dormitory, not once looking back at the house to see a human. Or a human like figure standing there, A bright red hair standing out due to his blood drained looking pale skin. A smirk on his face

Message not delivered.

31st October, 22:37PM, 2020.

Today was a weird day,

Having all plan's set two days before, you'd make sure to keep yourself ready for whatever you and your friend group were supposed to do today. You finished up all your assignments earlier that day to keep yourself free from afternoon and on.

The weird part was that, no matter how much you kept your phone for charge, each time you tried calling one of the guys to ask for the sudden bailing out on plan, which is a shocker because they've never done that, your phone kept switching off. You could've gone all the way to their apartment, well, dorm, but you decided to wait until later to do so. Maybe a few minutes before leaving to the place Yuta texted you so that they'd have no choice but to come along. Since your last time texting with Yuta, you hadn't heard from him. Granted, he did text you quite late at night saying he's going to do god knows what and to tell you of the sudden plan change, but you hadn't heard from him after, that being weird since he literally lives a floor below yours, he could've come any moment but nope. You kept a mental note to tell him off later.

You took out your phone once again to check if they'd sent any messages or missed calls only to have an empty chat box, other than that of your other friends that is. Added on top of that came the constant pricking feeling on your shoulder blades from the last day you hung out with the boys. The pain would appear randomly and it would be hurtful enough to draw blood, which is weird considering the fact that you kept yourself away from all sharp objects and had a full sleeve covering the area.

One stone, two birds. Taeyong's motto.

After having interfered with your phone, your friends, trying to keep you away from them until you'd go through the same as your other skeptic partner, Taeyong made sure that Yuta would be sick enough after returning home to keep him from even getting up from his bed. Temporary paralysis. Your other friends, of course they tried reaching out to you, only for him to cut the service to keep you away from them for a while. They got easily distracted from you ignoring their texts as they were focused on reaching out to Yuta.

Unknown: Hey Y/n, I'm Yuta's friend. He told me you aren't replying to his texts so asked me to do so.

Y/n: Who's this?

Unknown: Oh! I'm Taeyong! A close friend of well, your friend XD.

Y/n: Nice to meet you, Taeyong. I'm Y/n but it seems like you already know that.

Unknown: Yeah :). Yuta's on his way here and told me that you'd be joining us? Are you nearby?

Y/n: He left? No, actually, I'm just leaving my place. I guess I'll meet you there?

Taeyong: Meet ya :)

[23:22PM, 31st October, 2020 continued. ]

Hailing a cab to the address Yuta had sent you with his friends, Taeyong's number saved on your phone in case the later won't pick up, you left your place. Still feeling a little eerie from how Yuta just decided to leave you behind when he could've just offered to go together, which is pure Yuta style. He probably wasn't in the best of moods but he could've at least texted you letting you know of his departure from the apartment building.

The journey to the given address didn't take that long surprisingly. A little towards the outskirts of the town in a much aloof part but nonetheless, doable. It's not like you'd be alone there any ways. Paying for your fare, you took your purse, brushed your fingers through your hair to tame it a little from the ride, and turned towards the building, jumping slightly at the bright haired guy sitting by the front porch. Adorning the simplest of fit, a black knee slit jeans, with a graphic tee and a black leather jacket with a chain or two. He, in no doubts, was ethereal. His pale skin stood out the most in the street light if you could call it that and his lips seemed a little drained of blood, eyes hollow yet captivating when he looked up from the dirt below him to you who still stood yards away. Smiling, he got up, making his way towards after brushing off the invisible lint from his jeans, "Hey" he offered you his hands for you to shake upon reaching you. "Hey..? Taeyong, right?"

Wanting so badly to smirk, he only looked down with a silent snicker, looking up immediately to not look suspicious, "Yeah, Y/n..?" you nod in response, shuddering from the coldness of his skin, "Have you been out for too long? You're freezing," you exclaim, looking at him with a guilty expression and taking a mental note to hit Yuta for not arriving earlier. "Oh no, i just reached a minute or two prior to your arrival." you nod in understanding, withdrawing your hands from his hold, "By the way, Yuta called me a few minutes ago, telling me that he wouldn't make it and to just carry on" Taeyong said, looking at you with his eyebrows raised at your confused, innocent expression, his humane form threatening to change into his original form. "What? Why? It's like,-" you look down at your wrist watch, "11:50! And he's bailing out now?", smiling at you in fake sympathy, he replied, "he said he had other things to take care of," "But you said he'd left the place and was on his way here?" you ask, hands on either sides of your hip, "Last minute plan changes" Taeyong shrugs, "Anyways, let's get inside?"

He pointed towards the front door with both his hands, gesturing you to go forward first. And so you do. You offer him a smile before turning your back towards him and making your way towards the old house, the door seemingly open. Climbing up the stairs with caution, humming at the sound of dried leaves crunching up below your feet with each footstep. Taeyong stood behind where you two had introduced yourselves for a few minutes, a few more minutes. "Taeyong? Are you not coming?" you turn around slightly, looking over your shoulder at lad standing still, "Yeah, I'm coming" he replied soullessly, still standing his group until he saw you open the door ajar and then took his first step forward. Not bothering to go too quick.

The insides were simple, very very simple yet magnificent. The flooring seemed to be that of wooden finishing that creaked with each step you took, implying that of how old the infrastructure must be. You look around in awe, clutching at the sling bag that you carried along. You go corner to corner, not bothering to look behind to see if the friendly stranger was hot on your trail, instead seemingly being captivated by the olden time-ish wallpapers and paintings and antique pieces that the wall adorned. Taeyong on the other hand was just growing restless, 4 more minutes until he could play his next victim, he was growing frantic. He did follow you inside, instead opting to walk the opposite direction as you, towards where he'd hidden the paper with your crimson blood and name written on it, contemplating whether to just tear it and carry on proving his existence to the female in the room. 3 more minutes, he bit into his lips, "Taeyong? Look, i found something!" He heard you scream.

Puffing out a breath of frustration, Taeyong replied "Coming!" and he walked out of the room, hands in his pocket towards where you stood by the bottom of the stairs, looking at the lighter in your hand that seemed relatively unused. "I found lighter down here" you look at him with a tiny pout evident on your lips, looking back and forth between the candle and the guy, puzzled. "It must be some thugs who came here to smoke or something" He shrugged it off, taking the lighter out of your hand. It must be you over analyzing things but without a single light turned on in the villa with only your flashlight acting as a source of light, but Taeyong looked even more lifeless than before. Eyes dark ebony and dangerous, somehow intimidating, lips adorning a bright shade of red in contrast to how you saw it the first time, and his aura had seemingly darkened. 2 more minutes. You shake your head and walk up the stairs and towards a room which has it's door wide open. Choosing to lay out your things there, you stretch out a few stiff limbs, "So, me and the boys were planning on doing the midnight game, you know. One of those stupid creepy pastas? I can't believe all of them bailed out on me last minute," you speak particularly to no one in the room, assuming that Taeyong was listening to you, whose ears only perked up at the words midnight and stupid. Midnight. 00:00Am. The devil smirked to himself. Midnight, at last.

"I mean, Yangyang, Jaemin and Haechan came off as no shock to me- they're the other friend's by the way, but Yuta, it's weird for him to at least not let me know." You keep going, scrolling through your phone screen, only for it to load suddenly, No internet access. Sighing, you pull out offline downloads, "Did he tell you anything else? Like if he's feeling unwell or something?" you ask, letting the question float in the air, waiting for a reply. Getting known even after the passing of a few seconds, a minute too maybe, "Taeyong?" you stand up from the bed, well, the bed frame and make your way outside, "Tae?" you look left and right, searching for any moving soul when you feel your phone vibrate in your hands, and the sound of notification resonates through the eerie silence. You look down at the device in your hand, one new message from Yuta san and an immediate black out of the screen. Impossible.

You remembered full well charging your phone to a hundred percent before leaving your dorm. Hell, you even kept it on airplane mode your whole cab ride. Shrugging it off, you keep your phone beside your bag and then proceed to go out to look for your new friend? acquaintance? You didn't even know how to classify him as yet. "Tae, if you're trying to scare me, I'll give you heads up, it doesn't work on me." you chuckle, walking to the room beside the one you were previously lounging in. "It's past midnight and we both seem too uninterested to try out whatever we were supposed to anyways, how about we just head out?" you start, looking down at your wrist watch which displayed 00:09 on the screen in neon green. "I mean, it was stupid enough that my friends and i even decided to try it out knowing it's some made up shit to scare some seven olds, probably" you continue, feeling as though you're talking to the walls at the lack of response. "Taeyong, come on. I'm growing bored."

"Tae-" "You know, the way you logicised made it seem like you're smart enough. It was impressive," you hear his voice, a little too hoarse and plain for your liking, he continued before you could muster up a reply, "But seems like you aren't all that smart after all, seeing how you believed a total stranger and are even ready to spend time with him." you look around the place, only hearing his voice but his figure to be nowhere near you, "Taeyong, what are you talking about?" you head out of the room you currently stood in, jogging to catch his voice.

"It was a little angering you know? The way you spoke about me and my followers, it was disrespectful. And I could've taken you then and there, but what to do. You seemed too cute to take your soul without a small game? Is that what you humans call it?" You feel breathing fanning the nape of your neck and a cold air following it right after, making you turn back, "Your friend got his share of play" you whip your head forward, finally seeing the male in front of you, standing by the door frame of a connective hallway, you swore you felt his presence behind you though. His infamous smirk still adorning his features. Figure a little more towering and intimidating. If you thought he couldn't have seemed more lifeless a few minutes ago, then his appearance now only seemed to prove you wrong. "So it's only fair if you got your part of the play too, right?"

"Taeyong, you're only making your existence weird for me, let's go if you're done." He only tilted his head in amusement, "Oh it's only about to get weirder, darling" You turn back to face a blood red shot eyed male, well, Taeyong, eliciting a gasp from you, you look over your shoulder to see the place where Taeyong stood a blink of eye ago. "How..did-" His chest visibly vibrated from the hearty laugh he let out, "How did I do that?," you step back as his voice dropped even lower, only for you to bump your back into something rigid, something cold, making you let out a yelp as Taeyong seemed to stand still in front of you, "I can do a whole lot of things," you feared turning back, the insides of your stomach hurdling around as whatever was behind you reached their arms up and held you still in a vice grip. "Y/n!" you hear a voice scream from downstairs, "Y/n! Come out! We need to get out of here!" you recognize the voice as that of your friends, Yuta's.

You squirm hard to loosen the person's grip on your shoulder. Once succeeding, you bolt down the stairs, skipping a few steps, tripping now and then but nevertheless making it down without landing face first as you hear Taeyong's laugh thunder throughout the place. You take a turn to reach the front door, where Yuta stood in all his glory. You immediately run into his embrace, ignoring how his body seemed just as cold as the one you felt from whatever Taeyong was, "Y-yuta, he's sick, let's go, we need to go!" you try pulling Yuta's body a little closer to the exit, only for him to stand his ground, wrapping his hands around you even tighter as he caressed your hair, "Oh, Y/n.." your body goes stiff as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, that sounded nothing like your best friend, "Yuta..?"

You try pulling your head away from the nape of his neck to look at him, "No darling, it's 'stupid made up shit''," his body vibrated once again from the laughing against yours, as you feel yourself growing scared each passing second. You try mustering up all your strength to bring it to his sides and push him away when you feel a plush yet cold muscle press against your neck, only for it to go futile. "Still made up for you?" you feel a sharp pang of pain flow through your nerves, result of him biting the skin in a manner far too away from soft, "Taeyon-g- lord--midnight man, whatever you are.. I'm --sorry" you say in a hushed voice, scared that if you voiced out a little louder, he'd pounce at you. You feel him nibble at the soft skin, making you whimper, "Oh no, darling, do not apologize. Your doings really intoxicated me. Kept me entertained for a while."

"But now, it's angering me to know a feeble creature as you kept poking fun at my people. At me. And I want no more than to turn you into something belonging to me. Who'd worship me the way 'my people' do." He whispered against the area, lifting his head up and leaning down, making sure not to let go of his grip on you, "oh no, pretty girls aren't supposed to cry. Tsk tsk, what is this, Y/n" His eyes bore holes onto the crown of your head. "Look at me." he acted on making you look at him faster than you could, "Could you beg for forgiveness? Give me a piece of yourself?" he inched closer to your face, a small snarl escaping his throat at your scared and trembling figure, "Or you could just be my queen and come below with me, and you'd not have to cut down your lifespan"

"Are you turned on by all of this, Y/n? Or is it out of fear?" you let out a shaky breath as the tip of his nose touched yours, "Because i can smell you from here and oh," he let out what sounded like an animalistic growl, "Is it delicious.". "Taeyong, please let me go.. I'm sorry. I really am, just please don't hurt me,-" you let out a whine of pain when you feel his other hand knot his fingers in your locks and pull it back with much aggression, immediately planting his lips onto your trembling once, bearing his fang like teeth into plush flesh to draw out blood, earning a loud high pitched scream from your end as you try your best to push him away, futile once again. His hands tighten their grip at the waist while his other hand pulled your head further back, latching onto the firm skin of your neck, treating it with the same aggression, puncturing through the skin with his teeth as your hands go limp beside your body, nevertheless, letting out a whimper from the harsh treatment, which, in all your defense couldn't be help since you still are a human with all emotion any human would feel, that including lust. You feel his cold lips curve into a smirk against where blood flowed out, lapping it up with his tongue as you feel your vision blacken the more as time went by.

"Oh darling you're no different than me.."

4th November, 19:48Pm, 2020.

"She's awake!!" you blink multiple times to get accustomed to the blaring lights in the room, a comfortable white filling your eyesight. You move your head towards the side to find all your friends sprawled out on each side. A drip connected to your hands making you squint in confusion, "Can you hear us, Y/n?" you feel your shoulders being shaken as jolt, "Hey? Yeah i can hear you, why won't i be able to?" you ask, confusion still laced in your voice, "Because you hadn't responded to us the last time we called you. And because you've been laying dead the past few days" Jaemin spoke up first, earning a smack from his elder brother

"Why didn't you stop when we screamed your name the other day, Y/n? You literally weren't breathing the day we found you" Yangyang inquired and stated, "And why did you leave us all on seen??" Haechan added, "Most of all, where were you even??" Yuta spoke. You hiss at all the questions being thrown at you as you try sitting up by the inclined hospital bed, "Screamed? Didn't respond? I left you on seen? That's highly impossible and where was i??" you stare blankly at the plain wall in front of you, trying to remember any such episode. The more you strained your head, the more clueless you grew. Your throat starts to grow dry so you turn your neck to check if there are any water bottles nearby, only for a sharp pain to flow through your nerves at a particular spot in your throat. You yelp at the sudden pain, "I'll get the doctor," Haechan rushed outside, when you reached out to touch your neck, feeling it with the tips of your finger, feeling in the swollen skin, the dried up blood when it all hit you. Your eyes grow wide as you start shaking, for it to be first noticed by Yuta, "Yuta, that house! The game, it's all real! I saw hi-him, his name! I swear he's real!" growing concerned at your sudden frenzy behavior, Yuta kneeled down beside your bed, holding your non-injected hand giving it a comforting behavior.

"Calm down, angel. Tell me point by point," he encouraged you to take in a long breath, as Haechan rushed in along with the doctor whose face was half covered with a doctor's mask, "Doctor, he-he's probably out for me, you need to get me far away from here! Please" you beg with your eyes stinging with all the tears, "No one's going to get you from here, Ms. Y/n, you're safe here" You pause your frantic actions for a while. That voice sounded a little too familiar for your liking, making you think you're over analyzing everything again. The doctor gestured to your friends to leave you up to him to have a doctor to patient talk. All of your friends nodded in understanding, giving you one last reassuring smile before collectively leaving the room.

The doctor, once after making sure that everyone left, removed his mask to reveal the oh so familiar smirk and the hair protector, rustling the same, familiar bright red hair with the same familiar pale fingers of his. Your eyes widen, mouth falls wide ajar

"Oh wait, there's one last warning, Do not assume that the Midnight Man has left your home for good at the conclusion of the game. I'm for real done now" You laugh at your friend who snatched the phone away from you,

"Pleasure to meet you again, darling"

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tawakkull · 3 years

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ISLAM 101: Spirituality in Islam: Part 48

(Waliyy and Awliyaullah (God’s Friend [Saint] and God’s Friends [Saints])

Literally meaning a friend, a helper, a loyal one, or a guardian, a waliyy is one who is devoted to God with all their emotions and one who is taken by Him as a close friend. Such an attainment is called wilaya (God’s friendship or sainthood), and the greatest rank in wilaya is called qutbiya (being a spiritual pole).

Perfect sainthood consists of servants being annihilated with respect to the carnal dimension of their existence and gaining a new, ever-young, and active existence on the horizon of God’s nearness through their knowledge of God, love of God, vision of God, and discovery of the Divine mysteries. In the sight of such heroes of spirituality, who have reached the peak where the sun never sets, autumns turn into springs, and annihilation turns into permanent existence, everything is annihilated in God; everything begins and ends with Him, rises and sets with Him, and attains existence through the lights of His Existence. Those favored with such a vision experience existence in a different mood and fashion according to their capacity of perceiving of everything as dependent on Him and observe that every event takes place dependent on the Truth of Truths, Whom they find in their hearts as a “Secret Treasure.” Unceasingly thrilling at the lights they observe glittering in the countenances of the mornings and evenings, the depths of the ever-bright heavens, the multi-colored beauties of the seasons that come and go with ever-renewed scenes, the awful appearances of the vast seas and oceans, the flowing of rivers toward the seas with a deep yearning for union, the joyful cries of birds and insects, and the bleating of sheep and lambs, they are overawed by the meanings that pour into their hearts from Him. All the shapes and forms on the horizon of their vision disappear and they find themselves boiling with reflection and pleasure as if they see, feel, and experience Him alone.

Such heroes of spirituality no longer feel zeal, but rather a deep yearning to reach Him, and no longer feel attraction but rather are attracted by Him toward Him. They are completely freed from any kind of heedlessness, with the result that the light of the Ultimate Truth shows itself everywhere. Reason and the spirit are now handin-hand and the whole of existence becomes a book to read. All false candles are extinguished, one after another, and it is as if the stars have come down from the heavens to illuminate the entire world. The world with all its worldliness vanishes and is rebuilt with a new design that belongs to the realms beyond. All veils of darkness are rent apart and lights burst forth through the fissures. Everything becomes a friend and a companion to such a hero of spirituality, and the heart finds in everything whatever it looks for, thus being saved from all kinds of loneliness.

God Almighty never abandons initiates who have attained such a degree of God’s friendship to their carnal soul, not even for the twinkling of an eye. Since they are always turned to the horizon of obtaining God’s approval and good pleasure with all their being, God protects and preserves them with His infinite grace and care. There is no longer any grief or worry; they constantly receive welcome from all corners of existence and they feel spiritual joy in their hearts. As if living in the gardens of Paradise, within the protective walls of, Know well that the friends (saintly servants) of God – they will have no fear, nor will they grieve (10:62), far away from the carnal veils of darkness and surrounded by the lights of the All-Merciful—but without ever falling into heedlessness toward the fear and awe of God which they always feel in the depths of their being—they continuously receive promissory messages from the realms beyond and return them with good, righteous deeds.

Although what is primarily meant by God’s friends is all the believers, as opposed to the enemies of God—for this is what the Qur’an also means by this term—the Sufis give other significant meanings to it. According to them, a friend of God is a person of truth who, through various forms of self-struggle, such as austerity, has transcended the carnal dimension of his or her existence and reached the level of the life of the heart and spirit, thus obtaining God’s special nearness. Friends of God have annihilated themselves with respect to their carnal existence, and attained permanence with a new meaning and thus they are favored with God’s particular blessings and compliments. They have found whatever they would find and they have been saved from all kinds of pursuits. Without ever aspiring after anything perishable, they say, “Let others have whatever is worldly—God, only, is sufficient for me,” and they demand whatever they demand only for God’s sake. I think Nabi[1] meant this by the following:

Do God’s friends ever stoop to possessing anything worldly? Do they ever endure the burden of people? Since friends of God always have God as their sole object, and they expect from Him whatever they expect, and thus continuously receive God’s favors, it is inconceivable that they should turn to others for their needs or aspirations.

Although all of God’s friends are people of deep spirituality, they differ in disposition and temperament, in their relative degree of attainment, and in their duties and missions. This is why they are mentioned with different titles such as the godly, the virtuous ones, those favored with God’s special nearness, substitutes, pillars, nobles, custodians, leaders, helpers or means of help, and poles. With whatever they are called, all of them have—according to the capacity of each—common praiseworthy qualities such as truthfulness, honesty, trustworthiness, sincerity and purity of intention, piety, righteousness, abstinence, asceticism, love, mildness and forbearance, modesty, humility, repentance, penitence, contrition, fear, and reverence. And with the exception of a few extreme “ecstatics” among them, all of them act within the bounds of the principles mentioned.

Abrar (The Godly, Virtuous Ones)

The Abrar are the good, virtuous ones who strive to reach God through austerity and moral straightforwardness; they are people of honesty and righteousness, loyal servants of the Ultimate Truth who live a life very carefully in keeping with the ordinances of Shari’a. Some of the godly, virtuous ones who are extremely sincere and faithful in their relationship with the Ultimate Truth are bent on the attainment of personal perfection. Although they pursue God’s approval and good pleasure in all of their attempts and actions, they nevertheless aim at their own perfection and seclude themselves from people in pursuit of spiritual gifts and favors to such an extent that they travel from immersion to amazement, and from amazement to utmost astonishment in the waves of the gifts of the “oceans” where they feel that everything has been lost in the Divine Existence. Those who see them think that they are lunatics and mock them. Because of this, and in consideration of how deep they are in their relationship with God, they cannot act as guides for others; the reservations they cause to arise in the minds of others impede this.

There are others among the godly, virtuous ones who always follow the light of the lamp of Prophethood, and therefore act in a balanced way. They plan and put into practice all of their intentions and attempts under the guidance of the Divine Revelation, the heart, and reason. They comprehend and interpret religious matters correctly and without causing any misunderstandings. They always preserve the balance in their observations of the physical and metaphysical realms, or the physical and metaphysical dimensions of things; they correct their intuitions and perceptions in the state of ecstasy and rapture according to the fundamentals of the Religion, and they present their inferences and deductions within this perspective. They see the world from the point of view of Prophethood and, although they always avoid setting their hearts on it, they pay necessary attention to it as it is the place of observation of Divine beauties, the manifestation of the Divine Names, and the arable field of the afterlife. In whatever they do, they aim at God’s approval and good pleasure, and eternal happiness, striving in the way of the Prophet to make each second, minute, and hour of their lives into ears of corn that bear seven, seventy, and even seven hundred grains. They actually represent godliness and righteousness and set good examples for people to follow. Wherever they are, they remind people of God, and acting as if an indicator, they cause people to turn to Him in devotion. In short, they are those who are always occupied with good, virtuous deeds; who always dream of godliness and righteousness; who always follow the Creator, the Ultimate Truth, in whatever they do; and who care about the created.

Muqarrabun (Those Favored with God’s Special Nearness)

Muqarrabun are higher in rank than the Godly, Virtuous Ones due to their special nearness to God. This exalted is also used for the most distinguished ones among the Prophets and angels. These blessed ones that are favored with God’s special nearness are guides on the way to God, distinguished “lions” in the quarter of the truth, doves who continue their journeying at the peaks, guests who have completed the most important part of the journeying and who have resolved to remain, God’s confidants in His “private lodge” who, by virtue of the truths they observe as the gifts of the horizon they have reached, have closed their eyes to fleeting things in respect of their worldly aspects. They are cavalrymen who have defeated the soldiers of carnal desires and caprices with their armies of love and yearning; they are heroes of knowledge of God who have subjected their carnal life to their heart and spirit; they are those who, by having left behind the deserts of mortality to reach the gardens of subsistence by and with God, have found utmost peace and satisfaction; they are heroes of observation and spiritual discovery who have reached the horizon of having a vision of God through God Himself; they are lovers who have appropriated the love of God as the most manifest dimension of their nature; and they are loved ones who are intoxicated with the pleasure of feeling that God loves them. Finally, they are heroes who have been perfectly favored with the compliment that God loves them and they love Him (5:54). We see and experience the true color of existence through the lens of their knowledge of God and observe the metaphysical dimension of things with the lights they shed over the face of existence.

Although some reports have been circulated among the saints concerning the number of Muqarrabun, it is not possible to say that an exact number has been agreed upon. According to some reports, the Muqarrabun consist of three hundred good ones, forty substitutes, four pillars, and two leaders. According to some other reports, they consist of a spiritual pole and four thousand saints. Whatever their number is, all of these heroes of nearness to God are the noblest servants of the Ultimate Truth and they share the same spiritual profundity of the angels.

Accepting that the Muqarrabun are composed of four thousand saints, some Sufis classify these distinguished servants of God according to their ranks as follows:

Three hundred of them are Akhyar (the good ones who pursue good in whatever they do and say); forty of them are Abdal or Budala (the substitutes, charged with the administration of spiritual life and acting as veils in the reflection of the Divine Majesty and Grandeur); seven of them are Abrar (godly, virtuous ones who have been able to make righteous deeds and sincerity a deep dimension of their nature); and there are others called by different titles.

Still others make another classification of those favored with special nearness to God, the number of which is unknown. They mention four Awtad(Pillars), and Nujaba (the Nobles, in the sense of being distinguished in the sight of God), and Nukaba (the Custodians, who care for people and the management of their affairs), and, superior to all those mentioned, Ghawth (the Helper or the Means of Divine Help), and Qutb (the Pole). Some Sufi scholars call all of those Rijal-i Ghayb (the Men of the Unseen).

Abdal (The Substitutes)

Substitutes are those pure, honest saints who help people with their affairs without being seen and who function as veils in the reflection of Divine acts. Before the Ottomans, the Iranians called them “the Straightforward,” “Easygoing Ones,” “People of Light,” or “Sufis.” Then, this term (Abdal) became a name for a spiritual order. Under the Ottomans, some men who were famous for their heroic courage and fearlessness came to be called “Substitutes.” In dervish lodges, the term has always been used to describe the “Men of the Unseen.”

According to Sufis, Substitutes are saints who avoid fame and who are unknown among people. They always hasten to do good and to help others. They are of two groups. The first group is composed of the saints who have been freed from all evil qualities and equipped with excellence and virtuousness, who resist all kinds of vices and wrongs, and who try to prevent these. The second group consists of those saints who have a particular mission and number three hundred, forty, and seven; they are also referred to by these numbers. Their numbers are not important; what is important is their place and rank in God’s sight and the duties they perform.

When one of the Substitutes dies, another one from the subgroup takes his or her place. When one of them leaves his or her place for a duty, either that one sends his double or astral body to perform the duty, or that one departs to perform the duty and leaves his double or astral body behind. (We should remind ourselves here that the idea of a human double or astral body is a matter frequently discussed in parapsychology.)

Some consider the pillars, the two leaders, and the pole as a superior group, separate from the Substitutes: they see the latter as people of a certain spiritual state, while the former are viewed as people of a certain spiritual station. They regard the latter as travelers to God and the former as travelers in and from God.

Those who maintain that there are always seven Substitutes say that they each reside in a different clime or realm, observe and acclaim the Divine acts, and respond to God Almighty with praise and thanks as conscious representatives of the activities of unconscious beings. These seven saints have particular stations, and they are mentioned with the titles they have been given according to their station.

The first substitute represents the reflection or projection of the Prophet Abraham’s heart, and is called by the title, ‘Abdulhayy (the Servant of the All-Living). The second has the particular attributes of the Prophet Moses’ heart, and is called by the title, ‘Abdul’alim (the Servant of the All-Knowing). The third is a mirror of the Prophet Aaron’s heart, and the special name of this one is ‘Abdulmurid (the Servant of the All-Willing). The fourth reflects the attributes of the Prophet Enoch’s heart, and is mentioned with the ‘Abdulqadir (the Servant of the All-Powerful). The fifth has a connection with the heart of the Prophet Joseph, and is known by the ‘Abdulqahir (the Servant of the All-Overwhelming). The sixth is bound to the content of the Prophet Jesus’ heart and called by the ‘Abdussami (the Servant of the All-Hearing). The seventh follows the heart of the Prophet Adam, and is known with the title, ‘Abdulbasir (the Servant of the All-Seeing). None of these opinions or considerations is based on the Qur’an or the Sunna, but each has its source in the spiritual discoveries of some saints of discovery and is open to interpretation. For this reason, we are not obliged to accept these opinions or considerations as being absolutely true. Nevertheless, whatever their duties, titles, or positions are, and whatever blessings God favors them with, all of the saints are those who have certain degrees of knowledge of God, who are supported by God, and who, with their refined hearts and purified souls, are open to certain Divine mysteries.

Still another consideration concerning the place and duties of the saints known as Substitutes is as follows:

Three hundred of them represent the reflection of Prophet Adam’s heart and are mirrors to it, forty of them have a connection with Prophet Moses’ heart, seven are affiliated with Prophet Abraham, five with the bosom of Archangel Gabriel, three with Archangel Michael, and one from among them, who is the greatest among them and represents the greatest sainthood, is affiliated with the greatest of all beings, Prophet Muhammad, upon him be perfect blessings and peace. When the last one dies, the one who is superior to all others takes his place, and when somebody from among them dies, that position is filled by another one from another group. Like the number of Substitutes, the opinions about their residences and titles vary considerably.

There are nearly twenty reports from the Prophet concerning the existence of such a group of saints among the Men of the Unseen.[2] According to these reports, because of their value in His sight, God Almighty sends rain, helps the believers against their enemies, and removes calamities from them. The Substitutes are like a center of gravity for the earth; God employs them as a spiritual means of keeping the earth on its axis and provides for others out of their high place with Him. They forgive the wrong which people do to them; they return evil with good; and they continuously follow the path to Paradise through mildness, forbearance, and generosity. They attach special importance to the soundness and purity of their hearts and they always wish good for Muslims. They have no worldly ambitions, and they avoid quarrelling even with their enemies. They always shun exaggeration in their speech, and they represent the middle way in speech. They avoid religious innovations, and they do not go to extremes in their worship. Of whatever rank they are, they never like or approve of themselves. Resignation to whatever misfortune comes to them from God, utmost care about not committing any action that is religiously forbidden, a deep reverence for and obedience to God Almighty, and never cursing anyone—all these are mentioned among the foremost attributes of the Substitutes.

Some commentators on Hadith such as Ibn Taymiyya[3] and Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya regard all those reports as fabricated and reject them. Imam Suyuti,[4] another commentator, considers thatsince the hadiths support one another, as a whole, they may be considered as sound as the Prophetic Traditions that have been reported through many reliable chains of transmission. Hafiz Sahawi,[5] following a moderate or middle way, notes that all those reports are weak in reliability and therefore open to criticism. In view of these different considerations, I leave the truth of the matter to God, saying: “God knows best.”

The original Arabic term translated as Substitutes is abdal, which is the plural of badal. The term badal has another plural form: budala. This term is used by the Sufis for seven important figures among the “Men of the Unseen.” They can change places with unusual speed and can be present in many different places at the same moment. It is not clear whether this occurs by the separation of their double or astral bodies from their original bodies so that they can be manifested in many places at the same time, or by their unusually speedy movement and because they are able to be present in many places, one after the other, within a short time. It sometimes happens that the Substitutes are not aware of this mysterious transportation. The author ofFutuhat al-Makkiyya (“The Makkan Conquests”), Muhyi’d-Din ibn al-‘Arabi, considers that the Substitutes (called budala) observe the acts of God Almighty in each of the seven climes. They both observe the acts of the All-Glorified One and appear to be curtains for their reflections, acclaiming them. They receive their spiritual training as Uways al-Qarani[6] did, that is, without being trained by a spiritual master.

Nujaba (The Nobles)

“Nobles” is a used for the “Fortys,” or some among the “Fortys” included in the “Men of the Unseen.” According to verifying Sufi scholars, these are the heroes of altruism who have completed their ascension toward God by going down among the people to guide and spiritually educate them. They think of nothing other than guiding people to God; they encourage hearts always to do good, and they erect spiritual barriers before evils. They try to confront possible misfortunes through prayers and supplications and they are ready to sacrifice themselves for the good of people or to prevent disasters. Their hearts always beat with feelings of self-sacrifice, compassion, and tender care for others. Since they have dedicated their lives to the happiness of others, they live a life overburdened with the troubles of others and sigh for them. Even if there are times when they feel happy at the news of others’ happiness, they are always sorrowful because of what they have witnessed or heard concerning the sufferings of people. In respect of their mission, they are heirs to the Prophets.

Nukaba (The Custodians)

Nukaba are the saints who are always together with people, correcting their faults, and guiding all toward good with mildness and kindness. Although the term is used for those in the Sufi Orders of Rifai[7] and Badawi[8] who have completed their spiritual journeying and have begun the mission of guiding people to God, according to the verifying Sufi scholars they are the purified souls whose spiritual profundity and discovery transcend their scope of learning and sight and who always observe the spiritual domain or realm of existence; by God’s leave, they are able to penetrate the hearts of people and what occurs to them. They carry out the duty of some sort of translation between the physical and metaphysical realms, interpreting existence in accordance with their capacity and in consideration of the understanding levels of their audience, and persistently try to find ways to God through everything. In their view, the universe is a meaningful book which contains messages within messages, with all its parts making up the words, sentences, and paragraphs. In these ever-wakeful souls and truth-voicing tongues, the truth expressed herein shows itself: The universe is a supreme book of God throughout, Whichever letter you look at, you read God.

Awtad (The Pillars)

Awtad are the four “Men of God” who are so close to one another that one cannot do without the other. They make their spiritual journeying and carry out their duties under the shadow of the missions of Enoch, Elijah, Jesus, and Khadr, upon them and our Prophet be peace. According to the particular mission of each, they have the titles ‘Abdulhayy (The Servant of the All-Living), ‘Abdul’alim (The Servant of the All-Knowing), ‘Abdulmurid (The Servant of the All-Willing), and ‘Abdulqadir (The Servant of the All-Powerful), and they reflect the spiritual content of Prophets Adam, Abraham, Jesus, and Muhammad, upon them be peace and blessings, or represent the reflections of their truths. Their connection with God is through the lenses of the Archangels Gabriel, Michael,[9] Israfil,[10] and ‘Azrail,[11] upon them be peace. They each correspond to a pillar of the Ka’ba, which signifies the door or stairway to that station.

Muhyi’d-Din ibn al-‘Arabi is of the opinion that the Pillars are the seven saints who carry out their duties according to a hierarchy that exists among them.

Some call all the saints of God—including the Nobles, Custodians, and Pillars—the “Men of God” in the sense that they are heroes of the truth with certain spiritual power. Their most distinguishing attributes are their deep reverence for God and their feeling of awe before Him; being overwhelmed by the manifestations of the All-Merciful; arousing God’s existence and omnipresence in the minds of those who see them; sobriety and dignity coming from the constant awareness of God’s company; being deeply ashamed of certain ordinary human acts and states—even though they are lawful; being aware of God in everything in a different wave of sensation; self-forgetfulness when they are aware of God; continuous self-supervision and attributing to Him whatever gifts and blessings they are favored with; and remaining unknown by others. With respect to their being unknown, they are called “the Men of the Unseen” or “the Army of God.” In one of his poems, Sultan Mehmed the Conqueror[12] refers to those men who are endowed with a sacred spiritual power and asks for their prayers in carrying out the duty of serving God’s Word.

With respect to these men’s being able to make the Divine mysteries felt in the hearts of others, they are called “the Men of Conquest”; because of their being unknown or being known only by a few, they are known as “the Men of the Unseen.” In regard to their generally living in ecstasy, they are called “the Men of Power,” and because they approach everyone with gentleness and tolerance and return evil done to them with good, they are “the Men of Kindness.”

Ghawth (The Helper or the Means of Divine Help)

Signifying help, coming to the aid of others, and giving spiritual help, the term ghawth is used by the Sufis to denote saints of the highest rank.

A person who has attained this rank has been honored with a particular Divine favor and, by God’s leave, hurries to the aid of those in difficulties. Those who do not have this capacity cannot be regarded as Ghawth; any poles (Qutb) who cannot be mirrors for Divine help are not called ghawth.

One who combines the spiritual status of being a Ghawth with the rank of being a Qutb is called Ghawth-i A’zam (the Greatest Helper), and if the one who has been favored with the rank of being a Qutb is also honored with being a Ghawth, he is called Qutb-i A’zam (the Greatest Pole). Each of these titles has aspects particular to itself.

Since those honored with these exalted ranks represent the shadow of Haqiqat Muhammadiya (the Muhammadi Truth),[13] they are in the company of the Prophet, upon him be peace and blessings, with respect to being mirrors to certain Divine truths. Their part in the universal mission of the Prophet is, as follows:

I have made your essence a mirror to Me, And inscribed your name together with Mine. The status described in, “God has made him a mirror to Him as the Sole Divine Being,” primarily and with all its comprehensiveness, belongs to the Master of creation, upon him be peace and blessings, who is the greatest of the Perfect or Universal Men. Each of the other Perfect or Universal Men has a relative, particular part in this great honor.

The Sufis maintain that in every century there is a Helper or Means of Divine Help (Gwahs) who is the leader of all the contemporary men of God, the door among people to the attainment of Divine assistance, the moderator of the spiritual realm or domain of existence, and the pivot of Divine gifts and blessings. If a Helper is also a Pole, his is the Greatest Pole, and his rank is the status of the Greatest Pole.

Such a hero of spirituality who is honored with this rank has such capacities that not only ordinary people like us, but also those who have reached the final point of spiritual journeying are unable to perceive them. This rank is the most comprehensive mirror to the Divine Names, the essence of existence, and the greatest focus of the Muhammadi Truth. By virtue of this distinction, and by God’s leave, such a one is an authority entitled to represent the implementation of the Divine decrees under the leadership and protection of Haqiqat Ahmadiya (Ahmadi Truth or the Truth of Ahmad)[14] and in the light of the Muhammadi Lamp, 54 upon him be peace and blessings.

The scholarly people of sainthood mention the names of such great saints as ‘Abdu’l-Qadir al-Jilani,[15] Abu’l-Hasan al-Harakani,[16] Shaykh al-Harrani,[17] and Imam Rabbani,[19] as those who have attained this rank in the history of Islam. These personages, who have combined the rank of being a Pole with that of being a Helper, are mentioned with the titles of “the Greatest Pole,” or “the Greatest Helper.” As they represent the status of being the Greatest Pole, they are also called “the Pole of the Poles.”

With respect to being the representatives of spiritual perfection, they are also regarded as the true heirs to the duties of Prophethood and the special, most distinguished representatives of succession to the Prophet Muhammad, upon him be peace and blessings. It is undeniable that the purification of the carnal soul, refinement of the heart, and spiritual struggle all have an important part in the attainment of this rank. However, it should also be borne in mind that this rank is a special gift of God which He accords to whomever He wills. God Himself declares: That is God’s grace. He grants it to whom He wills. Surely God is of tremendous grace (62:4).

This elevated rank has sometimes been represented by a single individual, sometimes by a collective personality formed around God’s good pleasure through a sincere brother/sisterhood, and selfless unity and solidarity, or, quite possibly, by a community of Muslims which serves the true faith and the Qur’an purely for God’s sake.

Qutb (The Pole)

Qutb is the of one who is the focus of the views of the earth and heaven’s inhabitants, the perfect vicegerent of God, the Ultimate Truth, the heir of the Master of creation, upon him be peace and blessings, and the perfect, universal man who always exists among humankind.

After the pride of humanity, the Prophet Muhammad, upon him be peace and blessings, this rank was represented by the first four Rightly-Guided Caliphs in order of succession, who were true successors to the duties of Prophethood. They were followed by the greatest scholars or the founders of Islamic Schools of Law, who had the capacity to deduce new laws from the Qur’an and the Sunna, the greatest saints, and the saintly scholars.

Together with the rank of Helper, the rank of Pole is also the greatest of spiritual ranks. While a Helper is primarily distinguished by coming to the aid of others who are immured in difficulties, a Pole may also be favored with the rank of Helper and become a source of spiritual radiance and a reflector of God’s gifts. Being heir to the Muhammadi Truth, a Pole represents a reflection of the Master of creation, upon him be peace and blessings, under his guardianship in the age where he lives, and is a successor to him in his duties as a spiritual master.

By virtue of the special gifts with which he is honored, and by virtue of having been equipped with a special capacity in accordance with his duty, a Pole is, like the North Star, a singular, chosen one upon whom the views of all the inhabitants of the earth and heavens are focused. This mysterious power station, which is always open to the metaphysical realms, has effects on the human outer and inner faculties that resemble the spirit’s control of the body. This power of penetration comes from this person’s knowledge of God; this knowledge of God originates in God’s Knowledge, Which in turn has Its source in the Divine Essence. With respect to his own essence, or when left to his own devices, a Pole is like a drop of water—but a drop that contains the entire reflection of the sun by virtue of God’s favors upon him. Such a one is nothing but an atom, but that atom reflects all of the heavens. For in their essential nature, Poles are nothing—they are zero—but they are equipped with such essential values and qualities that they reflect eternity.

With one of their eyes always scanning the physical dimension of existence, Poles constantly observe the realms beyond with the other eye, in unceasing pursuit of the radiance of recognition or knowledge of God. They weave the spiritual lacework of existence with the silky threads of wisdom that pour into their hearts and give them to those around them. Like the sun, they always give off light and illuminate all that is around them. And like a surging ocean, they bubble over from within and diffuse life into hearts.

Since Poles have fully developed their innate capacities, they are heroes of extraordinary performance. They are perfect persons whose hearts are mirrors to the Archangel Israfil, and whose power of speech mirrors Gabriel, and whose power of attraction mirrors Michael, and whose power of repelling mirrors ‘Azrail. By virtue of this, they are each, in one respect, a focus of creation as a mirror to all realms, vicegerents of God in their age, special students and representatives of the Muhammadi Truth, rays of the first manifestation of existence beyond time, and luminous, transparent means for the conduction of Divine mysteries to all hearts. Being heirs to the Prophet, they establish new rules to acquire and deepen in knowledge of God and the Religion. The Shi’a attribute this rank only to ‘Ali and the eleven Imams who descended from him through the Prophet’s beloved daughter, Fatima, and the last of whom is the Mahdi;[19] this is a restriction. God may accord this honor to whomever He wills among His servants who have been endowed with the necessary capacity and He may make Himself known through them.

The Sufi scholarly saints mention two types of Pole, one being “the Pole of guidance” and the other being “the Pole of existence.” The “Pole of guidance” represents the spirit of Prophethood as the owner of the greater rank of Pole, while the “Pole of existence” stands for the inner dimension of the Seal of Prophethood with the of the Seal of Sainthood. The scholars who have expert knowledge of the matter hold the opinion that although in the same period there may be more than one Pole of guidance, there can only be one Pole of existence. The axis of whichever great angel honored with special nearness to God or illustrated Prophet he journeys around, or the rug-seat of whichever saint he occupies, the Pole of existence always turns toward the light of the existence of the Pole of Prophethood, upon him be peace and blessings, and toward his spiritual assistance.

Although there are Sufi scholars who mention some people as the Poles of existence who have existed since the Prophet Adam, upon him be peace, this view has not received much acceptance. The majority of the experts in this matter agree that in every age the Pole of existence is mentioned with the of‘Abdullah (the Servant of God) and ‘Abduljami (the Servant of the One Who Has All Excellences in the Infinite Degree).

All the information given so far is based on the spiritual discovery and observation of some talented saints. For this reason, more or less space can always be assigned to the subject. There may even be those who say different things on this matter. God knows best. Therefore, what I should finally do is to entreat God Almighty, saying:

Our Lord, take us not to task if we forget or make mistakes! Our Lord, forgive us, then, our sins, and blot out from us our evil deeds, and take us to You in death, in the company of the truly godly and virtuous.

O God! Show us truth as truth and enable us to observe it, and show us falsehood as falsehood and enable us to avoid it. And bestow Your blessings and peace on the Sole Owner of the subtle essence and meaning of being, Muhammad, the sun of the heavens of mysteries, the object of all lights, the pivot of the Divine Majesty, and the axis of the sphere of the Divine Grace and Beauty, and on His Family and Companions, who are the stars of guidance and the springs of assistance.

[1] Yusuf Nabi (1642–1712): One of the most well-known Ottoman poets of the seventeenth century. He was born in Urfa, southeastern Turkey, and emigrated to Istanbul when he was twenty-four. He lived in Istanbul and Aleppo. He usually wrote didactic poems where he criticized certain vices in society and which contained moral lessons.

[2] As for further reference, see Ahmad ibn Hanbal, al-Musnad, 1:112, 5:322; at-Tabarani, al-Mu’jam al-Kabir, 10:181, 18:65; al-Munawi, Fayd al-Kadir, 3:167–170.

[3] Taqiyyud-Din Ahmad ibn Taymiyya (1263–1328): As a member of the Hanbali School of Law, he defended “return to the Qur’an and the Sunna,” being very critical of new developments in thought within Islam over centuries.

[4] ‘Abdur-Rahman ibn Kamal Jalalud-Din as-Suyuti (1445–1505): The mujtahid imam, one of the foremost hadith masters, jurist, Sufi, philologist, and historian. He authored works in virtually every Islamic science. He lived in Egypt.

[5] Hafiz Muhammad Shamsud-Din as-Sahawi (d. 1498): A great muhaddith, who lived in Egypt. He was a student of Ibn Hajar al-Asqalani. His famous work is Maqasid al-Hasana.

[6] Uways ibn Amir al-Qarni or al-Qarani (d. 657): He was born in Yemen. Towards the end of his life, he left for Kufa, in modern-day Iraq. He was one of most outstanding figures of the generation succeeding the Companions. Some regard him as the greatest Muslim saint of the first Islamic century.

[7] Sayyid Ahmad ar-Rifai (1119–1183), the founder of the Rifai Order, and one of the greatest Sufi masters in the history of Islam, was born and lived in southern Iraq. He also had profound knowledge of Islamic religious sciences, including especially jurisprudence and Hadith.

[8] Sayyid Ahmad al-Badawi (1200–1276) was one of the most outstanding Sufi masters, to whom the Badawi Order is attributed. He was born in Morocco. When he was six years old, his family emigrated to Makka. He spent the greatest part of his life in Tanta, Egypt. He was also well-versed in Islamic sciences.

[9] Michael is the Archangel who supervises the earth with its grass, plants, and animals, and represents or presents to God their glorifications and praises of Him.

[10] Israfil is one of the four Archangels. He will blow the Trumpet just before the end of the universe and for the resurrection of the dead.

[11] ‘Azrail is the Archangel charged with taking the souls of human beings. He is the Angel of Death.

[12] Sultan Mehmed the Conqueror (1432–1481) was the seventh Ottoman Sultan, and conquered Istanbul.

[13]Haqiqat Muhammadiya (Muhammadi Truth): This term is essential to Sufism. It may be translated as the “reality of Muhammad” as God’s Messenger, the most beloved of God, the best example for all creation to follow, the embodiment of Divine Mercy, and the living Qur’an or embodiment of the Qur’anic way of life.

[14]Haqiqat Ahmadiya (Ahmadi Truth or the Truth of Ahmad) is the term used to designate the reality or the essence or the truth represented by the personality of the Prophet Muhammad, upon him be peace and blessings, before his coming to the world and after his departure from the world. In one respect, it signifies the unparalleled sainthood of the Prophet Muhammad.

[15] ‘Abdu’l-Qadir al-Jilani (d. 1166): One of the most celebrated Sufi masters. A student of jurisprudence and Hadith, he became known as the “Spiritual Pole” of his age and the “the Greatest Means of Divine Help.” Among his well-known books are al-Ghunyah, Futuh al-Ghayb, and Al-Fath al-Rabbani.

[16] ‘Ali ibn Ahmad Abu’l-Hasan al-Harakani (963–1033) is one of the most celebrated saints. He was born and lived in Harakan near Bistam in Iran.

[17] Shakyh Hayat ibn Qays al-Harrani (d. 1185), is one of the most outstanding saints in the history of Islam.

[18] Imam Rabbani, Ahmad Faruq al-Sarhandi (d. 1624): The “reviver of the second millennium.” Born in Sarhand (India) and well-versed in Islamic sciences, he removed many corrupt elements from Sufism. He taught Shah Alamgir or Awrangzeb (d. 1707), who had a committee of scholars prepare the most comprehensive compendium of Hanafi Law. His work, The Letters, is very famous and widely known throughout the Muslim world.

[19] The Mahdi, literally meaning one who guides to truth, is the of the blessed person whose coming toward the end of time to re-establish the truth of Islam and justice on the earth was promised by God’s Messenger, upon him be peace and blessings.

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zorkaya-moved · 3 years

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@queensconquest - angst hours continue.

How gorgeous is this of a sight; tragic but so human and so true. The realism bringing the colors brighter than the thunderstorm's light as the woman continues to carefully stroke his hair, letting him cry rivers of pain and immortality. It doesn’t matter if her shirt will be covered in tears and snot, it all will be alright for she was used to this while taking care of children and even her brother when they were younger. Naturally so, her instincts speak louder than her word, letting the wizard spill everything out. It seems to her he’s never been able to do this with others, it almost soothes her mind if not her thought of how long he’s been living like this.

The punishment placed on such a brilliant human has been going on for thousands of years, correct? The glimpses and the showcases, the history and the knowledge. The kingdom of his long forgotten and only stories are told by people who has never been there, not even scriptures can speak the truth. Humanity has always been like that: so crude and so forgetful, but only those who are forced to walk the planed of eternity have the knowledge, but she wonders how much he’s forgotten over the course of those years. It makes her understand the tragedy of his state, knowing that he’ll forget about her as well, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is the current. What matters is a young man who cannot hold back the words of broken gratitude and the shattered hopes for the future.

Zarina has never known if God is real or not. She never knew if she should believe in The Almighty Father or not. The only time she ever prayed was when the pain was echoing throughout her whole teen body, shaking violently from the shock and pain give to her by yet another human. Not a demon, but oh she wondered if he was back then, now it didn’t matter. Right now, she only knows that if God exists, he does not care. And if Sokolova will ever have the possibility of meeting Him or speaking to Him, her only words will be of how this very scene made her never wish to ever enter through Heaven’s Gates. Her tongue will spill the honesty that speaks out for the sorcerer’s trauma.

If God asked her to choose if she’ll take his punishment to free him? ... It might be the most selfless thing she’ll ever do in her life.

Right now it doesn’t matter, such scenario is just as unlikely as the freedom gives from the eternity’s serpent-like chains. Only his tears and only his sobs matter as she doesn’t change her gaze, still as adoring and as patient as ever. Her loyalty lies with him and it will die with him ‘till it’ll be shattered by a bitter betrayal.

“Let it all out,” her words are more tender than they’ll ever been, her patience can be compared to that of a saint but it’s simple truth to those who are close to her. Zarina will not freeze him in her embrace, letting him know that she will never see him as anything more or less than a human. He is the epitome of humanity’s tragedy, the daydream and the nightmare of one’s life. “There’s no need to thank me. I’ll hold you for as long as you’ll need me.” Eyes close as she moves just as bit closer to let him hold her tighter, closer, so he will not have to strain himself. The sobs, the tears, the agony - she will accept it and she will take it all. Oh how beautifully human Solomon is in her eyes despite how the current situation turns around. The adoration will never disappear, her golden gaze will remain the same. “Shh, let it all out, Solomon. This is all simply a part of being human, don’t hold back.”

Perhaps, she’ll ask if he wants to lay down while she’ll hold him close. This position may not be that helpful or even comfortable. If they are to lie on the bed, he could cry more comfortable and hug her closer, she’d expect him to fall asleep soon after. For now, she’ll continue to stroke his hair and let him let everything out, all years of immortality and journey of a human’s tragedy.

#THIS HURT TO WRITE BUT FINALLY I DID IT #I HOPE THIS IS OK #SORRY IT GOT VERY LONG #I JUST NEEDED TO UNDERLINE SOME MOMENT BUT HHHH #SOLOMON T_T #queensconquest #❄ ― IN CHARACTER. ╱ you breathe by the sun，i breathe by the moon.#❅ 𝐕. OBEY ME ⤻ tragedy laments while demons cackle in purgatory，chains of destiny will drag you down. ❞#☼ SOLOMON. ―▐ in the everlasting garden of wisdom and tragedy，i’ll have your name on my lips as a song.

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vision-of-sunshine · 4 years

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Loving yourself and believing the love of God for yourself doesn’t happen overnight. It takes time and effort.

Effort, because it’s something you have to choose to want and to believe in against all odds. That’s a big challenge because when you have been trained or raised to believe so negative about yourself or that you’re unloved, hearing that you are loved and beautiful just feels wrong. So the effort is on your part to believe it no matter what, because in all honesty, at the end of the day, you truly are loved by an Almighty God and you truly are beautiful!

Time, because picture an empty bucket for a moment, adding a drop of water in that bucket won’t look like there’s anything in there, won’t even be enough to water something, but the more water you put into the bucket within an hour or let’s say a day, a few days, soon that bucket will just require one more drop of water to overflow and spill out and once it spills out, the water isn’t just in the bucket but touching everything around it. That’s like us. When we have believed the wrong for so long, we require the time to love ourselves and believe we are loved and after some days, some weeks, months, depending on your consistency, you’ll be so full of love that you won’t just be gushing about yourself, but also love on those around you. Encouraging others to choose to walk and believe in love.

So no matter what, don’t give up on yourself. Don’t settle for less than. You are capable of whatever you put your heart and mind to. Therefore take a moment right now and love yourself. Say something nice, at least one thing, about yourself because that one thing will go a long way!

#Personal #thoughts #God #love #encouragement

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lifeofresulullah · 5 years

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The Life of The Prophet Muhammad: Before His Birth, His Birth and His Childhood

The Prophet is Given to a Foster Mother: Part 2

The Upland was freed from the drought

The drought and famine that were prevalent in the land of the sons of Sa’d had still not ended. Every week, the upland folk continued to recite a prayer for rain in accordance with their own beliefs and customs. However, they returned sad and empty-handed each time.

It was a Friday.

The entire tribal community went on top of a hill and took their milkless sheep and hungry camels along with them for the purpose of praying once more for rain. After they sacrificed their animals, they began to pray. They were begging and invoking the Lord of the universe to send rain. Even though they had been praying for hours, a single raindrop did not fall.

Our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) wet nurse, Halima and her husband, Harith, were also in the crowd. Halima would always protect the Master of the Universe (PBUH), and for that reason, she did not bring him among the crowd and had left him at home with his foster brother, Unais.

The end of the prayer was reached. Everyone was hopeless, exhausted, and was preparing to leave. In the meantime, a woman, who was one of Halima’s neighbors, approached the priest upon the completion of his prayer and said: “Oh Priest, we prayed so much; however, we received no result. If there was someone favorable and auspicious among us, then maybe the Lord of the universe would accept our prayer”.

It was as if the priest was bothered by the old woman’s words and said, “All we can do is pray to Him; however, we are not able to know His plan. Only He knows what is right and what is favorable”.

This time, the old woman shared her real intention: “I know, what you have said is true; however, I meant to say something else. In our neighbor Halima’s home, there is a child from Mecca. Ever since he came, Halima’s home has been overflowing with abundance. It appears like he is a very favorable and auspicious child”. Maybe his presence will bring us luck and the Lord of the universe may accept our prayer by granting us rain for his sake”.

At first, the priest was hesitant but consented to the idea of our Holy Prophet (PBUH) being brought after the woman insisted.

The old woman looked for Halima and once she found her, she explained the offer that she had made to the priest.

Halima found this idea as being feasible since she was the one who saw what an auspicious and favorable child he was the most. She quickly ran home and once she arrived there, she hugged our Holy Prophet (PBUH). Afterward, she bundled him and covered his face with a cloth to protect him from the impact of the burning sun. Then, the two went outside.

The sun was severely thrusting its flaming arrows towards the face of the Earth. It was as if the blazing fire was rising from the ground. After leaving the house and having walked for a bit, Halima’s eyes noticed something strange. A cloud had been following them. At first, she did not pay much attention and said “could be” to herself while she continued walking; however, this cloud did not leave. In fact, it had undertaken the duty of protecting them from the sun’s boiling heat by acting as an umbrella. Inevitably, she was overcome with wonder and was surprised, and on the one hand, she was happy. It was no longer necessary to cover the radiant infant’s face with a cloth. When she lifted the cover, his cute eyes looked at her very sweetly and it was as if his smile was saying, “That cloud is shading me”.

They continued their way underneath the cloud that acted as an umbrella and mixed in with the crowd once they arrived at their destination. Although the priest had been initially uncomfortable when the request was made, he was now greeting the two with a smile because he had seen a cloud from afar shading Halima and her companion as soon as they had left their home.

The priest took our Holy Prophet (PBUH) from his wet nurse’s arms and shouted to the crowd: “Oh, people! This is the child from Mecca that brings blessings to whichever household he is found in. Altogether, let us pray for the Lord of the Universe to deliver rain with the love and kindness that He has towards this favorable child”.

Everyone opened their hands once more and their lips began to excitedly recite a new prayer.

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) stood like a ball of light in the priest’s arms and while everyone was begging Allah the-Almighty, he was looking at the sky with hopefulness as his eyes emitted an intense light. The priest was captured by this radiant infant’s large and eminent black eyes that were incomparable in beauty and he forgot everything at once.

The final moments of the waiting period that persisted for months with sadness and longing were finally nearing. The tiny cloud above of Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) was seen to have begun expanding and spreading across the horizon. In a short period, that tiny cloud abandoned its location in favor of becoming a huge cloud that covered the entire sky. Instantly, screams of happiness were combined with sounds of prayer. The coming of clouds meant that the arrival of rain was near, and a short while later, the area resonated with shrieks of happiness. “Rain….!!! Rain….!!! Rain….!!!”

Yes, two weeks of deprivation was enough for the Sons of Sa’d to understand the nature of the warning. For the sake of this radiant infant, clear and sweet raindrops began to harmoniously fall from the trove of God Almighty upon their homeland. Supposedly, mercy had embodied the form of rain and was pouring on the face of the Earth as it bestowed hope upon the hopeless people. Because of the drought, the face of the Earth had cracked, but it displayed its happiness too by releasing a sweet fragrance.

This community still did not know the secret as to why their continuous prayers for months on end were not accepted until that day. It was a secret that would remain a secret. The cause of such mercy was just yet a baby in the eyes of the people. In reality, Hazrat Muhammad (PBUH) was the Prophet of all Prophets, was recognized as the Beloved of Allah by the angels and Allah Himself, and was the Sun of both realms.

The mercy that brought smiles to the homeland of Sad’s sons continued for a week with intervals in between.

The soil was saturated all the way to its pith by the rain. The grass sprung up again, the trees sprouted young and fresh buds, crops grew tall, and the breasts of sheep began to be filled with milk.

Among the people, only a few understood the reason for the arrival of rain.

They said, “This child is very auspicious and beneficial” among themselves.

The weather was clear and nice in the pure and wide desert. It was a suitable condition for the children to have prompt and healthy growth.

Our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) growth was different from that of the other children. He began to speak when he was eight months old, spoke smoothly and without error when he was nine months old and was strong and robust enough to throw arrows like the other children when he was ten months old.

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) stopped being breastfed when he reached two years of age. Until that time, Halima and the upland folk had been fully endowed with a rain of abundance, mercy, and bounty.

Even at this age, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) possessed a far greater beauty, charm, and superior manner of conduct than his peers. He was earnest and dignified like a grown adult.

The Holy Prophet (PBUH) is brought to His Mother

The season of returning the foster children had arrived. So, Halima, who had taken our Holy Prophet (PBUH) under her wing and who loved him much more than her own children, had a cloud of sadness pervade her heart since she was about to be separated from him. She was going to be far from his fragrance of roses that reminded her of heaven.

However, she had no choice other than to deliver him and that is what they did. They took the radiant Muhammad (PBUH), went to Mecca, and delivered him to his mother in the midst of heartfelt tears.

The foster mother’s world was filled with sorrow whereas the real mother’s world was filled with happiness. One of them was in bliss for being reunited with her child and the other was burning in the fiery pain of being separated from him.

At that moment, it was as if inspiration came to Halima’s heart and she pleadingly made the following offer with the fullest sincerity in her heart:

“Would you please allow my son to stay with me for a longer period of time? I am also afraid that he will come into contact with the Meccan plague”.

This offer and wish were sincere. It was as if these sentences were spilled from the heart rather than her lips.

Dear Mother Amina was unable to oppose this genuine and heartfelt appeal and consented to her beloved child staying in the homeland of the Sa’d’s for some more time.

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) is in Sa’d’s Homeland once again

Halima had attained her desire. In the endless pleasure of having her wish accepted, she returned to her homeland together with our Holy Prophet (PBUH).

The Master of the Universe (PBUH) sometimes went with his foster brother, Abdullah, to graze the sheep. The sheep would respond to his sweet smiles by bleating.

Our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) eyes always faced towards the skies. He would look up attentively and meaningfully as though he was going to discover something. It was as if he was waiting for a hand to reach down and take him to the high heavens.

In the meantime, a strange incident took place that did not go unnoticed: There was usually a cloud over our Holy Prophet (PBUH) that traveled over him and protected him from the sun.

All eyes were now on him. His beauty was on everyone’s tongue while his sweet love was in everyone’s heart. His honesty, good manners, and earnestness were always talked about.

His peers would compete for his amiable friendship.

Our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) days would pass peacefully and happily in the upland of the Sons of Sa’d.

The slitting of our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) Chest

It was a beautiful spring day and the mid-morning sun was emitting life everywhere.

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) whose face was filled with noor (light), and his foster brother, Abdullah, were grazing their sheep in a meadow that was near their home. They sat on a carpet of grass as they were having a nice conversation underneath a tree. After a while, Abdullah fell asleep on the tree’s cool shadow while the Master of the Universe (PBUH) thought about the Creator who encompassed the universe with incomparable beauty.

In the meantime, the sheep had dispersed far away. In order to have them turn back, the Holy Prophet (PBUH) walked away from Abdullah.

After a while, he saw two men clothed in white garments. Both of them had smiling faces and were pleasant. One of them had a golden bowl that was filled with snow in his hand. They quietly approached the Holy Prophet (PBUH). They held him; they laid him on top of the standing grass that was like a Divine carpet. The Holy Prophet (PBUH) made no sound and no fuss. He knew that these pleasant people with clean and smiling faces would not hurt him.

In the meanwhile, Abdullah, who had fallen asleep on the tree’s cool shadow, was now awake. When he saw the scene, he immediately began to run home in a hurry. He explained what he saw to his parents. Out of their excitement and worry, Halima and her husband did not notice how they rushed out of the house, as they hastily ran towards the Holy Prophet (PBUH). They reached the Holy Prophet (PBUH)’s side; however, the situation was not as Abdullah had described since nobody could be seen. In an instant, the men fulfilled their appointed duty and left. The Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) face had gone pale, and he lightly smiled as he stood on his feet.

Halima and her husband who were in too great of a flap, asked: “Sweetie, what happened to you?”

The Master of the Universe (PBUH) narrated the following:

“Two people with white garments approached me. One of them had a golden bowl filled with snow in his hand. They held me, slit my chest, took out my heart, and slit my heart as well. From my heart, they took out a black blood clot and threw it aside. They left after they cleaned my heart and chest with that snow”.

He would be given the duty of Prophethood after many years passed.

One day, some of the Companions (Sahaba) had asked: “Oh Messenger of Allah, could you describe yourself to us?”

The Holy Prophet (PBUH) answered: I am the supplication of my father, Ibrahim. I am the glad tidings of my brother, Isa (Jesus). I am my mother’s dream. When she was pregnant with me, she saw a noor that rose from itself and lightened the castles of Damascus”. After his answer, he explained the aforementioned situation in this way:

“I was nourished and brought up next to the sons of Sa’d bin Bakr. One day, I was grazing the sheep with my foster brother behind our home. In the meantime, two men in white garments approached me. One of them had a golden bowl filled with snow in his hand. They held me, slit my chest, took out my heart, and slit my heart as well. They took out a black blood clot from my heart and threw it aside. They cleaned my chest and heart with that snow”. (9)

In this phenomenon, our Beloved Messenger’s (PBUH) holy heart was widened with a soul and tranquility by the Divine Light and God Almighty. At the same time and from that day on, the nafs (soul) of the Holy Prophet (PBUH) was filled with holy emotions. And with the testifying of Divine lights (noor), his nafs was cleaned from every type of apprehension and doubt. It should be remembered here that the heart should not be thought of as some piece of meat. It is a dominical subtle faculty, Latifa -Rabbaniyya. To become better enlightened on this topic, it is beneficial to look at Hazrat Badiuzzaman’s explanation of the heart:

What is meant by the heart is not just a piece of meat like a pine cone. Instead, it is a dominical subtle faculty (Latifa Rabbaniyya), and the conscience, the purpose of feelings, intentions, and ideas, are its intellect. Therefore, an amenity has resulted from interpreting this piece of meat that contains the dominical subtle faculty: the dominical subtle faculty, the service that one does for his own spirituality, is like the service that is performed by the physical body. Yes, just as the One who has endowed this physical body with life is like a life-producing machine and this material life is extant because of His handiwork, the physical body reaches degradation when its material life is halted. He animates and illuminates the dominical subtle faculty with deeds and circumstances; and when the light of faith diminishes, its true essence will be left remaining like a lifeless and inanimate statue.

It is understood that the faith, knowledge, wisdom, and compassion of the material heart are closely connected to spirituality. In the same way, the relation between material and spiritual cleanliness is extant. In this regard, the filling of our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) heart with knowledge, wisdom, Divine light, and enlightenment after the cleansing of his material heart, should not be seen as unreasonable.

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hyenasnake · 5 years

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Noble Maiden Fair

Writing subtle Good Omens fanfiction for an English Assignment? It’s more likely than you’d think. Usually I use she/her pronouns for Michael but because this was for class I used they/them because both are good.

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It had started in a garden in the year 1425 A.D. It was a warm summer’s day and in a peasant’s garden sat a young girl weaving a flower crown. Her fingers were calloused from her life of hard work yet gentle as she worked the daisy stems into a braid. The sun shone on her dark hair, giving the illusion of a halo around her head and a ghost of a smile was on her face as she hummed to herself. “Jeanne,” She heard a voice whispering her name in her ear and turned to see which of her siblings was pestering her but found no one. When she turned back to her task, the smile on her face fading, somebody sat before her.

A lovely person seemingly indistinguishable from male or female dressed in robes of pure white. Chestnut curls cascaded down their shoulders, framing their pale face. Their eyes were as blue as the sky and along their cheeks and lips were golden flecks. The sun framed them from behind as if they were coming down from the heavens themselves. They gave a pearly smile.

“Jeanne D’Arc, be not afraid.” They said, their light voice soothing to the ears of the virgin.

“Who are you and why have you come here?” Jeanne’s voice quivered, ignoring the person’s command.

“My name is Michael and I am sent by God, for at this moment you are most blessed among men and women alike.”

“Why has God sent you, O Holy Saint?” The Archangel gave Jeanne a smile and took her hands. Their own hands felt warm and soft, and Jeanne felt a rush of peace come over her.

“Jeanne D’Arc, The Almighty has seen how England has oppressed your people. How they conquer your country while you, unlike others, are blissfully unaware of their treachery. The Almighty has created you for this purpose; to fight for your faith, your country, and your people.”

“I have faith in our Lord above anything, your Holiness, but why choose me, a peasant girl with no knowledge other than Church and farming? Surely there are many soldiers in His favor enough to fight for the liberation of France. Surely I have no future but to marry and tend to children and the hearth as the Priest says we women must.”

“In God’s eyes, men and women are as equal. All you humans are one in the eyes of Heaven, Hell, and God. Your circumstances of birth do not define you, Jeanne, and God can only think of one so faithful and blessed as to do this task. You will not be alone in this journey for I will be here to guide you and soon others will be sent to help as well. Have faith, little soldier. We will prevail.”

The Archangel opened six wings of sky blue and lustrous gold and pressed a gentle kiss to Jeanne’s forehead before disappearing in a light shower of golden sparkles that blew away with the wind. Jeanne felt tears dripping down her face as she stared after where the saint had been. She bowed before the spot where they had been and kissed the earth where they knelt. Pushing aside her doubt for fear of disappointing her God, she got up. The fight had started and no longer would she lead the life planned for a peasant maid.

Three years had passed. Jeanne looked out over the battlefield and the fight that raged on, men throwing themselves onto death’s doorstep for the slightest hope of the liberation of France. The cold wind caused tears to form in her dark blue eyes, but blinking them away, she raised her flags higher. A soldier in shining silver armor appeared next to her. “The enemies are weakening. They shall retreat and surrender within a fortnight.” The soldier spoke, their light voice soothing to the battle hardened teenage girl. Jeanne seemed to almost relax and the flags lowered slightly. She turned to the soldier, who she had first met on a summer afternoon not so long ago.

“Thank you, Michael.” The girl gave a relieved smile to her companion. The heavenly knight gave her a sweet smile, steely blue eyes that had so often struck fear into the hearts of enemies in combat gazed fondly on the teenager. Jeanne’s gaze returned to the battlefield and she paused, pursing her lips.

“Michael?”

“Yes Jeanne?”

“This plan will succeed, will it not?” The tension in the girl’s shoulders had returned.

“Of course. If the Almighty is on our side, so it shall be.” The Archangel’s tension also returned.

“But will I succeed? Should I fail, even once, would I still be in heaven’s favor?” The soldier pursed their lips and thought for a minute.

“All of heaven, I cannot speak for. But you, Jeanne D’Arc, shall always remain in my favor. For you are a rarity, one of my favorite humans. I promise you that you will always hold my affections, my child.” Jeanne allowed a wide smile to slip through her hardened armor that she carried for battle and she allowed one hand to slip free from the flags she carried and reach out towards Heaven’s General as if possibly, under all the armor and medals, she was still a scared child. Michael took her hand in their own as if, for a moment, they were a concerned parent trying to comfort their terrified child.

As the sun was high in the February sky, the battle raged on around them. But for even just a slight moment, unnoticed in all the mayhem, the two soldiers put down their internal armor and allowed themselves to be as vulnerable as newborn rabbits, only having each other for warmth and light in the dark times of war.

For Michael it had started out as just work. But the Archangel had underestimated their charge. They had stayed by Jeanne’s side for three years, protecting her from all harm so that she may do as God wished. Nothing had prepared them for how attached they had grown to the young woman. To be attached was a human error and supposedly above the General of Heaven, but they found themself unable to stay away from their charge for long. Of course, Michael denied the fact they had become attached to a human and would scold their younger Archangel siblings when they snickered and teased that Michael was going soft. They weren’t soft. They were the general of Heaven and Generals of Heaven did certainly not go soft.

It fully hit them all at once three months after the victory at Orleans. They had left Jeanne’s side for only ten minutes when they heard a sharp cry of pain. They turned from their opponent in time to see Jeanne fall from her horse, an arrow in her shoulder. Michael sprang into action, escaping their human foe and rushing to catch the girl before she hit the ground. Jeanne was caught in inhumanly strong arms and carried across the battlefield to a medic.

“Stay strong, cherie.” The soldier encouraged their wounded charge, not giving thought to the mocking that would inevitably come later from those who didn’t get attached to humans. That night, as Jeanne rested, Michael stayed by her side without moving for anyone and needing neither sleep nor food.

Jeanne stood tied to the stake. A man below her pyre read the charges of heresy and cross-dressing against her. Wood was added to the growing pilen around her feet. In her heart, though she had desired to be at home with her mother and siblings, she knew she had completed the duty God had given her. Her lust for a normal life had lost the battle and now all she could do was hope God was proud of the work she had done, though she doubted it for if God had been proud surely Michael would have saved her before this point. As she looked to the blue skies with tears running down her cheeks, a torch was thrown onto the pyre. The flames spread quickly across the dry wood, eager to consume her. She opened her mouth to give her last deliverance to the human race.

“Oh, Rouen, Rouen, must I die here, and must you be my tomb? Ah, Rouen, Rouen, I have great fear that you will suffer for my death.” Jeanne muttered to the universe, closing her eyes. The harsh wind blew smoke into her face stinging her already tear filled eyes and choking her.

“Water! Give me Holy Water!” a cry escaped her lips. Nobody dared to bring her water, not even as The Son had been given wine vinegar at his death.

“I would rather have my head chopped off seven times than burn.” She mumbled sarcastically, deserving one act of irony in her whole life of honesty and virtue. Jeanne looked to the crowds, eyes stinging.

“Please, your honors, a cross. Bring me a cross. Now keep it always in my sight until the end.” This she was brought. She stared off at it hoisted for her to see in the air. A Bishop stepped onto the steps of the pyre as the flames melted the flesh on her feet.

“I am come, Jeanne, to exhort you for the last time to repent and seek the pardon of God.” He called to her. Jeanne wanted to laugh, but abstained for that act of irony would damn her. She stared, her dark blue eyes boring into the Bishop’s soul by looking into his own hazel.

“I die through you.” She spat bitterly.

In Jeanne’s time of dying, she believed Heaven had abandoned her. She did not see a tall figure dressed in a silver dress at the very outskirts of the crowd. The woman, as they appeared to the surrounding humans, watched the fire with tears falling down their pale cheeks. They watched the girl they had come to know as a comrade and a daughter be consumed by the flames. In an hour, when all was done, they vanished as if they had never been there. They had won their war too, and never again would they become attached to humans.

#good omens #fanfiction #creative writing #my writing #writblr #joan of arc #archangel michael

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capseycartwright · 6 years

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don't get caught up in caution when love exists

coming out at any age is hard - coming out at 19 to a father who's made it clear he will never accept it, in a village where everyone knows your name and every detail of your life? robert deserved the nobel peace prize just for not murdering everyone in sight.

but he's got aaron, at least.

ao3 link

There was a lot of things about Emmerdale that Robert hated. He hated having to help on the farm every summer, the school term was over, no reasons left for Jack not to boot his two sons out of bed at the ungodly hour of five am, and make them work – the fields waited for no man, apparently, and why would anyone bother sleeping if they could be out, mucking out cows and wishing they were dead?

He hated cows. Robert honesty hated cows with a passion that would make him the rural village opposite to PETA. He would advocate for more cows to be killed, if it meant that he didn’t have to get up at five am.

Robert also hated how suffocatingly small Emmerdale actually was. If you asked Pearl, she’d tell you that it was a real up and coming village now, what with the shop, and the pub, and the so-called restaurant in the B&B, all hallmarks of the apparent metropolis Emmerdale was.

No, it was too small. Robert had felt the walls start to close in around thirteen, and they’d been squeezing the life out of him ever since.

But the thing he hated most about Emmerdale?

The great Jack Sugden.

Robert had the terrible misfortune of being the middle son (oldest, if you asked him, but people rarely did) of Jack Sugden, village icon, the greatest farmer Emmerdale’s muddy fields had ever known, etc., etc.

He’d been a disappointment to Jack for most of his life. Robert, he’d wanted more out of life that Emmerdale village, and Jack had taken it as a personal offence. The fact Robert had spent most of his teenage years determined to make Jack’s life a living hell was beside the point – he’d only done it in response to his father being an almighty twat.

An almighty twat who just had to go and have a massive heart attack, and a triple bypass that put a stop to Robert’s carefully thought-out plans for the most epic gap-year of all time. He’d saved every penny from his job at the garage for years, making sure he had enough to buy a one-way ticket out of Emmerdale, and to Thailand, to begin with - hopefully to never, ever buy a return ticket to Emmerdale, not as long as he lived.

A year of travelling, of being the person that the stifling walls of Emmerdale Farm stopped him from being, and Jack couldn’t even let him have that much, could he? No, he had to nearly die (thanks for the false hope, dad) and be sick enough that Robert was obligated to put his gap-year on hold and stay behind to help the family.

he family.

People said that like Robert was a genuinely well-loved part of the family. He’d always been the figurative black sheep, yet, somehow, Diane had done her level best to guilt trip him into staying, saying all sorts about how Victoria would need him, and he could bring in extra money from working in the garage, which they were going to need to pay the labourers they’d have to get in to help on the farm while Jack was recovering, and how he needed to help his poor father recover from such a traumatic surgery, blah, blah, blah .

So here he was, aged nineteen, still stuck in Emmerdale, an empty seat with his name on it on a flight to Thailand long since departed.

If this was God’s way of punishing him for whatever Robert had done in a past life, he was doing a bang-up job of turning his life into Dante’s seventh circle of hell. Right down to him having to sit, and have breakfast with Emmerdale’s golden couple, Andy and Katie.

Robert had her first.

He didn’t want her back – God, no, he had standards , thank you very much – but he didn’t ever want it to be forgotten that the so-called love of Andy’s life had been his, long before she was ever Andy’s. It was a bit Neanderthal of him to say it, sure, but he had to get his kicks somehow, and sitting across the breakfast table from Dumb and Dumber, knowing full well that Andy definitely thought about how Robert had spent months shagging Katie in the room next door to Andy’s, definitely gave Robert’s dull life some moderate entertainment.

The cheap engagement ring on her finger was never going to change the fact that Robert had her first.

#robron #aaron x robert #emmerdale #in which lorna writes fic #in which i ramble #guess who finally wrote a fic bitches #anyway don't ask me how long i spent writing this and pls enjoy

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wowfan-me · 5 years

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2.6 - THE DECEIVER

Music: SIGN OF THE CROSS || Avantasia

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Lahash pushed himself away from the bandstand railing as he saw his companions board the bus. A sardonic smile traced his lips. Xaphan did like to cling to his little saviour. Pitiful.

His eyes scanned the vista before him and he pondered what to do until their self-appointed leader gathered them together.

As ever, Lahash did excogitate the legitimacy of Samael's claim to greatness. He possessed an insidious ability to seduce the most chaste or powerful of women, but that hardly awarded such lofty stature. Surely!

Lahash was not incapable of changing the course of events himself. Through his form of 'intervention', he had played a significant role in Heaven and Earth's history. He had been inexorably instrumental in their unceremonious ousting from Heaven for one thing. He had started asking questions, putting forth opinions, causing a stir. In all the commotion, however, that was never addressed, he was merely 'party' to it, as were they all.

Nevertheless, his methods adopted a strategy, not lust. In his opinion, that surely would have crowned him as the leader. But no. Samael, claimed the title.

Unarguably, that had been effectual due to the so-called weapon he had sired. The promise of God's will being devoured from within, so-to-speak. A demi-god in the guise of a talking monkey, 'altered' by the Master himself for being a naughty boy (thanks to the contribution from Lahash). Such irony; it bordered on being ingenious. But, the reality was beyond disappointing.

Cain had not become the vengeful champion his father had so hoped for. Infuriatingly, he remained loyal to the one who had cast him out.

Lahash scoffed. It seemed when the CEO of All Things Divine tired of His minions, be they mortal or otherwise, He simply disposed of them one way or another. More oft than not, He assigned His Legion to do His dirty work. The Fallen had thought to outsmart Him in Cain's case. Alas...

And through it all, this hullabaloo called religion, faith, devoutness had travelled over time hand-in-hand with creation itself. So many contradictions and hypocrisy; sometimes, Lahash wondered why he and his comrades had ever worshipped at His feet in the first place.

He had grown weary of it all, however; this babysitting they had been drawn into was farcical.

On that front, he was in agreement with Beelzebub. It was time things changed. Too much of it had been wasted hoping for the tables to be turned. They had, after all, managed rather well without the monstrous blood-sucker up to now.

Granted, most plans had been scuppered by something or someone. He gritted his teeth - he refused to give that credit to the Almighty. Good prevails over evil - balderdash! What was 'good' about their betrayal, for example? Had they not simply tried to show him the flaws of these pets he loved so much? Loved more than He loved his angels! How did all these pathetic, blind, fucked up sheep still believe in Him?

He leaned on the railings as he looked out over the sea. He had to calm down. To allow his anger to ignite at this stage was folly. Apart from Beelzebub, who in all honesty, could be as changeable as the seasons, all the others were loyal to Samael. Theirs was a power not to be trifled with; he needed unity to overthrow their leader. It would take time.

At that, he did laugh, quietly.

Time...

In the eyes of the planet's inhabitants, that was equated by years, months, weeks, days, hours and minutes. For angels, it was by events. Significant ones of course. Ones which could have and should have led to the annihilation of mankind. Although there had been many down the ages, their perception of time was very different so technically, they had not been around as long as the history books had the population believe.

It was still a very lengthy game they played though and certain pieces needed to be taken out. Primarily, Cain. And Samael. Then glory would belong to the Fallen.

Yes, it was nearly time to call 'check'.

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#Whitby #Goth Weekend #Fallen Angels #treachery #deceit #God #Heaven #Cain

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kamino-ink · 6 years

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Romeo | Lee Felix

genre ⌁ friends-to-lovers, [ sort of,,, not exactly lover status but it is implied ] minor angst but also fluff uwu

summary ⌁ Ever since the boy you called your best friend left on the day of his sixteenth birthday with no goodbye or warning, you’ve been determined to grow past the pain he left with you; but of course, not everything works out that way - especially when two years later you end up in South Korea as an up and coming variety show host.

word count ⌁ 2.8k

warning ⌁ this is bad and technically just a long drabble tbh,,, sorry

Check out my masterlist!

Lee Felix was born on September fifteenth of the year 2000, and you were born just three months later on Christmas day; call it fate or anything of that matter, but on the very day you were born, your dad had run into Felix’s - probably because your dad was having a mild panic attack and the other nurses around were busy, you know, helping you be born. Simple enough, really - both of your dads bonded over the fact that yours was about to be a dad and his was, well, still struggling to being a new dad. Boom, instant friendship.

Along with that came the fact that you and Felix instantly were destined to be childhood friends. Turns out that his family also lived just down the street from your house, too, which made it even easier to stay close with the slightly older boy after all those years. Not that... you were complaining.

See, here’s the thing; Lee Felix was a ray of sunshine to not just the people around him, but you as well. His warm smile was enough to make your heart pound in your chest, and his charismatic attitude certainly helped your lesser days become just a bit, or a lot, brighter. It was as if he was, for lack of a better term, your own guardian angel. On your darkest days he would be there to cheer you up with homemade cookies and milk, and on his darkest days you would do the same for him.

You and Felix were practically made for each other, as everyone put it. Whether they meant it as something more than platonic care or something more, it was up for the two of you to decide. Except... you never got to figure that part of the whole mystery between the two of you out. All because he left before you could tell him how you truly felt.

Being able to vividly recall every individual detail of the day you lost Felix wasn’t exactly something you cared for. And the fact that this haunting nightmare kept coming out of nowhere to attack your thoughts out of thin air wasn’t the most pleasant of reminders.

It had been Felix’s sixteenth birthday when he left so suddenly, and it had also been an otherwise normal day; except, whenever his birthday came around, you would always wake up a couple hours early to bake him chocolate chip cookies. He never asked for anything else from you, always stating that having you as his other half was enough to last a lifetime of birthdays. So you obliged each passing year, handing him the platter of cookies at lunch during school with pink tinted cheeks and a wildly beating heart.

But that particular day, something felt... off. Felix hadn’t shown up to any of his classes or even lunch, plus he didn’t answer any of your texts throughout the day. To say you were worried was quite the understatement.

So naturally you booked it to his house after classes had ended, anxiously chewing on your nails during the bus ride to your house and the short walk to his down the street. When you arrived at the front door, it was like everything else was a blur to you.

“Oh Y/N, we thought that he told you,”

“Sweetheart... Felix had his party last night and flew out to South Korea this morning. He’s going to be a trainee-”

No goodbye, no note, nothing - all Felix had taken with him was his luggage and your heart.

Even now, almost two full years later, you found yourself reminiscing on the older boy; of course you knew he was doing well, growing into quite the young charmer as a member of a Korean pop group called Stray Kids. In fact, you had watched their survival show after getting a message about it from his mom back in Australia. You could also vividly remember nearly throwing your phone across the small bedroom of your apartment when he initially was eliminated - and when he was included in the final lineup you just about cried; oh who are you kidding, you did cry. Like a baby.

He’d always been cute, even as a kid and growing teenager, but god almighty he had become so handsome and utterly stunning at the ripe age of eighteen; it was as if he’d stolen all the good genes of your generation and used them himself, in all honesty. But it was so much more than just that - he grew up as a person, too. Seeing the boy you were so proud to once call your best friend so happy and well... kind of hurt, at times.

You’d always grown up making silly promises of moving in together after school, going to the same university, and being together forever; in what context it was never specified, but it was pure all the same. Yet here you were, just having turned eighteen not even four months ago. You live a solitary life in a small yet cozy apartment in the heart of Jeju, having been brought in by a decent internship at a radio station a few months back.

Then when you had to host the show for the regular broadcaster when she called in sick for a solid week and a half, you found a new love in the entertainment industry. Since then you’ve been doing small gigs, like guest hosting other radio shows or acting as a temporary host for variety shows; and then one day, you got a call from the producers of Idol Room - it was still somewhat fresh since Doni and Coni had left Weekly Idol, and they were on the hunt for occasional guest hosts and the like.

To put it in lighter terms, you got a temporary opportunity to help host Idol Room. You were kind of already making a name for yourself in the variety business, being able to make guests comfortable with light humor and adapting to their personalities with ease; with such a big opportunity like this, you were simply ecstatic to see what the outcome would be.

And then came the day you were going to be on Idol Room.

Most of the staff were pretty relaxed, helping you rehearse the lines you needed help with (as Korean was not your native language) and encouraging you to do well on the show. What didn’t help calm your bundling nerves, however, was the knowledge in knowing that Stray Kids would be today’s guests. Of all the idol groups out there, you just had to host the popular show on the day your once best friend was going to be there.

“Remember, you come in and introduce yourself when Coni calls for you,” one of the female staff reminds you calmly, noticing how you’ve started to chew on the tips of your nails with growing anxiety, “you will do wonderful, Y/N, and I’m sure the boys will adore you as well.”

You were so not ready for this.

“- today the rookie monsters, Stray Kids, will be joining us!”

Was it too late to back out?

“Ah, but that’s not all - we have an intern with us today too! Welcome, Intern Y/N!”

That was your cue.

“H-hello,” shit, “I’m Intern Y/N, it’s nice to meet you!” You quickly introduced yourself after having stepped out from the crowd behind the cameras, feeling the curious stares of the idol group burning holes into the back of your head. Doni and Coni supportively pat your shoulders, making some oddball joke before telling you to get on with your ‘job.’

That was how most of the show went; you’d be smiling in the corner of the shot at their silly antics and games, occasionally sending the two main hosts glares whenever they said something a bit too harsh, and introducing small segments. Until, that is, they’d started poking a bit of fun at Felix for having done theater in school - particularly bringing up old recordings of him playing as Romeo during freshman year.

It was silly at first, just a quick joke about how he was a theater nerd, but then Doni started to take it a bit too far for your liking.

“Oh, I think that your Juliet was hesitant to kiss you! Even her lines are shaky!” The older man insisted with a chuckle, though you could just tell from Felix’s awkward laugh that it wasn’t all too appreciated. You also just knew that it had to hurt the boy, especially since theater had been his life in school - he’d even dragged you into it.

You would know, because you had been playing his Juliet.

“Actually, my lines were really shaky because we were performing in front of the entire student body.” You utter quietly, only to feel your cheeks heat up to a degree you didn’t even know was possible because your mic had increased the volume - meaning everyone heard your words. Not one ear fell short of perking up at your words; especially not Doni and Coni’s.

“Your - your lines?” Coni said in awe, quickly coming over to your little spot at the side of the room and pulling you closer to the center just a few inches in front of the boys. “So... that little girl is you, Intern Y/N?”

With a nervous laugh escaping your lips, you rub the back of your neck - a sort of nervous habit you’d picked up over the years. “Erm, yeah. Lix - I mean, Felix and I went to the same school.” You admit, knowing full well when the episode aired that the information would easily be found by fans anyway. The two men hum in understanding, but wicked smiles slowly find their way onto their lips.

Doni gently pushes you closer to where Felix is standing, teasingly patting the top of your head while Coni does the same for a baffled Felix. “Say some of your lines, they don’t have to be in order! Let’s see if it was really the stage fright that made Intern Y/N so nervous.” One of them cooed, though you were too focused on catching your breath after meeting the taller boy’s nervous gaze.

No - he had no right to be nervous. He left you hanging, not the other way around.

“But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.” The freckled boy utters without a single stutter or break of his words, reciting the line perfectly with no hesitation whatsoever. Your lips part in surprise, to which you swear he chuckles softly at.

You weren’t too sure of what the following line was, in all honesty, so you quoted the first one that you could think of. “O Romeo, R - Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy... thy father and refuse thy name; or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love and I’ll no longer be a C - Capulet.” Curse your stupid nervous heart for having you stutter in front of Felix, curse his intoxicating smile for making your heart feel as if it was beating out of your chest.

You faintly hear Doni and Coni giggling like little school girls in the back, clearly milking the scene to garner to their viewers watching at home. But you were entirely focused on the freckled idol in front of you, his gaze flickering all over your flushed face even though he knew that there were a dozen cameras filming his every move - his every reaction.

“... It’s been a while, Y/N.” He speaks up softly, finding solace in staring at your eyes after he’s analyzed the rest of your heated expression.

“Since you left without even saying goodbye?” The sharp jab spills from your lips almost inaudibly, but by the falling features of his speckled face you can tell he’s heard you loud and clear. “Yeah, it’s been two years. Two years of not having my best friend with me.”

He winces, but doesn’t make an effort to argue against it. For a moment it looks as if he wants to say more, to keep talking to you, but by then Doni and Coni are moving the show onto another segment; meaning you had to walk away first. Of course, you could feel Felix’s sad gaze following your back as you turned away from him to face the cameras, and as much as you hated it; you felt a twinge of longing tugging at your heartstrings.

“Good job today, intern!” Coni praises you lightheartedly after the shoot is finally over, playfully ruffling your hair much to your slight distaste. “You’re a natural at this sort of thing, so don’t be surprised if we give you another call soon.”

“Ah, thank you - that means so much coming from someone like you-”

You’re suddenly interrupted by a hand going to hover over your shoulder, as if the person behind you was too scared to touch you with no warning. “Y/N, can I talk to you?”

Oh no, it was Felix - you could recognize that deep yet soothing voice from just about anywhere. You stiffen up slightly, pouting when Coni immediately obliges and heads off to wander somewhere else in the aftermath of the shooting.

“Y-yeah, sure thing.” You give in easily with a small sigh, knowing you couldn’t exactly escape the situation at hand. Felix lets out a cute noise of relief, akin to a sigh but a bit too high pitched.

Said idol leads you to an empty corner of the otherwise crowded studio, letting his hand fall off of your shoulder and down in front of him to wring with his other free hand. “Okay I don’t - really know how to go about this,” he breathes out quietly, playing with the hems of his sleeves as he tried to get the words he wanted to say out, “I just... wanted to say that I’m so unbelievably sorry for leaving you behind like that, back home. It’s a shit excuse, but - I didn’t want to say goodbye because saying goodbye means that we weren’t going to see each other again.”

“You’re kind of right - it is a pretty bad excuse,” you utter after an awkward moment of silence, quick to cover up your tracks when his lips purse into a sad pout, “but - I’m over it, freckles. Seriously, it was in the past.”

You weren’t lying, truly; for almost two years you’d been moving on not from Felix himself, as that was a task you deemed quite impossible, but from the day he left home. Erasing that single day simply brightened the memories you held dear to your heart, which was practically every waking moment you had spent with the boy.

Sure, it hurt how he left you so suddenly - how he hadn’t bothered to at least fight for you two to remain in communication. That’s just how life worked out, and you were strangely alright with it; especially since you were here, right now, seeing the boy who’d been by your side your entire life after two years of watching his blossoming success on a screen.

“No, you shouldn’t forgive me so easily,” he insisted, much to your surprise, “I want to make it all up to you, even if it takes me months or years. I just... I just want to be able to call you my best friend again, my other half, my - my soulmate.”

“Felix, you don’t have to do all that... though if it might make you feel better, I won’t stop you.”

The boy with little constellations dotting his dark cheeks blinks; once, twice, and a third time before his lips crack open to reveal a tiny, hopeful smile. “Great! I mean - good, yeah! Can I um... have your number, then?” He asks you almost timidly, making you giggle softly under your breath as you nod slowly at him. “I don’t have my phone on me, can I just put my number into yours for now?”

When you nod again and hand him your phone, the smile on his face seems to brighten even more - if it was possible to be blinded by a smile, you were sure that Felix’s would’ve made you unable to see long ago.

“Okay, here-”

“Felix, we gotta go!” One of the other boys calls out to the younger, waving for him to join the waiting group. Frantically, he hands you your phone back, neglecting to lock it before he starts to head off.

“Just text me whenever you can, Y/N! I’ll be waiting for you!” He states in a rush, catching up with his friends soon after. With a slight shake of your head in quiet amusement, your gaze flickers down to the screen of your phone where Felix had put his contact name in. A warm, bubbly smile twitches onto your lips from the name, and you’re sure it’ll only continue to appear in the near future whenever you get to texting the boy back.

Contacts:

…

Romeo <3

#skzwriters #stray kids #stray kids au #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids fic #lee felix #felix lee #felix drabble #felix scenario #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff

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instakpop · 6 years

Text

Chanyeol scenario - Infamous pt.2

Infamous pt.1

Requested by @annjaee

Genre: angst, smut, and a pinch of fluff

Warnings: mild G!dom

Previously: “I know things will never be exactly the same, but I’m willing to try again.” His honesty warmed your heart. You looked up at him with a smile.“So no more sorority girls?” You asked. “Nope. No more sorority girls… except you.” He replied.

You woke up with a slight headache. The sun was way too bright to be streaming in through the open windows. You stood up, off the bed to try and close the shades but you instantly fell back onto the bed. Thanks to your little ... reunion with Chanyeol, you're legs felt like they were made of jelly.

"Oh, god." You groaned.

There was nothing to do but just sit there on the edge of your bed until there were a few faint knocks at the door. You turned around and called for, whoever it was, to come in. Chanyeol peaked his head in and smiled when he saw you.

"Hey. I got you a muffin and a smoothie." He handed you the cup and paper bag as he sat next to you.

"How'd you get back in here?" You asked.

"I left the door unlocked when I left and thankfully it was still unlocked when I came back. " He laid down on your bed, getting comfy.

"Thank you for this. I'm starving." You took one sip of the smoothie and nearly gagged. "What's in this?"

"Strawberry beat smoothie. Your favorite." He said.

"No way I hate that flavor." You sat the smoothie on my desk and just settled on the muffin.

"Oh right. Strawberry and beets were for the girl from Delta Phi" He muttered.

You rolled your eyes, feeling a little crack in your heart. You can take the boy out of the frat but you can't take the frat out of the boy. Chanyeol sat up on the bed, pulling you into him, hugging you from behind while you ate your snack.

"Baby I'm sorry. I want to start over the right way." He kissed your shoulder, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, making you squirm and smile. "See? I still know how ticklish you are."

"I want to start over too, but you really have to try, okay. I feel like I have to get to know you all over again." You leaned back against his firm chest, turning your head to the side to hear his heartbeat.

Chanyeol sighed with a nod. "I know, my love."

You finished the last of the muffin and stood up, stumbling a little, but Chanyeol held your hips to keep you from falling over. You slowly walked to your jeans on the floor, taking out your phone.

"Oh, no." You said under your breath

"What's wrong?"

"The girls will be back any minute from the gym! You've got to get out." You scrambled around the room, getting rid of all the evidence from last night.

"Relax. Is it really that bad?"

"Chanyeol. You have a reputation here. There isn't a single member in this house who has slept with you-"

"But they do know we dated in high school right?" He asked, cutting in.

You opened your mouth to speak, but you knew the truth would hurt him. Instead, you stood there silent, like a statue.

Chanyeol's eyebrows raised. "Right?" He repeated.

"Well, the only reason I didn't is that-"

Chanyeol got off the bed, and headed to the door, not wanting to hear any excuses. You hurried to his side, stopping him from leaving. He can't just walk out like this. You both had some faults, which is probably why fate brought you back together in the first place.

"I'm not letting you go like this." You said.

"Why? You need me to sneak out the window so your little sorority sisters don't see the playboy you've never met before." Chanyeol rolled his eyes and reached for the doorknob, causing the crack in your heart to worsen.

The tears started building up and your voice broke. "Chanyeol. Please. You need to understand. I didn't think you'd ever come back to me."

Chanyeol looked at you, seeing the sincerity and pain in your eyes and he eased back. The two of you stepped back from the door and walked back to your bed.

"Ever time I saw you, it was like you were a stranger. I genuinely thought I lost you. So yes, I lied. But only because... You were gone." You said, letting the little tear fall.

Chanyeol kneeled in front of you, wiping your tear. "Y/n... There is no way that you can lose me. No matter how much distance there is between us. You are the first girl I've ever loved. I knew in high school that you were the one and it hasn't changed. I love you more than anything and anyone. It's as clear now as it was then."

He cupped your face in his hands, catching each tear as they dripped down your face. He pulled you in for a sweet kiss, proving that the spark was still there. Out of pure habit, you smiled against his lips. Remembering all those laughs he gave you broke you out of your discouraged state.

You thought to yourself and decided enough was enough. Everyone was going to find out sometime. The front door opened and several footsteps and voices echoed throughout the house. You stood up and held out your hands for him to take.

"Let's go." You said.

"You're sure about this?" Chanyeol asked. You nodded your head and marched to the door, squeezing his hand.

The moment you two walked downstairs all the girls went silent, staring in shock and disgust that you were actually coming out of your bedroom with the infamous Park Chanyeol.

"...Y/n... What is going on here?" The head sister asked.

"I'm going to breakfast. With my boyfriend." You stated, radiating confidence.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a few seconds, but she quickly softened her expression. "Are you sure you want to do this for him? Rules are rules."

"Getting back together with my exboyfriend doesn't violate any rules. But if your really that worried about it, I'll be glad to go back to dorm living." Chanyeol's hand from your hand to your waist, giving you a small embrace to show he was proud of you.

"You have 48 hours. Turn your keys in when your room is cleared out." With that, the girls walked away, leaving you and Chanyeol alone.

You both walked out of the house and down the street in silence. CHanyeol wanted to talk, you could tell, but still, he was quiet. Those girls would have thrown you out no matter what you said, but you just felt invisible. You got your man back and all was good.

"So where do you wanna go for breakfast?" He asked.

"Well I know this cutie named Chanyeol who makes really good waffles if I ask him nicely?~" You said with a sweet smile.

Chanyeol kissed your forehead and threw his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in for a big bear hug. "My place it is."

Over breakfast, you had some time to think. You've never gotten back together with anyone before and although Chanyeol hasn't changed completely, there are some new traits that you have to get familiar with. You snapped out of your thoughts when you felt Chanyeol poke your nose.

"Whatcha thinking about?" He asked.

"Just you and me." You said honestly.

Chanyeol nodded and went on. "Good things?"

"Yeah. Really good things." You held his hand and he smiled, showing his adorable dimples.

"I know I feel really good about us right now. The new Y/n and Chanyeol." He pulled you off the chair and onto his lap."Campus couple."

"I like that." You replied, running your fingers through his hair.

"I like you. You got awfully feisty back there." His hands squeezed you butt playfully and you giggled. "It was sexy."

"Oh yeah?" You asked. Chanyeol nodded and you wrapped your arms around him, repositioning your legs to straddle him. "You like it when I take charge?"

You watched as Chanyeol's eyes dilated. The sexual tension could be cut with a knife. Your side smile started to grow, causing Chanyeol to go into a frenzy. He got up, whisking you off to his bedroom. You covered his neck in kisses on your way over, nibbling on the one spot that drives him wild.

When you reached his room, he let you back down, giving you full control of him. You lifted his shirt up, pulling it off of him and pushing him back onto his bed. Without hesitation, you climbed on top of him, giving him a little strip show. Clothing flew in all directions until you both were naked and wanting.

Chanyeol's hands moved up your back, pulling you closer. Skin to skin, chest to chest, heart to heart. You positioned his throbbing member at your slit, taking a quick pause before taking him all the way in. You both moaned at the familiar friction working its magic. You rode his cock, moving in figure-eights. His breathy grumbles had you seeing angels, but of course, you didn't have to look far. Watching his nose crinkle and his eyes close gently was like a work of art.

"More, baby." He held your hips, grinding with you until you started to bounce. His hips bucked rhythmically, giving you enough pleasure to cum in seconds.

His pink pouty lips parted, begging for a heated kiss. You came down on top of him, smashing your lips together and taking him even deeper. You moaned into each other's mouths, unable to stop your selves from reaching that almighty high. Your climax washed over you, shooting tingles from your hands to feet. Butterflies erupted inside your stomach as you tightened around him.

Chanyeol's hands rubbed your back when you fell limp on top of him, slumping over into his powerful arms. Oh, how you loved his arms. Nothing ever went wrong when he held you. Everything was at peace. His soft cheek pressed against your face as he snuggled you in.

"Now that's how to start the morning." He said with a smile.

"The most sensuous time of day." You replied with a kiss.

You understood that Chanyeol has evolved since the break-up, but so did you. You both made changes as individuals, but now you’re better than ever... together ;)

THE END

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dontknockitkid · 5 years

Text

Farewell

You knew this one was coming haha

I never posted anything on social media about baseball being over for me because I didn’t want to accept it, acknowledge it, or over-romanticize the ending of a simple game for me.

But I will, however, write this;

These are my sentiments about a game that had an exceptional part in molding me into the man that I am today. I will never communicate anything like this again, unless it’s in person and verbal and only if someone asks.

Here i present to you, Chris Ramirez, the baseball player.

First and foremost, I feel the need to give the greatest gratitude and praises to God for blessing me through my baseball years without a debilitating injury. I never broke, severely strained, pulled, or tore anything in the 16 years of constant travel, overhead motions, conditioning, or weightlifting. I praise my almighty God for that absolute blessing. With saying that, I’m not talking down to anyone who has had one because I’ve realized how anxious it makes athletes as well as how much it affects their confidence, self-esteem, sense of worth, and identity. I truly feel for those who have been affected by the unforeseen traumas of athletics.

Now, for the tear-jerky portion of my outpouring.

My dad has told me that he wanted to sign me up to play little league baseball when I was younger, but my mom was opposed to the idea because she said it was dangerous and I might get hurt. My dad, being the person that he is, went on to sign me up at South Side Little League in south Oxnard, CA. I make sure to specify SOUTH Oxnard because it was the most rag-tag, blue-collared, league in Oxnard (in my opinion of course). Being in this league for the first couple years of baseball made me the humble, quiet player that I was because we always played (and were crushed) by the surrounding, more wealthier and supported, leagues. The best thing about my younger years (pre-high school), was the traveling. Specifically the long drives I had with my dad. We would drive 3-4 hours and basically spend the weekend together. We would wake up early, go to the nearest McDonald’s, and then head to the sports complex. Those are some of the moments, weekends, and trips that I will cherish the most regarding baseball because they constructed the relationship I came to have with my dad. My dad went to as many games as he could, but the majority of games I either had to hitch a ride with a coach or teammate, and he would show up whenever he was able to. Both my mom and dad have supported and been there for me after every great and terrible game to give their unique feedback (you sucked today but we still love you; keep fighting kid. You have unbelievable potential.) I held on to each and every pre- and post-game talk with my dad because above all else, he was PRESENT. He cared about what I had to say and how I felt about my performance, and he absolutely 100% knew that I cared what he saw or had to say (even though after the tough losses I acted like I didn’t want to hear anything from him at times, but like a young boy, I yearned for my father’s edification and approval). They provided the life and the beautiful days I would never EVER take back, and seeing them smile at me and say they’re proud of me when I didn’t get drafted, had my last start, and graduated college meant the entire world to me.

Now, while I’m talking about my family, I wanted to include a few words for the village that raised me.

These pictures are from my very last season of baseball, but it embodies the support I’ve received from my beautiful family. From fundraisers, to them traveling/camping overnight for several days to see me play (succeed, and sometimes really suck, which often made me really sad), I am forever grateful for their presence. My brothers, Angel and Kevin would often help me forget about a tough loss by providing laughs that turned into happy tears, as well as celebrating with me when I had a great game. Their hugs and affirming, congratulatory presence throughout my life have fueled me to be a respectable sibling. I have always wanted to make them proud of me. I value the photos we have together in our baseball uniforms growing up, as well as the ones we took when they came to visit and watch in Vegas and southern Cali. Even more so than the photos, the moments I was blessed to experience when I hugged them and told them that I loved them after a game or after having not seen them in months, are where my love during those years rests. Te quiero muchisimo mis hermanos. Cousins, Tia’s and Tio’s, family friends, who have housed me on my trips, and let me crash on the couch or guest bedroom for a night or two as I was making my way across the country or back home, I love you. You have no idea how grateful I am for your gracious hospitality. It is and always has been truly heartbreaking as a little kid knowing I wasn’t able to make a baseball trip because of insufficient funds. My parents have done everything that they could to make sure I was able to go to at least a couple trips growing up, and I tear up just thinking about how they made it all possible. I am so thankful for the limited opportunities because it made me appreciate each and every one of them a whole lot more. I love you, mi familia. Near and far, familial and friend.

I couldn’t write something like this without mentioning my coaches. The men (and their wives because if you know anything about coaching, it is a HUGE commitment and sometimes takes a toll on their families. So if any of my coaches’ wives read this, THANK YOU for being patient, kind, and supportive to the men that helped mold me physically, emotionally, and spiritually) that took their time showing me how to simply throw a small object wherever I wanted it to go with controlled aggression, allowed me to spend a good-sized portion of my life having the most fun I’ve had playing a little kid’s game.

I wanted to give a special and heartfelt thank you to my friend, brother in Christ, and former pitching coach Matt Merricks because he (by God’s wondrous grace) developed a form of pitching that incorporated your walk with Christ. Once I was saved by God and my world changed forever, I also became a different type of pitcher, and Matt was there to help refine the explosion of my new heart in Christ. Thank you forever Matt, you helped a young boy understand what it takes to heave a baseball and leave it up to God from there as soon as it left my fingertips, as well as doing the same in life.

To my amazing teammates:

To say you guys have changed my life would be the biggest understatement ever. My boys at Channel Islands and the surrounding high schools who I became so close with, you guys gave me afternoons worth enjoying. You made Oxnard and SoCal a place that tore my heart leaving, but oh so wonderful reflecting back on. If I wrote a small little paragraph for each person or year of baseball, this blog would span a lifetime haha, but I’ll keep it short and to the point.

Channel Islands: Jonny, Isaiah, Matt, Beto, Alfred, Ricky, Manny, Micah, Felipe, Greg, Miles, Anthony, Ray Ray, Leo, Wade, Josh, Stefon, and a few others who were my little tribe in high school: thank you for riding through it all with me. All the high school shenanigans, trouble-making, talks about girls, long days of practice and conditioning, were boosted to absolute nostalgia because of all of you. The memories jam packed at that one school and ball field, are some of my most cherished moments of my upbringing. People always say that you should go to college because those are supposedly the best years of your life, but in all honesty, these years are a definite close Second haha. I can still remember and feel the deep belly laughs at jack in the box, trips to fresh and easy, and countless other get-togethers I will not mention because some of my family might read this eventually hahaha

I love you, and I pray you all are doing well.

Colorado Northwestern:

A small junior college in Rangely, CO was the perfect place for my collegiate baseball career to kick into gear. Why? Because of these guys: Joe, Ricky, Alaska, Mikey, Cado, Nies, Chase, Trevar, Colin, Tanner, Riding, Hoff, Texas, the Woods brothers, Naus, Cory, and several others who brought seriously so much happiness to my days there. At a low point in my life, you guys helped keep me afloat by your jokes, brotherhood, invitations, inclusivity, and acceptance of a new direction I was going in life. You supported me, held me accountable at the late hours of the evenings, and poured into me when I really needed a laugh, friend, or a late night/early morning trip to Vernal or the gas station. The trips we took to the lake, the hikes behind the school, phenomenal bonfires at red rocks, runs up and down Kennedy, when we discovered the “rollercoaster”, and post-game dinners in the caf; dang, I freakin miss that small little school in that small little town.

If you didn’t see your name, don’t take it personally I promise. Even if you were only at that specific school for a couple weeks, you still were part of my experience and growth, and for that I am forever grateful for you all.

Mesa:

Finally, my Mesa family.

Not enough words could describe the absolute excitement and gratitude I had entering a program that was notorious for having a winning record, playing home games at the same stadium the junior college World Series is held, and where a minor league Colorado Rockies affiliate resides. I talked about the anticipation and excitement that was literally almost oozing out of me to every person that would listen, and I want to take a moment here and thank each person that listened to my gripes, groans, and endless soliloquys about a little boy’s dream coming true. You may not have known it at the time, but those moments and conversations built me up (or how us young people say it these days, “it HYPED ME UP”) and encouraged me to live up to the “hype” that I was giving myself haha

Colorado Mesa is where I bore my fruit; the fruit I had worked so endlessly for throughout my life. I was crafted and molded into the pitcher I would come to be my sophomore year at CNCC (and that summer), and CMU is where it all flourished. The grit was there; the motivation was there; the humility; the approach; the passion; the youthful zeal (you’re gonna hear me say that NUMEROUS times throughout my written pieces, so you better get familiar with it because it’s one of my favorite phrases). Everything was already in place, by God’s gracious love, and now it was time to showcase it. Soli Deo Gloria style. Coram Deo style.

Pitching at CMU was everything I’d hoped it would be and so much more. Having the opportunity to pitch in a rotation that included some of the best pitchers in the nation was a dream come true for a little kid from South Oxnard. My friends and roommates making their way over to the stadium on some Saturday or Sunday afternoon would come to be one of my favorite memories of putting on that creme colored jersey and doing what I loved. Now instead of making this a 55 page blog post, I’m just gonna talk about the memories that stand out the most:

I’ll start with the entire 2017 season. The 2017 season came with a ton of extraordinary moments, some of which I’ll go into a bit of detail soon, but it also came with devastating news that would lead to the season’s mantra and future banner of pride, brotherhood, and hardwork. A ball player and dear friend to many named Ryan Teixeira past away from his second battle with cancer. His wake and funeral services in California were unbelievably moving, and I couldn’t help but admire (and absolutely sob) on how unashamed of the gospel his family was at his funeral service. They were bold, broken, vulnerable, but stood firm on the promises of God. It was truly spectacular. May Ryan rest in glory.

I had the best year of baseball in 2017. Although my sophomore year at CNCC was super wonderful, I cannot compare the two as to which one was better than the other because each one was vastly different. At Mesa;

- I experienced a beautiful Friday night fireworks celebration after breaking a school win-streak. The stadium was as full as it ever had been while we were playing in it, and there was this aura of happiness and genuine enjoyment, regardless of wherever you were sitting (even in the visitor section). Fireworks and baseball have always been like peanut butter and jelly, ham and burger, salt and pepper, and tyga and Chris brown. 😂

- I flew for the first time (in a private airplane at that) to play in a regional tournament, as well as a D2 World Series. This playoff experience had me almost in tears thanking God for getting our team and I to that point in order for us to experience and excel in an environment like that. I pitched the BEST two games in my life that season (complete game shut-out against the #1 team in the region at their home field to eliminate them and send us to the championship, and a complete game win against the #1 team in the nation to eliminate them and send us to the semi-finals in the World Series).

Baseball is boring to a lot of people; I’ll admit I even think it’s boring sometimes, but I found an aspect that was worth cherishing the boredom forever. Through this game God gave me memories, friends for a lifetime, extreme frustration and anger, absolute joy and passion, and a love and appreciation for a game played by 4 year olds and 70 year olds. How amazing is that?

God, thank you for these years.

I will miss it forever.

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