#theological fiction

[hydropyro]

[egoschwank]

al things considered — when i post my masterpiece #1336

first posted in facebook august 13, 2024

andrea solario -- "mary magdalen" (ca. 1524)

"mary magdalene went to anoint christ's dead body, only to discover that he was resurrected. she is shown here transferring the ointment from a maiolica pharmacy jar to a smaller vessel" … wikipedia (on the andrea solario painting of mary magdalen)

"there are mornings when we must stop entertaining thoughts like yours are often deeper than i sink but if i was merely a carpenter confusing you for a lady then for crissakes doncha think i’d rush past temptation’s brink?

there are nights that i can’t wake from due to dreaming of a messiah who saves me from all the other men’s sins as bishops cast out demons while drinking communion wine again absolutely mrs. mary magdalene … absolutely mrs. mary magdalene" … al janik

"it exposes the erroneous view that mary of magdala was a prostitute for what it is—a piece of theological fiction" … karen king (discussing the gospel of mary)

"myth and legend has it that resurrections are slow in arriving but some weasels & liars claim they come all the time who’da thought your 12 closest friends would need soul asylum but every time the cock crowed you know you tried to deny him?

all these distractions have the advantage of deception where on the surface we find their meanings often skim it always takes a little while to come to think of it (i think) incidentally mrs. mary magdalene … absolutely mrs. mary magdalene" … al janik

"i think they probably got it on, jesus and mary magdalene" … madonna

"there’s been speculation about your uncle peter’s treason it’s been greeted in certain circles with consternation & with grins because as it is written to everything there is a season (turn, turn, turn) and it’s a given fact no hell’s angel ever danced on the head of a safety pin

now it’s about time that your daughter was suspended for all those pranks she played with your neighbor’s mandolin (we won’t go into details) it always takes a little while to try to explain all these things away evidently mrs. mary magdalene … quite contrary mary magdalene … jesus told me all about you magdalene!" … al janik

[literallymechanical]

So, the philosopher’s stone was first synthesized on February 18, 1973, in a Soviet science-city called Sverdlovsk-45.  A day-drunk reactor technician showed up to work with a “weird rock” and boosted the uranium -> plutonium transmutation rate about four percent over what mass/energy equivalence should allow.  The stone was imperfect, and it went inert within a week.  He never managed to recreate it.

The process was independently discovered in 2010 by a very sleep-deprived BYU student who read an article on Cracked.com about David Hahn, the “Nuclear Boy Scout."  She made a stone from smoke detector americium alpha sources, mercury thermometers, and a bunch of fool’s gold – pyrite, crystalline iron sulfide – among other ingredients. She currently leads a schismatic group of Mormon fundamentalists.

We have a stone, obviously. It's likely the Bay Area "startup" we've been monitoring has one, but we haven't confirmed it yet. Brussels never completed their Magnum Opus, thank god. That's all we've found to date, but I'll keep you posted.

[kindred-spirit-93]

EXAM HAS BEEN DELAYED!! till like sunday but still.

heres whats been in the works ft. the ocs that live in my head rent and royalty free. might post darkfic hilal content later tonight too >:)

Strangers in the night

he lied when he said he was going to the pharmacy. he had restocked bandages and antiseptic ages ago and probably wouldnt need to set foot in one for at least a decade to come. he just needed to breathe.

it had maybe started around dinner, a sudden feeling of suffocation like someone was holding a pillow to his face. and slight indigestion. armund had out done himself this time and he was quite proud. he didnt dare mention it lest he think he had somehow messed up.

excusing himself he grabbed something off the rack by the door and left without another word. he cursed himself for it afterwards due to the piercing cold and light fabric of his rain coat.

he hated lying to his dove, which was ironic because he couldnt recall a time he hadnt told him some sort of falsehood, so he took a path that lead to the pharmacy to get it off his conscious. it wasnt much, but it was the small things that seemed to matter the most. very annoying.

he took a long hard look at the neon lights, as if proving to himself that he had been completely honest and not at all lying to his son. nope, not at all. he was an upstanding citizen of which the nasty streets of these parts never saw. he frowned a little. he was a good person at heart. if i had one he thought glumly. have. had. was there a difference?

was it his fault he had become what he now was? tearing away his eyes from the lights he resumed his walk at a somewhat brisk pace. whatever had lodged itself in his throat earlier that evening was indeed remedied by the fresh air. it was quite sharp when he opened the door. better head back before i catch something a small voice in his head suggested unconvincingly.

his feet however didnt oblige and continued down a path less illuminated. luc didnt realise he had strayed away from the well lit street he was on until much later. his frown deepened. how did he get here? was i that deep in my head? looking around he didnt recognise where he was. the lack of lighting was unsetteling but not anything he wasnt used to.

the dark was an ally of his you see. in the shadows lurk all that we cannot, or wish not, to comprehend and face. it was quite poetic almost to think that his namesake was once a being of light, shunned to the dark. and the dark welcomed him. made him their leader. living under his reign of terror as beings of the night. night. night...

it was late. they had a late night dinner and it was late. worse it was new years eve and all sorts of shady people roam these streets looking for some weak creature to set their fangs in at the best of times, tonight drunken scuffles would break out and the last thing he needed was another gunshot anywhere on his being.

theo hated seeing him hurt he thought softly. he hadnt noticed the light rain that began to fall. he was too busy thinking of his little dove waiting for him at home. home. it was home was it not where one was with loved ones was it not? he blinked. had armund spiked the food with something? what was all this sentimentality? disgusting.

he was going soft at his old age he joked to himself, features easing as he recognised the familiar sign of a deli around the corner of his home. it could barely be called one if he was honest. nothing about it was cosy or inviting, save maybe the blankets he and theo would huddle underneath when he was younger. the corners of his mouth twitched this time and he allowed himself a small smile.

his throat threatened to close once more for mysterious reasons when he suddenly found himself face to face with the wet cobblestone of the road. he barely had a second to register what had happened before he heard bullets being fired. fuck.

just what he was missing on this fine evening. he never left the house without a knife on him, a small one he hid in a holster theo had drawn a flower on, but todays romantic stroll under the rain wasnt planned. for some reason he was unable to flip himself on his back. tasting iron he raised his head slightly and stared at the river of red pooling around him.

if it was the adrenaline, the blood loss, or something entirely different hed never know, but it took him embarassingly long to realise that no one had spilled wine on the pavement, and that in fact it was his own blood staining the ground beneath him. when he did manage to get himself back on his feet he was knocked back down though this time he was on his back. and if he didnt know better hed say a vampire had tackled him to the ground.

the clarity was slowly but surely returning to him. his left shoulder was now starting to burn and he could feel his blood vessels make up for their fallen brethren, and the feel of the cold hard ground beneath him was starting to get on his nerves. scowling at the figure hovering on top of him, he wriggled and tried to assess his situation. the call of his name, his birth name, made the air in his lungs momentarily leave. then the life force slowly seeping out of him crashed right back in and with a vengenace.

his neck snapped to glare at the stranger who fittingly winced under the hellish gaze of hell on earths leader. the fuckwad wasnt even pinning him down properly. what is wrong with people these days? had they no dignity? pulling himself out of his thoughts, he kicked the stranger in the groin with as much force as he could muster and lost no time pulling his knees to his chest and shoving him off while he gasped in shock and pain. the idiot then did nothing. nothing.

now on his knees, panting from the sudden burst of exertion, and slightly light headed, luc snapped of his necklace and pressed to the offenders neck. it was an inverted cross, metal but not sharp enough to do enough harm, but they didnt know that. he knew more than anyone that confidence was very convincing, what with his line of work. and he can be very persuasive.

he was now able to get a better look at his would be murderer or whatever if he wasnt such a fucking pathetic excuse of a human being. he wasnt even trying. he wasnt even trying. what the fuck?! in any case the fucker who had long dark hair wet with a mixture of sweat and rain was unnervingly still despite lucs hand being around his throat while the other was slowly digging with the cross into the pale flesh of his skin.

luc couldnt shake of the feeling that this was somehow familiar to him. the strangers face was facing away from him so he couldnt exactly make out his features, but he was clearly much taller and stronger than him; he was pinning him down with a knee pressed into his shoulder and the other squarely above his heart. he meant to ask who the fuck he was and what he wanted, the whole nine yards, but the words died in his throat. he knew he didnt have much left before his left arm gave out. he could avoid hypovolemia only so many times.

he pressed the metal further into the assailants neck to force himself to stay conscious till he drew blood. and then he chuckled. the audacity. luc would be lying if he said he wasnt starting to feel on edge. fuckass was laughing at him and his heart was pounding in his ears still. tonight wasnt going to end well.

"fuck you" was the only thing luc managed. short and sweet. he made sure to spit it with as much venom he could. and the dark haired stranger let out another chuckle.

"if you wanted me dead you would have killed me already. whats the hold up?" well he wasnt wrong he thought, seething. the faster he got rid of the dipshit the better, but he still didnt figure out who he was or how he knew his name. could this all be a very very badly times coencidence and nothing more? stranger things have happened.

his thoughts were ricocheting off of each other and his head was filling with useless shit. what the hell was wrong with him tonight? and the smirk. bastard. the smirk was making whatever blood still in his system boil. finally, what seemed to be an eternity later, tall dark and fucking incompetent craned his neck and turned to look at luc

"havent you recognised me yet old man?" dick. i still had no idea who he was, but my subconscious was starting to put 2 and 2 together.

"were the same age fuckass." any moment now i could feel it. on the tip of my tongue. come on. so close

"i wear it better." he grinned and something in my chest stopped, skipped a beat, and dropped all together. how? when? why? who?

lucs eyes widened, and the strangers grin broadened. "missed me?" he asked. the fucking nerve on this man was unreal. old habits die hard i suppose. good thing too. he could no longer keep his eyes open.

falling to the cold ground for the third time that same evening, luc never felt so ridiculous in his life. there was no fucking way in fucking hell his unspoken dying words were going to be the name of his ex.

frankly he couldnt come up with something more pathetic if he tried. if this was it he was going cursing him till his ears bled from the profanities. there was no gracious way to go about bleeding out in your exs arms. he was cornered. fuck.

despite everything he called out to him. barely above a whisper. the reply was somehow even quieter, but to his own ears it could be heard on the other side of the country.

"right here".

a last stupid thought crossed his mind. biting his lip luc muttered something that made titi snort and bonk his head with his own. smiling slightly, he knew hed be fine. he closed his eyes.

"thats what you said."

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

heres a mercy doodle to make up for my atrocious everything <3

will picked her the flower :')

all rights reserved to @sunshines-child lol. serotonin is one hell of a drug lemme tell u

i got sidetracked like 17 times writing this. like it was supposed to be 2 paragraphs but my brain was like lol nope. gotta set the scene. jerk

also, not proofread. i have no idea if the tenses and pronouns make any sense. rip my last braincell. idk its whatever. for the wiggles :D

also also, this is not at all what i had in mind. purely off the top of my head. w i l d.

[strangelittlestories]

“The world is made of giant machines, built piecemeal over centuries by a chain of workers, none of whom can see the whole of what they make.”

Ash sat slowly down in the pulpit. Her bones protested the motion. She quashed the urge to offer a prayer to Iris, the dead god of secrets and investigators. In front of her, the young deity waited for her to continue with wide, ravenous eyes.

She sighed and continued.

“But, every now and again, there will be a time when these machines can be levered into new directions. The change will be sweeping and terrible and, like the machine itself, impossible to understand in one lifetime. On top of that, the change can only be made if there is a person there at the right time with the will to push the lever.”

“So, what?” A wrinkle split the godling’s forehead like a fault in the plates of the earth. “The best we can do is spend our lives waiting around and hoping we’re in the right place at the right time to spot the lever and push it?”

Ash looked around at the church. The last time she had been here, it had been for the inquest into Iris’s death. She could still picture the textureless faces of the Examiners who had been summoned to hear it.

“No. You spend your life - and, believe me, *spend* is the right word - in trying to create the time, in trying to build the lever, and in trying to create the *will*. The gears of the machine are great and uncaring, they cannot be moved and will crush us if we try. Yet we dig our claws in anyway, and we try to find a bolthole in the gaps of the gears’ massive teeth. Still, it may grind us to paste. 

“But in a hundred years, someone may find that we have gummed up the works just enough to buy them a second’s grace. And they may find that the toothpick we lodged in the gap is just sturdy enough to be the lever they need.”

“Or no-one finds it. Or the toothpick breaks. Or a second isn’t enough.” The child god’s voice echoed round the church, and Ash saw the walls shimmer. “And all we bought with our lives is a slightly worse machine.”

Ash could feel the stone around them begin to vibrate, resonating with the boy’s uncertain divine will; unsure whether they should remake themselves or break apart.

“True enough. But if the work of my life is to make a machine that kills hope and makes despair a *tiny* bit worse … I think that may be a life well spent.”

“I don’t think that should be enough. That is not right.”

Ash looked down. She could see her flesh, translucent through her threadbare robes, the whole mess of atoms threatening to fly apart. She willed them back together. Her nerves screamed with the strain of it.

“I have little enough to sacrifice on the world’s wheel. A handful of days. A skinful of blood and bones. A few scraps of truth. I will lay them down where I will and get back what I can. If you don’t like the exchange rate I get in return, find a way to give more. And damn your judgement, otherwise.”

The stained glass light in the church flickered. The vibrations in her skull quickened. Then the little god took a breath.The quiet maelstrom reached its peak and calmed.

“This is not how I expected a priest to speak to a god. But I suppose I am just *barely* a god so far.”

“And I’m only barely still a priest. So, y’know … we make a good pair.”

[brown-little-robin]

.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

You'll get much further in life with a Bachelor of Harry Potter, or a Star Trek PhD.

People aren’t afraid of those imaginary characters, they actually like them.

[losttranslator]

throwback to my high school philosophy teacher trying to catch me with stuff like "actually Jesus never said he was God, did you know that" and smugly prove that I (kid who was read the bible from the age of 2 and got my own by like 7) didn’t know the gospels.

like my dude, what do you think "before Abraham was, I AM" was about? you don’t know and I’M clueless about the text?

[femwizard]

I used to have a general distaste for religion & I think that a lot of that is rooted in the right wing, Christian machine in the United States. There is a massive prevalence of cults in our country, from Mormons, Amish, and jehovahs witnesses, to evangelical Christian’s and mega churches. Our country was founded by puritans, fleeing persecution for their shitty, manipulative ways, and every year we celebrate them with an entire day of thanks.

None of this is inherent to religion. Yes the crusades were horrible, but colonialism and imperialism has been a common thread through western power, with or without religion.

Community is valuable. Rituals are valuable. Coming together with people you barely know, to bond over something you can easily share, is a very powerful way to form bonds with people. If you struggle to make friends after leaving school, think of the benefit of a low stakes, free, public event that happens every week where everyone partakes in the same group activity and there are regularly people there, who attend religiously, meaning they are there basically every week.

I had this realization in 2020, after starting a small outdoor skating group. It felt so so so good to connect with people regularly. Yes skating was fun but it wasn’t about that. It was about the community of it all. You can find similar things in group sports, and clubs, and popular events with a dedicated fan base. Have you ever been to a con? Similar thing.

To briefly take a step back, one of the reasons that team sports are such an effective way to form community, is that you make a stronger commitment to show up reliably for a reason. This is probably the same reason cults are so effective and popular. I personally enjoy the freedom of a voluntary event, where I don’t feel bad if I miss a week or two for whatever reason. But that leads to a lot less consistent participation, which weakens the community. Our lives are so busy and full and eclectic these days, it’s hard to find somewhere with a truly dedicated following that isn’t enforced in some way.

All this to say I think that facing and excising the cult problem in the US, while finding some nondenominational rituals we can have fun with in a much more scientifically minded world to fill that gap in all of our lives, would be massively beneficial to the country at large. It could help form community, heal the gaping divide between generations, establish stronger mutual aid networks, and make it possible for us to actually come together and enforce change on a large scale.

I'm very frustrated by people who think that religion itself is the problem and should be eradicated.

[catgirlreisuwa]

Noooo Ogino don't talk about death as an speculative concept you know that's one of my favourite topiiiiiiics

[jessamine-rose]

⋆˚♱ଘ Requiem for the Damned ଓ♱˚⋆

*holds head in hands* Idk why Dottore keeps haunting me with writing inspo. And for this idea to manifest just before Holy Week….fuck it, I hope you all enjoy the blasphemous tale of Priest! Dottore x Demon! Darling _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

Tw:: yandere, violence, death, religious abuse, dubcon, mention of nsfw, MINORS DNI

Note:: fictional depictions of religion

♡ 2.7k words under the cut ♡

♡ Despite your status as a wandering demon, you have no place in human cognizance. Rather, you conceal yourself from mortal eyes in favor of close observations and whispered temptations. Humans, from your perspective, are interesting creatures—they are ambitious, easily influenced by spiritual beings, capable of both good and evil.

♡ And what better example than the one who summoned you on a starry night? Such rituals are not uncommon amongst heretics, but most only succeed in invoking the contempt of their fellow humans. And few would invoke your name, much less commit sacrilege within the walls of the Church.

♡ You sense danger immediately upon your appearance. Within the summoning circle, you take note of your sigil perfectly illustrated in blood against marble. Beyond it, what alarms you is not your sacred surroundings nor the fresh corpse mixed with your offerings of books and fruit. It is the figure standing over you, cloaked in moonlight, gazing at you with eyes the color of hellfire.

“My ritual is a success. Welcome to my humble church, o noble demon…or would you rather be addressed by your epithet? ______, Fallen Seraph, the Seeker of Forbidden Knowledge.”

♡ A glimpse into his soul is all it takes to strike fear into your heart. Within Hell, there are rumors of a small village in Sumeru. Its people are nothing of note, a congregation of simpletons whose lives revolve around the beliefs of their Church. The lone exception is the main priest, Father Zandik, better known as Il Dottore.

♡ The stories, passed through human voices, speak of a child ostracized for his unconventional beliefs and his interest in the macabre. Branded a madman, he was placed in the care of the Church elders who corrected his ways of thinking. Once he became of age, Zandik was given the choice to move out of the rectory or to remain as a priest; he chose the latter of his own volition.

♡ Since his ordination, Zandik has proved himself to be an exceptional priest. He educates the masses, reviews theological texts, performs exorcisms, and provides religious counsel for the doubtful. He even serves as the town’s doctor, fully gaining the acceptance of his community.

♡ The rumors don’t stop there. For Il Dottore earned his title by performing miracles. It is he who guides the people into religious ecstasy, he who cures the sick from mysterious curses, he who blesses the weak into “enhanced humans.” There are already whispers that once Dottore’s mortality catches up with him, he will surely be canonized as the Patron Saint of Doctors and Miracles.

♡ But spiritual beings such as yourself know the truth. That Dottore is neither a kind priest nor a devout believer, that his days in the Church only magnified his heretical inclinations. Disillusioned with God, Zandik decided to turn His religious sanctuary into his own laboratory, one where he could fulfill his lust for knowledge through a mask of holiness.

♡ He manipulates the people with false teachings. He triggers religious ecstasy with drugged incense. He singles out devotees to “test their faith” during the quiet hours of the Church. And what the town perceives as curses and miracles are actually scientific experiments in which Dottore plays god.

♡ It’s too late to escape. No matter your divine powers, nothing prepares you for Dottore’s traps. The incantations, the barrier of the summoning circle, an aura so holy yet sinister that it couldn’t possibly come from ordinary religious objects—all you can do is fall to your knees and beg for his mercy, all the while he watches you with a confident smile.

♡ His intentions are like that of any human: He summoned you to form a contract. In exchange for his soul, he demands your knowledge, your resources, your full servitude for so long as he roams the mortal plane. Your hesitation only triggers another wave of scorching pain, followed by panic as Dottore grips your horn and forces you to face him.

“Make no mistake, ______. The mere fact of your divinity does not make you indestructible. In exchange for your cooperation, you will bear witness to experiments of the same magnitude as God’s creations. What say you?”

♡ You have no other choice. And that is how, in the sanctity of the Church, you make a deal with the human named Zandik. Once the pact has been forged, Dottore admires the bright sigil on his chest, plucks a few feathers from your wings, and disables the summoning circle so you can leave. Thus begins your personal hell.

♡ It is easy for you to answer Dottore’s questions about the divine. The horror lies in assisting him in experiments, responding to his summons no matter the inconvenience, allowing him to extract your blood, tears, and feathers. No, what’s most humiliating is when he uses your body for his “research,” bending you over the altar and bringing you to physical ecstasy against your will.

♡ At this point, you don’t know who to pray to. One night, Dottore shows you a secret room in his laboratory. As soon as he lights the lamps, your eyes take in numerous bodies and skeletons of a different classification from his usual victims. The extra bones jutting from the scapulas, the amputated wings, the halos pinned to the walls, the holy aura you’d felt from his religious objects…instantly, Dottore’s powers make sense.

“This is my first specimen. She was my guardian angel…no, I jest. She was a mere messenger who implored me to repent for my sins. From her words, I deduced it had been within Heaven’s capacity to save me during my youth—and yet God only sent an angel to me after my first act of blasphemy.”

The angels…how many has he killed? Not even during your fall from Heaven did you feel such primal fear for your life. But you cannot scream—you have long been trained to resist fight and flight. All you can do is listen to Dottore’s explanation, watch as he approaches a pure white skeleton and wraps his hands around its fractured hyoid bone.

He gives you a calm smile. “Luckily, her body provided me with indispensable resources for my experiments and my procurement of her brethren. I believe her name was Sohreh.”

♡ Just when you think it can’t get any worse, Dottore points at the far corner of the room to reveal a space dedicated to demons. Four dead bodies, their causes of death vividly described. Horns, wings, and other body parts amputated in exchange for lives spared after exorcisms. And when Dottore returns to your side, tracing the wound from where he broke off your horn, you can only tremble and acquiesce to a checkup. It grows back fully by the end of the year.

♡ He has his moments of vulnerability, however. Perhaps it is due to your nature as a demon, a creature which represents evil, that Dottore does not hide his heart from you. Once, after his usual confessions—he always makes up trivial sins—he remains in the confessional until his fellow priest has left. Then he goes to the altar and summons you.

♡ What catches you off-guard is not his lack of greetings. Rather, it’s the way he pulls you close to his body, lips ghosting the curve of your ear. There, in the heart of the Church, he whispers to you every sin he has ever committed. Despite his normal tone of voice, his words have never betrayed a language so guiltless, so sincere, so human.

♡ He asks how much of his madness is to blame on the influence of demons, or if he had been born wicked. He asks if humans were truly given the mental faculties to withstand temptation regardless of their circumstances. He asks if the same can be said for spiritual beings, questioning why former angels like you were also created with the capacity to sin. He even asks if praying for a demon can offer them any hope of salvation.

♡ It takes you a while to answer his questions. It’s just like him to put your emotions in disarray, to make you feel pity for the very cause of your current suffering. Against your nature, you wonder if there is still a chance for Zandik, if he can somehow repent or find a way to save himself from your contract and all of his sins. Even if it is too late, He has always been more forgiving to humans than angels.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

“Do you know why I became a demon, Zandik?”

Your question is what prompts Zandik to pull away from you, though his touch lingers. His gaze, as always, is unfathomable; you can never discern what hides within those pools of crimson.

“No, I do not. Few demonological texts allude to your existence, and only the Lesser Key of Deshret cites your previous status as an angel of the highest ranking. I have made theories in relation to your epithets but I respect all possibilities. Now what would you, as the primary source, reveal to me?”

Now it is your turn to confess.

“Seraphim are the closest to God but for that reason, we are the most distant from His creations. Everything we know of the world is derived only from what He tells us, not our own insights. And so I defied His Word and ate the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge, committing the same sin which condemned all of humanity.”

The tip of your upper wing brushes against Zandik’s face, while your middle wings encircle his body in a loose hug. As for your lower wings…they are nothing but twin scars covered in short feathers. After your descent, it seemed like a rational decision to chop them off, broken as they were. It helped that your wings had just outgrown their original purpose.

For once, you barely flinch at the sensation of his touch against your scars. Many times, Zandik has inquired about the loss of your lower wings and even asked if he could have them. They still remain in Hell, tucked away in a corner of your home, eyes forever closed.

It takes a few seconds for him to respond. “Do you ever regret your decision?”

You shrug. “It was difficult at first, naturally. Many of my eyes were blinded—yes, that is why I rarely open the ones on my wings—but those which still function have seen so many wonderful sights up-close. Neither must I cover my face with my remaining wings. And despite being what your kind and my former brethren would dub a monster…I’m happier now.”

“I see, I see.” His curiosity appears far from sated, however, a sentiment you can empathize with. “As I thought, God is incomprehensible. For Him to deny even His greatest creation of salvation…it confirms that there are limits to the forgiveness of that which humans call a ‘loving god.’ Thank you for sharing this knowledge with me.”

And just as quickly as he initiated his confession, Zandik steps out of your grasp and dismisses you. But you make no haste, silently watching him after you “leave.”

His expression is thoughtful. A gloved hand touches his chest, right above your sigil.

Such an interesting creature.

Honestly, you don’t know what to make of your feelings for this human. Much as you despise his cruel treatment towards you, he never fails to capture your interest with his experiments and philosophies. Whenever he speaks of God, you wonder if a small part of him still desires to be saved. But that will never be.

Zandik preaches salvation with the knowledge that he will never receive it. For the Church never taught him how to love.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

♡ Il Dottore never became the Patron Saint of Doctors and Miracles. Neither did he have a funeral mass befitting of a priest, nor a peaceful death from natural causes. Instead, he died young, laicized, once again denounced as a heretic by his community.

♡ You don’t know how his crimes were exposed, and why now. Perhaps it is God’s punishment for him, a blessing for his victims, or both. Either way, Dottore paid for his sins on a sunny day, burned at the stake before a disdainful crowd. Not long after his heart stopped beating, his belongings were thrown into the fire—research, tools, anything which carried his memory.

♡ You never left his side. After his last rites, led by an elderly bishop who condemned Zandik as he did in the past, you sat next to him and offered a final conversation. He didn’t express any fear nor sadness in regards to his imminent death, merely stating it a pity that his achievements could never be appreciated in his town.

♡ …He did ask if there is any chance of meeting again in Hell, but you reminded him that the punishment of sinners is out of your jurisdiction. Plus, it’s better that way—you have no desire to avenge yourself, and you’d rather not witness Zandik’s suffering for all eternity. You can only imagine the severity of his punishment, what more if he is assigned to one of the demons he exorcized.

♡ During his execution, you stood at the front of the crowd. You kept your eyes trained on him, for so long as his scarlet orbs remained open, whispering the prayers for the dead on his behalf. While a part of you felt liberated, another was mournful. You hope your last words to Zandik gave him solace in his final moments.

“Rest now, Zandik. God may never forgive your sins, but I shall.”

♡ And thus ends the life of Il Dottore. In the following days, the Church is purged of its holy, sinister aura, mainly because they discarded the religious objects tainted with angel remains. You continue your usual obligations as a wandering demon, but the humans you observe pale in comparison to your companion of many years.

♡ Not long after, you return to Hell for your other divine duties. As soon as you appear in your abode, however, something feels off. The sinister aura, the offering of books and fruit, your lower wings gone from their original place… The answer comes in the form of a hand grabbing you by the horn, pulling you backwards, twisting your body to meet a familiar gaze the color of hearth-fire. Only, this time, those eyes are brimming with pure joy, paired with a genuine smile.

♡ Apparently, Dottore’s soul did end up in Hell but not in the way you expected. In a proud voice, he explains that the Devil gave him a special fate. Whether it was due to vacant positions or everyone’s fear of the infamous “Demon-Killer,” you’ll never know. What Dottore does confirm is that as the demon bound to him via contract, you have to take responsibility and act as his companion in Hell.

“Rather than subject me to eternal suffering, the Devil believed that my talents would prove useful for the punishments of my fellow sinners. How wonderful is it for my achievements to be recognized in Hell? …Oh? I didn’t predict such a physical reaction from you. All of your eyes are wide open, and you seem to be on the verge of fainting.”

♡ You don’t know if you want to laugh or cry. To think your personal hell has been extended to eternity—are your sins enough to warrant such a fate?! But after confirming your misfortune, all you can do is sigh and tend to Zandik. He looks exactly the same, with the exception of a few burn scars on his body. And judging by the familiar black feathers on his person, he seems eager to discard his former religious attire along with his mask of faith.

♡ And when Zandik unfastens his scorched cassock, he takes your hand and places it on his unburned chest, right above your sigil. It glows vibrantly, brighter than any light you laid eyes on in Heaven. And beneath the flesh, you can feel his heart beating in sync with yours.

“Tell me, ______, do I still appear human to you?”

“You already know my answer to that question. But fine, I’ll admit it: Yes, you always have.”

♡ 

More Church AU here!! Capitano ๑ Arlecchino ๑ Pantalone ๑ Pierro ๑ Dainsleif

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving other characters or dynamics who are not listed in my masterlist.

At long last, I am free from Priesttore…thank you to everyone. To my readers, to my fellow Dottore simps, to my mutuals who indulged my tortured DMs after midnight, to the artist whose fan art inspired this idea to begin with. May you all have a lovely day╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Tag a Dottore enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @beloved-blaiddyd @mochinon-yah @diodellet @lcveaesop @oofasleep @bye-bye-sunbird @yandere-romanticaa @boundinparchment @harmonysanreads @teabutmakeitazure @yandere-wishes @yanmaresu @nicebonescomrades @nimandu @lesanyanyas @moarar

[room-surprise]

EXTERNAL INFLUENCES IN DUNGEON MESHI: INDIAN PHILOSOPHY

(SPOILERS FOR DUNGEON MESHI BELOW)

We know that Ryoko Kui spent considerable time at the beginning of working on Dungeon Meshi doing research and planning the series. Kui constantly references real world culture, history and mythology, but she also occasionally references real-world philosophy.

The story of Dungeon Meshi is full of philosophical questions about the joy and privilege of being alive, the inevitability of death and loss, the importance of taking care of yourself and your loved ones, and the purpose and true nature of desire. Kui explores these issues through the plot, the characters, and even the fundamental building blocks that make up her fictional fantasy world. Though it’s impossible to say without Kui making a statement on the issue, I believe Dungeon Meshi reflects many elements of ancient Indian philosophy and religion.

It’s possible that Kui just finds these ideas interesting to write about, but doesn’t have any personal affiliation with either religion, however I would not be at all surprised if I learned that Kui is a Buddhist, or has personal experience with Buddhism, since it’s one of the major religions in Japan.

I could write many essays trying to explain these extremely complex concepts, and I know that my understanding of them is imperfect, but I’ll do my best to explain them in as simple a way as possible to illustrate how these ideas may have influenced Kui’s work.

HINDUISM

Hinduism is the third-largest religion in the world and originates in India. The term Hinduism is a huge umbrella that encompasses many diverse systems of thought, but they have some shared theological elements, and share many ancient texts and myths.

According to Classical Hindu belief, there are four core goals in human life, and they are the pursuit of dharma, artha, kama, and moksha.

Dharma is the natural order of the universe, and also one’s obligation to carry out their part in it. It is the pursuit and execution of one’s inherent nature and true calling, playing one’s role in the cosmic order.

Artha is the resources needed for an individual’s material well-being. A central premise of Hindu philosophy is that every person should live a joyous, pleasurable and fulfilling life, where every person's needs are acknowledged and fulfilled. A person's needs can only be fulfilled when sufficient means are available.

Kama is sensory, emotional, and aesthetic pleasure. Often misinterpreted to only mean “sexual desire”, kama is any kind of enjoyment derived from one or more of the five senses, including things like having sex, eating, listening to music, or admiring a painting. The pursuit of kama is considered an essential part of healthy human life, as long as it is in balance with the pursuit of the three other goals.

Moksha is peace, release, nirvana, and ultimate enlightenment. Moksha is freedom from ignorance through self-knowledge and true understanding of the universe, and the end of the inevitable suffering caused by the struggle of being alive. When one has reached true enlightenment, has nothing more to learn or understand about the universe, and has let go of all earthly desires, they have attained moksha, and they will not be reborn again. In Hinduism’s ancient texts, moksha is seen as achievable through the same techniques used to practice dharma, for example self-reflection and self-control. Moksha is sometimes described as self-discipline that is so perfect that it becomes unconscious behavior.

The core conflict of Hinduism is the eternal struggle between the material and immaterial world. It is often said that all of the material world is “an illusion,” and what this means is that all good and bad things will inevitably end, because the material world is finite. On the one hand, this is sad, because everything good in life will one day cease to exist, but on the other hand, this is reassuring, because all of the bad things will eventually end as well, and if one can accept this, they will be at peace.

The central debate of Hinduism is, which is more important: Satisfying your needs as a living thing, having a good life as a productive member of society, serving yourself, your family, and the world by participating in it the way nature intended? Or is it rejecting desire and attachment, discovering the true nature of existence, realizing the impermanence of material things, and that one can only escape the suffering that comes from the struggle of life by accepting that death and loss are inevitable?

There is no set answer to this question, and most believers of Hinduism tend to strike a balance between the two extremes simply because that’s what happens when a person leads a normal, average life, however there are also those who believe that pursuing extremes will lead to ultimate enlightenment and final release as well.

BUDDHISM

Buddhism is an Indian religion and philosophical tradition that originated in the 5th century BCE, based on teachings attributed to religious teacher the Buddha. It is the world's fourth-largest religion and though it began in India, it has spread throughout all of Asia and has played a major role in Asian culture and spirituality, eventually spreading to the West beginning in the 20th century.

Buddhism is partially derived from the same worldview and philosophical belief system as Hinduism, and the main difference is that the Buddha taught that there is a “middle way” that all people should strive to attain, and that the excesses of asceticism (total self-denial) or hedonism (total self-indulgence) practiced by some Hindus could not lead a person to moksha/enlightenment/release from suffering.

Buddhism teaches that the primary source of suffering in life is caused by misperception or ignorance of two truths; nothing is permanent, and there is no individual self.

Buddhists believe that dukkha (suffering) is an innate characteristic of life, and it is manifested in trying to “have” or “keep” things, due to fear of loss and suffering. Dukkha is caused by desire. Dukkha can be ended by ceasing to feel desire through achieving enlightenment and understanding that everything is a temporary illusion.

There are many, many other differences between Hinduism and Buddhism, but these elements are the ones that I think are most relevant to Kui’s work.

Extreme hedonism involves seeking sensual pleasure without any limits. This could just be indulging in what people would consider “normal” pleasures, like food, sex, drugs and the arts, but it can also involve doing things which are considered socially repugnant, either literally or by taking part in symbolic rituals that represent these acts. Some examples are holding religious meetings in forbidden places, consuming forbidden substances (including human flesh), using human bones as tools, or engaging in sex with partners who are considered socially unacceptable (unclean, wrong gender, too young, too old, related to the practitioner). Again, these acts may be done literally or symbolically.

Extreme ascetic practices involve anything that torments the physical body, and some examples are meditation without breathing, the total suppression of bodily movement, refusing to lay down, tearing out the hair, going naked, wearing rough and painful clothing, laying on a mat of thorns, or starving oneself.

HOW THIS CONNECTS TO DUNGEON MESHI

Kui’s most emphasized message in Dungeon Meshi is that being alive is a fleeting, temporary experience that once lost, cannot truly be regained, and is therefore precious in its rarity. Kui also tells us that to be alive means to desire things, that one cannot exist without the other, that desire is essential for life. This reflects the four core goals of human life in Hinduism and Buddhism, but also could be a criticism of some aspects of these philosophies.

I think Kui’s story shows the logical functionality of the four core goals: only characters who properly take care of themselves, and who accept the risk of suffering are able to thrive and experience joy. I think Kui agrees with the Buddhist stance that neither extreme hedonism nor extreme self-denial can lead to enlightenment and ultimate bliss… But I also think that Kui may be saying that ultimate bliss is an illusion, and that the greatest bliss can only be found while a person is still alive, experiencing both loss and desire as a living being.

Kui tells us living things should strive to remain alive, no matter how difficult living may be sometimes, because taking part in life is inherently valuable. All joy and happiness comes from being alive and sharing that precious, limited life with the people around you, and knowing that happiness is finite and must be savored.

Dungeon Meshi tells us souls exist, but never tells us where they go or what happens after death. I think this is very intentional, because Kui doesn’t want readers to think that the characters can just give up and be happy in their next life, or in an afterlife.

There is resurrection in Dungeon Meshi, but thematically there are really no true “second chances.” Although in-universe society views revival as an unambiguous good and moral imperative, Kui repeatedly reminds us of its unnatural and dangerous nature. Although reviving Falin is a central goal of the story, it is only when Laios and Marcille are able to let go of her that the revival finally works… And after the manga’s ending, Kui tells us Falin leaves Laios and Marcille behind to travel the world alone, which essentially makes her dead to them anyway, since she is absent from their lives.

At the same time, Kui tells us that trying to prevent death, or avoid all suffering and loss is a foolish quest that will never end in happiness, because loss and suffering are inevitable and must someday be endured as part of the cycle of life. Happiness cannot exist without suffering, just like the joy of eating requires the existence of hunger, and even starvation.

Kui equates eating with desire itself, using it as a metaphor to describe anything a living creature might want, Kui also views the literal act of eating as the deepest, most fundamental desire of a living thing, the desire that all other desires are built on top of. If a living thing doesn’t eat, it will not have the energy necessary to engage with any other part of life. Toshiro, Mithrun, and Kabru are all examples of this in the story: They don’t take care of themselves and they actively avoid eating, and as a result they suffer from weakness, and struggle to realize their other desires.

Kui suggests that the key difference between being alive or dead is whether or not someone experiences desire. If you are alive, even if you feel empty and cannot identify your desires like Mithrun, you still have desires because you would be dead without them. The living body desires to breathe, to eat, to sleep, even if a person has become numb, or rejected those desires either to punish themselves, or out of a lack of self-love.

Sometimes, we have to do things which are painful and unpleasant, in order to enjoy the good things that make us happy. I believe Kui is telling us that giving up, falling into despair, and refusing to participate in life is not a viable solution either.

The demon only learns to experience desire by entering into and existing in the material, finite world. This experience intoxicates the demon, and it becomes addicted to feeling both the suffering of desire, and the satisfaction of having it fulfilled. This unnatural situation is what endangers the Dungeon Meshi world, and it’s only by purging the demon of this ability to desire that the world can be saved. The demon is like a corrupted Buddha that must give up its desires in order to return to the peaceful existence it had before it was corrupted.

The demon curses Laios to never achieve his greatest desires at the end of the manga, which manifests in several ways, such as losing his monstrous form, Falin choosing to leave after she’s revived, and being unable to get close to monsters because they are afraid of him. In some ways you could compare Laios to a Bodhisattva, a person who tries to aid others in finding nirvana/moksha, even if it prolongs their own suffering and prevents them from finding personal release. Laios gives the demon peace, but Laios himself will never be able to satisfy his desires, and must eventually come to accept his loss and move on with his life.

(This is an excerpt from Chapter 3 of my Real World Cultural and Linguistic influences in Dungeon Meshi essay.)

[centrally-unplanned]

My take on Dante Theology discourse is that the book is obviously an impressive piece of literature dealing with wide themes of man and morality, that never claimed it was making any concrete theological claims. Any criticism of the book itself on that axis is bogus.

But also that there are many people out there - more than have read The Inferno probably! - that do kneejerk treat its concept as theological canon, and that is both a fair enough thing to criricize and in fact it is difficult to explain why its criticism-worthy without admitting that all Christian conceptions of hell are equally fictional. And not just because Christianity is wrong inherently; Christian traditions have constantly vagueblogged and flip-flopped over what hell actually is. That is why Dante's tale so easily slipped into canon, it is filling a vacuum.

[sepublic]

The Rapture, the Day of Unity, and Happily Ever After

I wouldn’t be surprised if the upper echelons of the coven regime weren’t concerned with being sustainable, because they were privy before the public was to the Day of Unity, which was itself essentially one big rapture where everyone goes to a perfect utopia! They don’t have to worry about the world they’ve left behind, they just need to last long enough to make it to this endpoint, like Belos talking about how he only needs to ‘live long enough to see this through’.

So it must’ve been quite a shock, realizing that’s not it; There’s nothing for all their hard work. They have to go back to their lives as normal, but knowing it’s eternal in the sense of worrying about living life until it naturally ends for them, and making society run ahead of them for the next to pick up. Now people have to do their jobs in creating an actual functioning society instead of loftily dreaming of a fantasy, which is of course topical to the show’s themes about being beholden to the world and people around you as you make dreams practical.

I can see a comparison between the apathy that came from the Day of Unity and how a lot of rich, powerful folk —especially the ones running fossil fuel companies— don’t care about destroying the Earth and its environment, because they’ll be dead before it gets bad enough that the devastation reaches them in their cushy little suites. On the Day of Unity, Emira’s frustrations over her mother only caring about money feel in a similar vein, it all hearkens back to the same problem with these CEOs where their personal, material enjoyment is the only priority.

And this makes me think of the rapture comparison too; It comes from the Evangelicals, who are the descendants of the Puritans. I can see the writers playing with how Marx called religion the opiate of the masses; The idea that Christianity was often exploited by the upper class against the lower class to justify their suffering. The idea was that if you were poor, you didn’t need to worry about improving your material world because as long as you remained pious and faithful, you’d eventually inherit a heavenly afterlife.

Thus, working-class Christians were made complacent, believing their mortal suffering was just temporary and even a test for their ascension. Whether you think they actually got a heavenly afterlife is an entirely separate real-life theological discussion, but the point was that it was an excuse by those in power to avoid being held accountable in making the living world actually tolerable for everyone else, and everyone else would not hold them to that standard because they thought it didn’t matter anyway.

So I can see the Day of Unity functioning exactly like that, in fact I’m pretty sure it just did onscreen because we see wild witches such as the Demon Hunters accept the coven bindings because for whatever losses they suffer, eventually the Titan will make it all worth it right? And this framing of the Titan as an abstract God who will take you to an abstract universe is interesting; We know tangibly that other worlds exist of course, but in the context of the show, the utopia bit is a lie.

And if we apply it to real life, much how the show calls out IRL witch hunters (and its fictional one, because TOH’s fictional witches warranted nothing for their existence) as insincere… I do remember a college lecture in things like Animism or cosmocentric belief systems; They saw the ‘spirits’ as not existing on a separate plane, but our own. There was no afterlife or heaven, it was all in this world, people live on when they die and break down and are consumed by other beings, that sort of thing.

The practices of wild magic and the worship of the Titan seem to follow in a similar vein to these and Animism; The Titan is sacred and her body has its own life reborn as the environment, but she’s also undeniably dead, as pointed out by a Deadwardian witch. Eda stresses learning from the natural environment around you for magic, their ‘god’ is a mortal being and also their tangible world. The magic comes via glyphs in nature, as well as the magic in everything that witches get their own magic from. There IS something resembling an afterlife in-universe but we never get to see it, the beliefs of wild magic seem to be at odds with Belos’ Christian colonialism, and again its promise of a rapture and a separate, abstract God and utopia.

Point is; There is no universe after this, or at least that’s not how wild witches treat it. The focus is on the here and now and making this world last, and making it last for the future generations that will take your place. And this defiance of a rapture in favor of life always going on makes me think of how Dana hates the term Happily Ever After, for the implications of everything just being over and that’s it. That’s the end. All the problems are solved now, there is no story left to tell.

I can’t say this was intentional on a conscious level or otherwise, but I do have to draw a connection between this and how TOH’s ending was in response to this critique; Life keeps going on, the protagonists have to keep fixing the Boiling Isles, and then keep it going even if it IS fixed. They just undid coven bindings and King found his first glyph. The Archivists are still out there. The protagonists don’t get an eternal unambiguous happy ending where there’s nothing left to do, they don’t get a ‘heavenly afterlife’ as one could call it, and that’s good!

From a meta standpoint, you can see how it encourages fans to write more stories, to be inspired to keep it going, and it’s another way Dana made the shortening work in the show’s favor. Dana said back in 2020 that she encourages fans to build off of things, as she did as a kid with her own shows, she also wanted it to be that deep growing up! So both in-universe and IRL, TOH isn’t meant to be over, there is no absolute ending because fandom lives on.

Hell, Dana even professed interest in a prequel following Eda’s childhood; She’s since become pessimistic about the possibility, more than likely on account of her cutting ties with Disney and executives’ disinterest. But the point still stands; Life keeps going, IRL. The lives of the characters keep going, in-universe and IRL through fandom.

I also wonder if you could discuss Lumity under this lens; I’m making exceptions for queer romances, especially in children’s media, because they often have to deal with censorship pushing them to the last minute. But when it comes to romance in general, romance involving the main character largely consists of Will They/Won’t They, with the climax having the romance achieved. But because of the Thrill of the Chase, a lot of writers don’t want to explore how characters actually navigate a relationship, hence why it’s drawn out and saved for the ending; The romance has been nearly tied up as a Happily Ever After, there’s no more story to tell. So when they get a continuation, they’ll often undo progress.

Lumity avoids this; Lumity has them get together at the halfway point of the series, and then actually explores their dynamic as a couple together, without creating misunderstandings or breakups or anything. We see how they work as a couple, how they get to enjoy each other as a couple. So them getting together isn’t the ending climax, it’s just another stage in their continuing dynamic. There is no Happily Ever After; There’s problems for them to face together that do sometimes strain their relationship, but they still work on it together; Dana was adamant on showing these things instead of settling for them asking each other out and letting the rest be an implication.

And I think that’s so much more healthy to show kids than just idealizing the Thrill of the Chase and its climax, without appreciating the mundanity of just being together. Because kids grow into adults and don’t really expect or care to pursue a romance past that point, and I wonder if this is part of the culture behind cheating, of still reaching for something unattainable because media doesn’t normalize already having things when it comes to romance. Nor does it care for tackling things together as a couple most of the time.

Dana was raised Catholic, which is separate from Puritanism, but she did have to deal with Evangelicals growing up, as they raged about innocuous things like Pokemon; And Pokemon was her Good Witch Azura, a last gift from her father before he died in a car crash. It’s something Dana still enjoys and she’s done crossover art for it and TOH.

So I can see the coincidence/connection in Dana critiquing Evangelicals’ rapture ideology and how the end of everything is used to placate people instead of worrying about what needs to be eternally maintained, and like. Her feeling similarly with stories and even romances where it ends definitively and perfectly. Because fandom keeps going and she’s a part of it too.

The world keeps going, there is no endpoint to history IRL or in the show; People have to adjust going back to the banality of continuing to live and worry about running society in the long-term, rather than expecting it to not matter because they were going to be raptured anyway. And you know what, this could be good, it means it lasts forever as we see Luz and co. embrace it, happy to enjoy their lives, actually getting to be in a relationship; But life is fragile as we see with the Titan, so we gotta work to keep it going, so that even when we get our definitive end, the people after get their time.

[lordsovorn]

I honestly love it when stories with neurodivergent, trans, gay, etc. characters or themes are set in fictional or fictionalized Old Time Periods, before any of this terminology even came into existence.

They are not "gay" or "straight" - they are in love.

They are not "autistic" - they are weird.

They are not "trans" - they've simply changed how they represent themselves to be in line with what they are.

In a way, because these words are never present, because they are never diagnosed or feel the need to find an identity and a safe place to show it, it brings to light their undisputable existence even more. That they are normal and human. That this may bring problems and misunderstandings, and also joys and opportunities. That they are compex and diverse with their own personal traits that lead them to each particular expression of their identity, and that their needs and innate characteristics affect how they act and present themselves. It puts these people out of the "discussion box" and clearly among all the other differently weird humans.

In a way, it pushes aside this debate to scientifically or theologically rationalize trans-ness, queerness; it pushes aside this cold mechanical rationalizing of kindness towards the neurodivergent and disabled. Instead, without all this terminology, we are confronted with the simple humanity of it all.

It shouldn't honestly matter if you are confirmed to be neurodivergent - the world should be kind to weird and obsessive and awkward and forgetful and different people anyway. It shouldn't matter that there are gay frogs in nature - there are gay people in nature, and they deserve to be treated as people, inseparable from the rich interwoven tapestry of human expression and love.

All of these discussions are real and important, because they allow us to achieve real political or legislative or cultural results with real people, millions of them, each weird in their own way. But it's so nice and refreshing to see them pushed aside from time to time, to reveal the simple truths of kindness and humanity behind it all. To explore the ways of caring, learning and communicating - and, after all, isn't that what truly matters at the heart of it?

[dsireland86]

Can i request a Noah Sebastian x fem reader fic? I was thinking maybe she reader is a good friend of the Bad Omens crew and she wants to give Noah a special gift while on tour since he's been so burnt out and Maybe it's set a little after Keaton Pierce passed away and he hasn't really had time to grieve and gifts him a Photo of him and Keaton with a note written by him on the back of it maybe? and he gets emotional and they confess feelings?

Oh man.... this hits hard. Okay, I think I can do this. 💔🖤 I've never written anything regarding Keaton or his passing. I've kind always felt scared to. But when this request hit my inbox, it made me realize that maybe I've never given myself the proper time to mourn his loss. It will be 3 years he's been gone, and yet every time I listen to Too Close Too Touch, it feels like he's still here. I still miss Keaton every day. Writing this story has been healing. Thank you to the Anonymous who's asked me to write something so beautiful. I hope I can capture the emotion of what Keaton really meant to us all.

*Author's Note: I waited on posting this story, given the fact that none of this story is factual, but it involves something that's really personal to not just me, but to others, I'm sure. In no way shape or form is this story meant to disrespect Keaton or his death. It is just something I thought about when thinking of how it affected Noah. I know, it's silly. But for someone like me who didn't know Keaton personally and was affected by his death, I can't imagine what his friends and family felt. Again, this is just a fictional story based on actual people. If you're offended by the idea, then please don't read it, not just for me, but also for the Anon. who requested the story.*

Her Special Gift

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lacy1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @dizzylmwahh @kenjipepsi1 @blackveilomens @chey-h @disappearintothegrey @jilliemiw86 @pathion @fear-its-beauty @an0mallly  @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

The months that followed Keaton's death become different. After Keaton's funeral, things between Noah and I shifted from being just casual friends to almost like best friends. We started hanging out together more and playing video games, watching old black and white movies, or diving into sometimes deep, theological discussions that always ended with an argument about who was right. Late night pizza and anime dates and tea and book lazy days started to become a habit for us when he wasn't working with the band, and I grew to love them more than I ever thought I would. It seemed that Noah and I had traded our friendship with Keaton for a friendship with each other. We became part of the healing process for each other, sharing stories and memories that only we knew. Spending time with Noah was the best. He was the best, but the way I started to feel about him was getting harder for me to deny and I knew if I ever confessed anything regarding the way I felt, it would ruin everything Noah and I had built in the last few months.

"You feeling okay?" Noah's hand on my shoulder startled me. I was sluggishly slow today, exhausted from the last two nights of the tour. "Yeah, I'm good. Just tired. Still trying to adapt," I chuckled. Noah smiled, taking the box of shirts from me. "I'll help." "Thanks," I said, returning his smile. We sat the boxes down on the table, and I turned to head back to the truck and get one more when Noah gently grabbed me by the arm. "Hey, wait." I looked up at his tall frame, a little alarmed. His chocolatey brown eyes softened. "Are you sure you're okay? You're usually not so puffy around the eyes like you are today." "Oh what, you're keeping up with my skin care routine now?" I was joking, but Noah seemed more serious about it than I was. "Have you been crying?' Noah turned me towards him a little so he could examine my face better. What was I supposed to tell him? That the truth was I really had been crying myself to sleep the last two nights because I'd found a photo of him and Keaton together? Yeah, no. I pushed Noah's hand away gently, reassuring him I was okay. Walking back to the truck, I broke down, sneaking around a corner to quietly sob alone.

Three weeks into the tour, everyone seemed to be doing alright; tired and sore, but okay. I was feeling better, too, but Noah wasn't. He was looking a little worse for wear. If there weren't puffy bags under his eye, then there were dark purple circles under them, painting the clear picture of pure, straight-up exhaustion. Noah was burning out.

"Matt, he needs a day off. He needs to rest. I mean, look at him for god's sake," I cried quietly, throwing my hands in Noah's direction. He was sitting on one of the equipment boxes, leaning back against the wall, his head laid back, arms folded across his chest and eyes closed. He looked as if he was actually asleep.

"Fuck. I know he does," Matt sighed. But we have a show to do tonight, and one tomorrow." "Matt, " I said, shaking my head, "I don't think Noah's going to last one more show. Tonight, maybe, but tomorrow," I glanced over at Noah just as his head fell to the side, catching himself quickly and sitting up right only to close his eyes again. "Fuck!" Matt yelled. "Alright, let me see what I can do about tomorrow. Do you think you could pep talk him into doing tonight's show?" Noah sat up and stretched, yawning and beckoning me over to him. "Yeah, okay, I'll try, but don't get pissy with me if Noah refuses," I demanded with a finger pointed at his chest. Matt chuckled. "Deal. Hey, thanks." I shot him a quick grin before walking over to Noah.

He reached for me before I was even close, which wasn't really like him at all. But I gave in, letting him pull me in between his legs and hug me. Noah's body was so warm despite the white tank he wore, showing off so many of his colorful tattoos. I thought about the stories I knew of some of them, and wondered about the others, tracing them as they wrapped and curled over his bicep and towards his back. I felt him hum in approval of my touch, the vibration coming from deep in his chest as he softly laid his head in the nook between my neck and shoulder. I caressed his back, guiding my hands slowly up and down, and feeling him relax against me. "Feel good?" "Mmm," he mumbled his answer. Noah's arms dropped, falling to his sides. His fingers, so long and slender, gripped my leggings, pulling me closer. "Noah," I whispered, unsure of what to say or do. "Yeah?" "What are you doing? People are looking at us." I spoke softly into his chest, scared to look around. "Only Matt." I looked up, glancing behind me, seeing that he was right. "Does me holding you like this make you feel uncomfortable?" I focused my sight back on Noah, my eyes clicking back and forth over his face. "No," I answered honestly. The small smile that lifted the corners of Noah's mouth made my heart skip a few beats.

"You look really tired." Noah nodded while locking his hand together behind my back, allowing me to rest mine on his chest. The faint smell of his deodorant mixed with the lingering scent of his cologne swept over my nostrils caused me to breathe in deep. Noah smelled fresh and clean even though he hadn't showered since the night before. "I'm pretty exhausted. I didn't sleep right last night." "Why not?" Noah sighed letting me partially go to fun a hand through his hair. "Noah, what's wrong, what is it?" I tipped my head, straining to make eye contact with him.

Finally, I turned his head to look at me. "Talk to me. I'm here." A vacant stare suddenly took over Noah's face, as if he were reminiscing something. "I had a dream," he admitted, quietly, "about Keaton." His almond shaped eyes shifted to mine and the pain that engulfed them was overwhelming, shattering my heart.

"Noah, I'm," "Don't," he sighed heavily, shaking his head slightly. "You don't have to say you're sorry or anything like that. I think it's a sign, like maybe Keaton himself is trying to tell me something." "What do you mean?" I wasn't following as easily as I thought I should be. "I never gave myself time to grieve for him. I mean, it all happened so fast, I barely remember everything." "Like what? I was there for pretty much all of it." Noah smiled, running his finger down my cheek. "Yeah, you were, weren't you? My little moon; always follows me even when there's light." I shrugged. "That's what friends do, right?" Noah cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes.

"Friends?" "Yeah," I replied, my heart thundering against my chest. "We're friends, right? I mean at least we were five seconds ago." Noah reassured me with a smile, pulling me against his chest. "Yeah, little moon, we're still friends." "Is that your new name for me now? Little moon?" "Why? You don't like it?" "No, love it," I replied with the hint of a smile in my voice. Noah didn't say anything, only squeezed me tighter.

"What was your dream about?" There was a long pause. "A mix of random stuff, but it all had Keaton in it." More silence. "I wish he was still here. I fucking miss him so damn much that it hurts." The pain in Noah's voice hurt. I looked up to find him squeezing his eyes closed, finger and thumb locked in them "Come with me," I said, taking his hand and pulling him out with me to the bus. "What are we doing?" "You'll see."

We climbed in, throwing out mumbled greetings to Nicholas and Folio who were eating bags of chips and talking, laughing hysterically after one would say something to the other. I rolled my eyes, grinning from knowing why.

I got to the bunks and stopped. "What's this about?" Noah asked, a bit annoyed. "I have something for you that I found recently; something I was meant to give you a long time ago, but apparently completely forgot about." "Okayyyy, what?" I stared at Noah for a moment, wondering if this really was the right time to do this and as brief memories of him and Keaton flashed through my brain, I was reassured.

Bending down into my duffle bag, I grabbed the book that had the picture in it, and handed it to Noah. The moment Noah saw it, his eyes welled up with tears.

"Read the back; alone," I told him, knowing it was going to gut him. He didn't argue. He just turned and walked off into the tiny bathroom and closed the door.

I heard the faint clicking sound of the lock turning and took a deep breath, hoping to prepare myself for what came next.

When Folio and Nicholas eventually left, I seized the opportunity to sit and wait for Noah. There was no way I was leaving without knowing Noah was okay. And then I heard it. The low, almost inaudible sound of weeping.

My heart hit the bottom of my stomach. Noah was finally letting out all the pent-up sadness, pain, and hurt for his friend he'd silently been carrying all these months. I waited a moment before going over to the bathroom door. I quietly knocked. "Noah... I'm here," was all I could say. "He's gone. Keaton's really gone, and there's nothing I can do to bring him back," Noah said through gritted teeth and tears. "Why? I don't understand! Why him!"

"Why anyone? Why is death even a thing," I said gently. There was silence on the other side of the door. "Keaton had a great life. He was in love with life. He loved taking pictures and performing. He loved his fans and followers of the band, always making it a point to tell them on his Instagram." "Yeah, that joker loved posting stuff on there, didn't he," Noah chuckled through a stuffy nose. "I went through it, and it's what reminded me of the picture you're holding in your hands. I'd completely forgotten about it until packing and I picked up my touring book and that picture fell out. I'm so sorry I forgot, Noah. I really meant to give it to you sooner." "Maybe that was meant to happen because the universe knew his death was coming." The idea gave me chills.

There was more silence. "I fucking miss him. I miss my friend." "I know you do. Me, too."

The bathroom door finally opened, and Noah appeared with cheeks stained with tears and puffy eyes. I looked up at him as he looked down at me, tendrils of his recently cut short hair falling over his eyes. He reached down for me, taking my hands and pulling to my feet, sliding his arms around my waist as he did so. I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face against him so he couldn't see my own tears. My lips grazed the colorful skin of his neck, so I took advantage and lightly kissed it, and I could hear the slight gasp he made as he barely lifted me off the ground.

"I wouldn't have gotten through any of this without you, Little Moon," Noah muttered into my hair. I climbed him like a tree and wrapped myself around his slender yet strong frame as his large hands slid over my bottom, squeezing it as he held me up. With our faces so close, I could feel Noah's warm breath cascade over my face. His lips were so close to mine.

He walked us toward the back of the bus, closing the sliding door to the back lounge as we entered, sitting me down on the closest table. He pushed my legs apart, respectfully putting himself between them, and just stared at me. Noah was one of my closest friends. He'd seen me through some of my worst moments, made me feel beautiful even when I didn't feel it, and stayed up with me when I used to have nightly anxiety attacks. Yet, here I was feeling so insecure, so out of his league that I was blushing.

"Tell me we're gonna get through this together," Noah said, taking my face in his hands. I rested my forehead against his chest. "Of course we are, Noah, I'm not going anywhere." He lifted my face. "I don't mean as friends." I could hardly bring myself to look into his eyes. "You don't?" I asked barely above a whisper. Noah shook his head. His thumbs glided along my cheekbones. "Look at me." I dragged my eyes up only to see the sincerity in his eyes. "I mean as an "us". I don't think I can be just friends with you anymore, and just the idea of your perfect heart belonging to another guy terrifies me." A small laugh escaped me, and Noah grinned. "What? It's true. I don't want to be jealous, but I am."

I gave Noah a half smile. "I wouldn't call it jealousy, but more like selfish." "Selfish?" "Yeah, you demand my attention almost every time we're together. And when you see me talking with," actually the more I thought about it, Noah only got that way when another guy was involved. "With another guy," "yeah," I huffed a laugh. "Well, I guess I'm a little of both." "Since when?" Noah's eyes darted between mine. He brushed some loose hair out of my face and kissed my forehead. "Since the moment I trusted you with parts of myself I'm afraid to show anyone else." "And how long has that been?" Noah's lips were almost touching mine. I wanted this, wanted him to kiss me so I could kiss him back. "Always." I forgot to breathe the moment he bent his neck, and brought our faces closer together. A wave of heat, unlike one I'd ever felt before, crashed through me. Noah's arms wrapped around me, and he drew me into a kiss I never thought we'd share. His tongue pushed into mouth slowly yet needy as his large hands slid lazily up my spine. I gave into him completely, feeling every ounce of love pour from his kiss.

My fingers trailed up his chest until I cupped his jaw between my hands, feeling the slight hum of approval vibrate deep inside his chest. I felt like everything about Noah was going to consume me, and I was entirely okay with that. We finally broke apart, pulling our magic back into ourselves as we tried to catch our breath. "You're going to be the death of me," he growled against my cheek, leaving a slight wet kiss on my cheek. I pushed against his chest just enough to look at him. "Not if you destroy me first," I breathed, painting the lines of his jaw with my fingertips. "I never want you to stop looking at me the way you are right now. And if you do, I swear I won't stop making it up to you until your legs are shaking and the neighbors know my name."

I about died in Noah's arms right then. He pulled me into another deep kiss, touching me without any hesitation. He touched me like he owned me. I guess he had for a long time, and I just never realized it. I trusted Noah with my heart, knowing he'd take care of it forever. "So, does this mean there's an us?" I smiled, taking a deep breath while wrapped up safe in Noah's arms. "Yeah it does. I like the sound of "us". "Me too, I guess we have Keaton to thank for it." "Yeah, I guess so," getting lost in a memory of him. He'd be happy; for both of us. "I miss him, Noah. But even now, I can still feel him around." "Me, too," Noah sighed, laying his cheek on the top of my head. "Me, too."