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pathofrosesblog · 1 year

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Path of roses - This is a world of magic which is mostly the energy of another dimension that penetrated into this world through a split a long time ago. This split and this energy began to gradually shape and change the world, which led to the emergence of races of wizards and different magical species.

Humans in this world do not have any magical powers because of this, they are forced to fear and despise the races that have magical skills. Their own vulnerability and fear led them to cruelty towards others.

People have always tried to master magic for this, they invented devices that allow them to use it.

The gadgets they tried to create were very different

One of my ideas was a gauntlet that would allow them to cast spells. Depending on the glove, the set of spells that the wearer of the glove could use would also change.

The devices were of different strength, shape and purpose. They would also have some kind of battery that would run out of power and take time to build up magical energy in order to cast spells again.

Magic devices were created thanks to some special body parts of magical creatures. The stronger the magical creature from which the material was taken, the stronger the artifact was.

The strongest magical devices would be the hardest to create, which would make them legendary and kept in a special place in case they needed to be used.

These technologies would be at the moment only at the stage of their dawn and would be used mainly by the military.

World

The period in which they are now very much resembles the Middle Ages.

In the country in which events unfold, feudalism and monarchy rule. People are divided into classes and not all people are equal.

There will also be magic plants in the world that people will use. Because of what the profession of a herbalist will appear who will understand how to use them for different purposes. Also, people will use magical items that they can find.

Magic

On top of this world, there is another magical world in which magical processes take place. The use of magic is to draw forces from this world and skillfully direct them. Magic itself is not divided into any elements and depends on the processes taking place in this magical world.

Also, the wizard must understand the spirits that can affect his spells. There are many different types of perfumes and each of them has its own characteristics.

Entry-level magic refers to the simplest magic and is called upon without any tricks or special knowledge, but nevertheless belongs to the weakest types of spells.

Ruine magic is magic where runes are involved.

Some runes were used to stop the negative effects of incurable diseases. They could not completely cure the disease, but they helped so that the patient could feel better.

Curses

Spells that have a lasting negative effect on enemies.

Ritual magic

Ritual magic was not used to summon demons, but to use rituals to permanently cast spells on oneself or objects or create new ones. Ritual magic was good for using transfiguration spells.

Each ritual requires a certain amount of energy.

Note

I wanted to make more types of magic based on physics and mathematics. However, I am very lacking in knowledge of these sciences.

Combat magic

Weak spells - Use the least amount of magical energy, are easy to learn, and take the least amount of time to cast. They are created in seconds, but are not capable of much harm to the enemy and are the easiest to repel.

Medium spells - Require more energy and time to cast. Universal in its own way. A balance has been struck between wasting energy/time and damage that can hurt the enemy.

Powerful Spells - Requires the most energy and time to cast. They need long and hard training. They deal the most damage, are very difficult to reflect, and have very powerful negative effects on enemies.

Ball-shaped magic shields do not exist in this universe, and you will have to learn how to defend yourself from each individual spell.

Wizards do not cast spells out loud, but create spells with the power of thought.

Magic races

Soul stone

Magical creatures that are alive and not ethereal have a soul stone in their forehead that is directly connected to their brain and has different shapes and patterns for different creatures. From the outside, it looks like a glowing pattern on the forehead. Also, thanks to him, they have the ability to communicate through telepathy.

Some creatures other than humans evolved to learn how to use complex spells, and for this they needed a mind. So on earth there were creatures that are also intelligent besides humans. However, they use telepathy to communicate, and due to the lack of a soul stone in people, they are not able to understand what they are saying.

Humanoid fairy races have evolved due to an unknown mutation. They separated from humans and became a new species. One of these is elves. They have a pattern on their foreheads and glowing hair, indicating a state of health. If the hair emits a very dim glow, then the elf is sick, and when they die, they turn completely black as night. In other respects, they differ little from humans.

Spirits

They came from another dimension that brought magic to this world. The portals that they created to our world eventually became the reason that their world eventually collapsed by merging with ours.

Spirits are creatures composed entirely of magical energy, they cannot be hurt physically but can be stopped with the help of magical spells. Spirits are not the ghosts of the dead, not demons or angels, but a completely different kind. They are relatively immortal. However, they also have their weaknesses.

All spirits have the unique ability to sense magic in others and around them, as well as to sense what spells have been cast on objects or creatures.

The first kind of spirits are driven by instinct and alone they are weak. However, if there are a lot of them, they begin to resemble a huge unstoppable hurricane.

They tend to congregate near splits. The splits are cracks in our world where there is a huge accumulation of magic that can feed the magic of magical creatures. The closer to the split the wizard is, the faster he can charge. That is why people settled as far away from the splits as possible.

These spirits appear as translucent small ghosts that are either easy or very hard to see.

Another kind of spirits

Powerful and intelligent. A sentient species of spirits capable of casting complex spells. There are far fewer of them. However, they have not developed as a social species, which is why they do not know love. By nature, they are loners. Some of them lost and were imprisoned in the cycle lost their powers and became humans forgetting who they are.

They look larger, also semi-transparent. Reminds me of ancient monsters. They are not gods. There are no gods in my universe.

According to my idea, the plot will be dedicated to intrigues, conflicts, wars, and ancient studies. Strange inexplicable phenomena will occur from time to time.

I like that the world will be in the aesthetics of Light academia with some elements of Lovecraftian horror.

#fantasy #fantasy world #comics #web comics #writing

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white-mage-0 · 1 year

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[E2SURREAL]

“You have to admit…this place, it has something that just draws you in. I can’t really explain it, but, despite every-” My companion began to spew some sort of excuse, defending the cruelties and tragedy of this hellspace. Something they had no right in saying, someone who has not encountered the horrors I’ve seen firsthand. All they knew was a recounting, they couldn’t have known anything about this place. A familiar blue flame licked the insides of my mind as I turned towards them, brandishing my cutter. I started to speak, but by the time I opened my mouth, I knew it wasn’t “me” who was uttering things. It was another entity, using my shredded and distorted desires against my best interests.

“Why are you here. Why did you come to this town. Did you hope to find something here? Enlightenment? An appreciation for life? I came here because I was invited out of obligation,” I began to speak, waving about my cutter. As I spoke, the blue flame grew to replace my mind, the coolness that became my cognition as I hunted down demons had taken over. With words as sharp and extended as my cutter, I began to cut down her argument to the core. The engine of “understanding” was just as responsible for the situation as the engines of terror that I had seized and hacked apart.

“Are you not an enemy of this world? Do you still hold attachments to the persecutors, those hooded executioners that hide their intentions behind shields of Christ’s blood, the abstractions of people that only serve to try and destroy the source behind your existence? Do you mean to tell me, there is anything worth living inside of this place? No. There is nothing here to be attached to, not yet.” Yes, there was absolutely nothing to be drawn to in this town. Even without the world turning to a putrid abstraction of warped desire, there was absolutely nothing to note of this town. Anyone who was here was only here because they were here, it was convenient for them, just as it was convenient for my begrudging companion to try and rationalize all that which had happened to us.

“I don’t blame you. No, I don’t blame you at all for your childish attachment. Their strings are too strong for a simple wooden puppet to break free from.” I struck a peculiar pose, much resembling that of a scarecrow who stood post in a field of crops. With this pose, the lost little puppet, damaged from all the pecking they’ve endured in their life, tripped over the strings which anchored them to this world and collapsed. They tried to rise again, only to become yet more tangled in their web of contradictions, and remained collapsed, staring up at my crucifixed pose with an expression of absolute terror. I was the guardian of this world, it seemed, the only one who could cleanse and purify all that which had changed the direction of the grain for far too long. I would run perpendicular, brandish my cutter, and correct the crow’s despotic society, even if that meant spilling the soul of the place all around. Their blood would answer the cries of the earth, and a beautiful garden would then be grown.

“For your own sake, I will cut you free from this world. Consider it as an act of grace, lost little puppet. You will be the first to feel the kind of divine enlightenment that comes with the capability of reflection.” I began to circle around the puppet, slithering around and through all of their strings of deception with the flexibility and agility of a snake, slicing down everywhere I saw one of the lines that anchored their heart to the terror engine of this metaphysical hellscape. And even when there were no more lines left to sever from the quivering doll, my job had still not yet finished. In place of the strings, I had mounted the puppet, affixed them towards the world, grounded them into the cursed soil where the glass of broken dreams was buried. They whimpered, squirmed, screamed, all manner of attempts to break free from my etching. A line here, a circle there. Arrows that pointed towards the heavens, crosses that cemented the brimstone baptism, an intricate design was embedded into their body. The sigil burned bright with a deep crimson, poisoned blood that would feed the cycle of toxicity should it remain in the system. With a deep sigh, I retracted the blade of my cutter and lifted my body off of the puppet, who was beginning to shed their wooden, stiff body, their expression growing slack and softer compared to before they were fixed.

“Do you feel better?”

“better, better. yeah.”

#writing #sematary inspired #sigil #awesome #psychokath production

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rainbowvamp · 1 year

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unsent letter: 1890

forgot to post to Tumblr yesterday.

AO3

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I think about Louise a lot. She’s in hospital again. I don’t know if I should know what you told me, but I’m glad I do. It feels intrusive to know what I do without her having told me, but I think it was important that I know. I’ve known Lou for years and it never occurred to me to think of her as anything other than a foul-mouthed prostitute, good for an occasional laugh and a good time if you were stupid, but no one worth more than a few minutes at a time. That was what she presented herself as, so I told myself.

Every century you show some new fool part of myself, and I think the this is the one, this century.

I’ve spent so much time alive. Meeting people. Knowing people. Interacting and sharing and indulging.

Somehow it becomes easy to forget that there are parts of people that exist beyond what I know of them. Not for all people, but some. The rude. The crude. The ones society finds most repellent.

I thought I had undone the worst of my wrongs against society’s most poorly treated people. I think I spent so much time trying to undo the one wrong, trying to contribute to the abolition of slavery and restitution for it’s victims, that I forgot that there are more people in the world who suffer.

I think I realize, every century, some new aspect of myself. Not very many of them have been good. Realizing I was greedy in the 1500s, not entirely irreplaceable in the 1600s, cruel in the 1700s, and now, in the 1800s, I find myself dismissive of people whose struggles I cannot understand.

It’s easy to throw a couple coins in the outstretched hand of a destitute and call myself a good man, but what about the children whose hands are being mangled in factories? What about women forced by poverty and the cruelty of the world to participate in sex work? What about the countless people who work for less money than their labor is worth because no one else will hire them?

I cannot fix the world. I cannot fix every problem that exists even in this city, let alone in England. I have gone over it in my mind over and over again. I’ve tried to think of ways to create long-lasting change, but none of them ever feel like enough.

It’s a turtle pace for me then. Slow and steady. It’s so unsatisfying though, stranger. I want to fix things now. I want things to be better now. Is this the idealist in me showing through? It almost feels hopeless if I think about it too hard, but the world is capable of change. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived through 500 years of it. Just 100 years ago, it was legal to keep people prisoner and force them to work your fields or clean your house.

I know that change is possible. I know that there is no such thing as stagnation, not anywhere on this earth, but I can’t seem to wait patiently for things anymore. What is it about having infinite time that makes it so hard to be patient? What is it about never dying that makes me want to see the world at it’s very best today?

Maybe it’s because I live and work with people who are alive today. I love people who are alive today. And what good is the social change of a hundred years to the people I love today? I will live to see it, but they will not. They will pass on and never get to see the fruits of their own labor.

I think of all the people who died enslaved. All the mothers whose children were taken from them and never reunited. I think of all the people who would have rejoiced to see the abolishment of slavery who died before it happened, and it makes me want to weep. I weep for them and I weep for all the people like them who could only believe better things were coming, and never got to see them.

I can’t wait patiently. I don’t want to wait patiently. I want people to be kind now. I want to be kind now.

I’m doing my best stranger. I’m always doing my best, but my best, as we have both seen, is so rarely good enough.

Life can be cruelest to those who least deserve it. Does anyone truly deserve cruelty? In this god-loving century, I have to ask myself too often where the hell is the compassion? Where are the open arms, the loving thy neighbor? More concerned with their own absolution than bringing peace to the poor and the destitute, the suffering, the dying, the wrongfully imprisoned.

There are so many terrible things in the world. And I’m not just saying this because I’m afraid for Lou, or because you couldn’t look me in the eye and call me a friend.

I’m saying this because I want the world to be a place where men like me don’t exist anymore. Where men like me who forget about the well-being of others cease to exist and are replaced by new people, kinder people, better people.

Stranger. I love you. I don’t think I’ll ever be worthy of hearing you say it back, but please, in 100 years, be there to tell me again how I can be better. Be there again to make me a better man, like you did when you humbled me in 1589, when you raised me up in 1689, when you advised me in 1789, when you opened my eyes in 1889.

Please. Be there. I don’t know if I can become a better man without you there to help me.

Please.

#lore's dreamling letters #dreamling #dreamling epistolary

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sweetbillwriting · 2 years

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Blue Angels - Chapter III

Characters: AU Gordan Merkel from Atomic Blonde played by Bill Skarsgård. The rest is my own original characters.

Setting: This story is set in a country that is hard to find on a map, in a city without a name and in a time similar to our own with some exceptions.

Music: Fear and Loathing by MARINA and Too Drunk To Fuck by Dead Kennedys.

Warnings: 18+, alcohol, drunkeness,mental health problems, unconventional love, ageism, mentions about sex and masturbation.

Notes: You can find earlier chapters here.

Once again had Gordan left us. Two women in heartache. This time he was gone for a month. A month that started with oppressive heat and then turned to a dry dark autumn. Both the sun and the rain seem to have left together with Gordan. The first week both Marta and I were more or less depressed and spent most of our time in our separate beds. Just as I did, she probably thought about Gordan, his smile, his scent. He was so special. Never did I really feel connected to a guy. There was always something that made a relationship with a man hard, like we didn't speak the same language. That wasn't the way with Gordan. Even though I could feel he had secrets I felt a deep connection to him, beyond sexual desire. He awoke feelings in me I haven't felt since I was a child, a child without the knowledge of the world's cruelty. He was like the friend I had met behind the big oak by our house when I was five. Beautiful, happy, smart and always interested and understanding, like they had experienced the same thing. Then I was forced to confess that I made the person up and they were just a creation from everything I wish I was and I wish I had. This time my imaginary friend was real. Beautiful and kind, capable of magic.

When I left my room after a week and I had put on something else other than my washed out pajama pants and even put on some makeup. Marta sat by the kitchen table, reading a magazine with her red reading glasses perched on her nose. She had also put on one of her regular black outfits but I could see she hadn't taken the time to make her updo and make up as perfect as when Gordan was here. But it was a step up, both of us had made some sort of improvement.

“Do you want coffee,” she asked. She had a small floral cup next to the magazine.

“Yeah, sure. How are you,” I asked as I sat down on the chair opposite Marta's while she stood up to make me a cup of coffee. She had learned I liked milk in my coffee and even fixed that for me.

“I think that's hard to say when he’s away… I guess I get more and more used to him going away…”

She gave me the coffee cup and then sat down. I nodded as an answer to what she said. I guess she was right, this time I hadn't been sorrowful as long as the first time he went away, now I even started to feel some acceptance.

We continued to improve and when the month had passed people around us couldn't see that we had open wounds, the loss of Gordan. I had taken for granted that Marta felt the same as me. In a way we could unite in our loss for Gordan but it was still hard to really be with her for the same reason. We wanted the same man.

As usual I sat and tried to study with Victoria and Leona the morning Gordan’s ship came to town again. They were good at studying, I was not. I had passed the re-examination and examination number two while Gordan was home but when he was gone the studying became just as hard again. It felt so pointless, I couldn't see the meaning if he wasn't with me.

Victoria looked amused at me while I drew a puppy with big eyes in my notebook.

“Lucky for you, you’ll soon have energy again…” she said with a smirk. I gave her a confused look and then at Leona who also smiled. Suddenly two heavy hands laid on my shoulders.

“No this can't be my Ella, that’s drawing puppies instead of studying,” Gordan said. I looked up at him at the same time he said it and met his big puppy eyes and teasing smile.

My body reacted at once to his presence and I threw myself at him.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…” I hugged him hard and he lifted me a bit from the ground. He laughed.

“Oh Gordan!” I broke from the hug to look at his face. I had overlooked that he had a mustache the first time I looked at him but now my eyes couldn't stop looking at the hairs above his lip.

“What’s this?” All my inhibitions were thrown out the window when I was with Gordan. My impulses and feelings made my decisions and I dragged my thumb over his lip. He laughed but pulled his head away.

“I’m testing something new. Do you like it?” His smile made me laugh with joy.

“Sure… Sure… But isn't it a bit sparse?” I tried to touch it again but he pulled away again with an amused smile.

“Hopefully it will get fuller over time.”

I could stop myself from laughing at him and I continued to do so as we walked home together. It was just so funny, him with a mustache but even I could see it did suit his face and style. It fit his dramatic look. I could see how people perceived him. It was probably because of his appearance, with his long black coat and heavy boots. Today he had a leather band knotted around his long elegant neck. But people also turned their heads because of his aura. He just had that aura celebrities had and people probably assumed he was a model or an actor. Or they had heard of the rumor about him, about him arriving in the rain. I looked up at him with a smile. I was proud of walking next to a man like him and even prouder when he took my hand in his.

"Marta darling! I'm home!" He shouted with a singsong voice when we were home. It took no time for Marta to come out and hug Gordan who hugged back just as tightly.

"Oh my handsome boy!" Marta said to Gordan while I took off my shoes. I felt a bit like the third wheel but decided to disconnect from that feeling. Gordan was home, I shouldn't pout right now. It was a day of celebration.

"I want some coffee but after that I'm going to do some grocery shopping. What do my girls say about veal tonight?"

"That sounds fantastic! But can you buy some gin, then we can have some drinks?" Marta said and patted Gordan's chest.

"Sure, what is your favorite drink?" He turned to me.

"Em…Oh. I don't know," I said, a bit insecure. It felt like the drinks I liked weren't fancy enough to mention in front of them.

"You can come with me to the store, it might inspire you," Gordan said with a smile to me and I smiled back. More time for us alone!

Grocery shopping with Gordan was an experience. He didn't push the grocery cart, he more rode on it like it was a kickbike. Everywhere people turned their head towards the six foot three punk dude riding a grocery cart with long legs. First people looked annoyed but Gordan's appearance and smile made everyone smile and laugh. When we stood by the alcohol he walked around and sang "Too Drunk To Fuck" while he swayed his heard. A male customer, a head shorter than Gordan with a big beard laughed and started to sing with him.

"What will you have today?" He asked Gordan who looked at the bottles like they were candy.

"Ooooh, I don't know. I think I should let my girl decide," he nodded at me and I laughed with blushing cheeks. His girl.

"So what will you want?" The man asked me with a smile.

"I don't know. I'm not so good at this. Something sweet?"

Gordan looked at the man with a knowing smile and they shook their heads.

"Something sweet for my sweetie," Gordan said and then grabbed a bottle of cointreau.

I smiled and stepped closer to him.

"Was that the sweetest thing you could find for your sweetie?"

"The sweetest thing I will buy," he said and booped my nose twice with his finger.

"Have a nice night, love birds," the man said with a smile when he walked away. Gordan gave him a nod and then smiled at me, which I answered. Love birds, that's us.

"Are you and Marta together?" I suddenly asked while Gordan watched my lips, he looked up at me confused.

"Hmm?"

"Are you and Marta a couple?"

"What?" He looked dumb and played with his buttom lip.

"Can you just give me an answer," even if my body sparkled with joy of being with Gordan again I became annoyed at him.

"What? No! No, what? She could be my grandmother." He said and gave me a pointed look. "I know she… Has some sort of feelings for me but I don't feel that way for her. Even if she is a fantastic woman."

I couldn't stop myself from throwing myself around his neck. God, this was such a relief.

I laughed a bit, out of happiness but also because I showed my emotions so openly.

"That's… Great…" I said and laughed a bit more.

The evening became festive with drinks and food. Gordan entertained with dancing and singing and he even sang along to my music. But under all the happiness I wondered if he had been honest with me because he still gave Marta more attention than me when we were with her. I had started to believe he had a deeper interest for me but I questioned that when I saw them together. Hugging her, complimenting her… What did he want from her? I looked around the spacious apartment while they danced in the living room. It was big, with mahogany furniture, oriental rugs and oil paintings. Was it about money? Was he just here to scam her?

I looked at them while they danced. Marta, so petite against Gordan's broad chest. He smiled big and tightened his grip around her waist. He was such a charismatic person, did he use that to get what he wanted?

Marta had become tired of their dancing and went to bed which left me and Gordan alone in the living room. He still affected me just as much but I now also felt an unease. I couldn’t stop thinking about him being a conman.

"Come and join me, I should slow down a bit," he said with a cute voice from the couch. I gave him a look and then peered down at my drinking glass.

"You want something more to drink? I can get a bottle of wine. I don't think Marta minds."

He excused himself to the kitchen. Marta wouldn't mind but I now felt a bit sick because he used her generosity.

Gordan joined me in the living room again with a bottle and two glasses and sat down on the sofa.

"Sit down with me," he said and looked at me with a smile.

I hesitated a bit before I sat down and I saw on his face that he noticed.

"Is it something?" He asked.

I sighed a little and looked at his face. I could feel every fiber in my body reacting but I knew I couldn't let that control me.

"You and Marta… I feel like I'm missing something,"

He played a bit with his mustache.

"We are just friends, I promise," he said.

"But you act on her feelings for you. Do you… Use her for something?"

He looked at me with an offended expression.

"No? I just like to see her happy."

"Why?"

He looked at me confused.

"Why wouldn't I? She is my friend, I care for her."

I shrugged my shoulders and looked down at my hands. It still felt like he was hiding something but I also had a feeling he wouldn't tell me. I looked at him again and he looked at me with big eyes. My emotions were sparkling and I knew I couldn't stop from acting on them anymore.

I moved closer to him and he smiled a little and moved closer to me.

"I think I just…" I said while watching his lips.

"Just?" He said with a low voice, licking his lips.

"...I get jealous…"

He smiled a bit and let me drag a finger over his jean clad thigh.

"If I kiss you, will you feel better then?"

I just smiled as an answer. It was an answer that would explain my happiness. Just a few seconds later he pressed his plush lips against mine. It’s hard to explain how it was and what happend inside me because I had never felt the emotion before. It was like pure euphoria swam through my blood. I felt light and heavy at once and my heart hammered harder than it ever had without being unpleasant. I wanted that feeling forever.

Gordan looked at me with heavy eyes but moved away from me even if I wanted more.

"Please…" I whispered.

"I think it's time for me to go to bed…" he said. He gave me a hug, probably so that I wouldn't feel completely rejected. Then he left the wine bottle on the table and me alone on the sofa.

It rained a long time after Gordan had come to town and it was needed. After all the rain the sun came and it became such a vibrant autumn, one you only see in movies. Gordan continued to spread joy, to me and Marta but also to every person he met. Victoria and Leona met him a couple of times and they understood why I liked him so much. He and I continued to flirt a bit but he didn't give me a chance to kiss him again.

It was in the first week of November he told Marta and I about his new job. We sat at Marta's favorite café that served the most luxurious cakes with champagne. Both Marta and Gordan were dressed in black turtlenecks while I stood out in my pink sweater.

"So I’m working on the same thing but for another company so the trips will be longer," he said while he dug into his chocolate cake.

"And what does that mean?" Marta asked while watching him dig in his cake.

"That I will be away for a longer time but it will be fewer trips," he said and put a full spoon in his mouth.

"Oh…" said Marta and looked at me. I couldn't get a word out because my heart beated so fast in my chest.

"Like how long?" Marta continued.

"Two months is the next trip. I will go after Christmas."

Gordan looked between me and Marta with a guilty expression.

"But then I will be home until June."

Marta and I were still quiet. It was a lot to digest. Two months was a long time.

"Okay... Well if this is what you want then we will of course support you," said Marta and looked between Gordan and I. I nodded a bit but under the table I hugged Gordan's knee with my hand.

"It is. And you two have each other," he said. This time it didn't feel as it did when I had just moved in with them. I had learned to like Marta and to be alone with her wasn't so hard. Much has happened since I moved in and it didn't feel like Marta was as dependent on Gordan. Both of us could be without him.

The studying was easier when Gordan was home even if he wasn't with me. And even if he was at home I spent more time at the university. It was nice to come home from a long day at campus and be greeted by loud music and the scent of food. Gordan made great food everyday that I sometimes even fantasized about his food when I was on campus. One day I couldn't stop thinking about Gordan and his food so I decided to go home early. I almost ran through the colorful leaves to get home earlier but when I broke through the door only silence met me. The apartment was empty of punk noise and only the scent of roses and Chanel no.5 could be detected. I didn't really know why I thought that Gordan was constantly home cooking? I sighed to myself when I took off my outerwear. I went slowly through the apartment and took my time to look at all Marta's stuff. A lamp in the shape of a shell, a painting with blue angels and pink porcelain cats on most flat surfaces. It was a fantastic apartment and all the things made me smile. I felt a warm feeling in my chest and up to my cheeks and it felt like… Gordan's presence. Was he home? Curiosity led me to his door and on impulse I opened it.

I wasn't prepared for what I would see, at all but for just a few seconds I got to see Gordan's naked body in bed. He had a big hand wrapped around his erection but I couldn't see much more than that before he put the cover over himself.

"Oh shit… Ella…!" He said embarrassed and put his hands over his face. I felt the warm acid in my veins taking over and I lost all inhibitions again. I walked slowly towards him and he lowered his hands when he heard me come into the room. He looked at me with big eyes and parted lips. He looked so innocent and I smiled at him. I sat down on the bed next to him and looked at his face and the part of his chest he hadn't covered. I laid a hand on his stomach over the cover and he looked between my hand and face with the same innocent expression. I giggled a bit at him and caressed his stomach and chest until I could take a hold of the edge of the cover.

"Can I see?" I asked and gave the cover a small tug.

#bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard #writing #fan fiction #story #bill skarsgård writing #bill skarsgård fanfiction

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capsizedskeleton · 2 years

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toh spy x family au bc why not

(set ~10 years before the day of unity)

raine has been the ultimate spy on the boiling isles. using bard magic to play people like a fiddle (im so sorry) they weave their way in and out of society and back to emperor belos. what he’s doing seems... off, but they’ve never known a world without him, and he doesnt seem intent on doing any large-scale harm to most witches. they follow their orders the best they can while minimizing cruelty-it’s best they’re in this position, because otherwise, no one would make sure wild witches’ children conveniently escape capture.

their latest mission is to infiltrate hexside, the prestigious witches’ academy, to kill perry porter, the journalist notorious for somehow publishing scandalous material about the emperor. there is never any significant evidence against his claims, and so he has proven difficult to fight–especially since he only ever appears in person, without illusions, at his son’s school gatherings. his journalism is done through some mixture of illusion and oracle magic, and outside informants, which has made him difficult to apprehend.

to complete this mission, raine first has to find a child–and they conveniently stumble upon one luz noceda, an eight-year-old child found alone in the marketplace with... rounded ears. raine is shocked by this at first, but then reasons that this child would have no background in the boiling isles, no past to cover up. ear prosthetics are widely available, and little luz is bright and capable–perfect for passing the entrance exam.

luz noceda is fascinated by the witch spy. after escaping the testing facility on earth only to find out her father was dead and her mother had moved far away, she stumbled through the woods into a glowing door, like the ones that had appeared the fairytales her mother read to her as a child, the kinds of books she had always picked up when her attendants gave her a brief respite from her telepathic training. this world, this person, were so much better than earth. she could learn magic here! so why would she jeopardize anything by telling raine she knew their real intentions? they could easily send her back.

and then there was eda. vendor by day, independent contractor by night. she’d taken on odd jobs to support her and lilith since they were little, and she’d continued that career until if anyone asked around for a witch who would find or cheat or kill, someone would point to eda. it was a routine job for her at this point, but she had been doing it for so long it was almost comfortable. what other job gave her the economic freedom to explore earth on her days off and drag back fun treasures to sell?

she missed raine, of course. they’d broken up over eda insisting she couldn’t tell them how she spent her nights doing... whatever a stranger hired her for. she had her limits, but they didn’t include assassination, and so she and raine drifted apart.

until eda walked into a tailor’s shop to pick up a new black dress, and saw raine with. a child? they talked awkwardly for a bit, and raine knew eda would be perfect for the mission. they needed a second parent, and eda had been untraceable for the last few years. she was caring, luz liked her, and if they just happened to spend more time around eda because of this... it was all for the convenience of not working with a stranger on this mission, right?

and so this family, with all of their secrets, would move forward into hexside.

#brainrot #brainrot central #in this au that i will never flesh out fully lilith never curses eda #bc tbh i feel like eda would have been living a similar life to the one she is now if she didn't get cursed. she never liked covens anyway #can you tell this is bc these shows are both Very Good and Release New Episodes on the Same Day #please if someone wants to write this out. take it. do it. pleas #toh #spy x family #raine whispers #eda clawthorne #luz noceda #rambles #loid forger #yor briar #anya forger #au central

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ancestorsofjudah · 4 months

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2 Kings 13: 14-20. "The Schvitz."

Continuing our discussion on the Seed. We seem to be planting bad seeds rather than those of the Sacred. The following passage explains, as does most of the Tanakh, that we are trapped along the margins of the Third Day.

We cannot seem to stop the violence. Without an end to the violence, humanity will not achieve salvation or lasting happiness on this world.

Elisha, "the Spirit of the Free Ecomomy" is the answer. So long as there is free and fair interstate trade, governed by a Certificate, that all labor is cruelty, slavery, and tyranny free in every way, the Third Day can be surpassed. All the academic papers, field experiments, and free secular societies like the USA demonstrate how free economies do not resort to tyranny for their systems of government and for the most part are free of violence and oppression. So, we know the model works.

The Death of Elisha

14 Now Elisha had been suffering from the illness from which he died. Jehoash king of Israel went down to see him and wept over him. “My father! My father!” he cried. “The chariots and horsemen of Israel!”

15 Elisha said, “Get a bow and some arrows,” and he did so. 16 “Take the bow in your hands,” he said to the king of Israel. When he had taken it, Elisha put his hands on the king’s hands.

17 “Open the east window,” he said, and he opened it. “Shoot!” Elisha said, and he shot. “The Lord’s arrow of victory, the arrow of victory over Aram!” Elisha declared. “You will completely destroy the Arameans at Aphek [control, disciplne].”

18 Then he said, “Take the arrows,” and the king took them. Elisha told him, “Strike the ground.” He struck it three times and stopped.

19 The man of God was angry with him and said, “You should have struck the ground five or six times; then you would have defeated Aram and completely destroyed it. But now you will defeat it only three times.”

20 Elisha died and was buried.

Even Elisha can die but he leaves his legacy behind: fire an arrow from the East Window. Arrows are verses in the Torah brought to life by the right actions. East is the moment of awakening, the moment Aram, the High Place has received a thought object capable of increasing the brain/society/religious/academic institutions capacity for the correct apprehension of a negotiable reality.

I.e., People don't want sweaty fat chicks in sweats with California accents telling them not to get abortions or not to be gay or trans all day. This does not facilitate the operations of the mechanisms of society. We have seen this.

Cultures do not prosper when they build weapons of war and then use them, they are not bound to success when they watch acts of genocide, ivasions, apartheid, bombings, or extreme oppression as in Russia, China, North Korea, Saudia Arabia, Iran, much of Africa and South America. We know how to citizen and govern, there are laws that insist upon it. They ban Pro-Life, discrimination and warmaking of every kind, and we have all agreed to abide by their terms.

Any treaty signed by the President and ratified by the Congress becomes as if it were a federal law. This is what the US Constitution says. The laws I just mentioned are enforceable in America and abroad. So Elisha is not dead, only sleeping, it seems.

The Values Gematria for the above verses are:

v. 14: Illnesses are signs of disbelief or blasphemy against God. Even if one is not the cause, one can be affected. Chariots and horsemen are ways freedom is obtained or ended. One fights for freedom or one runs from oppression. The presence of an illness that might spread to the charioteers implies a threat of oppression.

The Value in Gematria is 11172, יאז, yaz, "the dare."

The bigget dare of them all took place when Moses told the Israelites to pack up and leave Egypt. Then they had to prepare to receive the Torah after Moses came down the Mount, a process called Shavuot, "the weeks."

In between Shabbats, which takes place as one transcends the Six Days are these periods in between which are called Shavuot, the continuous study of the Torah.

The Dare keeps the charioteers iof oppression at bay.

v. 15-16: Bows and arrows are called Kabbalah, the scientific exploration arm of the Religion. There are four ways the Torah and Tanakh must be studied in order to produce a viable Kabbalah, or spiritual practice that results in some obvious change to one's dispositions. They are:

Peshat, the plain (simple) or literal reading; Remez, the allegorical reading through text's hint or allusion. Derash, the metaphorical reading through a (rabbinic sermon's) comparison/illustration (midrash) Sod, the hidden meaning reading through text's secret or mystery (Kabbalah).

I try to provide all four layers during these illuminations of the verses contained in the Tanakh. This must also be done with the Gospels and the Quran and especially the Book of Mormon which were written or based on writings of Jewish scholars.

The Value in Gematria is 8237, חבגז‎, habagaz, "the bagasse, AKA the dry pulpy residue left after the extraction of juice from sugar cane, used as fuel for electricity generators, etc.

v. 17: the Value in Gematria is 13475, יג‎יד‎זה‎, "it will tell."

"Haggadah means "the telling" and that's what we do at the seder table—we tell a story. The oldest, most popular kind of story there is — the Happy Ending kind. That's how the Talmud instructs us to conduct the seder: "Begin with the bad stuff, and end with the good."

v. 18: Three stikes vs. six, we will need to see both verses 18 and 19 in order to understand.

the Value in Gematria is 4870, דח‎‎זאֶפֶס, dezhepce, ‎"then comes the distribution."

v. 19: the Value in Gematria is 15676, י״הו‎ז‎ו, "this is YH, this is God."

For three times, the Value is 5514, hadad, "the steam". The Hebrew word for steam is schvitz, "nervousness."

Schvitz (also spelled shvitz) [Yiddish] verb: to sweat uses: Schvitz: to perspire Schvitz: to be nervous Durchshvitz (/doorkh*shvitz/): to persevere Schvitz (noun): a steam bath, where people sweat Schvitzer (noun, adjective): a big shot (who can afford to sit in a schvitz and shoot the breeze with fellow schvitzers).

For "Five or six times", very unusual that the Number was not specific, the Value is 4196, ד‎אטו‎‎, d'ato, "to understand a note."

To schvitz without understanding a thing is the opposite of the most earnest tenet of the Religion and the Torah which state one must go all the way to Shabbat and then to Ha and then to Shem, then to Ha Shem:

v. 20: the Value in Gematria is 1491, ידאטא‎, "yadata", "this is understanding of God."

The above are a more elaborate version of the ways one studies Judaism, ranging from the internal scope to discourses one has within the temple and the commune at large.

After all the violations and the sins are analyzed, their root causes determined, resolutions are made and communicated through the government to the population. Through changes in the behavior of the population, one ascertains the sacrosanctuary present in the original truth.

The Dare comes first: we are dared, like Noah and Moses to live in a world that is free of violence, delusion, tyranny, and corruption. Then comes the steam, the work, then the sugar at the end. Unless we believe this with all our hearts and souls we shall never know if our faith in God was real or not. The Seed will never sprout.

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reliving-elegy · 5 months

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Clueless

"It is so often that mortals draw early conclusions about we Immortals that I have come to entirely dismiss their curiosity. Frankly their minds are enervated so thoroughly by the mere passage of time that asking them to figure the answers out on their own seems to insult a great many of them. 'Why not give the answer?' They'll ask, alongside whatever colorful commentary is in fashion for their maiden tongue."

"There's no real meaning to an answer without understanding how you get there. It's common knowledge- something they should've picked up on in elementary studies. I remind them of this, and still, they feel entitled to the end result. When I refuse, they seethe. Or riot. Or weep. Or whatever else you can think of- each has their own idiotic justification, and each idiotic justification has its catastrophic ending."

"There are, as anything, exceptions to this. Some who seek knowledge for the sake of knowledge; willing to waste their lives listening to what they would eventually conclude without my aid. To those few, who want for nothing more truly than to learn, I am sorry the rest of your kind are blatant fools as opposed to self-aware ones. I'll indulge them enough to satisfy or confuse- whichever comes first."

"Yet, clueless as the lessers are, what they ask always boil down to the same general array of banal queries: 'What does it mean to live?', 'Where do we go when we die?', 'What is your favorite color?', and on and on. The answers are simple enough to defeat their want of lore in short time; eager to forget what obvious things they now recognize."

"But a query stood out, if only one. It came from a girl little more than half my height, with verdant eyes that saw hate lingering beyond its moment. The bitter, burning gaze of one betrayed by their reality at every shift and change; that failed to glean hope from their own thoughts. Let it be clear that I am not easily unnerved."

"She, through that hateful perception of the world, saw me as the enemy, as most mortals tend to do. 'Bringer of the End', 'The Great Liar', something-something- none of that stuck, but she really wanted it to. So, running routine, I dismiss their raving, reiterate that I've no ill will toward humanity in spite of its many, many, maaany flaws, and bid her to find another fixation."

"Like any well-indoctrinated fanatic, this was ignored. What I did not account for was her... spirit, for lack of a better term. Rather than enforce her religiously-charged nonsense again, she sought to know why I was the enemy."

"Why must you love being cruel?"

"To which I was taken aback: so close, so close to the question she wanted to ask. I am, after all, a reflection of the world; distorted and cold and distractingly attractive and incredibly humble. In her frustration, she'd let a part of her own psyche slip, to question what could answer her own faults. Feeling generous... I corrected her."

"Why must I love cruel things?"

"The look she gave me... rather, the look she had through me- she was pierced. I counter my detractors by tricking them into asking the right questions of their own accord, letting them spiral into madness or begrudging acceptance of their own volition. But then, that moment, that instant could have been... she would have done something foolish."

"I, myself, am no stranger to cruelty. Being cruel is entertaining, true. Being an untouchable, unfathomable thing capable of cruelty- doubly so. But I do not love being cruel, only what comes of it."

"I do not love the cruelty that befalls others, but what it makes of them. Tragedy, misery and pain twist others from what they were to what they are. If I did not love cruel things, then I could not love what is left afterward. All reality would simply be a chill, morose void of utter insignificance; for nothing could ever be appreciated."

"If one cannot love cruel things, one would be incapable of love."

"She looked at me again, her once hateful gaze suffocating from the joint weight of guilt and revelation. So long had she been astray from herself that doctrine was her only direction. What must have become of her? To convince a mortal- a child- that because she wanted to understand evil, she- herself- was evil?"

"Of course, this collision of truth and memory was overwhelming for her, and she reached for a blade. Took my leave, but no offense- like any lesser, she would need time to understand. Wherever her travels took her then-onward, she would see the answer on the horizon as a dim torch within the mirror-fog of faith."

#omen #hallona #drabble #clueless

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blind-betrayalmoved · 2 years

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🔥Fire, 🕷spider, and 🎞film for Maria?

🔥 FIRE - what angers them easily? how do they handle their anger?

Greed and cruelty. Kind of basic bitches answers but its true, her whole pre-war law career was driven by the fact she couldn't stand to see others taken advantage of (to the point of her own detriment because...well, you know how the pre-war world was. you honestly think people were given fair trials? she was trying to bucket water out of a sinking boat).

She handles her anger fairly well, she managed to grit her teeth throughout her brotherhood career and at most, be mildly snarky and smug to Maxson (#girlboss). The only times she's gotten overly angry were breakdowns-- Fighting Kellogg, meeting Shaun, Blind Betrayal. She still is capable of controlling herself and her actions, but definitely not her words, lol

🕷 SPIDER - what is / are their biggest fear(s)?

Silly answer: shes deathly afraid of bodies of water and being underwater. Rain, baths, showers, puddles, etc thats fine. it's the second her body starts to disappear under the water (water that usually has living things in it!) that she freaks out. She'll faint if its bad enough, which...isn't great cause you know, drowning.

Serious answer: losing her family, again. Every time Piper goes on a story without her, leaving Danse alone for too long, thinking about raising synth Shaun in a world that's getting better but still very much dangerous. All the people she've met along the way. Nick. Preston. Curie. I think she wakes up in cold sweats sometimes, seeing in her dreams worlds where she doesn't convince Maxson to stand down, or something going wrong in the Institute, the explosion with synth Shaun still in it. its enough to make her hysterical, and more than overly protective

🎞 FILM - what is their greatest / happiest memory?

Ngl had to think about this a little bit, thinking of the fairly obvious ones: giving birth to Shaun, getting her law degree, eloping with Nate.

But honestly?

When she arrives at Diamond City, she's a husk of her past self. Still very much uncertain and weak, still emotionally damaged from the vault and murder-kidnapping, still physically recovering from her c-section and the deathclaw fight. AND having to talk about Shaun all over again to Piper and Nick? Its...rough.

You know that dialogue Piper has where she calls Takahashi her special informant, and she jokingly says this:

Well, it's this moment that marks the first time Maria smiles, as in really smiles and laughs since she came out of the vault. It's not like she falls in love right there, but the interaction definitely marks an important moment where the world shifted from nightmare to fragile hope, just because Piper went out of her way to cheer her up

#asks #ty ty <3 I have so many brainworms abt this lady #maria ikamoto

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mountphoenixrp · 2 years

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We have a returning citizen in Mount Phoenix:

Tohil, the God of Fire, whose origins stem from Ancient Mayan Mexico. He is now the fire chief with the MPFD and a fighter at The Pits.

FC NAME/GROUP: Lee Junho/2PM GOD NAME: Tohil PANTHEON: Mayan OCCUPATION: Fire Chief at MPFD, Fighter at The Pits HEIGHT: 177cm DEFINING FEATURES: mesomorph body type, light-toned complexion with a pinkish undertone, broad shoulders, round firm glutes; hooded eyes, semi resting b*tch face, lively obsidian eyes that always look like there were stars inside them

PERSONALITY: As the Mayan god of fire, Tohil has been expected to be fierce, aggressive, and brutal. That was true, for the better part of his younger years. When he was a newborn god, Tohil was a ball of absolute cruelty, with a bottomless craving for innocent sacrifices. With time, wars, deaths, and mistakes, the monster has been lulled to sleep, but one would be foolish to assume that it has completely been tamed.

Tohil is dangerous, checked. Hot-tempered, reckless, destructive, all checked. Having a tendency to make rash decisions and leap to hasty conclusions, is another big fat check.

In his defence, he was born not to be slow or stay calm. His instinct is to take action, to burn and shine until he has got nothing left, all for the sake of life and those who might demand his presence. Lying underneath those terrifying powers and blood-stained history is a joyful, curious, brave, and life-thirsty soul, a big kid whose only wish is to make the most out of whatever Fate has bestowed on him.

He loves to fight on behalf of those who can’t defend themselves. He is also known to readily do whatever it takes to defend his beliefs. To the right companions, he will be the best friend they could imagine. In the right hands, he will be totally tamed, cuddly, and teachable. If showered with any sort of honest affection, he will move earth and heaven to keep the world around him in blissful happiness. Those who have proved their loyalty to him will receive the universe in return, and those who dare to take advantage of his kindness will pay back tenfold what they have taken.

It might not always be black and white, but should always be all or nothing for this god of fire.

HISTORY: At the Places of the Seven Caves of Tōllān – the capital of the sacred Teotihuacan city, Tohil descended on Earth. Untamed, blood-thirsty, the deity of fire demanded great sacrifices from the mortals. As a newborn god, his existence needed powerful sources of nourishment, but all foods and drinks on Earth turned out to be useless, except for the hot red liquid running in the mortals’ veins. Rapidly, Tohil had grown to be a venerable deity of the Mayan, as what they received from him in return was not only of the most pivotal elements of life but also fierce, unyielding protection from all dangers and enemies.

His presence was openly welcomed, but not without a thick layer of fear and caution, since Tohil’s capability of annihilation was just as formidable as that of his to grow. For centuries, humans kept him close in their houses, but never did they touch him, and never did he think of doing so. Sometimes, even the young god was afraid of his own power, for the fire had never been known for its good self-control. But like a kid, the young god was very much teachable. Centuries of existing among humans had taught Tohil almost everything about the physical, mental, and spiritual world they were sharing. Soon, he had learned how to be closer to the mortal without causing them any harm – by borrowing a human body, using it as a shield, like armour that he could roam the Earth freely.

Turned out, seeing the world through the eyes of human beings appealed to Tohil much more than when he was stuck in his fiery god form. The god of fire just loved how he could touch everything – trees, flowers, animals, humans – without hurting, or worse, immediately turning them to ash. However, hiding in a human vessel always came with a cost, sometimes a very expensive one. Several mistakes were made, and lots of damage were done. Hearts were broken, and lives were taken. Fallen from grace, the god of fire forced himself to master the art of self-controlling, not only with his powers. Slowly but steadily, his bad temper and primal desires have been being tamed, even though the process might take forever to be a long-term success. Tohil should always be Tohil, with naked lust for life and insatiable curiosity about the universe.

The centuries after having witnessed the Mayan god of fire wandering the earth, his fiery characteristics and enthusiasm remained intact in different human bodies. He has heard about Mount Phoenix for a while, yet took his sweet time to come and check it out. While staying around the mortal brings so much joy and freedom, Tohil hasn’t got enough clues to say it would be the same among other Mayan fellow gods, much less the deities from other pantheons. But again, since he’s got nothing to lose but a little pride and time, Tohil bravely brings himself to the island, expecting all the unexpected.

The Return

His time on Mount Phoenix turned out to be much more than what a god like him could have ever manifested. There were old friends as many as new ones, those that actually made the Mayan god of fire feel hurt whenever he was reminded of his limited time in a human vessel.

The curse of being Tohil had stopped him from remembering the love of his life, putting the star-crossed lovers through a torturous storm that neither of them knew how to get out of. As emotions ran high, Tohil gradually lost control of his destructive power. As he constantly exhausted himself with reckless abandon, his mortal vessel gave up on him much earlier than planned. When the vessel combusted, Tohil ‘died’, along with all the memories he had gained during his stay in that vessel.

While there was no way to retrieve those memories, the fire god had found out that what he had learned when he was in his original divine form remained intact with time. Shortly before his ‘death’, Tohil had asked Ares, the Greek god of war whom he happened to make a friend out of since Mount Phoenix, to seek him out at his original shrine and bring him back to the island.

During his recovery, Skuld, the Norse goddess of fate, a dear friend who had never given up on him and their friendship for millenniums, came to his shrine to tell him stories she deemed he should never let to burn in oblivion ever again.

Now, with the help of his two god friends, Tohil fought both power and reasons to make a return to Mount Phoenix, to write a, hopefully, better chapter for his book of life.

POWERS:

Fire Manipulation: Able to generate, shape, enhance, negate, and manipulate all sorts of fire, including its heat, intensity, and level of destruction.

Fire Empowerment: Will become stronger, faster, and more durable once come in contact with fire.

Fire and Heat Immunity: Is immune to fire, being completely invulnerable to direct and indirect effects of fire in general.

Fire Absorption: Able to remove fire from the source and absorb it into his body. The fire then can be used in various ways, from transferring it to somewhere else to enhance his well-being.

Fire Attacks: Able to use fire to attack targets of his own free will. Attacks may come with various forms and levels of intensity.

STRENGTHS:

He has a heart of gold, never plotting against anyone if he isn’t attacked or offended in the first place.

He is a brave warrior, is capable and willing to do everything for those he cares about.

He is openly protective towards things and people he cares, but will rarely if ever suffocating them with his presence

He may be one of those who are needed for a real party to start

Even though the chance for it is rare, he is able to become a loving, caring, and even nurturing friend/partner/parent.

WEAKNESSES:

Although he has learned to keep his temper under good control, he will still explode with anger once in a while. So, beware.

Understanding emotions and giving advice regarding that topic aren’t his stronghold. If you cry, you will get a panic-stricken Tohil who will continually chants that useless “Don’t cry, please” until you have to yell for him to shut up.

He can’t stay still for more than 15 minutes, and will throw his limbs everywhere while sleeping.

He loves speed and dangerous stuff a little bit more than the healthy level.

Unlike most other deities, Tohil can’t stay in a vessel for longer than 20 years, as even the best gifted human body can’t withstand fire for eternity. He will feel and suffer from all the symptoms while his vessel deteriorates. The vessel's combustion will equal the permanent loss of memories made with it, and so Tohil has to get back to his shrine to recover for an indefinite period of time before he can take another human vessel, if he wishes to.

#kpop rp #krp #2pm #lee junho #2pm junho #mp; welcome

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