#your sins and the sins of your community as a whole would kill that divinity before it could live out a full human life

[glimblshanks]

It's so difficult, because I genuinely do want to understand what the whole deal with Christianity is, but Christians are so apposed to any line of questioning about their belief system (in a way that no other religion is) that if you say anything they don't like they shut down and accuse you of being a sinner.

And it's like bro, I'm not trying to be insulting, I'm trying to understand why this religion is even appealing to you. How do you manage to get so many converts when you're not even willing to answer basic questions about your theology?

Everyone I've found who's actually willing to discuss Christian theology with me is an ex-Christian which is super unhelpful, because ex-Christians are people who have deconstructed Christian belief and come to the conclusion that it doesn't work for them. They're always very cynical about the whole situation. That's not what I'm looking for.

I want to talk to someone who's still into it. I want to understand what actually draws people to this religion ( I do not want to be trauma dumped at - I don't know what aspect of Christian belief confuses y'all into thinking that trauma dumping is an appropriate substitute for theological discussion, but it absolutely isn't).

Like you would really think for one of the most popular religions in the world finding answers to this stuff would be easier. Why can't you guys just talk about your beliefs?

[a-queer-seminarian]

A queer look at the sacrifice of Isaac

content warning: political & religious transphobia, family rejection.

Detail from "Abrahams Opfer" by Adi Holzer Werksverzeichnis.

Genesis 22:1-14 is one of scripture’s most disturbing stories. In it, God seems to command Abraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac. 

Abraham exhibits an unquestioning obedience, even to this most cruel command. 

If this is a test of faith, did Abraham pass?

…Or did God want Abraham to ask questions, to demand to know how such an atrocity would glorify the Divine? 

After all, this is the God whose heart will be won some generations later by Jacob the god-wrestler; who will inspire psalmists to bring all their naked, honest anger and hurt and fear into their worship-songs — as in this Sunday’s Psalm 13: “How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?”

Let’s look at God’s response once Abraham has done as commanded, taking Isaac up to the mountaintop, tying him to the altar, readying the blade — God now cries out, “STOP! Do not lay your hand on the boy! Don’t do a single thing to him!”

We find that God does not thirst for children’s blood. God does not trade human lives for blessings.

God makes it very clear here: You may not sacrifice your children on the altar of your religion.

How does this relate to the LGBTQIA+ community today?

In their sermon titled "No More Sacrifices," Kate Davoli connects Abraham's belief that God wills his son's death to the treatment of LGBT children in our own era. The rest of this post is drawn from their sermon.

Anti-LGBT preachers and politicians have been offering up our lives as sacrifice for decades now.

They convince parents that their children are doomed to hell if they turn out to be queer. The kind and holy thing to do, they say, is to try to make your child cis and straight  — in spite of study after study proving that conversion therapies and lack of acceptance kill.

In spite of a God who says, “Do not lay a hand on the boy! Don’t do a single thing to him!”

If a child persists in being anything but cis and straight, the "Christian" thing to do is disown them, kick them out — sacrifice family ties to a hateful God.

They only preach the first half of the story: God’s command to sacrifice a child — and expect unquestioning obedience from parents.

Some go even further, offering up the suffering of transgender children as a sacrifice for national security:

 “For the good of society … transgenderism must be eradicated from public life entirely… National decline is not inevitable…for a moral and religious people.”     — CPAC speaker Michael Knowles, March 2023

The growing wave of anti-trans bills that deny children spirit-saving medical care, attempt to wrest them from supportive parents, and lead to depression and even suicide, is an attempt at cultural purification in the name of God.

“Come,” they are saying, “Let us take your children, your precious children, whom you love — they are already doomed to hell, so we will sacrifice them on the mountain God has shown us and it will mean prosperity for the Land; it will turn the nation back around to receive all the wealth and security God promised us.”

That, friends, is blasphemy: it’s a lie about who God is and what God wants.

God makes known throughout scripture that Their will is abundant life for all, and particularly for the most vulnerable. Anything that harms children — that leaves them feeling broken and unheard, that puts their physical or mental health at risk — is not of God.

Call to action: 

What will you do to fight against the sacrifice of these little ones? 

How will you ensure that our fellow Christians who counsel “sacrifice,” and who call sinful what God has declared good, are not the only Christians speaking about “what God wants”?

How can you and your faith community show up for transgender children, and the LGBTQIA+ community as a whole?

[porcelana-r0ta]

Grace

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Summary: Molly and her coworkers discuss the rumors circulating Heaven after Princess Charlie's visit.

Word Count: 1232

Ao3 Link (Members only)

There were rumors in Heaven, but there were rumors everywhere. Gossip isn't a sin, after all. 

Gossip is actually just a way of keeping informed, Molly learned when she took her Heaven Orientation classes when she first passed on. Everyone takes the classes, but not everyone takes the same classes. Molly, for instance, had a religious upbringing despite what her family’s work life might suggest, so she had been able to test out of most Abrahamic Religions courses. There had still been a few she needed—all religions had a little bit of truth, a lot of lies, and a lot of borrowing or stealing from each other—so there were, of course, misconceptions and clarifications to learn. And one of those clarifications was about gossip.

It's not a sin to gossip. Gossip is just exchanging information. Now, how a person handles gossip—that can be a sin. Being delighted that your neighbor was caught sleeping with his secretary and spreading the news to the whole town without telling his wife? Sin. But passing along the word that your neighbor was a no-good cheating dastardly whose wife needed help? Well, that's just taking care of the community. 

Gossip was labeled a sin by those in power, particularly by men. Gossip gives women information, and information is power. And women simply should not be empowered. 

But now Molly is in Heaven. She is in Heaven and she passed all her Heaven Orientation classes years ago in 1953, and then even went back to university for a business degree. She is well-educated and she knows better than what her past human self would have. 

So when she hears the first bits of gossip, she listens before she dismisses. 

It's a silly thought, after all. Heaven is very open, and God especially. Divine News Network is in close contact with God's Council, and they report everything the people of Heaven should know. If there were so-called Exterminations happening in Hell, then they would have been told long before they ever sent a killing squad down. 

Heaven is perfect. Everyone is happy and everyone is good. They have no need to send angels or saints down to kill, and if they did, then there is no way that they could return: a killer flying in Heaven? No way. 

Those in Heaven have risen above such disgrace. Killing people? Committing genocide on a people that have no where to flee to? That sin was for humans still alive on Earth, or sinners and demons in Hell. Even if  Hell’s population needed culling, surely the citizens there killed each other enough to solve the issue. 

Molly doesn't believe they deserve to be smote for being damned. But she also knows that they belong there, and they likely continue to do things to belong there. 

The rumor becomes a scary story to tell new saints. Give them the shivers before giving them a Heavenly Directory pamphlet, the standard after-living accommodations, and shoving them into Posthumous Guidance 101. 

But then Princess Charlie of Hell comes up to Heaven, and when she goes back down to Hell, the rumors kick up again. 

Molly doesn't look up from her sketchpad as her coworkers quietly murmur about the scandal, dissecting the morals and hypotheticals of it all. 

“There's no way,” Sarah-Lynn says, embroidering flowers onto the skirt of a pink dress. “There's no reason for it.”

“There's a reason for everything,” carefully counters Abel, the oldest among them. He's also sketching. “Fear. Desire. Bloodlust.”

“Those are human reasons. We have risen above that.” 

“Hmm.” Abel doesn't comment. Molly doesn't think he needs to. She starts to focus on giving her sketched model facial features and good hair instead of trendy new clothes.

“They say the Seraphim Emily has verified the killings,” comments Ashley—their youngest, and still attending Heaven Orientation—quietly from her place at the sewing machine. “They're called Exterminations. Like they're pests in a flat.” 

“It's just not true, Ashley,” Sarah-Lynn scoffs. “We have everything we could ever need here. Why would we endanger that to kill sinners an entire dimension away?”

Abel shrugs. Ashley’s head lowers. 

Molly bites her lip, then says as casually as she can, “There's a lot more sinners than there are saints.” 

It's silent, the only sounds being the sewing machine and the pencils to the sketchpads. 

“Oh, honestly, Molly. You too?”

“We still feel fear. We wouldn't be having this conversation if we couldn't.”

And that is the crux of the situation, isn't it? Fear is imperfect; Heaven is not. For both to coexist is paradoxical. 

“What are you suggesting?”

“Just a hypothetical.” Molly smiles. She starts to detail the eyes of her model.

“Well,” Sarah-Lynn huffs. “I don't have any family or friends in Hell. So at least there's that if nothing else.”

It's a crude suggestion, but most people don't. It is hard to make it to Heaven when a person is surrounded by evil and temptation. Still, it causes Molly to pause, and from the way the sewing machine goes quiet and Abel's shoulders go tense, she's not the only one.

“I don't have family or friends in Hell, either,” says Abel, his brow furrowed. He’s a little green. 

“....Same here,” Ashley says. 

Molly stares hard at her drawing, wondering if the floppy hair and freckles beneath the model's eyes actually look familiar, or if she's just scaring herself. Is a real person? Does she know him? Does he know her? Miss her? Love her? Should she miss him? Love him? Worry for him?

No, she decides. She doesn't know him.

“I haven't mourned anyone,” she answers their silent stares.

She spends the rest of that shift trying to think of one saint—just one— who has admitted to mourning a sinner that they knew personally. Then she spends the rest of the evening trying. Then the night. 

Then, at 2 AM, after lots of tossing and turning, she gets up from bed. She walks to her work bag and pulls out her sketchpad, turning to the page with the model with floppy hair. 

She stares at his eyes and his grin. Do I remember? Do I feel sad? I know you, don't I? 

She should at least name him. Even if she doesn't know him, there must be someone down there who needs someone up here to care. 

She digs out a pink pen and scribbles the first name that comes to mind underneath the model's feet. Then she shuts the pad and puts it back in her bag. 

Right. Bed time. 

As she walks into her room, her eyes land on the rosary on her dresser. She feels cold with conviction. She grabs the rosary, fingers closing over the cross, and then she presses it between her hands. 

Molly closes her eyes and she doesn't go through the proper steps, but she does pray for someone she doesn't know is real. 

When she opens her eyes, she doesn't even remember what she was praying for. 

xxXxx

A few days later, Molly opens her sketchpad to review her designs from the last week. She stops at a model with floppy hair. 

“Why'd you name that one Anthony?” Abel asks from beside her.

She looks at the model's mischievous grin, “I don't know.”

Molly runs her fingertips over Anthony's hair, and if she wasn't in Heaven, she would think she feels sad.

[the-mortifying-ordeal-of]

"I just, I just wanna feel good"

she begs, smoking and doping and fucking and numbing.

Babes, you know what feels good. You've been writing about it and fighting for it for years. Don't try harder, try softer. Get into your body, find your tapas, sweat and breathe. Touch your face, hold a palm to your heart, allow the tears. Believe in yourself, trust the process, drink water and eat plants and fill your freezer with whole meals. Go to bed early and wake up early. Move and listen: you have two ears, one mouth. Read your literature and live into your program. Try, forgive, let go, love, try again. You are beautiful and fierce and true. I love you and I'm listening, remember? Keep forgetting, because you're only human, but keep remembering and saying hello to your old friends. Hold space, feel it all, move through it, rest. Say thank you. Mean it. Laugh and be honest and know you belong, know they all belong here with you, too. You're not lost, not too far from home. I have intuition and wisdom and everything I need. I can say no and have it mean nothing about other people, nothing about my worth, and still say no. I can be perfect and broken, repaired with gold, whole in awe, divine love and messy simplicity. I can't be everything but thank god; I do trust the process. I know I belong here. You eat the elephant one bite at a time.

(I'm so scared. I'm so small. I feel wrong, overwhelmed, mortified, so so scared. I feel so cold and alone and tired. I feel violent, messy, contemptible. I'm sorry all the time, not enough, too much, dishonest and disoriented and wrong wrong wrong.)

Who cares what my stories are? They're just thoughts, just stories, just beliefs that I feed. Wouldn't I rather believe a beautiful story? Wouldn't I rather be wrong and happy, naïve and loving, imperfect but present? What if I am meeting expectations, or what if the expectations have nothing to do with me? What do I owe other people? What do I owe myself?

My dad thought himself into his grave, couldn't think his way into recovery. His notebooks were so much like my blogs, cosmic wrestling with sin and grace, mind and spirit. It killed him. He couldn't ego his way out of ego. His fatal blood is in me, her brutal superficiality keeps me bound. This isn't how it happens, something whispers to me from off-stage. This isn't my story. I'm fighting to love better, love bigger, and take me with me. I can be whole, I can be hope, I can do this. I'm doing it, I've been doing it, I'm so proud of you. It's been so hard but so beautiful.

Last night I was washed in a sense memory of being in our original studio, those community center partitions, the sounds of little kid karate during savasana, pushing myself and crying from frustration and laughing when I would have previously screamed, trying when I would have previously quit, finding myself. I loved the chair wall, loved the clock wall, loved the small talk as we packed up and the debriefs driving home. I loved being seen and believed in, building our community, always rolling on my side to extend a pointed foot to nudge you. I can't roll on my side anymore, still feel your absence, but it had been so long since I looked to the past with love. I loved those rooms. They saved me. I'm saved, ever-balancing, and I can carry all that with me. That was a true thing, a real thing.

My throat feels so tight. I feel like I've slipped from grace, lost my way. I know better and I'm not doing better. It doesn't feel better. It feels vastly more complicated. This too this too this too I remind myself, but it doesn't feel real. I feel like I'm languishing, muddling through, truckin' along but not fully alive. I'm an ant gnawing at saran wrap. I know what I'm supposed to be doing but I've lost my drive, lost my serenity, ever out of touch with my self-love, loving-kindness, compassion. I'm so scared at work. I'm so scared of sex. I want to stay home and get fucked up and read escapism romance. I cannot stop smoking. I feel stuck. That gallon and a half of cabbage hasn't fixed me. I don't have as much money as I'd like. I don't feel capable. I'm cold and scared and I feel like a burden, because I'm meant to be the healed healer, the recovery advocate, the mental health champion and evidence-based-practice poster child. I schedule my salads and can quote so many interventions, and yet I am without ritual, without tether, the center cannot hold. I'm so easily distracted, fatigued, overwhelmed, despairing. Ever-annoyed with my own shit, a common refrain. My thoughts a bad neighborhood, my own company toxic. I know how to fix this, and I don't, haven't yet.

You've lost the thread, babe. Do the next right thing. Urge surf. Use your resources. Be honest, tell the whole truth, be a beginner, breathe, soften, trust, love, move, laugh, rest, try. You can do this. You've done it so many times before and come so far. You haven't lost that progress. Inner peace, motherfucker. You can always wake up, always remember, always start again. You're not bad at this, not bad at all.

(What would it be like if I told her no all the time? Genuinely said no, had her hear my no? Would I want it? What would be left? Try it more, please. Say no. You won't be too small, you won't be too boring. Please say no all the time. Prune and burn and purify, love; you'll still be here when it's all gone. You can say no and breathe in the space you create. Try it please? For me? You have no idea what beauty and capacity the future holds for you, but I think it starts with saying no to what isn't working. You don't have to know what works, first. Just say no when you feel no, know no. You're okay, I promise. I'm here for you. You're so good and you can say no as much as you need to. You're resilient and loyal and honest and capable, AND you can say no. You aren't a quitter, aren't a princess. Those are old stories. Breathe into your no and feel how safe and good we are.)

We'll figure out work. There is so much need in the world, I have so many resources, and I have so many gifts, so many ways I feel flow above the line. Money will be okay. I have enough, and know how to survive and thrive. There is enough for everyone. We can figure this out. I'm not alone.

Action items: meditate? drink water. take benadryl to get back on a sleep schedule. listen to podcasts or audiobooks and do sudoku before bed? deal with the rest tomorrow. <3

[bookoformon]

Alma Chapter 52, Conclusion. "The Confusion."

Recall all of this started when the New Commandments, including do not mint weapons were isncribed on the Plates. There was a schism in the faith and the government and then there was the dirty, dirty dog Amalickiah who wanted to be the king, and then "the future is nigh!" killed him. The whole time where was war, but thankfully it is ending.

The enemy effort is being led by a follower, a man named Jacob who is leading everyone the wrong way, "with exceeding fury":

33 And it came to pass that Jacob, being their leader, being also a Zoramite, "leprous liar" and having an unconquerable spirit, he led the Lamanites forth to battle with exceeding fury against Moroni.

34 Moroni being in their course of march, therefore Jacob was determined to slay them and cut his way through to the city of Mulek "the ones in front". But behold, Moroni and his men were more powerful; therefore they did not give way before the Lamanites.

35 And it came to pass that they fought on both hands with exceeding fury; and there were many slain on both sides; yea, and Moroni was wounded and Jacob was killed.

36 And Lehi pressed upon their rear with such fury with his strong men, that the Lamanites in the rear delivered up their weapons of war; and the remainder of them, being much confused, knew not whither to go or to strike.

37 Now Moroni seeing their confusion, he said unto them: If ye will bring forth your weapons of war and deliver them up, behold we will forbear shedding your blood.

38 And it came to pass that when the Lamanites had heard these words, their chief captains, all those who were not slain, came forth and threw down their weapons of war at the feet of Moroni, and also commanded their men that they should do the same.

39 But behold, there were many that would not; and those who would not deliver up their swords were taken and bound, and their weapons of war were taken from them, and they were compelled to march with their brethren forth into the land Bountiful.

40 And now the number of prisoners who were taken exceeded more than the number of those who had been slain, yea, more than those who had been slain on both sides.

"In almost all modern societies there are laws prohibiting acts of physical violence. It comes as no surprise that the Torah also considers it a grave sin.

And yet, surely we don’t need G‑d to tell us that physical violence is not allowed, as all half-decent people could come to this conclusion on their own. And that’s not the only obvious commandment. Did G‑d really need to tell us not to murder?

One of the reasons we need these Divine commands is because, although the general prohibition may be dictated by logic, the details are often not,1 For example, it might be obvious that we should not take another person’s life, but when does life start? When does it end? Are there any exceptions?"

To wound Moroni, which means partial enlightenment, the practice of faith without appropriate works is forbidden. Faith is nice but without a subsequent end to violence, tyrrany, slavery, corruption, secret combinations like the annual Prayer Breakfast, fraudulent elections, all the crap stemming from the Congress and White House that wastes our time all we should expect is what we have- non-stop strife.

As the end of Alma Chapter 52 says, we must bind the losers of the Republican Party and the members of the faith community we allow to survive to the law in the utmost.

After we prosecute them for election fraud and treason, this means we take their weapons-including the right to vote or tithe, and then we march them alongside the rest of the modern world towards the future. More about this process is revealed in Chapter 53.

The Gematria for verses 36-37 is 12700, א‎בז‎ק, "a flash."

The flashes are known in Chassidus as chochmah. The flash has no length or breadth it is a flash point of momentary and potent light. Then come the numbers, then the statistics.

Slowly, a pattern in those numbers begins to emerge. There is a definite correlation between the smoking population and the chest related disorder population.

This is binah. The process of investigating and understanding the implications of that first flash. Examining the length and breadth of information to build up a reasoned logical proposition formed by a thorough understanding of the concept.

A conclusion is reached: daas. Daas is the level of taking on board information arrived through chochmah and then binah, so that a permanent change is effected2. 

So then, all are levels of understanding. The flash is understanding, so is the statistical research, as is the change of behavior. We learn in Chassidus however, that each separate category of chochmah, binah and daas are necessary. However, it is impossible to be spiritually mature and upwardly mobile without the daas.

[retrocontinuity]

Eat, for this is Her Body: Chainsaw Man and the Doxology of Cannibalism

"One day," Anthony Oliveira writes in "The Year in Apocalypses," [Jesus'] disciples approached their master while he was silent in prayer and made a request: 'Lord, teach us how to pray.'" From here, Jesus teaches them the Lord's Prayer, what the Catholic Church once called "the summary of the whole gospel":

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

Denji is no one's disciple. When we first meet him, he is closer to how Oliveira describes Jesus himself, "homeless, gleaning for food in the field like a sparrow and relying on the kindness of strangers to put him up, . . . a man cheerfully resigned to powerlessness." And so, Denji doesn't need to be taught how to pray. He has always known. Every bone in his body at the opening of Chainsaw Man sings out the Lord's Prayer: "forgive me my debts", "deliver me from evil." And, of course, Denji is intimately familiar with the prayer's most pitiable, most powerful line. It's this line that he cries out to Makima when he rests, Pieta-like, in her arms at the end of the first chapter. It can only be this line, one that Denji might have written himself:

Give me, from this day forward, and for all the rest of my days, daily bread.

Bread runs throughout CSM like a mocking scent that you only fully identify in the last two chapters. It should have been a sign to all of us when the first meal Makima buys for Denji is not bread (but rather a hot dog and udon noodles). It isn't until Denji meets and enters Aki's home that he is seen making a hideously overladen slice of toast for himself, luxuriating in having all the toppings he was denied. The morning after she forces Denji to open the door to Power's death, Makima makes the very breakfast she once promised to serve Denji: eggs, coffee, salad, and sliced bread. But this is a meal that Denji never eats—maybe the only meal in the entire series that he, a survivor of the meanest starvation and poverty, ignores. There is only one other time we see this meal in CSM, and it is subtle, almost off camera, though no less meaningful: in Chapter 53, after Reze's death, as Denji sits down to breakfast once more with Power and Aki.

To revisit CSM's public safety arc is to see all the ways the plot connects itself to food and the act of eating, both appetizing and revolting, both profound and profane. Denji, eating gyoza at a bar for the first time. Denji being forced to swallow barf as he is kissed for the first time. The Fox Devil, who eats indiscriminately and on command, who refuses to return to Aki after being fed something disgusting. A fox that is hunted and transformed into stew. Denji eating sandwiches at Reze's cafe. Aki and Angel eating noodles. A woman sitting down to eat a hamburger for the first time, before she commits mass murder. She is worried she has lost her taste buds, yet she exclaims, "So delicious!" We know, later, that this woman is a liar, that no part of her is what she presents herself to be. Should we take this moment at its face value then? Was Santa Claus simply lucky enough to have preserved her sense of taste? Or was it her one last act of humanity, to recognize that it is not enough just to eat, that man does not live on bread alone, that there must be at least food that is also delicious, that inspires people to get up and dance—even if it means she has to lie about what she can experience?

Food is necessary for survival, and CSM is a story about survival. But CSM is also a story about glimpsing the after. After you know you can keep living, what next? After you are no longer starving, after you have been forced to kill a friend, after you have touched your first boob, after you have been betrayed, what next? After you are tired of eating toast with jam for breakfast, what do you eat next?

The version of the Lord's Prayer we tend to recite asks for "our daily bread." But this, most modern scholars believe, is a mistranslation. The Greek adjective as it appears in the Gospel of Matthew and Luke is "epiousios," which doesn't mean "daily" at all, but rather something too complicated etymologically for me to even begin to parse. The point is that what we ask for in the Lord's Prayer is not just bread for today, but bread for tomorrow. Both the physical bread and the spiritual bread. Bread on this kingdom of earth, and bread that is the kingdom of heaven. Bread to feed our bodies, and bread to feed our souls. The realm of the divine is full of these moments, isn't it? Of two things existing at once, in one.

Denji starts the series asking for daily bread, and ends the public safety arc with Nayuta, Makima's reincarnation, asking him for daily bread. Trash heap Denji, living with his not!dog Pochita, really was just asking for daily bread. A slice to eat for breakfast, maybe even with butter and jam. But he too learns that bread, physical bread, is not enough. Merely to subsist, to eat good food, is an empty life. And what he must give Nayuta is not just bread, as was given to him. Otherwise, he will be trapped in a cycle of creating more Makimas. Instead, he must give her a relationship, a family, a world that Makima was unable to create. He must give her, in Pochita's words, lots of hugs. He must give her, in the words of the Lord's Prayer, epiousios.

To be clear, I am not arguing that CSM is meant to be read through a Catholic lens, and I doubt Fujimoto had all of this in mind when he wrote it (though he must have thought something, given that he drew a very large print of Gustave Dore's "Satan descends upon Earth" in Makima's entranceway!). But there is something primal (primordial?) about the Lord's Prayer. If every reader can understand the horror that the Darkness Devil represents, so too we can understand the intimacy and comfort of the Lord's Prayer. It is, as Oliveira writes, "a simple peasant's mantra for detoxing anxiety." Jesus opens by addressing God as father—not king, not an all-mighty spiritual being, but rather "abba, which is rather closer to 'dad,' and not in the intercultural Greek of his adulthood, but the Aramaic of home and childhood." The Lord's Prayer asks for what we always want, the only thing any of us have ever wanted since leaving the womb as infants: for no bad things to happen, for there to be enough to eat.

Even if what we have to eat is another person.

At the center of the Christian liturgy is the Last Supper, and at the center of the Last Supper is a meal that functions as ritual, abomination, accusation, transubstantiation, paranoia, and an early example of cracking open a cold one with the bros. Here, Jesus shares bread and wine with his disciples and then, as if trying to invent r/creepypasta years before its time, informs them they are actually eating his flesh and blood. This image is so powerful and heretical that the Romans accused early Christians of being cannibals. And why shouldn't they? It's there in the text. "Take, eat. This is my body. This is my blood." Stripped of the grandeur of tradition and ritual, this is downright vampiric. And yet it goes on to become the cornerstone of the Christian faith.

Oliveira begs us to see the Last Supper as a family meal, one shared by Jesus and his found family. "All he is really saying is, 'I hope when you eat together, you remember me.'" It's a good reading, one that moves me to tears, and is the framework through which I see the events of chapter 80. Because Makima is not the first time that Denji "consumes" a friend, and I don't just mean him sucking Power's blood or taking Pochita into himself. When Aki died, he left half his fortune to Denji, who uses it to support himself and Power. They "pigged out on good food," he tells us. This is Aki's symbolic body, through which he provides Denji his daily bread. Eat ice cream and onigiri in remembrance of me.

But it is not how I see the events of chapter 96. Denji does not eat Makima in the context of a feast. He does not partake of her in a communal meal, as Jesus did, among his found family. He eats every bite of Makima alone. Jesus said before his death, "this is my blood, which is shed for many." Yet Denji says to Makima, I alone will absolve you alone of your sins. I alone will bear you alone.

Denji's Last Supper is a lonely remembrance. He is hoping that no one but him will remember her. He is hoping to wholly consume her, because he loves her. "We love as cannibals," French philosopher and activist Simone Weil wrote. "Beloved beings . . . provide us with comfort, energy, a simulant. They have the same effect on us as a good meal. . . . We love them, then, as food." In fact, Weil believed we cannot love any other way. As humans, we are forever doomed to want to eat the ones we love. In order to escape, we must both be devoured by God and then become food for our fellow human beings. As Alec Irwin writes of Weil's philosophy, "the devouring violence of God must be positively harnessed in order to dismantle the machinery of human cruelty."

If Weil is right and being devoured is transformation, a crucial part of salvation, then in eating Makima, Denji redeems her. He turns her into food to break the cycle of her cruelty. For Makima's power itself is consuming, cannibalistic. She "eats" humans in order to use her power, which remains mysterious like God moving across the face of the earth, leaving only broken corpses as a sign of its presence. So it must be Denji, not Chainsaw Man, who does the consuming. If Pochita had consumed her, as she had always prayed for, then it would simply be another act of violence being enacted. Instead, Denji gives her salvation by turning her into human food—his food.

To Denji, Aki was human, his family, his brother, his friend.  It is Makima he loves as a God and a woman. To him, she is Satan and God, his betrayer and his creator, his salvation and his friends' damnation. So he must take her, consume her, digest her, excrete her, reduce her to nothing, as she once consumed and excreted and reduced him. "I ate her to become one with her." He ate her to become her. There is no truer form of his love than for Denji to take Makima into himself. I use those words purposefully, because this is the rejection of classic cishet PIV penetration, that old hoary chestnut of men inside women. As Don Delillo famously outlines in White Noise, we talk about sex as if women are containers, rooms, elevator lobbies: "He entered me," "I want him inside me," "I took him into myself." Denji and Makima never have physical sex, but this is a consummation, a reversal of roles. We are given the only sex that Shounen Jump will allow us, with Denji taking Makima into himself. She enters him. She is inside him. He is—physically, emotionally, willingly—penetrated by her flesh. She is released inside of him, becoming part of him.

Because the divine is full of moments like this, isn't it? Of two things existing at once, in one. That is the kingdom and the power and the glory. For Makima now lives in that country inhabited by God, where loving and eating are one and the same. For that country is none other than Denji's body.

In conclusion:

Substitute Makima for "God", and the preceding statements are still rigorously accurate.

Further Reading:

Anthony Oliveira's ongoing podcast reading the Gospel of Mark (Patreon exclusive, but I highly recommend, even/especially if you are a heathen like me)

Hannibal (NBC)

Daniel Birnbaum and Anders Olsson, An Interview with Jacques Derrida on the Limits of Digestion

David Farrell Krell, "All You Can't Eat: Derrida's Course, "Rhetorique du Cannibalisme (1990-1991)." Research in Phenomenology, vol. 36, 2006, pp. 130–180. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/24660636. 

Alec Irwin, “Devoured by God: Cannibalism, Mysticism, and Ethics in Simone Weil.” CrossCurrents, vol. 51, no. 2, 2001, pp. 257–272. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/24460795.

[yandere-sins]

What about a stern priest that falls in love with a girl who just came to visit his church because she moved into his small town? Although very religious for his whole life, he's just accepting the girl for who she is, a complete opposite (even if they have the same interest in arts, books etc) First she's friendly but then becomes distant because notices his interest in her... And he's sure that this girl is a "god's gift" to him after all these years of loyalty and they're meant to be together

Can’t deny that I am always smitten with yandere’s that need to be ‘pure’ for some reason or another. Just a big ol’ weak spot of mine :D Enjoy!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««    

They were meant for each other.

Anyone opposing that fact was spouting profanities in the face of their own god. After all, it was the power from above that sent her to his church, made her find her way to his threshold. She was a blessing in the form of a human, just like him, and he could not have asked for a better gift after all these years of devotion to nothing but their Lord’s instructions.

Alone the fact that she returned to him in time for confession was enough to prove it. For a while, the Priest had feared that she might lose her way, seemingly nowhere to be found around the church. But thanks to the urging of the people in the community, she had been pushed back on the righteous way meant for her. Right back to him.

From the moment she had arrived in the small fisher’s town, she had changed up the ways of the people, teaching them new technologies and antics she learned in the big city she had come from. He hadn’t been all too happy with it, seeing how the people started to strife away from traditions and values. With the wind of change that she brought, other, less welcome members of society joined the community. Gamblers, corrupt salesman, harlots. Now it was a bustling place, and so was his church and especially his confession booth, as the people flocked in with tales of deception and infidelity.

But it would have been a lie if he said she didn’t move him too.

He had never been anything but the town’s priest, the position promised to him when he was just two days old. Every waking moment of his life had he spent studying the holy scripts, practicing ancient rites, and helping people over their problems no matter the topic, even when he was still too young to even understand them. A prodigy priest, that’s what he had become with just 16, and now, with 24, he was an important member of the community, even though the people began turning away from him.

It wasn’t his fault that he grew stern and cold. If anyone else had been confronted with the sins of humanity from such an old age, breaking down over fearing to fall into the same misery as other people did, surely, they’d began to grow a thicker skin too. And now that he had her, he knew there was at least one other person who understood him.

At least her confessions never spoke of her trying to steal another wife’s man, or how she murdered her brother - which she had five of, all younger than her, and corrupter, he was sure! - or even just about her problem with the good old wine. She only ever spoke of how she worried about other people and their problems, and how much she dreaded not being able to help them more, feeling like she was desensitizing from them the more she heard.

Ah, she understood it so well.

The same scenario played that day. A farmer’s daughter had become pregnant from a merchant on travel, and she came here in the young lass’ stead to ask for forgiveness. Both of them knew there wasn’t more to do than that, the daughter probably ending up with a bastard’s child and shunned by her own family after all.

“What a pity it is,” the priest spoke, holding away the curtain from the booth to let the woman of his peculiar dreams out. The touch they shared as he held out his hand for her to reach for as she stumbled out of the dark, wooden box, was way too short for his taste.

“Is it, though? Isn’t it wonderful how she’ll experience motherhood?” was her quick and witty response, never having been a girl too shy to say what was on her mind. “Perhaps,” he pressed forth through gritted teeth, having nothing more to say. It should have been his duty to console even people with greater mistakes than an unplanned pregnancy, and he should have been the one to tell this woman of how everyone was supposed to keep themselves pure until marriage. But he wasn’t one to talk back to her, much rather wanting to hear more from her instead of his own voice.

“You have stopped coming to the church lately, has something happened?” he asked. Directly, blunt. Just like he was.

“Oh, Father, I...” Unusual for her, she grew timid, wringing her hands in front of her as she looked down. She always looked as if her mind was far away on a new adventure, but today, she seemed especially reluctant to share what was going on inside her. Their shared walk to the front of the church came to a halt, her back turned away from the door so she could face him, despite not being able to look at him.

He only allowed himself to gaze at her longingly for the moment she wasn’t aware of her eyes on him. She was as pretty as a jewel, as colorful and fun as the trees in fall. People gathered around her, her laugh as sweet as the singing of the birds, with eyes shining like sun rays on top of the ocean. There was nothing more he wished for as to reach out and hold her in his arms, take in her shining aura on top of his dimmed, almost vanished one.

If anything, he was the Hades to her Persephone, characters he only heard about in theatre, though they made so much more sense now. And he wanted her. Wanted her to stay here by his side, in these old, traditional stone walls. It would have been enough if she became what he always thought her to be, a friend to the people, a sister of the order he was under. To serve them and live modestly by his side until death does them part.

“I fear...” she muttered, bringing her hands to her chest. “The reason I cannot come anymore is because...”

She seemed abashed, hurting beneath her sunny exterior. A gasp escaped his mouth as the realization hit him, that in her good will and helpfulness, no one ever seemed to take care of her in return. She was always alone with her own worries and fears. The only time she allowed herself to bring them up was with him, behind the grid of the confession booth. Yes, he understood her. And he understood her reasons. They were the same as his, after all.

No one knew her better than he did.

“No more words,” he ordered strictly as he pulled her to his chest, enveloped her body in his ropes. On his face, a never known warmth spread, his heart filling with joy and adoration, as well as thankfulness for the divine dispensation. “I understand even without you saying it. And I must confess... I feel the same way. I, too, am scared of those feelings I harbor for you, and I fear how the people will react if they find out. But it’s alright, as long as we are together, just like we are meant to from above--”

“But, Sir!” she stirred, pushing away from him and tearing apart the blissful moment of intimacy they shared, leaving a bitter taste on his feelings.

“I do not fear my own feelings! But I fear yours! It’s you I fear the most, Father!”

She was quick to take a few, precautious steps away from her. Her eyebrows were furrowed in concern, hands held up defensively. Just like a deer in the eyes of a predator. But that’s not what he was, right? Yes, he was stern and strict, and sometimes too possessed by old values, but he wasn’t an animal, right? He wouldn’t even kill a fly, much less hurt a person.

Before he could say anything, she turned, her clothes captured by the wind of her motions as if they were taunting him. Taunting him to reach out, to grab her and tear on her, and not let her go. Her arms swang back and forth as she made her way out of the church hurriedly, and she almost succeeded, one hand on the large, cold door handle.

The priest’s grip made her squeak from surprise, his fingers adding a crushing weight on her wrist. She twirled around because she was forced to, not because she wanted, her free hand wrapping around his pleadingly. Just for a moment, their eyes met, and he caught his own reflection in those scared, miserable gems of hers. His expression, the bared teeth, the angry shine in his eyes, the many, many wrinkles in his face of anger, concern, and desperation.

That was the only time that he realized that what she saw wasn’t the town’s priest. To her, he didn’t seem like the person everyone else liked and encouraged her to meet. Even when he thought they were so similar, from their taste in books to their dreams for the village, she had been the only one with keen eyes, purity seeing through all evil that was harbored inside of him.

And it was just her who could see the absolute demon he was.

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Wrestling with the Bible’s most disturbing stories

An excerpt from Rachel Held Evan’s book Inspired: Slaying Giants, Walking on Water, and Loving the Bible Again

“Growing up, I noticed the ugly details in the Sunday school stories; children always do. I remember I was deeply troubled by the fact that God drowned all but two of each kind of animal in the Great Flood (to say nothing of all the people), and wondered aloud at the dinner table how God could be all-knowing and all-powerful, but also filled with regret. A friend's seven-year-old captured the angst well when she recently asked, 'Mom, is God the good guy or the bad guy in this story?'

This question of God's character haunted every scene and every act and every drama of the Bible. ...Feminist scholar Phyllis Trible aptly named these narratives 'texts of terror.'

'If art imitates life,' she wrote, 'scripture likewise reflects it in both holiness and horror.'

Rereading the texts of terror as a young woman, I kept anticipating some sort of postscript or epilogue chastising the major players for their sins, a sort of Arrested Development-style 'lesson' to wrap it all up -- 'And that's why you should always challenge the patriarchy!' But no such epilogue exists. While women are raped, killed, and divided as plunder, God stands by, mute as clay. I waited for a word from God, but none came.

...When I turned to pastors and professors for help, they urged me to set aside my objections, to simply trust that God is good and that the Bible's war stories happened as told, for reasons beyond my comprehension. 

'God's ways are higher than our ways,' they insisted. 'Stop trying to know the mind of God.'

It's an understandable approach. Human beings are finite and fallible, prone to self-delusion and sentimentality. If we rely exclusively on our feelings to guide us to truth, we are bound to get lost.

When asked in 2010 about Joshua's conquest of Canaan, Reformed pastor and theologian John Piper declared, without hesitation, 'It's right for God to slaughter women and children anytime he pleases. God gives life and he takes life. Everybody who dies, dies because God wills that they die.'

Piper's dispassionate acceptance represented pure, committed faith, I was told, while mine had been infected by humanism and emotion -- 'a good example of why women should be kept from church leadership,' one acquaintance said.

And for a moment, I believed it. For a moment, I felt silly for responding so emotionally to a bunch of old war stories that left the rest of the faithful seemingly unfazed. 

But this is the deleterious snare of fundamentalism: It claims that the heart is so corrupted by sin, it simply cannot be trusted to sort right from wrong, good from evil, divine from depraved. Instinct, intuition, conscience, critical thinking -- these impulses must be set aside whenever they appear to contradict the biblical text, because the good Christian never questions the 'clear teachings of Scripture'; the good Christian listens to God, not her gut.

I've watched people get so entangled in this snare they contort into shapes unrecognizable. When you can't trust your own God-given conscience to tell you what's right, or your own God-given conscience to tell you what's true, you lose the capacity to engage the world in any meaningful, authentic way, and you become an easy target for authoritarian movements eager to exploit that vacuity for their gain. I tried reading Scripture with my conscience and curiosity suspended, and I felt, quite literally, disintegrated. I felt fractured and fake.

Brené Brown warned us we can't selectively numb our emotions, and no doubt this applies to the emotions we have about our faith. If the slaughter of Canaanite children elicits only a shrug, then why not the slaughter of Pequots? Of Syrians? Of Jews? If we train ourselves not to ask hard questions about the Bible, and to emotionally distance ourselves from any potential conflicts or doubts, then where will we find the courage to challenge interpretations that justify injustice? How will we know when we've got it wrong?

'Belief in a cruel god makes a cruel man,' Thomas Paine said. If the Bible teaches that God is love, and love can look like genocide and violence and rape, then love can look like...anything. It's as much an invitation to moral relativism as you'll find anywhere.

I figured if God was real, then God didn't want the empty devotion of some shadow version of Rachel, but rather my whole, integrated self. So I decided to face the Bible's war stories head-on, mind and heart fully engaged, willing to risk the loss of faith if that's where the search led. 

I listened to sermons. I read commentaries and theology books. I became a real downer at dinner parties:

'If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go?' 'Have you seen any of the Oscar-nominated films this year?' 'What's your Enneagram number?' 'Do you think God condones genocide?'

The explanations came hurried and certain. Oh, God told Israel to wipe out the Canaanites because the Canaanites were super-duper evil, like the worst people ever. They worshipped idols and had orgies and sacrificed children to their gods. So God condemned the practice of child sacrifice...by slaughtering children? Well, that's just how things were back then. It was kill or be killed, tribal warfare and all that. Israel did what it had to do to survive....

I began to feel a bit like the disheveled Berenger, a character from Eugène Ionesco's play Rhinoceros, who grows increasingly bewildered as the people of his provincial French town acclimate to the sudden presence of rhinoceroses in their community. In one scene, a rhinoceros thunders through the town square, trampling a housecat. After their initial shock, the villagers get sidetracked debating whether the rhino had one horn or two, and whether its origins are Asiatic or African. And on it goes throughout the play, as the townspeople themselves transform into rhinos, one by one, arguing all the while over pointless trivialities, until only Berenger remains human.

The play is about fascism, I think, but it reminds me a bit of Christians and their Bibles. Sometimes it seems as if there are all these rhinoceroses barreling through the pages of Scripture, pooping on sidewalks and flattening housecats, but we've grown so accustomed to defending their presence we end up debating the length of their tails.

...

My questions came with consequences. We left the church in which I was raised, and rumors of my 'rebellious spirit' circulated around town, prompting more than a few well-meaning interventions. ...

But accepting the Bible's war stories without objection threatened to erase my humanity. ‘We don’t become more spiritual by becoming less human,’ Eugene Peterson said. How could I love God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength while disengaging those very faculties every time I read the Bible?

So I brought my whole self into the wilderness with God – no faking, no halfway. And there we wrestled."

[iamnightduchess]

Hi Queen ❤

I love your headcanons so much and I don’t know if you’ve ever done one of these, but I’d really like to imagine what it would be like if Mikasa and Reiner fell in love after the end of the manga, what this discovery would be like and how they would deal with this!

(Forgive me for my lousy english hahaha)

Hello dear, thank you for the Ask! 💖 It really helps me to envision a more ideal post-ending universe because the potential ending right now does not look promising that both of them will somehow survive (together) because I am foreseeing one of them voluntarily dies to save another person. I hope i'm wrong! 😢 I've only done a tiny snippet of ReiKasa in this Post-Rumbling HC AU. But, here's what I envision how it could possibly be IF they survive & they happen:

Reiner x Mikasa (ReiKasa) Post-Rumbling AU (Gen) Headcanon #16

Before we delve into Post-Rumbling period, it's interesting to observe the tiny moments where the seeds of trust and possibly, love between these two former enemies turned allies might have possibly begun sprouting.

The Rumbling

We've seen the way Reiner had implied on the plane in ch.133, how Eren might want to be stopped by someone. Reiner was using himself as a pretext; an example. If HE was the one with the FT & somehow finding himself unable to control it, he'd want to be stopped by someone he knows is capable of doing so (someone more powerful & stronger than he is) When he said that sentence, he was gazing at Mikasa.

There are 2 implications here, i) He is indirectly admitting in front of everyone that Mikasa is his weakness, like a failsafe. The one he knows who can take him down if he's the one with this enormous power & he's losing control, ii) Because to him, ever since they were younger, Eren is her family & a sensitive subject to her. Him voicing out his opinion and indirectly hinting that Eren is beyond the path of no return will hurt Mikasa's feelings & emotional state.

During the Paths Intermission, the moment Eren basically told the alliance to go fuck themselves, that he will keep moving forward for his freedom, while the alliance members are free to fight him if that is what they want; Reiner was horrified to know that Eren basically confirmed his deduction & how much pain and devastation Mikasa would be in upon receiving the awful truth from Eren himself. Even after pleading to Eren to let her share the burden of his sins, which as direct as it could have been to "I don't want to be so far from you. I want to be with you through both light & darkness inside of you. Please come back to us." Mikasa still believed that the previous Eren that she knew is still there somewhere, which is no longer the case.

The shock-induced tears in Mikasa's eyes - seeing her in pain, hurts Reiner too. He'd knew how heartbroken she would be.

In Ch.135, when everyone was on the verge of dying as they're losing the battle with the raised forms of past titan shifters, Mikasa reached her breaking point & Reiner felt helpless, because he was at his last limit & Mikasa was planning to make herself the primary target just to buy the rest a little bit more time.

There's this woman who's fighting towards an expected death in front of him - any man would be an idiot for not seeing how foolish yet selfless and brave this last female warrior of Paradis was. She's always been a fearless woman who has their backs and protects their fronts. He has never stopped respecting this woman. This might have been the starting point for that seed to have sprouted inside Reiner.

If Annie's timely rescue never came and they truly met their end there, the only regret Reiner has was he couldn't do anything else but watch this woman's final moments without being able to do anything to support her before his own ensuing end.

When Levi, Jean and Connie all collectively & firmly agrees that killing Eren is the only thing that stands between the world's survival, Reiner was silent the whole time. He believed he has no right to say anything, but he saw the vulnerable look on her face the moment Jean reiterated their ultimatum: "We need to kill Eren."

Reiner did what he does best: he took charge. When Reiner told her, "You go help Armin." He was indirectly telling her, "You do what you can. I will shoulder your burden with Jean. Let me be the strength for you to do what needs to be done." This was Reiner's way of telling her, he will carry her burden for her and shelter her from an unbearable pain. Just like how she told Eren much earlier in Paths. Reiner's indirectly telling Mikasa that she's important to him too.

This was the moment that the seed had sprouted within her heart. She realized that Reiner's communicating to her in the way only she would understand. How much she feels for Eren, Reiner feels for her in the same way because you can't give a reason why you care for or love someone. You just do. It just happened without signs. Annie, however, was able to catch that short but impactful interchange between them.

Post-Rumbling

They barely survive the last stand against Eren's final form but they did with Ymir's divine intervention in Humanity's New Dawn.

Reiner sustains extremely heavy injuries on his physical body. Mikasa is emotionally & psychologically affected by Eren's true death.

The remaining humanity struggles to rebuild from the ashes of destruction. It was beyond devastation. The world is almost completely annihilated but hope is a powerful energy. Hope persists.

Reiner sees her grieving - like a pair of wheels suspended in motion - trapped while the rest of the world moves around her. She refuses to eat, she barely sleeps but when she does, she would toss and turn around restlessly. Annie tells him in passing that when Mikasa sleeps, her body contorts and freezes simultaneously like she's in a lot of pain.

Seeing her drifting through the days like a soulless vessel pains him a lot. No one could humanly survived what she had to go through without serious ramifications towards her emotional and psychological state. Mikasa becomes withdrawn and sullen.

Yet, he retains his distance like he always does & watch silently from the sides as Annie, Armin & Jean tried to reach out to her to no avail. Reiner himself is haunted by his failed attempt to hold the Founder's original form down that, in a way, had forced Mikasa to do what needs to be done. He feels responsible that he couldn't prevent her from having to go through those painful yet pivotal moments of securing humanity's survival. The day the alliance managed to save the world, well, the world that she built for Eren inside her heart was destroyed in return.

One day, she mysteriously disappears without trace. A panicking Armin searches on his own but Annie tells Reiner that Mikasa's missing, nowhere to be found. Reiner and Armin later found her at the crater where Eren's last resting place had been. The exact same location where she had to slay him with her own two blades.

Mikasa says that she just feels lost and empty. Like there's a huge dark void inside her body that she can't escape from. She just sits there amongst the dust and debris, staring blankly at a makeshift, unmarked grave. She confides that she's terrified of falling asleep because she sees Eren's face in her nightmares.

Armin wants to console her but Annie holds him back as she notices Reiner already making his way forward and settles himself next to her. Armin understands what Annie was trying to do.

Reiner only tells Mikasa, "You don't have to do this alone...Lean on us." He offers his hand, despite knowing she wouldn't even touch him. "When you feel that you can no longer breathe, I'll breathe for you. If you feel like you're drifting, I will hold you."

It takes her a while but she accepts his hand and he holds it tight in his. Reassuring her that he is here to stay for as long as she needs him to be.

Little either of them know that it would possibly be forever.

It is Annie who helps to bridge these two together with Armin's help.

Ever since the day they talked, Mikasa slowly finds herself regaining an ounce of strength. Reiner talks a lot to her and offers his silent company as they go for walks together so she does not feel alone.

Reiner makes sure that he'll check in with Mikasa from time to time when he's not supporting the remaining forces with rebuilding, too frequent not to be noticed by everyone close to them in the survivor's settlement. However, none of them questions him about it. It is an understood, unspoken notion that Reiner cares a lot about Mikasa, and her for him eventhough she's being subtle about it. Armin could see Mikasa's eyes lit up whenever Reiner is nearby.

Mikasa shares a living space with Annie and Pieck. When her night terrors get too much that Mikasa thrashes around, screaming in pain despite being in a deep sleep, the two former shifters know that they couldn't possibly restrain the Ackerman girl physically on their own. They called for Armin, Jean and Reiner for help. When Armin and Jean hesitate to hold her down, it is Reiner who holds her tight even when Mikasa's unconsciously trying to struggle against him. They could see Reiner's face holding back his own physical pain from fighting against the immense resistance coming from her. But he'd never released his hold until she eventually wakes up and calms down. He stayed with her until the break of dawn.

After that night, however, Reiner seems to be pulling himself away from Mikasa as he couldn't get over his guilt and his helplessnesss as he also didn't want Mikasa to think that he's trying to take advantage of her vulnerability. The problem is, when he avoids Mikasa, she reverts back to the darkness she's slowly overcoming with Reiner's help and he's becoming miserable himself.

This frustrates Armin, Annie, Jean, Levi and even Pieck because it was fairly obvious to everyone but the two people in question that both Reiner and Mikasa are self-sabotaging and self-punishing themselves from pursuing something more than friendship despite their beating hearts calling out for each other.

Mikasa feels she's betraying her memories of Eren and she's afraid of moving on lest she would forget about him. Reiner feels he has no right to offer Mikasa anything more than friendship because she deserves someone better than him.

Mother's Intuition

Reiner's mother, Karina, finds herself naturally drawn to this young woman who seems to have her son's attention, even when he's trying very hard not to be obvious about it. She catches Reiner staring (longingly, she dare say) at the female warrior of Paradis from afar.

Apart from Mr. Leonhardt's daughter, she too, helps to bring her son and Mikasa closer. Karina has witnessed this woman's bravery and have heard from both Gabi and Reiner of her selflessness when she had saved both her son and her niece's lives. Through Reiner's story, Karina sympathizes with the pain this young woman is going through.

Reiner tells her that he feels helpless that he isn't able to help Mikasa and that she hasn't been eating well. Therefore, Karina brings her homemade meal and visits the young woman, wanting to get to know her better. Mikasa doesn't want to be impolite and relents to having the sudden company.

However, the moment Karina holds her hands to offer her comfort, Mikasa breaks down. She had lost 3 mothers/maternal figures in her life: her own, Carla & Hange. For some odd reason, she feels grateful to have an opportunity to be held by a mother again, even if it wasn't her own.

Karina finds herself growing fond of this young woman and deep inside believes that Mikasa and her son are meant for each other.

It is Karina who advises Reiner to fight for his own happiness and her mother's intuition tells her that his feelings isn't as one-sided as he thinks. Karina urges her son to tell Mikasa how he really feels and after all the years of fighting wars for Marley, Reiner needs to fight one last war: the one within his own heart and to win the heart of the one woman who had conquered his.

However, the relief entourage that arrives from Hizuru, led by Kiyomi Azumabito prevents him from telling Mikasa how he truly feels. He knows that she is destined to become the new empress of Hizuru and that her future would be brighter without him being in her way.

Mikasa tells him of her decision to ascend the imperial throne and Reiner feigns happiness for her decision, reassuring her that she will make a great empress and that she would have a better future there. Mikasa takes Reiner's words as him indirectly telling her to move on with her life without him in it.

Reluctantly, Mikasa leaves for Hizuru. Karina is upset that her son is still sacrificing himself & his own feelings even after being relieved of his Titan powers and its curse.

Karina tells him, "You've lived your life for me and for our family, Reiner. Now it's time for you to live for yourself."

Reiner thinks he's lost the only chance he still has left as Mikasa is already en route to the East Sea country. It is Armin who tells him that the Azumabito's ship is still docked at the nearest harbor because Armin has suspicions that Reiner will change his mind.

When Reiner, Armin, Jean and Annie reach the harbor, the sun is almost setting and Reiner finally revives his dwindling courage to tell her how he truly feels about her and he would like to remain by her side if she'd allow it.

Kiyomi forewarns Reiner that if he is serious about her kin, then he would have to sacrifice his newly-found freedom from being a soldier and titan shifter to become prince consort to their new imperial monarch.

Reiner only says, "I am as good as dead without Mikasa and my freedom means nothing if I'm spending the rest of my life without her."

In the sunset of the New World built from ashes, the two young loves finally seize the courage to pledge their hearts to one another with a kiss; the first of the many in their life together, which is only beginning.

*Continues in Pt. II

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

Thank you once again for the beautiful Ask! I truly enjoyed working on this ❤ Also, please don't ever feel that you need to apologize to another ESL speaker/writer for the language. We're always learning 💖 Take care! xoxo

[edge-lorde]

the religion of the galactic horde

“You seem reluctant to help me. But I only wish to use your weapon to bring peace to the darkest corners of the universe. (Glimmer: Peace? If you activate the Heart of Etheria, there will be no one left.) Yes. No war, no pain. Old worlds swept aside, a new beginning for the universe.” --Horde Prime explaining his motivations to Glimmer

the horde in shera was definitely inspired by Christianity and uses a lot of its imagery, the most iconic being the baptism scene. it certainly gives off the vibes of a christian or christian adjacent cult, but what is its actual doctrine? i have some thoughts about that. 

first here are what i consider to be the 3 main differences between real christianity and the horde: 

Their jesus didn't ascend to heaven. He's still with them.

They don't have a larger creator god. They worship horde prime like he is a living god but they don't believe that he created the universe.

They have no focus on the afterlife

this is going to be long.

before i begin heres the sparknotes version of christianity for anyone not familiar. I am not evangelizing this, just think of it as LORE. 

Once upon a time there was a guy named Jesus. He was the son of the one true god, who both created everything in the universe, is everywhere and knows everything, and controls the afterlife. Jesus is god born as a mortal person, sent by god to teach all of humanity the errors of their evil ways so they can repent and go to the good afterlife when they die. There're two afterlives, a good one and a bad one, heaven is the good one and its run by god and his army of angels, which are divine beings that god can send to earth to do things. The bad one is called hell. 

Anyway, in his time on earth jesus was the only person ever to never do anything bad ever (called sin). He tried to teach people how to be good but was Too Good for this Cruel World and was killed. 3 days later he came back from the dead, proving his divinity. Some time after that however, he ascended into heaven without dying, telling his followers to spread the word because hes going to be coming back. Christians today are still awaiting his return. In the meantime, christians follow his teachings left behind in holy texts. 

The crux of christianity is to get to heaven when you die, and this can only be done by following the teachings of jesus christ, believing in god, and believing that jesus was the son of god. Its a given that everyone will do bad things at some point in their lives so you're supposed to pray to god and ask for forgiveness regularly and if you really mean it then god will forgive you. 

thats the basics. 

to my first main point from above, if we posit that horde prime is the jesus equivalent of the horde religion, because hes treated as a living god, his goal is to spread his philosophy throughout the universe, then in the horde religions jesus never ascended into heaven. this would be like if jesus in our world rose from the dead and just picked up where he left off, and never died after that and was alive today. that would be pretty good proof of divinity. 

to my 2nd point, theres nothing in the show that suggests that horde prime thinks that he created the universe. this means that he did not get his divinity from anywhere but inside himself, hes not claiming that hes the rightful ruler of the known universe for any other reason besides his ideas are the best. 

the 3rd point is that the show does show horde prime or the horde caring one bit about the afterlife, save for one line from wrong hordak.

"Brother, I hope you, too, are full of only love for Horde Prime and have no crippling doubt eating at your soul."

meaning that they have the concept of the soul. which is very interesting and ill get to it, but on the whole the hordes focus seems to be on the here and now. this is a huge departure from christianity because chrisitanity is all about getting to the afterlife. that is the reason that christians are supposed to follow christ and recruit as many people as possible to do the same, because if they dont, they or other people will supposedly go to hell when they die. i say supposedly because at funerals, even if the person who died wasnt a believer, in my experience no christian would ever ever ever insinuate that someone went to hell. 

but the difference still stands. following real christian ideology is supposed to have benefits for the individual in the afterlife, while in the horde religion salvation seems to only be found by submitting to prime in this life and being either a tool that he can use to further his goal of purifying the universe or by letting him remove you from it. 

on top of all that, horde prime has the hive mind, which he uses to control the thoughts of all his followers. this means that theres no room for a bible study, no need of a holy text at all in fact, and no room for interpretation. horde prime delivers orders to your brain directly and can tell if you think anything out of line. real Christianity does have the idea that a sin that you just think about doing is as bad as actually doing it, but in the horde these thoughts can be easily discovered and punished. 

the horde religion seems to me to be a strangely secular version of christianity with only the bad parts remaining; the control, the blind faith, the certainty that you are right and everyone else is wrong, the not questioning authority. with none of the good aspects like community, and good deeds. it is a cult in the truest sense of the word, a religion that begins and ends with one person only, that person being horde prime.

so, if you take horde prime out of the equation, what, if anything, would be left? 

i find the plight of the horde clones here to be the most interesting. we know that they do have thoughts about their religion, as it was hordaks belief that he could earn his way back into horde primes god graces that kept him going all those years in despondos, and wrong hordak is distraught when he discovers that horde prime lied about krytis. 

unlike both the chipped people we see in the show and real religious converts, the clones were born into this cult that values blind obedience only, and have no prior ideology or cultural identity to fall back on when they are taken out of it. 

so to answer this question, i must add some conjecture to horde primes backstory and how the clones see themselves in horde primes universe. I already wrote up a brief backstory idea for horde prime/the clones and have it posted on here somewhere. I'm not going to dig it up but you could probably find it in the #horde prime tag on my blog if you dig hard enough. 

To summarize it though, I have it as horde prime was once a regular (bad) dude who became a cult leader under the premise of preaching peace --> he becomes disillusioned with people and even his own followers because he doesn't actually like people, he likes manipulating them. --> this and the power of being a cult leader go to his head and he starts to think that he is the only person in existence capable of living a moral life and everyone else needs to be saved from themselves, the world would be a better place if he could just make everyone's decisions for them. --> he somehow gets a hold of the technology needed to set up the hive mind, be it by inventing it himself, stealing it, finding it, or being gifted it. 

I'll pause here to address the theory that horde prime was originally an eldritch being that simply possessed a dude who would become the template for the clones. I think there's enough stuff in the show that this is a valid read and might even be canon but i don't really care for it. For me, what makes horde prime a compelling villain is that he's a very human evil, so having him actually be an evil demon thing instead of a really bad but believable dude who got near ultimate power weakens his character. BUT, i’m not going to address it in my comic so i'll leave it open as to whether he's got that going on or not. If he is, the clones don’t know about it and neither they nor the other characters have any way of discovering it. IF he is though, it would happen here. I could see it being a cool idea for him to get the hive mind from the eldritch being that would then possess him and haunt his lineage for time immemorial as a deal with the devil sort of thing, but he has to be a bad person before that.

Anyway he gets the hive mind--> he gets all of his followers to chip themselves --> gets those people to chip everyone else on his home planet --> use his planet wide army to harvest all resources on the planet and build his first space fleet and take to the skies and start his conquest--> realize that if he is to succeed hes going to need to both become immortal and find a steady source of new followers because chipped people die eventually and he doesnt care about people enough to figure out a way to keep a self sufficient population of followers alive, he just wants people around to adore him and do his bidding--> invents his cloning system-->

and heres the big one,

his original body has to die so he can upload his consciousness into a new clone.  

and THAT, to the clones, would be the moment that horde prime becomes a god.

his reliance on the hive mind and vast network of followers are what give him his godly abilities, but just as the horde clones could not exist without being cloned from horde prime, so too could horde prime not exist as he does in the show without them. 

i see it as both a christlike sacrifice and a cyclical system of debt and sacrifice. horde prime dies for our sins, so that he might continue to purify the universe so that there will be no more death and more clones will be born, while the clone hes possessing has to essentially die by giving himself up entirely to become the new prime so all this can happen too, and to repay primes death. not all clones can become the next prime however, but all must be ready to die for him, hence horde prime having clone infantries despite also having robots he could send instead. 

i dont have clear thoughts about what the green goo is, but horde primes words about his brothers lending him their life force go along with this idea. the clones give him theyre life force, so he can give it back to them.

another interesting aspect of this is that prime always portrays himself as a brother to his followers, never a father as christ is portrayed as in christianity. i know this is from hordak and horde prime being actual brothers in the 80s show but ive seen this trope come up a few times in media before, where a man raises a kid but has them call him their brother instead of dad. it seems so deliberate. because a parents job is to take care of you, but a sibling, might take care of you sure, but thats not their job. its like hes deliberately trying to place himself on the same level as his ‘sibling’ so he can demand the same amount of respect you would give to a parent without taking on the responsibility to not... ya know... screw them over in the head? idk it seems very slimy to me. but that says more about prime as a character than how the clones see him.

and we still have the concept of the soul to fit in here somehow, and do they have an afterlife? im going to say no to the afterlife. theres just not enough in the show to go off of and everything that we do know about horde prime points to him only caring about himself in life. HOWEVER, there is nothing more quintessentially christian than the concept of hell and i think that will be of use here. 

since the creation of the clones is tied with the creation of their religion, this would put the clones themselves less as allegories of people who need to be saved and more as the horde version of angels. in my telling here, horde prime views all people who do not submit to his will as net negatives to the universe who have to be removed for peace to exist, so by this view the chipped people are the saved, the people that horde prime kills are the sinners, and his military campaign is one long apocalypse slowly working its way through the universe, with the clones carrying out his righteous judgement. but the afterlife isnt involved in this, so even if some chipped people are left alive, eventually they will all die out, and then it will be just horde prime and is clones in a perfect, peaceful starless sky, and thats what heaven is. 

getting to heaven is the main goal of real christianity and it is the same in horde religion, but heaven isnt a place in the horde cosmology, its a physical goal that has to be created. not all clones will make it to heaven of course, because most will die before they reach total destruction of the universe but the clones arent supposed to think of themselves as individuals anyway. they have to be willing to die for horde prime and die for the cause or be cast out and thats hell. 

i dont see prime as someone who would kill his own followers outright too often even though he could. plus they arent supposed to value their individual lives the same way normal people do anyway it doesnt seem like a real punishment, they need something worse than simple death to fear. so by my view hell for the clones is separation from prime. it can be in life or death. no matter how bad it is in the horde being on the outside of it has to seem worse, and thats where the concept of the soul comes in. when one is a part of the hive mine, their soul is with prime. they are not supposed to have a will or any thoughts beyond love for prime, its essentially the same as not having a soul but they think of it as being at peace. being cast out is to be never at peace and would be told to them as being the worst possible thing that could ever happen to someone because it corrupts the soul. 

“a lot of unpleasant things happen in the horde so just imagine how terrible it must be outside of it! you cant because i protect you from that. now get in the goo, this is for your own good” - horde prime probably 

this is why outsiders are so resistant to submitting to primes light and also why its ok to kill them, in the hordes view. 

so, to start wrapping thigs up, there is no horde without horde prime. the religion starts and ends with him. because he is supposed to be the only person ever to be able to make true moral and just decisions, without him is followers cant take any actions without worrying that they are going against primes will. since they have no holy text they cant extrapolate and try to figure it out either. its up in the air whether or not they are going to find a way to get the horde to make the jump from cult to regular religion.

its late i got to go to bed now

[satanisnotapogostick]

no tenderness director's commentary, requested by @girlkingsam. under a cut for all the warnings that were on the fic itself (violence and discussion of rape mostly). go wild y'all

It starts with a couple beers in the bunker. Dean and Cas have already gone to bed, Rowena is almost certainly lurking somewhere among the artifacts, and Jack has been put down for the night.

Gabriel and Sam are left in the library, halfheartedly thumbing through research that isn’t going anywhere. Certainly it can wait until the morning.

*waves hand* There’s a Plot going on somewhere in the background. Don’t think too hard about it.

Gabriel looks up and catches her eye.

“Look, Sam, in the Cage—”

She stops him with a wince and a shake of her head.

“Just, don’t.”

He nods.

A few more minutes pass before Sam slowly closes the book and leans back, meeting his eyes.

“So.” She feels her heart racing. Even after everything, it still feels like such a sin, like this is what will bring the divine fire. “You got any plans for the rest of the evening?”

This is integrated into teen mom AU so like this version of Sam very much did not have sex until marriage. And then all of the events of Supernatural happened and turns out maybe that one wasn’t such a big deal after all but the gut feeling is totally still there.

Gabriel looks confused for a second but then smiles slowly, leaning forward. “I can think of a couple options.”

I had in my outline notes: Gabriel tries to bring up Lucifer and Sam distracts him with sex. That is very much the dynamic that is going on here.

She swallows the instinctive rush of fear and takes another swig of beer. Keeps her voice steady, calm and husky.

“Why don’t we take this to my room, then.”

The fear is one of the little phrases I’m quite happy with in terms of the context above. First of all, I think Sam is still afraid of sex full stop. But also Gabriel is an archangel and Lucifer’s brother. This should actually be a scary situation for her even if she’s initiating it.

She stands up and Gabriel follows the motion. Leads her down the hall with a hand on her back.

When they reach her room, Gabriel spins her lightly and backs her into the bedroom, kicks the door shut behind him. She pushes him back against the door, kissing him for the first time. She has to crane her neck down to reach him, but it’s remarkably human. No spark of grace in her mouth, just flesh and spit. She runs her tongue against his bottom lip, thinking of the stitches that were there not too long ago.

She might be a woman but she’s still taller than Gabriel. Nonnegotiable. Also whenever she makes an observation about Gabriel there’s an unspoken comparison, of course.

Gabriel grabs her thigh and uses the leverage to pin her against the door instead, dipping his head to bite at her neck. She hisses, lets her head fall back. With hands on her hips and waist, he turns her around to face the door, mouthing at her shoulder as his hands dig in almost painfully at her hips. She braces herself against the door and leans into his touch, seeking the sensation. An idea forms. A way to make sure they’re truly alone.

It was also important to me that she’s not the only one bringing any violence whatsoever into the bedroom, even if she takes his love bite and immediately raises him murder.

“Kill me.”

“I—what?” His hands still.

“Not permanently. I just want to make sure that I’m out, you know. That he won’t bring me back, that he’s not watching.”

This of course is a moment from one of the posts that inspired this all. “oh sam asks gabe to kill him and then bring him back. just to test it out and see if lucifer will let him die or is secretly out there waiting to drag him back to life”

“And you want me to bring you back instead.”

“Well, yeah, that’s the point.” She turns her head, looking back at him. “Five minutes. You can do whatever you want in the meantime.” She presses herself back against him to communicate the point.

Gabe laughs. “I’m not a necrophiliac.”

“You sound so certain. So you’ve tried it, then?”

“You’ve been alive as long as I have, you’ve tried a lot of things.” He looks at her. “I saw the first death, you know.”

“And you’ll see mine, too.” Gabriel’s hands have loosened, so she turns around in his grip to face him. She guides Gabriel’s hand to her neck, leans into it. “Do it.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he wraps both hands around her neck anyway.

There was a choice between regular smiting and an uncomfortably sexual death, but the latter seemed necessary given that this is all literally happening in the middle of a hookup.

It’s relatively quick and easy, as easy as death can be. Sam’s been choked out before—he’s definitely taking away some of the pain, the fear and panic. There’s only so much that he can do, though. She tells herself not to fight it, but that’s easier said than done, and she’s gouging at his arms before she goes limp.

When she comes to, she’s laid out on the bed. She gasps involuntarily, clawing her way upright. Where is—right. Okay. Here she is.

Gabe is watching her with tight eyes. She composes herself and smiles wolfishly.

There was the question of how into any of this Gabe would actually be, versus like weirded out and confused. I was expecting more of the former going into this, but it wasn’t happening that way. Because he’s pathetic and cowardly but he’s not actually sadistic per se. So he’s not going to stop this especially if he thinks this is what Sam needs but like, it’s not where he would have gone with it.

“So it worked. We’re really alone then, no hidden cameras. You gonna join me?” She pats the bed next to her.

He walks over and sits on the bed between her legs, tearing off his shirt. She runs her hand up his torso, feeling the heat of the skin. He leans over her, pushing her back down onto the bed. She goes easily, sighing.

He slides a hand up her shirt and she presses into it, raising her leg alongside his torso.

“Come on, I know you got more than that.”

He snaps his fingers and silk ties appear in his hands. She reaches out to touch them.

“No, rope instead.”

The silk changes to heavy fraying rope. He looks at her uncertainly.

Because like, Gabe actively avoids pain and discomfort, that’s his whole thing. But because of the whole situation, Sam has to be the one stepping on the gas.

“Isn’t this going to hurt?”

She stares at him like he’s an idiot. “Well, yes, that’s sort of the point.”

He looks at her for a second. She unbuttons her shirt, slides it off her shoulders, and he shrugs. The ropes appear at her wrists, binding them tightly above her head.

LOL I definitely forgot a sentence here. I’ll fix that late but the context I’m missing is that he tied her hands before taking off her bra.

“You’re an angel, just fucking cut it off. We’ll deal with it later.”

A snap and a knife appears in his hands. He cuts the bra loose, nicking her in the process. Blood wells up in the center of her chest. He dips his head and licks it up, then moves to lick at her nipple.

Sam laughs, wriggling under the movement.

“Not sexy, man, I just stopped breastfeeding like 3 months ago. Nipples are a no go right now.”

Gabe laughs, sits back.

“The tradeoffs of getting a hot MILF in your bed, I guess.”

Oh I do not like the word MILF actually like it’s so porny. Like older ladies are hot we don’t need to be weird about it. But Gabe is a creepy porn man so I had to have him say it. Also I was not planning on making this have like, a postpartum moment. But he was licking her nipples and it just didn’t seem right to let that go without saying something.

He moves down her stomach instead, flicking open her jeans.

This is the exact moment where I almost gave up. Keep your jeans on!!! And that is why we get our first timeskip over the action.

After he eats her out he releases the restraints. The ligature marks are red along her wrists, and he runs his fingers along them.

She kisses him again, tasting the salt and acid of herself in his mouth. He palms at her breast and she moans into his mouth. He returns in kind. She climbs entirely out of her jeans and underwear, and he unbuttons his own.

Oh this is super unclear huh. The implication is that her jeans/underwear were pushed down for easy access and then she removes them entirely afterwards. I’ll go back and edit that later.

She pushes him down, holding him down by the throat, and straddles his waist. He removes his pants eagerly.

“We don’t need a condom, right? You’ve got that under control?”

“I’ve had a vasectomy, both literal and metaphysical. And angels can’t get syphilis. We’re good.”

I just thought that was funny. Also condoms aren’t sexy but she’s not reckless enough to just not mention it at all.

She nods, and takes him into her hand. He bucks up into the touch, and she grins. She eases him inside of her, gasping at the sensation before she starts moving.

A few thrusts later and Gabe takes control again, wrapping hands around her waist and knocking her back on the bed.

He flips her over, twisting her arm behind her back. It pops loose from the socket with a sickening noise and she screams, more from the shock than anything.

Another part from the posts! It was a little bit of a challenge to integrate this one in, but it had to happen during the act itself. I’m not entirely sure that the escalation is earned, but Gabe was having a harder time really getting into the violence than I had anticipated so this was a necessary way of forcing his hand. Plus you know the Winchesters have had every joint dislocated in their time so it’s not too much of a stretch that this could accidentally happen.

Gabriel is immediately off of her, putting his hand on her shoulder, ready to heal. She shrugs him off. The motion sends sharp pains all down her arm and collarbone.

“Not yet,” she pants. “Not until we’re finished.”

“As in…”

“Happy ending and all.”

She shoves back with the captive shoulder, shakes him easily. Pushes him back onto the bed, climbs back on top to straddle him.

“You soundproofed this room, right? We can be as loud as we want without Dean barging in?”

He strokes her hips, looking up at her.

“I mean, yeah, but that wasn’t exactly the type of noises I had in mind.”

She shrugs. There’s something like concern in his eyes. It pisses her off. He doesn’t have the right to pity her.

Another one of my favorite little moments. This sentiment is why this encounter is even happening at all!

“You can’t tell me you’ve never experimented.”

There’s a pause, then--

“What did he do to you?”

One thing I really enjoyed about writing this is that Lucifer’s name is never mentioned but any time any of them say “he” they both know exactly who they’re talking about, no context needed.

She rolls her hips. Gabriel moans at the movement.

“What do you think? I’m sure you were imagining it, after you faked your death again. What do you think he did to me? Tell me.”

Gabriel’s voice is thin.

“He tortured you, didn’t he. I saw what he did with the woman, the demon. The first one, Lilith. How he made her.”

“And what did he do to her?” Sam’s breath is coming harder now.

I’m so sorry for making this conversation happen literally between like pants and moans, like genuinely sorry, but it’s what the scene demanded.

“He turned her inside out.” Gabriel pants. “That was his favorite. He would cut into her skin and pull it off.”

A classy amount of flaying!!!

Sam taps her sternum, where a speck of blood still remains. “This is where it would start, the vivisection. He would peel my skin off, or crack my ribs and then have me eat my own heart. He would put his hands inside of me, inside of my ribcage, trace the sigils that Castiel put there. Scrape them off with his teeth.”

I’m happy with that little detail, too. I’ve never seen the sigils referenced in any cage fics but it just came to me while I was writing the sentence and yeah he would totally do that. You thought you could hide from me? Etc.

Sam breaks off, breathing heavily. She leans forward onto Gabe’s chest. He strokes a hand across her back softly, looking horrified but hanging onto every word.

He both like really wants to hear this and really doesn’t you know which like. Again is the dynamic that is the reason any of this is happening.

“The torture wasn’t all. He’d fuck me, too. Get inside of me a different way, like you are now. Make me ask for it, beg for it.”

She punctuates each word with a roll of her hips, increasing the pace. Gabriel tenses underneath her, and she can feel him come inside of her. There are tears in his eyes.

Sorry!! This is another one of my posts although I cannot find it to cite it. But Sam tells Gabe about the Cage during sex and he cries. So.

She relaxes, pats his stomach in some sort of halfhearted apology.

He deserved to hear it.

Just like, his coming back makes the previous seasons a betrayal in retrospect. Like where the hell were you, you know? She deserves to be super angry at him about that.

He flips her over, and she hisses in pain and pleasure both.

“Asmodeus preferred beating. It only took me a year to crack under the torture. I wasn’t used to pain. Hadn’t experienced any in millennia. I was soft.”

I had to go onto the wiki page for Asmodeus and look at the pictures of Gabriel and just kind of feel out what vibes I got of what Asmodeus would do to him and the vibe I got was a lot of punching and kicking. If I’m off don’t tell me.

Sam looks up at him through her lashes.

“Do you want to learn? How to take it?”

Fucked up little moment. Seductively asking if someone wants you to torture them.

Gabriel nods.

“Okay, then.” She strokes the side of his face, down to his chest.

“I’m going to open up your chest, okay? You’re gonna be fine. I’ve got you, I’ll walk you through it.”

He nods again. “Okay.”

This is like. I thought the violence would happen more during the sex and some of it did but Gabe wasn’t really getting into it so I had to improvise. I like this better though, it feels more in character.

She takes the knife back from him and starts. Teaches him how to breath, when it’s helpful to scream and when it’s best to just stay silent. To learn what your own limit is. You don’t have to be scared as long as the person with the knife isn’t going past that. You can relax.

And the fact that like they both are thinking of this as a favor that she’s doing for him.

When they’re done, Gabriel is clammy and sweating. He dry heaves over the side of the bed, but there’s no actual food in his stomach so nothing comes up. Sam strokes his back.

He sits back up.

“Thank you. And I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have the right to apologize to me,” she says tightly. He nods.

He nods a LOT in this fic but sometimes you’re just nervous about putting your foot in your mouth you know. Because so much has to be left unsaid.

She breathes.

“There you go. You feel alive now, don’t you.”

She slides off bed, kneels between his legs.

“May I?”

This BJ was thematically important to include because I needed the torture to be in the middle of sex, not after. And I needed some element of like, aftercare without it actually being personal, comforting, or helpful.

When she’s done, Gabriel heals her shoulder. He knits the skin back together, cleans up the blood, removes the bruising from her neck. She asks him to leave the bruises that would be covered by her shirt anyway.

Also she does all of this with an actively dislocated shoulder. Do not forget.

When they’re lying in bed, afterwards, he snaps and a pack of cigarettes appears in his hand. Unfiltered, the old kind. He hands one to her.

“Cigarette after sex?”

She laughs, takes the cigarette from him.

“You’ll remove it from my body, right? It won’t affect Jack, no secondhand smoke or anything?”

“It would take a lot more than a single cigarette to do shit to Jack, you know. But yes. I’ll take care of it.”

I just think that after all that Sam worrying about the effect of secondhand smoke from one single cigarette on her magical devil baby is very in character. This came to me on a walk one night and was actually the moment where I was like oh. I gotta write this.

They smoke in silence, staring at the wall, unwilling to meet each other’s eye.

It’s gotta end badly. It’s gotta. They never sleep together again and they have wrecked any possible chance at friendship, and both made themselves feel worse. That’s what it’s about, baby.

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

Parallels and subtext in 15x15: about humanity, trauma and sexuality/queerness

The “monster of the week” case in 15x15 obviously parallels 1x07 Hook Man, where the daughter of a pastor caused the deaths of people she deemed as sinners, although she didn’t mean to do it but accidentally chenneled her feelings into a ghost that acted on them. Even the writings left by the perpetrator parallel the killings of the Hook Man. Now there’s no ghost, just a human that does murders on purpose. We could say that there’s no supernatural middle-person, element of projection.

Another important parallel is to an episode with similar elements, 1x12 Faith, where it’s the wife of a pastor that uses a supernatural creature to carry out the murders of people she deems sinners (one of which was also a queer man, the openly gay teacher whose heart went to Dean, remember?). In that case, the woman, unlike Lori in Hook Man, perpetrated those killings on purpose, but also used a supernatural middle-person, the reaper.

This episode is about people, about humans, about their very human experiences (obviously those episodes were, too, but now we’re emphasizing it!), and it’s no coincidence Cas and Jack deal with the case: it’s a thing about humanity, and while eventually their divinity saves the day because they cannot be harmed by a human and Cas can heal the wounded women, the core of the case is about them connecting to very human experiences.

I don’t think this is a coincidence that this episode is basically a “human only” retelling of an old classic case from the past of the show. As the show Supernatural is coming to an end, well, if you pardon the shitty figure of speech, the supernatural is coming to an end inside the narrative. Even the crossroads demon doesn’t do the crossroad demon job anymore! And of course Cas and Jack might be non-human but at the core of their selves there is a deep, authentic humanity. Cas fits in the circle of the community members, Jack parallels his experiences with a human girl.

Also interesting that the case ends with the police wrapping up the case. All through the show, with few exceptions, the police was more of an obstacle (both in Hook Man and Faith they have trouble with law enforcement officials, in fact), or at least a means to get information from, and eventually needed to be moved to the side for the case to be dealt with; the only police that could really be “in” the case was the various figures that are both law enforcement and hunters, like Jody and Donna. The “actual” police was to be skidded around. Now the case ends with the murder being arrested. No things to salt and burn or anything. Hunting has long finished its relevance in the show, only staying as a charicature of itself in Chuck’s (or Mrs Butters’ parallel of Chuck’s, if it wasn’t also Chuck manipulating things in 15x14) stale, outdated narrative.

Really interesting that next week we’ll go back to the past, possibly to Dean and Sam’s first hunting experiences or approximately around that time...

Of course there’s still subtext, because it’s still an episode of the show and the show hasn’t quite finished yet :) The murderer represents the trauma and brainwashing - in this case, a dead mother that believed in a very messed-up version of religion and taught that to her. Mirrors, mirrors. The father regrets not taking care of her, busy taking care of other people - in this case, he mirrors our main characters themselves, always busy sacrificing their time and lives for others and never quite taking care of their traumas (just last episode Sam quipped about how “ignoring your trauma doesn’t make you healthy”).

The mother’s view of religion obviously represents John’s view of hunting that he taught to his sons and also, as Cas literally talks about it in the episode, heaven’s whole shtick of following God’s plan and all that jazz.

The result of that brainwashing - John’s on Dean, God’s and heaven’s on Cas - is some very specific victims: a pastor that gets murdered because of a sin of “lust”, and a queer man. The sexual promiscuity was what Lori was subconsciously punishing in her victims; a queer man was a major victim of Sue-Ann Le Grange. The subtext is telling us that sexuality/queerness are the victims of the trauma and brainwashing Dean and Cas went through.

And of course sexuality and queerness are victims of the narrative. They need to stay in the subtext as long as the story is on. Here I talked about the way this episode approaches the theme of subtext and interpretation, and from this perspective it would seem that the show is going to release the subtext by its conclusion. Of course we won’t know until it happens, and I don’t want to say “the show will do x and y” because no. But the subtext is there, it says that the characters’ trauma kills sexuality and queerness in one subplot, and that the act of interpretation is going to end by the end of the story in the other subplot.

Use this post responsibly...

[jageunyeoujari]

‘idea’ & self-knowledge as love as freedom

w thanks to @radiatingdyke​​ & henrik !!

so in a previous post, i talked abt spectacle & respect in criminal for context. now starting off w henrik’s thoughts re: plato:

"It’s honestly pretty ambiguous what Plato means by it- at least in the republic- The core theory is that ideal forms are a truer kind of reality than the shadows. The philosopher escapes a cave of shadows projected on the wall by a ruling class, the only “reality” they ever knew and were literally bound to. They crawl through a treacherous passage to find themselves face to face with the dazzling light of the sun which blinds them temporarily, and as their eyes adjust they find themselves in a forest and realize the shadow puppet of “tree” was not the real tree all along! For what the shadows are: Idk how developed popular media/conventional politics were at the time but we (America) based a lot of our shit on it so I think one strong possibility is we find ourselves in a modern allegory of the cave where the shadows dancing on the wall are the world as it’s told to us- through news education and policy and the “real” is personal experience and genuine community. Then shadows would then be actual reality as we know it, including the real trees and personal experience, a veil placed over us by metaphysical forces which can be lifted through Godwork to reveal the true nature of the inner workings of the universe. The last part of the allegory is that the philosopher returns to the cave to free the other prisoners and spread the light”

so while criminal is the revelation in the toxic cycle of the idol culture & mutual destruction & obsession are confused for love, idea is making the decision to learn what true love & connection is, leaving behind the suffocating expectations demanded by the industry, & in the process, become complete in his humanity.

so we first see taemin in jail, condemning himself for his role in the toxic parasocial relations of idol culture, and literally... calling himself out.... altho i would say that this:

in criminal is purgatory proper, the jail may be the end point of his journey there. he confesses his sins, his soul gets purified, & then next we see him in the bar which is confirmed to be heaven (which happens to look much like lee soo man's office) while the flashy models stare at taemin, the walking dead, the posh people in suits (likely executives) ignore him. 

so here we have taemin trying to fit in seemlessly in this world of the elites who have the highest level of control in the idol industry. here, he is assured his status as the best & now guaranteed to be free of pain... but on their terms. there is shallow comfort but nothing else. the others content w playing games & eating delicacies, surrounded by alcohol, but are contained to sitting, indulging in frivolities, & passively looking on but no chance of connection. the bar is just another form of intoxication, but unlike criminal where there is at least an illusion of attaining love, heaven is merely stagnant. this idealized heaven of the elites cannot give true freedom as it is based on sterility & exclusivity, just another form of social control. "the dangerous dream that swallowed me is proven by you." staying here would be another form of self-betrayal & denial of the love he seeks so he rebels against heaven through his dancing, an affirmation of his life.

taemin then being shocked that all these shadow versions of himself are not the truth... silvery dissolving forms... his identity fragmenting............ but still taemin still can't break away from the illusion that the adoration & fame he receives as an idol could be actually hurting him.

as @radiatingdyke has talked about, BoA's 'killing me' line is reminiscent of korean shamans channeling gods. significant that it is BoA who he channels as they are both similar, debuting at a very young age & have been massive stars ever since then. "you are my messiah" BoA cuts him off, speaking the truth. this isn't who he rly is or what he actually wants. he must face himself & the truth or he will die. 

the mirror steps are i think symbolic of plato's ladder of love. to my understanding, the ladder of love is basically about how the aim of life is the ascension of the soul to heaven. the gods can do this as a god's soul is in perfect balance w all the different aspects of itself which makes them necessarily wise & good. humans' souls are in disarray, however, & it is this conflict between all parts of the soul which makes it difficult for us to follow the gods to heaven. to do this, people have to understand the true Form of beauty, by climbing the ladder of love. the steps start from loving a body which one is attracted to due to physical beauty & by understanding the beauty of this body, one can then consider how the beauty of one body is found in all bodies. the progression goes on from loving more broadly until we come to the last step, love of knowledge & wisdom. now one is able to see the actual form of Beauty, bringing harmony to your soul. so in order to taemin to finally know peace within himself, he has to know how to love.

& the progression of the ladder implies for me that by first learning to care for others but understanding who they are in their completeness & beauty, you eventually are able to learn to care for yourself & see the beauty in your own soul. & on the flip side, the better able you care for yourself, the more you are able to care for others. i'll discuss this more when i go into my thoughts on act 2 as a whole but basically, the rest of act 2 has a truly warm & loving atmosphere when taemin speaks to the other. in comparison, act 1 presents his experience of 'love' as enmeshment, painful, confusing, losing his self of sense to cater to the desires of the other. there are feelings of obligation to stay in this destructive relationship bc that’s his prescribed role & anyway, any attention is better than none at all. 

ppl w a poor sense of self can readily suffer mistreatment for the sake of a semblance of connection, confusing obsession for love when what’s rly happening is actually cathexis, an investment of emotions. while care & affection can exist w cathexis, as does happen in fans’ relations w idols, this is not the same thing as love which liberates & cultivates growth in yourself & the other. fans’ obsession w idols quickly flipping to hate when idols stray from the designated persona of perfection is investment in that image but is not real love. in act 1, he does not understand the other clearly for what it is, destruction that must end, & the fact that he is suffering. without such awareness, he is incapable of truly giving & receiving love. 

& while act 2 does have similar themes of taking on other's pain, it becomes a stark contrast to act 1 bc he does so from a place of utter assurance of his identity & true self-love, not from the fear of being left alone. he loves himself for who he is so he is able to love for ourselves purely as well.

& as @radiatingdyke has said (& in much more detail than i can) the ladder reflecting the sky can also be a reference to indigenous korean beliefs where the sky represents the entire universe. the creator god is Hanulnim, literally sky god.  

 also, even tho NGDA as a whole is replete w western imagery & references & v catholic, the overarching narrative of the 2 albums don't feel western to me in that there never is a fight between good & evil. a typical western narrative would be more like there would the defeat of like 'criminal' taemin by 'good' taemin or an obvious redemption arc. & to me, idea doesn't read so much as he confronts & then accepts both the good & the bad in him but that he leaves behind these limited concepts altogether & instead connects back to the true essence of the universe & becomes free to be utterly himself.

he’s struggled so much over the course of his career w figuring out how to reconcile the duality of himself, what it means to be authentic as an idol, wishing for his true self to be seen & appreciated. it’s always been looking outward for that validation but skirting away from revealing the whole truth of himself... & idea is the final answer to all that. no more denial, repression, burning away of the past, configuration to other ppl’s desires, no more use of mystery as a defense against the fear of being rejected if people see him for who he really is. he accepts himself for who he is & that’s all that matters.

in classic gaytholic taem fashion, he compares himself to jesus + mary + other divinity in NGDA imagery but ultimately, taemin is done w being both a god & the condemned. “i’ve finally opened my eyes.” he’s never been anything but a human being & he’s showing us all the beauty in that.

[missrkl]

The Temple Chapter Three

Rachel felt the fire burning within her. A growing passion blazing like a fiery furnace. She wasn’t going to take this sitting down. Enough people had been lied to and hurt by the very same people preaching love, prosperity and peace. As the newspaper journalist once wrote about the place when placing a review on The Temple “like a bunch of quacks.” Although the journalist was talking about Adon’s Elysium language rather than the people themselves being quacks. Maybe they both meant it differently. Rachel didn’t like that. How dare the journalist make fun of Adon’s Elysium language, Tongues. It was a high privilege to learn to speak this language, in which Rachel herself was affluent in. Despite being angry about the segregation within The Temple, she was angry even more at those who dared to trash talk the place. She could trash talk the place because she came from there, but for an outsider to come in and trash the talk the place and it’s people without an ounce of understanding was just wrong. That was on a whole other level. Rachel felt the fire burning within her getting stronger. She was still here in the park with the gang, but now they were on the move. It was getting late and they needed to meet inside somewhere. Usually Ecclesiastes had a place. They followed him silently trudging through the park like a panther, voiceless, silent. This was their strength, they weren’t called The Voiceless for nothing. They trudged out of the park and walked down the road as different cars passed them by. The Temple’s meeting would have ended by now, and right by schedule the stragglers would soon be leaving the place. They always had eating after a meeting in the downstairs hall. One thing The Temple was good at was their impeccable timing. Schedules always ran on time, sermons always finished on point and in time, dance lessons, choir rehearsals always finished on time. Even the stragglers that left behind at the last moment always finished on time. Obedience to the highest degree. They were always obedient to their leaders, quick to listen and slow to speak, a trait of Adon, one that Rachel was proud of. Despite all the drama behind the scenes, there was many things Rachel knew was a divine privilege and something to thank Adon for. Like their sermons, highly theological, highly biblical and highly ethical, highly political, highly correct almost 99% of the time. Their training was also known for its highest quality that even outsiders wanted to join in but they couldn’t get in unless invited. It was rare for an outsider to make their way into their training. If there was one thing Rachel could boast about The Temple was the obedience of the people. Some people would argue that you couldn’t really blame the people, it was the leaders who made all the decisions, even in small group circles. It was very well controlled. Even friendships and social circles were highly controlled units, hence The Voiceless always remained voiceless.

They stood in the quiet darkness that shrouded The Temple as it was late. It was 930pm by now, the cleaners would be finished by 10pm. So they bided their time by sitting behind the wall, lurking in the shadows. Ecclesiastes had extra keys, they could use the downstairs hall without turning on the light, but relying on candles instead. They didn’t want to get caught. As they waited for the cleaners to leave, Rachel watched as Charles closed up. Charles was one of The Loyalists, he had been here a long time, his entire life in fact. Rachel watched Charles look around checking the place just before walking to get into his car and drive off. They waited a few minutes just in case he had forgotten something, but he didn’t come back. Ecclesiastes went up and opened the door and they all piled in as quiet as a mouse. Still silent they clambered down the stairs as silent as a cat’s furry paws hitting the carpet. They entered the lower hall and some of the gang went about taking out their candle sticks and candles and put them up in strategic places.

If there was one thing that Rachel was passionate about it was more than just about the segregation within the community, it was more and this something more was what Rachel was going to address the crowd this evening, after dinner. The people in charge of the food this evening took out their food they had stacked in their bags. Spaghetti, fried chicken, rice and beans, vegetable soup, bread and water. Something for everyone. Rachel sat on one of the chairs and tucked into her food. She wasn’t about to make small conversation just yet, she still felt the fire burning within her and it was burning so much that she knew if she didn’t speak it she herself would get burned. After dinner Rachel stood up at the front with Ecclesiastes by her side. Rachel raised her hand for the gang to become silent. Then Rachel spoke and said these words ““The law of Moses was unable to save us because of the weakness of our sinful nature. So God did what the law could not do. He sent his own Son in a body like the bodies we sinners have. And in that body God declared an end to sin’s control over us by giving his Son as a sacrifice for our sins. He did this so that the just requirement of the law would be fully satisfied for us, who no longer follow our sinful nature but instead follow the Spirit. Those who are dominated by the sinful nature think about sinful things, but those who are controlled by the Holy Spirit think about things that please the Spirit. So letting your sinful nature control your mind leads to death. But letting the Spirit control your mind leads to life and peace. For the sinful nature is always hostile to God. It never did obey God’s laws, and it never will. That’s why those who are still under the control of their sinful nature can never please God. And Christ lives within you, so even though your body will die because of sin, the Spirit gives you life because you have been made right with God. The Spirit of God, who raised Jesus from the dead, lives in you. And just as God raised Christ Jesus from the dead, he will give life to your mortal bodies by this same Spirit living within you.”

‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:3-8, 10-11‬ ‭NLT‬‬

They had the Holy Spirit, they were obedient to Him, the Spirit of Adon. Since they had the Spirit of Adon they could not remain voiceless and shouldn’t be treated like they have nothing good to say, as if they had no fire burning within them, like The Elites. Despite their hypocrisy they too had The Spirit of Adon, it was just their flesh crowding his voice out.

Rachel had paused for effect as the people listened, then she continued “ “Therefore, dear brothers and sisters, you have no obligation to do what your sinful nature urges you to do. For if you live by its dictates, you will die. But if through the power of the Spirit you put to death the deeds of your sinful nature, you will live. For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For his Spirit joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God’s children. And since we are his children, we are his heirs. In fact, together with Christ we are heirs of God’s glory. But if we are to share his glory, we must also share his suffering.”

‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:12-14, 16-17‬ ‭NLT‬‬

They too were Adon’s children, they too were heirs to Christ, they too had their place in the kingdom and should never be treated as if they never did belong. Rachel continued ““Who dares accuse us whom God has chosen for his own? No one—for God himself has given us right standing with himself. Who then will condemn us? No one—for Christ Jesus died for us and was raised to life for us, and he is sitting in the place of honor at God’s right hand, pleading for us. Can anything ever separate us from Christ’s love? Does it mean he no longer loves us if we have trouble or calamity, or are persecuted, or hungry, or destitute, or in danger, or threatened with death? (As the Scriptures say, “For your sake we are killed every day; we are being slaughtered like sheep.”) No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us. And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord”

‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:33-39‬ ‭NLT‬‬

They did belong Adon, they were created to bring him glory too, and nobody, nobody was going to push them out. As Rachel stepped down from the front of the crowd, Ecclesiastes decided to speak something and got up in front of the crowd. Ecclesiastes was also a dark skinned man, darker than Rachel, he was a black man with black hair and black roots. He was a man with strong physical structure, good solid build and muscles from all the physical training he had done growing up. This is what he said ““I looked long and hard at what goes on around here, and let me tell you, things are bad. And people feel it. There are people, for instance, on whom God showers everything—money, property, reputation—all they ever wanted or dreamed of. And then God doesn’t let them enjoy it. Some stranger comes along and has all the fun. It’s more of what I’m calling smoke. A bad business. Whatever happens, happens. Its destiny is fixed. You can’t argue with fate. The more words that are spoken, the more smoke there is in the air. And who is any better off? And who knows what’s best for us as we live out our meager smoke-and-shadow lives? And who can tell any of us the next chapter of our lives?”

‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭6:1-2, 10-12‬ ‭MSG‬‬

Ecclesiastes paused for effect and then continued ““A good reputation is better than a fat bank account. Your death date tells more than your birth date. You learn more at a funeral than at a feast— After all, that’s where we’ll end up. We might discover something from it. Crying is better than laughing. It blotches the face but it scours the heart. Sages invest themselves in hurt and grieving. Fools waste their lives in fun and games. You’ll get more from the rebuke of a sage Than from the song and dance of fools. The giggles of fools are like the crackling of twigs Under the cooking pot. And like smoke. Brutality stupefies even the wise And destroys the strongest heart. Endings are better than beginnings. Sticking to it is better than standing out.”

‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭7:1-8‬ ‭MSG‬‬

Ecclesiastes was addressing all the fun and games of The Temple, they were far too focused on all of their events than they were in sharing The Gospel of Christ Jesus, or loving their neighbour like they loved themselves. No, they were far too focused on labelling people, placing them in categories that they think fits their mould. Religion, Adon Hates.

Ecclesiastes concluded ““I’ve seen it all in my brief and pointless life—here a good person cut down in the middle of doing good, there a bad person living a long life of sheer evil. So don’t knock yourself out being good, and don’t go overboard being wise. Believe me, you won’t get anything out of it. But don’t press your luck by being bad, either. And don’t be reckless. Why die needlessly?”

‭‭Ecclesiastes‬ ‭7:15-17‬ ‭MSG‬‬

The Temple was far too focused on being good and perfect all of the time. Like The Elites, everything had to be just so, they led the entire church not just in worship, but in everything. They were held at a higher standard by Adon, and Adon wasn’t happy with the effects of their overly religous behaviour on silencing and labelling people as voiceless.

Rachel felt the fire within her die down, she had spoken what Adon’s spirit had told her to say, she was obedient to him, not man. They were above the law, because they obeyed the voice of the Spirit of Adon. Rachel had a flashback to when she first encountered Ecclesiastes and he had begun training her there in the shadows, she had found a way out of this broken society and being labelled a voiceless meaningless nobody that would forever be banished by society into a pit of despair with no hope for their future but being a silent witness to everything going on within The Temple. At least she was out now she had said to Him, indeed she was. This is where she belonged, fighting to bring The Gospel of Christ Jesus back into the midst of The Temple, getting rid of all the divides within The Temple and making sure everybody loved their neighbour as they loved themselves.

[davidjjohnston3]

The trees are straight and true here, and the help comes without seeming harpoons.  I considered some insane things which were ‘above my pay-grade’ and as is my wont reflected on the state and implications of my former profession and what old friends and pharons meant to me.  Right now think that my core goal in life is not to blow myself up.  As a former would-have-been SecState said, ‘I love so many people.’  I am only sad that trying as I did to uproot that carrot of love just now could have resulted in the demolition of an entire root-network, of at least my own excision therefrom.

‘Some people’ want revenge against life for not going their way or not being the color or fragrance or face shape they like or feel it ought to be - ‘no that is not what I meant at all.’  They will never hold a life reliable which doesn’t resemble their ideal, imago, or ‘soul-idol’ &c.  The meaning of the name ‘Cordelia’ as in King Lear is something like ‘heart’s ideal.’  I was driving and considering a novel that I feel touched absolute supreme greatness without knowing it or in a way that could mislead some readers Mrs. Mary HK Choi’s Yolk a novel I looked forward for a very long time.  I had all these references and fractal coreferences and forgot about actual birds, like what does the chick eat in the egg.

‘Blood is the life’ - I liked etymologies for a long time and my intellectualism caused me acute trouble in Confirmation Class at Morrow Memorial United Methodist Church in about 1998.  ‘Pastor’ Gretchen taught us the word root ‘consacramentum’ which comes from dipping the hand in blood in the concave of a Roman shield - those huge rectangular shields which could be used in formation as ‘testudo’ or turtle to stop projectile weapons and allowed soldiers to make pin-point stabbing attacks from a ‘matrix(?)’ of high protection.  I forget what kind of animal was killed to pool the blood in the shield but it might have been a rabbit.

I was reading ‘Revelation,’ I don’t recall what everyone else was talking about.  Some kind of community service project, interview your parents, buy a wedding-magazine and make a whole plan for how you would get married and how much it would cost (and while you’re at it describe how you would 1) restore a classic Shelby Cobra using newspaper and Krazy Glue 2) drive foresaid drop-top to the Moon).  

The Pastor was a pipe-smoker named ‘Painter’ who used the NY Lotto’s ‘Hey you never know’ slogan to describe sth like Pascal’s Wager; OTOH St. Paul teaches us that everyone is born knowing God exists (Romans).  The problem is that people fail or omit to glorify Him or subsequently ruin or betray their own best efforts through blasphemy, turning or falling away, cowardice, denial, attachment to certain sins or being ‘yoked unequally’ with non-believers.  

I reflected starting in 2008 that I was shy of my ‘first love’ (rather, the woman I fell in love with at 14); at the time I gloried or reveled in the shyness like a Wallace Stevens poem that ends, ‘And not to have written a book.’  I could’ve written a few books by now or walked away from book-writing or changed my mind / specified which kind of book I might have written and for whom.  

I remember always admiring the ‘magic’ of literature and feeling sad I had no characters or world of my own to work magic with.  Star Wars and my own life and later much else supplied ‘materia poetica’ and till the point that I began to think in fiction and became addicted to interpreting my own in ‘story-ideas’ although that is not to say that what happened around me didn’t happen.  

America is trying to become a better country in numerous valences, loving our neighbors, holding each other accountable.  ‘Justice’ with or without the marks is important.  It is a divine Judgment that Covid fell on the world even if eventually we all shall learn who devised the virus or leaked it or modulated its mutations.  I was eager to rejoin the world feeling I might overcome my mental illness but I mishandled specific questions and tests.  I ended up turning people against me and creating monsters more than ever as well as perhaps terminally sabotaging any chance I might’ve had of fulfilling a dream or making good on the past.  I have a lot of opinions on the CCP but should’ve focused on love and family and personal responsibilities as in the past or at least held to my long-standing feeling that Chinese people deserve better rather than associating myself with hard-liners and racists or those who would simplify issues in order to bring about ultimate victory without temperance or concern for the side-effects.

In Milwaukee where I lived for far too long everyone’s spirit - electric, intellectual, visory(?), informational et cetera seemed to be militating against everybody else’s.  There were fake vaccines, radioactive ice cream (or thermogenic ice-cream), gun-battles as usual, lines crossed, all kinds of scores that people tried to settle.  I also realized that the police were probably tracking for years my various attempts to obtain weapons from samurai-swords to handguns though the purpose was defensive and I can only trust at this point that some good lawyer will prevent the bad lawyers and cops from presenting the most damning circumstantial case they could.  People in Milwaukee own AK-47′s, automatic shotguns, probably all kinds of explosives, improvised chemical weapons and (’our Black brothers’ - Schopenhauer) biological weapons - the cops don’t stand a chance that I can tell and even the National Guard perhaps could get outclassed by retired military.  I had told myself for years that it was only the ghetto’s that bore witness to this paramilitary equipage and that the retired SEAL Team 4 member with the ‘Stop Socialism’ and ‘Jobs Not Mobs’ sign on his front lawn would protect me from the Maoist-Covid Night of the Long Knives but I feel I tempted God a lot in the past.  

I read all these books and took to heart that people thought I was just entertaining myself with but now as then I should’ve guarded my heart or not begged the question of what others thought about me or saw in me.  I literally felt of late ‘I am the anti-Christ’ - good-looking at times, preach world peace, ‘form of godliness,’ want to be friends with everyone, build bridges - and had to rack my brains to come up with an ‘anti-Christology’ and science / concept of the Whore of Babylon just to make sure it was more than me alone.  I also wished to simplify my past and help kids ‘get life right the right time’ doing battle with philosophies that opposed this consciously or otherwise but stepped into numerous minefields and also tried running when I should’ve flown over.  

Everyone’s trying to get rich and build back better and I profoundly admired the American President for doing, finally, apparently, what presidents had tried to decades even as I remember ‘Flowers 1881′ a poem that implies that basically teachers can do only so much before turning their kids loose in a world no one has yet fixed and which others keep breaking; from a California almanac that also instructed me that the same old debates and cross-fires and burdens plague teachers as always, not that it is an ‘impossible profession’ but honestly that God won’t let us establish Heaven on Earth or at least not me or at least not America or at least not teachers who savor the experience of being a teacher or the beauty of their students more than the outcomes or commitment or intrinsic value of the work or the confirmed identity / vocation / personhood of the instructor.  There are always new and old at any rate and different cultures all describe the teacher as needing to keep both alive; as do descriptions of higher education and scholarship.  

I questioned my qualifications / background and wondered about re-training but can’t afford tuition anywhere so I am trying to cling to the core of my capabilities / blessings.  ABC and XYZ.  The glory of the soul or souls.  

I kept theorizing Russian literature as well as weapons-systems and ultimate destiny, sailing ships, noble names, divisions, the flaming sword of Archangel Gabriel, the mission of Russia today with respect to the world order.  I am also simply trying to be healthy and stop for a while trying to parse out who was the love of my life or what it still left in terms of action or redemption or justice or surrender or mitigation or meeting new friends or propounding the kind of understand with carefulness I have believed in - ‘saving people from themselves.’  Driving up here I remember being distressed at a gas-station in California when I was about 5 or 6 since the pump was leaking, being very upset with my parents and family.  In those days I also disliked animal-cruelty though the world today seems so depraved and deprived with respect to human interests I would make no bones about neglecting most all animals outside of military or police use.  When I was about 3 I saw white kids set a frog on fire; my mother has a history of running over cats.

I dislike winging it and taking risks.  There is a song I call to myself ‘Run Away’ though its title is ‘Paradise.’  I am not a utopian communist for believing in secular justice and its instrinsic value... I wonder whether when I helped people in the past there were always strings attached or maybe I was just trying to close my case and discharge my responsibilities too rapidly without allowing others to gestate or make an abode in my heart besides and beyond what I could get out of them, glorifying myself, or tell others about.  

What is motherhood?  What is travail?  Is there a kind of problematic ‘female gaze’ as feminists talk of a ‘male gaze’ associated with sadism or fascination / fetishism?  It’s psychology which is not my first love at all since it appeared pretentious and distracting and retarding (in the literal sense of slowing down).

I also remembered reading various things about Victor Hugo whose ‘93′ is an important novel today due to its techno-utopianism, feminism or ‘new model egalitarianism,’ fusion of revolution and religion, etc.  But I had forgotten ‘Les Miserable’ with its themes of ransom or eventual recompense, genealogies, caution, and more none of which is to negate the various complains against me or death-warrant from China or my parents with their partial private readings of Proverbs (’Let’s stone David for embarrassing us / not doing precisely what we want’ - no mention of witnesses, tribunals, questions, mitigation-hearings, actual counsels of judges etc. but just American-German ‘coalitions of the willing’ ‘run and get my gun’ ‘team-building’ etc. which in my experience ends with tanks on the street and military dictatorships as when at the end of the CultRev PLA regulars were gunning down former justice-fanatics who’d been stripping women, kicking pregnant stomachs etc. as in The Vagrants).  Naturally having grown up in a family fascinated with Lee Kwanyew and Arnold Schwarzenegger and conflicted about ‘fascism’ I had reservations about the United States’ ability to suddenly dress up and ‘stand at perpetual moral attention’ but I guess my own problems are just that I am poor with a rich kid’s mind and no one really likes me except strangers and faraway friends who were easily spooked and/or just couldn’t be there.  ‘King of South shall attack and King of North shall crush them  with chariots &c.’ - in the end righteous will prevail whichever side of the line I end up on in the final assessment.  I also remembered today a novel called ‘The Old Capital’ about a bad artist father, a virgin daughter, straight and true pines.  Some other aspects of this novel are silly as well as criminally problematic and there's a lot of that going on in new-old old news America / Babylon or at least to quote my favorite lawyer / leave lawyering movie 'First let's get out of Milwaukee.'  Miss the land of June snow. 

[astraeal]

new updated playlist for fáelán because she’s a more dimensional character in my mind, and as such her playlist needed to reflect that! see below the cut for me gushing about the organization for this playlist, or just listen to listen 🥰🥰

Act I. Home

Her relationship with her home – the Pallid Grove, the place she was born and came from – is changing as she’s discovering more things about it. As it is, we the players and Fáelán the character, don’t know a whole lot about it. So it’s shrouded with mystery, even as she’s getting hints and memories unlocked with the help of the Luxon, and I wanted to secure that just...slightly “off” feeling of the Pallid Grove. It’s the sight of such horrible divine influence – both positive and negative – and the people inside haven’t left for hundreds of years in the aftermath that it has this almost...closed door, on the inside looking out feeling to it. Is that from fear? Safety? Community? Paranoia? I wanted to explore that. 

Big Houses – Squalloscope

“In the circle around the kitchen table/I say my "amen" because I feel blessed/Secretly hoping while joining hands that you can't feel my trembling fingertips” 

This too Shall Pass – Danny Schmidt

“But deep inside/When every cell divides/Well, it sets upon the rule that states/Self-interest is divine”

Liability – Lorde

“You're all gonna watch me/Disappear into the sun”

Shrike - Hozier 

“Remember me love, when I'm reborn/As the shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn”

Act II. Selection Side A (Luxon Love Letters) 

At some point in her life in the Pallid Grove, Fáelán starts getting this pull from the Luxon. It leads her to Rosohna, but before that there’s an indeterminate amount of time that passes between when she left the Pallid Grove and when she arrived in Rosohna. This movement is dedicated to that journey, the part of her life that she doesn’t have any memory of, because somehow all alone she crossed the entire Wildemount continent and had absolutely no idea how she did so. It’s important to note that neither do I, the player! It’s a complete mystery. But the only thing she remembers from that time is the incessant need to be near the Luxon, and that was her only driving force. So while some of these are “love” songs, they’re also songs to the Luxon. It’s those conversations with this entity that’s pulling her closer, from the weariness of a long travel (1000 Nights) to the doubt cast by not getting a ton of answers (Games), that remain with her even now. 

1000 Nights - FRENSHIP

“There's a bulletproof bond/Between meaning and you”

Heaven/Hell - CHVRCHES

“If none of this is real, then show me what you feel/'Cause I can't tell”

Games – Tessa Violet

“And I long to take you at your word, but then/All along you're hiding even when you're by my side”

It’s You – Ali Gatie 

“I'm hurting inside/I'm so scared to fall in love/But if it's you then I'll try”

Act III. Arrival

This encapsulates really the most recent ~50 years of her life, about how much she remembers after her journey. In these brief songs, we see how different she is from her old “home”, her old space of the Pallid Grove. Things are different, she has a higher energy now, she’s in a place where she has her new mom and her new brother and the Luxon. With that connection satisfied, she feels like she can take on the world! In a lot of ways, this is the highest energy of the movements, because she’s feeling. Feeling both good and bad things, but she’s alive and she’s feeling and her powers have begun to manifest the more she devotes herself to the Luxon and the Lucid Bastion and the Dynasty in general. 

Up To Something - Naaz

“Don't want to hurt them/But this is who I am/Chasing ambitions/Making my own mistakes”

Capsize - FRENSHIP

“Drop tears in the morning/Give in to the lonely”

When You Were Young - The Killers

“You sit there in your heartache/Waiting on some beautiful boy to/To save you from your old ways”

Wild Things - Alessia Cara

“I lose my balance on these eggshells/You tell me to tread, I'd rather be a wild one instead”

Act IV. Selection Side B (Conscription)

Obviously, she can’t remain in the temple forever. And as tensions rise with the Empire, she gets selected to join the Xhorsquad party, by the Taskhand himself. In obvious ways, this is another way that the Luxon has chosen her to represent something that it believes in, and also another way for her to serve her Dynasty. But it’s dark and scary and far from the comforts of home. She doubted herself a lot, doubted her abilities and her place in the team and her morals when surrounded by people who have definitely killed before in their lives while she’s lived in the Lucid Bastion. 

The Sound of Silence - Pentatonix

“And in the naked light I saw/Ten thousand people, maybe more...And no one dared/Disturb the sound of silence”

Only If For A Night - Florence + The Machine

“And the only solution was to stand and fight/And my body was bruised and I was set alight/But you came over me like some holy rite/And although I was burning, you're the only light”

Shake It Out - Florence + The Machine

“And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope/It's a shot in the dark and right at my throat”

Freaking Out - A R I Z O N A 

“It's stupid, but I'm better off and I'll stay quiet/'Cause I pushed away all the ones that hold me close”

Act V. (Dis)Connection

The most current act, the one she’s playing out right now. She’s beginning to emotionally connect and respond to the people around her, and beginning to understand that not everyone you spend a lot of time around is going to be exactly like you. But she’s still privileging the needs of others above the emotional needs of herself, with some small exceptions. Recently she’s let in Tanvir and Bird, two of the three that she feels closest to, and they know more about her than other party members. And after they began the process for consecution, she now feels even closer to Tanvir. They were the only two to leave the Heart in tears, after all. But, as she’s used to being the person who channels the Luxon to help others in need, she’s trying to keep her own emotions at bay. How that will work out, we’ve yet to see! But as indicated by those final two songs...she’s going to have to talk about it sooner rather than later. 

Saturdays (feat. HAIM) - Twin Shadow, HAIM

“When we dance in the dark in the room where it all gets real/I know you know how it feels/Saturdays/When the moonlight hit up your face and let love spark”

Too Much - Carly Rae Jepsen

“Trust the, trust the feeling/It's hard to get to know you/But I'm down”

Someone New - Hozier

“I wake, at the first cringe of morning/And my heart's already sinned/How pure, how sweet the love beneath it yeah/You would pray for him”

Crush - Tessa Violet

“I wanna touch you but don't wanna be weird/It's such a rush, I'm thinking wish you were here”