#Shaped By Human Frailty

[gbhbl]

Album Review: Strangle Wire - Shaped By Human Frailty (Grindscene Records)

A sickening expulsion of noise; the riffs are akin to a saw cutting through flesh and bone, the drums are crunchingly intense, the bass akin to a sledgehammer to the knees and the vocals, scorn filled.

A gargantuan collision between the heaviest of death metal and the darkest of emotions, submerged in an unsettling atmosphere of grief and isolation, Shaped by Human Frailty is the debut full length album from Belfast’s Strangle Wire. Out on September 30th, 2022, via Grindscene Records. From the very start, Strangle Wire bring blistering fury to the forefront with the smash and crash of Heavily…

[moonselune]

Hello! I was wondering if you could write something with god Gale where Gale is being rude about their times as mortals and the reader just snaps at them? Reader goes full rant mode about all the little things they miss about being mortal. Like the feeling of the sun on their skin, or the smell just after it rains. Thanks a lot! I really love your writing! 💜

Yes yes yes yes yes I love this and I hope you do to and thank you so much!

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God!Gale x Reader | The little things

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In Gale’s domain, the air hummed with arcane energy, the very walls of his celestial realm pulsing in time with the weave itself. You had long since grown accustomed to the shimmering light that surrounded everything, a reflection of his immense power and the world he had shaped for himself—and now, for you. Everything here was perfect, pristine, and untouchable. But at times, that perfection felt like a cage.

Gale sat at his grand table, casually drumming his fingers on the polished surface as he reminisced about the days when you both had been mere mortals. His words were laced with thinly veiled disdain, his tone almost mocking.

"Mortality," he mused, his voice deep and measured. "Such a limited, tedious existence. The constant hunger, the frailty of the body, the fleetingness of time. I don’t know how we ever tolerated it for as long as we did."

You stood beside him, your back stiffening as his words grated against you. You had heard this before—how he reveled in his godhood, in the transcendence of all the things that had once made life real, tangible. He spoke as though being mortal had been a burden, something to be discarded like a worn-out cloak. But for you, it wasn’t that simple. The more he went on, the tighter the knot in your chest became, and finally, something inside you snapped.

“You don’t know how we tolerated it?” you cut in sharply, your voice rising as you turned to face him, the frustration you’d been holding back for centuries bubbling to the surface. “How about because it was real, Gale? Everything meant something. You talk about mortality like it was some kind of curse, but do you even remember what it felt like?”

Gale blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden outburst, his dark eyes narrowing slightly.

“Of course I do,” he said, his tone measured but slightly defensive. “But I’ve evolved past—”

“No, you don’t,” you interrupted, your voice trembling with emotion now. “You’ve forgotten. You’ve forgotten all the little things that made life worth living.”

You stepped closer to him, your eyes burning with unshed tears of frustration. “You’ve forgotten what it felt like to have the sun warm your skin on a crisp morning. Or the smell of the earth just after it rained, when everything felt fresh and new. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel the grass between your toes, or to stand in the breeze and just—breathe.”

Gale sat up straighter, his brow furrowing as he opened his mouth to speak, but you didn’t let him.

“You’ve forgotten what it felt like to get lost in a book for hours, to feel tiredness settle in your bones at the end of the day after doing something meaningful. Or even just the taste of food after being hungry, or that first sip of wine that warms you from the inside out. You miss the beauty in the fleetingness of it all! You miss—” Your voice cracked, and you took a shaky breath before continuing. “You miss the simple joy of being alive. Of being human.”

Gale’s expression shifted, the amusement gone from his face now, replaced by something more guarded—perhaps even regretful. But still, he remained silent, his gaze fixed on you as if trying to comprehend the weight of your words.

“And sure,” you continued, your voice softer now but no less impassioned, “maybe we don’t have to worry about those things anymore. We don’t feel hunger, or fatigue, or pain. But we’ve lost something too, Gale. We’ve lost the very things that made us who we were. The things that made life real.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the rawness of your emotions leaving you exposed. “You can sit here and talk about how much better it is to be a god, how much more powerful and perfect it is—but I miss being mortal. I miss the imperfection, the fleetingness, the moments that mattered because we knew they wouldn’t last.”

For a long moment, silence hung between the two of you, the tension in the air palpable. Gale’s gaze softened, his godly aura dimming slightly as he absorbed your words. He looked away, his hands stilling on the table as if the gravity of what you had said weighed heavy on him.

“I never… thought of it that way,” he finally said, his voice quieter, less certain than before. “You’re right. I’ve been too focused on what we’ve gained, and I’ve forgotten what we left behind.”

You swallowed hard, trying to tamp down the storm of emotions that had erupted from deep inside you.

“We didn’t just leave it behind, Gale,” you whispered. “We lost it.”

He rose from his seat, stepping toward you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to see the world through your perspective. Slowly, he reached out, taking your hand in his, the warmth of his touch grounding you.

“I never meant to diminish what we had,” he said softly. “I only wanted to protect you, to give you everything.”

You shook your head, the tears finally spilling over. “I don’t want everything,” you whispered. “I just want something. Something real.”

For the first time in what felt like centuries, Gale seemed to falter, his divine confidence wavering. He drew you into his arms, holding you close, and for a brief moment, it felt almost mortal—almost human.

“I’ll try,” he murmured into your hair, his voice tinged with an unfamiliar vulnerability. “I’ll try to remember. For you.”

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A little god gale piece for you all, I hope you enjoy it !! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch.4

Sukuna x Reader

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fanfiction based on the universe of "Jujutsu Kaisen," created by Gege Akutami. The original manga, anime, and characters belong to their respective owners and creators.

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

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CHAPTER 4 - Trial of Resolve

Swallowing your pride, you stooped to pick up the water and bread that Sukuna had tossed at your feet. You retreated to the mattress in the far corner of the room, and silently consumed the provisions.

The act of accepting food from him was humiliating, but you knew it was a necessary concession to keep yourself alive and strong enough to fight back.

The corner of Sukuna's lips curled in contempt as he watched you eat the bread and gulp down the water, his eyes narrowing.

"Pathetic," he spat, "The frailty of humans, unable to survive without their precious food and water." He shook his head, a mixture of disgust and amusement playing across his features.

"You are truly pitiful creatures."

You knew it wasn't wise to provoke him, yet the glaring contradiction in his hatred for humans compelled you to speak up.

Ancient texts from Jujutsu High painted Sukuna as an Imaginary Demon from the Heian Era, a time when sorcerers reached their peak powers during what was known as the Golden Age of Jujutsu.

However, Gojo had told you that, in truth, Sukuna had been a human sorcerer during this era, known as the Disgraced One. His overwhelming strength made him unstoppable during his murderous rampages, a force of nature feared by all.

Despite the peril you found yourself in currently, you couldn't resist needling him, your playful nature momentarily overshadowing the precarious situation.

"Weren't you human once yourself?" you challenged, a smirk tugging at your lips. "You must have needed to eat and drink just like everyone else. Isn't that rather... pathetic?"

Sukuna's eyes narrowed dangerously, his jaw tightening. For a moment, you could sense the coiled energy within him, the barely restrained fury at your audacity. But just as quickly, his features smoothed into a sardonic smile.

"Ah, so the little sorcerer has found her tongue," he purred. "How amusing."

Drawing nearer, his figure cast a dark, suffocating shadow over you. "You forget your place, brat," he growled, his fingers gripping your chin and forcing you to meet his intense gaze.

"I am no longer bound by humanity's weaknesses," he hissed with disdain. "I've transcended the pitiful limitations of your kind."

"Whilst we're on the topic... I believe it's time we continue our little game," His gaze narrowed with a glint of cruel amusement. "Your spirit won't break without a little... encouragement, you see."

Sukuna's eyes bore into yours as he spoke "And as for my past... it holds no concern for you." He scoffed. "I would worry about your own future instead—the one I will shape after I've broken you." He chuckled, the sound sending a chill down your spine.

Sukuna paced back and forth, his eyes fixed upon you as he pondered aloud. "Hmm, what would it take to shatter a spirit such as yours, I wonder?"

His voice dripped with mocking contemplation, like a connoisseur savoring the prospect of exquisite torment. Sukuna's gaze narrowed further, a twisted smile on his lips as he outlined the possibilities.

"Extreme violence and physical torture, perhaps?" he mused, his tone laced with chilling amusement. "Or should I unravel the delicate threads of your psyche instead?"

"Exhaustion, humiliation, deprivation... the options are endless," he murmured softly, his voice a velvet promise of horrors yet to unfold.

Sukuna's gaze swept over your battered form, a contemplative gleam in his eyes. "Seeing as you're already so bruised and broken," he mused, "how about pushing that fragile body just a little further, woman?"

He leaned in, his face mere inches from yours, his hot breath caressing your skin. "Until your legs can no longer bear your weight. Until your ribs ache with every pathetic breath. Until your hands can do nothing but tremble."

Despite the dread coiling within you, you steeled your resolve, refusing to let even a glimmer of fear show in your eyes. You met Sukuna's gaze with an unwavering glare, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cower.

Suddenly, Sukuna yanked you by the arm, his fingers digging into your injured wrist. The sharp pain shot through your body, eliciting an involuntary wince. Without a moment's hesitation, he began to drag you up the stairs, each step echoing ominously through the confined basement.

He unlocked the door at the top of the staircase, and as he pushed it open, your breath caught in your throat.

Before you laid a vast, industrial space that resembled an abandoned factory. Towering steel beams crisscrossed the ceiling, casting long, haunting shadows.

The walls and floor, were made of the same weathered concrete as the basement, but covered in dark crimson stains that seemed to whisper tales of past conflicts.

Sunlight filtered through gaps in boarded-up windows, casting an eerie glow over the large space.

It was clear that this place was a battleground, meticulously designed for combat—the perfect arena for Sukuna to exert his power without restraint.

Before, Sukuna had used lower-level curses to gauge your strength, pushing you to your limits. Now, however, his intentions seemed to take on a more personal approach.

As he pulled you towards the center of the room, he finally released your wrist, stepping back to create distance between the two of you. His crimson eyes bore into yours.

You would never admit it to him, but you were scared; the only giveaway, a small tremor in your hands, barely noticeable.

Anticipating the imminent danger, you pondered his next move. But he afforded you little time to prepare, as he suddenly sprang into action. His muscles tightened, and with a swift, decisive movement, he surged toward you.

Your eyes widened in alarm, but Sukuna's blinding speed left you no chance to evade.

His body collided with bone-crushing force, hurling you into the air. The impact against the hard concrete floor as you fell, sent searing pain rippling through your body, each tumble on the surface intensifying the agony. Amidst the ringing in your ears, Sukuna's malicious cackling echoed.

Struggling to push yourself up, Sukuna's smirk only intensified as he charged toward you once more, relentless in his assault.

With a quick roll to the side, you narrowly evaded his attack. But Sukuna's movements were too fast; in a swift pivot, he planted his leg in your stomach with tremendous force.

The impact knocked the wind out of you, leaving you gasping for breath as you crumpled to the ground again. Coughing and sputtering, your vision blurred as you fought to regain composure.

Sukuna's unrelenting attacks were taking a devastating toll, and you knew you had to shift the momentum before he would actually kill you.

Desperately trying to channel your cursed energy, you braced yourself as Sukuna prepared to unleash another destructive assault.

Most sorcerers possessed an innate cursed technique, a specialized ability honed through years of training and often inherited. Yet, you hadn't discovered your own yet, leaving you grappling with raw cursed energy.

In the heat of the moment, you struggled to summon the calm focus Sukuna had taught you, in the basement.

Instead, you reverted to your habit of haphazardly forcing cursed energy through your palms. The resulting release was powerful but wildly imprecise, veering off course and missing Sukuna by a significant margin.

Frustration and desperation gnawed at you as you grappled with the realization that your lack of control left you dangerously exposed.

Sukuna's expression darkened as he observed your desperate, uncontrolled attack miss its mark. Annoyance flashed across his features, and he let out a derisive scoff.

"That's all wrong, brat," He spoke with obvious disgust. "And here I thought I had been gracious enough to offer you my guidance."

Sukuna shook his head in dissatisfaction as he regarded you with disdain. "If you are so utterly lacking in talent, I might just have to kill you after all."

His scathing words struck a chord within you, amplifying the frustration and self-loathing you already felt. He was right – your inability to control your own cursed energy was a glaring weakness.

The realization stung, and you felt a wave of shame wash over you. You had tried, you had pushed yourself to the limit, and yet your efforts had amounted to nothing, your attack failing to even graze your foe.

It unleashed an immense sense of guilt and helplessness, feelings that had plagued you ever since you failed to save Ayumi from her tragic fate.

When you found her you were frozen in place, unable to move, unable to do anything to alter the cruel course of events.

This was the same, you couldn't do anything. It felt suffocating.

Sukuna's expression remained cold and unforgiving, devoid of any trace of sympathy. He had no patience for weakness, and your failure to harness your abilities to his satisfaction only seemed to fuel his relentless onslaught.

Without warning, he surged forward, his powerful grip latching onto your arm. With a swift, fluid motion, he swung you across the room.

Your head struck the ground with a sickening thud, a pool of blood beginning to form around you, testament to the brutality of his attack.

Sukuna must have expected this to be the final blow, the moment when your spirit would finally break under the weight of his overwhelming power.

For a fleeting moment, you almost considered it too- giving up, surrendering to the crushing weight of defeat. Wouldn't it bring immense relief, to let go and succumb?

But then, the image of Ayumi's feet standing in front of you, disrupting your stick-drawn figure in the dirt, flashed before your eyes. It was that fateful day in front of your porch, when she decided to pull you out of your loneliness.

Yet, like a cruel twist of fate, the image started alternating with the horrid memory of Ayumi's severed head, lying in the very same dirt, in front of that very same porch.

A haunting reminder of your weakness.

You couldn't escape that gruesome image, no matter how desperately you tried. It was etched deep into your mind and soul, tormenting you with its vivid details. You would do anything to rid yourself of it.

A wave of crushing clarity washed over you. Your only path forward was clear—to become stronger, resilient enough to banish that haunting image from your thoughts once and for all.

Trembling, you forced yourself back to your feet, determination burning brighter than the pain that wracked your battered body. With each slow breath, you pushed aside the negative emotions that had fueled your previous erratic attacks.

Channeling your energy with a gentle, controlled flow, you felt a steady bolt of cursed energy form in your palm. Meeting Sukuna's gaze with unwavering resolve, you aimed the concentrated blast directly at him.

The bolt shot forward in a straight, precise line, hurtling towards Sukuna with unwavering intent.

His eyes widened ever so slightly as your powerful blast approached him. For a brief moment, he seemed caught off guard, unable to evade the precise attack.

Reacting with his trademark speed and agility, Sukuna raised his hand, swiftly deflecting the bolt of energy. However, the impact was not lost on him, as a faint shimmer of pain flashed across his face, betraying the effects your strike had upon him.

The King of Curses regarded you with a newfound glint of respect in his crimson eyes. "That's it," he murmured, his voice low and almost reverent.

Sukuna's lips curved into a predatory smile as he shifted into a more defensive stance, a stark change from his earlier nonchalant demeanor. It was as if he now regarded you with earnestness, a realization that sent an unexpected flutter of excitement through your stomach.

His cursed energy intensified, enveloping him in a crimson glow, as he challenged you,

"Now let's see how long you can maintain that focus, little sorcerer."

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Thanks for reading and until the next chapter.

If you want to be added to the taglist, so you don't miss any updates, please let me know in the comments or with a private message. Thankyou!

Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos

[kabutoden]

Sorry if youve answered this before, but how do you chose the bugs to assign to each character ? Also they are all really cool and fun :3

Hi, I’ve explained this before but I’ll do it again! Last time I explained it was less specific to the character and more to the caste, so this’ll be a little different. I use the metaphors and associations of the insect to pick their species as well as their diet. I’m calling the species a troll mimics their ‘morph’.

Aradia: Fly. Associated with death. Detritivore. Tavros: Craneflies. Frailty, timidness, clumsiness. Thinking longhorn beetle might be a funnier pun though, so I might change it. Herbivore. Sollux: Bees. Construction, intelligence, connections to groupthink/hiveminds/psi. Herbivore. Nepeta: Caterpillar. It’s a pun. Herbivore. Karkat: Isopod. Highly social insect. Durable shell representing defensiveness/personal barriers, but also serving literal aspect of ‘thick skin.’ Detritivore. Kanaya: Hornet. Dangerous but caring parents, association with femininity. Omnivore. Terezi: Dragonfly. Good eyesight’s associated with clarity, though large eyes would also be easier to blind. Good at flying. Dragon pun. Carnivore. Vriska: Spider. Manipulative, association with femininity. Carnivore. Equius: Beetle. Strong. Omnivore. Gamzee: Praying mantis. Associations with religion due to unique praying pose. Carnivore. Eridan: Anolomacaris. Extinct skilled distance hunter. Carnivore. Feferi: Trilobite. Large curved spines, trident tongue, ‘ruler of precambrian seas.’ Detritvore.

All insects before Jade are herbivores or detritivores, and all insects jade and after are middle to highblood can hunt. This was to set up an intentionally antagonistic relationship between lowbloods and highbloods. It’s also a new way to play with themes in my personal work which are all about animal dynamics.

I mostly did the human kids as bugs as a joke, because they’re not aliens at all so its funny!! But I had a ton of fun with them so here we go again. I chose them off colors and gimmicks.

John: Spitbug. They’re bright green and gooey boys. Like ectoplasm. Rose: Rosy maple moth. Name association—also bright pink and yellow against their will. Rose wishes she was a cool goth all-black moth. Moths are associated with ‘seeking light.’ Dave: Assassin beetle/wheel bug. Have a gear shaped bump on back, large black eyes, efficient predators, some red coloration. Fits in with his expectations and pressures. Jade: Wooly aphid. They’re white, fuzzy, with rainbow wings. That’s so her.

Jane: Candy-striped leafhopper. Bright cyan with red highlights, food-themed name.Roxy: Pink-spotted cattleheart. Gorgeous pink and black coloring. Butterflies are nectar-drinkers, associated with celebration and inebriation. Kinda clumsy too. Dirk: Tiger beetle. They can move in bursts of motion faster than they can see. That’s flash stepping. Orange and black. Jake: Diving beetle. Dark green with orange highlights, explorers who go where other beetles cannot.

[katyspersonal]

Anti-Clockwise is the power of 'Spiders'?

Rom's petrified 'real' body is used to bring Annalise back to her normal shape after Alfred beats her into a pulp! But it might also be an explanation of how Rom manages to keep humanity safe from horrors! Mensis Ritual is effecting everyone like a status effect even if they can't perceive it, but the time-reversal powers can pull backwards most of the transformations: beasthood or Kin!

Not everyone could be saved (cases in point: Gascoigne and Amelia turning before we defeat Rom). But at the same time, those two, as well as average Yharnamites becoming beastly upon the hunt, are likely falling for their own hubris! This is not Rom's domain, but she can protect people from what Bloodmoon would otherwise transform them into! Gilbert is an example off the top of my head, not having been corrupted by blood and hunt but being afflicted with Ashen Blood from within that comes in "reaction" with the Moon and otherwise is just frailty and bad coughing fits!

Basically, her protection could go beyond simply "not showing" people scary things! It also makes me wonder if better studying this power could, potentially, discover a way to turn people back into humans even after they've became beasts/kin/monsters/etc! Maybe that's why the strongest variant of this rune was found in Loran too, because they were looking for a way to stop the transformation: Ashen Blood beasts are abundant in Loran dungeons after all! Nightmare Apostles (what 'Spiders' are) found in dungeons, and Patches goes there too, and Amygdalas also were a thing since those times as they're bosses in there. It could be thanks to them why some Loranites survived to this day (Suspicious Beggar and Henryk come to mind)

Or maybe this power is only accessible to those that did make a pact with Amygdalas, and even then where is the guarantee you will be strong enough as a Spider to help everyone? Say, someone wants to turn victims of Healing Church's experiments back into humans and makes a pact with Amygdala..... ...but what if that very act wrecks their humanity, or sanity overall, to the point they no longer want to do that? Or they see some twisted bigger picture for why they should not. Or they lose their freedom and are not permitted by Amygdalas to do it: they are EVIL gods, after all!

[cosmicjoke]

No Words

God damn, God DAMN, I finally had a chance to sit down and watch Part 3 of the Final Season of “Attack on Titan”, and I really just have no words.  I’m just completely blown away.  MAPPA has done such an indescribably stellar job on every part of this last arc of maybe the greatest story ever written in manga form, and they do not disappoint here.  The gravitas of this hour long episode, including the naked brutality of the opening showing us the true horror of the Rumbling, and Eren’s own monstrosity, was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever had the true privilege to see in animation.  This isn’t a children’s show, as the manga itself was never a children’s story.  This is one of the most intensely relevant and truthful depictions I’ve ever seen of not only the horrors of war and violence, but the tragedy of the human condition.  They not only left Isayama’s panels uncensored here, but even added scenes which drove home the true brutality and tragedy of what Eren was doing.  Seriously, that entire opening sequence left me breathless.  I was just sitting here, stunned, while watching it. Again, this story is such an unvarnished and sincere look at the tragedy of war and the human capacity for violence, and really, in many ways, the inescapability of that nature within us.  I’ve always applauded Isayama for his commitment to that tragedy, and not giving in to the temptation of a happy ending in which all is well and right with the world, in which Eren is able to be redeemed, in which the cycle of violence is miraculously stopped.  Like Erwin once said, as long as there is more than one person, there will always be war.  And this episode by MAPPA captured that deeply dark, ugly and somber reality with such immensity and truth. It’s one of the greatest pieces of cinema I’ve ever seen. That really isn’t hyperbole.  I had tears in my eyes at several points watching this episode.  The cinematic quality and standard of MAPPA’s work remains as first rate as ever.

Hange’s moment, man... Again, I’m left speechless.  Hange really was the hero of this episode.  Their sacrifice, and the way it was rendered here by MAPPA, again, the brutality of it (and I know I keep using that word, but I really can’t find any other), watching them take down Colossal Titan after Colossal Titan, before finally succumbing to the heat, the way they caught on fire, and yet even still, as they were burning alive, they continued to fight and managed to take out one last Titan... Ah, it’s got me all fucked up just thinking about it.  They truly gave their all in the end to save humanity. 

And their farewell with Levi, just... oof, man.  Hange really was Levi’s last, remaining friend from the old days, and he has to watch them go, and there’s nothing he can do to save them, nothing he can do to help.  Another burden on his shoulders, another sense of his immense strength failing to matter.  And again, I have to commend MAPPA here, and their attention to detail.  Levi’s difficulty in even squeezing the trigger of his ODM gear drove home just how WEAK Levi still is at this point in the story.  For all the people that try to criticize him for not being able to do more, for not being enough of a force in the final battle, I think this one, small scene of his physical frailty should shut all those people up.  Because it makes crystal clear to the audience just how physically hurt Levi is, how he’s joining his comrades through nothing but sheer will alone.  His difficulty in performing a physical task which, through this ENTIRE series, Levi was more adept at, more capable of, more powerful in, than any other character, and yet, his hands shake here, and he has to grit his teeth and struggle to accomplish it, it proves Levi’s dedication and determination, even through his own deep impairment.  He’s in no shape to be fighting, and yet he does.  He has to, and he does.  That, like Hange, is the choice of a hero.

The same to all the cast.  Armin, Mikasa, Reiner, Jean, Connie, Pieck, and even Annie, eventually. 

I think MAPPA did an incredible job of conveying the true hopelessness of this situation.  The absolutely minuscule chances of success.  And yet here we are, our hero’s arriving to do what they can, regardless of the odds. 

And then there’s Eren.  Eren, who I will always maintain is one of the most compelling and tragic character’s I’ve ever seen.  While we see his undoubted and terrifying monstrosity on full display, and we understand truly, without question, that he has become the villain of this story, we also see in the flashback to his time in Marley, and his interaction with Ramzi, Eren’s humanity, his remorse, his self-loathing, and his regret.  And it’s that humanity we see in Eren, that genuine horror at what he knows he’s going to do, that makes his final actions all the more horrific and unforgivable.  Because he IS human.  He isn’t a monster.  He’s a human being.  And he chooses to do this.  He chooses to, because he WANTS to, just like he admits tearfully and with genuine remorse to Ramzi.  Is there anything more heartbreaking than that?  Eren’s betrayal of humanities hope is so impactful and so hard to accept because of that humanity.  Because we learned to love and care for and root for him over the entire course of this long journey, only to see him fail so utterly.  My heart bleeds for Eren, even as I know he’s become an unredeemable monster. 

My hat’s off to MAPPA, man.  I’m just floored by this first part of “Attack on Titan’s” conclusion.  I couldn’t be more impressed, or more satisfied with the seriousness with which this very serious story is treated here.  This is art, truly.  This is a story which speaks with total sincerity to the human condition.  And MAPPA has brought it so spectacularly to life.  Thank you MAPPA, and most of all, thank you Hajime Isayama for writing this incredible tale of human will, determination, dreams, triumph, tragedy, violence, cruelty, hate, fear, love, friendship and hope. 

I’m gonna’ stop now before I make myself cry.

I don’t think there’s ever going to be another manga or anime that hits harder or means more than “Attack on Titan”.  It’s truly a masterpiece, and in a class all it’s own. 

[jasminewalkerauthor]

Trope chats: immortality

The concept of immortality has fascinated humankind for millennia, often appearing in myths, folklore, religious texts, and modern literature. It evokes existential questions about the nature of life, death, and time, while exploring what it means to be human. As a literary device, immortality serves as a lens through which authors explore morality, purpose, and human frailty. However, it also comes with narrative risks, including the potential for repetitiveness or a lack of emotional stakes. Beyond literature, the immortality trope also plays a significant role in shaping societal beliefs, fears, and aspirations. This essay delves into the uses, pitfalls, and broader societal impact of the immortality trope, highlighting its continued relevance and complexity in storytelling.

The origins of the immortality trope can be traced back to ancient myths and religious stories. In the Epic of Gilgamesh, one of the oldest recorded works of literature, the hero seeks immortality after confronting the inevitability of death following the loss of his friend, Enkidu. His journey highlights the futility of escaping death, yet simultaneously reflects the enduring human desire to transcend it.

Similarly, in Greek mythology, figures like Tithonus and the gods themselves embody different aspects of immortality. Tithonus, granted immortality without eternal youth, serves as a cautionary tale about the consequences of living forever but decaying in body. The gods’ immortality, on the other hand, emphasizes their divine nature and separateness from the human condition. Immortality in these tales often reflects not just a desire for eternal life but a deeper exploration of what it means to live and die well, and how immortality complicates those values.

In many religious traditions, immortality is also connected to the afterlife. Christianity, Islam, and Buddhism each promise a form of life beyond death, whether it is eternal paradise, reincarnation, or enlightenment. The religious portrayal of immortality often carries moral undertones, where eternal life is a reward for virtuous living. Here, immortality is not inherently desirable but conditional, serving as both an incentive for moral behavior and a reflection of divine justice.

As literature evolved, the immortality trope took on new dimensions. In modern fiction, immortality is often examined through the lens of individual psychology, ethics, and social dynamics. The vampire genre, popularized by Bram Stoker's Dracula and modernized by works like Anne Rice's The Vampire Chronicles, explores the existential burden of living forever. Vampires, often cursed with immortality, grapple with isolation, moral decay, and ennui. In these stories, immortality becomes a prison rather than a gift, highlighting the human need for connection, change, and mortality.

More recently, works like Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go and The Age of Adaline reframe the immortality theme within the context of scientific advancement and human experimentation. These narratives question the ethical boundaries of life extension and the implications of such technological progress. For instance, in Never Let Me Go, the cloned characters are treated as vessels for immortality by others, emphasizing the dehumanizing consequences of pursuing eternal life through unethical means.

In speculative fiction, Ray Bradbury’s The Martian Chronicles and Isaac Asimov’s Foundation series engage with the idea of immortal civilizations or entities. These works extend the immortality theme beyond individuals, questioning whether societies and cultures themselves can achieve a kind of immortality through knowledge, science, or colonization of new worlds.

The immortality trope allows for the exploration of a wide array of philosophical and emotional themes, making it a powerful tool for authors. Key among these are the notions of time, identity, and morality.

Immortal characters often experience time in profoundly different ways than mortal beings, leading to a disconnection from human concerns. In works like Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, the Elves, who are immortal, possess a deep historical memory and an inherent melancholy, as they witness the rise and fall of kingdoms and people. Their immortality gives them a different perspective on war, love, and life itself, where events that seem monumental to mortals are but fleeting moments in their endless existence.

Immortality raises questions about personal identity over time. How does an individual maintain their sense of self over centuries or millennia? In works like Virginia Woolf’s Orlando, the protagonist’s immortality and gender fluidity are intertwined, allowing Woolf to explore the fluidity of identity over time and space. In contrast, works like The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde show the dangers of eternal youth, where a refusal to change or grow leads to moral and psychological decay.

Immortality often complicates ethical decision-making. Characters who cannot die may become indifferent to the suffering of others, seeing human life as transient and insignificant. This is evident in characters like Doctor Manhattan from Alan Moore’s Watchmen, whose near-omniscience and immortality alienate him from humanity, as he struggles to find meaning in life and morality. Alternatively, immortal characters might strive to use their endless time for benevolent purposes, as seen with Captain Jack Harkness in Doctor Who, who serves as a protector despite the pain his immortality causes him.

Despite its narrative potential, the immortality trope has several pitfalls. One of the major risks is that of repetitiveness. Immortal characters, particularly those in long-running series, may struggle to evolve in meaningful ways, since their inability to die removes traditional narrative stakes. This can lead to stagnant character arcs, where the potential for growth and change is limited by the character’s inherent invulnerability.

Another challenge is diminished emotional engagement. Mortality is central to the human condition, and much of a reader’s emotional investment comes from the awareness that a character's time is limited. In stories featuring immortality, the absence of death as a real possibility can lessen tension. Authors must compensate for this by introducing alternative stakes, such as the potential for emotional or existential suffering, as seen in Interview with the Vampire, where the emotional isolation of eternal life becomes the central conflict.

Lastly, immortality can sometimes lead to philosophical overload, where stories become bogged down by metaphysical debates and lose touch with the characters themselves. When immortality is used merely as a plot device for abstract musings on existence, it risks alienating readers who are more invested in narrative progression or character development.

The immortality trope also resonates beyond literature, reflecting broader societal anxieties and desires. In an age where scientific advancements, such as stem cell research, anti-aging technology, and the quest for digital consciousness, promise the possibility of extending human life, the trope takes on new relevance. It serves as a platform to explore the ethical, philosophical, and emotional consequences of such pursuits.

The immortality trope taps into the human fear of death and the desire to leave a lasting legacy. Whether through biological immortality or cultural immortality (such as leaving behind great works of art or knowledge), many people seek ways to outlive their finite lifespans. This desire for legacy is mirrored in characters who either embrace or reject their immortality, providing readers with a lens to examine their own fears of mortality.

Immortality also reflects societal aspirations toward technological progress. With the rise of biohacking, life extension research, and transhumanist movements, immortality is no longer a distant fantasy but a potential reality. However, stories that explore these themes often serve as cautionary tales, warning against the ethical and psychological consequences of altering the human condition. Works like Altered Carbon highlight the dangers of living indefinitely through technological means, from economic inequality to the erosion of empathy and identity.

In today’s society, the immortality trope intersects with cultural obsessions with youth and beauty. The growing industries dedicated to anti-aging products, cosmetic surgery, and longevity diets reflect a deep-seated fear of aging. Stories that feature eternal youth, such as The Picture of Dorian Gray, expose the vanity and moral emptiness that can accompany such obsessions, warning of the costs that come with an eternal pursuit of youth.

The immortality trope, deeply rooted in human mythology, religion, and literature, remains a powerful tool for exploring existential questions about life, death, and the passage of time. While it offers unique opportunities for examining morality, identity, and the human condition, it also presents narrative challenges, such as the risk of stagnation or diminished emotional stakes. Beyond its literary uses, the immortality trope continues to influence and reflect societal aspirations, fears, and ethical concerns, particularly in the context of modern science and technology. In a world where the possibility of extended life may one day become a reality, the trope of immortality will remain a vital means of grappling with the profound questions that define the human experience.

[haggishlyhagging]

Hildegard's repeated envisioning of the Church as Mother and her descriptions of the creative, life-giving aspect of the Church, which she likens to "green-ness" (viriditas), her holistic symbol for the vitality of earth, nature, human life and spirituality, all express her insistence on the unity of male and female principles in the universe, on earth and in heaven. Her theology breaks sharply with the dichotomized categories of the scholastics and with the patriarchal hierarchies embedded in their thought. Hildegard's visions fuse male and female elements, the physical and the spiritual, the rational-practical and the mystical aspects of existence. It is no accident that the illuminations of her visions abound in circles, curves and waves, in mandala-like designs, which avoid any concept of hierarchy in favor of wholeness, roundedness and integration.

It is impossible here to do justice to the richness of her visions, the complexities of her thought and the originality of much of her writing. She was influenced by Benedictine teachings and by Galen's medical theories, which defined 'humors" as leading principles governing nature and humans, and "phlegm" as the main cause of disease. She incorporated principles of folk medicine and popular tradition in her medical work and her cosmology, such as belief in the curative value of minerals and precious stones. Since the Latin translations of Aristotle's scientific writings were not then available in Western Europe, she was not influenced by Aristotelian explanations of natural and biological phenomena. Hildegard was therefore quite original in her medicinal writings and especially in her poetic cosmology. Her careful, often quite accurate descriptions of sexual intercourse and her insistence that sexual activity was beneficial to human beings over and above its function for procreation bespeak an unusual understanding of human nature and a rather liberal interpretation of human possibilities, especially considering that Hildegard had lived since age eight in a cloistered environment. Further, her descriptions of female and male characteristics quite independent of one another and her upgrading of woman's role in various ways in her writing indicate that, despite her acceptance of traditional gender definitions, she integrated some of her life experiences into her writing. Women, despite her insistence on their frailty and inferiority, emerge as active, strong people in her writings.

Hildegard, first of a long line of female mystics and spiritualists, derived her authority and right to speak and to think directly from God. God spoke to Hildegard—of this she was convinced and she was able to convince her contemporaries. From this she derived her enormous energy, vitality and leadership.

In three of the illuminations appearing in her late work, De Operatione Dei, Hildegard has painted herself into the visions. The visions are abstract and interpretative in their subject matter, representing "The Cosmic Wheel," "On Human Nature" and "Cultivating the Cosmic Tree." Each of these illuminations shows a mandala with many circles, representing various aspects of the universe, with a human figure at its center. In the left-hand corner of each of these pictures there is the figure of a seated nun, writing on two tablets shaped like the Mosaic tablets. Her face is lifted up and touched by some sort of radiance. This self-conscious self-representation may very well be the first of its kind for a woman. The repetition of this motif and its placement within the illuminations dealing with the most far-reaching, philosophical themes show that Hildegard had by then transcended the conventional posture of self-effacement and humility. No longer merely "God's little trumpet," she wished to be seen in the act of writing down her visions, in the act of authorship. Wishing to be remembered in her own right, she became the first female inspired by mystical revelation to claim her place in history.

-Gerda Lerner, The Creation of Feminist Consciousness

[woozapooza]

ridiculously long Sopranos post I swear I tried to keep it concise but this is as short as it's going to get

One pattern among Sopranos viewers that I find baffling is the veneration of Dr. Krakower, the therapist in “Second Opinion” who tells Carmela flat-out that she’s obligated to leave Tony and refuses to take her “blood money.” I’ve seen him described as one of the only truly moral characters in the whole show, if not the only one. I agree that his integrity is truly admirable, but I think a lot of viewers overstate the value of that integrity. Granted, this is partly just me being the biggest Melfi apologist imaginable (I’ll get to that in a second), but I also think that I have an objectively valid point to make. One of the biggest themes of The Sopranos is how difficult it is to make a substantive change in one’s life, and that’s partly a matter of human frailty, but it’s also a matter of circumstances and environment. The Sopranos understands that, for most people, willpower will only take them so far because people don’t exist in isolation. To take an example from the last episode I watched (6x17, “Walk Like a Man”), Christopher has been trying so, so hard to stay sober, but he ends up getting drunk and murdering a guy, and while that is ultimately on him, it might never have happened if he hadn’t endured years of mockery from the very people who insisted that he get sober in the first place. It’s this interconnectedness, this imbrication of people, that makes morality so complicated—and so insufficient. Virtue and vice are unfortunately never the only factors at play in human behavior.

Bringing this back to Krakower: his integrity is undeniably admirable, but what good does it do? Carmela doesn’t take his advice! I saw a YouTube comment that said that the best thing Dr. Melfi ever did for the Soprano family was to refer Carmela to Krakower, but how can that be, when the net impact of that referral was nothing at all? Is throwing moral clarity at a morally murky situation really the objectively right thing to do, when it’s so unlikely to accomplish anything material? Not to mention Carmela's religion teaches her that she’s obligated to stay in this marriage, which is an absurd belief IMO, but it is her belief nonetheless. Of course he’s not going to get through to her if he doesn’t meet her where she’s at. I’m not saying integrity doesn’t matter. I’m just saying that in Sopranos World, as in the real world, you don’t have a good/bad effect on the world just by having good/bad morals. I think it’s best to have one foot firmly planted in morality while also being willing to engage with immorality, but even that approach to life isn’t guaranteed to do good, because sometimes, no matter how hard you try, it’s out of your hands. The world is just too complicated.

One of countless things I love about Melfi is that she’s one of the few characters who I see making a fairly consistent effort to walk the line between principles and pragmatism. Obviously she makes mistakes, she’s as human as the rest of them, but damn it, at least she’s trying! I think a lot of viewers don’t give her enough credit for that. If Krakower deserves credit for his moral intransigence (and he does!), surely Melfi deserves credit for trying to strike an effective balance. I just don’t understand how viewers of this show, which takes such a realistic look at the limits of how far an innate sense of right and wrong can take you, can see one therapist who tells his patient that she has to do something she’s almost guaranteed not to do because it would be enormously difficult both psychologically and logistically (he tells her to “take the children” and go—how’s that supposed to work? They’re not toddlers who she can just scoop up and carry away!) and then sends her away, and one therapist who tries to build a relationship with her patient through which they could theoretically work together on shaping him into a more functional person, and declare that the former is doing it right and the latter is doing it wrong. Sure, her strategy ultimately fails, but so does his, and I think hers was a lot more pragmatic! It would have worked with a patient who was more willing to try. Like me, for example. I would be the best patient she ever had and I would never let her down and she would be so proud of me.

Okay, I had written some additional paragraphs switching gears and focusing on Melfi’s approach to treating Tony and explaining some of the reasons that I will always stan her, but this post is so long already I think I’m going to end it here. Sometime soon I’ll make a separate post with the Melfi paragraphs. She deserves her own post anyway. Have I mentioned that I love her? Have I ever mentioned that???

[let-us-cultivate-our-garden]

Envy was the most sadistic of the Homunculi in Fullmetal Alchemist, bragging about things such as starting the Ishvalan Civil War, indirectly creating Scar, and killing fan favorite Maes Hughes, but Arakawa gave them a bit of complexity and the best villain death ever

When dealing the final blow with major villains/antagonists, you actually have to defeat them twice; the first is the actual physical defeat and the second is the defeat of their ideals or beliefs.

Envy's driving force was how superior they thought they were to "weak" humans; the irony of course (and as their name indicates) they are envious of humans for their inner strength and morality. So you have a character that is secretly deeply insecure and they commit atrocities to mask that insecurity. So how do you truly defeat this type of villain?

Unmask them. Reveal the inner weakness. How pathetic they truly they are. Make them realize the enormity of their actions.

This is why Envy's death resonates: we have the catharsis of watching the haughty character be broken down, to reveal the rot underneath yet at the same time there is a sense of pity because Envy's fears are relatable. It does not make Envy a "good" person by any stretch of the imagination but (ironically) a more human character. The defeat of the Homunculi also rebukes Father's goal of achieving perfection with his artificial humans; by exposing the frailties of his creations, you expose the frailties of the main villain.

The Owl House does not do this with Belos; he is killed but his ideology is not, he dies thinking himself in the right. This could work but only if you show why Belos is so committed to his cause to the bitter end and while the show has hints of this, it's so vague that it's practically meaningless and is his backstory is never paid off. There's no final confrontation between Luz and Belos about the roles they have played in shaping the isles and how Luz let go of her childish fantasies while Belos did not and how it destroyed him.

The show also never gets into the forces that made Belos; he's just always been like that and having him be the cause of all the problems on the BI seems to say that if you remove the One Bad Man then everything will be ok. No one else who supported Belos ever gets any kind of comeuppance, none of the Coven Heads, not Odalia, and we only see Kiki in one shot helping rebuild the school so I guess we're okay with her now?

Belos' death is just disappointing all around; Luz's silence would be amazing as it would indicate that she no longer allows him to control her, except that Belos never had any influence over her. She's always rebuked his advances at commonality and her main angst in season 3 over "helping" him is so narratively weak and so lacking in tension that it's laughable.

When you have a character like Belos, especially after building up how delusional he is and the circumstances as to what made him, there needs to be a proper conclusion in which he is confronted with his delusions and lies, that he wasted his life for nothing. That his goals were childish and stupid and it all could have been avoided. Instead we get a pithy one-liner and an anti-climactic foot stomping. How bold.

(and also, don't tell me that Belos can't bounce back from his apparent "death." The man reformed himself from a single droplet and a little acid rain and some boots aren't going to do squat).

[hiswordsarekisses]

“2000 years ago when Jesus died on the cross the glory of God ripped through the curtain veil of the four walls of the old covenant temple.

Religion has tried to put God back into that old system almost ever since.

Jesus' death on the cross rips the veil between what we call sacred and secular.

No more is Gods glorious presence resigned to a 4-walled place of religion; now the entire scope of the human experience can be invaded by the divine.

Now worship is more than religious service or performance in a temple, but the entirety of the life we lead is an act of surrender and worship.

We prefer a safe and domesticated presence. One that doesn't challenge us.

Our meetings often invite His presence but only so much as to give us goosebumps.

Like a genie in a lamp we treat the Holy Spirit; giving Him freedom to "come out" when we need a touch; then back into His proverbial cage while we move on with the other parts of our lives.

We have thus created a religion of the presence of God where we allow Him close enough to make us feel good but not enough to shape and form us into Christ.

We are experts at getting into God's presence, novices at letting God into our presence.

This is how a man can spend 12 hours a day in the prayer room but not formed inwardly to be like Christ.

4-walled religion lets us touch God on our own terms and timing rather than allowing His presence to invade EVERY part of our world and private life.

We are fine if He comes inside our allotted worship times, but carefully guard the rest of our lives once "worship" is over.

The Incarnation of Christ is proof that God is forever pleased to unite Himself to our humanity.

This means that the Presence of God isn't just resigned to our "spiritual times" but dwells inside the full scope and depth of the weakness, frailty, joy, beauty, and pain of our human experience.

To that, I cry "God get into my presence!"

It's as if we prefer a predictable presence of God, one that molds to our meetings and agendas, rather than a presence of God that parts the ocean, topples empires, and leads us into the oft uncomfortable realm of faith and the unknown!

Could it be, that God is as much longing to get out of our 4 walls of religion today as He was 2000 years ago?

Invade every part.”

~ Chris Burns

( @chrisburnslove )

[yanderes-galore]

In my opinion cause soul of cinder is all the manifestation of all the Lord of cinder that have been linking the fire he must have at least each trait of this lord , so let's analyse the Lord's first :

Gwyn of Lord of cinder and king of Gods he try so hard to prolong the age of fire even if it extend to his family and himself in the end becoming hollow

Yhorm the giant , the giant who linked the first flame in attemp to save his people and city even if his people do not feel love from him in the end he was slaughtered by his own friend Siegfried by the sword he give to him

Ludleth of courland A small pygmy from courland and a extracting and coalescing the essence of souls to gain incredible powers. But he still have nightmare from the burning

Abyss Watchers A legion of Undead soldiers tasked with fighting the Abyss wherever it takes shape, united in their souls by the wolf blood of Artorias to link the First Flame and do their duty one last time.

Aldrich, Saint of the Deep: A cleric from Irithyll of the Boreal Valley who took pleasure in devouring humans, eating so much that his body became a sludge of darkness and was made to link the First Flame for his strength. Sacrificing anything and everything to brought the age of sea

(He reject his destiny but I want to mention him) Lothric, Younger Prince A prince brought into the world by the royal family of Lothric for the sole purpose of linking the Flame, but his frailty, curse and suffering led him to reject his destiny.

And if we want to add the player basically us from DS 1-3

Ashen one, Bearer of curse, and Choosen undead basically an unkidled or human who self determine to continue or reject the linking of fire.

So the soul of cinder personality will be a obsessive yet protective guy that stubbornly protect reader even if it cost him his life he'll be a very gentleman kind of person that tries to change the course of destiny and fate if your life is in danger sacrificing anything and everything as long if it keep you safe. Hate him if you must but he'll keep loving you.

And to add that in mind the failure of the Lord be a reminder in his head that he can't fail her just like the Lord fail linking the fire making his personality 10 time more overbearing

Posting this to pull from when I do the Soul of Cinder concept soon! You may see it tomorrow or the day after that, I'll see.

Thanks for the motivation and direction to take, Anon!

[run-aled]

RED VALLEY: SEASON 2 EPISODE 5 ‘A Thousand Tonnes of Rock’

[transcript]

SCENE 1

2020. GORDON AND WARREN ARE IN THE DISUSED MEDICAL BAY ON THE GROUND FLOOR, PLAYING REBOUNDSWITH A TENNIS BALL. THROUGH OUT THE SCENE THERE IS A CHANGE TO WARREN'S VOICE THAT HE'S TRYING TO HIDE - A FRAILTY. HE IS OCCASIONALLY SHORT OF BREATHAND HAS A PERSISTENT COUGH.

WARREN: So, the Pus Crank Christmas medley was called Beth-mayhem?

GORDON: O Little Town of Bethmayhem. We did severalactually.

WARREN: Oh yeah, what were they called?

GORDON: God Rest Ye Metal Gentlemen.

WARREN: Good.

GORDON: The First No-Hell.

WARREN: That’s very good!

GORDON: Good King Wencesthrash.

WARREN: Wencesthrash?

GORDON: Yeah, I mean… It's harder than you think.

WARREN TAKES A MOMENT TO THINK.

WARREN: We Wish You A Metal Christmas.

GORDON: Um, no… Too easy.

WARREN MISHITS THE BALL.

GORDON: Oh, are you alright?

WARREN: Yeah, Yeah, I’m fine.

GORDON: Two shoots to me for that!

WARREN: I know.

GORDON HITS THE BALL, WARREN TAKES HIS TURN ENTHUSIASTICALLY.

WARREN: While Shepherds Rocked Their Socks By Night!

GORDON: Um, yeah that one’s better!

WARREN: The 12 Days of Crustmas.

GORDON: Yes!

CUT. WARREN AND GORDON PLAYING GOLDENEYE.

WARREN: Would you rather...do a tiny shit every hour on the hour, or spend one week a year doing all your shits in one go?

GORDON: Is this during sleeping hours as well?

WARREN: For which? The every hour one?

GORDON: Yeah, yeah. No. Wait. No, both of them. I mean…you couldn't shit for a full week 24/7 without sleep.

WARREN: You get to sleep as normal.

GORDON: Okay umm… Would the week be exempt from annual leave or sick pay entitlements? Does this impact the whole human race or just me personally? I'd hate to lose a week of holiday just because I - Oh! Ha ha ha ha!

WARREN: Oh my God! Fuck sake.

GORDON: That is why you don't play as Baron Samedi on Goldeneye.

WARREN: He's the coolest one.

GORDON: Yeah, but his tophat still counts as his head so hehas like 3 times the surface area for me to get aheadshot.

WARREN: Well, yeah fine, let me be Mishkin then.

GORDON: No, I'm always Mishkin. You have everyone else tocan be.

WARREN: But I would like to be Mishkin.

GORDON: No, you only want to be Mishkin cos you can't have him. I like the shape of his head.

WARREN: His head is square. They all have square heads.

GORDON: Come on!

WARREN: Oh oh look look, she's waddling, Gordon, she’s waddling.

GORDON: Waffles! Hey!

WARREN: To be fair, I did think tortoises came bigger than that.

GORDON: She's only wee. She came out of an eggremember. She'll get bigger. Like shoebox kind ofbig.

WARREN: Do you like her?

GORDON: She's my daughter now. Aren't you Waffles? Aren’tyah! Ow! She pinched me! Didn't you! I can't believe they actually gave us a tortoise.

WARREN: Well, that is the almighty power I wield.

THE COMM CRACKLES.

GRACE: Warren, can we see you in the lab in 5 minutes,please? Over.

WARREN: That's a ten four. Over.

GORDON: A-ok.

WARREN: Roger Roger.

GRACE: What?

WARREN: Yep. Give me 5 minutes.

GRACE: That's what I said.

WARREN: I mean 10 minutes.

GORDON: Is that...is it time to-

WARREN: No, it's just more scans, I think.

THE COMMS GO AGAIN.

GRACE: Gordon, I need you to help Pamela with the saline.We need to top up the supply, there's not enoughdown here for another freeze and Bryony want shim in before 7 o’clock.

THEY PAUSE.

WARREN: Yeah er… We'll be there now.

GORDON: Warren, you've been out less than a week.

WARREN: Yeah well, they must be stepping it up.

GORDON: Look you know you don't have to actually-

WARREN: I know I know. I don't have to do anything.

AWKWARD SILENCE.

GORDON: Warren. Do you...do you like going intohypersleep?

WARREN: Well… I like being good at something.

GORDON: You're good at Golden Eye. And you don't have torisk your life every time you play it.

WARREN: You’re gonna be here, when I get out?

GORDON: Always am.

WARREN: Well, if you're not, I get to be Mishkin. Inperpetuity.

CUT.

SCENE 2

AUBREY, IN HER VAN, HIDDEN NOT FARFROM THE STATION. IT'S COLD ANDRAINING BUT SHE'S STOOD WITH THE DOOR TO THE VAN OPEN. HER LITTLE KETTLE HAS BOILED. SHE POURS ACUP AND BLOWS ON IT IMPATIENTLY.EVENTUALLY A LITTLE ALARM GOESOFF. SHE PICKS UP THE COMM SHE GOT FROM WARREN AND TURNS IT ON.SHE CLICKS IT SIX TIMES. CLICK,STATIC. CLICK, STATIC. ONCE SHE'S ATCHANNEL SIX SHE STOPS, AND WAITS.EVENTUALLY THE COMM CRACKLES TO LIFE.

GORDON: Hello?

AUBREY: Hi Gordon.

GORDON: Aubrey?

AUBREY: Yes, it's still me. How are you?

GORDON: I am freezing.

AUBREY: I'm sure there's plenty of places you could goinside where they wouldn't walk in on you.

GORDON: I don't trust anywhere inside. I don't really trust being outside. I don't know how long I can getaway with this Aubrey. I can only pretend to inspect the guttering so many times.

AUBREY: To be honest you shouldn't be pretending. Theicicles that build up on those gutters are lethal.They're like stalactites. I remember one broke off when Ben was carrying some equipment and bumped into a wall, I swear it would've gone straight through his head if it had hit him.

GORDON: Maybe I shouldn't stand beneath them then.

A PAUSE.

GORDON: Aubrey?

AUBREY: I'm sorry. I just...I just can't believe he's dead. Ben.I mean I can, of course I can. It's why we were so careful all this time. We knew what they would doto us if they found us. I mean, I had to assume when he went quiet on me that they'd got to him. I just… I just can't believe he's been down there inone of those bloody pods. For Bryony to play with like he's a...

GORDON: Teddy bear?

AUBREY: Alright Gordon.

GORDON: At least you know it's equal opportunities butcheryround here. Anyone's head can be sawn off.

AUBREY: Ben Thomas was a lot of things but don't forget he helped you get all the information you were searching for on Red Valley, just like me.

GORDON: You're right. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry about Ben Thomas. He was your friend.

AUBREY: Well, let's not carried away, he was a twat. How's Warren?

GORDON: He went back in tonight.

AUBREY: Again? But it's only been -

GORDON: Five days. He's only been out of the lab for 3. This is the 5th time he's been in.

AUBREY: Why's she doing that?

GORDON: It's madness, isn't it? Clive Schill is right. If Warren's what you said he was, when he was in your van, you said he was the most valuablecommodity Overhead could ever have. Why is she putting him at such risk if he's the golden egg?

AUBREY: Gordon, I need to know what she's doing in there.

GORDON: I don't know what she's doing. Not the important stuff, I could never understand it.

AUBREY: But you're archiving for her as she goes, right? Soyou have access to the data?

GORDON: Yeah, she makes me catalogue everything.

AUBREY: Gordon, I need you to get as much of that as possible on to a storage device and take it into the tunnel.

GORDON: What?

AUBREY: You can do it. Say you're...exploring. For your archiving or whatever. Head down the tunnel, goall the way to the reactor housing, leave it somewhere conspicuous.

GORDON: And what's going to happen to it in there?

AUBREY: There's another way into the tunnel. From the other side of the Ballbag.G

ORDON: There's...other mines that were supposed to be connected to it-

AUBREY: So, you've seen the plans then?

GORDON: Yes, but...how do you know they're even built, or safe?

AUBREY: I've been poking around one of them. It went really far.

GORDON: How far?

AUBREY: I don't know, I got scared and came back out again.

GORDON: I don't know about this Aubrey.

AUBREY: Look it's risky enough me even being this close so we can talk over the comm. The weather won't always be able to hide me so well. You can't come out and meet me. And frankly, if we're seriously talking about getting both of you out of there one day, we need to know whet her that tunnel is a viable way in and out of the station. I thought you'd jump at the chance.

GORDON: To go down the terrifying tunnel built from anancient granite mine into the middle of amountain? Yeah… Sounds thrilling.

AUBREY: Gordon, it's not a dungeon. Your end is fine, it's totally safe. It's wired in, there's lights, it's fine. It's a fascinating concept actually.

GORDON: Well, send Grand Designs down there then.

AUBREY: Will you do it?

GORDON: I'm not going down there on my own. I'll take Warren when he next comes out.

AUBREY: But we don't know how long that could be. It could be weeks for all we know.

GORDON: I doubt it. Look, I'm not confronting a genuinephobia of being crushed by a thousand tonnes of rock by myself. Have you ever seen The Descent?

AUBREY: No.

GORDON: Neither have I. For that exact reason.

AUBREY: Very few people get the opportunity to face aphobia as specific as that. It could be a real break through for you.

GORDON: I don't know if I like you, Aubrey.

AUBREY: Or you'll go down in history as the first man crushed to death by a ballbag.

CUT.

SCENE 3

SOME TIME HAS PASSED. WARREN AND GORDON ARE AT THE ENTRANCE OF THE TUNNEL INTO THE MOUNTAIN.

GORDON: And you've got more batteries for your torch?

WARREN: Er... Yes.

GORDON: Did you bring snacks?

WARREN: Snacks?

GORDON: Yeah.

WARREN: How long do you think this tunnel is?

GORDON: It runs all the way into the mountain. Who knows.

WARREN: What's in your bag? I thought it was, like, recording equipment.

GORDON: It's just stuff-

WARREN: Is that a sleeping mat?

GORDON: I'm anxious about it, Warren.

WARREN: This was your idea. We don't have to go in. Whocares what's in there? I'll get the door.

WARREN OPENS THE DOOR TO THE TUNNEL. IT'S MASSIVE AND HEAVY.

WARREN: Oh my God, it's heavy.

GRUNTS WITH THE EFFORT.

WARREN: Oh my God, do you have to speak Parsel tongue to open this?

GORDON: Let me help.

WARREN: I've got it.

GORDON: Look I can help-

WARREN: I said I've got it.

IT FINALLY GIVES AND WARREN DRAGSIT'S HEAVY WEIGHT SO ITS FULLY OPEN. WARREN IS EXHAUSTED AT THEEFFORT.

GORDON: Warren. You've only been out of the lab a day, this is probably really stupid.

WARREN: We don't do these things because they're easy,but because they're hard.

GORDON: Was that JFK?

WARREN: Well yeah… that’s my best impression. This is this is very cool and scary, isn't it?

GORDON: Are you sure you're okay?

WARREN: I'm fine. Are you okay?

GORDON: Prop the door with that bin would you.

CUT.

THEY ARE A LITTLE WHILE INTO THE TUNNEL.

GORDON: Did the lights just flicker?

WARREN: No, it was me, just messing about with the torch.Be cool.

GORDON: I am cool.

WARREN: So. There isn't a prototype small micro-

GORDON: Small modular reactor.

WARREN: Yeah, right. So, there isn't one.

GORDON: No, no, it was just like the seed vault. They built everything for it but never saw it through.

WARREN: Or maybe it was another smoke screen to hide something else.

GORDON: I don't think we'd be able to get in so easily if that was the case. Overhead wouldn't just leave the door unlocked if they had a cloned Triceratops down here or something.

WARREN: But how else would it feed, Gordon. It needs to feed. And it only eats...archivists.

GORDON: Shut up.

THEY WALK ON SILENTLY FOR A MOMENT.

WARREN: So, have you heard any more from, Aubrey?

GORDON: Yeah, I spoke to her the other night. While you're hypersleeping.

WARREN: You know you don't have to whisper down here.

GORDON: Considering how we got in this predicament you'revery laissez-faire about being overheard.

WARREN: What did she say?

GORDON: Not a lot. She mainly wants to hear about you of course.

WARREN: Well, I am kind of a big deal.

GORDON: I'll be honest with you, Warren. We're going down here because I'm leaving a data stick for Aubrey topick up. She wants to see all of Bryony's work onyou.

WARREN: What? That is wild!

GORDON: She wants to know what is happening with you so she can help. Are you angry?

WARREN: Why would I be angry? That's some covert shit. I thought it was a bit mad to be coming down herefor a day out when you're clearly bricking it.

GORDON: I just thought. I mean it's your confidential information, you know.

WARREN: I think we're a bit past that, aren't we? How is she collecting it?

GORDON: Well, she says there is another exit. It must be one of the disused mining tunnels from the other side of the mountain. It's much further from her end but she's confident she can make it.

WARREN: Wow. All of this going on while I'm in hypersleep.What else do you guys get up to?

GORDON: Nothing really. When you're frozen and everyone else is gone it's a bit...

WARREN: What?

GORDON: It’s… just nice to talk to someone.

WARREN: Right. I mean… I hoped the tortoise would be good for you but, I appreciate she probably doesn't talk very much.

GORDON: Hey, look I trust Waffles. I still don't know if we can trust Aubrey. We don't know her. Not really. I just think we have to take the risk.

WARREN: Sure. Why not. I don't think anyone knows anyone to be honest.

THEY WALK ON A LITTLE LONGER.

WARREN: Would you rather have the head of a dolphin, orthe tail of a dolphin?

CUT. THEY'VE REACHED THE END OF THE TUNNEL. A FAIRLY LARGEHOLLOWED OUT SPACE. THEIR VOICE SECHO A BIT.

WARREN: I think, this is it.

GORDON: Yeah. Great isn't it.

WARREN: I guess. It’s got a kind of Batcave feel to it.

A RUSTLE OF BISCUIT WRAPPERS.

GORDON: Custard cream?

WARREN TAKES ONE.

WARREN: So, it doesn't...do anything else. It's just this emptyspace.

GORDON: Well, I mean… it's not empty. Look, this where the reactor was going to go. You could deliver it ona couple of trucks, trolley it down here, assembleon site. It could run the station easily, the plan wasit could actually run a whole community. That's what the pamphlet said anyway. Maybe it was allmade up.

WARREN: Yeah right, So, umm… where are you going to leave all my deepest, darkest secrets?

GORDON: Oh yeah.

GORDON PULLS OUT A BAKED BEANT IN.

GORDON: In one conspicuous tin of baked beans.

GORDON PULLS OUT ONE MORE SMALL PACKAGE.

WARREN: Wait, is that one of our Bakewell tarts?

GORDON: You said she liked Bakewell tart.

WARREN: I said she gave me Bakewell tart.

GORDON: Do you want me to take it back?

WARREN: No. Can we go? I'm cold.

GORDON: Sure.

CUT. THEY'RE WALKING BACK. WARREN STOPS WITH A COUGHINGFIT.

GORDON: Are you okay?

WARREN: Yep. Just hang on.

GORDON HAS SHONE HIS TORCH DIRECTLY AT WARREN.

WARREN: Hey, just get your torch out of my eyes.

GORDON: You're coughing blood.

WARREN: Oh. It’s just a little blood.

GORDON: Warren.

WARREN: Look let's get back.

GORDON: Warren, we need to talk about this. While we'reable to.

WARREN: What do you mean?

GORDON: I don't know when we'll get a chance to talk without Bryony on your shoulder while you're... well, while you’re in a good mood.

WARREN: In a good mood?

GORDON: You know what I mean.

WARREN: I don't want to do this.

GORDON: You don't want to do this? How do you think I feel?

WARREN: Yeah, you seem like you're having a really bad time.

GORDON: What?

WARREN: Don't pretend this whole set up isn't your dream job, Gordon.

WARREN BEGINS TO WALK AWAY.

GORDON: Hey! I've spent the last few weeks scared out of my mind. For both of us. And all of the time I've been trying to...manage you. You're happy as Larry one minute, furious or upset the next. I've heard you scream in the night, I've heard you crying in the mornings. Do you think this is fun forme?

WARREN: Plenty of material for your archive, Gordon.

GORDON: I watched you run a scalpel through your ownhand! And you barely flinched. I watch you over and over, you walk off to go back into that pod not knowing if you're going to come back out again and there's almost a spring in your step. It's obviously affecting you. Look… you've lost weight,you're pale as milk, you're coughing up blood.Bryony treats you worse than a lab rat. I… I just don't understand. Do you want...do you want to not make it out? Is that it?

WARREN: How's your memoir coming along?

GORDON: What?

WARREN: Your memoir, the one I found in the car on the way here. Do you remember? What was it called?

GORDON: Why do you want to talk about that?

WARREN: What was it called?

GORDON: Warren-WARREN: It was called 'You Can't Freeze a Soul-My Journey Into The Cryonic Void'. Would you care to elaborate on that choice of title?

GORDON: Warren, look, I never thought successful cryonic preservation could exist, I thought it was a joke science-

WARREN: I would love to hear your ruminations on the nature of my soul, Gordon. Or do you just think I don't have one. Like every other nameless convict thrown on Overhead's conveyor belt of horrors. Don't tell me you don't lean in when Bryony starts using those long words. Don't tell me, that if the chips hadn't fallen a little bit differently, I wouldn't be just another tape for you to play to a different schmuck from Accounts in that fucking car park in the rain. If there is a spring in my step when I goin to the cryo suite, it's because when I get in that pod I go nowhere. I think of nothing. I simply am not. And every time I go in, I have that sliver of hope that if I do come out, the world might be a different place, and I might be a different person. I thasn't happened yet, so yeah, sometimes, I am pretty disappointed when I come round. I'm sorry if that's bummed you out a couple of times on the way for your morning slash.

SILENCE.

WARREN: Yeah, I'm done, do you want to storm off or shall I?

GORDON: You can go.

WARREN: No, no, you don't like being down here on your own. You go.

GORDON: Okay.

CUT.

SCENE 4

AUBREY IS MAKING HER WAY OUT OF HER END OF THE TUNNEL. SHE ISEXHAUSTED AND ELATED.

AUBREY: Oh thank God! Daylight! Sweet overcast freezingdaylight! Right, right, so-

SHE PULLS OUT HER PHONE TO LOOK AT HER MEASUREMENTS.

AUBREY: - that was 2 hours to get in, 1 hour 40 to get back,17,464 steps. Jesus.

SHE DRAGS HERSELF BACK TO THEVAN, PARKED AT THE MOUTH OF THE TUNNEL. SHE GETS IN, REMOVING HERJACKET AND HAT, COLLAPSING INTO ASEAT.

AUBREY: Bloody hell. Right. It's 15:30. I have the data. I'll look at it now.

SHE PAUSES.

AUBREY: Actually, I'm going to have a nap. And then I'll look at it.

CUT. HOURS HAVE PASSED. QUIET IN THE VAN. IT'S NIGHT. SUDDENLY THE COMM BURSTS TO LIFE, WAKING AUBREY WITH A START.

GORDON: Aubrey? Aubrey?

AUBREY: Christ, what time is it...

SHE LURCHES TO TURN ON A LIGHT,KNOCKING A WATER BOTTLE OVER WITH A CLATTER.

AUBREY: Shit. Hello? Gordon?

GORDON: You're there.

AUBREY: Yes, I'm here. Sorry, I fell asleep. What time is it?

GORDON: It's a little after midnight.

AUBREY: Midnight?! How the hell is it...bloody hell, I was more tired than I thought. Gordon, Gordon, I did it.I've got it. I've got the data.

GORDON: That's brilliant Aubrey

.AUBREY: I haven't looked yet. But I'm all over it. I've had my nights sleep already apparently. But the tunnel is almost completely safe, it's a bit twisty and turny,and a bit dark and spooky, but it's there, it runs stranger into the reactor room. Or cave, orw hatever it is. And there was your bloody baked bean tin! I sat and ate half that Bakewell tart on the spot. Thank you, Gordon. It must've been hard.

GORDON: Yeah.

AUBREY: Gordon, wha… what's wrong?

GORDON: She put him back in again.

AUBREY: Oh, God.

GORDON: We got out of the tunnel. We'd had a falling out.I'm just trying to look out for him, Aubrey, he was coughing up blood. I should never have taken him down there, it was just because I was too bloody frightened to do it on my own...

AUBREY: What happened?

GORDON: She was waiting for us. At the entrance. Told us off like we were kids staying out too late. I tried to protest but they acted like I wasn't even there,trying to stare each other out. And off they went.He's already in the pod.

AUBREY: We're going to do this, Gordon. We're going to save him. Alright?

GORDON: Alright.

AUBREY: We can do this. You and me.

GORDON: Alright.

AUBREY: I mean, mainly me. But you can help.

GORDON: Thanks.

AUBREY: Well, I'm up now. You want to play cards or something?

CUT.

SCENE 5

2064. AUBREY IS IN THE QUARANTINESUITE.

AUBREY: Stop.

GORD: Would you like me to play the next entry, Aubrey?

A LONG PAUSE BEFORE AUBREY ANSWERS.

GORD: Would you like me to play the ne-

AUBREY: No.

GORD: Would you like to talk about your feelings?

AUBREY: No.

ANOTHER PAUSE.

GORD: There's a patch coming through from Hester.

AUBREY: Sure.

HESTER: Hey. How you doing?

AUBREY: It's after 3, why are you awake?

HESTER: Do either of us really sleep any more?

AUBREY: Your shift's at 7 though.

HESTER: How is he?

AUBREY: Warren Godby has been out for the count for the last 4 hours. I have been watching him snore for a very long time. Thank God the quarantine glass isso thick.

HESTER: How'd the evening go?

AUBREY: The same. Still confused. I thought it wouldn't take this long for him to come round.

HESTER: Hey, don't start that big brain going. We knew it was going to be a different emergence to any other. He'll be fine. It's just taking longer.

AUBREY: I know. I want you to sleep, okay?

HESTER: Okay.

AUBREY: See you in a bit.

HESTER: Goodnight.

HESTER PATCHES OFF.

AUBREY: Alright, Warren. Visiting time is over. Time for cards with Gordon.

AUBREY GETS UP FROM HER CHAIR WITH SOME EFFORT AND WALKS TO THE DOOR. SHE PULLS IT OPEN AND WALKS A SHORT DISTANCE DOWN ANECHOEY CORRIDOR TO ANOTHER ROOM. THE CRYOSUITE. SHE HAS TOUSE A FINGERPRINT READER TO ENTER. SHE PLACES HER FINGER ON APAD AND IT BEEPS. GORD'S VOICE IS ECHOEY IN THE CORRIDOR.

GORD: Fingerprint verified. Wood, Aubrey Jane.Cryosuite.

THE DOOR OPENS WITH A HEAVY CLUNK.

AUBREY: Feels a bit much.

GORD: You're responsible for setting up security, not me.

AUBREY: Good point.

SHE STEPS FURTHER INTO THE ROOM. LITTLE BEEP BOOPS IN THE BACKGROUND.

AUBREY: This is weird.

GORD: Which part?

AUBREY: I haven't been in here since I changed your voice.I'm looking at Gordon in his cryopod and talking to him at the same time.

GORD: You're talking to a vir-

AUBREY: Yes, I know. But you understand how that might beweird.

GORD: I appreciate the dichotomy.

AUBREY SIGHS IRRITABLY AND WALKS AROUND THE POD TO ASSESS IT.

AUBREY: How are his readouts doing?

GORD: The self-diagnostics on Gordon's cryopod repeatevery 12 hours. Nothing has been outside of acceptable parameters.

AUBREY: And the generator, how's the backup?

GORD: Grace carried out the monthly backup generator service on the 30th with no issues. This was in last week's report.

AUBREY: Yes. Thank you.

PAUSE. AUBREY SPEAKS A LITTLEQUIETER, DIRECTLY AT THE CRYOPODIN FRONT OF HER.

AUBREY: I know all the fuss is going on in Quarantine next door. I just don't want you to think we've for gotten about you, Gordon.

SHE PULLS A DECK OF PLAYING CARDS FROM HER POCKET.

AUBREY: Right. We're going to play Bastard.

GORD'S VOICE HAS REMAINED NEAR THE DOOR RATHER THAN COME CLOSER. HE RAISES HIS VOICE A LITTLE TO REACH HER.

GORD: Did you know that card game is also called Shithead?

AUBREY: Did you know that you are also called Shithead?

GORD: Would you like me to play the next entry, Aubrey?

AUBREY: You know me too well.

SHE DEALS.

END.

[wolint]

THE POTTER’S WHEEL!

THE POTTER’S WHEEL

Jeremiah 18:1-9

 

We’ve all probably played with mud, real mud or play dough. Whichever you played with, you remember how it felt to run your hands through the wet mud and mould something out of it.

Consider how painstaking and deliberate the potter is to fashion the humble mud we step on into those beautiful porcelain products we admire, buy, and collect. The potter shapes the mud into whatever form and design he wants; the mud has no say in how it turns out.

Just as the mud has no input in what it becomes, we too cannot tell the Lord (our Potter) what to do, what to make us into, and how we are fashioned. God, the Master Potter, took clay and formed man with a prosperous and powerful result in mind, yet He moulded and shaped us into something beautiful according to 1 Corinthians 15:49, into Christ’s image.

God speaks to us in tangible ways using life all around us and if we listen to Him and place our lives in His hands as mud on a potter’s wheel, He fashions us into that beautiful porcelain He wants us to be. We try daily to make ourselves into what and who we think we should be, we try constantly to shape ourselves into the image that we think is acceptable, fashioned by our circumstances and experience.

We weren’t just made, we were wonderfully and fearfully made according to Psalm 139:14. No matter the blemish the clay has, the potter is still able to squash the clay into a mound and reshape it into a likeness that pleases him. No matter how rough the mud, there is always going to be hope for the tarnished mud, because the potter will never discard the clay, He will merely remould it. In and of itself, the clay was good, but it becomes better in the potter’s hands. The potter’s wheel is the place of change, the place of transformation, and the place of renewal. Regardless of the damage done to our hearts, a new heart can only be granted by the Lord as declared in Ezekiel 36:26. “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness,” declares 1 John 1:9. At which, the transformation and sanctification of our hearts and lives begin on the potter’s wheel. We are all clay on the potter’s wheel, where God is shaping us into individual vessels that He wants to use for His glory.

As much as we’d like to reshape ourselves, we will always be unable to mould ourselves aright. We will therefore need to ask the sovereign Lord to mould us into His way of salvation, and He will not abandon us because we are the work of His hands, says Isaiah 64:8.

We must constantly ask ourselves the question in verse 6 and answer honestly. Can God not do with us as our maker what He wills? If God can reshape Israel, He certainly can reshape us. The only way we can become the treasures God fashioned out of clay according to 2 Corinthians 4:7 is to constantly remain on the potter’s wheel where only the Lord can help us overcome every struggle with our human frailty, weaknesses, and imperfections.

Whatever change we desire, God the Potter can reshape, remake, and remould us into the treasure He made us to be, even when we don’t understand the shape, we must trust Him to bring out our potentials in Him.

PRAYER: Dear Lord, thank you for moulding me into a vessel fit for your purpose. May I always remember to come to you for fixing in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Shalom

WOMEN OF LIGHT INT WOMEN MIN.

[verojiya]

My love for cigarettes lies not in their consumption, but in the complexities they represent. Like a tragic character on the stage, they possess a captivating duality. Cigarettes, in their brokenness, symbolize human frailty.

The very act of smoking embodies our imperfections and vulnerabilities as mortal beings. And yet, within this brokenness, there is a strange beauty that draws us in.

For in the company of a stick of tobacco, we find solace in our shared miseries. The trials and tribulations of life are whispered through the smoke as if these fragile leaves hold the collective experiences of countless souls. They become a conduit for our pain, our sorrows, and our longing.

Love and love lost, find refuge within the embrace of a cigarette. The puffs of smoke carry with them the stories of passionate romances, unrequited infatuations, and bitter heartbreaks.

The smoke curls and dances, painting pictures of longing and despair, as if the very essence of our human emotions takes shape in its stoic form.

[halloweenvalentine1997]

From the flood of the path

to the volts of the fence

in the shape of a cross

pushed from the altar

communion wine poured onto flames

tearing open sacred halls 

plaster and paint scratched by nails

marred by graphite

I’m 18

I chase pinwheel suns

I get high on Robitussin and I go to the mall

I swallow laser beams

I become a coffin

then a phoenix 

living in an ashtray

The path circles back to the same things

to secrets as poisonous as yew trees 

to fake flowers and kitchen cutlery

Human frailty like paper

ink running from a cloud’s liquid wounds

I lost my red heart in the parking lot

they hung it on the fence

and followed me to hell

Soul cut adrift

screaming in the brimstone garden

Scissors to the stems

watching all that’s left

Disintegrate

- Madison Grimmer