#Three Realms Gateway Offering

[sunnyvaiprion]

"To us, the Abyss is highly toxic, for them... intoxicating is more the word. Addictive, but still destructive"

[lilyandthegenshinbrainrot]

ONCE AGAIN REMINDING YALL ABOUT ENKANOMIYA AND THE VISHAPS !!!!

Neuvillette is the reborn Hydro Dragon,,, but he is also the product of the old legends from Enkanomiya, of vishaps who take the form of humans to take positions of power in their governments.

I'll never forgive Hyv for removing Kokomi's plot relevance as much as they did, but at least they stayed consistent about the details they introduced

[lionbearfox]

genshin impact version 2.5 flagship event three realms gateway offering you will always be famous. to me

[writingfromasgard]

Fae!141 tumbling into the yard of Reader at different times of the year to attempt to draw them into the fae realm.

Gaz always offers treats with a smile, trying to brush them against Reader's lips because even if a crumb falls on their tongue, it counts.

John tries words, hoping to trap them into a contract that ends with them in his home and bed.

Simon attempts to scare them toward the forest so they tumble into the gateway. It's unfortunate that the Reader is a horror movie lover.

Johnny might be the only one who simply takes Reader's things, stock piling favorites for when he finally strikes.

Reader thinks the three of them are neighbors and attributes their missing items to frequent misplacement.

[tigergirltail]

Intruder in the System - Abstraction

"Synchronization achieved. Opening cognitive gateway. Five entities entering."

The synthetic voice of the Subconscious Mind Integration system rang out across the constructed virtual space, causing the assembled headmates of the connected systems to look towards the opening doorway.

"And that must be Alexis. Wonder what took her so long to connect?"

"Nerves, probably. It IS her first time."

"God, I remember our first time, she's in for a trip."

Through the glowing doorway, a series of silhouettes came into view, resolving into cohesive figures. A shorter woman, dressed in bright flowing robes with a circlet in her stark-white hair. A hunched-over bespectacled figure with blue hair peeking out from the hood of her comfy sweater. A tall and imposing armoured woman with long red hair and piercing, angry eyes. A purple-haired woman in a dark and elegant dress. A little girl with a bow in her blonde hair, seemingly trying to hide in the shadows of the taller figures.

Looking around the area, the five of them experienced their first exposure to a shared headspace, an abstract realm constructed by the combined wills of all the minds connected to the SMI session. The immediate area was a grassy clearing surrounded by trees, with various sorts of outdoor furniture set up for socializing, but in the distance was a skyline of a futuristic city, and the sky took the form of a starry night, with a number of colourful moons and planets clearly visible - a truly alien sky. Despite the apparent night-time appearance, the area was as well lit as if it were the middle of the afternoon.

The area was bustling with activity, as well. An entire crowd of headmates, alters, facets, fictives, all mingling and conversing, some of them just getting to know one another, others conversing like long-time friends. In one area, a strange masked figure sharing a quiet moment with a wolf girl. In another, a pink catgirl engaged in conversation with a fictive of Shadow the Hedgehog. Compared to this eclectic and varied group, the arrival of five apparent humans seemed utterly mundane.

Several of the more social among the nearby figures walked towards the new arrivals, offering welcomes and introducing themselves. The robed woman immediately took point, directing all of the socializing towards herself.

"Okay! So, introductions! I'm Hope, the one in the hoodie is Jade, the angry knight is Aurora, our resident goth is Lilith, and the little one is Ailsa! That's… That's A-I-L-S-A, not the princess from Frozen."

A cacophony of 'nice to meet you's and 'thank you for existing's followed, as the gathered headmates began to socialize. Hope and Lilith took to it well, while the other three were varying levels of apprehensive about the situation.

"So… no offense, but which of you is Alexis?", asked one particularly forward alter after a little bit of conversation.

"It's… complicated.", Jade answered uncertainly. "All of us are, but at the same time none of us are. Alexis is the vessel, the framework we all fit into. In a way, she's -"

"One entity entering." The synthetic voice called out again, interrupting the socializing and causing all conversation to be replaced with confused murmuring.

"No other bodies are connecting, who's…?"

"It didn't mention a new gateway, was there an alter staying behind?"

All eyes were on the cognitive gateway as a new figure entered the area - a tall and somewhat plus-size woman with long brown hair, dressed in a dark t-shirt and a long skirt. She had a distant and disconnected look in her green eyes, as if all higher thought had fully abandoned her.

"…Alexis?", asked Lilith. "But… how are we there, when we're already -"

She was interrupted by the new arrival collapsing the moment she crossed the threshold into the shared abstract space.

There was a collective gasp from the gathered systems. Hope rushed towards the fallen figure and knelt at her side, hands already glowing with healing light, then shrieked and recoiled backwards when the body started… glitching. Chromatic aberration, bursts of static, mismatched geometry, practically every unintended visual effect under the sun began tormenting the body.

"Uhhhh that's not supposed to happen, is it??" Jade was half asking herself and half asking the rest of the alters she had been in conversation with. Several of them were already shoving in to get a closer look.

"No, dear, I don't think it is!" Lilith turned to Aurora as best she could with a panicking Ailsa clinging to her leg. "Aurora, Jade, crowd control please! Hope, you've been distinct the longest, do you know what this is??"

Aurora began moving to interpose herself between Alexis' unstable form and the onlooking crowd. "You heard her! Give us some space or I WILL start taking it!" A handful of other system protectors took the hint and maneuvered to help form a barrier between the crowd and the scene.

Jade turned back to Lilith from her place at Aurora's side. "What are you going to do, Lil??"

"I'm… I'm not sure yet! Give me a minute here!" She turned to the child still holding onto her for dear life. "Ailsa, darling, I'm going to need you to stand back, go be with Hope right now, okay?"

Ailsa nodded silently, tears of worry in her eyes, and ran to Hope's side, Hope quickly leading her away from the fallen vessel and towards the crowd of onlookers as Lilith reached out for the fallen form of Alexis.

"What's happening?", an alter asked Hope once she was past the perimeter Aurora and Jade were establishing.

"I don't know.", Hope answered. "The whole, Alexis, she's never manifested in headspace, so we weren't sure if -"

"NEVER manifested in headspace?" The alter was incredulous. "Don't you switch out?? How do you communicate??"

"Look, it's… Our system is different, the five of us pass around control, but Alexis isn't a headmate, she's a shell!" Hope looked back at the glitching body with concern and anxiety, her eyes going wide as a realization struck her. "She doesn't know how to create a cognitive appearance…" She took a step back towards the body and shouted. "Lilith, I know what's happening! She's never been in a fully abstract space before, her cognition can't handle the unlimited possibilities!"

Lilith turned and stared towards Hope. "You mean, it's sensory overload?", she asked.

"More like cognitive overload, but maybe it's the same sort of thing! Can you force a shutdown??"

"I… can try."

Lilith's hands began to twist and extend into hideous claws as a creeping darkness began to climb up the rest of her body, aging and tattering her clothing, leaving her face gaunt and pale, her eyes now emitting an eerie glow, like distant lights through fog. Kneeling down, she laid her taloned hands on the fallen and glitching body and began quietly speaking.

"Just… let go. Let go of your effort, let go of your thoughts, embrace nothingness. Come into the dark…"

"She's doing the thing, isn't she?" Aurora was very consciously averting her gaze.

Jade nodded. "She's doing the thing."

Aurora winced. "I hate when she does the thing."

By now most of the gathered headmates had fully backed off, but many were still looking at the situation with concern and apprehension. A few more had gathered around Hope, as she at least seemed to be willing to answer questions.

"…She used to be our depression." Hope was answering a worried question about what exactly Lilith was doing to the fallen Alexis. "Sometimes she still is, when her will slips. It's… terrible, but there's no cure for an overstimulated mind quite like, well… emptiness."

"Look, it's working!" Ailsa had peeked out from around Hope to see what was happening. Jade and Hope turned to look as well, and sure enough the glitching around Alexis' body was noticeably reduced, replaced by a deep, dark shadow spreading out from Lilith's claws.

"Just… STOP." There was a low, gravelly quality to Lilith's voice. "Stop THINKING. Stop TRYING. Stop EVERYTHING."

"Might be overdoing it, Lilith…", Aurora protested, her back still turned.

"Shush. I'm working."

The darkness fully covered the last of Alexis' form, and Lilith withdrew her hands. They were in fact hands now, as Lilith was quickly returning to her typical presentation.

Jade abandoned her post next to Aurora, as calm seemed to have somewhat returned to the situation, and walked up to Lilith. "So what happens now?"

Lilith took a moment to breathe. "If I did it right, her cognition will reset, and she'll settle into a form derived from her most baseline mental processes."

"…And if you didn't do it right?"

"I'm… just going to hope I did it right."

Ailsa had walked up as well, and was gently holding one of the unconscious form's shadowy hands. "So if none of us are in there… Who's she gonna be?"

Jade turned to Ailsa. "That… is a very good question. Well, uh, her higher-level thought processes are all us, so without those she's basically a collection of autonomous processes and raw instincts. You know, pain response, perception of movement, need to eat and drink, that sort of thing."

"Oh. Like an animal?", Ailsa suggested.

"Yeah, like a…" Jade's eyes went wide and she slowly turned to look at the body. It was… shifting. Changing size, shape, form, to something… different. "…Oh."

"I know that 'oh'." Lilith turned to Jade. "What did you figure out, dear?" By now Hope and Aurora had returned and were watching the scene unfold as well.

"The answer to one of the questions that we've had for a long time. We figured out we're therian ages ago, so why -"

"Why do we all still present as human…", Hope interrupted.

Whatever re-shaping seemed to be occurring had slowed, and Lilith's shadows were melting from Alexis' form as her mental presence rebooted, revealing white fur, dark grey stripes, a long tail, paws and claws, and a feline head.

"Baseline processes…", Jade repeated. "Like an animal…" She shook her head and pinched her nose with a hand. "I should have seen it, her higher thought processes, everything that defines her as a person, it's all US! WE'RE her HUMANITY!!"

Aurora winced. "And when we crossed the threshold from the airlock, we took her humanity with us."

A renewed wave of curious and confused murmuring emanated from the assorted headmates of other systems as they observed this development.

And then Alexis woke up, and climbed to her feet - her four feline digitigrade feet. Still uneasy and unsteady, she stumbled to the closest figure - Ailsa - and stared deep into her eyes.

"…This is weird…", Ailsa whispered.

Alexis suddenly let out a happy chuff and gave Ailsa an affectionate headbutt. This one was a friend. This one was nice.

Ailsa cautiously reached out a hand and scratched the giant cat behind an ear, causing her to let out another happy vocalization.

The tension of the environment seemed to evaporate some as the situation had apparently stabilized. Some of the alters watching were concerned at having witnessed such a massive change in self-visualization, others were cautiously interested in getting to interact with the giant cat. Alexis was wary at the sudden attention and let out a few growls when the interactions were a little too familiar a little too quickly, but over time she settled comfortably into the role of a big friendly tiger.

"Awwh, she's so cute like this!"

"I know her sona's always been a white tiger, but I feel a little weird about this…"

"The whole point of SMI is to let us interact as our true selves, right? …This is Alexis' true self."

Meanwhile, Hope and Aurora were off having their own conversations with other headmates and facets, and even Ailsa was managing to shyly talk to some other inner children. Jade, though, was hanging back, brow furrowed.

"You've got that look on your face." Lilith's comment shook Jade out of her concentration.

"Wh-what? What look? I don't have a look."

Lilith took position next to Jade and wrapped an arm around her in a half-hug. "You absolutely had a look, dear. Whenever you're trying to solve a complicated problem, you get The Look. We're supposed to be having fun, so what's eating at you?"

"Just… should have seen this coming, I guess."

Lilith gripped tighter and pulled Jade into a full hug. "Listen, dear. I know between your analytical mind and my intuition we're practically precognitive, but even we aren't going to see everything coming."

"I should have known…"

"And what would you have done different, had you known? What consequences would have been avoided? We had a little bit of a scare, that's all." Lilith released Jade from the hug and pointed her towards the crowd. "Now look over there."

The scene was one of mirth - headmates and alters and facets from all the systems connected to the SMI session, sounds of laughter and happy conversation, and roaming through the crowd, a large white tiger, receiving all the attention and affection and species affirmation her therian heart could desire.

Jade allowed herself a little smile. "She IS cute like that…"

"You see? It all worked out." Lilith grinned. "Now let's go hit up that snack table."

"…You know it's not actual food, right? It's just the abstract concept of food given simulated form."

"You and I are both abstract thoughtforms as well, is there even a difference for us? Now don't be a spoilsport, I'm sure there's a very lovely sense of logic or organization we can get you to socialize with. That crystalline fairy over there seems quite nice, she's from the same system as a witch I've been speaking with."

The celebration continued on, scenery shifting as each entity left their mark on the shared headspace, and all too soon, the warning sounded that the session was about to end. Fond and tearful farewells were exchanged, with promises to do this all again soon, and then, each system's respective alters and facets left for their airlock spaces, and the shared headspace was once again no more.

Moments later, in the physical world, an attending operator was helping the human body that was Alexis out of the Subconscious Mind Integration machinery. All of the other systems in attendance were able to take care of themselves for the most part, but re-integrating multiple minds into one brain was always an ordeal for a first-timer. Even with the cognitive airlock having functioned as a buffer, she found herself gagging and retching as a subconscious reaction to the onslaught of memories and emotions and sensations.

"It's okay, I've got her." One of the other systems had walked up and was helping Alexis stay steady on her feet, helping her walk to a nearby cooldown room, somewhere with dim lights, sound-proof walls, and comfortable furniture, intended to minimize sensory input for minds that were having difficulties with the re-integration process.

Still in a mild daze, Alexis found herself being walked to and sat down on a sofa, and wrapped in a blanket. Her faculties gradually returned over the course of several minutes, but she was still pale and trembling.

The other system was sitting on the sofa with her, doing their best to help her readjust and reorient. "You're going to be alright, just take it easy for a bit and focus on your breathing. The first time is always a rough one."

"Hrrrrggh…", Alexis groaned. "Still trying to process having SIX points of view crammed back into my skull… Thought I was gonna be sick when I got out of that pod. Nearly WAS…"

"Well, now you know why they tell first-timers not to eat anything for eight hours leading up to it."

"Ugh… Speaking of food, I'm pretty sure one of your alters hand-fed me a steak while we were in there." Alexis pulled up the blanket, burying her face. "Fuck that's embarrassing… Can't believe I went full cat-brained…"

"Your protector aspect also punched someone, don't forget."

"WHAT??"

"Sorry, sorry, I'm just messing with you, that didn't actually happen, but I've seen it happen in another session with a different system. We had to sit them down once we got back to realspace and have an improvised therapy session about it."

"Holy hells… What happened next?"

"A whole lot of guilt, a whole lot of repressed feelings, and a little bit of ugly-crying."

"Mmn… I think I know the feeling."

The other system reached out and placed a hand on Alexis' back comfortingly. "I'm just trying to say, there are worse things that can happen in SMI than letting yourself be cat-brained. You looked like you were having a good time, too, and none of us thought we'd ever get to give a tiger head-scritches."

"I mean, I did have a good time I guess, it's just…" Alexis sighed and closed her eyes. "I didn't realize how much of myself I'd be showing in there. It's so much more… intimate, than I was expecting."

"…Do you want to do it again?"

There was a long pause as Alexis breathed and turned her mind inward, listening for the voices of her facets:

"I had fun!" "Yeah, I had a good time too." "It was… nice, to truly exist." "What do you think, little one?" "Let's go again! Let's go again!"

Alexis opened her eyes again, calmer, with a smile on her face. "Yeah. I think we do."

"Next month, then." The other system stood up and offered a hand to help Alexis up as well. "The rest of us were going to grab dinner, once you were feeling better, and you do look a lot better. Want to come with?"

Alexis accepted the hand and got to her feet. "Yeah, that steak was really nice actually, I kind of want a real one now."

"Do you want us to hand-feed you again?"

"Pfff, you shut up."

"Hey, if we're going to keep coming to SMI together, you need to get used to being cat-brained, I'm just saying!"

"Okay, yeah, maybe, but don't forget it's all of us back in this body now!"

Sharing a laugh, they left the cooldown room for the lobby together, where all of their system friends were waiting.

---

Inspired by Intruder in the System, a short comic story by @deadeyedfae, also featuring cameos of a few systems I know personally.

[gaiasgrimoire]

HEKATE - Ἑκάτη

Hekate is an ancient Greek goddess associated with magic, witchcraft, the moon, night, and the underworld. Often depicted at crossroads holding torches, keys, or serpents, she is a goddess of liminality, guiding souls through transitions and standing at the threshold between the living and the dead. Hekate is also a protector, especially of women, and a guardian of the mysteries of life and death.

Attributes and Symbolism:

Goddess of Crossroads: Hekate is often connected with crossroads, both literal and metaphorical, representing moments of decision, transition, and transformation. She helps guide those who seek clarity when standing at significant life choices.

Keeper of Magic and Mysteries: As a goddess of witchcraft, Hekate is linked to esoteric wisdom and hidden knowledge. She governs the night, moon magic, and the unseen realms, making her a potent figure for practitioners of divination, spellwork, and rituals.

Psychopomp and Guide of Souls: Hekate is known for her role in guiding souls to the underworld, acting as a bridge between the realms. She can help those seeking to connect with ancestors or explore shadow work.

Triple Goddess: Sometimes depicted with three faces, Hekate embodies the maiden, mother, and crone archetypes, reflecting the cycles of life, death, and rebirth.

Working with Hekate:

Protection and Boundaries: Hekate is a fierce protector and can be called upon to set boundaries, banish negative energy, and guard against harmful influences. Working with her can help strengthen your own protective instincts and psychic defenses.

Shadow Work and Transformation: Hekate is a guide for those ready to confront their shadow self and dive into deep self-reflection. She aids in transformation, helping you uncover hidden truths and face the aspects of yourself that need healing.

Moon and Night Rituals: Hekate is closely linked to the phases of the moon, especially the dark and new moon, making these ideal times for working with her. Candlelight rituals at night, using black or dark-colored candles, are common practices when invoking her energy.

Divination and Keys: As a goddess of thresholds and gateways, Hekate can assist in opening doors to higher wisdom and understanding. Tools such as tarot, pendulums, or scrying mirrors can be used when seeking her guidance in matters of the unknown.

Offerings and Devotion: Hekate appreciates offerings of garlic, eggs, honey, wine, and bread. Creating an altar in her honor with symbols such as keys, torches, or bones can help deepen your connection. The dark moon is a traditional time to leave offerings at crossroads in her name.

Mantras and Prayers: You can call upon Hekate through prayers or mantras. One popular chant is: "Hekate, Queen of the Witches, guide me on this journey."

Intentions for Working with Hekate:

Seek guidance when at a crossroads in life.

Work through fears, trauma, or unresolved emotions with shadow work.

Enhance psychic abilities or deepen magical practice.

Invoke protection and banishing of harmful influences.

Hekate’s energy is wise, potent, and transformative. She demands respect, but for those who walk with her, she provides profound guidance through the darkest paths and beyond.

[deadgirlwalking91]

new update - 'thank you for the venom', chapter 2: 'fitting you with weapons in the form of words'

Chapter One

Chapter 2 Summary

Lute addresses the Exorcists with changes to the program.

...or at least, attempts to.

Can I just say a huuuuuuuuge thank you to those who read the first chapter of this silly little story? And another thank you to those who liked, reblogged and commented? You're all legends!!!

ao3 queue update - I'm number 24,363 in the queue, so more than halfway from where I started to an invite!

***

Chapter 2

The Common Room, Exorcist Training Centre, Heaven

There were precisely three times in Lute’s life that she could recall being so anxious she wanted to vomit.

The first time was minutes prior to her maiden voyage down into Hell. Her nerves had taken over to the point where, during Adam’s address before they descended through the portal to the realm below, she’d made sure to hide at the back of the crowd behind her sisters-in-arms. She’d hoped that the gateway to Hell would close before she had the chance to fly through, and she could stay behind in Heaven where she knew it was safe. Where she didn’t have to stress about being a disappointment if her performance wasn’t up to scratch.

As it turned out, Lute had no reason to worry. She had a natural talent for slaughter, and when she was armed with a sword, she was downright lethal. Once she stepped foot on the brimstone-covered streets of Hell, it was like a kill-switch had automatically been triggered somewhere deep inside her brain. No less than one hundred and sixty-seven Sinners were exterminated at her hands that year, earning her the highest individual amount for a rookie Exorcist ever recorded. She’d even been congratulated personally by Sera at the informal post-Extermination party that year, who didn’t usually attend such frivolous events, but she made a point of deliberately stopping past to seek out Lute and offer her praise.

“I’m going to keep my eye on you,” Sera had promised, her serene voice the only sound Lute could focus on despite the blaring music and drunken chanting vibrating through her ears. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see one of her fellow soldiers chugging expertly from a beer bong, golden ale dripping down her chin as other Exorcists and Adam egged her on.  “Continue the hard work, and you’ll do great things, soldier. I know it.”

The second time was a considerably less serious situation, yet an experience Lute found nothing short of mortifying: Vaggie had accidentally stumbled across her secret collection of romance novels one night when she was over visiting.

Romance wasn’t something that Lute had the patience for in her day-to-day life – in fact, she could think of nothing worse than having to share her time, her thoughts, her bed with somebody else. That would mean dropping her callous, tough-bitch façade and exposing the fact that she had feelings.

No. She had a reputation to uphold and as such, it was far easier to be alone and dedicate her focus to her work.

That didn’t mean that she couldn’t switch off at night and escape reality for an hour or two. Most nights, after meticulously cleaning her apartment and ensuring any outstanding work was completed, she’d curl up on her two-seater sofa under a blanket, hot chocolate in one hand and novel in another. She found an inexplicable comfort between the pages of those books, allowing them to stir emotions inside her that she would only allow to be felt when she was off-duty and alone. Some pages made her pulse quicken and pale cheeks flush as golden as the sun itself if they were particularly steamy. The more tender stories, however, stirred her softer side, making her stomach flutter and heart skip a beat.

She’d even shed a tear once at a particularly moving epilogue, though she’d rather tear her own arm off than ever admit it out load.

So, when Vaggie had opened Lute’s wardrobe that chilly evening to borrow a hoodie and noticed the box of poorly-hidden books – most of the covers depicting couples in various stages of undress, locked in compromising positions – Lute wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. It was the one guilty pleasure that she had for herself, and she couldn’t bear the thought of what would happen if her secret was exposed to her sisters. Her whole ‘tough bitch’ persona would be shattered, and then what?

“I swear to God, if you breathe a fucking word of this to anybody, Vaggie I will beat the living shit out of you.”  

“Relax,” Vaggie had laughed, studying the cover of one book through tears of mirth. “I won’t tell the girls that deep down, their Lieutenant is secretly a sucker for happily-ever-afters with a side of throbbing co-”

Lute seized her opportunity to tackle Vaggie to the ground and wrestle the tattered paperback from her friend’s hands, taking good measure to ‘accidentally’ whack her with it once or twice. Though she never stopped teasing Lute about her guilty pleasure, Vaggie stayed true to her word: she never told a soul about Lute’s dirty little secret, to which she was incredibly thankful for.

Those scenarios though, as nerve-wrecking and embarrassing as they were, paled in comparison to how Lute felt in this present moment: standing in front of her hundreds of peers, feeling the Commander’s eyes boring into her back, basically burning two holes directly through her shoulder blades. She knew he was daring her to fuck up, and there was no chance she was going to give him that satisfaction.

“Exorcists. Recently, there have been some concerns raised regarding the future of Extermination Day.”

Light murmurs started to ripple through the crowd of women, which didn’t help the bubbling feeling threatening to rise Lute’s abdomen. She flexed and clenched her left wrist in a feeble attempt to distract herself from her own nerves.

She was used to this. Whispering was fine. Nothing to worry about, totally normal, in fact. Besides, this happened all the time during Adam’s speeches – though usually, her sisters-in-arms were laughing at one of his inane jokes.

Reel them back in, Lieutenant.

“Be quiet.” Lute commanded sternly, and to her relief, the whispers died down almost instantly.  “After extensive analysis, we have concluded that – ”

“We? Ladies, just so you’re aware, I’ve had absolutely nothing to do with the bomb your lieutenant is about to drop on you.” Adam strode over next to where Lute was standing and bent down to mockingly rest his elbow on her right shoulder, his mask twisted into a smug grin. “If you think she’s a bitch now – and, you’re totally right, she absolutely is - you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Lute exhaled sharply, trying not to let her frustration take over, and shrugged Adam’s arm off her shoulder with slightly more force than needed. Adam knew he had her cornered – if she reacted to his taunts, she’d be just as childish as he was. If she ignored him, she wouldn’t give him the rise that he was hoping to get out of her, but consequently she’d probably give off the impression that she was tolerating his attitude. Neither of those options were preferable – unfortunately, the lesser of two evils was to push through.

“Thanks, Commander, for your input, but I’d like to get back to the matter at hand if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing, babe.” Adam waved a hand carelessly, indicating his boredom. “This is your gig, I’m just the supporting act, right?”

Lute ignored the jab as she felt the heat rising in her cheeks. The whispering had started again, and she knew she had to act quickly to get her sisters attention back to the matter at hand otherwise she’d lose their interest completely. She locked eyes with Vaggie at the front of the crowd, who gave her a quick thumbs up, the subtlest of reassuring smiles plastered across her otherwise expressionless mask. At least somebody was in her corner this morning. She wiped her now-sweating hands on the skirt of her training uniform and continued with the speech she’d rehearsed at least a hundred time over the past few days.

“Our Extermination Day kill count has been in steady decline over the past decade. As a result, Hell’s population continues to rise – we estimate growth of about twenty percent over the last three years alone. At this rate-”

Adam coughed loudly and pointedly. “Nerd.”

The whispers grew louder as they echoed off the walls of the room; the Exorcists now not bothering to hide the fact that they were talking amongst themselves. Their voices rang in Lute’s ears, drowning out her will to persevere with her speech. She tried to focus on her breathing to calm her stomach, but the thickness of the air around her only made her increasingly aware of just how damn suffocating her helmet was.

“What is going on with them?”

“I hope she punches him in the face!”

“That’s only because you’re mad he didn’t call you after-”

“ENOUGH!”

The chatter amongst the Exorcists stopped immediately at the unexpected sound of Lute’s raised voice, the identical eyes on their masks all widening in shock. Lute wasn’t known for losing her temper at her fellow Exorcists. Sure, on the battlefield she took no prisoners, and within the training compound she was strict, but she always known to uphold a professional demeanour in front of her peers.

Well, except for the time she threw a mug at her boss’ head. That was different, though. He deserved it.

“I don’t want another fucking interruption again this morning.” Lute growled, not bothering to disguise the anger in her tone. Professionalism be damned, she was going to get through this. “From anybody.” She looked pointedly at Adam, who held his hands up as if to say, ‘what did I do?’.

“We need to turn this decline around fast if we have any chance of improving our stats by next Extermination Day, or we risk further overpopulation in Hell. As of this morning, we’re taking a different approach with our training.  We’re going back to basics. None of you are wielding a single weapon or touching the simulator until we get the foundations right. Physical conditioning. Mental resilience. Hand-to-hand combat. When – and only when – I see significant improvement in those areas, you’ll pick up a weapon again.”

Great recovery, Lieutenant.

Lute pulled her helmet off her head, inhaling sharply and savouring those first few unrestricted breaths. Feeling the coolness of the air on her face refreshed her flustered state, grounding her once again. She set it down on a chair behind her and began to remove her gloves and boots.

“Going back to basics also means we’re not wearing these helmets during training for the time being. Or our boots, or gloves, or neck armour – you’ll never learn properly if you’re physically restricted. Moving forward, you’ll come to training in leggings, crop tops and trainers. We’ll reintroduce personal equipment once we build our skills back up. Get your helmets and armour off.”

The sound of metal clinking and armour hitting the floor echoed throughout the common room as her sisters removed their helmets and protective gear. Sensing she had a moment to herself, Lute ran her hands through her hair, separating the silvery strands that had been compressed together under the weight of her helmet. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back and massaged her scalp where the top of the helmet had irritated it, the sensation from the pressure eliciting a low ‘mmm’ from the back of her throat.

“Is that all it takes to make you moan? You’d be such a freak in the sheets, Lieutenant.” A low voice murmured in Lute’s ear, sending tiny shock waves that pulsated throughout her entire body, causing her eyes to flutter open.

He was so unexpectedly close to her; she could practically feel the smug satisfaction emanating off his body like a radiant heat. He’d deliberately sidled up next to her as he whispered so softy that only she could hear his voice, the silk of his robes just grazing the sensitive feathers of her right wing. Goosebumps spread up the back of Lute’s neck, the uneasy feeling that had been lying dormant in her stomach for several minutes now back with an unrelenting vengeance.

“Can you fucking not?” She snapped, ruffling her feathers in a futile attempt to create a barrier between them, trying to erase the closeness between them that she was now all too aware of. Not budging, he began to laugh – not just a small chuckle either, but a proper belly-laugh, his hands clutching at the front of his robes.

“Sorry babe, but that’s not usually a sound someone makes when they scratch their head. Coming from somebody as uptight as you though, it was basically pornographic.” He turned away from Lute towards the back of the room, reaching under his mask to wipe a tear away from the corner of his eye. “Look, you even made me cry. Funny shit.”

“Hilarious. Respectfully, Sir, go deep throat a cactus. How’s that for pornographic?”

 The last word of Lute’s sentence rang throughout the room as she slowly came to the realisation that the Exorcists had finished removing their gear some time ago and had been watching the back-and-forth between her and Adam for God knows how long.

Long enough for them to confirm what they were already suspicious of: that there was some kind of unspoken, private war raging between their Lieutenant and Commander.

“Right!” Lute barked, stepping away from Adam to create as much distance between them as possible. In her peripheral vision, his shoulders continued to shake with silent laughter.

“We’re moving into Hall One, ladies. Today’s the day I start whipping you bitches into shape. If I hear any complaints, you get burpees. If I see any slacking off or fucking around, you get burpees. Clear?”

“Yes, Lieutenant!” the crowd chimed in unison, before filing out of the room, their chatter filling the awkward silence that had hung in the air moments ago. Without a second glance back at Adam, she collected her discarded uniform and strode after her peers.

As Lute made her way into the training hall, she couldn’t help but notice the feeling in her stomach had shifted. The anxiety from just under her chest had finally dissipated, leaving behind an unfamiliar, burning feeling deep in her abdomen that she couldn’t quite place.

Shaking her head, she chalked it down to relief at finally getting through the morning address and shifted her focus to the task at hand.

It was time to start training her girls.

***

Stay tuned for the next chapter! I'm not naming the chapters for this story, but if I could name the next one.. it would be 'Dangertits'.

[blood-orange-juice]

I just learned there are glowing spider lilies on the graves of Enkanomiyan sun children

they are visible only during Evernight and it makes me wonder what exactly the Evernight/Whitenight mechanic is.

I know that some mechanisms appear only during one state or the other and I can handwave it away as "magic", but spider lilies are, you know, special.

they are "flowers of the other shore", plants of the death realm. so, uhm... what exactly does Dainichi Mikoshi do? since Enkanomiya is at the intersection of three realms maybe it sort of... nudges the place towards a specific realm? rather then simply being a very big flashlight.

also why does Dainichi Mikoshi light scare vishaps away? they are creatures of the light realm and non-artificial sun doesn't seem to scare them, so what exactly is happening there? what in the abyss did the priests build?

(also I love how in the language of flowers spider lily means "may we never meet again". the sun children really just said "do not bother us", huh?)

also I missed the Gateway Offering event but apparently at some point Danichi Mikoshi was... a tree? hello?

who forgot to weed out the Irminsul sapling and why is it an invasive species

upd:

hmmm

[mimiriko]

𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐑(𝐒) | 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

✰ tags :: 1.8k. fluff. (scene heavily inspired by song of achilles by madeline miller) ✰ notes :: reupload! gojo gets injured for the 1st time and is dramatic (pacing is off don’t jump me i can’t look at this anymore)

He can't think. Can't move without grunting. Can't stop his shoulders from sagging.

He drags himself with slipping energy, through the streets and crossing roads, head low and absentminded to traffic. A throbbing headache pounds at his temple and he stops—eyes fluttering, sucking in a gulp of air— and continues. Orange-lit streets single out his winter hair, shades the outline of his figure with iridescent dust surrounding him. Too pretty, an Apollo like beauty.

A final three ascending steps, uniform knocks on your familiar door, soft clicks of the lock—and he's rewarded with the sight of you. Tousled hair, bleary eyes sharpening with recognition.

It’s primal, etched into him, the necessity to see you. Your face, presence, aura, flesh and bone. There’s not a point in the history of your friendship where it blossomed to life. No gradual descent to his state of want, no easing into the fact that his feet take him to you on default.

He doesn’t remember being a 1st year in highschool and painfully yearning like this. 2nd, 3rd, and 4th year he’d been more and more attached to your bone. Always friendly, like two cats hooking their tails together. But not like this. Never like this.

The memories, full of smooth faces and honey smiles, never had the hunger that tinted his lenses like right now.

You blink. "You're…bleeding.”

The words feel fuzzy. "Yeah. Hey.”

Your lower lip gets hitched up by a canine, nibbling. You decide upon opening the door wider and stepping out of the way. Scattered lamps catch his marble-cut jaw, defining the bones and the blue and purple beneath his glass skin. His eyes dull and bare without his glasses, the skin underneath sunken. Tight uniform dirty and creased, hair flat with wisps of his fringe sticking to his forehead.

(An intent to project a tragedy, you would’ve joked if not for the heaviness around him. It’s like the air around him became denser, clumped together, looking at him through a layer of thick viscosity.)

He offers a slanted smile.

Waves of pain shoot down his spine, the wound across his arm charing his nerves. He clamps his hand down to apply pressure, giving modicum comfort. Warm rouge oozes out of the crevice of his fingers, dripping to his elbow and dropping on your hardwood floor as he trails behind you, heading straight to the living room. It's quiet.

"Sho will, um, kill me if I wake her at this time, and I thought you would be staying up again so I came here.”

Your back is his only view, no gateway to your face or how you feel. It gives him a surge to talk more. "Y’know if a wound is severe enough, you can bleed to death in minutes. I take offence, you don't look so worried."

He's met with nothing.

(Faintly, he feels something shift between his ribcage. His divinity chipped off. Another jump down to the mortal realm.)

A weak squeak almost leaves his mouth when you turn on your heel, looking at him dead in the eye. "'I’ll get the med kit; wait here for me, okay? Keep the pressure on that."

He dips his head in compliance. Not a wobble of your lower lip or a hitch of breath in sight—you looked calm, reassuring. But an undercurrent of emotion, thick and raw, behind your voice makes itself known. A slip in your act of strength, laying down the grief that resides in your throat. The knowledge of it existing, the sorrow, is like a needle to his skin. Impossible to ignore.

Then it hits: exhaustion. It splinters his resolve, lowers his smile. He wishes the duo of talk and taunt would work as it would normally. The familiar barrier he brings up every sunrise— creating a foundation, laying the bricks, adding cement one by one until the top of his heart is covered— is falling apart.

For, what might be the first time in his life, he had been struck. On his arm, and light bruises forming on his back.

And if it isn’t for the muffled pads of your sock-clad feet coming out of the bathroom, motioning him to sit on the couch with a hand that trembles lightly, it could have worked. He could have been stitched back to life and left with immeasurable shame and a wink.

Your dexterous fingers peeled his hand away from the cut, crimson hand falling on your lap without resistance. Fresh beads of blood spill and he kisses his teeth at the cold air burning the spilt skin. A metallic, bitter taste coats his tongue, molars aching as he clenches his jaw harder, swallowing and wincing at his throat constricting.

Gentle touches work to clean the infected area with saline solution, your attention flickering to his face—a mixture of pain and strained indifference on his waxy features— and back down.

"D'you wanna take a shower after this?"

A hum escapes his throat. "Not really, why?"

"It’ll make you feel better." One hand clutching the antibiotic ointment, the other goes up to his cheek, wiping a speck of grime.

The gaze that falls on you becomes lovesick, "You calling me smelly?"

"Maybe. Then I can finally snoop and see what you do to keep your hair so fluffy."

The flow of the conversation, light and airy and completely juxtapositional—it charms him. The choice of your tone, hushed and kind. Legs brushing as you sit. Wiping the red away with no disgust. It’s done with precision, an intent to be soothing for him.

In the early hours of mornings, or late hours of the night, he becomes a ball of emotion, a soft egg yolk of sensitivity.

He remembers how you were the whole day; replays your actions driven by kindness to the people least deserving; smiles to himself at the people flocked to your side. Your basin of love manages to catch him in it as well, cradling him underneath your collarbones when he assumes there mustn’t be any space for him left.

He remembers everything.

Hey, your shoelaces are undone. Hold on, I’ll do them; you might fall.

He never noticed. Or cared. He wouldn’t fall from it. But you crouched down anyway.

You sure it won’t be too much for you?

It was the first thing you had said to him, after he went off on a tangent about the new line of missions he’d been assigned. He had been part agony; part joking.

Nah, it’s what I've been born for.

A crazed part of him searched for answers, hints, anything to reveal the venom in your intentions. That you’re no different from the higher ups, that you’re equal to the plastic love his parents gave. He never spoke of his conspiracies out loud, fearing that to question such a beautiful soul in his life would cause you to vanish, like winter in the desert.

Yo, the new Super Mario Bros game is out. Wanna play?

It’d been released for over a week now, and his hair was still damp from the shower he took after coming back from assignments. In fact, he had been buzzing, jittery with impatience to get his hands on it.

A gloss overpowers the sleep in his eyes, and the ignored growls of his stomach roars with delight watching you return to his room, placing bowls of sizzling ramen next to the nintendo’s.

It was a dream he’d only ever wanted to come home to.

Another memory surfaces: roughly a few years ago, a group of students—juniors, he assumed—went up to the bench you were slouched on, covered in homework. They giggled, asked if you or him remembered them, twisting the ends of their plaid skirts with smiles.

Your face shone with recognition, sweet and lovely.

Ah, Ayaka, Momo—

The girls’ smile brightened.

—Sakura and Keiko, right? From last month?

They replied with affirmation. In a school-girl manner, quick and full of life, they expressed their thanks. For helping them.

When they left, you filled in the blanks. They’re the group we escorted out of that building, from the whole ceiling curse fiasco.

How d’you still remember their names?

You laugh. They’re good people.

He finishes the last equation of his work, and fishes for the box of pocky sticks in his bag. Still, it’s easier if they only remember us.

How many times have you proved that you’re an angel on land? Without wings or a halo, but possessing the divinity just like the rest. How many times has he stomped the thought away, before coming to the point where he is now?

He studies you in the ambient light of your living room. “I’ll never share my hair secrets, but if you wanted to see me naked you could've just asked. I’ll strip for you, y’know?”

"I know." The light permeating from you, warm hands on his cold arm, wrapping a gauze with blood stained nails, it's comforting. Grounding.

Little strokes on his covered flesh, travelling down to his wrist then palm, holding his fingers and giving attention to each one, caressing his knuckles to his nail plate.

Even now, distracting him from pain and duty, you do it so well.

“Tell me one hero,” he blurts.

You smile lopsided at the mood switch. “Icarus.”

“Was he happy?”

“Err, no.”

He nods. “Give me another.”

“Odysseus.”

He snickers at the choice of Greek mythology. “Was he happy?”

You skim through it in your mind, and shake your head.

He tips his face forward, pressing his nose against yours. Smiling, radiant, eager. You missed this. “Let me tell you something.”

“Go ahead.” And he brings his mouth to the shell of your ear, ghosting the grain of his lips on your skin.

“I’ll be the first one-” he bites your earlobe and looks back at you- “I’ll be the first happy hero.”

Nothing can eclipse the constellations in his eyes, forming little hearts. You’re sure he sees the same thing in yours. “Ask me why.”

“Why?”

He pauses, pink dust on his cheeks. “Because I have you.”

“Because you have me,” you echo, tasting the words on your tongue.

It’s silent. The wound on his arm forgotten.

”C’mon hero, let’s get the bath running,” you say, pulling him up to his feet, “you can wear my clothes after.”

© mimiriko 2022, all rights reserved. [ interaction heavily appreciated! i’m emotional ab this fic ]

[eggedbellies]

I've had this scenario in my head since I got a new game.

Imagine being used as a ritual sacrifice for a cult worshipping an eldritch deity. You're stark naked and chained on the floor that is caked with runic sigils and dried blood of sacrifices before, staring into the stone face of an cephalopod-faced monstrosity. The summoning circle below you glows and a gateway into Carcosa is opened. A giant mass of black tentacles swarms you, as you wait to be ripped apart, you feel them caressing your body, circling your hole and lapping between the folds of your cunt. The eldritch tentacles explore your body, teasing your skin with mucous that tingles upon contact and makes you light headed. You're then unceremoniously penetrated by the tentacles; the deity deeming you worthy to carry it's brood. Chains clink as your vigorously fucked by tentacles that seem to increase in size. After cumming for the nth time, three tentacles reach deep into your pussy and pry you open. When you look down, a massive tentacle covered in throbbing veins, hard barbs and twitching suckers arises from the centre of the writhing mass, plunging deep into you and stretching you wider than you could have thought possible. It fucks you roughly, relentlessly and you feel an egg the size of your fist press against your cervix. Each thrust pushes another egg into your womb, fucking so hard you lose cound of how many of those orbs are rattling around in your baby chamber, then it recedes, only to be replaced with multiple smaller tentacles to jackhammer into you until each one cums.

You feel bloated, a seemingly unending torrent of seed globbing into you in fat ropes as the tentacles climax; what doesn't stick to the eggs and the walls of your womb ooze down your thighs, slathering your legs and the tentacles in globs of white, custard-like semen.

While pregnant with the Eldritch spawn, you are starved of attention, other than to eat and drink, no one touches you; not even the tendrils which have since returned to Carcosa, but the feeling of being gravid with numerous writhing and excitable young that move within their eggs leaves you desperate for attention. Once you look pregnant with multiples, you feel your belly plummet, eggs press painfully against your cervix and the ritual starts again.

Carcosa is open once more and the tentacles return, their suckers latching onto your skin and tasting your sweat. They prepare you by fucking your cunt with oodles of slick, gently massaging your gateway into your womb and a gush of amniotic fluid escapes your legs. An egg, now much harder than it went in inches down your birth canal, wriggling in excitement and it is agonising pleasure. The egg breeches at your lips, but the tendrils are dutiful; massaging your enormous belly and slipping their tips into your labia for leverage. You take a breath and the egg recedes into you, you were so close to cumming too. You push hard and the egg gives way, dropping into the gateway of Carcosa followed by another gush of fluids. This continues hand over fist until your belly is once more empty, but craving more. The Eldritch god is very pleased with your bodily offering, releasing you of your chains, wrapping you in it's many limbs and taking you down into the realm of dreams. Amongst the daydreams of old gods, whorls of faraway galaxies and palaces of mind-bending divinity, your legs are pried open once more to receive the eggs of the Old God now taking you as their seedbed...

I can't really add to this just damn chefs kiss anon where can I sign up

[spiritualsoul1969]

The Bliss of Meditation and Love: A Journey to Divine Wisdom

Life, in its relentless pace, often leaves us searching for true happiness and lasting joy. However, as ancient wisdom asserts, the key lies not in external pursuits but in an inward journey. The verse, "ध्यान बिनु सुख न आय, प्रेम विना न आनंद। हरि चरण लग सदा, पाओ हरि संज्ञान।" (Without meditation, there is no happiness; without love, there is no joy. Always cling to the Lord's feet to gain divine wisdom), offers a timeless roadmap for finding fulfillment and spiritual enlightenment.

Meditation: The Gateway to Inner Peace

Meditation is not merely a practice; it is a state of being. It bridges the gap between the restless mind and the serene soul. In a world inundated with distractions, meditation allows us to pause, reflect, and connect with our true selves.

Happiness derived from material achievements is transient, but meditation reveals the eternal reservoir of peace within. By focusing the mind on the divine, we transcend fleeting emotions and enter a realm of unshakeable tranquility. This inward gaze dismantles the illusions of the ego and unveils our oneness with the universe.

Love: The Heartbeat of Joy

While meditation calms the mind, love nourishes the heart. Love, in its purest form, is unconditional and unbounded. It is not merely a sentiment but a spiritual force that uplifts, connects, and transforms.

Without love, joy remains elusive. True love transcends attachments and desires, offering instead a sense of wholeness. When love is directed toward the divine, it blossoms into devotion—a path where the heart dances in harmony with the eternal. This devotion clears the fog of ignorance and aligns us with the divine purpose of our existence.

Divine Wisdom Through Devotion

The verse emphasizes clinging to the feet of the Lord—symbolic of surrender and humility. This act of surrender does not imply passivity but a conscious decision to let go of the ego and align with a higher power.

Divine wisdom arises when we balance meditation’s discipline with love’s warmth. This wisdom is not intellectual but experiential—it reveals itself through moments of grace, clarity, and boundless compassion. In such states, we understand the interconnectedness of all existence and our role as stewards of this divine creation.

Practical Toolkit for Daily Integration

Incorporating meditation, love, and devotion into daily life requires intention and consistency. Here’s a practical toolkit:

1. Morning Mindfulness Practice

Begin your day with 10-15 minutes of meditation. Focus on your breath or chant a sacred mantra to center your mind.

Visualize yourself immersed in divine light, absorbing peace and wisdom.

2. Practice Heartful Gratitude

Cultivate a habit of expressing gratitude for three things each day.

Use this practice to foster love for life’s blessings and deepen your connection to the divine.

3. Acts of Unconditional Love

Perform at least one act of selfless kindness daily. It could be a smile, a helping hand, or words of encouragement.

Recognize these acts as offerings to the divine within others.

4. Devotion Through Daily Rituals

Dedicate a corner of your home to a sacred space for prayer or reflection. Spend a few minutes each evening in this space, offering your day’s successes and challenges to the divine.

Chant or sing hymns that resonate with your heart, allowing love to flow freely.

5. Reflective Journaling

Before sleeping, write down moments when you felt joy, peace, or connection during the day.

Reflect on how meditation and love contributed to these experiences, reinforcing their importance in your life.

A Harmonious Symphony

The path to happiness and joy lies in harmonizing meditation and love, anchoring ourselves at the feet of the divine. This verse serves as a guide, reminding us that lasting fulfillment is not found in the external but in the depth of our inner connection to the eternal.

As you embrace this wisdom, may your journey be filled with peace, love, and the boundless joy of divine awareness.

Let the words of this verse echo in your daily life, transforming mundane moments into sacred opportunities for spiritual growth.

[prue84]

(Hakka & Dragoneyes’s) Merlin AUs  |  Royal (dragon) husbands

AU in which a series of canon divergences lead to Arthur surviving the mortal wound inflicted him by Mordred at Camlann and, with the help of Merlin who then becomes his Prince Consort, bringing the golden age foretold by the prophecies.

———————————————————————————————

Part I, Chapter 01 [1/8]

1st canon divergence, Lancelot du Lac: Lancelot's selfless sacrifice is rewarded.

Lancelot is returned by magic, instead of necromancy, to fulfil his destiny at Arthur's side. And what seemed to be the written fate of Camelot is changed.

(Ficlet and links to AO3/SquidgeWorld under the read more) (More Royal Dragon Husbands AU here)

The triangle of love

Through the sacrifice of her sister Morgause, who happily gives up her life in a last gesture of both love and revenge, Morgana tears open the Veil between the worlds, bringing chaos and pain throughout the realm of mortals. To seal the Veil again, another sacrifice has to be made: a sacrifice that Arthur is ready to make and Merlin is set to prevent. Lancelot, the bravest and most noble of them all, to save the lives of his king and his friend Merlin, steps through the Veil instead, thus restoring the equilibrium. The ultimate sacrifice of the knight is greatly mourned by all the people Lancelot's presence has touched during his stay at Camelot, its weight forever heavy on the shoulders of three people who blame themselves for Lancelot's ultimate choice. * Months later happiness has returned to embrace Camelot. Arthur's grief for the tragic loss of his father is fading, and he feels it has finally come the time for the woman he loves to be officially introduced to the court. Trusting his counsel, Arthur confesses his uncle Agravaine that he wishes to marry Guinevere, and plans to soon propose. Caution, suggests Agravaine, wait for the mourning to end. The way must be paved first, for a court to accept a servant as their future queen. Patience, the uncle says. But the treacherous Agravaine, distressed for the worrisome development, is quick to inform the one he pledged his loyalty to, Morgana Pendragon. The Witch shudders, for the dreams that plague her sleep are about to become reality. She will not allow for a servant to sit on her throne, and Morgana knows how to prevent the dreaded images from happen. Morgana was friends to Guinevere, Morgana knew Guinevere's secrets. Morgana will use those secrets to strike at Guinevere, where Guinevere hurts the most. When she laid on the brink of death after her encounter with Emrys, Morgana met her sister Morgause in the Spirit World. In her hand, Morgause had a coin to offer, the price of a soul. Morgana held to the precious artefact, in the hopes to perhaps one day find a way to return her beloved sister to life, to rescue her from the darkness of the existence in the world of the spirits. But Morgana must stop Guinevere from becoming queen of Camelot, and she knows only one way to prevent it. The Dochraid has spoken, revealing the true power of the magical coin, offering the promise of owning the very soul of a mortal, a slave to a mistress. Morgana reaches for the Pool of Nemhain, the Last of The Five Gateways that separate the world of the mortals from the world of the dead, and tosses the coin into the dark waters. But it's not a man who raises from the waters. It's a woman instead, clothed in a black cloak and bearing a staff, the fabric pitch black as the still water of the lake. Not a woman, a deity. A goddess Morgana already knows, for they have met once. The Cailleach, gatekeeper to the Spirit World. She has words to say, and a warning: her most treasured wish will be fulfilled, but the human male will not be the means to achieve it, for the one who has died will not be a Shade to be brought back to the land of the livings. Morgana does not understand, for she has followed the Dochraid instructions, and a coin has been paid for a soul, a soul she now owns. But the Cailleach can not be forced, for not even a High Priestess has such a power as the one the Cailleach wields. If the Cailleach does not want for a dead human to leave her domain, not even the last High Priestess of the Old Religion can force her. Morgana weeps for the coin she lost, for the ownership she has been denied, for a sister she will never rescue, but agrees to leave. The Cailleach has spoken, Morgana trust her wish will be fulfilled. That the Old Religion itself will prevent Guinevere from marrying Arthur and ascend to a throne that isn't hers to own. But the price has been paid, a soul is allowed to leave the Spirit World. Not as a Shade, but in flesh and spirit – whole as when death has claimed them. From the stillness a man emerges. Naked and confused, a kind voice still ringing in his head. Blurred memories but a mission. Return home, return to where his place is. It takes days, weeks, but an extraordinary surprise awaits Camelot: Sir Lancelot, the man who had offered his life to save the kingdom, has returned. Little he knows about the how and why he has been allowed back into the realm of the mortals: he only remembers the warm embrace of waters shining of silver, and a warm voice explaining him that his destiny was not fulfilled, that he wasn't meant to die yet. His noble sacrifice showed the truest nature of his heart, that feminine voice said, and he was granted another chance to live his life as brave and fair man between mortals. And thus he awoke again, and he was laying on the shores of a lake, with the urgency to find his way back to Camelot, the knowledge that his destiny is entwined to the fate of the one he twice left a prince and now finds a king. A return such as his is unprecedented, for nobody can cross the Veil – not in the opposite direction than the only one nature commands. Merlin, suspicious, looks in his books for a way to explain what looks a miracle. Necromancy, is the answer to his search. A way to reveal the true nature of a Shade. Merlin dreads the moment when Lancelot will walk on the mark, dreads to see the painted spiral glow. But the magic symbol doesn't react when Lancelot walks over the circle. The Lancelot leaving Merlin's room is whole – the one and only Sir Lancelot, Knight of Camelot. The miracle is welcomed by his old friends the knights, who rejoice for the chance to have their group whole again, as is welcomed by the king, who is given the opportunity to properly thank the hero who saved Camelot. As for Merlin, he has been given back the only guardian of his magical secret and is lonely no more. But the unexpected return means the most to Guinevere, who carried on her small but strong shoulders the weight of those last words, that plead she imposed on Lancelot. Arthur would not be alive, for it weren't for Lancelot's sacrifice. But his return also awakens old feelings that were believed forgotten. As days and then weeks pass by, and as Arthur grows the courage to stand against his uncle and share what is now his decision, Gwen grows uncertain of her feelings, torn between the man she promised herself to, and the one she can't forget. Lancelot anguishes in silence over a woman he never deemed himself worthy of, resigned to forever be the silent guardian, devoted to his lady and quiet in his love. Arthur, unsuspecting, is making preparations to propose to Gwen and then introduce her to the court as the woman who shall be their queen. Merlin, the shadow that all sees, watches from afar, unable to stand further as three of his dearest friends struggle, their lives entwined in an rope that threatens to choke them all. Lancelot, noble soul, deserves his chance at happiness, he shouldn't settle for the sidelines, resigned himself once again in a self-imposed sacrifice out of a misplaced sense of loyalty. Gwen, a heart full of love, has the right to choose her own future, to make an informed choice, entitled the freedom of picking her own path without anyone meddling, without anyone making that choice for her. Arthur, the beloved king, should never have to lay awake at night, wondering if the woman sleeping at his side picked him out of a lack of choice, believing that he will forever be the second best, nor he should never doubt his trust for a knight, in fear his best one holds the hearth of his queen. Merlin, the shadow that fights against fate itself, decides it is come the time for Lancelot and Guinevere to confront each other, to bare their hearts. Twice Lancelot fled from an honest talk, twice Gwen was forbidden to face his first love and understand if she was ready to let him go and for Arthur to take his place. Twice Lancelot backed down, for Arthur to pave the way in Guinevere's heart. A miracle has happened, and neither Lancelot nor Guinevere can waste such a precious gift. Arthur is planning to propose to Gwen against his uncle's advice, Merlin knows about it. Merlin will not allow for Guinevere to say yes to then break Arthur's heart, if she isn't the utmost confident in where her feelings lay. Merlin will be subtle, will halt Arthur's hand and delay the romantic date in which Arthur will offer Gwen a ring, but he cannot stop Arthur forever. Lancelot and Guinevere must talk. It is with wisdom that Merlin speaks, and two friends are persuaded into the confrontation they both needed and avoided. Gwen, blessed her pure soul, reveals the bitterness she tried to stifle. Despite the years passed since, she never forgave Lancelot for leaving her without a word after everything they shared at the castle of the outlaw Hengist, she still can't forgive him for their moments of tenderness, the closeness, the love confessions in light of certain death, for making her feel loved, for making her feel conflicted, to then take everything away, leaving her alone and hurting. She can't forgive him for how he returned for Merlin and how he staid for Arthur – never for her. She can't forgive Lancelot for how he treated her like a lady to respect and cherish, she can't forgive him for making her feel like a silly, fool girl, holding on to a love hindered by destiny itself. Her whole life was influenced, changed, by his selfish decisions, pushed toward the dream of marrying a king after she had been brutally rejected a future with a man she had once truly loved. She loves Arthur with her whole being, but she can't seem to just forget what she felt for that man that was brought to her house in dire need of an armour. Lancelot, forced to this confrontation, can't withhold the truth he kept close to his heart since his return for the battle of Camelot: Guinevere is the love of his life, the woman his heart will forever belong to, but every time destiny brought them together, he elected to withdraw and fade in the shadows, so she could find happiness with a better man – at Arthur's side. Gwen is furious. Lancelot's decision deprived her of her own agency, he didn't have any right to choose for her who she wanted to love. For, if Lancelot hadn't left that one time, she might have reconsidered her relationship with Arthur. She would've chosen him – him, not Arthur. This is a reveal for the both of them, but especially for Gwen. And then the hard truth buried within the deepest, darkest corner of her thoughts, is brought to the surface. And it's a relief, after the pain, after the guilt weighting on her heart, after the sense of unworthiness toward a man who had been ready to give up his throne, his crown, his people, his whole world, just for her. She might be a servant harbouring dreams too big for her humble origins, but dumb Guinevere is not. It's easy now for her to admit that what she has with Arthur is a fairy tale that shouldn't be, for a servant can love a king, and a king can love a servant, but a kingdom cannot be ruled by a servant. Torn between the love for a knight – or a man who dreamed to become a knight – and a king – or a prince that was to become a king – she was deprived of a choice, and Lancelot is responsible for what she now knows had been the wrong choice. She's the daughter of a smith, she knows the name for each part of an armour and could help a knight to dress up better than a manservant could, but she knows nothing about politics or what's expected from a ruler. She knows empathy, she does not know how to be harsh. She knows how to wield a sword and even kill to protect an innocent, but she does not think she would ever learn how to harden her hearth and send someone to death for the safety of a kingdom. She loves Arthur with all her life, and she ever will, but they should've never been. Arthur might belong to her, but Arthur also belong to Camelot, Arthur is and will always be married to a land and its people as much as he will be to a woman. Arthur accepts her – and wants her – for everything she is, virtues and flaws, but Camelot will not. Camelot will always come between them, the needs of Camelot will tear them apart. Duty and love cannot coexist, Uther was right, in his brutal honesty. And she could never survive, should Arthur be forced to choose between her and his rightful, best destiny. Not privy to the nature of the feelings Guinevere, her beloved Gwen, still harbours for the noblest of his knights, it is a rude awakening for Arthur when Guinevere sits down with him and talks. Unable to deceive Arthur, she tells him everything, about Lancelot, about the pain she had felt the two times he left her and the happiness that washed over her when he, against all odds, returned. She tells Arthur about how her heart belongs to two men she loves with the same intensity, how she is pulled in two directions and how she fears to be torn in two pieces. She tells him about how, for as much as her heart can beat for two men, only for one she can be a proper wife. She doesn't want to be the reason why Arthur lost the trust of his people, she doesn't want to be the reason why Arthur acted like a tyrant, imposing his own wish on a resentful court, not the reason for why Arthur fought with his most trusted counsellors or found himself alone surrounded by enemies in his own castle. She doesn't want to put Arthur in the position of choosing between love and duty – he was meant to rule, and he will be a good king, she won't come between that. She won't deprive Camelot of a golden age, just to please herself and fulfil her selfish wishes – for she is but a woman, and the well-being of the people of Camelot comes first. It pains her to know they never had a chance, yes, and she is aware that a price will be paid, for feelings cannot be ripped from one's heart without suffering occurring, but with resolution she found an internal peace and she feels her is and will be the rightful choice. For the both of them. She regrets nothing but hurting him, and she'll understand if he'll hate her. She just hopes that, in time, he'll be able to forgive her and, perhaps, remember with fondness their love. Arthur's heart is broken, but he cannot find in himself the will to hate the woman he offered his heart to, nor a man who had been nothing but utmost loyal and generous since the first time they had met – a man Arthur can say he loves as much as Guinevere, though in a different way. There is nothing Arthur can blame on Guinevere: she cannot fault her for the same trait that drew him to her. Her candour is what started it all, the servant who ventured to reprimand a prince's manners, her candour is what now puts an end to it all, the torn lover who bravely confesses her secrets and faces the consequences, when leaving everything as it was would've been the easiest path. Arthur's heart is broken, but Gwen's sincerity and bravery deserves equal bravery from him, thus he agrees to let her go. As friends. It would be unbecoming to act out of spite, and Guinevere does not deserve as such. Arthur's heart is broken, but Arthur thus agrees to amicably break up a relationship that had been the utmost discreet so far, grateful for Guinevere's deep sense of loyalty. Grateful that she approached the subject before he could make the mistake of making their relationship official. Reputations of kings don't do well after a marriage pact is broken by the other party without political reason at play. The reputation of a king would not survive unscathed if the one taking the decision to break up is a fiancée of no-noble origins. Arthur Pendragon the king would survive anyway, though battered in honour and soul, but not Arthur the man. He listened to Merlin's advices, and Arthur is thankful for the way his friend suggested to not rush into the date Arthur had been planning. Grateful that he decided to apply patience for once. His heart would've never recovered, had Guinevere revealed her indecision during his proposal. To respect a man whom she still loves and will be forever dearest to her, Gwen decides to not immediately throw herself in Lancelot's arms, and the knight does his best to be nothing but noble in his feelings for the woman, so much so to ask Arthur permission to date Guinevere. He is willing to leave the kingdom, if the king he has sworn loyalty to won't be able to tolerate his presence. Aware of the toll he would ask them should he show his displeasure, Arthur gives his blessing to the blossoming new relationship between two of his dearest souls, wishing them both to find together the happiness they deserve. They do take things slow, Gwen and Lancelot, they wait a reasonable amount of time before officially becoming a couple. Lancelot understands Gwen's heart, never will use Gwen's love for Arthur against her, for she cannot blame her for a love that he feels as well. He accepts Gwen as her whole, her love for Arthur is part of herself and never he will ask her to stop caring for Arthur. Lancelot too cares for Arthur. Arthur is the prince who gave him a chance to be a knight, that twice believed in him, that made him a knight. In deference for Arthur's feelings, Lancelot keeps to a minimum affectionate gestures when in public and Arthur could see them. He is happy, Lancelot, but he does not want for his happiness to become a knife that cuts through Arthur's heart. And Arthur? Arthur will watch from afar, wishing that he too will be able to find a person to love him and him only. The one person that will put him first. * Days from Camelot, in a hut in the woods, Morgana watches a flame crackle, its warmth fending off the coldness in her body, but not the loneliness in her heart. Agravaine has left, Morgana now knows about the latest developments in the life of the little brother she despises so much. Only now, that the game has played out, the true meaning of the cryptic words of the Cailleach is revealed to her. She has obtained what she desired the most, as Guinevere will never sit on the throne of Camelot, and Lancelot was the mean to achieve such an outcome. But Lancelot wasn't the sword that pierced Arthur's heart, as she planned. Neither Gwen nor Lancelot has been banished. And if Arthur's heart is bleeding, this is a secret that her little brother will keep to himself, a hidden truth held to even the most close to him. Morgana can't find in herself the will for a smile. She has achieved what she had wished to accomplish, but it's not joy that fills her. She thought she would be pleased at the news, pleased for her visions forever adverted, for Arthur's dream of marrying for love mercilessly crushed. Instead, she feels sad. The coldness of the sorrows is what fills an heart that has long since forgot how to beat. She has lost a sister forever, a sacrifice that didn't pay, and has once again used her knowledge of a brother to play a game bigger than each of them, and a once friend was turned a mere paw in the fight between Camelot and the Old Religion. She has left a life behind, burned all bridges behind. What's left of her now is that she has no more family to support her, no true friend to comfort her. No one but a lackey, an annoying dog who yaps at her left, begging for a scrap of affection, a man second only to a king, that kneels like a servant. Only him, Agravaine, and his spare visits. And the loneliness of an empty room. For even a High Priestess, a goddess between mortals, can feel the cutting pain of solitude.

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Notes This edit dates back to 2018/2019 but was hold back because, buckle up... I couldn't work out the text part. Yes. Embarrassing, isn't it? How hard could it be write a lengthy summary/synopsis, right? Four years. Four fucking years. In the year of the lord 2022, with the yearly goal to publish as much wips and finished-but-held-back works as I can, I sat down and forced myself to give a sense to the years-old draft. But still, it took me another year to finish this. This series consists of 6 planned parts. The first one, of which this post is part of, is made of 8 chapters that cover all the canon divergences that lead to Arthur healing from his battle wound. The other five parts follow his (and Merlin's) life, the coming of the Golden Age, the birth of the new Pendragon generation, Arthur's rest and what Merlin will build during his husband's long sleep.

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Tec stuffs (aka Behind The Manip) No manip nor modification required on this one, so nothing to report. Besides the fact that, when the edit was almost posted, I decided to add further scenes to better fit with the ficlet that was expanded.

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Crossposted: Livejournal: prue84.livejournal.com/101924.html Dreamwidth: prue84.dreamwidth.org/92428.html Deviantart: deviantart.com/prue84/art/Merlin-AUs-Royal-husbands-I-Ch01-994195209 AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/51559840/chapters/130316755 SquidgeWorld: squidgeworld.org/works/46714/chapters/97824

[littlefishambiance]

Enkanomiya, Three Realms Gateway Offering - Pale

[prodeskk]

Unlocking Success: Navigating Commercial Licenses in Dubai

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[mask131]

Lets talk about Purgatory... (2)

Last time, we talked about how the belief in the existence of a Purgatory, as a third realm between heaven and hell, slowly came into existence and was ultimately accepted by the Church - but it stayed a vague, undefined realm with very little canonical or official statements about it. And we were about to see how what actually TRULY helped Purgatory grow and develop itself was popular imagination, non-religious texts and other forms of art...

As a reminder, I am still following so far for these posts an article that was written by Christine Duthoit about the beliefs in the afterlife during the Middle-Ages.

So, as we said, the fact that theologians were very vague, uncertain and brief whenever they spoke of Purgatory was a true obstacle for many artists of the time who wishe to depict this realm, and it didn't help that in the many afterlife visions they had to take inspiration from, Purgatory and Hell were clearly confused with each other, or looking extremely similar. Take the vision of Charles the Fat, in the ninth century (I briefly referenced it in the previous post). In this vision, Charles was guided by a being dressed in white, and holding a sort of shining ball emitting a strong ray of light. The guide took Charles into what is described as a "maze of hellish torments": he saw great and deep valleys of fire filled with wells in which were burning sulfur, lead, wax, soot and pitch. And in this place, souls were tortured inside boiling rivers and boling swamps ; as well as within "furnaces of pitch and sulfur, filled with great dragons, scorpions and snakes of many different species". Is it Purgatory or Hell? Hard to say. Saint Augustine was also considered to have been one of the main Christian voices behind the "infernalization" of Purgatory. And, just like with Hell, the dominating element of Purgatory is fire: descriptions are filled with fire-rings, fire-circles, fire lakes, seas of fires, walls of fire, burning valleys, hot coals, mountains of flames... However, unlike the fire of Hell which is only suffering and pain, the fire of Purgatory is meant to be purifying: it notably makes one look younger, and offers a form of immortality. This association of Purgatory with fire explains why many thought the volcanic regions were gateways to Purgatory - the Etna in Sicily, or the islands Lipari, were believed to host Purgatory. And of course, there is "Saint Patrick's well" in Ireland...

In the 12th century, four "visions of the afterlife" dominated the European beliefs and culture. Three of them are only evoked in the article but not described in details: the vison of the mother of Guibert of Nogent ; the vision of Tnugdal ; the vision of Alberic of Settefrati... As for the fourth, it is the one collected in the medieval best-seller that was The Purgatory of saint Patrick, written between 1190 and 1210. In this tale, a Cistercian monk of England named Gilbert is sent alongside a knight named Owein to build a monastery in Ireland. The story describes how the future saint Patrick, who was in the middle of Christianizing Ireland, was showed by Jesus a well... Not just any well. A round, dark and deep well located in the Red Lake (Donegal), on Station Island ; and Jesus told saint Patrick that any Christian that would spend a day and a night in this hole would be purged of all their sins - and they would also be able to see the suffering of the wicked and the joy of the virtuous. Saint Patrick had a church built nearby, and a great wall erected around the well, trusting the key of the door's wall to an abbot (mentions of this geography are found in the maps of Topography of Ireland by Giraud the Welsh). Owein, the knight, decides to go down the well, despite him having quite a handful of sins weighing his souls, and despite the warning of the churchmen that guard the well. As soon as he gets down into the hole, he is harassed by numerous demons, and forced to walk in a mix of pure darkness and red lights, filled with tormented screams and fetid smells. The red lights come from the flames of a pace that looks like Hell - and is inhabited by dragons, snakes and toads that constantly torment the souls there. Owein sees people being crucified with red-hot nails, being tied up to fiery wheels, being roasted or hanged by iron-hooks, he even sees people being plunged in huge vats of molten metal... Owein manages to face all the horrors and trials of what he beleves is Hell, by constantly invoking the name of Jesus to protect him. He ends up arriving in what seems to be Earthly Paradise, and is there welcomed by two archbishops... Who reveal to him it wasn't Hell at the bottom of the well. But Purgatory, explicitely referred to as the "third realm" of the afterlife, and where the souls of the sinners complete their repentance and purification. Once the souls of Purgatory are done with their torments, they will reach the Earthly Paradise, and then finally move on to the celestial Heaven. The knight returns to the top of the well, and upon reaching back the world of the living is glad to learn he has been purified of all of his sins.

This story became MASSIVELY popular in medieval Europe - notably because it confirmed what many people wanted to believe into, the idea that the justs and good people had a chance to completely and utterly purify themselves before reaching Heaven. By extension, it meant there were indeed various types and categories of sins, and that not all crimes were as bad - with some sins being forgivable and not preventing one's reach of Heaven...

Another key feature to understand the "creation" of Purgatory in the Christian world is the idea that the dead and the living are somehow tied to each other.

The article begins by the "communion of the saints". This belief did not originate in any actual council or official Church decision - rather, in France, it spontaneously appeared at the end of the 4th century among the Christian communities. The saints weren't just protecting and watching over the living anymore ; now, they formed a bridge and a link between the living and the dead. Most importantly, the sufferings and pains of the dead in the afterlife could be eased or shortened by the prayers of the living - through the saint, that received the prayer, and then influenced the fate of the deceased. (In France we call those interventions for the dead caused by the living's prayers "suffrages").

The apparition of the idea that the prayers of the living influenced the afterlife was part of a wider movement in Christianity that focused more and more about the dead. Take the apparition of All Hallows Day, or All Saints Day. It was created in 610 by Boniface IV, and it was originally the day of the martys - and solely the martyrs. But then it became the day to celebrate all of the saints, martyrs or not martyrs - and Gregory the IV insisted on this day being celebrated by all Christians, showing the importance it grew. In parallel, we know that as early as Gregory the Great's time, masses and religious celebrations included a "Mementa", a part to remember the dead. This expanded into the monks creating "Libri Vitae", to register all the livings and the dead that were named during a mass ; and soon necrologies and obituaries were formed, lists and registers of the deads, their names, the day they died, and their "obit", the anniversary of their deaths. And between 1024 and 1033, a Day of the Dead was created to honor and commemorate all the dead Christians... And it was placed on the second day of November, that is to say the day following All Hallows Day/All Saints Day, further strengthening the bond between the Saints and the Afterlife.

As new conceptions of sin and penitence appeared, as the confession became one of the most important rituals in the life of the Christians, stories and testimonies of deceased coming back to visit the living (usually souls from Purgatory) started multiplying. You had dead people visiting their family to demand their prayers and their memory in the afterlife ; you had dead churchmen or churchwomen informing the people of their order of what happened to them in the afterlife ; mystics and saints kept being visited by ghosts and revenants left and rights. This was a good bulk of the story of hauntings in the Middle-Ages. A greater focus was put on the idea that a Christian had to absolutely purify themselves when alive to avoid the torments of the afterlife - notably through contrition, confession and penitence. The pope Innocent III had a very cynical take on the mental beliefs and evolutions of his time, pointing out that the living only cared for the dead, because they themselves were future dead. Aka, this obsession with Purgatory and ghosts and praying for the dead was simply the other side of the coin of the fear of mortality, and the terror of the trials awaiting beyond.

In the middle of the 13th century, when it came to Churchmen that took care of the fidels and shared their daily life, the Cistercians were replaced by the Mendicant orders, the "begging monks", who were especially popular/influental in urban areas. One of the specific traits was a heavy use of "exempla" during their preach: the "exemplum" is, as the name indicates, an example, the illustration of an affirmation or claim, taking the shape of a small story. It ranges from the parable to the fable, passing by actual ancestors of what we know today as "fairytales". And it is within these exempla that the legend of Purgatory ended up being built (a good example of the results of this "exampla-fashion" is the Golden Legend, La Légende Dorée of Jacques of Voragine).

A man the article speaks heavily about is the Dominican named Thomas of Cantimpré. He was a general-preacher for a monastical province that covered a part of Germany, a part of Belgium and a part of France. After spending thirty years preaching and teaching Christianity, he collected an enormous amount of exempla in his "Livre des abeilles", The Book of bees - and this collection testifies the strong anguish and terror Christians felt at the time when it came to death and the afterlife. They also record how comforting and beloved the idea of the "suffrages", of the power of the living over the fate of the dead, was. Thomas of Cantimpré notably classified six types of "suffrages" that could ease the pain or shorten the torment of the souls in Purgatory: tears (crying for the dead), the wakes (watching over the deceased), fasting (respecting a funeral fast), alms (aka giving money to someone who will think about/pray for the dead), the "sacrifice of the mass" (aka having a funeral mass for the dead), and giving back money (aka, either paying the debts of the deceased, either restituting goods or wealth that the dead stole). This belief was certainly influenced by how Thomas of Cantimpré wrote an official biography of saint Lutgarde of Tongres, a cistercienne nun who devoted her entire life to the souls of the Purgatory, constantly praying and fasting for them.

The article offers a selection of the Purgatory-exempla that Thomas of Cantimpré wrote down.

A) A very sick man prays God so he can be set free from his ill body by death. An angel appears and offers him a choice: either be sick for a whole year and go directly to Heaven, or die now and spend three days in Purgatory. The sick man says he prefers dying now and suffering Purgatory: he dies and finds himself in the middle of cruel torments. After one year of torture, the angel comes back to him and asks him "Do you think you made the right choice?". As the soul of the dead complains about his situation, the angel reveals to him this one year... was actually one day in Purgatory. The dead man eventually agrees to take the other option - he is sent back into his sick body, and suffers his illness for one more year before going to Heaven.

B) A wealthy and powerful duke decides to convert himself to Christianity. He stops spending too much, he is very charitable to the poors of his domain, he has chapels built to celebrate masses "in honor of the souls suffering in Purgatory". The devil, angry at this, causes a rebellion and uprising among the duke's vassals. They accuse their lord of believing imaginary stories, of spending his money in a "dishonorable" way, and to not care about the noble serving under him anymore, giving all his wealth to the dead rather than the livng. This becomes a civil war, but the battle is ultimately won by the duke because he is helped by a celestial army coming down from Heaven - and made by all the souls that could escape Purgatory thanks to the duke's alms and masses.

The "officialization" of Purgatory only appears with the second Council of Lyon, organized in 1274: it is then that the Purgatory became an official belief of the Christian Church. The Purgatory is seen as an extension or substitution to the earthly penitence of the living. It is stated that the duration of a stay in Purgatory depends from person to person - but that it does not have to cover all of the span between someone's death and the resurrection at the end of times (aka, a Purgatory soul can reach Heaven before Judgement Day). Starting from this Council onward, theologians started making complex and fascinating calculations in order to determine how long exactly a soul has to stay in Purgatory, depending on the quantity and gravity of the person's sins.

And with any religous process that involves the metaphysical equivalent of math tests... cheating arrived. In the form of "indulgences". For those of you not familiar with this, the system of indulgences within the Christian Church (Catholic branch) is, as the name says, a system of "pardons" and "leniences" - it is when a Catholic religious authority deserves a form of "pardon" for the sins of a specific person. At first it was another way for living Christians to purify themselves before their death - and it quickly became one of the most famous corruptions of the Church, denounced as much by Protestants as by poets such as Dante. Sinners just had to "buy" an indulgence by giving enough money to a religious authority, and they were cleansed of their crimes in the eyes of the Church - even if they made no effort to redeem themselves, underwent no penitence or did not express any regret. But by the hubilee of the Church in 1300, the Pope Boniface VIII extended the indulgences to the souls of Purgatory - which by the time had become a full part of the Christian art and Christian rituals.

And when Protestantism arose, the Catholic Church held tightly onto the belief in Purgatory: in the 16th century, the Council of Trente confirmed once more that Purgatory was part of their canon and dogma, to better differentiate Catholics from Protestants.

Fascinatingly however, it was not the first time Purgatory served a political purpose... Long before Protestanism appeared, Purgatory had been used as a tool against all those seen as dissidents groups within the Church - aka, heretics. In France, the two most famous heresies of the Middle-Ages firmly rejected Purgatory as a whole. One was the one we called the "vaudois", part of the Vaudois movement (also called Valdeism or Valdism). They held the belief that faith was a gift from God, and that by extension only the Christ could intercede. As in, only prayers to the Christ had any power to change the fate of people or could be able to reach God - by extension, they considered that the saints were powerless, and the indulgences worth nothing. Recognizing only two sacraments as "real", the Baptism and the Eucharist, they considered Purgatory to be a pure fiction, a made-up fairytale with no real existence: for them, there is only Heaven or Hell.

The other group were, of course, the Cathars, who believed that material world was inherently evil and that humans were fallen angels trapped in bodies of flesh. They only recognized one sacrament, the "consolamentum", the only ritual that can grant salvation by setting free the divine part of the human: the spirit returned to God, leaving behind its material body and the evil within it. This ritual, called a "baptism of spirit and fire" was a cross between the "last rites" for the dead (as it was the final ritual ensuring salvation after death), and an ordination, as it was the only ritual needed to become fully and "truly" Christian. Hence why the Cathars called themselves the Perfects, the Good Men or the Good Women (they also heavily used the Gospel of John, which fitted the most their beliefs). As a result of all this - for them death, like with the vaudois, could only lead to Hell (being trapped in the material world) or Heaven (becoming a pure spirit with God) - no in-between was possible.

A third group deemed as heretical by the Church that also rejected Purgatory were the Brothers and Sisters of the Free-Spirit, the Libre-Esprit movement, who preached and swore only by poverty. For them, it was poverty that set a man free of his sins and "resurrected the Christ within him". Long story short: as long as you were poor, you could listen to your every desires and follow your every whims without fearing a sin. This was the teaching of the "free-spirit": you could obtain paradise by simply living on earth, as long as you were poor, since poverty annihilated all sins. In their own words, a poor whore was worth more than a pious and just rich man - and in turn, this allowed them to declare all Churchmen were damned (denouncing how the Church had become one the wealthiest institutions of the Middle-Ages).

This is all I can take from the article - and unfortunately it is quite limited, since the text is about Purgatory in the Middle-Ages, and so it does not expand to modern days... But I hope it was interesting eough as a quick overview! If I find more sources, I'll continue this series.

[lifewclair]

3 Key Reasons to Choose STEM as Your Academic Pathway

Are you currently grappling with the decision of which academic path to pursue? The choices might seem overwhelming, but if you're drawn to the allure of Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics (STEM), you might find the perfect fit for your aspirations. According to DIST (2022), Here are three compelling reasons why choosing the STEM track could be the best decision for your academic and professional future.

A Gateway to Success

The STEM track offers a gateway to highly respected careers in fiercely competitive industries. With a range of specializations in areas such as Physics, Calculus, and Earth Science, opting for the STEM track unlocks numerous possibilities for a successful and fulfilling career. Moreover, delving deeper into STEM education and pursuing advanced studies can open doors to even more prestigious opportunities. By treading this path, you position yourself to become a pioneer in your field, equipped with the knowledge and skills to tackle real-world challenges and make a significant impact.

2. Driving Progress at the Heart of the Nation

STEM graduates play a vital role in propelling the growth of some of the most sought-after businesses and industries. Their expertise often extends to guiding senior high school students through rigorous coursework and challenging examinations, preparing them for their future careers. These graduates are at the forefront of fields that drive the nation forward, whether as budding physicians, engineers, economists, or scientists. By acquiring specialized skill sets through their coursework, they are poised to become the leaders and innovators of tomorrow, shaping the landscape of various critical sectors.

3. Abundant Job Opportunities at Home and Abroad

One of the significant advantages of pursuing the STEM track is the wealth of job prospects it offers. STEM-related occupations remain consistently in demand, not only in the Philippines but also internationally. Filipino professionals, particularly those with STEM backgrounds, form an essential part of the global workforce, contributing their expertise to a wide range of industries. From ensuring community safety and health to maintaining a high standard of living, the roles available to STEM graduates are diverse and impactful. Opportunities abound for those aspiring to become doctors, surgeons, engineers, economists, scientists, and more, making the STEM track a gateway to a world of possibilities.

In conclusion, the STEM track isn't merely a collection of academic disciplines but a pathway to a fulfilling and impactful career. By choosing this track, you position yourself at the forefront of innovation and progress, ready to make your mark on the world. Embrace the challenge, equip yourself with the necessary skills, and step into the realm of endless possibilities that the STEM track has to offer.

At work and at play we lead the way, with integrity and dignity! Here at STEM we have it all for you!