#for I have ancient scriptures

[more-profound-bond]

I bring you Part 3 of silly inception memes I made

Part 3

Part 2 <-

Part 1 <-

[reginrokkr]

𝐗𝐋𝐕. One of the characteristics that the very first humans created by Phanes bear is that they don't possess a gland in their brain whose secreted hormones impede them to see the truth of the world, masked by the encroaching Heavenly Principles, unlike the humans that would come after the War of Vengeance that would prelude the Apocalypse in Teyvat. The same is true to Dain, who was explained that it was of extreme necessity to contain the original laws of the world for a chance at survival in it prior to being tasked to retrieve the Genesis Pearl from the Abyss —not virulent yet as it would later become by the actions of the gods and the arrival of Forbidden Knowledge—.

Soon after his descent to Teyvat, Dain came into contact with the aftereffects of Phanes' doings to the world. Its resentments and hatred turned into darkness, attacking everything in sight and a natural enemy to the humans that have grown used to fight against it as the world in itself that was fabricated as per the Primordial One's design in an attempt to restore it to its origins. To his surprise, he found a dragon who was fighting against this darkness in order to protect what was salvageable of the world. Prior to his descent, Dain was told that the dragons are the worst enemies of the gods and humans alike and that they must be eradicated. But there was a wisdom this dragon displayed that made him question everything he knew: if dragons antagonize everything that is related to the Primordial One, then what is the reason for protecting this world instead?

During the first moments when the world began reacting to the coming of the Forbidden Knowledge and as per the deep sentience of the dragon over that which he had command, he was tainted by the Abyss and a conflict between him and Dain arose, leading to the former's murder.

And before the dragon falls into the chasm that dissolves all things, he will think of the times he once spent with the hero. And at last, he will say: ◜Yes, hatred shall not fill me. I know that you have not seen the sights I have, and that is why you wish to stop me.◞ ◜The star-beasts shall drink the amniotic fluid of the world dry. A hundred years from then, all life on its surface shall be wiped away.◞ ◜I will surely return to save all souls. Ten years, even a hundred years may pass, but I shall be reborn as a new universe.◞

But seeing the dragon's disposition even at Death's doors, in a moment of lucidity devoid of the abyssal influence also made Dain lose something precious to him: he will never again believe in anything that the sum of human knowledge cannot completely grasp and understand. Thus having exposed to the dragon's final revelation followed by what is an unjust death to Dain, one question arose:

What is the truth of this world?

At that moment, sensing that in truth Dain's mind is conflicted and stopped trusting the Heaven's fabricated reality and anticipating that he may become a foe to the Heavenly Principles, his memories regarding Celestia were erased. Thus Dain treaded the world at a loss of what to do, finding other people along the way starting from Sal Vindagnyr who also doubted everything they knew that was relied to them by the Heavenly Envoys and ultimately earning their respect and hopes to guide them away from the godly realm. Ultimately, through Dain's protection and combat skills he guided them far away where the gods' gaze shouldn't reach, putting in between their domain and the Abyss until, at Irminsul's roots a forest basking in moonlight was found and so Khaenri'ah would be founded right there.

Through everyone's efforts, knowledge and practises from their respective places of origins the base of the kingdom was established with Dain as their collectively chosen king. As the Apocalypse continued and more people became affected by the divine's irrational actions, more people would find their way to the moonlight forest or would be found by others who took it on themselves to guide those who had lost their homes and their faith to Khaenri'ah. Nevertheless, at a certain point, Dain fell into a coma due to the chilling pain he felt when the Ley Lines of various places of Teyvat were damaged in the war as an extension of Irminsul's own pain. During his coma, he would experience endless nightmares, all of them related to the events that were transpiring on the surface of Teyvat and the deeds of the Forbidden Knowledge running haywire in their attempts to have access to Irminsul.

After an unknown time has passed, he would wake without any memory: a blank slate. The sky that before was illuminated in the moonglow now tainted with red and a crimson moon hanging ominously over everything and as he investigated further to understand who he is and why he is there, he found out two things: in the modest palace he lived, he encountered that he was an important figure among the people who lived there as per the scriptures and the people now turned their faith on the crimson moon. Finding that this contradicts deeply with what the kingdom was like before he fell into coma and the bad feeling he had about that moon, Dain made no move to reclaim his throne. Instead, he fell into silence and accepted to be regarded as a high noble, his deeds leading him thereafter to become one of the pillars of Khaenri'ah out of a will of protecting the people and see humanity prosper still under the command of the king of the time: Crimson Moon.

But against all odds and despite a shattered memory due to the restructuring of the Ley Lines to fix them, Dain's original moment of losing faith in everything he's known shows itself as later on he becomes father of the Truthseeker art: initially meant to be a sword art to teach coming generations of knights that would later grow into a philosophy of its own.

[handweavers]

when reading scripture or religious texts in my studies from a variety of religions (a not-insignificant part of my education has been religious studies) i can appreciate and understand the beauty and appeal of it and make sense of its internal logic system and worldview and feel that i'm picking up what it's putting down even if i don't necessarily identify with it on a personal level, but i gotta be honest i always feel like i'm missing something or losing my mind when i read christian texts like i don't get it and it doesn't make sense to me and nothing about the trinity makes sense to me and the entire worldview feels so harsh and terrifying and bleak for no reason and every time i've asked anyone in my family (on the christian side) to explain any of it to me like sincerely i just feel more baffled and whenever i've had to read passages of the new testament i dont get it at all like even abstractly i don't understand and it makes me feel crazy like what i'm looking at has to be completely different from what other people are seeing and i don't mean it in a reddit atheist smug asshole way like it's genuinely beyond my comprehension I Don't Get It and i don't think i ever will

[milkymiks]

Prev

Danny can’t find Jason, he’s too young of a ghost, powerful, but inexperienced. He knew that Jason is from another universe, but he can’t access that Universe, having been relying on the fenton portal for going in and out of the ghost zone. Sam and Tucker can only do so much but they did what they can and Danny is grateful for their efforts.

Years went by, longer than how long Jason had been with them, They’re in 2nd year college now and Jazz is graduating. Danny had been crowned the King of Infinite Realms despite his futile attempts at prolonging it, ‘A year after your legal maturity day is the perfect time’ As Clockwork had said. Still no sign of Jason.

It happened a year later.

Danny, drowning in bureaucratic shit that the ancients had decided to set aside despite their own ability to solve those problems themselves only to dump them in an inexperienced newly unwillingly crowned King. Danny is also in his third year of college that means his human identity is also drowning in fucking thesis papers, He’s getting nightmares just by looking at parchment and office papers.

Jason would probably laugh at him.

Jason, who has been missing for more than five years…

God Danny misses Jason, He misses sitting at the roof of a random house with him Stargazing. He misses Jason’s excited babble whenever he discusses some difference with the classic literature in this world to his’. The feeling of his core synchronizing with his…

Was he even real? No, Sam and Tucker remembers him so he wasn’t some hallucination.

Danny glances down on the paper before him, rereading the thing three times before it registered in his mind and promptly throws the parchment away from him, and because it’s paper, it only flapped pathetically on the air before smacking him in the face. He sighed.

___

“Fuck we were too late! they’re almost complete with the chanting!” Constantine curses, sees the runes etched on the floor and pales.

“What exactly are we dealing with here?” Batman grunts, They’re a good feet away from the cloaked figures. The warehouse is dark, the only light source coming from the green flamed candles surrounding the runes.

“I wasn’t sure at first, but the sudden shift in the atmosphere earlier was heavy, I thought they were summoning demons, That we can deal with. This is so much worse”

“Get to the point” Batman turned to the other’s “apprehend the cloaked figures, especially the one in the middle, we need to know their intentions” Dick nodded and saluted “Roger that” He and the other bat’s got to work. Zatanna started to seal the area around the runes to keep whatever was about to be summoned inside.

“They’re summoning the High King of the Infinite Realms, The infinite realms is the border between all universes and where everyone that dies, ends up to. I don’t know how they managed to conjure all the materials needed to but they’re summoning a GOD!” Constantine is panicking “And I don’t even want to touch the shit that’s happening inside there with a ten foot pole but I do know the king is a tyrant!”

“Hah! It’s too late! This is as fated from the scriptures, Pariah Dark will free us and govern the world with his greatness!” The deranged leader said, laughing in his binds as Red Robin easily kept him down. In front of them the runes lit up with a bright green, the ground shook as the cloaked leader’s deranged laughter increased.

A large black whispy arm shot out from the ground in the middle of the summoning circle, followed by a head, A flaming crown on top, then a body, its jagged rib cage outside framing his torso. everything about it looked off, apparently even for the cult leader that summoned it.

“Wha-?! You’re not Pariah Dark!” He screamed and thrashed in Red Robin's hold, who held him down with a foot on his back.

Its white eerie eyes darted down to him, It seemed to take full offense as it bent down and hisses “Do I look like Pariah Dark?” Its voice is like fork grating on a chalkboard, every mortal in the room winced, especially Red Robin who is closer in proximity.

The King straightened up and swept its cold eyes across the room “Why am I called here?” It sounded annoyed, like they’re just ants wasting its time, which in retrospect they were.

“I swear I changed the summoning requirements…” It muttered, which was heard by everyone. A hint of humanity, they could use this. It’s obviously a new King but they have to thread carefully.

Constantine stepped forward and bowed “High King of the infinite realms, we deeply apologize on behalf of these cult for wasting your time. We want nothing of the sort from you and we only wish to be on your good side”

It looked and stared at Constantine for a good moment before it lunged with rage, only stopped by the summoning circle and Zatanna’s barrier “YOU!!!!”

Constantine stumbled a step back in shock at the absolute hatred brimming the King's eyes.

“You’re the major cause of my headache’s! Who the fuck sells their soul to different entity’s when you only got one?! You whore! I have a special cabinet just full of your paperwork shit! I ought to just kill you and slice your core into ten so I’ll have one less ton of paperwork to deal with!”

It smashes its fist on the barrier and a resounding ‘crack’ echoed across the warehouse.

Constantine can feel Batman’s glare on the back of his head, Zatanna’s strengthening the barrier but the King doesn’t seem to care.

The other bats have gathered the cultist to one side of the room far away from the summoning circle and they stood waiting for orders dealing with their new problem.

Danny sighed, he wanted to finish up until section J but he still has to deal with this. He looked consideringly at the flimsy barrier keeping him, the only reason he stayed was so he wouldn’t scare the superhero team gathered around already securing the cult that was the cause of this shit. Also this is a new universe, not unheard of as he knew a lot of ghosts from this universe and other variants, Just that he hasn’t had the time to visit as many universes as he would’ve liked.

Ever since taking the crown his powers grew exponentially and he gained the ability to cross other universes as he liked. It’s just that the few Universes he managed to visit didn’t have His Jason in it. And there are infinite universes, it’s like finding a microscopic needle in a pit of hay.

He shifted from his eldritch form to something more fitted for royalty. It wouldn’t hurt to check this universe out. The cult summoning him had been knowledgeable but not enough, They only bound their souls to him as an offering so he isn’t required to grant whatever wishes they would have liked.

Danny flew out of the summoning circle and the barrier, He could make acquaintances with the people here. The guy in black and blue spandex looks friendly.

Batman and the other’s watched as the King turned into a more human form and tore through Zatanna’s barrier with no problem, floating down and seemed to say something before he froze, eye’s widening, and then he shot off.

“Nightwing, Robin, I trust you two to finish this up and hand them over to the GCPD. The rest of you let’s go, we can’t trust an unknown entity to roam free”

“It’s headed towards the docks” Zatanna informed them, already ahead in locating their wayward King.

Batman frowned, The docks, It’s where Red Hood currently is, he turned down the emergency call claiming he already had other plans. He caught wind of another unauthorized drug trade starting to circulate when the alley kids helpfully informed him of unfamiliar men trying to sell them drugs and a few attempts of kidnapping. Everyone knew each other in crime alley and one of the main rules Red Hood has is to not involve kids.

Next

[chanelrolls]

oops! accidentally touched your...

PAIRINGS. rafayel, sylus, zayne, xavier, & caleb x gn! reader (separate)

SYNOPSIS. how would the LADS men react to you unintentionally landing your hand on their crotch (dick)?

CW. mdni! mdni! mdni!

RAFAYEL

it wasn’t supposed to happen, your hand had just slipped while the two of you were squeezed together on the small velvet couch in his studio, sketchbooks scattered everywhere. you’d leaned in to point something out on his page, and in the process, your palm landed right on his bulge. there came a beat of silence, before... “...excuse me?” rafayel's voice cracked slightly as he shot you a look, one dark brow twitching upward like he couldn’t believe what just happened. you then froze, hand still firmly planted where it shouldn’t be. his face flushed, not quite red, but a heated pink crawling up his neck like his body had betrayed him by reacting. he didn’t push your hand away, though. instead, he dramatically tossed his pencil aside and let out a wounded sigh, flopping back against the couch like you’d just personally offended his entire bloodline. “oh, sure,” he muttered, throwing an arm over his eyes. “go ahead. touch me all you want. clearly i’m just...furniture now.” you blinked, abruptly pulling away, “rafayel, it was an accident!” he peeks at you from under his arm, mouth twitching like he was holding back a grin, though the tips of his ears were still suspiciously red. “an accident,” he repeated, “how very convenient. what’s next? falling into my lap?” then he huffed, sitting up straight again and brushing imaginary dust off his trousers with a little pout. “honestly, if you’re going to get handsy, at least have the courtesy to date me first...” and then he bumped his thigh against yours deliberately, just enough to fluster you right back. payback.

SYLUS

the meeting room was too quiet, filled only with the soft clicking of your laptop keys and the occasional turn of a page from sylus, seated beside you. he’d insisted you review the latest contract drafts together, and you’d agreed, even though being in close quarters with him made your thoughts stutter more often than you’d like. you then shifted to grab your pen, leaning a little too far over, and your hand brushed his crotch. firm. warm. solid beneath tailored fabric. you froze but sylus didn’t flinch, he didn’t pull away. instead, he slowly turned his head to glance down at your hand still lingering on his leg. there was a pause long enough to make you panic a little. then, his lips tugged into a slow, smug curve. “...comfortable?” he asks, voice low and calm, a glint in his eyes like he’d caught you red-handed and was already savoring it. you yanked your hand back, mortified. “i-it was an accident.” “mm,” he hummed, leaning slightly closer, his cologne brushing your senses like silk. “of course it was.” he made no effort to move away, letting the silence stretch before casually flipping the page of his binder. “you’re lucky i like you,” he murmured under his breath, like it was a quiet indulgence he didn’t usually allow himself. “next time,” he added, eyes still on the paper but voice dipped low, “ask me before touching. you might be surprised at the answer.”

ZAYNE

you weren’t even supposed to be there. zayne had told you to wait in the hall, but you wandered in anyway, curious and stubborn as always. he was seated at his desk, looking through patient files like they were ancient scriptures. you sat down beside him without asking. “you’re in my space,” he said calmly, without looking up. “you’re in mine,” you said back, not moving either. he sighed through his nose. a small, familiar gesture of restrained exasperation. “childish.” you leaned forward to peek at the papers, elbow brushing his. and then, in the smallest, dumbest accident of the day, your hand fell, and landed squarely on his crotch. zayne didn’t move, but his whole body tensed under your hand like a wire pulled too tight. you pulled away instantly. “ah sorry! that was... yeah. not on purpose.” his pen hovered midair for a second longer before he placed it down carefully, like he didn’t trust himself to keep writing. “...it’s fine,” he says huskily. but it wasn’t fine. you could see it in the way his jaw shifted, in how his fingers curled ever so slightly on the desk. “zayne?” he didn’t look at you, still staring at the desk. then, quietly, “you shouldn’t touch me like that.” "i said it was an accident.” he lets out the faintest breath of a laugh. humorless. “i know. that’s why i’m still sitting here.” a beat passed. “if it wasn’t, we’d have a much bigger problem.” you couldn’t tell if it was a threat, a warning, or something else entirely. but his ears were red.

XAVIER

the two of you had been reviewing documents at a quiet corner of the office. it was late, the only light coming from the soft glow of the overheads and xavier’s laptop screen. he sat beside you, perfectly upright, posture impeccable as always. “can you pass me the stapler?” you asked. he nodded, not saying a word and just handed it to you with that usual robotic grace. but then, when you reached to take it, your hand slipped. blame the fatigue or maybe the awkward angle, but instead of grabbing the stapler, your palm landed firmly on his bulge. you froze. he froze harder. you looked down. your hand still there. “...oh my god.” his face stayed neutral. too neutral. “sorry—i didn’t mean to, i was—” he cuts you off, “it’s alright,” he said, voice calm. but it was not alright. you looked up at him. his eyes were fixed somewhere in the distance, like he was analyzing the molecular composition of the wall. but there, there it was. that tiny twitch in his left brow. a faint shift in his jaw. and oh, his ears were turning a little pink. you slowly pulled your hand back, feeling the tension in the air like static. “xavier,” you said, “you sure you're okay?” “mm.” he nodded once, a bit too quickly. “do you want to… talk about—” xavier shooks his head slightly, “actually, do you know if the printer’s working?” he blurted out in a sudden. you blinked. “...printer?” “yes. it’s important. very important.” you squinted at him. “we’re not even printing anything.” he didn’t respond. just kept staring forward like an android who had glitched halfway through a social routine. but under that cool, unbothered front, you could see it: the faint, chaotic panic behind his eyes. the internal crisis. the “i’m pretending this didn’t happen but i’m also not normal about it” energy. you leaned in, voice playful. “xavier. you’re blushing.” “that’s a malfunction,” he muttered. “really?” “uhuh, a mild overheating issue, meaning you should do it again.”

CALEB

(usage of meimei and gege)

you were sitting on the bleachers after practice, the gym mostly cleared out except for the sound of bouncing basketballs echoing from the far side. caleb sat beside you, towel slung around his neck, jersey sticking to his skin from the sweat. he looked tired, but still had that smug, lazy grin on his face. “you’re always watching me when i play, huh?” he teased, nudging your side with his elbow. “don’t think i don’t notice.” “i was just... trying to study your form,” you mumbled. he chuckled. “sure, sure. call it what you want, meimei.” he leaned back, palms resting behind him for support, his thigh just a little too close to yours. and when you shifted to adjust your bag, your hand accidentally landed right on the... crotch. you froze. his leg tensed under your touch. “...oh.” you blinked. “s-sorry, i didn’t mean to—” he didn’t say anything at first. his grin was gone. he turned his head slightly to look at you, eyes sharp now. “did you like what you touched?” he asked, teasing, but there was a dangerous undertone laced into it. you tried to pull your hand away, but his hand caught your wrist. “gege—” “what?” he tilted his head, mock innocence in his tone. “you touch me like that, then look at me like you didn’t mean to?” he leaned in, close enough that you could feel the heat from his skin. “you sure it was an accident?” you swallowed hard. “caleb…” he smirked again, like a switch flipped back. “relax, i’m just messing with you,” he chuckled, ruffling your hair like always. but that gleam in his eye didn’t fade. he finally let your wrist go, stretching like nothing happened. “you should be more careful where your hands go, though,” he added, smiling as he looked forward. “i might not be able to control myself next time, meimei.”

[prodijedi-archive]

⠇ askbox prompts ⠇ ━━━ i want only to bring peace and order to the galaxy.

⠇ askbox response ⠇ ━━━ the task is only impossible because you have deemed it so.

⠇ visuals ⠇ ━━━ signature look of superiority.

⠇ headcanons ⠇ ━━━ your fresh furies are my ancient mistakes.

⠇ musings ⠇ ━━━ it’s not in his character.

⠇ dash game ⠇ ━━━ i’ve been looking forward to this.

⠇ archived ⠇ ━━━ i wonder if any meaningful change will come of this.

⠇ analysis ⠇ ━━━ we should be out here; restoring balance by whatever means possible.

⠇ wishlist ⠇ ━━━ twice the pride; double the fall

⠇ scriptures ⠇ ━━━ find balance within ourselves.

⠇ ooc ⠇ ━━━ dave filoni stole my last braincell.

( 𝑴𝑨𝑰𝑵 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / padawan ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀perhaps the best padawan of his generation⠀⠀—⠀⠀canon compliant

( 𝑴𝑨𝑰𝑵 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / the clone wars ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀jedi lost⠀⠀—⠀⠀canon compliant

( 𝑴𝑨𝑰𝑵 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / redemption ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀jedi found⠀⠀—⠀⠀canon divergent

( 𝑨𝑳𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑵𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / multiuniverse & time travel ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀seeds of time⠀⠀—⠀⠀canon divergent

( 𝑬𝑿𝑪𝑳𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑽𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / redemption ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀prophetic and dyadic⠀⠀—⠀⠀vendettavalor

( 𝑬𝑿𝑪𝑳𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑽𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / redemption ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀master to two generations of jinns⠀⠀—⠀⠀mvndrvkez

[not-so-superheroine]

the apostle paul invented gay male misogyny and revolutionized internalized homophobia.

he found jesus, or rather jesus found him, but he needed a therapist as well.

too bad those didn't exist in 64 AD.

[ryin-silverfish]

So You Want to Read More about Chinese Mythos: a rough list of primary sources

"How/Where can I learn more about Chinese mythology?" is a question I saw a lot on other sites, back when I was venturing outside of Shenmo novel booksphere and into IRL folk religions + general mythos, but had rarely found satisfying answers.

As such, this is my attempt at writing something past me will find useful.

(Built into it is the assumption that you can read Chinese, which I only realized after writing the post. I try to amend for it by adding links to existing translations, as well as links to digitalized Chinese versions when there doesn't seem to be one.)

The thing about all mythologies and legends is that they are 1) complicated, and 2) are products of their times. As such, it is very important to specify the "when" and "wheres" and "what are you looking for" when answering a question as broad as this.

-Do you want one or more "books with an overarching story"?

In that case, Journey to the West and Investiture of the Gods (Fengshen Yanyi) serve as good starting points, made more accessible for general readers by the fact that they both had English translations——Anthony C. Yu's JTTW translation is very good, Gu Zhizhong's FSYY one, not so much.

Crucially, they are both Ming vernacular novels. Though they are fictional works that are not on the same level of "seriousness" as actual religious scriptures, these books still took inspiration from the popular religion of their times, at a point where the blending of the Three Teachings (Buddhism, Daoism, Confucianism) had become truly mainstream.

And for FSYY specifically, the book had a huge influence on subsequent popular worship because of its "pantheon-building" aspect, to the point of some Daoists actually putting characters from the novel into their temples.

(Vernacular novels + operas being a medium for the spread of popular worship and popular fictional characters eventually being worshipped IRL is a thing in Ming-Qing China. Meir Shahar has a paper that goes into detail about the relationship between the two.)

After that, if you want to read other Shenmo novels, works that are much less well-written but may be more reflective of Ming folk religions at the time, check out Journey to the North/South/East (named as such bc of what basically amounted to a Ming print house marketing strategy) too.

-Do you want to know about the priestly Daoist side of things, the "how the deities are organized and worshipped in a somewhat more formal setting" vs "how the stories are told"?

Though I won't recommend diving straight into the entire Daozang or Yunji Qiqian or some other books compiled in the Daoist text collections, I can think of a few "list of gods/immortals" type works, like Liexian Zhuan and Zhenling Weiye Tu.

Also, though it is much closer to the folk religion side than the organized Daoist side, the Yuan-Ming era Grand Compendium of the Three Religions' Deities, aka Sanjiao Soushen Daquan, is invaluable in understanding the origins and evolutions of certain popular deities.

(A quirk of historical Daoist scriptures is that they often come up with giant lists of gods that have never appeared in other prior texts, or enjoy any actual worship in temples.)

(The "organized/folk" divide is itself a dubious one, seeing how both state religion and "priestly" Daoism had channels to incorporate popular deities and practices into their systems. But if you are just looking at written materials, I feel like there is still a noticeable difference.)

Lastly, if you want to know more about Daoist immortal-hood and how to attain it: Ge Hong's Baopuzi (N & S. dynasty) and Zhonglv Chuandao Ji (late Tang/Five Dynasties) are both texts about external and internal alchemy with English translations.

-Do you want something older, more ancient, from Warring States and Qin-Han Era China?

Classics of Mountains and Seas, aka Shanhai Jing, is the way to go. It also reads like a bestiary-slash-fantastical cookbook, full of strange beasts, plants, kingdoms of unusual humanoids, and the occasional half-man, half-beast gods.

A later work, the Han-dynasty Huai Nan Zi, is an even denser read, being a collection of essays, but it's also where a lot of ancient legends like "Nvwa patches the sky" and "Chang'e steals the elixir of immortality" can be first found in bits and pieces.

Shenyi Jing might or might not be a Northern-Southern dynasties work masquerading as a Han one. It was written in a style that emulated the Classics of Mountains and Seas, and had some neat fantastic beasts and additional descriptions of gods/beasts mentioned in the previous 2 works.

-Do you have too much time on your hands, a willingness to get through lot of classical Chinese, and an obsession over yaoguais and ghosts?

Then it's time to flip open the encyclopedic folklore compendiums——Soushen Ji (N/S dynasty), You Yang Za Zu (Tang), Taiping Guangji (early Song), Yijian Zhi (Southern Song)...

Okay, to be honest, you probably can't read all of them from start to finish. I can't either. These aren't purely folklore compendiums, but giant encyclopedias collecting matters ranging from history and biography to medicine and geography, with specific sections on yaoguais, ghosts and "strange things that happened to someone".

As such, I recommend you only check the relevant sections and use the Full Text Search function well.

Pu Songling's Strange Tales from a Chinese Studios, aka Liaozhai Zhiyi, is in a similar vein, but a lot more entertaining and readable. Together with Yuewei Caotang Biji and Zi Buyu, they formed the "Big Three" of Qing dynasty folktale compendiums, all of which featured a lot of stories about fox spirits and ghosts.

Lastly...

The Yuan-Ming Zajus (a sort of folk opera) get an honorable mention. Apart from JTTW Zaju, an early, pre-novel version of the story that has very different characterization of SWK, there are also a few plays centered around Erlang (specifically, Zhao Erlang) and Nezha, such as "Erlang Drunkenly Shot the Demon-locking Mirror". Sadly, none of these had an English translation.

Because of the fragmented nature of Chinese mythos, you can always find some tidbits scattered inside history books like Zuo Zhuan or poetry collections like Qu Yuan's Chuci. Since they aren't really about mythology overall and are too numerous to cite, I do not include them in this post, but if you wanna go down even deeper in this already gigantic rabbit hole, it's a good thing to keep in mind.

[sheeezu]

How to shift

(From my point of view, it is a well articulated one I hope it at least gives someone the confidence that you can change realities regardless of mindset or whatnot)

I am of firm belief that you can shift any way you want, you can get ancient scripture from divinity and rehearse them before sleeping to shift, or rawdog it. There is a lot of shifting material on my blog, the community has evolved mainly to promote the idea that shifting is attainable by living in the movement. First of all, yes. This post is a little different because although it follows the structure of how a method would, but, according, to, ⚠️my personal opinion ⚠️ this is how someone shifts.

Background.

This is all depended on letting go (temporarily forgetting) of the previous reality, and completely blending in with your intended reality. The switch, is made to seem natural, and not forced. Why I believe in this? Well. I shifted with doing something similar. (FOREVER GRATEFUL I BOW DOWN)

I still actively support you can shift by plain affirming, regular methods, and while still being aware of the previous reality. But you can use this if you've tired yourself out by other practices and need a definite guide. Rest assured, this is me milking out all my shifting experience and knowledge.

As someone asked, (I did see your ask, this strangely corresponded to this post I was about to make) yes yes yes, moving doesn't matter while shifting. You can be dancing or swimming in your physical environment, the only hiccup that you can possibly perceive is your mind getting distracted mid change of reality, when you're thinking like your dr self and your thoughts divert to your cr. That's why someone can say to minimise the distractions in your environment, but physical distractions are nothing in comparison to the effect of your own mental space on your reality. (....before someone attacks me, I am talking entirely in the pov of this post, I don't believe in blockages, ty, back to the text)

How to shift

Your environment is unfortunately still at play. But you can shift, sitting up, lying down. (You know this already I won't get into this) just makes sure you have space to think.

Observe. When you lay down, your mind starts to recall either events of today, or what's going on in your conscious/subconscious. Your first realization would be that "I should attempt to shift" you can take a few minutes to set things straight in your mind. When the intention registers, you can start affirming. And don't get pissed off at your mind, or demotivated when the affirmations don't or barely give you symptoms. Your goal is to determine which direction points to your dr. This will release the pressure or responsibility you have with shifting. The more time you spend in this state is better, because your wakefulness will start to dawn; you'll get sleepy. With sleep, you slip out of your mold and the lightness you feel is due to you merging with your true self.... and obviously, shifting is instant in this state. (What? :) it is)

Void. that- that body of yours is stuck like glue and the weird song you've heard from the commercial you've heard is still going on. You can force your thoughts to go blank. For a minute, you can still let the intrusive thoughts pass by, just don't give them importance. This way, this bridge in your river of thoughts is paused for you to jump your attention upon your dr.

dream. When I research shifting, I always look at how dreams work. Why we dream. The surreal nature of them. ...something from my drafts:

"That's why dreams are so comforting. There is no second guess. There's no regret. Everything is a blurry, silly mess of your consciousness. It's an artistic masterpiece. It's a realm centered around you. It is an exploration of the world inside of you. It's free from laws or morals. It doesn't take place in the 3d. While they hold deep meaning, they're always unserious as they play out. That's how your reality is supposed to be. That's how you're supposed to shift or manifest. Dreams are your first introduction to creation.

They pass on a note to you, that you can shape the next moment. You just need to become lucid. Whether in a dream, or right now, when you lay down to shift, you need to be awake to witness and use your own power."

There's this discussion, how you should visualize or imagine during shifting. the superior advice is to barely do so, or that you don't need realism at all. Others say, you should imagine it clean and sharp; I say it should be the quality and alike a dream. Logically and theoretically they are the rehearsal of your consciousness, a blurry and nonsensical mess through which your brain rewinds the reality you're in. It's a remembrance. It's a push. To wake up back in your usual reality. When the picture of your dr that goes by is projected as a normal day to day occurance. While not rejecting the need to imagine your dr, that's your first step to normalising being in your dr! Tldr. Imagine, romanticise, think about your dr.

??? Be there. There's this type of stubborness only someone aware of their own potential and power can possess. It doesn't include the constant asking or checking of "am I there?" It's telling yourself. (If you check your environment due to intrusive thoughts just give yourself the "yes" it's a lonely little world in your mind 😔 until you wake up to your s/o's snoozing face--> back to the text) this is where the "senses shift last" comes in. You should properly trust this beforehand. I believe you'll be in a haze. If you're not, you should stop being hyper aware of everything; symptoms, mainly. There's a way to utilise symptoms as well, you can assume theyre your vibrations raising higher and higher (...if youd like). The hazy mindset means, you'll be relaxed and it wouldn't appear to you that you're trying to shift. Take this thought completely out of your mind, that you're shifting.

Blend in to your dr. Like grass grows out the soil; let your soul blossom naturally. You spend so much time reading posts on tumblr, they all tell you you're in control, you consider and accept their words. But why do you panic while and before shifting? You choose to shift. Either directly or indirectly. Anyways, philosophy aside. You should think like your dr self; or you there. Plan your day. Hear the voices in your dr. Develop the impulses, the reflex actions that usually enable you to sit up on your bed, like in this reality, you have certain actions you replicate each morning. Replicate those for your dr. Train yourself to perform five senses in a trance state. Have long rants about a certain events in your dr self's voice, without calculating or weighing them. You script for so long. You plan your dr self for so long. You can be naturally like your dr self as well. Start your cross over and don't stop. Don't dissolve in the artifical sweetener. And don't force yourself.

Epilogue. You tell me yourself. What's left behind? What's there to return to now. When you've embraced all your dr is, when you yourself bestowed your soul back to your dr, you're there.

This is not at all what I expected it'll turn out to be, disclaimer, the actual method is linked somewhere in the post, you can go see how to practically implement all this... rant ? This might be rushed, because it is. There's another fish to add in my bucket of posts. I felt the need to make a post. Anyways, if any questions then ask away. (Put them in my inbox)

This is probably not the detailed guide I promised in the poll.

[noirscript]

of moss and memory

Pairing: Yandere Elf x Reader Description: Held captive beneath the mountain, you are worshipped by the obsessive elf Elarion, who tends to you like a sacred bloom, whispering promises of love, legacy, and the life growing he swears will soon take root inside you. Warning/s: Yandere | Kidnapping | Possessive Behavior | Captivity | Obsession | Emotional Manipulation | Isolation | Implied Breeding kink | Drugging (sort of?) Note/s: Apologies for the inactivity! Since you guys seemed to like fantasy men, here's a yandere elf. By the way, commissions are still open and Dark Roast is also available for half it's og price. Enjoy reading!

Masterlist | Commission | Tip Jar | Dark Roast

You hadn’t seen the sun in weeks.

Or was it months?

Time meant little beneath the mountain where Elarion Vaelthir kept you, folded into a garden spun from nightmares and dreams. This place wasn’t built of stone and walls. No, it breathed. It grew. The halls were vines fused with crystal. The floors glowed faintly underfoot, pulsing like veins. The ceiling shimmered with false starlight, shifting endlessly above a lush, otherworldly paradise.

Elarion called it your sanctuary.

You called it your cage.

It was easy to forget the surface world here. The air was thick with the scent of night-blooming flowers, soft as a lover’s sigh, and every inch of the space had been molded to soothe your senses—or drown them. The water you bathed in was warm and still, always drawn before you woke. The meals were delicate and fey, infused with sweetness that lingered on your tongue like sleep. And then, of course, there was him.

Always him.

Elarion moved like something ancient pretending to be beautiful—and succeeding too well. He was tall and lithe, built not like a man, but like a bowstring held in perfect tension. His skin was pale and radiant, kissed with the faint shimmer of moonlight on fresh snow. Long white hair spilled in silken waves down his back, often tied in loose braids with obsidian clasps etched in runes that pulsed when he touched you. His ears swept high and elegant, twitching imperceptibly when you cried. But it was his eyes that undid you: silver-blue like frozen fire, luminous and unblinking, set beneath a brow too refined for anything human.

You used to fear them.

Now… you tried not to look at them at all.

He came to you each morning with flowers in his hand and scripture on his tongue. "You must eat, little flower," he would say, setting a delicate silver tray on the moss-carpeted bench beside your bed. “You’re too thin. You must nourish the body I love so dearly.”

He said it so gently, you almost forgot what he’d done to you.

You hadn’t been brought here. You’d been taken.

That night in the woods came back to you in pieces—petals of memory scattered in wind. The festival. The lanterns. The music. You’d stepped away to catch your breath, heart fluttering with excitement and wine, when the trees hushed and the shadows thickened. And then he appeared, without warning. Just appeared—silver and black and sharp with desire, like something summoned from a forbidden tale. You hadn’t screamed. He didn’t let you.

“I have been watching,” he whispered, fingers trailing down your cheek as vines coiled around your wrists. “You are the perfect match. The one the stars wrote into my blood.”

Your struggling had meant nothing. He didn’t bind you with ropes. He used enchantment—words older than language, slipped into your thoughts like lullabies. He whispered promises, curses, futures. And you believed them, even when your voice told you not to.

That was the most terrifying part: how much of you wanted to believe him.

Now, beneath the mountain, with your memories fading like dust, you sometimes did.

You’d tried to escape once—ran down a passage lined with glowing fungi, your bare feet burning with cold—but the path shifted. The plants rearranged themselves. Vines grew where none had been. You ran in circles for hours, sobbing, until the walls parted and Elarion stood there, watching you with something close to pity.

“You will only hurt yourself,” he murmured, cradling your body when your knees gave out. “You are not meant for the cruel world above. That place was killing you slowly. Let me show you what it is to live.”

And you wanted to fight. You did. But he held you so tenderly, and for just one moment—one long, agonizing moment—you melted into him.

That was when the real battle began.

He never raised his voice. Never touched you in anger. His cruelty was care. His obsession was dressed in silk and offered in petals and warmth. He washed your hair with his own hands, combed it slowly, humming songs from a time before your people had learned to write. He built a garden around your bed—midnight lilies, glowing thorns, sleeping vines that curled when he breathed near them.

Every gesture said: You are mine.

Every whisper promised: I will never let you go.

And then there were the nights.

At first, he let you sleep alone. Then he took to sitting at the edge of the bed, watching you as if you were a statue in a temple. Then came the touches—featherlight caresses along your arm, your collarbone, your waist.

"You were made for this," he told you once, voice a husky purr as he traced your navel with reverent fingers. “You carry within you the last hope of my line. Our children will be divine, born of man and immortal blood. The first of a new age. Our legacy.”

You trembled. “I never agreed to—”

“You were chosen,” he said, gently pressing a kiss to your stomach. “The bond is older than you. I feel it in your skin, your scent… the way your heart stumbles when I’m near. Even now, your womb listens to me, craves me. Do not be afraid. You will bloom beautifully beneath me.”

There was magic in his voice. Not cast—woven. Laid like chains in your spine, until you shivered and closed your eyes, praying to a god who no longer heard you.

He never forced you. That would break the illusion he so lovingly curated.

No. Elarion was too patient for that. He wanted you willing. Bent, not shattered. Molded until you asked for him.

And the longer you stayed in his world, the harder it became to remember the life you once led. Your name felt like someone else’s. Your face in the mirror—a stranger. There were days you woke with aching need between your thighs, and you knew he’d been near in your dreams, whispering things you couldn’t remember but your body did.

Then came the silk gowns—sheer things that clung to your form, whisper-thin. He dressed you in them himself, brushing his knuckles over your thighs, hips, breasts. Never quite taking you. Always almost.

"You are ripening," he said once, eyes dark with hunger as he laid you down upon the moss and placed his ear against your belly. “The time draws near.”

And your heart stuttered.

Because some part of you wanted it.

Not just the attention, the softness, the slow unfurling of touch—but the idea of becoming something sacred. Chosen. Worshipped. Loved.

Even if it was twisted.

Even if it meant never leaving.

You no longer flinched when he kissed you. You no longer turned away when he whispered, “My queen. My mate. My love.” You let him hold you as you slept, his arm tight across your waist, hand splayed possessively over the place he wanted filled.

And the worst part? It felt good.

It felt safe.

He’d stolen everything from you—family, name, freedom—and replaced it with himself.

And now, as he entered the garden chamber, bearing a wreath of pale flowers and a cup of glowing wine, you didn’t shrink away. You rose to meet him, your sheer gown falling in soft waves around your legs. His smile was slow and bright and deeply, dangerously satisfied.

“You’re ready,” he said, lifting the cup to your lips. “Drink, my love. Let the stars bless this night. Let the forest bear witness.”

You hesitated—not from fear, but from the aching weight of what came next.

He cupped your cheek. His touch was fire and frost. “You were always meant to carry me,” he whispered, lowering his mouth to your neck, fangs brushing your skin. “And now, I will plant myself in you. Again. And again. Until the bond is sealed. Until you forget you were ever anything but mine.”

You drank.

And the garden trembled as if the mountain itself held its breath.

TBC.

noirscript © 2025

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger @delusionalricebowl @nomi-candies @jsprien213 @kaii-nana33 @saturnalya @yandereaficionado @pinksaiyans @ivantillenthusiast @missybabes

[holway-g1rl]

Assuming Navidson Actually Left intact, who knows if he left with his soul¹

navidson: YIKES! this "house" seems to be growing! if this doesnt stop soon, i might have to "leaf"!

johnny truant:

[shukraastro]

Planets & Nakshatras observation on looks and traits

(applicable for spouse analysis)

Mars ruled Nakshatras: Mrigashira, Chitra, Dhanishta

The skin will have a pinkish/reddish undertone.

They can have cuts/scars/marks on the face (representing their fighting spirit).

Men are prone to anger issues (except for Chitra, cuz it lies in Libra, so they have good controle over their anger)

Women are usually restless or even anxious, especially in Virgo Chitra and Mrigashira.

Saturn ruled Nakshatras: Pushya, Anuradha, Uttara Bhadrapada

If Moon is in these Nakshatras then women can be seen wearing corsettes/shapewear or very tight clothes often, bcuz Saturn represents restrictions.

Saturn also represents ink and metals and in these Nakshatras a person can have tattoos and piercings, but a trigger planet for that would be Mars bcuz Mars rules over wounds and cuts. So Mars in these Nakshatras can very likely result in tattoos and piercings.

Purva Bhadrapada Nakshatra:

If you go back to my previous posts you will find about the foot injury trait of Purva Bhadrapada. I have seen this play out so many times that this Nakshatra will give some type of foot injuries, and prominently on the left foot. Justin Bieber has the planet Sun placed in his 7th house in the D9 chart and it is in the Nakshatra of Purva Bhadrapada. Sun is linked to performing arts, Hailey used to dance Ballet until she injured her left foot. You see how planets in Nakshatras inside the 7th house of the Navamsa can play out.

Also another thing I have noticed in this Nakshatra is the lip shape, they can have a pouty rectangular shaped lower lip. And women here somehow give off "island girl" vibes.

They can also have precognitive dreams, because they are very in tune with their higher self.

Rohini Nakshatra:

They love to wear oversized, baggy clothes and quality materials, because of Moon's influence, they love comfort. On the other hand they may also love to display their appealing physique.

They also love branded luxury items: cars, watches, clothes, perfumes. And they love food a lot, they can eat a lot (with Saturn influence they can be cautious and go on diets).

Also after eating food they will get tired, because of the Venus and Moon influence.

And they will always end up having no fixed work schedule in their career.

They can also become the most achieving at a young age, compared to their workmates.

DK planet or 7th lord in Rohini can give a spouse with sining and dancing abilities, Hailey Bieber has Moon DK/7th lord of D9 in Rohini. (Planets like Sun, Moon, Mercury and Mars can give that as talents, Jupiter could make someone a teacher in that area and Saturn could give it as a career).

Moon influence:

Moon connected to any spouse placements or 7th house can give musical talents in the spouse.

Moon in the 7th house can also either give a cat like appearance to the spouse or a bunny like appearance. Both animals are symbolically connected to Moon, cats are connected because of the hightened intuition and bunnies are connected by the chinese folklore of the moon goddess who's companion is the bunny/rabbit.

Mars influence:

Having Mars as DK/7th lord can indicate a spouse who might be a soldier/police/athlete just anything physical movement related.

Saturn in Rohini:

This combination can cause consumption of Whiskey to enhance creativity. A person will love to drink to feel relaxed and sing and dance. If Mercury influence is also there as well it can amplify this even more.

Saturn in Rohini can also result in dryness, skinnyness, lack of water in the body, dry/flaky skin and acne or other skin irritations. But therefor a person will be very disciplined in following a quality skin care rountine.

Ketu Ruled Nakshatras: Ashwini, Magha, Mula

Will have out-of-body experiences/precognitive dreams/sleep paralysis

They can be very interested in ancient history/culture/scriptures. They're all about the past and the root of things. They may love to dig under the ground, that's why Magha especially can make someone an archeologist or historian or even a teacher.

Also Magha is strongly connected with royalty/royal lineage. They may not be considered a royalty but counting a number of generations back, their ancestors might have been powerful individuals.

In these Nakshatras a person will let their hair grow out. Because hair is linked with roots. And Ketu is all about the roots, because it's the tail of the dragon, the tail represents the underground while Rahu, the head of the dragon represents the sky. So Ketu ruled Nakshatras will keep their hair long, it makes them feel spiritually connected to their past lives. There is something they cannot let go of from their past lives.

Revati Nakshatra:

Another Nakshatra which is connected to royal lineage. (same as Magha here also).

If a man has his DK/7th lord/Venus in this Nakshatra, his wife can be taller than him.

They love to travel and their travel journeys will be comfortable, without any kind of major complications.

They will also be very successful outside of their home country.

With Venus here, a person will find their spouse in a foreign country or move to a foreign country after marriage for their spouse. The spouse can also be someone who travels a lot or is successful overseas. Or a person will travel a lot with their spouse.

Rohini, Mrigashira & Ashlesha Nakshatra (snake yoni or symbol):

As the Ascendant/DK/7th lord/Venus natives will always attract strong Rahuvian people.

They have very intense and hypnotic eyes. Either dark and big or bright and slender. If their eye color is dark they may tend to wear light colored contacts, which can give their eyes a snake like appearance.

Ashleshas will be lisping.

Swati Nakshatra:

They can jump very high and run very fast, they love being in the air/speeding through the air, because the deity is Vayu, he rules over the air (Rahu ruled Nakshatra-Sky connection).

Venus in Swati can make a person have a love for the sky in a creative way, also can give singing abilities, because music is carried through the air, they can also have a love for good sports shoes (for jumping) or high platform shoes (Venus-fashion & Rahu heights). But these can also apply to the spouse, because Venus generally represents the spouse.

Swati can make a person be a fanatic for extreme sports related to heights like mountain climbing, bungee jumping and sky diving. Mars and Venus here can also make a person excel in martial arts and music.

Also they just can't stay still, they are always moving, and can't keep still for a second. They look like they can jump off any second.

I will do more of these observations for the other Nakshatras that are left.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Thanks for reading. 🪐

[thewertsearch]

During his penance, it was said the Sufferer's compassion for his people underwent a divine transformation, into limitless, burning rage.

I would expect nothing less. He might be a hero, but he’s still a Vantas.

It burned hotter than the irons shackling him to the imperial flogging jut, and redder than the blood soaking his Righteous Leggings.

You hear that, Karkat?

Those are holy garments that you’re wearing. Respect them.

When he was finally killed, his anger rung through the cosmos with his last breath. This Vast Expletive was his final sermon, and somewhere encoded in its wavelengths was the truth in his teachings, waiting to reveal itself to any who would inherit his burden.

Some day, the grand legacy of Karkat's bloodline will arrive in his heart – and if I’m not mistaken, it will arrive as the loudest FUCK that our boy has ever heard.

This is exactly the kind of awakening that Karkat deserves. 10/10.

His teachings would also persist through surviving disciples, but in hushed tones.

Redglare was born long after the Sufferer’s tale was censored out of existence, but these Pyropes are savvy girls. I'm sure the Neophyte was wise enough to question her planet’s bloody history, and sneaky enough to seek out like-minded compatriots under the Grand Highblood’s nose.

It seems like she even knew enough to predict the location of her own descendant’s hive, and gifted her a dragon that I’m willing to bet was kin to her own. An unsung hero of the previous age, for sure.

His following would dwindle to an obscure cult facing persecution for centuries.

Surely he’s not talking about Gamzee’s cult? Those clowns are all about the hemospectrum, and certainly wouldn’t heed the sermons of some bleeding-heart redblood.

Maybe the Juggalo cult is technically a splinter of Sufferism, but its founder’s message has been corrupted beyond all recognition, to suit the needs of those in power. We should all be thankful that such a disturbing concept has only been explored in fiction.

The Sufferer preached that after he passed, another Signless would come, heralding the end times for their planet. The Second Signless would continue his work, and lead his people to glory beyond this realm. The followers kept his teachings alive for ages, even as the uproar surrounding the movement subsided. By modern times, the Sufferer's scripture was little more than ancient superstition all but forgotten. Hardly the anathema of old. But the followers had already made their preparations in the shadows, and when the Second Signless finally came he would have a lusus to raise him and a sign to his name.

You hear that, Karkat? You were never really alone. If anything, you were the most loved troll in all of Alternian history – loved by trolls who would never meet you, but who worked for centuries to ensure that you’d be born safe.

That you’d have your Crabdad.

...alright, what if I just cried.

[clairewritesfanfics]

Hello and good morning/afternoon or evening wherever you are. I hope this isn’t a bother but can we have a doctor strange! Reader having to take down interdimensional threats like angstrom and mark variants before the time stream collapses ( kinda like spiderman long way from home. I love your work!)

A wise woman once said, “For a genius, nothing is more precious than failure.” 

For a doctor, there is no such thing as perfection–that’s why they call it “practicing medicine,” because there is always more to learn and there will always be something to improve.

Sadly, you were no longer a surgeon. Magic is the source of miracles, but even it is bound by destiny, and destiny states that you were meant to serve the world outside the operating room. Outside the realm considered “normal.” 

Being Sorcerer Supreme wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. Sure, you could turn bullets into butterflies at the flick of a wrist, and yes, it’s nice being able to go anywhere without having to wait for the bus or sit still in an airplane next to a crying baby.

You prevented evil wizards from taking over the spirit and mortal world, stopped the sun from becoming a black hole more times than you can count, and outsmarted an interdimensional Eldritch abomination–

Blah blah blah. 

You missed the good old days, when you were just a student at the bottom of the food chain, when there was more to study, more to explore, more to learn. 

Humans are privileged in not having enough time to learn everything all at once. You were an unfortunate exception. With your astral projection, sleep was no longer something you worried about; while your physical form recuperated, your soul would devour all the books and ancient scriptures available. But now? You knew everything. Time is the enemy for mortal scholars, but what happens when time becomes your slave? 

The time stone has long been lost, but during the brief moments you had it, you bore witness to every branch from the tree of fate. Every probability, every parallel universe blooming with every choice made by everything and everyone in existence.

In one of those blossoms, a man named Angstrom Levy saw but a tiny fraction of eternity, and thought that he alone had unlocked the secret of the universe.

“Little fool,” you said, voice cold. 

He struggled against your binding spell but the golden strings around his neck, waist and limbs tightened in response.

“Don’t waste brain power trying to escape.” The spell that kept him in place also cut off the source of his teleportation. 

When he finally realized that there was no flaw to exploit in your ropes, he breathed out an angry “Who are you?” 

“Wow, you really tried to take over the multiverse without even knowing who I am? Very well–” You flipped your cape. “You are one of the chosen few to meet me in person. I am the Sorcerer Supreme, Master of the Mystic Arts.”

“I have never heard of you.”

You laughed at his cheap attempts to insult you. “That’s all right. I’ve been around for so long that monsters have forgotten to fear me. Soon, you will be joining them.”

“Me? You’re punishing me? What about him–what about them?” He didn’t have to say a name. You knew exactly who he meant. And that person’s alternate selves were likely already killing each other in that wasteland dimension.  

“What about them?”

Angstrom was taken aback by your words. “Mark Grayson is nothing but a pest, a-a-a darkness that ruins everything–”

“Mark Grayson is the sole existence that’s keeping this world and all the other worlds alive.”

He looked at you like you were insane.

“You really don’t know anything, do you?” 

“Know what?”

You placed your palm over his eyes, white light flashing as you force-fed memories into his head. 

Angstrom screamed in agony.

You pulled back. “Now you know the truth.”

“No… it can’t be.”

“You’re supposed to be a smarter man than this, Angstrom, do not deny what has been placed in front of you.”

“No!” He wriggled, the binds suffocated him with each movement. “It can’t be! This world, me and him, you’re telling me… you’re telling me that every bad thing that has happened to us, every single choice we made was meaningless?!”

You shrugged. “I wouldn’t say ‘meaningless.’ You and everyone else here was born for a single purpose–” You smiled and said: “Entertainment.”

Golden threads wrapped around his mouth, stopping him from shouting once again. 

“The gods are cruel, aren’t they?” You whispered. “But there’s not much we can do about that.” 

You waved your hand and he was gone. 

Time to clean up his mess.

You cracked your knuckles and opened the last world he accessed with his powers.

It wasn’t a dying Earth, but a dying universe. Even if they flew out of the Milky Way they won’t be finding anything. 

When you appeared, two of them tried to attack you but your protection spells were quicker. 

“Now gentlemen, there is no need to be rough. I’m here to send you home.”

The Mark draped in black and yellow kept his fist on your shield. “You expect me to believe that? You’re with Angstrom, aren’t you? Where is he? I'm going to kill him!”

You didn’t say anything, merely watched as he tried punching you again. 

Another Mark with a veil joined him.

Idiots.

You snapped your fingers and your shields combined to a giant dome that pushed them back. “I’m not that little red-haired playmate of yours, it’s going to take a lot more than a few hits from a Viltrumite to break down my force fields.”

You waved your arm and they started floating against their will. Even with their smart atoms, they couldn’t fly away. 

The others regarded you with anger and suspicion. 

“Who…what are you?” The Mark wearing Omni-Man’s colors demanded.

“I’m the Sorcerer Supreme.”

There was a beat before he replied, “Who?”

Your eyebrow twitched. “Look, I already dealt with Angstrom, I came here to help you get back to your respective timelines out of the goodness of my heart, mind you.”

“How about you take us to Angstrom and we don’t beat the living shit out of you?” The guy with the awful haircut said.

“I don’t think you want that.”

“I think we do,” said the bald one. 

The Invincible with his whole head covered up stepped forward. “We don’t want to fight, so just surrender.”

“Speak for yourself,” Mohawk snorted. 

“Give up,” Omni-Invincible pointed his finger at you. “You are outnumbered.”

“Oh?” Your cape fluttered behind you. “Well, you are outclassed.” 

To call what happened next a “fight” would be an insult to the word. They fell like flies in a matter of seconds. 

You sent them to their realities and once again, the multiverse was safe from destruction. With a yawn, you went back home and watched a movie. 

A/N: I've never watched the Tom Holland Spiderman films and my knowledge about Dr. Strange is limited, but I didn't want to reject these requests cause they gave me a chance to write an OP reader. Once again, liberties were taken when I made this fic. (Y/n is also lowkey inspired by the unrivaled Madam Herta.)

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[moonlightcycle571]

I love reporter Billy, but consider this: Billy becoming an architect to fix the Rock of Eternity (ROE)

Here’s the thing about the Rock. They used to have a council, people filling their halls and people who would maintain their infrastructure.

Now there is only a ghost of a (singular) council member and the new champion.

It’s also been who knows how many centuries or millennia Roe was renovated, and no one fixed them after the battle that led to the end of the council. So they are not in good shape. The wizard was holding on by a thread, that’s how damaged they were.

Billy, having grew up with Roe as their most stable place to stay, of course noticed. He’s read the books in the Library of Eternity, has seen the scriptures of the ancient civilisations and saw the carvings on the walls of the people who used to walk here.

Having grown up homeless, Billy knew the foundations of what makes a building safe to stay in. He’s even renovated a few abandoned apartments to make it livable once he’s learned how to use magic. Which in turn, may have inspired him to study architecture.

Roe is in shambles when they meet their new champion. Roe expects to remain in that state of disrepair for the foreseeable future. What Roe didn’t see coming is the sheer dedication of the child they helped raise.

A thing about Fawcette is that there’s a mix of serval centuries style through out the city, mostly because of time distortion and well as magic and runes instilled in the buildings. Meaning they have one hell of an architect program.

Not only does Billy preserve and off the natural foundations, but he also adds new designs, carved stone to incorporate beautiful pieces to adorn the halls. Adds new runes to help Roe sustain themself better, for the magic to run smoothly. Roe is no longer in shambles. No longer unpolished and full of grime a reminder of an ancient past, and starts to resemble more on how they unused to be. Cared for, strong and carved of stone.

Just, adult Billy as an architect. And using that knowledge + magic to fix up Roe. And Roe being an ancient sentient being that feels like they finally get to have multiple spa days after centuries of abandonment.

Also an architect has a way more flexible schedule than most jobs, allowing Billy to do his Champion and Hero duties at his pace.

[phoenixrisingastro]

DEGREE 4: THE 12TH HOUSE ISN’T MYSTERY. IT’S MEMORY.

Throne of Fire – The Fourth Flame

“Your dreams aren’t dreams. They’re evidence.”

They told you the 12th House was fog.

A blur. A blind spot.

A place you’ll never fully understand.

They lied.

It’s not mystery. It’s memory—

but so ancient, so unhealed, so sacred,

that most astrologers are too afraid to look directly at it.

But you didn’t come here for comfort.

You came here to remember.

The 12th House is the Chamber of Echoes

Every 12H placement is a ghost.

An unresolved vow. A broken ritual. A crime committed—or suffered—before the veil fell.

You don’t learn the 12th.

You reawaken to it.

That sense of déjà vu?

That dream you have where you’re drowning in water that isn’t yours?

That person you meet and instantly feel grief around?

That one fixation you can’t explain with logic?

It’s not emotional. It’s karmic.

It’s the 12th, whispering:

“We’ve done this before.”

The 12tH is the Soul’s Surveillance Footage

You weren’t given a clean slate when you were born.

You were given a veil—and behind that veil?

Every failure you never forgave yourself for.

Every love you clung to beyond death.

Every truth you swore you’d reveal next time.

And now?

This is next time.

That’s why people with 12H planets feel watched.

Because they are.

Not by others. But by themselves.

The older versions.

The ones with blood still on their hands.

Kabbalah Called It “Gilgul” – The Rolling of the Soul

The Jewish mystics knew.

They said the soul doesn’t reincarnate—it rolls, carrying scars, debts, and imprints like echoes inside glass.

The 12H is the karmic container of those echoes.

You didn’t accidentally get Moon in the 12th.

Your soul stored grief there because you couldn’t hold it in life.

You didn’t inherit enemies. You remembered them.

The 12th Is a Locked Room in God’s House

Planets here don’t function “weaker.”

They function off-grid.

They pull you into spiritual mazes, hospital beds, isolation, insomnia—not to punish you—

but because your soul wants silence long enough to remember what happened.

This house is ruled by Pisces, Neptune, and the Black Water.

But underneath that water?

Scriptures. Bones. Testimony.

You didn’t lose your identity here.

You buried it—so no one else could steal it again.

Common Echoes Inside the Vault:

12H Moon: The mother never made it. You are her voice now.

12H Mars: Past-life violence. You either wielded the blade or died by it. You still dream of it.

12H Venus: Forbidden love. A vow never released. You are haunted by faces you don’t know but mourn like widows.

12H Mercury: You were silenced. Your words now hold weight because once, they caused a war—or stopped one.

12H Saturn: You were a prisoner. A priest. Or a betrayer. Now, you do not trust time.

12H Pluto: You died before. This is not new to you. And you hate that you know that.

Dreamwork is Your Key

Want to access your 12H?

Don’t journal. Don’t meditate.

Dream.

Before bed, say:

“Show me what I forgot.”

Keep a bowl of salt under your bed.

A glass of water beside your head.

Sleep with no metal on your body.

When you wake up—write it all.

It won’t make sense. It’s not supposed to.

It’s the vault cracking open.

You Were Never Meant to Stay Conscious in the 12th

This isn’t a house of personality.

It’s a house of prophecy.

But the prophecies are coded in pain, addiction, obsession, retreat, solitude, grief, divine service.

The 12H isn’t bad.

It’s sacred. But it’s guarded.

You only get its gifts if you’re willing to sit inside your own subconscious and not scream.

You don’t interpret the 12th.

You endure it—

until it begins to whisper in your voice again.

Final Words

The 12th House isn’t a fog.

It’s the smoke left behind from the last fire you set.

And now the soul wants you to see what burned.

Remember, High Initiate—

if you feel cursed, haunted, or spiritually out of place…

That’s not bad astrology.

That’s the evidence of memory.

PhoenixRisingAstro

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