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the-trans-folk-witch · 1 year

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A not so kind rebuttal to my interview with Dazed Beauty Magazine. Trans witches were wronged.

First, some quotes from friends, and strangers turned friends on the matter:

“PLEASE!!! Florence! I think everyone needs to read something of substance around this. The banal saturation is fucking mind numbing.”- Samanthareadsgood

“Think about yourself and don’t be worrying about hurting other people feelings because she’s not considering you… And look at it coldly…She interviewed you for something which you consented to and then she did something else. That’s not okay.” -René ( victim Former friend of the author Isabella AKA sister_bella on Instagram.)

And last but not least, “IM SCREAMING. STOP 4RrEAL!?” Austin of banexbramble on Instagram. Typos intentional and copied.

The article in question- (I hate to give it traffic but context…) https://www.dazeddigital.com/beauty/article/59809/1/why-trans-people-are-finding-power-and-place-in-witchcraft

The story-

Awhile back I was randomly messaged by an Instagram page run by a writer for dazed beauty. She expressed that she was writing an article on transgender witches and wanted to interview me. But it needed to be done that night. I did not see the message until a few days later. It seemed sketchy but as a fan of the magazine I took the bait. The woman seemed nice enough and I enjoyed the idea of transness being represented in witchcraft conversations. She had her due date extended.

She asked several questions which I thought were very well crafted. I formulated my replies to her via text and spent a total of two hours chatting with her on the subject. There were paragraphs of content to write on. I was very proud of my work. I was ready to discuss the history of trans people as learned in college through my gender studies courses. I wanted to discuss the GallI of Greece, the Gala of Sumer, the two spirit and other indigenous titles for third/alt genders- my fav being the Hijra of India. I wanted to discuss the transness of the Ethiopian eunuch in the Bible… not Joan of arc… I didn’t mention her. But none of that was of interest clearly. The History was too in-depth to write on for this magazine probably. Word counts and all…

I was lead to believe that this informal and rushed interview was going to be in a interview-to-text- format. I assumed it would be stylized with a question from the writer in bold, and a long winded response from me below it. Like how celebrities are interviewed haha. But girl was I wrong…

Not only was the entirety of the article kept from me post interview, but only one small paragraph was shown to me from our entire conversation. I assumed there was more… there was not. My time and words wasted for a misquote. One sentence of mine made it to the article. And it was not even worded properly. it’s context was stripped. I was explaining how in traditional witchcraft, witches are seen as “other”. Not in a other-kin way, but in a transformative way via gnosis. I went on to describe my feelings of dysphoria and it’s overlap with my spiritual beliefs. But all she heard was “Florence thinks being trans is inhuman and I’m going to word this in a sloppy way to validate TERF’s and their dehumanization of tranniez.”…

On top of this money grabbing terf ridden article, there were loads of TERFy comments making fun of the lack of sources, proper historical legitimacy, and me.

To make matters worse better, i was not tagged in the article advertisement on Instagram. This both angered me and relieved me. My name was not caught up in this shit. But my time was not being recognized. Instead, the more famous, more appreciated interviewed were highlighted. And there is no telling if their logic was sound. I was not aware of their interviews. Judging from their Instagram content, I’m sure they are less informed on true magic or history… if you read this article, I’m sure you saw the portion comparing Joan of arc to trans men. I would like to say the writer of the article completely fabricated that herself. But who knows what other shit people are spewing.

When I heard of this article, I thought a cis woman was highlighting the experiences of trans people by giving us a platform. This is something I gladly allow! But instead, she was taking the crumbs of our words and using them for woke points and click bait. It was a poorly formed article with no real point. It was a mishmash of words speaking loosely of an issue that is already difficult to describe. It allowed space for terf’s and non witches alike to give their shitty opinions. And the writer??? Nowhere to be seen. Dazed beauty? No reply or combat against the ever-flowing comments. It’s as if this entire article was a ruse to make us all look stupid.

So now that I’ve got that out of the way, let’s talk about the author and her personal life. When she approached me she seemed nice. I genuinely thought I had a shot at maybe being represented in a magazine I like. She was willing to offer me that. But little did I know, she had sketchy occult business practices of her own. This woman has titled herself a “priestess, sorceress, spell caster” and other trigger words to make her look powerful. Other than aesthetics, she has no real grab on a magical tradition. I was informed of her moving to Mexico and hosting “full moon rituals” of some ambiguous type. At these rituals she was charging people 300 MXN twice a month on full and dark moons with no explanation of what would take place there. People were somewhat pressured into discussing sexual trauma, and others believed it was a safe space to share things. However, it was cult-like psychology at play. There was no real therapy practices implemented. It was just an unqualified woman just crying to strangers and making them pay her since it was cheaper than real therapy. It was not sound. It was not ethical.

People tried leaving. To which she would send many many messages to those people as if they were friends. She was trying to make people feel guilty for not coming to her “rituals” that cost money. It was treated as betrayal to her…

Anyway, all of that mess aside, let’s show some actual sources to discuss the history of Trans people. I have said this many times before and I hope I don’t sound like a brag, but I have 2 degrees in sociology at escalating levels. I actually am hoping to write a text book in collaboration with my university next year on similar subjects. Here are some texts I read in my gender studies classes and plan to cite in future works. Please please consider these texts. I do not want to waste my time explaining what’s already been beautifully written by others. Especially for FREE on TUMBLR.

-Histories of the Transgender Child by Jules Gill-Peterson

-Sexing the body: Gender politics and the construction of sexuality by Dr. Anne Fausto-Sterling

-Brain Storm: The Flaws in the Science of Sex Differences. By Dr. Rebecca Jordan-Young

-Measuring Manhood: Race and the Science of Masculinity by Dr. Melissa N. Stein

-Sexual Science: The Victorian Construction of Womanhood by Dr. Cynthia Russet.

As for trans people’s place in occult spaces or religion, I highly recommend reading the following links and titles. [It’s also important to note here that the Joan of arc mess in the original article, could have been replaced with the Ethiopian eunuch of the Bible… “but no. Cis girl brain go brrrrr. Must pick popular feminist figure and make up a history”]

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6830999

The Soul of the Stranger: Reading God and Torah from a Transgender Perspective. Chicago, Illinois: The University of Chicago Press.

A Comparative Analysis of Hijras and Drag Queens: The Subversive Possibilities and Limits of Parading Effeminacy and Negotiating Masculinity." Ed. Stephen Hunt, Religions of the East. Surrey: Ashgate, 2010.

The Invisibles: A Tale of the Eunuchs of India.

Islamic Homosexualities: Culture, History, and Literature (for Sumerian trans priests)

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gala_(priests)#:~:text=The%20Gala%20(Sumerian%3A%20%F0%92%8D%91%F0%92%86%AA%20gala,institutions%20of%20Mesopotamian%20city%20states.

Thank you. That is all.

#traditional witchcraft #transgender witches #ozark magic #history of gender #lgbt history #lgbt pride #transgender history #folk witchcraft #beginner witch #folk catholicism #animism #santa muerte #folkloric witchcraft #witchcraft

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bngrc · 1 year

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[source] Note, this source link goes to a screen capture. The original tweet is no longer online due to account suspension. The OP has a new twitter: @thegates0fmel

Original tweet:

"Some women use birth control for…" I use it for sex. A human activity. Idgaf if you don't think I should be having sex. I use it because I want sex and don't want kids. Die mad about it.

Chinese translation:

“有些女人吃避孕药用以…” 我吃它来性交。这是一个常人做的活动。我一点不在乎你是否觉得我应该性交。我吃避孕药是因为我想性交而不想孩子。你们含怒到坟墓，好吗？

I realized these tweet translations would probably be more interesting to people if I explained my translation process, so here's the literal English translation of my Chinese translation:

Some women take (lit. eat) birth control medicine in order to..." I take it to have sex. This is an activity regular people do. I don't care a bit whether you think I should have sex. I take birth control medicine because I want sex and don't want kids. Carry your anger to the grave, why don't you?

I spent most of my time thinking about how to translate the final line: "Die mad about it." That is, of course, the most memorable part of the tweet.

At first I thought to go with a simple 要气死 / "Die mad (imperative)", or a more flippant 气死吧 / "Die mad (suggestion)" but Chinese speakers use 死 for emphasis so casually that it kind of loses its meaning.

I wanted a translation with a bit more gravitas.

I decided to go with the more formal, "Carry your anger to the grave." Of course there are several words that mean "carry/hold on to" and several words that mean "anger/rage" and several words that mean "grave/coffin." I wasn't sure what vocabulary was best.

Then I had a lightbulb.

I could find a bible quote that talks about "carrying anger."

A bible quote would have the necessary gravitas, and more importantly, it's really easy to find good, professional translations of individual lines from the Christian bible online, in pretty much any language. Every sentence has its own number designation. Not a lot of texts make it that easy to find line-by-line translations, besides Shakespeare's plays/sonnets, maybe.

I'm not Christian myself, but the Christian bible has its uses when it comes to language study.

So I looked up "carry anger bible quote" which pointed me to Ephesians 4:26:

In English (New International Version):

In your anger do not sin; Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry

In Mandarin ( Chinese Union Version):

生氣卻不要犯罪；不可含怒到日落

含怒

含 hán - to keep, to contain, to hold in the mouth (to nurse on)

怒 nù - anger, fury, rage

I went with the translation 坟墓 fénmù for "grave" because I liked that it kinda rhymed with 含怒 hánnù.

At this point I had 你们含怒到坟墓, which is more of a declarative statement. I wanted to clearly indicate that this was either an imperative or a suggestion, but it didn't seem quite right to use 要 or 吧. The word 要 felt like it went a step too far, like saying "kill yourself." Given the formality of the rest of the sentence, 吧 felt grammatically incorrect.

I decided to go with the slightly more formal suggestion tag 好吗？which is like saying, "Sound good to you?" I think it gives the sentence a more sarcastic edge.

Anyway, I hope this translation makes sense and doesn't sound too weird.

Please feel free to suggest tweets for translation or correct my grammar in the notes!

#mandarinblr #chinese translations

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hobbitsetal · 2 years

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I saw your post on the entertainment debate floating around, and read the tags, so I was wondering if you did end up writing a post on storytelling and God?

Not a separate post as such, but I had a few under my "art faith and media" tag that probably qualify!

But for you, dear anon, let me go off just a bit because I'm procrastinating editing and this is a worthy writing project.

What has storytelling to do with God, first and foremost? I would argue He is the original Storyteller, that the Bible is the story of humanity's quest to understand and follow this Great Being Who reveals Himself to us in many ways and through various means.

Jesus taught through parables, in the tradition of various Jewish rabbis, as a Jewish rabbi Himself. God affirmed and continued the human yen for storytelling while He walked this earth with us. I find that eminently lovely.

The first followers of Christ were charged to go and spread the news of what God had done--charged to become storytellers and forth-tellers. Storytelling itself was changed by the presence of God. I've seen a post on Tumblr talking about the old story form of a man who loses his lover to death. The Greek myths end with him losing her forever. The stories post-Jesus end with him recovering her. Take that one with a grain of salt--I am no scholar and I can't find the post again--but it's a beautiful thought.

So, do we now go on to tell you to write stories with good Christian morals?

Absolutely not. If you set out to write a moral, you'll probably bore everybody. Write a good story and your own values will filter into it. Art is terrifyingly revelatory. I've laughed with my husband before over how various life changes and events and struggles seep into my characters and storytelling, whether I want them to or not.

And that brings me to what one might consider the heart of storytelling: knowledge and understanding. Those who read more widely are, apparently, more empathetic. Reading puts us in the shoes of others, in other situations and other worlds. Reading humanizes other people to us, and that is a valuable weapon against selfishness.

Storytelling gives us a safe way to work through questions and struggles. Some scholars apparently believe that the books of Job and Jonah don't describe historical events, but are records of the ancients Jews grappling with the problem of pain and with the idea of a God Who is willing to embrace even our worst enemies.

Storytelling gives us a medium to examine our world in a way that removes it from us just a bit, just enough to study issues with a little more breathing room. What makes a god? What is worth fighting for or dying for? How does one determine right and wrong when everything seems uncertain and you don't know who's lying?

What does hope look like in the face of great darkness? Read The Lord of the Rings. What might God's love look like in another world, in another place? Read C.S. Lewis's The Chronicles of Narnia, or his Space Trilogy. Is morality contingent on gods? What is the responsibility of those in power to defend against oppression, racism, abuse of power? Read Terry Pratchett's Discworld.

You don't need to agree with everything you read. I adore Pratchett, but he was an atheist and it shows in his writings, and I am very much a theist to my core. Nonetheless, he makes important observations about human nature and right and wrong.

If you read through a Christian lens--that is, through the mindset that there is a God, that He cares about us, and that objective right and wrong exist--everything you read has the potential to teach you important things.

Why am I talking so much about reading? Because I'm a writer, and reading is what I think of first. Movies, tv shows, podcasts, oral stories--all qualify equally as storytelling. I think art--paintings or web comics or whatever else you would like to name--can be storytelling. They all have the potential to move someone emotionally, to point them to insights about humanity, to provoke the imagination.

Storytelling, then, is a way to understand ourselves and the world around us better, both as it is and as it relates to God. Storytelling is a reflection of the Great Creator, the original Storyteller, the One Who knows us most intimately and perfectly...the One Who created us for joy.

Embrace imagination, my friend. It is created by God.

#art faith and media

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chrysanthemumpink · 4 months

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You don't deserve this tag. But I found someone else & for some reason that makes me think of you. And all of the things that you represent. Things you don't deserve to represent.

We'll probably be intimate soon. And for some reason, that feels official. It feels like more than my body, if that makes sense?

I didn't love you. I loved the life I saw with you. I wanted to be an artist & a critic & an academic & so many things that seem so childish in retrospect. I thought we could be quirky professors and writers living off the produce of a quirky cottage. Before I met you, a life like that seemed so real.

Now it feels like the fantasy it always was. He's a financial advisor, he wants to be VP of something, doesn't matter what. He's counter culture in the way that dating a black person turns him on. Like you were. But not enough to do anything about it. Unlike you. That's all he'll ever do to counter any culture.

But, like you, he represents so much more. He's not special. But my choices around him reveal so much about me. Being with him means I've officially given up on my dreams. Yea, the pay is nice. Paying bills and having more than enough for any service I want is also very nice.

I give men foo much credit when really it's about me. My first job in tech & finance offered 102k. I choose that over grad school. And the kind of people I meet here?

I met him here. He's the brother of one of my coworkers. They're both directors whose fathers & uncles were presidents, VPs, etc of other financial firms. They both want to be VPs but not in the way that you & I used to study to be professors. They want it in the way that they do stupid things like shell for dinners & cruises with the right people

In a way that makes him special. If he wanted a 6 figure salary, he would just be given one. But if he wants 6 figures and have the power of a corporate ladder behind him, he has to put in effort. And he does. Effort is something you never put in anything.

Men like him, surprisingly, aren't that hard to find if you aren't picky. He's 40. And like? What am I doing with my life?

Having sex with a 40 year old seems so adult. Is that what I'll be doing? Trading my life as an advocate and academic for a capitalistic one. Either way, it's still a straight white man, isn't it.

Sorry. The truth is that I have to get it out while I can. If I'm gonna stay corporate, then opportunities to talk like that won't come as often. Do you see how much I've been forced to move on?

I've met his family. As you know, I can sense things about people. Or at the very least, make wild fantasies that turn out to be uncomfortably close to the truth. His parents are desperate for him to find anyone. He's 40 for crying aloud. But this is where growing up Pentecostal comes in handy. This happens with a lot of white people. It happened with your family too. If it's going to be someone black, might as well be one whose knows enough about the bible to not cause too much trouble

What am I talking about? I'm going to fuck him. And yea, I have a lot of feelings about doing that. I honestly wish I'd done it sooner. Doing after meeting the family makes it seem like it's getting serious. I can't afford to let myself believe that

But back to me...I hate how much I tie men to life stages. This new relationship feels like a lot. It will mean I've accepted the world I've always considered an antagonist to mind. It means I work in tech and finance. It'll mean I'm a business woman who goes on business trips.

But...is it all bad? I mean? It is a lot of money. I went from an 18k grad stipend to 102k. Between you & me? I still have to whisper it. Like I've committed a sin. And I hear stories from other women. Women in tech are very friendly. My MANAGER of all people confided in me. She said that she regularly cries from the way that SAHM treat her.

That 90% of mothers groups are SAHMs who make her feel inferior because of her choices. They suggest that her career means she doesn't lover her child. Her son means the world to her.

And yet, my manager spent the morning of her son's birthday talking about training initiatives 300 miles away on a business trip. I know because I was with her.

She says, all the women say, that women like us make hard decisions. We do what we have to do. When they say "we," it makes me feel like I belong. And the scary part is, I do belong

I am a girl boss, girl bossing, who has the potential to be the ultimate girl boss. Lol, not really. But I'm smart, 28, and have found myself with no husband or children. I think they're protective of me. Like they know I'm in an unfamiliar world.

Now that I'm with him, it's permanent. Or will be. I'll be taking my securities exam soon. I want to be central to this district learning technologies. That's the life I'll have once I've officially left this one behind. I've already left it behind

Grad school broke my heart. You broke my heart. Now I don't even recognize myself. And I actually like it

#leo x pisces

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a-queer-seminarian · 3 years

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Do you believe that God condemns anyone to Hell, or are we all going to wind up in Heaven?

Short answer? do i believe in hell? hell no!

[id: a cross stitch of the infamous "Hell Is Real" sign in Ohio, but with the word NOT added so it reads "Hell is NOT real" / end id. I sewed this cuz i have to drive past this dang sign every time i drive home and it makes me so cranky.]

___

Long answer?

The concept of hell has become less and less probable to me over the years. it seems like such a human solution to the problem of sin, not a Divine one.

This past year as i've studied the concept of prison abolition --

see Are Prisons Obsolete? by Angela Davis (free pdf online)

and, for a Christian view on how fundamentally messed up the US's prison system is, see Rethinking Incarceration by Dominique DuBois Giliard. (There are short vids and study guides for the latter, if reading isn't your thing / if you'd prefer those over paying for the book.)

-- and i find that many of the arguments against human prisons could also be argued against hell, which is really just The Ultimate Prison. Hell seems much like the punitive system we've got going on here, blown up to a supernatural size.

In Rethinking Incarceration, Giliard says that dealing with systemic problems and collective sin by choosing which individuals are The Problem and proceeding to Get Rid Of Them by chucking them in prison -- or hell -- is an unjust human solution, not a Divine solution.

He relates this to the harmful theology of penal substitution -- that the reason God became incarnate in the person of Jesus was simply to take the blame for all our wrongdoing -- to be the surrogate, or substitute, for the punishment all humanity would otherwise have to receive. But, Giliard writes,

Penal substitution is most problematic because it makes God’s response to sin too much like our own. It is a sort of recasting of God in our own image, as opposed to allowing the divinely inspired Scriptures to speak for God’s motives. Marshall also writes that “restoration, not retribution, is the hallmark of God’s justice and is God’s final word in history.”

God's justice is not that punitive kind of justice, but restorative. Jesus's whole life, and death, and resurrection together brings justice into our world because through all of it, the relationship between humanity and divinity was restored -- not because Jesus took the punishment that God would have slammed down on us.

{edit: I have a second post addressing how there are indeed parts of the Bible that depict God as punishing individuals or groups. Still, punishment is never the motive of Divine justice in scripture.)

If punishment is not God's justice, and neither is severed relationship, then hell, the ultimate punishment & place of isolation, is not God's justice.

Meanwhile, we can see the bad fruits of our punitive justice systems here on earth -- what happens when we accept that society is divided into "criminals" and "good people" or "citizens." As Giliard writes:

When we lose sight of the grace and mercy exemplified on the cross of Christ, people who have violated right relationship become irredeemable “criminals” to fear, avoid, and quarantine. When “criminals” are viewed as the social cancer infecting our communal health, safety, and thriving, we cease to see and affirm their humanity. Rather than fellow image bearers, we see “criminals” as hazardous elements contaminating our neighborhoods, and they thus must be purged by any means necessary. Michelle Alexander writes, “Criminals, it turns out, are the one social group in America we have permission to hate. In ‘colorblind’ America, criminals are the new whipping boys. They are entitled to no respect and little moral concern.” ...

I see similar things happen when people pretend they can guess who is going to hell, when they divide humanity into the heavenbound and the hellbound.

(I won't go into it here but it needs to be noted: think about who is seen as prison-bound, how our system sets up certain groups, such as Black and Latine persons & other persons of color, to end up in prison; and then think of who is often seen as hellbound, such as LGBTQA+ persons & non-Christians. Bigotry is tangled up in all this, which is what Giliard's book largely focuses on when it comes to mass incarceration.)

when we assume we know someone is doomed to hell, we give up on them. we cease to see them as one of us, and one of God's beloved children made in Their image. i'd rather assume there is no hell and find out i'm wrong about that later, than live as if i thought there were a hell if there isn't.

and of course, if we assume we ourselves are headed to hell -- particularly by fearmongerers who teach that being LGBTQA+, or Black, or disabled, or not Christian, any manner of things sends you there -- well. i think the bad fruits of that are quite clear, including how it leads us to despair, to fall into the pit of self-loathing. we either punish ourselves and isolate ourselves and harm ourselves by trying to fix what is not broken, or we say "fuck it, i'm going to hell anyway" and cut ourselves off from certain community.

_______

Prison is an easy solution, but not a fruitful one. Same with Hell. It's an easy fix, but not a viable one.

Throwing certain Bad Irredeemable Humans into the pit won't make the humans who are left fit for God's Kin(g)dom -- we all have work to do on ourselves and as a collective community.

God calls us to the much longer and more difficult work of repentance, reform, and rebuilding -- here and now and in the world to come.

Again I turn to Giliard:

Scripture consistently reveals that restoration, not punitive punishment, is at the heart of God’s justice. Biblical justice does include retribution, but not exclusively. Biblical justice cannot be solely defined by it. The more accurate description of biblical justice is restorative justice. Biblically, justice is a divine act of reparation where breached relationships are renewed and victims, offenders, and communities are restored. Justice, therefore, is about relationships and our conduct within them. Justice asks, How is righteousness embodied and exuded in how I live in relation to God, neighbor, and creation? In fact, Scripture could be read as the narrative of God’s restorative justice unfolding in the world.

No prisons. No hell. No punishment for punishment's sake -- but resources provided to make repentance and reconciliation possible. No severing of some humans from the rest of humanity, or from the Body of Christ -- but restored relationships.

_____

Will the restoration happen before heaven begins? Maybe. Then I'd say there is some sort of purgatory state in between (because purgatory isn't a place of punishment, but of, well, purging away all that is corrupt and harmful). But not a permanent hell. Not a place made for punishing or discarding.

______

because the belief and fear of hell has done so much damage, i refuse to hold to a belief in hell. and hey, if it turns out there is one, fine! it doesn't change how i should live my life:

in the end, whether hell is or is not real, i should live my life the same way -- loving God, neighbor and creation with all that i am, and doing my part to live into God's Kin(g)dom where the oppressed are lifted up, and the oppressors have their own violence exposed to them for the evil it is so that they may begin the hard work of reforming their ways.

____

For more excerpts from Rethinking Incarceration, see this Google Doc.

for more stuff about hell, see my hell tag over on my other blog.

#hell #long post #essays #rethinking incarceration

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edge-lorde · 3 years

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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

#shera #spop #the horde #the galactic horde #horde prime #horde clones #horde #rambling #Thoughts #this is really long and rambly but i think most of my thoughts got in there #im falling asleep as i type this #might redo this if i can think of a more concise way to say it

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abonelessgod · 4 years

Text

A Nun’s Tale: Part 2.

Please comment if you like, always love to hear your thoughts & suggestions!!!<3

Read the previous: Expo, Part 1

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius @youaremyfamiliar @poisonous00

TW: NSFW, Attempted rape \ assault, language.

~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~

“You asked to see me, my king?” You ask as soon as you enter the great hall. Ivar’s eyes are already on you, intense and protruding. You bite your lip and await further instructions. Ivar finishes the last bit of food in his mouth before his gloved hand waves you over, you nod and walk closer.

“Why all the formalities, Y/N? I don’t understand. I have said this many times before.” he asks, seemingly frustrated.

Truth is, not long after you were taken, you’ve started developing complicated feelings towards your capture. You were taught to hate and fear all heathens, but after almost two years in captivity, you’ve learnt there were many shades of grey between black and white. And many sides to the Boneless King.

So the formalities were necessary to put some distance between you two, even though you knew Ivar’s broke through to you more than any other man before. But also because you weren’t the most popular face in Kattegat. Many people still thought of you as a slave, or worst, an enemy. A nun who got down on her knees in front of a makeshift cross and prayed to a different god. But Ivar allowed it and you simply tried not to shake the boat as you went about your business.

When you were alone with him, however, that’s when things became truly complicated. You’d sit together, tell stories, laugh...Ivar would drink and his lips soon became a little too loose. He ever shared a couple of secrets every now and then. He trusted you. And you did not want to become his weakness. You did not want to become the one thing his enemies could exploit to harm him.

Looking down, you didn’t say another word. Ivar put down his cup of ale and waved off his guards. “Leave us.” his words were gruff and he was clearly dissatisfied.

“Sit down.” his voice ordered like satin over ice. You swallowed and obeyed, sitting before him.

“What seems to be the problem, Y/N?” he asked in a husky whisper, turning his body closer to you. You could smell the drink on his breath.

“Please, my king...I...” you stutter, Ivar’s fist collides with the table surface loudly. “Do not! Call! Me! That!” he roars, causing you to flinch. Then he inhales, closing his eyes slowly. “I do not want you to act like a slave anymore. I do not want you to call me ‘my king’ and frankly I would appreciate it if you stopped following all those...Christian customs. It’s been two years, Y/N. How much longer do you think you’ll need?” Ivar spoke fluently, and when you dared to look into his eyes you realized he was saying a lot of things, things that he’d probably kept in for a long time before finally letting them all out.

“You don’t understand.” Your voice is weak as you look away.

“Enlighten me then.” he insists.

“I have...thoughts.” you mutter. Ivar’s eyebrows immediately lift up, but he waits.

“I am not viking. I can’t look at you and have these thoughts. I can’t do all those things that you do...I...I do not want to jeopardize your status. They see the way you treat me, Ivar.” You say, eyeing the guards outside.

“They know I favor you for your interesting stories and...different point of view, Nun. You need not worry, Y/N.” Ivar says proudly with a dismissive smile.

You swallow the insult in a compliment’s disguise soundlessly. He said he merely favored you, even though you’ve just admitted to having feelings for him. After all, he is the king of heathens. A ruthless, blood thirsty king.

So what were you thinking? What did you expect?

~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~ * ~ *** ~

The following day, Earl Frodi and his warriors decide to visit Ivar’s hall. Before nightfall a feast begins, to celebrate their visit and a new fruitful alliance. Many other Earls sit to the tables with their men, and you greet the ones you’ve met before humbly. For the past year the word of Ivar’s nun traveled all across Scandinavia and many curious pagan leaders wanted to meet a Christian in person. The ones who were not hostile but merely intrigued were allowed to hear your story, but Ivar had to be present at all times.

One of Frodi’s men had always expressed special interest in you, and since they were allowed, on more than just one occasion, to speak to you - his warrior, Erik, knew your story well enough. Whenever he was around he watched you from afar, and whenever Ivar was not around he even dared to speak to you. Erik tried to remain cordial every time - but deep down you were afraid of what he might do if he ever caught you alone.

And that night was the night.

“Skol!” The men roared as the evening progressed. Most of the men and women were already full, sitting and laughing and telling raiding stories. Drinking held very little appeal in your eyes and so you gave Ivar a look, he nodded in mutual understanding and you got up to leave.

Your little world was a small cabin connected to Ivar’s bedroom. It was built in a way so that the only entrance was through his bedroom. With no other doors and a very small window inside your space. In there you had your bed, your bible, a table, and whatever little belongings you’ve collected during your stay in Kattegat.

Peeling your robes, your eyelids grew heavy, but suddenly someone’s close proximity had you back on high alert. Turning, you could see Erik smiling down on you mischievously. You could smell the ale on his breath.

“Hello, nun.” he said gruffly before his hands grabbed your cloth, tearing at the fabric abruptly. “I’m going to fuck you now, after all this time.” he announced as the dark fabrics fell to the floor, leaving you naked and shocked. You couldn’t even cry or scream.

Erik grabbed you by the throat, then tossed you on the bed roughly. Just as he was about to climb on top if you, you screamed. A scream so loud you thought it invoked the thunder. Or maybe it didn’t. Maybe it was a coincidence.

In the meantime, Ivar was moving restlessly on his throne in the great hall. The thunder had unsettled him. It was as if the mighty Thor was calling to him. And he could not ignore his call.

Climbing down, he used his crutches to step away. His mobility was significantly slower, but he didn’t care. He liked walking.

As soon as the troubled king walked into his bedroom he could hear the cries. His blood boiled, roaring in his veins as the thunder rolled and roared outside. For a split second, he was scared of what he might find in there. He recognized that voice. He cared for the nun. He might have even...

Ivar’s eyes were sharp as he studied the scene before him, Erik taking his clothes off. His favorite nun stripped bare on the bed - shaken and frightened.

“So which one is it, Y/N? Do I let him rape you now, just to prove a point...to let the people know I don’t care about you? That you are not my weakness?” Ivar asked contemptuously as he finally glimpsed at Erik, who was shocked to have been found. “Or do I kill him and save your precious...virtue?” His other question was dismissive, as if it meant so little.

But your virtue meant everything to you. And Ivar knew it too.

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staygold-ponyboycurtis · 4 years

Text

We Had Church!

But that day... well, Soda can’t sit still long enough to enjoy a movie, much less a sermon. It wasn’t long before he and Steve and Two-Bit were throwing paper wads at each other and clowning around, and finally Steve dropped a hymn book with a bang - accidentally, of course. Everyone in the place turned around to look at us, and Johnny and I nearly crawled under the pews. And Two-Bit waved at them. I hadn’t been to church since.

A one-shot about that one time the gang went to church... Idea credit goes to @ponyboyskywalker :)

“I don’t think the big guy upstairs is gonna mind if your shirt’s a little wrinkled, Pone,” Sodapop says, brushing off my shoulder.

I roll my eyes. “That’s not the point. I’m trying to look decent.”

“You’re a Curtis,” Two-Bit hollers from the living room. “Don’t y’all think you’re movie stars or somethin’?”

“Hey, don’t go givin’ the kid a complex, now,” I hear Steve say to him. “I don’t think the world could handle another self-obsessed Curtis.”

I hear the rumbling of Darry’s voice from somewhere in the house, undoubtedly berating Steve. Soda chuckles at the argument, buttoning his shirt in the mirror.

“I can’t believe you’re draggin’ me along with you,” he says. “Are ‘ya sure I won’t burst into flames when I walk through the door?”

I scoff. Soda doesn’t give himself enough credit. Just last week, he took the entire day off of work to sit with me while I was home sick with a stomach bug. Made me soup and ran to the store to get me ginger ale, too. In my eyes, he was bordering sainthood.

“I want you to go with me,” I say. “I think you’ll like going to church.”

I’ve snuck off to our local church’s service a few times here and there without the gang knowing. After mom and dad died, I realized that it was a comfort to have something worth believing in. A higher power, of sorts. It helped me keep the hope that they weren’t gone forever. At first, I felt out of place. But after a while, I felt comfortable attending church. Welcomed, even.

I’d always sit in the back pew and mumble the hymns under my breath. I found myself relating to a lot of things the priest would say. Like the lessons about judgment and keeping promises. I wasn’t embarrassed or anything, I just didn’t know what the gang would think if they knew what I was up to. I didn’t want them to feel bad for me. I didn’t think they’d understand.

I had asked Sodapop if he’d go with me again and again until he finally said yes. I thought it was something we could do together. At first, he was confused. Once he realized that I wasn’t joking, he took it really seriously. Steve and Sodapop were each other’s shadows (much to my chagrin), so I should’ve known it was an unspoken invitation for him, too. Two-Bit decided to tag along because he didn’t have anything better to do, I reckon.

“Is there singing?” Two-Bit had asked, his eyebrow raised incredulously. “I’ve heard there’s singing.”

“A little,” I said. “But you don’t have to sing along.”

“Good,” he had said with a chuckle. “Because my singing is a sin.”

I study myself in the mirror. I’m wearing Darry’s old dress shirt. The one he wore to his high school graduation. Except on him, it looked a lot better. The sleeves are a bit too long on me, and the collar is a little worn out. Despite the wrinkles, I don’t look too bad. I’d bet I’d even pass for a Soc if it weren’t for my long hair. I wonder what I’d look like if I cut it a bit…

“Pony,” I hear Steve say in a sarcastically exasperated tone. The one he always uses when he talks to me. He looks at me as if he’s repeated my name a few times. And he probably has. But I have a way of tuning people out when I’m stuck inside my own head.

“Johnny just walked in,” he says. “Let’s go.”

When we arrive at the old church, I usher everyone into the furthest pew from the front. Hoping we can sneak in undetected, I shuffle in quickly. A few older women turn around and stare at us a little too long, but I try not to notice. We surely look out of place, but isn’t there something to be said for not having any judgment?

I guess not, I think to myself as I meet their gaze.

“I’ve never been to church before,” Johnny says to me in a practically inaudible voice. “It’s nice in here.”

I nudge his shoulder, pointing directly ahead. “Look at the stained glass,” I say. It’s my favorite part of coming here. When the sun shines through towards the end of the service, it practically paints the entire room in shades of red, orange, and yellow. It reminds me of a brilliant flame - like a mirage. “It’s real nice,” he says, and I smile softly.

The priest begins talking, and I look down the row. Sodapop and Steve are jabbing each other in the sides and laughing quietly, without the slightest bit of interest in his sing-songy preaching. The hair on the back of my neck stands up and I nudge Two-Bit, who isn’t much help. Instead of stopping them, he leans over and asks what’s so funny, reveling in the entertainment. I sink a bit lower in my seat and try to focus on what’s being said by the priest. Something about having humility.

After a few minutes, I’ve sunk low enough in the pew that I’m practically on the floor. I want God to strike me right then and there – disappear from the embarrassment of it all. Sodapop, Steve, and Two-Bit haven’t stopped making noise since we sat down. Only Johnny has paid attention, nodding along whenever the priest interprets the biblical text into lament’s terms.

Every time I catch Sodapop’s eye, he bursts into laughter. I know it’s because he’s practically bursting at the seams with energy. He can barely sit still. He finds any kind of lecture too boring to pay attention. He has to cause mischief. I shake my head, cursing my former self for thinking that he could sit through a church service, let alone try to understand it.

When the velvet-lined receiving basket is shoved in front of us, Two-Bit peers in and tries to grab some of the change. The old man on the other end jerks it away from us in disgust and Two-Bit hoots at his ill-received prank. Steve and Soda find it hilarious and let out laughs that echo throughout the entire building.

When the priest ushers us to shake each other’s hands, the old women in front of us raise their eyebrows and look at us disapprovingly. Looking at the group of us, I can understand why. It almost seems like an insult for us, clad in jeans and old dress shirts, to be behind women dressed in dresses and pill box hats. I even catch Johnny’s dark face blushed with embarrassment.

“Well, peace be with you, too,” Two-Bit says in mock-disbelief. He crosses his arms theatrically and sits down with a huff. I look at him with an eyebrow raised.

“What?” he says. “Who would pass up the opportunity to shake the hands of the finest crop of upstanding young men that Tulsa has to offer?”

He leans forward enough so that his face is right behind the women’s backs. “You know, ladies. Those two are single,” he says, jerking his thumb to me and Johnny.

I cover my face in my hands. Oh, Lord.

For the rest of the service, I’m counting down the minutes and seconds until I can bolt out of the church and never look back. Thankfully, the gang keeps their antics down to a low murmur, but everyone is obnoxiously aware of our presence. I think I even notice the priest shake his head at us.

Right before we’re dismissed, I see Two-Bit and Soda wrestling over a bible.

“Put that back,” I whisper-yell, but they don’t listen. Two-Bit is trying to stand the books up in the pew next to him to build a tower, while Sodapop is trying to knock it down with a paper plane made from the church bulletin.

All of a sudden, I hear a thud. Without needing to turn my head, I know where it came from. Two-Bit snaps back into a sitting position as if he were in military formation and Sodapop stifles a laugh. It seems the entire crowd of church goers have turned around to look at us, the brazen group of greasers in God’s house raising hell.

I expect the old women in front of us to banish us right where we sit. If looks could kill, we’d be dead in the pew, and somehow, I think that’d be better than feeling the hot rush of humiliation that has burnt up my back.

With a wry smile, Two-Bit lifts his hand, waving sarcastically. “Hi, ladies,” he says with a smirk. They gasp a bit, turning around with astonished looks on their faces.

Finally, the priest releases us to go about our day, and I’m on my feet before I can think twice. He tells us to have a great afternoon, but I’m contemplating digging a hole and hiding in it.

On the walk back to the house, the gang reminisces about our morning, oblivious to the scene we left behind.

“Did you see their faces?” Two-Bit says. “I thought someone had hiked up their skirt the way those fuddies’ mouths were hanging open.”

Soda chuckles. “I think they were all looking at you, Two-Bit.”

“Naw,” he says. “I was the most exciting thing to happen to them today.”

Sodapop slings his arm over my shoulder, not recognizing my annoyance. “Church sure was fun, Pone,” he says. “Thanks for invitin’ us.”

“Yeah, P.B.,” Two-Bit says. “Same time next week?”

My eyes widen. God help me.

one of my favorite headcanons is that Two-Bit calls Ponyboy “P.B.” :’) I just had to incorporate that here. & apologies for the delay. I was hoping to post this a few days ago but… life. however, I had so much fun writing this up. I just love thinking about the gang acting hilariously. And let me know who picks up on that lil easter egg I threw in there. I had to, y’all.

let me know what you think & if you have any ideas for future one-shots. I’m open to them all :)

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ryttu3k · 4 years

Text

Night Road quote text dump, because I've been deluging a friend with quotes and want a place to keep them all.

We're a bit like that, yeah:

They direct you to a hulking Malkavian named Severian, and the sullen giant directs you in turn to Gibberish Mike.

Fortunately, it turns out that "Gibberish" Mike is just Australian.

Practical concerns:

"That's it!" Elena says, leaning over your shoulder. "That's his yacht. Oh, and this is all about him. Very useful." She snaps a picture of the email with her phone, then the two of you get out of there before the technician returns. You head down the elevator and then back to Elena's Datsun.

You're so pleased by how well that went that that it takes you a few minutes to remember you're in Arizona.

"His yacht?" you finally ask.

Fun with bungalow ownership:

After a day of fitful dreams, you throw on your leather jacket and engineer boots and get ready for another night. You step outside to check your Integra. A neighbor parks next door in her Ford Super Duty and gives you a friendly little wave. You've been practicing this. You're ready.

"Howdy, neighbor."

"Howdy!" she responds before heading inside.

Fucking nailed it. You're one of them.

This is legitimately how I got the Messy Critical achievement:

You grab a hoe.

You rip through the underbrush with savage efficiency, staying a few steps ahead of the pushcart as Julian scans. You work in a trance, chopping and hammering. Only when you hear Julian shouting do you realize that you're holding a busted length of wood.

The head of your hoe is buried in the beautiful round black door of Prince Lettow's Rolls-Royce.

Raúlblocked:

You head to Raúl's place, but he's not there. You find a note hidden above the door that reads, "Problems in Phoenix. (Jesus Christ has returned? Stole a car?) Contact me right away for major jobs and I'll come back. Already missing you." And there's a ProtonMail address with some of the security contact codes you agreed upon earlier.

But it looks like Raúl will be occupied dealing with the Lord and His automotive crimes, and he won't be able to wander around Tucson with you.

Pattermuster doesn't get paid enough:

"Hello? What? Well, the blood can't be 'everywhere.' Surely that's an exagger—okay—okay, fine. Okay. Okay, I'll get—okay. Five minutes. What? No, Sissy Spacek. No, Sissy—you're thinking of Rosemary's Baby. No, Carrie had the prom scene. With all the pig's—yes, it was Sissy Spacek, I'm sure. That much blood? Jesus. Okay, hold—five—okay, five minutes."

Valid question:

Do they teach ax fighting at Quantico?

Julian Meyer:

"Man, it's been a while," Julian says, leaning against your door frame. "I remember the nights we spent keeping that elder asleep with offerings of blood, the days curled up together in the desert. Wasn't it romantic?"

"That never happened, Julian. You made up our relationship and tried to sell it as a novel until the old Prince of Tucson threatened to execute you." '

"Vampire romance was big at the time," Julian says with a shrug. "And I changed our names. I still don't know why no one wanted to buy it."

Dammit I thought I was done with uni:

"Awful," Dr. Caul says with a little shudder. "But now your real studies can begin."

Your real studies consist of a syllabus (thirty pages) and a trunk full of books (35,000 pages).

"Are you disappointed, Rook?" she says with a little laugh. "Were you expecting something more mystical? A bolt of cosmic enlightenment? A conversation with your Holy Guardian Angel, who would reveal the answers you seek?" She bangs the trunk as technicians get ready to load it into your car. "Get reading."

An enthusiastic boss:

You reunite with Pattermuster down in the morgue, where he's pumping his fists as a thin-blood on a gaming laptop watches with a worried expression because she can't tell if he's incredibly happy or insanely mad.

"Rook!" Pattermuster shouts, his eyes full of Blood, "you did it! You brilliant child, you did it! We're safe. Oh, thank God, we're safe." He pulls you into an embrace, then punches a brick wall because he's so happy, showering all three of you in dust.

I thought that was Finland?:

You catch all sorts of whispered gossip as you cross the rooftop garden.

"Camp Scheffler?"

"Gone. That Outlander courier had something to do with it."

"I heard the Russians helped the SI burn it down."

"That's ridiculous. There's no such thing as Russians."

Pot, kettle:

"Julian," the Eagle Prince says, "you will locate Reremouse with the equipment Vane brought. Once we find him, we will strike shortly before dawn. I have prepared a stake sufficient to pierce even his old hide."

"That easy, huh?" Julian says.

"No, but—"

"Your plan is ridiculous, convoluted, and dangerous," Julian says.

"And you have a better one?"

"Absolutely," Julian says. "We use Stonehenge to teleport him to Mesopotamia."

The must-have appliance:

He's a black outline in the glow of a single yellow bulb... and then the bats descend.

And then the bats get torn to pieces, because Pattermuster pulls his two katanas out of nothing and turns into an undead Cuisinart for a few seconds.

But aesthetic:

Leave it to a vampire to bring a sword to a gunfight.

It is pretty cool though:

"Oh my God," Julian says. "You're going to use the car engine to fling Prometheus into Reremouse's heart."

"Dammit, Julian, I am not doing this because it's fun. I am scrambling for every advantage I can because we only have one chance to stop Reremouse, and if we fail, the Second Inquisition will descend on us like wolves on a wounded deer."

"It's still cool," Julian mutters.

A e s t h e t i c:

The Camarilla looks unkindly on vampires who dress like Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, but what's the point of being dead if you can't look the part?

#JustToreadorThings:

You sleep badly and awaken to an aching and acute Hunger that crowds out other thoughts. But when you approach the Rolls-Royce, you find Lettow and Julian seated on a blanket, evidently in fine spirits. They're holding stainless steel mugs as they watch the last purple streaks fade from the western sky. There's something perfect about the composition before you: the two Kindred in their working clothes with their backs to you, the blue-black clouds, the faraway mesas framing the scene.

"I fear we've lost the Aesthete," Lettow muses. "Luka? Luka!"

It's just good sense:

A lot of keypads use 0911 as an emergency override for police and fire. That doesn't work, but a common default password causes the elevator doors to slide right open.

Change your defaults, people.

They draw the line at 31%:

Not all problems can be solved by putting a brick through a window, but at least 30 percent can.

Descriptive:

That's when your Nissan makes a sound like a bunch of typewriter keys dropped in a blender, and the whole truck lurches to a halt.

Munch munch:

"There are tags attached to all the payroll numbers," you say. "FNMA. PFC. What are they?"

"FNMA?" Antonio says. "That's Fannie Mae. The loan commission. Privatized in 1968. PFC…"

"Pavlodar Fried Chicken," Janet says. "Damn Commies."

Courier what did you do:

When you try to start your Mercedes, it vomits black smoke. That's not good. You kill the engine.

"Pop the hood," Julian says. "I'll get it up and running."

He checks the motor. There's a long pause.

"Did you melt a bunch of cheese in here or something, Vane?"

“I remember crawling out of a Nieuport 20 outside Gibraltar," Prince Lettow says. "The engine looked like that. Of course, ours had been on fire."

"Engine looks like Vane fed a bunch of sardine cans into a paper shredder," Julian says.

Almost!:

So Lettow is cute. I'm going to talk to him and see if he might be interested in a handsome young courier who almost has his own car.

Scientist life:

A beaker of cold coffee on her desk has a pencil in it; she flicks the pencil away and drains the entire beaker, then looks you in the eyes.

Domesticity:

"Wow, Vane," the Banu Haqim says, "did you finally settle down. Where's the wife and kids? Why don't you get me a beer, and we can talk about football and quote some Bible verses at each other?"

I really want to know where the fake werewolf came in:

"...so the whole fucking Cadillac is on fire, and I'm kicking and kicking, trying to get the window to break!" Dove says.

"Right, right, because —" You're trying to follow this story, and it isn't easy.

"Because I'm still handcuffed to the guy who was pretending to be a werewolf, right. And I finally kick through the window, rip half the dead fake werewolf's arm off to get free — I'm out of my fucking mind now, with all the fire — and I finally crawl out of the car."

"And get clear before it — do they blow up?"

"Escalades? I dunno, probably not," Dove says. "But anyway, I'm finally clear, so I run across the parking lot, laughing because I'm just thrilled not to have met final death chained up to that guy. And I barely have time to look up before Lettow comes screaming around the corner in a Ford Bronco with the lights off and runs me over. I was in the wrong Cadillac the whole time."

"No!"

"Two black Cadillac Escalades in the parking lot of the Marriott," Dove says. "How was I supposed to know which one — anyway, that's why I don't get to drive anymore. That's why Lettow wants assholes like you driving."

"Driving what?" you ask. "Because I need a car."

Dove shakes her ugly head. "I'll get you something. Give me a few hours to work on it, and I'll send someone to find you."

Cars are everything:

You still don't know how Julian plans to go from "divert a few funds and data streams from the Camarilla" to "transform the global information panopticon in a way that ends the Masquerade but keeps vampires safe," but he has a nicer car than last time, so he must be doing something right.

Guys please be nice to Raul:

"There appears to be a vampire hunter outside," he says, "investigating your electric vehicle."

"Send your bird to peck his eyes out," Julian says. "I'm not going outside until I find my sneakers."

Cheese?:

Over the next few minutes, you cough up a glorious wad of bullshit involving MKUltra, the Philadelphia Experiment, Star Wars (the movie), Star Wars (the Reagan-era government program), Jackson Pollack's CIA connections, the history of federal cheese, and the secret mastermind behind the seventies gas crunch.

In fairness it's a pretty rare sound:

You're way up in Limberlost, near the mall and the Walmart, when Riga settles on the roof of a Safeway. You reverse into the parking lot in case you need to get out fast and scan the cars at the pumps. It looks quiet. Then you hear a faint ringing.

The sound is musical, hypnotic. It reminds you of your childhood, and for a long time you just sit there in the driver's seat, remembering what it was like to be alive. But what is that sound? What memory from…?

Oh, right.

The pay phone next to the ice merchandiser is ringing.

It's a skill!:

Not every member of Clan Toreador joins their august ranks because of their great beauty or artistic genius. Some people end up vampires because of their extensive knowledge of Adobe After Effects.

Big Pirates of the Caribbean energy:

"I'd kind of like to give Lettow here a horse and a sword and let him tear through an entire police barracks," Julian says. "Tell me that wouldn't be fun."

"One thing I learned from Napoleon," Lettow says, "is that the most powerful cannon is useless if you cannot see your target. We know the location of one small encampment. That isn't enough to start shooting."

"You knew Napoleon?" Julian asks.

"Napoleon was my horse," Lettow says.

#vampire the masquerade #vtm night road #vtmnr #vtmnr spoilers

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cauldronofthefantasia · 3 years

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Let’s Meet Me! Again - Reintroducing Myself (Director’s Cut) - the Hickory Witch

Hey, everyone. This is the Fantasia. Last time you saw me, I made a relatively short introduction because I wasn’t really sure what to say or how much to reveal about myself, but I thought I’d go into some more depth here and let the tags tell the story of what type of magick you’ll be reading with me and learning from me the next time we clear the air, stir the cauldron, and get to weaving that old black magick.

You can find me on tiktok @the_fantasia, and I hope you do cause, honestly, I’ve started making some weird content I really like and I wanna replace the dopamine hit I got from the stuff I didn’t make anymore with something that makes me happy instead of just making my brain’s chemicals go brrt.

My name isn’t really the Fantasia, obviously. I’m a practitioner of several years who is a self-contained coven as I am a system witch in a gestalt rather than one working towards integration who works with my system in unity. I live in the Bible Belt, and if you went looking for me, you’d probably notice that I live a relatively normal life that is made up of working towards my ambitions, taking care of my friends, and tending to my closed tradition that I was the last Priestess of now that more people have started to join us and I’ve resurrected it from death.

I’ve worked for over a year towards that goal, and the weight of the ancestors’ burdens lifting off of my shoulders when they realized I had finally figured out that my closed tradition could include people of every race, and religion, just unified together led me to decide to start sharing my magick and myself online more in a more realistic way. This has led me to Tumblr, and that’s how we met. So, it’s nice to meet you, and it’s good to remember that wishing someone meets interesting people upon them isn’t always bad. Some of us are pretty cool :P

I grew up in a spiritual evangelist religion that seemed to practice some sort of folk magick where we channeled spirits, and did group prayers together to achieve miracles with whatever it was we were doing, but if you told them that they probably wouldn’t like it very much. Also it was a cult, which would have been fine (mostly /s the only cult I’m vibing with rn is this one I made where we worship medieval illuminated manuscripts :D) except for the part where the Big Enemy was people like me, and if you notice the pride colors in the tags, might be people like you, too.

I also am an heir hoodoo, from my ancestors and the knowledge in my blood, my alter Michael has a Jewish soul and am a staunch Jewish, Romani, Palestinian, LGBTQ+ (and a part of that community), Muslim, etc, ally and consider myself to be a genuine leftist who is just stuck in a world that constantly makes me disappointed in our kind. My alter Michael is white and realllly gay. My alter Maria is black like me and mostly mute because she’s our heart, and she communicates through emotion. Lilu is an entity we invited into our body, and that’s also his nickname, cause His name from the Gilgamesh Cycle doesn’t really translate well; so if you go looking you’ll find a class of Mesopotamian demons. He’s not one, and He predates those written texts and Mesopotamian culture by quiiiite a bit. Then there’s a fifth mystery bestie we invited into our body, who I’m just starting to get to know as a part of us. I’m also traditionally trained in Western esoterica, have various exposures to French, North African, Arabian, and other forms of occultism and religious belief, have been guided onto my path by a follower of Kali (@mxkanteven on tiktok who is a trans woman and someone I am proud to call my friend), one of the greatest kabbalists and teachers alive at the moment (and an expert in Judaism, her MA’s degree in Jewish Studies has helped quiiiiite a bit in elevating his status. He also uses an E pronoun. His name is Joshua Maria Garcia, and his @ on tiktok is @joshuamariagarcia), and many, many others.

These others are in fact including a number of Gods and entities from all over the world - including more than a few Yokai and several Djinn, interestingly (I don’t turn down entities that are attracted to me because they know my friends, ya’know? Just like I don’t turn down Djinn if my Jewish past life, and soul, who learned all the stuff they did about the time Islam started developing from Rabbinic Judaism attracts them and seems to be influencing by magick by teaching me about servitors, and Djinn, and geomancy, etc) - because I’m a spirit medium that believes in co-existing with the spirit world because... why would I want to deal with the consequences of banishing a spirit that lives in their house if all they do is move my pencils around sometimes because Blackwings are made of California incense-cedar and they like them? Do I really wanna make a spirit homeless and then have to wonder why I develop an irrational fear of spirits? To be clear, though, I am not Jewish, nor do I “practice” or know Kabbalah, nor am I a Jewish folk practitioner. To practice Kabbalah without being Jewish is the same as being a Catholic Priest without ever being Catholic. Kabbalah and Judaism are the same. And, curiously, all of that has been assumed before. I don’t do it. In fact, I have not read a single book about any of those things. I just... I dunno. Soul influence is weird, and I think my alter, Michael, wants to convert. So, we’re gonna have to convert, too, but Michael will be the one doing the Jewish stuff. That’s the funny thing about being a system witch whose alters each have their own soul and different past lives. Besides, Michael is a much more experienced practitioner than I am even though I like to think I’m pretty good (and he likes to think I’m pretty reckless), so we’re just having fun learning from him and the world and spirits and people around us. Anyway, see ya around. Signing off, this has been the Fantasia. Entry Definition: Let’s Clear the Air - a phrase I coined to describe the moment when you ring the bell, clap, let incense fill the air, and more as part of the opening and closing of a ceremony, a reading, and other witchy things.

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nakey-cats-take-bathsss · 4 years

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10 Questions Tag Game

Rules: Answer 10 questions, ask 10, and tag 10 people however many people your heart desires to answer them.

Tagged by: @burninghoneyatdusk

1. What’s a memory you wish that you could go back in time to and relive?

Ohhh shoot, there’s so many of these I don’t know how I could pick just one. Buuut...when I was little we lived more in the country than we do now and all the houses had these big yards with mulberry trees in the back and a creek that flowed out to the marsh. All the neighbors had girls my age and we used to all run around barefoot in grass and swim the creek and eat mulberries off the tree. My dad built me a tree house in one of the mulberry trees and all my friends used to have secret meetings together in it. It was just this like pure, innocent childhood time and I think if I had to pick just one memory it would be one of those summer afternoons swimming in the creek and catching mulberries off the tree to eat.

2. If you could talk to your 13 year old self, what would you tell her/advice would you give her?

100% absolutely that she should stop worrying so much about what people think of her. I was so self conscious and critical of myself, I think I held myself back a lot during that time because of it and I regret it a lot. Also that she should join a sport and stop worrying about trying to be ridiculously thin all the time, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

3. What’s your favorite quote of all time? Why?

Ooohh so many, but I think I’d have to go with the bible verse I have tattooed on me!

“The fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control” -Galatians 5:22-23

I’ve always interpreted it as that God embodies these characteristics and each of us should strive to walk in that image as well. It really become the way in which I frame a lot of my decisions, especially as I age. Consciousness kindness if you will. I think more than any other quote, this one has the most direct significance to the way I try to live my life and the way I aim to treat others.

4. What is the quality you value most in a friend?

I really value people who are easy going and go with the flow. My favorite friends are the ones who are always done to do anything and flexible when things don’t go 100% right.

5. If the pandemic magically ended today, how would you spend tomorrow?

I would hug every single person I’d ever met, go to our local sushi restaurant with my family and go to three Barry’s Bootcamp classes in a row. I would also plan some sort of extravagant vacation because I was supposed to go to South Africa this summer and I’m so bummed it didn’t happen.

6. If you could go back in time and live in any era & location, and face no danger, where would you choose?

As much as it would probably have been terrible to live in this time period, probably Little Women Era. But like, Amy March-esque where I move to Europe and study art and just sit in gardens and write in notebooks and paint haha

7. What heroine of a movie, book, tv show, story, or history do you relate to most?

I think Anne of Green Gables, especially the characterization of her that they have in Anne with an E. Always talking, always putting my foot in my mouth inadvertently. So much of that character reminds me of my little weird self from childhood and that part of myself that I’m learning to embrace more as an adult.

8. Without saying who the person is, what is a question you wish you could ask someone but can’t?

“Where do we go from here?”

9. In one sentence, what are you personally struggling with right now?

I work in image management and social media curation, with the way people have been lately and our general environment, my job is absolutely headache inducing. I used to absolutely love writing press releases and communicating and getting to meet different kinds of people but lately I find myself getting frustrated more often than not. I’m thinking about going to law school for a change of pace lol.

I’m also in a pandemic induced long distance relationship which is just about as terrible as you’d expect.

10. What’s a book/article/story that brought you joy/comfort/healing that you wish others would read?

It’s technically a children’s book, but there’s a novel called “Because of Winn Dixie” but it’s such a beautiful story and it always stuck with me even through adulthood. I read it again recently with my niece and the messaging is so poignant and I think it’s this incredible mix of childhood innocence and the way they view life experiences and mental health. The theme of the book is melancholy and how even bright moments can sometimes be tinged with sadness. Beautiful, a little sad, artfully southern, I think it’s a worthy read even as an adult, especially if you’ve been touched by mental health struggles.

My Questions...

1. Do you believe in soulmates/true love?

2. What’s your happy place?

3. If you could befriend one fictional character (book/show/movie) who would it be and why?

4. Song lyrics that apply to your current mental state/state of your life rn

5. What’s something that helps you stay positive even when things get hard?

(Pick 5 of Sam’s to answer if you weren’t already tagged by her because I think these are all really interesting and I’d love to hear your takes.)

Tagging (feel free to ignore I know these get repetitive but I love y’all):

@elora-lane @bellamyblakru @natassakar @geekyogicheese @obviesbellarke @dayo488 @queenemori @thefangirlingbarista @changingthefairy-tale @spacewalkerprincess @canadianfangirl @itsmevickyb @wolfheartgirl @jediorgana @ninappon @bellarke-griffinblake @princesspistoffitus

#Personal #nakeycatstakebaths #tag games

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schrijverr · 4 years

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The Mystery of Castiel

Dean sets out to prove that his husband, Castiel, is an acual angel walking amongst man. He tries to convince his friends with his documentary. much to the confusion and amusement of fans.

Part of the Famous Husband verse, which is also a series)

On AO3.

Ships: Destiel

Warnings: None, but I’ll be happy to tag something for you, no questions asked! :)

~~~~~~~~~~

The video opened with a grainy and moving shot of a dark hallway with lights spilling out of a doorway at the end. From behind the camera Dean whispered: “I think there’s something in my house. It feels ancient, powerful. So, I’m checking it out.”

He was close to the doorway and he took a deep breath before rounding the last corner, finally showing the kitchen.

Standing at the kitchen counter was Cas, he was in his pajamas and looked like a dear in headlights when he heard Dean enter. In his hands he held a cereal box from which he was eating dry cereal. The digital clock beside him displayed the time, 03:07. His voice was gruff from sleep as he hurriedly said: “It’s not what it looks like.”

Dean screamed, then his intro rolled. It was a drawn impala that came down the road, it stopped in the middle of the screen and the drawn Dean gave a wink to the viewers, then he sped off again and the smoke was bridge back to the video.

The backdrop was out of focus, but you could make out a bunch of red string and vague pictures. Dean was sitting in front of it, his hair was disheveled and he had dark bruises under his eyes. Of course, the viewers didn’t have to know that was thanks to Jessica's make up skills. He rubbed his forehead and said: “I can’t do this anymore.”

He sighed deeply and went on: “I love my husband, I do. He is my everything, but the elephant in the room hasn’t been discussed seriously and it’s eating me up. I don’t know how to start talking about it without him turning it into a joke. Which is why I am making this video, I want your opinions and tips on how to handle this or just for you tell me if I’m acting crazy. Because I really need someone to tell me what to do.”

He was now looking straight into the camera as he said: “I think Cas is either an angel or some sort of cryptid. He’s just not human that’s all I know, okay. He has to be immortal, not of this world. I mentioned this before, but no one takes me seriously.”

The video changed and a time line came into view, while Dean did a voice over: “I met Cas in September of 2010. According to him he is born in 1990, so he should be 30, if all of this is correct and he has aged just like a human would.”

A dot appeared on the line and 2013 came above it. Dean said: “I started my YouTube channel in 2013, Cas claims to have been 23 at this time and I have footage of him in one of my videos.”

A clip played of Dean telling the camera he was going to try and drink three liters of soda in one go with no break in between. In the background a man walked past.

“I now see that that might not have been the best clip, so here is a picture as well.” Deans voice was heard as a photo of a young Dean and Cas appeared. They were sitting next to each other on the beach. Dean had a beer in his hand and cheered to the camera while Cas did a peace sign in the background, bee sunglasses firmly on his face.

“To compare this to now, here is a picture Sam took of us last week.” Dean said and another photo appeared beside it. This one was taken on the couch the viewers knew so well from live streams. Dean and Cas were sitting next to each other in this picture as well, they had a blanket thrown over their legs and a bowl of popcorn on their laps. Dean was kissing Cas’s cheek while he flipped of Sam, aka the camera.

“He appears to have aged normally, although he is still dashingly handsome, if I might say so. Not the point. Anyway, since he has aged so normally most people don’t believe me, but I’m going to prove it.”, the photo’s faded and the Dean from earlier reappeared.

“I’ve been awake for days now, trying to find all the evidence I could, just to try and convince someone out there, to hear a voice back saying that I am not going crazy.” Dean said, “I am married to an immortal non-human, an angel in the biblical sense, and I need to tell someone.”

He picked up a manila folder, and opened it. He started: “Okay, so the first thing I have is his family. He grew up extremely Christian, or so he says, but I think he’s hiding behind a facade of biblical households to hide the fact that he is an angel himself and therefor witnessed everything that happened within the Bible.”

Dean chuckled: “He’s not even subtle about it. I mean, seriously. His name is also the name of an angel, Castiel the angel of Thursday. And he has eleven siblings, which makes a total of twelve children, like twelve as in the amount of apostles Jesus had and they also all have biblical names. His brothers are Gabriel, Micheal, Raphael etcetera. He even has a brother named Lucifer that apparently no one talks to anymore, because he defied their father and is now in prison or something. That’s not a good cover story. That’s the Bible retold, but then bad.”

Cas and Dean had discussed what Dean would say about Castiels family beforehand and they had decided that this was enough. No reason to get into more detail about it. This was supposed to be funny and dumb, not revealing and sad.

“What shoots a hole in this, according to Sam is that we have pictures of him from when he was a child.” Dean said and a picture of a toddler Cas with big blue eyes and a small frown already on his face was shown, before Dean went on: “I think that Sam is wrong. If you’re a powerful entity, you can make fake pictures of a baby-you that has never existed. But I will let you draw your own conclusions about that.”

“Coming back to an earlier point,” Dean went on, “his History knowledge. This is also weird, since he knows everything about History, in particular thing about long long ago. Which as he points out is because he studied History. And that’s fair, but it’s weird.”

He rubbed his face again and groaned in frustration: “Ugh, just let me, let me put this into words better.”

“If you studied History, you know History and that’s just how it is. But what you don’t know is suddenly everything about the ancient times, no matter how much you specialized on it, which I know he hasn’t since he teaches History and you need to know more than just one period in order to do that.” Dean said, “We all on the same page?”

There was a silence, like he was waiting for a response. He acted like he got it: “Good, so why- how can he know everything in excruciating detail about that period? And he knows it like he’s been there and he has an abnormal amount of space in his brain for memories.”

A clip played of Cas, Dean behind the camera. They were on vacation, probably, and standing in a church. Dean said: “Can you repeat what you just said, sunshine?”

Cas looked over, saw the camera and shot it a tired look. He rolled his eyes and pointed at a picture of Jesus: “I said that this Jesus isn’t very realistic, because he isn’t smiling. Well, he has a smile, but it’s like this weird serene one. He was young when he was crucified. You really think a twenty-year-old had any patience or chill? I think not. He had a big happy smile,” then hastily, “probably. I think, at least.”

Disheveled Dean reappeared and said: “Tell me that is not fricking suspicious. And that’s just the one I captured on camera. He’s always commenting stuff like that.” his eyes lit up and he snapped his finger as he said: “Like, like he did in the Q&A video we did!”

The clip played of Castiel talking about the Tower of Babel.

“I mean come on. He talked about it like he knew how it had suddenly turned, because he had been there. I know what you’re thinking, it’s a story that gets told to Catholic children. And you’d be right, it is a biblical story. Yet, Mr. History talked about it like it is something that happened, even though it hasn’t been proven.” Dean explained, “And then he tried to cover it up, by saying how it would be an opportunity to find out. Good cover story, angel, but not happening.”

“And don’t get me started on his lack of pop-culture knowledge.” Dean went on, “I mean, I got him a phone. His first phone ever, for his 21st birthday. No one should get their first phone in 2011.”

A picture of Cas came on screen. He was holding up a phone, but it was all wrong. He held in with his pointer finger and thumb, a thumb that was in the middle of the screen, and he looked at it with confusion written all over his face.

“He also knew nothing about movies.” Dean appeared again, “I had to show him everything. And I mean everything. No Disney, no Star Wars, no Lord of the Rings, no Friends, no Indiana Jones, no horror movies, nothing. Almost like he had been away from earth while all of it was made and only popped down recently, which reconnects to my previous point about the specific History knowledge.”

“Another thing is his social skills.” Dean moved on to his last point, “He had no clue how to interact with people when I first met him and when I asked about it he claimed his ‘people skills were rusty’, like he used to have them, but they had faded over time. Which would be impossible, because at that age you either don’t have them or you do, you cannot have forgotten entirely.”

The screen went black again and a list appeared: “So we now have four strange things about him.”

1. Youth and Family

“His youth is filled with weird biblical details that are so accurate or strange that it couldn’t have been a coincidence.”

2. History Knowledge

“Despite his study, this is still weird and suspicious, but I feel like the evidence I showed speaks for itself.”

3. Lack of Pop-culture Knowledge

“This could also be his sheltered upbringing, but he was already out in the real world for two years when I met him, so why he had never encountered any of it is a mystery. With, in my eyes, an easy explanation.”

4. Lack of Social Skills

��Again this could be his upbringing, sure, but even then. If he isn’t lying about his family that is eleven children and parents along with an entire church to communicate with. You still pick up stuff like personal space.”

Dean appeared again and said: “I’ve laid out this evidence to some of my friends, this were their reactions.”

It cut to Sam sitting on a chair, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Sam asked: “Do we really have to do this, Dean?”

“Yes,” Deans voice came from behind the camera, “just hear me out, okay. I get that you didn’t want to listen before, but I have evidence now.”

Sam sighed.

It cut again to Sam shaking his head and saying: “I don’t know, why you’re so invested in this. All of this has a rational explanation, you can see that too.”

“But the family thing is weird, right. It’s so suspiciously correct that has to be fake that just can’t be coincidence.” Dean protested.

“Actually,” Sam replied, “humans have a weird sense of perception about coincidence. So much happens at one moment in the world that something strange or usual is bound to happen, we classify that as coincidence, but it’s just statistics, Math. It’s very interest-”

“Yeah, whatever, nerd.” Dean interrupted, “So, you don’t believe me.”

“No, Dean. I don’t.” Sam told him, “Can I go now?”

“Yeah.” Dean sighed, before it cut to Charlie sitting in the same chair.

Dean asked her: “So do you know why you’re here?”

Charlie nodded: “Yes and I am willing to hear you out.”

“You are?” Dean said, excitement seeping into his voice.

Charlie nodded, then it cut to her reading the final notes in the folder. She bit her lip and said: “I don’t know, Dean. Some off this is pretty suspicious, but I wouldn’t call it evidence of Cas being an angel or other immortal. I mean, the church can be weird.”

“But the History thing is definitely suspicious, right? I’m not being crazy about that?” Dean asked

Charlie answered: “Well, it wouldn’t surprise me, if he had developed a special interest in ancient Christian history while growing up and if he used to be a heavy believer then I suspect he must have thought a lot about how Jesus must have been and stuff.”

Dean huffed, but didn’t respond.

There was a shaky video of Ellen saying: “Dean, I have a bar to run, I don’t have time for your bullshit.”

But then Jo was in the chair and she said: “Dean, I love you and all, but I’m not doing this.”

“Please, just hear me out.” Deans voice was tired and it cracked, Jo relented.

In the end she said: “This is all strange, sure. I might have believed a bit of it, if I hadn’t known Cas. I mean, come on. He’s a dork and a teacher. He loves you, Dean. Don’t ruin that over something stupid.”

A sigh was heard.

After that it was Bobby, who was sitting on the chair. He didn’t look all that pleased. Most knew Bobby from Deans series about Baby where he would sometimes help or appear in the background and stories about Deans childhood.

Dean said: “Bobby, you know me, right?”

“I’d hope so, boy. I practically raised you.” Bobby replied.

“Exactly,” Dean said, “so you know, I’m not one to make random claims about this.”

“I do.” Bobby sighed, clearly not liking where this was going.

“Great.” Dean exclaimed happily, “Because I have collected a bunch of evidence and I want your opinion on it.”

It cut to Bobby rubbing his forehead while he read the last bits of evidence. He looked up and said: “I think you’re grasping at straws, right now. There are more logical solutions than this, but you’re ignoring ‘em, because you want to see this.”

Significantly sadder than before Dean responded: “So you don’t believe me either?”

“No, of course not, you idjit.” Bobby replied, “I walked Cas down the isle, I think I know the damn guy. He’s not some immortal. And don’t go bothering Jody about this either, you hear me.”

Then it cut back to the disheveled Dean, who said: “As you can see they still weren’t ready to listen to me. So I turned to my last resort, Gabriel. Castiels older brother.”

Gabriel was lounging in the chair, smirk playing on his lips and lollipop in hand. He smiled: “Dean-o, it this what it’s come to? Crawling to me?”

Dean sighed from behind the camera and said: “It was either you or Michael, you’re the least worst option.”

“Ahw, you flatter me.” Gabriel said with a wink, then he asked: “So, what is this all about?”

Dean answered: “I’m trying to prove that Cas is an angel, or an other sort immortal, but main theory is angel. I figured you were the best bet to get to the truth.”

The moment the word ‘angel’ left Deans lips, Gabriels face fell although he quickly tried to cover it up. He tried to laugh it off: “You’re being ridiculous. Little Cassie is a nerd, sure, but immortal. Sorry, but that’s hysterical. Besides, how else would you explain me, or the other people at the wedding?”

“I don’t know, other angels? Actors? Lot of possibilities. Maybe it was mind control.” Dean replied.

Gabriel laughed and shook his head, but when he looked up his face was completely serious as he said: “Stop searching, Dean. You won’t find anything, just love your husband in peace and live a long and happy life, okay.”

Dean swallowed thickly and shakily said: “Okay.”

Then it cut back to Dean from before, who said: “As you can see, he wasn’t very helpful. Although he did kind of scare me, the guy nearly threatened me, but he also made Cas more suspicious. He’s hiding something, I can feel it.”

“Anyway, none of my outside resources were helpful, so it’s time to look at our subject himself, Cas.” Dean said and the screen warped to a vlog.

It was filmed in such a way that it was obvious that Dean was trying to be stealthy. It showed Castiel doing the dishes, after a second Dean asked: “Why don’t you use the dishwasher, sunshine?”

Cas looked around and shrugged: “I don’t trust it, Dean. Machinery doesn’t seem to like me and I have not come to an agreement with the dishwasher yet, maybe later.”

Dean laughed: “The dishwasher is not a businessman, Cas. Here I’ll load it in.”

Then it changed to the living room, specifically the couch. It was a solid couch, easily a 1000 pounds. Dean yelled: “Caaaaas!”

From the distance came: “What is it, Dean?”, along with footsteps.

“I dropped my phone and accidentally kicked it under the couch. Can you help me?” Dean answered.

Cas looked at the couch and nodded. First he tried to fit his hand under and swipe the phone out from underneath it, but when that didn’t work, he grabbed the underside of the couch and lifted it as he told Dean to grab his phone, which he did.

Dean smirked at him and said: “Wow, Cas, very sexy. Have you been going to the gym lately?”

He only got an eyeroll in return along with a quick kiss, before Cas disappeared.

What the viewers didn’t get to see was the small carjack that had been carefully edited out, along with Sam, who had operated it.

Then it was Dean running up to Cas, yelling: “Smile, angel!”

Castiel turned to him like a deer in headlights and blinked heavily when the flash nearly blinded him. What was peculiar about this moment was the fact that his eyes seemed to glow an intense light blue, almost as if he was illuminated from the inside, which had been an easy edit, but it looked very cool, if Dean was being honest.

After that Dean said: “I showed these clips, along with a few others that are, admittedly, less convincing to my friends.” followed by a quick compilation of Sam, Charlie, Jo and Bobby shaking their heads and telling him he was an idiot or other variations thereof, “As you can see, they were still unconvinced.” Dean finished.

“They were unconvinced, what I have set out to do isn’t achieved. They aren’t listening and they aren’t seeing the truth. I know what I see, I know what Cas is. And they are just blind for the truth.” Dean told the audience, “So, I’m trusting you to open your eyes and see what is out there. Please, look at this and see the truth.”

Then it went to the endcard. Dean waved and said: “That was it for today. I hope you can support me and tell me that I’m not crazy. If you do, comment about it, like this video, share it to get the word out. Maybe subscribe and ring that bell, so you won’t miss out on any updates about it. Bye Hunters, see you on the-”

He was cut of by the slam of a door. He startled and looked over, but before he could get over the shock the lights overhead exploded and the room went dark. You could hear the heavy and angry voice of Castiel, who bellowed: “Dean Winchester, you have not listened to the warning Gabriel gave you. Your time has come.”

Then the video ended.

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

Oh my god is he okay?!!!?!?!?!

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

Pff anyone who believes this

shit is an idiot

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

I know this is probably fake,

but I’m scared now

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

Don’t lie, who’s been a fan of

Dean since day one?

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

Okay, but are we gonna talk

about Gabriel???

No?

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

You’re not crazy Dean. I once

saw a ghost. The supernatural

is out there and Castiel can be

who you say he is. We don’t

know what the paranormal has

in store for us. Keep believing,

keep fighting!

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

Dudes, if he had time to edit and

upload it then he’s prbbly fine

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

Should we call the police??

Is he ok???

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

Dean be looking like a raccoon

and still be hella fine

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

Cass talking about Jesus is such

a mood, my Christian ass can

relate

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

IS HE DEAD?? DID DEAN JUST DIE!!! HELLO??? ANSWERS PLEASE!!!

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

Really? After all the sweet and

loving Cas content we got, we’re

supposed to believe this??

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

Get yo self a man whos willing

to make a fake docu bout you

pretending to believe youre an

actual angel

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

Dean was grinning as he scrolled through the comments on his latest videos. He was quite proud of it honestly and was very happy with how it had turned out and the reaction of the fans. Cas saw him smiling and asked: “So I take it, it went well.”

Looking up Dean said: “Yeah, you might have to answer some questions tomorrow, if you want those kids to trust you after ‘murdering me’.”

Cas groaned, but couldn’t suppress the smile and fond eyeroll.

Then the phone rang, Dean looked at the screen with surprise, but smiled when he saw who was calling. It was Sam, the picture of him sleeping with a plastic spoon in his mouth lighting up the screen. He picked up: “Heya, Sammy.”

Sam answered: “Dean, come save me.”

“What is it?” Dean asked, serious brother mode instantly activated.

But it was lost with Sams answer: “I know you’re trying to sell the whole ‘I got murdered by my own husband who is an angel’-stick, but you’re fans are worried and mobbing me on Twitter demanding answers.”

Dean laughed and relayed what Sam had said to Cas, who also chuckled. Then Dean turned back and said: “I’ll do something about it.”

“Somehow that’s not very comforting.” Sam said.

“Don’t worry about it, Sammy.”

“That isn’t helping.”

“I said don’t worry about it.”

“Dean? … Dean! … Dean!”

Dean hung up and turned to Cas as he asked: “Would you mind filming me?”

An hour later a video was posted on Deans Twitter and Instagram. It was off Cas walking into the living room, where an unharmed Dean was sat on the couch. Cas said: “Hello, Dean.”

Dean looked his way and smiled: “Hey, angel. What’s up? Why are you filming?”

Cas replied: “Some off your fans were worried about you after your last video, so I’m showing them you’re okay.”

Dean frowned and asked: “Why would they worry about me? It was just a dumb video doing Just Dance, not flattering, but hardly worrisome.”

“Don’t you remember your funny little video about me and some conspiracy?” Castiel asked, way too innocently.

Dean frown deepened and he looked confused and he said: “What are you even talking about?”

“Nothing, it was all just silly. Don’t worry about okay?” Cas answered, still holding onto that innocent voice.

Dean smiled at him and said: “Whatever you say, sunshine.”

Then it was over, needless to say that fans weren’t reassured, neither were the kids at school the next day, when Cas pretended he had no idea what they were talking about and shut them down the moment they tried to show him the video on their phones.

@Deanmustbeprotected posted about it on their Insta and multiple conspiracies were posted on every platform.

Dean and Cas along with everyone they’d gotten involved watched from the sidelines with amusement. Mission accomplished!

#RR writing #dean winchester #castiel/dean #sam and dean #dean x castiel #castiel #Destiel #Destiel AU #married destiel #destiel youtuber au #youtuber dean #youtube #charlie bradbury #bobby singer #jo harvelle #TEACHER CAS

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justlookfrightened · 4 years

Text

Zimbits bingo post #2

A/N: This takes place immediately after the first part of the first installment (before the time jump). Read the first installment here.

Mutual pining

“Nice guy, huh?”

Jack was watching Bitty walk down the sidewalk, carrying his empty plastic container.

“Yeah,” Jack said. “Yeah, he was.”

“You could invite him over again,” Shitty said. “He’d probably bring more eggs if you asked.”

“I don’t know,” Jack said, closing the door softly. “Seems like he bakes a lot.”

“That is his job,” Shitty said.

“And he doesn’t like dogs,” Jack said.

“He never said that,” Shitty said.

“He was afraid of Puck,” Jack said.

“Not really,” Shitty said. “Not by the time he left.”

It was true, sort of. Eric didn’t look like he’d be offering to play a rousing game of tug with her anytime soon, but he had scratched behind her ears and said goodbye to her as well as to Jack and Shitty.

“You’re welcome to visit with Jack,” he told the 55-pound bundle of affection and energy. “But please don’t scare my chickens anymore.”

“Here’s what you do,” Shitty said. “You walk Puck around to the other side of the block. You happen to see Eric out in the yard. You say hello and show off your girl’s impeccable leash manners. And you say, why don’t you stop over for coffee? Or dinner? To make up for the trouble Puck caused.”

“First, Puck doesn’t have impeccable leash manners,” Jack said.

“Don’t say that,” Shitty said, attempting to cover Puck’s ears. “Don’t be so negative.”

“And he only came over here to complain about Puck getting into his yard,” Jack continued. “It’s not like he has any reason to like me.”

“But, brah, that pie,” Shitty said. “You’ve got to get to know him better.”

“Shits, if I get to know him better, it won’t be for his pie,” Jack said. “Wait, that doesn’t mean something dirty, does it?”

“I know you mean his actual pie,” Shitty said. “And it is great pie. But if not that, what about his big brown eyes? The ones that were looking at you the whole time he was here?”

Jack shook his head.

“He’s a nice guy,” he said. “He doesn’t want my dog in his yard. That’s all there is to it.”

“He’s cute as a button,” Shitty said. “And he likes you. He didn’t have to come in and make omelets and stay for an hour. He likes you. Don’t sell yourself short. The question is, do you like him?”

Jack didn’t answer.

The fact was, Shitty was right. Eric was attractive, no doubt. “Cute” wasn’t really adequate to describe him. And he was kind and polite, and Jack liked the way his voice sounded. Jack liked what little he knew about him. He could like Eric. He could like Eric very much.

++++++++++++

“Hi, Mama,” Bitty said. “How are the church ladies?”

Suzanne Bittle hadn’t been thrilled when Bitty told her he was going to stay in New England after college, but she understood that job prospects in the media world were better for him there, and, once he came out to her, that it was easier for him to live an authentic life well away from Madison. It helped that he came to visit at least twice a year, and kept up with all the family and neighborhood gossip by calling a couple of times a week. Including after the Wednesday night ladies’ Bible study, where there was usually more gossip than Gospel going on.

“Oh, you know,” Suzanne said. “Donna’s daughter is pregnant again, and she’s hoping for a granddaughter. Oh, and you remember Lisa Smith? She’s pregnant, too, even though the wedding’s not for another two months.”

“The wedding?” Bitty said. “Is she sure the baby is Micah’s?”

“Hush you,” Suzanne said. “How was your day?”

“All right, I guess,” Bitty said. “I met one of my neighbors.”

“Yes? Someone who’s home during the day like you?”

“Sometimes,” Bitty said. “Would you believe he’s a professional hockey player?”

“Really? Did you meet him at the rink?”

“Mama, I don’t think he has any reason to be at a rinky-dink community rink like where I skate,” Bitty said. “He gets all the ice time he needs at the team facility. He’s actually still in playoffs. They just won a series against Carolina last night, so he has a few days off.”

“So how did you come to meet him?”

“Well, I rang his front doorbell with a pie and some eggs,” Bitty said.

“What? Just out of the blue?”

“I didn’t know who it was,” Bitty said. “I went over because his dog keeps getting in my yard and pacing back and forth outside the chicken coop. She’s a big pit bull — I don’t want her to push her way in. It would be a massacre.”

“Oh, my,” Suzanne said. “Weren’t you a little nervous about confronting someone with a dog like that?”

“Actually, yes,” Bitty said. “That’s why I brought the pie and the eggs. And he did seem a little annoyed at having a stranger on his porch at first, but once I explained the situation, he apologized. Said he’d fix the fence, and that he had a friend — would you believe Jack has a friend whose nickname I can’t repeat to you?— who was supposed to be watching the dog.”

“Jack is his name?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bitty said. “Jack Zimmermann.”

“There used to be a hockey player, years ago, Bob — Bad Bob Zimmermann, they called him,” Suzanne said. “He was … very handsome. Your Aunt Judy had a poster. I wonder if he’s any relation? Let me look him up —”

“Mama, please don’t,” Bitty said.

“Why ever not? He’s a professional athlete, I’m sure I can find out who his father is.”

“I’m sure you can,” Bitty said. “But — I don’t know, it feels like an invasion of privacy? Like, we hardly talked about hockey at all when I went inside. I wouldn’t have known what he did for a living at all if Sh— his friend didn’t say something about all the protein he needs to eat when I was making the omelets.”

“Omelets?”

“He said he didn’t really eat pie, and it seemed rude to just leave the eggs,” Bitty said. “So I made us a little supper. The three of us, Mama, so don’t go getting ideas.”

“But is he good looking?”

Bitty sighed. Mama would probably at least look up a picture as soon as they hung up.

“Yes, Mama, he is,” Bitty said. “He’s also a professional hockey player and is almost certainly very, very straight. Or so deep in the closet it wouldn’t matter anyway.”

“It’s just you haven’t talked so much about anyone since —”

Since Andrew, who had been wonderful until he wasn’t.

“Mama, just because I haven’t dated for a while —”

“I was going to say since you moved to that new house and started working mostly from home,” his mother said. “I know you can do your editing at home just as easily, and you like to test the recipes in your home kitchen, and it gives you more time for your videos, but don’t you miss seeing people every day?”

“Not enough to spend two hours in traffic five days a week,” Bitty said. “I’ll make friends here. Until then, I’ve got my chickens and the kids I teach at the rink.”

“And now a nice neighbor,” Suzanne said. “Who happens to also be nice-looking.”

“I guess so,” Bitty said. “But just because he wasn’t nasty about his dog doesn’t mean he wants any more to do with me.”

Even if Bitty really hoped he did.

Read on AO3

Read Part 3

Tagging: @zimbitsbingo

#zimbits #zimbits bingo #my fic

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queeranarchist · 3 years

Text

Dear Writer

Heyyo!

It's good to see you here, this is a long exchange so the main thing is enjoying yrself so feel free to pick and choose or ignore this letter as you wish! And feel free to browse through my letter tag for more ideas.

Also, I’m on that full-time work and full-time uni degree grind so it probably will take me like a month to read the fic, does not mean I do not love it and I promise to get to it!! Don’t stress to much about a gap between posting and commenting <3

Now without further ado onto the letter:

General Likes: Trans characters, queer themes, queer solidarity, character development, strong gen. relationships and interactions with characters outside of a relationship, dialogue-driven story, non-linear narrative, animals, angst, hurt/comfort, character introspection

DNW: underage, a/b/o, past S7 for SPN

Supernatural

DNW: Anything past Season 7

Likes: boy king arc, Sam centric fic, queer Sam (I literally head canon him as anything with whatever pronouns), Bobby, trans Dean, religious iconography/themes, Sam being a lore nerd

Dislikes: Sidelining Sam 

Sam/Ruby

1. Ruby lives, I’d love to see how this plays out in Season Five. Whether she sticks with Lucifer or chooses Sam.

2. Sam goes dark side after freeing Lucifer

3. Earlier on Sam starts trusting her and fulfilling his role as the boy king. If this stops Dean from going to hell, changes the way the demons work etc

Sam/Jess

1. Jess lives au! My personal head canon is that Jess is pre-med and being very intent on saving people. When she finds out about hunting, she realises that she can’t just go back to being “normal” knowing people are dying. Maybe Sam decides to go back to law school and they have a semi long-distance relationship where she asks him for advice, maybe they hunt together every now and again. Maybe she joins Dean and Sam and they become a hunting trio.

2. Jess gets brought back to life – place this in any season you want! Go wild.

Dean & Sam

1. Dean keeps in touch with Sam during Stanford! Maybe from the get-go, maybe after a couple of years, maybe seeing each other, maybe just through postcards

2. I’d love to see them during S4 where their relationship starts to fall apart, but like also see them still loving each other

Sam & Dean & John

1. John gets a year to live instead of instantly going to hell AU – how do they react? Do they try to save him? Does John tell them?

2. I’d love a sort of non-linear story of them (especially Sam because it’s been so long) trying to integrate John into his adult life also looking at his life as a child/teen. You know the general angst about how he’d done it, he’d gotten away and he’s right back at square one. Also, Dean starting to realise that he isn’t a kid anymore, and he’s got his own thoughts etc

Sam & Dean & Cas - Cas/Dean & Sam

1. I want to see Sam and Cas and Dean being pals! I especially want to see Cas trying to figure out how he feels about Sam without heaven influencing him to think of him purely as the boy with the demon blood who will break the last seal. I wanna see Dean making fun of Cas with various misconceptions about the bible and Cas just taking it wildly seriously and not getting any jokes.

2. I’d love just a domestic-ish fic, let Sam drill Cas with questions about angels and heaven! Let Cas drill Dean and Sam about human culture! Would love to see Cas taking human culture things out of the context that Sam and Dean provide him, or maybe Dean purposely lies to him about something as a prank

Sam

1. Licherally anything in the boy king arc! I’d love to see him fulfilling his role as the boy king. This stops Dean from going to hell, changes the way the demons work etc

2. His time at Stanford! I’d love to see him adjusting to his new life.

3. I would love to see a bit more of him in Season Four! How he feels about Dean being chosen by the angels, how this affects his view on religion, how he feels about himself and the demon. Blood etc

4. Just some introspection anytime in the series tbh, love to see this boy struggle with wanting to be good, with wanting to be normal, and then um not being those things

5. I’d love a sort of non-linear story of Sam trying to integrate John into his adult life also looking at his life as a child/teen. You know the general angst about how he’d done it, he’d gotten away and he’s right back at square one.

Final Fantasy XV

Likes: fics that include the whole gang, trans Gladio, anything with Prompto, angst about destiny, angst about royal linage, character introspection

Noctis/Gladio/Ignis/Prompto

1. I really like angsty fics about destiny with this lot - I would love to see how the way in which they’ve been raised effects their relationship, be it being groomed to be king or shield or advisor. I would love a getting together fic, with whichever ship you wish to write, with a lot of internal angst.

2. I would also love a post cannon fic where Noctis is alive (magic, never died, skip over it entirely it’s up to you) where they all settle down, maybe Noctis lets the world think he has died so he can live a peaceful life?

3. Set between game cannon and Brotherhood, I‘d be down to see what these guys got up to in the years between high school and the road trip. Did Prompto and Noctis study after high school? Do they travel?’

4. Less of a prompt and more a vague feeling but like *slaps prompto* this bad boy can fit so much angst in it. Honestly he’s childhood is depressing af, with the lack of parents and friends combined with a shit body image/relationship with food I wld rlly love some emotional hurt/comfort with him and the squad

Noctis/Prompto

3. I would like to see a fic of Prompto integrating himself into Noctis’ life, Gladio and Ignis have been around his entire life, so how does Prompto feel about them? How do they feel about him? Honestly I’m 100% here for awkward insecure bby Prompto

4. Set between game cannon and Brotherhood, I‘d be down to see what these guys got up to in the years between high school and the road trip. Did Prompto and Noctis study after high school? Do they travel?

5. Less of a prompt and more a vague feeling but like *slaps prompto* this bad boy can fit so much angst in it. Honestly, he’s childhood is depressing af, with the lack of parents and friends combined with a shit body image/relationship with food I wld rlly love some emotional hurt/comfort with him and the squad

Naruto

Likes: the summons, Rock Lee, the squads and how they operate, Naruto getting to eat the ramen he deserves, Sakura being an actual bad arse fleshed out character, trans Naruto

Sasuke/Naruto

1. Naruto leaves and joins Sasuke on his mission to destroy to Leaf, talks him out of y’know murdering everyone but agrees that the Shinobi system is deeply fucked and needs to be fixed

2. I’d like a fic of Sasuke thinking about Naruto while doing all his plotting, be it set when he’s with Orochimaru or the Akatsuki, it would be nice to see him thinking about Naruto, wanting to stop doing so, wondering how strong he could have been if he had managed to kill him and gain the mangekyou earlier

Gai/Naruto

1. I’d like a fic set just before Kakashi gets his genin, really love to see Gai trying to talk up how cool having a squad is! Dragging Kakashi to see his kids and being like aren’t my team great! And then Team Gai getting into some crazy hijinks that make Kakashi a lil scared about the future but also maybe a bit endeared towards them

2. a fic of Gai watching Kakashi slowly loose himself while in ANBU, of him trying to make things right and not being able to and then eventually asking him to be removed from the forces

SDV

Likes: world building, farm creatures, small town hijinks

Sam/Seb

1. Angst about getting out of town, leaving SDV and becoming who they dreamed they would in HS

Sam & Seb & Abigail

1. Abigail talks them into exploring the mines

2. They pull a prank

3. Angst about getting out of town, leaving SDV and becoming who they dreamed they would in HS

#f5k #letter

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a-queer-seminarian · 3 years

Note

Hello, you seem to be knowledgeable about god. Do you know where to find him and what his weaknesses are? I have dedicated my life to hunting him down and killing him for the indescribable amount of suffering he has directly or indirectly caused.

cw: violent language, including about fighting / killing God; as well as discussion of the Shoah / Holocaust later on in the post

(gonna start this long-ass response by saying that yes, i know this anon is probably joking about dedicating their life to hunting down God, but i’m gonna answer it like they’re serious because that’s the kind of person i am haha)

honestly anon, all power to ya! it sounds like my own understanding of God is quite different from yours (for instance, i would claim that God’s main weakness is actually Their best strength, which is compassion and steadfast solidarity) -- but the question of why God allows suffering is one i come back to all the damn time.

if you do track God down -- if God turns out to be a Being that can be tracked down to one location and time -- please do deliver my regards and my sincerest “WTF??”

you’re not the first to demand God answer for the suffering that’s happened on Their watch --

for if God is truly omnipotent, and truly all-loving, why don’t they do something about all this pain??? Indeed, the Bible is rich with similar demands -- from the psalmists to Job to Jesus himself from the cross (quoting a psalm, he cries, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me??”).

You might already know all this, but if not, the question of God’s place in suffering is often referred to as theodicy, at least in Christian circles.

That term comes from the Greek for god + justice, so what it literally means is “justifying (or vindicating) God”....which I’m not a huge fan of, because it implies that when we explore this question of where God is in suffering, we already know the result will be that God will be proven innocent (or at least “not guilty”).

But do we know that?? See the bottom of this post for an example of a time people of great faith found God guilty!

Anyway, theodicy describes intellectual efforts “to jerry-rig three mutually exclusive terms into harmony: divine power, goodness, and the experiences of evil.“ - Wendy Farley

If you want to learn more about theodicy and the way some theologians have “made sense” of suffering, check out this introductory post I’ve got.

Or wander through my whole #theodicy tag over on my other blog.

I invite you to explore theodicy not in any attempt to convince you of anything, but so you know some of the arguments you’re up against! Honestly, the more i explore theodicy, the less satisfied i am with any justifications for why God doesn’t intervene in the face of so much suffering...so if you do the reading and still conclude God is guilty, i’m not gonna tell you you’re definitely wrong.

Anyway. Like i said, you’re not alone in wanting answers for why God -- however, i don’t know that i’ve seen anyone else with your determination to find and kill God!

(Except, and i hate that i know this lol, that’s apparently the plot of the final season of Supernatural -- they find out God’s a total ass who not only is guilty of negligence but also directly responsible for a lot of suffering for his own sadistic enjoyment. so. they kill the bastard.)

Still, while i don’t know that i’ve seen too many people who want to take God out, the idea of wrestling God is pervasive -- especially within Judaism, but also among some Christians.

i’m very into wrestling God, myself, finding it far more faithful to the God who gifted us free will and invites us into true, mutual relationship than unquestioning obedience.

i have a whole #wrestling God tag over on my other blog.

For the most intense example of wrestling with God i’ve yet seen, with God put on trial and found guilty, keep reading.

_________

cw: discussion of the Shoah / Holocaust below

You might connect to Elie Wiesel’s play The Trial of God, or the movie that was made based off it. Wiesel survived Nazi concentration camps but ceased to believe in God after what he suffered. His play was inspired by something he witnessed while a teen at Auschwitz:

"I witnessed a strange trial. Three rabbis—all erudite and pious men—decided one winter evening to indict God for allowing his children to be massacred. I remember: I was there, and I felt like crying. But nobody cried."

Robert McAfee Brown wrote more about this trial Wiesel witnessed:

“The trial lasted several nights. Witnesses were heard, evidence was gathered, conclusions were drawn, all of which issued finally in a unanimous verdict: the Lord God Almighty, Creator of Heaven and Earth, was found guilty of crimes against creation and humankind.”

Note that in 2008 when commenting on this event, Wiesel clarified that “At the end of the trial, they used the word chayav, rather than ‘guilty.’ It means ‘He owes us something.’”

In the chapter “No God, Only Auschwitz” of his book Embracing Hopelessness, Miguel A. De La Torre comments on this verdict by explaining that if God wasn’t going to intervene, then God must at the least speak -- but instead, God was silent:

“God must be held accountable for refusing to speak to those yearning for God’s voice. Something. Anything. A note of solidarity. A testament of love, accompaniment. But they hear and receive nothing. The trial...ends with God owing us something.

De La Torre goes on to describe the play Wiesel wrote based on this memory, which actually takes place in a 1649 Ukranian village, rather than at Auschwitz. The Cossacks raid the village and kill all but two of its Jewish residents.

“In Wiesel’s play, he has the inkeeper Berish voice the same questions those sitting in death camps centuries later asked, if not audibly, then silently:

‘To mention God’s mercy in Shamgorod [Auschwitz] is an insult. Speak of his cruelty instead. ...I want to understand why. He is giving strength to the killers and nothing but tears and the shame of helplessness to the victims. ...Either he is responsible or He is not. If He is, let’s judge him; if He is not, let him stop judging us. ...

‘[I] accuse Him of hostility, cruelty and indifference. ...Either He knows what’s happening to us, or He doesn’t wish to know! In both cases He is...guilty! Would a father stand by, quietly, silently, and watch his children being slaughtered?’”

De La Torre continues with his own thoughts on all this:

“The horrors humanity faces indict God as being less loving and attentive than sinful parents. I hesitate to make any pronouncements as to the character of God because in the final analysis, I lack any empirical knowledge upon which to base my study. Still with all my heart and being I want to say: my God is the God of the oppressed who incarnates Godself among the least of these.

I want to make this bold claim based on the testimony of the gospel witness. But in the midst of the dark night, I confess this hopeful belief is at best a tenet accepted by faith, lacking any means of proving the truth or falsehood of the claim. In the shadow of Auschwitz, though I am not Jewish, nonetheless I am left wondering if the precious Deity who notices the fall of a sparrow is blind to God’s children crushed in the winepress. Do I dare wonder if God is the God of the oppressors?

...Or maybe this is a God who really wants to do good, but lacks the power to do anything in the face of inhumanity. ..."

There’s one more piece to this tale of Wiesel’s witness of the trial of God at Auschwitz. And that is that, after declaring God guilty (or chayav)...

...after what Wiesel describes as an "infinity of silence", the Talmudic scholar looked at the sky and said "It's time for evening prayers", and the members of the tribunal recited Maariv, the evening service. (McAfee Brown)

...That ending is the part that astounds and awes me. These Jewish prisoners at Auschwitz find God guilty -- and then proceed to pray as they always do. I am reminded of what my Jewish friends as well as various Jewish scholars have told me: that Judaism is totally compatible with wrestling with God and even with disbelief. Whether these Jewish prisoners believed God even existed, they prayed -- because that tradition of prayer is what unites them to one another, to their people.

As De La Torre closes his telling of Wiesel’s story,

“At the conclusion of the movie God on Trial, based on the events Wiesel described, shortly after the barrack inmates find God guilty, and those chosen are marched to the gas chamber, they cover their heads and pray. ...

Believers and unbelievers who took the audacious act of placing God on trial do what is totally illogical -- in the midst of their hopelessness they demonstrate their faith as they march toward the gas chambers, or they defiantly embrace who they are while still remaining in heated conversation, damning God. It matters not if God still hears their prayers, or if there even is a God to hear; they still pray, they still debate -- not for God’s sake, but for their own.”

And that brings me to the one bit of actual advice I’ll give you, anon:

If you want to spend your life “hunting God down,” as I said, all power to you! But I do suggest you ponder for whose sake you do so -- and whether you do so for justice or just revenge. What good does such a quest do for those who are suffering now? Are their other paths you could follow that would bring more good? What about your own healing? I imagine you’re not interested in repairing any relationship with religion -- would walking away from God rather than hounding God be a more healing and fruitful path for your finite life?

I’ll close with one more quote from De La Torre, from the very end of his chapter:

“As I stroll through what was once the concentration camp of Dachau, I am cognizant that this space witnessed the unspeakable horrors that befell God’s children at the hands of Christians hoping for a better, purer society and future. ...So do not offer me your words of hope; offer me your praxis for justice. ...In the midst of unfathomable suffering, the earth’s marginalized no longer need pious pontifications about rewards in some hereafter. Nor do they need their oppressors providing the answers for their salvation. What is needed is disruption of the norm to push humanity toward an unachievable justice.

When there is nothing to lose, when work does not set you free, not only are multiple possibilities opened up with new opportunities for radical change unimaginable to those playing it safe; but also a venue is provided by which to get real with whatever this God signifies. ...”

#theodicy #god's silence #god's absence #god on trial #wrestling god #...literally #suffering #embracing hopelessness #essays #Anonymous #holocaust /#shoah /#elie wiesel #yes yes i know this is a troll but hey. i like to talk about theodicy SO thanks for the chance to talk about theodicy at its most extreme

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