#preaching from the mountain tops!!!!

[shannonsketches]

@worlds-only-dbgt-enjoyer

DUDE THE DIFFERENCE IN HIS CHARACTERIZATION IS WILD RIGHT

[tomas-smoked-sasuage]

Out of this World

(Sun Wukong x GOW Freya! Reader)

WARNING: This shit might be cringe and stupid, violence, swearing (obviously), language barrier, reader might accidentally be out of character Freya, late post & poor writing (mb gng)

Bold and slanted words are Chinese speak (not written Chinese for those confused)

NOTE: I accidentally posted this... It was not my intention to post this, I was planning for next week but since some have already read this, I'll just add more to the story that I was planning to anyway, so if you read it already. More content! I guess... (Nov. 30, 2024)

REQUEST ARE OPEN AND LIST IS HERE

The veins in my brain spiked with pain, tapping and poking on my face in hoping I wake up. Opening my eyes, I see many small creatures in front of me. Sitting up, I scooted back but they statutes to run towards me. On my feet, I made my stance to attack.

“Falk-!” Before conjuring my spell, something landed in front of me. The creatures stopped running in front of me as they saw, a staff?

I walked and crouched down to the staff, examining it. I’ve never seen a staff of such a design. Before I could touch it, the staff moved before firing back, a hairy hand grasped the pole. Turning towards the individual, he see, he a bit flash in my opinion. He stood on top on branch of a tree, merely felt intimidated.

“Who are you?” He spoke, the language is not to my knowledge. He noticed my confusion and intimation. The pain from my head came back. I fell to my knees, feeling the sharpness of the twigs and sticks. I lost my consciousness as I heard a thump.

-------------------------------------------------

"What do we do with her? She's clearly from the outside world." Erlang spoke, gazing upon you. Wukong walked from walking scoffing and scratching his head.

"The hell am I supposed to do? She landed on my mountain, clearly rude if you ask me." Erlang chuckled at Wukong who was clearly pissed that you landed on his mountain unattended and rudely. Or so he says.

Erlang continues to examine you, he saw your tattoos on your arms, wondering if there were like you. But you, he wonders what your tattoos mean.

"Her attire is uncivilized. She's a fighter, her markings on her arms and she's barefoot. She looks human, but her soul is not mortal." He brushed a few hair strands away from your face, getting a better look at your face and to see you have any injuries.

Wukong quickly turned towards Erlang, did he hear him correctly?

"Not mortal? What do you mean? No human can be immortal!? Are you certain?" He walked over to you. A disdain look he gave. Exactly who were you?

The moment later, guards forced their way into the room, causing you to wake up. You got up quick, grabbing at your sword but then realized they aren't there. You hold your stance as the guard aimed their spears at you.

Erlang and Wukong entered the room, and Erlang came forward slowly. His hands raised up, preaching for peace.

"Reframe from violence, we are not here to harm you " He spoke. You furrowed your eyes and tilted your head in confusion. Wukong scoffed and rolled his eyes. "See, she's stupid. Doesn't even understand what's going on."

"I don't think it's stupidity, she just doesn't stand our language. A common thing. We'll teach her our ways, if she seems troubling to the balance, kill her if you must. If she was not important in her homeworld, she wouldn't be important here."

---------------------------------------------

Years have passed by and you managed to learn their language, they saw you were already a fight but peaked your interest in teaching you to different techniques.

Wukong realized how smart you are but he still holds criticism towards you and likes to boast about his ego. Of course, you didn't pay too much mind to him.

As much as he hates to admit, he does not like seeing you with Erlang, he usually sees the both of you spar and how he looks at you. Even the praises that Erlang gives you makes him irritated.

You arrived at Mount Huaguo seemingly to drop something off for Wukong. The announcement of your arrival scurry the Monkey King off his throne. He hurried out, spotting you with the young one. You smiled and pet them as they brushed their heads against yours and your hands.

Up in a tree, Wukong was going to haul you off his mountain but seeing how gently you were with the young one, he just kept watching you. What seemed to be long enough, you asked the little ones for their king.

Wukong cleared his throat catching your attention. You set some of the infants down before bowing towards the Monkey King. "Your Majesty, I've come to-"

"Who are you?" He interrupted.

"Huh..." He left a bit speechless, but you answered.

"Not sure if it mattered but, Y/N. I fell in your mountain a few years back."

"I know who you are.." he rolled his eyes, scoffing a chuckle.

You let out a hum, you knew interacting with him wasn't going to be easy. Nor fun. "Well, alright. I have this scroll from the Celestial Court and-"

"The Court!?!" He then groaned, "Now what do they want?"

"They're expecting an answer for your return." You held out the scroll. Visibility to his sight.

Wukong looked at you with an uninviting gaze. He sighed before jumping off the tree, walking up to you. Taking the scroll from your hand and looking at you, you were slightly taller than him.

He opens the scroll reading it. You felt a land at your shoulder appearing an infant, you rubbed underneath its chin. Without notice, Wukong stole a few glances here and there of the scroll and you. Pretty amazing how the infants took a liking to you.

He cleared his throat, catching your attention again. He then tossed the scroll behind him rolling his head and turning away from.

"Tell them I still decline. I have a life here and I wish to keep it that way." You nodded before turning around, the infant jumped off your shoulder.

"But then there's you." You turned back around as he continued, "Why be so naive to work under the Court, you're an Outsider. They thought you once dumb, but your bright, smarter even, but this isn't your smartest run. You'll see eventually that Courts want nothing but a lapdog." He turns away from you.

"And what exactly do you get off of this? Why tell me?" He appears right in front of you, you stumbled back but he grabs your arm pulling you closer.

"The Court is not what they all seem. They seem wonderful and prideful, but they'll use you to their advantage. You're strong, so they'll use you at any change they'll get." He then laughed madly.

"Don't be a fool!" Jump from one tree to another, he disappeared.

Leaving you in question and wonder, you think more about the Monkey King after returning to the Court.

Here's this, as I said before, I was NOT wanting to post this until next week but somehow I posted it anyways. It was in my drafts since like Tuesday, so I don't know what happened today, but yeah, here's this. I might make a part two, if so do expect it to be good. I'm not too good or knee in writing, but I do my best. So if you are interested in this story, let me know. I'll make a part two. And yeah.

REQUEST ARE OPEN HERE!!

[merwgue]

Rhysand is often portrayed as this perfect, morally grey ruler, but when you take a closer look at his actions, it's obvious how messed up he really is. Let’s break down the so-called “benevolent” High Lord of the Night Court.

1. The Hewn City – The King of Torture? Rhysand's treatment of the people in Hewn City is straight-up barbaric. The way he holds power over them isn’t out of necessity or to “protect” them from worse rulers—it’s control through fear and violence. He tortures them, plays with their lives, and enjoys maintaining his iron grip on them. It's almost like he uses them as his personal stress toys. Is that really the hallmark of a just ruler? Sure, Hewn City isn’t full of saints, but for Rhys to stand on his high horse and act like he's saving everyone while still torturing his subjects? Hypocrisy at its finest.

2. Rhysand and Feyre – Let’s Talk About Consent Let’s not forget that he literally assaulted Feyre Under the Mountain. I don’t care how anyone tries to frame it as him “saving her” from Amarantha—there’s no excuse for the way he took away her agency. Rhys manipulated her, forced her into wearing those skimpy outfits, and paraded her around for his entertainment. All while pretending it was for the greater good. It's pretty damn disgusting how that gets brushed under the rug like it was some noble sacrifice when in reality, he robbed Feyre of her choices.

3. Planning to Execute Nesta – The Line Between Justice and Control Rhysand and his inner circle legit planned to execute Nesta, all because she didn’t fall in line. Nesta had her faults—hell, a lot of them—but threatening her life because she didn't act the way Rhys wanted? That's not justice; that's manipulation and control at its core. He wasn't trying to protect anyone. He was pissed that he couldn't control her, that she wasn't another cog in his perfect little machine of Night Court harmony.

4. Tamlin – Kicking a Man While He’s Down Say what you will about Tamlin, but there’s no denying that Rhysand completely overstepped every boundary when it came to him. The Night Court loves to preach about freedom, but Rhys had no problem strutting into Tamlin’s land, throwing it in his face, and making an already broken man feel like utter shit. There’s a difference between defending your own and downright antagonizing someone who’s in the depths of depression. At one point, he basically told Tamlin to end his own life. What kind of "savior" talks like that to someone who's clearly struggling? It's downright cruel.

5. The Night Court – A Dictatorship Wrapped in Pretty Words Rhysand's Night Court is sold to everyone as this place of freedom, where people can be who they truly are—but at what cost? If you cross Rhys or don’t fall in line with his vision, you either face his wrath, his torture, or his manipulation. He's not running a court; he's running a dictatorship where everything is fine as long as it aligns with his master plan. The fact that he keeps calling himself the “most powerful High Lord in history” just feeds into that massive god complex he has. The ego on this guy is unbelievable.

6. Double Standards – The Morality of Convenience Rhys preaches about freedom and respect, but he only seems to extend that to people he deems worthy. If you’re in his circle or someone he cares about, great—you get all the privileges. If not? Well, tough luck. He’ll trample over your land, threaten your life, or torture you into submission. The cherry on top? Everyone around him acts like he’s the greatest thing to happen to Prythian, and the fandom just eats it up.

So, yeah. Rhysand is fucked up. He’s not just morally grey—he’s power-hungry, manipulative, and borderline sadistic. His version of “ruling” the Night Court is as hypocritical as it gets. Benevolent High Lord? More like the king of self-righteous cruelty.

7. Locking Up Nesta – Rhysand’s Tamlin Moment Remember how everyone vilified Tamlin for locking Feyre up “for her own safety”? Sure, it was messed up, but the narrative painted him as this controlling, possessive villain because of it. Now, fast forward to Rhysand, who literally does the same thing to Nesta. She’s spiraling, yes, but instead of finding her real help or giving her space to heal, he decides to trap her in the House of Wind like a damn prisoner. He takes away her freedom, isolates her from the outside world, and forces her into a situation she clearly doesn’t want. How is that any different from what Tamlin did?

But here’s the kicker: Rhysand gets praised for it. Why? Because he’s Rhysand, the supposed hero, and everything he does is always “for the greater good,” right? It’s utter bullshit. He used the same controlling tactics on Nesta that Tamlin used on Feyre, but the fandom acts like he was being this saintly, tough-love older brother. What he did was textbook manipulation, stripping away Nesta’s autonomy because she didn’t fit into his perfect vision of what recovery should look like.

8. Forcing Recovery on Nesta – Ignoring Trauma Let’s not sugarcoat this: Rhysand locked up a woman who was using drinking as a coping mechanism and basically said, “Tough luck, you’re staying here until you fix yourself.” That's not helping; that’s punishing someone for their trauma. Nesta was in pain, lashing out and struggling to deal with what happened to her. Did she need help? Absolutely. But instead of offering her real emotional support, Rhys just forced her into a recovery program that suited his standards and timeline, not hers.

What makes this even worse is that Nesta was self-harming through drinking, and instead of addressing the root cause of her pain, Rhysand and his inner circle chose to control her like she was a problem that needed to be fixed, not a person who needed to be understood. There’s nothing noble about that.

9. Rhysand’s Hypocrisy – Tamlin vs. Himself This is where Rhysand’s hypocrisy really shines. He condemned Tamlin for being controlling, and Feyre (rightfully) left that toxic environment. But Rhys turns around and does the same thing to Nesta, and instead of being held accountable for it, he gets celebrated for “taking action.” How does that even make sense? It's such a double standard that it's almost laughable. Tamlin’s actions were wrong, but Rhysand’s were just as bad, if not worse, because he knew better. He knew what it felt like to be controlled, yet he did it anyway.

10. Stop Giving Rhys a Pass People need to stop giving Rhysand a pass for his behavior. He gets away with literal torture, manipulation, locking people up, and trampling over others' boundaries because he’s good at hiding it behind the facade of “protecting his court.” He’s not the hero people make him out to be. He’s just as flawed and fucked up as the people he claims to be better than.

At the end of the day, locking someone up—whether it’s Feyre in the Spring Court or Nesta in the House of Wind—is a violation of their autonomy. Rhysand isn't some hero swooping in to save the day. He's a controlling ruler who just happens to be good at spinning the narrative in his favor.

[karmaphone]

I want to take a moment of your time to preach the good word of The Long Dark. 'Liz,' you say, 'you talk about The Long Dark all the time.' That's true! As my favorite game, it's bound to be the one I talk about the most. But it is, and I do not say this lightly, absolutely incredible.

First off, let me say that this is technically a survival horror game. There are sudden flashing sequences that can trigger epilepsy and elements like graphic animal death, creeping horrors of starvation thirst temperature etc., and seeing frozen corpses around you knowing at some point you will become one of them. However: this game has an incredible range and you can set it to supremely easy (like I do) to the point where you can genuinely forget it's not just Survive In The Frozen Woods Simulator. You can adjust the settings to get the playthrough style you want, anywhere from scenic exploration of the many enormous regions and pensive hunting to heart-racing fights against bears and wolves stalking you across the map and wondering if you'll make it to shelter before freezing to death every time you leave.

This game is gorgeous. Many people are initially put off by the simpler style, but seeing a few sunrises & auroras and getting lost in blizzards a couple times usually changes their minds. Fluffy pastels and sweeping deep purples and grays make twilight absolutely beautiful and the green and pinks of auroras are stunning, especially if you happen to catch some blue. Go catch an aurora coming into Forsaken Airfield or from the top of Timberwolf Mountain and tell me I'm wrong.

You like foraging? We got foraging! Not only can you cook with ingredients and animals that you find, you can also cook up medicines and stat buffs. There are recipes hidden around that you have to work to be able to cook.

There are of course a multitude of clothes that you can find and repair, but you can also make your own out of animal hides! #Canadian Wilderness Dressup Divas 2k24

You want calm exploration? We got that too! Take a trip around the different regions to pay respect to all the gravesites if you like, or try to find the hundreds of cairns scattered around. Vague hints that point to secret stashes and the previous lives of people on the island? We got that too, pictures and notes and journals oh my.

You want hard missions? We got an immortal glowing bear that stalks you across maps for that. We got run-from-the-top-of-one-region-to-the-bottom-of-another-without-getting-mauled-by-bears-or-wolves-or-moose challenges. We got a-blizzard-is-coming-so-you-gotta-stock-up-on-enough-supplies-to-outlast-it challenges. Zone of contamination and blackrock mine are. there. Don't even get me started on the faithful cartographer achievement, in which you fill out your map in every named place in the game.

You want storyline? We got storyline! Good luck!

[circles-n-spirals-alike]

Home is Where The Heart Is: Chapter 1

a CiD-based fic because i have a concept

word count: 2,281

—

—

—

He doesn’t know exactly when he first came to be.

He just. Was.

He awoke in the forest, rose from the moss covered land, and knew.

This was him. 

He was the roots in the soil, the branches in the sky. the grass and the flowers, the water and the ripples. the creatures around him came forth, and bowed to him only.

And he knew.

This is how it will always be.

— — — 

Much time had passed since he had taken his first breath. He was playing with the tops of the trees, when he sensed something entering his forest.

Or more accurately, someone.

Now, to say he had never encountered a human would be a lie. 

In the many millennia of his existence, there have been a handful who found themselves in his woods. Some were simply wanderers who had just gotten lost, others were… not as innocent.

In the former scenario, he would gently guide them out. While they didn’t harm his home, they rarely brought anything to make their stay worthwhile, sans the occasional trinket that was occasionally dropped when they left. 

In the latter case however, he takes a much more… aggressive approach. He never killed them (he’d rather not deal with the corpse of a monster), but rarely did he leave them unscathed. He’d steal their weapons of jagged iron and bury them far below the earth, all while the wolves and trees pushed the evil things out. After a while, those types have ceased to return.

But this human, the first one to enter his woods in a long time, seemed different than any of the previous. It didn’t appear lost or afraid, nor did he sense any contempt or aggression from its being. No, this one was special, for it did not bring pain or emptiness.

This one brought a song. 

“Legend has it that the moss grows on the north side of the trees~ Well, legend has it when the rain comes down all the worms come up to breathe~”

The human sang of him and the truths of the Earth. 

“But have you heard the stories of the rabbit in the moon? Or the cow that hopped the planets while straddling a spoon Or she who lept a mountain while whistling up a tune And swapped her songs with swallows while riding on a broom~”

But it also sang of its kin and the stories they’ve must have spun and told to their children. It was strange at first, but the more he listened, the more he felt like this song was for him.

And who was he to deny such a beautiful gift? 

The human sang on, its voice preaching to the forest that shifted as it wandered through, guiding it to an open circle covered in flowers and moss. It didn’t seem to notice it was following a path, lost in its song and the natural beauty of the land around him.

“Well, we can all learn things, both many and a-few From that old hunched-up woman who lived inside a shoe Or the girl that sang by day and by night, she ate tear soup Or the man who drank too much, and he got the brewers' droop!”

At this point, he was so enthralled by the human’s gift, he couldn’t help it. He had to return the favor.

Beats from beneath the earth rumbled, causing the thing to pause and remove some objects from its ears. 

Good, he thought, it wants to listen.

He took a deep breathe and sang out in a language humans could hear, 

“But everything you see isn’t everything that is, Every thing you think to be, every thought you can’t dismiss.  The lives we try to lead and the time we try to give Well, it’s all a fallacy we continue to relive~”

His voice echoed across the woods as he bounced with the wind through the trees. He caught a glance of the human, who was frantically looking around for a source for the singing. He almost laughed at the sight, but continued to sing.

“And everything will live, just as everything will die.  Every that you forgive, and every friend that you deny”

He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to give it something to focus its eyes on. He drifted his being onto the forest floor, before rising from a patch of lichen, a cape of moss draped over his back as grey-brown hair with streaks of green floated over his shoulders. The mortal turned around only in time to see him sneaking out from behind a tree.

“Every single first hello and every single last goodbye, Every smile that you show, every tear that you hide~”

The mortal’s face is shocked for a short moment, before shifting into a grin brighter than the sun. 

The two of them began singing together, about the world, both human and natural, about myths and secrets, beginnings and ends, until they’re both laying in the circle with their backs against the earth, one panting much harder than the other. They laid there in silence for a few moments, before the mortal spoke.

“You’ve got an awesome voice there, mate,” it said breathily. 

He smiled, a warm feeling tickling his cheeks. 

“Thank you,” he chirped, before adding after a break, “you gave a very good song to the forest.”

It laughed, “uuuh, thanks, I think? I kinda just came in here to explore and be on my own for a bit. Didn’t think anyone would be out here at all, let alone listening to me belt out Cosmo Sheldrake, heh.”

He listened to the mortal as it rambled on about summer camps and strict guardians and music and some other human things he didn’t really understand. But as he listened attentively, one thing became crystal clear.

He had to keep this mortal. 

Right, okay that may seem a little extreme.

But never has he ever met a human that captured his attention like this, one so openly honest, and yet so kindly to both him and his home. He’s aware of how humans fuction, and that he can’t keep this one around forever, or even at least a fortnight. But he refused to let it just leave without the definite knowledge of its eventual return. To leave him with nothing.

So, he readies his hooks…

“Sorry to interrupt you my friend, but if you don’t mind, Could I please have your name?”

The mortal hesitated for a moment, probably thrown off by the tone of the question. He almost takes back the request before the honest voice speaks.

“Oh uh, yeah. It’s Flanagan.” 

He’s caught him.

He stared at Flanagan for a few moments, before smiling and giggling wildly.

It shifts a bit in place, suddenly seeming very uncomfortable. 

Did I scare it already? Stars above.

“I don’t normally enjoy humans in my forest, but don’t worry. I like you, Flanagan.

I like you a lot.”

It shivers at the sound of its name, though not negatively as its eyes glimmered with entrancement. 

“Uh- i, um- t-thanks, and also, uh real. What you said about people n stuff…”

He tilts his head in confusion. 

“Of course it was real, i can’t lie.”

“That’s not- ”

Suddenly, a voice called from outside the woods.

“Flanagan Jones? You know the rules about wandering out of camp zones! Besides, it’s time for worship hour!”

the mortal cringed in familiarity, and annoyance and discomfort radiated from its soul as he glanced toward the direction of the sound.

“Fuuucking hell, it’s my counselor,” it groaned, and quick visions of a tall, pushy, obnoxious man entered his mind. He was familiar with these types. Flanagan glanced back at him, disappointingly. “I have to go back.”

But you’ve barely just got here, he thought longing, but no matter. I can work with this.

“Flanagan,” he cooed its name, causing the human’s eyes to glaze over a bit as it listened to his words, “Come back to me tonight, when all the others are dreaming.”

He thought for a moment.

“And bring me a gift of some kind. Okay?”

Flanagan nodded, a bit dazily but good enough for him to know it understood.

“Thank you, Flanagan,” he said, releasing it from his command. “Now, go with your ‘counselor.’ I’ll be here when you return. Goodbye.” 

And with that, he retreated out of the tree circle, melting into the shadows of the woods.

Through the ground, he could feel the mortal stagger a bit before finding its balance and awkwardly said, “Uh, okay… see you later, mate?” 

And with that it left, with a trail of confusion, concern, and content trailing behind it.

— — — 

The moon shone its full light as he waited for his new friend to return. 

It felt like forever in his tangible body until he finally sensed the familiar tread of footsteps entering his forest. 

He made sure to completely clear a path and even asked some of the lighting bugs to guide it back to the circle and, soon enough, his Flanagan was standing on the edge of the ring, with a stick of light in its hand and some sort of bag on its back.

He grinned with excitement.

“You’re here!” he nearly shouted. “It felt like forever since the sun had set! How long does it take for them to fall asleep? You know what, doesn’t matter. So, what did you br-”

“I know what you are, by the way.”

He paused, completely thrown off by the bluntness of the statement.

“I… what?” 

“I should have caught it way sooner honestly. Fuck, I should have noticed it the moment I saw you, with your grass cape and no shoes wearing ass.”

“It’s moss,” he corrected as he began figiting with the inside of the aforementioned cape, “and I still don’t really know what you’re talking about.”

“I’ve read the stories of people like you,” it explained, “people who can’t lie, who thrive off the natural world and its magic or whatever. What happens if you enter their domain without permission or reason, what happens if you give them your name. Which I did not mean to do, and I think you know that.”

He glanced at the floor during the last part. The mortal sighed before opening its bag.

“I’m not mad at you about it, for the record. Whether that be because of whatever magic-mind fuckery you did to me, or because I actually like hanging out with you, I don't really know. But I’m not upset with you in any way, and I don't really want to be. I'm more curious if anything. Oh, and before I forget- here.” 

It handed him a weighted object with a smooth covering and symbols of a human language on the top. A book, if he recalled correctly.

“That’s a collection of Grimm's Fairy Tales. Thought you might enjoy their stories, I haven’t read them all, but you look like the type. And also I didn’t really know what else to give you since I don't really know… Wait, can you even read?” 

He almost laughs a bit at the question. He had stolen the knowledge from a past wanderer after it fell asleep in his forest, and didn’t bring anything to trade with for letting it stay. Though he feels as though he should keep that information to himself for now.

So, he just simply said, “Yes, I do know how to read. Thank you for the gift.” 

He thought for a second, before deciding to add, “Your thoughts and feelings are your own at the moment. I have no influence over your mind until I say your name.” 

“Figured as much. Any chance I could, I dunno, get that back?”

“Mmh, maybe. Not tonight though.” 

“Well, worth a shot.”

The two sat in silence before Flanagan spoke again, “Could you tell me who you are?” 

At this he guffawed, his voice echoing across the forest as he freely spread himself around the ring. 

“I am everything you see here and anything here you don’t. From the dirt beneath your feet to the treetops above your head. I am the breeze that dances through the leaves, I am the moss that grows on the north side of the trees. I have been here since life here has sprung, and I will be here until we both die out millennia from now. I am the forest, and the forest is me.”

He condensed himself and floated back down to the floor in front of his mortal.

“That is who I am.” 

Flanagan stared at him with eyes full of wonder, before shifting to amusement. “That was beautiful, but I meant like, your name, dude. ”

Oh.  

“Oh, I don't have one.” 

It frowned slightly at that. “Really? Okay, well in that case, is it cool if i call you, uuuh,” it looks around the forest for a second, “Moss?”

“Moss?”

He huffed a bit. “I mean, yeah? At least until I can come up with a better name to give you. After all, i can’t just keep calling ya ‘mate’. What do you think?” 

The forest smiled gently as a familiar warmth filled his cheeks once more as the idea of another gift from his Flanagan, an intentional one at that, entered his mind.

“Call me whatever you like, darl,” Moss said with adoration in his tongue. “I’ll be happy with any name as long as it’s from you.” 

— — — 

Many millennia later, at the edge of the universe, a soft voice whispers to an empty grave in a circle of trees.

“And I will never be happier than the day you told me.”

[mosessumney]

On 10 Years of Mid-City Island

I was painstakingly self-conscious in the beginning of my career. I’d grown up accustomed to writing in a vacuum, in my childhood bedroom, in my dorm room, hiding my songbook inside my mattress or at the bottom of a drawer. I always thought I’d get to make my first recordings in total obscurity, clumsily clanging around.

But months before I began recording my first EP, things blew up.

After a few shows and 2 bedroom recordings, seemingly everyone from the Los Angeles music scene was suddenly peering into my window, waiting to see what my first offering would be, hoping for commodifiable gloss. I was wined and dined and unrefined.

But I didn’t want to record the “R&B record” that would make me famous. I wanted to make something experimental akin to the early recordings I loved – Linda Perhacs’ Parallelograms; Sufjan Stevens’s A Sun Came; the scratchy musings of Cody ChestnuTT and Milton Nascimento; the kitchen candor of Jessica Pratt. Instead I was often shipped to fancy producers’ and execs’ home studios and offices, forced to listen to them preach about how I was a star-in-waiting. I didn’t want to be a star. I wanted to be honest.

But secretly, I did feel like a star. Gaseous and infinite, distant and intangible, shining bright in the middle of a constellation, unable to touch the celestial bodies around me. I scribed “Man on the Moon” on a red guitar I bought on sale from a shuttering music store.

In one of these producer meetings, I journeyed to the top of a mountain to meet TV on the Radio’s Dave Sitek. He gave me a four-track recorder and told me to say “f*ck off” to everyone trying to sign or produce me. He told me to find my own voice or others would find it for me. He taught me how to record myself to tape, sparking an affinity for analogue processes. I “borrowed” the tape recorder, promising I would come back when I had found my sound. It sits now on the topmost shelf in my home studio. I guess I’m still searching.

Mid-City, Los Angeles was more of a concept than a place. Seemingly nobody had ever heard of it, and yet it was the geographic center of the city. Living there felt analogous to my disposition as a “rising” Angeleno – highly visible and invisible at the same time. It was an urban island and the sun beat its concrete ceaselessly. I sat on my bedroom floor and wrote “Plastic,” listening to Amy Winehouse demos and thinking about how we let our stars fall as long as they entertain us on the way down.

I recorded these misgivings straight to cassette on that Yamaha MT4X, feeling like a historian tracing my own origins. I loved that it sounded older than it was. I felt older than I was. I decided then that I would press it to vinyl in 10 years. I couldn’t afford to make vinyl records anyway. Instead, I backpacked little cassette tapes I would sign and sell at shows.

I realized early on that being visible (but not necessarily seen) was just gonna be a part of my story. How blessed I was to push through it with clear vision – and now I’m forced to stop and reflect. 10 years later, I’m still thinking 10 years ahead. Ask me about now in 10 years. Shoot, ask me in 20.

- M

______________________________________________________________

"Mid-City Island," our limited-edition 10 year anniversary black vinyl, is available to pre-order now: mosessumney.bandcamp.com/album/mid-city-island

[jedimandalorian]

Sabine and Ezra in the Star Wars Children’s Books, a master post with a mountain of evidence supporting the Sabezra ship. 😉

Part One: https://www.tumblr.com/jedimandalorian/747333236931379201/part-one-of-three-dear-church-of-ezrabine

[queerstake]

As a queer drawn to the faith and trying to deal with the messiness of entering into everything, I've been trying hard to read more of the Book of Mormon because I only have a very vague understanding of it's Whole Deal, but executive dysfunction, ADHD, and honestly, a million other excuses are making it very difficult. Are there any good resources for walking through the fundamentals? Childish but I feel like I'm disappointing the Lord if I'm not more on top of this.

Hi anon! I totally get it and yes, I can think of a few ideas!

If you're looking for ways to understand the BoM (or even just general doctrine) from more of a bird's eye view:

I hope you don't find this silly, but when I was a kid, the church published an illustrated children's version of the BoM that's obviously way quicker to flip through. It might be harder for you to find those exact editions I read as a kid if you don't have ready access to a church library, BUT I found this!! It's (almost) the ENTIRE BoM illustrated and summarized and it's online!

Looks like they put out videos too that summarize the BoM beginning to end. Here's a link to the video series. I haven't seen these, so I can't vouch for them, but they might be helpful! Similarly, there's a BoM in 60 seconds video you might find helpful.

If you'd benefit from a schedule, the church is currently studying the BoM in sunday school! The past few years, we've been using a study guide called Come Follow Me with weekly assigned reading chapters. I've actually been working on posts about CFM as they relate to queer mormon theology, but I haven't had much posted yet since I've been having a rocky start to 2024. As things improve, I'll be able to hopefully even establish a schedule on this blog!

I'm not sure if missionary lessons is something you're interested in at this point, and it's definitely not something you ever need to do, but the missionary lessons themselves are a pretty good doctrine intro if you're looking for just Mormonism 101 in a digestible way. The missionaries teach out a book called Preach My Gospel, which is available right here. You'll be interested in the lessons, which are found in Chapter 3. If you just scroll down, you'll see some of the links are labeled Lesson instead of Chapter--just click on those bad boys. And if you have any doctrinal questions, I'm always MORE than happy to talk about the church! You'll probably get a faster answer DMing me personally at @logans-mormon-blog, but I'll always answer asks here as soon as time permits.

If you're looking for easier ways to finish the BoM from beginning to end:

The BoM on tape. The church has an audiobook version available on the Gospel Library app and other audio apps like Spotify.

The Reader's Edition. If you can get your hand on a reader's edition, a lot of people find this is an easier way to plow through the BoM. What's special about this one is that it's formatted not like scripture but like prose, and it really does change the reading experience!

I don't know if this helps any, but I struggle with some of the same issues as you and I'm always bitterly disappointed when I'm not able to move mountains. If I had my way, I'd be the most well-read scriptorian of all time and this blog would be updated constantly. But life often doesn't shake out that way. I spend way more time than I want to with my brain entirely burned out of my head. So you're not alone, if that's any comfort. I think God gets it--he made our brains, after all, and knows how hard it is to wrestle with. It's easier said than done, but don't beat yourself up. God loves the both of us and he's the most perfectly patient person who's ever lived. He's not frustrated or disappointed with our efforts. Religion exists, in my opinion, to help improve and enrich our lives, not make them more challenging OR even to make them perfect if we only could just run fast enough. I too wish I could be more diligent and on it, but shit happens, right? And we're not on earth to be perfect, we're here to be happy and to learn. When Joseph Smith was translating the BoM, God told him "Do not run faster or labor more than you have strength and means provided to enable you to translate; but be diligent unto the end." D&C 10:4. We're doing our damndest, and that's all God even wants from us.

If anyone else has more resource ideas, please let us know!

-Logan

[cherrycola27]

Father, Forgive Me

Warnings: Religious AU! Preacher Jake. Cult activities and dark religious themes. Blood, gore, violence, language. Minors DNI. 18+

Masterlist Next Part

...........................................

Prologue: For I have Sinned

There are a few defining characteristics that one must have to be considered a good leader.

Kind eyes, a bright smile, quick wit, a firm handshake, a charming personality, and a silver tongue that could sell ice to a polar bear. Most people only needed a few of these to be convincing enough for someone to blindly follow them.

But, if someone possessed all of these qualities and topped it off with a southern drawl and movie star face and the wrong intentions, well—they could be downright— deadly.

That's exactly what happened to the good people of Ginger Ridge, North Carolina. A devilishly handsome young reverend rolled into their town. Reverend Smith. He was young, mysterious, —different.

He fixed up the old white church at the top of Ridge Hill. He came to town and invited the people to hear his sermons. At first, he seemed amazing. Charming, caring, sweet. Everyone loved him. No— they adored him—especially the younger folks who seemed lost in their faith.

Soon, he started hosting "special" prayer groups for the lost teens and young adults of Ginger Ridge. Many of the older folks stopped attending after this. They felt like Father Smith wasn't preaching the word to them anymore. They felt like he had changed. His teachings became— darker. They townspeople tried to keep They young folks away from him, but it was no use.

The lost youth continued to flock to him like moths to flame. Blindly holding on to every word he said. In their mind, Father Jonas Smith was the mouthpiece of God, and they would do anything to please them. Maybe that's why after his disappearance, there were over dozen blonde haired, green eyed babes born to some unwed mothers in Ginger Ridge.

................

The full moon hung high in the sky that night in the sleepy mountain town of Ginger Ridge. It was peaceful as a warm summer wind blew in through the open windows of the townspeople's homes. That peace would soon be disturbed by the sound screams and cries for mercy as Reverend Smith's "lost youth" carried out his sinister plan.

When the local law enforcement from the next town over was tipped off, they immediately contacted the FBI. Agents came into the small mountain community and couldn't believe their eyes. Blood and bodies of men and women filled the streets and homes. The youth and children were nowhere to be found. Upon further investigation, they were found in the white church at the top of Ridge Hill.

All of them were clothed and singing a sermon in white robes that had been stained and splattered with the crimson red blood of their family and friends.

When they were taken in for questioning, each one said the same thing. "Reverend Smith preached the good word to us. He is truly a prophet of God. Our souls will be welcomed in the Great Hereafter now that the sacrifice has been given." What was even more disturbing than that were the roughly fifteen or so girls between the ages of eighteen and twenty-four who all claimed that they had been extra blessed because they had been selected by God himself to carry the child of Reverend Smith and raise the next generations of prophets.

The FBI attempted to locate Reverend Jonas Smith after that night, only to find that he never existed.

After months of searching for him, the trail went cold, and the case was given to you, Agent Y/N Walters. After a few weeks of digging you did stumble upon a similar case from Massachusetts, except the man believed to be behind it was someone named Father Jackson Simmons and a case from Texas but the person of interests name in that one was James Simon.

You read each file and realized that Jonas, Jackson, and James all had to be the same man. You just had to figure out who he really was and stop him before the events of Ginger Ridge were repeated.

..........

The windows were down on his beat up late eighties model pickup truck as Jake Seresin drove down the highway. He fiddled with the radio station landing on a Beach Boys song as he drove past the "Welcome to California" sign.

The sun was just setting as he pulled into the small seaside motel in the town of Del Angelo. He adjusted his tie and grabbed his duffle bag before exiting his vehicle.

"Good evening." The older woman at the desk greeted him.

"Evening Ma'am." Jake said as he walked up to the counter. He dropped his bag by his feet and set his worn Bible and keys on the counter.

"How can I help you?" She asked him.

"I called yesterday. I have a reservation for the next few weeks under the name Saunders." He said before giving her a wide smile.

"Ah, yes, I remember. Jason Sauders. I have the reservation right here. A room on the third floor, end of the hall, just as you requested." She smiled at him before handing him the key. Jake handed her a large stack of bills and gave her a wink.

"My name is Ethel if you need anything, and if I'm not around, you can ask my husband David or my daughter Mary-Ann." She told him.

"Thank you, Miss Ethel. You know there actually is something you might be able to help me with." He said.

"What's that?" Ethel asked him.

"When I was driving in town, I noticed an old boarded up church. Any idea who I could talk to about fixing it up?" Jake asked her.

"You'd probably need to talk to Mayor Andrews about that. Is there any reason you want to fix up that old place?" She asked him.

"Well, Ethel, my full name is Reverend Jason Sauders, and I was hoping to fix up that church so I could bring the word of God to the people of Del Angelo." Jake told her.

"A preacher? My word, we haven't had one of those here in years. Lord knows we need one. You might be just what we need around here, Reverend Sauders." Ethel beamed.

"I hope so. I know that after I'm finished, Del Angelo will never be the same." Jake smirked at her before grabbing his things and heading to his room. He chuckled to himself, knowing that the first part of his plan had already been put in motion.

Tagging some who might be interested: @thedroneranger @roosterscock @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @teacupsandtopgun @mayhemmanaged @lovinglyeternal @lovingbradshawafterdark @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hecate-steps-on-me @cassiemitchell @na-ta-sh-aa @blueoorchid @milestellerlover @katieshook02 @mak-32 @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @ohgodnotagainn @diorrfairy @eli2447 @xoxabs88xox @potato-girl99981 @djs8891 @roosterbruiser @roosters-girl @sebsxphia @roostette

Hope yall enjoyed my unmedicated ADHD filled dumpster fire

[mahayanapilgrim]

Can a mound of dirt represent the Buddha, the path to Enlightenment, a mountain and the universe all at the same time? It can if it is a stupa. The stupa (“stupa” is Sanskrit for heap) is an important form of Buddhist architecture, though it predates Buddhism. It is generally considered to be a sepulchral monument—a place of burial or a receptacle for religious objects. At its simplest, a stupa is a dirt burial mound faced with stone. In Buddhism, the earliest stupas contained portions of the Buddha’s ashes, and as a result, the stupa began to be associated with the body of the Buddha. Adding the Buddha’s ashes to the mound of dirt activated it with the energy of the Buddha himself.

Early stupas

Before Buddhism, great teachers were buried in mounds. Some were cremated, but sometimes they were buried in a seated, meditative position. The mound of earth covered them up. Thus, the domed shape of the stupa came to represent a person seated in meditation much as the Buddha was when he achieved Enlightenment and knowledge of the Four Noble Truths. The base of the stupa represents his crossed legs as he sat in a meditative pose (called padmasana or the lotus position). The middle portion is the Buddha’s body and the top of the mound, where a pole rises from the apex surrounded by a small fence, represents his head. Before images of the human Buddha were created, reliefs often depicted practitioners demonstrating devotion to a stupa.

The ashes of the Buddha were buried in stupas built at locations associated with important events in the Buddha’s life including Lumbini (where he was born), Bodh Gaya (where he achieved Enlightenment), Deer Park at Sarnath (where he preached his first sermon sharing the Four Noble Truths (also called the dharma or the law), and Kushingara (where he died). The choice of these sites and others were based on both real and legendary events.

“Calm and glad"

According to legend, King Ashoka, who was the first king to embrace Buddhism (he ruled over most of the Indian subcontinent from c. 269 - 232 B.C.E.), created 84,000 stupas and divided the Buddha’s ashes among them all. While this is an exaggeration (and the stupas were built by Ashoka some 250 years after the Buddha’s death), it is clear that Ashoka was responsible for building many stupas all over northern India and the other territories under the Mauryan Dynasty in areas now known as Nepal, Pakistan, Bangladesh, and Afghanistan.

One of Ashoka's goals was to provide new converts with the tools to help with their new faith. In this, Ashoka was following the directions of the Buddha who, prior to his death (parinirvana), directed that stupas should be erected in places other than those associated with key moments of his life so that “the hearts of many shall be made calm and glad.” Ashoka also built stupas in regions where the people might have difficulty reaching the stupas that contained the Buddha’s ashes.

One of the most famous stupas, The Great Stupa (Mahastupa) was built at the birthplace of Ashoka’s wife, Devi, daughter of a local merchant in the village of Sanchi located on an important trade route in the state of Madya Pradesh, India

Karmic benefits

The practice of building stupas spread with the Buddhist doctrine to Nepal and Tibet, Bhutan, Thailand, Burma, China and even the United States where large Buddhist communities are centered. While stupas have changed in form over the years, their function remains essentially unchanged. Stupas remind the Buddhist practitioner of the Buddha and his teachings almost 2,500 years after his death.

For Buddhists, building stupas also has karmic benefits. Karma, a key component in both Hinduism and Buddhism, is the energy generated by a person’s actions and the ethical consequences of those actions. Karma affects a person’s next existence or re-birth. For example, in the Avadana Sutra ten merits of building a stupa are outlined. One states that if a practitioner builds a stupa he or she will not be reborn in a remote location and will not suffer from extreme poverty. As a result, a vast number of stupas dot the countryside in Tibet (where they are called chorten) and in Burma (chedi).

The journey to enlightenment

Buddhists visit stupas to perform rituals that help them to achieve one of the most important goals of Buddhism: to understand the Buddha’s teachings, known as the Four Noble Truths (also known as the dharma and the law) so when they die they cease to be caught up in samsara, the endless cycle of birth and death.

The Four Noble Truths:

1. life is suffering (suffering=rebirth)

2. the cause of suffering is desire

3. the cause of desire must be overcome

4. when desire is overcome, there is no more suffering (suffering=rebirth)

Once individuals come to fully understand The Four Noble Truths, they are able to achieve Enlightenment, or the complete knowledge of the dharma. In fact, Buddha means “the Enlightened One” and it is the knowledge that the Buddha gained on his way to achieving Enlightenment that Buddhist practitioners seek on their own journey toward Enlightenment.

The circle or wheel

One of the early sutras (a collection of sayings attributed to the Buddha forming a religious text) records that the Buddha gave specific directions regarding the appropriate method of honoring his remains (the Maha-parinibbāna sutra): his ashes were to be buried in a stupa at the crossing of the mythical four great roads (the four directions of space), the unmoving hub of the wheel, the place of Enlightenment.

If one thinks of the stupa as a circle or wheel, the unmoving center symbolizes Enlightenment. Likewise, the practitioner achieves stillness and peace when the Buddhist dharma is fully understood. Many stupas are placed on a square base, and the four sides represent the four directions, north, south, east and west. Each side often has a gate in the center, which allows the practitioner to enter from any side. The gates are called torana. Each gate also represents the four great life events of the Buddha: East (Buddha’s birth), South (Enlightenment), West (First Sermon where he preached his teachings or dharma), and North (Nirvana). The gates are turned at right angles to the axis mundi to indicate movement in the manner of the arms of a svastika, a directional symbol that, in Sanskrit, means “to be good” (“su” means good or auspicious and “asti” means to be). The torana are directional gates guiding the practitioner in the correct direction on the correct path to Enlightenment, the understanding of the Four Noble Truths.

A microcosm of the universe

At the top of stupa is a yasti, or spire, which symbolizes the axis mundi (a line through the earth’s center around which the universe is thought to revolve). The yasti is surrounded by a harmika, a gate or fence, and is topped by chattras (umbrella-like objects symbolizing royalty and protection).

The stupa makes visible something that is so large as to be unimaginable. The axis symbolizes the center of the cosmos partitioning the world into six directions: north, south, east, west, the nadir and the zenith. This central axis, the axis mundi, is echoed in the same axis that bisects the human body. In this manner, the human body also functions as a microcosm of the universe. The spinal column is the axis that bisects Mt. Meru (the sacred mountain at the center of the Buddhist world) and around which the world pivots. The aim of the practitioner is to climb the mountain of one’s own mind, ascending stage by stage through the planes of increasing levels of Enlightenment.

Circumambulation

The practitioner does not enter the stupa, it is a solid object. Instead, the practitioner circumambulates (walks around) it as a meditational practice focusing on the Buddha’s teachings. This movement suggests the endless cycle of rebirth (samsara) and the spokes of the Eightfold Path (eight guidelines that assist the practitioner) that leads to knowledge of the Four Noble Truths and into the center of the unmoving hub of the wheel, Enlightenment. This walking meditation at a stupa enables the practitioner to visualize Enlightenment as the movement from the perimeter of the stupa to the unmoving hub at the center marked by the yasti.

The practitioner can walk to circumambulate the stupa or move around it through a series of prostrations (a movement that brings the practitioner’s body down low to the ground in a position of submission). An energetic and circular movement around the stupa raises the body’s temperature. Practitioners do this to mimic the heat of the fire that cremated the Buddha's body, a process that burned away the bonds of self-hood and attachment to the mundane or ordinary world. Attachments to the earthly realm are considered obstacles in the path toward Enlightenment. Circumambulation is not veneration for the relics themselves—a distinction sometime lost on novice practitioners. The Buddha did not want to be revered as a god, but wanted his ashes in the stupas to serve as a reminder of the Four Noble Truths.

Votive Offerings

Votive Stupa, Bodhgaya, 8th century, stone, 78 x 44 x 35 cm (Ashmolean Museum, Oxford)

Small stupas can function as votive offerings (objects that serve as the focal point for acts of devotion). In order to gain merit, to improve one’s karma, individuals could sponsor the casting of a votive stupa. Indian and Tibetan stupas typically have inscriptions that state that the stupa was made “so that all beings may attain Enlightenment.” Votive stupas can be consecrated and used in home altars or utilized in monastic shrines. Since they are small, they can be easily transported; votive stupas, along with small statues of the Buddha and other Buddhist deities, were carried across Nepal, over the Himalayas and into Tibet, helping to spread Buddhist doctrine. Votive stupas are often carved from stone or caste in bronze. The bronze stupas can also serve as a reliquary and ashes of important teachers can be encased inside.

This stupa clearly shows the link between the form of the stupa and the body of the Buddha. The Buddha is represented at his moment of Enlightenment, when he received the knowledge of the Four Noble Truths (the dharma or law). He is making the earth touching gesture (bhumisparsamudra) and is seated in padmasan, the lotus position. He is seated in a gateway signifying a sacred space that recalls the gates on each side of monumental stupas.

Essay by Dr. Karen Shelby

[garden-of-thoughts-fruit-of-lips]

When you look up at the heavens are you seeing above the stars? Who told you about this image? Was it not the nations?

Isaiah 13,14

You said in your heart, ‘I will ascend to the heavens. Above the stars of God I will lift up my throne, And I will sit down on the mountain of meeting, In the remotest parts of the north. I will go up above the tops of the clouds; I will make myself resemble the Most High.’

Matthew 4:16,17

The people sitting in darkness saw a great light, and as for those sitting in a region of deathly shadow, light rose on them.” From that time on, Jesus began preaching and saying: “Repent, for the Kingdom of the heavens has drawn near.”

Matthew 10:7

As you go, preach, saying: ‘The Kingdom of the heavens has drawn near.’

[thearcanecat]

Notes on fire-stones from The Blazing-World by Margaret Cavendish

Fire-stones are found at the very bottom of the burning-mountains.

The stones burn when wet and go out when dry.

The fire-stones can’t burn diamonds.

The Empress makes a chapel lined with fire-stones where she preaches “sermons of terror to the wicked.” This is contrasted by a chapel lined with star-stones (made from a star. The Empress wanted sun-stones but it would’ve been really bad to destroy the sun) where she peaches “sermons of comfort to those that repented of their sons,”

Since the ships from the Blazing World don’t have canons, fire-stones are used as weapons instead.

The bird and fish-men hold fire-stones in the shape of torches and candles which absolutely terrify the enemy fleet because it looks like the world is on fire and judgment day has come.

The fish-men carry fire-stones in diamond cases to the enemy ships, then wet them to light them on fire. The fire spreads to where the gunpowder is stored, causing the ships to explode.

Fire-stones are laid under the foundation and on the tops of houses, so that when it rains the whole town is set on fire. The bird-men tell the townsfolk what will happen, but they only laugh at the absurdity. When rain comes and everything is on fire, the townsfolk try to put it out with water, which only feeds the blaze.

Everyone surrenders after that.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Jesus Tells of the House of God

1 Jesus went out of the house of God. On the way His followers came to Him to show Him the buildings of the house of God. 2 Jesus said to them, “Do you see all these things? For sure, I tell you, all these stones will be thrown down. Not one will be left standing on another.”

Jesus Teaches on the Mount of Olives

3 Jesus sat on the Mount of Olives. The followers came to Him when He was alone and said, “Tell us, when will this happen? What can we look for to show us of Your coming and of the end of the world?”

4 Jesus said to them, “Be careful that no one leads you the wrong way. 5 Many people will come using My name. They will say, ‘I am Christ.’ They will fool many people and will turn them to the wrong way. 6 You will hear of wars and lots of talk about wars, but do not be afraid. These things must happen, but it is not the end yet. 7 Nations will have wars with other nations. Countries will fight against countries. There will be no food for people. The earth will shake and break apart in different places. 8 These things are the beginning of sorrows and pains.

9 “Then they will hand you over to be hurt. They will kill you. You will be hated by all the world because of My name. 10 Many people will give up and turn away at this time. People will hand over each other. They will hate each other. 11 Many false religious teachers will come. They will fool many people and will turn them to the wrong way. 12 Because of people breaking the laws and sin being everywhere, the love in the hearts of many people will become cold. 13 But the one who stays true to the end will be saved.

14 “This Good News about the holy nation of God must be preached over all the earth. It must be told to all nations and then the end will come.

Days of Trouble and Pain and Sorrow

15 “You will see a sinful man-made god standing in the house of God in Jerusalem. It was spoken of by the early preacher Daniel. The one who reads this should understand it. 16 Then those in the country of Judea should run to the mountains. 17 The man who is on the top of his house should not come down to take anything out of his house. 18 The man who is in the field should not go back to get his coat. 19 It will be hard for a woman who will soon be a mother. It will be hard for the ones feeding babies in those days! 20 Pray that you will not have to go in the winter or on the Day of Rest. 21 In those days there will be very much trouble and pain and sorrow. It has never been this bad from the beginning of the world and never will be again. 22 If the time had not been made short, no life would have been saved. Because of God’s people, the time will be made short.

The False Religious Teachers

23 “If anyone says to you, ‘See! Here is the Christ!’ or ‘There He is!’ do not believe it. 24 People who say they are Christ and false preachers will come. They will do special things for people to see. They will do great things, so that if it can be done, God’s people will be fooled to believe something wrong. 25 Listen! I have told you before it comes. 26 If they tell you, ‘See! He is in the desert,’ do not go to see. Or if they say, ‘See! He is in the inside room,’ do not believe them. 27 The Son of Man will come as fast as lightning shines across the sky from east to west. 28 Birds gather wherever there is a dead body.

Jesus Will Come Again in His Shining Greatness

29 “As soon as those days of trouble and pain and sorrow are over, the sun will get dark. The moon will not give light. The stars will fall from the sky. The powers in the heavens will be shaken. 30 Then something special will be seen in the sky telling of the Son of Man. All nations of the earth will have sorrow. They will see the Son of Man coming in the clouds of the sky with power and shining-greatness. 31 He will send His angels with the loud sound of a horn. They will gather God’s people together from the four winds. They will come from one end of the heavens to the other.

The Picture-Story of the Fig Tree

32 “Now learn something from the fig tree. When the branch begins to grow and puts out its leaves, you know that summer is near. 33 In the same way, when you see all these things happen, you know the Son of Man is near, even at the door. 34 For sure, I tell you, the people of this day will not pass away before all these things have happened.

No One Knows When Jesus Will Come Again

35 “Heaven and earth will pass away, but My words will not pass away. 36 But no one knows the day or the hour. No! Not even the angels in heaven know. The Son does not know. Only the Father knows.

37 “When the Son of Man comes, it will be the same as when Noah lived. 38 In the days before the flood, people were eating and drinking. They were marrying and being given in marriage. This kept on until the day Noah went into the large boat. 39 They did not know what was happening until the flood came and the water carried them all away. It will be like this when the Son of Man comes.

40 “Two men will be working in a field. One will be taken and the other will be left. 41 Two women will be grinding grain. One will be taken and the other will be left.

42 “Because of this, watch! You do not know on what day your Lord is coming. 43 But understand this: If the owner of a house had known when the robber was coming, he would have watched. He would not have allowed his house to have been broken into. 44 You must be ready also. The Son of Man is coming at a time when you do not think He will come.

Faithful Servants and Servants Who Are Not Faithful

45 “Who is the faithful and wise servant whom his owner has made boss over the other servants? He is to have food ready for them at the right time. 46 That servant is happy who is doing what his owner wants him to do when he comes back. 47 For sure, I tell you, he will make him boss over all that he has. 48 But if that servant is bad, he will think, ‘The owner will not come soon.’ 49 He will beat the others. He will eat and drink with those who are drunk. 50 The owner will come on a day and at an hour when the servant is not looking for him. 51 The owner will punish the servant and will give him his place with those who pretend to be someone they are not. There will be loud crying and grinding of teeth. — Matthew 24 | New Life Version (NLV) New Life Version Bible Copyright © 1969, 2003 by Barbour Publishing, Inc. Cross References: Genesis 6:5; Genesis 6:7-8; Genesis 7:23; Exodus 11:5; Exodus 19:16 Exodus 22:2; Deuteronomy 4:32; Deuteronomy 24:6; 2 Chronicles 15:6; Psalm 102:26; Proverbs 14:35; Proverbs 23:20; Proverbs 28:20; Isaiah 7:4; Isaiah 19:2; Jeremiah 13:25; Jeremiah 37:9; Matthew 8:12; Matthew 14:25; Matthew 16:27; Matthew 24:3; Matthew 25:10; Matthew 25:13; Matthew 25:21; Matthew 25:23; Mark 13:28; Mark 13:32; Luke 12:39; Luke 12:45-46; Luke 17:36; Luke 21:36; John 2:10; Acts 1:7; 1 Peter 1:1; 2 Peter 3:4; Revelation 2:4; Revelation 3:20

The Living Temple: A sermon by Martyn Lloyd-Jones

Key Passages in Matthew 24

Jesus foretells the destruction of the temple;

what and how great calamities shall be before it;

the signs of his coming to judgment.

And because that day and hour are unknown,

we ought to watch like good servants, expecting our Master's coming.

[a-stubborn-little-fish]

This is gonna sound kind of insane but if any of you have any technology in your workplace or home that is working sub-optimally get it fixed or replaced within the next four months just in case. I’ll explain a little.

So in order to make the silicone needed in processors they have to refine it from silicone dioxide also known as silica to get just the silicone out. Silicone dioxide is most abundant in a mineral called quartz. They’re basically one and the same except quartz is a rock and like most rocks it usually isn’t just made of one thing. Most quartz has inclusions or other contaminants in it from other minerals. If you grind up the average kind of quartz you’re not gonna get pure silica you’re gonna get some other stuff mixed in which makes it insanely difficult to get just the silicone out. Spruce Pine is special because it is the only source of the purest quartz ever found. It has almost no contaminants. There is no other known site on earth with quartz this pure. Having to source less pure quartz from other mines will take a long ass time and then an even longer ass time to refine it thoroughly enough to get just the silicone. Basically if our government doesn’t stop sending money to Israel for five seconds and go fix up this tiny Appalachian backwater quartz mine, the entire world is going to slow wayyyyyyyyy down.

That means new processors will become scarce. And considering the strain that cryptocurrency and now generative AI is putting on our electrical grids, we’re needing even more processors than usual.

So basically if we can’t get this mine fixed the world’s infrastructure is gonna collapse just a teeny bit and a lot of people are gonna lose access to water and electricity because a bunch of wealthy idiots are using it all for their fake money and stolen artwork.

Now you may be thinking that it’s not as big a deal as it sounds. Semi conductors aren’t in everything. Mostly just communication devices.

You’re wrong. This is a big fucking deal and we should all be terrified. Semiconductors are used in pretty much every communication device. This includes satellites not just your phones.

But the loss or slowing of communication isn’t the only scary thing.

This is an opportunity for permanent censorship of vulnerable communities

Right now the only reason we know what’s going on in the world is because we can all talk to each other instantly through this little rock in my hand. That plus satellites. If semi conductors become scarce the priority is going to be for governments and specifically militaries. If we can’t bomb children with drones connected to satellites then Uncle Sam will be very sad and we can’t have that now can we? Basically, the people most vulnerable to censorship will lose their ability to communicate because they will not have access to communication devices. That’s the long term consequence.

Now if the poor people can’t speak on the world stage then naturally some of the more privileged who will still have access to devices will become the voice for the voiceless. This is where the big scary future doom comes in.

The recent targeted attacks in Lebanon were all on communication devices. Pagers, phones, walkie talkies, and even car radios. Basically anything that had a processor. And we all know that the Middle East is where the West likes to test their new war crime toys. Now, if some of the privileged start speaking out, the wealthy elites and the governments of the world will have the capability to permanently silence those individuals.

I know I’m doomsday preaching again. I know I sound like a raving lunatic. I know I’m describing a dystopia that would make a very successful book trilogy and potentially a franchise, but I have yet to be wrong.

I may not be an expert on all this, I may be just a small voice on a very big platform, but I will scream doom from the mountain tops if that’s what it takes to save even one person. At the very least I’ll be able to say that I tried.

My final message is this; prep for the worst, hope for the best.

[tenjin-no-shinja]

Chapter 3: The History of Hie Shrine

Hie and the Tendai Temples on Mount Hiei

[Saichō]...stated his hope that these deities may overcome the evil karma that had caused them to be reborn as kami, that they may serve as protectors of the monks' practice hall, and that they may bring their innate seeds of buddhahood to maturation by listening to the preaching of the Lotus.

...echoed Chinese rhetoric on the Budhist "taming" of local mountain deities. Chinese biographies of eminent monks (Gaosengzhuan) refer frequently to the submission of hostile and violent deities who seek to obstruct the building of temples in their domain. By demonstrating the superiority of the universal Dharma over local "demons," Buddhist monks proved both the truth of their religion as well as their ability to apply it for useful purposes. Throughout the Buddhist world, monks faced local deities by defining them as deluded beings subject to the eternal laws of karma... I classical Japan such skills were especially welcome. Deadly epidemics, fires, and other disaters constantly threatened the court and the populace, and the control of "wrathful spirits" (onryō) was at the top of the political agenda.

...this Buddhist approach to local deities took many forms... founding of shrine temples, where sutras were read for the deities... Slightly later, shrines themselves were decked out with Buddhist paraphernalia and the deities themselves were depicted as human-like sponsors or practitioners of the Dharma, or as emanations of Buddhist divinities (Teeuwen and Rambelli 2003: 7-31). The founding of the Jingū Zen'in... Hie's "shrine temple"... followed this pattern. The court supported the Buddhist taming of Hie by allowing the annual ordination of two Tendai monks with the specific task of reciting sutras for the benefit of the deities of Greater and Lesser Hie (in 886)... subsequent centuries, the Hie Shrines themselves became the main scene of Buddhist rites to the kami, and the Jingū Zen'in gradually lost its significance (Sagai 1992: ch. 5).

—Pages 77-78

The shrines were also given new identities: Ōmiya was now known as Ōmiya Gongen, associated either with Miwa or with Kamo in the capital; Ninomiya... Ninomiya Gongen, associated with Kuni-no-Tokotachi, the first deity of the cosmogony... Shōshinshi Shrine was identified with the great bodhisattva of Usa Hachiman...⑧... All three deities... identified both in Buddhist terms as avatars or bodhisattvas, and in terms of Japanese myth.... In the new shrine buildings they were represented in the form of statues, Ōmiya Gongen as a man in Chinese-looking aristocratic attire, and the other two as monks.

—Pages 78-79

⑧ From the Endnotes: "Note, however, that there is no way to ascertain exactly when these associations became established."

It would appear that the dark "basements” underneath the elevated shrine floor served as both living quarters for all kinds of marginal, religious figures, and also as ritual sites. All of the seven Hie Shrines had such basements, known as geden or “lower halls” in contrast to the strides proper. Fragmentary evidence suggest that, in at at least some of the shrines, the deities were shrine in their Buddhist guises in these cellar-like spaces. The same Buddhist “originals” of the kami (Śākyamuni at Ōmiya, Bhaiṣajyaguru at Ninomiya, Amithābha at Shōshinshi, and so forth) were also displayed on large circular boards with a diameter of ca. 1 m, exhibited high up under the eaves of the shrine buildings and known as “hanging buddhas” (kakebotoke). These boards displayed each shrines Buddhist identity, flanked by the protective “kings” Avalanche and Vaiśravaṇa (Sagai 1992: ch.9). Each shine, then, combined different cults conducted by different people, and the priest who traced the roots of the ancient Hafuribe now shared the shrines of many others.

—Page 80

Yet another group of religious figures was a type of "shaman” known as rō-no-miko (“children of the corridor”) and yorikidono (“mediums”). They appear to have been based at the eastern compound…The yorikidono, described in one source as the “daughters” of the rō-no-miko, acted as mouthpieces of the gods, pronouncing oracles that could scare even the most powerful. In 1012, for example, the famous imperial regent and hegemon Fujiwara-no-Michinaga succumbed to an illness that, according to rumor, had been called down upon him by a Hie deity, as announced by a Hie medium. In later literature… the oracles of Hie often hover over the greatest political and military battles of the age. Clearly, despite the Buddhist rhetoric of domestication, the deities of Hie were still designed to inspire fear as much as salvation.

Both the miya-komori and the rō-no-miko were figures of ambiguous status. On the one hand, they were a little more than beggars, living off, offering presents to the shrines where they were staying, no doubt in very primitive shelters. On the other hand, they enjoyed semi divine status and exerted considerable power… according to legend, “spirits of love” were born from their sexual encounters; these “spirits” were then abandoned in a Hiei valley where they transformed into children… eventually adopted by the Jūzenji deity and supported by Jien’s temple… This legend reflects sexual practices between elder monks and young novices, and it documents the prescience of outcasts who claimed spiritual powers at the fringes of the shrines (Faure 1998: 254-8)⑮… it’s immediate purpose, however, purpose was to secure both imperial and divine status for the lowly shamans of the Jūzenji corridor. The fact that there were rō-no-miko at Hie until the end of the Edo period attests to this legend’s legitimizing potential.

—Page 81

⑮ From the Endnotes: "Faure argues that Jien "had interiorized the secret tradition of medieval Tendai" that "salvation through sex with a chigo (medium-child) was in accord with the will of... Sannō Gongen" (Faure 1998: 257)"

[kakusu-shipping]

The Fight

Trying to pick up the pace a little bit, but I'm not very good at writing action so this might be a bit clunky. Please excuse me.

Mountain's Peak (Part 1)

Nepal Sanctum (Part 2)

Talk it out (Part 3)

In which we let it all out

Ramattra found his brother exactly where he expected to; Tucked away on the highest roof top of the Monastery's temples, an old withered place few monks visited simply for the egregious amount of single wide stairs clearly poorly placed by the original builders.

"Brother Mondatta is looking for you," Ramattra spoke with no worry of startling his brother, positive Zenyatta had already sensed his approach at least three levels down. The fact that he hadn't run was a good sign.

"He can look a while longer.." Zenyatta replied, relaxing from his curled up position to allow his legs to dangle over the edge of the building.

Ramattra sat himself down beside his brother, taking a moment to appreciate the view. The sun was setting, stars had started to dot the soft pink sky. From this high up, one could truly see on into forever if they desired to.

"You hit the human..." Ramattra finally pressed, giving a glance to Zenyatta, who curled back in on himself slightly.

"I did."

"You said you would only use what I taught you in self defense."

"I did not use what you taught me, dear brother. I used my fist."

Ramattra couldn't help the slight chuckle hearing his elder defend himself so sharply released. If he could still shoot back, then he couldn't be all that tore up about what he'd done.

"Mondatta will expect an apology when we finally return."

"I did nothing to him." Zenyatta once again uncurled himself, his legs once more dangling over the building's edge as he relaxed into the flow of conversation with Ramattra.

"To the human, Brother."

Zenyatta released a loud, dramatic sigh noise, clunking his head into Ramattra's shoulder. "I would rather be placed on cattle clean up for the next 7 years."

Ramattra chuckled once again, "And I would love to assist you with such chores, but that is not Mondatta's way."

"No... I suppose not..." Zenyatta's voice softened as he once more pulled his knee to his chest, placing a hand on the ground next to Ramattra for balance.

Ramattra found his hand placed gently over his brother's, keeping his sensors locked to the stars as he leaned his head atop Zenyatta's.

With the sunrise the brothers would make their way back down to the village, they'd catch Master Mondatta on his way back from his morning meditation, when the monastery is silent and the human is still asleep. Zenyatta would give his apology, and be given laundry duty in return, with Ramattra would happily assist with despite Mondatta's preaching on how one must face their misdoings on their own.

That would all come tomorrow. For tonight, the two sat peacefully on the temple roof top, hands intertwined in a painfully human way, counting stars until the sun arose the next morning.

That stare made everyone in the monastery uncomfortable. Bright red eyes that only ever saw the monks as who they were, what they had been made for, how they'd failed or succeeded at a task that had been forced upon them.

It was sickening.

Across from Zenyatta stood the human, shouldering off thick layers of cloth and robes and scarves until only one remained, tied tightly off at his waist by a cream orange cincture belt. He then removed the thick, straw woven snow boots Mondatta had made for him, stepping bare foot into the chalk drawn circle of the training area, holding his hands up in a ready pose.

He'd kept his eyes locked on Zenyatta, not in a glare of malice, or even his usual annoying fascination, but a neutral look that challenged him without words.

Ramattra's hand grabbed tightly to the back on Zenyatta's upper robe. He was shaking. He was going to stop this.

Zenyatta shoulder off his brother's grasp and the robe along with it, leaving him in only his pants and the red cloth he'd kept tied around his waist.

Stepping into the ring, Zenyatta stood wide and placed his palm against the human's, keeping their gaze locked.

"If you win, I'll leave. Permanently. And I'll tell every human I meet they're not welcome here." Emile spoke evenly, despite the rapid pulse Zenyatta could feel coming from their freezing fleshy hand.

He tilted his head in amusement, "And what will you get if you happen to win?"

This was the sort of confrontation that would usually draw this particular human to tears, so it was quiet the shock to see him hold together while speaking. "You can decide that when it happens."

'When' Zenyatta thought on, wrapping his fingers around the human's small hand. It was cold, and soft, and easily crushable in even the flimsiest of Omnic hands.

"Usually a match is called when one is forced from the ring, but that feels a touch too easy, wouldn't you agree?" The human nodded along with Zenyatta's proposal, "So we keep going until one of us taps, agreed?"

Zenyatta watch the human give a small nod once more

And then kicked them as hard as he could right in the stomach

Emile flew out of the ring, scratching to a stop along the stone flooring. He hacked and coughed, gripping onto his stomach. If he'd eaten anything for the past few days he surly would have hurled it up.

"Get up." Zenyatta spoke from the ring. The human did as commanded, pulling himself up on shaky legs. He did not glare at Zenyatta for landing the first blow, he did not look on in fear for how much stronger his opponent was, he did not bask in awe at how mighty a kick it was. He kept his neutral expression.

And that pissed Zenyatta off worse than anything else.

Blow after blow, the human continued to get back up. Even after he'd started spitting up blood. Even after his glasses were shattered on the stone ground, rendering him near blind. Even after he'd stopped being able to feet his fingers in toes in the cold and after his arm stopped moving and after his ankle had made such a horrible crack and swollen to the size of an orange.

And even after Zenyatta still stood perfectly pristine.

Emile hadn't landed a blow on his opponent. Zenyatta was starting to doubt he was even trying to. Had he even raised his hand once to the monk? Had all he done was stand there and take Zenyatta's blows?

Zenyatta clenched his fists, "Get Up." He demanded, as he had over and over again, to the human laying still on the stone before him. "Get Up and Hit Me."

Emile's form shook as he pushed himself up with only one arm, his white hair dangling before his face, tips red from his own blood. As commanded he got up on shaky legs once more and looked to Zenyatta with those red eyes that pierced into his history, a history he'd been trying so hard to ignore, to hide and run away from.

"Get up." Zenyatta demanded again after landing a hard hit right into the human's nose. It was broken for sure.

Emile did as commanded.

"Brother, that is enough-" Ramattra reached to grab Zenyatta, to put an end to this, but stopped inches away.

"It's not enough..."

The human's voice was ragged, breathless and broken and shaking. He sounded on the brink of death.. He very well might have been.

"It's not... enough...."

Blood mixed with tears down Emile's face, big wet eyes stared at Zenyatta, making the Omnic hesitate.

Ramattra wouldn't dare touch a human, but he made a motion like he was going to either way, "Human you cannot take much more, please just call it-"

"I CAN'T." Emile's voice cracked, he coughed, and took a step just to keep himself from collapsing, "I can't... it's not... enough... yet...."

The human but his hand on his wrist, and Zenyatta found himself mimicking the motion. His finger tips touched delicately at his exposed arm wire, one of many fragile pieces of himself he'd been forced to show to the world after nearly loosing his life before coming here.

He could still feel the human's cold finger tips on it...

"it's not... enough... to... ma...ke up.. for what... i..."

His body was too heavy, everything hurt, and the world was spinning.. In his last few moments of consciousness Emile braced himself for one more cold embrace from the stone steps of the battle field..

And instead found warmth...