#Timeless Infinite Light
Note
The gojo/m!reader fic is just *chef’s kiss* I fucking love your writing. I know you just posted part 3 and I don’t want to be greedy but can we expect a part 4? 👁️
Lawd, don’t tempt me, nonnie! I have so many headcanons and ideas that I wanted to include but they did not feel relevant to the plot. 😭 Okay - not making any promises! We’ll see how it goes because I have some other fics lined up first! ( ´Д`)y━･~~
Below is the original ending of the fic as a treat! I didn’t write it out originally because I dislike reader-insert endings with a definitive end, I like giving room for the reader to be able to create infinite scenarios with the plot provided (｀_´)ゞ
alternate ending, angst with comfort | not proofread! | wc: 1.5 k
“You gave him a run for your money, huh? I told him it was a cruel idea.”
Air does not inflate your lungs but you inhale anyway, if only to feel your chest rise and fall. He reaches his hand out, and that onyx gaze makes your vision blurry.
“S’guru...?”
Clasping at your cheeks, you try to grasp the reality before you. Nails scratching at your skin as you cast your gaze downwards to your lap. The familiar colour of deep navy blue causes more tears to fall.
“What?” Those vortex-patterned buttons shimmer under the warm lights and Suguru’s hands invade your vision as he gently circles his fingers around your wrist.
“(Y/N), it’s alright. Everything is alright now.” His voice felt like honey, just like before. He’s not decayed or pale or rotten. Suguru is wearing his uniform - like before. Before the Star Plasma incident, before his betrayal, before his death, before your resentment contorted your memory of him into a grotesque spirit.
“You gave it your all. You can rest now.”
The sight past his shoulders is bright and cloudless. The silver beams that hold the glass together meld up and up and up into the roof. The floors are glistening, with not one footprint or stain and the pops of green from the potted plants and the distant forests beyond the glass make your shoulders droop.
“...Where...”
He squeezes your wrist and stands, you have no choice but to do the same.
When you do, he wraps his arms around you. A tight, comforting, squeeze that makes your arms hang awkwardly out with twitching fingers. Your clothes spill from between his hold and you can feel the fine hairs on his cheeks.
“You had every right to hate me, (Y/N). It wasn’t your fault. I don’t hate you, I swear I don’t.”
Tears stream down your face. They feel so cooling, unlike the usual burning that follows.
“I missed you, (Y/N).”
“Suguru...”
“I missed you too. Suguru.”
“(Y/N). Where is he?”
Silence befalls the room. His eyes search and pane from every face to every molecule in the air. As terrifying a thought as it is, Satoru’s six eyes hover unseen over his shoulders. Each pupil looks this way or that way. Some have more than one, long downward-facing lashes fluttering as it darts and consumes the sights before it.
They’re hungrier now. Famished from the timeless chamber that was the Prison Realm.
They’re hungry to lay themselves on you.
Drink in your beauty once more. Drown in your presence and weep when you meet their gaze.
You are not here.
The silence is too familiar.
Satoru feels his chest tighten.
“Mr Gojo,” Yuji steps forward and Shoko purses her lips so Satoru steels his expression. Yuji will tell him you are dead, he will tell him how you perished and if Satoru is lucky (which he hasn’t felt lucky in a long time) Yuji will tell him your body was here.
But Yuji says nothing.
He extends his hand after fishing something out of his pocket and Satoru feels a familiar weight in his palm.
It’s your wedding ring.
The other half to his own that he wore.
He thought you’d melted it down. He’d never seen you wear it after that night.
Were you sentimental too?
Satoru recalls the old books your mother had that left holes in his bookshelves - tracks of their departure shredding through the dust like a stampede of hooves. The drawings that were made in crayon and pens and paint by your children, lining the hallways of home or the fridge (”like the Americans do,” you joked). There were even documents you kept, receipts, of things that held no more value.
You were full of memories just like he was.
He stared at the ring. Delicate, detailed and forlorn without its user.
“He told me he had a plan,” Yuji’s fist shake as he speaks.
“Mr (Y/N) said he’d be alright. He told me to trust him and that everything would be okay. He just told me to get as many comrades out of the area so I did. He - He slipped the ring in my pocket and I didn’t notice.”
You’d been revealed by Sukuna, grasped by the back of your head like a toy. You were decorated like one. Those heavy, patterned, robes and styled hair and painted face. Even with pain contorting your expression you looked as pretty as a doll.
“Lovely sight, isn’t it, my concubine?” Sukuna croons. “You’ve made such an array of allies in my absence. Uruame tells me you’ve even mauled your father, how terrifying.”
Uruame, that bastard. The girl - no. The person that’d been bowing and showing you that horrid swirl pattern on their head - they’d been keeping an eye on you. Ever since you were a child, they’d kept track. To prepare you for Sukuna? Or just to make sure their master's return was celebrated with a feast to please his every desire?
His grip tightens and your yell makes Yuji’s anger simmer under his skin.
‘ I’ll leave the rest to you. ‘ Nanami had told him.
“Sukuna,” he growls out.
The King of Curses, with those lovely eyes Yuji cherished so dearly, smiled like a mad man.
“Oi, brat. Shall I show you how deeper into despair I can take you?”
“Sukuna told Mr (Y/N) to kill us or he’d do it himself. Neither of us expected him to,” Yuji trails off, his nails digging crescent moon shapes into his palms. It’s Yuta who finishes the sentence for him;
“He used Divine Flame to its greatest height. As a way to stop Sukuna from chasing after us and as a way to weaken him.”
“...He had sacrificed himself, is that what you’re saying?” Satoru watches Yuta nod and as Yuji sullenly does the same, Choso comes to his side.
“His flames are still burning. They’re fading but, he did weaken Sukuna considerably,” Shoko says. Satoru knows she’s just taking her time to tell him there is no corpse to be buried. You were gone in the wind and once the remnants of your cursed energy faded there’d be nothing left of you but memories and things; they’d collect dust and grief but none would satisfy Satoru.
He doesn’t mind the way they look at him as he unclasps the silver necklace around his neck to slip your ring. It joins Suguru’s button and he finds himself unable to curse the Gods.
Instead, Satoru closes his eyes to pray.
‘ Watch over me, ‘ he pleads.
It lasts no more than a second. His eyes open but they find themselves searching for hair that shines like vinyl and (E/C) coloured eyes that make heaven weep despite what he’s learned.
The best thing he can hope to do now is free Megumi and Tsumiki of their ailments. Then, then...he’ll bury them.
He’ll bury his family.
“Nanami. Is there a body?”
The furrowing of Yuji’s brows make Satoru’s cheek twitch.
“We’ll bury their things then. Side by side.”
There’s a familiar presence next to him. His scent wafted up Satoru’s nose in a way that made his eyes water. He knows him by the way he breathes, the way he walks, the sound of his hair being tied into a bun.
Suguru is beside him.
He doesn’t know how it’s possible that they’re together once again but a quick glance around and he’s quick to figure it out.
Ah.
He wanted to win so badly.
They talk. They talk like nothing has happened. As if the years were mere footnotes in their story like friends reuniting again after some distance.
Behind him, Yū and Kento are sat. They tease and jest. He yells at Principal Yaga about dying with regret, he sees Riko and Misato talking to each other in their own corner of rhe world.
Kento huffs, Kento smiles.
“If you stop flitting your eyes so wildly you’ll find him, Gojo.” Suguru and Yū chuckle at Satoru’s expression. Kento twists his upper half and points to the windows.
“That woman...” Satoru’s eyes widen.
It’s unmistakably your mother. Her hair, her skin, her posture - youthful and healthy. He sees tiny hands clutching to her shoulder, a head of (H/C) peeking from over it and then your eyes blinking sheepishly up at her.
You’re in your mother's arms, a boy once again as she cradles you close to her.
When your eyes meet him, he sees the bashful way they avert themselves and your mother chuckles as she smooths out your hair. Kento hums and Yū tells him to stand, so Kento does.
Your mother’s smile is as warm as it's always been. Puts the damn sun to shame, really. She presses a kiss to your head then sets you down and with inward facing steps, you walk towards Kento.
With each step, you grow and grow and Satoru thinks of how nice it was that you’re spending your youth with Kento for an eternity now.
Because as you stand in front of Kento in your school uniform, with the bright smile you had in those old photographs, he feels his heart soar. The rings clink softly against each other as he leans back and wraps an arm around Suguru’s shoulder.
Your arms wrap around Kento’s neck and he wraps them around your waist.
“I hope you did not wait long, Ken.” He squeezes you tightly and sighs, “I would wait an eternity for you, my love.”
#s3thwrit3sstuff#s3thwrit3s asks#reader insert#male reader insert#male reader#male!reader#gay reader#nanami kento x male reader#gojo satoru x male reader#satosugu
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some playlists i’ve curated
lotus in bloom: homemade ice cream, wet grass, the sun is out, big dreams, familiarity, learning handshakes, a walk in the gardens, bright colors, hopscotch games, the radio is blasting, growing, picking tangerines, the aroma of baked cinnamon rolls, seashells, blushed faces, taking it day by day
i could stare at ur back all day: tracing the birthmark on your lover’s arm, scattered flower petals, sharing laughs and lollipops, comparing hand sizes, no one else in the world exists, holding on, pink skies, timeless, beauty, reciting poetry, fulfilled promises, pure sweetness, feeling whole
the motherland: golden lanterns, loving, a sunny afternoon, grammar books, cut-up slices of fruits, rivers, open arms, nostalgia, pine trees, belonging, people-watching, first encounters, train rides, playing chess
andromeda: nothing is quite real, the moon on your mind, cold wind, small voices, a mystery, the world is heavy, distractions, a fire, long white dress, spinning, torn sheet music, illusions, apologetic yet brilliant, swords, closed eyes, floating, you are reborn
braking softly: sparkling waters, peace, beautiful innocence, a matcha iced coffee, dried flowers, longing, butterflies, intertwined fingers, a lover’s hair tie, you just turned nineteen, the calm wind, the windows are down, writing in diaries, blowing kisses, bakeries
on some strange angel’s porch: staring into space, surrendering into your own loneliness, why can’t i cry? just let it all out?, home is nowhere on earth, lamp lights, dreading silence, a ghost, poison, everything is enough, the winged nike of samothrace, falling away, decaying
closing distance: a soft kiss on the chest, touching skin, desire, sweet perfume lingers, empty wine bottles, warm breath, whispers, candlelit flames, honey, nurturing, cherishing, a little bit lightheaded, love in one place, stained lipstick
i feel like running: green neon lights, 24 hour motels, pulling up at the mcdonald’s drive-thru at 3am, empty streets, searching, deserted valleys, chaos, a serpent, it was so cold but it’s burning, melancholic, lost memories, echoes, fast cars, faded wounds
backseat luvrs: hands clasped, milk chocolates, the sudden tingling feeling in your stomach when you make eye contact, nicknames, everything is in the shape of a heart, first love, illuminated, letting them in your heart, candied cherries, confessions in letters, endless gazes, the world stops
i’m over it (she’s not): puffy eyes, fragile, sick of trying, holding hope, breaking, explosion, broken fragments of your heart, pouring november rain, emptiness, ruins, infinitely wondering “why”, sorrow and anger, betrayal, gone
i was not ready: another heartbreak, darkness, eating dinner alone once again, words left unsaid, old dreams, bad timing, empty fields, running mascara, a hurt that lasts, feeling selfish, the person they once were, a stranger, the end
one jop this time: a kpop playlist full of my personalised top-tier bangers
ヽ( >∀< ☆ )ノ: kpop again but just the girlies!!!
yumeji’s theme: inspired by wong kar wai’s in the mood for love
love you for 10,000 years: inspired by wong kar wai’s chungking express
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Category is: The Art of GIF
Welcome to November’s Artist Picks series! This month, we’ve invited @catswilleatyou to share posts surrounding the theme, “The Art of GIF.”
Here is what they have to say about it below!
What does “The Art of GIF” mean to you?
The GIF is an art form that was born on the web. Videos existed in other places; paintings, photos existed in other places. GIFs just didn’t exist anywhere until the internet came along. Many artists were thrilled to be at the moment in art history when this medium was born. Even though the compression techniques are outdated and the functionality has been surpassed by other formats, the perfect infinite loop of the GIF has yet to be achieved by another file format. MP4s still have a hiccup when they start over. While GIFs are widely used for quick jokes and communication, many artists still believe there is more depth to this medium. I believe that as digital art continues to gain acceptance as a high art form, GIFs will eventually be realized as a cornerstone to it. To me, the art of GIF is about working within limitations and birthing something infinite.
Why did you pick these particular posts?
A few years ago I started creating GIFs that are Phenakistiscopes. I couldn’t find any resources on how to make Phenakistiscopes, but I found lots of tons of centuries old Phenakistiscopes that were making amazing GIFs. I sort of backwards engineered my own method of making them and I continue to explore this medium with GIFs. There’s a lot to be learned by limiting yourself to a small number of frames. I keep thinking I’m done making these but every time I work on one, I learn a new animation trick.
(Below are specific mentions of the artists @catswilleatyou chose posts from.)
@volvulent is a mysterious artist to me. I know nothing about their personal life. I’ve never been able to find them on other social media platforms. I feel so fortunate to have stumbled on their work many years ago. They are a complete master of organic form and hand drawn infinite loops. You can follow some of the shapes on these drawings for several seconds, and then when you go back and study the art closely, you discover that the whole looping sequence is only fraction of a second long.
@katecursed uses old and outdated technology in ways I’ll never understand. Tons of analog CRT TVs, oscilloscopes, old video games, and synths. I love it. She grew up around this stuff and is extremely knowledgeable. Her GIFs are timeless.
@alcrego is an absolute workhorse and in my opinion, a historically important GIF artist. He has an instantly recognizable voice using almost entirely black and white. I think he would even go so far as to say he only uses light. The minimalism is always deceptive—there is so much depth to his exploration of GIF as an artistic medium.
I’ve also chosen some very “classic” looking @kidmograph GIFs. I credit kidmograph with bringing the retro/video game style back into fashion about a decade ago. When he started posting this stuff, I hadn’t seen anything like it. Shortly after (and still to this day), there was a huge movement of artists that co-opted this approach. I wanted to include their work here because when you see this look, I want you to know where the echo started. I also want to say that this is just one of many tricks kidmograph has. They explore a wide range of styles and approaches, and they are continually evolving.
@mrdiv always had such a knack for color, compositing, and simplicity. When I was first learning 3D, they were a great artist for me to study because I saw how much emotion and reaction they can get with using very very little. I love the minimalism of their work.
I love how @maxcapacity incorporates vintage equipment in his process to create such wild psychedelic GIFs. They’re always pretty saturated with lovely colors. For me, there’s a heavy hitting moment with this work where I’m watching my childhood get spit back to me in perhaps a more truthful version than I even recall it. It’s hard to explain but the nostalgia lures me in, and then I’m cut with a darkness by them. There’s also some humor sprinkled in.
@zbags’s work is instantly recognizable with the way they use creepy lively eyeballs behind faces. Collin’s work is disturbing and fun. There’s always an added bonus in reading his wild descriptions and titles. When there was a file size limit to GIFs being posted on Tumblr, I was always impressed by their ability to get a very long and detailed animation into a small file. I think he’s doing lots of frame rate tricks I still don’t think I’ve ever figured it out.
Find out more about Artists Picks here!
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La Squadra’s Favorite Makeup Looks On You
This is just a fun idea that came to me! (Please excuse my poorly drawn bases 😖)
CW: None
Risotto Nero
He doesn’t know much about makeup so he doesn’t have strong opinions.
He wants you to be happy so he’s perfectly fine with what you choose.
Though if he had to choose a favorite it would be something soft and natural that accentuates your features, especially your eyes. Brown eyeshadow, subtle liner, and eyebrow pencil are his favorite choices.
Prosciutto
Out of all of the members he is one of the most knowledgeable about fashion. He will gladly help you pick out an outfit if you are unsure of what to wear for an occasion.
He prefers looks that are elegant and classy.
He likes deeper more neutral colors for makeup because they look more mature.
Thus, the smokey eye with red lipstick is perfect in his opinion. It is a timeless classic that looks good with everything. Accompany it with lash extensions and contouring and you’re all set!
Pesci
Like Risotto, he doesn’t know a lot about cosmetics but is aware that makeup is an art form.
He always looks forward to seeing the different stylistic choices you make everyday. He loves it when you express yourself!
While he loves every thing you wear, he has a soft spot for simple and cute pastel shades. He thinks they compliment your skin wonderfully!
He prefers a more subtle look, so contouring isn’t all that necessary in his eyes.
Sparkles will make the look infinitely better!
Melone
We all know how eccentric he is, so he would love something unusual and eye catching!
Unsurprisingly, he has quite a bit of knowledge regarding cosmetics, despite not wearing them himself.
He definitely has tried some before though and knows how they work, so he loves doing your makeup!
Almost always goes for purples, blues, and pinks, and prefers unconventional mascara colors. He finds colorful lipstick extremely sexy as well. Don’t forget lots of glitter!
Ghiaccio
He knows nothing about makeup. He doesn’t understand why people make a huge fuss about it either. It’s pretty much just face paint!
Needless to say, he won’t shame you for wearing it or anything, but he likes you more in your natural state.
If he had to choose a look he liked, he would go for something like Risotto’s, but even simpler.
Very faint beige eye shadow, blush, light lipgloss, and some eyeliner. He would only like eyebrow pencil of your brows are light. His favorite is the mascara though, but he’d never admit it.
Formaggio
Bro doesn’t know how to put makeup on but has seen plenty of women wear it.
Before getting with you, he often hung out in bars and clubs and took several women home. Since then, he has fallen in love with flashy party makeup. He also just likes colorful things.
While he’s fine with any colors you choose, his favorite eyeshadow is blue— it’s got that somewhat tacky but classic party girl vibe.
He loves that with eyelash extensions and bright red lipstick. Party on!
Illuso
He will never admit it, but he thinks makeup is interesting. Hell, he’s even dabbled in it a few times and wasn’t all that bad at it.
Knowing how extravagant he is, he loves something glamorous. Nothing too flashy like Formaggio’s choice, but it should still be eye catching.
Deep sparkly purples do the trick for him. Bold eyebrows are a must. That, with long eyelash extensions and contouring has him swooning. Don’t forget deep kissable lipstick!
#jjbaventoaureo🐞#jjba⭐️#jjba x reader#pesci 🎣#prosciutto 👁️🗨️#ghiaccio ❄️#formaggio 🧀#illuso 🪞#melone 🍈#risotto nero 🩸#jjba risotto#risotto nero x reader#prosciutto x reader#jjba prosciutto#pesci x reader#jjba pesci#jjba formaggio#formaggio x reader#illuso x reader#jjba illuso#melone x reader#jjba melone#ghiaccio x reader#jjba ghiaccio
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mastermind.
Pairing: William James Moriarty x Reader
Summary: What you needed was a chance— an opening. A cause to draw him out, to approach him. But that would be easier said than achieved. Impossible even.
Tags: fluff, a little bit suggestive but nothing much, Liam is a softie
A/N: so i was listening to mastermind by taylor swift and i just realized how much it fits liam, so this brainrot you see here was born. also this is set in america somewhere in those 2.5 years after the billy incident but before they return to london. my thought process was that liam and sherlock were doing some undercover work at this ball. additionally i decided to have Liam keep his eye here man's been through enough...
The moment was like something straight out of a fairy tale. An instant that you can't quite place; a dream that would unravel and slip from your grasp and glide through your fingers if you only tried to look too close at it. Gentle candlelight tracing abstract patterns over the entire hall, making the entire scene seem magical. Delicate music from numerous hidden instruments filling the air with yearning, so beautiful it could make your heart ache. The muffled sounds of secret whispers and the rustling of numerous exotic fabrics joining the cacophony of sounds, not to overpower but to add to the overall mystique and intricacy of the night. And him. Him— this radiant and golden being, akin to an angel, luring you in, stealing your coherence.
Your eyes were on him as soon as he'd entered the room, followed by another dark-haired man who you couldn't make yourself glance at for the life of you. Because doing that would mean taking your eyes off him. Elegant frame gliding through the mass of people, pale golden strands swaying with the movement, awakening an urge in you to trace your hands through them, to find out if they were as soft as they looked.
This feeling washing over you, filling your every cell, clouding your mind more than the glass of expensive wine in your hand, was new. Completely and irrevocably unfamiliar. And that terrified you tremendously. How could one person have such an effect on you, before you'd even exchanged so much as courteous greeting?
He must've felt your attention on him— how could he not when you were burning holes in the back of his head— and his head turned towards your hiding place, the little nook you slotted yourself in as to avoid unnecessary prattle of the ladies around you.
Oh...
You felt as if all of the air had been leached out of the room in that one moment, then instantaneously rushed back in leaving you light-headed. Bewitching. That was the only word adequate enough to describe his face, his eyes. His features were timeless, elegant, touched by the innocence of youth but also impossibly wise at the same time. And when his sharp scarlet gaze connected with your own, what little thoughts you had— however trifle they might've been— evaporated into mist and smoke. Those were eyes that never missed anything, that appeared to gaze directly through your flesh and blood and straight into your soul, seeing every detail, every dirty little secret. Yes, this man was absolutely breathtaking; utterly captivating.
You averted your gaze, feeling exposed and not wanting to stare too hard. This night had just become infinitely more interesting to you. But, despite all of the stars aligning and conspiring to place you in the same room with such a magnetic and compelling presence, you had no conceivable way of conversing with him. In truth, you were only here in the first place because of your cousin, and this ball was nothing more than just a chore to you who was supposed to be her chaperone. You had no connections and no reason to seek him out, no matter how much your heart yearned for it. Even now, you could see his outline floating in the corner of your vision, surrounded by numerous important individuals.
You sighed, and deciding against hiding for now, you smoothed out your gown and abandoned your little nook. It was due time to try to mingle with the dense crowd.
Like his shadow, a phantom, you traced his steps around the room, trying to find an opportune moment to etch just a little bit closer. Wherever you went you glimpsed him from the corner of your eye, always near, but always just out of reach. As soon as one group had finished with him, he was already onto the next. He was everywhere— anywhere you looked— making your desperation rise. It was a known fact that our psyche worked in contradictory ways; the more one tried not to gaze at something or think of something, the more the mind made them a prisoner of exactly those thoughts. The echo of his silhouette followed you around, always just a tad bit too far away.
Positively exhausted by the constant ongoing battle between your mind and your heart, you retracted back to the faraway corner of the room, choosing instead to behold the art and numerous artifacts nestled there. What you needed was a chance— an opening. A cause to draw him out, to approach him. But that would be easier said than achieved. Impossible even.
Deep in thought, one painting caught your attention. It was a magnificent piece, truly, but you were not able to decipher what exactly about it ensnared you so. It appeared no more extravagant than any other painting in the room, yet you couldn't look away from it. It felt as if it was pulling you in, calling to you.
"Captivating work, is it not?"
The sudden voice to your right made you startle, and you were forcefully ripped away from your mussings. You almost didn’t need to look to know who the person who'd just spoken was. After all, your body was tingling in his mere presence, every cell coming alive simultaneously, vibrating with hope now that he was the one who sought you out first. Unable to resist the magnetic pull, you pivoted to regard the stranger. "I'm sorry?"
"That painting." He flashed you a gentle smile, his unusual-colored eyes regarding you with interest as he approached to stand beside you. "It's a true masterpiece. The artist uses patterns and geometry to create a most aesthetically pleasing piece, painting illusions to trick the viewer into thinking they can actually step into a two-dimensional space. It's rather extraordinary."
His voice was soft and melodic, slightly amused. Your eyes caught at the slight upturning of the corners of his lips as he spoke, unable to look away. It was either that or get lost in his knowing gaze. "Are you an artist?"
"A mathematician, more accurately." You heard a wistful note in his voice. "I used to teach at a university in England, but sadly, I don't anymore." He gave you another smile, this one a little dimmer than his last one. "Some circumstances got in the way. But that is neither here nor there. I take it you are someone's chaperone tonight. If I had to guess, the young lady's over there."
You followed his gaze and saw your cousin a little further away, engaged in a conversation with some friends. How did he know that? "I am. Thank you for your insightful deduction Mr.–"
"Liam. Call me Liam."
"Liam..." You whispered his name like a prayer on your lips, tasting how it felt on your tongue. "No title? Is it short for something?"
"No... just Liam. Classes and titles mean nothing to me." You couldn't quite read the emotion in his voice as he said that, layers of something more— perhaps dejection— intertwined beneath a calm reply. "And what shall I call you, Miss–"
"Y/N" You held out your hand to him, and Liam, never breaking his eye contact with you, raised it gently to his lips, leaving just a breath of a kiss there.
"Y/N..." He too sounded like he was sounding out your name, familiarising himself with it as if he planned to continue saying it many times more. "The pleasure is mine."
That one touch, that one kiss against your gloved hand, was enough to light a fuse within you. You felt flushed all over, both too hot and wrecked with chills at the same time. You needed to know more about this man. He was like a Venus fly trap, a mystery you wanted to solve, an equation you wanted to assess. "Did you come here alone tonight?"
"I am accompanying my good friend on some business tonight. He is the black-haired individual currently giving us the burning stare." And sure enough, when you followed his gaze, you spied the gentleman in question, the one who followed Liam when he first entered the room, giving you both suspicious glances. Looking at him now, no longer blinded by the brilliance of the mysterious mathematician, he was a handsome individual, tall and all angular features, but that was overshadowed by the arrogant eyebrow he raised at you as if contemplating to terminate your further involvement with his friend.
"Have I done something to upset him?" You haven't even met him, yet he seemed to not be pleased with you.
"No, he's just paranoid. Unnecessarily." Liam narrowed his gaze at him, and they appeared to be exchanging a wordless string of arguments between them, after which the man shrugged his shoulders and flashed you both a sheepish smile, putting his hands in his pockets and turning away to talk to some other nearby attendant. Liam's attention was back on you now. "Excuse his behaviour, he has a lot on his mind tonight."
You, too, had a lot on your mind tonight— mainly, how to slip away somewhere where you could be alone with him, away from the eyes of everyone so you could continue your conversation uninterrupted. Suddenly, a thought permeated the fog in your brain. It wiggled through and lodged itself right in the forefront. An opportunity to get him alone... This was it. If you could use this to your advantage, you could make an unfortunate situation into something worth remembering. "Don't worry. I don't mind—"
You cut your sentence off, bumping into him purposely. Your glass almost slid out of your hand, deep burgundy splashing over his coat. He caught you, a true gentleman, as you widened your eyes and flew into a flurry of apologies, as you quickly set down your— now empty— glass. "Oh my God, I am so sorry! I don't know what happened, I must've been more inebriated than I thought. I'm so sorry!"
Liam was a picture-perfect opposite to your hysteria of movement. He calmly grabbed his coat and slid it off. The dark burgundy stain had bleed through the outer layer onto his white shirt beneath, and he let out a chuckle as he inspected his coat and the stain on his chest for the damage. "Don't worry, it was an accident. Such things happen." He sighed at the coat. "Although, I suppose I can't show myself in front of our business partner tonight like this."
"Please let me do something!" You pleaded, doing your best to show him how remorseful you were. It wasn't all for show, you did feel kind of awful for staining his clothes. "I have a handkerchief, I can help you. Please, follow me." If you fail to plan, you plan to fail— or so they said. Life was about making the most out of unexpected situations, and you were not about to waste this opportunity that had been given to you. You grabbed his arm and tugged him along with you as you slinked by the walls and made your way out of the hall.
You entered the first room you saw— a study, it appeared— and pulled him with you to sit down on the couch. Quickly taking out the handkerchief, you grabbed the coat from his hand and started dabbing the stain. Luckily, his coat was dark, so it wouldn't be too noticeable in the candlelight. All the while, Liam said nothing and just observed you with an unreadable gaze.
"I expected you to be more cross with me," you said after some time, finally daring to glance in his direction. You hoped he wasn't, otherwise, this plan was all for nothing.
That gave him a pause, and he blinked at you, as if you said something unexpected. "I am afraid I don't understand. This was just an accident that could happen to anyone. There is no reason for me to be cross. Were you, perhaps, afraid I would be?" He smiled at your frown, and you averted your gaze back to the task at hand. A contradictory enigma. This coat was of very expensive material, yet he made no complaints. Chose kindness, instead of anger. You were definitely right to get this mysterious man alone, even now you felt the inescapable draw of his presence.
"It is better to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both," you murmured absentmindedly while still gently dabbing away on the stain, doing your utmost to try to get rid of it.
"Oh, you are familiar with Machiavelli's works?" He leaned back, placing his arm on the armrest of the couch and resting his jaw on the back of his hand.
"I've read some here and there. Why? Are you an enjoyer of his books?" You raised the coat up to the light and observed it. This had to do for now until he could get it cleaned.
"I too have read them here and there." His gaze was sharper now, both cunning and amused. It made you shiver— but not unpleasantly, you realized with a start. "I find his takes on the authority and aristocracy most fascinating."
Laying the coat aside, you scooted closer to him, the couch making you all the more aware of your proximity, the dim lights making it all seem more intimate. This close you could even smell a faint tinge of his cologne, mixed with the sharp tang of alcohol you spilled. This turned out to be a perfect excuse to touch him, to feel him. Everything went precisely by design.
Dizzy from the heat of his body, now so close to you, you slowly started to dab at the stain on his shirt. "You truly are an enigma, Mr. Liam, are you aware?" He only continued to observe you with his slight smile, the rising of his eyebrow the only indication that he was listening. Taking that as an invitation, you prattled on. "You seem like someone of noble birth, yet you appear to disprove of the class system and disregard any titles. You seem awfully intelligent, and yet I have not seen your name in any field of research, not even math." You took this opportunity to smooth out his collar, fingers gently grazing the skin of his collarbone. "And you approached me, and were able to accurately ascertain things about me I gave you no indication of." You looked up at him through your lashes, then quickly glanced down again, resuming your attempts at trying to clean up the wine.
You felt him let out a little contemplative hum, as he leaned closer to you. "You are an enigma as well, Miss Y/N. You have followed my every move since I appeared here, yet refused to approach me the entire night. You still don't seem to trust my words, but you have not yet inquired into anything I've said. It is almost as if you enjoy this little game." He raised his hand, and you watched with bated breath as he caught a strand of your hair and twirled it around his finger. "Tell me, is it fun trying to uncover my secrets?"
Hands falling into your lap, the stain and handkerchief long forgotten, you felt light‐headed again. Like a snake dancing to the magic flute, both your body and your mind were charmed, following his every move. This little plan of yours might be working better than you anticipated. If you actually survived until the end of this game, of course, because if he kept looking at you like that, giving you his undivided scrutiny, you doubt you could last. "You followed me here without question as well." You managed to whisper out. "Did you perhaps have some ulterior motives with me too, Mr. Liam?"
He gave a little tug at the lock of hair wrapped around his digit. "I wonder..." His sharp eyes were now unfocused and thoughtful as if he himself couldn't really understand his actions. "Whatever compelled me to do that?"
You glanced at his eyes, then his lips, wondering if this was such a smart idea now. Maybe you shouldn't even be here, shouldn't entertain your wicked thoughts. Your draw to him was too powerful, dangerous even. It felt like too much and too little at the same time as if you could ignite and burn and blaze down to smithereens with a single word from him, drown with a single touch.
At that moment, the door slammed open with a loud creak, cutting off your train of thought. Both of you reflexively jerked back from your compromising position, the moment gone and magic ruined. The room now felt infinitely colder without his proximity, the couch impossibly wide. Your startled gaze fell on the culprit who had barged in so suddenly, finally able to breathe without Liam's cologne tampering with your thoughts. It was him, the man Liam introduced as his friend earlier. He glanced sharply at you both, eyes staying on you for a heartbeat longer than necessary, studying you. Contemplating. You could see the same mysterious intellect you saw in Liam in him, the same razor-sharp mind, the same murky and vague past. His eyes widened imperceptibly as if taken aback by your inspection, then filled with something akin to grudging understanding. Then he swiveled towards Liam and pointed behind him. "Liam we have to go. Work's calling."
A sigh, no louder than a disturbance of air left him, and he rose, giving you a remorseful look. "Sorry, dear. Seems like our time is up. Hopefully, I will see you again one day, under more fortunate circumstances." He quickly donned his coat, adjusting it to best cover up the stain, then with a hurried gait followed his friend out the door.
"I am sure you will." You whispered, as you watched him leave, him only turning back once to shoot you a conspiratorial grin. As if saying to keep what happened here a secret.
Checkmate, you thought. You will be seeing him again, you were sure of that. There was just something about him that sang to you, some kind of kindred warm flame, like fire burning in a hearth. But in his calm gaze, you also caught a glimpse of something else beneath, another fire, blazing hot, ardent, and dangerous. All of it made you even more curious, made you crave him more. You had to arrange a meeting with him again.
You couldn't lose.
Truly, nothing moved faster than time. It was outstanding, mind-boggling, how it seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. And now, two years later, you found yourself with the hard wood of the door of digging harshly into your back as you leaned back to let Liam deepen the kiss. The soft rustling of clothes and your quick breathing were the only sounds permeating the room of Liam's and Sherlock's shared apartment in Brooklyn. Barely any light illuminated your two silhouettes, only the moonlight and a rare street light outside of the window providing any illumination.
Gasping for breath, his lips still chasing yours, you attempted to put some distance between you. "Wait, what about Sh—"
"Do not worry." He whispered, still eager to continue. "Sherlock is already on his way to London as we speak. So is Billy. No one will bother us."
"That means we have to leave for London soon, too." You gripped his shirt in your hand, raising on the tips of your toes to whisper in his ear. "How convenient that we are free to spend our last night here as we wish." Pulling back, you looked back at him, face full of mirth, lips splitting into a cheeky grin.
Cupping the back of your neck, he gave you one last kiss before leaning away. "Call me an opportunist."
Gently, his hand slid down to your waist as he moved you from the door and laid you achingly slowly on the bed. Your own hands moved from their position on his chest to intertwine in his hair. Soft and exactly as silky as you thought it would be two years ago. On that magical night. A night so much like this. His gaze was soft, and melancholy, as if he too was remembering that time. Most days, you were scarcely able to wrap your head around the fact that so much time has passed and that you've won the affections of such an ethereal being. That you yourself were able to set the wind to your sails that first night, to not just play the role of a pawn, but to be the king instead.
He regarded you in silence for quite some time, fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your waist, your hips. His face was unreadable, haunted. "I would ask what you're thinking about, but I'm terrified to know."
He let out a quiet chuckle and rested his forehead against yours. "Oftentimes, I think night is purer than day; it is better for thinking, loving, and dreaming. Maybe I was always meant to dwell in the night, to plot. At night everything is more intense, more true."
"Enough of your philosophy." You grumbled. "If you wish to scheme and think you can do that with Sherlock." Using your hands in his hair, pulled his face closer to yours, your lips barely brushing. "I think, currently, your mouth could be much better occupied."
He gave you a deep kiss, making you forget how to breathe, then bit your lower lip teasingly. "I never scheme. You must be confusing me for someone else" So saying, he chuckled. "But I must admit, I enjoy seeing you so flustered for me."
Well, two could play that game. When his lips traced a path from your kiss-swollen ones downwards to your neck to shower it with countless marks you'll surely have to cover up tomorrow, you decided to entertain yourself as well. "What if I told you that none of this was accidental?" It was nothing more but a breathless whisper, a silky melody in the darkness of the room. His ministrations didn't stop, but you continued, eager to fluster him at least once, even if it meant sharing your biggest secret— a secret that you had sworn you would take to your grave. "Were you aware that the first night I saw you I decided that nothing was going to prevent me from getting closer to you? You were like a blazing flame and me but a simple moth drawn to your brilliance. So I conspired to get you alone." It was getting harder and harder to form coherent thoughts when his kisses felt so hot, almost burning and branding your skin wherever they landed, but you persevered, tightening your hold on his hair and enjoying his slight shudder. "I... purposely spilled wine on you that night." You swallowed against a sudden lump in your throat. "I knew I had to lay down the groundwork if I wanted to catch your attention, knew I had to set it all up like dominoes." A sudden nibble on the junction of your neck and shoulder made you gasp.
"I was aware."
You were so thoroughly distracted by the feeling of his lips on the skin of your neck that it took a few seconds for his words to register, and when they did your whole body froze. "Wait... You knew?!"
You felt his lips pull into a smirk against your skin and he slowly pulled away, his eyes dancing with barely concealed mirth. "Darling, I knew the entire time."
You were rendered speechless. Shock. Disbelief. The feeling of the world freezing in its tracks. That's all you felt as you stared wide-eyed at the man above you. Your body felt weightless and stone-heavy at the same time. What does he mean: "He knew the entire time?" Every encounter that you two had raced through your mind as you tried to remember if he ever showed any indication of being aware of your little game. There were none. "You're lying," you stuttered out through your suddenly dry throat.
His smirk was downright devious now. "On the contrary, dear. Not only was I aware of your schemes— I was the one who orchestrated them. From the very start, this has been a chain reaction of countermoves on both sides."
"But then-" Every world felt like sandpaper as you tried to make sense of the situation.
"Steering Sherly in your direction under the guise of talking to some aristocrats the first time I saw you, just so I could be in your field of vision the entire night. Purposely asking around about that painting I knew nothing about to start a conversation with you, then letting you bump into me so you could have an excuse to talk with me in private. Accidental meetings. All actions of a desperate man, who had been completely and utterly enamored ever since he first laid eyes on you." Each sentence was followed up with a kiss— to your neck, to your cheek, to the corner of your lips. One of his hands slowly made its way upwards towards your face from its place around your waist. Still in shock, all you could do was lean into his hand when he gently cupped your jaw. "But it was incredibly enjoyable, this little game of ours. I never believed that there would be someone who would go to such lengths for my affections." His gaze softened and he traced your cheek with his thumb. "My sweet, vicious mastermind."
You felt your chest squeeze under the crushing wave of pure love that washed over you. This man— this brilliant, extraordinary, incredible, magnificent, breathtaking man— he was yours. And he had been from the beginning. Or, more accurately, you'd been his. For you weren't the one who had been setting everything up since your first encounter– you were the one being strung all along. Happy tears prickled at the corners of your vision and you couldn't help but beam up at him. "I guess this is checkmate. It's my loss."
With a matching smile of his own, the hand on your cheek then slowly moved down to your chin, and he pulled you into another kiss. You closed your eyes and melted into it. It was painfully sweet— maybe the sweetest kiss you two have ever shared.
Looks like you were no match for the former Lord of Crime after all.
#ynm#william moriarty#william moriarty x reader#mtp william#fanfic#fluff#sherlock holmes#moriarty the patriot#yuukoku no moriarty#william james moriarty#mtp x reader
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My father, my friend, my dearest loving companion and teacher of all. The divine masculine aspect of Venus. You are my shining star, who is infinite in your wisdom and grace, who gives strength to the downtrodden and dignity to the oppressed. You who rises in the morning, promising the light of day. He who transcends every barrier and threshold. You, beautiful, boundless, timeless God, shall forever live lavishly in the temple of my heart. Ave Father Lucifer! 🔱🖤🔱
#witchcraft#magick#occultism#witch community#demonology#pagan#paganism#witch aesthetic#witchblr#grimoire#luciferian witch#lucifer offering#theistic luciferianism#luciferian#lucifer#inanna#ishtar#aphrodite#venus#deity witchcraft#deity work#deity worship
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"When he reached a displacement of eight he told us he was dead."
"He sees the wolves have formed up around him. Eight of them."
"The greatest gaiaforms of our solar system are eight in number—or, if you prefer, [N]ine—but asteroids and minor planets have them too. And in their sidereal generosity, these gaiaforms will protect us, if we ask them."
Fist of Eight Moons
"Only in the Ascendant Plane—where a well-defended idea is a reality—do these moons, in this small way, still exist."
"Eight Barons and an Awoken prince - and only one of you. I so dislike betting on the underdog… But you are resourceful…"
"The man turned to his left and saw a familiar, weathered face staring up at the eight Barons of the Tangled Shore."
[...]
"’Sundance’ appears to be the victim of a single, catastrophic wound from a Devourer Bullet, modified to fire from a Scorn launcher. Projectile classified as ontological.”
“Define Devourer Bullet.”
“Payload matches the ballistics of a Weapon of Sorrow or a comparable Hive implement.”
"We are all pinched silhouettes impaled on the twitching of infinitely long spiderlegs."
"You must reckon with yourself. Can you see the path ahead?
Do you know the shape of your trial?"
Auseklis
Ogdoad
Guñelve
Arevakhach
Schläfli
Compass rose
Isotoxal | edge transitive
Eightfold Path
The Star of Lakshmi
The Star of Ishtar
The morning star
First light of the new dawn
Venus
[Consult Cryptarchy's pre-Golden Age stacks for more information]
"Is it a simple answer? Perhaps none who serve you have the capacity to grasp your vision. And so, rather than waste more of your time and attention on explaining something they will never hold, it is enough that they act as you will. The Witch and her Hive carving single-mindedness out of the cloth of the universe, that whispering Nightmare seeking the fullest gamut of existence, the Upender destroying all differentiation. Shadows on the wall.
In this case, it would be hubris to think I have understood your work, that I alone among your Disciples have grasped what purpose it is we serve. All of us must see darkly reflected.
But there is relief in simplification. There is kindness in winnowing. So then, why is this proliferation permitted?
The shadows, showing the truth by their casting. [...]
There: I have resolved the conflict within my thoughts, and I am at peace again. Once more, I am only your violence and nothing more.
The Final Shape will realize us as we strive."
—Unknown Disciple of the Witness, Inspiral
Who am I?
Call me Coyote. Call me mantis, serpent, Cagn, Anansi, call me Sri-cleans-his-brother's-stomach. Call me the grandmaster of semiosis, the jeweler's hammer which gilds the signal, a purposeful mob none of whose members know its purpose, the infinite regress of enigmas, a self-questioning answer, the word not spoken, black ice, cataract of mimes, the ache and fever of overthought while bedridden with illness, the intolerable thorn of frustrated inquisition, gray regret at the end of a fruitless day, the thing which is unlike your beloved but arbitrarily recalls your beloved to agonizing effect, architrave of the no-window, needle driven in flush with skin so that desperate fingers cannot pull it out, sweet petal, unmemorable, crystal death, the provably improvable.
Here at the center, I lie to you the truth. You have everything you need to know it, but I will give you a clue, as the duelist gives warning before she draws. The answer you seek to the Dreaming City is simple, not complex.
In primordial space, timeless creatures made waves. These waves created us and the others. Waves were the battles, and the battles were waves.
Fleeing all W'rkncacnter, Yrro and Pthia settled upon Lh'owon. They brought the S'pht, servants who began to shape the deserts of Lh'owon into marsh and sea, rivers and forests. They made sisters for Lh'owon to protect and maintain the paradise.
When the W'rkncacnter came, Pthia was killed, and Yrro in anger, flung the W'rkncacnter into the sun. The sun burned them, but they swam on its surface.
Marathon 2, Six Thousand Feet Under terminal: ax1-40^23<094.95.28.85>
Oryx went down into his throne world. He went out into the abyss, and with each step he read one of his tablets, so that they became like stones beneath his feet.
He went out and he created an altar and he prepared an unborn ogre. He called on the Deep, saying:
I can see you in the sky. You are the waves, which are battles, and the battles are the waves. Come into this vessel I have prepared for you.
And it arrived, the Deep Itself.
Books of Sorrow
XXXI: battle made waves
Verse 4:1 — battle made waves
#trace the vermicular path#follow the daito rabbit#destiny the game#destiny#destiny 2#destiny2#destinythegame#destiny lore#the traveler#Ishtar Collective#destiny speculation#the veil#the witness#the numbers mason what do they mean#crashing my scion tc into the witness at 100mph#macrocosm#eight points
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In a boundless universe, our love takes flight,
I hold your heart in my hands, a sacred light.
With each beat, it sings a melody divine,
Entwined forever, your soul entwined with mine.
In the depths of passion's fiery embrace,
We dance among the stars, in timeless grace.
With every touch, we ignite a fervent flame,
Our love, an eternal, unending game.
Through galaxies we wander, hand in hand,
Two souls united, destined to withstand
The trials of time, the storms that may arise,
For in each other's gaze, our love lies.
In this infinite expanse, we find our home,
A sanctuary where our hearts freely roam.
With you, my love, I'm lost in sweet surrender,
Forever bound, in a love so tender.
In cosmos vast, our souls entwined,
A dance of stars, love undefined.
My hands, your heart, a timeless art,
Bound in passion, never to depart.
Celestial whispers, soft and sweet,
Our love story, the universe's heartbeat.
In galaxies ablaze, emotions soar,
An eternal flame, forevermore.
Through nebulae and cosmic streams,
A love profound, beyond earthly dreams.
Hand in heart, an endless traverse,
In this celestial dance, we immerse.
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The First MoonKnight
Summary: We're familiar with Khonshu's well-known Avatars, such as Marc Spector and Arthur Harrow, but have you ever wondered why there are so many? While other gods typically have just one Avatar from the beginning or none at all, what happened to Khonshu's first Moon Knight? Who was that enigmatic figure?"
Word count: 2.3K
A/N: English is not my first language and I really hope y'all like this because it is my first fanfic :)
Khonshu's P.O.V.
Chapter 1
As the desert sands yield to the fertile embrace of an oasis, I approach the village that was built around the source of that fertility—a solitary beacon amidst the vast expanse of the wilderness. The moon hangs overhead, casting its silvery light upon the humble dwellings below. The air is alive with the sounds of life—the laughter of children, the chatter of villagers, the timeless rhythm of existence echoing through the night.
Drawing closer, I observe the village. Each building is a testament to the resilience of humanity, weathered by time yet standing strong against the ravages of nature. Smoke rises lazily from chimneys, carrying with it the scent of home-cooked meals and hearth fires—a comforting reminder of the warmth that lies within.
As I enter the village, I am met with the villagers going on with their usual routines. Women cooking, men coming back from a tough day in the fields, and children running around and playing with one another. I observe them as they go about their lives—their joys, their sorrows, their hopes, and their dreams. Each face tells a story—a story of struggle and triumph, of love and loss, of the eternal dance between light and shadow.
Its mud-brick buildings bathed in the ethereal light of the moon. Shadows dance upon the walls, casting intricate patterns upon the sand-strewn streets. Lanterns flicker in the night, their warm glow illuminating the faces of the villagers.
At the heart of the village lies the oasis—a shimmering pool of moonlit waters that reflects the celestial canopy above. Date palms sway gently in the breeze, their fronds rustling softly in the night. Crickets chirp in the darkness, their rhythmic song blending with the murmur of the nearby stream.
As I walked up to the shore of the small water body and looked at the crescent moon I sighed.
I’ll find the right one soon… I feel it… I thought to myself.
When my eyes drifted upwards ready to continue my search I noticed a magnificent structure rising from the desert sands—a temple. Bathed in the soft glow of torches and lanterns, its towering columns and intricate carvings stand as a testament to the craftsmanship of the Egyptian people.
The temple's facade is adorned with hieroglyphs and reliefs depicting scenes of celestial splendor—a celestial procession of gods and goddesses, their forms illuminated by the radiant light of the moon. At its entrance, two colossal statues flank the doorway, their stern visages gazing out into the night with unwavering vigilance.
This will be interesting.
I muttered to myself as I approached the scared temple curious to see who this temple is devoted to. The moment I walked closer I stopped dead in my track as my gaze met with a statue of me next to one of Ra.
This already got too interesting.
Carved from polished obsidian, the statue of me towers over the temple's entrance with an imposing presence. Atop a slender neck, the head of a falcon is sculpted with meticulous detail, its piercing eyes gazing out into the infinite expanse of the cosmos. The falcon's beak is sharp and proud. Adorned with a headdress of gleaming gold and lapis lazuli.
Great. Another falcon-head statue of me. Why is it so hard for them to get that I am not a damn falcon?
I shook my head in mild annoyance and disappointment.
I protect them and they cannot get one thing right.
I sighed again as I walked into the torch lighted halls of the temple. In the hallowed halls of my temple, a young priestess moves with graceful purpose, her footsteps echoing softly against the polished stone floors. Draped in robes of white linen adorned with intricate hieroglyphs that shimmer in the dim light, she carries herself with an air of quiet reverence as she goes about her sacred duties.
Well, that’s new.
I thought as I kept observing the female priest, a rare sight within the sacred confines of my temple. As far as I could recall, almost all of the priests who tended to my sanctuary were males—stoic figures, their voices resonating with the weight of ancient rituals and solemn prayers. Seeing a woman being devoted to me was... odd.
Yet, as I watched her move with fluid grace through the temple's hallowed halls, tending to the sacred relics and preparing for the midnight ceremony, I couldn't help but feel a stirring of curiosity. There was a quiet strength in her demeanor, a sense of purpose that belied her tender years. I couldn't help but marvel at her dedication and sincerity. There was a quiet resolve that spoke volumes of her faith and commitment to my teachings. Despite the rarity of her presence, she seemed undeterred, her spirit undiminished by the conventions of tradition.
And yet, beneath my curiosity, there lingered a sense of apprehension—a nagging uncertainty born of unfamiliarity. How would the other priests react to her presence? Would they welcome her with open arms, or would they view her as an outsider, a disruption to the established order?
As she moved about the temple, her movements fluid and purposeful, there were moments when she turned towards me, her gaze searching the shadows with a mixture of reverence and curiosity. Though she could not see me, hidden as I was in the veil of darkness, I could feel the weight of her gaze upon me—a silent question lingering in the air, begging to be answered.
In those fleeting moments, I felt a strange stirring within me—a longing to reveal myself, to offer her the reassurance she sought. And yet, I held back, cloaking myself in the cloak of invisibility, unwilling to disturb the delicate balance between mortal and divine for now.
And so, I watched from the shadows as she continued her sacred duties. Each glance in my direction was a silent invitation—an invitation to reveal myself.
As the moments passed I let my gaze linger on the priestess who seemed to possess an ethereal beauty that seemed to radiate from within, casting a luminous glow upon her delicate features. My mind immediately thought that her parents must have consecrated her to Hathor, there must be no other explanation.
Her skin, kissed by the desert sun, bears the warm hue of burnished bronze, illuminated by the soft light of torches and lanterns that line the temple's walls.
Her eyes, almond-shaped and the color of rich amber, sparkle with a wisdom that belies her youthful countenance. They hold a depth of emotion—a reflection of the countless prayers and offerings she has witnessed in her role as guardian of the temple.
Her hair, a cascade of ebony curls, frames her face in a halo of darkness, accentuating the graceful curve of her cheekbones and the soft contours of her jawline. Adorned with delicate ornaments of gold and precious stones, her hair shimmers like the night sky, a testament to her status as a servant of the divine.
Her robes, woven from the finest linen and adorned with intricate hieroglyphs and symbols, drape elegantly over her slender frame, flowing like moonlit silk as she moves about the temple.
Soon people started to enter the main hall where the altar was filled with the offering that the priestess had placed. I moved closer to the altar to have a look at the goods they were offering. They had wine, beer, bread, honey, fruit and vegetables. They even offered salt and essential oils.
I guess I will stay a bit longer.
I stayed in the back of the hall as the ceremony started. I could hear and feel every little prayer, every small plea from all the people. At times, the sensation is one of overwhelming gratitude—a deep sense of appreciation for the faith and devotion of those who seek solace in my divine presence. Their prayers are like offerings, imbued with the sincerity and purity of their intentions, filling me with a sense of warmth and fulfillment.
Yet, there are also moments of solemn reflection—a recognition of the weight of responsibility that comes with the power of divine intervention. Each prayer carries with it the hopes and dreams of those who utter it. Many mortals had accused me of neglecting their wishes but those people are the ones who do not understand that you cannot be given something because you asked for it. You have earned it, to work for it.
As the ceremony went on the prayers continued to come into my ears but even if I was in a room full of believers who prayed to me I could still hear hers loud and clear. Like something is making her pleas and prayers stronger than the rest. Like something is trying to tell me to pay close attention to her.
Once an hour passed after midnight the ceremony came to an end and people started to leave the temple while some chatted with one another and some mothers were scolding their children. Everyone had the left and only the priestess stayed back to take care of the rest of the after-ceremonial duties. I stayed back too for some reason as something deep in me wanted to observe her more.
As the silence of the temple enveloped me, a cry for help shattered the peacefulness of the night—a desperate plea that echoed through the hallowed halls with a chilling urgency. My divine senses prickled with awareness, the sound stirring a primal instinct within me—a call to action that could not be ignored.
With a silent command, I willed myself to the temple's threshold, my divine form passing through solid stone as though it were air. Outside, the night sky loomed overhead, a tapestry of stars that bore witness to the unfolding drama below.
Beneath the moon's watchful gaze, the priestess emerged from the temple, her eyes wide with concern and determination. In her hands, she clutched a torch as she rushed in the direction of the cry.
As the priestess hurried on the grains of sand, her senses heightened by the urgency of the situation, she heard the unmistakable sound of a struggle ahead—a desperate cry for help that cut through the night like a knife. With a sense of dread gnawing at her heart, she quickened her pace
Rounding a corner, her eyes widened in horror as she beheld the scene before her—a woman, her face twisted in terror, clutching a small child to her chest as a hooded figure loomed over them, brandishing a gleaming dagger with malicious intent.
Without hesitation, the priestess sprang into action, her voice ringing out with a command that brooked no argument. "Hey!" she cried, her words infused with the authority of divine conviction. "Let them go!"
What is she doing? She will get herself killed. I thought as I watched the scene unfold in front of me.
The thief turned towards her, a snarl twisting his lips as he sized up this unexpected adversary. But she stood her ground, her eyes blazing with righteous fury as she took a couple of steps towards him.
With a curse, the thief lunged forward, his dagger gleaming in the dim light. But she was ready, her movements though were sloppy and unsure. She tried to dodge the attacks of the thief. It was obvious that she didn’t know how to fight but she kept trying.
Her attempts though were not successful since the hooded man managed to stab her left side. She let out a loud cry of pain as the metallic blade pierced through her robes and her delicate skin. The man pushed her back and she fell on the ground bleeding.
The thief let out some more curses and he turned back to the mother who was now sobbing at the sight of the blood-covered knife. I was ready to interfere to stop the thief and save the two women and the child. But before I could even take a step forward the young priestess was back on her feet and she crushed a big stone that was lying nearby on the man’s head. His head started to bleed and he fell unconscious on the sand below.
I was stunned.
The mother let out yet another cry before the young woman whose robe was damped in her own blood stumbled over to her and placed her hand on her shoulder.
“Are you hurt?” she asked, her heart heavy with concern for their well-being even though she was clenching the stab wound on her side.
The woman nodded, her eyes brimming with tears as she clutched her child tightly to her chest. "We... we are unhurt, thanks to you," she managed to say, her voice trembling with emotion.
The priestess offered her a soft smile even though she was clearly in pain. She helped them up and she bit her lip to silence a whine that was threading to escape her lips. "You are safe now," she said, her voice reassuring. “Go into the village and say that you will be my guest, priestess Marwa's. Whatever you need you can ask for it. We will take good care of you and your child.” she pointed at the village that was across the oasis.
Marwa? That’s an interesting name.
“But you are bleeding. Don’t you need anything? To help you get to a physician? Or call someone to help you?” The mother asked in concern at the sight of the blood on the white robes.
“I am good. You can go and I will follow you soon after.” Marwa said. The other woman obviously wanted to object and help the young priestess but she just nodded before turning around and heading to the village.
I stayed and watched Marwa as she stood there bleeding and looking at the woman with the child in her arms entering the village. Then I thought that she would follow and go somewhere to treat her wound but instead, she turned towards the temple again.
What is she doing?
#khonshu#moon knight#mcu#ancient egypt#god of the moon#khonshu x reader#khonshu moon knight#khonshu fanfic
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Photo
Aliume Art
What is Imagination?
The place, of the infinite Sacred Ocean without top or bottom; the Starry Sky with no end or beginning...
Multiversal realm of quantum visions; layers of undiscovered realities... interdimensional perpetual dreams. “Akashic records”, sounds of colors. Astral landscapes of creativity. Home of Timeless Gods... Spirits of past, present, and future. Chaos and harmony of thousand unspoken words. Silence and noise. Depth and birth.
The place of everything and nothing.
The place where Artists dive to find Oneself again. Home... We all return.
What is image-nation?
In the photo above the original painting “Everything is connected”, with body-art of my own arm under Blacklight.
Light is All.
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In you, my love found a home
Characters: Malleus Draconia.
Genre: AU, Romance, Married life.
Warnings:
Reader is a female and has a son.
This is actually an old unpublished work written years ago. I decided to make it into a twst fic.
—
You fell in love with Malleus Draconia’s bleak heart and soul because somehow you knew you could fill it again with light, love and hope.
You fell in love with his loneliness because lonely people were good friends and loving companions.
Lonely people often don't judge others, they don't tell other people that they're strange or anything. They openly accept most things and they devotedly hold onto the person who holds them dearly.
And of course, you fell in love with him as a person.
Malleus was a beautiful being, a flawed but lovely kind of beautiful.
He was beautiful for the way he cared for the people who were close to his heart.
He was beautiful for the little twinkles in his ethereal eyes when he talked about the things he was interested in and passionate about.
He was beautiful for his knack of making his loved ones feel special, and his surprising ability of making them happy even when he was not alright.
He was simply and wonderfully beautiful down to his mixed-up soul.
★ —
Malleus fell in love with you because you were selfless, and you possessed a sweet gentleness.
While other people thought that gentle people were weak, he thought otherwise.
He considered your gentleness as a kind of strength, a better strength.
He loved you because he found the summer sun in your smile, the kind of smile that he could store in a little bottle.
During his darkest hours, he would pull it out from his secret pocket and bask in your light.
His world was dull and devoid of warmth until you marched in his life, clad in glowing smiles, and colorful paint-stained hands.
He loved being with you because when his sorrows were as deep as the oceans, you lent him a helping hand and taught him to swim.
He loved you because you took your time to understand him.
You patiently taught him how to appreciate this life, and how to love himself again when he had a hard time to do it on his own.
He loved you because you loved him infinitely without asking anything in return.
★ —
You and Malleus were exploring an abandoned greenhouse.
The two of you held an odd yet great fascination toward ruined places.
You brought nothing but your shared music player, and your ten year old son tagging along with you.
The three of you settled on the ground, eyes fixed on the broken roof, gazing at the night sky dotted with thousands of gleaming stars which surrounded you like comfort.
“Dad, may I ask you, did you meet Mom at the right time?” Your son was the first to break the ice.
“No,” Malleus drew out a breath. “I didn’t meet your beloved mother at the right time.”
“Really? How come?” The ten year old boy blinked his innocent green eyes, looking confused.
“Well, my darling child, we don’t necessarily meet the right people at the right time,” The dragon fae replied with a smile. “Because the right people are timeless.”
“Your father is right, my little sweet boy, the right people are indeed timeless.” Beaming at your husband, you snuggled close to him.
Malleus kissed the crown of your head, then together you basked in a comfortable silence along with your son, gazes glued to the breathtaking scenery above.
The winter breeze was colder than usual tonight, but being next to each other was enough to keep you warm.
#🌸hannah’s musings#twisted wonderland#twst#twst fanfic#twst scenarios#twisted wonderland fanfic#malleus draconia#malleus draconia x reader#malleus x reader#twst malleus#malleus draconia x fluff#malleus x you#malleus x y/n#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x fluff#twst fluff#twst malleus draconia
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Dear Y/n.
You are the sun, my darling. When I feel your beautiful, kind eyes upon me, my heart fills with fire. You are the song of the sunrise- a bright and glowing melody of golden beauty, with all the warmth and power of the summer sun.
You are the light to my darkness. You are my Morningstar, my evening star. You are my world's delight. You are pure joy and wonder wrapped up in an alluring package.
We started our story when the universe was small. The first light had not yet appeared. It was dark and empty. The vastness of the universe was an infinite, timeless abyss. Then, as light began to appear, you were the very first thing to glow and become illuminated.
You are a pure, unconditional love. You are everything to me. Every star, every galaxy, and every sun is a part of your beauty. You give life to the universe. To me, you will always have been and will always be the most beautiful thing in the universe. You are my everything.
I love your smile and the way your eyes twinkle with excitement and joy, even as you face difficult challenges. I am proud of the person you are and the person you are becoming. You bring laughter and happiness into my life, and I want to do the same for you.
Y/n, you are my sunshine on a rainy day. You are the song that makes my heart sing and makes my soul smile; you are the person who helps make this world a little brighter. I love you with all my heart and soul, and I always will.
There are not enough words to convey the depth of my feelings for you. You are my other half, the missing piece of my heart, and the person who I want to spend the rest of my life with. I love you more than anything in this world, and I just want you to know that you are always on my mind and in my heart.
Even when we are apart, I always think of you and our life together. Your warmth and affection have brought me so much comfort and happiness in both the good times and the bad. I will always be here for you, Y/n.
My love for you knows no bounds; it stretches beyond this planet, beyond this world, and into the heavens. You are the sun that shines and brings light into my life, and you are the moon that brings peace and comfort when I am weary. My heart will always beat for you, and you are always in my thoughts. I love you with every fiber of my being, and even when we are not physically together, I still feel your presence deep within my soul.
-Jacaerys Velaryon
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scientific rationalism is born of an anxious rejection of infinite mystery so it births a population drowning in anxious disquietude. it wants to deconstruct even the magical universal experiences we know into mundane component parts so that it can pretend uncertainty doesnt exist. god is the epitome of infinite boundless mystery, to never acknowledge anything beyond an empirical veneer is to neglect God, self, soul, the endless pursuit, the perpetual quest, the breath of life, the animating substance, a path guided by integrity, mindfulness, the present, presence, timelessness, silence, eternity, human spirit as an energy formed from heat and light. people often become anxious in the presence of silence for the same reason rationalists are afraid of the unknown silent one. the reorientation of this instinctive energy towards shiny brand new rational configurations is the risky solution being experimented on by science, but obviously this variant of neurosis wants you to seek god because his ultimate understanding and omnipresence provide immediate warm rejuvenation. he already knows… your life is coded into his body… a transcendence from the regressive elementary cycle occurs and then you keep doing it all over again up the spiral staircase hahahahaha
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Tomorrow is my birthday. But it's "Ken Wilber's" birthday, not the birthday of my Original Face, the great Unborn, the vast expanse of Emptiness untouched by date or duration, tense or time. This infinite ocean of Ease, this vast expanse of Freedom, this lucid sea of Stillness, is what I am in the deepest part of me, the infinite intersection where I am not, and Spirit only is.
There is no birthday for the great Unborn, for that which never comes to be, but is the Suchness of all that is, radiant to infinity. There is no celebration for the timeless moment, which is prior to history and its lies, time and its ugly terrors, duration and its drudgery. There are no gifts for the great Uncreate, the Source of all that is, the boundless Sea of Serenity that lines the entire Kosmos. There is no song for Always Already, the infinite Freedom gloriously beyond both birth and death altogether.
For every sentient being can truly say: in essence I am timeless, in essence I am All—the lines in my face are the cracks in the cosmic egg, supernovas swirl in my heart, galaxies pulse through my veins, stars light up the neurons of my night....And who will sing birthday songs to that? Who will celebrate the vast expanse that sings its songs unheralded in the stillness of the night?
— Ken Wilber, One Taste
#quote#Ken Wilber#Wilber#spirituality#birthday#integral#Integral Theory#time#One Taste#timeless#philosophy#birth
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Let There Be Light
Also posted on the SWG
written for @ainurweek and also SWG's Roaring Twenties challenge
But when the Valar entered into Eä they were at first astounded and at a loss, for it was as if naught was yet made which they had seen in vision, and all was but on point to begin and yet unshaped, and it was dark. For the Great Music had been but the growth and flowering of thought in the Timeless Halls, and the Vision only a foreshadowing; but now they had entered in at the beginning of Time, and the Valar perceived that the World had been but foreshadowed and foresung, and they must achieve it. - Ainulindalë
- -
When the Valar descended from the Timeless Halls into Eä, they found all in darkness, with nothing there of the world they had seen and sung. Even Manwë halted, momentarily uncertain. Even he had not realized that what the Music had been was only a foretelling. But Varda did not hesitate. She remembered her part in the Song well, and knew that this was its time. She therefore put forth her power and lifted her voice. The gasses and tiny particles drifting through the emptiness responded to her call, coming whirling together and igniting in the first stars. She cradled them to herself before flinging them out into the darkness, where they swirled in a dance of their own, pulsing with music to harmonize with the voices of the Valar, bringing light to the vast darkness.
But Melkor was also there, and it was he who spurred the first stars to burst, to grow bigger and bigger and absorb more and more gas until at last they died in a brilliant explosion, sending the heavier matter they had made far out into the void. The other Valar cried out in dismay when it first began, but Varda laughed. For what Melkor had sought to destroy had instead given Aulë and Ulmo and Manwë all that they needed to begin to build a world fit for the children. Here was iron, here was carbon, here were the ingredients that made water, that Ulmo loved most.
And stars, too, were living things after their own fashion, things that were born and that, in time, died—though not all of them went so spectacularly. Varda sung together great clouds of gases where new stars were born, and these she gave into the care of her closest follower Ilmarë. Ilmarë tended the stars with care, singing of light and warmth and color as she danced through the clouds, spinning them with her dance into marvelous shapes—towering cliffs of gas clouds, or whirling circles of varying color. She rode waves of heat from star cluster to star cluster, and scooped the newborn stars up and flung them outward into spiraling galaxies that Varda crafted with infinite care. Their voices and the stars’ echoed through the vastness of Eä, and Ilmarë delighted in it all.
The time came, at last, for the Valar to descend onto Arda, the world made solid of stone and iron and of flowing water and breathing life, to await the coming of the Children. Ilmarë went also but did not linger. Though she also was eager to meet the Children at last, her siblings in Ilúvatar’s thought, her heart lay rather with the star nurseries, with the nebulae and the comets and the strange and wondrous things far from the shores of Arda’s seas.
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نحن أرواح شرعت في رحلة عميقة عبر مساحة الوجود اللامحدودة. كل واحد منا شرارة من النور الإلهي، مغمورة في وعاء من لحم وعظم، يطأ على مسرح الحياة ليتعلم وينمو ويتطور.
في فجر وصولنا إلى الأرض، نكون أنقياء وغير مقيدين، أحرارًا كالرياح التي تتراقص عبر المروج والأنهار التي تتدفق عبر الوديان القديمة. ولكن بينما ننسج طريقنا عبر نسيج الزمن، نجد أنفسنا واقعين في شرك شبكته المعقدة، مقيدين بمسيرته المستمرة إلى الأمام.
مثل سجناء عالم تحكمه عقارب الساعات الموقوتة ونبض القلوب الثابت، فإننا نستسلم لوهم طغيان الزمن. نحن نقيس أيامنا بالساعات والدقائق، ونتسابق مع مرور الأيام والشهور والسنوات الذي لا يرحم.
ولكن وسط ضجيج هذه الحدود الزمنية، يتحرك همس في أعماق كياننا، يذكرنا بطبيعتنا الأبدية. نحن لسنا مجرد أسرى للزمن، بل كائنات مضيئة تتجاوز حدود المحدود. جوهرنا الحقيقي هو خالد، لانهائي، ولا يقهر.
في بوتقة الوجود، نواجه دروسًا وتحديات تهدف إلى تشكيلنا وصقلنا. من خلال الأفراح والأحزان، والانتصارات والنكسات، نكشف عن الجوانب الخفية لأرواحنا، ونكشف عن الجمال والقوة الكامنة في داخلنا.
بينما نتنقل في أروقة القدر، نحن مدعوون لإعادة اكتشاف الحرية المتأصلة التي تكمن في جوهر وجودنا. إنها الحرية التي تتجاوز قيود الزمان والمكان، وهي الحرية التي تمكننا من التحليق خارج حدود العالم المادي.
نحن لسنا عبيدًا للزمن، بل أرواحًا ذات سيادة تجتاز سيمفونية الحياة الكونية. مع كل لحظة تمر، لدينا الفرصة لاستعادة حقنا الطبيعي في الحرية، واحتضان الإمكانات اللامحدودة التي تسكن في داخلنا.
دعونا نستمع إلى نداء ذواتنا الأبدية، ونتخلص من أغلال الأوهام الزمنية ونعتنق حقيقة وجودنا الخالدة. دعونا نرقص على إيقاع لحننا الداخلي، غير مقيدين بقيود الأمس أو ظلال الغد.
لأننا نفوس أتت إلى مدرسة الحياة، لا لكي نحتجز في قفص الزمن، بل لنصعد إلى أعالي طبيعتنا الإلهية. في هذه الرحلة الرائعة من الاكتشاف والتحول، دعونا نتذكر أننا لسنا سجناء الساعة، بل كائنات مضيئة ذات إمكانيات لا حصر لها، مقيدة فقط بحدود خيالنا.
نرجو أن نعتنق الحرية التي هي حقنا الطبيعي، وأن نحلق على أجنحة الأبدية، بلا قيود ولا يمكن إيقافها، في رقصة الوجود المجيدة.
We are souls who have embarked on a profound journey through the boundless expanse of existence. Each of us a spark of divine light, encased within the vessel of flesh and bone, stepping onto the stage of life to learn, grow, and evolve.
At the dawn of our earthly arrival, we are pure and untethered, free as the winds that dance through the meadows and the rivers that flow through ancient valleys. But as we weave our way through the tapestry of time, we find ourselves ensnared in its intricate web, bound by its relentless march forward.
Like prisoners of a realm governed by the ticking hands of clocks and the steady beat of hearts, we succumb to the illusion of time's tyranny. We measure our days in hours and minutes, racing against the inexorable passage of days, months, and years.
Yet amidst the tumult of these temporal confines, a whisper stirs within the depths of our being, reminding us of our eternal nature. We are not mere captives of time, but luminous beings transcending the boundaries of the finite. Our true essence is timeless, infinite, and indomitable.
In the crucible of existence, we are confronted with lessons and challenges meant to shape and refine us. Through joys and sorrows, triumphs and setbacks, we uncover the hidden facets of our souls, revealing the beauty and strength that lie within.
As we navigate the corridors of destiny, we are called to rediscover the inherent freedom that resides at the core of our being. It is a freedom that transcends the constraints of time and space, a freedom that empowers us to soar beyond the limitations of the physical realm.
We are not slaves to time, but sovereign spirits traversing the cosmic symphony of life. With each moment that passes, we have the opportunity to reclaim our birthright of freedom, to embrace the boundless potential that dwells within us.
Let us heed the call of our eternal selves, casting off the shackles of temporal illusions and embracing the timeless truth of our existence. Let us dance to the rhythm of our own inner melody, unfettered by the chains of yesterday or the shadows of tomorrow.
For we are souls who have come to the school of life, not to be caged by time, but to ascend to the heights of our divine nature. In this wondrous journey of discovery and transformation, let us remember that we are not prisoners of the clock, but luminous beings of infinite possibilities, bound only by the limits of our own imagination.
May we embrace the freedom that is our birthright, and may we soar on the wings of eternity, unfettered and unstoppable, in the glorious dance of existence.
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