#may or may not be a reference to sisyphus

[mysticaf]

The epic legacy I left behind on my calculus teacher’s whiteboards

I LOVE YOU MR. WERNAU I’LL MISS YOU SM </3333333

[olympushit]

I just read an article that said Ares was the most pathetic greek god.

Let me get that straight.

Ares was the only male greek god that never raped or sexually assaulted any woman in his immortal life.

Ares was the patron god of the Amazons. A feminist community of female warriors was protected by him. Amazons were his loyal daughters.

Ares slew his daughter's rapist and was tried before all of the other gods for homicide.

Ares was the only male greek god that never viewed Aphrodite as a temporary lover, he respected her and loved her for who she was.

Zeus called Ares a double-faced liar just because he didn't agree with his nature and allowed Athena to hurt him.

Ares forgave Cadmos for slewing his child and married him off to hid daughter Harmonia.

Ares freed Thanatos from the chains Sisyphus put him.

Ares was the first god to protect Olympus from Otus and Ephialtes, but when he was trapped by them no other god went to free him.

According to Nonus in Dionysiaca, Ares allows Deimos and Phobos to help Zeus defeat Typhon.

Ares was the god of masculinity, civil order and a fighter for righteousness, referred as the Ally of Themis.

He always stepped in to help his children. He even went as far to disobey Zeus so that he could save his children from danger.

And Ares is pathetic! Like really?

The only argument of his "pathetic" nature was because he lost to Athena. A war isn't meant to always be won. There are the winners and the defeated. He may have been defeated in war but in his life he was a winner, because he faught for what he loved the most with insane ferocity!

Be for fucking real guys!

[vraisetzen]

Hi lovely V! I just wanted to ask — what are your 5-10 top favourite things about Michikatsu/Kokushibo?

Hi lovely Anon! This is a really good question

I actually went through various oshis/favourites in KnY, with Rengoku being my first, and then Uzui; over time, however, Kokushibo won over me, and he has been my very favourite since.

His appearance: Let's get this out of the way first — I was instantly intrigued by Kokushibo the very moment I saw him. Gotouge has a splendid eye for memorable character design, and there was something about Kokushibo's six eyes, his turtleshell patterned kimono, and his sword, that made him very compelling unforgettable. And then, when I saw his human face (and how it was such a sharp contrast to Yoriichi), I thought he was so, so handsome.

His strength: I have always been drawn to very strong characters, and Kokushibo was no exception. The way he so easily sliced off Muichiro's arm, how he had hone his Breathing techniques and created so many variations, his certainty and confidence ("You only tore my kimono..."); the fact that he survived having his head sliced off, and was so close to resurrecting had it not been a moment of sentiment as he recalled his brother. He did not achieve all this easily, of course — he had honed his skills through centuries, and even as a swordsman he had worked so hard to match up to his twin brother; which brings me to my next point...

His weakness: This might be a strange thing to say, but another part I love about Kokushbo is something that perhaps many other fans might find despicable: his insecurities and desire for power. In many ways, I relate to his envy for his younger twin's abilities, such that he became blind to the many other things he was given (a title, an estate, a family). Being insecure was one thing, but allowing that jealousy to take root in one's psyche, such that it drove him into becoming a demon — I saw someone who simply wanted to emerge from the shadow cast by the sun, as he pushed the stone of Sisyphus towards an unattainable peak.

His complexity: That is not to say, however, that I absolve or excuse him of all his misdeeds. When I talk about Kokushibo, it is always in the context of him as a demon, as Upper Moon One; very rarely do I refer to him as Tsugikuni Michikatsu, because I think Kokushibo himself willingly let go of that identity the very moment he accepted Muzan's Faustian promise. But still, if the moments before his death were an indication, I think he was always so, so close to being redeemed had he only met the right person who could steer him onto the right path. Kokushibo realised that, and that is why in a moment of weakness he succumbed to death instead of holding on to his desire for power and immortality. It is this near-miss, this possibility of redemption, that makes him such a complex character in my eyes, and one that I love so much.

His personality: The fandom loves making jokes about Kokushibo's speech patterns, and I totally get it — he's just an old guy who needs to get his thoughts in order before voicing them. At the same time, I think it's such a great fit for his serious, dignified persona. We may never know what sort of person Michikatsu was when he was happily married with two children, or when he took a break from being envious of Yoriichi's talents, but I would like to think that he was as equally uptight and formal. As a samurai in the warring states period, he was most definitely raised with the class' code of conduct and behaved appropriately; I especially find his seiza to be very cute:

And if I'm allowed to dive into Kimetsu Academy here, I think Kokushibo is so, so adorable as Muzan's secretary. He's most likely underpaid and overworked, but his devotion to his employer's cause is admirable (and personally, I've always headcanon-ed Muzan's evil politics in KimeGaku as him being a progressive politican in a National Diet filled with LDP politicians, but I digress). I love that moment where Tanjiro's innocence evidently moves him, and we get a tiny glimpse of his eyes beyond the sunglasses:

Because at the end of the day, Kokushibo is just a very Old Guy™ who is just trying his best to serve his master and fulfil his own goals of being the strongest.

Thanks for the wonderful question, Anon! I hope this answers it well — frankly, there are just so many things about Kokushibo that I love, and I find so difficult to quantify them in a list. And to be honest, there are times where I do get mired in fandom's portrayal of him and his canon depiction — that when I read his chapters in the manga all over again!

xoxo, V ♥️

[houseoflibra]

Saint Seiya: The Lost Canvas – Bangai-hen The Land of Wind (Part 1)

(This arc corresponds to chapters 7-9 of the first collected volume.)

Page 1

Sanctuary, 18th century

Trainees: - Hah! - Yah!

???: - You've done a good job teaching the trainees… - …Aldebaran.

Page 2

Sisyphus: - They've become strong.

Page 3

Aldebaran: - You're back, Sisyphus! - I heard you had a rough time with this latest mission.

Sisyphus: - Yeah. - Two bronze saints who were with me were injured.

Aldebaran: - Specters? - Not again?…

Sisyphus: - No doubt about it. - We were attacked by Specters we had already defeated. - Some of them had even inflicted damage on our forces before.

Page 4

Aldebaran: - Hmm… if they keep reviving no matter how many times we defeat them… - …the casualties on our side will only keep multiplying…

Sisyphus: - Yeah… - Including these hard-working trainees.

Aldebaran: - Sisyphus, how do we fight that? - I cannot accept my comrades having such pointless deaths!!

Sisyphus: - … - Pope Sage says that Virgo Asmita holds the key.

Page 5

Aldebaran: - Him?… - He failed to attend another meeting the other day because he claimed he was meditating!…

Sisyphus: - I get what you're saying. - But that's what Pope Sage said. - For the moment, he is the one closest to reaching the eighth consciousness. - It is a sense that goes beyond the ultimate cosmo of the seventh sense. - It's… - …the sense that my older brother Ilias, the former Leo Saint, once attained.

Page 6

House of Virgo

Sisyphus: - (Even though it's on Pope Sage's orders, this may be the first time I'm coming face to face with Virgo.) - (Regulus seems to have become somewhat attached to him, perhaps because they're neighbors…) - (But there are also many like Aldebaran who say they don't understand him.) - (Maybe they are alike after all...)

Page 7

Sisyphus: - (They probably perceive things on a different dimension than ordinary people.) - (I wonder…) - (…just how far into the world can they see?)

Page 8

-

Page 9

Asmita: - You've finally come... - ...Sisyphus.

Sisyphus: - I'm here on Pope Sage's orders. - There's only a limited number of people who know of this, but…

Asmita: - That's not what I'm referring to. - I've been wanting to meet you. - Back then, a connection was made. - And thus this meeting has come to be.

Sisyphus: - I see… - Then you know why I'm here?

Asmita: - Of course I do.

Page 10

Asmita: - You're looking for a way to seal the immortality of the Specters, right? - It is certainly a difficult problem for anyone who has not awakened the eighth consciousness.

Sisyphus: - Then…

Asmita: - But I am still one step away from reaching the realm of the eighth consciousness. - I am unable to meet the Pope's expectations as I am now. - So this is what I thought instead. - It's time for me to follow the bond to the previous Leo now.

Page 11

Asmita: - Ohm!

Sisyphus: - Ugh! - …!! - What are you doing, Asmita?!

Asmita: - Sisyphus… - You received the teachings of the previous Leo. - And as the younger brother of a hero, you struggled. - I heard that you discussed many things with him.

Pages 12 + 13

Asmita: - That is why I think… - …that a part of his principles must live on in you.

Sisyphus: - ?!

Asmita: - Allow me to show you. - Demon Pacifier!!!

Pages 14 + 15

Sisyphus: - No way… - Are you looking for a thousand-day war?!…

Asmita: - I wouldn't mind it. - If it leads to the path of the eighth consciousness… - …it would be no different from a long discussion. - All you need to do is think of your brother within you. - Because… - …he awakened to the eighth consciousness, so surely he lives on, despite having lost his physical body.

Sisyphus: - !! - (My brother is alive.)

Page 16

Sisyphus: - (You don't have to tell me that. I can feel it.) - (When we talk like this…) - (In Regulus, whom he left behind…) - (In the sense of loss around Sanctuary as the Holy War draws near…) - (But…) - (…he's talking about more than these sentimental things of mine…)

Page 17

Sisyphus: - (Is he... still here?) - (Even after losing his physical body?…) - (Brother!!…)

Asmita: - ! - (A gust of wind appeared!…) - (It's different from the wind that Sisyphus creates.) - (It belongs to a third party.)

Pages 18 + 19

Asmita: - Huff… - Huff…

Sisyphus: - Huff… - Just now… - Was that a burst from our clashing powers?… - Or…

Asmita: - It was the former Leo. - Just as I thought. His cosmo is outside reincarnation, and continues to live on blending into the world.

Pages 20

Asmita: - Sisyphus. - I heard that the former Leo suffered from tuberculosis and left Sanctuary to embark on a journey…

Sisyphus: - He did… - But, Asmita… That was…

Asmita: - The lion is calling from within the wind. - On a journey to the land he visited in his final moments.

To be continued...

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Lee Myers

Published: Mar 16, 2013

1) Atheists Believe Everything Came From Nothing

Many theists believe there was once nothing, and then there was something—the universe—created by their god. And so they ask, “But if there is no god then how can something come from nothing?”

This question has been asked for thousands of years, but now Quantum physics has provided a basis for some atheists, such as Lawrence Krauss, to indeed believe the universe comes from “nothing.” But Krauss doesn’t speak for all atheists and he speaks of a very different kind of “nothing,” the kind where virtual particles are created from borrowed energy inside a vacuum. This is not even remotely close to what theists mean by the term “nothing.”

When asked about the universe, most atheists simply stop somewhere along the lines of “the evidence suggests the universe began expanding approximately 13.77 billion years ago.” Beyond that I’m fine with “I don’t know.” I don’t need to know. I do not believe the universe came from “nothing” in the way theists use the word or in the way Krauss uses the word. I don‘t think there’s enough evidence to reach a conclusion yet and I‘m fine with that. I’ve never met an atheist who believed everything comes from “nothing“ in the way theists use the word and in my experience, only a minority subscribe to the theory Krauss puts forward. Theists may believe the universe sprang from nothing, but they then have the burden of proving there was ever “nothing” and that “something” requires any gods at all.

2) Atheists Have No Morals

Humans are social beings, and as such we have morals. Some theists say atheists have no reason to be moral since we don’t believe in a god to instruct or punish us. This claim seems rather disingenuous when one considers that most theists who say this wouldn’t become immoral deviants overnight if they suddenly stopped believing in a god.

Studies have shown our morals are a product of multiple factors. The Milgram experiment shows authority plays a major role. The Stanford prison experiment showed the same, but also displayed the role of social hierarchy. The “good or evil” puppet test for babies suggests we are all born with a basic sense of fairness, justice, and unfortunately, bigotry. Human morality is too complex to be explained by religion or lack of it.

Millions of atheists across the globe live moral lives every day. Some don’t. Neither do some believers. There are atheist charities and atheist criminals. There are religious charities and religious hate groups. Religious people and atheists can both behave morally or immorally because of—or wholly independent of—their religious beliefs. One doesn’t necessarily lead to the other. Studies have shown the basis of human morality is present even before we’re exposed to religion.

3) Atheists Have No Meaning of Life

Even if humanity survives the next 5 billion years on this planet, the sun will balloon into a red giant, boil and possibly devour the earth before exploding and blasting out through the cosmos. The universe will continue to expand at an increasing rate, and eventually the force of gravity will be too weak for any new stars or planets to form. The universe will whither and die.

Some theists consider this and think without belief in an afterlife, nothing really matters in this life. Believing in an afterlife can influence one’s meaning of life, but a meaning of life doesn’t require belief in an afterlife. Some theists refer to Nietzsche’s nihilism as if Nietzsche were the be-all and end-all of existentialist philosophy. But humans generally define our meaning in the moments we enjoy and the goals we set. This was probably best articulated by Albert Camus in The Myth of Sisyphus.

I enjoy every moment I spend with my daughter, and one of my goals is to be a good father. I enjoy art, and one of my goals is to read, hear and see more of it. I like a large, hot cup of coffee while watching the dim glow of morning just before dawn. I love the serenity of canoeing on a sunny day and the soft crunch of fresh snow beneath my feet. I enjoy my friends and my family. Atheism does give life meaning because as an atheist, I understand this is the only life I’ve got.

4) There Are No Atheists in Foxholes

Yes there are. They even have a website. Nonetheless there persists among some this belief that atheism is generally disingenuous and that everyone cries out to “God” in times of need. This claim highlights a conflicting epistemology between the theist who is basing beliefs in part on fear and need, and the those of us who determine beliefs based on facts and evidence.

Their assumption also implies that when a theist cries out “Oh God,” they are literally trying to talk to “God.” I have several religious family and friends who say “Oh God” in all sorts of scenarios but are rarely actually trying to carry on a conversation with The Almighty. Even a theist saying “Oh God” in a foxhole is most likely not actually expecting divine intervention. The phrase is generally used in the same way as “Oh Shit,” which generally doesn’t involve any reference to actual shit. Even so, there are millions of people who’ve encountered life threatening situations and didn’t cry out about god, shit or anything else.

5) Atheists Just Hate God

About as much as we hate unicorns. Theists tend to make this claim when atheists assert moral opinions about supposed deeds of their deity. “How can you have opinions about something you don’t believe in?” The same way we form opinions about Darth Vader, Willy Wonka or the Wicked Witch of the West—according to their role within the story. It doesn’t matter if the story involves a Sith killing all the Jedi kids or a god killing a nation’s first born.

Just repeating the claim back usually gets the point across. Do Christians “hate” Allah? Do Muslims “hate” Jesus? Do Jews “hate” the FSM? Not believing in a particular religion is not dependent on a negative opinion of that religion’s deity or messiah figure. It’s simply the result of not being convinced because the burden of proof has not been met. I personally think Buddha and Lao Tzu both had great things to say, but I’m not a Buddhist or a Taoist.

6) Atheists Just Don’t Want to Submit to God

Well, one would first need to provide reason for believing there is anything to submit to. Lacking belief in deities doesn’t mean one doesn’t want to submit to what they don’t believe in. Like number 5, the point can be made rather easily by simply repeating this back to the theist. Does the Christian lack belief in Allah just because she doesn’t want to wear a hijab? Do non Catholics lack belief in Catholicism simply because they don’t want to submit to the Pope? Do Muslims lack belief Jesus was the embodiment of “God” simply because they want to continue justifying child marriages with the actions of their so-called prophet?

7) Atheists Are Angry

There once was a time when challenging religion was considered taboo. Some would like to hold on to that standard to save their religion from scrutiny. Those days are over, but that doesn‘t mean being skeptical of religion means skeptics are angry.

Being confrontational does not equate to anger. If someone told you Elvis was spotted buying T-shirts at K-Mart, their claims would be analyzed, scrutinized, debunked and in most cases, outright laughed at. I see no reason why it should be any different for religious claims.

8) Atheists Are Responsible for the Worst Atrocities in History

Stalin, Pol Pot and Mao were all atheists, so atheism must be responsible for the mass executions during said reigns—or so the accusation goes. This statement is usually a retort to blaming Christianity for the Crusades or Islam for terrorism. The fact of the matter is there have been Christians, atheists, Muslims and many others of different beliefs and non beliefs who have committed multiple atrocities throughout history. But there have also been some of the kindest deeds in history performed by people of all kinds of belief and non belief.

Stalin, Pol Pot and Mao did not execute people in the name of atheism, but rather for simply not submitting to them as if they were gods themselves. There is a long list of atheist politicians who never committed atrocities. Claiming atheism would lead to disastrous atrocities like those witnessed in the early Soviet Union is a hasty generalization fallacy which ignores all the good deeds of decent atheist politicians throughout time.

9) Atheists Are Guilty of “Scientism”

It must be difficult holding beliefs which cannot be justified with evidence. This leads some theists to conclude atheists all subscribe to “scientism.” This term is meant as an insult against skeptics for daring to ask for evidence when confronted with extraordinary claims.

Scientism is a philosophy which holds that science is the ultimate truth, and that science is the only way to truth. But preferring science to superstition doesn’t mean science is always correct. Scientists are humans and can make mistakes like anyone else. However, the methodology of science does work. That doesn’t mean science is the only way to truth. It just means it’s an effective method of attaining natural truths.

Many atheists are equally skeptical of science and religion. My first assignment in my college statistics class was to find three examples of misused data in the media. This same task had been given to each class for over a decade and no two people ever turned in the same three examples. I have also studied philosophy, including philosophy of science, and so I understand science can be wrong. I have yet to meet an atheist who believes scientists are infallible.

10) Atheists Are All Rational and Logical

This is one I hear mostly from other atheists. Some atheists like to consider themselves more rational than theists and ask why we should call ourselves atheists at all, as opposed to calling ourselves rationalists or some other such term.

But all atheists are not rational. Atheism is simply the lack of belief in deities. There are atheists who believe in homeopathy, ancient aliens, 911 conspiracy theories and a host of other completely irrational ideas unsupported by any stretch of logic. Just because someone arrived at the rational non belief in deities does not mean they are rational about everything else.

[fic-pickyourpoison]

hi! first of all I really love your fic. Second of all, this migh be a bit of a dumb question but, when in the tags you call it a Tragedy, in which sense of the word are you using it? Is it in a looser modern term, that is, indicating that bad/sad things are going to happen to the protagonist (kinda like whump I guess)? Or is it a more classical term, be it man against fate/man against itself/a fatal flaw which dooms them even as they keep going forwards? Because if so, if you had to choose a classical tragedy that’d suit Lami as protagonist, which would it be? Third of all, again, really love your fic! Also do you have any references on how kid/adult Rin may look like? Wishing you the best!

Good afternoon! Thank you for the ask, I’m super happy to hear that you’ve enjoyed the story so far ^^

Sorry for the delay, I’ve been travelling and haven’t had much spare time.

Not a dumb question at all! This is actually very interesting. Both are definitely relative to the story, but the “angst” tag is there specifically for the sad/whump. Dead Dove is there to really hammer in that it’s gonna be sad and fucked haha. The tragedy tag is definitely based more on the classical term of it, especially when taken in context of classic plays, but its also with a lot of inspiration from modern literature. The themes I associate this story & tragedy with are: doomed by the narrative; you can never go back; died and brought back wrong; the everyday tragedy of circumstance, etc, but the ones you mention here are also very applicable!

I am completely blanking on what classic tragedy would suit her—if I think of one I’ll let you know. I’ve been on a Greek mythology binge lately (does one ever give up on such a thing?) and while it’s less a tragedy and more a story of warning of man’s hubris, I’d associate her with the story of Sisyphus. It just fits haha

Rin! I love that girl, thank you for your love for her <3 There's been a few Rin drawings floating about, but they are all a couple years old. Here's an example of how I envision an adult Rin:

Rin's favourite colour is red 🚩🚩🚩 hahahah

[andromedaexists]

GENRE

Fiction - somewhere between suspense & fantasy in a dystopian future

Sublime Grimdark

sublime (n.) - art that refers to a greatness beyond all possibility of calculation, measurement or imitation

grimdark (n.) - a genre of fiction, especially fantasy fiction, characterized by disturbing, violent, or bleak subject matter and a dystopian setting.

STATUS

Drafting

AESTHETIC / TROPES

Greek mythology, corrupt government, social outcasts, QUEER!!, heavy themes of abuse (both power and familial), mental health, (stealing some from book 1) trans men's wrongs, anti-establishment, friends to lovers to strangers to enemies to ????, tattoos and piercings as a form of therapy, bullying as an act of love, etc etc

(it got kinda long so I put the rest of the info under the cut :) )

SUMMARY

An anti-establishment retelling of the fall of Icarus.

Ten years. Ten years of solitude, of surviving, of hiding. It has been ten long years of navigating the world alone, of planning how he would exact his revenge on those who have wronged him once he gets the chance.

A chance he has yet to receive. He's just one man, one cast out kid. How can he expect to go against a corporation as large as ATLAS alone?

Only he isn't alone, and it is time to make his move.

Διαφθορά is a tragic continuation of Δάιος, following Icarus as he and his dysfunctional found family lay the groundwork for a revolution. It seems like everything is going in his favor so far, even as the appearance of his sunshine throws him off-kilter. Will that continue as protests rise up throughout the country in his name?

MAIN CHARACTERS (BY THEIR CODE NAME)

Icarus (he/they) - We all know Icky baby, he is the man we see the story through the eyes of! Icarus is a chronically exhausted autistic trans man with a caffeine addiction and anger issues. (i suppose he's babygirl too idk)

Apollon (he/him) - I guess he's the love interest for Icarus but he's best known as my beloathed. Apollon is the #2 Elysian just two years after his debut! He is a childhood friend/lover? of Icarus' and perpetual pain in his ass.

Andromeda (they/them) - Our mama bear. Andromeda may share the same name as me, but they are not based on me. Rather, they are heavily based on a good friend of mine. Meda is the oldest, they take care of the group and make sure that everyone comes back alive and well. They don't specialize in fighting, but in healing. Particularly herbal and natural remedies (remember, lavender for anxiety and antibiotics for a fucking infection)

Achilles (he/him) - Another childhood friend of Icarus. He is Icarus' adopted little brother and right hand man.

Thanatos (he/him) - The information broker of the group. He specializes in getting what he needs to get and doing so discreetly, a huge benefit for Icarus' group. He is gender non-conforming and is a lovely person to be around, so long as your name isn't Icarus.

The Elysians - The figureheads of the government. They basically have free reign to enforce the laws of the land. The most notable of the Elysians are Daedalus (#1 rank), Nyx (not ranked, she operates out of sight), Casseopeia (former #2 rank), Prometheus (#5), and Thetis (#9). Each of them specializes in different fighting styles based on their mythological code name. 

MASTERLIST

Website, CMI tag, and Spotify Playlist 

Updates: 

Picrews for Icarus, Andromeda, Apollon, Thanatos, Achilles, and Patroclus!

Character Introductions (Main Group): (will likely update these)

Icarus

Andromeda

Achilles

Thanatos

Apollon

Character Introductions (Elysians): (yeah i gave up on this)

Daedalus

Nyx

Cassiopeia

Prometheus

Sisyphus

Shit Posts!

Incorrect Quotes: Banana Earth Edition

Find The Word Tag

Last Line Tag

Heads Up 7 Up

Worldbuilding Wednesday

Storyteller Saturday

Blorbo Blursday

Other Misc Tag Games

TAGLIST

@flowerprose @isherwoodj @cream-and-tea @touchingmadness @lockejhaven @marinesocks @wildswrites @the-finch-address @leighvalentin @inkspellangel @outpost51 (this is borrowed from book 1's tag list, if you would like to be removed please lemme know) @love-whatit-loves @xoberryblush

Please fill out this form to be added or ask to be removed!

[onlineviolence]

extended talking about gamaliels relationship to the council from explaining it on twt

it starts near with God's disappearance . Before that happens He makes the decision to make them his "heir" (as they were formerly his apprentice/advisor) and grants them a weakened version of the power he used to create Hell - how exactly he did so they don't remember, but it left permanent physical scars

And then he disappears and they try to appeal to the newly-formed Council, who doesn't believe their claim to power at all and blackmails them into silence with their knowledge of exactly what happened to God

before they know it they're under the councils command and control. their power is extremely frightening to the council, so they're cuffed and chained and constantly under surveillance - but it also could be of use.

theyre hidden away from the rest of heaven and basically never see a face that isn't from the council, but sometimes gabriel as the council favors him but they never have enough time together to have any real chance at conversation

so they are almost completely unknown to non-council angels and angels close to the council. majority of heaven knows the council probably don't make those prisons themselves, but don't know that there's an individual with a name who's forced to make them either

so. sufficient to say gamaliel despises the council but for millenia they were the only company they had.

they first learned of the Council's true feelings towards them firsthand when they're told to craft a "crown" of ram horns that would drive into the eyes of the wearer, blinding them. They're told it's for a heretic who's far too powerful for their own good who and needs to be restrained before they destroy everything around them.

they don't know the Council's referring to them, not until theyre finished and then told to put the horns on themself.

the council rarely ever refers to them by name, among themselves or on the rare occasion gabriel is there. theyre referred to by the mock title of "apollyon" because (images)

also gab

theyre an enigma to those outside the council and who arent gabriel (theyve had contact through when the Council spoke to gabriel and during the imprisonments of the prime souls except for maybe sisyphus' where he may or may not have been present still deciding

like their first Exchange Of Speech was likely next to Minos's giant corpse and the newly made flesh prison while being closely watched by a councilor )

[strolling-amongst-ghosts]

Jumps out of a rabbit hole(lore or reference?)hello! My names coffee! I’ve come here to ask if you’ve seen someone named Sisyphus? And some crows?

Ghostwalker looks up from his book and looks over at Coffee.

"Oh? The butler? Yes, he is in one of the guest rooms with those crows....he seemed pretty tired, so I wouldn't be surprised he is resting. You may try if you like"

[jamiesfootball]

23, 30 and 42!

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

So I was drawing a blank on anything that I'd like to write that I'm not already playing with in some capacity, but then I remembered-

I have a huge mental block when it comes to inconsequential AUs. Stories that are like, oh I'm writing about something else, but I decided that this one little thing here didn't happen because I didn't like it / didn't want to deal with it.

The thing is that I love those stories! You mean I get to enjoy the story, but without That Bit I Didn't Like? Excellent! But whenever I go to write something my mind is like 'but it happened.' 'But I don't like it.' 'But it happened.'

So I would like to write a fic where for once I just... ignore something intentionally.

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

Most of the time that I jump into a new genre or fandom, I find it intimidating. There's a sense that since I've never written this before, I can't tell if it sounds right, which means that other people might think it doesn't sound right. What I've learned is to just dive into it. The familiarity will come, and with it the comfort zone. You bring it with you when you approach a new project.

42. Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason?

The people shouting at me about the Sisyphus thing has been extremely gratifying. I put a lot of effort into trying to make that part not sound heavy-handed or fall flat, so hearing people comment on it has been a joy.

Special shout-out to the person who commented on the wtnv au that they made it all the way to the weather before realizing it was a wtnv au. That was amazing. Even though it was laid out as a mystery, I was sure that more people would get it since I used so many early-episode callbacks. I may have overestimated other people's ability to remember night vale references, but I regret nothing

[theskystealerthebookthief]

Just watched John Wick 4 and I have Thoughts

Spoilers ahead

My thoughts in order of the movie:

First all, this scene? Only lasted as long as it did because John Wick is an animal lover. There is no doubt it that if he was willing to shoot the horses, this would’ve ended very quickly.

The next thing is that I kept count of how many guns/gun parts Wick just throws at people. The number is 5 and, though reasonable, is Hilarious

Donnie Yen remains a Delight to watch in a fight and holy shit the way the fight showed how Caine works with his disability to still kick ass was awesome.

My thought at this scene: That must be one sturdy bow.

But also, Akira was interesting - if they decide to follow her story next, it could be both a mirror and reflection of John’s own crusade for vengeance, but hers may have a different ending. I’m curious how they’d do it.

The! Parisian! Building! Scene!

The bird’s eye view? The way you could see the space and the action as it moved? That was so cool.

Also the Dragon’s Breath was a good way to give John a bit of a boost without being an utter deux ex machina.

I have no idea if this was intentional but both Nobody and the falling down the steps to the church struck me as references to Greek Mythology - Nobody referencing Odysseus and the latter obviously referencing Sisyphus. I was just delighted by the choice of it.

I’m also glad they let John die at the end of the film because honestly? The dude deserves to rest. I was tired just watching. Like, how many fights does he have to go through? Also, his bones are made of titanium for how many times he should’ve died by fall damage.

In conclusion, a fun movie with amazing fight scenes and gave me many thoughts!

[cxttlefishcxller]

𝔽𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤

So I was lovingly tagged by @residentdormouse who is great and awesome and indulgent of my bullshit. So away the shit does bull, I suppose jfkdl;safd The rules are simple - find a sentence, or excerpt, that includes the words you're given and paste it in, and include a link to the finished story of you want. But honestly, guidelines at best - do what you want.

My words to find: White, Cold, Snow, Frost, Ice, Gloves, Hat, Cocoa (or Tea), Blanket, Snuggle/cuddle (or any variation of this) No pressure tags: @caktusjuice-draws, @jaiesondurantkross, @beyondthetemples-ooc, and a massive Open Tag to anyone who wants to! I love seeing things y'all write <3 Your words are (really I'm just going off of moodboard vibes with a couple wild cards thrown in): Paper, Sunset, Natural, Leather, Bookmark, Steel, Chill, Ember, Storm, Makeshift.

Bullshit below the cut!

Okay, so some of these will be from published works, but several will likely be from the as-of-yet chaotically-unwritten remake of Second Lead Serenade. So it's a lot of Stand Shenanigans (tm) but I'll try to drop some other shit in, too. Just to keep things interesting. XD

White: (godfuckingdammit I was making fun of you for having so many Flagg references and the first one I got is a fucking Flagg reference. This one's from a bonus chapter from Serenade that hasn't made its way into the narrative just yet.)

“I went down to Saint James Infirm’ry…saw my baby there,” The voice croons under its breath. The predators may be gone, but the fear remains, and Piper finds that she doesn’t dare raise her head to see who belongs to the boots that draw slowly near. Didn’t Mother Abigail say something about wolves? Dark eyes in the night that were too eager to snap up good souls lost on their way? She had thought about how wolves were sacred to Odin, that not all were hungry and savage beasts, but that truth seems farther away now. “She was stretched out on a long white table…” The voice goes on. “So cold, so sweet, so sweet, so fair.” The footsteps stop. The boots are only a foot or so away now, and the figure pauses before dropping to a squat. A warm glow lights the area around them as a hand comes into her field of vision, extended in invitation. “Hey there, Dani. Need a hand?” Dani. No one’s been alive to call her that in weeks…maybe even months. All of the family and friends that had known her by that name are long dead. Her hair spills into her face as she dares to look up at last. Attached to that hand is a lean man with coiffed, sandy hair and a smile as sharp as glass. His eyes are pale, creased by the kindness of his expression, but she can’t shake the feeling that maybe the wolf had been in front of her all along. Dazedly, she puts her hand in his, allowing him to help her slowly to her feet. His skin burns against hers, and she stumbles when he claps a free hand on her shoulder. 

Cold: (I wasn't gonna have Serenade be two for two, but honestly I couldn't resist the urge to shoehorn TedPipes into something. Teddy continues to be the Best Boi Ever, and poor Piper's just trying to drag herself out of her survivor's guilt jfkldsafd)

His worry comes off of him in waves. The last bits of her loathing have returned to their home in the hollow of her ribs, turning her stomach as it settles back into shame instead of rage. “I’m okay.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, energy all but spent. “I’m fine. It’s just…” She can’t find an explanation worth using. Trying to put this emotion to words feels like Sisyphus and his stone. Too much and not enough all at once. “...It’s just me.”  He studies her for a long moment, brow furrowing before he shifts to take his legs out from underneath him, sitting beside her on the ground instead. “...Wanna talk about it?” He asks. His radio hisses, someone’s voice reporting that a section is clear. He shifts, turning the device off with a telltale click.  “I…I don’t know.” She shakes her head, brushing a loose lock of hair out of her eyes. Her palm is scraped raw from her outburst, skin broken in a few places and stinging as dots of blood meet the cold air. “I don’t know where I’d even start.” “Take your time.” He moves again, settling in at her side and leaning back against the tree. “Whatever you need. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” 

Frost: (Ohhhh I had to DIG to find this one. I don't use this word enough, I guess. This is an ooooold WIP of an original D&D-adjacent fantasy piece I was writing about a witch and a rogue finding some royal baby in a rosebush and having to figure out who and where to take it home to. Shenanigans Ensue.)

With such a blue cast to their coal-colored skin, Dark-Elves flush a shade of purple. This purple tinges his cheeks as he coughs, sitting up again as he splutters, “That...that isn’t any of your concern. The important thing is that I was at her estate and she had a need for my services. And we’ll get a tidy sum of gold out of her, so what’s the harm?” “None at all...if you’re successful. If you’re not, you don’t live here. I’ll deny everything if her guard comes by to make you pay for ruining her land.” She decides with a hum, draining the last of her tea.  “How heartless, Ketta. After all I’ve done for you.” Despite his words, he laughs, reaching to fill her cup again. “After all I’ve done for you, you mean. I got along just fine before you got here. And when you leave again, I’ll be all the more peaceful for it.” The banter is easy, playful, though her words ring true. Irren is a wanderer, and Ketsiyah a loner. Their arrangement is comfortable, she knows, because it’s temporary. He came into Thornfall just as the last frost was thawing, with half a year spent in the attic space above her home. The arrangement was that he would be gone by the time the first freeze came through.  

Ice: (BirdBrains gets some representation! This is from Shine On You Crazy Diamond, the IT/The Stand crossover I've slowly been writing. Which.......I really ought to get back to. <.<;;;;)

“We all tried to find out what really happened--his friends and I, I mean. A bunch of kids looking for a fucking serial killer.” He chuckles wryly, only able to look at his and Crow’s joined hands. Their touch is the only thing anchoring him, he thinks. If he lets go, he might sink down into the pit again. Down in the dark, where It lived. “And I think we did find It eventually. But I can’t remember. I just remember how scared I was. And how badly we were hurt after. And I remember that we all made a promise that if we didn’t kill It like we thought…we’d have to come back. To finish the job.” Silence falls between them as he finishes, and now, with all of the confusing, tangled pieces he has out in the open, Harold feels that ice-cold surety that he has finally, finally managed to find the one thing to say that would be Too Much. The final straw on the back of a camel that’s been struggling for the four years of their relationship. The one thing that even Crow’s infinite adaptability and determination couldn’t overcome. He can’t look at them, picking at his lower lip with his teeth.  “...It.” They say at last, putting the same weight on the word that he had. Not just a pronoun--it’s almost a title. A name for something so evil and so terrible that his mind goes utterly blank every time he tries to remember. “So this…murderer. This serial killer. You talk about It like It’s not a person at all.”

Gloves: (I was wondering when Between Iron and Silver would come into this one, but apparently I don't use this word enough either jfdkls;afd To summarize, this is an Undertale fic that's the answer to "what if a human fell into the Ruins and stayed?" and then it just...ran away from me. It's also my first foray into second-person writing, which is way more fun than I thought it'd be.)

At the edge of consciousness, you feel more than hear something snap, that ozone scent filling your senses before the weight vanishes, leaving you coughing and rolling to your side to curl around your stomach. As oxygen helps your mind to clear, you turn a little to see your assailant hovering a few feet above you, flailing and growling as they are held in place by some glowing blue force. They turn to roar at your companions, demanding to be released. As you struggle to catch your breath, you turn a little more to see that Sans has an arm raised in their direction, hand and left eye swirling with that same blue glow. Papyrus has one glove pressed against his mouth, eyes wide, looking between the guard and his brother. “Undyne.” Sans speaks through gritted teeth, and you note that his non-glowing eye has gone pitch black. “Calm down. We’re not here about that--this is more important than Asgore’s manhunt. We’re here for help.” “What the hell could be more important than this?!” Undyne--as you know her to be--growls, struggling anew against the force that holds her still. “This is our freedom, the only ticket we have to survive; don’t you want to get out of here?!” “It’s about what happened to Alva.” His tone sharpens despite never raising his voice. “This human has seen it. We came here to get your help.” At the mention of “Alva”, Undyne freezes, fixing him with a hard stare that he unabashedly returns. After a moment that feels like a lifetime, she goes limp. “...Fine.” The conclusion sounds like a struggle. “Whatever. Just...put me down, Sans.”

Hat: (Ahhh the Fuckening. Serenade yet again, but a WIP chapter this time! I still haven't gotten around to the Fuckening itself, but I sure wanted to write down what happened after. If I ever write a fic chronologically, it'll be a cold day in hell.)

Teddy hasn’t moved since his first few hours in the clinic, laid in a bed in the main room under the rough hospital blankets and the unfinished crochet throw Piper had brought in for the chill of the night. The Free Zone’s newly-acquired electricity has been put to good use -- the steady rhythm of his heart monitor embedding itself into her thoughts as she tries to keep busy. Crow had been kind enough to bring some of their collective yarn stash and Piper’s bag of hooks, giving her a chance to try to work on the hats and scarves they were putting together for the town. Doing as much as she can to occupy her mind. Two days, she thinks. The longest two days of her fucking life. Those old habits she’d built when Tripps was at its height have come back in full-force now -- numbly doing the bare minimum requirements of survival, following a set track and routine with no deviation. Filing her mind with tasks and media to avoid any thoughts toward the future or the dark what-ifs outside of her blinders. Much like it had with Tripps, this method works…for the most part. When it doesn’t, it’s only in flashes -- the image of Teddy holding a bloodied hand to his stomach, the way he had clung to her as he collapsed, the shocked look on Nadine’s face as Piper had torn that gun out of her hands from twenty feet away-- No. No, no, no. Not that. Not now. Not ever. She shakes her head, pulling out a few stitches that her tension has made too tight. That didn’t happen. It can’t have happened. So she sweeps it aside, turns up the radio in her mind. Her next few stitches are much more even.

Cocoa/Tea: (Okay so it's more Serenade, but at least it's a Teddy chapter? Nostalgia and introspection abound during a chat with Mother A, while the plot continues to thicken.)

"It's a shitshow." Crow finishes matter-of-factly. "The whole world ended faster than any of us could blink, and no one's around to tell us how to pick up the pieces. And there are too many pieces around to pick up, anyway." Then, clearing their throat, they add a little more sheepishly, "...Sorry for swearing." The older woman only laughs, shaking her head. "Don't you worry about that--I'm old enough and wise enough to know when polite words simply don't suffice. You're absolutely correct. Now that we're done running around like chickens with our heads cut off, it's hard to tell what way is up." Teddy can’t remember the last time he’d had tea, he thinks, listening to the exchange. At least, not the kind that didn’t come in a big teal can that he could pick up for a dollar at 7-11. For an absurd moment as he picks up his cup for a sip, he’s reminded of afternoons spent with his sisters and their dollar-store tea set made from pink plastic and poorly-painted flowers. It’s an effort to keep from sticking his pinkie finger out, mind replaying their indignant cries of it being “the right way”. The nostalgia makes his chest ache. The drink itself is nothing to write home about, as far as his coffee-saturated palate is concerned. A little weak, a little earthy. Probably needing sugar. He reaches for the carafe.  “But you must have some thoughts about how things ended up the way they did. Mr. Bateman thinks it’s human folly. Ray says it’s divine providence. You know how I feel about the divine, but the Lord’s messages to me are more concerned about ‘how’ than ‘why’. What do you all think about it? Why here? Why us?”

Blanket: (ughhhh this one was tough! It isn't that I haven't used this word a lot, but it's never in places that are like. Interesting to share. Except for that post-fuckening excerpt I've already referenced. So back to Iron and Silver I go! Our nameless protag has a mission and they're gonna see it through, no matter how worried their adopted mother gets.)

Not wanting to wake your hosts, you pull the blanket from the next hook on the door, slipping out into the chill night. The lights still bathe the town in warm, inviting light, the snow muffling signs of life to near-silence as you draw the blanket around your shoulders. Steeling yourself for the scolding of the century, you flip the phone open, letting out a deep breath and watching it fog the air before you. “...Hello?” “Where are you?” Toriel’s voice is a comfort despite the frightened sharpness to her voice. “Are you all right? Has anyone found you? Describe where you are--I’ll find you as soon as I’m able.” The questions are fast, going past your attempts to interrupt until you find a breath’s space to break in. “Mom. Momma, I’m fine. I promise. I’m safe, don’t worry.” A beat of silence follows. “My dearest child, what do you think you are doing?” Her voice sounds so small, so vulnerable that you feel a lump forming in your throat. “This world is so cold. So unforgiving. If Asgore finds you, if one of his soldiers catches wind of a human, not even I can protect you. It’s still very early; you should be able to return before anything should happen.” “And what, wait for someone else to figure out what’s going on?” The sharpness you hear from your tone shocks you, shaking your head as you try to force your voice into something more gentle. “I mean...that last cave-in was right in front of our door. And that poor Migosp...Momma, it’s getting closer. It’s getting worse. I can’t let it keep going. And it’s happening out here, too--someone I met has seen it--” “You met someone?” She breaks in, that fear never leaving her voice. “Who? How far did you get?”

Cuddle/Snuggle: (I have only just now realized I have never used either of these words. Like. Ever. I guess I've been focusing WAY too much on the pining and not enough on the actual smoochies, so here, have a cute TedPipes-flavored thing from the unfinished next-chapter of Shine On. The Derry kids come home, and realize that they'd forgotten a little too much in their time away.)

She turns, fixed by the familiarity of the stranger standing behind her. He’s almost a head taller than her, with dark curly hair and a warm smile that crinkles the edges of pale blue eyes. “You make for a terrible door.” he goes on, gesturing to her with one hand as the other slips into the pocket of his jacket.  “Teddy?” The name brings a younger face to her mind, bright and freckled and just a little bucktoothed. In a flash she remembers laying in the floor of her bedroom listening to her sister’s old record player, sitting in a dark movie theater waiting for the previews of some new movie to end, and swinging off of a rope into the water at the quarry…never more than an arm’s length away from the one kid who insisted that no one should spend summer break alone. He’s older now, but still has that mischievous light in his eyes. “Hey, Piper. Been a while.” “Holy shit,” Her tension is forgotten completely as she meets him in a hug that smells of cigarette smoke and cologne. The pure warmth she feels is unmistakable, beaming as she pulls back just enough to look up at him. “God, look at you.” She breathes, realizing that time has done him incredibly well. Those freckles are still there, but time has given them some softness, as well as a softness around his eyes and mouth. He’s really grown into himself, features and posture much stronger than she remembers. Oh no, she thinks. Puberty hit Weizak like a Mack truck. “Look at you.” He returns with a self-conscious laugh, arms still looped around her back. Her heart is still racing, she finds, trying and failing to find words to say that encompass the strength of emotions running through her. 

[parpmail]

I want to say up front that the following is an entirely personal complaint, and that I encourage people to roleplay whatever they want and have whatever headcanons they enjoy! This isn't meant to shame anyone, it's just a bit of venting.

I'm pretty flexible in terms of who I roleplay and I'll switch depending on who there seems to be fewer of; this has lead to me playing a lot of John lately. I recognize that Bro was canonically abusive, but I got into the fandom back in the time when he was considered a pretty great brother if a very weird one, and I miss the days that was a more common interpretation because it can get very tiring to rp with Daves who are actively being abused. I'll rock up ready to be a mischievously evil demon who'll fuck Dave up severely, then he mentions his brother torturing him for fun and I wind up having to extract him from his abusive home life instead. Again, people can rp whatever they want and I do not want to stop them, it's just that this headcanon isn't one that I personally enjoy.

So, taking responsibility for my own preferences, I decided to swap over to Dave instead– there are more of them, so I'd get less hits, but it would be easier for all involved. When I'm playing Dave, I get to decide what his home life is like, and thus I neatly avoid the issue!

The problem being that I then immediately started getting nothing but Johns that assumed my Dave is being abused and/or told me that their Dad is abusing them, and then I contemplated taking a vow of silence and running off into the woods forever. I am trying to be responsible and curate my own experience over here! Why is this so difficult!

Anyway, as I said, this isn't meant as a criticism of any of the fine folks I've roleplayed with, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with these tropes and headcanons! I'm simply relating that, like sisyphus, I yearn for the day I may stop pushing this bolder up a hill and finally have a roleplay where John and Dave both have healthy home lives and can focus on trying to beat each other to death because they're rival mafia bosses or something. Peace and love on planet earth.

this is actually a pretty reasonable complaint anon! you put it a lot more eloquently than i could, but i'd like to add that i wish people would do ooc check-ins before they go that route with the rp. if i'm playing a character that has a canonically angsty situation (like dave) or if i want to take a darker turn mid-rp, i always check with my partner first to make sure they're cool with it before bringing it into the mix. it's a basic courtesy imo because some people might be uncomfortable/triggered by those plotlines, and other people might just be looking for lighthearted rps and don't want to include heavy topics!

the abusive home life savior plots are fun every now and then when i'm in the mood for them, but they DO get a bit redundant- i understand that sometimes it's just a part of canon, so mentions/references are always fine for me personally, but i think it's best to ask before making it a major theme for the rp

[box-of-eels-system]

I'm going fucking insane I need my wife back.

Scott if you see this come home. That goes to all of you. Lynn, Link, Murdoc, Luke, Sisyphus, Abel, Lucas, Todd, everybody. We miss you guys so much. There's some new assholes in our brain that need to be made fun of. There's gay shit to be done. BEGGING and PLEADING I love you so much just come back, literally none of us are even mad, we just miss you too much and honestly one of the newer crazy bitches might try to find you if you don't reach out first to at least tell us to fuck off, or maybe that you got a lot of progress in Terraria, or that you had fun going on dates, or, like, literally anything. Begging and pleading holy shit I love you please come home

- Wallace P. Wells 🍹 ( And Kobus but you don't know me LMAO 🦓 )

@garlic-breaddd pspspspsppspsps babe I know you deleted your discord and everything but you may or may not forget that you're literally my favorite person. And Hayter won't stop whining and Neil does literally nothing all day, you need to come back and make video game references so he'll go back to staring at the TV for hours playing LoZ. He's obsessed with Wobbledogs now it's terrible you have to save us /lht

[gabriel-gabdiel]

Fantasy of Evolution Chapter 4: Manic Pixie Dream Girl

Florante is having trouble telling reality from fantasy at this point. Does he even want to be involved with Jenny’s angel and demon nonsense? 

Which side should he choose? You’d think the angels’ side is the right path, but he has enough darkness in him to go demon too.

You can also find more chapters of my original fiction here. Please enjoy.

First | Previous | Next

Dismissal time came and went.

The friendless, listless Florante Galang shuffled towards his school service—a public utility jeepney (PUJ) turned private vehicle—in order to repeat the Groundhog's Day loop of him going home from class, waking up again to return to the same class, and having no one to talk to as he ended up scoring mediocre grades on his quizzes and quarterly exams.

Oh joy. It was like he was stuck in Groundhog's Day. The same day repeating over and over.

But the same could be said of every other student in Fatima School of Mandaluyong. He couldn't really complain.

He was neither the first nor last kid to be bored of the repetitiveness of school. Socially awkward kids were born every day.

Also, it wasn't as if the Philippines had its own version of the Groundhog's Day holiday either. Florante just liked that particular Bill Murray movie enough to reference it in his mind monologue; it was his closest point of comparison.

The only other metaphor he could think of was the eternal afterlife punishment of the Grecian mythological figure Sisyphus endlessly rolling a rock up a hill only for it to roll back down by the end of the day so he had to roll it back up again the next day. Forever.

He looked up. The ominous skies were in a dark mood, with the gloomy clouds looking particular dense and opaque. However, at least it hadn't wept out a dreary downpour.

He felt his spine tingle as he walked inside a parking lot that, just yesterday, served as a battleground against an indescribable floating monstrosity. The stuff that nightmares were made of.

He reassured himself that it didn't really happen anyway. It was all just a dream. Like him killing his bullies with special powers and whatnot.

Florante Galang pushed his idle musings of his friendless existence to the back of his mind as he skipped going to his school service and decided to ride the UV Express Toyota Tamaraw FX (a metered taxi) from Mandaluyong to Makati instead.

His body moving on its own.

***

Fantasy of Evolution

An Urban Fantasy Story by Abdiel

How far will Florante's delusions take him this time?

Disclaimer: This work may reference copyrighted material, the use of which has not always been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. It is believed that this constitutes a fair use of any such copyrighted material as provided for in Section 107 of the US Copyright Law. All copyrighted material referred to in this work belongs to their respective owners. All rights reserved.

***

Chapter 4: Manic Pixie Dream Girl

***

As the Philippines' financial center, Makati served as the city with the highest concentration of local and multinational companies in the nation. It was filled to the brim with banks, department stores, malls, and corporate offices as well as foreign embassies galore.

In particular, Makati's Ayala  Avenue contained the Philippine Stock Exchange's biggest trading floor. The city also ended up becoming Metro Manila's major entertainment and cultural hub for good measure.

As far as Florante Galang knew, Makati was the city of rich kids, business people, and trust-fund babies. Their biggest problem there was finding parking for their cars, since most of its residents owned their own car and rarely used public transportation (mostly taxis and buses).

Galang exited the FX and ended up wandering around the streets of Makati, with only one particular destination in mind.

His own gut feelings or instincts guided him through the unfamiliar labyrinth of an urban jungle.

Dully, with his body on autopilot, he asked around for the street where Jennifer Tolentino or the Tolentino Family lived. Remembering the first time he met her, with her telling him she lived in Makati.

He talked to tricycle drivers, passersby, and security guards in private subdivisions, asking where Jenny's address was (as indicated by a Post-It note he found in his bag), stopping to eat at the local 7-Eleven as a light squall of rain made the pavement glisten from neon lights.

Before Florante knew what had happened, he ended up in front of Jennifer's apartment in Makati again.

Like he sleepwalked over there. Or rather, commuted there instead of went straight back to his home.

Wait, again? Was he there before…? How did he even know it was Jenny's apartment?

Jeez. What was wrong with him?

***

Florante's blurry eyes cleared, only for him to see an apparition of the glasses-wearing girl in the horizon, her hair blowing from an unseen wind.

"Flor," she beckoned him after reaching him, holding a plastic bag containing what he presumed was her dinner.

"It's Florante," he said without thinking.

"I don't care," she answered back with a pout before smirking. "You look like a 'Flor' to me. Be mad. I'm still gonna call you Flor from now on."

"O-Okay." He felt his cheeks grow warm in spite of himself. Yeah, she did kind look cute in this light, didn't she?

He pushed back such nonsensical thoughts, with him trying to remember why he went there in the first place.

"So what brings you here? How'd you know my address? Or my phone number? Did you ask one of our classmates for it?" she asked, which made him become defensive.

Oh right. He called her first before going there. Right? Did he or didn't he…?

"No, no! It's not what it looks like! I mean, I…!" he stammered before blurting out how he found out about the address, not knowing how else to broach the subject of him seeing her name and face on all those older yearbooks in the library.

He became a stuttering mess. Their meeting didn't pan out as smoothly as it would've on T.V. and the movies, with them coming to a mutual understanding of what had happened after the jig was up.

She didn't even bring up how he told her that he remembered their fight with the spaghetti monster. This further convinced him that his fever dream of murdering his classmates was actually just that. A dream.

A bad dream. A nightmare. A power fantasy. That was just him blowing off steam from being bullied by using his own imagination.

His real self could never do such a thing. Right?

Oh wait, why'd he go there at Jenny's place in the first place? He had to explain himself!

He unzipped his bag then produced the photocopies of the yearbooks he got a hold of. One was her graduating in the 1960s. Another was her address from the yellow pages. Another, a Post-It note of her same address.

"I didn't believe the dreams I had were just dreams until I saw this," he said, finding the courage to speak and confront Jenny about his recent discovery, his mind a white haze.

Jennifer palmed her face. "I sure hope you realize just how bad this looks, right? You got my address and phone number from the yellow pages without me knowing then you went to my apartment unannounced."

"…I-I'm sooo sorry," he apologized profusely.

"…You just won't leave things well enough alone, can you?" Jenny said with a resigned sigh. "Come with me, then. Let's talk."

***

She led him to her apartment. They took the stairs instead of the elevator to get there since it was just located on the third floor.

He panted from the effort of climbing stairs but put up a brave front.

He kept his asthmatic wheezing to a minimum after realizing something that sent shockwaves to his whole body.

Florante's heart skipped a beat. This was his first time going to a girl's home.

Or even a classmate's home, to be honest. He didn't have any friends to speak of back in Fatima High, after all.

Florante entered the small rental apartment Jennifer Tolentino lived in, thinking it was about twice the size or more of his bedroom.

He excused himself as he stepped within the threshold of the apartment, looking around for Jenny's parents. However, they weren't there.

'Where are her parents?' he wondered. Were they away on a business trip? Was she sent to live in Makati to get her closer to school? Or maybe she was living with an aunt and uncle? A guardian?

Did her family live in the province? Did she live alone? Were they alone right now…?!

Florante gulped hard before he became aware of his wheezy breathing again. He took out the asthma inhaler inside his bag and took a puff. He then started breathing manually to calm himself down.

'Relax,' he told himself.

Oh boy. What'd he gotten himself into? At the back of his mind, he vaguely wondered if any of what was happening was normal. Wasn't he stalking her by doing this? She mentioned that was the impression he gave.

He then remembered he didn't really call her. That was also a daydream. Why did she somehow expect him to get there…?

Déjà vu filled him inside to the brim. Did he somehow end up here in her apartment because he went there before or something?

"Gabriel," she called out, which awoke him from his stupor.

Gabriel? Oh, right! That was what she called him back in his dream. Or was it a dream? Or was he dreaming right now?

Like he did when he wrote her address on a Post-It note and jumped on the roofs of houses and buildings from Pasig to Makati like he was Spider-Man? Wait, did that even happen?

He struggled to speak and stumbled upon his words.

"Gabriel? As in the Archangel Gabriel?" he asked her without thinking. "Why are you calling me by that name? Isn't he a legendary angel?"

Had he asked the same question before?

Jenny shook her head and patiently smiled, motioning for Florante to sit on the couch of her living room while she made some tea. "You're so picky with names. You don't want to be called Flor or Gabriel. But you're the same guy, in the end."

It was easier to hold a conversation with her in his imagination because in reality he was usually alone and barely talked to anyone.

He went straight to the point, saying things that would've embarrassed him in real life.

"I saw you in my dreams lately."

An awkward pause passed between them, making him regret saying anything.

"Oh. Is that so?" she asked, her lips as flat as a line as she blinked at him several times. Or she was batting her eyelashes at him?

He presumed she had just teased him with a nice dollop of sarcasm. Damn his inability to read social cues!

"Um, I didn't mean it like that," he clarified, feeling his cheeks grow warmer by the minute. "I mean, uh... I'm having déjà vu all over again. I've seen this dream before. We've talked inside your apartment before."

"Really now," she said, taking a sip of the tea she had laid out for the two of them on the table, her hazelnut eyes penetrating through him like the concentrated beam of sunlight from her magnifying lenses for glasses.

Florante turned away, his hand covering his mouth. His face on seeming fire.

A few weeks or months ago, he'd think his capricious feelings for Jenny was a betrayal of his crush on Laura Reyes, the prettiest girl in their class. However, that ship had long ago sailed.

Perhaps him moving on from Laura to Jenny was why he "saved" Jenny from his wrath in his other dream/nightmare where he murdered all his bullies with magical/supernatural powers?

Or maybe he should stop being so shallow? Honestly, falling in love with any pretty girl that treated him nice was pathetic. Ah, who knew? He should get his head out of the gutter. What was he doing there anyway?

More importantly, did they really just fight a gigantic spaghetti monster using elemental superpowers and, uh, super-fast germinating moss?

"Why'd you visit me from out of the blue, Flor?" Jenny asked, with her using that irksome nickname again. However, Florante ignored it.

"…Y-You're much older than you look, right?" he blurted out.

She raised an eyebrow at that statement. "Pardon me? What do you mean?" she asked, adding, "Don't you know it's rude to ask a girl her real age?"

'Only if you're talking to a middle-aged woman,' he thought to himself. However, he could feel the onset of a wheeze in his asthmatic breathing.

"It's true, isn't it? You're not a real teenager."

She dwelled on his words. "What if I'm not?" she asked gently, her voice barely above a whisper. Her dulcet tones sent tingles down his spine.

"So how old are you really? Was that really you in the 1960s yearbook? Are you an immortal? Am I an immortal too?"

"You could say that," she said, to his surprise. "Yes, that is a picture of me. I'm amazed I was able to get away with enrolling in the same school too, but the registrar never bothered checking who the other Jenny Tolentino is."

He shivered in spite of himself.

"They must've thought it's just a funny coincidence. Or that she was a relative of mine with the same name. Or they simply don't remember," Jenny explained.

Florante then asked, "Am I like you? Since you called me an Ophanim back then. I knew that wasn't a dream! You really did pretend to be a high school teen! We're both…!"

He gasped then let out a long exhale to prevent himself from hyperventilating.

"Did what happen the other day… yesterday… whenever it happened, really happen? You remember it too, right? The spaghetti monster?" he dared ask.

She must've known. She just said she received his call, even though he could've sworn he only called her in his dreams. He didn't have the courage to call her for real! Or visit her apartment for real. But here he was now.

Unless this wasn't real either.

Florante racked his brain of vague, forgotten memories of his past dreams, unsure of he was inside yet another dream, only this time more lucid. How lucid was he anyway?

Him mentioning the spaghetti monster incident made her snap back into attention, which jolted him backwards and made him murmur an apology by reflex.Was it something he said?

"So you remember me calling you an Ophanim, huh?" she asked.

He nodded slowly, with him not quite looking at her while he recalled their last significant interaction with one another.

"What's an Ophanim again? A wingless angel, was it? Is it that monster I transformed into where I could see everywhere because I had a hundred eyes or something? Just like that spaghetti monster we fought?"

He tugged at his collar, squirming in his seat at the intense gaze Jennifer gave him. Like fawn shrinking back at the headlights of a speeding truck.

Was he not supposed to carry on their conversation from last time? Did he do something wrong?

She softened her stare, the glint from her glasses disappearing, revealing her almond eyes. "That's right. You and the monster we fought are both Ophanim, Gabriel."

"There you go again," he said. "My name isn't Gabriel. Or Flor. It's Florante. And who are you supposed to be? Michael? Uriel? Or maybe…?"

"I'm Raphael," she said, confirming his suspicions.

"The ninja turtle?" he joked, but he then bowed his head and looked away when he saw her deadpan poker face, murmnring an apology for his lame joke.

"Well, that's… cute," she said of the joke, then asked, "What do you want, Gabriel?"

"…What do you mean?" he asked, inching away from her.

Instead of answering his question, she took another sip of her tea. "Fine. What else do you remember, Florante?"

Her using his full name caught his attention. He answered her question after a deep breath, sensing that she was testing him somehow.

So he told her everything.

***

Florante told Jennifer that he remembered his fever dream of murdering his whole class and destroying most of the school before facing off against Laura Reyes, who also somehow also got her own angelic powers.

This made him idly wonder if she were a wingless angel too. Wait, she had wings, right? She might even be a winged angel instead. He also recalled that Geronimo "Gerry" Jacinto faced off against him with his own superpowers too.

Gerry couldn't be an angel. He was more of a devil. A monster. A demon. His bully and daily tormentor being a holy being of light and goodness just didn't sit well with Florante.

Wait, didn't Jenny refer to the spaghetti creature as a demon instead of an angel…?

Then he talked about how he and Jenny ended up fighting against the tentacled monster from out of nowhere at the school parking lot, with her killing it with enchanted(?) moldy bread with mold that spread across its body like gangrene.

He then finished with him dreaming about going to her place before he ended up doing so anyway at the spur of the moment, resulting in déjà vu.

He left off the part where he wasn't sure if what he saw right then was itself a lucid dream or reality. Maybe because he feared this would result in the dream ending like before, so he kept that last bit to himself.

Let him dream this particular dream of him talking to a girl and being alone with her in her apartment for a little while longer.

"Well…?" he asked. She'd been listening in silence the entire time, with only occasional nods and sips of tea to break his long monologue. "What do you think? Did what happen the other day… yesterday… whenever, really happen? You remember it too, right?"

She then told him, "I'll be honest. I'm not sure if you're Gabriel just yet."

What she just said made Florante even more confused than before; like he was talking some sort of oral exam and happened upon a trick question.

"Pardon me? What do you mean?"

"I suspected you're Gabriel but I'm not yet sure because you're just an Ophanim right now."

He pondered her words. "Meaning?"

With steepled hands, she said, "You're a newborn angel. We call newborn angels Ophanim or Thrones. Your multi-eyed self is your true form for now."

"What do you mean true form? Stop joking! Am I Gabriel or not?"

"Newborn angels don't necessarily have famous identities. However, the truly exceptional ones might graduate to Cherubim or Seraphim level. Based on what you've accomplished before, I suspected you've become the newest avatar of Archangel Gabriel."

Her answer gave him a headache. "So you think I'm Gabriel but you're not sure?"

She shrugged. "You may or may not be the Archangel Gabriel. Right now, you're just a wingless Ophanim who could use your angelic powers while in human form. An egg but not quite the chicken."

"…And you're not an Ophanim yourself?" he asked.

"I've already gotten my wings," she answered with a shrug and a wink. "You still need to earn yours."

"…So what are we exactly?" he dared ask. "What are angels supposed to be?"

Jenny took her time sipping her tea. Since she was about to proverbially spill it.

"Angels. Demons. Devils. Monsters. Deities. Demiurges. Higher beings. Celestials. Different cultures call us different names. We might even be considered gods. Or superheroes."

"Really? Superheroes?"

"…Nah."

"Oh."

Jenny took another sip of her tea with a small smile. She murmured something under her breath that Florante couldn’t quite catch.

"What was that, Jenny?" he asked.

"So did you really intend to kill your classmates back then?" The bespectacled girl asked, the hair on her head starting to dance and twirl from an unseen gust of wind. Weird. "Even if it was a dream, no person normally dreams of something so grisly."

"This again? It's not my fault! It was the dream me that killed Laura! And the rest of our classmates! I would never do that in real life! Stop blaming me for something I subconsciously did!"

"Is that so?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I swear if I knew my dreams had real consequences, I wouldn't even imagine doing that to anyone," he said. "Look at me. I'm pathetic. I wouldn't even hurt a fly or a cockroach."

She sighed and let the awkward silence linger between them for five minutes that felt like eternity.

Not that the squirming, gulping Galang counted the seconds or anything.

"Fine. Screw it. It's my turn to tell you everything. Florante Galang, you're a candidate to becoming the Archangel Gabriel. Congratulations."

***

From a distance, Florante heard the rumble of thunder. He shuddered, but it felt like the rest of the room shuddered with him, which made him wonder if he had just felt an earthquake as well… or was it just him? He couldn't tell.

Did the drizzle outside become a downpour? Oh my. He should've brought an umbrella with him.

"A candidate?" Galang repeated. "Like a presidential candidate? I could be Gabriel or not?"

"Or you could be Schrodinger's Gabriel," Jenny said, giggling. "You're Gabriel and not Gabriel at the same time!"

"Shredder… what?" he asked, unfamiliar with the reference.

She cleared her throat. "Never mind."

"N-No. Tell me what you meant!" he insisted.

"I mean, just read about Schrodinger's Cat from a trivia book, man," she said. "Anyway, we're getting off-topic. Yes, you're a candidate. An avatar. You could become Gabriel. Or some other famous angel. And Ophanim like you can become Gabriel too."

Florante clasped his hands in front of him, seemingly deep in thought. "In my dreams, several of my classmates manifested powers of their own. Are they also angels? Or Ophanims?"

"Very good, Florante," she said, which made him frown at her condescension. "Yes, they're also wingless angels. They're also candidates to becoming Gabriel. If they develop their powers correctly, they could end up awakening as Gabriel themselves, if not other angels, gods, or deities of history."

"Wait, wait, wait. Aside from Gabriel, they… we could become famous angels like Michael, Raphael, or Uriel? Also, by gods and goddesses, do you mean Greek or Roman ones? An Ophanim could become Zeus or Jupiter? How about the Norse All-Father Odin?" Florante queried.

"More or less," came "Raphael's" unhelpful answer.

"And what makes you so sure I'm a Gabriel candidate?"

Jenny shrugged. "I can tell. Or at least the Raphael within me can recognize him from inside you. Whether or not you're worthy to bear his name shall be seen later on."  

The thunderous rumblings arouind them grew louder and harsher, producing a droning sound. However, for some reason, the two both ignored the rampaging elephant in the room.

"Wait," Florante said, his mind going a mile a minute but his mouth still stuck at the starting line. "What must I do to win the, uh, candidacy?"

"Evolve from an Ophanim to a Cherubim and then a Seraphim," Jenny replied. "You must evolve the right way to, or else…"

"…Or else the other candidates will end up winning? Is that it?" he finished her sentence for her. "So how do I evolve to become Gabriel?"

As he said the words, he wondered if he even wanted to become the avatar of an ancient archangel in the first place.

To himself, he wondered, 'Do I even want to be Gabriel?'

It sounded like so much responsibility to live up to the Archangel Gabriel.

Another thing occurred to him. He asked, "And that spaghetti monster you called a demon. Can he become a candidate for Gabriel too? Or is he supposed to be the avatar for Satan, Lucifer, or whoever instead?"

"Ah. You figured that one out too, huh?" she said with a sage nod. "You're quick on the uptake, kid."

"So…?" Florante urged.

Jenny said, "W-ell, in the case of that spaghetti monster, he might've been an Ophanim at one point, but because he let his powers control him instead of the other way around, he ended up becoming demonic instead. A Minion instead of a Throne."

"Minion?" Florante repeated. He didn't like the sound of that. "What the hell are minions? Wait, don't tell me. They're like Ophanims. They're baby demons!"

"That's exactly what they are," confirmed Jenny, who got up from her seat in excitement. "Good call. So there you go. You have the potential to become either a demon or an angel. An Ophanim or a Minion."

Galang then asked, "How can you even tell when, um, someone is an Ophanim or Minion? A demon or angel? They're both monstruous, to be honest."

He also got up from his seat, which made him stumble and grab hold of the nearest furniture to steady himself. Was it vertigo or did the room spun on its own?

He didn't know what was going on.

To be quite frank, his head throbbed with the information overload. So he was an angel that could also be a devil? What? Or rather, the avatar of biblical angels who somehow ended up here in the Philippines? Really?

"I guess that's the point?" Jenny said with a shrug. "A demon is just a fallen angel, after all. Whether they have bird wings or bat wings. Halos or ox horns."

"…Monsters by any other name, am I right?" they heard someone say, like it had access to the P.A. system in their minds.

The two shuddered, feeling a chill deep down their spine. They looked at each other, realizing they both felt and heard the same thing.

"Did you hear that?" asked Jenny.

"Yeah," acknowledged Florante. "What was that?"

Jennifer looked him straight in the eyes. "A demon."

They felt the presence of another. Another one of them. Or perhaps more than one? They couldn't tell.

Unbeckoned, they stood up and headed out of the room, following that dreadful feeling from its source.

***

Just like in Florante Galang's nightmare of decimating Fatima High School and killing all of his bullies—or fellow Gabriel candidates (which included collateral damage like Laura Reyes)—the skies grew dark once more.

As the cliché went, it was a dark and stormy night.

The rain fell in torrents—except at occasional intervals, when it got checked by a violent gust of wind that swept up the streets—rattling along the apartments, condos, and housetops, and fiercely agitating the fluorescent bulbs of the lamps that struggled against the ominous darkness, its fuses ready to burst.

The two angel avatars also heard rumblings from the epicenter from which people on foot and inside vehicles as well as vermin like mice and roaches avoided, resulting in a chaotic mess of a traffic jam and a fleeing crowd on the verge of a stampede.

"Let's go," said Jennifer Tolentino, who took hold of Florante Galang's hand to accompany him towards the horrible something that had caught their attention.

The demonic presence that acted like the source or fault line of an earthquake that shook the world itself right at its core.

Rather than get repelled by the negative vibrations that reverberated into their very bones the closer they got to them like the rest of the living things in flight mode that surrounded them like a sea of humanity or an ocean of life, the two angelic avatars felt somehow magnetized by the dark presence, their heads glowing with an aura unseen by others like ultraviolet light.

An inner brightness spilling over their heads and spreading out from the center like the nuclear fusion of a star, thus making their heads glow with a spherical aura. The corona of the sun. A literal angel halo.

Jennifer's halo glowed a greenish blue hue while Florante's glowed a fluorescent white and sky blue color instead.

This inexplicable aura was what allowed them to part the living sea of mice and men, with people unconsciously or subconsciously avoiding them. This allowed them to make their way to the demonic presence they felt and heard.

To the voice that talked to them right inside their heads.

They ran towards oblivion and uncertainly in an adrenalin rush, but somehow, the virgin Florante couldn't he happier.After all, he was running hand-in-hand with a cute girl. What was there to complain about?

Jenny, whose first impression on Florante was that of a timid mouse, perhaps a talkative gerbil, had always made his heart flutter but in a way that one would find a kitten or puppy adorable.

He wasn't sure what he felt for her now was necessarily a crush.

However, she somehow looked different to him now, with her heaving bosom, glistening face, and reddened cheeks as she brushed her slightly damp hair to the side while running with him.

Like she suddenly transformed into a hot librarian right before his eyes.

In the middle of their sprint, an out-of-breath Florante said from out of the blue, "Thank you."

"…Huh? For what?" Jennifer asked.

"For humoring me and listening to what I have to say," he said in candid honesty. "I appreciate it."

She smiled. "No problem. We're both angel avatars, right? We might as well stick together."

"You bet! I like a girl who understands me but I can confide to as well," he blurted out without thinking, only for him to realize what he just said a little too late. Not knowing how to take it back.

"How am I supposed to respond to that?" asked the sheepish Jenny, who looked away and hid her eyes with the glint of her glasses.

She then stopped running hand-in-hand with him and let go of his hand, which startled him.

However, before he could apologize (again), she beckoned him to keep following her before she began running again, which he did.

He kept trailing her from behind as he resisted the urge to keep looking at her behind.

Soon, they realized there were no longer any people around them. Or any signs of life. No birds. No bugs. No signs of life. Nothing.

The stalls and stores were empty. Completely evacuated. No one dared remain in the exact direction they went: A pulsating pitch blackness.

"Do you feel that?" asked Jenny. "The heat from your face? Your head?"

"Y-Yeah," said Florante, but he had another type of hotness in mind, his eyes avoiding the jiggle of her heaving bosom as she ran towards the black maelstrom.

He had a feeling she had just changed the subject from what they were talking about earlier.

"That's your halo. Your spiritual energy. Your aura. That's where your powers come from as an avatar of Gabriel," she explained. "You weren't able to detect it before, but you can feel it now, right?"

"Yeah, I think I can," he said with a wheeze and a gulp that turned into a coughing fit, unable to meet Jenny's curious gaze.

"It's because you're getting used to your powers now… Wait. We're here."

He then looked up after she stopped from her run. They'd reached their destination: A church.

"Where are we? What church is this?" Florante asked.

"Guadalupe Church," Jenny answered.

The Guadalupe Church or Parish, also known as the Nuestra Señora de Gracia Church, was a Baroque Roman Catholic church located in Makati City, Philippines.

Florante would later learn that the building was once occupied by both the Filipino revolutionaries of the 1890s and American forces of the 1900s during the Philippine-American War. In World War II, it served as the garrison for the Japanese invaders.

It now currently stood as one of Makati's premier tourist attractions as well as one of Metro Manila's most popular wedding destinations. Had Florante learned of this earlier, it would've made his head spin. He certainly envisioned marrying Jenny in the middle of their run.

However, something more noticeable than the church itself caught the pair's attention.

A tornado of blackness, ash, and what could be best described as tendrils of sentient smoke moved between them and the church ruins.

A crawling chaos. A grotesque mockery of reality beyond comprehension.

Again, like before with his confrontation with Laura Reyes or the parking lot spaghetti monster, Florante was at a loss for words describing what was before him.

This new creature was another indescribable eldritch abomination straight out a child's nightmares. Or even man's primal fears.

The formless, mindless disaster then coalesced into what looked like a tall, lean man made of shadow. He, if it were a he, had neither beard nor hair. He was instead an ebony cesspool. The Black Death personified. A humanoid typhoon.

His own tarry aura melted into a shapeless robe made of a heavy dark fabric. Like his aura had become his own clothes that converged unto him into the singularity made from a dying star.

His dense living black hole seemed to drown out and absorb what little light surrounded them, like waves of the Dead Sea or nimbus clouds blocking sunlight or moonlight. This made the comparatively faint halos of "Raphael" and "Gabriel" stand out more.

Although he was as horrible in appearance as an Ophanim, Florante couldn't even begin to imagine describing the shadowy tendril man as anything other than demonic. A Minion.

"H-Hey, you wouldn't happen to have one of those moldy pieces of bread with you by any chance, right?" Florante half-joked, half-expecting himself to need to transform into a Throne to match the power of this Minion before them.

The disembodied voice from before then spoke, but both Jenny and Florante realized somehow that it didn't enamate from the creature before them. Rather, it came from some other source.

"Pardon me, but I can't stand to look at this farce anymore," said a sharp-dressed foreign man—a Caucasian person with a sharp nose, even sharper spectacles,  and auburn hair—in English.

"Who are you?" Florante called out, surprising himself with his own bravery when talking to the scary foreign stranger.

The man in the business suit—formalwear known to Filipinos as an Americana—ignored him, though. This businessperson that looked like a Makati expatriate or even a visiting company CEO addressed Jennifer instead.

"Are you honestly indulging the boy's delusions until now, Raphael? How cruel of you. You know he's no angel. He's actual more of a demon, to be honest. With destructive power like his, he should be on our side."

"Mammon," said Jennifer, naming the demon before them. "Stay out of this. He's mine."

This made Florante jerk his head and stare at Jenny by reflex, his cheeks burning at her bold proclamation. 'I-I'm hers?!' he thought.

Aloud, Galang asked her, "You know him? Wait, his name is mamon (Filipino sponge cake)? Seriously?"

She rolled her eyes. "Not mamon. Mammon. The demon Mammon."

"Tell him the truth about himself already or I will," Mammon threatened with a smirk. "I'm getting impatient."

Thusly, Florante shot a Thunderbolt at Mammon.

A pinprick or lasebeam of light producing a vaccuum of emptiness around it, rendering the surroundings into rubble with a loud sonic boom.

The businessman cackled and stopped the supersonic assault with one hand, transforming to a huge-headed goblin with a long nose, ram horns, and a stogie for the briefest of instances before returning to his avatar's human form.

"Flor!" exclaimed Jenny in spite of herself. "What are you doing? You're no match for him right now!"

"Well now. I see you've convinced the young lad to side with you using your avatar's… feminine charm, Raphael! Bravo. You're quite the devilish temptress, if I do say so myself. Like Jezebel. You'd make a fine demoness yourself.."

Despite being fully clothed, Jennifer covered herself with her hands by reflex and shame after hearing Mammon's remark. "You're such a pig."

"Well of course, I am!" said Mammon with a smug grin. "I'm a demon."

The halo of the Archangel Gabriel's avatar flared like a ring of fire or a celestial ball of gas and plasma, his bright corona traveling all over his body and enveloping him in a white and blue light while he crackled with arcs of electrity.

Finally, the demon Mammon addressed Florante. "I don't blame you for siding with her, kid. Raphael's avatar is a pretty little thing, not going to lie. However, you were born ten thousand years too early to take on the likes of me. I've forgotten more than you can even remember."

With his arms crossed, Mammon floated away. Barely baring his fangs at Florante's best shot. None the worse for wear.

No wait, he hadn't hit him with his absolute best shot yet.

Galang then summoned a bolt of lightning at himself to reenergize his body with millions of volts of electricity while increasing the potency of his offense. Remenbering how to control his powers from his dream of destroying his bullies and taking on a flying spaghetti monster that was apparently an Ophanim/Minion like himself.

A wingless angel or a hornless devil. Good or evil. Those were the two choices for a Throne such as him.

Just then, as suddenly as him shooting a Thunderbolt at Mammon like an arrow, the hornless devil in the form of a personified maelstrom of pulsating darkness diverted its full attention towards Florante and unleashed its irresistable might unto him like an endless deluge.

Unlike Mammon, this shadow man came at him in full force.

'…Oh boy. Here we go.'

He was making the correct choice siding with Jennifer Tolentino, right?

She was an angel. One of the good guys. And the demons were the bad guys every time since the beginnning of time.

Right?

***

The lean, mean shadow man with gangly spider limbs and a pulsating aura that emanated from his head to toe like smog or smoke made strange clicking noises as he shifted positions with his strange jittery dash.

The crawling chaos didn't speak and bore no trace of an expression on his dark face. This belied the whirlpool of bone-crushing force he brought with him as his mere dash forward sent the Gabriel avatar buckling and reeling.

Fortunately, Galang's halo of blue-white light created a dome-shaped wind shield composed of gyroscoping jetstreams and slipstreams that absorbed the brunt of the Minion's force. Vacuum tornadoes ripped apart the church along with blockbuster ligtning strikes.

This tall man whom Florante bore no ill will towards. This Minion of the Archdemon he truly wanted to blast to Kingdom Come, Mammon. This Ophanim. This Minion. This was a fellow… angel/demon avatar. Just like him.

Who was to say he wouldn't end up like him? A mindless beast to be hunted down by angels. A fallen angel. A demon. A devil.

Was this really his war to wage anyway? Did it even matter if he chose the side of the angels or the demons? Was this what he asked for after esentially committing social suicide? Wasn't he biting off more than he could chew, foolishly facing off against devils and demons?

Florante charged bolts of high-voltage lightning on one hand and bolts of thunder-inducing energy bullets on the other hand then hurled them one after another at the tentacled ebony monster.

Biting his lower lip at the frustration of not being able to shoot that manipulative bastard Mammon instead.

Why were they fighting again? To become avatars to millennia-old angels and demons? To become pawns on a chess game they didn't ask to be a  part of?

They were practically just the same pawns, right? It was implied that this crawling chaos was also human before, like him.

If his dream of killing his bullies wasn't a dream—if none of these fantastic events were dreams—then his wish to be helpless no more just came with a heavy caveat. A Monkey's Paw wish, if you would.

Unlike the flying spaghetti monster that could regenerate itself endlessly, the crawling chaos before them and its black pulsating mass of tendrils responded quite differently to Florante's typhoon onslaught.

Even though he showcased denseness as black and bottomless as the ocean depths, his great mass or "halo" of tidal waves that densely compacted themselves into humanoid form remained unmoved by Galang's cyclone winds and plasma blasts.

No wonder Jenny didn't use quick-growing mold spores or an acorn to attack this Minion. How could any of those weaponized plants stand a chance against this force of nature?

Maybe this time, Florante had no choice but to revert to his true Ophanim form and face off against the Minion as force of nature against force of nature. Monster against monster.

"No, Florante! Don't…!" said Raphael's avatar to Gabriel's avatar, her body seemingly pinned to the wall. "Don't change into your Ophanim form and lose yourself! Or you might become a Minion yourself! A mindless beast controlled by your own powers! That's what Mammon wants!"

The bespectacled young (or young-looking) girl's hair ended up toussled by unseen winds or some sort of force of nature like gravity that blew everyone else away like a hurricane.

And indeed, before Florante noticed it, he had started to transform, his human form disappearing and reforming into a gyroscope filled with rings adorned with flaming eyes once more.

"Since Eden, no more could man have wings to bear him to paradise. Henceforth, he walked," said Mammon telepathically to both Jenny and Florante.

The two looked heavenwards at the smug demon watching over them from high above his proverbial pedestal. Right now, he lived in their heads rent-free and they loathed having him invade their thoughts like that.

"However, this man has discovered the path to recovering his lost wings. Will he rise to paradise or be another fallen angel, his feathered bird wings turned into leathery bat wings? His halo turned into horns?"

God dammit. How was Florante supposed to fight against this monster any other way than become a monster himself?

On that note, why shouldn't he be a monster? What was wrong with becoming a Minion over an Ophanim anyway? What was the difference between one monster over another?

Nevertheless, because Jennifer told him not to transform into his Ophanim form, he didn't.

The shadow creature then came upon Galang's dithering, fluctuating form that went from human to Throne and back agaain like a flickering light with his own crashing black waves of dense aura, threatening to swallow Florante under its immense mass compacted within a lean form of a tall humanoid tentacle being.

Galang resisted the irresistable, turning his sky-blue halo into a country-sized pacific storm that made the crawling chaos' oceanic depths roil, churn, and bubble. Like the desperate cyclone howling back at the black sea, which only made its angry waters angrier.

Florante didn't ask for this. He wanted to stop being socially awkward, make friends, and for his bullies to leave him alone, not get new supernatural enemies to fight and deal with the burden of waging someone else's war!

Meanwhile, Mammon again spoke to their minds. Toying with them.

"Asking a woman if she lives nearby is often a predatory tactic. That info can expose so much. If you're around the area a lot, especially alone. Or if you're isolated and from out of town and vulnerable."

Both Florante and Jenny said, "What?" at the same time, their heads turning to look at Mammon again.

"LIGHT ARRAY!"

The embarrassment Florante Galang felt from being called out by the devil himself fueled his halo enough to finally release the much-delayed pinpoint bursts of concentrated pure energy he'd been gathering all that time.

The energy projectiles shot out like explosive bullets from his five fingertips, which finally decimated the humanoid maelstrom off of him.

Unlike with the regenerating spaghetti monster, his Light Array shots actually obliterated the maelstrom of shadows, turning them into stains on the pavement from the purifying brightness of his holy light.

That was Florante's best shot. The special technique he created from scratch to shoot at all his bullies at the same time with a wave of his hands and fingers.

At least now he could use his powers in a less shameful way: To defeat a monster that threatened to destroy the city instead of petty yet deadly revenge against his meanest classmates.

***

Florante screamed to the heavens and the unseen Mammon, "I didn't stalk her! O-Or I didn't mean to! I was following a lead on why I've been dreaming the nightmares I've been dreaming, okay!? Seeing her face on an old yearbook was suspicious! I had no malicious intentions!"

They both couldn't see Mammon at that point—the coward made himself scarce—but they could hear the smirk in his voice. "But I didn't specifically say you stalked Raphael, Ophanim. You came up with that conclusion. Methinks the lady doth protest a bit too much."

Galang's head almost twisted off of his neck like a bottle cap as he shot a glance at an out-of-breath Jenny, her hair a mess and her clothes disheveled. Meanwhile, his own stomach was in knots.

He gulped and muttered, "I meant no harm, Jenny! I didn't want to kill our classmates, believe me. I-I didn't intend to stalk you either! I-It just… came off that way. B-Because I wanted to know more about what's going on with me, and you're the only other person I know who's like me…!"

Mammon then added, "Literally you cannot risk divulging such information to him, Raphael. A man is a threat. A man approaching you alone is a threat. You should've known better. This is a woman's constant reality."

After a deep breath, Jenny adjusted her glasses, which magnified her hazel eyes. She then smiled at Florante and said, "Don't worry, Flor. I understand. You didn't mean any harm, right? It was all a harmless dream to you."

That smile. That damn smile. Florante wanted to protect that smile.

Mammon's disembodied voice then snarled at the pair.

"…You actually believe his lies, Raphael? He thought it was all a dream, so that makes it okay? By now, he should've figured out that it was more than a dream. That it wasn't manslaughter, it was murder with intent. A massacre. He's also a stalker for good measure. Stop excusing his crimes."

"I've just about had enough of you, man! SHUT UP!" said Florante, his fingertips again burning with blue and fluorescent white electric light.

"Stop lying to yourself first, kid. You wanted to kill your classmates. You reveled in every death. Even the ones who weren't your bullies. If you weren't sick in the head, you would've just humiliated them as revenge for them humiliating you. That's why you dreamed that dream. It was the first time in your pathetic life that you felt in control. Give in to that desire and set yourself free!"

"Show yourself, demon!" Just one shot (or five or ten shots) of the Light Array was all he needed. He just wanted to land just one right on Mammon's smug, beak-nosed face.

"Look at you go. You feel brave now, don't you? Like you're Raphael's personal Knight in Shining Armor. Or her lost puppy. But she knows the truth about you. How dangerous you are. So she's telling you everything you want to hear for now."

"Stop being such a pathetic coward and fight!" Florante said. Not really listening to a word Mammon said while he continued to gather energy from his fingertips in concentrated pinpoints of light.

"Kid, you've got it bad for her, don't you? But she's just using you. She'll learn soon enough that you can't have sympathy for the devil. That what you did is unforgivable. Don't you know, kid? We live in a society—" Mammon started.

"No, you live in a society! I live in my meticulously crafted daydream universe that I've been using as a coping mechanism since childhood!" said Florante.

Mammon chuckled. "No. You're a back-of-the-class loser who has gone on a power trip and became mad with power."

Alas, the demon's plan of buying the crawling chaos time to recuperate worked. The shadow man returned in full force. Or rather, the shadow men cometh.

The tall, dark, and devilishly bleak Minion manifested himself into multiple avatars of all shapes and sizes.

When he got aethered by Gabriel's embarrassment-fueled Light Array, he regrouped his atomized particles and spread them across Makati towards the nearest of its fleeing denizens, turning them into his own avatars.

What the crawling chaos lacked in healing powers, he more than made up for his ability to take over the bodies of others like some sort of black lung virus. The black plague made flesh and bone.

Florante willed himself to shoot at the numerous avatars, even though when they got blown apart, they didn't atomize into tendrils but instead burst like sacks of blood and guts.

The Light Array made short work of most of them, but that technique took too long to recharge, so he had to settle for Lightning Strikes, Lightning Bolts, and supersonic Thunderbolts for the rest of the avatar army.

He soon realized he wasn't killing the crawling chaos but innocent people.

These new avatars of the crawling chaos were collateral damage. Men, women, the elderly, and children—entire families—running for their lives up until the humanoid typhoon took over their bodies and turned them into shadow people like him.

They'd been morphed into blackened homunculus or zombies puppeteered by the crawling chaos himself.

At first, dealing with the "infected" avatars of the crawling chaos felt like shooting fish in a barrel, but then they displayed bizarre attributes.

Some flew with hand glider wings. Others crawled into corners like roaches. There were those that merged to form a super muscular shadow avatar that tanked Florante's Light Array, Thunderbolts, and Lightning Bolts.

From there, Florante understood.

This man-shaped maelstrom. This walking void containing the vast cosmos unto himself who could affect mystic energies, both demonic and cosmic, on an undefined level.

As World War II veteran and American civil rights activist Medgar Evers said,  "You can kill a man but you can't kill an idea."

This Minion was as unkillable as an idea. And just as dangerous.

"When a man possesses this much power, he does not seek redemption," said Mammon of the crawling chaos before Florante.

***

"Susmaryosep!"

Florante had just told Mammon he wasn't an intentional murderer (or stalker), but now here he was again, forced to murder innocents to keep this shadowy humanoid typhoon in check.

He clung to the vague hope that like with the flying spaghetti monster incident, everything would go back to normal after the crawling chaos's defeat. That everything could be undone. Like waking from a bad dream. Like all of this wasn't really real.

If he beat the Minion, he could revert everything back to their original state, like it didn't actually happen, and save the people he'd just killed to get to the humanoid typhoon. Or the walking typhoid fever.

However, that was all one big "if".

"Change into your Ophanim form. As you are now, you're no match against the Minion," teased the coward Mammon. "Unleash your full power like he has. I dare you, Gabriel."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? You dumb bastard," cursed Florante. "You can't fool me! I bet you convinced this poor Ophanim to turn himself into a Minion the exact same way!"

"So?" said the brazen Mammon. "What if I did? The results speak for themselves. You can't even touch him. Face him with your full power or never wake up from this nightmare."

After deftly avoiding hit after hit from the shadow avatars, Galang got clipped by a five-clawed strike. That was all it took. It went downhill from there.

The distraction made him miss several of his shots, which allowed a number of the shape-shifting zombies of darkness to evade his suppressive fire so as to claw, stab, and bite at him.

Desperately, he wielded a lightning bolt like a sword whip, slicing and dicing the nearest of the undead horde of the crawling chaos's hive-minded avatars.

He pushed them back with his halo's electric vacuum shield, only to buckle under the pressure of an outright stampede of shadow creatures. The weight of hundreds felt like the weight of millions due to the densely packed particles of the Minion's cosmic selves.

His panicked wheezes became a full-blown asthma attack as he drowned in black avatars that clawed, grabbed, bit, slashed, stabbed, and lacerated him to helpless shreds.

At this point, even if he willed himself to turn into his "Be Not Afraid, Child!" form of a frightful multi-eyed Ophanim, it'd be too late.

Then, just as Florante was about to get swallowed by the oily tidal wave of inhumanity that the Minion of Maelstrom mind-controlled like individual puppets, a mango tree suddenly grew and blocked their upsurge in a landslide of broken branches, splinters, leaves, and mango fruits.  

Once again, Raphael's human avatar Jennifer Tolentino saved Florante's life.

She jumped and slid across the unbroken branches of the giant mango tree that served as her wooden barrier between them and the Minion's horde of mind-controlled minions (ironic) that he turned into clones of his wriggly dark self.

"Are you okay, Flor?"

"Y-Yeah, th-thanks for saving me. Again."

How shameful. He was supposed to be her Knight in Shining Armor, and here he was serving as her Damsel in Distress instead.

He didn't even have the energy to correct her nickname of him. He might as well be a "Flor". He might as well have that girly name.

She turned towards him, her green halo and her hazel eyes shining like gems full of light, and unfurled two green-feathered bird wings from her back. The thing that caught Florante's eyes though was her smile.

A sad smile that could break anyone's heart in two.

"Flor, don't be a hero. You don't have to force yourself just to make people acknowledge you," she said.

"W-What…?" he trailed off. "B-But I thought that's what I'm supposed to do as an angel! An Ophanim! I'm one of you, right? Why can't I be a hero?"

She shook her head. "When you do that, you end up blaming yourself, blaming other people, and feeling jealous of everyone. But still, it doesn't have to be like that. Even if people don't acknowledge you, you just need to be someone that you can be proud of!"

"I don't understand," he said.

She silenced him with a quick peck on the forehead.

"You don't have to fight. This isn't your war. You have no quarrel with this Minion, don't you? Even with Mammon, you're only picking a fight against him for my sake. Just be a good boy, okay? Maybe this time, when you wake you up from this dream, you'll decide to forget about all this nonsense and move on with your life."

"…." He could only stare at her cherubic, angelic form, dumbfounded into silence. He later realized that her kiss had healed all the wounds he'd sustained from battle and reenergized him at the same time.

Like man-sized termites, the shape-shifting avatars of the crawling chaos scratched, gnawed, masticated, ripped, tore, and outright drilled right into the gigantic mango tree trunk they'd crashed into, turning it into sawdust in their wake.

She then fell like a hatchling from her nest, her green feathers flying everywhere as she let the horde tear her apart in Florante's stead. Cannibalizing her, to his horror.

"NOOOOOOOO!" Galang screamed himself raspy, his eyes flooded with tears, his fingertips glowing with rivulets of bright-blue energy, his halo shining with multiple arcs of electrical power so elaborate they looked like ancient root systems.

***

Florante Galang realized early on that he really was no hero, much less a superhero.

The first chance he got superpowers, he used it for petty revenge against his bullies, his mindless massacre resulting in his high school crush becoming collateral damage.

He really shouldn't be entrusted with destructive abilities like the Light Array, really.

The realization horrified him, but he honestly wouldn't get any real satisfaction from beating a stronger foe like the crawling chaos or the flying spaghetti monster like he did when he killed his bullies in a fever dream.

He was a coward who used his powers against bullies who couldn't fight back as vengeance to how they bullied him into submission when he couldn't fight back either.

He was no better than the bullies who picked on him.

When faced with the prospect of sacrificing life and limb against a monster that threatened the lives of the whole city of Makati, he came up short.

He had no personal stakes on the matter, so he wasn't as motivated to becoming a hero.

This dark creature didn't bully him so he had no quarrel against him. He had no driving force to beat him. They were actually the same—an Ophanim and a Minion thrust into a fight they had no dog in.

Even when the Minion began using innocent bystanders against Florante, this merely horrified the young Ophanim instead of build his heroic resolve.

Ultimately, Galang was a selfish person who only cared about himself. He was an even bigger coward than Mammon, who became a disembodied voice in their heads that mocked them all the while.

Jenny was right. He didn't have to fight. He had no personal stakes here.

However, there was something she said before she did her own heroic sacrifice that stuck with him.

"Even if people don't acknowledge you, you just need to be someone that you can be proud of!"

Someone he could be proud of, huh? How could he do that? How could he become someone he could be proud of even without the acknowledgement of others? Should he become a martyr?

Florante looked down from his perch atop the gigantic "rotting" mango tree that Jenny had used her life and healing factor on to induce its gigantic growth. Saw the avatars eat Jenny so that not even her bones were left.

There it was. There was his personal stakes. With tears in his eyes, his powers began to grow anew. He knew what he must do.

Like a dying typhoon turning into a low pressure area, only to get a second wind and become a super typhoon as it moved into the moisture-rich tropics that enhanced its shower and thunderstorm activity.

He then saw that the avatars that consumed Raphael's avatar had the dark presence of the crawling chaos leave them. Evicted or otherwise exorcised out of them. Her green aura spread across them all, healing them of the Black Plague that infected them.

This maelstrom of darkness then converged into a singular man. The original avatar that served as a candidate for whoever demon wanted to take control of him.  

Before this living, walking shadow creature could get his hands on more avatars, Florante struck at the unkillable thing as immortal as a concept.

How did one kill an idea or a movement before it could spread across the populace like wildfire?

Practical application. A dose of reality.

Ideas never panned out without a hitch in real life. Let it naturally progress and die in absurdity when applied to reality.

"Light Array!"

Thusly, Florante and Jennifer killed the idea of this Minion by not letting its dark influence spread across anymore innocent bystanders and victims then isolating him inside his one avatar, feeding it with energy until it burst.

Like letting a fire burn itself out before it could spread and raze everything in its path.

"Light ARRAY! LIGHT ARRAY! LIIIIIGHT ARRAAAAY!!!"

The blasts of energy chipped away at the concentrated density of the indefinable cosmic mass densely packed into the shape and sentience of a tall, lean man.

The glowing, electrified Florante then pierced through the layers and layers of negative energy in order to scream at the maelstrom, "Who are you? What are you doing? Why are you doing this? Do you really want to hurt all these people? Did Mammon put you up to this?"

The pacific storm that was Florante blasted the nimbus man with lightning and thunder, converging around him like he was the low pressure area about to become a typhoon himself.

"Did you think the same thing I had when we started fighting? Did you also wonder why we're fighting and if it's worth doing this in the first place?"

After blowing through layer upon layer of darkness and density, like a self-contained black hole made flesh, Galang then went face-to-face with… a kid. Just another kid like him. A tall kid, but a kid nonetheless.

They floated there in the eye of the storm that was Hurricane Galang.

A Minion facing an Ophanim, with both of them wondering what exactly was the difference between them.

Florante grinned at the stranger and said, "Let's stop this nightmare, okay? Maybe it's about time you woke up."

The darkness that surrounded them then shattered like glass, revealing an untouched city and a perfectly intact Guadalupe Church. Just like what had happened with the defeat of the spaghetti creature.

…Become a person he could be proud of, huh? Maybe he could try becoming that after all.  

***

Flor awoke outside the village or street where Jenny's apartment was located. He hadn't met up with her yet or gone to her apartment. Everything that had happened so far was just a fantasy.

Dammit. So even that was just a dream? A daydream, this time.

He then remembered the "last time" they ended up in her apartment and what they were talking about before they were cut off.

Oh, did he have one of those lucid dreams again? The ones you could control consciously? Or was he even awake now?

He'd been having all sorts of dreams lately, probably to escape the hell that was his teenage life as a bullied boy.

The dreams were happening more and more often. It was harder and harder to tell what was real and what wasn't until he did so in hindsight.

"Wait. What the hell am I doing?" he said to himself aloud, shook his head, and left without going to Jennifer Tolentino's apartment.

"Susmaryosep," he murmured under his breath, feeling like he'd somehow dodged a bullet for some reason.

***

The next day went on easier than the last, but only because Florante Galang knew what to expect of today this time around.

His classmates would either avoid him like the plague or talk behind his back as he went about his friendless existence in First Year Section St. Francis of Assisi at Fatima High School.

Oh well. At least his fantasies and fever dreams were interesting enough to jut down in a dream journal, right? Even though his reality was as banal as it could be.

Jennifer Tolentino and Laura Reyes used to sit near him in class, but they now sat elsewhere once their homeroom teacher and class advisor rearranged their seats.

He ended up with some dude who never talked to him sitting in front of him.

During recess, he went to the library instead of the cafeteria today because he usually sat in his lonesome these days.

His usual friends… acquaintances perhaps… well, the people he sat with every lunch, the Dead Kids… were off doing their own things separately. Weirdoes being weirdoes.

He should speak though. He went to the library during lunch. He was a weirdo himself.

He also tended to avoid bumping into the group consisting of Laura and her friends or, much worse, Gerry Jacinto and his barkada (gang).

He was used to classmates and the student body at large looking through him as though he weren't there, like he were a ghost.

However, for some reason, he felt like he had eyes all around him today, but whenever he stared back at people instead of the floor or his feet as usual, they ended up looking elsewhere. As if averting his gaze.

Was there something on his face or uniform? He hoped he didn't do anything embarrassing again. However, such concerns left his mind after his trip at the library.

He had one thing in mind. One person. Jenny Tolentino.

Granted, Florante still had his photocopies of the phone book page full of "Tolentinos" and other "T" names as well as the yearbook page featuring a look-alike Jennifer Narcissa Tolentino.

…Man, he was acting really creepy again, wasn't he?

How shallow was his crush on Laura Reyes that he ended up pining for Jenny Tolentino instead? Ah, whatever.

Crushes were supposed to be shallow attraction, right? You needed to really know someone to develop deeper feelings for them. Or so he heard. He didn't believe in love at first sight, although he had his share of, uh, infatuation at first sight.

Florante simply found Jenny cute because he knew her and they shared something in common. Also, she had puppy dog eyes behind those wide-rimmed glasses.

Why hadn't he looked at her that way before? Must be because of Laura. And because she might be a fellow angel.

Or at least his imagination viewed her as such.

Maybe this was him finally giving up on Laura in favor of Jenny. Maybe.

***

To Be Continued…

Florante starts having issues in being able to tell what's real and what's fantasy as he continues to dream up plot scenarios for his comic book and uses it to retreat from how miserable his real life has gotten.

Farewell, Abdiel

[qanishque]

The bones of his soul.

if god be for us, who can be against us?

but if you ask me, god is, inside and outside of what is. it is what it is not and it is not what it is.

my fav posts of all time -

Starting. (11 April 2017)

Blush. (16 June 2019)

Salutations. (1 October 2020)

Aren’t you the best. (23 November 2020)

Crayon Sky. (29 November 2020)

Fake it till you make it. (13 December 2020)

The Sacrifice of Horse. (30 December 2020)

Thirsty Fish. (6 January 2021)

Gambler’s Lament (from Rig-Veda). (17 January 2021)

So. Central Rain (REM cover). (28 January 2021)

Old Promo Mail sent by Tyler, The Creator. (1 February 2021)

Thanks Joe for the Info. (4 February 2021)

Butterscotch. (12 February 2021)

Date Night. (12 March 2021)

TGIF. (9 April 2021)

The Perks of Being an Adult. (5 June 2021)

The Longest Road. (9 June 2021)

Prejadas. (12 June 2021)

Aahista Aahista. (11 July 2021)

Butterfly. (11 August 2021)

"Was It All Planned?". (10 October 2021)

Is Joey Good Looking? (9 December 2021)

Adam's Bridge. (24 December 2021)

Two Of My Heroes, Together. (7 February 2022)

Dear Young Sisyphus. (21 April 2022)

Unnecessary Ornaments. (22 December 2022)

All-Seeing Eye. (29 January 2023)

Systems Thinking. (21 February 2023)

The Greatest Book of All Time. (24 February 2023)

The Archetype of Religion. (25 February 2023)

Models are imagination, Market is reality. (6 June 2023)

Inside out. (2 August 2023)

Super Gold Yes! (15 October 2023)

The God Abandons Anthony. (19 October 2023)

I've found The Philosopher's Stone (Reddit Post). (4 November 2023)

Jordan Peterson's conception of God. (11 November 2023)

She Speaks in Code (demo). (7 January 2024

Two articles I wrote about Thirsty Fish. (8 January 2024)

Chopin. (30 January 2024)

On Sense, Reference and Creativity. (13 February 2024)

Edge of As We Know. (14 April 2024)

Art is a one-sided conversation with the unobserved. (10 May 2024)

Time, Space, Heaven and Earth. (26 May 2024)

And God said unto Moses, I Am That I Am. (31 May 2024)

The Blank Swan. (18 June 2024)

Sweet Nothing. (25 June 2024)

Effect of Cause (Dolly Zoom in Theory). (20 July 2024)

Only Bottom-Up, Never Top-Down. (12 August 2024)

Hands on your Broom. (2 October 2024)

The Unmoving Mover. (9 November 2024)

Lens is the ladder. (14 December 2024)