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fandom-space-princess · 2 years

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None But Shining Hours

Chapter: 1/? Rating: M (No Archive Warnings Apply) Pairing: Michael/Adam Milligan Summary:

“What a gift,” he repeats. There is so much satiety in saying it, in existing before those eyes and saying anything at all. And so he makes a banquet of his words: “To be given another chance. To be allowed to do it with you by my side.”

“Do what?” whispers Adam, voice cracking.

Michael tilts his head forward. Presses his forehead to Adam’s.

“To find out.” ------- What does it mean, for an archangel to live? Post-resurrection, Michael explores what he is now, absent the burden of leadership and the context of a predestined fate. ------- [Written for @spnarchangelweek 2022, as a sequel to last year's fic The Game of Us. Read below, or on AO3.]

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A ghost in an apartment has much in common with an angel residing in a mortal host. Among other similarities, either has the power to render a space uncanny by virtue solely of presence. The unconscious ghost on Adam’s sofa is—was? Has been? Will be again?—an angel. In another life, this angel had taught him what it was to be a haunted house: to be inhabited, and then cherished, and then empty again.

Under the woolen blanket, Michael frets, and stirs, but does not wake. Watching over him, Adam wonders if, this time, the haunting will last.

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A memory, or a dream: the rap of a silver-tipped cane on cold stone. A voice like the hiss of dead leaves, dusty and skeletal, gusting across a mausoleum threshold.

“Very well done, my boy, splendid work. Now, then. As edifying as this experience has been for us both, here is where we part.”

His grace (or soul, or self-stuff, whatever it—he—now may be) is not yet settled in his new-made body—the return from the void has not been without turbulence. Yet through this unrest, Michael gathers his thoughts enough to reply:

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d rather not see you again any time soon.”

The answering laughter rings into echoes, fading away as the darkness before the light.

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A lifetime ago, Adam might have referred to the sudden appearance of a man on his living room floor—naked and incoherent, on the heels of tremors that rocked the neighborhood and set the local newscasters to learning vocabulary like seismicity and intraplate—as “Biblical.”

Sometime between his first and second deaths, however, and born of the kinds of emotions he imagines might, for other people, have resulted in severing contact with the in-laws, Adam had cultivated a sort of willful atheism. And in the wake of Chuck’s dismissal from the helm of the universe, very little will ever happen again that could accurately be called Biblical. To his mind, this does nothing to ease the comparison.

Nor does Michael’s constant, unconscious muttering.

It’s been four days. Curled in the ratty green recliner that he’d dragged across the room to butt up against the arm of the couch near Michael’s head, Adam has slept only a handful of hours in that time. Mostly, he lays with his cheek pressed into the rough fabric of the chair. Tries, dragging nails into the furrows between his ribs, to understand the tightness nesting beneath his sternum. He watches Michael’s eyelids—the frantic flickering of the muscles there, of the eyes behind them. Listens to his erratic breathing. Observes that he has to breathe, now.

… it’s going to take some getting used to.

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Here: fingers. Hands. Wrists. Feel how it all connects. Joints and tendons. Supporting structure—bones. Muscles, to direct it all. And here, veins, yes—capillaries, yes, good—blood, and platelets in the blood; the chemical interplay of oxygen and carbon, supported by iron, nitrogen, hydrogen. Cellular osmosis, electrical impulse. Purpose-built. Bringing it all under control? A delicate balance of will. There is no soul here to moderate the experience. No conductor for this strange symphony but himself.

Even without sight, he knows: the warmth on his palm is Adam’s hand, clasped around his own. Millimeter by crawling millimeter, Michael squeezes back.

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By day five, Adam is convinced that the guy Michael is wearing isn’t a vessel. At least, not in the sense of the word he’s most acquainted with.

Mostly, this is because he’s translucent at the edges.

While Adam remembers often feeling less than—well, real—while he was possessed, he suspects that was more about his state of mind than physical reality. But the man on the couch keeps edging into being literally see-through, skin washing out in patches to an otherworldly shimmer, patches that drift across ghostly afterimages of veins and shifting muscle beneath. It inspires an awful, sympathetic creeping sensation across his own skin, and Adam catches himself holding his breath every time a few square inches of Michael start to fade. So far, they’ve always returned to normal after a handful of seconds: the glossy paleness dissipating as quickly as it arrived, leaving in its place a more even, human brown. It isn’t limited to his skin, either; fingernails, hair, even his teeth, when Adam can see them.

Fortunately, it happens less frequently as the days wear on.

The body appears to require no upkeep—though it wouldn’t, would it? His own certainly hadn’t. And yet... his unsettled hands return to it, again and again. Every few hours rearranging the limbs. Turning it, propping a pillow beneath the head, checking pulse and rate of respiration.

He doesn’t know how much control Michael has, how much of him is here and how much is some undefinable elsewhere. The list of things he knows is astonishingly short, when he thinks about it, and so mostly he doesn’t. But ages-gone nursing classes and boy scout preparedness mean that his hands can do what his mind cannot. And so he cleans the face, gently, with a warm damp cloth. Combs his fingers through the loose-coiled curls, the act of separating and smoothing them hypnotic. Checks the skin vigilantly, over and over and over, for the least sign of cuts or bruises, for any problem he might mitigate; for any hospitality he might offer this home, while he waits for its inhabitant to return.

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This body embraces him. Wants him. Crafted for him, and only him; it has never been another’s. He wonders, distantly, if this is what it is to be born. He is drawing the symphony closer to harmony with each passing moment. Spirit in concordance with flesh: an experience he had never been designed for. And yet, he will achieve it—is achieving it, with each thud of the heart, now his; with each exhalation of the lungs, now his. There is little left between himself and the last step, but still, he hesitates.

He’d had a home, before, in Adam, a body, and something more—a partner.

His home, his body, has been reforged.

Pulse aflutter with trepidation, he wonders what that will mean for the partnership.

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On the seventh night, in the witching-hour stillness of Minnesota midnight, he strips his shirt from his shoulders and drags himself onto the couch. Under his hands, the body’s skin is hot, summer-hot and dry, even in the autumn cold. Their breathing, barely audible, all but vanishes under the whistling of the October wind around the edges of his drafty windows. When he pulls the head down to rest on his chest, tugs the arms around him, he can listen to that breathing, and let himself imagine that this is something he will be allowed to keep.

Don’t ditch on me now, he thinks. He threads his fingers through the body’s hair—through Michael’s hair.

Come home, Michael. Come home and stay.

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This, then, is the final step:

Sound registers first. Panes of glass rattled by the wind, the intermittent tick-thwock of acorns loosed from their trees, clattering down onto the roof—

(pulse in ears—cacaphonous—jagged)

—touch is next: textures, fabrics. Couch cushions under his back, unevenly worn—

(stiff, scratchy—too loud—is that right?)

—blankets, pants, socks: far softer—

(muted)

—atop his chest: a tickle of hair, warmth and the roughness of a calloused palm, and—?

(blue)

—someone has been looking at him. He realizes that the cadence of his heart has changed with wakefulness. That the heartbeat he can feel against him has changed, too, sped to match his own and then gone rushing on ahead—

(blue?)

—someone has been looking at him for what feels suspiciously like an eternity and—

(ah. Blue. I remember.)

“—What a gift.” His senses, still muzzy and cross-wired, lend flavor and texture to the shape of the words.

Adam is looking at him.

He looks back.

“Do what?” whispers Adam, voice cracking.

Michael tilts his head forward. Presses his forehead to Adam’s.

“To find out.”

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#spnarchangelweek #michael spn #adam milligan #midam #spn archangels #spn #fanfic

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sunsolar12 · 10 months

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how funny would it be if parappa rapped against a biblically accurate angel

#parappa the rapper #ptr

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lovelifting · 1 year

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What Influences Are In Your Love Life?

Influencers are all over the place in today's society. Before the rise of social media, influencers often came from people nearby. For the longest family: parents, grandparents, aunt, uncles, siblings, etc. Community: pastors, members of the church, teachers, mayors, etc. were the greatest influencers in a child's life.

Of course, people then admired celebrities on television and in magazines. But then, unlike now, we didn't have the luxury of deciphering through a plethora of ever-changing thoughts, feelings, and relationships anyone went through. With the rise of social media, a gateway opened that released an influx of influencers and confusion.

It has always been important who you listened to. Today it is even more urgent that you daily ask the Holy Ghost (for my Christ saved-believing brothers and sisters out there) to grant you the wisdom of who stands in the way of you accurately receiving and witnessing the goodness of Jesus.

In the book of Luke chapter 8 verses 49-56, Jesus performs a healing on a twelve-year-old girl. At the opening of chapter 8 the little girl's dad, Jarius, came up to Jesus and "fell down at Jesus' feet, and besought him that he would come into his house:" (verse 41). Jarius went to Jesus because he didn't want to lose his only daughter.

On the way, a crowd surrounded Jesus causing a delay from Him getting to the sick girl(see Luke 8:43-48). Even that couldn't stop Jesus. When He did make it the little girl had died. Jarius' response to Jesus was one of defeat. But Jesus said, "Fear not: believe only" (verse 50).

Before Jesus performed the miracle of raising the girl from the rest, He only took three disciples inside with Him and the child's parents (see Luke 8:50-51). Those in the house grieved over the death of this child. But Jesus told them not to because she wasn't dead and they laughed at Him. Which prompted Jesus to put them out (see Luke 8:52-54).

I used this biblical example to inform someone that everyone doesn't believe in the right things. More specifically, some people believe there is an escape plan for marriage—Jesus only list two reasons. Some people believe in selfish love—but love is not selfish.

The reason the right influence is so important is that the wrong influence will lead you to the wrong information! So many artists sing and rap about singlehood, being whoremongers, prostitutes—the whole time they are in full-blown relationships. What you're listening to is an influence on your mind. What you watch is an influence on your mind. Who you follow on social media is an influence on your mind. Who you are around is an influence on your mind.

Everyone is influenced by something, whether he or she admits to it or not. Please, study Luke 8:40-56. Though it's talking about a sick twelve-year-old girl who eventually died and Jesus awoke her from the dead. This biblical truth can be applied into many areas of life.

For starters, if you want a lasting healthy marriage get away from influencers who glorify divorce, says they are happily divorced, people who declare divorce is a graduation, and those who don't want to hear divorce isn't a part of marriage.

Allow God to be inside your marriage. His word will lead to a healthy marriage. It will be blessed. And anything that God blesses is fulfilling. I ask you, who is it that Jesus is kicking out the "room"? Why are you trying to hang on to them?

#power of love #agapelove #bibleverse #biblical love #influencer #friendship #stand in truth #keep the faith #christian love #lovelikejesus #loveispure #love language #be love

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ophanimgold · 3 years

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about me...

hey

im maya, you can call me ophie, physalia, mew, whatevs! I go by ophanimgold elsewhere, such as twitter, ig, and toyhouse

my commissions are like always open btw 👀

im black/biracial, nb, and an adult (21)

I love to draw mainly my ocs, monster folks, sea critters, bugs, dinos/prehistoric friends, and pokemon! i have a ton of ocs whom are my pride and joy 🥰

im an aspiring marine biologist (looking to specialize in deep sea creatures, cnidarians, crustaceans, or cephalopods)

random facts:

my kids are a ragdoll named moka, and western hognose named pluto!

my favorite animals are bearded vultures, siphonophores, moon jellies, cuttlefish, coelacanth, hercules beetles, and more!!!

im absolutely enamored by biblically accurate angels (hence my main username...)

...i like pretty rnb singers...a lot...

huge fan of rap, rnb, hip-hop, and edm in general! (especially dubstep and trap)

disclaimer: there will be occasional suggestive themes, whether it be text, poses, or other stuff. these posts will be tagged accordingly.

thank u for looking feel free to hit me up and talk about crabs with me or smth here are my baby boys cache and gamut

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questionable-child · 3 years

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Well here’s Minus Starcatcher Skid and Pump. Skid is inspired by one of those biblically accurate angels, like the burning wheels with eyes on them and wings. I’m thinking he is a young angel and this isn’t his real form, he just disguises himself as just a human kid in a costume so he doesn’t terrify everyone. He can shapeshift, but when he gets really excited he starts to look more like his real form. If this were to be a mod he’d be really excited to rap battle so his disguise would kind of deteriorate and he’d look like in the picture. Also his personality is a little different, he’s more confident and determined kind of like og Boyfriend but still just as playful and naive as usual. Pump is a young water demigod, since I wanted to keep the theme of mini god children who have a spooky month addiction. Also the battle icon was blue and I didn’t know what else to do to make that make sense. He is very powerful and was feared by everyone who knew about him despite his kind and shy nature, so much so that he was one day captured and thrown into the bottom of the ocean. He had an anchor chained to his wrist so that he couldn’t swim back up. He controls water by the way. Yeah but one day Skid found him and saved him. I forgot to mention Skid is also very strong, but Pump is the equivalent of a human feather. Kinda human. Yeah they’re best friends they’ve known each other for about 3 years. I’m thinking Pump is 11 and Skid is twelve. They still love Spooky Month, in fact Pump wears his mask always, even when he sleeps and so does Skid. I’m tired I should stop typing hytdfddfdfvhjjasdae

#questionable art #fnf skid and pump #skid and pump #fnf minus mod #fnf starcatcher #minus starcatcher fnf

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bobdylanrevisited · 3 years

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Bringing It All Back Home

Released: 22 March 1965

Rating: 10/10

Thus, we have arrived at the three greatest albums of all time. Dylan has gone electric and dropped the protest songs, much to the dismay of his loyal folk fanbase; they would later show up in force to jeer and boo at the man they once revered as a their new messiah. Despite having the nerve to plug in his guitar for much of this album, the B-side is still acoustic, and this is a perfect collection of songs that would prove rock ‘n’ roll could also be poetic and meaningful. Just because he had a backing band and was singing differently, Dylan was still honing his writing skills and experimenting with narrative, structure, and also quite a lot of drugs.

1) Subterranean Homesick Blues - This was my introduction to Bob at 13 years old. I remember seeing the iconic video, hearing the nasal voice, and being so confused by the words, but I was instantly fascinated and determined to discover more about this strange man. Fourteen years later and the song still has a wondrous effect on me, this folk/rock/rap is a perfect rant on youth and disillusionment with the establishment. Iconic lines like ‘20 years of school and then they put you on the day shift’ or ‘join the army if you fail’ are all time classics. This is a barnstorming opening track, which shows that the old Dylan is dead and the new Dylan is coming out swinging.

2) She Belongs To Me - A much more mellow track, about a lover whose artistic, bohemian ambitions must be pandered to. Dylan’s singing is brilliant, and it’s a nice little song in between two of the album’s rockiest numbers.

3) Maggie’s Farm - The farm in question is Silas McGee’s Farm in which Dylan played a civil rights protest show, and he’s making it very clear that he won’t be doing that again. A ‘fuck you and farewell’ song to the community he once led, this is a scathing attack on the folk scenes expectations of him and how they oppressed his creativity. Famously, he would play this at the Newport Folk Festival in the summer of 1965 and almost start a riot. However, this is another classic and has been regularly reworked and played live over the last 55 years. Whilst I’m sure Bob’s anger has subsided over that time, it proves just how perfectly this song captures feelings of angst and artistic freedom, something Bob had to deal with every time he shifted genres.

4) Love Minus Zero/No Limit - Another gentle love song that dissects infatuation in a beautifully poetic way, another song that would resonate and be performed live for decades, another song with perfect singing from Bob. Though his voice is slightly higher/more nasal on the louder tracks, the singing throughout this electric period is my favourite of all the ‘Dylan voices’. I’m always confused when people say he can’t sing, I think no matter how much he changes, he always sounds like Bob Dylan, and you can’t ask for anything better than that.

5) Outlaw Blues - Dylan is now an outlaw, on the run from his former peers and fans. This is another loud, energetic, bluesy rock song that proves Bob is changing his identity and is almost a villain like the legends of the Old West: ‘I might look like Robert Ford, but I feel just like a Jesse James’.

6) On The Road Again - A very surreal narration of bohemian 60s life, describing a nightmare family that Bob implores the daughter to move away from. Again, this could be interpreted as moving away from the folk scene, however it is more likely that this is just another absurdist and funny tale that Bob loved to write during this period.

7) Bob Dylan’s 115th Dream - In the same vein as the previous track, this is a long, absurd, surreal, confusing, hilarious, meandering, and just plain weird song that is essentially the story of the founding of America. It is by no means literal or historically accurate, but it seems to be taking swipes at the foundations of the country and capitalism as a whole. It’s a brilliant piece of work that again shows how far Bob has come with imagery and metaphor. Also, the false start on the track never fails to put a smile on my face.

8) Mr. Tambourine Man - Now we move to the acoustic side of the album, and what an opener this is. One of his most loved, most played, and most covered tracks, this is another one for the history books. Is Bob the Tambourine Man who is being begged to keep performing for the masses? Regardless, this epic poem is like experiencing a dream, with lucid imagery and psychedelic lyrics that make you feel as if you are tripping on LSD alongside Bob. I know I’ve said this about a lot of tracks, but it is the definition of a perfect song and I think it’s impossible to get bored of, unless you’re listening to The Byrd’s cover which a heaping pile of shit and I won’t hear otherwise.

9) Gates Of Eden - Much like ‘Chimes Of Freedom’, this is another biblical epic, this time focusing on identity and youth in the 60s. The words are snarled as Bob sings about innocence, sin, and conformance, and the songs feels more like a renaissance painting than a piece of music. It’s truly stunning, you almost sit in awe as you try to take it all in, realising that a 23 year old, 56 years ago, was more in tune with society and his generation than anyone before or since.

10) It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding) - There’s a chance I may repeat this claim, as my opinion is always changing, but gun to my head I would say this is the finest song Dylan ever wrote, and would even go so far to say that this is the finest song anyone has ever written. It’s not even a song really, it’s a poetic stream of consciousness that takes aim at capitalism, authority, and of course, his audience. I could honestly write a book about it, dissecting each line and phrase, as there is not a single wasted word or beat. I really can’t do it justice here, just go listen to it or one of the many live versions, it’s always mind blowing to comprehend how anyone can write a song that feels like your brain is whispering the truths of the universe.

11) It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue - The closing song is, again, flawless and personally in my top 5 Dylan songs of all time (though you’ll learn my top 5 has about 30 songs in it at any one time). A morbid farewell to the folk scene, this is a beautiful song that captures the sadness of a relationship ending and, much like the rest of the album, it is filled with imagery that is both challenging and esoteric. This has also been consistently been played live since its release, and it’s a testament to how amazing the songs on this album are, as the majority of them have stood the test of time and been in Bob’s repertoire for over half a century. All in all, a perfect end to a perfect album.

Verdict: I hope I’ve made it clear that this album is one of the best things ever made, not only in regards to music, it’s just one of the best things ever. Despite my love of hyperbole, I do think these are 11 songs which certainly changed my life and how I view music/art/culture, and I hope it can have a similar effect on whoever reads this. What’s crazy is, even with all the fawning above, I actually think his next album is even better, which seems impossible. Dylan was on a roll and the backlash from this album, and his live performances, was only going to propel his songwriting and historical importance to new heights.

#bob dylan #bringing it all back home

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starsinursa · 5 years

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7 & 8 for your ask game!

Soulmates + Amnesia

(I, uhhh, used the prompt for ‘amnesia’ kinda broadly. Hope it’s still okay! Thanks for the ask!)

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If there’s one thing Dean hates, it’s being bullshitted.

Sure, he’ll make jokes about being an Aquarius, but he’snever put any actual stock into things like Zodiac signs. The ruling planet forAquarius is Uranus, for fuck’s sake, how is he supposed to take that seriously?So when Charlie reads his horoscope out loud from the campus newspaper, herolls his eyes. When the cute girl behind the Panda Express counter gives himextra fortune cookies with his take-out, he winks at her but shoves them in hispocket for Sammy. And don’t even get him started on those psychic lines,charging poor saps by the minute to call in for false hope about a promotion ora break-up.

Dean believes in things he can see, hear, or touch. Hebelieves in evidence. Not in superstition or the supernatural.

So when Charlie drags him off-campus after his World Litclass and hauls him up the front steps of a house with a sign in the frontwindow reading, ‘Missouri Moseley – psychic readings’, he feels distinctlybetrayed.

“You said we were going to get pie at the Roadhouse,” heaccuses, leveling a finger at her.

“And we are,” Charlie pauses in front of the door. “After.”

It doesn’t even look like a psychic lives here…although Dean’snot entirely sure what a psychic’s house is supposed to like look. Haunted?Decrepit? Set against a stormy background of perfectly-timed lightning strikes?This house just looks…normal. The front steps aren’t even creaky. It’s kind ofdisappointing, actually. 0/10 for aesthetics. Would not approach in trepidationagain.

“You know this kind of thing is a crock of shit, right?Psychics aren’t real,” Dean insists. He’s had this argument with her a thousandtimes, but he has to try.

Charlie rolls her eyes and knocks on the door. “Would itkill you to stop being a party pooper for five seconds?”

“It could,” he mutters, but he shoves his hands in thepockets of his jacket and begrudgingly waits while she knocks again.

“Oh, lighten up, Negative Nancy. If nothing else, we’ll geta good story out of it. ‘This one time at a psychic reading…’”

“A good story? If you’re paying for it, you better get adamn good story. Hell, let’s just skip the psychic crap and buy fifty bucksworth of tequila, I’ll give you a greatstory.”

Charlie glances over at him and wrinkles her nose. There’sbeen no answer to her knock and she raps on the door again. “Yeah, but I’m bettingthe psychic won’t take off her pants,sing bad karaoke to Taylor Swift, and rant for an hour about how The Original Series is the bestgeneration of Star Trek.”

“That was one time, and if you start up that Next Generation bullshit again-“

He pauses when a distant-sounding voice inside the housecalls, ‘Come in!’. Charlie glances at him and shrugs, pushing open the door andleading them inside.

The inside isn’t much different than the outside – that isto say, kind of boring. They’re standing in a front hallway with hardwoodfloors. There’s a doorway leading into another room, probably a living room,but Dean can’t tell, and there’s a staircase at the back of the room leading upto a second story. A wooden bench is set against the bottom of the stairs,probably for clients to sit while waiting.

Dean glances around curiously, but doesn’t see anyone else.Charlie is grinning again.

“Do you think she’llbe able to tell me where I lost my Organic Chem book?”

“If we came to a psychic so she can help you find a textbook,we’re not friends anymore.”

“That thing cost like $200! Plus, I’m also hoping she’lltell me that Saoirse Ronan is the love of my life.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Huh. Think we can ask for thewinning lottery numbers?”

“That would be highly unethical,” a low voice says behindthem.

“Fuck!” he swears, making Charlie jump too. Jesus, he hadn’theard a thing. His heart’s doing a quick trot and he tries consciously to slowit down, hand to his chest, shooting a glare at the guy standing at the bottomof the stairs.

The guy is watching them calmly. He’s doesn’t look phased byDean’s outburst at all – in fact, he looks a little stoned, and he’s got someserious stubble and bedhead going on. There’s a ring pierced through the centerof his bottom lip and the remnants of smudged eyeliner around his eyes, whichjust makes them seem unfairly blue. He’s wearing a faded KC Royals hoodie, hands shoved in the front pocket. There are holesin the knees of his jeans.

“Not that I particularly care about the ethics,” the guycontinues as if he hadn’t just scared Dean half to death. “I would tell you thenumbers if I knew them, but I don’t. At least not yet, but maybe they’ll cometo me. Who knows?”

Well, that answers Dean’s question about whether this dudeis their supposed psychic.

The guy tilts his head and starts towards the doorway of thenext room. “This way, please.”

Dean shoots Charlie a pointed look, eyebrows raised, butfollows. The guy isn’t even wearing shoes, Dean notices suddenly, and thatexplains how he’d crept up on them so friggin’ quietly. The sounds of his barefeet are practically nonexistent on the hardwood floors. Meanwhile, Dean soundslike he’s a stomping giant in his boots.

They duck around a curtain of beads in a doorway and into asmall living room. There’s a squashy couch, two armchairs, and a wooden coffeetable in the middle.

“Please, have a seat.”

The psychic sits down on one end of the couch and gestures. Deanhesitantly takes an armchair. Charlie sits in the other one on his left.

“Would you like something to drink? There’s tea availablefor guests,” the guy says, gesturing to the coffee table in front of them, andDean notices a pitcher and some cups for the first time. The guy picks up thepitcher and starts filling up several cups without waiting for an answer,handing one across the table to Charlie and then to Dean.

Dean takes it warily and holds it up to his nose. “Thisisn’t some kind of drugged hippie tea that’s gonna get us high and make us morelikely to believe the crap you say, is it?”

“Dean!” Charlie scolds, but the psychic doesn’t lookoffended. On the contrary, he seems interested for the first time since they’vearrived, blue eyes suddenly sharpening and fixing on Dean. He smiles, and it’sall teeth.

“I don’t need to drug my customers,” he says, voice rumblingand low – and shit, had it sounded that low a minute ago? – but amused. “It’sjust iced tea.”

“Oh.” Dean breaks theguy’s gaze and takes a sip of his tea.

“You don’t look like a Missouri,” Charlie says finally,clearing her throat.

The psychic smiles, finally looking away from Dean and over to Charlie, and Dean feels like he can breathe again.

“No. My name is Castiel.”

“So where’s Missouri?” Except apparently Dean’s mouth is incapableof shutting up today, and he’s not quite why – he just knows he feels a strangeurge to press this guy’s buttons. “Isn’t she supposed to be the psychic on thesign out front?”

“She’s out of town visiting her granddaughter. But I’m herapprentice. Sometimes I fill in.”

Dean snorts. An apprentice?He didn’t even know that was an actual thing, he thought it was just a crappyTV show.

“Castiel?” Charlie says, testing the name.

“It’s Biblical.” Castiel’s tone makes it sounds like he’sused to the question. He probably is, with a weird name like that. “I was namedafter the Angel of Thursday.”

“Oh, so you were born on a Thursday,” Charlie nods. “That makessense.”

Tilting his head to the side, Castiel gives her the the mostbaffled look Dean’s over seen, like she just spoke in Farsi or something. “No. Iwas born on a Monday.”

…god, this guy is weird.Dean opens his mouth to say so, too, but Charlie reaches over to swat him onthe arm.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Castiel,” she says quickly. “I’mCharlie and this is Dean-”

Dean can’t resist. “If he’s psychic, shouldn’t he alreadyknow that?”

He’s expecting more of a reaction this time - for Castiel togive him a dirty look or something - butinstead the guy just glances at him sideways, eyes lidded in the most predatoryfucking look Dean’s ever seen in his life, and winks at him. Fucking winks at him.

“- and we’re here for readings,” Charlie carries on,reaching over to hit Dean’s arm again.Whose side is she even on? “How exactly does this work? Do you see into thefuture, or…?”

“Psychic abilities tend to have a will of their own,” Castielsays, setting down his cup of tea. “They don’t always work the same way. I cansense thoughts and energies in a room, but the strength and clarity vary.Sometimes I’ll hear a sentence word for word, and other times I only get thevaguest sense of someone’s intentions. The same goes for projecting into thepast or the future. Sometimes I can see pieces of someone’s past or future, butI don’t always choose what pieces I see. You can ask specific questions andI’ll do my best to answer them, but I can’t make any promises.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very dependable gift,” Deanpoints out, taking a pointed drink of his iced tea.

“Concentration and focus help make it more accurate, andalso practice. That’s why I’m apprenticing.”

“So what happens if you don’t ‘see’ anything worthwhile?”

“Then you don’t have to pay me,” Castiel says easily, shrugging,as if he couldn’t care less about the money. Dean wonders how his boss Missourifeels about that.

“Not a very lucrative way to do business.”

“That’s because you’re assuming I won’t see anythingworthwhile.” Castiel’s slow smile gives Dean the bizarre urge to shiver. “You’renot the first skeptic I’ve met, Dean, and you won’t be the last.”

“And what’s wrong with being a skeptic?” Dean demands. “Ibelieve in things I can see. Not in superstition or religion, and not inpsychics.”

“If God were alive today, he’d be an atheist,” Castiel murmurs,shaking his head.

Dean almost chokes on his tea.“That– that’s Vonnegut,” he coughs, because what the hell, this guy just quoted Vonnegut. Dean is planning his friggin’ thesis about Vonnegut.

Castiel just smiles. “Now, Dean, as the skeptic - wouldyou like your reading first or last?”

“Oh, do him first!” Charlie chimes in, sipping her tea withobvious relish. She’s settled back into the armchair and crossed her feet up offthe floor, apparently making herself comfortable for a long stay. Dean glares at her, trying to communicate hisbetrayal while simultaneously ignoring the innuendo in her words.

Castiel chuckles. The hair on the back of Dean’s neck andarms does not prickle just a bit at the sound.

“If you say so,” Castiel says, and then he fucking leansover the coffee table and reaches out his hands to Dean. “Give me your hands please.”

“Uh.” Dean freezes, gripping his cup of tea in a vice, but Castieljust waits expectantly, hands turned palms up above the table. Like he justexpects Dean to hands holds with him and then they’re going to, what, sing Kumbaya or something?

“What, how’s this work? No crystal balls, or smoke andmirrors, or what?” he says instead, bidding for time.

“No crystal balls or mirrors,” Castiel says cheerfully. “And especially no smoke, because if Missouri catches yousmoking inside her house, she’ll hit you with a spoon. And that’s not a psychic vision, I just know from experience.”

Dean is at a loss. With a sigh, he sets down his cupon the coffee table. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

He reaches out his hands and cautiously grasps both ofCastiel’s palms. They’re large – a little bigger than Dean’s hands – and warm,gripping lightly. Across from him, Castiel closes his eyes. After shooting onelast uneasy look at Charlie, Dean hesitantly follows suit, shutting his eyes aswell.

He only manages the silence for a few seconds before he’sfidgeting in his chair. “So this, uh, hand-holding thing… it helps you get abetter read, or what?”

Castiel’s voice is low and amused. “No, not at all. In fact,it’s entirely unnecessary.”

Eyes snapping open, Dean snatches his hands away like he’sbeen burned, only to realize too late that Castiel is laughing. His blue eyescrinkled at the corners, smiling wide, and even Charlie is cracking up, doubledover in the chair next to him.

“Just for that, I’m not paying,” Dean says petulantly.

Castiel just keeps chuckling and stretches out his handsagain.

“I apologize, Dean. Seriously this time. Please give me yourhands,” Castiel says. When Dean raises his eyebrows and folds his arms acrosshis chest, Castiel actually rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. “Myintentions are honest, I promise. Physical contact actually does help me to getbetter readings.”

With a sigh, Dean holds out his hands and lets Castiel take them again.Castiel’s eyes slide shut, but Dean keeps his eyes open this time. He waitsimpatiently, expecting Castiel to make another sarcastic comment or startstroking his hands or do something else strange, but none of that happens.

Castiel actually seems to be taking it seriously this time, holdingDean’s hands in a light, loose grip. His long fingers are warm around Dean’s,fingertips just barely brushing against Dean’s wrists in a way that he triesnot to focus on. Instead, he watches Castiel’s face, which is set in a look ofquiet determination, eyebrows just barely drawn together. After a couple ofminutes when nothing happens, Dean feels himself start to relax.

That’s when Castiel has to talk and ruin it, of course.

“You have a beautiful soul.”

“Uh.” Dean blinks, resisting the urge to pull his hands awayagain. What the hell is he supposed to say to that? Thank you? Is that somethinghe can even take credit for? He knows the guy is just trying to make him react.

Luckily, Charlie seizes the moment.

“You can see souls?” she asks eagerly, leaning forward inher seat.

Castiel answers her patiently without opening his eyes orreleasing Dean’s hands. “Not quite, but I can sense auras to an extent, whichare extensions of the soul.”

“Wow,” Charlie breathes. Then she grins mischievously. “AndDean’s is beautiful, huh?”

“Oh yes,” Castiel says, and Dean’s not sure what to think about the tone of Castiel’s voice.

He clears his throat. “Anyways, that’s great, but it doesn’ttell me anything. No one else can see souls, you could be just making it up. Stillgot no proof here, man.”

“Of course,” Castiel rumbles, and he’s silent for anotherlong moment before starting to speak slowly. “You were…born and raised here inLawrence. You’re a…Literature major. You’re a big brother.”

Okay, it’s a little eerie, but still. “Dude, anyone couldguess those things within the first five minutes of meeting me. Try again.”

Nodding, Castiel’s look of concentration gets more serious,his lips pressed together in a line. Then his eyebrows pinch together above hisclosed eyes, and he says the absolute worst thing he could have said.

“I’m so sorry about your mother, and the fire.”

“Don’t,” Dean chokes out, because he needs Castiel to stop right now. There’s a quiet gaspfrom Charlie on Dean’s left, but he doesn’t look at her. “Not that. Anythingbut that.”

His heart is hammering a mile a minute, hands suddenlyclammy with sweat. Because if Castiel knows about that, knows about that part of Dean’s past that he’s only everdiscussed with Sammy, then…then Castiel must be telling the truth. He must be thereal deal, an actual psychic, or something like it.

And son of a bitch, if that thought isn’t terrifying. He’snot sure he wants to hear another word that comes out of Castiel’s mouth.

Castiel’s face actually looks remorseful. “I apologize. Ididn’t mean to bring up painful memories, it was just…a very powerful one, hardnot to see.”

Dean has nothing to say to that, so he waits in silence,trying not to panic at the fact that he may need to reevaluate his entire worldview in his apartment later tonight.

After another few moments, Castiel frowns to himself, a quickdownward quirk of his lips that Dean’s draws eyes despite himself, and then he fuckinglicks his lips, tongue flashingbriefly over the ring in his bottom lip. Dean tries to remind himself that he’sgoing to get caught staring in a moment, but just as he thinks it, Castielopens his eyes and meets his gaze. He beams, but doesn’t let go of Dean’shands, and Jesus Christ, this is probably the longest that Dean’s ever heldhands with someone in his life.

“It’s very good to see you again, Dean Winchester,” Castielsays, fondly.

“I didn’t tell you my last name,” Dean says, stupidly.

Castiel chuckles again, that low sound that makes Dean’sskin want to prickle, and now he’s rubbing his thumbs lightly over the backs ofDean’s hands, what is happening. “No,but it seems we’ve met before.”

“Dude, I’ve never met you before in my life,” Dean protests,and finally he tugs his hands away. Castiel doesn’t protest, letting him go easily.

“In this life. We’ve never met before in this life. But apparently, we know each otherquite well in another life. In many other lives, actually.”

Dean gapes at him. “There’s no way you saw that.”

“I did, I received very distinct impressions, although the details and timelines were a bit jumbled. There’ssomething here,” Castiel says, and he gestures between himself andDean. “It seems we have a knack for finding one another, in every life.”

“That’s a load of crap.”

“It’s not,” Castiel insists. “Why would I lie about this? We have a…profoundbond, you could say.”

“Oh my god, they were soulmates,” Charlie whispers.

Dean, after jumping in his seat because he’d forgotten allabout her, gives Charlie the dirtiest look he can muster. It’s a realstink-eye, that’s for sure. Sammy definitely would’ve been cowed.

But Charlie doesn’teven have the good grace to look ashamed, just beaming at Dean and lookingabout two seconds from leaping out of her seat to envelop him in a hug.

“You have a soulmate!” she exclaims.

How is this his life, Dean thinks somewhat hysterically. Hewas promised pie and somehow ends up with a psychic claiming to be his soulmate.

At least Charlie was right. This is definitely gonna make one hell of a story.

#destiel #au #college!au #soulmates #dean is a literature major #cas is kinda like endverse!cas #my writing #60r3d0m

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mythicallore · 5 years

Text

... What was that sound?

"This happens all the time," says Darren Evans, a bystander joining the paranormal investigating team of Travel Channel's Ghost Adventures. The target: Zozo, an ancient demon who makes his presence known by rapping on walls and moving objects, and might be doing so in the empty hallway upstairs.

Evans isn't rattled by the sound; he's used to his house making strange noises. For years, he claims that Zozo has stalked, harassed, and tormented his family. Evans even claims to have been possessed by Zozo, who is an ancient supernatural presence who has wormed his way through history, wreaking havoc on participants since the pre-Biblical days. Evans is a self-proclaimed "Zozologist," who regularly tells his stories at paranormal conventions, on supernatural-themed podcasts, and across 236 pages in a recent book. For this television appearance, he's leading a team into the darkness, into the unknown.

Zozo's origin story is riddled with supposition, fabrication, and a hive-mind belief system that keeps his power alive and thriving -- despite giant gaps in its history. But since 2009, Zozo has been a popular internet fixture, so notorious that he's inspired feature films, books, podcasts, and been the focus of entire episodes of both the aforementioned Ghost Adventures and SyFy's Paranormal Witness. A YouTube search of "Zozo demon" turns up more than 80,000 results, with videos ranging from emotional personal encounters to timeline histories to alleged, full-on possessions. Internet lore has one explanation for how it crept out of the shadows; facts tell us something very different.

The demon's story is intertwined with Darren Evans, a man whose stringent belief in the unseen -- and whose obsession with Led Zeppelin -- helped birth a modern urban legend that gains traction with each passing year, its foothold coagulating into an accepted, inescapable truth.

Who is Zozo?

The Zozo demon (sometimes stylized as ZoZo or ZOZO) is a mysterious trickster entity known for stalking people through Ouija boards. Those who claim they've made contact with Zozo – who also goes by Zaza, Mama, Oz, Zo, Za, and Abacus – say he often shows himself by guiding the planchette into figure-8 formations, before frantically zooming back and forth between the "Z" and "O." His interactions start out friendly, but grow malicious; he's known for cursing at and threatening contactees, sometimes personally. While he's often wrangled by a Ouija board, some believe that saying his name out loud can also summon Zozo from the depths of hell.

Zozo believers claim the demon has ancient origins, either African or Sumerian, depending who you ask. While those claims can't be substantiated (they may be confusing Zozo for Pazuzu, a Mesopotamian wind demon who famously appeared in The Exorcist), a supernatural entity called "Zozo" was referenced in the 1818 French text Le Dictionnaire Infernal. The demonological encyclopedia, written by French author Jacques Auguste Simon Collin de Plancy, recounts the story of a young village girl who claimed she'd been possessed by three demons named Mimi, Zozo, and Crapoulet.

But according to the website The Paranormal Scholar, accurately translating the text of Le Dictionnaire Infernal shows that the girl's story was faked. "She rattled nonsense," de Plancy wrote, adding that the girl had been publicly beaten years before for faking possession, and was eventually imprisoned for her fibs. He goes on to describe what he believed to be genuine cases of demonic activity, ending the Zozo extract with the sentence: "Nonetheless, there are real cases of possession."

Zozo's first-known textual appearance was technically a non-appearance, but this hasn't stopped people from using Le Dictionnaire Infernal as "proof" of Zozo's existence. A number of websites and videos still cite it as fact, bolstering the belief that Zozo predates the event that seemingly willed him into existence.

Darren Evans (right) on a 2014 episode of Ghost Adventures | Travel Channel

A legend is born

In 2009, an Oklahoma man named Darren Evans recounting his experience with a demon named "ZOZO" on a website called True Ghost Tales. In the post, Evans admits to an adolescent fascination with the occult, citing many Ouija board incidents through the years. But Zozo, he said, was different. The entity consistently showed itself to Evans, "too many times to count," pretending to be a kind spirit before shifting into threatening language, including curses in what "looked like Latin or Hebrew."

"I was genuinely fascinated and startled by how many times 'ZOZO' showed up, even in many different states and many different Ouija boards," Evans wrote. He claimed that the demon also made threats against his toddler daughter, nearly drowning her in a bathtub and later infecting her with a mysterious illness. "We almost lost her, and that was when I began to suspect demonic attack."

Evans' post garnered a great deal of interest, with other readers alleging similar Ouija encounters with Zozo. He eventually set up a website to collect stories, which steadily gained popularity. A film production company called One World Studios took notice of Evans story, acquired the rights, and in 2012, released the independent feature I Am ZoZo, which featured a cameo appearance by Evans. A YouTube video promoting the film -- titled "Scariest Ouija Board Demon ZOZO Possessed Girl" -- went viral; it currently has more than 5 million views. The comments still debate its validity, despite a promoted link to rent I Am ZoZo below the video's description. "Oh my gosh, [you're] not meant to joke with this. She was laughing and insulting Zozo, so that's why this happened," one comments reads. "The thing was going around in a figure eight. That's bad," says another.

In 2014, Evans and his family appeared on an episode of the Travel Channel's Ghost Adventures. The show's paranormal team, led by host Zak Bagans, visited Evans' house in Oklahoma, which he claimed to be plagued by Zozo. During interviews, he added new details to his original story, including the temporary blinding of his daughter, which he blamed on the demon.

In 2016, Evans co-authored a book, The Zozo Phenomenon, with leading paranormal expert Rosemary Ellen Guiley. He once again added new details about his first encounter with Zozo, claiming that he came in contact with Zozo in 1982 after discovering a Ouija board in his then-girlfriend's basement. Engraved on the back? "ZOZO."

According to The Paranormal Scholar, earlier that year in a phone interview with a New Jersey newspaper, Evans told the same story about a mysterious Zozo-engraved Ouija board, only that time, he claimed "Zozo" was written on the front, "where 'Ouija' is normally written," not on the back. Both of these mentions were the first time in the seven years that Evans had been talking about Zozo that he mentioned an engraved board.

The Zoso symbol from 'Led Zeppelin IV' | Atlantic Recording Company

The part where one of the most legendary rock bands of all time factors in

As if the cracks in Evans' story weren't enough, The Paranormal Scholar uncovered another fascinating revelation: the "Zozo" font on the cover of Evans's The Zozo Phenomenon appeared to be lifted from the "Zoso" symbol, an ancient glyph representing Saturn that was widely used by Led Zeppelin frontman Jimmy Page. Though Page has never revealed what Zoso means to him personally, it's possible that his being a Capricorn -- a sign ruled by Saturn -- has something to do with it.

Evans also happened to be an on-the-record mega-fan of Led Zeppelin, a band long been associated with Satanism and demonology. For a time, his Zozo website even linked directly to the official Zeppelin website and had a link to purchase Jimmy Page's autobiography.

Evans, for his part, has attempted to counter the claims that he fabricated his story. He claims the root word "Zo" -- appearing in both Zozo and Zoso -- has some sort of "magical power," which he believes explains its recurring nature. In a blog post from earlier this year, he posted more historical "proof" of Zozo's existence, once again citing Le Dictionnaire Infernal and a Nigerian paranormal website, Nairaland, where in 2005 a user named Makaveli wrote of a friend's encounter with a demon called "Zo-Zo." (Curiously, in the Nigerian languages Hausa and Igbo, "Zozo" translates to "come up.") He found mention of a demon named Zozo in a 1966 play by Jacques Audiberti, and in an 1876 issue of the Catholic Review, where Saint Bernardino of Siena mentions a "Mass of Zozo," some sort of Satanic ritual.

There's little consistency between Evans's personal accounts and his sourced material that relates any one Zozo to the other. Furthermore, none of these instances explain why, before Evans' 2009 True Ghost Tales post, "Zozo demon" yielded next to zero results in Google's search function. If Zozo encounters are such a shared experience, no one felt comfortable enough sharing their own run-ins until Evans came forward with his viral anecdote.

A scene from I Am Zozo | Image Entertainment

Zozo lives on

Even with such traceable and flimsy origins, Zozo lives on in the collective subconscious, seemingly unstoppable. Like Slender Man and other Creepypasta concoctions, his mythology is so entrenched in the niche corners of the web that you'd be hard-pressed to convince believers in his non-existence. From Reddit to YouTube vlogs to message boards, many people remain utterly convinced that they've had Ouija board run-ins with Zozo.

In the 1970s, scientists attempted this on a large scale with a project known as the "Philip experiment." Hoping to manifest a nonexistent "ghost" through fear responses, the scientists created a fictional character named Philip and held a séance with a test group. After feeding the group Philip's story, they tried to conjure his spirit. The experiment was successful: through sheer force of belief, the participants felt the table vibrate, heard rapping sounds, and said they sensed a presence.

Zozo could be like Philip, a presence people decided to believe in and have now willed into existence. It's strikingly similar to Slender Man, who, despite being wholly and obviously fictional, inspired two Wisconsin schoolgirls to stab their friend, hoping to sacrifice her to the figure they were convinced was real.

Perhaps Zozo is real, and Darren Evans is merely the conduit through which we were introduced to him. In lore, demons are known to disappear for long stretches; it's possible his 2009 emergence was by some hellish design, and he's here to prey on the specific fears of a new generation, one who can spread his word through the viral capillaries of the internet, where any unsuspecting soul might stumble on his wrath.

#paranormal #spooky #zozo #supernatural #zak bagans

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