#false and true cleanliness

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

The Dangers of Tradition

1-2 Then some of the scribes and Pharisees from Jerusalem came and asked Jesus, “Why do your disciples break our ancient tradition and eat their food without washing their hands properly?”

3-9 “Tell me,” replied Jesus, “why do you break God’s commandment through your tradition? For God said, ‘Honour your father and your mother’, and ‘He who curses father or mother, let him be put to death’. But you say that if a man tells his parents, ‘Whatever use I might have been to you is now given to God’, then he owes no further duty to his parents. And so your tradition empties the commandment of God of all its meaning. You hypocrites! Isaiah describes you beautifully when he said: ‘These people draw near to me with their mouth, and honour me with their lips, but their heart is far from me. And in vain they worship me, teaching as doctrines the commandments of men’.”

Superficial and true cleanliness

10-11 Then he called the crowd to him and said, “Listen, and understand this thoroughly! It is not what goes into a man’s mouth that makes him common or unclean. It is what comes out of a man’s mouth that makes him unclean.”

12 Later his disciples came to him and said, “Do you know that the Pharisees are deeply offended by what you said?”

13-14 “Every plant which my Heavenly Father did not plant will be pulled up by the roots,” returned Jesus. “Let them alone. They are blind guides, and when one blind man leads another blind man they will both end up in the ditch!”

15 “Explain this parable to us,” broke in Peter.

16 “Are you still unable to grasp things like that?” replied Jesus.

17-20 “Don’t you see that whatever goes into the mouth passes into the stomach and then out of the body altogether? But the things that come out of a man’s mouth come from his heart and mind, and it is they that really make a man unclean. For it is from a man’s mind that evil thoughts arise—murder, adultery, lust, theft, perjury and blasphemy. These are the things which make a man unclean, not eating without washing his hands properly!”

A gentile’s faith in Jesus

21-22 Jesus left that place and retired into the Tyre and Sidon district. There a Canaanite woman from those parts came to him crying at the top of her voice, “Lord, have pity on me! My daughter is in a terrible state—a devil has got into her!”

23 Jesus made no answer, and the disciples came up to him and said, “Do send her away—she’s still following us and calling out.”

24 “I was only sent,” replied Jesus, “to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”

25 Then the woman came and knelt at his feet. “Lord, help me,” she said.

26 “It is not right, you know,” Jesus replied, “to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”

27 “Yes, Lord, I know, but even the dogs live on the scraps that fall from their master’s table!”

28 “You certainly don’t lack faith,” returned Jesus, “it shall be as you wish.” And at that moment her daughter was cured.

Jesus heals and feeds vast crowds of people

29-31 Jesus left there, walked along the shore of the lake of Galilee, then climbed the hill and sat down. And great crowds came to him, bringing with them people who were lame, crippled, blind, dumb and many others. They simply put them down at his feet and he healed them. The result was that the people were astonished at seeing dumb men speak, crippled men healed, lame men walking about and blind men having recovered their sight. And they praised the God of Israel.

32 But Jesus quietly called his disciples to him. “My heart goes out to this crowd,” he said. “They’ve stayed with me three days now and have no more food. I don’t want to send them home without anything or they will collapse on the way.”

33 “Where could we find enough food to feed such a crowd in this deserted spot?” said the disciples.

34 “How many loaves have you?” asked Jesus. “Seven, and a few small fish,” they replied.

35-39 Then Jesus told the crowd to sit down comfortably on the ground. And when he had taken the seven loaves and the fish into his hands, he broke them with a prayer of thanksgiving and gave them to the disciples to pass on to the people. Everybody ate and was satisfied, and they picked up seven baskets full of the pieces left over. Those who ate numbered four thousand men apart from women and children. Then Jesus sent the crowds home, boarded the boat and arrived at the district of Magadan. — Matthew 15 | J.B. Phillips New Testament (PHILLIPS) The New Testament in Modern English by J.B Phillips copyright © 1960, 1972 J. B. Phillips. Cross References: Genesis 6:5; Exodus 20:12; Exodus 21:17; Numbers 22:29; 2 Kings 4:44; Proverbs 4:23; Isaiah 9:16; Isaiah 29:13; Isaiah 31:3; Isaiah 35:6; Isaiah 60:21; Isaiah 61:3; Matthew 4:18; Matthew 4:24; Matthew 5:10; Matthew 7:6; Matthew 8:2; Matthew 8:10; Matthew 9:22; Matthew 9:27; Matthew 10:6; Matthew 11:6; Matthew 11:21; Matthew 12:34; Matthew 13:18; Matthew 13:36; Matthew 14:19; Matthew 16:10; Mark 3:9; Mark 3:22; Mark 7:1-2; Mark 7:5; Mark 7:11; Mark 7:19; Mark 7:24; Mark 7:27-28; Mark 8:1; Luke 16:21; John 5:23; Acts 3:26; Acts 10:14-15; Romans 15:8; 1 Corinthians 6:13; Colossians 2:22

What does Matthew chapter 15 mean?

Key Events in Matthew 15

1. Jesus reproves the Scribes and Pharisees 7. for transgressing God's commandments through their own traditions; 10. teaches how that which goes into the mouth does not defile a man. 21. He heals the daughter of the woman of Canaan, 29. and other great multitudes; 32. and with seven loaves and a few small fish feeds four thousand men

[fanfic-obsessed]

Duty

Here I try a hand at Emperor Obi Wan. It just feels right. 

It starts after Order 66, after the march on the temple. When Obi Wan says that he cannot go after Anakin, Yoda believes him. Instead of Yoda going for Sidious and Obi Wan for Anakin, they reverse it.  Yoda heads for Mustafar. 

Obi Wan goes for Sidious.He’s so done, traumatized and tired. He is also somewhere between passively suicidal and actively suicidal.  He attacks Sidious in front of the newly formed Imperial Senate and no one is more surprised than him when he takes Sidious’s head off cleanly (Sidious did not consider this one tired, hurting Jedi to be a threat and Obi Wan went in full throttle, hoping to do some damage before his death). Even though the Empire is only a few days old at this point, there are some old rules that are already in place, backed by the Force (which is why no one really questions what happens next). One of those rules is the right of conquest. 

To the winner goes the Empire. 

Now Obi Wan is the recognized Emperor, including to the chips in the Clones.   Obi Wan does not want to be the Emperor. Obi Wan wants to go sit in a depression cave and contemplate his infinite sadness in peace, please. 

Bail Organa manages to convince Obi Wan that being the Emperor and helping to unfuck everything is his duty (Bail is both semi reluctant-he knows that duty is Obi Wan’s buzzword and hates that he needs to take advantage of that-, and not, as he is pretty sure that is all that is keeping Obi Wan alive right now). 

So Obi Wan agrees to be Emperor until they can figure out how to undo the Sith’s great plan (while all 1000 years was not spent creating a web of fucked up laws that slowly built the trap they all fell into, a good portion of that time was).  He manages to rescind the Order that the Jedi are traitors, but is not able to deactivate the chips (this is another where the chips turn the clones into Automatons, with no independent thoughts). There is some code phrase that will shut the chips off, but only Palpatine knew it. The Kaminoans are sure that, now that the chips are active, removing the chips will cause brain damage and death to the clones (this is not true, but we are still several months away from Ahsoka and Rex-as the only two who have proof this is patently false- coming back into Obi Wan’s life).  Obi Wan has recalled the 212th, unable to stop himself from wanting them around him, even as they are. Yoda successfully captured Anakin, who is currently being held in a medically induced coma until they figure out what to do with him (he is decidedly fallen, but also is coming off as being in middle of a clinically psychotic episode-also both Yoda and Obi Wan are not so secretly hoping there is something that makes his actions…not Anakin of his own free will slaughtering children). Now Yoda is off in the galaxy trying to find Jedi survivors. Mace Windu was found and is Bacta and would be there for a minimum of a year. 

Padme is on bedrest for her own safety, and the safety of her children. She is also subject to frequent lectures on seeing an actual medical professional while pregnant. It turns out that she had an uncommon, but not rare, condition that meant that a natural birth would kill her. This condition can only be diagnosed in the third trimester (also notably that this condition could not be fixed with the Force, Light or Dark). Obi Wan cannot bring himself to visit her, if asked he would have the excuse of ‘too busy’ ready to go but the truth was he couldn’t face Padme, whom he had considered a friend, after she had spent so much time lying to him about her relationship with Anakin (Also he now has access to all the instances that Palpatine knew about where both of his dear friends abused their power for the sake of the other).  Even after the children are born, Obi Wan keeps his distance. 

So we have Obi Wan, holding himself by a thread as he simultaneously tries to: figure out how to undo hundreds of years of damage against democracy, run an empire (if he has to do this, he will do it right), deactivate the chips (this means going through every single Palpatine has ever recorded in hopes of discovering the code- no matter how horrific), figure out a place that the remaining Jedi can live (the temple is out of the question with the death that clings to the walls like a slime).  There is no one he can truly trust, not even Bail (For all that Bail entreaty to remain emperor was 100% necessary, it did damage Obi Wan and his friendship in a way that it would take a decade to recover).

It will eventually get better. Other Jedi will come from hiding, giving Obi Wan people he can fully rely on. But right now, about a year into the Empire, Obi Wan is running on the barest fumes, heart sick. He is surrounded by the Senate, whom he does not trust, and the puppeted bodies of the clones, whom he forces himself to treat just the same, to never forget that these are people. He has had to order the clones to ignore any order that contradicts his (in order to prevent abuse by senators) and make an explicit order for the clones to defend themselves and to see to their own needs. He is facing the prospect that there may be no way to undo this damage.  

However there is something that no one knows about the chips. Like in cannon, they do eventually break down, as the clones are forced to go against their own morals and fight the chip, it wears it down.  The irony is that Obi Wan treating them as sentients causes less wear than Palptine’s treatment. 

The 212 love their general, none more so than Cody.  As part of that, each one made a point to memorize the signs that Obi Wan was overworking himself.  Now Obi Wan is, to the clones trapped by the chips, overworking himself beyond anything they had seen. The chips do not allow for this kind of care, which starts to cause the same kind of wear that cannon saw. While most of the clones do not fight the chips with Obi Wan in charge, the 212th begins to fight even harder. 

Their general needs them. 

It starts around the 1 year mark, and is so small that Obi Wan thinks he is imagining it.  It starts with Cody frowning faintly at a senator bringing another unnecessary problem to the Emperor to solve (something that they should have been able to solve themselves).  Then Obi Wan realizes his cup of tea keeps getting refilled (Boil does it when Obi Wan isn’t looking-it both is and is not a breakthrough, the chip means that if Obi Wan had asked for the tea Boil would have provided it, but it is Boil himself that is able to anticipate the need and choose Obi Wan’s favorite tea). Several of his guards (all members of the 212th) subtly herd him down lesser known hallways and paths to his destination, causing him to avoid other senators trying, badly, to curry favor. All the while not able to say anything but “Yes, Sir” or answer direct questions with the least amount of words in a monotone.

Something shatters, just a little, in Obi Wan’s heart at those responses. He continues to talk to any of the clones,including promises that he will find a way to fix this, but does not ask as many questions. 

The first substantial sign that the chips were wearing out on their own came from Cody. It was late, Obi Wan had not slept in days, had not eaten in even longer. Cody's voice was raspy, and his words were slow, deliberate (if you have ever spoken to someone with mild aphasia, think of that with long pauses between words). He looked right at Obi Wan and said “You…have…not…eaten.”

Obi Wan found himself whipping around so fast he nearly tripped on the pretentious robes he had been forced into to stare at Cody, whose face was twisted into this incredibly focused look. 

“Cody?” Obi Wan asks, breathless. 

“You…need…to…eat” 

Obi Wan takes another step closer, almost close enough to touch “Cody?”

Cody’s jaw tightens,  “We…are..still…here…we…we…we...can…hear…you.”

Then all at once Cody’s face smoothed out again, responding to Obi Wan with a monotonous ‘yes sir’, back under the chips' control.  

It is both better and worse for Obi Wan. He now knows for sure that the clones are in there, but he still does not know how to free them.  His mindset and self care is bad enough that he actually cannot make the connection between what seems to bring members of the 212th forward in spite of the chips (and Cody is only the first, the spark is usually Obi Wan taking particularly bad care of himself, and that definition is variable for each clone-Helix the head medic is almost himself more than he is controlled within a few weeks).

It is a few weeks after this that Rex and Ahsoka finally arrive. They had been found by Yoda, who convinced them that it was safe to return to Coruscant.  Part of the reason they had not believed it before hand was that it was clear that the Clone were still controlled by the chips. 

They are the ones to break the news to Obi Wan that the Kaminoans were wrong (and it was they were wrong, not they were lying, they truly did believe that the chips could not be removed after they had been activated), the chips could be removed. 

Obi Wan takes that news in, asks a few questions on what is needed to remove the chips, then makes arrangements for the medics to have their chips removed (with the idea that they can then supervise the surgery of everyone else-Obi Wan currently has trust issues and cannot think of letting anyone who is not a clone operate on the 212th, in particular). At that point he sits on the floor of the room they were in and has a small breakdown (Disturbing both Rex and Ahsoka, and bringing his current guard, Wooley, to the point of breaking the chip entirely). 

There is still so much to do. Obi Wan still knows that. He still has a duty to keep the Empire together and undo enough damage that it can become a republic again.  He still has to live with the horrific things that Palpatine had recorded (experiments, thoughts, his plans for Anakin) and figure out what to do with Anakin (who is still being held in a medically induced coma). The knife’s edge of the politics he has been balancing on has not grown any easier (in fact Ahsoka and Rex, having internalized Anakin's beliefs more than they realized are going to make it more difficult not less). 

But Obi Wan has hope, hearing that the clones would soon be free. Through he does not make any kind of suggestion or let himself have an opinion on who goes when for choir removing (save that all of the medics needed to go first so they could sort out who was going next), the medics in charge prioritize the 212th, because Obi Wan desperately needs his battalion back. Also because no one is completely sure that they won’t all give themselves brain damage fighting against the chip. 

There are enough medics that Ghost Company is dechipped at the same time, with minimal recovery.  Boil and Wooley immediately take charge, while the others lock Cody and Obi Wan into Obi Wan’s ‘temporary’ apartment (What had been Palpatine’s living space- the senate insisted) opening the door only for to provide food while Obi Wan is made to take an enforced ‘vacation’ or at least a ten day (They accept no criticisms, or questions from the Senate. The first senator to protest was shot with a stunner and told to be glad for it-the others decide that they will accept Wooley and Boil as a substitute Emperor).

Cody cuddling Obi Wan produces the first true sleep he had since Utapau.  Obi Wan sleeps for a full 24 hours.

[blackjackkent]

I've never failed the strength check for cutting Nere's head off, but apparently the companions all have sarcastic dialogue if you muck the job up. XD

NARRATOR: The decaying corpse lies before you.

PLAYER: Remove the head. (Roll Strength vs 10)

[RollResult] True NARRATOR: The head breaks off cleanly from the drow's body.

[RollResult] False [TAGCINEMATIC] (DEVNOTE: Player removes head off-camera but does a terrible job of it. You see the player grimace as blood spatters on them.)

LAE'ZEL: Bah - a pathetic show. Yet undeniably satisfying to watch. SHADOWHEART: I sincerely hope you never find employment as an executioner. (DEVNOTE: A little aghast. (The player is cutting the head off a corpse and is making a bloody mess of the job.)) KARLACH: Like watching a lemure eat porridge. Messy and unsettling. ASTARION: What are you - have you never decapitated a corpse before?! Urgh, what a waste... (DEVNOTE: Watching someone make a balls of something you think should be easy.) WYLL: Ugh - more blood than an abattoir. (DEVNOTE: Grossed out by player messily beheading someone.) GALE: I can lend you a third left hand if you need one.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

What do you think each of the crowd would smell like? Not to be creepy, I just want to smell like Inej Ghafa

Interesting question; I’m afraid that Inej canonically smells of nothing according to Kaz, except for during the bathroom scene when he says that she smells of the hotel soap she just used. Nina does say when on parem that the table where she healed Inej’s stab wound smells of her but it’s strongly implied that the parem gives her the ability to distinguish the scent of one person’s blood from another and it’s the leftover blood she can still smell even after the table has been cleaned and know that it was Inej’s blood.

Nina canonically smells of the perfume that’s used to falsely scent the White Rose’s flower arrangements at the start of Six of Crows, according to Matthias, and later on the Ferolind during the journey to Fjerda smells of the toffees she stashed and has been eating.

During Crooked Kingdom, Nina and Jesper (and Kuwei, if you’d like to include him) canonically smell of coffee because they’re wearing it all the time like perfume to hide from the possibility that the Kerghud soldiers can smell the difference between Grisha and otkazats’ya

That’s all the canon mentions of people’s scents that I can recall off the top of my head, but if anyone remembers any others let me know, and as for headcanons:

Wylan probably spends most of the books smelling of the chemicals he uses in his explosives, Kaz claims that the scent of smoke can cling to people’s shirt cuffs and I expect that would ring true for Wylan. Pre and post canon he probably smells of fancy soap and, if it exists in the Grishaverse, nice curl cream or other products that he uses on his hair, but even if that does exist in the Grishaverse I very much doubt he had access to it during canon.

Jesper most likely often smells of smoke and gunpowder, pre and maybe during canon he probably often had the smell of alcohol on his clothes as well, and perhaps post canon fancy soap and the tinge of engine oil.

The Barrel may smell terrible but that doesn’t mean Kaz has to reduce himself to it and he most definitely won’t; he probably smells of soap and leather most of the time, plus he clearly puts a lot of effort into his suits so you may be able to smell whatever they’ve been so well washed in. Also quite possibly blood. I’m now thinking maybe he would deliberately choose scentless soaps because I read a book where lingering perfume was recognised at a crime scene and he would want to avoid anything that might be recognisable.

We know for a fact that Hellgate was a disgusting smelling place with poor access to hygiene and clean water, but after he was freed I imagine Matthias became hyper aware of cleanliness because of this limited access to hygiene products and kept himself very neat and clean. He probably smells of soap most of the time. Pre canon I imagine there were pretty strict hygiene and general cleanliness rules for the Drüskelle so again he probably smelt quite clean, but also had something of the rugged air and cold Northern winds about him. He also may have had the scent of some kind of shampoo since he had very long hair that the smell would remain clinging to, but I expect that whatever he used was standardised amongst the Drüskelle.

At home Inej probably smelled of spices and perfumes and chalk, and at the Menagerie she probably smelled of cheap, overpoweringly strong perfume. It’s a combination of both of these factors that make me think she was actively choosing to avoid scent during the duology, hence Kaz saying “she didn’t even have a scent”, and choosing scentless soaps. Post canon she probably smells of salt and the sea most of the time, and would maybe pick up a scented soap every now again to practice testing her limits and branching out since we know she actively pushes herself with some of the smaller things like this that she finds difficult

Honestly I’m not sure if i have any particular headcanons about Nina, though I think she would avoid rose-scented perfume post canon

Thanks for the ask! This was pretty fun to think about <33

This has been another episode of DK Finally Gets It Together And Answers Her Asks Because It’s About Damn Time (Working Title), thank you for joining me, if you’d like to see the rest of the series you can find it in the tags or if that isn’t working (again 🤦‍♀️) then in my pinned post <3

[creature-wizard]

This is very random but, can we talk about the rise in “toxin free eating/clean eating”? Because all of this is so wild to me. The rise in “cleanliness” in general is so weird. (Not saying caring about hygiene is weird that’s not what this “cleanliness culture” is about.)

I’m sorry but drinking raw milk isn’t going to give you this missing nutrition BIG DAIRY has been keeping from you so they could fill you with toxins. Pasteurizing milk is a process so you don’t fucking die!!!

An uptick in bird flu cases have been reported in Dairy cows recently, and with all the dumbasses drinking raw milk that’s just putting yourself and so many others at risk.

But do they see that risk no. They are too busy posting tiktoks about how Air Fryers give people autism. And how “processed” foods are filled with evil toxins and give people autism. (Why the fuck does everything now a days give you autism) What do they think processes food are?? Putting a food in a wrapping is processing it.

Sugar, pasteurized milk, chemicals in an ingredient list you don’t understand, aren’t giving you autism or parasites or “toxins”. It’s crazy they will say they have a borax deficiency and start eating LITERAL BORAX THE LAUNDRY DETERGENT, but demonize sugar or oil. Stop moralizing your EDs and spreading false information to feed your delusions. Let’s also not ignore the political rhetoric that also helps prop up these ideas. (That’s way bigger conversation I don’t want to get into. Also I’m saying “your” and “you” not at YOU but at them. Sorry for any typos, I hope you understand what I’m trying to get at.)

We can and should talk about this! So many people today have been led to believe that Food In The Past was so much better and nobody got sick from anything they ate, which was just. So Not True. Like the reality is that food today is way safer than food in the past, and the health problems people suffer today were absolutely suffered by people in the past. Like you only have to read something like the Lacnunga to see this for yourself.

[vyladromeave]

Knowledge We Are Given In Canon: after he went through guard training, Garroth faked his own death in order to get out of O’khasis and escape his arranged marriage.

Lore-Breaking Assumption: Despite going through all the hassle of Faking His Death, Running Away Across The Region, and Never Revealing His Face (something the average country bumpkin of Phoenix Drop probably would not recognize even remotely), the idea of using a fake name or moniker did not occur to him. Despite the name "Garroth Romeave" being much more widely recognizable than his face.

Generous Assumption: “Garroth” is a common enough first name in the region of Ru’aun that he didn’t see a point in using a false one. He’s not entirely stupid, he just didn’t see a reason to change it.

now stick with me here.

Knowledge We Are Given In Canon: Azura has known Garroth since they were in guard training together, which is likely when she developed a crush on him.

Lore-Breaking Assumption: Azura for some reason has determined Garroth’s true identity, despite the fact that he literally faked his own death in order to get away from the responsibilities that came with his name and status. (And she’s awesome and cool so she just never ratted him out about it.)

Really Funny Assumption: Azura actually developed a crush on some other guy named Garroth (common name) and lost touch with him after guard academy, and then falsely believes our Garroth (the one obscuring his face and true identity so he can’t cleanly explain to her the truth) to be the one she developed a crush on.

And the first time she sees him without his helmet, shes like. “What thefuck is that. Who the hell are you.”

and someone has to. explain it to her.

[ghelgheli]

Can I ask why you would dis-recommend Decolonising Trans/Gender 101? I had heard good things about it and it is on my shortlist to check out.

So, both in the title ("101") and the introduction, binaohan is expressing a commitment to writing a text that can serve as an effective introductory reading for people looking to understand the relationships between transness and colonization. I would expect that with a commitment like this, the text is both cleanly argued and, you know, doesn't make very many false or misleading claims that could send the unfamiliar reader down a garden path. My experience was that this is not the case!

For example, binaohan asserts several times that 15th and 16th century colonialism marks the beginning of transmisogyny and the gender binary. As though there was no transmisogyny before this, in e.g. byzantine surgical practice or roman rhetoric! As though misogyny and its commitment to the opposition of men to women did not precede the use of misogyny as a technology of european colonialism. I just don't think this is a true or useful claim.

Or, take binaohan's defense of family structure against coming-out narratives—the criticism being that white trans culture presents coming out as an assertion of agency, but that this overlooks racialized experiences of commitment to the family over and above the notion that coming out is the only way to be true to oneself. Criticism of coming-out-as-responsibility is fair, but I don't think we should be doing "families are good as long as they're not nuclear" here.

There's a whole section on how "passing" and "stealth" language is essentially compromised because "trans women don't 'pass' as women, they just are women" (paraphrase). But this is just wordplay; nobody is using these terms with those connotations but to denote important material facts about moving thru the world as trans. And the section gives the impression that there's nothing important being done with these uses of language.

The book leans a bit too much on privilege-language, and combines it with gender-eternalism: that if you are a man, you were always a man, and if you are a woman, you were always a woman. This is a self-narrative that works for many trans people. It also doesn't work for many others, including e.g. trans lesbians I know who are comfortable narrativizing themselves as having been boys. I wouldn't want someone to read binaohan's prescription, delivered in the second person, and take it at face value.

I also didn't think I'd ever say this, but the book overcorrects against transandrophobia-truther arguments, denying that "transphobia" is a coherent concept. Now, I'm open to a particular line of reasoning: that perhaps all trans-antagonisms are reducible to mechanisms of transmisogyny. But that's not what's done here, and the possibility of something like anti-transmasculinity (not necessarily in those terms) is not even acknowledged.

I think binaohan writes effectively about the particulars of both contemporary and historical Tagalog gendered experience and embodiment. Those were the sections of the book I most enjoyed. I just thought they had been slot in between a great deal of arguments and claims I would not want to present to someone looking for a "101". I don't think the book succeeds at being the pedagogical text it wants to be.

[indigo-constellation]

It's taken me far too long to have this thought out in public

Daniil should be Artemy's sacrifice in the termite ending.

tl;dr Haruspex route is the only one Daniil doesn't fit the criteria for a sacrifice in and it's been haunting me for years.

NOW, what's the criteria we get for the sacrifice? Beautiful young woman who is in love with Artemy right? well, yes, but that prophecy is given to the player by Katerina, the false mistress, all of her other prophecies are in some way wrong, why is this one followed to the letter? Well there is another definition to the sacrifice Artemy must make, two actually. (it's one, I know, but this is easier for me)

The first is that it has to be equal to the udurgh, which the polyhedron isn't. This is why Artemy does not become the foreman in the termite ending and why that ending feels so deeply unsatisfying and unfitting for him, because he never actually fulfils his goal (THIS IS WHY HARUSPEX ROUTE UTOPIAN ENDING IS SO MUCH BETTER but I already ranted about that) Aglaya fills that criteria.

Now you might ask why, and that leads very cleanly to the second point, the real need in the sacrifice to be equal to the udurgh is that it isn't a man, and in Aglaya's own words, "Simon was almost human. And me-I'm not quite human." Aglaya is not quite human, because she is aware of her status as a doll.

What does this have to do with Daniil?

Well, Daniil is "not quite human" himself in the two other routes.

Bachelor route is very simple to explain, not only does he get to discover that he is a doll, but even if he doesn't heal another bound and meet the powers that be, he is still the player character, he still has this level of separation from the world caused by the player, this distinction between the player and the character is made most clear in the Haruspex route where it's explicitly said that Aglaya isn't in love with Artemy, she's in love with the player, as the player themselves say, "Did you fall in love with him because he was free? But that wasn't him; it was me." Meaning that the player is separate enough from their character to justify the player character being "not quite human."

Now Changeling route is where this gets interesting. because there it is also not his route but Daniil is still aware of his status as a toy in it, claiming it to be the third time he's been deceived, outright stating, "I'm a plaything! And so, undoubtedly, are you." Now this obviously makes him fit the criteria of "not quite human" as established by Aglaya, but, this is where it gets interesting.

Because in that same conversation, Daniil can say, "Self-denial is the meaning here, silly. Deny yourself and you win. Yes, that's how it is! That's the essence of my discovery." And this, this line. This one line, which is specifically set after the player played the Bachelor's route, implies that he has known since. Now that might be a bit of a stretch but with the recommended order of playing being Bachelor -> Haruspex -> Changeling, how hard is it to believe that there is a chance that he is aware during the Haruspex's route? Honestly that makes that possibility so fascinating, because he is right when he's saying that he only wins by self-denial, because by denying to himself (and to Artemy, ie, still himself) the fact that he is a doll, he is keeping himself alive. Because otherwise, he would fit the criteria, being a Healer, a past (or future) player character, and "not quite human" he would very well fit the criteria to be an equal sacrifice to the udurgh.

Let us revisit the prophecy by Katerina, by Artemy's own description, Daniil is handsome, he is 28/29 so arguably young, not a woman, and well, in love with Artemy. Considering the fact that Katerina's prophecies are never outright true, this is as close to confirmation as I am going to get.

Why do I care?

WELL, one, potential, so much potential, I have a wip waiting about this.

But also, it would make the problem of Haruspex route termite ending being a kind of boring and unfulfilling ending not be that, and add another layer of tragedy to it. Let me explain, the problem with termite ending (Artemy route) as it is, is that Artemy makes the wrong choice, it's said multiple times that the right choice for him, is to destroy the town, this is stated in Clara's ice prince story, in the character selection screen, as well as the conversation with the executor in the end which states that "inevitability" is the only true villain. Daniil being his sacrifice would prove that wrong. It would give Artemy a way out of that trap laid for him. It would mean the acceptance of the butchers and Artemy gaining access to the living blood below the earth, not just what will spill from the polyhedron's base. It also adds another interesting aspect to the game in that this would be the one chance for a player character not your own to die, and it will be by your hand. Which assuming the player played/is planning to play Bachelor route, would hurt.

I'm not even going to go into the queer interpretation of that possible ending just know that I am thinking about it constantly

I hope this was somewhat coherent, I have been thinking about this specific thing for years and it's not leaving me alone.

[rainhidesmytears]

Valdemar x Wife! Reader

(This is honestly a cute little idea I had purely based upon my own fascination with this unique and lovingly violent character. We aren't here for perfection folks! The genre is called fantasy for a reason!! Please enjoy my sappy nonsense 🩷)

It was a fun little idea that I find amusing - this traveling doctor getting off from the ferry as it docks in Vesuvia, happens to be a penpal of Julian's that he's finally been able to convince to return home to visit everyone. Visiting the Palace to greet him because Nadia invited their friends to tea and he got permission to have a visitor join them.

It may be a little odd, but I don’t write much so it's okay, have fun!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ilya, is that you? You're much taller than I remember! It's good to see you! Nice eyepatch. It adds to the whole pirate look you've got going on." The woman greets the redhead warmly, embracing in a quick one armed hug as she still carried her bag on the opposite shoulder. "How've you been? Last I'd heard, you were off fighting magical beings and breaking chains and such. Bunch of sparkling, glittery nonsense, if you ask me." It gets Julian to laugh, as he was never very fond of magic to begin with, always preferring the cold hard facts of scientific research.

"You're telling me! I was thrown into a giant magical floating ocean with enormous flying sea creatures! They were very friendly, of course, and the view was incredible, but I didn't exactly appreciate being on a false ground that moved out from under my feet." As Julian had awaited her arrival on the ferry, the two had begun catching up as they made their way towards the Palace, having been granted permission to attend a sort of tea party with the Countess as everyone's relationships had since been mended after the defeat of the Devil. "You'll love the cakes, Portia bakes them herself. Oh! Did I tell you she and Nadia finally went on a date? You've much to catch up on, it's been ages since you've been home."

With the eager aggreance of his friend, the pair had finally made it inside and headed towards the salon where the others waited. Apparently the Countess had a last minute meeting that had to be dealt with, if the courtiers all filing out of the room after her were any indication. Though, before proper introductions could be held, the woman had suddenly dropped her bag and broke into a dead sprint towards the now somewhat reformed Quaestor. The five attendees of said tea party had no chance to warn her of the horned doctor's dislike of- well- anyone, before the entire hall was caught in a shocked silence at the scene before them.

Valdemar had originally intended to leave the meeting and return to the dungeons for more experiments, only to greet Julian's new friend with open arms when she had thrown herself into his waiting embrace. This mysterious friend of Julian's even has the audacity (or what any of the medical attendings would call the lack of a will to live) to press a chaste kiss to the side of the Quaestor's mask before being set back down. While the wide eyed stares on the pair of them seem to go unnoticed by the woman, Valdemar is very much amused by the current situation. Nadia doesn't have a chance to say anything before she's struck speechless by an amused and less than menacing chuckle from the Quaestor. No one has ever heard him show any sort of emotion that wasn't within malicious intent.

"You ruin the cleanliness of my masks at every turn. What am I going to do with you?" It's more of a tease than a true question, note even going as far as brushing himself off as he had done so with anyone else who came within close proximity. No one has the heart to move or say anything lest it end this confusion in bloodshed.

"I mean, you could always strap me to that vivisection table of yours, but then I think we'd both have a little too much fun and not in the way of science~" She had immediately began teasing the feared horned doctor, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle, showing off more of the amusement he felt. The Quaestor certainly a master of composure, as anyone else would have laughed at such a frivolous remark. It was clear that this seemed to be a very happy reunion, but no one could figure out why.

"I take it you two know each other?" Julian's question sparks laughter from the woman and a quick amused glance away from the Quaestor. The current situation was hilarious in the eyes of the two, but he holds his reputation rather high, so they only laughter he usually allows is when it terrifies those around him. Had it not been for his friend jumping up and kissing his previous employer, he'd have been far braver in sense of curiosities needing to be quelled.

"Well, if I didn't know who he was, I doubt I'd have married him. Especially with that horrible habit of leaving unfinished experiments all over the dining room table~" She only teases her husband more, even in front of Julian and the Countess who was his underling and is his current employer respectively. Though instead of the fury or wrath they're expecting, all they see is his exasperated sigh and a light swatting at this cackling woman even while she pats his hands away. Their current view of the pair is almost like that of an old married couple they'd meet in the market.

"That is a stretch of the truth, as we are both well aware. You distract me frequently. How can I ever finish my work?" His tone is gentle and scolding, but it holds no real heat behind it. But his wife only laughs, beaming brightly up at the Quaestor as she still very clearly has to tilt her head back for them to see eye to eye. Had none of them been previously afraid of Valdemar, they'd see his gentle hand on the back of her head to prevent pain as endearing, and somewhat thoughtful.

"Every good doctor needs rest. Whether it's sleeping or reading a book by the fire with their ever distracting wife. You work too hard, Dear. I want you to be as healthy as you keep me. Demon capabilities or not, I am a woman and your wife. No matter how hard you try, you'll never win this argument." Her immediate reply to his light complaint is that of care and amusement, refusing to allow her beloved doctor to work himself to death regardless of the power he once held.

"You'd never allow me, regardless." Valdemar's brow raises at her quick agreance, only encouraging her further with another quiet chuckle before they've leaned down and moved their mask to leave a light kiss to the crown of her head. Once his posture had straightened, the Quaestor readjusted the mask and bid fairwell to the audience they had ended up with, as he left the party and headed back to the dungeons to work on an experiment.

No one had ever seen even the vague hints of his personal life, not even the other courtiers whom had known him for centuries had ever heard even a whisper from his lips of anything of himself that wasn't a carnal urge for blood or death. They all have so many questions once the party finally makes it into the salon, funnily enough by the woman's lead. Her laughter as the courtiers had quickly joined them, was only amplified by their rapid fire questions mixed together with Julian's and the others.

Nadia: "The Quaestor has a wife?"

Asra: "Wait- he's married? Like actually married?"

Portia: "You're not a zombie experiment that swears loyalty to him?"

Valerius: "How the fuck- please excuse my language, your Grace- but how the fuck did he get married?"

Julian: "The letters she writes are slanted and not nearly as neat as Valdemar’s and he's one dangerous stickler for neatness and cleanliness."

Vlastomis: "How the did you get him to exchange letters?"

Vulgora: "Did he best you in a fight? No? NO? WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO?"

Her laughter turns to wheezes under their investigation, especially when the Pontifex had brought mention of a lost duel into the conversation. "Stars, no! Nothing like that at all! We've been married for the last 15 years. No fights, or deals, or magical spells or experiments gone wrong, I can assure you." They finally calm themselves enough for her laughter to die down, and when she has the chance to give a little bit of the history between them, it only shocks them again.

"He'd happened to need stitches while I was traveling the continent, and we just sort of hit it off. He likes to say he'd had an entire courtship planned out, but he's just full of hot air. I had that man red in the face and wide eyed every time I flirted with him. Especially when he was covered in blood after an amputation. But that's a story for another time." The collective whines of wanting to hear more of the sappy details came mainly from the Devorak twins and Volta, but the others seemed relieved they wouldn't have to head the more mushy side of the Quaestor. It only seemed to make him that much more intimidating.

"He prides himself on his work, so I can't blame him for never mentioning me. Honestly, I feel like people would worry too much about the thought of him having a wife instead of the effort he puts into his work, so I've never had the idea to go broadcasting his name or occupation. But I'm so glad to see that he's right here in Vesuvia! Just means I can move into that house I bought to be closer to him instead of traveling by sea every month. Now! Julian mentioned some cakes, do we still have a chance for those?"

[fountainpenguin]

"But I'm sure this positive attitude will GET ME THROUGH- I mean, the rest of the world seems JUST FINE at living without you, so what's wrong with me!?" (x)

---

New Pixels Imperfect AU one-shot today!

5 Minutes Selfish (Let's Call It PTO)

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Dog's Life Chapter 7

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

🚥 AU Guide

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Sniff's fingers tighten in the false wool of his shirt. That thing's woven from nothing but RGB light, just like Etho is beneath the leather skin that gives him face and legs and hands. "You look like my husband… You act like my husband." "I was your husband." Etho says this firmly because it is not a lie. If you strip out the roleplay filters, file off all the warnings Joel tossed at him outside the game (in memories Sniff does not have), then every word of this is genuine. Sniff's eyes burn, sparking pixels, and he wrenches his face away. His grip slackens on the shirt. Something breaks in Etho deep inside, then. It's like a twig. A fox trap. It snaps around his leg. Sniff bears his palms on Etho's front (his pecs) and glares right into his eyes. "You know that's not fluffin' true."

Prying someone's soul from skin isn't easy, especially if you're 4 weeks old, he has an undressing phobia, and you have twisted memories of being his devoted husband and #1 fan.

OR: In Dog’s Life Chapters 7-9, vex hybrid SnifferMyFeet donated his code to save Joel's life in exchange for the right to eat Etho's soul. Here's how that went down.

(First 1,400 words under the cut)

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5 Minutes Selfish (Let's Call It PTO)

💙  🧡  💚

At least Bdubs was polite about it. That made a few of Etho’s hearts breathe a little easier. And breathing, in general, was considered an all-around good thing (even underground, even in the cold when every inhale felt like getting shot by a pillager patrol, the shafts and feathers scratching you up inside). See, scratchy throats are working throats, and working throats, um… they’re good. What was I saying?

Etho will not lie, he reasons, if anyone asks if he’d like a hot chocolate, blanket, or a cuddle. This time of year, the server hub turns from cool to frigid, and Jeb help you if you can’t handle that kind of pressure month after month. Winter creeps in on silent paws and rapid wings. Especially in this part of the city. The base of the apartment’s lined with snow blocks, and that’s not accounting for the temperature Etho actually keeps his room at. If he ever respawns with ginger fur, he might exchange the ice blocks and wind charges for magma blocks instead. But for an arctic fox hybrid, New Star Station feels like home sweet home any night of the year.

He could still use a hot chocolate, though. And I honestly miss the sun.

It’s freezing on the balcony too, even for Etho. Until Bdubs is pulling him apart with that single scathing look, Etho had forgotten he’d shed his vest and shoes for a more comfortable snuggle session in bed. He stood there in his turtleneck. In his bare feet, which show fox toes and talons instead of flatter nails. He plays it cool, he almost doesn’t curl them in, but they do curl. Chunky claws scratch the stone.

“How was your night?”

A simple enough question. Bdubs’ eyes wander to Etho’s neck. Then they shift. The question goes unspoken, and unanswered. Etho moves his fingers on instinct, tracing a silver string of saliva down his skin. His neck’s a little warm where SnifferMyFeet was mouthing him, but the skin’s unbitten. Sniff’s hungry. No one likes to spend their evening curled up on the couch, starving and whimpering as medical work drones on and on and on. Sniff’s been very, very patient.

Anyway, Bdubs didn’t, like… make it weird or anything (Thank goodness). When the phantom hybrid landed on his balcony, Etho did try to lay the facts down as cleanly as he could… The whole “Hey, I know we have a standing arrangement, but you can’t eat my soul tonight because I’ve got a guest staying over and promised it to him” thing. It took a little set-up. So, um. Yeah.

“I smell vex,” Bdubs had spat, ruffling his wings. The membranes bunched together, bones clacking, but nothing spoke louder than that stare in his glowing green eyes. “Hold on… What's the play? Are you trying to get me in there? Because vex can log out phantoms?”

No, no. It wasn’t like that, Etho assured him. Bdubs pressed harder, asking whether the vex inside Etho’s room had threatened him to say all this and if Etho wanted him to take the guy out. Ha… Glory, Sniff would grab the nearest torch and charge, swinging at Bdubs for all he was worth. Already, with Etho absent from the bed a mere two minutes, Sniff had gotten restless. Etho heard the floor creak as the vex hybrid untangled from the bedsheets and took two steps across the bedroom. Bdubs twitched that direction like he could hear it too. Drool hung between one of his rear teeth and front fangs. It dripped down the left side of his mouth.

“You'd tell me if you wanted me to fight the guy, right? Blink twice if you want me to take the vex.”

Sniff’s feet stall at the edge of the room. At least, the creaking floorboards do. Maybe he just found a better way to sneak around. Etho looked at Bdubs, though - he looked him in the eye - and said again he owed “a favor” to his evening guest. Sniff can likely hear that. Sniff might be licking his lips. Etho wouldn’t mind it, actually, if he found out that he is. He’s hungry too, but there’s no point in eating when you’re this close to getting kicked from the Between dimension. It keeps you young. It keeps your health bars full.

The floor clicks again as SnifferMyFeet sneaks a little closer up the hall. It sounds like that in certain mineshaft caves or when you creep across the tree branches. Etho shifts just enough to keep himself between Bdubs and any glimpse he might catch of two-toned eyes and two-toned hair. Deep, deep down in his soul, the fox woven in his code lets out a warning growl.

Mine.

Now, “polite”’s a little relative, but for Bdubs, pacing and gnashing his teeth like this pretty much qualified. With his fangs jutting past his pouting lip, he may as well be a frumpy toddler in phantom’s clothing. A toddler is also a little relative. Ha! Etho can never stay mad at him. Bdubs only dropped by because he’s doing his job. It is late. Etho should be asleep. All the phantom hybrids can smell that on him, like he’s a piece of mutton thrown in the furnace or slapped down by the campfire. His soul tastes like maple syrup; that’s what the hunters always say. Bdubs shakes his head, rattling the bones in his tail and wings. Then he perfects that child metaphor with his grandiose bow. See, it’s like they can read each other’s minds!

“I shall return… but the feed tonight, I bequeath to your sweet guest.”

Etho almost snorts. “Sweet as a shulker full of sugarcane,” is his reply. They exchange parting nods. Bdubs leaps on the railing, then off the balcony in a single swish. Etho squints his eyes against the rush of grit swirling from his potted plants; the crack of those wings could fry the crackle off a charged creeper. It probably has! Bdubs hardly needs to flap them. He glides away.

And just like that, he’s back on the hunt again. Someone up the street lets loose a throaty howl. Sounds like Ren, joined by two and then three other wolf hybrids in the dark. An unseen figure whistles in response. Nice sound projection, Etho remarks (for his mind and mind alone). The frostbitten underground’s thriving and alive, weaving like a circuit board, rolling like a grave. Does the market sell I Heart New Star shirts, because it’s very tempting to use one of those as a pillow case. Yeah… Sweet dreams (like these) are made of love and lace.

Sniff chirps softly from up the hallway. It’s wordless, like a song. Come back, come back to bed, is the message woven underneath it; he’s cooing like a vex. Etho’s toggled-off fox ears twitch inside his soul, thoroughly tempted, but his feet stay planted where they are. There’s heat and cuddles and Sniff in the bed.

Still he lingers, braced on folded arms, until Bdubs sails behind the nearest apartment building and disappears. Etho sniffs the air. Bdubs smells like all the souls he’s hunted tonight; lots of foxes and at least one warden mixed in. The tip of his tail grazes his bare ankle. Oh, yeah… he didn’t shove his shoes back on. They’re still abandoned by the bed.

Speaking of…

Footsteps quicken up the hall, no longer restrained by the fear of a phantom hybrid’s fangs. “Ugh, you talk so long,” the man complains, and Etho’s palms warm against the wooden railing. He turns his head. That earns him a noseful of dark brown hair. Two arms snake around his stomach like fire licking along a couple strings. “Eefo… Please come back to bed. I don’t like it all alone.”

Um… His forehead’s on my arm. Does he know? There’s no way he doesn’t know. Etho’s eyes dip lower, searching for the skin behind the hair flops, before the flush rising up his necks hits his collar and he has to look away. He faces the open air again. They’re coming up on the dry season. It’ll only get colder from here on out. Which he’s thankful for, because all the pixels fizzing up his skin are flipping inside out.

Etho reaches for his mask. He tugs the fabric out just enough to gulp in the air, cooling his skin again. Against his better judgment, he shifts his gaze down to where Sniff still has his forehead pressed. One single eye peeps around his shoulder. It’s midnight dark. It sparkles like a starlit sky. He looks like Grian from this angle, not Joel at all apart from a strip of dark hair dyed with green that flutters with his lashes every time he blinks.

This does not cool his face off any faster.

❤️ Read on AO3

[acknowledgetheabsurd]

It's 2:30, I'm at home, it's sunny outside, I rehearsed this morning. I received your letter from Friday and another from Sunday and I am angry. That, in summary, is my state. My love, you have to relax, you have to let yourself go, but you must not continue to slide down the slope you have taken these last few days. You are thirty-six years old, you live, you are here, in the open sky with love in your heart and a deep sense of beauty. I understand that your state of fatigue takes you away from everything and everyone; I understand your longing for sunshine and health, but you will overcome this illness and the sun will shine often for you. 

The tension in which you have always lived is exhausting, I know, but don't forget that you are one of those who must remain tense until the end, who does not give up, and this idea alone will give you the strength you need to continue. Remember our laughter, often. That's why you have to live, to laugh, to sing in Desdemona, for the peaceful hours of Ermenonville and its park, for thunderstorms, for the sun and the driving rain. I beg you, do not forget happiness. Don't forget that even if we are diminished, mutilated, limited, we are made for happiness, and that it is there, every day, at every moment, waiting for us, if we don't stiffen up, if we consent to it. 

Europe has its mists, it is true, but it also has its sun, which is all the more brilliant because it is, like life, not very long-lasting. And then, there are your eyes, the most beautiful eyes I know, my face of happiness and gratitude. There is your work so full of gratitude when, after days and days of drought and poverty, you feel friends with her. What more can I say to you? What else can I say to you but that you are only thirty-six years old and that I have just left a being who was sixty-five, who was only a breath, a spirit, and who still had more happiness, more joys, more energy and more wealth in him than a young man of twenty? Courage, my love! Perhaps you may not be fully aware of the part that I hold in you. 

The many weeks of absence erase the memory and replace it with a false change of scenery that we don't know at what to attribute. That's what happened to me lately, before Dad's death, when I was writing to you about my boredom. I was called to order, and I am now busy with the essential. You, abandoned a little, alone, you lose your way sometimes. Forgive me for telling you all this. I am perhaps boasting too much, but I don't think I'm completely wrong. On the other hand, the people around you are not very comforting. I don't know your brother. I don't know F[rancine], but your situation is not one that makes her presence radiant, even if she is exultant with life. As for the G[allimard], this is the couple that I would choose if I wanted to die of "disintegration". 

Everything falls on you, everyone cries out for you, everyone asks for you, at the very moment when you should only receive. But you'll see. The days are flying by, and in a very short time I'll be there. Don't come to me with a scowl on your face and the idea that we'll be curled up together in grief, regret, nostalgia and the cult of the past. The latter, it is in every gesture I make and every thought I have, but in a living way. It is expressed in the struggle, in the growing need for cleanliness, for righteousness, greatness. As for the rest, it remains in the depths of my heart, there, in the background, where it mingles with my life to make it richer. It may seem strange to you that I should speak to you in this tone, but you don't know me very well if you expected anything else from me. 

If I am angry today, it is because I have received a letter from my sister who takes on the appearance of Saint Sebastian and indulges in scenes in front of her distraught daughter, scenes that have no real basis, given that she has hardly seen my father in twenty years and that she left on her own as soon as she wanted to. Anyway, let's leave that. No one in the world, I'm sure, misses the presence of Dad more than I do. I miss him every moment, but the crying and complaints are not my doing; like him, I have a disgust for death, like him I have a thirst for life and happiness. I love him infinitely and he helps me to live, and it is for him also that I want to laugh. That's where I am. 

As for the follies I wanted to warn you against, don't worry about it, I wasn't thinking of anything out of the ordinary. Only you were telling me about a trip to make, and I thought that we shouldn't build too many castles in Spain, that it was important first of all to find ourselves, to see where we were with our life and health and to weigh the possibilities that would be granted to us. That was all. I got your "picture". You have cheeks! And a little scoundrel look...! My love, my beautiful love, courage again. Work. Work well, the best you can. 

By the way, I don't know if I told you about your preface. Did I tell you that I had tears in my eyes when I read it? Oh, yes. It is beautiful! After its publication, you'll have to retire to a deserted island, but a beautiful island! Okay, I'm leaving you. I'm going to write to my sister again and write a few more letters. Then I'll go and buy some pretty flowers for Feli. Then I will finish at the theater. See you tomorrow, darling. Angeles asks me to ask your permission to kiss you. Four eyes on your picture. The house, black and yellow, smiles at the thought of seeing you soon. As for me, here I am, in the most patient and impatient wait that one can imagine. In your arms, in your warmth, I will be happy again. I love you.

Maria Casarès to Albert Camus, Correspondance, February 28, 1950 [#219]  

[tenebrisdivina]

Demonic Divine Darkness and Human Energy Interactions

Artist: Bastien Lecouffe Deharme on artstation

Disclaimer: please note when I use the term “pure”(adjective) - I do not mean in a derogatory manner, it is a neutral term and conveys a cleanliness, clarity, directness ( possible uniformity) of energy structure and a clear vibrational essence of energy conveyed- ie with divine purity- meaning undistorted- not shadowy or containing anything extraneous.

I wanted to speak a little about how demonic divine darkness interacts with human energy and what it can look like. This is something that I think bears understanding in general and  for those who are beginning to work with demonic divine beings or in traversing and exploring the darkness. As I have mentioned in previous posts, there is a distinct difference in what is demonic divine darkness and regular darkness. Demonic divine darkness tends to have a “purity,”  vastness and a majesty to it. This is especially true on the level I connect with the demonic divine on- as outer/other multiversal beings. (On this level it is closer to like star or planetary levels of energy and is highly “purified”). This darkness is only carried in true demonic divine beings- egregores, pagan deities, thought forms, or sock puppets will not often have the effects mentioned since they don’t have true demonic divine darkness.

In the process of a human practitioner connecting to this energy; the basic way of connecting to this energy is to become attuned to and aligned with it. This is why using enns, sigils, offerings and the other paraphernalia (sound/vocal vibrations, altars with correspondences, sigils etc) is important in order to connect- because it attunes the human’s vibration to the demonic divines. This attunement process enables one to connect with the demonic divine beings. (Also to note; not everyone will necessarily always be able to align or connect well, if at all- also given the practitioners own vibrations and energies and that is fine and natural.) The more attuned and aligned one is to the specific Demonic Divine’s presence; the clearer communication between parties and ritual, magick involving such beings more effective. In attuning to these energies (even if it is not to specific entity and just demonic divine energies in general); it has a tendency to bring up in the human practitioners- the practitioners underlying darkness, shadows, fears, traumas, false darkness, parasites etc. This is because in attuning to such high level darkness (and the purer/clearer the entities energy is; the more the “sediment” is brought up) this “low level” internalised “darkness” – like false darkness, repressed things in personal shadows (shadow work), needs to be cleared out of the practitioners system to affectively and more closely align and resonate with the demonic divines energies. This is simply the natural process of connecting with the demonic divine though it can be especially difficult for the human to understand and process if they have never done this before and are not used to it.

This process can be thought of as though the demonic divine’s energy is a magnet and it brings out all the sediment to be dealt with (ideally to be processed and dealt with before going further in working with the demonic divine). On a vibrational level this is an entirely natural and organic process between the energies if seeking to commune or work with Them. The demonic divine being connected with- is often not doing this deliberately- it is simply what happens when connecting with Their high-level darkness and energies. At times DLs will deliberately focus on doing this, but even so it is not done in a malicious way. (At least for entities that are known to humans and humans work with regularly). Some DL’s may do this so that the energy is cleared, and a more consistent and direct connection can occur between the human and Themselves.  Even though connecting to the demonic divine energies will likely bring up this darkness to be faced- it is up to the practitioner themselves to deal with it- by alchemy, transforming it etc. The Demonic divine energy just makes this apparent in the practitioners’ energy field, it does not automatically transmute it- this is up to the practitioners themselves. Of course, one can always ask for aid with the demonic divine they are working or connecting with to help in the clearing of these energies.

This is one of the reasons I do not believe that practitioners who have never had experience working with spirits or deities, nor those who have never done self examination, shadow work, working on healing their own traumas and facing their inner darkness - false or natural  etc- should start their paths by working with the demonic divine. In such cases there is a great tendency to misunderstand what is occurring and for such people to “get lost in the sauce” of their egoic and/or mental narratives, psychological tendencies, trauma, false darkness and very easily fall into delusional territory. If the practitioner in question does not know themselves well and has never done self examination, shadow work, at least attempted to process their trauma or psychological tendencies, if they do not know their personal internal, energetic and mental mechanisms ( how easily the mind creates and “fills in the blanks”) and how to differentiate themselves from Other (discernment) ( ie having previously done deity work or similar) then the practitioner may misinterpret and misunderstand what is occurring. The human in question may end up as well connecting with their false darkness as though it was the divine being themselves, and not even engaging with the demonic divine at all. (This is of course alongside other basic practices such as energy work, shielding, cleansing, grounding etc).

There can also be a tendency with the above; to move from a fear-based place as well. While fear can be a natural reaction (especially to darkness and the unknown), it should not be the place from which one approaches darker beings. As there is a tendency for false darkness and misunderstanding to create illusions and basically for those fears to be experienced. The potential problem of this is that people can begin to attribute this to the demonic divine themselves and beginning to think of Them as “evil” or dangerous. As if the demonic divine being in maliciously doing this to them. Which then creates a vicious cycle with more fear. The practitioners often end up spiralling in their own shadows, darkness and falsities and getting further and further away from the actual divinity of the demonic divines’ energies. Approaching from a fear-based place (which basically induces varying states of survival instinct) also limits how one perceives and understands the energies and interactions. That said; the answer to these fears and more “negative” experiences or false darkness etc arising in oneself- is not to blame or try to bind/compel, banish or try to control the demonic divine being. That does nothing- since these experiences and energies are not originating/ sourced in the demonic divine- but from the within the self. (assuming one is of course actually connecting to a demonic divine being and its not a sock puppet, egregore, parasite etc). This distinction is very important to realise. (Note; as stated ad nauseum; true demonic divine beings cannot be bound, compelled or controlled period- They are far to vast and powerful for that and it is incredibly disrespectful to try). If one is having frightening or fearful experiences with the (genuine) demonic divine It is important to self-examine since most likely (unless otherwise asked for, known that a DL is deliberately doing this for/with you, rare cases or one is connecting with unknown demonic divine) it is originating in/coming from the practitioner themselves and their own energies to deal with ( shadows false darkness etc) not the demonic divine being. And more people would do well to understand this distinction.

Working with the demonic divine and Their high-level darkness is an advanced practice. This is not to say that the demonic divine cannot be asked for help if one is actively working on facing their darkness, shadows, fears etc- but it needs to be an active choice to do so on the practitioner’s part.  And even with asking; the demonic divine will not do the work for you. In working with the demonic divine beings many of these internalised and uncomfortable aspects, shadows, false darkness etc are regularly challenged, providing a chance for alchemy and growth to occur- if one puts in the work and knows how to deal with these energies. It is beneficial for practitioners to be aware that this happens ( and can happen naturally) when connecting with the demonic divine darkness and energies. In one of S Connolly’s books she makes mention of needing to face/process all your fears before being able to ascend to the demonic divine plane (to commune on Their level) and this I have found is very true and relevant.

I have witnessed many in the spaces of working/ connecting with the demonic divine, who seemingly lack who lack critical discernment when interacting with these darker beings and do not seem to recognise nor understand how the energies interact or can affect them. Unfortunately, this has led to a lot of confusion and delusion- as is usual it seems, in traversing darker paths. That said, I especially dislike the trend of seeing demons as harmless, your bestest friend, fluffy and overly loving- some may choose to be with some They work with (and that often is more long term connecting that things can become more relaxed between parties). But this is certainly not the standard and isn’t likely to begin that way. To portray that it is, is quite detrimental. Those of the demonic divine and darkness carry a gravity and severity to Their energy, along with the vastness, majesty and beauty of it.  All demonic divine beings have the capacity of being dangerous to humans ( whether this is due to their energies- intended or not, the nature of Their specific type of darkness and domains, Their own volition or otherwise). This is much more of a significant risk among those of the demonic divine not known or connected to by humans and in the further reaches of darkness.  Among those that are known to humans and whom humans generally work with, this is quite a minimal issue, and extremely rare or unusual circumstance where They would be actively deliberately and intentionally dangerous to people.  However this does not mean Their energies are compatible or agreeable with everyone. It is even more unlikely and rare that it would ever be deliberately malicious. That said, the demonic divine are beings of darkness and while that darkness is also of divinity in a way, it does not mean that They are harmless and endlessly beneficent, soft  and all loving. To make light of this darkness and depth simply so the human ego feels more comfortable is to misunderstand.

artist: Billelis on behance

[crimsonwolf715]

False Lead

(TW: Dazai cuts skin that's been infected by a poison off of Kunikida and himself. While it's not graphic, I want you guys to stay safe. Poison. Mentions of self-harm. It's Dazai from when he was a teenager, but it's just briefly mentioned.)

DAZAI AND CHUUYA, AGE 16

“You are absolute shit at that,” Chuuya says. “Give it to me.” 

Dazai sticks his tongue out and keeps gathering the things to stitch himself up. 

“Okay, fine. Don’t come crying to me when you screw it up.” Chuuya kicks his feet up and leans back. 

“You’re a dick,” Dazai says. 

“Yeah, I am,” Chuuya replies, turning his head back towards Dazai. “You gonna hand the stuff over?” 

Dazai offers the first aid kit to Chuuya and he takes it. 

“Maybe I should teach you this so you don’t come back from missions with those ugly-ass stitches you normally come back with.” 

“I don’t go on that many missions without you anymore.” 

“I know, but it’s stupid that you can’t do this with how much you hurt yourself. Or others hurt you, but that’s usually your fault as well.” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Taunting someone who could kill you with their hands tied behind their back is stupid, Shitty Dazai.” 

“Yeah, like Chibi could do better,” Dazai shoots back at him. 

Chuuya grabs Dazai’s arm and starts stitching him up. Chuuya talks Dazai through properly stitching himself up. Dazai flinches once or twice, but otherwise he doesn’t react. 

PRESENT TIME

“Kunikida, the president wants to speak to you,” Tanizaki says when Kunikida comes in. 

“Alright, thank you,” Kunikida replies, then heads to the President’s office. 

“Hello, Kunikida,” Fukuzawa says when Kunikida opens the door and walks in. 

“Mr. President, what can I do for you?” 

“I have a case for you and Dazai.” 

Fukuzawa hands Kunikida a file and Kunikida glances over the first page. 

“I’d like you to deal with this as cleanly as you can. The police have started complaining that we always leave a mess for them to clean up. Not that I agree with them, but just to be safe.” 

“I’ll make sure that Dazai behaves, sir.” 

“Thank you, you’re dismissed. Can you send Ranpo in here on your way out?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Kunikida walks out of the President’s office. “Ranpo, he wants to see you.” 

“Oh, nice,” Ranpo says, then gets up and heads into the office. 

Kunikida finishes reading the file as he gets to his desk. He looks up and Dazai’s sitting at his desk. 

“You’re on time,” Kunikida says. 

“I’m only late fifty percent of the time,” Dazai replies. 

“That can’t be true, but we have a case. There are ability users tormenting villages outside of town. We have an idea of where the base is, so we’re going to check it out and deal with it if they’re there.” 

“Alrighty. Guess I’m not spending the morning on this paperwork.” 

They head out to the car and then start driving to the warehouse. The drive to the warehouse is quiet, Dazai seeming lost in his own thoughts and Kunikida not feeling up to a conversation with Dazai. They park and there’s no sign of anybody. 

“Maybe they’re out feeding ducks,” Dazai says. 

Kunikida slaps him upside his head, then they walk into the warehouse and it’s eerily silent. 

“Creepy,” Dazai mutters. 

Kunikida ignores the comment and keeps walking. 

“Nobody seems to be here,” Kunikida says. 

“Mhm.” 

As they get further into the warehouse, there are symbols and words painted on the walls. Most of them Kunikida doesn’t recognize or can’t understand. There are a couple he does know. Slurs for ability users and anti-ability symbols are painted in random places. Kunikida turns in just enough time to see Dazai flipping off one of the slurs painted on the wall. 

“If it’s a group of ability users, shouldn’t they not like these no-no terms?” Dazai asks. 

Kunikida nods. “I have a bad feeling about this place.” 

“Great. Since nobody’s here, can we leave? The police can do a thorough check seeing if there are any important documents or something.” 

Kunikida stops in front of the large, middle area of the warehouse. The entire room is painted in clowns and warning signs. 

“What the hell is that?” Kunikida hears a click sound. “Did you…?” 

Dazai doesn’t even let Kunikida finish the question before grabbing his arm and running back towards the exit. Kunikida runs with Dazai. 

“What is happening?” Kunikida asks. 

Before Dazai can answer, a knife shoots out of the wall and cuts Kunikida’s side. 

“Damn,” Dazai hisses. 

Dazai pushes Kunikida away from him and a knife flies past where Kunikida just was. Another knife knicks Kunikida’s arm. Kunikida turns to check on Dazai and he can see fire at the end of the hallway. Dazai grabs Kunikida and drags him out of the building. Kunikida falls and Dazai kneels down next to him. 

“Don’t fight me right now,” Dazai says. 

“I won’t.” 

Dazai checks Kunikida’s injuries, then sighs. He pulls a knife out of his pocket. 

“You’re feeling pretty numb, right?” 

Kunikida nods. 

“Hold still then. This is still gonna hurt,” Dazai says. 

Kunikida opens his mouth to respond and Dazai puts Kunikida’s belt in his mouth.

“Bite down on that and try not to squirm.” 

Kunikida bites down on the belt and Dazai cuts the skin around Kunikida’s injuries off. Kunikida bites down harder on the belt. Dazai skillfully cuts all of the infected skin away. 

“I’m sorry, Kunikida,” Dazai says. 

Kunikida feels the darkness taking over his vision and Dazai taps his face. Kunikida turns his head. 

“I need you to stay awake. I can’t risk you dying on me after I just had to do that. Hopefully the drugs will kick in soon.” 

“Drugs?” Kunikida chokes out. 

“Yeah, I gave you some after I got you out of the house. You didn’t notice?” 

Kunikida shakes his head. Dazai nods, then looks at his shirt and pants. They’re covered in Kunikida’s blood and Kunikida tries not to think about how much blood he must have lost. It takes a while for him to start feeling better. 

“Feel any better?” Dazai asks. 

Kunikida nods. 

Dazai pulls the first aid kit out of his bag and starts expertly tending to Kunikida’s wounds. 

“Where did you learn that?” Kunikida mumbles. 

“What?” Dazai asks. 

“You’re good at that. Where did you learn?” 

“I learned from a friend who used to patch me up. I wasn’t all that good at it before.” 

“Why did you say friend like that?” 

“Those drugs sure make you curious. We were friends. We haven’t been on good terms in a while. I like to think we’ll get back on good terms, but that would require work on my end and I’m afraid to reach out like that. I have a feeling he won’t want to work things out.” 

“Are you talking about that redhead from the Mafia?” 

“Chuuya or Tachihara?” 

“The one that wasn’t a Hunting Dog, so Chuuya, if I remember correctly.” 

“Very observant of you.” 

“I saw how the two of you interacted and the President mentioned how fondly Mori spoke of you working with Chuuya.” 

Dazai grips Kunikida’s arm for a moment, then it’s like it never happened. “Mori was very fond of what Chuuya could do, and he can’t do it without me.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Nothing we should discuss. I made a promise that I intend to keep. Anyway, look at that. Both injuries tended to and you only almost bled to death.” 

“That’s not as comforting of a thought as you think it is, Dazai,” Kunikida growls. 

“Oops,” Dazai says with a shrug. 

Dazai pulls his jacket off, then starts unbuttoning his shirt. 

“What are you doing?” Kunikida asks. 

“What I just did for you. What, you thought that I somehow managed to avoid the dozen flying knives when you didn’t?” 

Dazai’s arm has a nasty cut on it. Dazai pulls the bandages off his arm and bites down on his belt. He starts cutting his own skin off and Kunikida turns away. Dazai groans several times, but that’s it. Dazai’s arm, blood dripping down it, reaches over Kunikida and grabs the bandages from the first aid kit. Dazai carefully wraps his arm up, then pulls his shirt and jacket back on. 

The sounds of an engine echo through the hills. Dazai grabs the pistol from next to him and checks the bullet count. 

“Yeah, if it’s anybody other than the Agency, we’re dead,” Dazai says. “Good a time as any to die, I guess.” 

“You were just talking about talking it out with Chuuya.” 

“Yeah, and? I’ve almost died a dozen times since I came to the conclusion that I wanted to do that.” 

“A dozen? What have you been doing?” 

“Lots of beautiful women,” Dazai answers sarcastically. 

Dazai’s attention returns to the road. An Agency car comes into view and Dazai sighs and puts the gun down. 

“Well, guess I get to live.” 

Kunikida’s vision goes dark and he passes out. 

Kunikida wakes up in the Agency’s infirmary. He sits up and his head spins. 

“Hey, take it easy,” Yosano says. “I just finished healing you not that long ago.” 

“Sorry, Akki,” Kunikida says. “What happened?” 

“What do you remember?” 

“I remember leaving the Agency on time with Dazai for once because he showed up early. I remember driving out of town to find the cause of those problems, but nothing clear after that. Fire. Dazai being far too close to my face. Sounds like an engine.” 

“Dazai wrote up a report that you should read when you’re feeling better, but he said that the place was rigged with a bunch of traps. Something set on fire, he didn’t think it was intentional. You got cut twice by a knife that had some kind of drug or poison on it. He said you were out of it within minutes of being cut. He patched you up and called for backup since the car you guys took was disabled. Tanizaki went and picked you guys up with Kenji.” 

Kunikida nods, feeling like he’s missing an important event. Kunikida’s hand subconsciously goes to his side. 

“Phantom pain?” Yosano asks. “You had a pretty nasty cut there. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that someone cut you. Not just a knife flying at you.” 

“There’s no pain. Your ability is amazing, as usual,” Kunikida answers. “Can you grab me that report?” 

Yosano nods, then heads out. Once she comes back, she hands him the report. 

“How long was I out?” 

“Three hours after you came back, so four hours total counting the car ride and making sure that you were fine before getting in the car.” 

Kunikida nods. “Why did it take that long for you to heal me if it was only recently?” 

“I wasn’t in the office and it took me that long to get back after we got word of your injury,” Yosano answers. 

Kunikida reads the report and it matches up with Yosano’s story, nothing extra that sticks out. More details, but no extra events. 

“Weird,” Kunikida mutters. “Is Dazai still here?” 

“He is. He’s currently talking to Atsushi about going to a park. Not really sure why, but he is.” 

Kunikida nods. “I’ll talk to him later.” 

After almost an hour of talking with Yosano and Ranpo when he comes in for a few minutes, Kunikida heads out to the main office. Dazai’s working on paperwork with a somewhat distant expression on his face. 

“Dazai.” 

Dazai looks up, then gives Kunikida his usual somewhat mocking smile. “Hey, Kunikida. Akki told me that you didn’t remember much of the mission, that still true?” 

“Unfortunately, yes. Did I miss anything?” 

“Other than my exceptional first aid skills, you’re not missing anything,” Dazai says. “Trust me, it wasn’t worth remembering. You’re such a bore when you’re high.” 

Kunikida sighs. “Alright.” 

It still feels like something important’s missing. Wait… 

“Did you get injured? It wasn’t in the report.” 

“Me? No. There weren’t that many knives and I got in the way of you properly dodging them. Pretty normal stuff for us.” 

Kunikida cuts his eyes at Dazai, but heads to his desk to get some work done.

[ceaselxss]

Hc Quick Ref

Life before the Turks

Tseng grew up in Wutai in a small coastal town. His family was religious in service of Leviathan, which he still partially maintains. He is an only child.

Tseng was raised in a military family, when he was 17 the Wutai war was starting and he sold out military secrets to ShinRa because he did not like that his father was pressuring him into joining the Wutai military. Veld was impressed by his ability to collect such information and gave him a place in the Turks

Due to his upbringing, he already had combat training

Tseng's father was a captain

ShinRa helped Tseng fake his death, claiming his father had him executed as a traitor

The birthday Tseng uses is the date of his false death

Early life with the Turks

Tseng first goes by the codename Gun, as is common among newer Turks

Tseng did not get along well with anyone for a while, he faced a lot of racism in Midgar and dealt with it with a lot of anger and standoffishness to others. He didn't care about the other Turks and mostly kept to himself

During his rookie years, Tseng took great efforts to repress his Wutai heritage. He currently has no discernible accent and, if he wanted to, could pass for a man who has never stepped foot in Wutai. He also mostly gave up his martial arts in favour of Turk trained hand-to-hand combat skills but later took it up again.

About two years after he joins he is given the name Tseng by Veld; it is spelt wrong due to a mistake on Veld's part but Tseng refuses to correct it

It took until he was about 23 for him to get serious about the Turks (this coincides with Veld saving his life; Before Crisis Episode Tseng). This is also the point where he begins to show his true potential that would have Veld name him Second, with Veld taking him properly under his wing to guide him at this point

Between 23 and Veld's 'death', Tseng was a bit of a playful brat. He was having a good time with life and was a lot more of a happy person.

Appearance

Tseng used to be a rebellious, messy brat. He barely bothered to style his hair and for his first few years as a Turk, he only wore his huadian. He rarely wore a tie and was generally a fairly unkempt Turk

He wears his huadian because his mother wore one and he liked hers. He wore it red prior to being a Turk and applies it red for special occasions sometimes still.

When he started taking things seriously, he began to wear makeup to hide how tired he often was, and then began to use it to enhance his eyes, darken his brows. He enjoys makeup and is skilled enough to make it look very natural. He began to dress cleanly and properly and started putting his hair in a ponytail; this was all with the intention of looking untouchable

When he properly started to lead the Turks, after Veld's 'death', he took his hair out and is very strict about how he styles it. He does not like people touching his hair.

When Tseng completely took over the Turks upon their return to the company, one of the first thing he did was get them new uniforms. He wanted the Turks to look upgraded. He had each of their new suits individually designed to suit them and their styles. He knew Reno preferred to wear his open, and so he ensured that his new suits would be presentable when worn like that - with no awkward bunching fabrics. They were all more individually tailored and then customised to suit the three of them. Personal accessories and dyed hair are completely fine so long as its all presentable. He would send Reno home if he came in with visible regrowth.

When he is off duty, Tseng has a preference for leather and heavy jackets. He likes biker wear

He used to have a deeper tan, he lost it mostly after the years in Midgar - both the office job and the lack of proper sun in Midgar overall. He recovers his tan after Meteorfall

Beneath his clothes, Tseng is quite heavily scarred. His knuckles are scarred badly, the back of his legs are heavily marred from the debris of the ship that almost killed him, he is littered with bullet wounds and smaller little scars from the war, he has burn marks - most of which from Genesis Rhapsodos, and a large scar from Angeal Hewley. After his almost death to the Masamune, he holds a very large, badly healed scar diagonally across his chest.

Post Advent Children, Tseng is also missing an arm and has a scar above his eyebrow.

Tseng only starts wearing his earrings after giving himself to Rufus, they're dark purple and he associates them with his loyalty to him.

Vices

Tseng is a hedonist. He earns a lot of money and knows he won't live to old age so he indulges; both for pure enjoyment and stress relief.

He likes brandy and red wine as his preferences, and prefers expensive alcohol but he isn't actually that picky.

He tends to drink before bed as a sleep aid, and while he does drink socially he is a heavyweight.

He frequents sex workers in Wallmarket because he enjoys sex as a stress relief and finds it too much effort to find one night stands. He's known for being respectful and tipping very well.

While he's definitely an alcoholic, his biggest addiction is smoking. He is trying to quit, because Aerith asked him to, and he's very annoyed that it isn't easy. When Aerith dies, he gives up trying.

Skills

Tseng is capable with most weapons but his speciality is a gun. He is a marksman; adept with most firearms but he generally uses handguns.

Though he rarely uses one overall, he is also quite skilled with a polearm. He is the one who taught Aerith offensive combat with hers.

He's quite skilled in ranged combat but, compared to other Turks and ShinRa trained infantry and SOLDIERs, his hand to hand is quite average.

He's faster than he is strong, his stamina is above average but not by much - he makes up for this by fighting dirty.

He has two guns on him at all times: one kept in an underarm holster and one in a concealed ankle holster. He also has blades kept in both of his sleeves, one in the sole of his shoe, and a balisong kept in his breast pocket. You will never catch him unarmed.

Despite the above, Tseng is a less physical Turk overall. His largest skills are subterfuge and information gathering; he is a good actor and liar and does very well at being undercover.

He worked behind enemy lines a lot during the Wutai war, and Veld had to rush a lot of his training in enduring torture and interrogation but he has ended up with a high pain tolerance and a decent resistance to poisons.

Tseng is an adept cook, though he rarely cooks outside of special occasions.

Veld taught Tseng to play the piano after he lost his arm so Tseng could play for him.

He's a decent mechanic, at least in the sense that he could probably put a motorbike together.

He's very good with vehicles overall; he rides a motorbike predominately but is very good with cars and choppers as well.

In the opposite of a skill, Tseng is terrible with Materia. He struggles with magic and finds it incredibly taxing to use.

Relationships + connections

Tseng was semi romantically involved with Emma when they were both a bit younger.

As a default, he's slept around with most of the Turks.

He is in love with Aerith

Tseng did not speak to Aerith between Zack’s death and platefall. He couldn’t face her. He had Reno and Rude take over all surveillance

He kept her letters in his apartment, they were lost during meteorfall with everything else

He is undyingly loyal to all Turks, present and past - even with someone like Vincent who he never directly worked with as Turks.

Prior to the SOLDIER rebellion, Tseng liked SOLDIERs and got along well with Genesis, though he never liked Angeal.

Beyond the Turks and Rufus, Tseng likes Zack, Aerith and Reeve.

The people he hates the most are Hojo and Scarlet.

He doesn't like Cloud much but does find himself with a slight soft spot for him due to his connection to Zack

He used to be very close with the other Turks but has distanced himself since taking over.

I cannot make quick and small the mess that is his relationship with Veld.

Also the same with Rufus

Leadership

Tseng does not think he can live up to Veld and his own thoughts on leadership are very detrimental.

He needs to be perfect at all times; he cannot be seen as weak to those above him, and he cannot be seen as vulnerable to the people who follow him.

Because the Turks believe he killed Veld, Tseng has put space between himself and them to ensure they have the space to feel anger and hate towards him.

He is incredibly protective of the Turks but is not currently capable of being a shoulder for them to lean on, he is quite cold and stern now. He keeps them safe but perhaps at the expense of their mental health

He intended to drop the plate and hates that it fell to Reno; he believes completely that as the leader he should do the atrocities rather than the other Turks

He's struggling. He can't ask for help.

Misc

Tseng has anger issues and holds grudges extremely tightly

His favourite place to relax is a beach

He wishes he could tell people that the Turks fought so hard against ShinRa

(I'll update with links to longer posts and add more later)

[skaldish]

Thank you for answering my question about periods. I’m wondering then if this whole concept of impurity in heathenry is also untrue or not?

A number of people were saying that all human fluids were impure. No praying if you had an open wound or anything. No sneezing during a ritual. But like...by their logic, you would be considered unable to worship if you wore a colostomy bag, because feces are impure. Which seems bad to me?

I’m sorry for being ignorant, by the way. I didn’t mean to anger or upset anyone. I’m new to this all, and I’m trying to learn.

You're welcome. The concept of "impurity" doesn't exist in Heathenry.

There's a few reasons why you might be seeing people claim such a thing though.

1. People want structure.

First of all, Heathenry lacks anything in the way of scriptures and doctrines. However, a lot of Heathens (specifically American ones) coming from a doctrine-based religious background, view this is a flaw rather than a feature. If anything, the lack of doctrines means they don't know what to DO to be Heathen, which can be anxiety-inducing for people who have never experienced any other paradigm.

Paradigm shifts take a while, so the way most people facilitate this is by creating their own practice observances. This provides them with a framework for being Heathen, but it's also something they understand as being for them, and is not something everyone needs to observe.

But some people try to force their ideas on others by selling it to them as "the way you do things." I can only guess why. Maybe it's because they don't feel like their own practice is valid unless other people agree with it. Maybe they came from a high-control religious environment and "converting others" is how they understand "doing religion." Or maybe they heard it from someone else, and because they're new at this and insecure they're going to repeat what they heard in order to feel like they're doing things "right." The reasons are endless, and people's minds are enigmas even to themselves.

The point is, if ANYONE's trying to tell you that there's things you HAVE to observe in Norse Heathenry, they're either lying, grossly misinformed, or simply ignorant of alternatives. Whatever the reason, it's still false.

2. The vikings were very clean compared to the rest of Europe, and many Heathens emulate this.

For lack of any scripture or doctrines, many Heathens develop personal orthopraxy by looking at what the pre-Christian Norse people (with the assumption Norse Heathenry died out with the introduction of Christianity, which we're only now figuring out isn't true. But I digress.)

One of the things people commonly incorporate into their praxis, is personal cleanliness. The pre-Christian Norse people supposedly had remarkable personal hygiene compared to members of other European societies, so it's pretty common for contemporary Heathens to adopt personal cleanliness into their practice in some way.

"Staying clean of bodily fluids for ritual" is something I've only seen practiced by folks running The Longship, and they presented it as an option because it's something they made up for themselves that made sense to them. To keep their ritual spaces remain clean of bodily fluids is something they chose to adopt after establishing a working understanding of Heathenry in their minds.

It's my understanding that was supposed to be an example of praxis, but unfortunately the nature of what it pertains to lends itself to skeevy interpretations.

(This is one of those circumstances where experienced practitioners mistake "having experience" with "knowing how to teach it." Many folks don't realize that pedagogy is its own unique skill. As a rule-of-thumb, you don't teach people exceptions to the norm until they are proficient with the norm, otherwise it creates this exact problem.

But in the Longship's defense, it was one of the first non-Folkish public-facing Heathen education websites to exist, so this is very much a situation where something was needed and they had the means to do it.)

Anyways, this misunderstanding could be a reason why you're seeing people claim this is something you HAVE to do.

(I also know the Longship also runs r/Heathenry, so take that as you will.)

3. Heathenry has a white nationalist problem

If something looks suspicious, treat it as such, because Heathenry has a white nationalist problem. Heathen white nationalists refer to themselves as "Folkish" which is a reference to the Volkisch movement of Germany, which was the social precursor to what eventually became the Nazi Party. Today's iteration is referred to as the neo-Volkisch movement, and its ideologies overlap with a number of alt-right and Hate Groups, including TERFs/RadFems for pastoral tradwife reasons.

Some of the talking points these bad actors like using involve encouraging people towards ideas or behavior that already exist in the world, but just so happens to benefit the spread of their ideologies.

For example, if people already observe "maintaining good hygiene" as part of Heathen practice, they might try to push that idea hard, so that people will see hygiene as so valuable that they would be more likely to apply it to things like "genetic hygiene" later (read: "Racial purity").

This doesn't make it unsafe or bad to be heathen. It just means you need to keep a discerning eye out, and to keep your distance from people spreading information in ways that seem very uncompromising, authoritative, and polarizing.

Remember: Heathenry is beholden to people. People are not beholden to it.

I honestly couldn't say for sure if what you experienced was cryptofascist in nature, nor do I recommend trying to verify. But having information about what that can look like can help you discern going forward.

[capricioussun]

A loose little guide to how i characterize 'swapped' skeleton brothers versus their nonswapped counterparts

These aren't hard rules and vary au to au due to background differences, but i felt the impulse to make this as a general sort of...thing. ✨

"The Judge"

I've always been fond of the hc that whatever gives 'the judges' their "judging ability" as i see it, sort of acts like a chronic illness, too. Poor health (low hp with difficulty raising it), susceptibility to illness, chronic fatigue, etc etc.

However, due to their more inherent natures, this manifests differently in Sanses and Papyruses.

As the older siblings more often than not, this tends to lead to the nonswapped Sanses feeling guilty for not being able to take better care of their brothers growing up. Typically, Sanses have better intuition though, so 'the judge' enhances that in a way they can usually easily handle.

As the younger siblings, 'the judge's effects on Papyri most often leads to low self esteem and worsened anxiety. They often feel like a burden on their brothers, and having poorer inherent intuition means the heightened sensitivity provided by the judge only adds confusion to their already unsteady social skills.

•

Sleep

Any Sans is capable of knocking out like a sack of bricks, but having better health gives swapped Sanses the ability to be awake and stay awake just fine, having more natural energy and actually being able to wake up feeling rested. Nonswapped Sanses can feel rested, it just wears off much more quickly </3

Conversely, any Papyrus struggles with sleep. Be it nightmares, terrors, chronic pain, or just insomnia, they all have a difficult relationship with sleep. The swapped Papyri get the shorter end of the stick though, since their poor health and lower energy leads to feeling extremely exhausted most of the time, and despite napping often, never really feeling rested upon waking.

•

Cleanliness

While both Nonswapped Sanses and Swapped Papyri struggle a bit with tidiness, there are very different methods to their madness.

Nonswapped Sanses function more with the 'prioritization' mindset. They have limited energy so they focus it on the important stuff.

They also aren't usually bothered by poor hygiene as much, so their mess tends towards the more unsanitary stuff. They are also more prone to the whole 'self punishment' mindset and won't do much to better their surroundings out of the feeling they deserve to wallow.

Swapped Papyri on the other hand, tend to be more distracted. It's less about being mindful of their energy and more about chasing what they're able to focus on and have the energy for when it comes, leading to a lot of cluttered spaces. It's the easiest way to function, and also leads to relying on the chaotic process for familiarity (it might look hectic, but they probably know where everything in their room is).

Contrary to the Sanses though, they're typically much more hygienic, or attempt to be, and try to keep their spaces clear of anything "gross". Less prone to wallowing, more prone to pushing themselves past their limits to not "fall short".

•

Trust

Any Sans tends towards skepticism. Even with the friendlier ones, tending to be Swapped Sanses, while they may not straightforwardly question or intimidate, they are nonetheless difficult to earn the true trust of. They even sometimes use their friendly disposition to their advantage to give someone a false sense of security to see if they have some ugly true colours to show.

Any Papyrus though, try as they might, almost always tend toward trusting more quickly and more easily than their brothers. They also have a tendency to be more forgiving. Whether that's because they want to believe in some inherent goodness, or because they're desperately lonely, who's to say.

•

Neuroses

(I usually give any and all skeleton brothers autism and or adhd)

Sanses tend toward depression and paranoia. This can take shape in a large variety of ways, and also makes them more susceptible, on average, to PTSD/worsened symptoms of it. They are not weak willed, but struggle greatly to self-motivate and usually rely on outside forces or the ones around them to function.

Papyruses tend toward anxiety, derealization, and OCD. This of course can also take many different forms, but often leads to panic disorder, difficulties socializing, and dangerously self isolating behaviors. While they aren't naive, they struggle to develop their own senses of self and world view, making them very susceptible to manipulation.

I might add more to this, or make one about other characters, but for now, this is all my overcooked brain can think of ✌️