#i had been sitting on this for days

[sisterdivinium]

Genetic engineering, DNA modification, tested it on herself... Why would Jillian go through all this trouble? Adoption would be easier, surrogacy wouldn't be an issue for a woman with so much money, so why this devotion to medical science, to gene manipulation?

This doesn't seem very logical unless we take one step further in examining her characterisation as a sort of Virgin Mary character implied by her clothing and framing during season one: a man is never mentioned in connection to Michael's conception, either as donor or father... Possibly because Michael has no father. Jillian has made him up from scratch or, at least, using only her own genetic material.

This would surely equate to an awesome "medical marvel" and it would accomplish two additional things: first, it would account for just how sick Michael needs to be so that an extremely rare substance that doesn't even belong to this world can be his sole hope in surviving (the result of a miscalculation, an unforeseen mutated gene, some error in Jillian's design, the absence of something); and second, reproduction without the aid of man ("sinless", sexless) not only ties Jillian's character more closely to the theme of the holy mother, it also more strongly makes a Jesus figure out of Michael.

This is significant because it makes him into a designated saviour: Michael, too, "dies", crossing to "the other side" and later returning with the mission of saving humanity, which is the role he is sure he will play during all of season two. This story has been told before, the structure is the same and we all know it. He mirrors Christ in his being born of a woman untouched by man, in going beyond life and back, in being tasked by a higher power to act for others in his sacrifice. It is a destiny clearly written out for him, a classic narrative, a hero's journey neatly set up for Michael to accomplish and all he has to do is follow the script.

And yet, doing everything right, by the book, Michael ultimately fails.

If, according to all of the doubts awakened by the developments in Warrior Nun (is Adriel's realm not Heaven? Is he not an angel? Is Reya God? Is Jesus just as alien as Adriel? Etcetera), the Catholic church's teachings are all twisted, incomplete, when not simply ignorant of all that is true in spiritual, metaphysical matters, then this saviour narrative that constitutes the foundation of the institution itself is doomed — as well as whatever guidance it could supply.

I was discussing with @halobearerhavoc earlier about (among many other intriguing things) how myth informs the show and how it might predict Reya's fall, but also how that event would necessarily depart from how it plays out in the original myth. That is due to the fact that our protagonist here is Ava, a woman, and that this tiny little fact of sex alone forces a shift in how things are presented, in which values are prioritised, in how conflict is treated, escalated or resolved — this applies here as well.

Michael was the textbook redeemer, he was made for this, brought up by Reya with this explicit purpose and with the acquired conviction that he was the key to it all.

Ava, on the other hand, is a product of coincidence, of accident, of the unfathomable. She is already a rupture in tradition — dead and brought back, unknowingly, unwillingly the "usurper" of the halo, inserting herself in the line of bearers at random when she doesn't even seem to have any belief... Ava exists outside of tradition. To Michael's determined "Destiny", she is the one imbued with free will (it isn't out of guilt or duty that she returns to the Cat's Cradle, but through Mary's sympathy, through her own understanding and action). Ava is the unplanned factor, contrasted with Michael who was so planned that his life might have begun inside a Petri dish.

It isn't determinism that will save us, a mantle of glory woven by someone else wanting to place it upon our shoulders regardless of our own wishes; it isn't a decrepit institution or some despotic deity that will define us or what we do; it isn't the heavy, malodorous layers of ancient mould gathered over the endless tomes of Established Tradition or the carefully made calculations of arrogant scientists who think they can predict and explain and control everything.

Salvation cannot be through what Michael represents: an imposed duty, a stagnant, hackneyed story.

A story, we would do well to remember, which was already used to subjugate others, whatever its initial intentions might have been; Jillian certainly didn't predict what would be of her son and surely the primitive Christians didn't see into the future to understand what their devotion and their modes of its transmission would cause, yet it came to happen. The extermination of the Cathars, the persecution of pagans, the burning of "witches", the suppression of indigenous beliefs, activities and lives, to name but a few of the atrocities committed in the name of this one story...

So it cannot be Michael, embodying this narrative so well, that will bring about a fortunate ending to humanity's troubles.

Instead, salvation comes through Ava. She herself might be inhabited by a number of parallels with Christ, but she also carries freedom, an outsider's view which makes the inside so see-through, love, an ability to move outside of what had been previously set for her by someone else (one might even argue that these are the traits that made Christ before the story surrounding him came about)...

The walls built around her needn't contain her — and, phasing as she does, they do not.

Moreover, what would have been the real ending to Reya's plan, had it been followed exactly as it should have? The divinium bomb did hit Ava in the end, but wouldn't it have been worse had she not been interrupted in running up to Michael while he immobilised Adriel during the televised freak circus?

Ava's unpredictability, her impulse, her innate need to act with free will rather than constricted by what others dictate — Ava is the foil to fate itself, the foil to a structure, to a hierarchy that has been festering and rotting from the beginning of time, it should seem.

The hero of this story could only ever be her.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The indescribable tension between an overworked and underpaid smut writer, and his biggest fan hater.

(for @frummpets)

[celerydays]

🤍 Monster AU(?) Horror movie/actor AU(?) drawn for the Le Blanc zine in 2023 🤍

I thought it would be super fun to go for an old school, kitschy horror movie poster vibe with a werecat!Chat Blanc -also I may or may not have just come out of a huge monster romance reading binge at the time huhuhu

[pancakemolybdenum]

worlds smuggest tween owning noobs on wizard101

[stuckinsquahamish]

I’m sorry Jon M Chu, what do you MEAN your first idea was to have Idina Menzel and Kristen Chenoweth play Galinda’s parents. WHAT

[shrimparts-blog888]

👩‍🍳👌🏻

[answermywearyquery]

happy vegaspete day!

[rambles-about-minecraft-ocs]

one of my favorite things about zedaph is that on a server full of people that find strange and oft-overlooked minecraft mechanics or rare events and then see just how far they can push them in the name of spectacle or efficiency or world-breaking, zed is over here finding these mechanics in order to do the weirdest things he can think of in as entertaining a manner as possible

like i 100% have faith in zedaph's theoretical ability to be just as efficient or spectacular or world-breaking. if he wanted to do that stuff, i trust that he absolutely could. but thats so far from being his priority. instead, hes going to spend around a week of irl time focused entirely on eventually having the good luck to spawn in something insanely rare so that he can convert it into something even rarer, the result of which being something that 99% of the server reacts with complete and utter shock that it even exists in the first place, just because its zany and funny and he wanted to. and i love that

[skelenova]

idk they're kinda cute 2gether...

timothy belongs to @pinetreevillain

[aquanutart]

"little miss prairie faerie" is a cute name actually... (but I won't use it if she doesn't like it)

[simandy]

I find it fascinating how every single one of my health issues can be mistaken for laziness

[obsob]

big man...why is he so big...(hes full of love)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Turtle hunt gone wrong.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[legionofpotatoes]

Here's a second N7 Day surprise, thanks yet again to @swaps55 - we added Eden Prime to our lineup of Mass Effect destinations! I don't think I need to explain the profound importance of this one; the moment I laid eyes on a gas bag I knew I would pay respect to it in art form one day. Was just a matter of time and sufficient accumulation of skill. But we finally did it, folks.

As an added bonus, we helped tease the final piece to today's treasure hunt for Mass Effect's newest reveal over on the dreaded bird website. Caused quite the hubbub but was certainly a fun time!

[fumifooms]

What if we were both magic prodigies and it otherized us in different ways and we devoted ourselves to protecting a family member who has general other goals & priorities. What if we both did self-sacrifical devotion in opposite ways.

What if we were dark mirrors of each other and where I've grown overcontrolling you've grown complacent. What if, bought as a servant into a pretty loving home, ownership and control is what love looks like to me, and to you neglected and lonely growing up, love is gratefully taking any scraps of it you’re lent.

By belonging to someone, even if she comes back injured or fails at finding Delgal, she feels like she belongs and is cherished, by owning someone he feels safe in them not leaving him.

She’s what’s tethering him do you see… And he’s the only thing giving her direction and purpose in her state. She needs a compass and he needs a support.

They’re both so out of it 😭 It’s the weirdly intense and unearned mutual trust and reliance on each other?? They’re each other’s weird little comfort codependent teddy bear. Or at least they were headed towards that before SHE DIED THEN HE DIED THEN THEY BOTH FORGOT ABOUT EACH OTHER AND NEVER MET EVER AGAIN. Though she’s also the guard attack hound keeping him safe… And vice versa he heals her and can rewrite her very being with just one wave of his hand. They’re both so so mentally and physically vulnerable both but they cling onto each other. They can’t perceive things accurately but despite it all someway somehow they stumble into something closer to resembling companionship just before they both die. Falin is just that kind and Thistle is just that lonely. Overworked. We both haven’t lived for ourselves in a very long time, haven’t we.

They both have a similar devotion to the people they love but again the difference is that Thistle starts overtsepping while Falin is self-effacing. The other difference between them is that people care about Falin <3 People have given up on Thistle long ago, and he has given people reasons to, while people refuse to give up on Falin. Yaad has a mini arc about it dw about it it’s ok he’s not all alone in the end 😭😭 He reached out for Marcille’s hand but they already all wanted to help him, they just had to be given the chance to, Yaad just had to be given the chance to, it’s okay I’m okay

Hey what if we learned to get in touch with our own identity and the world around us and living in the present again through being in the worst codependent situationship ever.

Falin and Thistle sitting in a tree, sucking on flowers together because they’re h-u-n-g-r-y 💕💕💕

I bet he’s only ever thought of flowers as useless ornaments. Weak weeds. But she shows him they’re tasty and useful and good and pretty in their own right too and deserve existing without proving their worth and waaa <33 Thistles…... Did you know thistles taste sweet if you remove the thorns and eat them?

"Even as a chimera, her kind nature remains" you can’t suppress her in the way that matters. You can’t soothe him in the way that matters. It’s doomed. You’re doomed. It’s all doomed. Save me.

[we-are-inevitable]

am i in the frame from your point of view? // javid

"Katherine Pulitzer."

"David Jacobs," Katherine says, not even looking up from the Essential Journalism textbook she's currently hunched over. She looks like hell, her red curls all over the place, chunky-framed glasses perched on the tip of her nose, and she's wearing an old navy-colored hoodie that reads Trinity School on the front. Dead week has claimed another life, or something. David thinks she could use a break.

Which is why the next words that come out of his mouth, just three seconds after he very abruptly sat in front of her at her table in the library, are: "Remember how I told you I was swearing off men?"

This catches Katherine's attention, clearly, because she looks up at him, her blue ink pen falling limp to the table. "Oh, David, no. Who is it?"

"Look," He starts, defensive. He takes a breath as he pushes his own glasses up, absentmindedly dusting stray cat hair off his own plain black hoodie. "It's not my fault. I say I'm swearing off men, and suddenly my dream guy walks into my life. I'm dying."

"Who is it?" Katherine asks, shifting in her seat; she brings one knee to her chest and tucks the other foot underneath, folding herself like a pretzel in the uncomfortable wooden chairs of the library. "Do I know him? Do you know him? Or is it another barista?"

David rolls his eyes. "He's not a barista, I don't think," He says, then glances away for a fraction of a second; when he looks back, she already has a knowing look on her face. "And yeah. You know him."

Katherine raises a brow expectantly. "Who is it?"

And David regrets starting this conversation now, a little bit, because he doesn't want to admit it. He wanted to string her along a little. Wanted to tease it out, but she's looking at him like she'll strangle him at any moment if he doesn't tell her, and David knows his sister well enough to know that she only dates girls capable of violence. Katherine fits the bill.

Which is why, when he starts speaking again, he braces for impact before she can try anything. "You can't expect me not to fall in love with your hot friends, okay? It wasn't—"

"Oh my God!" She yells, a little too loud for the library's second floor. "You little slut! You like Jack?!"

"It's a pipe dream," He says immediately, throwing his hands out to his sides dramatically. "He's— okay, he's cute, alright? I can't help it!"

Katherine is grinning wildly at him now, textbook forgotten as she raps her hands against the wooden table. "You like Jack! I knew it! I knew you would like Jack!"

"Oh, please, no you did not," David says with a scoff.

"Uh, yes I did," She says, shooting him a look. "He's, like, exactly your type, Dee."

"I don't have a type."

"He's a goofy beefcake with brown eyes and muscles and curls, and he makes you laugh, and he listened to you talk about your mom's dog, and—"

And to her credit, she keeps listing off things, and to David's chagrin, she's not wrong.

When Katherine mentioned a party at her apartment, David was all for it. Despite his typical "I don't like people" front, David did enjoy the company of the six friends he could tolerate- Katherine, Charlie, Racer, Albert, Spot, and Sarah. Well, five friends, technically, since he's known Sarah since she was thirteen minutes old and he was, well, zero minutes old. Still. Six people.

And then Katherine said there would be a seventh.

A guy named Jack.

The lore there, she explained, is that all of them knew each other from community theater back in the day. Jack, Kath, Charlie, Race, Al and Spot- they've always ran in the same circles- outside of school, at least. Apparently, Kath's dad wasn't too happy that he was shelling out thousands of dollars for private school and she decided to make friends elsewhere, but there was really nothing he could do. Sarah was added to the group when she and Kath started dating in freshman year of college, and David was added not too long after that, but until now, Jack has just been... a story. A story about this funny guy with a megawatt smile and a heart of gold, who packed up and went to college in Santa Fe for college. He's been in town a few times since then, apparently, but David had never met the guy until Katherine's birthday party last weekend.

And he can't stop thinking about him.

Literally. David isn't an artist by any means, but thinking about this Jack Kelly guy- this 5'9 guy with with rich brown skin and bright eyes, with the laugh of a lion and a smile that made David want to throw up- has made David want to etch his "I go hiking in the mountains and bathe in the rivers" body in stone and write a symphony just to capture the sound of his voice singing Happy Birthday purposely off-key. It's maddening, and—

"Hellooo? Earth to David?"

David blinks, then groans and takes his glasses off, haphazardly dropping them in a clatter onto the wooden table as he rubs his eyes with the heels of his palm. "I'm fucked, Kath."

She cackles, loudly, like David's misery is the funniest shit she's ever seen. "Oh, you poor thing. Didn't he follow you on Instagram at the party?"

David responds with another guttural groan.

He can practically feels Katherine roll her eyes. "Okay, dumbass. Text him."

"He's your ex," David says, like this is a crucial detail, like she should hate the fact that David is into him on the basis of we used to date and it's fucked up that you're telling me how much you like my ex, like Katherine and Jack weren't lounging on top of each other all weekend, like they don't FaceTime every other day, like they're not as close as can be. "And he's in fucking New Mexico. I'm not getting attached."

"He's coming back next month, y'know," Katherine points out. She picks her pen back up, twirling it between her pointer and middle finger. "He's graduating a semester early. Next weekend, actually, and then he's moving back."

David finally removes his hands from his face. "You're shitting me."

"I'm not! I swear it." Katherine picks up her phone, and David watches as she swipes through her text messages before sliding the phone across the table. "See? He's moving back on the twenty-third. He's surprising Medda for Christmas."

"Oh, fuck," David frowns. "That's cute. He needs to stop being cute."

"He's moving in with Charlie, so, I mean," She shrugs, "you'll be seeing him a lot soon."

"You're making this worse."

"He has a job lined up already. School counselor for one of the middle schools."

"He likes kids?"

"Loves 'em."

"Fuck me," David sighs, rubbing his forehead as he slides the phone back to Katherine. "So, you're saying I have two weeks to get over him?"

"No, David," Katherine says, deadly serious despite the smirk on her face, "I'm saying you have two weeks until your future husband is permanently in your vicinity."

"He doesn't like me like that," David says, crossing his arms. "You're being a bad friend. You're completely feeding my delusions."

Katherine purses her lips and grabs her phone again, silent. David gulps as he leans forward, trying to watch her screen through her glasses; he can tell she's scrolling through her photos, but after a few moments, she stops. When she slides the phone back, David sees an image on the screen.

An image of a video from her birthday. Paused with David and Jack on screen. David's eyes are wide, and his mouth is open and his lips are quirked, and his eyebrows are raised and his hands are splayed in front of him, and he's obviously mid-sentence about something important (or not important; he doesn't remember much after his fourth drink, but remembers talking about Pokémon and Sabrina Carpenter and the fall of the Catholic church, so the possibilities are truly endless).

Despite the animated, ugly, passionate look on David's face, though, what draws his attention is Jack.

Jack, sitting sideways on the couch with his elbow on the back and his cheek resting against his palm. Jack, his other arm draped, barely holding his bottle of beer. Jack, his gaze soft, staring at David like he's completely enraptured in whatever the fuck he's saying.

David takes in a deep breath, slides the phone back to Katherine, and says, "I want him."

She just grins and responds, "You got two weeks, tiger. This is so happening."