#RENOUNCEMENT VERSE IS BACK

[thepixelelf]

For your idol + au thing! (If you're still accepting/looking) mirror verse where you wakeup in a parallel universe and somehow your archenemy seungcheol is in love with you in this world and you're not sure if this is all just an elaborate prank

wc: 1.8k

warnings: attempted assassinations, knives/swords, choking (not the kink like actually an attack bro)

notes: sorry-- I didn't incorporate the elaborate prank part at all but I hope you enjoy!!

[in another life] As your hand guides you through the unlit servant's hallway of the palace, brushing over the paper walls, you breathe as shallowly as your lungs allow. You cannot afford error— not tonight.

Whoever brings Prince Jeonghan's head to your master first will be named his true heir. The next generation's Moonlight Assassin. Whoever completes this final task for him will be left with his overwhelming wealth...along with his immeasurable debt of sin.

Despite the caveat, you simply must be faster than Choi Seungcheol. You understand that he's been training under the master since he was young, and he surely deserves the title of Moonlight Assassin over you, but while you know he wants it, you need it.

Your sister is dying.

Racked by terrible bouts of fever and haunted nightly by ominous visions, she is now too exhausted to even leave her bed. She's already lost her sight. The physician said her hearing would be next, and not long after that, her life.

You haven't told Seungcheol any of this, lest he use your one weakness against you, but there was a moment a year ago when you told him you didn't mean to steal his glory.

"I need the money," you'd said. "It isn't about the title for me."

You thought perhaps he'd take some pity on you then, but it only made him despise you more. He hated that you'd shown up from almost nowhere and somehow charmed the master into taking you in as an apprentice — hated you even more when you seemed to know enough about poisons to impress the master when he'd worked for years to do the same.

For a brief moment, you considered telling Seungcheol your true plan. You only wanted enough money to help your sister; likely a modicum of the master's wealth could cover it. All you needed was that much, and then you'd renounce yourself and cede the Moonlight Assassin title to Seungcheol voluntarily.

But you doubted the master would be happy to hear of your intentions, and you didn't trust Seungcheol enough to stay mum. He'd probably tattle just to get you disqualified before the task even began.

In the end, you kept quiet and let Choi Seungcheol despise you. It was easy when you let yourself despise him back.

His ego was appalling, really, and you truly hated that smug smirk of his whenever he bested you in melee training.

Upon reaching the bend you know is nearest to the honeymoon quarters, you hold in a chuckle. Seungcheol won't be able to smirk now— you'll have the Prince's head before the sun rises. And you'll do it without waking up his new bride, too.

A hand wraps around your throat. Another over your mouth.

Despite your surprise, you make not a sound, knowing just one shift too loud will ruin everything. Only a moment and a half of struggling goes by before the next sound you keep inside yourself is a groan. You know these hands. They've held you down and bruised you enough times for you to remember the shape of them imprinted into your flesh.

"Fool," he whispers in your ear, the sound harsh and demeaning. "You're so slow. I've been waiting for you for hours."

Using both hands, you tear his palm from your mouth, though you have a feeling he is the one who lets you do so. You keep your voice to a low hiss. "You've been here for— why wait for me? You could've killed him by now."

Seungcheol huffs, the quiet version of a haughty scoff. "I could kill a measly prince any day. Tonight is about beating you." He tightens the hand he has around your neck. "I'll enjoy putting you in your place."

"You braggadocios, bull-headed prick—" The insults don't flow from your lips, they come out choking. Your head starts to feel light. "You parading, pathetic narcissist—

Another huff. "If there is one thing I'll miss, it will be your colourful mouth."

Your eyes flutter, eyelids growing heavy. There is not enough air for you to say anything more.

"Goodnight," Seungcheol whispers, his smiling curving against the shell of your ear. "You'll see me well won when you wake."

The last thing you feel is him lowering you softly to the floor, his hand under your head— if only to make less noise than dropping your slack body like a sack of rice.

=

Your first instinct when your consciousness returns is to keep your eyes shut. There is an arm over your waist, and you are lying on your side atop something soft.

Heaven's threads— have you already been jailed? Is some prisoner using you for warmth?

But no, the softness under you feels too fine on your skin. The arm around you feels...tender. Loving. An embrace.

For a moment, you fall into an illusion of time gone backward. You picture yourself and your sister in the small home of your childhood, in the tiny bed you shared before her sickness took over.

This arm is not hers, though. It is much too thick, and — you slowly shift your hand to find the stranger's fingers that graze over your stomach — strong. A hand belonging to someone who developed this strength for years, who...

You freeze.

A hand that was just around your throat. You would recognize it anywhere.

Whipping around, you shove Seungcheol's shoulder so he lays flat, and you straddle his legs to keep them from moving. The knife you keep strapped to your leg is still there, despite everything else feeling so foreign. You hold his dominant arm down with one hand and bring your knife to his neck with the other.

You're shaking.

Slowly, groggily, Seungcheol opens his eyes. You expect him to break free and strike you back — at least try — but his eyes just widen.

"Love," he whispers. "What are you doing?"

"What are you doing?" you interrogate, head swimming. "Where are we? Why am I— why are we—"

His thick brows furrow. "Are you alright?" He doesn't seem to fear the knife at his throat. Doesn't seem to fear you, or the way you've started to struggle against your own breath. "Love, calm down." His hand reaches to push the knife away from his neck, and with his soothing tone of voice, you let him. He sits up and brushes the back of his fingers over your cheek. Gently, he squeezes your hand. "It's alright. You're safe here. I'm with you."

As soon as your breathing evens, you come back to yourself. You smack his hand away from your face. "What the hell has gotten into you? This looks like..." You turn left and right, taking in the room around you lit only by a sparse few candles. "...the palace. What happened? Where is the prince?"

Seungcheol pouts. You didn't know his lips could do that. He presses the back of his hand to your forehead, but you slap it away again. "Are you feeling feverish? Dizzy?"

"I'm confused. Why are you acting so strange?"

"Love--"

"That!" you exclaim. "That word-- 'love'. You keep saying it. I don't understand."

He squeezes your hand again, and for some reason, you don't pull away. "I thought you liked that one... You never liked honey, or blossom, or dewdrop--"

You scowl and shove his shoulder, which he only smiles and laughs at. The smile throws you off -- it isn't the smug, irritating one you are accustomed to -- it's wide and bright and warm. He cups your cheek, his smile softening but not going away.

"Love, I think you're tired. Let's go back to sleep."

"Let's?"

Seungcheol chuckles. "You must be exhausted after today. 'Where is the prince'? I'm right here, love."

For a few moments, you simply stare at him. This man, Choi Seungcheol, who once had to be ordered by the master to stop sparring, otherwise he'd break both of your legs -- this man is cradling your face like treasure, and claiming...

"Hah!" you can't help the disbelief that escapes your lips. "You, Seungcheol? A prince? What else are you going to tell me-- that I'm your starry-eyed marrier?"

He tilts his head. "I wouldn't say starry-eyed," he teases, but then his brow furrows again, and he studies your eyes. "You're truly starting to worry me. Should I call for the physician?" His eyes seem to finally adjust to the darkness of the room, and he curiously takes in the clothes you're wearing, the same ones he caught you in outside Prince Jeonghan's honeymoon quarters. "When did you change?" he asks, then lets his gaze dart over to the knife you'd abandoned on the other side of the bed. "And where did you find that?"

"You... you're actually the prince?"

Seungcheol wraps an arm around you, and the protectiveness in his eyes makes you take a sharp inhale. "Something is wrong. I'll call for the--"

"Shh!"

At the slightest sound of shuffling past the thin paper walls, you tackle Seungcheol down to the bed and cover his mouth with your palm. This is starting to feel familiar in a strange, mirror-like way.

You meet Seungcheol's eyes and whisper as quietly as possible. "You're the prince."

Despite his obvious confusion, he nods.

"And we were married yesterday?"

He nods again.

"Heaven's threads," you curse, then turn your head towards the noise outside. When you hold your breath, you're sure you hear the sounds of a quiet, restrained struggle, followed by a body being lowered to the floor.

Seungcheol pries your hand from his mouth. "Love, what's--?"

The door slides open, and a masked figure freezes in the opening, eyes wide as he registers that you're both awake. Still, his surprise doesn't last long. He pulls out his weapon, a short sword you recognize as Seungcheol's -- your Seungcheol, not the prince still holding you in his arms -- and moves so quickly you hardly have time to react.

Though Seungcheol attempts to pull you tighter into him and turn so he will take the brunt of the attack, you are just fast enough to slip from his hold. You grab your knife and send a kick straight into the intruder's chest. He falls to floor. Grabbing his wrist, you slam it against the wood and kick the sword he lets go of as far across the room as possible.

In the frenzy, you rip down the piece of cloth covering the lower half of his face, out of breath as you realize, "Prince Jeonghan?"

The man growls, but the sharp edge of your knife kissing his neck is enough to keep him still. "Who--"

You don't allow him to finish his sentence. Raising your hand, you slam the hilt of your knife into his temple, and he falls limp, eyes rolling back.

The room falls back into silence, left only with your heavy breathing and -- you look over at Seungcheol -- his, too. Through the open door, you spot the feet of whomever has taken your spot in this strange, backwards world.

"Love," Seungcheol says in a breathless exhale. "That..."

You place your hands on the floor and push yourself to your feet. Seungcheol meets you between the bed and the unconscious assassin on the floor. He wraps his arms around you.

"That was strangely the most beautiful thing I've ever--"

His words choke to a stop when he feels you press the tip of the knife into the back of his neck.

"Love," you say, voice shaking. "Take me to my sister."

[androgynealienfemme]

"The main justification for invalidating butch-femme is that its an imitation of heterosexual roles and, therefore, not a genuine lesbian model. One is tempted to react by saying "So what?" but the charge encompasses more than betrayal of an assumed fixed and "true" lesbian culture. Implicit in the accusation is the denial of cultural agency to lesbians, of the ability to shape and reshape symbols into new meanings of identification. Plagiarism, as the adage goes, is basic to all culture.

In the real of cultural identity, that some of the markers of a minority culture's boundaries originate in an oppressing culture is neither unusual nor particularly significant. For instance, in the United States certain kind of bead- and ribbon work are immediately recogniziable as specific to Native American cultures, wherein they serve artistic and ceremonial functions. Yet beads, trinkets, ribbons, and even certain "indian" blanket patterns were brought by Europeans, who traded them as cheap goods for land. No one argues that Indians out to give up beadwork or blanket weaving, thus ridding themselves of the oppressors symbols, because those things took on a radically different cultural meaning in the hands of Native Americans. Or consider Yiddish, one of the jewish languages. Although Yiddish is written in Hebrew characters and has its own idioms and nuances, its vocabulary is predominantly German. Those who speak German can understand Yiddish. Genocidal Germanic anti-Semitism dates back to at least the eleventh century. Yet East European Jews spoke "the oppressors language," developing in it a distinctive literary and theatrical tradition. Why is it so inconceivable that lesbians could take elements of heterosexual sex roles and remake them?

*

It is June 1987, and I am sitting in a workshop on "Lesbians and Gender Roles" at the annual National Women's Studies Conference. It is one of surprisingly few workshops on lesbian issues, particularly since, at a plenary session two mornings later, two thirds of the conference attendees will stand up as lesbians. Meanwhile, in this workshop the first speaker is spending half an hour on what she calls "Feminism 101," a description of heterosexual sex roles. Her point in doing this, she says, is to remind us of the origin of roles, "which are called butch and femme when lesbians engage in them." She tells us the purpose of her talk will be to prove, from her own experience, that "these roles are not fulfilling" for lesbians. She tells us that the second speaker will use lesbian novels from the 1950s to demonstrate the same thesis. And, indeed, the second speaker has a small stack of 1950s "pulp paperbacks" with her, many of them the titles that, when I discovered them in the mind-1970s, resonated for me in a way that the feminist books published by Daughters and Diana Press did not.

I consider for several minutes. I'm well versed in lesbian literature, particularly in the fifties novels, and don't doubt my ability to adequately argue an opposing view with the second presenter. I am curious to see if she will use the publisher-imposed "unhappy ending" to prove that roles make for misery. I also decide I'm willing to offer my own experience to challenge the first presenters conclusions- though I'd much rather sit with her over coffee and talk. She is in her midforties and, although she claims to have renounced it, still looks butch. Even if she speaks of roles negatively, she has been there and I want to hear her story. Then I look around me. Everyone is under thirty. There are a few vaguely butch-looking women present who'd very likely consider themselves to be as androgynous as everyone else, and not a single, even remotely femme-looking women besides myself. I recall Alice Walker's advice to "never be the only one in the room." Quietly, I get up and walk out. I go to no other lesbian presentations at the conference."

“Recollecting History, Renaming Lives: Femme Stigma and the feminist seventies and eighties" by Lyndall MacCowan, The Persistent Desire, (edited by Joan Nestle) (1992)

[atticsandwich]

Exploring how Obey Me!'s portrayal of the Celestial Realm mirrors that of the how the Christian heaven is used as propaganda, and how Simeon, Luke, and Raphael tie-in with real-life people's experiences of the Christian faith.

-

to preface: I was born Christian and was raised as such, but renounced my religion when I was around 18. Experiences vary in different parts of the world of course, however, I will also be tying in things I see from online conversations about Christianity. Admittedly a lot of my insight comes from my experience (and by extension, my family and friends) of Christianity in my area of the world (southeast asia).

Additionally, this post is purely for fun and speculation, and my fascination with subversive portrayals of religion, particularly of Christianity. Please note that I will use the word "religion" as a whole, but this post will specifically go into Christianity, and by proxy, its branches.

As this post is a spur-of-the-moment thing, it is not proofread, so I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors!

‼️This post will contain spoilers‼️

To start, let's lay out the things we know about the Celestial Realm from the story.

The Celestial Realm is home of the angels, and in contrast to the Devildom, it is a realm of permanent daylight.

Michael acts as its authority, however, we know that its most supreme being is the Father, who we can presume created the realm and its angels. Unlike the sleeping Demon Lord, we are at least aware that Father is still active, although presumably leaves the governing to Michael.

Similar to real-life angelology, the Celestial Realm also divides its angels by ranks. The current known ranks are Seraphim, Throne, Cherubim, Principality, Dominion, and Archangel.

Key observations:

Angels can either fall to become demons (demon brothers) or be stripped of their blessing and become human (Simeon).

Luke's current angel rank is unknown. We can assume this is from inexperience, as despite being implied to be at least a thousand years old, he acts and behaves like a typical ten year old.

Although "falling" can be a punishment by acting out of defiance against its virtues, we know that angels can still be morally grey, and in some cases, dubious, and still not be stripped of their blessing.

Now to the bulk of this analysis.

I. Christianity as a tool for propaganda and colonization

This is pretty basic history - western colonizers have used religion as a basis of conquering "new worlds" in the name of spreading their faith and belief systems. The effects of this still persist until today - racism, homophobia, etc. in general can be traced back to the colonial era. In more present-day scenarios, religion is also used as a leverage for morality and what people deem as "right or wrong". For some parts, it aligns with basic humanity, however, we know very well that it can also be used to spread bigotry and false moral high grounds as a justification for mistreatment of people.

In many countries, politics and religion go hand in hand. Many politicians will use their beliefs as a basis for bills and laws, and it trickles down to the justice system, where judges can display religous bias (whether consciously or not) in favor of their personal beliefs. As such, many politicians will use religion to forward their name and agenda, in the pretense of being a devout practicioner, in order to garner relatability and bias from people of the same faith. In Christianity, for example, many politicians will use the term "Lord's servant" as a subtext for people to latch onto.

In a societal context, we are very familiar with the phrase "Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve" as a rebuttal for homosexual relationships, and in general, relationships that bigoted Christians believe do not follow in their God's text. Cherry-picking bible verses and anecdotes to further their justification for acting the way they do is also a very common occurence, even though that very same Bible they read also emphasize the value of spreading love, with hate having no place in heaven.

-

II. How it ties to the Celestial Realm

Behind its perma-daylight nature, we learn that the Celestial Realm is a place of strict rule and order, and an angel can easily get demoted, as was the previous case for Simeon, who we know was originally a Seraphim, and in some cases, even falling to demonhood, like the brothers. This walking-on-eggshells type of ordinance is very tricky, as the reasoning for being casted out of the realm can get very blurry. In Lilith's case, it was her act of using Celestial Realm medicine in order to heal a human she loved; this then led to Lucifer questioning why her act was tantamount to falling, as he always believed love to be a precious thing. This doubt and questioning, however, then led to his own falling, which led to the rest of the brothers siding with him and Lilith, resulting in the Great Celestial War.

We can then paint a picture of the Celestial Realm as a false/disillusioned utopia - externally, it is very lavish, warm, and golden, but taking a closer look reveals its suffocating, anti-freedom, gray nature, where one wrong move could spell your last day. Simeon is very much aware of this, and has, on multiple occassions, openly expressed disdain on how the realm operates.

It is then a matter of Self vs. Governance; at what point does the Celestial Realm draw the line between individual autonomy and total subjugation of its angels? If Lucifer, once one of its most prominent, respected, and powerful angels, gets casted due to defiance for asking a very valid question regarding a value that is taught and propagated within the realm, as he believes Lilith's punishment directly goes against that value, then what of the lesser angels who wish to ask the same? If standing up for those you hold dear is tantamount to unholiness, then why teach the value of love and family in the first place?

I hope you can see where I'm going here - the teaching of these values in the Celestial Realm being the same ones that can get you ostracized VS. using these values to advance a real-world political agenda and cherry-picked beliefs is intrinsically linked.

People that use religion as a means to justify cruelty or feign moral superiority despite the main point of their religion being to "love everyone equally, as you do yourself" are setting a status quo that they built for themselves and their hivemind - if you don't follow these specific rules and beliefs, you are not a true devout. If you question or point out inaccuracies on the beliefs that we want you to follow, you are a deviant.

Sound familiar yet?

-

III. The three main angels

Excluding Michael and the demon brothers pre-fall, there are three other angels the story focuses on: Luke, Simeon, and Raphael. Despite all three being angels, they cannot be any more similar from each other. One is a brash, tempermental, and an overexcited youth with a sweet tooth; one freely lies and openly involves themselves in un-angelic deeds; and the other is a quiet, stoic, and blunt individual with a questionable taste in cuisine. These three angels encapsulate, almost perfectly, a religous pipeline.

IIIA. Luke

Luke represents the first entry to a religion (I'd use the word indoctrination, but I don't want to unknowingly portray it negatively as some people are born into a religion by default). He is young, inexperienced, idolizes a high-ranking angel who he follows with no question, and above all, naive. We know that he does not know the full reason of why the brothers fell, nor does he know of Lilith. Similarly, children and young people in religion often follow their parents/guardians blindly without question, their understanding of faith being minimal and surface level, something easily digestible for a young, developing mind.

IIIB. Raphael

Raphael is compliance. He knows and understand the ins-and-outs, the ifs-and-whys of the realm, yet continues to follow its order. Although he did not side with Lucifer, we eventually learn that he wishes he did (most recently in NB), yet unlike Simeon, does not actively wallow in his choice and continues to fulfill his duty as a Seraph. Whether we see a development with this in Nightbringer, time will tell. In a similar vein, many people will silently comply with their own faith, regardless of doubt. In my experience, this compliance, either out of familial pressure or feeling indebted to a religion, starts to happen during major developmental stages, either as a late teen or early adulthood, when you can freely do your own research and start to understand the deeper intricacies of a particular religion.

IIIC. Simeon

Simeon is representative of actively going against the status quo. He is an angel that has, on numerous occassions, displayed manipulative and wrathful tendencies, and has admitted to freely partake in lies and deceit. He has also stated that his biggest regret in life was not siding with Lucifer during the war, which is why he actively tries to help him and the brothers as much as he can, not caring if his action could be deemed as heresy. Although we see bits and pieces of it in the original game, Nightbringer Simeon fully procalims this, as asking him to ally with the brothers will result to him in saying that he always will be on their side. In real life, people have their own breaking point that leads them to this path, no matter how personal or educated the reasoning may be. Denouncing one's faith, especially one that was given to you by birth, can be considered an act of both defiance, and in the case of Christianity, becoming unholy, or impure.

-

IV. The Celestial Realm as a commentary of how religion, particularly Christianity, is used in real life as a tool to further a cherry-picked, propaganda-ridden agenda, despite it being a contradiction to its teachings.

It is no secret that a lot of societal problems nowadays regarding bigotry, refusal of understanding, and unacceptance of others outside your status quo can be traced back to religous conservatives. This is a walking contradiction, of course, as Christian teachings always puts love above all, yet bringing this up as a rebuttal will elicit anger, not reflection. The Celestial Realm is the same, as its blurry definition of defiance goes against its importance of love and familial relationships, so much so that in its eyes, an angel trying to elicit defiance by acting un-angel-like is ultimately a lot more angelic than one who dares question why its teachings are being used as a leverage of defiance.

Of course, a lot of this can be chalked up to mere coincidence, and some might even say that I'm stretching a lot here, but it's still very interesting that a portrayal of heaven is morally ambigous at best. In some ways, the Devildom, or what's supposed to be hell, feels like the better place to live in out of the two.

Anyways, if you made it this far, thank you for reading my random spat-out ramble that i started writing out of nowhere and I fixated on finishing 💀 Share your thoughts with me too, if you'd like. I'd love to hear what you guys think.

[backgroundelf]

hello, can you tel me about “Source; it came to me in a dream”?

A few months ago I had a dream where instead of taking the ring to Mordor, Frodo and the Ring stayed in Rivendell, which went about as well as could be expected. Sauron's forces laid siege to the valley. During a heavy bout of fighting, the defenses of Rivendell are broken. Frodo grabs the ring, intending to run away and it slips on. Instead of turning invisible, he is sucked into the ring and comes face to face with Sauron himself (I tried to put this under a readmore but tumblr was being stupid)

“Well, aren’t you a curious little thing?” a voice, as smooth and deadly as poison, purred.  Frodo scrambled to his feet and turned towards the speaker. He was lounging in Elrond’s chair, red hair spilling out from under a rusted iron crown. He wore robes that were once white, but the hems and sleeves had been stained black with ash. One eye burned like fire, but the other was nothing more than an empty socket with cracks spreading out from the wound. Despite all this, he was still beautiful, fair in a dreadful way.  He stood and stretched, lazily making his way to the pedestal in the center of the ruined courtyard. “I suppose I should thank you,” he said. “Because of you, I will be able to reclaim what is rightfully mine.” He reached out towards the pedestal where the Ring lay. “No!” Frodo yelled.  Sauron smiled. “It’s a bit late for that.” He lunged for the Ring. Sparks flashed against his fingertips and he yanked back his hand. He looked down at the burned flesh, then to the Ring, and finally at Frodo. “Interesting.” “You cannot have it,” Frodo said, stepping closer to the Ring.  “Are you going to claim it then?” Sauron asked as if he had no interest in the answer. Frodo looked at the Ring, then at Sauron. “Go. Leave us, and never come back.” He spoke with a strength he did not feel, and a strength Sauron clearly did not believe. “Very well,” Sauron said. “I will leave. When I get my Ring back. You have no claim to it.” “I inherited it from my uncle. It came to me by right,” Frodo said. He may be terrified, but he was also a hobbit, and hobbits were annoyingly thorough when it came to legal matters such as inheritance. Sauron laughed. “Oh, this is rich. A masterwork into which the crafter has poured his very fëa is stolen, and then is passed on to a thief’s heir. Then, when the proper owner of the piece comes to reclaim their stolen property, they are told they have no right to it, because thievery and inheritance trump everything else. Eru does have a sense of irony after all.”  “You cannot have the Ring,” Frodo repeated. “Oh, but I will have it. It’s just a matter of time. You will die, likely very soon, and that barrier will fall. I’m in no rush, I can wait.” He settled back into Elrond's chair. “But you? Each moment we are in here is bought with your allies’ lives. Spend them frivolously, I don’t care, but I’m sure you do. Creatures of the light are always so…sentimental. Of course, you could save them. Renounce your claim, lower the barrier, and once the rIng is mine, I’ll leave. You have my word.” Frodo shook his head. “You will leave today and return with a greater force tomorrow. I cannot let you have the Ring.” “Then it seems we are at an impasse,” Sauron said. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers. “Shall we play a game? The winner gets the Ring, and the loser leaves.” “A game?” Frodo said. He thought of Bilbo, his heart aching to think he would likely never see his beloved uncle again. “How about a game of riddles?” “Riddles?” Sauron asked with a grin. He looked around at the living shadows. “In the dark? I was thinking of something a little older. Do you know where your riddle game came from? It used to be a challenge of songs. Trading verse and weaving words until the mightier singer stood victorious. But time passed, as it is want to do, and the songs devolved into riddles. What once was a true contest of wills became a children’s game.”  “You would have us sing at each other?” Frodo asked. Sauron nodded. “Indeed. A proper challenge, worthy of such high stakes. I’ll even be a good sport and let you go first.”

[writingsofwesteros]

Awweeeee stawppppp you're so sweet https://www.tumblr.com/writingsofwesteros/752454847990743040/canon-nora-is-just-as-stubborn-as-social-media-au?source=share

It was done. She'd knelt before that stupid brown-haired bastard, and renounced her loves, her dearest brothers and sister. She prayed they would forgive her, when she met them again in the afterlife. She imagined them all embracing each other with passion and love in equal measure, as they all did when they were here. Only when she was returned to her chambers did she let out a sob, staggering and falling to her knees as she wept. She could hear Aemond's smooth, low voice, telling her she was a dragon, she could feel Aegon's kisses, always full of need, as Helaena stroked her hair. She yearned to feel their touch again- she yearned to be encompassed in a dragon's warmth again. The doors opened that evening, and Lord Stark entered. "The King has summoned you to dine with him." Lord Stark said gruffly. "I am not hungry, my lord." Nora said stiffly. "The King has asked me to inform you that if you join him to dine, he will permit you to see the Dowager Queen Alicent this evening." Her head shot up, and she looked at the gruff-faced Northerner. "Very well, then. Take me to your King."

She ate small bites, as Jace sat across from her in his chambers. The chambers that were once Aegon's. The same bed where four bodies fitted, that was filled with warmth and pleasure- where Aemond would sit by the hearth and read to Helaena, while Aegon fell asleep with Nora tucked against him. Tears were fighting to slide down her cheeks but she resisted. "I suppose you hold fond memories in this room." Jace commented, as though he could read her thoughts. "You asked me to dine with you to taunt me?" She asked. "Did you not taunt me, for years? Knowing that I-" He stopped himself. "You let me see you in that alcove," He murmured, and the memory came flooding back to her. Helaena had just birthed Maelor, and was resting, and chose to not attend the feast in the new Prince's honour, that night. Both sides of their family were present, and she felt Jace's eager eye on her that night, and every night since his arrival from Dragonstone. "Does that Strong welp think himself worthy of a dragon?" Aemond mused as he sat with Nora and Aegon on the dias. Aegon chuckled into his glass, "Seems so. You play with the little Strong lad, you wicked thing," Aegon said to her, and she smiled wickedly at both her brothers. "Perhaps I do." She hummed. She let her eyes met Jace's before she soon subtly departed the hall. With Jace's eyes on her, he didn't notice that Aegon and Aemond had departed also. It took him a few minutes to find her, he was not as well versed in these halls, having not lived here in years, but it was the sound of a feminine moan that drew him. He watched in a rarely used hallway, down into an alcove, where Nora was sandwiched between her brothers. Aegon's ringed hands grasping and squeezing her breasts through her gown from behind, Aemond's hands under her gown, moving methodically as she moaned, her head lulled back onto Aegon's shoulder. Her eyes briefly met Jace's and she smirked, taunting him in the worst way. "Oh, gods-" She panted, and her moans were without a doubt a torturously sweet sound, as she fell apart on Aemond's fingers.

"So what if I did?" She responded. "Is it of any consequence now?" "You have never fallen with child, in all that time," Jace wondered aloud. "Despite so freely falling into bed with them." She tensed. "And?" "You, Daenora, are many things, but careless is not one of them. Either you took measures to prevent a child....or you are unable to bear one- something very unlikely, seeing that you are quite young." He said. "And what if I cannot? Will you set me aside? Will you marry me still, and foster bastards upon a mistress, perhaps?" She countered, and Jace chuckled darkly, getting up and walking over to her. "The only children of my seed set to come into this world shall come from your womb, Daenora. I shall bound you to that bed and leave you stuffed with my seed every hour, if I have to." He growled. His grip was surprisingly strong. "Your little games have reached their end. You shall be my wife, be and my mercy, and if a drop of moon tea ever touches your lips, I shall see Vermax burn your mother alive," He threatened her. "If you wish the Hightower Queen to remain alive and well, then you shall stop resisting me. You've taunted me and denied me for years, but now your say is worthless. If you ever wish to see your mother, your dragon, then perhaps it is time that you accept that the days of being King Aegon and Prince Aemond's beloved little sister and bedwarmers are gone. You are to my wife, my queen, and the mother to the next King." He let her go. "You will dine with me again tomorrow." He declared, summoning the guards to take her to see her mother.

Jace taking charge should not be this hot; manipulating her so well and for the moment, all Nora can do is follow his lead - no matter how annoying.

Still she glared at the back of his head as the warmth of those memories surrounded her for a mere second.

[sheismo]

⚠️LONG POST ALERT ⚠️

Witchcraft is real. Manifesting is real. Spells & rituals are real. Yes, there are other gods. But you know what’s more real than all ? GOD. The one and only messiah, the Lord of lords. The King of kings. The father, son & spirit. Jesus. I want to give yall a mini testimony on how REAL & GOOD God is. I pray one day if you don’t know God you seek him & he comes to you. ✨

I was once a self proclaimed witch. I did rituals and spells to aquire money,happiness,love and montery gains. I have always been a spirituality in tune person. Very young I realized I had the gifts of clairvoyance,clairempathy & dreaming. All given to me by God. A few years back I was searching for a deeper meaning and I began to dabble in new age spirituality. Not knowing the consequences of my actions ,I began trusting others with my energy and relying on them with the help of readings & rituals for messages forgetting how powerful and annoited my purpose was from God himself. I needed NOBODY but God yet I was so native to think that I needed the help of others when I should’ve been calling on him to help me with my gifts & the things he had blessed me with. I know now that was the devil though. Spirits of mammon & ego were wrapped all around my life. I was cocky,materialistic & just ignorant to my own ways. While God was blessing me the devil was working behind the scenes to make things around me fall apart. The enemy is out to kill, steal & destroy. The devil will show up in MANY ways. A lot of things aren’t demonic because of what it is but how it is used to pull you away from God (i.e : crystal bracelets,music & etc) Remember that. Spirits and entities can literally latch onto your life and cause havoc especially when there is a special light within you ! I am now a strong believer in God’s WILL & PURPOSE for each and every one of our lives. It’s not our job to manipulate the scales for our own gains. We must wake up to the fact that we need nothing that isn’t from God ! We must understand material things & things of the world are not eternal. Seeking & standing with the Lord is. Spells & rituals aren’t necessary when you wholeheartedly stand with God. You will see your power then. We must die to our flesh,sins and our desires.

Throughout my childhood my ancestors & relatives unbeknownst practiced hoodoo & not going to lie I ran with that as an excuse to do my rituals & etc but the main thing I abandoned was my relationship with GOD. One of my great great grandfathers by the name of Fountain Love (what a cool name) was a well renounced pastors in a small country town just 30 mins from where I grew up. That stuck with me. So ignorantly I ran with that I also am very blessed to have praying grandmothers who I swear prayers are just ELITE. ✨ If you know anything about hoodoo you know how deep Christianity runs in that practice. Prayer is literally so powerful & the Bible itself is seen as talisman. But overall your relationship with God is essential. Jesus to be specific. Old hymns,shouting & speaking in tongues is native to African Americans. Our people.

Ignorantly, I was one of those “God knows where my heart is.” & “The Bible is fake & man made.” Two things can be right at once. God did know where my heart was & he knew I loved him but I was NOT doing the right things nor seeking him & yes the Bible is man made but it’s the living word ! It is real accounts orally passed down which was written into a book. Look at the world then look at the Bible. The profit is in the pudding. The Bible is timeless. I had never really opened a Bible as an adult & most of the things I remember from going to all those churches were a few bible verses & sermons. I had never dug deep in the word of God. As a child I went to many churches and I still struggled to connect with God & I prayed prayed prayed but only when I was in need of something. I even spoke in tongues before but still it was like a wall was up between my connection with God. I also had a preconceived presumption as well about how the Bible was used to manipulate slaves during slavery & how “church folks” were the most judgmental. Again, two things can be true at once. The Bible was used to manipulate our ancestors however the Bible has been around longgggg before the transatlantic slave trade. Christianity has been dated back to African literally in the 1st & 2nd century however slave masters used the Bible centuries later as a manipulation tactic & twisted scripture to fit their own agenda. And yes a lot of have us have church hurt and “Christians” in the church can be very ill-mannered but Jesus hated religion himself because there was many hypocrites and hypocrisy. Everyone who claims to know Jesus really doesn’t & everyone who claims him won’t go to heaven. It’s that simple. Stop putting a name on it & running to the church but seek God on your OWN ! Relationship over religion. I don’t consider myself a Christian because of the blasphemy on that term I just identify as a follower of Christ. I follow God not man. The elders and the church have been lukewarm & a lot of them rely on their pastor/leadership for guidance instead of God himself. Also the whole “White man religion” topic is blasphemous. Jesus was just a vessel of the lord himself. Understand that first. And although I walk with Christ don’t get it twisted.. I’m not ignorant to the fact that the Jesus we see on murals & pictures again was a manipulation tactic during the transatlantic slave trade. Jesus appearance is described in Revelation 1:14-15 that his skin was a darker hue and that his hair was woolly in texture. The hairs of his head, it says, "were white as white wool, white as snow. His eyes were like a flame of fire, his feet were like burnished bronze, refined as in a furnace.” To be honest I don’t care if he was purple. Jesus was and is the almighty. We must not get caught up on appearances or looks. That keeps us divided. Some people might even question why would God allow slavery and segregation be a thing or bad things in general. We must understand that God has given us free will. Humans were made imperfect yet we disobey God and has had to reap the consequences of our actions since then. Even through misery & hardship God has been with us. The devil is in some things but God is in EVERYTHING. Sometimes God wants us to be taught lessons as well. There is rules,commandments & laws we must abide by to have favor in the most highs eyes. But know that you’re forgiven as long as you repent & dwell with him.

February 2024 I found God. I accepted him as my savior again. I remember doing it as a child but this time I had do reiterate my LOVE & FAITH to him. I confess with my heart and my tongue that Jesus Christ is my SAVIOR. I was tired of being tired. I really cried out to God to show me signs. I went from doing rituals to reading the Bible. I literally began to see my life and my disobedience in front of me. I prayed for God to show who I was and ever since then it’s been UP. My load is so much lighter already being I have denounced so many things from my life. He’s playing no games it’s uprooting me from the attacks that the devil has put on my life & areas where Ive been too comfortable; I feel his presence more than ever. I hear his voice as clear as day, he’s opening my eyes to who and what is around me , I’ve even thrown so much new age stuff away. I was tired of carrying the load along. I was yearning for his presence & deliverance. I know I still have a ways to go, he’s calling me more and more each day to align with his will for my kids. He’s convicted me of so many things such as lust,anger,greed & etc and i know i must begin to change and work on myself in order to be fulfilled. The spiritual warfare is real as i expected. The devil doesn’t want me to find out what my calling is .. he knows how powerful I am. But with God on my side I’m good. 💪🏾 I’m so happy to say I am a child of GOD. 💐

I’m so thankful I’ve been awaken to the glory of God. Everything is spiritual and everything is deep. Jesus is coming back & we must prepare ourselves for his return so that we may live an eternity with him in paradise. Seek the lord & live by his commandments and you shall see him in everything and everywhere. 🌟🙌🏾

“God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day. “ - Psalm 46:5

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

I’ve seen on Tumblr that Camille wanted to marry Lucile’s mother, Annette Bosdeveix. Do you know what the source is for that and is there anything else we know about Camille and Annette’s relationship? Thank you!

We actually know quite a bit about the relationship between Camille and Annette. Not long ago, eight letters from the former to the latter written between the years 1784 - 1790 were published for everyone to read. I won’t translate them in their entirety here though, both because I think this would get way too long if I did, and because I sometimes honestly can’t fully make out what Camille is trying to say.

Camille and Annette’s first meeting dates back to the spring 1783, when the former is a 23 year old law student and the latter a 32 year old mother of two, married since 15 years back. Camille first spots Annette walking in the Luxembourg garden with her daughters, Lucile (13 years old) and Adèle (9 years old). He describes this meeting in the following verse, dedicated to ”Mme D, who always goes for a walk with her two demoiselles” and published in the l’Almanach littéraire in 1784 and the Affiches du Beauvaisis in 1785:

Everyone stops and says: ”how beautiful she is!” As for me, I’ve never seen her. But that doesn’t stop me from asking: ”is she a goddess or a mortal?” How can I hold myself back, seeing so many attractions, And two doves following her.

(Chacun s’arrête, et se dit, ”qu’elle est belle!” Pour moi, je ne la vis jamais . Sans demander: est-elle ou déesse ou mortelle? Pouvais-je m’y r��prendre, en voyant tant d’attraits, Et deux colombes auprès d’elle.)

Camille eventually approaches Annette and the two start talking about poetry and Camille’s literary projets. Annette consults him to meet one M. Neveu, and even fixes and interview between the two. From a letter Camille writes her on July 10 1784 (the first of those recently published) we do however learn that he wants their relationship to go deeper than that:

It was doing you justice to believe that a musician presented to me by your hand could not fail to be preferred to all the ini [sic]. […]My job was to get acquainted with Madame Duplessis, and instead of taking me into her apartment, I was taken to the house of a musician. You will agree, Madame, that this is perfidy. Besides, it is up to you that tomorrow my work will be in the hands of Mr. Neveu, and since it costs you so little to procure it for him, if this little costs you still too much, I will see that you want me to renounce for ever sweeter hopes, and I will confine myself to admiring you from afar in the alleys of the Luxembourg.

The letter does however also make it clear that Camille only sees their relationship as platonic:

That among the authors, you choose the one whose poetry dates only from your walks in the Luxembourg and the day he saw you there, it is a very natural thing and I do not understand your excessive delicacy towards a young man who, for fifteen months, has given you such multiplied proofs that platonic love is not a chimera.

So no, the idea that Camille sought to marry Lucile’s mother would appear to be false. It can also be added that Annette wasn’t the only woman he wrote love verses to around this period, evidently a big interest of his. To a lady present for the divorce trial of one Maître Gerbier, Camille adressed the following verse:

De milles qualités nature te dota; Sexe charmante, sexe si tendre; Par un seul don le ciel nous consola. Il nous fit les plus forts; ce bien ce qu’il nous laissa, C’est le plaisir de te défendre.

In July 1783 he also assured one demoiselles de Compiègne that ”I owe the majority of verses I’ve written this year to you, it’s you who have inspired me.” The same year, the Journal de Paris published a poem he wrote for one Mme de Courve, and the year after that Camille published a similar verse adressed to Mme de La Lande in l’Almanach littéraire.

In 1786 Camille, sad over Annette having parted for her country house at Bourg-la-Reine for the summer, wrote her the following verse:

Me voilà donc après trois ans Toujours à la premiere page Du plus ennuyeux des romans; On m’eût fait languir moins longtemps Si j’avais été plus volage. Je le disais, et cependant, Pour vous voir encore un instant Je volais sur votre passage; Et quand vous fuyiez de ces lieux  Les pleurs qui coulaient de mes yeux Soutanient bien mal ce langage  Ce n’est point cette majesté Et cette taille de déesse Et cette grâce enchanteresse Et ces beaux yeux, quand la tendresse En adohcissait la fierté Que je vais regretter sans cesse. Mais que j’aime à vous voir sur le déclin du jour, Sous un ombrage solitaire À vos enfants souriant tour à tour  Insensible au charme de plaire, Insensible aux plaisirs qu’offre l’amour, Ne goûter que ceux d’être mère Ah! Lorsque l’encens le plus duox  Sur la terrasse vous appelle, Pourquoi vous éloigner de vingt cercles jaloux? D[uplessis], est-ce, dites-nous, Crainte d’alarmer un époux? Est-ce honte d’être la plus belle ? C’était ces regards si touchants,  Ce son de voux si doux, cette mélancolie, Ces fleurs que vous jetait Julie; C’était ces deux boutons naissants  Près d’une rose épanouie, Qui m’ont conduit à vos genoux Et m’auraient fait trouver si doux  De passer près de vous ma vie. Il vous eût peu coûté de captiver mon cœur Vous voir est plus que posséder une autre, Et je pensais que faire mon bonheur Ce serait ajouter au vôtre.

One year later he asked Annette and her husband Claude if one day, when his financial situation had improved, he could marry their oldest daughter, a request that was rejected. Camille did however not give up so easily, in March the same year he wrote a letter to Claude refuting all of his charges as to why the idea was a bad one. When that didn’t bear any fruit he instead tried to influence Annette, which gives us the following letter from December 5 1787:

[…] Judge if the noise of this carriage pleases me, when it warns me that you are driving your daughter into the world where she is going to find so many admirers. Thus will all my dreams vanish. Do I dare, however, Madame, to remind you of what you told me, that you would put no ambition in the choice of son-in-law, and that my profession seemed to you quite honest and quite noble. This is what inspired me with some confidence. Must you take away from me today a hope so dear to the attachment that I have nurtured for so many years to come out of my heart with hope! […] I beg you, Madame, do not read this letter to your husband, with whom I would still pass for a madman, it is to you that I am writing it, to you who do not return my letters to me and that I I never left, without leaving your presence, if not full of contentment, at least full of patience. Shall I not have the pleasure of conversing with you at least sometimes? […] I found verses printed and maimed in provincial notices which I had addressed to you; I take the liberty of sending them to you and of renewing my homage to you. Will you do nothing for your poet?

On March 4 1788 he once again writes to Annette to inform her about his first real success as a lawyer, hoping that might persuade her to hand over her daugther:

[…] Once you have read my memoir, and compared it with the feeble consultation of Me Fournel who nevertheless enjoys such a great reputation, I dare to imagiene, Madame, that you will forgive me for having also hoped for some consideration; and that you will forgive me for having nourished another much more cherished hope, remembering that M. Duplessis, a year before yesterday, did not even demand that I should become a famous lawyer in order to obtain Mademoiselle Duplessis. Now this hope is weakening every day, I see that everyone has the same eyes for your daughter as I do, it seems to that in every moment someone comes to ask for her hand. I am waiting for my justificatory memorandum which will finally fix my fate and make access to you either open or closed forever. The encouragement that has sustained me most in this work to which I have sacrificed all my business has been the hope of presenting it to you. Is it possible, Madame, that when the image of happiness that I find with you detaches me from all societies and makes them bland and unbearable, you never tire of pushing me away from yours, which would take the place of the whole universe?

But twelve days later we find another letter from Camille, where we learn that Annette had once again responded with disapproval and even asked him to stop vistiting her house:

What harm have I done you for you to treat me so harshly? And how could a letter which I wrote only to persuade you offend you and draw such a bitter response from me? I don't want it to be your fault if I conceived a mad passion, but don't we owe anything to those who are made to suffer even without our fault? Could you not make me understand in a less mortifying way, that there was madness in my pursuit, that the disproportion of fortunes (which I only knew about yesterday) was an insurmountable obstacle; you would have seemed to pity me, and I could not have complained of you, on the contrary, I would have thanked you for the care you took to prevent a disastrous passion, I would have believed myself well treated; for you know better than anyone that it takes very little to make me believe it. Sometimes you have really put my self-esteem to severe trials! One does not die of spite, if so I would have already have died a thousand times. But all it would take is a glance, half a smile, to bring me back. Even today, at this moment, all my self-love is incurable! I am trying to reconcile the harshness of what you have just written to me, with the very different speech that you gave me, and I am trying to interpret it favorably. It seems to me that the remedy you employ is either too violent or too little. It's up to you to make yourself lovable anywhere other than at my place. Is it just a defence? Or is it not also a permission? Forbidden to make myself friendly in your eyes at your place, permission to make myself friendly, if possible, in the Luxembourg. This is what it means to be a lawyer. […] This leads me to believe that your answer does not carry a permanent banishment, that was what you repeated for me in the Luxembourg, not at the moment, and besides, it's still a letter that I received from you, which is something. You see Madame that I am laughing and crying at the same time. Thank you, one more word from you. Or, treat me so harshly that you force me to hate you and even your demoiselles; or, if your feelings have not changed since the conversation I had the honor of obtaining from you in the Luxembourg, refuse me permission to come to your house now, so as to give me the hope of one day obtaining it.

After this, it would appear the two cut contacts for a while. In a letter dated October 27 1788 to his best friend from school Pierre Jean André Grasset, Camille spoke disapprovingly of the whole family, even accusing Annette of wanting to seduce him:

I always continued to chase the same hare, the mother lured me into the house, the father promised me his daughter, gave me his word of honour; the girl made me think she wanted me; a few days later came a terrible storm which threw me far from the door, farther than ever. […] I could not imagine that by courting the girl I had pleased the mother, and that she wanted to take a chance on me; I could not trust the rascal of a servant who went home to me to invite me to take lodgings in the apartment next to theirs, that the girl was flirtatious, that it was was the mother who liked me, that I would succeed. Today the scales have fallen from my eyes; but then I thought they wanted to test me, a new promise to give her to me, a new rupture.

Camille and Annette picked up contacts again in 1790, with Camille sometimes even being invited into the apartment again. Camille was once again hoping to be able to marry Lucile, and this time he started using the contacts he’d gained as a journalist to impress her parents. On April 15 he writes ”It was M. Linguet I showed you this morning through my window,” and two weeks later he told her that Mirabeau and Emmery were coming to visit their country house at Bourg-la-Reine together with him. Annette was however still hesitant, causing Camille to grow desperate:

(April 14 1790) If you knew what trap has been laid for me, you would have compassion for me. I can clearly see that I am no happier in friendships than I am with love… It is not that I believed for a moment in calumnies; it is thus so, I said to myself, that they slandered me to Madame Duplessis, it is by these artifices that they closed their door to me. However, I was only asked to suspend my judgment, I was to have some clarification this morning for which I would be grateful. I went to look for it and saw only a gross conspiracy against my happiness. I don't know who to trust in the world anymore. Madame, you have sometimes shown interest in me, have pity on my situation; I no longer dare to come to your house, three times I have been refused entry, but deign to give me a moment's interview to unravel this riddle for you, and don't think that I could ever believe that Mademoiselle Lucile and M. Duplessis deceived me so cruelly. Virtue and sensibility have a physiognomy that art does not counterfeit. I distrust all men now, but something tells me that my trust would not be betrayed if I place it in you without reserve. […]This number which belonged to you, since you had it made for me in such a short time, you had the cruelty to send it back to me without wanting to read it.

(April 15 1790) Your note would be an answer to my letter, if it was to alarm you that I had asked you for an interview. I read there this answer: of such kind as the calumnies of which you speak, they are so devoid of verisimilitude that it is impossible for them to shake my security, and yet it is useless to grant you the interview that you ask for. But, Madame, it was for me that I requested this interview. It is for me alone that I beg you to have compassion. After seven years of the most constant and most unfortunate passion, at least leave me the sweetness of thinking that the beauty I loved was worthy of being so idolized, that I only have myself to blame, and not nature, which has not made me the one who was to touch her heart. I can no longer be happy, but to be less miserable I need someone to convince me that I was not used as a toy... […] Madame, you have given me marks of interest which I oppose in the bottom of my heart to all these thoughts which sometimes arise there, according to which you amuse yourself by tormenting my life. Add this new brand of benevolence. Grant me an interview, I beg you. Despite all the harm you have done me, I believe that Mademoiselle Lucile's heart is modeled after yours; I think they are both excellent. You don't want to remember that day when you promised me the hand of your dear daughter, or when you assured me that you could dispose of her heart. Why did you promise me what was not in your power? For what? […] What have I done that could have made me be refused three times at your door? If only you knew how much these refusals humiliate me, drive me to despair. I felt terrible last Saturday night. I implore you, Madame, to at least grant me an extraordinary interview today.

(May 10 1790) […] Did you notice how Mademoiselle Lucile sent me away cruelly yesterday? But you must always admire her more and more and she must be allowed to have a little pride. I really hope that now at least, I have no more new talents to discover in her, if she has any that I still don't know about, please hide them from me. I kiss your hands; for Mademoiselle Lucile there is no way to kiss hers even with gloves on. However, Madame, you are so much loved. What hurt you yesterday has hurt your celestial Lucile so much that if you wanted to take my interests to heart, I would hope for everything. Forget what she forbade you.

But on December 11 Annette and Claude finally agreed to let Camille marry Lucile (I’ve not been able to discover he exact reasons for their change of heart), and as can be seen through the following letterCamille sent his father the same day, Annette was happy with the decision:

This charming Lucile, whom I have talked to you so much about, whom I have loved for the past eight years, at last her parents give her to me and she does not refuse me. Her mother just came to tell me the news, crying of joy. […] When her mother told me a moment ago, she brought me to her room; I threw myself on Lucile’s lap; surprised at hearing her laugh I open my eyes, hers were in no better state than mine, she was all in tears, she was even crying profusely and yet she was still laughing. I have never seen such a delightful spectacle, and I would not have imagined that nature and sensibility could unite these two contrasts to such an extent.

Eightteen days later Annette and the rest of the family attended the couple’s wedding.

After Camille had gotten his Lucile, no more letters from him to Annette are conserved. We do however know through several other pieces that they remained close afterwards regardless. After their marriage, Camille and Lucile moved to 1 Rue de Théatre Francais (today 22 Rue de l’Odéon), just a two minute walk from Lucile’s childhood home on 22 Rue de Condé. From the diary Lucile kept 1792-1793 we see that Annette was a frequent visitor to the house. Annette also got to know some of Camille’s collegues, such as Danton, who Lucile asks her to give her news about in a letter dated February 16 1792, Fréron, who nicknamed her Melpomène and came to visit their country house, and Robespierre, who she might have planned to marry off her second daughter to. When Annette’s husband was arrested as suspect in January 1794, Camille protested against it both at the Convention and in the Vieux Cordelier.

Once Camille himself was arrested, Annette was reportedly in despair. In his third and final prison letterto Lucile, Camille reports the following:

Last evening my heart broke when I saw your mother in the garden. A mechanical movement threw me on my knees against the bars; I clasped my hands as if imploring her pity, she who moans, I am sure of it, in your bosom. Yesterday I saw her pain, in her handkerchief and her veil which she lowered, unable to bear this spectacle. When you come, let her sit a little closer with you, so that I can see you better.

Camille thought about Annette too, in the same letter he reports about this dream he’s just had:

Heaven took pity on me. Only a moment ago, I saw you in a dream, I embraced you in turn, you, Horace and Daronne (nickname for Annette) who was at our house. […] Farewell Lucile, my Lucile! My dear Lucile! Farewell Horace, Annette, Adèle, farewell my father!

After the death of Camille and Lucile, Annette worked together with Camille’s old friends and collegues Brune, Duplain, Panis and Fréron to get back Camille and Lucile’s confiscated effects and make sure their son Horace, who she adopted, got a good education. She evidently didn’t blame Camille for her daughter’s death, as she in 1800, when writing to Lucien Bonaparte to ask for the disbursement of the pension for Horace, voted through four years earlier by the Conseil de Cinq-Cents, said that his father was ”Camille-Desmoulins, this hero of republican humanity.”

That it was a glorified image of his father Annette provided her grandson with is also proven through a letter Horace wrote in 1822 to the editor Barrière, claiming that his father had never written anything called l’Histoire des Brissotins, in reality a pamphlet essential in the purge of the girondins…

Sources for everything that doesn’t have a link to it: Camille et Lucile Desmoulins: un rêve de république (2019)

[mariacallous]

Early in the morning of July 16, 1945, before the sun had risen over the northern edge of New Mexico’s Jornada Del Muerto desert, a new light—blindingly bright, hellacious, blasting a seam in the fabric of the known physical universe—appeared. The Trinity nuclear test, overseen by theoretical physicist J. Robert Oppenheimer, had filled the predawn sky with fire, announcing the viability of the first proper nuclear weapon and the inauguration of the Atomic Era. According to Frank Oppenheimer, brother of the “Father of the Bomb,” Robert’s response to the test’s success was plain, even a bit curt: “I guess it worked.”

With time, a legend befitting the near-mythic occasion grew. Oppenheimer himself would later attest that the explosion brought to mind a verse from the Bhagavad Gita, the ancient Hindu scripture: “If the radiance of a thousand suns were to burst at once into the sky, that would be like the splendor of the mighty one.” Later, toward the end of his life, Oppenheimer plucked another passage from the Gita: “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”

Christopher Nolan’s epic, blockbuster biopic Oppenheimer prints the legend. As Oppenheimer (Cillian Murphy) gazes out over a black sky set aflame, he hears his own voice in his head: “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.” The line also appears earlier in the film, as a younger “Oppie” woos the sultry communist moll Jean Tatlock (Florence Pugh). She pulls a copy of the Bhagavad Gita from her lover’s bookshelf. He tells her he’s been learning how to read Sanskrit. She challenges him to translate a random passage on the spot. Sure enough: “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.” (That the line comes in a postcoital revery—a state of bliss the French call la petite mort, “the little death”—and amid a longer conversation about the new science of Freudian psychoanalysis—is about as close to a joke as Oppenheimer gets.)

As framed by Nolan, who also wrote the screenplay, Oppenheimer's cursory knowledge of Sanskrit, and Hindu religious tradition, is little more than another of his many eccentricities. After all, this is a guy who took the “Trinity” name from a John Donne poem; who brags about reading all three volumes of Marx’s Das Kapital (in the original German, natch); and, according to Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin’s biography, American Prometheus, once taught himself Dutch to impress a girl. But Oppenheimer’s interest in Sanskrit, and the Gita, was more than just another idle hobby or party trick.

In American Prometheus, credited as the basis for Oppenheimer, Bird and Sherwin depict Oppenheimer as more seriously committed to this ancient text and the moral universe it conjures. They develop a resonant image, largely ignored in Nolan’s film. Yes, it’s got the quote. But little of the meaning behind it—a meaning that illuminates Oppenheimer’s own conception of the universe, of his place in it, and of his ethics, such as they were.

Composed sometime in the first millennium, the Bhagavad Gita (or “Song of God”) takes the form of a poetic dialog between a warrior-prince named Arjuna and his charioteer, the Hindu deity Krishna, in unassuming human form. On the cusp of a momentous battle, Arjuna refuses to engage in combat, renouncing the thought of “slaughtering my kin in war.” Throughout their lengthy back-and-forth (unfolding over some 700 stanzas), Krishna attempts to ease the prince’s moral dilemma by attuning him to the grander design of the universe, in which all living creatures are compelled to obey dharma, roughly translated as “virtue.” As a warrior, in a war, Krishna maintains that it is Arjuna’s dharma to serve, and fight; just as it is the sun’s dharma to shine and water’s dharma to slake the thirsty.

In the poem’s ostensible climax, Krishna reveals himself as Vishnu, Hinduism’s many-armed (and many-eyed and many-mouthed) supreme divinity; fearsome and magnificent, a “god of gods.” Arjuna, in an instant, comprehends the true nature of Vishnu and of the universe. It is a vast infinity, without beginning and end, in a constant process of destruction and rebirth. In such a mind-boggling, many-faced universe (a “multiverse,” in the contemporary blockbuster parlance), the ethics of an individual hardly matter, as this grand design repeats in accordance with its own cosmic dharma. Humbled and convinced, Arjuna takes up his bow. As recounted in American Prometheus, the story had a significant impact on Oppenheimer. He called it “the most beautiful philosophical song existing in any known tongue.” He praised his Sanskrit teacher for renewing his “feeling for the place of ethics.” He even christened his Chrysler Garuda, after the Hindu bird-deity who carries the Lord Vishnu. (That Oppenheimer seems to identify not with the morally conflicted Arjuna but with the Lord Vishnu himself may say something about his own sense of self-importance.)

“The Gita,” Bird and Sherwin write, “seemed to provide precisely the right philosophy.” Its prizing of dharma, and duty as a form of virtue, gave Oppenheimer’s anguished mind a form of calm. With its notion of both creation and destruction as divine acts, the Gita offered Oppenheimer a frame of making sense of (and, later, justifying) his own actions. It’s a key motivation in the life of a great scientist and theoretician, whose work was marshaled toward death. And it’s precisely the sort of idea Nolan rarely lets seep into his movies.

Nolan’s films—from the thriller Memento and his Batman trilogy to the sci-fi opera Interstellar and the time-reversal blockbuster Tenet—are ordered around puzzles and problem-solving. He establishes a dilemma, provides the “rules,” and then sets about solving that dilemma. For all his sci-fi high-mindedness, he allows very little room for questions of faith or belief. Nolan's cosmos is more like a complicated puzzle box. He has popularized a kind of sapio-cinema, which makes a virtue of intelligence without being itself highly intellectual.

At their best, his movies are genuinely clever in conceit and construct. The one-upping stage magicians of The Prestige, who go mad trying to best one another, are distinctly Nolanish figures. The tripartite structure of Dunkirk—which weaves together plot lines that unfold across distinct periods of time—is likewise inspired. At their worst, Nolan’s films collapse into ponderousness and pretension. The barely scrutable reality-distortion mechanics of Inception, Interstellar, and Tenet smack of hooey.

Oppenheimer seems similarly obsessed with problem-solving. First, Nolan sets up some challenges for himself. Such as: how to depict a subatomic fission reaction at Imax scale or, for that matter, how to make a biopic about a theoretical physicist as a broadly entertaining summer blockbuster. Then he sets to work. To his credit, Oppenheimer unfolds breathlessly and succeeds making dusty-seeming classroom conversations and chatty closed-door depositions play like the stuff of a taut, crowd-pleasing thriller. The cinematography, at both a subatomic and megaton scale, is also genuinely impressive. But Nolan misses the deeper metaphysics undergirding the drama.

The movie depicts Murphy’s Oppenheimer more as a methodical scientist. Oppenheimer, the man, was a deep and radical thinker whose mind was grounded by the mystical, the metaphysical, and the esoteric. A film like Terrence Malick’s Tree of Life shows that it is possible to depict these sort of higher-minded ideas at the grand, blockbuster scale, but it’s almost as if they don’t even occur to Nolan. One might, charitably, claim that his film’s time-jumping structure reflects the Gita’s notion of time itself as nonlinear. But Nolan’s reshuffling of the story’s chronology seems more born of a showman’s instinct to save his big bang for a climax.  When the bomb does go off, and its torrents of fire fill the gigantic Imax screen, there’s no sense that the Lord Vishnu, the mighty one, is being revealed in that “radiance of a thousand suns.” It’s just a big explosion. Nolan is ultimately a journeyman technician, and he maps that personality onto Oppenheimer. Reacting to the horrific, militarily unjustifiable bombings of Nagasaki and Hiroshima (which are never depicted on-screen), Murphy’s Oppenheimer calls them “technically successful.”

Judged against the life of its subject, Oppenheimer can feel like a bit of let down. It fails to comprehend the woolier, yet more substantial, worldview that animated Oppie’s life, work, and own moral torment. Weighed against Nolan’s own, more purely practical, ambitions, perhaps the best that can be said of Oppenheimer is that—to paraphrase the physicist’s actual reported comments, uttered at his moment of ascension to the status of godlike world-destroyer—it works. Successful, if only technically.

[wisdomrays]

REFLECTIONS ON THE QUR'AN: Sūratu’l-Hajj (The Pilgrimage)

Among people there are also many who worship God on the borderline (of faith) in expectation of only worldly gains. If any good befalls him, he is satisfied with it, but if a trial afflicts him, he turns away utterly, reverting back to unbelief. He (thereby) incurs loss of both this world and the Hereafter. This indeed is the obvious loss. (Al-Hajj 22:11)

There are lots of similar verses throughout the Qur’ān. Actually, God often tests the believers, hypocrites, and unbelievers in order to reveal the differences among their inner worlds. He puts their conscience to the test with troubles and disasters and even with the things relating to good. Thus, God reminds them of their actual worth or makes them aware of themselves. Indeed, it has been established with many experiences that even the people who sacrifice in different ways in God’s cause suffer occasional, even frequent setbacks, reverses, and tribulations. Their business and financial situation may come to a standstill, and their work destabilized. This is nothing but God’s testing His servant. However, this does not mean that God, Who is the Absolutely Wealthy and Generous One, will abandon His servants who renounce their world and make sacrifices in order to exalt His religion or that He will leave them to be oppressed under hard conditions. Yet, the All-Holy Creator, Who has innumerable instances of wisdom in every act and never does anything useless, tests His servants’ sincerity and loyalty through their behavior and on the scales of the judgments of their conscience. There may always appear some who fail this test and lose both in this world and with respect to the next one. The Qur’ān concludes this matter with the statement, “This indeed is the obvious loss.”

Those mentioned in the verse who failed in their test and incurred loss in both this world and the Hereafter were generally the hypocrites. They did not achieve the unity of the heart and the tongue; thus, they could not attain true faith. With their faith on the tip of their tongues, they watched occurrences suspiciously and lived a life at the edge of the religion, without ever adopting it fully and sincerely in their lives. They always remained on the borderline between belief and unbelief, being alert not to lose the worldly advantages of being a believer in the community of believers, like a fly that intends to light on the honey. In their opinion, they were deliberate and cautious against religious obligations and certain heavy duties that they found disadvantageous.

In such a position they adopted, the hypocrites made plans to benefit from any advantages that Muslims might enjoy. If they got what they expected, they adhered to it and showed off as if perfect and contented believers. Yet, if an affliction or tribulation appeared on the horizon, they immediately turned back to their previous attitudes.

A believer may not be able to be a true believer in every act. All acts, attitudes, and attributes of a believer may not arise from belief—I wish this were not so. Because of this, some believers may fall under the influence of such hypocritical considerations and wish the wind blew according to their desire, rain poured according to their own interests, and the wheel of fate always turned to their advantage. Just as there were such people during the earliest period of Islam who turned their back to Islam when they did not attain what they expected, it is inevitable in our time that many will suffer deviance in their inner worlds and confusion in feelings and attitudes.

Our Lord! Do not let our hearts swerve after you guided us. And, bestow upon us mercy from your Presence. Surely You are the All-Bestowing.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Truths to Live By - One Day at a Time

by William MacDonald

“…this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind.” – Philippians 3:13b

Ordinarily when we read these words, we tend to think that Paul was speaking about his past sins. He knew that these sins had been forgiven, that God had put them behind His back, and that He would never remember them again. So Paul was determined to forget them too and to “press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.”

I still think that is a valid application of the verse. But Paul is not thinking about his sins in this passage. Rather he is thinking about the things in which he might have boasted—his lineage, his former religion, his zeal and his legal righteousness. Now these things meant nothing to him. He was determined to forget them.

I am reminded of John Sung, the devoted Chinese evangelist, who had come to the United States for training. Now he was on his way back to China. Leslie Lyall writes that “one day, as the vessel neared the end of its voyage, John Sung went down to his cabin, took out of his trunk his diplomas, his medals, and his fraternity keys and threw them all overboard except his doctor’s diploma, which he retained to satisfy his father. This was later framed and hung in his old home. The Rev. W. B. Cole saw it there about 1938. Dr. Sung noticed Mr. Cole looking at it one day and said, ‘Things like that are useless. They mean nothing to me.’”

‘“There must be great renunciations if there are to be great Christian careers!’ Dr. Denney’s words might have been written with Dr. Sung in mind. It is probably the chief secret of John Sung’s career that there came a day when he made just such a renunciation of all that this world holds dear.”

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast Save in the Cross of Christ my God; All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to His blood.

Man’s honors are transient, empty things. They are cherished for a moment, then gather dust for decades. The Cross is all our glory. We make it our ambition to be well-pleasing to Him who died for us and rose again. All that matters is to hear His “Well done!” and to be approved unto God. We are willing to renounce everything else to win that prize.

[maddieblossomsbg]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤

I've had enough of sin. I am saved, which means I am no longer a slave to sin. I am free in Christ and the enemy has no authority in my life. I've decided that today I am going to renounce all the sins I committed recently. I'm coming back full force. My daily bible habits might be a slow start at first, but I will get back there. I want to be able to go to church again consistently as well. There is this one verse I remembered that I can relate to at this moment:

"For a righteous man may fall seven times And rise again, But the wicked shall fall by calamity."

Proverbs 24:16

I'm not going to let stress interfere in my relationship with God. He doesn't want me to live recklessly. He has given me this life to honor Him, and it's time that I get back to doing so. I want Him to use me to His glory. I hope that this post reaches someone out there who can relate.

[th3w00ds]

-To Let Go Ego Angst-

Pt. 1: I Can’t Ignore the Bends and Cracks

Fandom(s): YouTuber Egos

Trigger Warnings (if any): None

Not gonna be much angst in this part, this is more the setup for angst in later parts

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

Nathan Sharp sat lying down on the couch, thoughts racing. To Let Go had just been released, and so far it was going quite well. 

But.. he felt like there was something he had forgotten to do. 

Shit.

He was supposed to go check on his egos today! How could Nate have forgotten?! The anticipation with the new album, or could it be something else? 

Well, that was no matter for now. He quickly went to messages, and texted Phantom to tell him that he’d be going to see them tomorrow. Nate knew that the demon probably wouldn’t see his message for a half hour or so, since now was usually when he was making deals with people to get their souls. 

He set his phone down after the text, and looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought. 

Why did he bother with his egos anymore? Nate hadn’t used them in any content for years, yet still the fans were going crazy over them like they’d shown up in a video for the first time yesterday. At least their adoration for the egos kept them from Fading.

That’s what Phantom had called it. Fading. When an ego, no matter the creator, died or was forgotten to have even existed by the fans, their physical forms would decay. Wither away to nothing. 

He could barely understand it, but he knew it was dangerous. Nate hadn’t exactly gone to check up on his egos for… how long has it been? Nearly a year now? 

They’ve been doing fine without him in their lives anyways, he was their creator and they deserved their space. 

Maybe it should stay that way.

A buzz from the phone snapped Nate out of his thoughts. He checked it, and it was Phantom, saying that they’d gladly have him come over tomorrow. Nobody had anything planned anyways. 

Nate sent back a quick “Alright, I’ll be there by 1,” 

He placed his phone down on the table, and sighed, speaking to himself aloud.

“They’ve been fine without me for a year, maybe leaving them alone for a while longer after I go tomorrow won’t be bad?” 

He then had another thought enter his mind. Nate had grown tired of his egos, wishing to not be connected to them anymore. A rift in his relationship with them had formed over the period of the year when he hadn’t seen them. 

Besides, egos are YouTuber thing, something Markiplier and Jacksepticeye were well versed in. Nate wasn’t even a YouTuber anymore. Not that the fans knew that the egos were real, they’d likely never know.

Minutes of thinking in silence later, Nate came to a decision. If he was done with them, then he’d renounce them. He knew egos practically live off of the adoration of the fans, and his egos had plenty of that. It’s what kept them from Fading after all. 

Then he stood up, and checked his watch. 12:30 AM. He sighed, and walked to his bedroom. 

Tomorrow would be the last he’d see of his egos for a while.

[frostythefrostedfox]

Hot take

I have come to make two hot takes for the price of one, and I don't care what anyone has to say because I wont be accepting any discussion on the matter (because i know i am factually correct /jk)

Poison: Spanish > Italian > English

The original song is peak, but I just went feral when I heard the spanish version, amongst the changes on the lyrics are

"I'm not above another love to cash in, Another lover underneath those flashing lights, Another one of those ruthless nights" changes to "Mi cuerpo siempre estuvo en venta, Y cada amante solo es otro del monton, Cada noche un nuevo amor", "My body was always for sale, Every lover is just another one in the pile, Every night a new love"

"What's the worst part of this hell? I can only blame myself" to "Lo peor de todo es que me la busque", which roughly translates to "The worst part is that this is what I was looking for"

"I made my choice, and every night I'm living like there is no tomorrow" to "Me hace mal ya no hay vuelta atrás, Cada noche acabo con mi propia vida", which means "This is hurting me, there is no turning back, I'm taking my own life every night", and the second time the verse repeats, in spanish it says "No dejo de atentar contra mi propia vida", which means "I don't stop trying to end my own life"

While in italian it goes just as raw in the intro, changing it to "Questa è la vita che mi piace, Un altro amante e tante telecamere, E l'illusione di scegliere", which is "This is the life that I love, Another lover and lots of cameras, And the illusion of choosing"

The part that says "I got so good at being untrue, I got so good at telling you what you wanna hear, I dissassociate, dissapear, So far beyond difficult to resist another gulp" turns into "Mentire è il mio mestiere, So sempre quando quel che dico ti piacerà, Rinuncio alla mia identità, E l'orgoglio che io ho fino in fondo ingoierò", meaning "Lying is my job, I always know when what I say pleases you, I renounce to my identity, And I'll swallow the pride that I have"

The only reason why I put the spanish version above the italian one is because the ending in italian is kind of weak, way weaker than in the other versions, but the vocals are Chef's Kiss

[rake-rake]

Headcanons. Uraume & Sukuna.

Originally, Uraume, still under an unbecoming name, was a highborn princess born to a powerful dahmyo of the Sugawara clan. Fragile and prone to illness since birth, she was her father’s greatest treasure after her mother’s death.

Although obedient, diligent, and beautiful, the princess had always had a certain coldness to her that made people uncomfortable and troubled any possible suitors, as she was described as a sulking, broody young woman. That combined with her father's protectivity had her kept away from public eye and safeguarded at home. Her years were spent becoming versed in music, poetry and writing, growing into what was considered exemplar of a young woman for her time.

As a dahmyo back then, her father was one of the warlords who openly opposed Ryomen Sukuna and commanded armies against him. How Sukuna and Uraume exactly met is known only to them, but can be assumed it was due to the ongoing war. However, Uraume's side of things can give some insight on how they ended up under his service. Upon their first meeting, the princess was entranced by the sight of the curse before her. Without fear, but only awe, she asked Sukuna if he was a god, and recognized him as beautiful. Sukuna's thoughts and choices are his, but it's a fact that the princess ended up joining him as his shadow, and would remain so for centuries to come. She renounced everything she had, her family, her status, her name and even her gender, deciding to accept as theirs only what he granted them, and follow him until their last breath.

Stories and registers of Ryomen Sukuna always had a pale shade accompany him, beautiful, cold, and quiet. Two steps behind and one to the side. This shade was never known by a name nor had any other information to them, but it was a fact that whenever Sukuna was, they would be as well.

Some random facts.

Uraume, as a previous cherished princess raised in wealth, was quite unversed on the tasks required from a servant. It was a learning curve from the beginning which they strove to domain, as to make themselves as useful as possible.

Unknown to Uraume, they had inherited the precious cursed technique of their clan, ice manipulation. It was awakened only in a situation when they nearly lost their life, taking their body to sub-zero temperatures and biologically killing them. This also turned their long, black hair, to white, and their fair skin to a bone pale color, as well as their body temperature to permanently beneath zero. Their constant illness and weakness vanished as well, as it turned to be a sub-product of their dormant technique. Since then they have been unable to grow old, stuck in their early twenties, and their heart has stopped beating.

The name Uraume was given to them by Sukuna, as well as the red brand on the back of their head. Their old name has been long forgotten.

When Sukuna was sealed, Uraume themselves were imprisoned as well, trapped in the prison realm. They remained there for centuries until the day Kenjaku got a hold of it and freed them, earning a small amount of loyalty that lasted for only as long as their goals ultimately served Sukuna.

[themetalvirus]

I really want to know about your magical girl au idea please I’ve admittedly asked multiple times I think but I just love a good magical girl au

IM SORRY I HAVENT RESPONDED TO THOSE it's just a Lot so trying to summarize it is also a Lot plus i wanna find and gather a bunch of my old sketches

some info:

sonic is a teenage track star hedgehog who's a freshman in high school on an island populated mostly by trees and non-sentient animals. he lives with and takes care of his baby brother tails, who is a genius, while still taking him to elementary school / picking him up. tails has his two tails but can't fly, sonic goes fast but only normal fast.

one day, eggman shows up on their island, and one of the chaos emeralds appears to sonic after he hustles a bunch of people to safety, determining that he's pure of heart. he goes thru his first transformation sequence, beats up eggman, gets his actual super speed in his magical boy form. after he's done and de-transforms, the chaos emerald turns into a necklace on twine string with wooden beads, bamboo beads, and a wood setting. looks like this

all the chaos emeralds are their transformation items, and eggman is after them! they're all controlled by the master emerald, which knuckles is guarding. he's well versed in magical person lore, but isn't one himself.... yet. eggman also wants the master emerald but it's hidden on angel island and he has no idea where angel island is. yet. the master emerald also is the one who actually decides if a hero is pure of heart enough to be a magical person and blesses them with one of the chaos emeralds. which is why eggman wants it so bad

when the chaos emeralds bond with a hero that is pure of heart, they become an accessory that suits them and their true heart. when one of the heroes transforms with their emerald, the emerald disappears as it's temporarily absorbed into their body for power. if you beat a magical person in battle (basically when they are too weak to fight or use their cute magic anymore), their clothes revert into simple white glowing dresses (like precure, also knuckles gets a big glowing poncho instead) and their accessory is back on them, turned into nothing but a thin string of chaos energy with the emerald dangling off of it. you can easily steal a chaos emerald off of someone like this.

more accessory concepts:

eggman already has one chaos emerald, which he has given to still-bent-on-revenge sa2-characterization shadow who is just biding his time as he works for eggman. he doesn't transform with it, he uses it for ~evil~ and only after he remembers his actual promise to maria does he get to transform. he and maria were both magical people until she died while fighting evil, after which he and gerald both renounced magic. shadow was engineered to be the ultimate magical boy to protect maria, which he just resents (before his memories go back to normal).

also rouge and omega work for eggman, they're the recurring bad guys whose monsters they have to fight or whatever before the finale where they all punch eggman into space or something. but they obviously stop working for him way before that happens

order that they turn into magical people: sonic, tails, knuckles (after they go to angel island, knuckles is very honored for the opportunity to actually become what he admires so much), amy (sonic hates that he has to work with amy at first since she's a middle schooler who chases him around trying to get him to date her), silver, blaze (very shortly after silver), shadow

only after all seven chaos emeralds have their heroes and the heroes have all come to work together can you unlock their true power (and your fun little powered up magical person dresses for the finale fight, a MUST-HAVE)

sonic has the dark blue one, tails has the yellow one, knuckles has the green one (the master emerald's baby brother, as sonic called it once), amy has the white one (taken from rouge after she said she didn't even want it for its power and i imagine that in the tv show in my head there's an episode dedicated to the pursuing hullabaloo and amy's transformation at the end), blaze has the purple one, silver has the cyan one, and shadow (of course) has the red one

all of them have like, individual character arcs as well. but this post is mostly chaos emerald magical girl lore SORRY. i like making up chaos emerald magical girl lore its fun. its FUN.

[deathlessathanasia]

“By associating Hera with a gall (kholos) overflowing from her breast, with the limitless, indiscriminate menos of her war-god son, and with an insatiable lust to raw-eat, Homer identifies her with an imbalance fundamentally different from the Zeus-inspired ménis through which Achilles journeys into full humanity. Achilles’ wrath, arising from a slight to his heroic honor (timé), ends in a meal shared with his mortal enemy. Hera’s rage, arising, as we finally discover (24.25-30), from a trivial slight to her beauty, is a permanent, demonic imbalance with neither noble origin nor foreseeable end. A remark about how “the dread rage of Hera” (ἀργαλέος χόλος Ἥρης 18.119) destroyed Heracles suggests that her kholos was already an epic theme in the pre-Olympian tradition. If so, Homer uses a traditional theme as an antithesis to the ménis of Achilles (1.1). Hera’s fury, resembling that of Nature, is the model that inspires Achilles at his most vengeful, at times to vicarious cannibalism (in Book 21 and at 23.21), and once to a directly cannibalistic prayer (Book 22).

The parallel with Achilles comes into focus in Book 21 (1-382), where the hero, bent on revenge against Hektor, renounces his Zeus-inspired ménis (μῆνιν ἀπειπόντος 19.75) and adopts a Hera-like rage (meneainein 21.33, 140, 170, 542-43). Like a consuming fire, he combats Trojan river gods and their offspring, exhibiting a new level of violence. Achilles’ superhuman struggle against elemental waters and his support from elemental fires heighten the sense of his fall into a subhuman barbarism. Hurling the corpse of Hektor’s half brother Lykaon into the river, Achilles mocks his enemy’s faith in the river god Xanthos (21.130-32) and exults in providing scavenger fish with a meal “from the shiny fat of Lykaon” (127). Next he vanquishes Asteropaios, son of a river god. Standing above him, he boasts about his own superior lineage; as Zeus is mightier than rivers, so Zeus’ seed surpasses that of a river (190ff.). There is an increase in specific detail: not only fish but eels will pluck and tear the flesh around his kidneys (200-204). Achilles has moved a step closer to raw-eating his prey, feeding them to scavenger fish. This predator-prey comparison, usually limited to similes of wolves and lions and to mere threats of mutilation, appears here for the first time in the Iliad. Xanthos fights back with all his divine fury. Enraged alternatively by Achilles’ taunts (21.136), the killing of his worshipers (146), and the clogging of his streams with corpses (218), the river god seeks to bury the hero under mud to prevent proper burial (323). For the first time in the epic, Achilles is afraid. The turbulent waves crest (300-26). The heaven-fed river, purple with bloody corpses, engulfs him. The hero prays bitterly to Zeus, but it is Hera who contrives a plan to rescue him. She gives directions to her son Hephaistos (προσεφώνεεν 330) and promises to lead the way. She herself will rouse a whirlwind, “as I drive on the evil flame”(334-37). Hephaistos is not to stay his rage (menos 340) without her expressed order. He burns the trees and parches the plain, eliciting cries of mercy from the River.

Xanthos implores Hephaistos first, and then Hera. In desperation, the River makes her a strange promise: “never to ward off the day of evil from the Trojans, no, not when all Troy shall burn with consuming fire, and the warlike sons of the Achaeans shall do the burning” (374-76). The oath thoroughly satisfies Hera. It should. It exactly repeats the oaths she, by her own account, reiterated among the immortals (20.315-17). By having the River quote Hera’s oft-repeated promise, the poet emphasizes both her present victory and her continued obsession with burning Troy. Five words for fire pile up in two verses (20.316-17): μηδ' ὁποτ᾽ ἄν Tpoin μαλερῷ πυρὶ πᾶσα δάηται / καιομένη. καίωσι δ' ἀρήϊοι υἷες ᾿Αχαιῶν ‘not when all Troy shall burn and blaze in consuming fire and the warlike sons of the Achaeans shall burn it’.

By depicting Hera and her menos-filled son as those who answer Achilles’ call to Zeus, Homer is characterizing Hera with a savagery not to be associated with Zeus. There are several reasons why Hera and not Zeus helps the hero here. First, Achilles’ mutilation of corpses is inconsistent with the restraint to which Zeus’ example later draws him (24.110), suggesting that Zeus does not support Achilles in his demonic rages any more than Athena supports her hero, Odysseus, in his comparable delusions in the Odyssey (9-12). Second, although the hero boasts of his lineage from Zeus, his acts suggest the omophagia of Hera and the menos of her divine sons, Ares and Hephaistos. And third, Homer had prepared for her intervention by her earlier plea that Athena and Poseidon (20.121) stand by Achilles in his terror, “when a god [that is, Xanthos] pits his strength against him in the fighting” (20.129-30). At this moment Hera is clearly the deity for Achilles, a point missed by those critics who judge Hera’s whole speech (20.112-55) spurious, calling it “out of place here, especially when Zeus had just proclaimed as his motive . . . the fear that Achilles would … anticipate fate by the utter destruction of the Trojans.”23 What these critics fail to take into account is Hera’s single-minded pursuit of Troy’s destruction in books 20-24. In fact, most critics assume, I think mistakenly, that a divine consensus behind Zeus’ will exists at the end of this poem, as it does in Aeneid 12. If we recognize that Hera never conforms, her encouragement of Achilles’ bestial excesses is both consistent and necessary.”

- The Transformation of Hera: A Study of Ritual, Hero, and the Goddess in the Iliad by Joan O'Brien