#'why are you crying' the divine act of creation got to me

[mechaniaa]

thread of godzilla production images where the rubber suits and puppetry are touched as if they were angels:

bonus mothra that could bring me to tears:

[celeste444spacey]

INSTANT MANIFESTATION 🕛

Hello it girls of tumblr I’m back again

And today I’ll be talking about instant manifestation

Instant manifestation is something that we all want to figure out how to do. And I’m here to help you today to manifest instantly <3

So let’s get into it.

Manifesting on a time crunch is actually really easy. You can control when you want your manifestations (it is your creation after all). This means if you wanted something by tomorrow morning? You can actually have it.

But we all feel like it’s hard sometimes and also we fear it’s impossible. And therein lies the catch. Ah the good old dread.

We as humans have been conditioned to think that if we want something we need to struggle for it. That if we want something that means we must cry for it. This mindset is why there’s only like 1% people living the lives they want and the rest complain about their living.

Now see, what is time? Time is linear. It’s a human construct. Time is only past present or future. Time is a measurement that was developed by us to be able to comprehend our existence on this universe since our lifespans compared to the universe is so so so tiny that’s it’s negligible. The universe on the other hand is so so so big, that our understanding of time is practically nothing compared to it. Now let’s stop the existential crisis and let’s go to manifesting.

Manifestation is not creating something out of thin air. Remember: Creation is complete. Which means you’re simply bringing whatever it is that you want (all your desires already exist) by using the power of positivity and the spiritual laws of attraction and/or assumption.

You have a near infinite version of yourselves. Best way to prove this is that everyone who knows you knows a different version of you. You’re a different manifested version for everyone in their lives. This means that each passing moment there’s a version of you that already has what you want.

I personally do not think that i’m “accelerating” my desires, I simply think that I shift to a reality where I already have what I want. That i access the version of me that has what I want. And that’s what you are going to do. Shift to a reality you want whenever you want. As simple as that.

I won’t go into explaining super deep about time and creation etc. im simply here to tell you how to do it so here goes.

Whenever you think your desires are impossible, zoom out a bit. Think of the universe, how vast it is, and how truly big it is. It is huge and enormous and these words don’t even begin to explain that. Now think about your desire. Tiny right? No do not get into an existential crisis! It’s tiny, yes but that’s all you need to know! Creation seems so impossible in itself but it exists, so why won’t a reality where you get into your dream college for example not exist? It’s shameful honestly to think it would be impossible.

So manifesting instantly

HERE’S HOW YOU DO IT

Do not overthink it! One of the most common mistakes is thinking and worrying about what you want over and over again . Trust me neither will it make you feel good nor will it make your situation any better.

Act as if and let go. You shift to the reality where you have what you want by thinking like the version of yourself that belongs in that reality.

FOR EXAMPLE: if you want to get into your dream college ( like the above example) you wouldn’t worry about not getting in it right? CAUSE YOU ALREADY GOT IN! You wouldn’t think about it over and over again. Neither would you keep affirming every 5 minutes about it.

Get clear on what you want and do not settle! Circumstances might seem the opposite of everything but it is very crucial to be in the mindset of ‘I already have it’

STOP SAYING I WANT! INSTEAD SAY I HAVE OR I AM. Saying ‘I want’ implies you do not have it and that’s not true cause you already have your desire. Stop being desperate. Desperation looks horrible on a hot girl like u luv

Know that it is you who decide. There’s no divine timing babe you ARE in divine timing whenever you manifest.

Distract yourself if u get negative thoughts.

Change I’m nervous to I’m excited. Did u know that your body reacts to anxiousness and excitement in the same way? Use this trick next time you’re worried.

Apply these small but surefire methods to get whatever it is that you desire.

You’re a hot girl and hot girls get everything babe.

Calm down, you already have it

It’s a long post i know

K bye for now

xoxo

[isaiahbie]

The Humility of Christmas

Think about all the Christmas hymns that reference angels appearing to shepherds. It’s a ton when you think about it. But this year it struck me: why do shepherds need to be involved at all? Christ’s birth narrative has a lot of drama already—angelic visits (Matthew 1:20; 2:13, 19), Herod’s threat (Matthew 2:3, 16), the journey to Bethlehem (Luke 2:1-6), etc. And if you need outside characters to come worship Jesus, boom, you’ve already got the Magi (Matthew 2:1-12).

So what are shepherds doing in the story? Not only does one angel come to them to announce Jesus’ birth (as depicted in the painting below), but then “a multitude of the heavenly host” also appear, proclaiming, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men with whom He is pleased” (Luke 2:13-14).

It’s pretty rare in the Bible to find a whole multitude of angels. And their statement here is a pretty good summation of redemptive history, inspiring the famous hymn Gloria in Excelsis Deo. This is obviously a significant event, and yet no one sees it but a couple of poor, uneducated, rural shepherds. Why does God manifest His glory and reveal the meaning of Jesus’ birth to these shepherds, and not the political or religious leaders of the day—or at least a greater sheer number of people?

The more I reflect on the Christmas story, the more I find that divine humility shines out in its every detail. The Incarnation itself is already an act of infinite humility and condescension. For the Son of God “emptied Himself” and was “made in the likeness of men” (Philippians 2:7). But as if that is not enough, when the Son of God comes as a man, He does so under humble circumstances. He not only stoops down to the lowest place, but He does so quietly and meekly. Consider:

He could have come as a full-grown man; instead He came as a baby.

He could have stayed in a palace; instead He stayed in a dirty manger.

He could have been rich, or a prince; instead He was born into poverty, to become a carpenter.

He could have been born in a city (like Jerusalem); instead He was born in rural Bethlehem.

And—as I reflect more upon this year—He could have sent angels to tell everybody what was happening; instead He just told some shepherds.

Amazing. The most important moment in history—the event that triggers the new creation, the reconciliation of God and man—and nobody knows. God limits the revelation of angelic rejoicing to a couple shepherds, while the newspapers cover other events, and all the important people of the world go about their business. “The world was made through Him, and the world did not know Him” (John 1:10).

Keep in mind: the One sleeping in the manger is the same One who “upholds all things by the word of His power” (Hebrews 1:3). Even while He nurses at Mary’s breast it remains true that “in Him all things hold together” (Colossians 1:17). Back in the fourth century, Athanasius put it like this:

“The Word was not hedged in by His body, nor did His presence in the body prevent His being present elsewhere as well. When He moved His body He did not cease also to direct the universe by His Mind and might. . . At one and the same time—this is the wonder—as Man He was living a human life, and as Word He was sustaining the life of the universe.” (On the Incarnation of the Word III.17)

The juxtapositions are mind-boggling: filling the heavens, yet swaddled tightly; holding every atom in place, yet clinging to His mother; sustaining the stars, yet crying and cranky; adored by the angels, yet sleeping in a manger. One thinks of the line in C.S. Lewis’ The Last Battle: “In our world too, a stable once had something inside it that was bigger than our whole world.”

A Prayer

When I think about how non-pretentious the birth of Jesus is, I am ashamed of times I try to be noticed. Who am I to draw attention to myself when God Himself has taken the hidden road? Carl Henry famously asked, “How on earth can anyone be arrogant when standing beside the cross?” Yes, and how can anyone be self-important when standing next to the manger?

The birth of Jesus also makes me ask: who are the shepherds in the world today? What are the mangers in my life? This is God’s pattern: He often shows up in a package that is all-too-easy to reject, to despise, to overlook. What causes behind-the-scenes angelic rejoicing is often quiet, obscure, passed over by the world. Do I have eyes to see God’s work around me? Am I paying attention?

Finally, Lord, thank You for coming to serve, not to conquer. Thank you for revealing Your glory through humility, not power. Shape our lives according to Your example.

[fill-me-with-your-memes-daddy]

Watching the Rise of the Titans movie and I'll be documenting all of my thoughts/reactions here. [Spoiler Warning]

So instead of reblogging every new update, I'm just going to have this post up on my phone as I watch and type my reactions in a bullet list format.

Nari's human disguise is so cute. As someone who does have a cottagecore aesthetic, I want to cosplay her so bad

Are Skrael and/or Belroc non-binary coded? Regardless, I'm also obsessed and I want to fuck Skrael and be Belroc.

STEVE CARING ABOUT JIM BEING HURT YESSSS!!! My god his redemption has probably been one of the greatest there is because he doesn't just suddenly go from being a bully to a completely good person. You can see the gradual shift in learning better throughout the shows which is awesome.

IN NEW YOOOOOOORRRRRRRK!!!!!! CONCRETE JUNGLE WHERE DREAMS ARE MADE OFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!

The mugshot montage reminded me of season 1 of trollhunters when toby and Jim were arrested at the museum.

STRICKLER PUT A RING ON IT??? HE'S THE ONLY DILF IVE EVER ACTUALLY AGREED WAS HOT WYM I CAN'T HAVE HIM??? well I'm still really happy about his arc over the series probably one of my favorite character growths.

Eli my guy got his growth spurt!!! As an 18 year old who is still 5'0", I'm happy but envious for him

So I went into this movie without watching any trailers or promo, but I doubt anything could have prepared me for the existence of mpreg. In fact, I wasn't going to document my reactions until I saw that.

NAMURA!!!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!! I CAN STILL THIRST FOR YOU WITHOUT GUILT

The coach teacher just called the kids zoomers so I have to dock one point from my final rating just because of that. Unforgivable

Those husky animation models suck lmao

Oh fuck the titans got power ranger zords!!

God why did they include the mpreg??? This movie would have been perfect without it.... After that plot point being revisited only one time I'm already beyond done with it

Like it's bringing me back to the v*ltron days where they're was a suspiciously high amount of klance omegaverse and mpreg fics and art created and it physically hurts because Steve and Keith's voice actor is the same person meaning this is especially cursed to me since I was unfortunately in the v*ltron fandom and remember all of that

But like on another note, how old are these characters again??? I haven't checked any wikis because of spoilers but is Steve an adult??? I know aja might be technically a lot older than 18 because alien but is whatever age she is equivalent to an adult as far as emotionally and physically in Akaridion development??? IS THIS A TEEN (M)PREGNANCY IN A KIDS SHOW????

Like bruh I saw a singular post on here before going into the movie that was like "rott spoilers without context" and there was a pregnant belly but I was absolutely not expecting the actual context of it. I'll find the post after I finish and edit this post to tag the creator right here: @makoden

This entire post is just gonna be me ranting about mpreg huh

Anyway I love the whole roundtable allusion to the legends of king arthur (not the toa version but the one he's based off)

THERE'S 3 TO 5 BABIES????? I need to take a break bruh this is just too much

Alright I've taken a 30 minute break got some food and did some things i love (decompressed by tactile stimming with some owl plushies and watched some videos on my favorite owl, Garu. He lives in Japan with his owner and is a domesticated eagle owl who basically just acts like a sky cat. If anyone else needs some eye bleach, here is their YouTube channel)

Blinky and ARRRGHHH!!! saying their "if one of us doesn't make it" talk my god one of them is going to die I can see it and I will be utterly crushed. Jim can't lose another father figure and Toby can't lose his wingman again I will riot if this happens

On a similar but unrelated to the movie note, can we just talk about how toa started with Jim having 0 dads and (if strickler and blinky live to the end) will end with 2 dads? Like I just really feel happy for him that he has two dads who actually figured out how to put the past behind them to not have any infighting between them so that both of them are healthy father figures. Jim has already been through literal hell and back losing his actual humanity in the process so if he loses one of them, I'm going to be really pissed because at this point, this is just Jim torture porn. Y'all know how as SpongeBob SquarePants went on, the show just became Squidward torture porn? It's starting to feel that way for toa and I really hope they cut the shit by the ending

Jlaire is such a good ship but like I feel like it's too perfect they never disagree with each other

YESSSSSSS Someone finally doesn't treat toby like a fat waste of space who messes stuff up!!! I think out of all the characters that would have been most deserving of a rewrite, it's Toby. Sometimes I just feel he's only comic relief and any heartfelt moments he's had in the series was also born of stupidity (ie his flour baby project being unharmed was seen by him as divine intervention from his parents but was actually just Eli and Steve behind the scenes).

Ohhhhh yesssssss Archie's father!!! I was hoping I'd see him again because we got so little of him last

Ooooooooooh Asian trollmarket!!!!!

Oh never mind slavery trollmarket

Bruh titanic camelot

I feel like we're not seeing enough of the villains because I completely forgot about the power ranger zord things

NAMORA NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MY LAST CRUSHHHH

STRICKLER NO NOT YOU TOO PLEASE

WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE ONLY TWO CHARACTERS I SIMP FOR ON THIS SHOW DIED WITHIN FIVE MINUTES OF EACH OTHER

THAT WHOLE ASS RANT I WROTE IS COMING TRUE FUCK THIS MOVIE THIS SERIES IS JUST JIM TORTURE PORN

WAIT JIM'S SPERM DONOR INFO?

Oh thank God I don't want to know anything about that person

For the record, I call that man Jim's sperm donor because he has no business being called a father to him. All he did was donate some swimmers to the creation of him and give him abandonment issues

Oh another blind troll elder???? This fucker is just if vendel was a bad guy

Bruh I was grieving

PACIFIC RIM WITH GUN ROBOT VEX AND THE BELROCZORD? I've never seen that movie but I know the reference

Bruh Blinky doesn't read horoscopes? Does he realize conspiracy theories are just the manly version of horoscopes?

NO DON'T KILL VEX STOP KO-ING FOUND FAMILY MEMBERS

Oh thank God he's okay

NO NOT ARCHIE AND CHARLEMAGNE OH MY GOD

oh never mind they're just gonna coup de tat I believe in them :))

But I want to see him again

But I'm glad to see vex

Yay they're in arcadia!

But yeah I wondered why the trolls and Merlin didn't keep the whole "daylight doesn't hurt trolls" feature from the eternal night but now Guillermo del Toro I see you were playing the long con in that just to kill my girl Namora :(((

Oooooh I love the animation of the Narizord over Chihuahua!! It looks very good and realistic (if only they could have put some of that into those huskies from before smh)

Bruh the character designs of the arcane order are so good I want to be them

Nari making sure the Skraelzord doesn't crush the bus

DAMN DOUBLE HOMICIDE

Bruh I'm just glad we finally have an answer on why arcadia had everything going on as opposed to literally anywhere else!! I always found that as a weird coincidence for plot convince.

BRUH WERE BACK TO THE MPREG IM SO JEALOUS I FORGOT ABOUT THAT EVEN THOUGH IT WAS BECAUSE I WAS GRIEVING THE LOSS OF MY LOVELIES.

Oh that's real convenient that the ninth configuration meant all of them. Way to not decide which character gets more attention. Though it probably was a smart way to not have any infighting in the fandom between each character's stan group.

Bruh I just realized where is Barbera did they just ditch her on the Camelot ship???

And where are the other trolls that migrated at the end of trollhunters s3? They said something about new jersey but obviously Jim and the other main characters got on Camelot instead.... This feels like a plot hole

And we never learned the process of how changelings are made and bonded to humans and stuff. We just know it's super painful but I'm curious ffs!!!!

THE DONT THINK BECOME HERO SPEECH ALL SAID TOGETHER!!!

BRUH THEY REALLY HAD TO SHOW HIM GIVING BIRTH??????? WAS THAT AN ABSOLUTE MUST??????

Plus the main audience for this series is little children (the rating for the movie is literally TV-Y7) so even though my adult ass is not in the target audience, I STILL DONT UNDERSTAND WHY WOULD MPREG AND ANAL BIRTH WOULD BE AN IMPORTANT THING TO 7 YEAR OLDS???? THIS IS A LITERAL FETISH HIDDEN IN KIDS CONTENT ITS ELSAGATE ALL OVER AGAIN Y'ALL 😭😭😭😭😭

Though it's probably hypocritical of me to think fetishes don't belong in kids tv when I've openly admitted to thirsting for strickler and namora

HUZZAH

NEW AMULET WAZ GOOD????

STAB THAT BITCH JIM

WAIT NO I SAID STAB NOT GET STABBED

Alright good job just missed the directions at first but you fixed it

SEVEN KIDS?????????

T O B Y ????????????

W A I T NO

N O

IS HE ACTUALLY

OH MY GOD THERE'S HOPE

NO THERE ISN'T

F U C K THIS SHIT THEY REALLY JUST HAD HIM TO BE BULLIED THEN KILLED

Y'ALL IM ACTUALLY CRYING THIS NEVER HAPPENS

I NEVER ACTUALLY GET SO EMOTIONAL OVER MEDIA THAT I CRY IT ONLY HAPPENED ONCE AT THE END OF VOLTRON BUT AHHHHHHHH

W A I T

HE'S GONNA BE BROUGHT BACK?????

HOLD UP THEY'RE JUST GONNA BRING ALL THOSE DEAD PEOPLE BACK??????

WAIT IS HE

BLINKY CALLED HIM A SON

HOLD ON IS THIS GOING TO BE A CLIFFHANGER???????????

BRUH THEY REALLY JUST CAN'T END THE SERIES WITHOUT CLIFFHANGERS like there's always an open ending

TROLLHUNTER TOBY????? You know what forget the whole rants I had on how toby was written they just redeemed it all

And that's all! I'd rate it a 6.5/10 because it's definitely the weakest of all the sequels but still had amazing animation and some good plot points. It's just really hard to look over the bad stuff enough to rate it any higher.

[yandere-daydreams]

requests are open!!! what about a soft yandere fairy with a darling that accidentally wanders into their forest and won't let them leave? thank u sm!

I’ve never been able to resist a classic Yandere!Fae who can’t seem to understand why their lovely little Darling won’t give them a name and volunteer their free will without a struggle. It’s nice to be soft for a change, too, if only for the dialogue.

Title: Creation and Control.

TW: Imprisonment and Mind-Control.

~

You chose not to dance, tonight.

It wasn’t because you had anything better to do. The fae could hunt, they could harvest and maintain their make-shift homes and do whatever they wished once the sun slipped low in the sky, but as a human, a guest who’d been forced to overstay their welcome, you could only choose between joining one of the swirling, ever-growing circles or not doing so. For whatever reason, you’d picked the latter, taking a seat on a fallen tree-trunk and watching as strangers without names laughed and smiled and sobbed, some of them unfamiliar, and others prisoners like yourself, unable to leave because of magic or fate or in your case, a golden elixir you hadn’t known better than to drink. A goblet of it sat at your feet, now, but you didn’t pay it any mind. If only for the sake of protecting your pride.

Despite this, your attention dropped to the grail as a familiar figure started to approach, heavy footsteps muffled by the soft glass of the clearing. You didn’t have to greet him or be greeted in return, not when there was only one person who dared to speak to you.  Who bothered to speak to you, really. It wasn’t like a conversation with someone else’s personal pet would draw much interest, not from a group that had already seen so many of your kind come and go.

You only looked up when a long, lean hand came to rest on your shoulder, pressing down for a moment before you gave in, tilting your head back and letting your eyes meet the swirls of green and gold just beginning to pry into you. Durin, although that was more of a title than a name. The warden to your prison of trees and mushrooms and enchanting, unnerving smiles.

He spoke first. He always did. You were an object to be addressed, here, rather than one expected to speak out of turn. “My dear,” He started, already sliding a thin wooden comb in your waiting hand. “Indulge me and I promise, you won’t be pestered again until sunrise.”

You didn’t need further instruction. You pulled your legs onto the trunk and Durin lowered himself into the space they’d once occupied, soon sitting outstretched in front of you. It was a mind-numbing activity, braiding a head of long, pale hair into whatever dizzying pattern its owner requested, but you had plenty of practice, both from the task you were currently performing and the less patient stallions you used to care for on your family’s farm. You wondered if anyone took up to responsibility, now that you weren’t there to carry it out. You wondered if anyone even noticed you were gone. “It’s not difficult,” You mumbled, running your comb through a series of non-existent knots. “You could learn to do this yourself, if you wanted to. It’d be faster than coming to me.”

“I could, hypothetically, but I’m afraid we monsters don’t share your talents.” He paused, letting out a pleased hum as your blunt nails scraped idly against his scalp. “Hunting braids, perhaps, but nothing so…” He trailed off, rolling two fingers in a vague, arbitrary gesture. “Nothing so pointless. The Gods blessed us with many things, but alas, no one thought to add ‘creation’ to that list.”

Your response was delayed. You’d heard of their curse before, in tales of the suffering that was said to accompany any slight endeavor into turning one thing into another, but you’d never quite believed it. You supposed it was fitting, though. Durin didn’t seem like the kind of refined soul who would dwell in the sparsely decorated cave he called a home for any reason less than necessity. “I hardly think brushing your own hair would incur divine wrath.”

“If you can break one rule, you’re bound to break the rest. I wouldn’t be reduced to a pile of smoldering ash, but I doubt the consequences would be pleasant,” He explained, twisting to his side just enough to see you without disturbing the three tangled trails you were desperately trying to guide to an agreeable meeting point. “Are you trying to say you don’t enjoy my company, love?”

You didn’t answer him. With a particularly harsh tug to the strand you were holding, you forced him to wince, freeing you from his gaze with minimal effort. “And that’s why I’m here?” You asked, the words more a declaration of grudging recognition than a real question. “To braid your hair and tend to your every need, because you’re so tragically unable to?”

At that, he seemed to take offense, leaning back and into your lap, spoiling your progress as carelessly as he’d demanded it. You could see his face, like this, an expression of defined lines and pointed ears and traits that weren’t quite not uncanny. You might’ve said there was a hint of a collar bone beneath his loose tunic, but there could be no hints, not with Durin. He was the romantic interpretation of a man, something that got so close to being a perfect replica, but whose creator was too fond of embellishments to truly design something real. You could accept that you’d once thought of him as human, but you couldn’t forgive yourself for holding onto that belief for so long. Others in his entourage their otherness more obvious, decorating themselves with horns and hooves and whatever they liked, and while Durin was less apparent, he made no attempt to hide his wrongness. His grin, suddenly full of pointed, predatory teeth, was enough to prove that.

“You’re here because I want you to be.” He never looked away, never blinked, and abruptly, it occurred to you that he might not have to. “You’re here because I saw a young, vulnerable human wandering through my territory, following the calls of members of my court, and I decided to take pity on what should’ve been the main course of our next feast. And, because I’ve come to care for you despite your doubt, you will remain here. Allowing you to dote on me is just another privilege I’m kind enough to provide.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last, and you knew that. As well as you knew the color of the sky and the time of day, you knew that. You knew it, and yet, you found yourself frowning, stiffening, gritting your teeth as you resisted the urge to shove him away. “If you were kind, you would let me go. You know I don’t want to be here.”

His smile wavered, then dropped. “I don’t think I like your tone.”

“I don’t think I like being a hostage.” You didn’t try to stop yourself, pushing him off of your lap and fleeing from your informal, ruined haven. You had to force yourself to breathe, to inahle and exhale and make yourself calm down, but even that did little to calm your temper, only making you feel more like a child attempting to express their discontent. “You trapped me here. You took me someplace I don’t wish to be, and now, I can’t leave. How is that kind? How are you guiltless--”

“(Y/n).”

It was a silent command. You could feel it, something vile forcing its way into your veins and solidifying, rendering you speechless and paralyzed as Durin shook his head, letting out a ragged sigh before he bothered to raise a hand, gesturing for you to come to him. You didn’t have a choice, your movements rigid and your thoughts barely your own, but your body was quick to obey him, to stumble its way to its captor and fall into his lap the moment he expressed his desire for you to do so. His control faded as his arms wrapped around you, but Durin didn’t act to reinstate it, only reaching behind him and pushing something small and solid into your palm.

The comb. Sleek and wooden and so, so awful. You were tempted to cry, if only in frustration.

But, you didn’t try to resist.

Instead, you choked down your complaints and began working where you left off, attempting to ignore the contented, toothy smile now pressing into your skin.

[volturialice]

Well, since everyone is sharing their experience with coming into twilight fandom, I will engage too, I suppose.

So, this story is short and dull, but so much excitement came into my humble life after, so.

I had never read the books, but was forced to watch all the twilight movies, for like 30+ times. Why, you ask? Well, because at the time, I was in the hotel where you could connect to wi-fi only in the lobby, and had just an old TV and one bed in the actual room. And I was there for, like 2-3 weeks? I was long ago, don’t quite remember. The thing is, my Ipod had only two Barbie movies and Twilight, Eclipse, and BD2 uploaded.

Why to the whole Saga? Bruh. Because I HATED “dummies don’t know how to use a condom” (even being, like, 12 yo) BD drama and wasn’t interested in Bella’s sulking et al ((and wholeheartedly had rejected (still do) Jasper’s ugly wig)) in NM. So, I re-watched the movies to the point I knew their dialogues, because its either that or Barbie the Mermaid for millionth time over.

And? Think what? Last year I had had read all goodies KakaSaku (Naruto) fandom can provide me with on AO3, and, like, what now? Oh, there comes, my shameful past. Wattpad. Jasper/OC. So, had had read, like, three fics that were, like, readable, and came to AO3. To discover more of this AliExpress-que class luxuries.😑 But, there came the divine intervention, there came my Truth. Its name was, YT recs.

Came across these two J/A @irrelevanttous’ edits on YT (J/A - Strange Birds & J/A - Alive) and, like, no joking, cried due to how beautiful its was, how absolutely MESMERISING it was.

And then, I like, “so, I need to read something about them”. So, back to AO3. But not to Jasper/OC section. Instead, J/A section. And there? There? @flowerslut and @goldeneyedgirl were there. My sleepless nights came there. And I like, holymolyshittiepolly, how do I never payed more attention to them?

[ Like, sure, Alice was my fav in the movies, and in NM and Eclipse they were the only ones I watched, and shipped, but like, in “they are sweet” way, no more. And because E/B and every other couple have NO CHEMISTRY, for me at least (I liked Rose, tho) in the movies. ]

So, I read this @goldeneyedgirl goodness, cried myself waterless because of how BEAUTIFUL Jalice is, when you think about it, CAME TO TUMBLR FOR THE FIRST TIME (being 18 yo, lol) just to follow @goldeneyedgirl, and everything her Sanctuary of A Blog has to offer, discovered the animal called #twilightrenaissance and, well, here goes the madness.

@flowerslut COTN which made me like “fuck canon, this is my canon” for some time.

yours “good politics”, which got me into historical!Jalice, which is usually not my cup of matcha latte.

@goldeneyedgirl fics/metas/everything (she is, like, THE GOD of Jalice characterisation for me, the gallons of tears I spent because of her creations, could make its own Sea) made me an addict to her stuff.

@jessicanjpa and @panlight meta dissertations, that I literally saved on my device, to analyse myself.

@forkscult and @twilightsaganetwork aesthetic heavens

@bastards-bitch and silenth works, that so indecently made me weep, from its beauty and glass both.

And then I read @gisellelx meta, and @therealvinelle, and like, is Edward was that crazy? (Bella’s meta didn’t surprise me that much, because I didn’t really liked her in the movies, and something about her passiveness at one setting, and martyr acts in the next, always irritated me). Need to find out.

So, welcome to hell, I read the books, crying and roaring at Bella’s narration, and cringing myself into 90 old wrinkles. And then, Midnight Sun. But no, thank you. I heard about/read some parts, and Im traumatised (I love the Jalice parts tho, expect those where Ed being an “im-superior-to-you jerk, passively-aggressively judging J , while seeing Alice as some sort of God-Send, tho a-lita-shallow” Creature😒) enough. These books are like a dissertation your teacher gives you on the “waste your characters and your world’s potential to its fullest” topic, but at the same time, its gives so much material to, cross over it and then re-think, that I actually isn’t sure, is SMeyer a genius which potential was buried under the layers of Mormon bull, or is she just, like, accidentally made something really engrossing, but her weird obsession with E/B didn’t let her see beyond.

But what the books gave me, is an understanding of how far the movies were from the truth, like, its has absolutely zero canon for me, except, maybe the first part, which aesthetics are so good for me, to this day. Even if the plot is meh.

And the source material sucks, I get it. But, its seemed like Twilight were a project of interest, and the stuff is, like, actually cared to make a movie about vamps, where following movies were like “so, this is your short version about whats happening, shoot”. Like, this ever-changing wigs. And awfully human looking everyone in BD, with childish fights in both Eclipse and BD2. Meh.

But, im rumbling myself out of the topic in question, sorry.

So, yeah. And here we are, where I cant get myself back into some other fandom, reading and re-reading Jalice every-time I come across something, and enjoying the depths of glorious hell that is Tumblr.

Thank you for coming to ma TED Talk.

wow wow this is like a who's who of excellent meta and fics!! you really put so much thought into telling your story and it's kind of amazing to see how many people's work helped or influenced or touched you—like, look at this guys, this is a full fandom Journey and it's completely glorious

also omg, being stuck with only twilight films on your ipod, what an S tier origin story! this was an incredible TED talk tysm for inviting me

[a-queer-seminarian]

Hello, you seem to be knowledgeable about god. Do you know where to find him and what his weaknesses are? I have dedicated my life to hunting him down and killing him for the indescribable amount of suffering he has directly or indirectly caused.

cw: violent language, including about fighting / killing God; as well as discussion of the Shoah / Holocaust later on in the post

(gonna start this long-ass response by saying that yes, i know this anon is probably joking about dedicating their life to hunting down God, but i’m gonna answer it like they’re serious because that’s the kind of person i am haha)

honestly anon, all power to ya! it sounds like my own understanding of God is quite different from yours (for instance, i would claim that God’s main weakness is actually Their best strength, which is compassion and steadfast solidarity) -- but the question of why God allows suffering is one i come back to all the damn time.

if you do track God down -- if God turns out to be a Being that can be tracked down to one location and time -- please do deliver my regards and my sincerest “WTF??”

you’re not the first to demand God answer for the suffering that’s happened on Their watch --

for if God is truly omnipotent, and truly all-loving, why don’t they do something about all this pain??? Indeed, the Bible is rich with similar demands -- from the psalmists to Job to Jesus himself from the cross (quoting a psalm, he cries, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me??”).

You might already know all this, but if not, the question of God’s place in suffering is often referred to as theodicy, at least in Christian circles.

That term comes from the Greek for god + justice, so what it literally means is “justifying (or vindicating) God”....which I’m not a huge fan of, because it implies that when we explore this question of where God is in suffering, we already know the result will be that God will be proven innocent (or at least “not guilty”).

But do we know that?? See the bottom of this post for an example of a time people of great faith found God guilty!

Anyway, theodicy describes intellectual efforts “to jerry-rig three mutually exclusive terms into harmony: divine power, goodness, and the experiences of evil.“ - Wendy Farley

If you want to learn more about theodicy and the way some theologians have “made sense” of suffering, check out this introductory post I’ve got.

Or wander through my whole #theodicy tag over on my other blog.

I invite you to explore theodicy not in any attempt to convince you of anything, but so you know some of the arguments you’re up against! Honestly, the more i explore theodicy, the less satisfied i am with any justifications for why God doesn’t intervene in the face of so much suffering...so if you do the reading and still conclude God is guilty, i’m not gonna tell you you’re definitely wrong.

Anyway. Like i said, you’re not alone in wanting answers for why God -- however, i don’t know that i’ve seen anyone else with your determination to find and kill God!

(Except, and i hate that i know this lol, that’s apparently the plot of the final season of Supernatural -- they find out God’s a total ass who not only is guilty of negligence but also directly responsible for a lot of suffering for his own sadistic enjoyment. so. they kill the bastard.)

Still, while i don’t know that i’ve seen too many people who want to take God out, the idea of wrestling God is pervasive -- especially within Judaism, but also among some Christians.

i’m very into wrestling God, myself, finding it far more faithful to the God who gifted us free will and invites us into true, mutual relationship than unquestioning obedience.

i have a whole #wrestling God tag over on my other blog.

For the most intense example of wrestling with God i’ve yet seen, with God put on trial and found guilty, keep reading.

_________

cw: discussion of the Shoah / Holocaust below

You might connect to Elie Wiesel’s play The Trial of God, or the movie that was made based off it. Wiesel survived Nazi concentration camps but ceased to believe in God after what he suffered. His play was inspired by something he witnessed while a teen at Auschwitz:

"I witnessed a strange trial. Three rabbis—all erudite and pious men—decided one winter evening to indict God for allowing his children to be massacred. I remember: I was there, and I felt like crying. But nobody cried."

Robert McAfee Brown wrote more about this trial Wiesel witnessed:

“The trial lasted several nights. Witnesses were heard, evidence was gathered, conclusions were drawn, all of which issued finally in a unanimous verdict: the Lord God Almighty, Creator of Heaven and Earth, was found guilty of crimes against creation and humankind.”

Note that in 2008 when commenting on this event, Wiesel clarified that “At the end of the trial, they used the word chayav, rather than ‘guilty.’ It means ‘He owes us something.’”

In the chapter “No God, Only Auschwitz” of his book Embracing Hopelessness, Miguel A. De La Torre comments on this verdict by explaining that if God wasn’t going to intervene, then God must at the least speak -- but instead, God was silent:

“God must be held accountable for refusing to speak to those yearning for God’s voice. Something. Anything. A note of solidarity. A testament of love, accompaniment. But they hear and receive nothing. The trial...ends with God owing us something.

De La Torre goes on to describe the play Wiesel wrote based on this memory, which actually takes place in a 1649 Ukranian village, rather than at Auschwitz. The Cossacks raid the village and kill all but two of its Jewish residents.

“In Wiesel’s play, he has the inkeeper Berish voice the same questions those sitting in death camps centuries later asked, if not audibly, then silently:

‘To mention God’s mercy in Shamgorod [Auschwitz] is an insult. Speak of his cruelty instead. ...I want to understand why. He is giving strength to the killers and nothing but tears and the shame of helplessness to the victims. ...Either he is responsible or He is not. If He is, let’s judge him; if He is not, let him stop judging us. ...

‘[I] accuse Him of hostility, cruelty and indifference. ...Either He knows what’s happening to us, or He doesn’t wish to know! In both cases He is...guilty! Would a father stand by, quietly, silently, and watch his children being slaughtered?’”

De La Torre continues with his own thoughts on all this:

“The horrors humanity faces indict God as being less loving and attentive than sinful parents. I hesitate to make any pronouncements as to the character of God because in the final analysis, I lack any empirical knowledge upon which to base my study. Still with all my heart and being I want to say: my God is the God of the oppressed who incarnates Godself among the least of these.

I want to make this bold claim based on the testimony of the gospel witness. But in the midst of the dark night, I confess this hopeful belief is at best a tenet accepted by faith, lacking any means of proving the truth or falsehood of the claim. In the shadow of Auschwitz, though I am not Jewish, nonetheless I am left wondering if the precious Deity who notices the fall of a sparrow is blind to God’s children crushed in the winepress. Do I dare wonder if God is the God of the oppressors?

...Or maybe this is a God who really wants to do good, but lacks the power to do anything in the face of inhumanity. ..."

There’s one more piece to this tale of Wiesel’s witness of the trial of God at Auschwitz. And that is that, after declaring God guilty (or chayav)...

...after what Wiesel describes as an "infinity of silence", the Talmudic scholar looked at the sky and said "It's time for evening prayers", and the members of the tribunal recited Maariv, the evening service. (McAfee Brown)

...That ending is the part that astounds and awes me. These Jewish prisoners at Auschwitz find God guilty -- and then proceed to pray as they always do. I am reminded of what my Jewish friends as well as various Jewish scholars have told me: that Judaism is totally compatible with wrestling with God and even with disbelief. Whether these Jewish prisoners believed God even existed, they prayed -- because that tradition of prayer is what unites them to one another, to their people.

As De La Torre closes his telling of Wiesel’s story,

“At the conclusion of the movie God on Trial, based on the events Wiesel described, shortly after the barrack inmates find God guilty, and those chosen are marched to the gas chamber, they cover their heads and pray. ...

Believers and unbelievers who took the audacious act of placing God on trial do what is totally illogical -- in the midst of their hopelessness they demonstrate their faith as they march toward the gas chambers, or they defiantly embrace who they are while still remaining in heated conversation, damning God. It matters not if God still hears their prayers, or if there even is a God to hear; they still pray, they still debate -- not for God’s sake, but for their own.”

And that brings me to the one bit of actual advice I’ll give you, anon:

If you want to spend your life “hunting God down,” as I said, all power to you! But I do suggest you ponder for whose sake you do so -- and whether you do so for justice or just revenge. What good does such a quest do for those who are suffering now? Are their other paths you could follow that would bring more good? What about your own healing? I imagine you’re not interested in repairing any relationship with religion -- would walking away from God rather than hounding God be a more healing and fruitful path for your finite life?

I’ll close with one more quote from De La Torre, from the very end of his chapter:

“As I stroll through what was once the concentration camp of Dachau, I am cognizant that this space witnessed the unspeakable horrors that befell God’s children at the hands of Christians hoping for a better, purer society and future. ...So do not offer me your words of hope; offer me your praxis for justice. ...In the midst of unfathomable suffering, the earth’s marginalized no longer need pious pontifications about rewards in some hereafter. Nor do they need their oppressors providing the answers for their salvation. What is needed is disruption of the norm to push humanity toward an unachievable justice.

When there is nothing to lose, when work does not set you free, not only are multiple possibilities opened up with new opportunities for radical change unimaginable to those playing it safe; but also a venue is provided by which to get real with whatever this God signifies. ...”

[curioussubjects]

So I did a season 15 rewatch and wanted to do a thought experiment

I know I often mention that the meta the corner of fandom I’m in has multiple points of entry, but I don’t think I ever just dumped plain text as a thought experiment before. Obviously, the parts of the text I decided to dump here are picked through a specific meta lens as well as being only a facet of the SPN text itself, since I only have the words and none of the complex visual language the show employs from set dressing to editing to acting -- and that’s a ton of info I’m omitting, I know, but generally speaking all text gets reduced to the writing even in the mytharc of the show itself, so it feels appropriate to use words on a page to do this. That said, this is just a start, and any analysis of SPN needs to take into account the full scope of the text beyond the words (with the one exception of a soundtrack pick in 15.10 because it’s too good to pass up).

Anyway, I started writing this as a simple “here look at this selection of very cursed quotations let’s cry” sort of self-indulgent thing, but then I thought, well, what if we could all take a pause from fandom stuff and finale anxiety in order to sit a little with one of the textual building block? What if we could even put a pin, for just a second, to the greater nuances and more involved abstraction about the text and think in bare bone terms? 

Of course, I have a reading here, but through the quotations I picked notice the repetition of themes, of words themselves. What is there? What is it telling us? Regardless of our personal wants and wishlists, whatever our feelings about what is and what should or shouldn’t be. And if we pluck these words and put them back in their context, what is the story trying to tell us? On its face, without any editorializing about what we think could happen maybe because we’ve all been burned by tv shows before. Or even do we really think the text seems so clumsy and lost and incompetent as some seem to think it is? 

Again, this collection is just on facet of the text. Think of it as a spring board, rock number 1. 

15.01

We were just rats in a maze. Sure, we could go left. Sure, we could go right. But we were still in the damn maze. Just makes you think, if all of it... you know, everything that we've done... What did it even mean?

It meant a lot. We still saved people.

When we win this, God's gone. Hm. There's no one to screw with us. There's no more maze. It's just us. And we're free.

We got work to do.

15.02

Chuck is all-knowing. He knew the truth, he... he just kept it to himself.

Even if we didn't know that all of the challenges that we face were born of Chuck's machinations, how would we describe it all? We'd call it "life". Because that's precisely what life is. It's an obstacle course, and maybe Chuck designed the obstacles, but we ran our own race. We made our own moves.

I'll tell you what we do know. Nothing about our lives is real. Everything that we've lost, everything that we are is because of Chuck.

You asked, "What about all of this is real?" We are.

I'm done, Chuck. I've changed. I've adapted. I've... I've become the better me. And you? You are still the same... petulant, narcissistic. So... I'm leaving you here.

15.03

No, we’re gonna end this, Sam. Like you said. We’re gonna be free.

And I'm here, and you're here, and everything we need to end this right is in our hands.

But will you let the world die, let your brother die, just so I can live?

I've tried to talk to you, over and over, and you just don't want to hear it.  

Jack's dead. Chuck's gone. You and Sam have each other. I think it's time for me to move on.

15.04

Wow. So you’re still, um… [...]  Uh, obsessed with my work.

You mean my work.

So instead of reading your stories, I kept writing my own. [...]  Where the guys didn’t have to hunt monsters all the time. They just sit around and do laundry and talk, you know? I mean, that’s what people like the most, anyway.

… this is just an ending.

I can do anything. I’m a writer.

We are finally free to… move on, you know?

I don’t know. Uh… I-I don’t know if I can move on. You know, I-I-I… I can’t forget about any of them. Dean, I still think about Jessica. I… I can’t just let that go.

15.06

Yeah. If I stay, nothing changes. It's time for me to get back in the game.

15.07

What would I do without you? Hmm? What would I do without my best friend?!

Angela was raptured, and I was left behind.

but... but best friends don't just up and leave without saying goodbye.

Listen to yourself. "We're owed." "We deserve." Come on, man. You're not God. Hell, God's not even God.

Then you fix it. You don't walk away. You fight for it.

15.08

No one hands you anything, darlin'. I took it.

Then one day, you die, you go to hell, they make you queen, and you can't make it right. So fix it!

Doing what we do, we've had to get used to losing people. Probably too used to it. With Adam, we said goodbye because we thought we had to. We were wrong.

Since when do we get what we deserve?

15.09

You just refused to hear it.

Maybe if you didn't just up and leave us.

I left, but you didn't stop me.

No, the Dean I know... the Dean who raised me -- he'd never give up, no matter how bad things got.

Well, he does. He will. This is the truth, Sam. This is what comes next. 

I hope you can hear me... that wherever you are, it's not too late. I should've stopped you. You're my best friend, but I just let you go.

Okay, Cas, I need to say something.

You don't have to say it. I heard your prayer.

When we beat you, I will make it better!

But there's still so much about the fabric of the universe that you don't know... that you can't know. 'Cause you're only humans. But I'm God.

I wish you'd stay.

I wish I could. After what happened, I don't know what's real anymore.

I know that was real.

If we can't kill him or trap him...

... Well, then we find another way.

15.10

You know, go out young and pretty. But now I've got a great wife, great kids. I guess...sometimes things work out.

Yeah, sometimes. Good, man. You deserve it.

~Let's be outrageous  /  Let's misbehave~  

You know, I always thought I could be a good dancer if I wanted to be.

15.11

Beach read? Lady, I’m Tolstoy.

God created the world, but you know who created us gods? You did. You humans. Sort of.

How dare you not recognize his beneficence?

Our bad. Not his

I learned from my brother.

What is with you and these losers? They’re nothing! They don’t matter.

They matter to us.

Heroes. Like the old days. And, uh, she gave me a message. She said, “Don’t play his game. Make him play yours.”

Every day I wanted to come home, but… I couldn’t.

Billie kept him hidden in the Empty until Chuck went off world.

15.12

In the beginning, it was just me and sis. And it was fine. But I wasn’t satisfied. So I made more. I created the world.

So, I… I kept creating. I made… other worlds.

Those other toys, they don’t… they don’t… spark joy. But Sam and Dean… the real Sam and Dean… they do. They challenge me… they disappoint me… they surprise me. 

They’re… the ones.

You know, Kelly just had faith that Jack would be good for the world, and I felt it, too. I knew it. And then, when everything went wrong, and God took him from us… I was lost in a way I’ve never been before. Because I knew the story wasn’t over. I knew Jack wasn’t done. And I was right.

What sounds good to me is Jack fulfilling his destiny.

I thought I could leave her behind, but… she haunts me.

Her world looked peaceful. This place is… cold. I don’t understand it. I don’t know how to move through it. So, I just find empty spaces, and I hide. This world doesn’t want me. And I’m done with it.

We can fix this. You can help us. Please? Please.

Feels good. Disobeying cosmic entities, doing the, uh… dumb, right thing? Feels like we’re back.

I don’t belong in your world. You do. Go.

When I was a reaper, I believed in the rules. But then you killed me. And when I became Death, I inherited Death’s knowledge… and Death’s library. And in Death’s library, everyone has a book. Even God.

After God made the world, he couldn’t stop. He wanted more. But he needed to create a perfect harmony… a Swiss watch, so this world could keep tick, tick, ticking in his absence. He had no choice but to build himself into the framework. It’s his only weakness.

You and your brother have work to do. This is your destiny. You are the messengers of God’s destruction. 

15.13

Then there's no God, there's no Darkness. Nothing out of balance. World saved.

Okay, yeah, but then who takes over? Uh, Jack?

Probably not.

I used to feel things. In my bones. It was glorious, and sometimes unbearable. But I felt them. Now, I understand joy or sadness, but... I know those things aren't in me.

So it's possible he could work through this. One day, he may explode and let it all out and breathe deeply and move on.

A place... a thing... Whatever you want to call it, it's powerful.

Why do they call this place the Empty? This place is full. It's full of sorrow and despair playing over and over again, of angels and demons dreaming about their regrets. Forever.

Funny thing about her plan, though... she didn't say anything about needing you.

Maybe it's a key. It's a passage in Enochian. It says, um, loosely translated, "In order to be in the Occultum, the Occultum must be in you."

This is the Garden. Man's beginning.

His prize creations, until he banished them and all of mankind from the perfection of the Garden. And he hid it away.

Who are you, really? Who are you meant to be?

That's the crossroads of divinity and humanity.

Please. Just please forgive me.

[good-rwbyaus]

Destiny - [ Epilogue : Oscar ] - mod lilac:

[ Part 1: Pyrrha ] [ Part 2: Jaune ]

Oscar visits the final resting place of Pyrrha and Jaune.

// An epilogue for Destiny. It’s more or less a monologue from Oscar, but it’s been demanding to be written for weeks now before I move onto another project. I hope you enjoy the final piece.

=============================================

Dark stormy clouds hovered over the Emerald Forest, a torrent of rain spilling into the trees. A green-clad figure slogged slowly though the grounds, heading for a specific destination. Guilt shone on his face. 

----

Shielded from the storm outside, a pair of angel statues carved in marble stood in the small shrine. On the altar was a small picture frame where a young knightly blond and a young amazon-like redhead grinned into the camera.

“Sorry I’m late, Jaune,” Oscar said quietly as he wiped the droplets from his hair. 

“Ahh, sorry. Forgot to introduce myself,” Oscar chuckled apologetically, “I’m Oscar Pine, Miss Nikos. And there might still be a little bit of Ozpin left in here, but...” He grinned before sighing, “it’s probably just me now.”

“I sorta know you because I have Ozpin’s memories, but I wish I could’ve met you,” Oscar said with a smile, “I wanted to see the person who my best friend admired so much.”

“As for you, Jaune, we need no introductions,” he smiled, a hint of pain in the gesture. His gaze locked onto the grave with Jaune’s name on it before turning his head to stare at the forest around him.

“Nora really chose a nice place,” Oscar admired, “I guess it’s true what they say, a quest ends at its beginning - suppose that must be doubly true for a knight.” He brushed off some dirt from the grass before he sat down cross-legged. Giving the scenery one last lookover, he smiled mischievously, “From what I recall from Ozpin’s memories though, you probably didn’t enjoy your experience here at the time.”

“Whooosh.” He swung his hand dramatically towards the ceiling. 

“Haha,” he smiled, “I guess you’re tired of me embarrassing you in front of your significant other, even though she probably knows all this given she nailed you to the tree that your grave’s leaning on.” 

“You probably already heard it from everybody else, so I’ll just go over the highpoints,” Oscar continued as he grinned. “We won. We beat Salem.”

“All of us lived for the most part,” Oscar paused before shaking his head, “Not to say any of us died. It’s just - well it’s complicated. Lemme give you the good news first.”

“Nora and Ren got married. They’re expecting a child anytime soon,” Oscar clapped in excitement, “And asked the doctors not to tell them the gender. They want it to be a surprise.”

“Yang and Blake are going to get married too. At least after their dads get the testosterone out of their system. I think they secretly enjoy arguing about how “your daughter isn’t good enough for mine” and boisterously telling embarrassing stories in front of their kids. Yang’s threatening to elope, and Blake’s mom is encouraging her.”

“Unc- I mean, Qr-. You know what I’m going to call him Uncle Qrow, “ Oscar said, “He’s family to everyone. He probably kept us from falling apart after you died. Told us not to blame ourselves. You brought Cinder down with you because you loved us all. You did what you did, just as we would’ve done for you.”

He sniffled.

“Ah, sorry. I...Let’s just wait. I’ll tell you the reason why I came here later. Let’s just enjoy this moment.” A pained smile lingered on his lips, “Anyway...”

“Qrow gave us the choice to leave the group with no questions asked- he felt it was the right thing to do after what happened. You fought to keep us safe; it’s only right that we were given that choice.”

“No one took him up on his offer,” he smiled with a bit of pride.

“A bit of unpleasantness did happen after we used the Relic of Knowledge,” Oscar rubbed his cheek, “But it’s all water under the bridge now.”

“Glynda is now the Headmistress of Beacon. Well, will be once all the rubble is cleaned up. She and James are an item now. Haha. That’s one unlikely couple right there. They’ll argue until their voices become hoarse and their faces turn red, but if someone insults one of them within earshot of the other... Well, some soldier made the mistake of trying to kiss up to James by insulting Glynda. And now he’s probably still running laps around Mantle.”

The smile on his face slowly turned into a grimace, the guilt that’d been weighing him down returning once more.

“I....I admit that I came here not just to catch you up on things,” Oscar hesitatingly said. His hand waved, and four items, glowing ethereally with power, flickered into existence in front of him.

Lamp, Crown, Staff, Sword.

Knowledge, Choice, Creation, Destruction.

“It’s funny. Everyone thought they disappeared after Ruby came back to life,” he whispered as he watched the Relics revolve around him, “She sacrificed herself to save the people of Mantle and Atlas - when our fight between Salem and her forces dropped Atlas out of the sky.” 

“Even with the knowledge that she would die using the combined power of the Relics, she still chose her own destruction so that others may live. Thus, the most mysterious of the relics - Creation - returned her to us.”

“Not many people realized that a goddess descended that day. Only Salem and I knew, for we were the only ones who’ve ever been in the presence of a god. 

“When Ruby spoke after becoming a goddess, her words became edict. And with a single utterance, she vanquished Salem. Begone,” he said, eyes glazed in remembrance of that moment, “One word, nothing else. Time stopped for everyone but a goddess, myself, and a disintegrating Salem trying to resist her fate.”

“...Salem really hated Ozma. It’s what kept her alive all this time,” Oscar sighed, “Magic and spells fade, even those cast by a god.”

“The immortality given to Salem was never meant to last,” he said softly, “But when the God of Light gave Ozma his orders, I don’t think the God realized how much it would make Salem hate the man to the point where she would literally defy death to ruin everything Ozma wanted to protect.”

“I don’t quite know what Ruby did to separate Ozpin from me, but the last thing I remember was Ozpin’s shade walking over to Salem. I remember bits of yelling and crying, but after the man left my head, I think I was frozen in time like the rest. No longer god-touched, I guess. By the time we all came to, both Ozpin and Salem were turning into motes of light.”

“Despite how much misery Salem gave us, I hope she found peace. Ozma too,” he sighed.

“As for Ruby, she’s been off since that day. Though she no longer has that divine power, she seems more ethereal, more disconnected from the world,” Oscar sighed, “As if she’d leave us at any time. Disappear and vanish.”

Oscar then chuckled, “luckily, we have two dorks Weiss and Penny, originally at odds with each other for taking up too much of Ruby’s attention, now working together to keep Ruby grounded...so I think Ruby will be okay.”

“Oh yeah, Penny never actually died, Pyrrha. They were able to put her core - the essence of her soul - into a new body, so I hope you rest more peacefully knowing that.” 

“In any case, everyone’s doing okay... but you two.”

He slouched over, palming his face. “Ugh, sorry. I guess I keep on delaying the inevitable. I’ll tell you why I’m here right now.”

“After the Relics found their way over to me, I wondered... if the Relics could produce a God, could it turn back time to save you? So I asked the Relic of Knowledge...”

“And Jinn said yes. That the Relics could send back a single soul without their future memories or skills - only a faint impression without any details, just a whisper of destiny - back to a very specific point in time, a couple hours before the Fall of Beacon.”

“After getting over my shock, I naturally asked about a future where you lived,” Oscar looked away from Jaune’s grave, “and that future was bleak. In the past I saw through Jinn, we went after the Relic of Creation after Knowledge. And as a result, Atlas fell upon Mantle and destroyed the entire Kingdom. Out of hundreds of thousands of people, only we and the rest of the team survived, and it was only because of Raven’s aid.”

“It was completely different from what actually happened to us. After you sacrificed yourself to kill Cinder, you caused Emerald to become the Fall Maiden. And somehow that caused me to get kidnapped by Mercury, allowing me to convince them both that staying with Salem will only lead to more pain for both of them - and they left her for us. Learning Salem’s future plans through Emerald, we went after the Relic of Destruction in Vacuo instead and then returned to the Emerald Forest with all the chess pieces to obtain the Relic of Choice - And then we had our showdown at Atlas.”

Oscar uneasily shifted his foot on the ground, now completely unable to look at the grave in front of him, “I’m not sure how it dawned on me to ask my last question. Maybe it’s because Jinn only showed me a future instead of the numerous possibilities it should’ve been, but...”

“I asked if I turned back the clock before.”

“And Jinn said I did.”

“I think,” Oscar hesitated before continuing, “I must’ve sent you back after almost everyone died beating Salem in the past Jinn showed. I don’t think it could’ve been anyone else because only you acted differently compared to how events should’ve turned out - so...”

“I'm the one responsible for your death, Jaune,” he choked out, “Even if it wasn’t actually me; I still can’t help but feel that way, so I’m trying to figure out if you would want me to right my wrong or be content with the future you’ve sacrificed yourself for.”

“Would you resent me if I tried? To undo everything you’ve strived to do. Or would you resent me if I left you for dead - to not even try?”

“I admit I don’t think I could do any better - I know I probably should be content, but not knowing hurts. You are literally my best friend - a brother. So please..."

“Just give me a sign.”

He bowed his head down, tears falling - conflicted between his sense of duty to the world he lived and his deepest bond of friendship.

Oscar paused as he heard something - or rather the absent of something. The torrent of rain that’s been present had slowed to a stop. Gazing outside, Oscar gasped quietly as he watched the shadows from the overhead clouds quickly giving way to rays of sunlight. 

Running outside, the green-clad boy got to witness the dark clouds visibly fade into the blues of the sky, leaving only sunlight and the beauty of the Emerald Forest behind. 

Feeling the warmth of the sun on his face, Oscar whispered quietly, “Is this... your answer?”

He heard no response, but something in his heart settled in that moment. A sense of peace. Like he’d been forgiven. That he need not carry his burden any longer.

Oscar turned back to the shrine and smiled gratefully.

“...Thank you. I’ll make sure to make the most of the future you’ve let us have. 

“Both of you can rest easy. I’ll be the one to protect everyone now.”

“We’ll see you when our time comes.”

[solarsmith49]

First Entry

So I figured I should have a preface/background post before I jump into sharing my writing lol, be warned this is kinda sappy but necessary haha.  I’m going to focus on writing for Creatus Annus; I got back into watching Mark’s channel during the initial March lockdowns after being away for a couple years, and from there into Ethan’s channel and Unus Annus.  I relate so much to Ethan in the brutally honest video talking about how he’s felt aimless and drifting the last few years, because that’s exactly how I felt for a long time- I started 2020 unemployed, no money, no direction, with seemingly no passion or drive to really get out and /live/ instead of just existing.  In April I had a breakdown, and I realized I had to get myself and my life together while I still could because it really did seem like the world was burning down (thanks covid!) and if I didn’t do it now then there wouldn’t be another chance.  I was able to mentally get myself together, and I did find another job in May (which has been a godsend).  And at about the same time as I got hired, I found Mark’s vlog talking about his surgeries and the post-op pain medicine screwup that almost killed him.   I closed my laptop and cried after that, because it was exactly what I needed to hear, when I needed to hear it, by the right person I needed to hear it from.  Because I realized it described me perfectly, not acting on my potential and (even worse) not feeling the /need/ to do so.  So I took a long look at myself, and this essay below is the first thing I wrote after watching the video, exploring my complete love of space and /why/ it drives me in the way it does.  I think it fits the whole message of Unus Annus, and what we’re trying to do here with Creatus Annus, trying to give our own answers to why our lives and our art matters.  Space colors all of my poems (as you’ll see later haha), as well as the creative tension I have from my religious and spiritual background (I was raised Catholic, and still am to a degree, but my personal beliefs range all over the place and the relationship and dialogue I have with God/the Divine and what it means to Create Things is a major theme with space).  So, here’s my first entry for the project; I’m going to write my general ideas for specifically what I want to do in the ideas thread later, but enjoy the essay - I think you guys will like it.

Even until just a few days ago, I didn’t think I had any life passions, or at least, any passions that mattered.  I have hobbies, sure - gaming, crafting, reading, general learning - but I never thought much of them because I didn’t see how I could use them or even if I should bother trying to make anything of them.  Certainly I didn’t think I had any interest that moved me enough to devote a life’s pursuit ot it - but that was another self life, perhaps the greatest, one born from a mix of complacency, lack of faith in myself, and a fear of really facing what truly honestly drives me and the action that that would demand.  The change that that would demand.  Because I do have a passion, and I love it in a general sense, learning about it and following it casually.  But it's also something I turn to in dark hours, something that resparks me when I’m tired, that keeps me going and holds my faith and sustains me when everything else fails - family, friends, my job prospects, failing health, chaos in the larger world, evil in the larger world, even when my belief in the Church burns down and God as seen through the “Catholic” lens seems distant and irrelevant.  Something that I adore with every fiber of my being and in the core of my very soul.  That something is space: the stars and galaxies and their natural functions and processes, but also in particular the space program and what it says about human nature and our relation to the wider universe and ultimately to God himself.

I believe the human endeavour to get to space and the various space programs throughout the world showcase the pinnacle of what our species can do, the best of humanity in terms of technology and cooperation and curiosity, and one of the most fundamental drives we have as humans - the drive to be remembered.  Every single human being, from the greatest to the worst of us, is the end product of 13.6 billion years of cosmic cycles, stars being formed, exploding, sending out dust that forms new stars.  Every single atom and primal element in our bodies, our carbon, iron, calcium, magnesium, everything was forged in the nuclear fusion reactor in the core of a star, untold eons ago and untold millions of lightyears away.  Probably more than once as the dust clouds combine, are forged, and then scattered by the shockwaves of supernovas across time and space.  Over and over and over again, until 4.6 billion years ago when our Sun grew from dust and the planets grew from the leftovers.  And the Earth - the Earth! - undergoing the same process in microcosm, plates shifting and rock melting and gas expanding and water sifting until the Earth was made solid, and then!  In the process, as a by-product, a side effect!  The right combination of star forged elements and electricity and chemical reactions was struck and gave the collections of dust atoms Life and Breath!  Living, self sustaining action on its own accord, independent of outside forces, movement greater than the stars because it happens on its own!  And THEN - a more focused microcosm of the star forge, as 4.5 billion years of evolution refine Life, uncounted species live and die and refine their genes and physical makeup and brain processes and living interactions with the inert world around them; the decay of their bodies feeding plants which feed animals which lets them reproduce and keep the cycle going, echoing the ancient and unaware supernovas, until at last! 100,000 years ago the human species was fully evolved, and, miraculously, became self aware.

Think about that for a minute.  As wonderful as Life is, we could have been just another species of animal, but for the greatest innovation and combination of stardust the universe has ever seen.  We were cavemen, we knew next to nothing about the stars or the wide earth or about our potential, but for the first time Life had gained the capacity to know.  For the first time in 13.6 billion years, dust atoms had gained the capability to learn their origins and how they were made and ultimately to define why they were made.  So, what is almost the very first thing we do with this capacity of thought as an infant species, newly self aware?  We make art.  We make, preserved by some quirk of fate in a French cave, handprints on a rock wall.  We - living stardust - take inert ochre and pigment and stamp an outline on the wall, and those outlines survive intact for 50,000 years.  In this scribbling of an infant species we can already recognize the drive still present in ourselves - the need to say “we were here once, and our existence mattered”.  Humanity for the first time, living relics of ancient stars, giving voice for the first time to those stars, saying in art and words what stars declared in the mute atoms and elements and light they left behind: “we existed once, and that existence mattered.”

Humanity is the universe made self aware.  And just as galaxies are made of millions of individual stars, so too do we as individuals make up Humanity as a collective.  Every single one of us is the universe learning about and defining itself.  And the impulse behind our earliest achievements of cave art is present in everything throughout our history, our collective achievements, our art, our architecture, literature, science, theology, our empires, our struggles, our failures, our compassion for each other.  It's present in all of us as individuals, for which of us doesn’t want our life, our memory to be remembered when we are gone?  We as a species are capable of such great things, great destruction and great good.  And throughout our entire history as a species, we’ve never stopped looking up at the moon and the stars, admiring them, fascinated by them, studying them, unaware at times of our origin among them but always drawn to their light, their unspoken promise.  Until finally in the 20th century, the culmination of thousands of years of research and science and engineering, the best efforts of the best we humans have to offer - we unlock the sky we’ve dreamed of for so long and we build machines to take us to the Moon.  We build the Saturn V, the Apollo capsules, we push ourselves from the cradle and beyond our ancient limits and we - fragile, living mortals - walk upon the Moon itself.  We leave our handprints, after all this time, in the purest form of star dust we will likely ever physically encounter, the living imprinting its shape into the inert, like a brother finally coming home.

But we don’t stop there.  We build satellites and the Hubble Telescope, the International Space Station and satellites and rovers and probes to pave the way for us, our reunion with the stars.  We take more stardust and primal elements and fashion them in our image, to go to other worlds and scout the cosmos for us.  We name them after the best of ourselves: Pioneer, Perseverance, Curiosity, Sojourner, Spirit, that they may represent us well to the cosmos and whatever it may contain.  We build Voyager 1 and Voyager 2, currently the furthest of our creations from the Earth in the cold vastness of interstellar space, and in Voyager 2 we place the Golden Record.  A disk of pure gold upon which we recorded the sounds and voice of Earth - water running, leaves falling in the wind, ocean waves, volcanoes bursting, birds singing, and us - human voices, human laughter, human crying, greetings in every language, our music, a baby crying, a heart beating.  We took inert stardust and imprinted ourselves, living dust, upon it, and sent it out into interstellar space to be our witness and our message.  That we, the universe living and self ware, see the stars we came from and that we understand; we say through the pinnacle of our innovation and with the same depth of expression as those first handprints, “We, the living dust, give this record back to you and for ourselves, that we existed once, and that it mattered.”  We sent it as a testimony, as an offering, as a prayer, and as a vow: that we aren’t done yet, that as long as Humanity lives we will never be done, and if we do eventually end that there will have been a time, if only briefly, that the stars knew and understood themselves, and that despite or even because of its brevity, it will have mattered.

[phantomwarrior12]

Intensify

Prompt: Confronting Chuck

Word Count: 2,157

Warnings: Blood, swearing, creepy vibes, and some fluff at the wayyyy end

Summary: Confronting God himself isn’t easy, but one must be bold for that which they hold dear.

A/N: Hey folks!

Ah yes, finally finished this one from a lovely anon. This chapter was prompted by @gabriel-spn-bingo​‘s square: Confronting Chuck. It was also partially inspired by @idabbleincrazy​‘s recent challenge and the mood board I was given, so thanks for that, hon! :)

Please leave a like/comment to let me know your thoughts! Also, I am open to prompts (especially the ones up on the bingo card), so send me prompts if you’d like to see one of these!

Enjoy!

~Phantom

-----------------------

You've been careful, systematically procuring the ingredients needed for the spell. You tell him they're to help ward the cabin, to make sure Castiel couldn't get in again--some spells you'd picked up from Rowena.

He's not entirely convinced, but he's just hopeful enough to indulge you. It goes on for another few months and all the while, things grow more complicated on Earth. He hasn't taken over, merely allowing his ghost army to run wild and unchecked throughout the states. All this time, he's been more concerned with winning your adoration to care about furthering his plans for humanity. Even after Rowena closed up hell and took away his army, he was unbothered. It's that, more than anything, that grants you hope--a fleeting prayer that your archangel is still in there somewhere and you can still get him out.

A prayer that all but vanishes when Chuck makes his presence known, tracking Gabriel on one of his escapades back to Earth and rather firmly reminds him of his duty. Gabriel had argued, Chuck hadn't approved and the archangel was beaten until his Father realized his unwillingness to unleash chaos. It became clear just how intent Gabriel was to regain the touch he aches for. In a fit of frustration, the Creator had chosen to threaten you.

From there, things had escalated. Somehow, it'd all led to this. Somehow, you're kneeling over Gabriel. Somehow, Castiel and Balthazar had come to your aid but--

"What are you waiting for?" Questions the voice behind you. Patronizing. Expectant. Insistent.

Crimson seeps from the wound in Gabriel's shoulder, cascading down the cool metal of the archangel blade your hand is wound around and you're inches away from brilliant whiskey. There was a time you'd lose yourself to the honey flecks, the glimmering gold that stared back at you with a warmth that bore into your very soul.

But not now.

Now he's battered and slouched against the wall with nothing but defeated hatred in his eyes. To your right, Castiel is slowly coming around from the beating he's taken from the archangel. To your left, Balthazar is splayed across the floor in an unconscious state.

And behind you, you hear God himself applauding in a slow, rhythmic clap that sets ever nerve on end. You steal a glance over your shoulder, almost afraid to meet his gaze as he paces closer.

"Archangel blade to the shoulder? The way you slashed his thigh and side to rescue dear, poor Castiel? Oh, I couldn't have written that final showdown better myself. A divine romance ending in a tragic act of self-preservation. I'm so proud, I could cry." He stops just beside you and your gaze shifts to Gabriel's limp form, whiskey darting between his Father and your uncertain eyes as Chuck continues, "Don't stop now, Y/N. It's the climax! You gotta finish it once and for all."

"I won't kill him."

"You don't have a choice. He's nearly killed Castiel and, oh, Balthazar is close to his second death. He's out of control, a menace. He's corrupted. You want to save them, don't you?"

"Not like this," you whisper, staring at Gabriel with a mixture of apprehension and fear.

Chuck's shoulders sag in a show of exaggerated dramatics as he rolls his eyes and kneels beside you, inspecting your tense frame, "You really are like those boys, aren't you? Sam's pitying nature, Dean's stubborn defiance, you're like a mini-Winchester." He heaves a sigh and shifts his gaze to your trembling hand on the archangel blade, watching the red liquid stain Gabriel's clothes before he looks at the youngest archangel, "Oh, Gabe, Gabe, Gabe...how's that corrupt grace working out for you?"

"Fine," Gabriel returns shortly, scowling up at his father with nothing short of contempt.

"Thought that might make for a good plot twist. Couple of angels get to come back from the dead, but surprise, the strongest isn't on your side." Chuck grins, gaze darting between you and Gabriel for a reaction. When your features don't shift beyond a glare, the grin falters with a resigned sigh as he stands, "What do I have to do to get a dramatic conclusion around here? Come on, Y/N! You're making this ending anti-climactic."

"We're not done," you bite back, fingers falling away from the blade and you can feel Gabriel's eyes on you in confusion.

Chuck scoffs, "Not done? Did you forget who you're talking to? Alpha, Omega, all that jazz? This is the end. I decide the ending, Y/N, that's part of being God."

"What kind of God puts his creations through something like this? You're not God. You're a cosmic asshole looking for cheap entertainment because you've lost the capacity to recognize the value of life. How many worlds have you done this to? Hundreds? Thousands? You got so wrapped up in your ability to create and destroy life that you never stopped to consider if you should."

Chuck doesn't appear fazed by your tirade, merely tilting his head with another overzealous shoulder sag, "Are you done? Because, great appeal for humanity, very touching. Very free-will-esque. But it doesn't change the ending to this story." The amusement fades and you shy away as he leans down, "You. Sam. Dean. Your angels and corrupted celestial pet are doomed. I could snap you all away without a second's hesitation, but I want this final battle to be worth all the sniveling and whining I've had to endure from you people. Though, I'm afraid you won't be around to see it. You see, if you won't finish off Gabriel, you can die together."

Chuck raises his hand to snap, cut short only by a cry from Gabriel, "No!"

A rush of air and suddenly you're kneeling over Gabriel in the beach house he'd trapped you in all these months. One breath. A second. A short third before you look down at Gabriel as he jerks the blade out of his shoulder and looks up at you.

"What--what happened?" You look around in confusion, chest heaving, heart pounding in a steady thrum echoing in your ears.

He tosses the blade to the side and gently pushes you off of him so he can stand on uncertain legs. You stare at him, noting the twinge of pain flashing across ordinarily veiled expressions.

"Gabriel?"

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

"Now you're worried about my well-being? You stabbed me, Y/N. Three times."

"You were going to kill Cas. What did you expect me to do?"

He narrows his eyes and starts towards the door. You could swear you notice a faint glow along his thigh, torso and shoulder, but a glimpse is all you catch before your mind shifts back to the more pressing issue. "Why doesn't he just smite us all? It'd be faster and he can't lose--"

"He can't." Gabriel secures the door and rifles through one of the book case drawers, "Despite what he claims, he's not strong enough. Whatever tweedledee and tweedledum did to him, he's weakened. He has to do this the old fashioned way." He locates the chalk and sets to work on warding sigils - not that they'll do much against God himself, but it's something.

A shadow of a smile tugs at the corner of your lips at the fragment of familiarity: what you'd call his terms of endearment for the Winchesters. It sparks hope. It sparks a warmth you haven't felt around him since before he died. "Gabe?"

He doesn't answer, moving to another wall in a whirlwind of concentration and panic.

"Gabriel?"

Still no response and you shift to your knees, summoning what strength you have left to lift yourself from the floor, "Gabe--"

"What?" He bites back, throwing his hands up and turns to face you, "What's so damned important you're interrupting my efforts to save both of our asses?"

Some part of you cowers, the rest clings to the shards of his former self. But when you open your mouth, you can't speak. The fear you've fought to ward off nags like a heavy weight in your chest and your eyes drop to the space between you, "Never mind. I'm sorry."

"You damn well should be. I can't protect you if you won't let me."

"Why do you want to protect me?" A spark of indignation forces you to gather your courage, lifting your head and staring back at him with a flame you'd thought you'd lost, "Why am I so damned important that you risk everything to save me?"

"Isn't it obvious? I've made it as obvious as I can by now." He turns back to the wall, sketching another sigil and you lean on the arm of the couch.

"All you tell me is--" Your fingers touch your ribs gingerly, "For my own safety. Important, emotionally attached, protect--" you look up at him, "It was never about being queen. I'm your last tie. I die and you're doomed to darkness. That's why you brought me here. That's what you couldn't tell me."

"What? No."

"It is." You slide off the arm of the couch, slowly making your way towards him, "Subconsciously, you hate what you've become. You knew I was the last tie and you couldn't lose me. That's why you hid me here--no enemies, Chuck couldn't find me."

"Stop it." He warns, fingers bearing down on fragile chalk until it snaps in his hand.

"Gabriel--"

He wheels and grabs your shoulders, "I said enough."

Your eyes lock with sharp whiskey, "I'm not afraid of you, Gabriel. Not anymore. I finally know what this is all about and I," y/e/c searches glittering gold, "I finally understand."

There's a flare of surprise in his eyes as your hand lifts, cautiously pressing your palm again his cheek, cradling his cheek with a warmth he's ached for all this time. The fury fades and his eyes sag shut, inclining his head into your touch.

"I know," you whisper, the pad of your thumb stroking his skin softly, "I'm here. I understand. You wanted a way out, but you couldn't do it on your own."

"I never meant--" he stops himself, jaw flexing for a brief moment before his eyes open and lock with yours. "I'm sorry."

Your nod is slight, a subtle downward tilt of your head as you offer a warm smile. "It's all right. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

He's cautious in his movements, hands ghosting over your waist before one ventures to your jaw, "You better not. I can't...you're the key, sugar. I can't do this alone."

"And you won't. We'll find Sam and Dean, they'll help us--"

"No. Not them. After everything I've done - no."

"I can talk to them. It'll be okay, Gabe.  When this is all over, we can cleanse your grace." Your fingers smooth over his hair, tucking golden locks behind his ear.

"And if you can't?"

"We'll find a way. I found a spell and after we beat Chuck? You'll be back to your old Trickster self." You assure him with a stern look, forcing the concern and apprehension from your gaze. Every nerve ignites beneath his touch, endings firing in a way that isn't wholly relief nor entirely fear. Somewhere, there's a faint alarm and yet a looming sense of comfort that strives to silence blaring crimson lights in the back of his mind. His touch is tender, his eyes mesmerizing and every ounce begs to remain in his embrace.

Is this real? Is he real?

With Chuck pulling so many strings - how many Gabriels, how many yous? How many times have you done this dance? You used to believe your celestial relationship was unique - unheard of entirely - but now? Are the two of you Chuck's 'favorite couple' now? You always find your way back to one another, not even death can part you.

So is it real?

You half expect him to speak, to disregard boundaries as he had before and know your every thought. You half expect a spiel about how all of this is real - the affection, his touch - but judging the conflict consuming whiskey, you know the same questions plague his mind.

After all of this, is it all worth it if you don't know if it's real?

It's a question you'll have to answer on your own when all is said and done. For now, now you find the Winchesters and plan your next move. For now, you allow your head to rest on the corrupted archangel's shoulder for the first time since his return and he gathers you close, cradling your frame with a tenderness you've missed.

It may not be entirely him, but he is Gabriel and that, in and of itself, inspires more hope than you could have ever imagined. Maybe, just maybe, you can have your angel back.

So, it's time to go home.

-----------------------

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Gabriel Squad: @thewhiterabbit42​ @erisunderthemoon​ @stuckoutsideofthebox​ @nuvoleincielo​ @lyselkatz​ @high-church-of-the-holy-dick​ @loch-ness-moron​ @lovelyhexbag​ @shaylybaby2032​ @soul-bandom​ @archangelgabriellives​ @datajana​ @quixoticcat​ @jtownraindancer​ @hindustani-diaspora​ Forevers: @heaven-hell-imagines​ @currentlyfangirling99​ @bofa-deans-nuts​ @emiwrites3reads​ Dark Returns: @idabbleincrazy​

[theholycovenantrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, CLAUDIA! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF GABRIEL.

Admin Rosey: Wow - this was a terribly difficult decision to make. All the applications for Gabriel were so beautiful. But Claudia, have you no mercy? Gabriel has always held a rather special place within my heart simply because he is so unique unto himself, even among the entire legion of angels. You said it so aptly, but so cruelly: take an angel, give him everything but leave one thing missing. It’s a rather wicked script that one has to follow, isn’t it? But there is something terribly delicious about how this application doesn’t hold back on reading him right to his bones. You saw him for what he was: hunger, hunger, hunger. And you let us know that as well. The details, the small -isms that you gave him granted him such life that I couldn’t say no. Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

Alias

claudia

Age

24

Personal Pronouns

she / her

Activity Level

i work full-time but i’m always checking the dash or else staying up to date with plotting in the dms in between replies. and of course weekends are my most active times.

Timezone

gmt+10

Triggers

REMOVED

How did you find the group?  

following a bunch of the wonderful people who were involved in its creation

Current/Past RP Accounts

here

here

IN CHARACTER

Character

gabriel

What drew you to this character?

so gabriel was not the first character that sparked my interest and the aesthete in me is very much compelled to justify in metaphor (you know, the whole “there’s this japanese phrase i like: koi no yokan. not love at first sight but second sight. the feeling that when you meet someone that you’re going to fall in love with them. maybe not right away, but it’s inevitable that you will.”). the truth is, i came into thc very much wanting to play a sexy morally ambiguous antagonist and agent of chaos that could wreak havoc and plot death and destruction. admittedly, i had only skimmed gabriel’s bio when it was released.

there’s an ancient roman crying out for blood in the colosseum in everyone that will always be drawn to the dark and the delicious possibility of amorality, because good and evil lies on a spectrum and exploring the shades of grey in between is so much more interesting than delving into a character who positions themselves so firmly at either end and says no, this is me, this is what i am and my conviction will not waver. or, to quote another beloved symbol, idol, champion of the people, that believed so fervently in a cause that the martyrdom nearly killed him, “when the mob and the press and the whole world tell you to move, your job is to plant yourself like a tree beside the river of truth, and tell the whole world — “no, you move.””

it is hard to write good. it is hard to take a character that is so infinitely good and compassionate, someone who is motivated by these enormous, intangible concepts like love and justice and peace, and capture them in words.

how do you explain why gabriel loves humans? how do you explain how he still loves them, fights for them, protects them, when everything his brothers and sisters did to him was because the humans dared to love him back? it’d be like asking the question of god himself — why? you claimed to love humans above all and yet you gave the strength, grace and majesty of immortality and wisdom to the angels. they were your firstborn, and humans were the spoiled youngest child. the unruly, overindulged creatures that got away with everything, that sinned and yet were still worthy of salvation.

for most people, gabriel is the first angel they ever learn about. gabriel coming to nazareth, gabriel saying be not afraid as he explains how a human woman will be the genesis of the son of god. he is the first. and understanding why gabriel loves humans, as god did, perhaps even more, comes back to the beginning, too.

gabriel was created the incarnation of hunger. and i am literally obsessed with the concept of ‘hunger’ in it all its forms, literary, cinematically, poetically. it’s fascinating because it’s not a concept that belongs to either good or evil, it’s simply a force, a manifestation of pure instinct. but we so often associate it with evil, and even in the bible, too much hunger is condemned. you could argue that the seven deadly sins are simply just an extrapolation of hunger in its myriad guises. the idea that you could be made perfect — as all angels are — and yet be left with this gaping chasm inside you, this endless hunger, a hunger that demands to be fed and nurtured, sated with divine higher purpose, is like, my literary achilles’ heel. why does gabriel love humans? how could he not? he was made in their image, and they in his.

What future plots do you have in mind for the character?

THE SUN NEVER SETS ON THE HOLY LAND.

that thing i said about wanting to play a sexy character? well gabriel being the sun and the third arm of the governing body that rules over the holy land is extremely sexy. it’s a shame he doesn’t much care for it. oh, he likes the concept of being a key guardian of freedom and peace across the new world but power holds no sway over him. and ironically that’s what makes him so inherently powerful. gabriel was the natural choice for the sun — beloved by humans, martyred for his love and sacrifices for them — he’d already burned for so long, so quietly, in service of bringing justice to the world. but gabriel has never needed a title to serve. he was born a messenger, a soldier, he has never needed a crown.

and despite what they say, heavy is the head, it is a crown perfectly made for him. the sun — illuminating and all-consuming, the source of all life and light in the world — is all-seeing. all-powerful. gabriel learned at god’s side what it means to rule. and a messenger is not so different from a prophet, from an orator. when he speaks, the world listens.

gabriel is well aware that michael sees the tridium power as child’s play, and their brotherhood as a means to influence the tridium, and thus the entirety of the holy land. power feeds and power corrupts and the lack of it will drive people like his brothers to insatiable madness. gabriel used to play peacemaker amongst his brothers, always defending the mortals or softening the aftermath of their fathers’ worst outbursts. now, as the sun, he stands above them. it is not a position he ever campaigned for but he’d won it all the same by democracy. the angel of the people, the sun of the holy land. he’s never pressed his influence over his brothers, always careful to tread the line of how his title benefits them and advances caelum’s purposes — celestial beings have always done things in three, after all. do i want to see him flex that power and unleash the full weight of his influence and majesty and just go absolutely supernova ham? of course. but it will take more that some sibling bickering and infighting to spark that wildfire. i don’t know yet what that spark would be, whether it’s demons meddling in tridium business or some political shift in the paradigm, but gabriel is not someone you want to cross.

do not mistake his kindness for weakness. the sun gives life as easily as it can set it ablaze.

LOYALTY WILL BE THE LAST BASTION TO CRUMBLE.

now this is entirely dependent on the dynamic of the three, in particular whoever is elected as the stars, but i see the tridium as a wildcard amidst all the vacillating allegiances and power plays of the holy land.

gabriel believes in the true purpose of the tridium, he believes each faction is entitled to equal authority over protecting the peace and future of the holy land. a true system of checks and balances, a democracy that amplifies the voices of the weak and powerless and upholds the cause of the vulnerable and the oppressed. whether that’s in the political interests of azazel and the future stars remains to be seen.

from the very beginning, gabriel would have been vitally curious about azazel. his former sister, a fallen angel. it is not his place to forgive, but he forgives nonetheless, as god would have. if he was not a thing made of hunger, the way she was a thing made of desire, maybe he would have fallen, too. he, more than anyone, had the right to fall. but he didn’t, and she did, and she’s done quite well for herself in the millennia since. finding herself a new throne, new family, even a new brother to dote upon her. in spite of his instincts and the holiness that riots in his veins against the thought of colluding with demons, even under the new testament, he understands. he doesn’t blame her. so, i will leave this entirely tbd for plotting but i could see either a strange, inexplicable friendship between them or a playful, vicious dynamic with an underlying current of empathy.

in many ways the moon and the stars will be the closest people gabriel has to true equals. he is no longer purely archangel, he is other. he must represent the interests of all of the holy land. trusting them would be folly, but unlike the ages of old, the name of the game is no longer a zero-sum winner takes all scenario. if the peace fails, the world will crumble into bedlam. is it a doomed act, attempting to balance the three factions upon the scales of peace? perhaps. perhaps they are playing a losing game, betting against the house, delaying the inevitable. it would be one thing to manipulate the balance of power between them, feeding the poison of their faction into their governance. it would be another if any one of their factions actually won.

why did they call themselves the sun, the moon, the stars? because they are figureheads, above all. symbols of caelum, infernum, the holy land. their factions all believe them to be puppets, leverage for their own political hunger and thirst for power. they are not blind. if either of their sides emerges from an inevitable all out war situation, what will happen to them? crownless, purposeless, no kingdom left to rule. certainly not a kingdom that will be theirs.

azazel wants to be worshipped. gabriel wants to burn until righteousness has scoured all evil from the holy land. the stars will inevitably be someone equally chaotic. they’re all that stands between the holy land and desolation. it’s like the perfect office workplace drama set-up. i would like to see it.

HUNGER IS THE MOST HUMAN THING OF ALL

throughout time, gabriel has had his favourites. he’s his father’s son, after all. zacharias, mary, noah. if these were the ages of old, he might have counted revna among those ranks. if gabriel were not an immortal angel, this would be called having a friend. but because gabriel is who he is, he considers them more like wards. like he’s taken it upon himself to be their self-appointed guardian angel.

it’s lonely being an instrument of god, and now the sun of the holy land, like what do you imagine he does after a long day of work? relax? of course not. so having a friend is nice. and having someone he can talk to, free of all the baggage and weight of being who they are, is like a glimpse of the peace he hasn’t known since before he had wings.

with revna, as with every mortal he had ever taken under his golden wings, he swallows any thought of just how mortal they are. how short-lived. in a blink, she will die. in another, her name will be forgotten, nothing more than a memory imprinted in a lonely angel’s mind. he tries not to think too much about mortality, or the whims and follies of mortals, the lengths they will go to in the name of survival that he has never dreamed. their freedom is predicated on living long enough to taste it. is it such a crime to want to live? for all their limitless powers and immortality, no angel and demon will ever know what that feels like — the sheer, visceral incandescence of burning so fleeting but so brilliant that to die is nothing. to live is the ultimate choice.

also… their powers are literally antithetical to each other. revna creates reality for all the senses, and gabriel deadens them. hello, let’s talk about that!

i’ll keep this brief or else i’ll spend days spiralling into interesting tangents and possibilities but other than the archangels and select few higher-ranking angels are aware of his powers. they think he doesn’t have any. to reveal this aspect of himself, a bearing of something like his true self or maybe even a soul, would be very spicy. in case anyone needs a reminder that all angels are terrifying and just because gabriel is pretty and warm like the sun, you shouldn’t believe he is anything less than terror carved into the sublime.

SO THIS IS HOW LIBERTY DIES. WITH THUNDEROUS APPLAUSE.

this is the darkest timeline plot where i throw a dice just to see where it lands. i don’t see gabriel deviating too much from his course, because he is the tree (planted by the river, if you remember the earlier quote), and he will destroy himself before he has to bend or break beneath the whims of external chaos.

of course, it’s fun to the think about the hypotheticals so i’m going to do that. if the tridium falls, where does that leave gabriel? and to whom will his allegiances lie? if michael or raphael are the cause, would he stand beside caelum all the same? gabriel loves humans because he wants to; he loves his siblings because they are his blood and bone. rip to the angels but you and the mortals are not the same.

he’s also seen how the holiness of the angels have been twisted and warped over time, through countless wars and inimitable suffering, yes. but they’ve changed nonetheless. some amongst them are closer to their fallen brethren than anyone would ever dare to admit but gabriel sees all. he was the angel they left to rot in the farthest corners of heaven, he was the one whose wings were torn, not by enemies of heaven but by his own brothers. and he did not fall. so either gabriel is made of stronger stuff than all the angels or he is the dumbest of them all. it’s very likely both. his faith in the existence of the angels is resolute, unwavering after all this time. his righteousness has burned for a thousand years and it will burn a thousand more until the sun swallows everything and all things cease to exist. if he has to turn against brother and sister, as they did with him, and unquestioningly at that, then he will.

he has sworn to smite any creature that will strike down an innocent before him, and whether angel or demon, it’s a quest that he will pursue to its ruinous end.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character?

yes, preferably by going supernova in a blaze of gory and carnage.

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation

it all comes back to hunger, baby. let’s do this as a thought exercise. imagine god in his build-a-bear workshop for angels creating gabriel like he’s pandora’s box:

take an angel, give him everything but leave one thing missing.

don’t tell him what it is.

teach him the hole inside him is called hunger and that hunger is love, hunger is sacrifice, hunger is knowing that the kingdom of heaven is empty and god is not enough.

take an angel, give him hunger, and then wonder why he becomes more human than human.

gabriel is driven by the insatiable wanting in him to do good. i will note that it is, in a fact, a want and not a need because this in itself is the thing that distinguishes him from his brothers. in a way, falling in love with humanity was an act of free will, and thus an act of defiance. god wanted him to protect his children, yes, but he had never intended for him to enjoy it. he had never foreseen that gabriel, filled with compassion and thirst for justice, would come to empathise with the humans. he never could have imagined that creating an angel out of pure hunger could make him more akin to human than divine. and that was god’s mistake. it’s the mistake of anyone that looks at him and sees weakness — why would a creature so powerful deign to care for humanity? why should he care if they live or die, or wage war or hurt each other? — they imagine that his relentless pursuit of a better world is because he was made for it. no, gabriel chose this world. he chose to strike down god and tear his throne down with his teeth. he chose remake the world better, brighter, braver.

and as god will tell you, beware any that dare stand in his way.

Character Traits

INCANDESCENT — there isn’t really a word that captures gabriel’s essence other than in terms of sunlight and burning. being near him is like turning skywards and feeling of the sun on your face. he is radiant, and charismatic and magnetic, and it ignites a sort of hunger in you to be close to him, to listen to him speak, to tell him everything about you and answer any question he asks, if only to be in his presence for a little longer. to be under the shade of his attention is like being pinpointed at the center of the universe. it’s gratifying, and incredibly intoxicating, being given the sole focus of one of the most powerful beings in the holy land. for a moment, you are the one, and everything else falls away into shadow. but of course, reality snaps back and everything and everyone is simply whirling around in orbit of gabriel, the sun.

COMPASSIONATE — before he was the sun, he was the archangel of the people, the guardian of humans and the champion of god’s most beloved children. out of all the angels, gabriel was the one who took pains to mean it when he said be not afraid. he wore their skin and learned to smile like humans — with the eyes, not just with the mouth — because it would comfort them instead of scare them. as a former messenger, gabriel’s also an excellent listener. he gives excellent advice, too, being naturally sympathetic to the plights and suffering of anyone he meets. he hates injustice and wrongdoing and if it’s in his power, he’ll do anything to help you rectify your circumstances. he’s a very giving person, and despite his various duties and responsibilities, he’s willing to go to the ends of the earth for someone if he believes it’s a cause worth serving.

SELF-RIGHTEOUS — the other side of the embodiment righteousness coin. because when you have a creature as all-powerful and driven as gabriel is, his morality is absolute. there is no room for grey or doubt in the eyes of the self-proclaimed moral compass of the holy land. good and evil lie on a spectrum but gabriel will play the trinity himself if that’s what it takes: judge, jury and executioner.

GRACIOUS. UNYIELDING. SPITEFUL.

In-Character Para Sample

Heaven is cold, if you could believe it. There are places in the kingdom of God where the sun holds no dominion. No, everything here is ruled by and under Him. His omniscience and omnipotence is all. His kingdom is coldest where light shies from the darkness, held at bay by the divine liminality of here and nothingness. You cannot define a space that is simply nothing, simply an absence. An abyss would be too poetic a word for it, this black hole spinning ad infinitum into the dark, soaking up every molecule of anything that could be constituted as being. It is a nothingness. It is a forever of nothingness.  

This is where they keep their prisoners.

If you imagine God to be cruel, consider for a moment what he does to his own children.

It could be a month, it could be a millennia, that has passed since they cast him into the shadows of Heaven and left him here. Not to rot, or decay, but to exist; the cruellest punishment of all. Suspended in a vacuum of seeing, feeling, hearing, touching, tasting, a mockery of his own abilities. In the realms of hell, they might call this purgatory. The architects of Heaven would never deign to give a place like this a name.

Gabriel counts seconds and minutes here and there to pass time. A mindless, thoughtless exercise that intrudes upon the endless, desolate stretch of infinity. It keeps him from thinking about his wings and how he might never fly again.

There is no air here to fly, to surge up and taste wind between his feathers. He’s thankful for it — perhaps the only godforsaken grace he’s been granted, a pitiful stroke of thoughtless mercy — if only because it means he cannot attempt it. He thinks if he were to try, wings screaming for clemency, searing fire along his back and down his chest, and fall, that would be the last of him. And if there is nothing left of Gabriel, what would that make him? A creature of divine agony and writhing torment. A monster better suited to hell. If he could claw his way out of the unseeable and untouchable bars of this prison, perhaps he would see that Lucifer had been right.

God was weak. He deserved to be struck down. He deserved to have everything taken from him, as he had taken everything from them.

In the embrace of the void, Gabriel oscillates through every emotion at his disposal. Humanity taught him a great deal about feeling. How hatred and loathing simmered like poison in the blood; how the blaze of fury clawing up your throat could incinerate reason and logic; how love was a form of magic, a trace of stolen divinity pressed between the lips of mortals, enveloped in bodies and hands and kisses. Gabriel did not understand love the way humans did. His love was a consuming thing, a devotion like worship. Like self-immolation. He loved God because that was what he was made for. He loved his brothers because he fought and bled for them, because they were carved from the same grace and streak of lightning crackling through the heavens.

He did not know if he loved God the way humans loved him. They had never seen him, never felt his magnanimous smile or the great vastness of his presence, and yet they believed. They believed so fully, so viscerally, they would die for him anyway. They lived their tiny, fleeting lives grasping for the sky, dreaming and hoping of one day seeing him.

Gabriel saw God all the time, but his love was a necessity to him like existence. It was not a choice.

Did that make it lesser? Was it less true because humans chose and he did not?

Sometimes, he sits here, floating in the forgotten recesses of Heaven’s prison, and wonders if maybe God had truly made a mistake. Why give the angels everything, but free will? Why give the humans nothing and only free will? It was inexplicable, the ultimate riddle wrapped in an enigma, obscured by God’s will and word, that the angels had been asking since Adam and Eve and the garden.

In the time he floats, wavering between ire and despondence, rage and bitterness, he thinks he finds the answer. — The reason why God loved humans above all. The reason why he’d chosen them, blessed them, forgiven them.

Humanity was given the choice. And they had chosen God, in spite of everything.

If he had granted the angels the same freedom, would they have chosen Him?

Extras

PINTEREST.

[dimples-of-discontent]

An Epic Love Story: Paradise Lost and Destiel

So we wrapped Thanksgiving festivities with my family by reading the scene of the Fall in Paradise Lost (what? is this not traditional or something?) and I came away with SO many Destiel thoughts because it is basically the best love story ever and I am gonna flip a table and then set it on fire if the show doesn’t end with some kind of parallel scene (but reversed so that it was a positive thing).

Ok, wait. I see that context needed. This came up because we were talking about what we were reading and someone was complaining about having to read PL and, instead of the room backing her up as she clearly expected, all other 5 people went “NO IT’S AMAZING!!” with such force that she just stared and blinked. this was totally expected from me and my mom (both PhDs in English literature - her specialty is Medieval and mine is Renaissance) but the other 3 people we had no reason to expect knew or liked a 17thc. epic poem that is, admittedly, a really tough read. so then we all chose our favorite passages to read aloud to demonstrate its awesomeness and both me and my mom picked basically the saddest scene in all literature.

In Milton’s story, Adam and Eve have separate scenes of choosing to eat the fruit of knowledge and fall. Eve goes first and she’s deceived by Satan in the guise of a serpent who offers her himself as empirical evidence of all the great stuff the fruit can do. He’s a huge freaking liar, of course, but since there’s no such thing as deception in Paradise (until he gets there) Eve can’t tell that so she uses her reason and satisfies her natural curiosity (SO much more curious than dull old Adam) and, yes, disobeys the order from God not to eat from the tree of knowledge. There’s some gorgeous-ass poetry about it, but the immediate narrative consequence is that she wonders how to act when she returns to Adam. She’s never acted with him before, but being fallen means a split between seeming and being (and also the development of self-consciousness that gives you an internal monologue...something we only saw before with Satan). 

Cut to Adam, worried that Eve isn’t back yet. He made her a garland of roses when she was away because he missed her. (I’m not making this shit up, seriously.) He sees her and can tell instantly that she’s just different and all his joints go slack and he drops the garland and as it hits the ground “all the faded roses shed.” See, there had never been death in the garden before. None of the plants died; all the animals were immortal. But now that Eve has fallen there can be. Adam then immediately begins an internal monologue (interestingly suggesting he’s fallen already because he’s already made his choice). 

"O fairest of creation, last and best

Of all God's works, creature in whom excelled

Whatever can to sight or thought be formed,

Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet!

How art thou lost! how on a sudden lost

Defaced, deflowered, and now to death devote!

Rather, how hast thou yielded to transgress

The strict forbiddance, how to violate

The sacred fruit forbidden! Some cursed fraud

Of enemy had beguiled thee, yet unknown,

And me with thee hath ruined; for with thee

Certain my resolution is to die."

(9.896-907)

It slays me and I cry even when I read it for students in class and I have no shame about it. Paradise Lost is a religious epic, sure, but have you considered that it’s also an epic fucking love story?!

Now, tbh, you aren’t supposed to want Adam to fall. You’re supposed to be like “oh naughty bad Adam to put your love above your God” but, like, no one who reads this story thinks that. (Well, almost no one. I always have at least one dudebro student being like “dumb Adam! I’d never make that choice for a girl!” and then I tell him he’s clearly never been in love and he shuts the hell up. I’m fully serious.) There’s a lot to say about why Milton wrote it that way, but bottom line is that we’re all already fallen so we want fallen things...including love. 

Love and...love. You know where I am going now. I basically pictured this scene as Cas choosing to fall for Dean; to give up his immortal status and chance to inhabit Paradise because, frankly, it’s not Paradise if you’re alone. (That’s why Adam asked God to make Eve in the first place.) It could/would be less sad because Dean was never an immortal (despite that face) and so the choice that was made of his free will (also The Biggest Deal in Milton) would be an affirmative statement about the benefits of being human, of being fallen. Including love.

Paradise Lost ends with the following lines:

“They, looking back, all the eastern side beheld

Of Paradise, so late their happy seat, 

Waved over by that flaming brand; the gate 

With dreadful faces thronged and fiery arms. 

Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon; 

The world was all before them, where to choose 

Their place of rest, and Province their guide. 

They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow 

Through Eden took their solitary way.” (12.640-649)

This, my friends, THIS is what I want for endgame Destiel. Yes, it’s got some sadness in it, “some natural tears,” and some significant loss BUT they do also get the rest of the world and, most important, they get to go together. I remember @thedogsled made a post about how it’s not yet time for Cas to drive the Impala because that’s the perfect last scene - Cas driving him and Dean off into the sunset...”hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow...”. I mean...what else could you ask for?

We say a lot of the time that SPN is “epic” but frequently when I say it I mean it in a literary sense because it shares many qualities with epics...and a LOT more than that with this one. I keep promising (threatening?) to write more about SPN and PL, but this is my most important point. Writers, please, take a lesson from Milton and end this love story this way. Please and thank you.

[kikiofthevast]

Forgotten

CW: Sadness, self-hatred, lack of self-worth, isolation, ambiguous Deceit, food mention, unhealthy imagining, crying, Virgil is a bit of a jerk without meaning to be

Pairings: Platonic LAMP

Summary: Logan isn't surprised that he's been forgotten. But he's indeed disappointed.

(A/N: I'm aware that Logan's birthday was forever ago, but I don't care. I had the idea and wrote it.)

---

Logan spent the morning alone. He didn't go downstairs for coffee, or breakfast, or even to show the others that he was alive.

He didn't work either, simply solved puzzles, and relished in the time to focus, the time that he had to himself.

When it came time for lunch, Logan cocked his head in thought as there was no Patton coming up the stairs to pester him out of his room. There was no Virgil knocking on his door, telling him to come down. There was no Roman grandly proclaiming their missing him and demanding he come out.

None of that.

Logan conjured a meal for himself, eating a four-course meal. It was nothing like Patton's cooking, bland and tasteless and colorless.

But deep down, he knew he deserved it.

They didn't get him gifts. Logan felt a pang in his heart at the thought. Of course. They hadn't even made their presences known to him, so why would they ever spend time on something that Logan had complained about and claimed he didn't care about.

But he didn't care if they didn't get him gifts, right? He didn't need anything more to clog his room and create a hoarding problem. He didn't care, did he?

As a matter of fact, he did.

And the cake. Oh, just the thought of a cake made his mouth water. Just the perfect amount of icing mixed with the sweet cake sounded simply divine to Logan.

But he wouldn't be getting one of those anytime soon.

Or at least...not in reality.

He could pretend they remembered. He could take advantage of his ideaspace, yes.

He stepped through the door to the void of his ideaspace, and took a deep breath, imagining the scene.

Roman, Patton, and Virgil were all there, smiling each in their own way.

This is unhealthy! his mind screamed, Your creating of this world is going to make you feel worse in the end!

They gave him gifts, wished him a happy birthday, and watched movies with him, not acting at all distant, or unhappy with him. He could be happy, he could celebrate his birthday.

They even made a cake for him, though it still tasted bland, still being his own creation. But he imagined that it tasted perfect, just as he remembered from all those years ago.

Eventually though, it was getting late, and Logan stepped out of the ideaspace, holding the gifts he'd created for himself that he'd been given.

"Patton" gave him a textbook about space from Thomas's college years.

"Roman" gifted him a guide to wild plants.

"Virgil" flat out handed him a gift card to a bookstore.

And Logan smiled. Because even though they'd never do such a thing in reality, he could still imagine it.

"Oh my, Logic." Deceit appeared across the room, leaning up against an open patch of wall. "What have you been reduced to?" He clicked his tongue.

"Go away, Deceit."

"You strike me as one to beg, Logic. Don't do it more."

"Deceit, I can't..."

"I know, Logic." Deceit walked over to Logan, placing a hand on his shoulder and his expression one of mocking sympathy. "It hurts to be left out, doesn't it. Don't be careful with your relationships with the others, Logic, or you might not end up like Anxiety." He chuckled. "Happy Birthday, Logic."

Logan felt even more alone as Deceit disappeared. He laid the things down on his desk and laid himself down in his bed.

---

Virgil was curious. He had been walking up to his own bed that night when he heard crying coming from Logan's room, soon enough muffled and dwindled as the logical side's cries turned to snores.

He peeked into Logan's room, noticing that there was residual imagination dust on Logan's carpet, trailing from Logan's ideascape.

Virgil shivered. He didn't like it in there. So many things to worry about. But whatever was in there was probably the reason Logan was crying.

So he had to investigate.

He snuck into the room, carefully cracking Logan's door as he walked on the balls of his feet over to the ideascape. He picked up some of the glittery dust, sprinkling it over him.

He felt residue longing and heartbreak and shivered. Whatever he was expecting from Logan was certainly not this.

He crept through the door, and the moment he closed it, he could see the scene that Logan had set up before unfold before him.

Logan's birthday party.

Oh shit.

Had they forgotten? Had Logan escaped to this...fantasy to maybe celebrate his own birthday. He could feel his heart twist as he saw Logan geniunely happy, with that little bit of delirium in his eyes. He felt the need to convince himself that the others loved him.

That they truly wanted him.

Virgil clenched his teeth, and slipped out of the ideascape, spying the stack of what he presumed to be "gifts" on Logan's desk and his heart sank.

Logan got himself gifts.

While people might normally call that crazy, or selfish, Virgil could feel that same residual loneliness again.

And hardly noticed that Logan was carefully watching him from the bed.

---

"Virgil?" Logan asked, grabbing the anxious side in question and looking at him intently.

"Yeah Lo?" Virgil said, trying to hide the jolt of panic he experienced when Logan grabbed him.

"Whatever you saw last night." Virgil's breath caught. "Breathe a word of it to no one. Please. I beg of you."

"Why? Why wouldn't you want anyone to know about that? You have a problem, and the best way to solve it is to let us help you."

Logan's expression seemed to close off as he spoke. "I don't need help," he spat. "I'm fine."

"Sure," Virgil replied, and Logan let go of him. "Oh Logan! Was your birthday yesterday?"

Logan seemed to tense up, and he growled. "How nice of you to remember."

Virgil couldn't respond, as Logan had already gone downstairs to breakfast.

[thatlesbiannudistcult-stories]

Finding Goddess (Chapter 20)

Wednesday came and Carol decided she wasn't going to go to work. She had a lot on her mind and wanted to take some time off to think about what she was doing and how to prepare herself for it. She was converting to a religion she had only just learned about barely a week ago, felt she was scraping the surface of a history she never knew about before, and was going to live completely buck-ass naked for the rest of her life. She would have a lot of explaining to do. To her neighbors. To her landlord. To the people at the office. To various members of her family. To...her daughters. And truth is, she didn't have the foggiest idea where to even begin.

Would they all accept her decision and her fulltime nudist lifestyle? Would she be evicted from her apartment? Would she still have her job? Should she consider looking for a new residence and place of employment just in case? Would Mindy and Erin cope with having to see their mother naked all the time? Question after question piled up in Carol's mind, so many that they were starting to suffocate her.

Alright, let's just take it one step at a time, she thought as she stopped her pacing and sat down on the couch. Before I think about what will happen when I convert, I have to know...how do I convert to Zenrism in the first place?

It looked like now was the time for Carol to go to the Zenrists' website. So after informing the office that she was calling in sick for the day, the mother went to her bedroom and cracked open her laptop. The website was, well, generally what she expected it to be. It had a lot of nude imagery. Tons and tons and tons of pictures of girls doing stuff naked. Walking around in public, swimming in pools, drinking in bars, and even some going to class as both students and teachers. And yes, there were even images of girls engaging in more...sexual acts. Often in public. And there even appeared to be a section on the site for videos. If Carol didn't know any better, she would have thought she stumbled on another porn site, much like the one that specialized in nude-in-public erotica that she had been getting herself hot to last week.

She fought the temptation to browse the videos. Carol was here for information, not titillation, and if she started watching movies of girls walking around naked and having sex in public, she'd likely spend the rest of the day abusing her poor flower.

She did catch one interesting link leading to a questionnaire titled "Is Zenrism Right for Me?" She already knew the answer to that, but decided it wouldn't hurt just to try it out. Many of the questions it asked were expected. "I am nudist." "I am an exhibitionist." "I hate clothing." "I have vestiphobia." "I want to be naked all the time." "I want to be naked everywhere." "I don't want to do laundry ever again." Carol couldn't help but grin in amusement at how many questions pertained to one's feelings for clothing and nudity, but it seemed whoever made this quiz had considered them all.

Not everything was about nudity though. There were a lot of questions about relationships and sexuality as well. "I'm looking for love." "I'm lonely." "I want to meet more lesbians or bisexual women like me." "I just got dumped or divorced." "I want to experiment with lesbianism." "I'm looking for someone to share my specific kink with."

Then there were questions about life and spirituality. "I feel like there's something missing in my life." "I'm sad and depressed." "I'm having a crisis of faith." "My family is growing distant." "I'm having suicidal thoughts." Carol couldn't help but bite her lip nervously at some of them. Did girls really convert to Zenrism to save themselves or their families? And was the faith able to help them?

But then there other questions. Odd questions that Carol honestly had no idea how or why they applied to Zenrism. "I want to be beautiful forever." "I want to add years to my life and life to my years." "I live in a climate that's too hot." "I live in a climate that's too cold." "I'm terminally ill." "I want to be faster and stronger." "I want to save money on heat and/or air conditioning." More than one question made Carol raise an eyebrow, but she nevertheless answered them honestly. Who wouldn't want to be beautiful forever, faster, stronger, have a long life, or cut down on expenses?

After submitting her answers, the questionnaire tallied things up and returned a very high score for Carol, saying that she most definitely should convert to Zenrism right now!

"Can't say I'm surprised, but I guess that was an amusing use of my time. Hm, what's this?"

A new link appeared on the results page, saying "Take the Initiation Test." Idly, Carol clicked it and came to a new page. It was a lot less friendly, casual, and...sexy than the rest of the site. There was a distinct lack of color and naked female flesh. It was just a long stretch of cold black letters on a sterile white background, like what you would see on a final exam in high school or college.

"It really is starting to feel like I'm taking a test," she mused. "Well, might as well see what it's all about."

She filled up the top portion of the page, which asked for some of her personal details like her name and email address. Then she read the first question. "What is the First Tenet of Zenrism?"

Tenets of Zenrism? Carol didn't remember seeing anything about the Tenets of Zenrism. She must not have read that far in the Scripture. Nevertheless, the nude woman decided to at least wing it. What was the worst that could actually happen?

'The Zenrist must forever honor the Goddess and Her creation in all its perfection. Woman is the creation of the Goddess, and therefore she is perfect. Woman is made in the image of the Goddess, and therefore she is perfect. To bear the image of the Goddess is to bear that which is most beautiful, and to hide it is to spit upon all that the Goddess stands for and all that She has made. The Zenrist must never wear vestments and must bare her body forevermore, and let all who gaze upon it marvel in its perfection.'

Carol shivered as she finished typing her answer. That was...that was not how it felt to bullshit an answer to a test she had not studied for. Carol did not know the words the test was looking for, and yet the moment she started typing, they just flowed out of her like water from a faucet. And her text...it was written in that almost poetic prose that the Scripture typically used. Almost as if she was reciting it.

"N-next question," she mumbled, deciding to see what else the test wanted her to say. "What is the Second Tenet of Zenrism?"

'The Zenrist must abide to the purpose of which she was created for. Zenriah made Woman to love Her, and so it is Woman's duty to love Zenriah. Woman is made in Zenriah's image, and so it is Woman's duty to love Woman as well. To pleasure and feast on Woman's sacred flesh, to milk her yoni, to caress her buds and taste her lips and set her soul aflame is to give and receive the highest gift of all. The Zenrist must sexually gratify her self and her fellow women wherever and whenever they may be, and wherever and whenever they may hunger, and she must do so decisively and without shame.'

"I'm not even stopping to think about what I write," Carol mumbled as she finished typing her latest answer. "It's like I already know the answers. Okay, next question...what is the Third Tenet of Zenrism?"

'The Zenrist will not restrict who she will love and how many she will love. Woman was made to love the Goddess and all She created, and Woman is all the Goddess created. To not love and to not accept another Woman's love and to keep another woman for herself is to starve her self and to starve her sisters of that which they need to survive. The Zenrist must be polyamorous, ready to marry many wives and share all she has and all she is. For all women are Zenriah's, and all women are Woman's.'

One last question remained. "Why do we follow the Tenets of Zenrism?"

'To not follow the Tenets is to forget them. To forget the Tenets is to forget the Goddess. And without the Goddess, we are but cinders, doomed to fade and die, our divinity and our holy souls lost in the darkness forevermore.

'For only by abiding to our Goddess' Tenets may we connect and commune with Her. And as long as we commune with Her, we know that She is with us, and that we are with Her, even as We exist in worlds apart. The love that exists between Goddess and Woman is a love that transcends both time and space. And as long we love the Goddess, so too will the Goddess love us in turn. Always and forever.'

"Always...and forever." Carol's fingers trembled as she finished typing and her heart kicked with every syllable she put from key to screen. A warm tear rolled down her cheek. Was she crying? She was!

Carol shook her head, as though she was trying to shake the rogue thoughts out of it as though they were flies buzzing around her. It didn't work. Does the Goddess...really love me? And do I...really love Her? I don't know Her! I've never met Her! I don't even know that She exists!

She clutched a hand over her left breast and squeezed it slightly, digging her fingers into the sensitive flesh, which pulsed and shook with her still rapidly beating heart. Then why...do I still want Her?

Well, it didn't matter. She completed the test. The only thing left to do now was submit it and see where things went from there. So she did just that. A message popped up on her screen, thanking her for her time, informing her that it would be looked over by a Zenrist priestess as soon as possible, and telling her to check her email later to see what her results would be. It also recommended that she take the time to enjoy all the other features the site had to offer, linking specifically to the video section as if the page itself was giving her a wink and a nudge.

You sure are pushy for a webpage. But fine, if you really want me to watch your videos...

She nearly balked when she clicked the link. In a matter of seconds, her entire screen was filled with thumbnails, each promising to show her a sexy, high-quality adventure of naked Zenrists doing what naked Zenrists did. There had to be dozens of these videos, possibly hundreds, and they were just giving them away for free? This was like a teenage boy's dream come true! Or a horny middle-aged woman's.

But where do I start...wait, what's this video? 'Sacred Gathering at the Beach?' That looks promising.

It was. On a sandy beach, against the backdrop of crashing waves, a large group of women gathered. They were all fit, they were all gorgeous, and most of all, they were all naked. And on all of them, on various parts of their bodies, was the distinct tattoo of the Goddess' Sigil, marking them all as women of the faith. They gathered in a circle and knelt down in the sand, embracing one another, holding each other tightly. Some ran their hands down the lengths of their lovers' bodies. Some began to kiss. Some began to lay down, and others started to climb atop.

Then came the groping, the suckling, and the rubbing. And before Carol knew it, they were all having sex with one another.

So hot...so amazingly sexy.

They melted into one another, a great heaving, throbbing mass of feminine flesh that pulsed as if it were s singular living thing. Breasts jiggled, legs splayed in the air, and buttocks clenched and quivered everywhere. And all around them, people gathered. Ordinary people, clothed people. They stood a respectable distance around the naked lesbians as they rolled and rubbed and thrust and jolted against one another. Some had cameras out. Some were recording the proceedings on their phones. If the Zenrists had any problems with their intrusions, they made no sign of it. Then again, they didn't seem aware of anything. Every last girl and woman in that pile was in her own world, where only they existed. They, their sisters, their lovers, their orgasms, and their Goddess.

Carol began to stroke her groin, caressing her dampening clit.

Somewhere to the side, off-camera, a voice that sounded oddly familiar said: "What's going on here? What is this?"

Someone pushed through the crowd. A slender-looking girl in her late teens, with long black hair and a striking black bikini. She nearly fell backward when her eyes fell upon the mass of condensed sapphica.

"What the hell!"

Another girl appeared next to her, a tall blonde of similar age, with an especially gifted chest that would fill out an E-sized bra if she was wearing one. Which she wasn't, or anything else for that matter. She was naked, just like the orgy of lesbians writhing within the circle before her.

"This is a miracle," she said, looking at her raven-haired companion. "This is what we are all about, Erin."

[phxse-shifter]

interference (dr. x/ kaito)

words: 1904

summary: trying to get dr. x to say ‘sorry’ is like trying to convince the devil to ascend back to heaven (a previous written fic with an addition [part 2] ).

part 1.

“Can you do nothing right? Must it always be some sort of mishap with you? It’s as if you’re incapable of doing a simple job without fail!”

“I got it done, didn’t I? It doesn’t matter the execution so long as it’s done!” Kaito retorted, not at all pleased with Dr. X’s criticisms.

This always happened. It always happened. Kaito would choose his own method of completing a job and it would be so wrong he endured these constant lectures from Dr. X that included one too many insults from him which led to Kaito just… Becoming so unhappy he shut himself away.

Yes, maybe the methods he chose was a little risqué… However, it didn’t, in his eyes, warrant this–the questioning of his intelligence (which he hated), unfair punishments like being unable to work in his own laboratory, and overall just making him feel like shit.

“Doesn’t matter the execution?!” Kaito’s previous statement was repeated by Dr. X as if he sounded ridiculous. “You looked and sounded like a madman. I’ve to doubt that you even got your credentials honestly. How long did it take you to get them again?”

Kaito opened his mouth as if preparing to speak, but then slowly closed it. That… That hurt him. That hurt him tremendously. He looked embarrassed, as if Dr. X said that in front of everyone and virtually humiliated him. Even if he didn’t do exactly that, Kaito still felt that way. He didn’t even want to try to defend himself anymore. His eyes felt like they were burning. Damn it, he wasn’t going to reach that point, not in front of him. There was time to do that when he was alone.

There was no stopping emotion.

He tried one too many times to do that.

“Y-You’re full of shit,” Kaito says, letting tears run down his face for mere seconds before he wipes them away furiously. “…But okay. That’s okay. Perfectly okay. It means nothing to me. See? Means n-nothing.”

Yet Kaito felt the tears coming again and decided he didn’t want to show that disgusting display again and abruptly turned on his heels and walked away not caring the repercussion.

There was some sort of bothered look on Dr. X’s face, and even if he wanted to say something, he just couldn’t make the motion to do so.

This is fine.

Kaito sank to his knees, hugged them and let out a loud scream. It was not worth all of this pain. If he couldn’t do what he loved the way he would have liked to, then the cruel years of getting to this point was not worth it. It wasn’t worth having every single year of his studies invalidated within minutes. If he didn’t stop feeling like this he would end up having to take his meds for the second time this day. He usually only took them once as directed. Sometimes it wasn’t enough, that ‘once a day’ but he settled with it knowing full well that the more he did things that made him happy, the more he would feel better.

But it’s so hard. It’s so hard. It’s so hard to deal with this.

He’s crying again. He’s starting to shake and get hysterical. He wants it to stop. He wants it to stop before it’s too late but memories upon memories keep flooding in his head, even ones he swore he’d never be bothered by again.

It was… So difficult for Kaito to reach this point. Getting his PhD was Hell. People thinking he couldn’t do anything right and insulting his intelligence and undermining it when countless times he’s proven them wrong. He took years off from his classes because the amount of stress was so strong he couldn’t function and barely wanted to get up from bed. When he couldn’t sleep he was awake, and drank so much coffee to stay awake at one point the taste now makes him want to vomit.

And this is what happened today. Someone I respected undermined my intelligence, and doesn’t even think I’m worthy of my PhD. I need to sleep. I need to go to my bedroom and just sleep for a couple of hours. I need to calm down. I can’t break myself again. Not because of him.

All Kaito does is get up, try to calm himself down, and goes to wash his face before leaving his lab. He’s closed the door and prepares to enter the code to shut and alarm it when the sight of Dr. X catches his eyes. He was a couple of spaces away, like he was about to come to Kaito’s lab right before Kaito decided to leave.

“Kaito-”

“Doctor,” Kaito narrows his eyes, speaking coldly. “To what do I owe the visitation?”

“Earlier,” he began. “Yo-”

“If it isn’t anything related to my work, then please kindly let me take my leave. I have nothing to speak with you about that does not involve my findings,” Kaito cuts him off.

“Just listen t-”

“Doctor,” Kaito gives a forced sweet smile. “I am currently trying to prevent myself from doing impulse things that I would regret. I am trying to prevent myself from remembering a dark episode in my life. I am trying to prevent myself from feeling things that would make me die inside. I am trying to prevent myself from breaking down for the second time today. I’ll say this to you in the kindest way possible: Leave me the hell alone.”

Kaito, having alarmed the door by now, turns in the opposite direction from Dr. X, leaving him there, unaware of what looked like a pained expression coming from the other.

part 2.

There was no end to the coldness Kaito showed Dr. X. Days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months. To him, they were just associates. Kaito did his work as he were supposed to, his skill showing with every creation, but that was it. When he was done, he set it down in front of Dr. X, and turned on his heel, walking away. No explanation, no comment. If he needed something to be clear, he had to go through his daughter, Refia, who didn’t take a liking to Dr. X because of his cruel words to her father.

He searched for opportunities to  get Kaito alone, to speak with him just once, but the man was terribly smart and always was either conversing with someone, or locked within his lab, working for hours on end and getting his tasks done so he could futher avoid Dr. X by locking himself in his room. At last, this opportunity came to him during the annual event of “congratulating” the winner of the Genius League. Everyone knew how that went, especially Kaito, since he was one of the major conspirators of the “Genius League Winners’ Disappearance”, or so the media called it when it happened. He would have no choice but to associate with Dr. X, who he had to report to at all times when this event unfolded.

Dr. X never showed himself, or made any sort of speech during this event. The partygoers were paid to act happy, and the members of the Midas Group were always there to perform the operation. He simply watched from on high from a black tinted screen. He saw Kaito then, who looked at him once, then began to walk. It was that gaze, that said the deed was done. Of course, he followed.

“Where is the body?” He asked, voice low.

“Dr. Sharon’s lab. Sedated and chained down. As usual. I’m leaving no-“

“I want you to stay,” Dr. X cuts him off abruptly.

Kaito chuckled. Now that was different. He usually reacted coldly since this all began, or just simply walked away until he lost Dr. X or he stopped following and let him go.

“You have a body to dissect, Doctor. Don’t let it run too cold.”

x

His anger was taken out on the poor soul that dared to win his distorted League. He didn’t know if he were angry at himself, or Kaito—because how dare he act so defiant to his leader, the very person that could show him why exactly his little rebellion will end? Yet, he did nothing to end it. No punishment, no harsh reaction. He just let Kaito be. Why was his resolve so shaken when it came to Kaito?

No matter Kaito’s words, he visited Kaito once more, allowed himself in, and found himself watching Kaito as he dealt with the viscera Dr. X didn’t tear into pieces out of anger belonging to the precious “winner.” When he were done, he cleaned himself off—the bloody gloves, top, face mask, and stared at Dr. X nonchalantly.

“What?” He asked.

“I want this to end,” Dr. X growled. “I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I will not allow you to-“

“You underestimated me for the last time, Casimir,” Kaito snapped. “You think you can come in here, with your ridiculous, uncalled for, disgusting, idiotic, CRUEL, insane, and hurtful comments you give to me on a daily basis and expect me not to be upset? The FUMES you must smell from the bodies you burn must have fucked up your brain or something. Your desire for supernaturals has failed you.”

Dr. X—Casimir-- couldn’t even count the number of insults that were just dished out, with divine ease ,by Kaito, nor did he anticipate him having the gall to use his real name, which was absolutely forbidden to be used unless in private. They were in private, but it shocked him to his core. It drives him to grip Kaito’s shirt, pulling him closer. He didn’t know what he wanted to do. The cold gaze he gives Kaito is broken by his mocking laugh.

“I’m not scared of you. Especially since you’re a little lacking in the balls department, Doctor. You don’t even want to do anything to me. Is it that you’re developing a soft spot for me?”

Ah, back to formalities, and a dreadful theory. His hand softened until he released his grip and took a step back. His expression softened.

“And if I have developed this ‘soft spot’ for you? What is your reaction to that? What if I’m doing all of this because I just wanted to fucking  talk about what happened?”

Now Kaito is the one to be taken aback. For starters, Casimir was never vulgar, and second, as harsh as those words were supposed to sound, his expression did not match it, neither did the tone of his voice. He sees Casimir avert his eyes and grit his teeth.

“I regret what I said that day. Are you happy? Look what you are making me feel. I regret it! I wish I never said it! Just so we do not have to reach this part again! So I do not have to see that cold harsh gaze again! So I do not have to hear those words! I regret it! I regret!”

“Regret it all you want, but are you sorry?” Kaito asked softly.

Casimir gripped Kaito’s shoulders, practically in hysterics.

“What do you think?! I… am.”

Kaito wrapped his arms around Casimir then, holding him.

“Alright. It’s alright. Don’t worry,” Kaito reassures. “Let’s forget about it. Let’s move on.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes,” Kaito responds warmly. “I’m certain.”