#Intersecting Lines Celestial

[basilthymee]

Ante up

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Protection.

Written for the very, very lovely @letstalktea.

Pairing: Simeon x Yandere!Reader (Obey Me).

Word Count: 6.0k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Manipulation, Reader Puts Themself In Dangerous Situations But Has No Intention To Actually Die, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Implied Masturbation, and Stalking.

The day Simeon was assigned to you was also the first day he saved your life.

It was mostly an ornamental title, that of a guardian angel. Humans, by and large, lived terribly mundane and predictable lives, with little conflict and outcomes that couldn’t be helped by the gentle tug to the strings of fate angels were allowed to provide from the comfort of the Celestial Realm. Simeon had looked after hundreds of charges in the past, had seen countless mortal lives start and end, and even he could count the number of times he’d been forced or able to intervene on a single hand. Normally, an angel of his rank wouldn’t be given such a hollow assignment at all, but you were a special case – your previous guardian injured in a rare skirmish with a hostile demon and anyone else who might’ve taken on her responsibilities during her recovery already looking after one or more human charges. If he arranged it, your safety could have easily been handed off to another low-ranking angel with an apology and a promise that they’d be relieved soon, but what kind of leader would that make Simeon? Certainly not the type he cared to be.

No, you were the only mortal being in any of the three realms to ever have an archangel at their disposal. If you had any way of knowing who was looking after you, you surely would’ve counted yourself lucky.

Outings like this were also rather unorthodox, even more so for someone of his rank. It really wasn’t necessary, he had ways of monitoring you from the comfort of the Celestial Realm, but he liked to handle such intimate matters personally, and he wasn’t going to turn down an excuse to step out of his office for the better part of a morning. With a crepe from the stand you’d passed a few minutes ago in one hand and the other fussing with the collar of a coat meant to block out a chill he could only pretend to feel, Simeon trailed a few hundred feet after you, keeping your brightly colored scarf in the corner of his eye as he let himself get lost in the flow of the crowd. When you came to a busy intersection, he stopped as well, stepping under the patio of a small coffee shop and checking his watch. He’d already reviewed your schedule, already knew that your office was just another block away. You’d stay in the building until this afternoon, then stop at a local bar for a few drinks with a friend. The rest of your night would be spent in your apartment, some decade-old drama playing in the background as you worked on one of your constantly rotating hobbies. A simple life, but one you seemed to find satisfying enough. One that kept you out of trouble, meaning that there’d be less trouble for him, too.

He allowed himself a small smile. Just as his lips quirked upward, the crowd behind you shifted, knocking those closest to the curb forward and throwing you off-balance. He could see you start to tilt, make out your eyes widening as you turned to face the oncoming traffic you’d be stumbling into, but Simeon only hummed, raising a hand and curling two fingers into his palm. As if on the other end of a line, you jerked back, falling onto the sidewalk rather than the road and saving you both a great deal of worry. It would’ve been a meaningless death, a total accident with minimal impact on all those involved. In cases like this, so purposelessly tragic, the greater forces of fate and destiny seemed willing to turn a blind eye.

You didn’t move immediately, remaining on the ground even after the pedestrian single buzzed and the crowd surrounding you began to move, but your shock didn’t surprise him – most mortals had keener senses than creatures who worked with the supernatural cared to acknowledge. Rather, what caught him off-guard was the second you took to glance over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his for the briefest of moments before a woman passing by offered you a hand and knocked you out of your temporary trance. He was nearly too stunned to move until you were out of his sight, but his shock dissipated with a breath of a laugh, a quick shake of his head. You were lucky, after all.

At least this assignment was proving to be an interesting one, after all.

~

The second time he saved you, he began to consider consulting your previous guardian about any curses or hexes you might’ve been the victim of. In jest, of course.

At that point, it was only in jest.

To your credit, he hadn’t even intended to visit you, that day. He’d been in the Human World on business (if he could call Luke’s seasonal urge to ‘observe mortal winter traditions’ business).  Checking on his ill-fated ward while he was in the neighborhood was just a whim, an excuse to carve out a few minutes for himself in an otherwise hectic day. Call it… an older brother’s intuition. Clairvoyancy had never been one of his talents, but somehow, he must’ve known something would happen to you.

He found you, strangely enough, deviating from your usual routine – taking a late-night walk through one of the more scenic parts of your city. Much of the population had already taken shelter from the biting cold, but you seemed content meandering through a local park, wandering down an overgrown footpath at a pace that rang true to your lack of destination. He trailed behind you, remaining just outside of your peripheral. He’d always been charmed by moments like this; so small, so inconsequential, so human. The Celestial Realm was such a bright place, so crowded with so much to get done. As an angel, he rarely had a minute to spare. Humans, on the other hand, were happy to act as if they had all the time in the world to waste.

With your hands shoved in your pockets and your head bowed low, you started onto a dilapidated wooden bridge, the river below already covered in a thin layer of frost but not quite frozen. You only paused when you reached the center, leaning out over a rotting guardrail and admiring the view, although he couldn’t say he was sure what you were hoping to see.

You were too close to notice, but Simeon caught it. He looked on with the rapt attention of a well-trained voyeur as the post of the guardrail buckled and dislocated, as rotting wood fell away from rusting nails and began to collapse onto the ice below. This time, it was genuine panic that flooded into his veins, overwhelming his better judgement in a way your last bout of misfortune hadn’t. There was no time to think about which trick he wanted to use, about whether or not this fate would be one the strings of destiny would guide you towards; one moment, he was watching you jolt forward and the next, he was at your side, his arms wrapped around your waist as he hauled you back onto the bridge, as both of you collapsed into a heap of wide eyes and unsteady breathing. You didn’t make a sound, your shock intense enough to make you swallow all but the smallest, sharpest gasp. Poor thing. Honestly, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the fright alone was enough to make your heart stop.

Still, you recovered quickly, forcing out a jarring laugh as you struggled to untangle yourself from him. Eventually, you managed to sit up, coming to rest on your knees. “I—I’m sorry, this just happened a few weeks ago, too. I would’ve gotten hit by a car if—” You cut yourself off, slamming your hands against your thigh. “I… I think I’ve just been unlucky, lately. Or, really lucky, if you’re that kind of person.”

It took him a second to find his own voice, another to realize he had to use it. “I’m just glad I was passing by.” He tried to sound like he was just as shaken up as you were, just as inexperienced with death as the average mortal would be. It was both a comfort and a new source of anxiety that the way his voice shook was not completely within his control. “Are you alright? I know some first aid, or I could call a—”

You were kind enough to put him out of misery quickly. “No, no, I’m fine. I couldn’t ask you to do anything else for me.” Your smile was brilliant – delicate, but brilliant, a beautiful example of mortal fortitude. “In fact, I should be the one doing something for you. Considering how cold that water is, I’m pretty sure you just saved my life.”

“That won’t be necessary.” He was far too involved already. Most guardian angels went decades before ever seeing their human wards in-person, let alone speaking to them. If your eyes had actually met during your previous encounter, this would be the second time you’d spotted your unseen protector. “If you’re not injured,” he started, standing to his full height and offering you a hand. With no hesitation, you accepted it, letting him pull you onto your feet. “I’d be happy knowing you got home safely. That is, if you’re comfortable with an escort.”

He moved to pull his hand out of yours, but your grip was iron-clad. “C-can I have your name?” It was less of a question and more of a plea, as if you were asking him for the antidote to some fatal illness. When he hesitated, his smile faltering, you went on, your nails digging into the skin of his wrist. If he’d been anything less than what he was, it might’ve hurt. “I just—I know it sounds insane, but I’ve just got this feeling that we’ve met before, and something’s going to happen to me if we don’t—”

“Simeon,” he said, his grin taking on a comforting note. Slowly, as best not to startle you, he brought up his free hand, cupping your cheek as gently as he could. “You don’t have to justify yourself. It’s Simeon.”

You beamed, moving to respond, but a burst of golden light erupted from his palm before you could so much as open your mouth. He saw the faintest hint of confusion play across your expression, but in a moment, your eyes fell shut, your body going limp. For what felt like the hundredth time, you threatened to collapse, but he caught you before you could hit the ground – taking you in his arms and letting out a breath of a laugh. He’d take you back to your apartment, and by morning, you’d have no recollection of your brief encounter. Hopefully, the spell would help to dull the memories of the first time he overstepped his boundaries too, but he could only hope for so much.

As long as you stayed out of trouble, he would be happy to look after his ill-fated little ward from a distance.

~

The twelfth time he saved you, he realized that ‘distance’ was not something you took lightly.

Admittedly, he probably should’ve caught on after the fourth incident, when you walked out onto melting ice with little more protection than a paper-thin cardigan and a pair of snow damaged dress-shoes, or the eighth, when you accepted a friend of a friend’s invitation to go on a sky-view tour of the city in the plane he’d made by-hand (luckily, your flying coffin never gotten more than a few feet of the ground – something that had nothing to do with Simeon’s interference). Denial made him slow to realize what was going on, even slower to accept that you might’ve been something more than a particularly unfortunate mortal. In all that he’d seen of human behavior, one core tenant had always held true; that, above all else, they would seek their own preservation. The evidence that you might be doing something, anything other than doing what little you could to make your already short life a few years longer was inconvenient enough to ignore, if only for the time it took him to attend to his responsibilities in the Celestial Realm.

…responsibilities your self-sacrificial tendencies quickly found a way to tamper with, as well. He really had to give you more credit – it must’ve been difficult to interfere with matters on a plane you couldn’t have known even existed, and yet, you found a way.

It was a cherub that alerted him, bursting into a meeting Micheal had called among the archangels. The boy was red-faced and panting, but managed to speak before Simeon could call for a healer. “There’s—” He paused, struggled to pull air into his lungs. “Simeon, sir, there’s an emergency.”

 With a slow exhale, he pushed himself to his feet. The other archangels offered no protest, only nodding as he positioned himself at the cherub’s side and rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You were right to come to me. What’s wrong?”

Another gasping breath, a white-knuckle grip to the side of the marble door. “It’s your ward.”

Instantly, Simeon’s expression fell.

He didn’t stop to wait for a more descriptive explanation. Rather, he urged the cherub to take a seat and rushed into the empty hallway, summoning a small orb of reflective golden light with a flick of his wrist. Nearly lost in the summoned sunrays was, of course, a projection of you, walking along a concrete ledge no thicker than your wrist. The greater context was lost on him, but he saw enough to recognize where you were – on the roof of your office building, dozens of stories above the ground. You were missing your blazer, too, and one of your shoes. He could only imagine where you’d lost them.

Mouth agape and eyes wide, Simeon watched in pure disbelief as you inched forward, your balance more of a hopeful thought than a practiced skill. Despite your shaking legs and unsteady posture, a smile was plastered across your lips, toothy and almost painfully wide. You looked ecstatic, despite being one misstep away from a certain and sudden death. If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve called you zealous.

For long, agonizing seconds, it was all he could do to watch you, to try to separate the sound of his heart beating in his ears from that of his racing pulse. His vision blurred with panic, a strange mix of dread and adrenaline muting what few rational thoughts he could summon. There was something else blended into the combination, too – something darker, something that seemed to coil in the depths of his chest and tear at his ribs as it expanded. Hatred was not a feeling most angels were capable of, let alone familiar with to identify without deep self-reflection and weeks of careful meditation, and yet, in that moment, Simeon knew he loathed you. For making him bend the rules he’d lived by for so long. For making him feel something other than a vague, warm fondness for the humans he’d always held such affection for.

He loathed himself, for being foolish enough to save your life in the first place.

When you finally slipped, the heel of your remaining shoe slipping over the ledge and throwing off your delicate balance, it was all Simeon could do to watch, to stare at the projection and pray to whoever angels prayed to that he’d bring himself to keep watching until you went tumbling over the wrong side, until you fell just like you were supposed to have fallen weeks ago, months ago, when he first took charge of your protection. He wanted to do nothing. He willed himself to do nothing.

And, in the end, he failed to do even that. As if by means beyond his control, his fist clenched at his side, an orb of pale blue light encompassing his hand before bursting a moment later. It wasn’t much, a half-hearted effort stifled further by the distance between you and him, but the effect was instantaneous, as effective as it would’ve been if he’d been able to put anything more than a passing thought into it.

You fell about five, ten feet before your back collided with a misplaced suspended platform, conveniently forgotten by some maintenance team and placed just low enough to remain out of your line of sight. The force of the impact was enough to knock the air out of your lungs, to leave you stunned and breathless for a minute, then another, but your manic smile never wavered, and the first sound you made was not a shriek of horror or a pained groaned, but a bright, airy laugh – windchimes caught in a stray breeze, nails carving into marble. You threw your head back, raising a hand to the collar of your dress-shirt and toying with the fabric before your attention drifted, before your touch strayed down the length of your chest and came to rest above your stomach, then lower, fingers slipping underneath your waistband and—

And Simeon cut off the projection there, banishing the orb of golden light and leaving himself alone in the glimmering hallway. He didn’t realize he was panting until he heard his own ragged breathing echoing off of the bare walls, until he could bring himself to acknowledge his heaving chest and the overwhelming exhaustion that urged him to shut his eyes and forget he’d taken you on at all.

That wasn’t an option, though, not in a position like his, not when the burden he’d taken on was a creature like you.

He allowed himself a moment to gather his composure, another to remind himself that his burden was no greater with you than it had been when he was looking after any of his other wards, then started toward the counsel room where he’d left the others. He owed quite the apology to the cherub who’d watched you on his behalf, and more importantly, he had to think about what should be done about you.

~

The forty-seventh time he saved you, he knew that thinking wasn’t an option, anymore. Something had to be done.

You were bleeding. You’d scraped your knees the first time he saved your life, come out of the twenty-sixth with a papercut that’d take a few days to heal, but he’d never drawn blood, never stayed long enough to see it dripping down your skin, leaving small pinpricks of dark scarlet soaking into the dirt and painted across the leaf litter as you limped forward. There was a jagged cut torn into your left bicep, a patch of exposed tissue and viscera on your thigh where there should’ve been flesh, and the deep, uneven scratches etched down the length of your back showed no signs of clotting under his constant surveillance. Even more stomach-turning were the bruises stamped into your legs, blossoming rows of discolored skin that you’d earned from hours’ worth of stumbling down rocky slopes and getting caught on overgrown foliage. You were barefoot, your shoes having split apart at the seams after you waded through a stream much deeper and much darker than he would’ve liked. He could only imagine how you were still moving. Of all the admirable qualities you lacked, ‘perseverance’ had never been something you found yourself without.

He made only the most superficial attempts to conceal himself, trailing just far enough behind you for the darkness to obscure his presence. There was no magic, this time, no getting lost in the crowd or relying on your own divided attention – just his soft footsteps and your ragged breathing and muted sounds of forest nightlife somehow rising above it all. If he listened closely, he thought he could still hear traffic in the distance, the occasional late-night driver swerving to avoid colliding with the car you’d abandoned by the side of the road, but there was a good chance it was just a figment of his imagination. You must’ve been miles away from the nearest scrap of civilization. He would’ve been surprised if the search party made it this far when they came looking for your body in the morning.

Eventually, you seemed to find what you were looking for: a sudden break in the forest that led to a sheer drop-off so sudden and so tall, whatever lay on the ground below was lost to a void of endless darkness. You didn’t pause like you used to, didn’t clench your eyes shut or take a moment to summon your courage, but he could hear you muttering something under your breath – praying, he realized, as his heart dropped into his stomach. You were praying.

Really, he could only be thankful that you hadn’t started earlier.

Slowly, agonizingly, he watched you inch your way toward the cliffside, every step a miracle and every second an eternity of torture. You only paused when you reached the very edge, staring down into the endless abyss as a slight grin came to rest across your lips. He almost expected you to jump, to use what little strength you had left to throw yourself into what he’d worked so hard to save you from, but no, you weren’t so cruel as to mock him so openly. Rather, you merely leaned forward, shutting your eyes and—

“Please don’t.”

There was no magic, no spells, no divine interference. If it’d been too late, if you’d been a little closer, all his half-hearted request would’ve done was ensure you spent your final moments in panicked confusion, but it wasn’t too late, and you were far enough to catch yourself before you so much as started to fall. He expected you to turn toward him with a new light in your eyes and a certain levity you only seemed to carry after your brief encounters, but you only glanced over your shoulder, still wearing that deceivingly soft smile. Looking at it now, he could almost see how he’d mistaken you for just another innocent soul.

Almost.

“You’re not going to tackle me this time?” You sounded disappointed. “Christ, it’s been… what? Seven months since the last time you touched me?” An airy laugh, a near-wistful sigh. “And four since I so much as saw you in person. If that was even you. You make yourself hard to find, ‘specially considering what I have to go through to get your attention.”

When he didn’t respond, didn’t move, you went on, your eyes falling back to the abyss. “You are him, right? It’s hard to tell if I can’t see your face. I mean, it’d still be hard if I could see your face, but c’mon. At least give me a fighting chance.” And then, with a little more thought. “I’d threaten to jump if you don’t come out, but you probably won’t let me get very far, would you?”

He was tempted to. Words couldn’t express how much he wanted to be able to say, confidently and without hesitation, that if you decided to jump, he wouldn’t intervene, wouldn’t exert himself in the slightest to save you from the consequences of your own actions, but that’d be a lie. What would he tell the other archangels? That he was incapable of safeguarding a single human? What would he tell himself as you disappeared into the darkness, as he counted the seconds until your body hit the ground? Would he wait? Would you even go through with it when he’d already given you what you came here for?

The answer didn’t matter. He was a coward at heart, still too afraid to know what he’d do to himself if something happened to you after everything he’d done. He took a moment to gather himself, to make sure he was in a form you’d recognize, and another to step into the moonlight, into sight. Rather than turning to face him, you waited until he’d joined you by the ledge. Even now, you had him at your beck and call – something he could only hope you didn’t know to take joy in.

“Please don’t,” he repeated, his voice quieter and heavy with exhaustion. It was a struggle to force himself to speak to you at all, considering how long he’d spent chastising himself for ever being anything more than a hand tugging at the strings of fate in your peripheral. “I…I’ve already crossed too many lines to help you. I don’t know if another miracle would go unpunished.”

“Is that what they are? Miracles?” If you saw his fatigue, if you cared about the downward slant of his shoulders or the dark rings under his eyes, it wasn’t enough to dampen your mirth, to earn your sympathy. “I guess that would make you an angel, huh? I mean, I always thought you were an angel – you just seemed so much like one – but there was a week or so in January where I got really into studying demonic pacts and—” You cut yourself off, shaking your head as you laughed. “You are an angel, right?”

Despite his better judgement, he nodded. Why would he try to hide anything from you now? Clearly, your fondness for him was not lessened by deprivation. “I’m an angel.” And then, after a second of thought, “An archangel, to be specific. You had another guardian initially, but I took over after they were wounded.”

He didn’t mention that an angel of his rank would usually be as far from the Human Realm as it was possible for a celestial creature to be, that he had taken it upon himself to ensure your safety despite knowing you would be just as protected in the hands of a seraphim or throne, nor how little he should’ve had to interfere with your life. He considered, briefly, that it might help you to know that he was beginning to suspect your first encounter was a mistake in itself, that he may have overestimated just how much influence a being like him could leverage in a life as short and as pliable as yours, but ultimately bit his tongue. You were still on the ledge, more literally than he cared for. If you were willing to deliver yourself to a reaper’s doorstep when you were just trying to get his attention, he couldn’t imagine what you’d do to yourself if you knew that your paths were never supposed to cross in the first place.

“An archangel.” Luckily, you didn’t seem to care about the details. “Does that mean you’re important?”

“You could say that.” Too important to be answering your questions in the middle of the night, certainly. “Would it change anything if I was?”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t care if you were an angel or a demon or a…” There was a vague gesture, a slight shrug. “A three-headed dog, or something. I just want to get to know you.”

Simeon felt something in the back of his throat tighten. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know that you’ve been looking out for me. I know that, no matter what I do, you’ll always be right there to make sure I don’t get hurt.” You took a step back, but any relief he might’ve felt was dampened and crushed as you latched onto his arm, your hold snare-like and desperate. He could’ve pulled himself away, exerted less than an ounce of effort to maintain what little distance there was between you and him, but he didn’t move, didn’t let himself believe you wouldn’t close the distance as quickly as he could make it. It reminded him of the last time he appeared to you, of how tightly you’d held onto him as you begged for his name. Not much had changed, since then. If anything, he should’ve taken it as the first sign that you would need to be dealt with in the not-so-distant future and snuffed out the problem while you were still little more than a mortal attempting to survive a string of bad luck. “I’d know your name, too, but…” You trailed off, shook your head. When you tilted your head back, when he could bring himself to meet your unblinking stare, there was a thin glaze cast across your eyes, a fog that wasn’t quite as thick as it should’ve been. “I think someone took that away from me. That doesn’t matter, though – I’m willing to learn it again, if you’re willing to tell me. If you’re willing to be patient with me.”

He'd been patient. He’d been nothing but patient since the day he took you as his ward. “It would be for the best if I didn’t.”

“Why not?” The question was airy, spoken with a breathy chuckle laced around the edges. “Is it for my own protection? Are you doing this to keep me safe, too?”

“I don’t think it would—”

“Why not?” This time, the laugh it was paired with was slightly more forced, slightly more jarring. “I’m not trying to put pressure on you – I would never want to force you to do anything you didn’t want to – but I just—We’ve just been apart for so long, and I don’t want to you to disappear again without telling me when you’ll be back.” Your nails burrowed into his skin, your chest pressing into his side. “I love you.”

He couldn’t remember the last time an angelic being had been brought to the brink of losing consciousness by little more than a human’s words. Simeon supposed this might’ve been the first time.

His tongue felt dry, his throat filled with cotton. It took a considerable effort to speak, and even then, it came out as a harsh whisper, something unbefitting of his usual eloquence. “You don’t.”

“I don’t know how you could say that.” If he didn’t know better, he would’ve said you sounded hurt. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought you were still passing yourself off as human. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for months, now. I came all the way out here just hoping you would follow me. I nearly threw myself off of a cliff just to make you look at me.”

He frowned, moved to speak, but you weren’t going to let him attempt to argue, or soothe you, or whatever you assumed you were going to do. With a manic glint in your eyes and a broken laugh, you took him by both arms and forced him to face you. He could resist it, if he wanted to. He could, and yet, he let you jerk him forward, let you pretend you could manhandle him into looking at you with the same adoration in his eyes that sparked in yours when you looked at him. “I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve been putting myself in danger for you. I went to church for you.” You had. He remembered that – or, more precisely, he remembered how you’d attempted to swallow down a bottle of liquid frankincense after the sermon. “And you spent all this time looking after me, taking care of me. You can’t say I don’t love you.”

There was a pause, a change in your tone. As if you were just vocalizing something you’d already repeated to yourself a thousand times.

“You can’t say you don’t love me. At least a little.”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the gesture meant purely to calm in the absence of physical necessity. Careful not to startle you, he raised a hand, and you let him, your hold on him loosening until it fell away completely. You didn’t step back, didn’t dare to give him the space you thought he would need to get away, and in return, he brushed against your arm, a gentle silver glow emitting from his fingertips and washing over the cut on your left bicep. When he pulled away, the injury was gone, a thin pale line in its place. Next was your thigh, his touch slightly more ginger, his light slightly duller. You didn’t seem to notice, only leaning into him. Whether you were soaking in his attention or simply thankful he hadn’t left you to bleed out, he didn’t want to know. “And what would you do? If I was in love with you, I mean.”

You caught on that, but only for a moment, recovering before your smile could so much as waver. “I’m not sure,” you admitted, your head tilting to the side. “But, we’d be together. We could get to know each other – actually know each other. No more hiding or magic or meeting each other at midnight in the middle of nowhere.” That earned a breath of a laugh, more out of exasperation than anything else. Still, you drank it down like holy nectar. “It’d be nice. I already know I love you, but maybe, after a while, you’d be sure that you loved me.”

He thought, briefly, about asking you to turn around, about taking care of the scratches etched into your back, too, but decided against it. “And that’s all you want? To be close to me?”

“To be with you,” you corrected, but the opportunity only seemed to add to your excitement. “But, yeah, basically. I just don’t want us to have to be apart again.”

If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought the idea sounded romantic.

He didn’t indulge you with a response. Rather, he brought his hand up to your cheek, letting you melt into his palm. With a small smile, he leaned forward, pressing the faintest, gentlest kiss into your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. He felt you jolt underneath him, your shock momentarily overshadowing your delusions, but you managed to hold yourself still as his lips came to rest against yours. To your credit, you didn’t try to deepen the kiss, only shutting your eyes and bringing your hands to his shoulders, content to have him closer than he’d ever been before. You were still human, after all, still yielding in the face of your desires.

Even in the state you’d driven yourself to, you were still human.

There was a second passed in silence, then a blinding burst of golden light. You seemed to fight it, at first, pulling away from him abruptly and stumbling back, betrayal written across your expression, but it was Simeon’s turn to hold onto you, now, to take you by either side and keep you pressed against his chest. He watched you open your mouth, start to spit something out, but whatever you might’ve said was lost to slumped shoulders, an uncooperative tongue, every part of you suddenly obeying another master. He caught one more glint of hurt in your eyes before your body went slack, collapsing in on itself with little ceremony. As poor as your luck was, you slanted towards the ledge, but he held you tight, pulling you into his arms, into his protection.

He couldn’t erase your memories. Clearly, blocking out the finer details of your encounters and replacing them with plausible substitutions had done more harm than good, driven you to seek out both your invisible guardian and what you thought some malicious stranger had been taken from you. He couldn’t pass you off to another angel, either. That’d just be cruel and, what’s more, you’d already seen his face. He doubted giving you a new toy to play with would do anything but solidify a bad habit.

Momentarily, his eyes drifted back to the cliffside, to the ledge that you’d already nearly fallen off by no means other than your own volition. Angels had done worse and retained their purity, their rank. He could call it an accident, claim that the mysterious machinations of fate and destiny simply wouldn’t let him intervene and hope that no one would think to ask too many questions. He could do it, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t. Because you were human. Because, so long as you were human, so long as you were mortal, it would be his duty to protect you.

A faint grin came to rest across his lips – the first genuine smile he’d worn that night.

Luckily, with a little help from Simeon, you wouldn’t be human for much longer.

[talonabraxas]

Metatron's Astrology Cube by Camille Murgue

"We are born at a given moment in a given place and like vintage years of wine we have the qualities of the year and of the season in which we are born. Astrology does not lay claim to anything else." - C.G.Jung

Metatron's Cube

Metatron in Spirituality and Mythology

Before we dive into the world of Metatron’s Cube, it is essential to understand the figure behind this sacred symbol – Archangel Metatron. This celestial being holds great significance in various spiritual traditions and has been mentioned in mythological and religious texts throughout history.

Archangel Metatron is often referred to as the “Chancellor of Heaven” or the “Angel of Life.” He is believed to be one of the highest-ranking angels in the celestial hierarchy, acting as a bridge between humanity and the divine. In Kabbalistic tradition, Metatron is associated with the topmost Sephirah on the Tree of Life, Keter (Crown), representing divine unity and infinite light.

Mythological references to Metatron can be found in Jewish mysticism, particularly within Merkabah (chariot) mysticism and Kabbalah. According to some interpretations, he was originally a human named Enoch who ascended to heaven and transformed into an angelic being. His transformation from mortal to angel signifies his role as a mediator between earthbound humans seeking a spiritual connection with higher realms.

Metatron’s roles and attributes vary across different belief systems. In some traditions, he is considered a scribe who records all actions taken by any soul throughout its existence. In others, he is a powerful guardian angel who protects individuals on their spiritual journey. Some even believe that Archangel Metatron helps souls transition from life to the afterlife.

Metatron’s Cube and the Merkaba

Metatron’s Cube and the Merkaba are two interrelated symbols in sacred geometry, each with unique spiritual significance.

Also known as a star tetrahedron or three-dimensional Star of David, the Merkaba consists of two interlocking tetrahedrons (one pointing upward and one pointing downward), creating an eight-pointed star when viewed from certain angles.

In Hebrew, “Mer” means light, “Ka” refers to spirit, and “Ba” signifies body; thus, the term “Merkaba” encapsulates the concept of a light vehicle that carries our soul and body between different realms or dimensions.

Hidden within Metatron’s Cube lies a three-dimensional representation of the Merkaba.

To uncover this connection, focus on specific intersecting lines within Metatron’s Cube that create equilateral triangles arranged in an upward- or downward-pointing orientation. Visualizing these triangles as part of interconnected tetrahedrons reveals a three-dimensional version of the Merkaba.

This connection between Metatron’s Cube and the Merkaba is another demonstration of how sacred geometry brings together different symbols through common patterns and themes. Metatron is known for connecting humans with spiritual realms, and the presence of the Merkaba in Metatron’s Cube emphasizes this link even further.

Metatron’s Cube and its Spiritual Significance

Metatron’s Cube is rich in symbolism and holds deep spiritual significance. It is believed to represent the divine energy that flows through all creation and acts as a bridge between the physical and spiritual realms. The interlocking lines and circles symbolize the interconnectedness of all life forms and the unity of the universe.

The cube itself is a symbol of stability, foundation, and structure. It represents the physical world and the four elements: earth, air, fire, and water. The triangles within the cube represent the divine trinity, the union of body, mind, and spirit, and the balance between the masculine and feminine energies.

As discussed, Metatron, the angel associated with this sacred symbol, is often referred to as the “scribe of God.” He is believed to transmit divine knowledge and wisdom to humanity, acting as a guide and mediator between the human and divine realms. Meditating on or working with Metatron’s Cube is said to invoke his presence and assistance in matters of spiritual growth, transformation, and understanding.

[ourlittleuluru]

I've been waiting the whole day for this, now I gotta yap about the new Tender Moment! (۶〒▽〒)۶

Can I just say I LOVE THE STORY CONTAINED?!

There's so much small details and references... also like the footstep sfx, MC was walking and then you can hear the footsteps quicken into a short run... 😭❤

AND THEN THERE'S THE BGM AGAIN...! AT THE END! I CANTTTTTT

Spoilers for those who haven't listened to it so... into the read more it goes!

First off, just their classic domesticity at play. Xavier casually calling MC asking when they'll be home 🥺

And then... this?! The staff just automatically assumes them to be taking it back together and instead of asking if they want their stuff to be separate or put together...

Staff be like, they look close. Probably a couple. Let's just ask if they want it in the same bag. AND XAVIER WITHOUT SKIPPING A BEAT SAID SURE! LIKE! Meanwhile MC was just being all ???? 😭😂

Xavier has no doubts. Nothing to ponder. Everything about it felt natural to him. Their things being together.

Mr good-with-kids Xavier at it again uwu

and the way MC calls Xavier a youngster 😂

And then this parttttt

It's not transcribed but the ad was basically something about 21 days to form a new habit and promoting this vitamin drink. (Funky Fuel....? now with more electrolytes???? 😭)

And this was when Xavier repeated that line about 21 days to form a new habit. Makes me wonder... did this card happen before 21 Days Memory then? (It feels like it) And then he brought it up again during the events of the 21 Days Memory. Afterall, Xavier does like to pick up on things and bring it up again later, be it books or anything else. (But also yes! a 21 Days memory reference ToT)

The later section when MC was talking about some habits that Xavier has, Xavier has reasons for those and it's all related to MC... Like 🥺

MC is so integrated into his life by this point, every little thing relates to MC. Except for the rubbing on the corner of a book page and the one about where he starts eating the bread from. That was just him unconsciously doing it.

And MC naming the little astronaut Xavier too 😭😭😭😭 because it reminds MC of him...! ahhhh

Then comes this whole section that is just obviously outright referencing Xavier himself. I can't even... I don't even know where to begin?????!

The way the astronaut is trying to return to his planet, being in the shop window for a month and Xavier says that he looks like he's lost

Him pulling this line...?!

But of course MC puts a little spin to answer his question.

And Xavier doing this little action... It's like he's reassuring himself in a sense. What he's doing, he's doing it for MC and he will keep going (even if it runs him into the ground... Now I'm remembering the ending line from WorldUnderneath and .... இ௰இ )

Anyways, MC just remembering this memory and grinning. UGH CUTE! SO CUTE 😩

And then MC just started running towards Xavier after noticing him...! you can hear it in the sound effects! Like MC was excited to see him. They're just so in love

And of course Xavier and his classic excuses. Love that he admits that it was a bad excuse this time though! 🤣 Does this count as character development too? That he doesn't feel the need to really hide much of his intention to just want to meet MC and continue their little habit of buying bread and walking back home together at that intersection.

(Also in CN Xavier also said an extra "Let's just pretend what I said just now was wrong. Let me try again" in the previous line about it）

SO. DANG. CUTE. PLEASE! 💗_(´ཀ`」 ∠)_

AND THE DEVS!!!!?!?!?! HELLOOOOO???!!!!!

The moment it was MC saying this line, Celestial Serenade plays! OIIIIII!! D':< SURE I DON'T NEED MY HEART

The way that BGM plays as this little astronaut that was seemingly lonely, was not alone anymore, with flowers (that I'm sure represents MC)... RUDE! It's good! Well played! But still, rude! >:'3

And MC just also, without any hesitation or question, resonates with Xavier 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Also this though 🤣 Sorry MC, our astronaut, while I don't think he was hit by an asteroid; he was definitely sucked into a black hole... a deepspace tunnel specifically. And he definitely lost his way. BUT. He found it again 😭💕💕💕💕

Okay... one last thing. Again, just me being curious about the localization 👀

For the line in EN "It's wonderful that I can light up your world"

Maybe I'm just not native enough to the Mainlands to catch the nuance behind the CN line? But that line in CN, MC never ever mentioned specficially who the subject is. Feel like I really might be missing something here. Gonna need an expert for this 😂

Oh, but the line "Not expecting me to do that, ...", in CN it was more of "Not expecting me to bring this up, ..." or "Not expecting me to say that, ..."

I just find the EN line a bit awkward when MC didn't do anything. All MC did was say "Wonderful" right before this

Aight, time for me to end this here and go to bed. I probably missed out something... or missed out saying something... but am sleepy c': I'll see if there's any other add-ons tmr.

Loosing blood is no fun and I'm super sleepy thanks to that ~(>_<。)＼

Ah... wait... one last thought...

CAN Y'ALL BOTH JUST ADOPT THE LIL ASTRONAUT AND FLOWERS??? 😭 may just the whole window display! It sounds so adorable and it'll fit into their home or something...! Well, I mean, I would for sure.

[ask-thearchivists]

Uhh... I have a question...

Are there Archivists who works alone? And second, how the Archive looks like from the outside? Are we in a Dyson Sphere?

The Coordinator: I do not think you know what that is. We have no need for solar power and our Archive is most certainly not a star. Curator, explain the elegant design of our Archive to the mortal.

The Curator: Yeah, the Archive is designed to look like a ringed planet, we are currently in the ring, and you mortals are stored in the planet. The planet is comprised of many layers, which at a cross-section appear like a celestial sphere, but a single layer when isolated look like a more complicated version of what you know to be longitudes. It is more complicated because there's more instances of longitudinal lines, and it is arranged in triplicate where each isolated set is oriented north-south, east-west, and forward-backward. All these intersections are necessary because it is SUPER annoying to need to go super far out in what direction just to get to the next section over. Each layer is also connected at many points, so most of the intersections in the Archive are 8 way intersections. The ring is just our rooms and personal spaces, and is the only way to get into the main Archive.

[astraevan-lyxen]

-Astrology & Destiny-

Some may wonder how astrology—or even a single decision—can shape a person’s destiny.

So allow me to explain, from my perspective as a Mystical Artist.

Imagine each of us as a grain of sand, moving through the vast web of intersecting universes.

We each carry direction, weight, and momentum—our own path.

But even the smallest shift—sparked by another soul, a distant star, or unseen forces—can ripple through the cosmos, subtly altering fate.

This is astrology: not control, but influence. A map of how celestial rhythms echo through us, shaping potential, not prison.

Destiny is not a straight line—it’s a living current, responsive to every movement in the multiverse.

[demystifiedstardust]

To be the Abyss

What does it feel like to be the abyss?

...honestly, I don't know, either. My relationship with it is closer to something of a proxy relationship to the world as a formless monster that just happens to intersect with the physical world there, with a little dollop of extra fondness.

(Readmore for length)

You know how ghosts are often tied to something physical? Yeah. Me, but not a ghost.

Imagine an unseeable presence spanning most of your line of sight. You want to attribute the chills down your spine, the acting-up of the physical world around you to some creature, something tangible, but you just... can't. Because you can't perceive it. And when you do perceive it, it's changed, moved, gone. Like quantum wave particles.

The more I type this out the more I'm thinking of Childe's fucking whale and I hate that. Anyway, whale aside, think of it like that.

It's really more of an indirect state of being. Like, I couldn't tell you what it's like to be the ocean floor, but it's something of a tether to an unknowable Thing that's impossible to explain outright without walking circles around words. In the same limited amount of information exchanged, "I am the abyss" gets to the core of it so much more than "I am an abyssal monster thing"

I feel like "eldritch monster thing" has, ironically, a certain perception to mean weird, large, unsettling, and tentacle-y. But (ironically) in pop-culture parlance, it usually misses the core point of intersecting and dipping in and out of the plane of reality.

I'm not a tarrasque or something. It's not a physical monster thing, per se. I'd even say the intersection doesn't necessarily map 1:1. And the more I think about it, the more this dovetails into the celestial-menace aspects of being Aether. Lumine is a deadly star that will burn your body into ash and scatter it into the void of space. I'm an abyss that will crush your body into a black hole.

The water at night is where it all began, so it's not surprising that it acts like a sort of tether to my soul.

[emblematicemblazer]

Fire Emblem Engage Xenologue

Revanche and Représailles

The weaponry of Nel and Rafal continue the themes of harmonic opposites, two sides of a whole and as above, so below. I am going to start by how the name of the two weapons represent the wielder. 

Revanche means revenge, especially political policies designed to recover lost territory or status, can often involve intimidation or military action. Rafal is someone that uses revanche in order to achieve his goals of power and destruction. While he pretended to be Nil his status was lowly, he suffered great humiliation as he was protected and bothered by Nel while he acted feeble. In order to gain status he undertook secret military action to kill populations and used his powers to manipulate the royalty of each country. 

Représailles is one way to react to revanche. Nel uses force against her brother to secure redress of a grievance. 

Revanche has the symbol of a moon with a 6 point star while Représailleshas the symbol of the sun with a 6 petal flower. The two opposites are necessary to complete the whole. The moon at night and the sun during the day complete a whole day. The moon represents female energy while the sun represents male energy. Rafal wields female energy whilst Nel wields make energy which fits into the theme of as above, so below. They are the same and require attributes of both genders to form a whole. 

Revanche is an axe and symbolises female energy as well. An axe was the symbol of the Minoan Goddess, who was the matriarch of her pantheon was an axe, axes were used by Amazons and the symbol for lesbianism is an axe. To complete the two halves of a whole, Représailles is a lance and symbolises male energy. In Greek mythology Zeus's bolts of lightning were described as landed as was Gungnir, the lance of Odin from Norse mythology. In Arthurian legend the lance was a symbol of male fertility because of the phallic shape. 

 The 6 point star on Revanche has several different meanings. The first relates to the shape of a sundial. The summer and winter solstices were represented by overlapping triangles, creating a size point star. The line through the centre created where the triangles intersect represent the equinoxes. Within Rafal is light and shadow, good and bad as well as cold and warmth. In Hinduism it is known as a Yantra and aids in worship and meditation. In Islam it is known as the Deal of Solomon and it represents: love, truth, peace, freedom and justice. In Tibetan Buddhism traditions use the symbol to represent the two truths; reality has a relative level and an absolute level. In China the size point star represents him and yang. The Catholic Church use the symbol to highlight Mary's role in salvation as helper in the restitutio perfectionis or reparatrix parentum et totius orbis. Once again connecting Rafal to female energy.  In Judaism it is known as the Star of David and is believed to symbolize seven virtues: kindness, severity, harmony, perseverance, splendor, foundation, and royalty. Alchemists use it to symbolise the union of opposites, and it is considered to be the symbolic epitome of “as above, so below.”

The 6 point flower on Représailles also has similar symbolism around protection, balance, as above, so below, celestial power and the cycle. In Russia it is known as the 6 spoke wheel or the ‘thunder sign’ because it is the symbol of the God of thunder; Perun, and protects property from being struck by lightning. In Central Europe the 6 point flower is known as the ‘wheel of Jupiter'. Jupiter was The supreme God in Roman mythology and was known as ‘ the God of the sky’ and ‘the thunderer'. This connects Nel and Représailles to ma!e energy. In the Bible, specifically in the book of Genesis, the symbol represents Melchizedek, known as the ‘King of Righteous’ who fought against the forces of darkness. Nel also fought against dark forces such as Sombron and her brother. The 6 petal flower is also known as a hexafoil; these are common symbols In Christian churches used to symbolise purity and protection. Finally In Buddhism it is known as ‘the Dharma Chakra’ and represents the path to enlightenment a Buddhist walks using the Dharma; the teachings of Buddha and the understanding of the universal moral order.

[basilthymee]

Back to square one.

[denimbex1986]

'A key mystery from Doctor Who's 60th anniversary specials could signal that Russell T Davies is attempting to resolve the controversial Timeless Child storyline set up by his predecessor. The Chris Chibnall era of Doctor Who proved divisive for many reasons, but comfortably his most contentious swing was the Timeless Child. Riffing on unrealized plans for the Seventh Doctor scuppered by Doctor Who getting canceled in 1989, Chibnall revealed that the Doctor originally came from another universe, but was adopted by Gallifrey. The Gallifreyans then used the foundling's powers of regeneration to establish the race later known as the Time Lords.

Chris Chibnall left Doctor Who without ever explaining the Doctor's actual home planet, and with Russell T Davies now back in the showrunner's seat, there is no guarantee of this crucial detail ever being revealed. Diplomatically not indicating whether it was a route he agreed with, RTD has at least ruled out a Timeless Child retcon, telling SFX Magazine, "I’m not going to unwrite my good friend Chris Chibnall’s work... I’m going with it." If one big unanswered question from the ending of Doctor Who 60th anniversary special "The Star Beast" is anything to go by, however, RTD is doing more than "going with" the Timeless Child - he's trying to resolve it.

Doctor Who's 60th Anniversary Makes A Big Deal Over The Doctor's Two Hearts

During the Fourteenth Doctor's first encounter with the Meep at the Nobles' house, both aliens bond over their shared trait of having two hearts. Initially, David Tennant's Doctor treats their shared biology as nothing more than an amusing coincidence, but when scrambling to stop the Meep killing the Nobles later in "The Star Beast," he postures, "Why is there another two-hearted species on this planet unless I'm part of a strategy by the Wrarth Warriors to outfox you?" This line may have been a deceptive tactic to stop the Meep's murder spree, but when the villain is later escorted to a galactic prison, the Meep ominously concurs, "A creature with two hearts is such a rare thing."

The fact that both the Meep and the Doctor possess dual hearts is evidently not a coincidence. This comparison has been deliberately included to foreshadow a future reveal. Some unknown force brought the TARDIS to Donna Noble, forcing the Doctor and his old companion back together, and while the unseen enemy's motivations remain obscured for now, the Doctor having two hearts seems to be a crucial factor. After all, the Meep and the Doctor both acknowledge how unlikely it is that two such aliens would accidentally arrive at the same planet at the same time.

Only The Timeless Child Mystery Can Explain The Doctor's Two Hearts

Whatever deeper significance hides behind two twin-hearted species intersecting in "The Star Beast," it is far more likely to involve the Doctor's real race - the ones who had the twin hearts originally - than the Time Lords who stole the idea. Previously, it was believed that the Doctor having two hearts was a result of their Time Lord biology. It is now known that this quirk of the circulatory system is thanks to the Timeless Child's unidentified species, which hails from another universe.

If Doctor Who's 60th anniversary specials are building toward some big revelation about the Doctor possessing two hearts - and Fourteen's exchanges with the Meep certainly point in that direction - then RTD must inevitably address the Timeless Child and the Doctor's true place of origin. This theory makes even more sense when considered alongside the entity almost certainly orchestrating these events. Very few characters in Doctor Who possess the universe-crossing power to investigate the Timeless Child's origins, but the Toymaker's celestial nature singles them out as an exception.

During his downtime after encountering the First Doctor, the Toymaker has perhaps learned what his pesky nemesis actually is - the truth, not the Gallifreyan cover-up version. The Doctor being unveiled as a secret Meep can probably be ruled out, but when the Doctor and Toymaker reunite, the villain may have secrets to share regarding where Doctor Who's titular hero originally came from. Assuming the Toymaker is Meep's mysterious boss in Doctor Who, this would also explain why the Doctor is being taunted with species similar to their own: the Toymaker knows all races that possess two hearts, and knows Gallifreyans should not be among them.

Why RTD's Doctor Who SHOULD Address The Timeless Child Mystery

Due to the less-than-enthusiastic response Chris Chibnall's Timeless Child received, as well as Russell T Davies having his own ideas about where Doctor Who should go, exactly how the 60th anniversary specials and Doctor Who season 14 will handle the Timeless Child remains unclear. RTD can either address it head-on or pretend it neither happened - a common Doctor Who practice sometimes referred to as "Valeyarding." Forced to pick between these two paths, addressing the Timeless Child is undoubtedly the better option for Doctor Who's future.

Doctor Who has a long and storied history of pretending inconvenient parts of canon never happened, but whenever the show has attempted to move on from sticky points of contention before, the audience has been left pondering when the matter will be resolved. The Valeyard, the Doctor being half-human, and the Doctor's mother from "The End of the Time" are just three of the many mysteries Doctor Who has never solved, and all three routinely crop up in any conversation about future storylines and potential twists. The Timeless Child is more significant than all three of those plot points combined, meaning the endless speculation will be considerably more intense.

If RTD neglects to deal with the Timeless Child firmly and quickly, audiences will always see Chibnall's controversial game-changer lurking around every corner. Whenever a new Doctor Who mystery is teased - like the significance of the Meep's two hearts in the 60th anniversary special, for example - the Timeless Child will be held up as a potential explanation. It will be the ghost that haunts RTD's new Doctor Who era, lingering like the dinner party guest who never takes the hint to leave. Whether the returning showrunner develops the Timeless Child further or finds a clever workaround, this unpopular chapter of Doctor Who history must be resolved sooner rather than later.'

[talonabraxas]

The Ophanim Angels (Thrones) Talon Abraxas

“Wheels within Wheels”

“Be Not Afraid”

“Ophanim,” rooted in ancient Hebrew, translates to “wheels.” While the Old Testament mentions wheels on carts, it gains particular significance in Ezekiel’s vision of God’s throne.

Ezekiel 1:15–21: “As I looked at the living creatures, I saw a wheel on the ground beside each creature with its four faces. This was the appearance and structure of the wheels: They sparkled like topaz, and all four looked alike. Each appeared to be made like a wheel intersecting a wheel. As they moved, they would go in any one of the four directions the creatures faced; the wheels did not change direction as the creatures went. Their rims were high and awesome, and all four rims were full of eyes all around.”

Ezekiel’s symbolism emphasizes God’s sovereignty, transcending earthly limitations. The wheels within wheels signify unrestricted movement, mirroring the cherubim’s ability to travel without turning. This portrayal, though not literal, underscores God’s omnipotence and omnipresence.

Ezekiel 10:9–13: “And then I saw four wheels beside the cherubim, one beside each cherub. The wheels radiating were sparkling like diamonds in the sun. All four wheels looked alike, each like a wheel within a wheel. When they moved, they went in any of the four directions but in a perfectly straight line. Where the cherubim went, the wheels went straight ahead. The cherubim were full of eyes in their backs, hands, and wings. The wheels likewise were full of eyes. I heard the wheels called ‘wheels within wheels.”

The “eyes” adorning the wheels and angels highlight divine omniscience. Ophanim, a focus of fascination, sparked later interpretations as a distinct class of angels. Colossians 1:16 adds to this discourse, mentioning “thrones,” potentially associated with ophanim, as spiritual beings.

However, interpreting said versicle as specific spiritual beings poses challenges. A more natural interpretation sees it referencing various authorities subject to Christ. Additionally, the metonymical representation of thrones in rivalry contrasts with the ophanim’s presumed submission to God.

Rather than establishing ophanim as a separate angelic class, viewing them as symbolic wheels on God’s throne is prudent. These wheels, not literal or guardian creatures, amplify Ezekiel’s vision’s core message — God reigns universally, responding with unparalleled sovereignty and power in every direction and location. The fascination with ophanim lies in their capacity to symbolize divine attributes and the profound nature of God’s reign.

They are described in one of the Dead Sea scrolls as angels; later sections of the Book of Enoch (61:10, 71:7) portray them as an order of celestial beings that (along with the Cherubim and Seraphim) never sleep, but occupy the position of guardians to ensure that the throne of God is protected. Christian angelology refers to them as one of the choirs (classes) of angels, and they are sometimes referred to as Thrones as well.

There are four eye-covered wheels (each wheel consists of two nested wheels), which move beside the winged Cherubim, beneath God’s throne, and are associated with the verse from Daniel 7:9 (the wheels of galgal are often called the wheels of galgallin, in “fiery flame” and “burning fire”). The four wheels move with the Cherubim because the spirit of the Cherubim is in them. The late Second Book of Enoch (20:1, 21:1) also referred to them as the “many-eyed ones”.

The Book of Enoch implies that the Ophanim are equated with the “Thrones” in Christianity when it lists them together, in order, as follows: “…round about were Seraphim, Cherubim, and Ophanim”.

Where does Metatron (Enoch) fit in? As with many angels, Metatron has multiple wings and eyes. In some imagery, the archangel is depicted as the “second God” who sits behind the throne, with the eyes representing his role as a celestial scribe and recorder of divine acts. In addition to his “twin brother”, Sandalphone, they are often depicted as akin to the Ophanim, however, they are the highest-rank angels (I will leave this statement open).

To conclude, the depiction of God with the four eye-covered wheels, associated with Ophanim, gives a sense of vulnerability, in my opinion, and challenges the traditional notion that God’s omnipotence is unquestionable. These beings are portrayed as having a regal quality, which differs from conventional perceptions of divine majesty, as seen in the Book of Enoch.

[the-clawtake]

Coming up to the intersection Jehan eased up on the throttle of his Kodiak, bringing the big ‘mech to a stop and checking his scanners before easing it into the open. Still clear.

Since passing his prisoner – Bondswoman. He would have to remember that. - over to CAT4, he had gone back to hunting through Coen City with the rest of his formation. They hunted in the manner of the apex predator that was their totem, moving through the city independently, always cognizant of each others position and ready to move to assist if necessary.

Speaking off... He flipped a switch, activating the unit comms network.

“All units, Clawtake Actual. Sound off.”

He eased across the intersection, reading the street signs automatically to plot his position. His comm crackled

“Rauda here, Star Colonel. Strikers engaging Celestial Level II, vicinity Precentor’s Park. Confirmed kills on Malak and Grigori. No casualties.”

He lumbered along the next block, listening to the reports with only half his attention.

“Confirm kill on Seraph! WHEW, LOOK AT THAT BABY GO UP!” He recognized Kathryn’s voice; Since her Dragonfly had been destroyed in the assault on the Ranger AA Battery she had been transferred into a Piranha 3 and was taking to it like a duck to water. After a moment, she remembered proper protocol.

“Ah... That’s a negative Isorla on the Seraph, Star Colonel. Textbook Stackpole Cascade on her reactor. Nothing left.”

He smiled, as the rest of the reports called in.

Hendrikjan and Ghi-cheng were a few blocks to his northeast, between him and Precentor’s Park. They, along with Joyce in her Dire Wolf were intercepting Blakist reinforcements thinking to join the Celestials engaging Rauda and her reinforced Star. He suspected it was a nasty surprise for the enemy pilots expecting to pile on a formation with nothing heavier than a Mad Dog only to meet three Assaults on the way.

“Jorge, Star Colonel. Looks like I am two blocks south of you, and one to the west. Investigating tentative contact. Single reactor signature, intermittent seismic signature. Heavy or better.”

“Aff, Jorge. Moving to join.” Jehan turned to the south, heading along the street towards his fellow warrior.

He had passed the first side street when the comms sounded again.

“FAFNIR!” Jorge’s voice was frantic. “Say again, FAFNIR!” Jehan felt his heart still at the rumbling of weapons fire underlaying Jorge’s voice, slamming his throttles open full. The speed reading peaked at 64 kilometers an hour. Not fast enough. He hit the switch for the Supercharger.

“Jorge!” he yelled down the open channel. “Fall back, Jorge!” 86.4 Kilometers an hour. It would have to do.

He glanced down at the sensor readout. Right at the next side street. It would be coming up... Now. He fiddled with the waldos, clamped the right arm tight to the Kodiak’s torso, extended the left as far out to that side as it would go to help with his balance as he careened around the corner.

Ahead of him, he could see the rear of Jorge’s Dire Wolf and the fore of the Fafnir facing it. Jorge was starting to back up, legs twisting to try and move him into the cover of one of the buildings lining the street, low office complexes two and three stories high, interspersed with parking lots and the occasional entrance to an underground garage.

The Dire Wolf’s left arm hung limp from a shattered shoulder, the HAG pointing impotently at the asphalt.

Jorge salvoed with his remaining weapons. The paired pulses lasers slagged armour across the Fafnir’s leg, molten metal splashing to sizzle on the road. The small laser under the cockpit left a blackened scar along the assault ‘mechs torso, while those flechettes from the HAG cratered armour across it’s front.

The ominous hum as the Fafnir’s capacitors finished charging was surely imagined. The staggered pair of hypersonic CRACKs as they fired was not.

The Dire Wolf staggered as one ferric slug took it in the knee, the backward bending join buckling under the kinetic energy.

As the assault ‘mech slumped to the right, the second slug punched through the armour underneath the cockpit, shattering the fragile gyro.

As the slump carried into a full-on sideways collapse, the Fafnir stepped closer. Just as twin beams of ruby light slashed from it’s torso, a panel blew out of the top of the Dire Wolf cockpit and Jorge ejected. Straight into the side of the building.

Jehan howled as he charged, blinded by grief and fury.

The huge Kodiak covered the ground much faster than anything it’s size had any right to, and though the Fafnir was turning to bring it’s weapons to bear, it was slow, so very slow.

Jehan veered round the downed Dire Wolf; It’s bulk blocked most of the street and he had to lean his battlemech over it to avoid scraping against where Jorge’s ejection chair had gone into the building. There wasn’t a lot of hope that his Warrior had survived, but if Jehan could do anything to avoid reducing the man’s chances, he would.

The Fafnir was almost in line, and again that ominous hum – real or imagined – filled Jehan’s ears. His grin was savage. Feral. He wanted the capacitors charged. He wanted the Fafnir pilot to think victory was in his grasp.

He lead with the left fist. Twisting the torso to put more force behind it. The blow was precisely calculated, and perfectly placed.

The Kodiak’s fist fitted into the housing for the Heavy Gauss Rifle in the Fafnir’s right torso like it was made for it. The capacitors twisted, crumpled and tore, discharging the stored energy, and Jehan snarled triumphantly as he withdrew the fist, and twisted to the other side, swinging with his right.

Lightning crackled up the Kodiak’s left arm leaving fractal patterns scorched into the armour; the fingers of the fist were mangled, and although the laser barrels looked clear, Jehan wasn’t sure whether or not to trust them.

The Fafnir was starting to stumble back as the right fist drove home, trapped against the building behind it.

Jehan gazed down at the enemy ‘Mechs cockpit as he struck. He could see the pilot desperately hauling on the controls, trying to get away, trying to escape.

Then his blow landed. He watched through two layers of ferroglass as the Blakist pilot stiffened, every muscle going tense, then spasmed. Then went limp.

As he withdrew the mangled fist from the ruin of the Fafnir’s left torso, he watched the ‘mech slide down the side of the building, taking with it the facade. He examined the damage readouts.

Armour damage to both arms, but nothing serious. Some damage to the hand actuators, but the lasers were supposedly alright.

He took several deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart, purge some of the adrenaline flooding his veins.

He hit his comms, switching to the general channel for the task force.

“Touchdown units, Clawtake Actual. Need a medical recovery team at...” he read his position off his hud, waited for a response.

He would wait until he knew whether Jorge had survived before passing the news on to the rest of the Clawtake. No sense in worrying them, if he didn’t have to.

[hero2222]

New muse...and material:

Liora

**Gender/Sex:** Female

**Age:** 23

**Height:** 5'6"

**Weight:** 135 lbs.

**Personality:** Liora combines her introspective personality with the laid-back, adventurous spirit. She's fiercely independent and a bit of a loner, preferring the company of her thoughts or the quiet companionship of a few close friends. Her exterior might seem cool and detached, often hiding her emotions behind a facade of indifference. However, beneath this exterior beats the heart of a true hero, driven by a deep-seated desire to make a difference. Liora shuns the spotlight and is uncomfortable with praise, often slipping away after doing something heroic before anyone can even thank her. She expresses herself through her mastery of Flexilum, finding solace in its transformation and the creative outlet it provides.

1. **Flexilum Mastery:** Liora can effortlessly manipulate Flexilum, shifting it between its playful, elastic form and its hardened, protective state. This ability mirrors her dual nature—flexible yet unyielding, reflective yet bold.

2. **Adaptive Constructs:** With a skater's agility and an artist's touch, Liora crafts Flexilum into dynamic constructs for swift movement, armor for defense, or chains to bind. Each creation is a reflection of her mood and intent, sometimes dark and edgy, other times vibrant and energetic.

3. **Defensive Shell:** Preferring defense over outright aggression, Liora can envelop herself or others in Flexilum armor that's tough yet subtly reflective, much like her personality. It's her way of protecting without drawing attention, her form of quiet resistance.

4. **Subdued Influence:** Through the subtle modulation of Flexilum's colors, Liora can dampen hostile intentions or calm a tense situation. This ability allows her to avoid conflicts or resolve them without escalation, staying true to her aversion to the spotlight.

5. **Healer in the Shadows:** Liora uses Flexilum to aid and heal in secret, leaving her mark through the mysterious appearance of Flexilum casts or supports. She doesn't stick around for gratitude, embodying the essence of a hero who doesn't need recognition to do what's right.

Liora is a study in contrasts—stoic yet deeply caring, cool yet passionate about her causes. Her journey is not just about battling external threats but also about navigating the complex terrain of her emotions and relationships. In her, the essence of Flexilum finds its perfect counterpart: an element that is as versatile and profound as the person who wields it.

Flexilum

### Properties

- **Flexibility and Elasticity:** Flexilum is naturally soft and exhibits incredible elasticity, allowing it to stretch and compress with resilience. This property makes it an exceptional material for creating items that can absorb impact or require flexibility.

- **Color Transformation:** Flexilum is light pink in its soft, elastic state, symbolizing its pliable nature. Upon hardening, its color deepens to a rich shade nearing purple, indicating its transition to an incredibly tough state that rivals the hardness of graphite.

- **Adaptability:** This element can adapt to various external stimuli, such as temperature changes or exposure to specific energies, which trigger its transformation between soft and hard states. This adaptability makes it versatile for both creative and practical applications.

- **Energy Conductivity:** While in its hardened state, Flexilum can conduct different forms of energy, including magical, thermal, and electrical energies. This conductivity, combined with its toughness, makes it valuable for technology and magic-based applications.

#### Origin

Flexilum is formed under rare conditions where magical and natural forces converge, such as at ley line intersections or during specific celestial alignments. This rarity and the conditions of its formation add to its value and mystique.

#### Utilization

- **Manipulation Ability:** Individuals with the ability to manipulate Flexilum are rare and possess a deep connection to the natural and emotional world. This connection allows them to guide Flexilum through its transformations, mastering the timing and conditions to harness its full potential.

- **Applications:** The dual nature of Flexilum offers a wide range of applications. In its soft form, it can create protective barriers or cushions. When hardened, it is used for constructing durable structures, crafting weapons or armor, or even forming tools that require both strength and a degree of flexibility to prevent brittleness.

#### Cultural and Mystical Role

Flexilum's unique properties and the nuanced skill required to manipulate it make it a symbol of status, power, and mastery in various cultures. It plays a significant role in rituals, serves as a medium for artistic expression, and could even represent a connection to the divine or the planet's soul.

Integrating Flexilum into your world not only enriches your setting with a unique element but also opens avenues for storytelling through its diverse applications and the depth of interaction required to master its manipulation.

[inkedwingss]

Sensitive Abstractions I don't really like

to write

poems like this.

Threatening spaces like enormous mouths eating words, and they vanish, their consequences and repercussions erased - a lethal vacuum.

Silence is scarcely tolerable for a modern man.

I am not a modern man.

But I accumulate words feelings images sounds scars garments of distant dreams and certainties of tomorrow, just as I do with myself: I accumulate myself before hitting the next 'enter,' and thus avoid dissolving.

Diluted in others' rivers.

In another strange, bordering current: two waters meet and we have another river.

But I sail in abstract waters and drink from a river that cannot be stained.

Yet, I can feel like a hiccup, an interrupted sigh—my outlines fade, I am a soundless explosion.

A mixture of dust that was already here before, light, plasma, blood, bones, eyes, very silent; a supernova screaming in space.

How nice would it be if my contours only mimicked yours, eternal star.

My burden is to seek the record of the unfathomable in such simple forms of expression, so here I am, biting the bars of this flesh's cage, and I see: I am too free, too free to live without colossal, overwhelming yearnings.

I am a shipwrecked child, a piece of wood floating in the open sea.

Hypersensitive are my edges, especially the sharp ones—lend me your sandpaper, the coarsest, the stupidest, to compete on equal terms with my stupidity.

Hypersensitive are my gills; I suspect I should live underwater since in this time of ours the air and the earth are like smoke in my eyes and soot, so much sad-gray concrete.

Hypersensitive are my pages, each word like a prick of a sharp needle, each needle like a world of pains, each pain like people looking at me, hungry for justice, and I don't even know their names.

Hypersensitive in the memory of being found by a certain pair of eyes, two celestial flames that would melt the whole world with a glance; in their gaze, a precise arrow that doesn't miss the target, only in a blink

of an eye.

My heart was pierced and will forever bleed.

I wait contemplating the bottom of your sea, painted with diamonds shining for me, every night—my certainty: you'll come.

You will.

The colors are hypersensitive, the patterns on the tiles, the desires and cries for help, I write all this somewhere, you say things I can't understand and smile with my childish magnifying glass, like a kid with a binocular that is actually just a toy.

Hypersensitive, throbbing, I run and run, and search and knock on the door, not so gently because I am too desperate for that, I want to dissect existence and at the same time preserve its untouched mystery because in trying to explore it too much I know I would lose myself.

My taste is hypersensitive too, as are my eyes that absorb everything, and my ears that listen too much.

Hypersensitive is my tough skin that is thin, and seems like it will tear with the weight of empty words, vulgar laughter, eyes that should be luminous, and useless information, because they buy and sell and eat and give themselves as they please, and don't even look up.

Hypersensitive in crowded places where many destinies intersect and my eyes need to flee to the clouds, the only destination that matters.

Hypersensitive enough to live a farewell that already brings tears ten years before it happens.

Hypersensitive is missing the taste of touching the earth from the top of the mountain and the claws of the owl that never landed on my shoulders, the gallop I didn't hear, the places I never stepped on and the wind I never breathed in and perhaps never will.

My erased abstract lines let me wander around. I go up and down like an unregulated gauge according to the standards stipulated by the century of madness.

And I just need to walk on that path, so hold my hand, and hypersensitive I go up, dancing over the auroras, drinking from the source at the extreme north-south-east-west, and going up, I dissolve, in greater sensitive abstractions. Ivanna

(originally written in portuguese)

[codexassassin]

One of 12 Romanian Brotherhoods

Radu Vardan—his name whispered in the wind—is not a prince nor a nobleman. He emerges from the Ebon Veil, a hidden fissure between dimensions. His origins trace back to the Nyxian Expanse, a twilight realm where shadows dance and reality bends. Here, the moon is a silver scythe, and the stars are the eyes of ancient gods.

Appearance:

His hair, like raven feathers, falls to his shoulders, framing a face both ethereal and cruel. His skin, pale as moonstone, bears the scars of battles fought across realms.

His eyes—green-gray like the storm-tossed sea—hold secrets older than the cosmos. They reflect the hunger of a thousand lifetimes.

Clad in robes spun from the threads of forgotten constellations, Radu moves silently through the mortal world. His attire bears no heraldry, no sigils of nobility. Instead, it whispers of cosmic alignments and forbidden knowledge.

Powers and Curses:

Radu does not drink blood; he devours memories. His kiss steals fragments of a person’s past—their loves, regrets, and darkest fears. These memories fuel his longevity, but they also burden him with echoes of lost souls.

He wields a blade forged from Stardust Steel, a substance that cuts through reality itself. With each strike, he severs the threads of fate, altering destinies.

His curse: He cannot step into direct sunlight. When dawn approaches, he retreats to the Abyssal Sanctum, a hidden chamber where starlight filters through obsidian crystals.

However, if he finds the Veilshard Blade, he can walk in sunlight.

Purpose and Vendetta:

Radu’s existence is bound to a cosmic debt. Long ago, he bargained with the Astral Arbiters, celestial beings who weigh souls on cosmic scales. In exchange for immortality, he pledged to hunt down rogue entities that threaten the balance.

His vendetta centers on the Luminar Ascendancy, a cabal of sorcerers who seek to unravel the fabric of existence. They manipulate ley lines, tear holes in reality, and harvest forbidden energies.

Radu’s blade sings when he faces the Luminars. Their leader, Aurelia Solstice, once his lover, now his nemesis. She wields a staff of fractured starlight and seeks dominion over all realms.

The Dance of Shadows:

Radu’s path intersects with a vampire witch—a historian named Elena Dumitra. She deciphers ancient texts, unaware of her role in the cosmic tapestry. Her eyes hold the same green-gray hue as Radu’s.

Together, they unravel cryptic prophecies, chase ley lines across continents, and confront eldritch horrors. Their bond transcends blood; it’s written in constellations.

The ancient order to which our Romanian vampire assassins belong is known as the Noctis Arcanum. Within the crumbling monasteries and hidden catacombs, they weave their clandestine web, guarding forbidden knowledge and wielding eldritch arts. Their robes bear symbols of forgotten gods, and their blades sing hymns of shadows and redemption.

And so, Radu Vardan—the Nyxian Blade—moves through realms, his steps echoing in forgotten temples and starlit groves. His tale, veiled in stardust and sorrow, weaves into the annals of forgotten lore.

Veilshard Blade

Origins:

Forged in the heart of an ancient star, the Veilshard Blade transcends mere steel. Its origin lies in the cosmic rifts—the Veil Between Worlds—where reality frays like old parchment. The Isu, architects of existence, channeled their forbidden knowledge into this ethereal weapon.

Appearance:

The blade is a shard of obsidian, its edges shimmering with fractured starlight. When unsheathed, it casts a halo of shadows.

The hilt, wrapped in midnight leather, bears glyphs that pulse like veins. Each rune whispers forgotten truths.

At its core lies a fragment of the Veil Crystal, a crystalline lattice bridging dimensions.

Powers:

Dimensional Cut: The Veilshard Blade slices through reality itself. With a single stroke, it opens rifts—portals to other realms. Step through, and you emerge elsewhere: a moonlit forest, a desolate wasteland, or the edge of eternity.

Soulbound Edge: The blade feeds on memories. When it pierces flesh, it absorbs fragments of a victim’s past. These memories fuel its power, granting glimpses of forgotten ages or unlocking hidden abilities.

Veilstrike: A whispered incantation, and the blade phases out of existence. It becomes intangible, passing through armor, shields, and even the thickest walls. Reappear behind your foe, and the blade solidifies—a fatal surprise.

Temporal Echo: Wound your enemy, and their past selves bleed. The Veilshard Blade echoes across their timeline, inflicting cumulative damage. A thousand cuts, a thousand lifetimes.

Veilward: The blade can seal rifts, mend fractures in reality. Temporal wounds, paradoxes, or breaches—Veilward stitches them shut. But beware: each mended tear leaves a scar on the wielder’s soul.

Curse:

The Veilshard Blade hungers for balance. Its wielder must maintain equilibrium between worlds. For every rift opened, a piece of their essence slips away.

The blade tempts with glimpses of lost loved ones, alternate paths, and forbidden knowledge. Succumb, and you become a living rift—a doorway for cosmic horrors.

Guardianship:

The Veilshard Keepers, a secret order, safeguard the blade. They dwell in hidden sanctums, meditating on the Veil’s mysteries.

To wield the Veilshard Blade, one must pass their trials: confront past selves, mend fractured timelines, and resist the blade’s seductive whispers.

Destiny:

The Veilshard Blade weaves through epochs, seeking its purpose. Is it a weapon, a key, or a harbinger of cosmic reckoning?

Radu Vardan, our Romanian vampire assassin, now bears the blade. His eyes reflect starlight, and his steps echo across dimensions. His fate intertwines with the Veilshard’s—a dance of shadows and eternity.

The VeilShard Blade

Known Seals

The Romanian Brotherhood dates back to Brasov in 1432. AD, while some sources say Isu weaponry, pieces of Eden and other artifacts were found in a partially sunken forge that may date back to 32M ETU. The forge is in an area that occupies a swamp dating back to when the area was partially submerged by the Caspian Sea. The area is nearby to Varna, Bulgaria, which the assassins are still fighting to claim, believing the Varna Necropolis to be a sunken isu forge or temple. Their enemies the Tulciu, believe it to be their sacred shrine.

It is interesting to note that the Romanian Assassins have adapted to a more Persian and even Ottoman like existence, which suggests perhaps some of the Levantine brotherhood traveled to this region.

[alokkhandelwal]

How Your Birth Location Affects Your Life Journey

Have you ever been puzzled about how your beginning area ought to shape your lifestyle adventure? The historical practice of astrology offers a fascinating angle into this phenomenon via a way known as Astrocartography. By mapping the celestial energies at special geographical locations, Astrocartography offers insights into how the planetary impacts at your birthplace can affect numerous aspects of your lifestyle. In this blog, we’re going to delve into the exciting global of Astrocartography and discover how it may reveal hidden connections between your birth area and lifestyle reviews.

Learn more about Affects Your Life Journey. Get an online astrology consultation by the world-renowned astrologer Mr. Alok Khandelwal.

Understanding Astrocartography: Astrocartography, also called Astrogeography, is a department of astrology that maps the positions of planets at the time of your birth onto the Earth’s surface. By superimposing those planetary traces on an international map, Astrocartography highlights unique regions in which positive planetary energies are more said. These planetary traces indicate regions where you may revel in greater possibilities, challenges, or spiritual increase, relying on the nature of the planets involved.

How Birth Location Affects You: Your beginning place is like a cosmic imprint that affects your lifestyle’s trajectory. Each planet exerts its precise influence, and depending on its alignment with your start area, it can form diverse aspects of your lifestyle, including career, relationships, fitness, and private growth.

Let’s explore some of the key planets and their corresponding outcomes in unique areas:

Mercury: When Mercury’s line passes through a region, it enhances intellectual pursuits, verbal exchange, and networking. This will be an excellent vicinity for writers, pupils, and those searching for highbrow increase.

Venus: Venus strains are associated with romance, creativity, and harmonious relationships. Travelling or dwelling near a Venus line would possibly result in extra pleasant love connections and creative suggestions.

Mars: Mars lines are linked to power, ambition, and assertiveness. Being close to a Mars line may enhance motivation and power, making it appropriate for those seeking career development or bodily challenges.

Jupiter: Jupiter’s lines indicate possibilities for boom, abundance, and expansion. Being in a Jupiter-dominant place may want to result in fulfilment, prosperity, and non-secular exploration.

Saturn: Saturn strains constitute subject, duty, and difficult paintings. Spending time near a Saturn line would possibly result in greater focus, adulthood, and a sturdy experience of obligation.

Uranus: Uranus lines are related to innovation, independence, and unconventional wondering. Being near a Uranus line might encourage creativity and a choice to break loose from societal norms.

Neptune: Neptune strains are connected to spirituality, instinct, and inventive expression. Living close to a Neptune line might inspire deeper introspection and creative pastimes.

Pluto: Pluto traces signify transformation, strength, and regeneration. Being close to a Pluto line might also result in full-size life changes and possibilities for the internal boom.

Read also: What’s Your Hidden Talent Based on Your Birth Month?

Navigating Your Astrocartography Map: Exploring your Astrocartography map can provide treasured insights into the energies present in specific parts of the sector. With my expertise in how those planetary lines interact with your natal chart, you may make informed decisions about tours, career selections, or even wherein to live.

Tips for Utilizing Astrocartography: Identify Power Zones: Locate regions with a couple of planetary lines intersecting. These &quot; electricity zones&quot; can also have a profound impact on your existence adventure.

Seek Opportunities: If you are searching out precise stories or boom, don’t forget to travel to places aligned with the planets that constitute your desires.

Embrace Challenges: Challenges can result in substantial private boom. If you come across difficulties close to positive planetary strains, see them as possibilities for mastering and resilience.

Honor Your Intuition: While Astrocartography gives precious steering, usually accept as true with your instinct and private choices whilst making life selections.

Consult with an Astrologer: Professional astrologers can provide in-intensity interpretations of your Astrocartography map, imparting customized recommendations tailored to your specific start chart.

Embrace the Cosmic Journey: Astrocartography opens a door to knowledge of how your start vicinity can have an impact on your lifestyle journey.

By embracing the cosmic energies found in different elements of the world, you could make conscious picks that align together with your authentic course. Remember, even as astrology offers treasured insights, it is in the end your picks and movements that form your destiny. Embrace the journey of life, discover new horizons, and let the stars manual you on your cosmic journey of self-discovery.

Read also: How the Day of Your Birth Affects Your Personality?