#anyone else having a religious experience listening to this

[sophieinwonderland]

Response to Sysmed on the Boundaries With Normality

Here's the original post.

Yay! You finally found it!

Did anyone else catch what they did there?

Here is the full text for comparison:

For those who are not aware, "e.g." is short for exempli gratia, which essentially means "for example."

Acknowledging this, the boundaries with normality could be rephrased as such:

The presence of two or more distinct personality states does not always indicate the presence of a mental disorder. In certain circumstances (such as experienced by ‘mediums’ or other culturally accepted spiritual practitioners, for example), the presence of multiple personality states is not experienced as aversive and is not associated with impairment in functioning. A diagnosis of Dissociative Identity Disorder should not be assigned in these cases.

The use of e.g. intentionally leaves it open for other nonpathological forms of plurality.

But it seems to have been strategically omitted by the OP in their quote of the text.

I find it extremely deceptive to pull that part of a sentence out of context, and cut the e.g. from it, without showing readers the full text.

If they were specifying that only those practices apply, it would have used "i.e." instead.

There are a bunch of claims here that are being made at once. Let's see if I can dispel them.

#1 "Tulpamancy is a spiritual practice"

This is largely false. Although it's a claim that sysmeds love repeating and spreading among their circles.

In Varieties of Tulpa Experiences, by Dr. Samuel Veissière, 76.% of tulpamancers surveyed reported having purely psychological explanations for their tulpas. Comparatively, only 8.5% reported purely metaphysical explanations.

Tulpamancy is largely a psychological practice, not a spiritual one.

#2 "Spiritual Practices Are Inherently Intentional and Therefore Aren't 'Natural Systems'"

Genuinely, not sure how they are making such a reach.

If you listen to spiritual mediums, many will describe having connections to spirits at a young age, and that being a medium wasn't something they chose.

For a concrete example though, here is one case study describing a spiritual leader who experienced possession states since childhood.

While this is just a case study, one wouldn't need to venture far into spiritualist circles to confirm this as fairly common and natural.

#3 "Being a System is More Than Just Headmates"

We've entered into the semantic part of the conversation. "This isn't a system because it doesn't meet my baseless and arbitrary definition of systemhood."

Anyway, the use of "system" in reference to people with multiple parts has also been applied by Internal Family Systems therapy since the 80s. And researchers into endogenic systems have frequently referred to endogenic systems as systems.

See Dr. Michael Lifshitz referring specifically to tulpa "systems" in the r/tulpas AMA.

The fact is that there is no strict definition of system that only applies to DID and OSDD.

If you disagree with this, I might ask under what basis you would have for believing Dr. Lifshitz is misusing medical terminology.

No.

But you are intentionally misleading people by omitting the "e.g." from the quoted text because you know it would undermine your argument to quote it in full.

I find it incredibly dishonest and deceitful to cut words from your quote but make it clear that this is just an example which inherently implies that there are other scenarios where someone can be plural without a disorder, then accuse me of stretching the exclusion.

It does NOT specify that.

It uses that as an example.

Again, it only has the appearance of specifying because you selectively removed part of the sentence.

Do you possess clairvoyance to know what the authors intended?

The ICD-11 was published in 2019.

This was 3 years after Varieties of Tulpa Experiences delved into the tulpa community's plurality.

This was 2 years after "Multiplicity: An Explorative Interview Study on Personal Experiences of People with Multiple Selves," the first interview study into the online plural community outside of tulpamancy, which interviewed plural systems and concluded that multiplicity made up a spectrum.

This was 1 year after Transgender Mental Health was published by the American Psychiatric Association, affirming that you can be plural without trauma or a disorder.

Trying to read the minds of the authors of the ICD-11 seems like a pointless endeavor to me. And also, a distraction.

It's distracting from the fact that the ICD-11 explicitly confirms that there are other ways to experience plurality (i.e. what it refers to as multiple "distinct personality states") without a mental disorder.

We've shown our sources. Now burden of proof is on you to provide this evidence you claim exists.

Thus far, the only sysmed sources pertain to DID exclusively, and do not address plurality outside of that. This makes these sources utterly useless against the mounting papers affirming the existence of endogenic plurality, and the ever-growing number of professionals who have acknowledged that endogenic plurality is a real psychological phenomenon.

*Makes sideways glances to my list of sources on endogenic and non-disordered plurality.*

Though to be honest, I actually like the Guardians doc better since it gives a brief overview of what each one is about.

Mine has become more of a personal thing. A list of sources I'm familiar with to be able to easily find and cite as needed, stored in one easy location and categorized with simple sifting in mind.

But the sources are there.

Wrap-up

Overall, as a rebuttal to the Boundaries With Normality, this seems pretty weak.

The fact that you've conceded that plurality can be caused by intentional effort heavily undermines the trauma-exclusive claims.

You've acknowledged that some endogenic systems are real. Specifically those with spiritual origins. Though I'm sure if given the chance, you would invent stipulations why only certain spiritual origins are valid.

But the most important part of this is the acknowledgement that you don't need trauma to be plural.

It seems the goalposts have moved from "you can only be plural with trauma" to "you can only be plural from trauma or intentional practices."

Which I suppose is a good start. 🤷‍♀️

[bardass]

listening to the new Hozier album isn’t enough i need to inject it directly into my bloodstream

[tiamathh]

ADRASTAEA (239)

Inescapable

Adrastea often also spelt as Adrasteia in Greek Mythology also known as "she who cannot be escaped" is the goddess of revolt. In my opinion wherever this asteroid is in your chart, it indicates what you cannot escape.

Tw: ED mention for 2nd House

1st: You cannot escape your own self and insecurities about the way you look or talk or walk. You may find it difficult to let go and may overdress at times to overcompensate. There is a possibility that you may be stuck in a loop that never ends because you feel like it cannot especially when it comes to your physical body.

2nd: You cannot escape your lack mindset, and may fall into it easily. You may have had a rough upbringing financially which makes you feel like you'll be financially unstable forever. You may attach all your self esteem with material wealth rather than looking inside and may have experiences with eating disorders.

3rd: You cannot escape your own mind, you may have been overly criticised during your early schooling years and may have been compared a lot with your neighbours and siblings especially academically. Have a tendency to overthink because of how observant you are and may be prone to getting anxious in public settings.

4th: You cannot escape your home, you may have had parents who were either neglectful or didn't get along with each other and fought a lot. This may make you feel like you don't have a comfort place/home and you'll never find one, that you can't escape your "fate" of having a home life that isn't secure in the future because of your past and may be scared to start a family.

5th: You cannot escape the spotlight for better or for worse. This makes you uncomfortable with being alone with yourself as you may out on a facade due to multiple eyes being on you at all times, this can also lead to feeling helpless at times because nothing you do seems to go unnoticed. You're scared ghosts of your past will come back to haunt you because of the same and are neglectful to your inner child.

6th: You cannot escape control, this is mostly external and you may feel like you're constantly being restricted and that you can't be free. You may have trouble setting boundaries as people around you may disregard them, not only that but you may lack self-discipline as you see it may seem too limiting for you, and you may believe that it will try to stifle you and your creativity. You may also have trouble making your subordinates listen to your ideas and opinions.

7th: You cannot escape the image you've made of yourself and presented to the world, as well as your relationships (platonic and romantic) you're bound to it and feel like you need to abide by it constantly without a break. You may also have trouble leaving bad or toxic relationships because you fear you won't be able to find anyone else, and may have problems with negotiating in a way that benefits you.

8th: You cannot escape your own guilt and the occult. You find it very difficult to let go of people and things, memories and experiences and may feel like it's your burden to bear. May feel shame attached to masturbation or sexual acts in a way and may not be comfortable being in intimate situations both sexually and emotionally. You may also attract a lot of energy vampires.

9th: You cannot escape the philosophies others enforce on you. You may have grown up in an extremely conventional/religious or strict household where you were expected and taught to do everything by the book. You probably have a difficult time trying to see things from other perspectives and may be a little rigid, having to work on being open minded actively, you may also have a dicey relationship with religion.

10th: You cannot escape your work, you're a workaholic and it brings a lot of imbalance to your life. You always want bigger better things that blind you from the meaningful relationships you have and the growth that you can go through. You neglect both your body and mind, and are restless when it comes to your deadlines, you may butt heads with authority figures as well.

11th: You cannot escape your self-sacrificial nature. You have a tendency to give even when you don't have anything for yourself and then fall in a loop of self pity. Your relationships with your friends and your community may be unequal as you don't get much back. There's a feeling of needing to give back rather than wanting to which also negatively impacts your energy.

12th: You cannot escape your past. Whether it be your past in this life or in terms of your past life, old relationships, people, memories keep coming back to teach you lessons that you didn't learn because of your self limiting beliefs and self deprecating nature. You don't like delving deep because you're scared of what you'll learn and what you'll see rather than wielding that knowledge as a weapon.

All Rights Reserved tiamathh on tumblr. Do not steal, repost, plagiarise or reword and claim as your own!

[avocad1s]

Bring Back What Once Was Mine

Chapter Summary: Lumine tells the False Creator some fabricated news. You are confronted by the Prince.

Characters Mentioned: Multiple Characters Mentioned

Content Warning: Cult and Religious themes ahead! You've been warned. I would also say this deals with slight Yandere themes as well!

Reader is the true creator of Teyvat. GN! Reader

Part Three Part Four (You are here!) Part Five

I’ve re-read this multiple times but I think if I read it again I’ll grow to hate it and delete so I’m just gonna post it

Even with the moonlight spilling through the campsite, you could hardly make out the features of his face. His grip on your hands was firm but not tight enough to cause you any discomfort, it didn’t seem that he was going to let go any time soon.

“Oh how I’ve waited for this…. Waited for you.” He breaths out.

You simply stare at him, not saying a word. Had he been following you this whole time? If so, how come you weren’t alerted to his presence?

His smile drops at your silence, “don’t be alarmed Your Grace. I have no intention of hurting you! I just want to talk for now.”

He looks behind him for a moment, as if he were looking out for someone, perhaps Yelan. Once he looks back, his smile and soft gaze return.

His tone is unbelievably sweet. You could feel his hands shaking, and based of his demeanor, you assume it was due to excitement. Even if he was trying his best not to show it.

“I’m Aether.” He introduces, smile never fading.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Your Grace” He replies, “I need your help. Khaenri'ah needs you.”

You raise your brow, “Khaenri'ah?”

He nods eagerly, “I am going to restore your nation back to its former glory, and now that you’re here, I have no doubts that we can bring it back.”

“Wait a minute,” you say, “you’re not of this world, why do you care about some ancient nation from five hundred years ago?”

His closes his eyes for a moment, “you’re right. I’m not from this world, but I’ve been here since that nation stood tall and I got to experience everything it had to offer. Everything you had made.”

He caresses the back of your hands with his thumbs, “Your Grace… when you returned to Teyvat few days ago, we in the Abyss we’re immediately aware of your presence. I tried so hard to find you, and I’m mad that I didn’t find you first. I should be the only one allowed to help you, only I know the truth of this world.”

“The truth of this world?”

Aether pulls you to stand up with him, “I know this may be hard to hear, but please listen to me.”

You could feel the anxiety crawl up your back as you wait for him to continue talking. You’ve been so blindsided by the False Creator that anything else that happened in Teyvat wasn’t a concern for you at the moment.

“The archons are taking advantage of your kindness,” he begins, “your world is becoming corrupted because of them. Teyvat never had this many monsters on it before, and it’s all their doing.”

You pull your hands away from his grip, his eyes widen but he lets go. “I know how it may sound but I would never lie to you Your Grace.”

You cross your arms looking away from him, “this is a lot to take in. Are you trying to tell me that I cannot trust my own Archons?”

He shakes his head, “I would never tell you what you can and can’t do, I’m just telling you do not be blinded because you know them from the past. It’s been centuries, they can change.”

Aether reaches out to grab your hands again, you put up no fight as he laces his fingers with yours and he smiles gently. “Come with me Your Grace. Together, we can get rid of the fake you on the throne and make Teyvat whole again. The Abyss will welcome you with open arms.”

“I’m not letting them go anywhere with you.”

Behind Aether, Yelan was holding a few sticks in her hand, but you could tell she would drop them at any moment if she had to go on the defense.

“You know for someone who doesn’t want anyone to know they’re on Teyvat, a lot of people keep finding you, Your Grace.” She teases.

Aether gives Yelan a death glare but makes no attempt to unlace your hands, “you cannot protect Their Grace like I can and how dare you talk to them like that?

She scoffs at his words, “I’m letting them go anywhere with someone from- what did you say?- oh right, the Abyss. You hate humanity. Their Grace will stay here where they belong.”

He scowls but brings his attention back to you, “it seems that we are already out of time.” He lets go of your hands reaching into his pocket to hand you a particular flower. “The next time we meet, I will not allow anyone to interrupt us… and I hope that you join me in the future.”

He turns around shoving his way past the girl walking off into the darkness.

“If we have to collect fire wood later I’ll take you with me, it’s too dangerous for you to be alone.” Yelan states taking a few steps toward you before dropping the sticks on the ground. “You Grace, just like with the Fatui, the Abyss cannot be trusted. I would even say they are more dangerous, whoever that man was, you should stay far away from him.”

You say nothing staring at the flower in your hand, you recognized it’s origins the second you saw it, the flower was from Khaenri'ah. Was this his way of telling you that everything he said was the truth, that he actually was around before and during the destruction of the nation. You bring the flower close to your chest closing your eyes.

“Erm, Your Grace?”

You jump at the sound of her voice, “sorry I’m just a little distracted.”

She gives you a reassuring smile, “don’t pay any mind to whatever he said. He was probably just trying to trick you and use your powers to destroy humanity.

Yelan kneels down fixing the sticks to build a fire. Even though you nod at her explanation you couldn’t help but feel relieved that she didn’t hear everything he had told you. Trying to explain the fall of a nation that no one should know existed anymore would be impossible, especially since you still had questions about it yourself.

“Here let me do it.” You kneel down using the Pyro element to light a small fire on the wood.

Both of you sit in front of the fire in a comfortable silence, but your mind kept going back to everything Aether had told you, was he telling you the truth? Or should you believe Yelan who said that he just wanted your power for the destruction of humanity.

“You should try getting some sleep Your Grace.” Yelan whispers, “I’ll keep watch over you.”

The overwhelming sense of fatigue washes over you, “are you sure?” You ask. She nods, “Of course, I would never forgive myself if something were to happen while you’re with me and I don’t think anyone else would forgive me either. The last thing I need is two Adepti mad at me. Please sleep.”

With that final reassurance you let yourself relax in the soft grass, the ancient flower Aether gave you laid by your side as you stare up at the stars. You couldn’t help but wonder how many more people were after you. The Fatui, the Abyss, and probably the Archons as well since the Gnosis alerted your presence to them.

You let out a breath closing your eyes. Wondering who you could possibly run into next.

A few days ago, Sumeru City

“Lumine you’ve returned, but you don’t have who I asked for…”

A few hours after Lumine and Nahida split away from the true Creator, they returned to Sumeru City. Nahida entered Irminsul like she said she would and now Lumine stood in front of the False One like before. Yet it felt different this time, if she were to mess up it wouldn’t just be her life at risk, many others were counting on her as well. The real Creator was counting on her.

The Traveler bows stiffly at them, “I have some… news regarding the task you gave me.”

They told their head at her statement sitting up straight in their throne. “Well, what is it? Don’t tell me they got away.”

“No Your Grace, it isn’t that. I managed to locate the individual I told you about. When I told them to come with me I guess they got suspicious that I was going to bring them back here and they took off running. While I was pursuing them, they fell off a ledge and…”

“Are you telling me that they are dead?”

Lumine, who was still bowing, nods a bit. “Yes, I checked myself.”

The False Creator lifts themselves of the throne walking slowly down the staircase until they stood right in front of the girl. They grip her chin lightly bringing her gaze to meet theirs.

“And where is their body now?”

“I pushed it into the river… I assumed since they look like you, no one else should see them.”

They smile, “how smart of you, but I’m still disappointed. All of amazing stories I’ve heard about you and you couldn’t do one thing I asked of you. I’m disappointed…”

Lumine swallows trying to keep her composure, she hadn’t felt this terrified since she had seen the defiled Statue of the Seven.

They let go of her chin crossing their arms behind their back, “now what should I do with you, Traveler? Can I trust you?”

“Yes your Grace! I will never tell anyone about this…”

They nod at her declaration, “don’t worry I trust you, but I can’t help but get a bit paranoid at times. So I hope you understand why I have to do this.”

“Do what?” She asks.

“Guards!” They call out and almost immediately a dozen Sumeru guards enter the room bowing as they await their orders.

“Take her and the fairy away. They’ll be staying in Sumeru for a little longer.”

The guards waste no time surrounding the Traveler pulling them away from the False Creator, Lumine tries to fight them off but there was too many of them.

“Don’t worry.” They say a smirk on their face, “I have no intention of hurting you or your companion, but I cannot risk this information getting out to any else in Teyvat.”

The Traveler is pulled out the room without another word the last thing she heard is the False Creator asking one of the guards to find Nahida immediately.

In Liyue, present day

“Wake up sleepyhead…” a voice sings.

A groan leaves your mouth as you turn over.

“Do I have to throw water on you? C’mon time to wake up!”

You open your eyes and your met with a kneeling Yelan who smiles at you.

“Ah, there’s those beautiful eyes.” She coos, “it’s time get moving if you want to make it to Liyue Harbor before sunset.”

You sit up rubbing your eyes, “you let me sleep through the whole night? Aren’t you tired?”

“You looked exhausted. Don’t worry about me Your Grace, I’ll be fine.”

Yelan holds her hand out to help you stand and you accept rising to your feet. Not without grabbing your flower first.

“Are you going to keep that?” She asks.

You look down at it, “well it is beautiful.”

“Alright,” she hums stomping out the campfire, “you ready to leave?”

You nod, “let’s go.”

Somewhere else in Liyue

The eleventh Fatui Harbinger was looking for someone.

It was supposed to be a close kept secret between him, the Tsaritsa, and the other Harbingers but he had accidentally slipped and told some of the soldiers under his command due to his anxiousness.

That slip up might’ve cost him what he was looking for.

He stares coldly at the few soldiers that kneeled at his feet, they were the ones he had sent to the Chasm.

“Lord Harbinger! Please forgive us!” One of them cry.

“We had no idea someone was listening to what we were saying.”

He scoffs at their excuses, “you’ve heard the saying about Liyue, there are ears everywhere. If you were under the command of any of my comrades they would waste no time in killing you.”

They tense up, even thought their eyes wasn’t visible due to their masks, they made no effort to meet his gaze.

“You’re lucky that I am in a good mood but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. Find that woman.” He waves his hand and they take off.

When he and the other Harbingers witnessed the glowing of the gnosis, it had cleared many doubts he had about what the Tsaritsa was thinking.

To clarify, his doubts were about the Creator. Or rather, the False One.

The Fake Creator had been on Teyvat way before Childe was born so as he grew up with his parents had told him all the amazing things they had done.

Then he fell into the Abyss and that’s when he first encountered the idea that the one on the throne wasn’t who they claimed to be. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind putting his focus on his family until he joined the Fatui.

In the Fatui is when he was reintroduced to The Creator not being, well, The Creator. Now it wasn’t something he could just push away, he actually wanted to know if it was the truth or not. The Tsaritsa explained to him that if they collect all seven Gnosis they can summon the real Creator back to Teyvat.

So when the Jester sent him to Liyue to collect Rex Lapis Gnosis, he jumped at the opportunity.

“Lord Harbinger…” a timid voice says, “we had located the woman.”

“And?”

“You were right, they are with her.”

“Lead me there.”

-

They were right. His soldiers were right.

A few meters up ahead he could see them and the woman he instantly recognized to be Yelan. She had popped up on the Fatui’s radar years ago due to her… persuasive methods of learning Fatui secrets from the lower ranks.

It felt as if he was frozen to the ground, he never expected to find you in Liyue. He believed someone else would’ve been the one to find you, but no, it was him.

He felt so lucky, he was going to be the first Harbinger you’d talk to.

-

“…and that’s how I got this jacket.”

You laugh a bit, “well aren’t you a sneaky one?”

“You’re right, she’s always sticking her nose in business that doesn’t involve her.” Childe smiles directly at you as Yelan puts her arm up in front of you defensively.

“I knew we’d run into you, but I didn’t expect it to be this soon.”

Childe laughs, “well I hope you don’t mind me taking Their Grace off your hands then?”

Yelan’s eyes narrow, “Their Grace isn’t something you Fatui can just take as your own. They are going with me.”

He rolls his eyes at her directing his attention to you, “Her Majesty the Tsaritsa has been waiting for you for a long time Your Grace. Come with me to Snezhnaya.”

Yelan looks back at you, “Don’t listen to him. This is the Fatui Harbinger Childe that I told you about. His motives are unknown.”

You look at the Yelan then at Childe.

“We in the Fatui would never hurt our Creator.” He states.

“What does Snezhnaya even have to offer Their Grace?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” He argues.

“Both of you stop fighting!” You say suddenly causing both of them to look over at you. “What does the Tsaritsa want from me?”

His dull eyes light up at your question, “Her Majesty believes she knows where the False Creator comes from. So as soon as you made your presence known, we began searching for you.”

You step closer to him despite Yelans warnings.

“She found out where the False Creator came from?”

Childe nods, “please come to Snezhnaya with me Your Grace. The False Creator is the reason you returned, right?”

“You’re right.”

“Then we shouldn’t waste anymore time.” He clasps his hands together.

You turn giving Yelan reassuring smile, “Yelan. Thank you so much for your help up until this point, and I will never forget everything you’ve told me but I have to go with him. If whatever the Tsaritsa knows is right, that could change everything.”

She nods bitterly, “if you must go, allow me to come with you. I’ll protect you with my life.”

You reach out grabbing her hand, “That’s sweet of you but I can’t. Even if I needed protection I can tell that he is way too powerful for you to defeat on your own. I promise that I will return to Liyue.”

She hold your hand tightly, “alright then. I’ll wait for your return.”

And with that, You leave Yelan alone as you walk off with Childe.

“How are we getting to Snezhnaya?” You ask.

“By boat, it’s waiting for us right outside Liyue Harbor.”

“Right outside?” You raise a brow.

He laugh a bit, “Well people from Snezhnaya aren’t welcome in other nations anymore. It would’ve drawn unnecessary attention us if we anchored at the dock, and I doubt the Liyue Qixing would let us be there anyway.”

You suppose his explanation made sense, he wasn’t the only person to tell you how unwelcomed Snezhnaya was in other nations.

“Your Grace,” Childe says after a moment of silence. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, it’s not like there’s anything else to do.”

He keep walking but stares at you, “what did Yelan tell you? About the Fatui I mean.”

“She told me that you all have done terrible things and how a few years ago you all had an unprecedented amount of power in every nation.”

He hums, “I see…”

It falls silent once more, as you both continue walking towards the nation of Geo.

-

A few hours after you had split with Yelan and decided to join the Fatui Harbinger Childe, you two (and the rested of his crew that trailed behind you) arrived at Liyue. All you had to do was walk across the bridge and you’d be in the Harbor.

However Liyue Harbor wasn’t your destination anymore.

Right off to the side of the bridge was a fairly large sized boat, Childe leads you to the hatch allowing you to step on first then he follows.

“The trip to the Zapolyarny Palace is only a few hours,” He explains, “but you’re going to need this when we get there.”

Childe digs through a chest pulling out a luxurious coat, it was made out of the finest materials Teyvat had to offer.

“One of my comrades had this custom made just for you. Well actually he had way more than one made so no matter who had encountered you first, you would have something to keep you warm once we enter Snezhnaya.”

You take the coat from him, the second the material touches your fingers you could tell how expensive it was. There was an insane amount of care and respect put into making this.

“That is very sweet of him,” you mutter, “I should thank him once we arrive.”

He lets out a sigh resting his head in his palm muttering to himself, “it will only go to his head…”

You want to laugh at his comment but decide you should pretend you didn’t hear him. Looking out to sea, your mind finally fills with everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.

Even though Childe told you that the Cryo archon figured out where the False Creator came from, you kept thinking about what Aether told you the night before.

Should you trust the Archons? Was the Tsaritsa leading you to Snezhnaya with a Trojan Horse? Or was it Aether that was lying to you.

You try to shake the thoughts out of your head, it would only be a few hours before you know for sure.

An unknown location in Sumeru City

It had been days since Lumine had been thrown into this dungeon. It wasn’t the same place the Sages had put her a year ago, it was probably a precaution so that none of her Akademiya friends found her.

“Traveler” Paimon whines, “what are we gonna do?”

Lumine brings her knees to her chest, “I don’t know Paimon. No one knows we are here, we have no way to reach out to the Creator or Nahida.

The fairy flys around sadly for a moment before her eyes widen, “wait a second! Why don’t you try reaching out to Nahida in your dreams.”

Lumine picks her head up, “you’re so smart Paimon! Maybe not using you as emergency food was a good idea.”

Paimon scoffs, “this is not the time for joking around! And for the last time, Paimon is not emergency food!”

The Traveler moves to lays down on her back steadying her breathing as she closes her eyes. Soon enough, she falls into a light slumber trying to the best of her ability to reach out to the Dendro Archon.

..

“…Nahida…?”

“Lumine…?” A familiar voice says, “I can hear you, where are you?”

“The False Creator. They locked me in some dungeon.”

“That’s horrible, did they not believe you?”

“No, I think they believed me… did you find anything in Irminsul?”

“Yes… it’s horrible… I’ve been searching for you everywhere to tell you.”

“Well, what is it?”

“The False Creator… they were created by Celestia.”

Note: this part took way longer to put out than the others, but I just want to say thank you so much for all the love on this series and for all the follows and reblogs you all have given me. I never expected this story to do so well!! :’)

And I know, I know, many people have maybe Celestia the enemy in SAGAU (be cuz they are) but I just trust me :>

© avocad1s please do not plagiarize or post to any other website

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[orange-orchard-system]

"dehumanization is the weapon of the enemy and it is wrong to do to anyone" also goes for systems btw.

Dehumanization is the process of denying someone's humanity or personhood; to say they do not occupy the same position as a full human person, and as such, are not to be treated as a full human person. It's often used as the reasoning behind being cruel to someone – "They're not a person like you and I, so it's okay to treat them as lesser.", essentially. It's not always as clear-cut as "this thing isn't a person", nor will those dehumanizing others always realize that's what they're doing, but it's typically an intentional effort to divorce "acceptable humans" from "unacceptable monsters/things/devils".

Dehumanization is a shitty thing to do. It is still a shitty thing to do when the victims are systems and/or the headmates in systems.

Whether you see our selves, or the selves of anyone else, as people, parts, or anything else, you need to treat us like people. Denying us this position of personhood is to deny us rights and respect. To do so is to declare that we are lesser than you, that you don't need to listen to or care about us; that it's okay to treat us poorly and differently. To prevent this, then (and some system punching you in the face down the line, sorry not sorry, talk shit get hit (especially when your "shit" is a key component of fascism)), you must learn to recognize when you are treating us not only as other, but as lesser.

If you force parts language onto all of us with the excuse that it's impossible to be more than one person in a single body, you're dehumanizing systems. If you tell headmates that they're not allowed to use the same vocabulary as real people – whoops, I mean singlets [PT: real people – whoops, I mean singlets / end PT] to describe themselves, you're dehumanizing systems. If you make a rule that introjects are not allowed to go by their own names in your community, but real people – whoops, I mean singlets [PT: real people – whoops, I mean singlets / end PT] who happen to have those same names are allowed to, you're dehumanizing systems. If you deny us the right to have our own religious and spiritual beliefs the second those beliefs involve our plurality, you're dehumanizing systems. If your argument is "this would be fine if you were a real person [PT: a real person / end PT] the only one in your body, but you're not, so it's not", congratulations! You are dehumanizing systems. You are denying them the position of personhood. I do not trust you, you need to take a step back and correct yourself, and until you do that, I don't think you're a safe person for any marginalized group or person to be around, since you've shown yourself to be someone who is all-too-happy to buy into the excuses of why it's okay if we're treated like shit.

I want to make it clear that this isn't an argument against parts language. Some systems or individual headmates don't like to call themselves people and choose to call themselves parts, and that's fine. But no matter the language someone(s) uses for themselves, you still need to treat them like people. You need to watch the way you talk about us, you need to unpack your pluralphobia and sanism, and you need to respect each headmate as an individual with their own thoughts, emotions, opinions, experiences, and worldviews, even when that means simultaneously respecting them as part of a whole. Some systems using parts language is not an excuse to treat them, or any other system, like shit. Respecting how someone wishes to be referred to does not give you free range to disrespect them in other ways.

"But isn't it impossible to be more than one person in a single body?" Personhood is a concept, not a law of nature, as seen by how easy it is to take it away. Therefore, whether it's "impossible" is not only irrelevant, but impossible to determine for certain. Whether or not individual headmates meet some arbitrary standard for personhood*, you still need to show them the respect you would anyone who is the only being in their body. You need to hold your gddamn tongue [PT: hold your gddamn tongue / end PT] if you don't believe it's possible to have more than one person or self or part or anything else in the same bodymind. I do not care about your personal beliefs, have whatever philosophical views you want, just don't make them the problem of anyone else. Don't share your opinion where it's not explicitly asked for, and don't be surprised if you're called an asshole for telling strangers that you don't consider them real people.

* We don't even have a standard, btw! There is no standard! We're still figuring out how to define consciousness, and you think personhood is somehow a concrete, perfectly defined, and universally understood idea? You must be joking if you think it's some sort of law of the universe that one body = one person. Get out of here.

"But (marginalized group/person said) –" yeah, I hate to tell you this, but you can be part of a marginalized group and still a fucking asshole. Especially when it comes to a group you don't know much about and don't interact with all that often, thus leaving your preconceived biased unchallenged. It doesn't become okay to dehumanize a group just because you're not top of the pecking order. Transphobia is still transphobia when it comes from a cis woman; pluralphobia is still pluralphobia and dehumanization is still dehumanization when it comes from someone who is part of a marginalized group.

"But this headmate doesn't identify as human!" Yeah, cool, not an excuse to be an asshole to them or treat them as lesser. Seriously, this is not a comeback. "I think it's okay to treat others badly if they identify in a way I don't like despite it harming no one and obviously being important to them." isn't an own. And neither is the implication that it's okay to treat anything that isn't a human like shit; this just makes it sound like you're fine with animal abuse.

Dehumanization is basic cruelty that borrows from the fascist playbook. It's wrong to do to anyone, and that includes systems and individual headmates. Systems, plurals, and all others who are more-than-one – you don't have to sit and take it. You can tell them off for it. You can tell them this is unacceptable. You can tell them exactly what flavor of shit they're spewing. You deserve the full respect and rights that anyone else is given. Spit in the face of bigots. And may everyone who's ever been dehumanized for being more-than-one find unexpected luck this week – you deserve it for ever having to put up with such bullshit.

[blueninjablade3]

Yandere Frollo Alphabet

Real quick for my regular readers who are waiting for the Hades Angst I’m working on it at a snails pace but it’s shaping up nicely. I’m publishing this solely because it’s been in my drafts taunting me.

TW: Yandere themes, Slurs/ talks about slurs, genocide, medieval torture, isolation, abuse, gaslight, lack of right, racism, and religious themes.

If you are uncomfortable with any of this scroll on. I won’t be offended. If you are in a bad mental state I don’t recommend reading this Yandere relationships are extremely toxic and dangerous. If you or someone you love are in an abusive relationship, please remember you have resources to help you. I believe I’ve covered most of my bases so without further ado Yandere Frollo alphabet. Ps, left a little music if anyone wants to listen to that while they read.

Affection: how do they show you love and affection? How intense can It get?

I view Frollo somewhat like “I never quite learned to verbalize my feelings so I’m going to do very small things to tell you I love you.” Also, he brings you grapes. It’s every day he brings you grapes. (Unless you’re getting punished.) He does do the traditional kiss-your-cheek and forehead tho.

Blood: How dirty is he willing to get when it comes to you?

He’s willing to burn down all of Paris to find you. You and Esmeralda are gonna be best friends and shit talk Frollo together.

Cruelty: how will they treat you once kidnapped will he mock you?

Yes. Wtf do you think I would say “No he’s an angel” Brother has no problem calling someone a slur. Hell, I’d put money on the fact that he’d call a black person the N word hard R to their face. (He’s seriously the worst tho. Get y’all a man like… uh Prince Naveen. He’ll treat you better)

Darling: besides kidnapping you would he do anything else against your will?

Being an active part of the Romani people’s slaughter, being horrible to Quasi, and whipping people are the ones that are off the top of my head. I’m probably missing others but the point is he absolutely would.

Exposed: How much of his heart do you bear?

I think you actually bear 40%. The other 60 goes to the Bible and Christ. Don’t worry that’s still more than his family ever got.

Fight: How would he feel if you fought back?

CHOOSE ME OR YOUR PYRE BE MINE OR YOU WILL BURN~! But in all seriousness, he’s going to be so upset and do the same thing that he does to Quasi.

Game: Is this a Game to them? Would he like watching his darling try to escape?

No! This isn’t a game! Those filthy gypsies can’t be trusted! (it feels wrong even typing that 😭) They’ll harm you! You need to stay safe. In the bell tower.

I also don’t think he’d enjoy you escaping. He wants you at arm’s length at all times.

Hell: Your worst experience with him.

After one of your little “stunts” he had you flogged for a few hours and then you didn’t get lunch for a few days. (like three)

Ideals: what he sees in the future with you.

He sees a traditional Christian marriage (pretend male x male relationships were most of the time accepted by the church), a couple of NORMAL kids (he is the worst), and all the Romani people dead. (ICK)

Jealousy: does he get jealous and if he does, does he find a way to cope or will he lash out?

He gets very jealous and never controls it. He always lashes out. At this point, don’t even look at a fly anymore. He’ll get jealous of it.

Kisses: How does he act around you?

He’s possessive, creepy, and lustful. Think about how he behaves with Esma and multiply by two.

Love letters: how would he go about courting/approaching you?

He’s very traditional. He’s the type who’d buy a goat to give to your dad and then just be like “Gimme.” But he would approach you beforehand and have some small talk in passing.

Mask: Are his truth colors different from what people think?

No. He’s very publicly creepy and weird it seems. People also fear him and view him as dangerous which you can say firsthand is true. Creepy bitch.

Naughty: how would he punish you?

He’s the type to flog you for a little, isolate you, and then limit food consumption. You’re extremely afraid of acting out or acting against him for fear of his reaction.

Oppression: what rights did he take away from you:

Freedom, religion (if you’re anything other than Roman Catholic you’ll have to practice and pray in secret.), privacy, and if you’re American the right to bear arms. Really any weapons he’ll take away. (Maybe see if you can hide a dagger?)

Regret: does he regret kidnapping you? Will he ever let you go?

Haha! You’re so funny if you think he’d let you go or think he’d regret kidnapping you! The Lord brought you two together! You two were meant to be! Now stop struggling unless you wanna go back to the palace of justice.

Sigma: what brought this side of him?

I think his lust, pride, and lack of getting any bitches over his years all contributed. He got lustful for you, and he didn’t know how to react, then instead of admitting that he was in the wrong his pride got the best of him, and blamed you. When his lust won caused his Yandere actions.

Tears: how would he feel if you cried screamed or Isolated yourself?

He doesn’t care! You’ll learn to love him eventually. If you don’t… you won’t like what’s gonna happen. But do go ahead.

Unique: is there anything different from a normal Yandere

He has a massive superiority complex? He also can have people flogged and not be questioned.

Vice: what can you use to escape him?

I’m not quite sure. I guess maybe you could hide in the court of miracles?

Witts end: would he ever hurt you

Without a second thought.

Xoanon: how much does he revere/worship you and to what extent is he willing to go to win you over

He’s willing to go to extreme lengths. I know I’ve talked a lot of shit about him in this but in all seriousness, he views you as a gift from the heavens. An angel sent to him. His angel.

Yearn: How long before he snapped and kidnapped you?

He’s a patient man. I’m going to say if you play your cards right and Quasi is still young about 1.5 years till he snaps.

Zenith: would he ever break you?

Oh definitely.

Thank you for reading! Please remember that rebloging, likes and comments are much appreciated! ❤️

[otsanda]

So @sayuri-of-the-valley and I were talking about the music in Good Omens 2 and particularly the similarities and differences in the music that happens 'Before the Beginning' (that's the song title) and at The Kiss (that's not the song title) and I have accidentally developed Theories and had Thoughts, so I’m gonna share them in case anyone else wants to weigh in.

First of all, the general musical structure is similar. They are both dramatic moments that start quietly, grow to a powerful crescendo at the Big Moment, and then resolve more quietly again, but with subtle changes that make them feel very different. Without actually going through and checking it, they sound to be at roughly the same tempo (around 140 BPM) and comparable time signatures.

Now, I'm treating these two dramatic moments and the surrounding music as two songs, although in the soundtrack the music surrounding The Kiss is actually divided into two songs itself: I Forgive You and Don't Bother, so that's. Fine. I'm normal about that. I'm sure dividing that in half doesn't Mean Anything at all. I'm NORMAL about it!!! Ah... anyways.

The instrumentation for both Before the Beginning and The Kiss is also very similar. Both songs start with orchestral winds and strings and add a powerful choral part (on the same pure round vowel sound, no less!) on the big crescendo. Both add orchestral chimes (bells) for that epic religious feel. Both the nebula creation and the kiss were a revelation. Something like a religious experience.

And then both songs resolve featuring wind and strings again, among other instruments. The "after" part of both songs also features more pitched percussion (harp, maybe a celesta, glockenspiel, possibly a dulcimer or some other fun, ethereal pitched percussion in Before the Beginning, but interestingly a piano in Don't Bother). Ouch. That hurts.

Now, to me: the piano is possibly representing the nightingale, Crowley and Aziraphale's love of Earth and humanity, whereas the glockenspiel and etc. may be more representative of heaven. Just a guess. I would have to do more careful listening for a more solid theory.

I don’t have perfect pitch so it’s hard to tell without getting out my instruments or transcribing the piece, but I’m willing to bet ‘I Forgive You’ is in the relative minor key to Before the Beginning’s mostly major key (I *think* ‘Before the Beginning’ might be mostly in the key of C major and ‘I Forgive You’ in A minor, but I could be wrong). Regardless, the former is major and the latter is more minor, but otherwise a lot of the chord structures, especially at the big moment, sound very similar.

More on instrumentation: ‘Before the Beginning’ uses more (ethereal?) flutes in the wind sections and The Kiss uses more reed-based, (earthy?) winds like clarinet, bassoon, oboe, etc. Different feel, but the same kind of structure. Both moments heavily feature a big string section for the nice full orchestral sound.

Before the Beginning has a lot going on musically before the crescendo and it intentionally feels kind of chaotic and unformed bc each instrument family is doing something a little different, building anticipation, etc. and then at the big crescendo, they all come together. Very powerful. Then after the crescendo, we get a subtle, playful reprise/variation of the Good Omens Main Theme. The strings and the winds are no longer entirely together at this point. They’re sort of playing off one another, leaving space. Having a conversation.

By comparison, in ‘I Forgive You’ the wind/strings start off playing together, in a sad version of unison before the crescendo (they both knew the conversation they were having wasn’t going to end well but they fundamentally *understand* one another now; they’ve been talking for millions of years). And AFTER the crescendo of The Kiss, the song ‘Don’t Bother’ DROPS the majority of the string section and gives the melody to a solo violin (alone!!!!). Even worse (better) the strings and the woodwinds and pitched percussion are no longer playing together. This time, they aren’t even having a conversation. They’re musically doing a separate lines. It feels extremely lonely (because it is). The violin is very exposed. The piano is very exposed. Even the chorus sounds exposed (smaller group of singers?). This ALSO includes a reprise/variation on the main GO theme, but instead of being playful it’s extremely sad (as though you didn't notice). The rest of the orchestra is still there, providing background, but it's not the same.

The Biggest Decision (the song after Don't Bother) has a lot more of those ethereally coded instruments again. Harp, pitched percussion. Full string section. Angelic chorus. Aziraphale is making the hardest/worst decision to return to heaven.

And to round it out, once we get to "The End?" we are back to piano. Our duo is separated. Now in place of the solo violin we have solo cello and piano. Gutting. We get notes of the ethereal celesta (I think). The piano keeps us grounded, but cello is a big focus. We also get more of that haunting chorus and violin runs. And then we end with solo piano playing the same 5-note run three times. Alone. After every other instrument has dropped out. Very lonely.

Just for fun, (and to end on a slightly more positive note), I went back and listened to the ox rib music as well, which was surprisingly consistent with some of my theories from up above and also not on the soundtrack so although I'm sure it has a name, I certainly don't know it.

In the ox rib section, there are more instruments before the first big moment (when Aziraphale tries the food) that are going back and forth. Again it sounds to me like they’re having a conversation… tempting and being tempted. Winds and strings (strings are tremoloing like at the kiss for that sweet, sweet tension), but also brass instruments. We have some more ethereal sounding pitched percussion, especially *before* he tries the food but afterwards it... switches to piano! Like I said: Earth!!!

The choir is on a different vowel altogether for this part (more aggressive and ominous, a taller Ah instead of a round Oh/Aw like the first two musical moments). The choir is also much more rhythmic. Again, increasing tension. And, of course, after he tries the food the music supports the tension of the scene by gradually building, getting louder and bigger after the key moment has already passed. It's super interesting that Aziraphale trying the food is actually quite quiet, but the music grows quickly afterwards. Sort of the inverse of how the other two scenes play out musically! Fascinating!!

Anyways, let me know what you think I got wrong and what I missed and if I thought something was a celesta when it was actually a glockenspiel or something. I am thrilled and devastated by this incredible music.

[honestsycrets]

brujería i: inhuman | ceo!miguel x succubus!reader

❛ pairing | ceo!miguel x succubus!reader

❛ type | doubleshot, explicit

❛ summary | since taking over his bio-father's company, miguel just can't seem to sleep. there may be someone behind that though. or, a succubus wants miguel.

❛ tags | some sacrilege, succubus!reader, ceo!miguel, sex-dreams, sleepy sex, dub!con: miguel is asleep during many encounters, exhibitionism outside of a church, f!reader, some mention of blood and wounds, au with deviations from canon, slight hurt miguel, slight caretaking peter, excessive bodily fluids, some mindgames.

❛ request fulfilled | Was wondering if i could request ceo!miguel x succubus! reader? whether he’s spider-man is completely up to you but reader is basically like a demon hiding in plain sight, toying and feeding on the sexual energy of people. maybe she’s a new hire and then she visits him in his dreams or smth. miguel becomes her target and he finds himself falling in love with her and wanting her so much it brings out an intense carnal desire inside him (1/2)

❛ sy's notes | i based some of miguel's sleep paralysis on my own experience. the catholic religious connotations are not very heavy, but if you're sensitive to that sort of thing, i'd probably skip this one.

Miguel O’Hara was never a superstitious man.

He grew up in a deeply Catholic home thick with superstition. His grandmother’s rosary still sat on his desk, enveloped in a spherical glass alongside stacks of organized paperwork on the latest drug his not-so-dearly held biological father left before he kicked it. Corruption was fiercely rooted, a fact that Miguel was not so subtle about. The papers he rifled through that morning revealed the stupidest account of Brujería among reports of Rapture.

“Brujería-- what bullshit,” he murmured as he dropped a stack of papers back onto the oak desk. He glanced at the glass tabletop and found his reflection therein. His eyes, crinkled at the edges, carried the reflection of countless days of his dark exhaustion. “Si no es una cosa es otra.”

“Miguel?”

“What, Lyla?” Miguel threw a glare at the ceiling at the AI that sang at him. She seemed far too happy with her position as the resident terror of his new office. New was an overstatement. It was his father’s before he croaked, reflected in some of his tacky taste in the things Miguel had immediately thrown out. Why else would it have a picturesque, but grandiose view of Nueva York but for a great view of the people he was destroying? The bright windows also did a bang-up job of burning his eyes

“The psychiatrist is here,” she chirped. “Are you going to tell her about your wet dreams?”

The flutters that danced over his skin at night at the strike of three. Foreign warmth caressed his skin like a warm blanket over his skin. His heart rate raced, and pleasure burrowed under his skin. It never failed that Miguel would wake to a rush of pleasure, cum painting his sheets sticky, his heart soaring into his throat. With such pleasure, why would he tell anyone but Lyla about his pathetic, ruined state that came night after night?

Miguel waved his hand in dismissal. He instead checked the chunky watch on his wrist. You're just on time. He appreciates a punctual professional given how much work he had to complete. In lieu of the report of spiritual abuse, he picks up the pile of sexual misconduct. That was a more pressing matter to address. The actual victims were far more important than some bruto’s complaint of ojos based on a huevo in some water. He should send these idiots to any middle schooler’s chemistry class. The bruja who was coming to visit him today could hardly be a source of concern.

“Why would I do that? Let her in. You listen in and I’ll unplug you.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Lyla teased, but he knew she was right. Lyla was one of his only friends and by far the one he spent the most time with. She has patience for him. He slips his reading glasses out of their holster as the lock on his office door hisses apart, welcoming in the strange woman whose name he could never find but in Stone’s personal records. A chroí, my love, like Stone could love anyone else but himself.

“Dr. O’Hara.”

Miguel slipped the lenses on. Not only was the woman before him, not the sort of hippy-dippy woman he expected, but you were… familiar. Oh, so familiar. He’s never met you before. Yet, he finds himself inexplicably pulled to closing the gap between your bodies.

You extend your hand for him to take.

“Dr…” You finished his sentence by offering your name.

“Have I met you before?” His large hand clasped your own. A blanket of warmth blossomed from your small hand in his grip. Gentle at first, your very same small hands laced in his. The sudden realization of where he’d seen you hit him like a bullet through the head: unexpected and instantaneous. The image rippled across his mind, Miguel’s hand collared on your nape, his fat dick splitting your cunt against his office’s wide windows. Another pulse of heat soared through his hand--

Miguel jerked his hand back. What in the hell?

“¿Estás bien?” You were so close that he could smell the perfume on your skin. A dark cherry, sultry, and so good. He was swimming in the vague delusion that was your skin against his. There was something delicious about the way you looked at him, tracing the outline of his tie that sat tightly behind a constricting vest. He was hazy, clumsily falling back into his office chair. Moving was tiring with the sudden vial of desire that flooded through his veins. You were at his side in an instant.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “It’s… the heat.”

“Oh! Stone's office is always hot. Here, I'll help you,” No-- he tried to argue. Against his wishes, you slipped his suit jacket off his shoulders and down his muscular arms, loitering a bit too long along his pumped biceps. “Though, I guess it’s all yours now, isn’t it? We all are.”

Miguel has no energy to fight you, lost in the haze that was last night’s forgotten dream. He’d never met you before, that much he was sure. Yet he swore, on all that was scientific and right, that he dreamed of your body on his, emptying him of any worries as he came into the nothingness of his sheets. It wasn’t just pleasure, it was a sea of rapture, and he drowned in it.

“According to your AI, you’re burning up lately.”

How do you know? You walked around his chair, your slender heels clicking over the hardwood floor. His eyes traced the curves of your velvet red pencil dress up to your bust as you leaned in, the back of your hand taking his temperature on his forehead. Your bust had delicate black lace detailing that enhanced your natural beauty. It scorched his ability to be a decent gentleman. Every man had their limits. He’s nearly at his, and you’ve only just arrived.

“You're so warm,” you gasped, but it's strained, a crack through stained glass. “Let me help you.”

You reached for the knot of his tie. That’s enough-- Miguel shoves your hand from his neck. He tugs the charcoal tie away from his throat, drawing it away from his white button-up. You wet your lips, drawing a sheen across your perfectly applied lipstick. You came in here with a plan and purpose to inflame him-- and did just that.

“Careful.”

A pause-- your eyes challenged him, seemed to know how weak he was in resisting the strain of lust that came with your mere presence. He was losing the fight quicker than he’d like. Miguel has to focus. “Your findings on Rapture’s… trial run. Where are they?”

“Destroyed,” you answered curtly.

"Project 2099?"

“Under seal. Oh, don’t look at me like that, hermoso. It wasn’t my choice.”

Hermoso. A flicker of anger shot through him as you reclined on his desk and ran your hands across the rim. You seem to notice the rosary on his desk, eyes lingering on it for more than a few seconds. You dipped so comfortably between propriety and looseness. The distance between your easily accessible skirt and his hardening erection is the entirety of only a few steps. “Stone’s orders, not mine.”

“There are no copies?”

“Why would there be? Stone was always very persistent with what he wanted.”

You? He doesn’t ask.

Something in him doesn’t want to think of it, what his father could have done to you that would make you so willing to stand so close to him. Your gaze faltered. You bore at his groin, his sleek dark slacks straining against his length.

“Now you want to know if I fucked him, que no?”

That's a yes. The way you slip onto his desk, legs slightly apart, tells him all he needs to know. His gaze falters, down then up again, an irrational amount of envy welling low in his belly. He found himself wondering what you’ve done in this very room. You bat your long lashes, far too pretty. He isn't easily dissuaded.

“I've barely met you and you want to know everything about my work and personal life. You’re so greedy. So like him.”

“I am nothing like that man.” At that very moment, his eyes locked with yours. A distant rage filled his belly. No one, he meant no one, compared him with that maniac. His tongue twisted in his mouth, ready to make some sharp remark, but you snatched his words by leaning forward, pressing your lips to his head. Your fingertips combed through his dark hair, a warm comfort. A kiss? His hands felt heavy, weighed down by an impossible weight, one he couldn’t push off no matter how much he strained.

"Hasta luego, Miguel.”

The door closes behind you with a clap. Back in the chair, Miguel was heaving heavy breaths. The restriction on his body loosened up and allowed Miguel to grab the black mirror stashed in a drawer below his desk. Your sticky lipstick left a stain on his forehead, strained with stress lines. He wiped away the red stain of your lipstick and rolled the remnants between his thumb and middle finger.

"Like Stone," he repeated with a hiss. "Mierda."

He wracked his hand around his swollen cock-- panting as he beat himself off, ecstasy claiming that he had to have you. The insatiable need to have -- his father’s whore-- overrode any of the papers on his desk. He came into the cold nothingness that is the air, his hands coated in his own essence. Miguel untucked a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped himself clean.

“Lyla? Who?” he gasped a breath, “Who is that woman?”

“Beats me,” Lyla thought she was so funny. “She’s not in any electronic records.”

“Really.”

Even if that was the case, Miguel would be damned if Stone got the better of him in death. Miguel cleaned up his hand and whirled open the sexual harassment folder-- he was nothing if not a determined man.

You shouldn’t be here. No, really, you should not be employed here.

He doesn’t know your qualifications because he cannot find them. In the electronic documents, your file is bare bones. The suggestion of your education is non-verifiable but signed off by Stone himself. If it were only him, he might chalk it up to corruption. But there were others-- other dead bodies-- who signed off on your highly amended report on Rapture. The board claimed your employment was not a subject for discussion. Even if he were the face of the company, you were untouchable.

He left his office to the small coffee shop on the third floor. The man who ran it, Peter, was a refreshment from the stress of the day in his own, weird little way. It was probably the high quantity of caffeine that kept him awake.

On the surface, Miguel’s dreams are unoffensive. Light things, like fingers brushing veins that creep along his muscles, soapy breasts dragging along his chest. Using your body like a sponge to clean him after a heavy session at the gym. You are always on your knees, suckling the cum free from his cock with an angelic little flutter of your lashes and those sultry, cat-like eyes. He was in a state of constant arousal with nothing to show for it but a consistently swollen dick. At his age, he considers it a feat.

“You’re so sexy, Peter.”

There it was again. Your giggle over top of the sound of the hiss of a coffee machine. Peter was laughing, shy, or uncomfortable, he couldn’t quite tell. Miguel slips off his wire sunglasses, looking along the bar for the source.

“Hey, Miguel!”

He paced around the corner, then back. There are a few work couples and colleagues speaking with one another. Their tables are fresh with coffee and tea, tiny wrapped sandwiches a poor lunch. You’re conspicuously absent. The lack of sleep was fucking with his head, it had to be. He settled the glasses into the lining of his suit pocket and withdrew his wallet.

“Miguel! You'll never guess who came by. Uh, the usual?” Peter bounced over, leaning over the cash register with a glitter in his eye. He was more upbeat than even usual. Some girl must have made his day, he decided. Sí, he rumbled. Miguel dipped his fingers into his wallet to pull out his card only to be stopped short of the action.

“Nope,” Peter pushed Miguel’s hand away. “Someone paid for you.”

“For me?” Miguel settled the card in its proper slot. “Who?”

“You know,” Peter whispers. "The bruja."

“She was here?” he repeated, following Peter across the side of the bar as he began to make his coffee. Peter is an airhead, a wonderful airhead. Some part of him is infectious on days when he’s not being stalked by a woman with no traceable name. It was as if you were wiped clean. “When?”

“About two hours ago? She said you looked spooked and left me some money for your coffee. I think she likes you.”

You were doing more than liking him.

“And why would you think that?” Miguel pulled out a chair at the bar, humoring the scrawnier man. Peter frothed some milk, a fluffy cloud of relaxation on top of his usual coffee dusted with cinnamon and nutmeg. Miguel takes the mug from Peter, wrinkling his nose at the addition of nutmeg.

“Well, she turned down some dude from marketing,” Peter mentions. “I've been here for a while and-- she rarely turns anyone down.”

You rarely turn anyone down?

It bothered him long after he finished the coffee. You’re so sexy, Peter. You weren’t there. Peter told him that you’d been gone for two hours. He should not have heard the wisps of your caramelized voice in the coffee shop.

It’s the exhaustion, Miguel convinced himself. He just needs the weekend, to rest.

By Saturday night, he hit his last nerve.

Restful sleep would not come. He lay in his large, empty king-sized bed after searching through files for another project that had no other name but 2099 for the entirety of ten long hours. Any information-- redacted-- but your name slapped over the top and bottom of countless documents was like a great, big fuck-you O'Hara. The more he read about you, the angrier he became. You enraged him, but he was positively enthralled with your presence.

He lay in bed listening to should-be soothing jazz that now grated his ear. Night after night, his torment never failed. When he finally found an instance of peace, his muscles locked up. Not quite awake, but not quite asleep. Heavy pressure overtook his chest and arms forced him to remain still. The world fazed in and out, doom on beating alarm bells in the back of his mind. Then he felt it, the phantom pressure on his neck that slid over his tawny skin, from his belly to the dark happy trail that dipped below his silky pants.

Miguel gritted his teeth and ripped himself from his trance. When his eyes popped apart, he was greeted by his shock. Hunger flowed through him in warm waves, piercing underneath his skin. Miguel’s fingers twinged, your phantom figure on top of him. It looked like you, but misty, as though an illusion. In the darkness, he can only make out the shadows that bounce off what little light is in the room.

“Motherfucker--”

Though he said that, your teasing fingers freed him from his cozy pants, ripping them around his hirsute thighs. His length lulls against his body, a shameful drool of cum gathered at his cock. A night of phantom touches has done him in. Miguel lurched back onto his flat pillows when he was abruptly shoved down by an outrageous amount of force. With his arms thrown up by his head-- he whimpered, frustrated with tonight's-- dream, delusion, dare he say-- reality. His joints were locked by invincible chains that forced him to stay in place. The more he fought, the hotter his need became for what came next. His body was pitifully trained.

He wasn’t certain that it was you-- but it smelled so deeply of your perfume, rich and cherry, flooding his nostrils. So familiar. He glanced down at the opaque figure, grinding over his hard cock. A pair of hands crashed onto his shoulder, claws curling into his broad shoulders. Blood seeped forth. A growl gathered in his chest, ripping up when something warm and tight sunk down on his bobbing dick. Miguel gritted his teeth: it had been a long time since he’d been with anyone. Not for a lack of viable partners, but his annoyance with them all.

Despite his immense muscle, he was too weak to do anything about it. Even if he could, what would he do? Throw off the sex-crazed hallucination on his dick? You rolled your hips over him, suckling him right back up. Hypnotized by the smoky illusion, Miguel gazed on begrudgingly, grunting as you rolled over him, his dick straining your insides. He was a toy, nothing more and nothing less, used for his fat cock that split your airy body apart. His hips jerked, frustrated as he found he could go no deeper. You punished him by dragging your claws over his swarthy shoulders, over his collarbones. Blood ripped free, sliding down his deltoids.

“Chingado,” Miguel’s lips parted for the word, hips juddering up like a hungry slut. It wasn’t normal, the warm tickle of your lubricant over his shaft, exquisite in its nature. His heels dug into the bed, balls tightened. He was so damn close to his relief, he could taste it on his tongue, bordering somewhere between immense pleasure and decadent pain. Your need for his pain won out, dipping down over his chest and latching your fangs over his chest-- then up, hooking on the front of his throat. It was going to bruise, badly.

You shook loose his orgasm, ripped free with the need to fill you, own you-- as though he were not the one being owned. His hips staggered, sticky whips of cum coating your walls in waves. More than he’d cum before before. His eyes shut hard, tears pricking the sides of his eyes. Then, as if it never happened, the hold on his hands was released. He struggled with his freedom, his hands slack, softening cock worthlessly weeping over his thigh. The pain-- oh, the pain, it washed over him moments later.

“Woah,” Lyla interrupted, “Miguel! What happened?”

She couldn’t see you. His eyes were like two dark coins, staring up at the ceiling, wide, and unseeing. He can hear her frantic questions, the ligature marks left behind from invincible chains, and the all-too-real blood and bruising that left him utterly ruined.

“It,” he choked out, heat biting at his well-chiseled face. “It hurts.”

He doesn’t remember what comes next. It was five in the morning when he finally rolled out of bed, and onto the floor, gripping the growing headache that grew miserably behind his head. Bitterness bubbled in his stomach, exhaustion in his eyes. The aberration that was his poor sleep was irksome more than anything. He felt someone’s eyes on him, soft and worried, rushing to his aid as though he were an old man who fell off a bed.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Peter said with an undercurrent of concern soaring through his words. “No, wait. I got you.”

He helped him sit against the frame of his bed, a frame that looks small as shit with Miguel’s large body against the frame. He’s unsure of what to say, assuming that Lyla called him in desperation, and let him into the house that Peter most definitely did not have a key to. Miguel’s chest ached. “What happened? Are you… are you okay?”

Everyone seems to ask him that lately.

“I’m fine,” he was alien to the feeling of care. He knew when Miguel dug himself into a hole. Miguel didn’t want to think about what happened only a few hours prior when his exhaustion took over his body and knocked him out. He dreamed of nothing. An abyss of unsettled nothingness, the ache low in his belly to fuck you until you were soaked in his cum and Miguel could finally, finally rest his tired eyes. Miguel pulled on a fluffy white robe Peter supplied, dragging it over thick strips of gauze and medical tape.

“You don't look fine.”

They both know he’s lying, but what else could be said? That the state Peter saved Miguel from was a rarity? That he’s used to being preyed upon by his own delusions? He needs a fuck, maybe that’s it.

“If you’re going to stay, be useful and get me that file.”

“Oh-- okay, this one?” he doesn’t look surprised. He padded across his room to his desk, kicked a chair that was falling apart aside, and picked up the folder on Brujería. It was buried behind more useful folders such as sexual harassment and inter-employee workplace violence. A fact that Miguel wasn’t exactly proud about in the first place.

“Brujería? Like witch stuff, right? No way. You think work is haunted too?” Peter says with a choked-out, nearly forced laugh. Miguel doesn’t pay himself enough for this. Of all the files at hand, it was nearly untouched. It included such things as ancestors, spirits, demons, and curses.

“I don’t. But the workers obviously do.”

Peter was soft and kind, but not stupid. He plopped down next to him and crossed his legs one over the other.

“The ones that say she’s a bruja?” Peter tapped on your photo. Your photo offers emptiness. That though you have a bright smile in the photo, it is undoubtedly fake. He never saw a woman look so innocent and sweet, but dangerous.

“You’ve heard?”

“Well, the men she hangs around always end up dead. They get all successful and rich then, bam, dead. But you can’t believe that right?” Peter reasons. “She’s not cursed, she just has bad luck. She’s always been nice to me.”

“A curse?”

“Yeah,” his warm breath wavers into a sigh. “Stone wanted company, found her in Sacred Heart-- you know, the one they say is cursed?”

“A cursed church? Give me a break. The only curse at Sacred Heart are the exploitive priests.”

“I’m just saying what I heard,” he’s whispering, shivers wracking up his arms at the mere mention. He tries not to push him anymore. Peter stood up and walked to the coffee stand in the corner of his dark room. For the days that he couldn’t be bothered to leave his room, he’d make a hot coffee in the corner and keep working just as he always did. “She’s always been nice to me.”

“Maybe you’re not her taste.”

“Yeah well, probably not. I don't look like you-- but she did call me sexy, so that's something right?” Peter laughed, “Want a cup of coffee?”

Sexy. That's it, he's so fucking sick of this shit.

“No, I don’t want a cup of fucking coffee,” Miguel bit back, shoving the bed several inches as he pushed his hand off of it, storming into his walk-in closet. “Lyla. When is mass at Sacred Heart?”

“Sacred Heart?” Lyla laughed. “You’re kidding--”

“Lyla,” he snarled, chucking his bag across the closet. It connected with his tall, black safe with a loud boom. She was quiet for a moment, undoubtedly momentary confusion for why non-believer Miguel O’Hara wanted to go to, of all things, a Catholic mass.

“6:30,” she answers.

“I’ll go with you,” Peter calls out.

Don’t bother, Miguel returns from the next room.

It’s been a long time since he dressed for mass-- some dark brown slacks and a warm, vanilla button-up. He snaps a chain necklace around his thick, bruised throat and his favorite watch. As he grabbed the manilla folder on brujería he felt like a child, lectured by his grandmother to not be like his bad man-loving, alcoholic mother and go to church. Despite very much not believing in any of this shit, it was frustrating, annoying even, that he had to go back there.

He didn’t want to go but his spirit was unsettled. Something told him that going to his grandmother’s favorite church would give him a sense of illumination, that it would make sense of the things that made no sense.

Sacred Heart stands on a hill, both physically and metaphorically. It takes offerings off the backs of the poor and sits atop a lush hill. Its stained-grey architecture is only beautiful by virtue of its stained-glass murals. He doesn’t care for the saints that loom overhead, unseeing eyes judgemental and cold. Viejitos and the truly devout are the only ones in attendance. Based on Peter’s account, he should expect you there. It doesn't take long to be proven right.

“Bendición.”

Is he hallucinating again? Despite the many rows of unspoken burgundy benches, you sit by him. Miguel is disconcerted as you slide your thick hips by, sandwiching him between the side of the bench and your chunky, beautiful thighs. He worked his words in his mouth for entirely too long.

“Dios te bendiga,” he said, the words chalky and thick in his throat, drawn up from the bottomless abyss of his fluttery stomach. You sat with a black lace veil pinned to your head. The only sort of women who wear a veil are very old or not Catholic at all. He veers on the latter. “You’re Catholic?”

“If you want me to be.”

“Why else would you be here?” he reached over and plucked up a cheap bible from a pouch behind the bench before him. Your eyes follow pupils dilating in a way that isn’t human at all, staring at the many words on the page that spun under his thumb.

“I think you know why,” you said with soft and pliable words. He felt himself melting.

Of course, Miguel thought, you always seem to show up during the most inopportune times.

"You didn't bring a bible," he offers it to you. Your eyes, dilate wide and bright at the sight of the thing, flicker a look down to it, then Miguel again.

"I prefer to listen." You turn away from it. He flipped it in his hand before returning it to its rightful pouch. For some reason, you did not want to be close to the book. He thinks he knows why.

“So you are stalking me.”

"Stalking is such a mean word, Miggy. Haunting, I like haunting better." Miguel throws open the report. He doesn’t want to read it-- but it is the last folder that may hold the information he needs. Your eyes fluttered to the footsteps of others filling their spot, an archaic song on the lips of the practitioners. Wrong page, Miguel.

"What was that?" he asked you.

"Nada."

He looked down to his lap where the report sat. The voices of those present, their lips forming an off-tuned song, itched at his already exhausted mind. The more he fought, the worse it became. You flipped open a black fan and cooled yourself with long flicks of your wrist. He doesn’t think it’s so hot.

“The rosary on your desk is from here, isn’t it?”

How would you know?

“You’re hiding something.”

Page 76. His fingers thumb on the pages on their own accord. Your eyes traced the movement, looking down at the pages before him. On deaths of company men.

I just do.

The thought entered his mind without prompting. He scanned names on the page. Aaron Delgado… asphyxiation. Tyler Stone… myocardial infarction. There were photos pinned there, photos that shouldn’t be so graphic, but somehow are. The men are as naked as the day they came into the world.

“If you say so, Miggy.”

“What are you hiding?”

You brought your hand over the file, closing it shut on top of his hand. He turns his hands over the top. Your fingers run over his knuckles, in misleading circles. “Are you sure you want the truth?”

“I don’t hide from the truth.”

“The truth,” you leaned in, your words husky against his ear. “The truth is I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m a good girl, Miggy. You have to believe me.”

Something about the way you spoke enraged him, prickling him enough to force him to stand in the middle of the priest’s words. He snatched your wrist with his thick hand, gripping you enough to leave pepper bruises across your skin. Your heels clicked after his boots, out through the foyer, past the bath of holy water, and down the discolored steps.

“Miguel?” you sang like a siren.

He’s hit his limit, throwing you against the discolored church wall. A gasp punched out of your lungs, aggravated by Miguel’s large hand strangling the breath from your throat. He felt warm as he kicked your legs apart and took up that space. The heat doesn’t feel like it is his. His bulge against your skirt certainly is. Now, he seems to expect pleasure when he is in your presence.

“You want me to fuck you, sí? That’s why you’re tormenting me every fucking night.”

“I thought you liked cumming,” you relinquished with a harsh giggle. It grates his last nerve. “You finally look relaxed when you do.”

“Qué mala eres,” Miguel snatched the bottom of your skirt, ripping it up the slit to expose your warm skin. He found no panties there, just smooth skin. He cupped your sex for emphasis. “No panties in church. You're filthy.”

“¿Y qué? You’re proving why I didn’t need them.”

He stared, lingering for a moment, challenging your insistence on control. Since he took over this god-forbidden company, you had been defying him with your devilish smile. Miguel slapped your cunt, eliciting a groan that was half of the pain that he’d had only a few hours ago. You liked it, scratching lines up his arms to his broad shoulders.

“You’re so big,” you balanced his abuse with your overwhelming worship. “So big and pretty.”

“Shut up,” he bit out and slipped his middle finger inside of you, unconcerned for your pleasure. Your muscles tightened around his finger, drawing him deeper. He slides another beside it, his hand leaving your cunt to slap your jaw, forcing you to keep focus. Your tender flesh is hot and red, a wonderful tenderness radiating throughout your jaw.

“And you're dripping, do you have no shame?” He grips your chin to look at your face. Raw defiance was slapped across your face. You rolled your hips onto his hand, forcing him to caress your walls in the right spot. He perked his brow, listening to the priest lecturing in the background. Your sweetness drooled over his curled wrist, dripping from his squelching fingers.

“For you,” you whined. “I want your dick. Give it--”

“You’re a brat.”

He said that-- but he was amused. Miguel slipped down onto his knees, knocking your legs rudely apart. His mouth encircled your puffy clit, bringing it into his mouth and suckling it fat. His rhythm was quick, making a point that he could make you cum too. You weren’t debating him, your hands tight in his hair, loud little moans beating free from your lips. His tongue was warm and soft, kissing and nipping.

The priest went quiet.

“You’re being too loud. Do you want them to hear us?” Miguel’s brow furrowed, slipping up from your vulva.

"Why is that my problem?" You whined in distaste after he stopped pleasuring you, your pulsing cunt beating like an open wound. Asshole.

"You could care for someone other than yourself." Miguel tilted his head, turning you to face the wall. He pulled himself free of his pants-- his thick cock fat against the curve of your ass. That’s what you wanted, he decided, gauging by your whine that came with his action.

"How does that get me what I want?" You shook your ass at him, waiting for him to rear back.

“This is what you wanted, hm? Fine, have it. Just shut up."

He leaned over you, your scratchy black veil catching along his stubble. He doesn’t wait for a response, pushing inside. He wasn’t just thick, he was long. But he knew you already knew that-- you knew every curve of his body, loved the thick veins on his cock that filled you so well. You scratched at the wall as he crushed you into the wall, his hips stuttering with your walls tightening him, drawing him further, impossibly deep.

Estúpida, he thought-- and knew you’d hear it. Whatever you were, you weren’t human. You were somewhere between a human and desire itself, evident in the way you looked at him, pleasured by his rutting hips against the church. The priest went back to his lecture-- the churchgoers enraptured in their worship. The only thing Miguel was enraptured with was the way your pussy tingled, the fluid soaking his cock, and the stretch in your lower belly. His hand clasped over your mouth, index finger poking into your mouth. Your tongue drew him in, fangs nipping his finger.

It earned you a hard slam, stuffing you full, your strange body catching his thrusts beautifully. He slipped his hand over your soft cunt, working your clit for your orgasm, though you deserved no such thing. Habit, he supposed. Gloria a Dios-- the churchgoers clammed with one another. Nearly out of time, your pleasure won out, gushing over his fat cock. Miguel suckled a breath, his ego demanding him to hold out, batter your sweet cunt through your orgasm.

“I’m hungry-- Give it to me,” you bit on his finger, breaking the skin and urging blood to flow into his mouth. Your body twitched violently around his cock, drawing bright pleasure forth. “Give me your cum.”

"Stay out of my dreams."

"I don't want to," you reared your head back at him, your nose tight with wrinkles. He drew you fully onto his dick, the final thrusts were sloppy and immature-- but he held out, making you angrier by the second.

"I'll cum on the floor right here, I don't give a shit."

"No, no! Fine! I promise-- I'll let you sleep," the threat of going hungry is enough that you concede, punching your fist against the wall. He grunts in response and feeds your body with whips of cum that felt far heavier than his usual. A pleasure, far sweeter than any orgasm he could give you. Miguel soaked your sweet little body with his sticky cum, chest swelling heavily against your little back. He finishes and pulls himself free. To his surprise, your cunt doesn’t leak. Miguel staggers back with a perk in his eyebrow.

You look far better for wear than he does, clumsily zipping himself back into cum stained slacks, running his hand through his sweat-soaked hair. You recline on the wall, inspecting him. He knows how he looks. He's bruised, long gashes down his chest, and properly fucked-- a mess. The manila envelope sits forgotten by your heels, your skirt-- perfect, as though he never tore it in the first place.

“You’re not human.”

Miguel bends down, picking up the folder. Not like he needs it anymore. He does, however, need that information on Project 2099. I can help you, he hears. He catches your wide, toothy smile. You've grown fangs. He isn’t surprised.

“Not even a little.”

[midnight-in-eden]

It’s the two-year anniversary of my official resignation from the Mormon Church! I thought I’d do a little post reviewing the journey.

In 2020, I moved out of my parents’ house to stay with friends who were nonreligious. At the time, I had no idea this would give me a little breathing room from the church to explore myself, especially combined with the pandemic. In fact, at the time, having to attend church via zoom and not having access to the sacrament (because I was assigned female at birth) was painful to me.

But it did give me breathing room. And in 2021, I felt able, for the first time, to come out as gay.

My nonreligious friends’ reaction was loving and accepting.

My parents’ and LDS friends’ reaction was about what you’d expect. Earthly trials, temptations, the “gay lifestyle”, Family Proclamation, law of chastity, etc.

But I loved the church. I clung to it.

Until August 2021, when Jeffrey Holland gave his infamous “musket fire” talk right after a lesbian newly couple was brutally shot and murdered in Utah.

One of the friends I was living with, a kind older woman, listened to me sobbing on her counter about it. She cut through my attempted explanations of how Elder Holland is normally so loving, how he gives talks about mental health, how he cares about people—

She cut through that, looked me in the eye, and said, “That’s hate speech. What he said in that talk is hate speech.”

I realized that I wouldn’t accept that kind of speech from anyone else.

I cried myself to sleep that night and woke up a complete nonbeliever: in Mormonism, in prophets, in priesthood, in Jesus, in God. What a traumatizing earthquake of an experience that was. But it had happened, and I could not undo it.

It took a long time to process everything. I remember crying with shame and nervousness the first time I tried to wear a tank top; I remember feeling so incredibly rebellious the first time I took a sip of coffee. I remember swearing feeling so, so wrong and taboo at first, but then one day I discovered it could feel powerful or cathartic or even playful. I remember being completely mortified by the first (very tame) sex scene I saw in a movie.

I read books on deconstruction, religious trauma, alternative spiritual paths, and practices (like secular meditation) that could fill that gap. I worked to reparent my inner child and undo the shame and fear that had been ground into me. I spent a lot of time in nature. I wrote my thoughts out, deliberately studying people I looked up to—real and fictional—figuring out which of their traits I found so important, what kind of person I wanted to be. I wrote down the values I’d been taught and tried to untangle what I agreed with, what I wanted to discard, and what new ideas I wanted to add. I dipped into church issues, both modern and historical, that had bothered me, and tried to process those issues as well (something I’m still doing, because I’m slow going when it comes to that).

The friend who had told me Holland’s talk was hate speech advised me to wait a year before officially resigning. She said it was best to make decisions like that with a settled mind. I’m glad she told me that, because I think if I’d done it impulsively in a time of high emotions, I might have questioned the decision when looking back.

I waited a year and then began looking into the process, because I was sure. It wasn’t impulsive; it wasn’t emotional; I was sure that the future I wanted was not a future in the Mormon church.

There are several options for resigning, which you can read about in detail on getmeofftherecords.com. I went with the option of sending a notarized letter to church headquarters. I began drafting my letter, starting with a basic template provided on that website. I fiddled around with the draft—I wasn’t completely sure what I wanted to focus on. Around this time, I heard about that horrible child sex abuse case in Arizona, and that clinched it. I don’t know if anyone even really reads these letters. If they do, I hope they thought about mine, even for a few seconds. I hope they thought about the fact they work for a church that spends money on lawyers and court fees to defend its right to hide child rape.

September 13, 2022, I got up early and went to go see the sun rise. (These pictures are from that day!) Then I stopped by the post office and mailed the letter. A few days later, confirmation from church headquarters came in the mail: I was officially no longer a member.

I’m still growing! After more self exploration, I realized I’m nonbinary. I’d consider myself an agnostic atheist but I’ve dipped into secular witchcraft, non-theistic paganism, soft animism, druidry, and other paths I’m curious about. It’s genuinely exciting to realize that my life and beliefs are 100% a choose-your-own-adventure project. I’ll never again be locked onto one path or limited to what someone else tells me to believe. That freedom, most of all, is what has made life outside Mormonism so much better and healthier for me.

[syoddeye]

🥺🥺🥺 your drink headcanons are precious 💕 farah, alex, nik, and alejandro’s are my favorites. idk if you do requests but could you do first dates too?

hi friend! i'm glad you liked the asking them to watch your drink post. i do not formally take requests but i love when people pop in with ideas. and i really really like this one! i gave it a go

price. he’s never beating the traditionalist allegations. he is arranging the entire thing, picking you up right on fucking time with flowers, and taking you to dinner somewhere you’d never take yourself. does a poor job of hiding how pleased he is to pay, even worse when he persuades you into a walk and has you on his arm. he asks a lot of deep questions that coming from anyone else would put you off, but he’s not dating to fool around, if you catch my drift.

gaz. this man is so plugged into the music scene. follows bands, artists, and venues religiously because he doesn't get many opportunities to see live music and actually enjoy it. so he asks you for a genre, then sends a redacted screenshot of concert tickets. you grab drinks then head to a hole-in-the-wall. it's always nerve-wracking seeing a musician you know nothing about, but gaz nails it. three dates later and he sends you a personalized playlist. ugh, dreamboat.

soap. listen while i do picture him as a very outdoorsy and active guy, i think for a first date he's going to take you to a drink and draw. it's casual and scales to the mood, meaning it can be both an intimate and cozy experience, or fucking hilarious and a rowdy time. plus it gives him the chance to show off. draws a mini you and him at the end surrounded by trees. what’s that? oh that’s date two. a casual camping trip.

ghost. dinner and a movie. no, he did not just look up 'first date 101'. he's just not big on public places, and he knows that's a hurdle in dating. so he video chats you a few times before arranging the date to get you comfortable with him and to see his place, because babe, he's hosting. he's not the world's best cook so he'll order takeaway if you prefer, and if that goes well, he'll let you pick the movie. what happens after who knows

alejandro. he's the guy that knows the guy that owns the farm that supplies the bougie restaurant you've been wanting to try. and that guy owes him a favor. he drives you out there in his truck and has a table with candles and flowers waiting. he has you sit with your drink of choice and watch him prepare dinner, busting out all the tricks to impress you. yeah, he could’ve taken you to his ranch, but that’ll happen when he figures out he’s serious about you. date three.

rudy. rudy the foodie has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? it’s weird at first when he insists on picking you up in the early afternoon, but when you arrive to a local food festival, you get it. you need the hours to slowly walk around, and to digest the amount of bite-sized dishes and snacks you sample. he gushes about his family’s cooking, how he wishes he had more time to dedicate to cooking and play around with recipes. gets a little sheepish. you have him eating out of the palm of your hand when you take him to a cookbook store on date two.

kate. in my heart she is a patron of the arts. similar to gaz, she doesn’t get a lot of time to soak it up, so she finds galleries and museums through personal recommendations. she’s got a broad network, why not use it? she’s not a snob either. elbow to elbow at some gallery opening, staring at a befuddling piece of art, she’ll swirl her glass of wine and lean over to whisper, “do you want to get out of here? i can’t make heads or tails of this.”

nik. you are going up in that heli. asks if you want to take a nighttime helicopter ride to see the city by night. jokes about this time a young sergeant fell out and he thought he killed him. ha ha ha. the ride culminates with him landing on the rooftop of a friend’s building, and taking the elevator a few floors down to said friend's restaurant. not feeling fancy? that's okay, to the basement then for gambling and drinks.

farah. it's a surprise. she asks for your physical limitations. hm. what is she playing at? but you trust her. you receive strict instructions on what to wear, and then what extra clothes to bring. hmm. you end up at a rock climbing gym. at first you think, oh god, exercise and a new skill in front of someone cute? but farah is so encouraging and supportive. after, when you clean up, she whisks you away to a reservation that just so happens to be at your fave place. you compare biceps over dessert, and she’s shoots you a sly look when she squeezes your muscle.

alex. if you're up for it, he’d love to take you somewhere in nature. a hike or simple walk at the local park, doesn’t matter to him. he’s more relaxed and himself outdoors, and has the kind of energy that makes you open up. you find a good spot to picnic and talk for hours. real sweet, a good listener—so it surprises you when, at the end, he’s a smidge forward. “so next weekend…”

[arenabreadandbiscuits]

Chaggie headcanons?

AWWW SUPRE CUTE MY FIRST CHAGGIE ASK ÙWÚ

Here's some of my headcanons for them listed below but really they are so cute. If me and my future partner(a) not something like Chaggie then I don't want it!!! 😩

Chaggie Headcanons

For one, literally the cutest ship in the canon to me. I wonder when exactly they met because after seeing Charlie's emo phase I'm sure Charlie probably met Vaggie on a complete whim. It's giving love at first sight. Like whether Vaggie fell or she simply ran into Charlie for a split moment the second Charlie seen her it's like she woke up from some sort of dream. Like seeing Vaggie was refreshing.

Much more so considering where Charlie lives. Upon her crush growing she probably found herself lightening up, like she found something so new after living in hell for so long. When Charlie thinks of her she probably had a moment where she laid in bed looking at the ceiling and imagined what they could be together if they were allowed to.

Charlie definitely knew about Vaggie before Vaggie knew about her, imagine Vaggie did get hurt and specifically during her fight with losing her eye, imagine her slumped somewhere and simply distraught after the fact and... Charlie is walking and they just happen to run into each other. They'd both freeze for sure and then Charlie would see the wound and practically fall to her knees to help the angel. She probably spent days with Charlie in this period, as a guest of course and Charlie most definitely spent all her time taking care of Vaggie.

Changing her bandages, getting her new clothes, bringing her food, protecting her from other demons that smelled the scent of 'angel blood' around. Not like there was much to do when it came to protecting because she was always quick to mention she was the daughter of the King of Hell and if someone still didn't listen she definitely went to her dad and we know Lucifer loves his daughter so he came and showed out if needed.

Being in safe hands Vaggie tells Charlie things she's never had the time to tell others. I have a feeling in Heaven they probably had to bottle things up all the time especially emotions and such so there were things that Vaggie told Charlie that she would have never told anyone else. It takes months but they take the friend route before any relationship. Not purposely but on one hand Charlie is completely fascinated by Vaggie and on another Vaggie is smitten by Charlie especially seeing how much she cares even with her title. It's interest, to puppy love, to completely wanting to devote themselves to each other as the years go by.

Charlie is probably a lot brighter now because of Vaggie and completely because of Vaggie. Though her little angel can have little hope in the denizens of Hell Charlie keeps her focused and keeps her pushing. They encourage each other to keep going in order for their home to be better for them and Charlie's people. Vaggie loves how passionate her girlfriend really is though at times if Vaggie thinks about it she probably gets a little sad thinking of the past. How Heaven and Hell are made to function and the fact that Charlie never really got the chance to ever experience Heaven like Vaggie had. She didn't miss much but...it is something that comes to mind from time to time. That because Charlie was born in Hell, technically she was to never see Heaven.

Vaggie has religious trauma from time to time, not because she misses Heaven but because she has seen bad people in Heaven before but a soul as innocent as Charlie's was destined for Hell. It saddens her to think of it from time to time but then she sees Charlie when she's out and when she talks to people and all she can do is smile and feel relief because Charlie belonged here and Vaggie now felt like she belonged with Charlie which meant she belongs in Hell too.

They do so many cute things together whether people see or not, I like to think that maybe behind closed doors they are impossible to separate from each other because they're in their own space and can show love freely or without being sexualized but in public id personally like seeing them hug more, hold hands, little back rubs, etc. After the battle with Heaven the people of Hell definitely take their relationship a bit more seriously. They don't need recognition though from anyone because to the both of them those moments together and alone mean so much more than anyone else could tell them.

Big soulmate energy with these two. Like they were made for each other and maybe they were. Charlie is the sunshine to Vaggie's moonlight and they feel the sky alongside stars of unconditional love. It's not to say they don't have their problems, everyone does but I think they had those situations and we're more capable of handling them compared to other ships because they love each other so hard and so deeply that it hurts both of them for a problem to stir and nothing to be said about it.

I feel like if they had a problem too those were the moments we could see a weaker Charlie, pushing others away and stressing herself out to the point of crying, hair pulling, etc and Vaggie would hunt her down. Every. Single. Time. Even if they were both hurt they are mature enough to sit down even in a puddle of tears and talk it out. Vaggie would hold her close, pet her back, give her kisses and I think Charlie's reactions are just examples of how she's had to live her childhood especially with her mother not being there.

Nonetheless these two definitely have a starcrossed lovers kind of vibe, the love that's in like kids movies and such. It's so innocent even with everything they've grown in and have been through in their lives. Also kinda makes me think of yin and yang tbh but that's all I'll say for this post now!

Hope you guys like these, askbox is free but I'm in a really bad situation with funds so both writing and art commissions are available HERE. (Ask me questions if you have any and never pay before asking for your commission. I prefer you pay all at first and I'll keep you updated throughout the process of your commission.)

:3

[khaire-traveler]

Avoiding Trauma Reenactment in Pagan & Polytheist Communities

***Mentions of emotional abuse***

Something I've noticed is that there's a lot of trauma within the pagan and polytheist communities. Many trauma survivors - religious or otherwise - seem to come to these religions, maybe seeking comfort or maybe not.

Unfortunately, when there is a lot of trauma within a community, there tend to be cycles of it as well. People traumatize other people because, to put it simply, hurt people hurt people. I've experienced this first-hand and done it, obviously unintentionally, myself. So here's my advice on how to avoid traumatizing the shit out of one another.

Go to therapy or counseling if you're able. If you're not able, I suggest at least looking up ways to cope with trauma (CPTSD or PTSD may be specifically helpful for some people) and identifying your personal triggers. For example, some people might be triggered by not getting an immediate response to their messages, especially if emotionally charged, and may react based on the burst of emotion that triggered trauma can cause.

Recognize whether or not you're reenacting your own trauma in unrelated situations. This happens A LOT with abuse survivors specifically. There is a tendency to reenact one's traumatic experiences which can even come in assuming the worst of a situation or staying around people who remind you of (or treat you like) past abusers. Do you find yourself reenacting past trauma with others? Do you find yourself engaging with self-fulfilling prophecies?

When you feel yourself reacting with extreme emotion to a situation, try to pause yourself for a moment and ask yourself why you're feeling such a strong reaction. This is a skill that's easier said than done, and it takes some practice, but overtime, it becomes easier and easier. I've found it to be very helpful in identifying when my trauma is causing me to react a certain way to something vs. my genuine reaction.

Remind yourself that constructive criticism is not a personal attack on you. It's healthy to receive constructive criticism from others, especially friends who may be addressing issues within your friendships. Remember that when you receive criticism, it doesn't automatically mean that someone is trying to tear you down.

You are not responsible for how others react to you. This is a very helpful reminder for survivors of emotional abuse especially, since there's a tendency to self-blame. This is a reminder that takes a lot of practice, but when someone sends you cruel and hateful words, remember that 1. you don't have to listen to them, and 2. you are not responsible for the way someone else feels about or reacts to you. Simply put, we cannot control the emotions of others, as scary as that can be, and it's best to keep reminding that to ourselves.

If someone makes you uncomfortable, you are allowed to block them. You don't need permission from anyone to block this person. It's best to keep away from people who remind you of past abusers specifically to avoid potential reenactment.

Try to assume the best of people. Most people are not out to get you; most people are trying to passively enjoy internet time just the same as you. Of course, this doesn't mean harmful and hateful people don't exist, but it's best to not make yourself riddled with anxiety over that potentiality.

Practice healthy conflict resolution skills. This is something I recommend doing with a therapist or only after extensive research. The best type of conflict resolution, in my experience, is relating your emotions calmly and maturely. Try not to go flying off the handle or reacting with repeated apologies. Take a moment to ground yourself before addressing the conflict because even though it feels extremely pressing and urgent, it can likely wait for you to ground yourself first.

Don't go looking for a fight. Don't start arguments where it's not necessary, and don't go after people's personal character just to prove your point. These situations can end horribly for all parties involved. Should go without saying, but this includes not harassing people for their "wrong" opinions. It's an opinion, not a fact; please ground yourself if it truly upsets you that much.

Try not to say things with the intention of hurting someone. This is unwise for several reasons. It can lead to long-term regret later on, you can end up traumatizing someone with your words, and you may find that you were projecting your own feelings onto someone else. All sorts of consequences can come from this, so I encourage you to think before you speak. If you're extremely upset, wait to respond, and take time to cool off first.

This is all the advice I can think of off the top of my head. I hope it helps someone! Take care, everyone. 🧡

[bonesbonesbones69]

A HARROW THE NINTH FANMIX

I know I’ve put out a number of fan mixes at this point but this is my favorite one.

Track list:

New York (St. Vincent)

Moderation (Florence + The Machine)

Heavy Cross (Gossip)

How To Be Eaten By A Woman (The Glitch Mob)

Ballad of the Thin Man (Bob Dylan)

Spent Gladiator 2 (The Mountain Goats)

Foreign Object (The Mountain Goats)

Drive It Like You Stole It (Glitch Mob)

Cosmic Love (Florence + The Machine)

Francesca (Hozier)

Wear Black (The Mountain Goats)

I'm about to get VERBOSE under the cut, join me if you want a deep dive on why I chose these songs. Or just listen to the playlist and draw your own conclusions :)

NEW YORK (St. Vincent)

You know how Gideon's death kind of haunts the entire 'Harrow the Ninth' narrative, because you can't stop thinking about it even though Harrow doesn't remember it and the book isn't mentioning it? But it's so present, the negative space in the story creating a very clear Gideon-shaped outline?

This song is first to set the tone for the playlist in the same way. It's a good song about grieving someone who fit with you in a way nobody else did or ever could.

It's about the bits that go:

you're the only motherfucker in the city who can handle me /can stand me /forgives me

It makes me a little crazy. Especially the forgiveness bit. Kind of brings forward the depth of what Harrow lost when Gideon died.

MODERATION (Florence and the Machine)

Like a fine wine, this song pairs excellently with thinking about harrow giving herself a lobotomy.

Want me to love you in moderation? Do I look moderate to you?

I've never heard of anyone loving someone LESS moderately than harrow when she carved up her own brain about a girl. Someone said in a tumblr post somewhere that 'most people just get breakup bangs'. YEAH THEY DO. but that's our mistake for thinking harrow was going to do anything other than the most insane possible thing.

This song is ominous and heavy, evokes religion and fear, the concept of love used as a threat.

It's perfect.

Actually let's talk real quick about the religion part. This isn't going to be hugely cohesive but it's important to me and I think you'll get what I'm going for:

The lines:

Bow your head in the house of God Little girl, who do you think you are

Can be read like the narrative voice is taking on the persona of God, loving in the powerful and unknowable way God might love. Loving in a way you have no say over. Interpreting Harrow's actions with this lens is like a fucked up mirror, consider: Gideon spent her childhood beaten down by a heavily religious society, the figurehead of which was Harrow herself, beating Gideon down sometimes literally but more importantly, figuratively. Now Harrow continues the role of religiously executing power over Gideon's experience, this time with absolutely ferocious love.

Also LAST THING I PROMISE but there's a quiet vein of self-hatred in this song, lurking just behind all of it. A real judgement of the self for having this power and impulse.

So it's perfect.

HEAVY CROSS (Gossip)

Actually you know what lets have MORE songs about harrow's lobotomy. It's a rich vein.

Most of the songs on this playlist make me a little crazy, and this is absolutely one of them. The manic, dangerous, committed tone (and religious undertones) continues from moderation to heavy cross - but what heavy cross brings to the table is the CHOICE.

We can play it safe, or play it cool Follow the leader or make up all the rules Whatever you want, the choice is yours So choose I checked you If it's already been done, undo it

THE CHOICE

And also, oh my god, "it's already been done, undo it". This song made the cut just for that line, and over time I just liked it more and more on here.

I'm skipping over saying a lot of the obvious stuff as I talk about these songs - assuming you're already connecting "whatever you want, the choice is yours, so choose" to harrow making the choice to stop the lyctoral process. And choosing to undo what's already been done. Right? Are we both there already? Cool just making sure.

HOW TO BE EATEN BY A WOMAN (The Glitch Mob)

I'm not done with songs about harrow's lobotomy yet. But this one's a little about Gideon

Ok also I feel the need to say - YES I did put a six minute electronic instrumental in a fanmix, but give it a chance!! It's evocative.

I went to the glitch mob specifically when I was putting this playlist together because I wanted music that felt confusing and dark and bad (the good kind of bad, in the way music can be). Something to mirror the way it felt to read harrow the ninth.

And then I saw there was a song titled 'how to be eaten by a woman' and I added it to the playlist without even listening to it first. And then I listened to it 50 times and now it's going to be on my Spotify top 100 I just know it.

Anyways this one stayed in the playlist as an homage to the confusing and inarticulate things that happened to Gideon and Harrow, as Gideon both was and was not quite eaten by a woman.

BALLAD OF A THIN MAN (Bob Dylan)

Ballad of a thin man is my all time favorite Bob Dylan song and it is exactly the same amount of stupidly ominously confusing as the events of harrow the ninth.

Now could I go on and on about this song?

Yes, and I will.

I’ve never found a source concretely sharing what the fuck this song is actually about. To me, it’s about being confused, outside, and alone. To Wikipedia and opinionated blogs it’s about the mainstream man encountering counter-culture, maybe queer culture. Sometimes theorists think it's about sex but there's not really enough evidence to say concretely.

In the context of this fanmix it’s about not knowing what the fuck is going on because you forgot you gave yourself a lobotomy.

Also frankly sometimes the way this whole series is written feels like one of the interactions described in this song:

You raise up your head and you ask, ‘is this where it is?’ And somebody points to you and says, ‘it’s his.’ And you say, ‘what’s mine?’ And somebody else says, ‘well, what is?’ And you say ‘oh my god, am I here all alone?’

I mean what the fuck is that about??

Like you're trying to have a conversation, but the person you're talking to is clearly having a completely different conversation and is not interested in explaining themselves one bit. Which is something that's happened many times in Harrow the Ninth.

And I mean - the REFRAIN -

You know something's happening here But you don't know what it is Do you, Mr. Jones.

I love that the song speaks directly at Mr. Jones, that he's a specifically named man rather than a general figure.

It makes the tone of the song so cruel and damning - you, Mr. Jones, are dumb as fuck and alone. You think you're smart, you're used to being smart and knowing what's happening, but you don't anymore. You're a lost idiot now. And nobody is going to help you.

Harrow is Mr. Jones that's what I'm saying. Do you get it. Do you agree. She's Mr. Jones.

SPENT GLADIATOR 2 (The Mountain Goats)

This is the title track because nothing else sums up the wretchedness of harrows existence on the mithraeum like this does:

Stay in the game. Just try to play through the pain Like a fighter who’s been told it’s finally time for him to quit Show up in shining colors and then stand there and get hit

I barely know what else to say about it.

The next song in this playlist is also a mountain goats song. As a best practice I think it’s a little gauche to put two songs by one artist back to back on a playlist, but these two absolutely HAVE to be back to back.

The reason is the joy I feel coming out of this song, and hearing the first couple notes of the next song, and thinking… yeah, it’s time to go fucking crazy.

FOREIGN OBJECT (The Mountain Goats)

This one is about the time harrow stabs someone in the eye with a foreign object

I personally will stab you in the eye with a foreign object

It's about harrow jamming her own teeth into the saint of duty's eyes, and also about the soup thing. This song is about being backed into a corner and fighting desperately with unexpected weapons.

Fun fact, the song itself was written explicitly about wrestling - which means that the term 'foreign object' should be translated in the wrestling context, meaning an object from outside of the ring. For example, a classic folding chair. So, considering this, we must admit that harrow doesn't actually literally use a foreign object. She uses her own teeth and bone marrow. Her objects are downright domestic.

But I think we can all agree she's got the spirit.

DRIVE IT LIKE YOU STOLE IT (The Glitch Mob)

OK OK I PUT A SECOND SIX MINUTE LONG ELECTRONIC INSTRUMENTAL ON THE FANMIX!!!! BUT -

really there's so much general bad feeling happening in harrow the ninth that having chaotic instrumentals feels like the only way to even START to capture it.

So here's a song about Gideon waking up in Harrow's body and trying to figure out that weird and upsetting event while also fighting some fucked up bees and learning some weird stuff about her parents and also dying like at least 4 times while all this was happening.

COSMIC LOVE (Florence and the Machine)

I like my playlists to be a bit chronological - it's an urge I can never quite thwart, I love to mirror a narrative. So all the songs about Gideon are at the end of the playlist, when she shows up. Man, we all missed her. I missed her. Didn't you miss her??

The stars, the moon they have all been blown out you left me in the dark

I don't have that much to say about this one, I find it incredibly self-evident. I'll make up for how fucking long-winded I was about 'Moderation' and 'Ballad of a Thin Man' by cutting this short.

FRANCESCA (Hozier)

Some of these songs are so exactly what I want on this playlist that I actually have LESS to say about them, because I think you can interpret the same things I'm interpreting just by listening to the song.

So listen to the song and then lets be insane about it together!!

This is about Gideon's sacrifice, and Harrow's rejection of that sacrifice. And Gideon's butthurt feelings about that.

My life was a storm, since I was born How could I fear any hurricane? If someone asked me at the end I'd tell them put me back in it (Darling) I would do it again.

I mean

"I gave you my sword. I gave you myself. I did it while knowing I'd do it all again, without hesitation, because all I ever wanted you to do was eat me."

Are you insane about it yet? I'm insane about it.

WEAR BLACK (The Mountain Goats)

The playlist is coming to an end.

Let's let ourselves be gently outro'd by the soft waves of John Darnielle sharing with us what it means to carry mourning with you throughout your life.

Wear black wherever I go Wear black wherever you are

[swollenbabyfat]

How did you come to draw and paint the way you do? What inspirations do you pull from? All of your art oozes with some strange, almost ethereal emotion I've not quite seen anywhere else, something similar to what I'd like to capture with my own works.

I’ve always had a bit of a hard time answering this bc like…I honestly think aesthetic/inspirational/taste stuff is a library you build up over your whole life, or maybe a closet that you try things on to see what does and doesn’t work for you. My biggest advice to this kinda stuff is to experiment a lot and take in a lot of media in a purposeful way, and try to actively apply things you like about said medias to your work. And don’t just consume stuff within your field, I take inspiration from a ton of stuff that isn’t art. I also recommend having somewhere to keep a kind of reserve of inspo, wether it be on tumblr or Pinterest or what have you.

So with that being said I’ll try to sum up what I can about myself.

I’m a horror lover, have been since I was (too) young. I’ve consumed a ton of horror movies, read a lot of books, and certainly have digested a lot of art about it. I am a bit of a haunted person haha, and I’ve always really attached myself to horror, and with some exception to just purely cute stuff I truly am always thinking about it with my work. I am not really aiming to make people feel comfortable with my stuff, in fact often the opposite, but many feel understood anyways which feels nice. I don’t think horror for horrors sake is always as fufilling to me, it always pulls from something internal that I’ve been wrestling with or are afraid of myself.

I am classically trained in fine art due to the kind of art program my highschool had (magnet program if that means anything to anyone), it was incredibly good and I always feel so lucky I got to go there. Bc of this I learned a lot of techniques in painting as well as the fundamental of art. I don’t think my art would be the way it is without this training, but I also think with how the internet is now you can probably do the same thing at your own pace, just have to be dedicating a decent amount of time and mental energy into it.

Bc of my highschool training I also learned about art history, which had a big impact on me, particularly renaissance, baroque, and rococo. Religious imagery as well had a huge impact on me, particularly catholic (probs cause we learned about it it the most). I would say doing master studies with these would be a huge help.

I would say it’s important to me that each “full” illustration tells a story of sorts, I can’t really help it, I’m a story teller at heart. I use a lot of symbolic imagery, I pull a lot from religious imagery but also within fruit, flowers, personal objects… I think “what am I trying to say with this work” and kind of go from there with what I choose. Make your own personal symbolism language.

There’s like this certainty digital painting aesthetic I really enjoy by niche furry artist lol, many of them really nsfw so I don’t feel comfortable linking to them. It’s like…highly detailed well rendered pieces that they make with literally one brush that is often without any kind of pen pressure, just layering things with opacity. It’s crazy and yeah idk they’re definitely up there in inspo for me.

I really really care about fashion. Lolita was my first love in terms of clothing, and I pull a ton of inspiration from it, but also a lot of other street styles and runways stuff. I like drama and frills.

I play with my art and stories in a way that I don’t know how to describe other than childlike. It’s important for me to do so in my process, but basically, I let my imagination run wild, I talk to my characters, I listen to music and think about them. A lot of my bigger pieces take a lot of time of me thinking about them ahead a time, I draw in my head a lot. Sketchbooks are a huge help in this.

I thiiiiiink that’s all I have to say for now…I could probably list a million things but this feels like a good core to start with. I hope it’s not too vague, but I’m always good to keep answering stuff like this if you wanna know about one part in depth.

[askhatchetfieldhigh]

( out of character question, what are the headcanons you have for the npmd characters?)

OOC: Here is three for each character that play big parts into how I rp the characters:

RUTH:

Oh look, this one has a crush on Steph. And frankly Richie too.

Wants to be in a polyamorous relationship, but can't pull anyone.

ADHD. Info-dumps about her newest hyper fixations every single day.

GRACE:

Grace has a boat load of religious trauma. She would be openly biromantic/asexual if she wasn't so scared of being outcasted by God for it.

Again, Grace has a secret crush of Steph, but doesn't anyone?

Autistic. Lot's of things and cues fly right over her head, like people's genders and sexualities. That kind of stuff is stuff she is oblivious to. She also sucks at understanding sarcasm.

PETE:

Has diabetes, but doesn't tell many people. Just like he hasn't told many people about his job at the Cineplex.

Definitely bi-curious and has tried to experiment with boys, but hasn't figured things out quite yet.

Tallest of the group by a lot. Like, he's almost 6 feet tall by now. I think he is the tallest (5'11) followed by Max (5'10), Steph (5'7), Richie (5'5), Grace (5'4) and Ruth (5'2)

STEPH:

Dyslexia, Dyscalculia and ADD. I feel like she has a lot of learning disabilities, which is why she feels the need to cheat. Either that or she just likes being an asshole.

Pansexual queen (just like Mariah Rose Faith).

Has experimented with pronouns, and has settles on she/they for now, but it's subject to change.

MAX:

Dyscalculia, IED and ADHD. Tell me I'm wrong- (actually don't)

One of those people who hasn't felt a dose of social anxiety in his life ever.

I like to think he almost had an emo phase because he listened to a sing MCR song that one time.

RICHIE:

Transmasc!! This is my biggest hc for any of the characters. He uses he/they pronouns!

Autism. I think all of Jon Matteson's characters are autistic in some way. I mean, my boy Richie stims, what else do you want from me?

His uncle is Paul, who is also autistic. And Richie is also a probably a furry and is fully convinced that in some universe, Paul is too.

[fellthemarvelous]

Warning: I use sarcasm when making points.

I have things to say. (And I'm going to be extremely snarky while saying them.)

Y'all, I love Crowley just as much as anyone else, but the way some people think that defending Crowley means it's necessary to villainize Aziraphale is just gross.

Yeah, Crowley is super easy to sympathize with. We all care about him.

But like...some of these Aziraphale hate takes are insane. (And no, haters, I don't actually want to hear from you unless you want to give me even more fodder to work with.)

"Aziraphale shows compassion for everyone except Crowley." (Actual footage from the very first episode, just to name one example, but okay. I guess sheltering someone who was supposed to be his mortal enemy under his wing was a senseless act of cruelty.)

"Aziraphale doesn't love Crowley." (Wait, I totally utilize my heart eyes for people I don't love too!!)

"Aziraphale has never actually trusted Crowley." (They only helped save the world together though. Weird. And then there was that time in 1941 where he trusted that Crowley wouldn't shoot him in the face while their miracles weren't working.)

"Even in second season when Crowley says "I'm a demon, I lied" Aziraphale doesn't think of Crowley's pain, he was busy being sad for himself. Before this Aziraphale even says "I'm like you now" as if being demon is worse thing than killing innocent children and animals." (Whatever the hell this is.)

This one is just really special. Congratulations on walking into the point and somehow missing it at the same time? That's exactly what makes the system so fucked up in the first place and why Crowley doesn't tell anyone that Aziraphale lied to Heaven. This moment wasn't about Crowley. It was about Aziraphale. Crowley knows the pain and trauma that comes with falling and he doesn't want Aziraphale to experience that?? Aziraphale is allowed to be scared and sad because like, I don't know if you know this, but when you've been indoctrinated into blind obedience, going against the grain is actually really fucking scary because the punishment is terrifying. This is why so many religious abuse survivors relate to Aziraphale?? Also, a demon like Hastur would have killed the animals and the children, so....

"I can not in my sane mind think that Crowley could ever trust Aziraphale with his trauma. He would never share anything that was done to him. Because chances are if he did, he would just be invalidated and belittled. Or worse, he would have been blamed even for it since he is a demon and that's what he deserves (which Crowley already believes to be true)." (What?!?!?!)

Aziraphale, most compassionate and kindest angel there is, would mock Crowley's pain? The same Aziraphale who has been mocked and abused (verbally, mentally and physically) by his superiors would turn around and do the same thing to Crowley when Crowley is the only one who has ever understood him? Aziraphale, the angel who gave the demons a chance to walk away from his bookshop without being hurt, would mock Crowley? Aziraphale, the same angel who had to sit there and listen to Shax mock him and belittle him relentlessly while he protected Jimbriel, would invalidate Crowley?

"Aziraphale only loves Crowley as an angel and not a demon." (Yeah, look how disgusted he is...planning a whole ball just so he could hold hands and dance with his demon. Eww.)

"When Crowley asks for the holy water instead of asking for why he needed something that was so dangerous he immediately jumps to conclusions and then hurts Crowley even more."

I mean other than the fact that we saw what happened to Ligur in season one when he got doused with the holy water, I can't imagine why Aziraphale would be so hesitant to hand something like that over to the love of his life. And he finally did hand it over, knowing he would never be able to forgive himself if Crowley did use it to end his own existence. Not to mention that Hell actually did plan to kill Crowley with holy water at the end of season 1. I would totally jump at the chance to give someone I love something incredibly dangerous to them, but I guess I'm built differently. 🙃 And who cares about Aziraphale's feelings on the subject anyway, am I right?

"Crowley has no reason to trust Aziraphale." (I know right? Aside from the time Aziraphale gave him the holy water even though it scared him or the time he used a human magic trick to save Crowley from having to go back to Hell again or the time he protected Crowley's identity by playing along with Bildad the Shuhite so Heaven wouldn't know he was actually a demon or all the times Aziraphale has offered Crowley sanctuary in his bookshop or when they performed their half miracle together or when they literally swapped bodies.)

"Aziraphale chose Heaven over Crowley because he thinks Crowley is beneath him." (I mean he sacrificed his own happiness to go back to Heaven too, but why bother exploring that when we can all just hate Aziraphale for doing what he thinks is the right thing to do? What even are shades of grey?)

Like I get it. I do. Aziraphale leaving was very upsetting because we wanted to see the Ineffable Husbands get their happy ending. But whenever I see people talk about how rejected Crowley feels, like Aziraphale feels rejected too. You get that, right? And I'm not saying he was right for asking Crowley to go back and become an angel again, but he wants Crowley to be safe and he mistakenly believed it would be that easy.

Just because Aziraphale has a lot to learn doesn't mean he's wrong for going back. Just because Aziraphale has flaws doesn't mean he's bad. Crowley isn't the only one suffering and heartbroken.

And we all saw that the Metatron gave him no time to begin grieving over what just happened. Instead Aziraphale turned around, put a smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes, and stepped onto the elevator because he is going to try and make changes even if he has to do it all alone.

How would revolutions get started if people saw no point in trying to change things for the better?

I leaned into bitch mode in this post. It happens.