#this feels oddly prophetic for some reason

[ingravinoveritas]

Just thinking about this interview for no real reason at all right now...

[freedomcrows]

pick your poison (hallowed)

dragon age the veilguard. rook de riva & inquisitor trevelyan. set post game. 2,5k words. vague spoilers for the game's ending.

They rarely get visiting dignitaries in the Lighthouse. It feels far too much like a home away from home to let just anyone wander in, but when your Prophet’s herald asks, you can hardly say no. 

At first, it’s all well. The Inquisitor marvels over the amount of books there is. She sits in the library, wistful, lost in thought only she knows of. Neve, far divorced from religion in general and the southern Chantry in particular, seems determined to pester her as if she were a particularly captivating and intriguing case. Valeria answers with distinct conviction and pride, though her hard stares are enough to get Neve to back down for half of the questions asked. 

Taash inquires about her husband. 

“He’s Qunari, right?” They have one leg crossed over the other, casually draped beside her on the couch. “Does he tie the knots also? Also, does your Maker even allow you to marry a Qunari?” 

“He is Tal-Vashoth,” Valeria corrects. “He has horns, but he isn’t a Qunari anymore.” She adjusts her skirt. “And the Maker would allow his Prophet’s herald to do anything. I do not die by the exclusionist practices of the Chantry as you may have heard of it. I’ve never seen him tie the knots like you do, though. In other areas..”

Taash grins. “Would love to pick his brain on a few things,” they say. “This new Qun shit might be interesting to him. Get him to Rivain sometimes.” 

Later that day, they burst into the Meditation chamber and put their hands on their hips. “The Inquisitor fucks nasty, Rook,” they exclaim. Immaculata and Lucanis lift their heads from the backrest of the couch with the world's most flabbergasted expressions.

Harding’s absence hangs over Immaculata’s head like a veil. Even if she and Valeria were never close, Harding spoke of her, shared a few jokes about her here and there. Now she’s gone and all Immaculata has is Valeria’s title to remind her that it’s all Immaculata’s fault and Harding’s stories to compare to the real, living, breathing person. 

They don’t talk about Varric. 

But they do talk about the Fade. 

“Professor Volkarin, you were right about the Fade being so finicky here.” The Inquisitor - Valeria - sounds oddly pleased. She’s not a very tall woman by any stretch of the imagination, yet her presence feels sacrosanct. She is without her lyrium-powered arm and the other one grasps at the Fade around her, uneven. “It doesn’t form in my hand like it normally does.”

“Of course it doesn’t, Inquisitor! We still have the Veil, thanks to Rook, and one does not normally get to experience magic this delicate up close!” Emmrich looks like a street lamp in Treviso next to her. His eyes are bright and filled with excitement; they look matched, the Inquisitor in her cool, softly sincere enjoyment and Emmrich leaping at the opportunity to speak with a Fade expert of his calibre. 

“I would not call this delicate, professor,” Valeria says. “I prefer the word precarious. We are a broken dampener away from being in the raw Fade, it feels like.” 

Immaculata’s mouth is dry. She’s out of her depth; she doesn’t have the theoretical knowledge of magic of these two giants, or Bellara, or Neve. Instead, she has a lived experience, some few elemental magics and a demon inside her head. 

Valeria’s distance is noticeable, her eyes set on everyone but Immaculata. She’s talked to Neve about Tevinter time magic. She’s talked to Bellara about the magical expertise of ancient elves. But she avoids her and Lucanis for obvious reasons, and it makes Immaculata’s chest tighten. 

Do you wish we’d stayed separate? Regret speaks very much in Immaculata’s voice. It is slightly unnerving. 

No, she says. I did what I had to do. 

Even if that means committing a cardinal sin as someone born with magic. 

“Raw Fade isn’t very pleasant,” Immaculata says out of nowhere. “I’ve never had a Harrowing, but–” Regret prison feels entirely too fresh. She forcefully maintains a neutral tone. There is no need for Valeria to know how she left that damn place in tears, stumbling into someone’s arms. 

Valeria looks at her. Her eyes are unsettlingly blue. “No,” she says. “Up until recently, I was amongst the few people who ever walked in the Fade, in the flesh. Adamant Fortress isn’t the place I think fondly of.” She squints. “Is your demon with us, Rook? And the other one, Spite?” 

“Always is, Inquisitor,” Immaculata mutters. “Lucanis is in the kitchen, but we cannot separate from Regret and Spite.” She sighs. “Killing them now or making us both tranquil is hardly a solution.” 

“I wasn’t looking for solutions,” Valeria’s shoulders relax slightly, even if her tone’s got an edge to it still. “Andraste forbid I ever suggest tranquility as a solution. It’s a slight upon any Maker-fearing soul. Those that did it befoul any chantry they go to for prayer. I was merely.. asking. “ 

“Spite is a great companion,” Emmrich chimes in. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to Regret much, but I would advise against casting judgement so swiftly.” 

Valeria presses her lips. “It’s not my judgement, it’s–” 

“I don’t want to debate the Chant with you, Inquisitor,” Immaculata lifts her hands. “Crows have given me a lot, but never a formal magical education. You seem to have a lot of enthusiasm for this topic regardless of my presence.” 

“Rook,” Emmrich says. Immaculata shakes her head and waves them goodbye. 

------

Doors to the dining room creak open. Fine smell of Antivan cooking hits Immaculata’s nose, a particular blend of spices she knows so well; Lucanis is furiously whisking something in a well loved bowl to the backdrop of cooking meat. Davrin is waving his hands around, deep in conversation. 

“--is why you should take silverite knives for that job,” Davrin is saying. “That wyvern tooth one should be up on a wall, Lucanis. Immaculata has an amazing eye for such things, but I don’t know what kind of money you Crows make to use those things in actual fights.” 

“A lot of it,” Lucanis responds. “And what use is a dagger that is not, well, used? Being killed by a wyvern tooth dagger - by the First Talon - is a sign nobody can miss. Treviso is free but the rest of Antiva is not. Viago is annoyingly fond of saying that the Crows rule Antiva, but it is true.” 

“A statement murder,” Immaculata chimes in, closing the door behind her. “I apologize if I’m interrupting your, uh, riveting conversation. Are you sending Davrin after the Antaam?” 

“They’re not my first choice of target, but some of them are bad guys for sure,” Davrin shrugs. His brow furrows. “You okay, Immaculata?” 

“Yes, Ada, are you well?” Lucanis puts the bowl down. His brow furrows too and he wipes his sweaty forehead. He’s pulled his hair back in a bun and looks very comfortable. “You look like a bird emptied its stomach in your hood.” 

“Or Assan shat in your bed.” Davrin straightens and pats the chair next to him. 

Immaculata rests her hands on the table. “The Inquisitor is not the most pleasant woman I’ve ever seen,” she says quietly. “She hasn’t been pleased with me since I merged with Regret.” 

“Yeah, she has the face of a cunt,” Davrin sighs. “She’s what, stupidly Andrastian?” 

“With all its benefits and pitfalls,” Lucanis adds sadly, and walks over to her. He places a soft hand on her shoulder and presses gently, like he would for a massage. “My hands are clean,” he whispers and rubs her arm. She looks around and presses her head against his shoulder. 

Lucanis hugs her. 

“There aren’t any contracts on her,” he says. 

“Please do not kill the Inquisitor, Lucanis,” Immaculata drawls, and huffs. “I think nobody has the coin for even a half of Chantry counterattack leaders that would be on our necks.” 

“Fucking Crows,” Davrin says. “A good “stop being a cunt” is free and comes without the risk of all of the South marching against us.” 

“I would not discount a contract on her at some point,” Immaculata responds. “I, however, will not be accepting that job. And I hope the First nor the Fifth Talon will not give it to me.” Davrin looks a little confused. “Viago de Riva. My half-brother. He’s my Talon, as he is also a de Riva. That kind of contract would have to go through him.”

“You’re seriously considering murdering her?” Davrin rubs his face.  

“We are Crows, Davrin,” Lucanis and Immaculata intone at once. “We kill people for money.”

Davrin stares. 

“Suit yourselves,” he grumbles. “Also, Lucanis, your meat will overcook.” 

“Mierda!” The speed with which Lucanis lets go of her and rushes to the kitchen makes both her and Davrin burst out laughing. Lucanis takes the lid off and sniffs. His eyes go purple for a moment. 

“Warden.Tricks.Us!” Spite says and Immaculata bends over, laughing. Tension that simmered beneath her skin all day comes out of her in loud waves, and she’s shaking and holding onto the chair for dear life. Davrin taps her on the shoulder. 

“You feeling better, Immaculata?” he asks softly. She almost doesn’t hear him over her laughter.

“Murder. Is. Still. Valid,” Spite adds. It is Lucanis who closes the pot again. 

Immaculata wheezes, breathless. “For Maker’s sake, Davrin,” she mutters and stands straight. “Are we having overcooked meat for lunch?” 

“No!” Lucanis rubs the back of his neck. His eyes are impossibly large and dark. “I am glad you are feeling less tense, though,” he says. “Even if it is at the expense of a perfectly good piece of meat.” 

“What gentle boyfriend you are,” Davrin laughs with no real heat. Lucanis gives him a sheepish smile. “He’d overcook meat for you.” 

“Davrin, stop,” Immaculata shakes her head and moves hair from her face. “Let the poor man cook.” 

“I should have kicked you out of my kitchen hours ago,” Lucanis agrees. “You, Ada, can stay. Davrin, you go play with Assan. He can shit in the Inquisitor’s bed since she’s not in it right now.” 

Immaculata rubs her eyes. “You two are impossible,” she says and her heart feels warmer than it had in a long time. 

These people may not be holy, but they’re hers. 

It is a comforting thought. 

-----

“Rook?” Valeria’s voice from the hallway. Immaculata gingerly puts an empty reagent bottle down. The room deceptively smells like healing herbs. “I want to talk.” 

“Yes?” Immaculata rubs the scar on her neck, and takes a deep breath. “Come in.” 

Valeria slides the doors open. Immaculata watches her lyrium-powered hand dim as she stands there, her brow furrowed. A show of power for a mage, Immaculata realises, and with no small amount of envy. She has seen Valeria in combat; the way she wields the ice and the Fade puts a lot of people to shame, on top of powering the dwarven-crafted hand. 

Her face, however, glistens with some sweat. “Solas certainly likes making things difficult,” Valeria grumbles. “Least of all things doors.” 

Immaculata clears her throat. “Can I help you?”

“Ah, yes.” Valeria stands there, clearly awkward. Candles shine a bright light on her golden hair, reminiscent of Andraste’s. Andraste, too, was once a person in the flesh. Holy is not without a physical presence. “I.. Well. Your choice to ally with a demon is certainly a choice, but desperate times call for desperate measures.” 

“Is that what this is about?” Immaculata sighs. “You do not need to explain your view, nor apologize. We read the same Chant, we listen to the same Divine. I know what I did is wrong and that I will be judged for it. I just–” 

“I can sense it,” Valeria interrupts. She walks over. Her boots click-clack. “Does the demon think this is amusing? This whole scenario?” 

Yes. 

Immaculata purses her lips. 

Valeria watches her with those icy, unsettling eyes of hers. “No matter. And I am not here to discuss theology either. Andraste knew we let a blood mage or two exist, with repentance, in the Inquisition. And I find the Chant to be.. Inflexible, at times.” 

“Magic exists to serve man, never to rule over him,” Immaculata says. “Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against His children. They shall be named maleficar, accursed ones. They shall find no rest in this world or beyond.”

“And have they turned against His children? They used their own blood, as far as I know. No other soul was harmed in their transgressions.” Valeria shrugs. “The Chant is a lot of things, but rarely fully straight forward. It must sound silly, coming from the Inquisitor, but..” Her face scrunches. “What I meant to say is that you are not summoning any more demons, you are turning against the Maker’s children no more than I am, and that I may have been.. Rash in my judgement.” 

Immaculata’s eyes widen. She is no match in arguing the Chant to the Inquisitor, this distant and all-powerful, holy mage, and yet, to hear that her beliefs had changed over the years.. Some in Antiva had called Valeria’s branch of Andrastianism a heresy, but is it truly surprising that one supposedly heretical belief would slip into another? 

No, what truly seems miraculous is that Valeria sounds like she’s apologizing. And that the act itself feels like the worst, shittiest possible stomach bug known to man. Immaculata huffs a laugh in disbelief; Valeria’s head shoots upward. 

“I believe the Maker and I will sort it out,” Immaculata says in an odd voice, entirely too intimate and soft. She feels out of her depth, like she’s exposed her belly to someone for no reason whatsoever, and that too feels like a crappy stomach bug. 

“You will,” Valeria agrees. “And if we’re all good and fine, I would like to go back to Solas’ stupidly big library.” 

Immaculata’s shoulders relax. “And I should go back to my next batch of poisons!” 

Valeria stares. 

“I’m a Crow, Inquisitor,” Immaculata waves a hand at a large Crow statue on the side wall. Did she just accidentally threaten her? 

“Understandable. And please close the door behind me. I am not wrangling that again.” Valeria waves goodbye and walks out just as she’d entered, but with a sense of a burden being lifted, almost. 

Immaculata closes the doors behind her, equally at ease. Her mind shifts and turns in confusion for a solid minute still before she marches towards her tools. A dirty mortar awaits another batch of foxglove. 

Regret is her transgression, her responsibility. There will be a reckoning with the Maker, but that is a problem for an Immaculata of the afterlife. She’s tired of regrets, tired of wishing she’d done things differently. This current, living Immaculata makes poison for her job and has friends she loves. 

And sometimes, that’s enough. 

[k-s-morgan]

Hello i hope that you are doing well! I actually had a question regarding Alphard. Feel free to ignore the question if you have to spoil parts of the story that you are not comfortable with sharing!

For some reason i am in the habit of sympathising with alphard just like harry. How does Alphard feel about harry and will their relationship become more like a friendship in the future? Harry attempts to stick out his neck quite a bit for him, and It also seems as though Alphard retained some sort of fondness for harry (atleast before ch 5!).

In canon alphard is disowned from the family, and he actually leaves a small amount of gold to sirius. It seems that he either was defiant like sirius or something else is going on. Have you taken this into consideration when you wrote alphard in atlwetd?

I know it seems oddly specific for me to focus on alphard and harrys relationship, i just think i feel bad for harry and it’s my weird way of coping with it. Hopefully harry will get some better relationships in the story. I personally think i’d go insane if i spent even a day in the house of slytherin (the toxic dynamics are so well written, keep up the good work!!)

Thank you so much for your time. I have been an avid reader of your works for at least five years, and your stories have been a comfort to me during hard times (even though they tend to be dark!). You are so talented and amazing at writing.

P.s Fuck putin! I wish you safety and peace in these trying times, you are incredibly strong and inspiring! 💛💙

Hi! Thank you so much for your lovely words - and no worries, I don't mind answering these questions at all!

Harry and Alphard's relationship will definitely deepen and become close to a real friendship at some point. I can't promise a long-lasting and happy bond between them, but there will be some serious development on Alphard's side.

Right now, he's torn between genuinely liking Harry and worshipping Tom. Tom is the embodiment of power, cunning, and success in Alphard's eyes, and he got so addicted to being able to touch this greatness even with one fingertip that he can no longer live without this feeling. Harry has brought something more solid and authentic in his life, but their relationship is still new, and Tom's roots go deep, so Alphard keeps choosing the familiar old toxicity for now.

And yes, I took what little we know of Alphard from canon into account - I think Harry even mentions it a couple of times. In the last posted chapter, Tom said:

He hasn’t pledged himself to anyone yet, not fully, but once he does, his loyalty will be unwavering.

In this context, in canon-based universe, Alphard ended up pledging himself to Sirius, so he left inheritance to him with no care for the consequences. In this time period, Alphard is going to make different choices under Harry's influence, which will lead to a different kind of future. But either way, Tom's words are going to be prophetic, and I actually can't wait to get there because this will be a breaking point for Tom and Harry's relationship as well.

Oh, and I agree with you, being surrounded by toxicity all day long is incredibly difficult. I admire Harry for being able to withstand it.

[miradelalune]

For @orv-gotcha-for-gaza project to support Palestine! Just a little fic I wrote when i had time over the course of two months. :). I hope the person who asked for this enjoys it!

Prompt: Kim Dojka falls asleep on Yoo Joonghyuk’s shoulder. Yoo Joonghyuk feels things.

The fire heartily crackled in the bonfire as laughter carried throughout the encampment. Everyone was laughing and talking, sharing drinks, glad that the Demon Castle was over (for most of them, at least). Even among those who were soon going to the third floor, the atmosphere was cheerful. Lee Hyunsung, Jung Heewon, and Yoo Sangah were engaged in cheerful conversation, and the children were playing some sort of card game, on the verge of yet another fight

Looking out onto the scene, Yoo Joonghyuk was reminded of the reasons why he chose to regress, again and again: to see the small moments of happiness shared between his teammates, even if they were not the same ones he had once suffered with. Of course this time, it was all thanks to him…

“I need to set out to find Han Sooyoung soon.” Kim Dokja said, breaking the silence between the two. Seolhwa had gotten up to get more drinks for them, and the two were alone now.

“Are you that intent on having her for the third floor?” he asked.

“She’s vital for what I need to do.” the man responded without elaboration. Kim Dokja took a sip from his beer, as if that had answered his question. He looked up at Joonghyuk with an unwavering gaze. “May I ask you a question?”

“Yes, but-” Joonghyuk said.

“Am I really a companion to you? ” He blurted out. He looked down, nervous for the response that awaited him.

A companion?

Joonghyuk looked down, startled. It was the word he had used for Kim Dojka, one he had said even without thought as he defended his group from enemy after enemy. But why?

Even now, he still did not understand Kim Dokja. Every scenario they had passed, he always had a plan, a way out that even stunned the Dokkaebi. His prowess as a prophet seemed even greater than Anna Crofts’...which still bothered him.

He knew that Kim Dokja was hiding something from him. As a regressor, Yoo Junghyuk had lived through enough rounds to be able to tell when someone was lying. And Kim Dokja was definitely hiding some things about his attributes. His true attributes.

Thump. Yoo Joonghyuk felt a weight against his side. One that was warm. Face burning, he looked over.

On Joonghyuk’s left shoulder, Kim Dokja’s head rested, tilted slightly towards his chest. His eyes were closed, and he appeared to be sound asleep.

He flinched before taking a deep breath, trying to steady his feelings. His eyes fixed on the campfire and the night sky. How had he fallen asleep so suddenly? To him, it had always seemed like for Kim Dokja, everything was always accounted for, under control.

Then again, the man had just come back from the dead…it made perfect sense that he was exhausted, Joonghyuk was simply being unreasonable. Moving on to more practical matters, he should probably wake Dokja up now.

Looking down, he was surprised by how peaceful he looked. The warm firelight certainly had done him a service, softening his features.

The regressor reached his available hand towards Dojka, about to give him a gentle shake to wake him up…but he just couldn’t bring himself to. He found himself gently brushing a stray hair that had fallen in front of Kim Dojka’s face instead. His stomach felt oddly light and jittery. Dammit. Maybe he could let him sleep for a little while.

His thoughts circled back to Kim Dojka’s question. He was surprised he did not have a logical answer. From past experiences, it might’ve served Joonghyuk better to betray Kim Dojka by now. He still remembered the searing pain of his own sword slicing into his shoulder, her unwavering gaze as she turned against him.

But Kim Dojka was different. Unlike all his other teammates whom he had fought with before, the at first unimpressive man he had met on the bridge was someone new. Things had changed because of him. The reason they were all there now, alive and happy was because of Dojka’s painstaking plans. This round was unique, unlike anything before.

And yet Joonghyuk knew there was something else. When Dojka talked to members of the party, whether it be to resolve the kids’ petty fights or delegate patrol, there was always a sort of affection in his eyes, even if he was annoyed or angry. Almost as if he was simply happy to be there. Kim Dojka wanted to see the end of the scenarios with his companions. All of them. It certainly helped that he was strategic, witty, warm-hearted, liked children, smelled a bit like fresh laundry…

Besides him, Kim Dojka shifted, drawing his shoulders closer together, a faint frown on his face. The temperature had dropped as night fell and now the air was biting and frigid. He was probably cold by now. He began to take off his black coat, but Dojka stirred, freezing him in his place. For a fleeting moment, he considered wrapping his arm around the sleeping man, to feel the steady rise and fall of his breath, but he quickly dismissed the idea; it would most likely wake him up.

It seemed there was only one option: the shop. With a sigh, he brought up the virtual window with his free hand, trying to move his arm as little as possible. After scrolling through the survival essential tools, he selected the Deluxe Fluffy Throw. His finger hovered over the cream option for a second (it was for Dojka, after all) before finding himself with an ink black bundle on his lap with 3000 less coins in his account.

He was about to simply spread the blanket on Dojka’s lap but stopped. With the man’s slightly hunched posture, he could see that Kim Dojka’s back would still be exposed, defeating the purpose altogether. That was a mistake of a mere noob that he had learned long ago with Yoo Mia. In one deft gesture, he brought the throw around both of their backs, wrapping both him and Dojka on either side so that they shared the blanket.

[Constellation Demon-Like Judge of Fire is squealing in joy!]

[1,000 coins have been donated]

“Please stop Uriel. We’re not even in a scenario...don’t you have better things to do?”

[Constellation Demon-Like Judge of Fire says that nothing is better in her life than watching this.]

Joonghyuk sighed, covering his face with his hands. Sometimes he felt that he was the only real adult in the entire Star Stream. Now with no one to talk to and no way to train, he was a bit at a loss on what to do.

“Whooo!!! Jihye for the win!!” shrieked Lee Jihye. Looking up, he could see why Seolhwa hadn’t returned: Kim Dojka’s Company had started a game of Spoons. The victor stood with her hands in the air, holding two metal spoons in the air, the playing cards scattered around her. The Han Sooyoung looked downright incredulous, with the young author still flat on the ground after losing the tug-of-war for the last spoon, while Seolhwa, the other loser, smiled bemusedly at the scene.

His feelings about Lee Seolhwa were beyond complicated. During his second regression, he had grown to even declare her as his lover. However, while her beauty was identical from the last regression, from her silky white hair that shimmered like a pearl, to her cherry red lips, Joonghyuk no longer loved her romantically. He saw his old lover in her at moments, but his Lee Seolhwa had forever vanished.

Joonghyuk looked down. With Dojka laying absolutely still, inches away, he could fully see the man’s face. He was beautiful, his skin a soft porcelain despite more plain features. He could see each individual eyelash softly curled, the small part of his lips that were ever so slightly opened.

Joonghyuk knew that he had caught glimpses before, in brief moments of respite, but after the fact when he tried to recall the exact features, he couldn’t picture anything but a blurry smudge. He wanted to keep the memory of that face.

He sat there for a while, gazing at Kim Dojka. The heated rounds of Spoon slowly wound down as he heard the shouts and laughter dwindling to low chatter.

He blinked, suddenly cold. Only amber-orange coals remained from the once blazing bonfire. His eyelids felt leaden with fatigue. It was time for both of them to go to bed.

Ever so carefully, he picked up Kim Dojka, fully wrapping him in the blanket. No one was awake now, save for a few people on night watch. He could hear the grass being crushed under his boots as he approached Kim Dojka’s tent. Joonhyuk began to part the fabric that served as the entrance, he felt the weight in his arms shift.

Kim Dojkas’ eyes were half open and his expression one of vague confusion, senses clearly dulled by the chloroform of sleep. He parted his lips to speak, but Joonghyuk interrupted him mid- word.

“You fell asleep. I was going to put you to bed.” He stated. He laid Kim Dojka in bed and covered him with a blanket. As Dojka’s eyes began to close, he paused and turned around.

“I consider you my companion because you mean something to me, Kim Dojka.” He said.

Without further ado, he walked out into the night before he could regret what he said, flustered but at content. He could remember Dojka's face. The face of someone he loved.

[lunanerdderg]

(Page 2) The Pulchritudinous, Horrific Story of the Foolish, Impatient Doctor Diggory Avarus

TW: nosebleed (result of injury)

Dr. Avarus groaned and tried to sit up. He was on the floor now, though he had no idea how he’d gotten there. One moment he was pressing the button. The next, he was waking; sluggishly; as if from a dream. He failed when he attempted to sit up, however, as he found his eyes growing heavy and sleep approaching him; so he rested his head on the floor again, feeling almost supernaturally exhausted. Panic coursed through him some vague source, but it was faint, and he was too tired to answer it. He tried to elevate his legs by bending them and bringing his feet closer to his body, but he found that it fatigued him enough to threaten sleep once more. So he laid there, waiting out the spell, until he was well enough to sit up. He rested his back against a wall to make it easier to remain upright, and finally surveyed his surroundings.

Thankfully, there was no blood on the floor where he’d fallen, and all his limbs seemed intact. He felt at the back of his head, then studied the fingers that had touched it. No blood. He felt at his ears, forehead, and scalp, and found no blood there either. Then he felt at his face.

Below his nose, trickling from both nostrils, was a tiny amount of blood . Thankfully, there wasn’t much, and, though he couldn’t breathe from his nose and had to use his mouth, his nose seemed otherwise completely fine: the bleeding being the reason it was clogged. He was covered in bruises, but was largely unharmed; and he counted himself lucky.

The machine itself seemed oddly stable. A thin wisp of smoke was already dissipated when Dr. Avarus looked, and nothing was in flames. The machine had powered down, but it did not spark and there were no signs of ruin. It had just run out of power. The moonlight on the button was now prophetically red as a lunar eclipse was taking place. Dr. Avarus stood up, gripping a table, and took two experimental steps, trying to judge whether the fainting spell had passed. When all he felt were tremors, a slight weakness, and a dull ache, (and he had confirmed that he had no trouble walking,) he left the room and turned off the lights, grabbing a tissue on his way out in order to clean his bloody nose. He went out to the parking lot, searching for his car, but found it strangely empty, save for the few sketchy cars that often inhabited empty parking lots after dark. Dr. Avarus was aghast. Someone must have stolen his car!

It was also possible that he had taken the bus that morning. It wasn’t completely improbable, since he had done the same thing many times before when his wife or one of his friends needed the car for some reason or another, but it wasn’t likely.

Dr. Avarus was too exhausted to deal with something like this right now, however, and his appallation was greatly diminished by his powerful fatigue, so he took the bus home, completely emotionally numb; ignoring all the shady figures that rode alongside him.

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[firstumcschenectady]

"Be on Guard" based on Jeremiah 33:14-16 and Luke 21:25-36

As a general rule, I really hate Advent texts. I hate them because they're apocalyptic and messy and scary and generally reflect a future I hope we don't have.

When I reflected on this with Worship Committee last month, they looked at me knowingly and pointed out that perhaps that's exactly why we need the Lectionary Advent texts right now. Because 1. we need some connection to our traditions and 2. it feels really real right now.

Which, since you just heard the utter wonder of the Luke 21 text, you can tell I was convinced by those ideas. However, I'm particularly lucky that the Sunday Night Bible Study also just finished reading the book of Daniel and I'm way more aware of the genre of apocalyptic literature in the Bible than I normally am.

I do not, for the record, recommend reading the book of Daniel outside of the context of a Bible Study or without some truly excellent commentaries. However, I had the benefit of reading it with excellent commentaries and insightful fellow readers.

The thing about Daniel, and the book of Revelation, and I think this passage in Luke is: they're written as resistance literature. They can't be direct and make the point, “The person who has all the power an is oppressing us with it is not doing God's will,” because if they say that then anyone who has access to the document will be killed. #OpressiveRegimes So, they put things in different times. Daniel pretends to be from the past, Revelation pretends to be in the future. Then they speak about the abuses of power they see now, and do it in a way that it clear that God is still God and the horrors of this time will come to an end.

They are powerful tools of encouragement, of hope, and of resistance.

But, in order to obscure their points so people don't die, they're also a little bit hard to decipher.

I'm not really sure what Luke is trying to get to in today's passage. (The Jesus seminar is pretty clear this is all Luke's writing, not reflective directly of Jesus.) What we do know is that the early Christian communities experienced fairly extreme circumstances, and often needed encouragement and resistance literature. It seems that it could be common enough to feel like things were so bad that “people would faint from fear”. But Luke assures the people that things getting bad are just a sign they're going to get better soon. Because the people needed to be encouraged.

So, beloveds, as people who also might need some encouragement, the part of the passage that encouraged me this week was one little line, “Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life.” Oh, I needed that reminder. Be on guard that your heart is not weighed down.

Sweet Jesus, thank you. (Or, rather, thanks Luke.)

Now, Jeremiah goes at this from a different perspective. Which is interesting because Jeremiah is known for being a significant downer as a prophet. But chapter 33 is one of Jeremiah's “good cop” chapters and Jeremiah encourages the people that the end has not come and good times are going to come again.

Now, I have to admit something to you. I rebel against the word “righteousness.” I don't think my objections are particularly fair. It is a good word. It means living well, living “rightly,” living in right relationship with God and neighbors. And yet, somehow, when I come across it, I connect it with purity culture and judgmental-ism and people judging whether or not one is righteous and it just ruins the whole thing for me. (I believe others struggle with Justice for similar reasons, and oddly enough I like that one.)

So, I thesaurus-ed “righteous” and the simplest substitute for it is “goodness” which I can handle. With that, we get a passage from Jeremiah that says:

The days are coming, God says, when I'm going to fulfill my promises.

In those days David's line will continue,

and the leader in the line of David will bring goodness and fairness to everyone.

The people will be safe and well.

Things will be so good that other nations will call my people by the name,

“God is our goodness.”

I like it. Sounds to me like yet another description of that beloved community or kindom of God we're co-creating with God. God reminds us, even in dark times, not to give up hope.

And Luke reminds us to be on guard so our hearts aren't weighed down.

Which leads me to invite us to think about both what weighs down our hearts, and what lifts those weights.

I can share that my weights are lifted by:

remembering all the organizations and people working for goodness

jokes and memes that hit at the crux of things with humor

feeling heard

being able to truly hear another person's heart

singing together

fiction and fictional portrayals that give me a break from the problems of this time

telling God exactly what I'm feeling and why

giving God time to respond (I may use this less than I wish)

helping others

baking

and as I was reminded in today's Advent Devotional – a snack and a nap!

It's my list, I don't know if yours has baking on it or not ;) But, if you are willing, would you work on making your list? What lifts the weights when your heart is heavy?

And, if you are willing, could you then put that list somewhere you can see it, as a reminder for when your heart needs you to guard it and lighten it's load?

Someone wise reminded me this week that it is hard to be disconcerted by reality at the same time that others are, because instead of steadying each other, people are pulling each other further off kilter. I say we work on becoming a fire break in the anxiety storm, a source of calm in the midst of it all. We guard our hearts and each other's, so we can be steady when others are off kilter. Are you with me?

I hope so. Thanks be to God for the opportunity to lift some weights from our hearts, so we have capacity to help others when their weights get too heavy. Amen

December 1, 2025

Rev. Sara E. Baron  First United Methodist Church of Schenectady  603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305  Pronouns: she/her/hers  http://fumcschenectady.org/  https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

[variousqueerthings]

watched network and it's ofc very famous and the acting was very good, esp really interesting women in this one and it has some great moments and speeches, but idk. doesn't feel as though it has the same kind of heart to me as the other lumet films i've seen so far:

i thought it was interesting and worth watching, but both on an emotional and political level it seemed oddly disjointed to me in that way where it's abundantly clear that while it's meant to be satirising a whole swathe of ideas, some people have more innate humanity than others based on static identities (yes, the shadowy tv exec is a white dude, but so are almost everyone else. yes faye dunaway is giving a great performance as a cold, fucked up network person, but it's got great dialogue and there are other women in the film. black characters? well...) i don't even think it's anti-establishment as such, even though it does start there and probably wants to be and also could have been if it had been more focused

with parts that were tremendously good, especially the ex-wife speaking her part + the network executive describing the power of capitalist-fuelled "entertainment" in shaping peoples' opinions and how that plays now with especially american politics more shaped by that notion than what people have done politically a lot of the time, and other parts that were highly suspicious in their cold seemingly satirical dehumanisations, such as the depiction of a far-left liberation terrorist group based on the symbionese liberation army that is ultimately a hollow inclusion of leftist ideas (whether or not those ideas are positive it's just shallow) and certainly puts you in mind of what the fanatical ultra-radical hypocritical left looks like (and it looks like it's run by politically messy black people), or the anti-arab rhetoric that seems to come out of nowhere all of a sudden, twice! (and this without a single arab onscreen....)

that's it for me in the end -- where everything else I've seen so far of sidney lumet (12 angry men, dog day afternoon, serpico, running on empty.... so yes, i have a fair few yet to watch!) seems to be offering humanity within plots that have surface-level similarities, this one just seems very "throws ideas at a wall about being angry at... something, but it seems the people causing the trouble consist of a. the soulless network executives and capitalist CEOs (sure, yeah, ok) b. the shadowy arabs somewhere (huh?) c. the ultra-left, led by black people (.... wait) who ultimately will also cave to the great spectre of Ratings and d. literally everyone else who watches tv"

sometimes "I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore" begs the question... who are you mad at, exactly? and this movie, in failing to answer that beyond a vague "... society? tv...?" kind of way rather than being more specific and direct, falls into some very biased obvious ideas, and also I think is at the core of why there are so many "woah this movie predicted everything!!!" type articles. it's a blank space that doesn't have a clear political idea and so people can fill that space however they want

i didn't really speak much to the "prophetic" nature of the movie, but that does also feel not-entirely-wrong-but-not-quite-right, I think people exaggerate -- it is resonant, especially today, but it's also based in the times it was made in: soulless network execs? they existed in the 70s. people doing extreme things that got a bunch of ratings? happened in the 70s. prophets on-air asking you to get mad? you got that in the 70s. like it wasn't ronald reagan and donald trump or the sheer amount of reality tv, but like. it's all structures being built in the 70s already

and I do give it a lot of reasonable doubt in intention, because as far as I know sidney lumet was always making movies with a clear idea about what he felt, and so I guess I can say who he is mad at, but the movie itself? feels more like an indictment against itself by trying to float a hopeless endless churn of soulless tv vs. the self-fulfillment that seemingly comes from pursuing a more wholesome (het, white, marriage-based, american) lifestyle that can "save" you from the trap of tv's ensnaring entertainment cycle. as if those two things aren't inherently connected

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

Can you IMAGINE if Sirius and Harry had been truly reunited the night Harry ran away after blowing up Aunt Marge? I feel like the two of them would've been SO chaotic together. 13 year old Harry fresh from inflating his non-blood aunt and seething over the Dursleys' words about his parents, teaming up with 33 year old Sirius fresh from 12 years in Azkaban, basically frothing at the mouth to rip Peter apart and protect his godson. They would be SO fucking fun for the Wizarding World to deal with (NOT). I'm imagining a world where Harry recognizes Sirius' magical signature or some bullshit as Padfoot and isn't immediately terrified when Padfoot suddenly turns into the murderous ex-con he just saw on the news had escaped. They're both just suddenly on the run from the Ministry bc Harry is like ??? WHY DO I RECOGNIZE YOU??? And Sirius is like I'M NOT LEAVING THIS KID AGAIN LIKE I DID THAT NIGHT!!!! So they're running around Britain and Harry's getting the 411 on Peter's betrayal and cute Marauders anecdotes and Sirius is losing his mind bc OMG it's his best friend and best friend-in-law (it's a thing, OKAY!?)'s son and he's so big and sassy and angry. And then Sirius is trying to figure out where they should go, and ends up deciding to go to fuckin Moony's place even though that's the first place people who knew them back then would check bc idk luck is on their side for once idc. So Remus has the absolute pleasure of opening the door to Mr. Harry James Potter in the company of a terrifyingly familiar black dog, and Remus' alarms are firing in his head as Sirius transforms from Padfoo t back into himself and he's shouting at Remus to LET HIM EXPLAIN, while Harry is doing his best to not let Remus fire a spell at his newly discovered godfather. Eventually Remus just lets Sirius explain on his front porch steps like they're a bunch of barbarians bc he refuses to let Sirius inside or let his guard down for a single second, and then Sirius tells him the whole story and Harry pulls out the Daily Prophet, and suddenly Harry has two absolutely FUCKIN FURIOUS Marauders on his hands, and they both want to chop Peter's head off and roast it on a stick, but Harry is oddly enough the most reasonable bc he's suddenly got a godfather that he doesn't want to lose bc hey, dude's kinda really great and also doesn't hate his guts like the Dursleys do, so of course he yells at them that they can't do anything yet bc Sirius would be carted back to Azkaban and probably Remus (who is still currently this random man to him ngl but also apparently the other loyal bestie his dad had at Hogwarts, so Harry doesn't want him chucked in Azkaban either) as well. So they devise a plan that involves kidnapped the fuck outta Scabbers as soon as Ron and Harry board the train together on September 1st, and Remus already has the DADA job, so he can help w that (although he still falls asleep bc I think Moony is absolutely iconic for that). And then the three of them just chill for about a month til it's time to board the Hogwarts Express, in which everyone at the station is suitably horrified when Harry just rolls up to the train with his brand spankin new pet dog Snuffles like nothing happened and he didn't just disappear off the face of the earth for nearly a MONTH, but Harry just ignores all that shit bc boy is on a MISSION and that mission is to destroy the bastard who got his parents killed and also started the catalyst of events that led to him growing up in an abusive household for like 10 years. Which is a thing he discussed at length w Remus and Sirius because Dumbledore is a manipulative piece of shit who TOTALLY KNEW the Dursleys were awful people and still decided to place him there :))))

Basically what ends up happening is Harry asks Ron to hand Scabbers over for a minute under the pretense of idek checking his lil rat toes or some shit bc he saw one was missing ???? And then Harry kicks Remus awake to do the spell, which he does, while Ron and Hermione are becoming deeply confused and disturbed by Harry's one-track mind and clear hatred for this stupid little RAT, but they let it happen bc Hermione sees the Professor part of RJ Lupin on Remus' briefcase (which, SCORE 1 for the Marauders definitely pranking him by getting him that briefcase at some point bc they WOULD and he had never been a professor before then so ???), and Ron and Hermione don't have a problem with authority figures, that's fuckin Harry. And Remus turns Wormtail back into Peter, and we get the whole Peter begging the Trio for mercy before Sirius turns back into himself from Padfoot, at which time Ron and Hermione start yelling about the escaped very dangerous convict in their TRAIN CAR, while Harry tries to convince them that Sirius isn't a danger to anyone in the tiny space but the fucking RAT, at which time Ron is like WELL HE'S NOT ACTUALLY A RAT ANYMORE NOW IS HE HARRY???!!! And Harry has to go with the short version of HE BETRAYED MY PARENTS RONALD!!!! while Peter is cornered by Sirius and Remus. And no, nobody has heard the yelling yet bc obviously Remus cast the Muffliato Charm or something, of course he did, I wouldn't forget that people have EARS. And then all of the sudden, the train car starts getting all cold, so Remus starts yelling at Sirius to change back to Padfoot bc the dementors won't sense a human that could be Kissed if he's not in human form, and Sirius does, but Peter also tries and Ron realizes what's happening and knocks him out (why Ron? Idk, why NOT him honestly, it's what he deserves after letting that creepy motherfucker live with him for the past few years bc YIKES I would be so freaked out) before Peter can turn back into a rat. The dementors come into the train car and Harry has his fainting spell which makes Sirius and Remus suitably LOSE THEIR MINDS bc WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED TO THE KID?!!??!! and Remus uses the Patronus Charm to repel them even though it means Peter won't be Kissed and Remus really wants revenge.

So Harry wakes up and is immediately accosted by his best friends, Sirius back in human form, and Remus trying to force chocolate into him. Ron and Hermione have been suitably informed of the situation, so they've closed the curtains, and nobody even knows what's happened besides those in the train car with them. Sirius doesn't have his wand, but he resolves to sit as Padfoot, staring at an unconscious Peter for the rest of the journey to Hogwarts, and the other four join him because no way in HELL are they letting that MF escape after Harry and Remus have managed to explain everything (and even before bc Ron and Hermione are the best and all they needed to hear was that Harry's parents died bc of Peter to determine that they would fucking the rat UP if he tried anything at all). So of course this weird fuckin quintet shows up to Hogsmeade's station with the real traitor and have to wait for everyone else to exit the train before traipsing up to the castle with the still unconscious Peter (Ron may not have cared all that much about being careful with head injuries from knocking bastards out bc of the whole ya know TRAITOR thing). Remus manages to send off a Patronus message to McGonagall (her bc of the aforementioned Dumbledore is a shithead thing) and they all head to Remus' new office with Peter in tow. Minerva shows up to Sirius as Padfoot, but an unconscious man who is CLEARLY Peter Pettigrew, and she's immediately like WHAT THE HELL??? and calls in some Aurors to deal with the trash. The Aurors are all suitably horrified but clear out soon bc they're not important to this story (sorry, kisses Aurors😘), and Minerva starts raging about Sirius being innocent and how DARE Peter, to which the Trio are extremely horrified bc they've never seen her lose her shit QUITE this much and it is highkey terrifying, but Remus is enjoying the show bc at least SOMEONE AGREES and Padfoot is wagging his tail and panting happily before Sirius realizes that Minerva can KNOW and he transforms back into himself, giving the poor professor half a heart attack. And because I think it would be hilarious for me personally, Snape walks in at the end of this lil story to see where tf Remus is bc he and Minerva are BOTH missing from the Welcome Feast, to Minerva McGonagall hugging the life out of a beaming Sirius Black while Remus looks at the two of them with a huge amount of relief bc THANK GOD she accepted his innocence, that could've been so bad for them lmao, they couldn't even Disapparate away at Hogwarts if she decided he wasn't innocent after all. And then Snape sees the Trio right beside Remus, also watching the hug and grinning like fools, especially Harry bc this meant Sirius was going to be FREE and also Harry would never have to deal with seeing the Dursleys or dealing with the fact that he literally blew up Dudley's aunt ever :)))

[automatismoateo]

I find it oddly suspicious that God an all powerful being couldn't fathom any other animals from the prehistoric era and basic historical facts about the origin of humanity via /r/atheism

I find it oddly suspicious that God an all powerful being couldn't fathom any other animals from the prehistoric era and basic historical facts about the origin of humanity One of the things that's consistent with all religions is that they're obviously written by people who don't know jackshit about the world when it comes to the history of our planet so they start throwing shit at the wall hoping that it sticks. Back then it was quite understandable because they didn't have anything to rely on to understand the world better so they start relying on superstition to provide an answer in an otherwise scary world where death and misery were frankly common. I always find it hilarious that none of the Egpyptian Gods and Hindu Gods resemble any of the prehistoric animals such as dinosaurs or any North American animals. Like where's the Egyptian God or the Hindu God resembling a Velociraptor or a brachiosaurus or a triceratops? How come none of them resemble any of the North American animals such as a Moose or the North American Bison? Even christianity couldn't even fathom any other animals existing outside of the modern day animals that we encounter right now. Even with the wildest imagination by the authors such as the Locus creature in revelation or the Cherubim it's pretty obvious that there are obvious limits on their imagination because God for some reason is hyper fixated on animals that humans currently encounter since like last 10,000 years or more and completely forgot that other majestic animals existed before them. The only counter arguments that christians have is that Satan put them there to decieve us like LMAO. Also how come God completely forgot that humans originated in Africa and the majority of humans back then were black? Home come all of the figures of the Bible since the beggining of time are all middle easterners and the majority of the event only happened in the middle east? Like wouldn't make more sense that the first prophets and the first figures of the Bible would have been black people with non middle easterner names before focusing on arabic people when humans finally migrated in the middle east from Africa? It feels like God doesn't know anything about that crap because archeology wasn't a thing back then so basic facts like people originating in Africa completely flew over his head. It almost seems like God is manmade or something and God reflected people back then. Submitted December 04, 2024 at 10:23AM by Poweredkingbear (From Reddit https://ift.tt/aJz7RoN)

[charlenasaxen]

“the consequences will be awful. Madness. Terror. I’ve seen it happen before. 16 can unravel your thoughts.”

“16 can make you doubt everything you see. 16 can make you doubt me.”

“I was appalled. This was a level of wickedness that I had never imagined.”

“what with one thing and another, now did not seem the time”

“How will you kill me?’ I asked.

‘You don’t want to know that,’ he said.

‘No. I suppose not.”

“Oh,’ said the Other. ‘Did you? That’s nice.’

‘It was nice,’ I agreed.

“Thank the House I had not told him! At worst it would have inclined him all the more to kill me.”

“if it were the Other’s sanity that was threatened by 16, I would not resort to killing him quite so quickly”

“Now hide Yourself!

Then I run swiftly and silently to a Wall”

“One shirt was a very nice cherry red colour. But they have all faded.”

“However my hair is a different matter. Over the years, as it has grown longer, I have interlaced it with pretty things: seashells, coral beads, pearls”

“I have placed my ornaments in the beautiful box with the octopus”

“When 16 returns to his own Halls, I shall put them back – I feel oddly naked without them”

“more efficient than indexing them straight away. After some time has passed it is easier to separate the important from the ephemeral.”

“I made another entry:

Prophecies concerning the coming of 16”

“Under the letter ‘I’, I wrote:

Italian, dishy, young”

“Ovenden, Stanley, student of Laurence Arne-Sayles: Journal no. 21”

“Outsider literature, see Fan fiction”

“Added to this was the writing itself. It was my handwriting – no doubt about that – but it was subtly different”

“There were nine of them. Just nine. I did not find twenty others that I had inexplicably overlooked.”

“If Journal no. 1 (my Journal no. 1) had originally been Journal no. 21”

“turned to page 154. There he was.”

“His most favoured students (the inner circle) went with him”

“During dinner Arne-Sayles talked about the other world (a place where architecture and oceans were muddled together)”

“Ten years later when Arne-Sayles was convicted of kidnapping another young man, the Italian police reopened the case”

“What meaning could words such as ‘Birmingham’ and ‘Perugia’ possibly have?”

“I have discovered that I am mad already! Or, if not mad now, then certainly I have been mad.”

“I felt a great pressure there as if a whole host of half-formed ideas were about to break through”

“I saw in front of me the Statue of the Faun, the Statue that I love above all others. There was his calm, faintly smiling face.”

“But today it seemed to mean something quite different: Hush! Be comforted!”

“climbed up on to his Plinth and flung Myself into his Arms”

“Safe in his embrace, I wept”

“I ate a little fish and drank some water. Then I revisited all my favourite Statues.”

“Their Beauty soothed me”

“Even now, as I write the words, I begin to feel anxious again. A crowd of images stirs in my mind – strange, nightmarish, but at the same time oddly familiar.”

“the fleeting image of towers and spires”

“The Prophet also tried to think of the name of the dishy young Italian but could not do so. Perhaps it was Maurizio Giussani.”

“Which means that twenty Journals (twenty!) are missing – a highly alarming thought!”

“I pictured Myself throwing all ten Journals and the Index into a raging Tide”

“if the House has made you forget, then it has done so for good reason”

“It does not matter that you do not understand the reason. You are the Beloved Child of the House. Be comforted.”

“I composed music on the flute that I made from the bone of a swan”

“This Hall contains the Statue of the Gorilla and I thought the sight of Him would lend me Strength”

“she wanted to go to university to study Death, Stars and Mathematics. Inexplicably the University of Manchester didn’t offer such a course.”

“part of her duties consisted of driving him wherever he wanted to go, including to Canal Street on Saturday nights to pick up young men”

“Arne-Sayles instructed her to quarrel with her parents. According to Angharad Scott, this was a test of loyalty.”

“with occasional splashes of blood-red”

“Moon/Wood contains very little speech and what there is is incomprehensible”

“The walls are lined with statues and puddles”

“According to the people who believe such things, this is a record of one of Arne-Sayles’s other worlds”

“these are in the same peculiar code as her last diary and remain impenetrable”

“Angharad Scott made several attempts to decipher it but got nowhere”

“This time D’Agostino refused.

She was never seen again.”

“Arne-Sayles’s career, always controversial, ended abruptly”

“Behind the wall – the fake wall – the police found a room in which was a young man, very ill and entirely incoherent”

“Arne-Sayles did not testify at his trial and never offered any explanation as to why he’d imprisoned James Ritter”

“Ritter was very good-looking. He worked as a model, a waiter, a barman, an actor and occasionally as a prostitute.”

“he had been at a different house, a house that contained statues and where many of the rooms were flooded by the sea”

“while he was in hospital he became very agitated, saying that he needed to go back to the minotaurs because the minotaurs would have his dinner”

“Certainly, Ritter’s description of the house is similar to the vast, empty rooms in Sylvia D’Agostino’s film”

“But in that case why was Ritter babbling about houses with seas in the basement?”

“it too was a vast building with great rooms and statues and staircases. The resemblance to the other house calmed him.”

“James Ritter was clearly the person who had eaten crisps and fish fingers.

This insight alone justifies my decision to continue reading my Journal!”

“occurs to me that there are many other ideas that I understand perfectly, even though no such things exist”

“It is from these things that I deduce the idea of a garden. I do not believe this happens by accident. This is how the House places new ideas”

“Do not be anxious, I tell Myself. It is the House. It is the House enlarging your understanding.”

“thirteen remain. This is the exact number of the Dead in my Halls. A coincidence?”

“It is impossible to say at this juncture how many of these people there are”

“… that he has done to me. How could I have been so stupid? I will die here.”

“This was the writing of a very angry and unhappy person. I wondered who it had been?”

“I passed some time (about half an hour I think) talking to it. I am LOSING MY MIND.”

“Before I forget why I HATE HIM”

“There it was again! A scent. A perfume of lemons, geranium leaves, hyacinths and narcissi”

“Yes, the scent was discernible here too. I traced the person’s path.”

“hints of cloves, blackcurrant and rose”

“No, this was someone new.

16 had come. 16 was here.”

“someone so wedded to Destruction and Madness, should wear a perfume so lovely, so redolent of Sunshine and Happiness”

“For an answer, the Other put two fingers to his head in imitation of a gun and made the sound: Boom!”

“Though it would be interesting to try. Tell you what. I’ll get a gun. That’ll make it easier, whichever of us has to do it.”

“I don’t know why I’m describing him to you. It’s not as if hordes of old men are going to start turning up.”

“I scattered scraps of fish to feed them. Two alighted on my shoulders. One pecked at my ear, hoping to discover if I was good to eat. It made me laugh.”

“I paused and examined Myself for signs of imminent madness”

“RETURN TO YOUR OWN HALLS, 16, AND REFLECT ON YOUR WICKEDNESS”

“I tried putting ‘your enemy’ but this seemed unnecessarily confrontational”

“The Stars blazed bright in all the Windows. The Thousand Statues, faintly lit by the Stars, looked out upon the Hall as if they blessed it.”

“The person was shouting: ‘Raphael! Raphael! I know you’re here!’

It was the Other.

“But as for 16 himself, I could see nothing of him. He was a mere blot behind the dazzle of the light.”

“I had told him to reflect on his wickedness. Was that what he was doing?”

“No one has ever written to me before”

“Part of me (a very foolish part) felt that it would almost be worth going mad in order to read the message”

“NED ME THAT YOU MAY BE SUFFERING”

“It is not the fact 16 is a woman that fascinates and excites me – or at least, not entirely; it is the fact that she is another human being”

“Everything keeps leading back to this one same person, Laurence Arne-Sayles”

“Unless I disappear myself, in which case, con”

“it was also persuadable. Nature was willing to bend to men’s desires.”

“men could turn into birds and fly away, or into foxes and hide in dark woods, castles could be made out of clouds”

“providing you had a physical link with a person who had once possessed them”

“(a head, but not one that belonged to Marepool I)”

“at one point he had seen the lips of Marepool III move but he had not heard any words”

“second, it left a hole, a door between this world”

“unsympathetic to my request to be allowed to stand in the garden for several hours performing an Ancient Celtic ritual”

“No matter. I discovered when they would be taking their holiday, returned at that time and ‘broke in’.”

“though now forced to share their beds with flowers of insufferable vulgarity”

“I no longer saw or felt the rain. I was standing in the clear, strong sunlight of early childhood. The colours of the roses were supernaturally bright.”

“the one into which everything forgotten flows. The edges of that door were frayed and worn by the passage of old ideas leaving this world.”

“A strange thundering – as of a sea – filled my ears …”

“I do not understand why this sentence is in the past tense. The World still speaks to me every day.”

“immediately discovered something Highly Alarming – a Conjunction of Four Tides in less than a week’s time!”

“Oh, fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I muttered to Myself.”

“I’ll be fine,’ said the Other. ‘Will you be OK?”

“I knew that I would miss her if she had. Other than 16, there is only Myself and the Other in the World”

“(it may surprise you to read this) the Other is not always the best of company”

“PLEASE ABSENT YOURSELF FROM THESE HALLS AT THIS TIME OR YOU WILL BE IN DANGER”

“THEN CLIMB QUICKLY! THE STATUES ARE GRACIOUS AND WILL PROTECT YOU.”

“DAY OF THE FLOOD WILL BE THE FIRST DAY OF THE QUARTER MOON”

“a pure white colour with a beautiful, glowing translucency”

“but birds do not move a great number of stones for no reason”

“Too late I realised that the pebbles formed shapes. Words! Words made by 16!”

“Matthew Rose Sorensen …

An image rose up in front of me, like a memory or a vision.”

“everything smelt of rain, and metal, and staleness. This vision had a name and its name was …”

“But they were only Statues and they could not bring me water. They could only look down on me with Calm Nobility.”

“It’s a name associated with labyrinths. You don’t mind, do you? I’ll stop if you don’t like it.”

“It was delicious and refreshing (it had been a Cloud only hours before)”

“a man who transgressed against science, against reason and against law”

“If he really was some forgotten part of Myself, then he would not like to be contradicted; he would argue”

“He did not rise up from some shadowy recess of my mind. He remained an emptiness.”

“The circles that you find in the windmills of your mind”

“I had already been obliged to reallocate two pages from the letter P to accommodate them all”

“called on the University of Manchester to dismiss Arne-Sayles. (The university did not do so until 1997 when Arne-Sayles was arrested)”

“The last ten pages – the very pages that I wanted – were missing”

“The thirty-two pages with information about Ketterley were gone”

“But if I had torn out the pages, what had happened to them? Where had they gone?”

“Quickly – almost feverishly – I began to put the pieces together”

“The longest entry was titled: The events of 15 November 2012”

“When I got to his house I heard music playing. A requiem.”

“somehow intensified; inside the house there was a smell of rain, clouds and air, a smell of limitless space. A smell of the sea.”

“Well, quite. People still think I must have known about his crimes. I didn’t.”

“God, no! Not for twenty years.”

“He’s just perverse. If someone says white, he’ll say black.”

“how they are received by the various disciplines – religion, art, literature, science, mathematics and so forth”

“He wrote about magic and pretended it was science.”

“Of course I object to the fucking word,”

“And then he demolished you. His theories weren’t just smoke and mirrors. Far from it. He’d thought everything through.”

“And she did. She did it because Laurence instructed her to do it and because Laurence was the great magus.”

“He did it because he could. He did it to cause anguish for her.”

“A vision of cosmic grandeur. A symbol of the mingled glory and horror of existence. No one gets out alive.”

“But he made it clear that this was a concession to our lack of ability.”

“this is quite hard to admit – but yes, I did see it once. I mean I thought I saw it once.”

“Oh, I see,’ he said. ‘So you’ve told lots of people that you were coming here today.”

“Oh! Oh, OK. Sure. Why not?’ I said. I stood up. ‘I don’t have to take any drugs, do I?”

“You know. When you get to the labyrinth.’

He had an odd sense of humour.

“I feel a sort of terror descend on me. I know now what is coming.”

“that was the point at which I realised that he was lying. The candle had stood in that precise spot many, many times and he had performed this ritual over and over again.”

“He still believed. He still thought he could reach the other world.”

“he began to chant in a language I’d never heard before”

“He chanted with conviction, with fervour”

“It was as if the world had somehow just stopped.”

“My eyelids were still closed but I could tell that the quality of the darkness had changed”

“There was a sound of vast emptiness, and all around me waves were hitting walls with a dull thud”

“The walls of a vast room rose up around me. Statues of minotaurs loomed.”

“He was looking at me and smiling as if I was an experiment that had gone surprisingly well”

“I really am delighted to see you. A young, healthy man is just what I wanted.”

“He began to laugh.

And he laughed, and laughed, and laughed.”

“I was mistaken. The Other is not my friend. He has never been my friend. He is my enemy.”

“He called me Piranesi so he would not need to use the name Matthew Rose Sorensen.”

“when he did that he was walking away into the Other World”

“HE TRICKED MATTHEW ROSE SORENSEN INTO COMING INTO THIS WORLD”

“I could have climbed up to a High Place, safe from the Waters and I could have watched him Destroyed”

“I will deceive him as he has deceived me. I will say I made a mistake about the Flood.”

“I will snatch him and bind him with fishing nets. With these hands I will do it!”

“For two days he will be bound. He will be in torment, knowing the Flood is coming.”

“Perhaps I will give him water to drink. Perhaps I will not. Perhaps I will say to him: ‘Soon you will have plenty of Water!”

“he will scream and scream. And I will laugh and laugh. I will laugh as long and as loud as he laughed”

“And always I could have saved him, but I never did”

“My eyes and throat were sore with weeping and shouting”

“from time to time a sob or cry would escape my lips – a little sound of desolation”

“Perhaps the Other had taunted him. Matthew Rose Sorensen had torn into pieces the description of his enslavement”

“he had scattered the pieces in the Eighty-Eighth Western Hall. Then the House in its Mercy had caused him to fall asleep – and it had placed him inside me.”

“Hush now! I said, Do not be afraid. You are safe. Go back to sleep. I will take care of us both.”

“Neither he nor I had ever been mad”

“This too referred to Ketterley. 16 was saying that Ketterley knew that she had arrived.”

“Because she was looking for Matthew Rose Sorensen. Because she wanted to rescue him.”

“Tears sprang into my eyes at the thought. My only friend and I had hidden from her!”

“I am here! I am here!’ I shouted to the Empty Air. ‘Come back! I will hide no longer!”

“It would have taken a long time to arrange those pebbles. 16 was patient, resolute and ingenious. 16 was still looking for me.”

“The rooks made a fuss at my approach. Yes, yes. I am glad to see you too, I told them.”

“The Other. The Other had done this. I was quite sure of it.”

“Perhaps he had already done it. 16 was in danger.”

“My thoughts return constantly to her and her safety, yet I cannot think of anything else I can do to protect her”

“all the Dead stand in the Path of the Flood Waters. I began the work of carrying them to safety.”

“I left the Folded-Up Child snuggled in a blanket because I wanted her to feel safe in an unfamiliar Place”

“I had not forgotten the albatross chick (now a very large bird!)”

“The albatrosses consider me a friend, but I did not think they would allow me to carry their chick”

“and in any struggle between us they would surely win!”

“since my Journals and Index are almost as dear to me as my Life”

“it became a long flat shape, which was pointed at both ends. It was a boat.”

“I could throw it into the Tides.

I replaced the Gun in the bag and did up the closures.”

“It was a quarter to eight.

My most important task was to find 16 and ensure her safety.”

“the first Tide was already ascending”

“Suddenly I had a mental image of both 16 and Myself hiding in the First Western Hall, both waiting for the other one to appear”

“no nonsense from you, all right? Because I swear, Piranesi, I’ve just about had enough from everyone.”

“When I got to his house I heard music playing,’ I said. ‘A requiem. I waited for him.”

He froze at the sound of his own name. “What are you talking about?’ he asked again in a voice made hoarse with fear.

“You asked me once if I remembered Battersea. And now I do.”

“Really, Matthew, how stupid do you think I am?”

“He dived suddenly to the right, towards the Gun. But I had chosen my position with care and I was nearer to it.”

“I gave it a good, sharp kick with my foot. It skittered across the marble.”

“at that moment a voice was heard. ‘Ketterley!’ it cried. A woman’s voice. 16 was here!”

“As I ran, I shouted: ‘A Flood is coming! We must climb!”

“she understood the urgency in my voice. I seized her hand. Together we ran towards the Eastern Wall.”

“the Statue of a Father seated with his little Son in his Arms”

“he had run to the Northern Wall to retrieve his Gun. He was firing at us.”

“He fired again, hitting a Statue above our heads. I felt a sharp pain.”

“presumably with the idea of firing his Gun at us more effectively”

“Her eyes were wide with apprehension. I held out my arms. She jumped. I caught her.”

“As he struggled, he seemed to grow heavier; the boat by contrast grew lighter, freer. It danced on the Waters.”

“The Other kept changing direction to follow it, but by the time he had taken a few arduous steps, the boat was somewhere else entirely”

“But he could not hear me above the Sound of the Waters pouring into the Hall. He continued to wade desperately, uselessly, after the boat.”

“Spray as high as the Ceiling exploded through all the Northern Doors. The Spray caught the Sun; diamonds into the Hall.”

“He crashed into the Statues. I imagine that that was when he died.”

“The Wave drew back; he disappeared into it.

Meanwhile the little inflatable boat whirled about. If he could only have reached it, it would have saved him.”

“Waves crashed against the Southern Wall; explosions of white Spray”

“We were drenched, we were numbed, we were blinded, we were deafened; but always we were saved”

“We could not return the way we had come since that would involve a leap upwards”

“My hair – which is dark and curly – was as full of droplets as a Cloud. I rained every time I moved.”

“The birds found us there. Many different kinds – herring gulls, rooks, blackbirds and sparrows – gathered on the Statues and Banisters and chattered at me”

“I mean we can go to my house and get dry. And then I can take you home.”

“I am home,” I said

“It’s usually a lot drier than this,’ I said quickly in case she was thinking that my Home was inhospitable and damp.

“I don’t know if you remember this, but you have a mum and a dad. And two sisters. And friends.”

“They’ve been looking for you. They’ve been worried about you.”

“They’ve felt pain because they didn’t know where you were.”

“All that is true. But I haven’t got his mind and I haven’t got his memories.”

“He is here.’ I touched my breast. ‘But I think he’s asleep. He’s fine. You mustn’t worry about him.”

“come with me to Matthew Rose Sorensen’s parents and sisters – to let them see his face again? It would help them a lot to know he is alive.”

Raphael’s dark eyes were wide with astonishment. ‘My God! Are they all right?”

“Certainly the Proph … Certainly Laurence Arne-Sayles thought so.”

“Oh, they don’t say much really. They’re all dead.’

‘Dead!’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh!”

“I said there are thirteen Dead, but that is incorrect. Dr Ketterley has joined their number. I must find his body and make him ready to lie with the others.”

“She put out her hand and rather awkwardly – but also gently – put her hand on my shoulder”

“to my huge embarrassment, I started crying. Great creaking sobs rose up in my chest”

“It doesn’t matter how late it is. I’ll wait until you come.”

“My last thought before I fell asleep was: He is dead. My only friend. My only enemy.”

“Then you will be a handsome skull and handsome bones. I will put you in good order and you can rest in the Sunlight.”

“I am sorry that I was angry with you. Forgive me.”

“first mocking Dr Ketterley and then abandoning him”

“that he is unconscious but perfectly safe, and that I am a strong and resourceful person who will care for him”

“You spoke to him?’ she asked in a tone of incredulity.

‘Yes.’

‘He came here?”

“it was as though a principle of Death had been replaced with a principle of Life”

It spoke with Laurence Arne-Sayles’s haughty, drawling voice: ‘You think that all my talk about other worlds is irrelevant.”

“You mean do we perform them on the edge of a precipice and he just fell off?”

“Yes. And you are going to do it for the exact same reason that Rose Sorensen did it. He wanted to understand my thinking. You want to understand his.”

“I thought he meant metaphorical paths. It was a bit of a shock when it turned out he didn’t.”

“Matthew Rose Sorensen was shocked when he first arrived. Shocked and frightened. And then he fell asleep and I was born.”

“I do not see why you say I can only see a representation in this World,’ I said with some sharpness.”

“As many as seventy?’ I asked, deliberately choosing a high, rather improbable number.

“It’s the way you raise your eyebrow at me. That dubious, rather imperious look. You look like Matthew Rose Sorensen.”

“How do you know that there are more than seventy people?’ I asked. ‘Have you counted them yourself?”

“I don’t want to trick you. You must only come if you want to.”

“if I stay here will you come back and visit me?”

“Of course.”

“For as long as I can remember I have wanted to show the House to someone”

“the Statue of a Winged Horse and its Colt”

“Today all my imaginings came true. The Sixteenth Person and I walked together through the House and I showed her many things.”

“Raphael looked relaxed and happy. (I was happy too.) With every step Raphael was looking around with pleasure and admiration.”

“But I was pleased that she had asked the question. It showed that she regarded the House as I did.”

“We don’t know who they are,’ she said. ‘Poor things.”

“go back to thinking of them the way I always had before – as good, and noble, and peaceful”

“If I leave, then the House will have no Inhabitant and how will I bear the thought of it Empty?”

“I will know that I am alone.

And so for this reason I have decided to go with Raphael.”

[spacecadetspe]

Aug. 24, 2024

Let's see if I can catch things up here relatively quickly. It feels like things have sped along quite a bit since my last update for this year.

A few stars have stepped in to help us fight this thing, whatever it is. BG and Ropana came to help train Ad Astra and Glinda in using the seraphic sword that Lugh made for them from the sword of Eden. And the Telchines have been oddly helpful, as well. Perhaps I shouldn't say that. There hasn't been a time when they haven't been helpful; just snarky.

BG took the Dream Staff and tried to communicate with the Prophetic faction, but that didn't go well; all they heard were murmurs of prophecy in the fire. So I stepped in and made it clear: "United we stand... divided we fall."

And so they began preparing the dreamlings.

I didn't sleep for several more days in a row. That frustrates me, but for some reason I just wasn't tired. Perhaps my body is changing again. It's done this once before. Bodily functions are largely optional in the metaphysical, so it was sudden and unwelcome when I had a toilet emergency. The oneiroi were sympathetic and kind about it, and helped me clean up, but I was still understandably embarrassed. These changes I'm going through can be unpredictable, and I'm not sure what will happen next.

Morpheus led the other dream deities in preparing the dreamlings for the enormous task of processing this astral guide, and when I came back, they had all migrated to Muspelheim (some of them kicking and screaming). Three of the children were marked for death by the Fates, but... well, I suppose I showed them how to extend their threads a bit longer. Clotho seemed to get a chuckle out of this, as if the ordeal wasn't over yet.

And I hated to admit it, but she was right. While we processed the dreamlings in the forge, Ad Astra, Glenda, and Dox made the trek back down to Tartarus.

When the guard asked what had brought them there, Ad Astra simply answered, "Providence."

Eventually, they were allowed entry and returned to the Telchines for further aid. At first, one of them antagonized Ad Astra and was met with the seraphic fire of his new sword. But as always, Mylas was the voice of reason. He pointed the three children to the corpse of the astral guide, and a massive stone that sat upon it. He told them if they could remove the stone, they could leave.

It took a great amount of struggle, but the three managed to move the stone off the cadaver, rolling it down to the bottom of the ravine. Dox enlisted the help of one of the Hellkin to help Glenda with the sheer gravity of the thing, and Ad Astra blessed the yoked Hellkin with enough holy power to move it out of Tartarus.

They paused outside the gate to ponder that, after all this teamwork, they might have to fight each other in accordance with the prophecy. I was quick to remind them that this Filodoxia was not the one they would be fighting, and they seemed to take that as a comfort.

They pushed the stone into a portal to the astral realm, and while Dox held the stone in place, Ad Astra and Glenda began forming a solar system around it. A star was being reborn.

The nascent being called out, alerting every dream spirit in the universe of its presence. Every old star looked in its direction. And then suddenly, the Dream Staff was ripped from my hand.

The being who caught it was made of darkness, glittering like the rest of the night around it. He tapped the staff forcefully, and all the dream spirits fell into a deep sleep.

"Now," he said, "you and I seem to be the mightiest ones here. I thought we should have a talk."

I sat back. "Well, to whom do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?" I asked.

"The Sleep of the Ages," he answered. "A child of Chaos."

My mind raced to come up with who this might be, and then I heard Morpheus mutter something in his sleep... "Father?"

Oh. Oh my. I knew exactly who this was; not Hypnos, but older still. This was the father of Sleep and Death; Erebus.

He and I talked for a bit, and he attempted to start a bargain with me. He meant no harm toward me or "my people," but wanted me to render Dox unto him to act as his proxy. He offered me the keys to the Black Hell as collateral, but I refused them outright.

I told him in no uncertain terms that I do not deal in bodies or souls, and that he should ask Dox personally.

"But you're his sovereign," he said.

"No," I corrected. "He is an autonomous person, and can make his own decisions. Sovereign or not, my power does not give me the rights to his life."

I reflected later that leaving me and "my people" alone while Erebus did as he pleased to further his agenda was the same thing as putting me in a box. I didn't tell Erebus so, because he seems to think violence is his trump card.

It's not going to go the way he thinks it will. And now I see where Hypnos got his attitude.

Erebus returned to sleep, still pulling himself together after eons in Tartarus, and the dream spirits all awoke from their slumber. Morpheus took everyone back to the Dream World, and told the kids to take the night off. They had all collectively been through enough.

Morpheus is the only one still awake now. He leans against me, exhausted, chalice in one hand. He yearns for sleep, but is too stressed to get any. So he leans on me, and I am happy for it. He needs this more than wine.

Erebus did finally talk to Dox, and gave him the same honey-coated spiel he gave me. Dox is a smart, kind kid though, and when offered the keys to the Black Hell, he turned and started walking away.

"Where are you going?" Erebus asked.

"The future. You should keep up."

[quamatoc]

Putting aside that I very much feel with the unitarian I feel that either my bible is very weird or there have been some things that are not said out loud. Because:

In the gospels there is scant a word about jews (other than references to earlier prophets) but a lot of talk (and criticism) about Pharisäer (I actually do not have a clue how to translate this but I can give the description from my bible: "Set apart", the strongest religious party since the Maccabean wars, who honored the heritage of Isreal, the Law and the tradition of the Fathers, trusted in the promise of God, therefore also believed in the resurrection of the dead, and above all fought with passionate zeal for the punctual observance of the Law down to the smallest details of everyday life, in order to ensure the fulfillment of the Messianic promise from man. [...] Not only the written down in the law of Moses, but also the orally handed down exact and strict rules of application, the "statutes of the elders", i.e. the older teachers of the law, had to be observed in daily life. Initially a lay movement, they were soon closely associated with the status of the scribes. Their danger was legalism, which could lead to self-righteous pride and unloving harshness. Such excesses are denounced especially in the Gospel of Matthew. The Sadducees contended with the Pharisees for leadership among the people; since the fall of Jerusalem, the Pharisees dominated and shaped the thinking of Judaism.Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version))

This whole braiding a whip straight up doesn’t exist in my version.  However he does take offence at the presence of tellers and stuff *in* the temple and throws them out. Which seems oddly reasonable. (See: Markus 11,15-17; Matthew 21, 12f.; Lukas 19,45f.; didn’t find it for Johannes; all three direct sources point to Josaja 56,7)

Isn’t the entire “Jews killed Jesus” a mediveal conspiracy??? Because in the bible I have it is pretty clearly said that the romans were responsible for that to happen other parties may have skewed stuff but ultimately it was the romans doing.

Now, I could be that I am actually wrong on some stuff - I am no expert after all, and even those are not infallible.    

Also: What’s it with not calling a jew a jew? Unless it is some kind of english anomaly I have not yet heard about (with this language you actually never know)

how can you be so controversial and yet so brave

(reposted from Twitter)

Hey so, have I ever told you about the time I was at an interfaith event (my rabbi, who was on the panel, didn't want to be the only Jew there), and there was a panel with representatives of 7 different traditions, from Baha'i to Zoroastrian?

The setup was each panelist got asked the same question by the moderator, had 3 minutes to respond, and then they moved on to the next panelist.

The Christian dude talked for 8 minutes and kept waving off the poor, flustered, terminally polite Unitarian moderator.

The next panelist was a Hindu lady, who just said drily, "I'll try to keep my answer to under a minute so everyone else still has a chance to answer." (I, incidentally, am at a table with I think the only other non-Christian audience members, a handful of Muslims and a Zorastrian.)

So then we get to the audience questions part. No one's asking any questions, so finally I decide to get things rolling, and raise my hand and the very polite moderator comes over and gives me the mic.

I briefly explain Stendahl's concept of "holy envy" and ask what each of theirs is.

(If you're not familiar, Stendahl had 3 tenets for learning about other traditions, and one was leave room for "holy envy," being able to say, I am happy in my tradition and don't desire to convert, but this is something about another tradition that I admire and wish we had.)

The answers were lovely. My rabbi said she admired the Buddhist comfort with silence and wished we could learn to have that spaciousness in our practice. The Hindu said she admired the Jewish and Muslim commitment to social justice & changing, rather than accepting, the status quo.

The Christian dude said he envied that everyone else on the panel had the opportunity to newly accept Jesus.

I shit you not.

Dead silence. The Buddhist and Baha'i panelists are resolutely holding poker faces. The Hindu lady has placed her hands on the table and folded them and seems to be holding them very tightly. Over on the middle eastern end of the table, the rabbi, the imam, and the Zoroastrian lady are all leaning away from the Christian at identical angles with identical expressions of disgust. The terminally polite Unitarian moderator is literally wringing his hands in distress.

A Christian lady at the table next to me, somehow unable to pick up on the emotional currents in the room, sighs happily and says to her fellow church lady, "What a beautiful answer."

anyway I love my rabbi to death and would do anything for her

except attend another interfaith event

[newtonian-tragedy]

Robert Hooke's drawing of the bat gave me a sense of déjà vu, but at the same time, I felt like I had been expecting to see something like it eventually.

As most of my deepest thoughts tends to do, this post will veer off onto a mystical tangent, but I wanted to share an oddly-specific dream that I had the summer before last—almost a whole year before I even knew who Hooke was.

I don't recall any details about the setting beyond the fact that I was a schoolboy, but the gist of it was that I was excited to demonstrate my submission for science project, only to be disappointed at my disqualification for my invention being "too impractical".

My entry? A fully-functional flight suit with wings styled like a bat's. It worked perfectly, but not a single person seemed impressed for some reason.

I remember my instructor trying to keep me from getting discouraged, telling me something along the lines of: "What you lack in scientific ideas, you make up for with your impressive technical illustrations. Have you thought about a career in art instead?"

I remember intense feelings of rejection, anger, and frustration. I didn't care how good my artwork was—it was my ideas that should have been the focus of my talent.

Overall, it really captured the feeling being unseen and unappreciated. Being ahead of one's time, or perhaps simply being out of place in a culture that favored function over, well... fun. Something that would liberate the human spirit by defying natural laws, returning it to its natural state prior to the Fall of Man.

You can imagine that the significance of such a dream hit me like a train once I started researching Robert Hooke. In a way, it felt oddly prophetic.

It might also be worth mentioning, but at the time I was also reading Thomas Lewis' The Medusa and the Snail, and one of the most memorable lessons I took away from that book was the author's interesting take that the total lack of scientific curiosity and exploration is even more dangerous for humanity than hubris is, because it would mean that progress is officially dead.

[amazing-spiderling]

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

📥 What is your fave fic to receive comments/messages on?

😈 Is there anything you enjoy doing that you think your readers hate?

🧠 What’s an idea you have that you can’t quite call a WIP yet?

Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

I have probably 5-10 trashy Spideypool AU's that are like... freeform plot outlines (enough detail that someone could easily take them and flesh out the story from beginning to end, some including dialogue or ending scenes etc). Stripper AUs, ABO lab experiment with a side of dubcon AUs, abusive caste system AU, that kind of thing. Hilariously little porn and probably way too much plot for any of them to hit with an audience, and while I'm a "never say never" kind of person, I'm more motivated to work on other projects at the moment.

What is your fave fic to receive comments/messages on?

The fics I lovingly refer to as "the weird ones". Every so often I will have a funky little idea for an au or something and it compells me in the late hours and I just have to get it out of my brain, target audience be damned. For Metal Gear this was "Rat in a Foxhole", which was an AU that imagined if hackerman/guy in the chair Otacon had been (stupidly) enrolled in the same military program as Solid Snake. An alternate first meeting story that ended in a way that brought it more in line with established canon (albeit with some added layers). This was one that sprung into my brain almost fully formed when I saw some art by the talented @polmcarts and I just had to write it.

For Spideypool it's "The Man in the Mask"- a story that ended up being oddly prophetic on my part. It was a story I wrote when I was processing my own anger about the detention camps at the border, but the AU involves a world ending pandemic... I wrote this in 2017 mind. It's a bit of a "bottle episode" that deals with a Wade who has more or less given up and has resigned himself to be shunted around wherever people throw him and a Peter who has given up being Spider-Man because the world needs him as a researcher more than it does a hero.

Since these were stories I wrote entirely for myself, it's really touching when they resonate with other people- for any reason, because it feels like we're connecting for personal reasons that come from something beyond fandom, and I think that's neat.

Is there anything you enjoy doing that you think your readers hate?

Hahaha, I have witnessed people dunking on multiple/split POV fics quite a bit. But I tend to co-write with others a lot, often in the form of RP (written with the intent of becoming a fic) so this is in inevitability. Stories do spend a lot of time in edits to make sure that there is a flow and to minimize confusion on who is doing/thinking what in any given moment, and I like to think I've gotten better at that with practice. I actually think my skills as an editor have grown as much as a writer. Maybe more, haha.

I'm probably not inclined to stop doing this any time soon. I enjoy the collaborative process way too much.

What’s an idea you have that you can’t quite call a WIP yet?

Murderdock and the Mary Janes isn't even an outline, it's just vibes. Since I don't even have a "rambled to my buddy at 3 am in a DM" plotline hashed out so much as "oh and you know what else would be good" pings in my head, I don't think it's really a WIP. Like, the ingredients are in the fridge but I haven't started cooking.

[midgarmosquito]

sooo instead of fantastic beasts 2 and 3 (which sucked) i wish we just got a 10-ep series abt newt going across pre-ww2 europe & cataloguing magical creatures 🤷‍♂️

maybe he noticed the creatures he had were oddly distrssed and went off to find the cause? maybe they sensed dark forces, aka. grindelwald's rise to power, the way birds can sense a storm

perhaps the creatures further east were more distrssed than those on the west? he couldve noticed that on his usual travels, or read some vague reports in the daily prophet

but ofc, the wizarding world doesnt rly care much abt magical creatures yet at this point. so the reports are pretty nonchalant and borderline joking

yet, they contain details that are pretty alarming to newt. maybe creatures harming themselves? or others? attacking muggle towns? herbivores suddenly hunting other animals? weird hybrids popping up that shouldn't even exist?

maybe its grindelwald experimenting with the idea of using creatures to gain power but psssst we dont know the reason yet ok

so newt sets off eastwards to figure our tf is going on. starting from britain and ending in ep 10 in romania (as we've learned in hp, romania has DRAGONS 🔥🔥🔥)

every ep has a different magical creature as the focus. some we know from hp (hippogriffs?), some are new. dark creatures (stuff from defense the dark arts classes in hp) also show up so there's action lol

and maybe grindelwald's minions are also on newt's tail? trying to stop him from sniffing around?

ofc jacob tags along because due to wizards not giving a fyck abt magical creatures yet, newt's only guides are local muggle rumors and fairy tales. and newt's a very awkward wizard, while jacob is an incredibly likable and normal man to whom villages readily open up

tina tags along too, because she's an american auror and is trying to figure out whatever dark forces could be gathering (but might be doing that in secret from local authorities cause politics).

theseus is there for the same reason except from the british ministry

we could have a slow burn romance with tina where newt's rly awkward and tina's rly reserved but they clearly care abt each other & over time & experiences, they bond

like newt has no idea how to be in a relationship or show feelings and might even doubt if there's space in his life for another person, considering how long he's been alone and how obsessed he is with his work. he's also kinda always been alone so it's all a strange new situation for him

tina, on the other hand, is incredibly guarded and careful to the point of seeming cold. over time she learns that yes, some people can be trusted.

oh and both learn to actually communicate lol

theseus has actually persuaded the ministry to send him (with some difficulty) because he was worried abt newt and wanted to be around to help. but he doesn't admit this, at first claiming the ministry made him come and that it's even a hassle for him.

he cares abt newt but theseus is a very regular dude who thinks newt's very weird. he loves his brother but struggles to relate to him at all. maybe even infantalizes him a bit? is overbearing?

over time he kinda Gets what newt wants to do and gets a newfound respect for him and learns to accept his weirdness and learns boundaries. and, again, communication lessons for both

i dunno how to shoehorn queenie into this but yeah she could be here too... if i think of a good pretext lol maybe she's just following jacob along

and queenie & jacob are very lovey-dovey but maybe they struggle with the realization that being together might mean being ostractized by their communities

maybe they get rly dramatic and queenie does an Edward Cullen like going "I never loved you" and breaks his heart because she believes he's better off without her

but ofc it horribly backfires and she admits what she did and the whole thing is a mess and they do get back together. but like everyone else, they learn to Communicate

and our merry band of misfits visits both other wizarding schools mentioned in hp (i dont remember their names sorry 😔🤡)

the french school has fairies and half-fairies in it and they have a connection to nature. so they give newt's concerns more attention than anyone else so far. newt's pretty stoked abt that, but there isn't much they can do. maybe the headmaster is too sceptical, despite other staff willing to help newt. maybe grindelwald's dark influence has spread, and the headmaster mistrusts foreigners, muggles, and wizards friendly with muggles as a result

the german school is far less welcoming. maybe they think he's a weirdo too. here grindelwald's influence is even stronger. but perhaps a student or young teacher comes out to help regardless of directive. maybe out of respect for newt's pure guts, wandering dangerous forests and risking everything for his beliefs. after all, their school values being stoic, and this student considers newt to fit this ideal. maybe they help the group find a giant (but i dont think giants are technically magical creatures...?) or an ice monster or something

i've always been fascinated by those other magical school, but we never got a glimpse. so i'd love it if they were very creative and had detailed interiors and exteriors. maybe the french one is an enormous living tree? maybe the german one is entirely underground?

along the way we might also meet other characters, both muggles and wizards, who help or hinder our heroes' journey. maybe we also meets other authors of future hogwarts books, or parents of known characters in hp. neville's parents are an idea, but i dunno if it's possible timeline-wise 🥴

along the way jacob helps a lot using the skills he has (strong social skills, loyalty, a good heart, maybe also knowledge of muggle affairs) and as such is a counterpoint to grindelwald's philosophy of wizard superiority

oh and in ep 1 newt has a near-death experience with a magical creature. rather than blaming the creature, he's understanding and just says the creature was distressed. (other people think he's insane, though.) this does scare him, though - what would happen to his beloved creatures if he was done? what about his body of work? his painstakingly acquired knowledge of magical creatures?

so he starts compiling his notes and writing a book, with doubles as an instruction manual on how to care for magical creatures. but he has no one to pass on his notes to, and it bothers him

maybe he tried to give the notes to dumbledore, but dumbledore smiles and says to give him the book when it's fully done

(dumbledore's lobbying in hogwarts to introduce care of magical creatures as a subject, but wont tell newt yet since its still uncertain)

oh and the eps can start with newt narrating the corresponding parts of his book. the ep's very first shot is always that shaggy, agressive meanace of a book we see in hp. then we see newt's hand carefully patting it, opening it, then reading

over time, he learns to trust his companions, and they begin to understand his work. maybe in like ep 9 he opens up abt his fear of dying and not being able to take care of his menagerie. so they all promise to care abt the creatures using newt's book, should anything happen to him

obv it does, he dies in ep 10 😭 maybe by sacrificing himself while trying to stop grindelwald from enchanting a dragon to do his evil bidding or something

his companions are sad ofc and they do keep caring abt his creatures. we see a montage of all of them doing so, jacob clumsily trying to feed some huge creature, theseus getting bitten, tina sadly stroking the back of some bird-like or horse-like thing

we can have a post-credits scene where, many years later, hagrid's teaching care of magical creatures. maybe fondly talking abt newt and wishing he could've met the man who Understood so deeply why all creatures matter

so yeah thats the kind of fantastic beasts content i crave and think about

and this is how i chose to spend my morning 😃 detailing my imaginary series into the void 😃

jk i regret nothing, this was rlyy fun to brainstorm about ☺🥰

[shinebrightlikeanarwhal]

Hiya, it’s me again. Uhm, hear me out. On November 5th, around the time Sal is 17, Travis goes missing. There’s no info or anything about him, he just kinda disappeared without a trace when he was walking home on fateful night.

A few days later, Sal has this dream. It was like, he was experiencing one of Travis’s memories, for some reason. On the seventh day is when he is found, dying of a hedonistic bender, a heroine overdose.

The gang re-look the missing posters and the cameras, only to see someone in a oddly familiar dog mask, watching Travis from the woods and shadows. And then the cameras go off.

Narwhal is feeling unwell so after this ask I’m going to take a nap, then I’ll get RIGHT BACK to answering asks💖

It’s an entire operation. Sal hardly ever has prophetic dreams but when he does it’s serious. So a dream where he can feel and hear the terror f Travis. Fleeing from who knows what.

The woods were dark but he can make out unique features. The voice while low and forcibly raspy, it was familiar. And that mask. That damned mask plagued his dreams. Before these visions started!

They search day and night. Looking for any extra clues. It isn’t until Neil comes by with the shoes Travis always wore and a torn piece of his shirt. There’s blood and a chemically smell. Todd checks and remarks that it’s a kneeler drug to knock someone out. If it’s that seeped into the clothes Travis was doomed the minute that person took interest in him.

Larry tries desperately to search for any clues. He’s constantly searching the woods, leaving no stone unturned. It isn’t until he hears a familiar voice echo that he finds he might be in the correct place. Shooting a message to the rest Larry tries to investigate more. Hoping to find the exact location by the time the gang gets there.

Unluckily for him however, when he finds the little bunker, Travis’ captor is there and making sure no one is near. Larry has to hide and alert the gang silently that they need to be careful on the way, it’s not just one guy. It’s a small cult.