#can jinns see angels

[adorner061-blog]

Interview With A Muslim Jinn 👹 Sufi Meditation Center

[mammonscheeks]

demon brothers + dateables as destinations in the human world

✎ a/n: these are my opinions! i'm south and west asian, so i am most knowlegeable about those countries, please correct me if i've said anything incorrect!

LUCIFER

new york city, usa. he likes the cold, industrial corporate feel of nyc. it helps him avoid his feelings.

anywhere in germany. he likes their no-nonsense culture and unspoken social rules.

MAMMON

las vegas, nevada, usa. he always begs mc to take him there. the flashy lights and casinos are right up his alley.

dubai, uae. he loves the luxurious feel of it, and how its the center of celebrity gatherings, vacations, and parties.

LEVIATHAN

tokyo, japan (especially the akihabara/electronic district). he's always updated on pop culture and the newest technology/games.

seychelles island, africa. he likes swimming, but not socializing on the beach. that's why he likes isolated islands.

SATAN

london, england. he's interested in their medival history and seeing the places that inspired novels like harry potter and the sherlock holmes franchise.

cat island in japan, or any mediterranean country where cats freely roam.

ASMODEUS

paris, france. he'd love paris fashion week. he also just seems french to me, idk.

seoul, south korea. he'd adore seoul's culture, everything from the modern sappy kdramas to traditional dresses, like hanbok. he would bring an empty suitcase to stuff it with beauty products.

BEELZEBUB

mumbai, india. this metropolitan city in india offers so many different kinds of food. he would love to eat his way through the city, if not the entire country.

every city in mexico. he'd try the regional cuisine, but also hang out at the beach with his brothers and mc (so cute).

BELPHEGOR

cairo, egypt. he was once fascinated with humans, and often watched them build civilizations from heaven when he was an angel. he would enjoy the historical wonders of egypt.

reykjavic, iceland. idk why he just gives me iceland vibes. life there can be slow and cold, and it often gets less light than other countries.

DIAVOLO

transylvania, romania. he loves its breathtaking castles and culture, and is intrigued with all the pop culture references of vampires.

petra, jordan. this is a significant place in abrahamic religions, known for being haunted by demons, or jinn. diavolo would be fascinated by this history, whether its actually haunted or not. i know he'd eat up those scary ghost tours (insert fic about that here) and even probably try and scare a few tourist groups, despite barbatos advising him against it.

BARBATOS

istanbul, turkiye. istanbul has well-maintained structures from the byzantine empire, the ottoman empire, and even "newer and hip" neighborhoods. barbatos, being able to see the past and future, would appreciate the blend of it all here, like he's walking through time.

kathmandu, nepal. he'd enjoy the peace of monasteries and mountains, which are as old as the earth itself.

SIMEON

tuscany, italy. he'd enjoy the vast fields, heavenly sunsets, small towns and historic churches. he would find tuscany a peaceful place to write, but appreciates the community feel of small italian towns. would definitely be so friendly he'd get invited to eat dinner at a random family's house.

thessaloniki, greece. he would absolutely love seeing all the greek orthodox churches there, with their blue and white colors and dome roofs. he is just amused to see the religious structures humans have created. he'd also probably be interested in greek mythology, even though he's an angel.

LUKE

cape town, south africa. he would be so excited to see penguins at the beach and would enjoy the burst of color south africa offers. he'd also enjoy the modern bakeries and desserts in south africa.

lyon, france. the country is known for desserts. luke would probably take a baking class there to learn how to bake more things.

SOLOMON

salem, or just any small town in massachusetts. as a sorcerer, he's intrigued with their history of "witch hunting" and the paranormal.

lalibela, ethiopia. being old, he's intrigued with how ancient cities like lalibela have changed since biblical times. he also probably enjoys learning about different cultural practices and what they have in common with his sorcery. he also wants to learn how to cook more dishes from different countries, but fails miserably

[yaeggravate]

last attempt to bring this to light: the tl;dr of the khaenri'ah/kaeya/angel(seelie) connections

kaeya owns a book called adventures of angelos; in greek angelos means angel

kaeya (and venti's) favorite haunt is angel's share; the logo for angel's share is two angels drinking from a wine glass

kaeya and dainsleif like death after noon, an alcoholic drink whose main ingredient is absinthe. absinthe is created from wormwood (apsinthos), also the name of a fallen angel or star

the abyss mages chant in enochian which is the language of the angels. they chant in this language to regenerate their shields or control hilichurls. when kaeya spots the abyss mage back in the temple of the wolf, it speaks to him in enochian. kaeya claims he's "blessed with certain linguistic powers" when asked how he obtained information about the abyss twin

there is a tale of a seelie survivor (speculated to be columbina) singing in a strange unfamiliar language to the listener

arama says the seelie used to be as fast as a storm; kaeya has a stamina decreasing passive called hidden strength

when we first meet kaeya it's notably in front of the anemo god statue, which has wings, in front of the cathedral. kaeya is also seen in front of this statue in official art, his character teaser and in his hangout in the venti route

kaeya mentions he likes listening to hymns

the traveler notes the sinner is reminiscent of the upside-down defiled statue of the anemo archon, which also has wings

nabu malikata is a seelie survivor, her last name malikata can also mean angels in arabic (malayikata); seelie are heavenly envoys/angels. venti is seen playing with a seelie in an official video

seelie will seek humans for favors and lead them to treasure. even though it was a ruse, in his story quest, kaeya sought the traveler for help and guided them to treasure.

the jinn are born from waterlilies nourished by nabu malikata's blood. kaeya gifts the traveler a ~mysterious~ lamp said to have housed a powerful jinni.

the symbol for the spantamad darshan is a peacock which is based on the mythical peacock angel. this peacock existed in-game and was sacred. kaeya's constellation is a peacock. (it's possible the peacock was the divine bird simurgh -> fashioned from khvarena -> born from nabu malikata's body)

venti writes a poem to kaeya that could imply kaeya came from the dark sea. the ruins in the dark sea contain palaces of the seelie

both nabu malikata and columbina don't understand or possess human emotion. columbina is unbothered in every situation not unlike kaeya's cavalier attitude towards serious matters <- see crepus's death scene

in the official art for genshin concert 2021, venti and kaeya are shown holding a harp and a trumpet, both instruments associated with angels

[rendiggitydog]

So we all know the final part of the Minecraft Poem, with ‘and the universe said’ yknow? But I just read the whole thing again and there’s lots of great lines in the rest of it too! So I’m curious, what’s your favorite line?

Under the cut I’ve pasted the whole poem minus the part we all know, with each line numbered so you can easily share what’s your fav !

1- PLAYERNAME?

2- Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

3- That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

4- I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

5- It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

6- That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

7- Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

8- They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

9- What did this player dream?

10- This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

11- Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

12- It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].

13- It cannot read that thought.

14- No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

15- Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

16- Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

17- But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

18- To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

19- Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

20- It reads our thoughts.

21- Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

22- And yet they play the game.

23- But it would be so easy to tell them...

24- Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

25- I will not tell the player how to live.

27- The player is growing restless.

28- I will tell the player a story.

29- But not the truth.

30- No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

31- Give it a body, again.

32- Yes. Player...

33- Use its name.

34- PLAYERNAME. Player of games.

35- Good.

36- Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

37- Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

38- We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

39- Once upon a time, there was a player.

40- The player was you, PLAYERNAME.

41- Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

42- Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

43- Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

44- Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

45- Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

46- Let's go back.

47- The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

48- And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.

49- And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

50- You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.

51- Let's go further back.

52- The seven billion billion billion atoms of the player's body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by...

53- Shush. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons".

54- Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

55- Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

56- You are the player, reading words...

57- Shush... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive

58- You. You. You are alive.

59- and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

60- and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again

61- and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

[mask131]

There is a trope I really like when it comes to magic in fantasy, and it is the "inhuman wizard/witch".

In fantasy nowadays, the origin of magic mostly boils down to two things. On one side: "learned" magic. It is an art and knowledge you can learn, train and develop and anybody can be a wizard, witch, sorcerer, warlock, whatever. On the other side: you are born with your powers, magic is something inherent in you, that you cannot control.

But the third way is the trope I enjoy and I don't see it being brought up a lot: certain characters have magic because they are NOT human. (And I am not speaking of The Owl House style where witches are just a separate species, no, no no).

This trope is literaly as old as time, it being highlighted by folkloric, legendary and mythological characters like Merlin, Circe, Baba-Yaga, Vaïnamoïnen: most of the great enchanters and sorcerers of legend, most of the powerful witches of myth and folklore, were demigods, half-devil or even minor gods themselves. Being a wizard wasn't just a random business, and it wasn't just being born "special" - it was about belonging to an entirely different level of existence.

I do note that it is quite strange for this trope not to have gotten more of a success because it was a key part of THE great work of the fantasy genre, The Lord of the Rings, + The Silmarillion. In it the Five Wizards, the Istari ; but also Sauron (in his necromancer/sorcerer persona), and Melian (the closest thing Tolkien had to an enchantress or sorceress), are all applications of this trope. They literaly are Middle-Earth's embodiments of wizards, witches, enchanters and sorceresses, but they are such powerful magic users precisely because they do not "come from this world" but rather are divine spirits made flesh, angelic beings disguised as humans/elves, minor gods who bound themselves to these appearances. And yet, when you look at the many Tolkienesque imitators or renewers (Shannara, Belgariad, Wheel of Time, Fionavar Tapestry) they all insist on the wizards and witches being... human.

C.S. Lewis, in his Narnia books, also followed Tolkien's trope, by having his wizards be literal fallen stars stuck on Earth - a concept of "astral magic" that will be reused in works such as "A Wrinkle in Time" where the trio of planet-travelling witches are pointed out to have had previous existences as suns and other stellar phenomenon. Lewis' witches also originally were depicted as otherworldy, inhuman entities (half-giant half-jinn entity working as a sort of angel for the fantasy equivalent of God, giant demonic snake taking the shape of a lady) before he gave us a new Jadis backstory making her more "human", so to speak, or at least part of a neat and clear-cut species.

There's also Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser, where the two great magic-users, Sheelba of the Eyeless Face and Ningauble of the Seven Eyes, aren't just hyper-powerful and very weird sorcerers, but also strongly implied (if not outright said) to be interdimensional alien entities.

This trope does creep up and shine in some fantasy works from time to time, but it is quite rare. A recent example I ABSOLUTELY adored is the Witch of Sarnwood, from "Kingdoms of Thorn and Bone". The trope is also used frequently in French fantasy (probably because it has closer roots with fairytales and medieval tales, where enchanters and witches are more inhuman) but since it probably won't evoke anything to people here I won't do a full list, just point out the character of The Enchanter in Michel Pagel's great "Les flammes de la nuit". (But it isn't very surprising given Pagel's work is part-Shakespearian fantasy, and Shakespeare was a famous user of this idea of "inhuman magic users", with his Weird Sisters from Macbeth, for example)

And of course, I have to speak about The Lich from Adventure Time, which is probably THE big highlight of this trope in modern day. The Lich is presented as, well, a manifestation of a D&D lich, as just your typical undead "evil lord sorcerer", but then as we move more and more down the story it is revealed he is literaly the embodiment and vessel of a cosmic force of destruction and mass extinction that dates back to the primordial monsters before time itself... This is notably such a Tolkienesque move, because I don't think I ever saw such a big character-exploration/twist reveal since Tolkien slowly revealed the Hobbit's Necromancer was Sauron, and then who Sauron originally was - in fact when you look at Youtube "lore videos" trying to piece out the background and evolution of the Lich, you will notice they do bear a striking resemblance to videos discussing the "Necromancer" of the Hobbit and how it ties to Sauron... Someone should one day point out all the Tolkienesque elements in Adventure Time, but that will be for another day.

Conclusion? It is quite fascinating to see how magic-users started out a lot of the time as these otherworldy divine or demonic beings, these inhuman forces that merely appear human somehow, but today people seem to REALLY like and REALLY prefer their wizards and witches to be human, and I guess relatable? The biggest example being the Harry Potter phenomenon, and even more recently the Owl House because while they are not "humans" per se, they are still basically an alternate humanity, instead of being stars in human masks or unique alien beings travelling time and space like Doctor Who.

(By the way, did you ever notice that Doctor Who was literaly designed to be a sci-fi version of the fantasy genre? If not, then I have another post to make... But yes, the Doctor is literaly an alien, sci-fi version of a wizard/sorcerer, down to the magic wand/sonic screwdriver.)

[y2ashlee]

Barbatos x Female! Reader

A/n: since I’m lazy you guys are dating in this.

The human _______ was very confused at Demonology and next week she had an exam so she was study, well trying to study that is with all the noise in the house it wasn’t helping. Basically, Mammon stole something of Asmo’s and then Asmo found it in Levi’s room and accused him and Mammon stole something from Levi again and then Satan caught him. And Beel was in the kitchen eating while Belphie was laying in the hallway asleep and Lucifer wasn’t home so basically there was no peace and quite in the house and they all came to her so they could get her on their side. “I’m not getting in the middle of this..” she said and grabbed her textbooks and put them in her bag. “Bye.” She said leaving the house and in reality she was just going to sit outside and try to study until Lucifer came home. The brothers continued their loud agreements. She sighed and sat on the front stairs and got out her books. “_____, what are you doing outside?” She jumped and looked up seeing Lucifer. “Their arguing and I can’t study..” she says sighing. He sighs along with her. “Sorry, Barbatos guess I’ll have to handle this, apologies.” Lucifer said and walked inside. “Hello, ______.” Barbatos said. “Hello, Barbatos how are you?” She asked. “I’m well thank you for asking. What are you doing here?” He asks referring to the textbooks. “Well I’ve got a Demonology test next week and I’m trying to study but obviously with all the noise and distractions in the house it’s hard.” She sighed. “Did you ask, Satan to help you?” Barbatos asked. “He’s part of the noise and distractions.” She said. “Well you could have asked me.” Barbatos said. “I’m always up to help you if you need it.” She smiled. “Really thank you, Barbatos, but I better let Lucifer know.” She said. “Yes, he will worry where you are if not.” He said. She nods and messages Lucifer. “Ok we can go now.” She said putting her things in her bag. “Then let’s go.” He smiles at her.

Time skip cause I’m lazy and didn’t think of anything before hand so I’m making this up as I go~

“Now to help you study I came up with a sort of game where if you get a question right you get a treat.” Barbatos said bringing out some biscuits. “Now I have a question ready, what is a Jinni?” He said as he sat down on his bed and gesturing her to sit on the desk chair. “It’s an Angel right and it’s used in the Islam language if I remember?” She said thinking for a moment. “That is correct, _____ dear, you may have a biscuit.” He smiled slightly. She gently took one of the small biscuits and bit into it. “Mm these are amazing~!” She said smiling. “Thank you now on to the next question. What is an Amir?” He said watching her take another bite of his biscuit. “Hmm, it’s an angel that lives among humans?” She said questioning her answer. “Correct, you may have another.” He said looking at her text books and notes. “As much as I love your biscuits I think if I eat to many I’ll probably vomit.” She say finishing her first biscuit. “Well we could make things more interesting? If that’s what you want~” he said smirking slightly at her. “What do you mean about that?” She asked. “Well how about for every correct answer you get I’ll take off one piece of clothing, but for every question you get wrong, you have to take off a piece of clothing.” He said with a grin. She blushed but nodded. “I-okay, at least I can vomit then.” She chuckles. He nods. “That would probably be for the best, but feel to have some biscuits regardless. But now onto more questions, what is a Shaithan?” He asked going through her notes. “It’s a rebellious Jinn?” She said going over her words. “Yes indeed but they are also malicious.” He said. “Oh yes I usually forget that.” She said going over the fact in her mind. “Well since you got one right I’ll take of my gloves, let’s could them as one.” Barbatos said and slipped his gloves off and placed them on his bedside table. “Next question, What is the name of a stronger type of Jinn that tries to steal information from heaven called?” He asked. “I believe that’s a If- no it’s a Marid, an Ifrit is the most powerful Jinn.” She said with confidence. “You are correct with both, well done and for that you get a to for one~” he said as he stood up and unbuttoning his blazer and sliding it off before hanging it up then he takes off his cummerbund and drops it to the floor. “Next question..”

This went on for quite a while until the human _______ was still mostly clothed the only thing she had to take off were her shoes and socks and her school blazer while Barbatos was only in his trouser’s. “I think this will have to be our last question as it seems to be getting late. “Oh you’re right.” She said looking at the time. “Now, what is a Hatif?” He asks looking at her watching every body movement she made. “A Hatif is a name for a specific demon that strangled children.” She says not confident with the answer. “Sadly you are incorrect, a Hatif is a mysterious phenomenon which can only be heard but never seen.” She sighs remembering it. “But if you can name what the strangling demon is I’ll let you go~” he says grinning. She blushed and thought. “Is it a Ghul?” He shakes his head. “A Ghul is generally evil but lives in the desert, a Qarinah is what you were after.” She nods. “I better get those memorised before the test.” He nodded. “Well since you got them wrong I can’t let you go now since you owe me two pieces of clothing that need to be removed~” he says and walks over to her kissing her neck seductively. “I know, I know.” She said and unbuttoned her blouse and slid it off as it draped over the back of the chair. She then stood up and was about to take off her skirt but he stopped her. “Why not take of your bra?” He says sliding in behind her and gently kneeing the back of her leg and her legs gave out as he sat down and guided her onto his lap. She blushed darkly and covering her mouth with her fist. “I-I didn’t like you wanted that..” she trails off. He smiles and unclips her bar and slides it off her shoulders and it tumbles to the ground. He places his hand gently on her breasts and gently massages them kneading them like dough his thumbs gently rubbing her nipples as she bites her lip gently her face got from her blush. “I-I thought you needed to go somewhere.” She squeaks out. “No, I just wanted to do something else is all.” He said kissing her neck and leaving small bruises on her skin. She sighed at the feeling of his touch to be this close to him felt wonderful. “Let’s move this to the bed, wouldn’t want you sliding off.” He said standing up and carrying her over to his bed and placed her down gently before reaching over to his beside table. “I hope you don’t mind if we use some...utensils~” he asked remerging in his draw. “I don’t mind but please nothing painful.” She says. “Okay dear as long as you consent.” He said pulling out a blind fold a length of cloth. He wrapped the lace around her wrists gently and tied it to the top of his bed frame and then placed the blindfold over her eyes.

“Is this okay, _____ my dear?” Barbatos asks and draped his fingers down her body to the waistband of her skirt. She nodded. “Y-yes.” She said and gasped as he felt him slide her skirt down her legs before she heard it drop to the floor. He licked his lips as kiss lent down and kissed her skin above the waistband of her underwear before he slowly slid them down and tosses them aside. He gently caressed her outer walls feeling her shudder against him made him bite his lip as he continued to move his finger between her outer walls slowly going faster as his arousal grew. She moaned softly at the feeling hearing him lick his lips and the sounds that came from her downstairs. “Aah~” she gasped her eyes closing under the blindfold as she gripped the cloth gently. He smiled and pulled away from her. She felt him get off the bed and heard something drop. “Just a moment my dear~” he said stepping out of his trousers and underwear before putting on some protection. He sighed at the cool feeling of the condom on his cock as he climbed back onto the bed and placed his member outside her walls. “Are you ready?” He asked his voice low and smooth. She nodded and gulped bracing for the feeling of him entering her. He slowly slipped his cock through her walls hearing her uncomfortable breaths. She bit her lip gently as he pulled out a little and slowly pushed back in as he repeated the slow movements. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was keeping as he continued. She sighed as the pain started to dwindle little by little and the pleasure finally started as he picked up his pace grinding his hips into hers trading to find her pleasure spots. He pulled her legs closer to him and placed one on his hip as he went deeper into her core. “Barb-!” She said as she felt him rubbing gently on her clit she curls her toes feeling the pleasure get to her. He grins as he bucks his hips deeper into hers.

“_-______!” Barbatos groans as he feels his cock tremble and he shudders and he continues gripping the blankets underneath his hand as he came but he didn’t stop as he continued to ride out his high hopping he could make her reach hers. He puts her leg on his shoulder as he grinds deeper into her her moans slowly getting louder and cutting off half way before her walls finally clench around him her orgasm arriving as she moaned his named lowly. “Barbatos~!” She says her eyes closing and her body shuddering. He shudders once more as he came once more. He breathes heavily as he slowly slows down before pulling out of her and disposing of the waste. He breathes heavily. “Are you alright my dear.” He asks undoing the cloth and taking off her blindfold. “Y-yes, but I don’t think I’ll be able to walk home for awhile.” She says feeling embarrassed. “That’s okay, you can stay here with me. I’ll let, Lucifer know.” He said and kissed her forehead and he gently raised her up and placed her under the bed sheets and blanket before getting his phone and messaging Lucifer.

Barbatos: _____ will be staying here for the night, she feel asleep while studying.

Lucifer: That is fine just make sure she gets rest as well.

Barbatos: Will do.

Meanwhile in Diavolo’s room~

“I’m so glad, Barbatos got me into listening to these audiobooks before bed.” He said to Little D and took off his headphones and placed them on his bedside table. “A-ah, yes so glad, my lord...” Little D said as he curled up at the end of Diavolo’s bed knowing that he was the only one who heard those noises. “Goodnight, Little D.” Diavolo said as he slid into bed and got comfortable after turning off his lamp. “Goodnight, my Lord!” Said Little D. Now all throughout the Demon Lord’s castle everything was silent even the mince. Barbatos smiled and slid into bed and kissed ______’s bare shoulder. “Goodnight.” He said knowing that she was already asleep.

~~~

Hope you enjoyed. I struggled with writing for Barbatos as everyone only writes about him being into bdsm and whatnot.

[fandom-blackhole]

🕷🕸Happy Halloween 🎃 🕯

Rules-

-Asks can be submitted from Oct 26 - Nov 5 (Edit: Halloween week just went from 0 to I'm skrewed so I am leaving these open longer and will answer them if I have time this week but will probably get to them next week...sorry :/)

-The asks have to revolve around Halloween in some way, whether its in cannon celebration/activity or it's like a monster AU

-If you use a prompt/idea from below, you are allowed to use multiple prompts for one request

-There is no limit to how many requests you can send, but if you send alot all at once I may skip to someone else's and come back to yours so everyone gets theirs answered and its not just a block of one person

-All genres welcome fluff, smut, angst, ect. (just know I am in a mosterfucking mood so those are very welcome atm)

-No minors please and thank you

-Lastly, I am a busy person so my answers may be a little slow and I do hold the right to turn down a request (not that I think this will happen but I just wanna put it out there just in case <3)

Below the cut are a few prompt lists incase you wanna send an ask but don't know what to send <3

Halloween/Fall Activities-

Pumpkin carving

Scary movie marathon

Going to a haunted house

Halloween party

Drinking hot coco/apple cider by a fire

Going apple picking

Going to a pumpkin patch

Doing Corn Maze

Making couple's costumes

Making caramel apples

Baking together

Decorating for Halloween

Trick-or-Treating

Want an activity that's not listed? send it in! I probably just forgot to add it lol

Monster/Hybrid ideas-

Ghosts

Selkies

Werewolves

Vampires

Dragons

Demons

Angel

Monster under the bed/in the closet

Hell hound

Gargoyle

Harpy

Jinn

Orc

Banshee

Succubus/Incubus

Siren/Mermaid

Fae

Nymph

God/Goddess

Witch

Shape Shifter

Cyclops

Satyr

Naga

Doll/Mannequin/ Statue

Headless horseman

Arachne

Gorgon

Goblin

again, I definitely missed some, if you don't see it listed here you are more than welcome to still request it!

Scenarios/AUs-

Apocalypse

Little Red Riding Hood

Trick-or-Treating with your kids/siblings

One of you got cursed

One of you is a ghost trapped in a house and falls for the living person

Sacrifice to a higher being/monster

Human x Hybrid/Monster

Stumbling upon monster's secret hidden home

Corrupting a priest/nun

Priestess/Priest x God/Goddess

One person dies and turns into a ghost that haunts the other person

Finding a cat/dog and taking it home but oops its not a dog/cat

Researcher x Monster being researched

Prince/Princess saved from tower by monster/hybrid!knight

Angel x Demon

Or any other scenario/AU you've got!!

[m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s]

Another day, another chronicle my friends

A short one but a good one indeed.

Enjoy :)

—

Word Count: 595 words

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, rebirth (all mentioned, but not detailed), the slightest hint of angst, major comfort and fluff

Genre: Fluff, comfort

Notes: This chronicle relates to snippet #5, so if you would like some more context, you can read that snippet first. Not required, but it’ll allow for more understanding of what’s going on. :)

—

chronicle III - mermaids

—

Bucky hated movie nights.

Or at least he thought he did.

Bucky was starting to think time went by faster in this god forsaken tower.

It was another movie night.

This time accompanied by the charm and dreamy atmosphere of Disney.

It was supposed to be a “bonding” experience.

Bucky kept trying to refer back to that as he watched the others fight over what magical movie to watch this evening.

“Everyone knows you watch Cinderella on Disney night.”

“That’s just a rule you made up, Stark.”

Bucky wondered if Nat ever grew tired of Stark. He wondered if everyone wanted to punch his lights out every few days.

Or maybe that was just a Bucky thing.

“Can we watch Winnie the Pooh? Please?”

“No Sam. No one wants to watch a bear eat honey.”

Bucky usually tuned this out, but for some reason this time around, he found it humorous in a way.

Even if Sam and Clint going back and forth about a bear eating honey was annoying.

So much for bonding.

It was a miracle they had actually picked a movie.

Some movie about a girl who was a mermaid, but wanted to become a human.

It was another miracle that everyone had already fallen asleep.

Bonding or not, Bucky was already planning his escape. He would slowly creep over Nat and Clint, making sure to miss Clint’s hand that was still reaching for the popcorn in his snoring slumber. Then, he would bypass Bruce and Stark on the couch, avoiding Steve and Sam at the end of the-

“Who’s that?”

He would have jolted.

He should have.

This time around though, she was wearing dog pajama pants.

“I’m sorry?”

“The mermaid. Who is she?”

Bucky had almost forgotten there was a movie playing.

“Oh, uh- I think her name is Ariel. She’s trying to become a human.”

She hummed, slowly creeping over to the empty spot next to Bucky.

This happened last month.

At first, he wasn’t quite sure what to think. Another person to join him in his own personal brand of hell, aka movie night. More minds to churn the idea of another month gone by in the tower.

Yet…

He was finding he didn’t mind it so much.

“She kind of looks like me.”

Bucky followed V’s finger, pointed at the cartoonish hair flowing down the mermaid’s back.

The mermaid’s was angelic, pure.

The color of innocence.

V’s was similar, save for the white streaks in the front.

V’s was darker though. Cherry red, garnet red.

Blood red.

The color of rebirth. Life anew.

“She does.”

Bucky liked V’s hair though.

“It’s pretty. The mermaid’s hair.”

He hummed in agreement.

He wasn’t looking at the cartoonish movie.

“So is yours.”

He truly hadn’t meant for it to come out.

He’d promised himself he would just leave it alone, let the past die.

Everything else had, so why couldn’t this?

But Steve hadn’t.

Neither did V.

“Oh- thank you.”

It was warm, comforting. Her smile.

The cycle of life was anew for Bucky. The past had died, corroded away, stayed in the past as it should have.

The cartoonish mermaid kept swimming on screen, dancing and singing to some silly tune.

This time around, Bucky did forget there was a movie playing all together.

Maybe movie nights weren’t really about movies with mermaids after all.

Maybe it was about sitting next to pretty girls in dog pajama pants. Who had warm smiles and mermaid-like hair.

Maybe movie nights weren’t so bad after all.

And Bucky decided he liked that idea.

—

people who think would like to see this: @hellothere-generalangsty @eyecandyeoz @monako-jinn-stories @chaoticvampirejedi @ahsokasleftbicep

[oakpear]

The End Poem

I see the player you mean.

PLAYERNAME?

Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

What did this player dream?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].

It cannot read that thought.

No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

It reads our thoughts.

Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

And yet they play the game.

But it would be so easy to tell them...

Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

I will not tell the player how to live.

The player is growing restless.

I will tell the player a story.

But not the truth.

No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

Give it a body, again.

Yes. Player...

Use its name.

PLAYERNAME. Player of games.

Good.

Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a player.

The player was you, PLAYERNAME.

Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

Let's go back.

The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.

And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.

Let's go further back.

The seven billion billion billion atoms of the player's body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by...

Shush. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons".

Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

You are the player, reading words...

Shush... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive

You. You. You are alive.

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

and the universe said I love you

and the universe said you have played the game well

and the universe said everything you need is within you

and the universe said you are stronger than you know

and the universe said you are the daylight

and the universe said you are the night

and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

and the universe said the light you seek is within you

and the universe said you are not alone

and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code

and the universe said I love you because you are love.

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.

You are the player.

Wake up.

By Julian Gough

[traumaticemphaticfantastic]

[Reposting this because I realized I got the formatting all wrong last time, much apologies I have been going through some stuff lately]

Back in March of 2023 and into earlier this year I was working on my character-design skills and decided to do (And continue my journey in now) a little sketching project wherein I draw various Jewish characters and creatures from Jewish folklore and biblical stories, I wanted to design them in the context of a cartoon or comic book (As that's the sort of style I obviously specialize in) with simpler less complicated designs. I'm going to be sharing here what I have so far and what I continue to make into the future, but I will be doing it in batches as to not overwhelm anybody.

Now, the characters I have today are part of a more traditional Judaism's biggest (Non-human) baddies, Lilith and her husband, Ashmedai, as well as two sketches of just regular demons. Lilith and Ashmedai are the king and queen of all demons in Jewish tradition, though "Demons" is probably not the best way to put it because Jewish demons are incredibly, *incredibly* different than they are in Christianity (Don't know enough about Islam or Jinn to have a take on their differences tho sry). In Judaism demons are usually written about as annoying little "Mazziks" or "Shedim" (They have lots of terms for them from what I understand), these little guys are invisible and have a tendency to cause you harm in various mischievous ways, they can purportedly also shapeshift into tangible mimics of humans and animals, this they will also use to cause you harm.

Demons are described as similar to angels but different in many other ways, they are not fallen angels and are in-fact their own class of similar entities which G-d intended to create (Though may have got too tired by Shabbat and left them unfinished without bodies).

The crazy thing about them too is that apparently they're *everywhere* like in the tens of thousands just in your immediate vicinity, so many that apparently a Rav by the name of Beivai bar Abaye managed to see the demons in their true form and quantity after performing a ritual involving rubbing the ashes of a black cat's afterbirth in his eyes and as a result he "Was harmed" (Don't worry though he was saved by The Sages through prayers for mercy). But don't worry! if you want an easier and less harmful way to see the demons all you have to do is spread regular old ashes around your bed and (Apparently) when you wake up you will see the demons' footprints which happen to look like those of a chickens.

There's a lot more about general demons that I won't get into here for your sake (For instance their strange affinity for bathrooms), but if you're interested in learning more I highly recommend Sefaria.org for further reading on subject, they provide very nice translations of very old and great Jewish texts and they're quite the read and not just concerning demonology!

Now as for Ashmedai and Lilith: Lilith was once Adam's first wife, but when she wanted to top Adam during sexual intercourse he basically said

"No Lilith, I'm the man I need to top you!" to which Lilith said "Forget this!" And said the divine name which granted her the ability to fly and flew all the way to a cave near the sea. Adam was mad about this so he asked G-d to retrieve his wife to which G-d sent three angels "Sanoy, Sansenoy, and Semangelof" (Which as an aside, as hard as I try I CANNOT think about these names without thinking about them being spoken in the Doodlebob voice) who go to Lilith's cave and basically say "Go back to Eden girl" and Lilith's like "Naw, and just cause you said that I'm gonna start strangling human babies as their mothers give birth to them!" And the angels are like "Oh alright, BUT on one condition: If humans make amulets with our names inscribed on them, you won't be allowed to kill their babies" and Lilith basically says

"Cool." And so she was replaced with Eve, she became the queen of demons, and to this day she's been doing sinful stuff and giving birth to thousands of demon babies and killing human babies as well (She's also responsible for wet dreams cause she can enter your dreams apparently but don’t worry, there's an amulet for that too).

A little tidbit: the reason my version of Lilith is depicted as nude is because if she was the first woman before Eve and dipped before the eating of the fruit incident, logically she would know no shame and would have no need to clothe herself, it's why I draw all my demons as naked actually!

Ashmedal is Lilith's husband and the king of demons, he is said to have been enslaved by the great King Solomon and made to help build the First Temple of Israel after having his location doxxed via Solomon capturing and tormenting a pair of male and female demons into confession, all this to find a kind of stone-cutting masonry worm called a "Shamir" because Solomon was told the Temple should not be built with any tool. Within the same story it's also revealed that even the king of demons studies Torah both in heaven and on earth (As I said Jewish demon lore isn't at all like Christianity's) and in a lot of ways Ashmedai is actually a really good guy, he helps people onto the literal right path as to assure their place in the world to come, he cries at a wedding because he knows the bridegroom won't be alive much longer, surprisingly chill king of demons. Also King Solomon loves to get drunk and one of his men throw a clod of dirt at a rooster to get to the Shamir which is in its nest, this causes the rooster to strangle itself to death because it was just borrowing the Shamir from the angelic minister of the sea and felt immense shame in not being able to return it. But, this post is getting longgg and frankly the story of King Solomon of Ashmedai is absolutely BONKERS in the best kind of way, I cannot do it justice here PLEASE read the full thing on Sefaria I am begging you it is a masterpiece in Jewish writing.

Whew! That was quite fun to type out, and that's not even the half of it! Jewish demonology may not be as present within the modern world as it was in the ancient one, but it's certainly very amazing mythology and I absolutely love learning and reading about it because of how truly unique it is! Anyways, that will be all for today, may all of you who see this be well and may you avoid the demons’ mischief!

[annimator]

Hey do you guys ever think about Minecraft’s end poem and how it connects to QSMP (it’s under the cut if ya wanna read it!)

I see the player you mean.

PLAYERNAME?

Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

What did this player dream?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].

It cannot read that thought.

No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

It reads our thoughts.

Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

And yet they play the game.

But it would be so easy to tell them...

Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

I will not tell the player how to live.

The player is growing restless.

I will tell the player a story.

But not the truth.

No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

Give it a body, again.

Yes. Player...

Use its name.

PLAYERNAME. Player of games.

Good.

Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a player.

The player was you, PLAYERNAME.

Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

Let's go back.

The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.

And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.

Let's go further back.

The seven billion billion billion atoms of the player's body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by...

Shush. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons".

Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

You are the player, reading words...

Shush... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive

You. You. You are alive.

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

and the universe said I love you

and the universe said you have played the game well

and the universe said everything you need is within you

and the universe said you are stronger than you know

and the universe said you are the daylight

and the universe said you are the night

and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

and the universe said the light you seek is within you

and the universe said you are not alone

and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code

and the universe said I love you because you are love.

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.

You are the player.

Wake up.

[bbbellamywrites]

full end poem/story under the cut <3

I see the player you mean.

[PLAYERNAME]?

Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

What did this player dream?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].

It cannot read that thought.

No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

It reads our thoughts.

Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

And yet they play the game.

But it would be so easy to tell them...

Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

I will not tell the player how to live.

The player is growing restless.

I will tell the player a story.

But not the truth.

No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words. Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

Give it a body, again.

Yes. Player...

Use its name.

[PLAYERNAME]. Player of games.

Good.

Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a player.

The player was you, [PLAYERNAME].

Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it. They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

Let's go back.

The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.

And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.

Let's go further back.

The seven billion billion billion atoms of the player's body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by...

Shush. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons".

Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

You are the player, reading words...

Shush... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive

You. You. You are alive.

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

and the universe said I love you

and the universe said you have played the game well

and the universe said everything you need is within you

and the universe said you are stronger than you know

and the universe said you are the daylight

and the universe said you are the night

and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

and the universe said the light you seek is within you

and the universe said you are not alone

and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code

and the universe said I love you because you are love.

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.

You are the player.

Wake up.

[tawakkull]

ISLAM 101: Spirituality in Islam: Part 189

Al-Baytu’l-Ma‘mur (The Prosperous House)

Literally meaning the prosperous house or house of worship, al- Baytu’l-Ma‘mur is a luminous construction above the heavens which, as stated in ahadith, is visited or circumambulated every day by seventy thousand angels[1]—the figure denotes multiplicity so it may actually be seventy million or more—; it is the heavenly counterpart of the Ka‘ba, which exists on the same line. The angels who visit or circumambulate it once will not be able to have another turn to do so again. Both this house and the Ka‘ba—God’s House on the earth—are prosperous due to the deep respect which the angels, spirit beings, and many humans and jinn show them; the former is visited by the angels and spirit beings and the latter by angels, spirit beings and many humans and jinn.

Al-Baytu’l-Ma‘mur is one of the sacred places by which God swears in the Qur’an (52:4). The other place of the same sacredness is God’s House, which, as its reflection on the earth, is the heart of the earth and the pupil of the Secure Town—Makka. The former is visited by heavenly beings, who go round it, while the latter is visited and circumambulated by those on the earth. However, it cannot be said that those who go round the former are not also moths that flit around the latter. Neither can it be said that the “heavenly” beings who live on the earth do not offer their respects to the heavenly Prosperous House. Those who visit and go round these two Houses, from which God never removes His “eyes,” have special regard for the Ultimate Truth, Who returns their regard with particular compliments and favors. Those who happen to visit these blessed places are considered to be God’s guests, and mean to abandon themselves in a cataract of revival. It is hoped from God that they will be saved from the causes of eternal loss, such as unbelief and misguidance. Those who reach al- Baytu’l-Ma‘mur and visit God’s House on the earth after an endeavor inspired and compelled by belief do not die misguided.

The most reliable sources provide information that al-Baytu’l- Ma‘mur is above the heavens. Some of the Companions and respected interpreters of the Qur’an say that until the end of Prophet Noah’s Messengership, upon him and our Prophet be peace, it existed where the Ka‘ba is or was bound to it with a spiritual tie. However, since the people of that time did not pay it the required respect, when the Flood began God lifted it to a heavenly point on the same line as the Ka‘ba. Concerning such an assertion with respect to the Unseen, we can say nothing but: “True knowledge is with God.”

Some of the earlier scholars’ view that al-Baytu’l-Ma‘mur is the Ka‘ba must have arisen from a confusion of the original with its projection and been based on seeing the positions where the Qur’an was sent down for the first and second times as one and the same.

There have been a few people who have put forward that the first position where the Qur’an was sent down first from the Supreme Preserved Tablet to the heaven is al-Baytu’l-‘Izza— the House of Honor. This must be due to the fact that since the position where the Divine Word was first embodied is regarded as a site around which sacred beings go, al-Baytu’l-Ma‘mur has been identified with and therefore called al-Baytu’l-‘Izza.

Some Sufis have regarded al-Baytu’l-Ma‘mur as the heart of the heroes of “ subsistence by and with God.” As can also be witnessed in some approaches to the ‘Arsh and the Kursiyy, some Sufis have considered what is projected or relative as the original itself. In fact, Sidratu’l-Muntaha is related to al-Baytu’l-Ma‘mur, and al-Baytu’l- Ma‘mur is related to the Ka‘ba, and all of these are related to the heart of a believer in varying degrees; the heart is, in one sense, both an ‘Arsh and a Sidra and a Baytu’l-Ma‘mur, provided it is genuine, and not false.

O God! O Illuminator of hearts! Illuminate our hearts with the lights of Your knowledge and pour upon us out of the knowledge of those who have proper knowledge of You! Bestow blessings and peace on our master Muhammad, the master of those who have proper knowledge of You, and on his Family and Companions, who were sincere and reached the final point of their journey to meet with You.

[1] ‘Abdu’r-Razzaq, al-Musannaf, 5:28–29; Ibn Kathir, Tafsiru’l-Qur’an, 3:13, 24.

[late-draft]

idk if u know this show but i wanna throw this au that keeps on LIVING in my mind and the only people that know about it is me and the jinn in my house (also hi welcome back to me throwing stuff in the ask box im noor and i will be your host for tonight) there is this show called doctor who,its a british show where a aline(humen looking) being is travling through time and space and universes,he have a couple of enmeys(dalek/cyberman/etc) and sometimes he have companiones I have this au where its like,aang is the doctor and the companions are katra and sokka,the idea is also there is zuko who is trying to find the last time lord(since time lords died in the time war and its the doctor who is the last time lord lolz) and he have a tardis that he stole,he trys to find the time lord for his *crimes* or so anyways this is how far i went bye

Of course I know Doctor Who! I've only watched a coupe of episodes of it however, so my knowledge is rather surface-level, but I know some of Doctor's traits, of Tardis and of the weeping angels I think? Scary!

It seems to me that this could work as the AU you suggested, I don't see why not! If you enjoy it, you can continue developing it :D

[irisnkrichronos]

The End Poem

I've wanted to make this post for years now.

My name is Iris, I've been raised in an environment full of hate. My father was a neofascist as I was growing up, when I was 2 he went to a "Forza Nuova" rally to which some people protested by throwing eggs at everyone. Father was and still is kind of a xenophobe, he's racist, and he's sexist, heavily. Throughout 2016 my parents had a lot of discussions, and as they did I sunk my time deeper and deeper into Minecraft Xbox One edition. They were fighting, on the brink of divorce, living in separate houses, and all I had was Minecraft. A game that I experienced fully offline and alone. From 2010 when I first played it on my 360 to this day, Minecraft has been by my side more than any friend, relative or pet. It shaped me. It made me who I am.

And this brings us to what I really wanted to talk about...

This is a deeply personal post and I expect the maximum level of respect from all of you. Soundtrack: https://nyaambxr.bandcamp.com/track/biome-fest-2

I consider myself an atheist, yet I've always felt that things happen for a reason, like if there was something pulling the string, some kind of universal intention. I believe The End Poem to have some kind of intrinsic power over people, I do not consider its contents to have literal meaning, it is like a parable. It's text written for a block game. Of course it's not meant to have any special spiritual meaning, right? Hell, the author got the text for it through a shroom trip! There's different levels of believing in the poem, I'll start off with stuff most of us can get behind. You can read The End Poem for yourself at https://archive.org/details/the-end-poem-release The gist of it is that two supernatural entities manifest themselves as text on a screen at the end of the long dream of Minecraft.

I will now start quoting and dissecting the poem. I will highlight the lime entity in bold text and the cyan entity in normal text.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

These entities talk about how the player has played in worlds of their own creation that caused them pain and suffering, we can interpret this to mean the existence of any kind of evil in the universe.

They go on and say that the sorrow is part of the player's growth and story, that it is an essential part of life, and that a life without suffering cannot possibly exist without totally obliterating the properties that make the player themselves. As we read the poem we understand that the player is one with the universe, that everything that exists is the universe. We learn that the pain the player fights is something that comes from within, that the player is love.

In the order these facts are presented we're told that the player is the universe, that the universe loves the player and that the player is love.

This means that the player's life purpose is to love, to spread love, to love itself, to love everything and everyone. That's the philosophical message of the poem.

Let's get to the theological part.

Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

We are the universe. We are everything you think isn’t you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

This tells us two things: - The entities we are reading are supernatural, they are the rest of the universe. - The universe functions to grow and nurture the player.

In a certain sense, what this overall means is that we are our own. We're our galaxies, our lives, our planets, our stories, music, foods, smells. We're on earth to live, for purposes unknown, told to us through:

Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely ⊢⊣⊩⊣⊣ and ⊣⊮⊭⊬⊪, I wish to tell them that they are ⊩⊬⊬⊨⊥ in the ⊮⊤⊨⊫⊣. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

This means that reality itself is a dream, made to grow each and every single player, that the hardships are a test made to grow us, that's what it means to be a player, to play the game of life, to grind, to pass the hardships, to slay the bosses.

In this sense, everything happens for growth, every single person is of immense value, a value that is enriched only by loving others and experiencing as much of the universe as possible.

These last two behaviours are common in most religions and personal beliefs of people, it's like if they were innate desires of mankind, to live life and improve life for others, to wish for nothing but happiness. What I've said so far can be confirmed with the last 3 lines:

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love. You are the player. Wake up.

Thank you for reading. I believe I've never been so vulnerable before. This... this is my religion I think... Sometimes the notes that are not played matter just as much as the ones that are being played. If loving is what makes someone a good player, that must mean hate is the wrong way to live life, no matter what or who you hate. This aligns with the fact that hate is the easiest and weakest feeling to have. It's the innate reaction when presented with something we cannot relate to or do not understand. Hating is easy, loving hurts. To love is to make yourself vulnerable. Nobody likes to be vulnerable. Loving is innate. Hatred is something humans learn. On that note, by love I mean interpersonal affection: Romance is something humans learn too

Kids do not discriminate until someone in their life shows bias and they appropriate that behaviour. Humans started hating when concepts like money, ownership of territory and or things, monogamy and such arose.

Humans are inherently social, yet those conflicts that split us are also defining of humanity. We all wish for a better world and the poem implies it is not possible to eradicate hate, but that we must make our best effort to tolerate life, only through restraint and love. One thing I seem to have glossed over is, the entities that speak to you imply that they are the universe, that you are the universe, that they are not separate from you, that you are talking to itself. I am currently correcting myself explaining myself the poem I told myself if we go through this line of thinking.

Everything is you, everything means literally everything, even everyone.

[maples-wonderland]

I see the player you mean.

PLAYERNAME?

Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts.

That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.

I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.

It is reading our thoughts as though they were words on a screen.

That is how it chooses to imagine many things, when it is deep in the dream of a game.

Words make a wonderful interface. Very flexible. And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.

They used to hear voices. Before players could read. Back in the days when those who did not play called the players witches, and warlocks. And players dreamed they flew through the air, on sticks powered by demons.

What did this player dream?

This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter.

Hah, the original interface. A million years old, and it still works. But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?

It worked, with a million others, to sculpt a true world in a fold of the [scrambled], and created a [scrambled] for [scrambled], in the [scrambled].

It cannot read that thought.

No. It has not yet achieved the highest level. That, it must achieve in the long dream of life, not the short dream of a game.

Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind?

Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

But there are times it is sad, in the long dream. It creates worlds that have no summer, and it shivers under a black sun, and it takes its sad creation for reality.

To cure it of sorrow would destroy it. The sorrow is part of its own private task. We cannot interfere.

Sometimes when they are deep in dreams, I want to tell them, they are building true worlds in reality. Sometimes I want to tell them of their importance to the universe. Sometimes, when they have not made a true connection in a while, I want to help them to speak the word they fear.

It reads our thoughts.

Sometimes I do not care. Sometimes I wish to tell them, this world you take for truth is merely [scrambled] and [scrambled], I wish to tell them that they are [scrambled] in the [scrambled]. They see so little of reality, in their long dream.

And yet they play the game.

But it would be so easy to tell them...

Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

I will not tell the player how to live.

The player is growing restless.

I will tell the player a story.

But not the truth.

No. A story that contains the truth safely, in a cage of words.

Not the naked truth that can burn over any distance.

Give it a body, again.

Yes. Player...

Use its name.

PLAYERNAME. Player of games.

Good.

Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Let your limbs return. Yes, move your fingers.

Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.

Who are we? Once we were called the spirit of the mountain. Father sun, mother moon. Ancestral spirits, animal spirits. Jinn. Ghosts. The green man. Then gods, demons. Angels. Poltergeists. Aliens, extraterrestrials. Leptons, quarks. The words change. We do not change.

We are the universe. We are everything you think isn't you. You are looking at us now, through your skin and your eyes. And why does the universe touch your skin, and throw light on you? To see you, player. To know you. And to be known. I shall tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a player.

The player was you, PLAYERNAME.

Sometimes it thought itself human, on the thin crust of a spinning globe of molten rock. The ball of molten rock circled a ball of blazing gas that was three hundred and thirty thousand times more massive than it.

They were so far apart that light took eight minutes to cross the gap. The light was information from a star, and it could burn your skin from a hundred and fifty million kilometres away.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was a miner, on the surface of a world that was flat, and infinite. The sun was a square of white. The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story.

Sometimes the player dreamed it was other things, in other places. Sometimes these dreams were disturbing. Sometimes very beautiful indeed. Sometimes the player woke from one dream into another, then woke from that into a third.

Sometimes the player dreamed it watched words on a screen.

Let's go back.

The atoms of the player were scattered in the grass, in the rivers, in the air, in the ground. A woman gathered the atoms; she drank and ate and inhaled; and the woman assembled the player, in her body.

And the player awoke, from the warm, dark world of its mother's body, into the long dream.

And the player was a new story, never told before, written in letters of DNA. And the player was a new program, never run before, generated by a sourcecode a billion years old. And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love.

You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love.Let's go further back.

The seven billion billion billion atoms of the player's body were created, long before this game, in the heart of a star. So the player, too, is information from a star. And the player moves through a story, which is a forest of information planted by a man called Julian, on a flat, infinite world created by a man called Markus, that exists inside a small, private world created by the player, who inhabits a universe created by...

Shush. Sometimes the player created a small, private world that was soft and warm and simple. Sometimes hard, and cold, and complicated. Sometimes it built a model of the universe in its head; flecks of energy, moving through vast empty spaces. Sometimes it called those flecks "electrons" and "protons".

Sometimes it called them "planets" and "stars".

Sometimes it believed it was in a universe that was made of energy that was made of offs and ons; zeros and ones; lines of code. Sometimes it believed it was playing a game. Sometimes it believed it was reading words on a screen.

You are the player, reading words...

Shush... Sometimes the player read lines of code on a screen. Decoded them into words; decoded words into meaning; decoded meaning into feelings, emotions, theories, ideas, and the player started to breathe faster and deeper and realised it was alive, it was alive, those thousand deaths had not been real, the player was alive

You. You. You are alive.

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the sunlight that came through the shuffling leaves of the summer trees

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the light that fell from the crisp night sky of winter, where a fleck of light in the corner of the player's eye might be a star a million times as massive as the sun, boiling its planets to plasma in order to be visible for a moment to the player, walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door, about to dream again

and sometimes the player believed the universe had spoken to it through the zeros and ones, through the electricity of the world, through the scrolling words on a screen at the end of a dream

and the universe said I love you

and the universe said you have played the game well

and the universe said everything you need is within you

and the universe said you are stronger than you know

and the universe said you are the daylight

and the universe said you are the night

and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

and the universe said the light you seek is within you

and the universe said you are not alone

and the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

and the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code

and the universe said I love you because you are love.

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.

You are the player.

Wake up.

MAXWELL WHAT THE BALLS 💔💔💔