#god is dead theory... maybe???

[tonydaddingham]

so i saw this post and the reply underneath it

and what if ... god was turned mortal and born as ... agnes nutter ...

oh i love-loved that art, i know it was meant to be based on the moon meme but it's so good!!!✨ but let's get into a little bit of speculation, eh? now's a good a time as any!!!

hmm, came to earth as agnes nutter? it's an interesting thought and would be really cool, but im not entirely convinced. but agnes was absolutely meant to be a personification of god, i think that's without doubt.

but i think there might be some kind of clue as to what happened - and will happen - to god in agnes' brief but important narrative. if we take her story as a hypothetical direct parallel to god, agnes ended up being hunted down and burned on a pyre as a witch, but then did an ol' bait and switch and blew everyone and herself up (bitch behaviour, gorgeous, stunning).

but what if this is similar to what happened to god?

we know that the last canonical time her voice appears is speaking to job, when she starts challenging him on asking her questions. to me, she's essentially saying that he has no right to do so, which echoes the same kind of rhetoric that is implied by the fall. aziraphale and crowley can't seem to hear what she is saying - her voice from their perspective is muffled - and i know others have remarked that her voice sounds manufactured (like, in the narrative itself). also in job, there is a key lighting difference - heaven is swathed in golden heavenly light, compared to the stark white it is now.

however, despite the voice being fake school of thought, im inclined to believe that she is actually present. this, to me, is supported by aziraphale's dynamic in heaven; gabriel and michael obviously have the wrong end of the stick where concerns job's fate, that much is true, but i do think the general vibe is that they are a touch more collaborative with him than in s1, where it felt much more cold, and laden with subtle but aggressive superiority:

essentially, it feels more here that they are indeed following god (obviously still immoral in doing so, but they seem so much more innocent and almost teamlike?). im possibly projecting and misinterpreting here, but i do think nonetheless there is a big difference between the character behaviour of the angels between job and 2019.

now there was this brilliant meta put forward by @amuseoffyre✨ that looked at gabriel's weird iterations when he 'remembers', and how it overlaps with what sounds like god's voice. it frankly hasn't left my brain since, because to my mind, the book of life might come into this. the theme of memory being lost, but also possibly memory being scattered, is very prevalent in s2. my thoughts on the book of life are that it essentially doesn't necessarily erase life/existence, but in the context of angels specifically erases the essence of their divinity (ie. falling) - which maybe to angels is the same as losing who they are, and by extension parts of their memory.

so what if god was written into the book of life? well im not 100% convinced that it's as simple as that - it's GO after all, it never is that simple. in any case, for what purpose she might have been written in (other than metatron essentially being machiavellian by nature but that's by the by) is similarly uncertain; i could imagine a good ol' fashioned power struggle possibly has a hand in it somewhere. but again, this just doesn't seem to be quite right.

for this next bit, where i think possibly god might have gone/done, im going to refer to nietzsche and his famous statement, "god remains dead, and we have killed him." to me, this doesn't mean that god never existed or a lack of belief in god is now absolute, but instead that other belief systems potentially will replace, and have replaced, god. now, that could be belief in science, or other theology and philosophy, or just plain belief in oneself. and the prospect is dangerous, as nietzsche also elaborates, because it's irreversible, and there will always exist the need to replace it with something in order to avoid complete nihilistic belief.

so going off of this, if god is no longer untouchable - unquestionable - where does that leave us? well, it leaves us like job; being put through trials and horrors that are being challenged for their necessity and the morality in exacting them. it starts us on the same journey as aziraphale - does god truly intend this to happen? if so, why would she? is this a system - a god - i want to trust and believe in anymore? (coincidentally, crowley on the whole, and particularly at start of s2, appears to have gone straight to the nihilistic end of the spectrum following the fall, and through his development since the fall is instead slowly working his way backwards to finding faith in something again, and meet aziraphale in the metaphorical middle).

but back to the story, and agnes: i think the above is going to be posed in s3, and would tie in narratively with what i anticipate will be a recounting of the fall. that collectively - same as the witchfinders and the village did to agnes - humanity and heaven and hell may start to question the power behind god, and whether god herself can be challenged in her plan, the morality and ethics of it, and what it means for true free will. the only issue is, i think, is that in god possibly having retreated after job, because that's when that line of questioning kind of started amongst her people and amongst her angels, metatron has rushed to fill the vacuum and pretends that he is still acting in her name.

the conclusion i come to after all this ridiculous rambling is this: i think that god did intend to step back from heaven, but didn't leave anything to fill the void - hence the absolute chaos that has ensued since. i think she has surrendered herself over to the allegorical pyre, seen it coming and has accepted that her death - the loss of blind faith in her - is needed for humanity to progress.

maybe the last thing she'll do is a bait and switch; who that metaphorical mix of gunpowder and roofing nails will hit, and why, i don't know...

or maybe it won't happen at all, and this is where the parallel diverges from agnes' story? actually reaching a peaceful and acceptable ending, where free will will actually flourish and determinism borne of her omniscience will dwindle into nothing?

if you or anyone made it to this point, well-bloody-done because that was A Lot!!!✨

[tankgamingidk]

Homestuck: Beyond Canon - 100 player theory

So this is a crack theory I’ve thought of for a little bit (wanted to try and word it better but flash is tomorrow so I wanted to get it in writing).

So, according to Hussie, the troll universe was made via a 48 squiddles session. Under loop theory, Rose’s species are going to be squiddles/horroterrors whose session make ms the troll universe. Plus, evidence points to 6 total players (GavageCunctation is tied to the purple flower in the panel with the big house, referred to as a GorgeousColor by Haven, and there are 6 flowers). So the session is likely gonna be 3 squiddles, 3 satyrs, and 4 humans.

Now obviously there can’t be 48 squiddles in the session, that’d be ridiculous. Even if only 3 are truly important, that’s still 45 more than the number of Satyrs. The only way that would make any sense is if there were also 48 Satyrs.

And wait, with 4 human players, that results in a grand total of 100 total players. The perfect number for a battle royal. Now, we know that there’s going to be some kind of war between the species. What if this war were to happen inside of sburb? If this were the case, it’d make sense for a large number of players to enter the session at once. It would also allow for the 48 squiddles specifically to create the universe, despite sharing the session with another species.

One last detail. If we also add the number of human players from the alpha/beta sessions to the number of players in the session, we get…

108. Homestuck’s new arc number.

That’s it that’s the theory. There’s gonna be 48 squiddles, 48 satyrs, and 4 omega kids, all participating in a big war inside of sburb.

[feelingtheaster99]

Another CLUTCH Nat 20 from Beardsley my GOODNESS

[cat-hesarose]

Good Omens season 2 theory, spoilers under the cut

In season 1, Metatron appears like this.

Know what that reminded me of?

What if there is no God?

Or if there was, but she fucked off long ago and Metatron hasn't actually spoken with her in aeons? "To speak to me is to speak to God" takes on a whole new meaning.

We saw Crowley creating, basically, "the universe" in ep 1. Saying "Let there be light"; a line attributed traditionally to The creator, aka God. Other angels participated in the actual manufacturing process once the designs were delivered. God was never hands-on.

It's a convincing theory that Metatron is personally responsible for Crowley's fall ("he always asked too many damn fool questions"). What if Metatron was pulling the strings since the beginning, and claiming the orders he gave came from a higher power in order to maintain legitimacy?

This does leave the question of exactly where God went, or what she has been doing all this time. Possibly she has a strict personal policy of non-interference, in Heaven and Hell as well as on Earth. Maybe after Job she got bored, and went and found a hobby and hasn't been back since. Maybe she turned herself into a whale.

Inbox always open for anyone who wants to join in the madness.

[sympathytea]

Alright chat before s2 starts tomorrow I want to put one more idea out there or rather, theory.

So we know that the red gate at the diamond level probably leads to like, a lobby or something. Probably a no-pvp zone. Assuming that every civilization has a lobby exit gate at their last level (depending on the weapon this might just be instantly accessible) Is there actually a way out? Or is this it? Are they suspended in the void? Is there ever really anything outside of the civilizations? Is it an apocalypse out there, perceived to be that way? Or is it. Nothing special? Personally what I'm going with until its proven wrong: There is no true exit. Death is the only way out of PVP civilization. The whole thing with Evbo's immortality, his obsession with trying to get down lower and see if there's anything outside of it. Wouldn't it be fucked up if there was actually just nothing except this hell that he put himself through for no reason? The guy in episode 1 might've had a point there, and might've been the smartest guy Evbo ever met. The point of the whole game being to not play at all.

Putting himself in a cycle of dying and living and dying? Probably the worst idea he had, assuming I'm right. Which considering everyone seems more concerned about prolonging the inevitability of death? Farming for durability, paying for immortality with said durability? What if they already knew there was nothing out there, and nobody thought to tell Evbo. Either because they didn't have the heart to crush his dreams, or fear that it would break him. Could you imagine how devastated he would be if he got that revealed to him? That there isn't a way out, that nobody is going to escape PVP Civilization. There is no Chosen One, to lead everyone out of hell.

[guckies]

I want to ask really I do but I feel like asking will hurt more than knowing

[mabaris]

elgar’nan called himself “last of the evanuris” but did i miss something?? there’s still 5 other ones lol, theyre just still in jail

[torgawl]

a bit obsessed with the idea of kusakabe dying as a form of sacrifice to specifically protect/save somebody else. it's consistent enough with the theme of the past generation achieving no meaningful feats against significant threats but it's also ironic enough that someone without a technique and who claims their philosophy is primarily self-sacrificial - although he tends to stay from his own ideals in critical moments, proving he's not only brave when necessary but he does have a sense of responsabilty and guilt - ultimately redeems themselves through death resulting in the achievement of something his colleagues have failed to do. not that i'm wishing for him to die, i hope he doesn't. but it would also make a clear-cut distinction between him and a character like mei mei, who narratively serves a very similar purpose (besides her being a foil to nanami). to have someone be awarded by their selfishness just for it to not be worth much within a world and system that runs and sustains itself due to the sorcerer's labour power, whose only means of subsistence is to sell themselves away. a class of people who is doomed no matter what path they choose to take, as long as they do not break free from their duties and as long as the system doesn't collapse. a death that could serve as a symbol of punishment towards solidarity and altruism but a win for revolution.

[tonydaddingham]

see, this is what i mean. im not necessarily putting this as, like, a hard-set theory, but i do find the whole thing odd. to summarise thoughts on this and from other posts:

big-ass miracle, ended up registering say between 2500 - 25,000 times the strength of a normal miracle, and was done with the intention of each of them hiding gabriel from the other's former side so noone ever notices him

michael seems to register that there is Something Off in ep2, which as @jmourning rightly pointed out, may have been because of the fly going around with the Essence of Gabriel inside (and i do, upon reflection, think this is key here so bear with)

muriel recalls an assistant in ep5 (despite him being upstairs because the bookshop is always closed on wednesdays) but confirms they never saw him. now, could be that they eavesdropped on the conversation, but again - like the above - think it might be them sensing a Presence (ie the buzz buzz), and just assuming it was the assistant... basically just one big confusion

shax can sense something in the shop at the end of ep3, which i do think is genuine. she then verifies that it's gabriel by tricking aziraphale in ep4

crowley then assumes, and informs the group (and the audience) that the reason that the miracle was so successful is because he and aziraphale did it in synchronisation, together, etc. this reflects on his "well done us!" line in ep5, but i think the assumption we've taken is that the miracle was so powerful because of them doing it together.

so here's my tinfoil hat reasoning:

aziraphale and crowley were hand in hand with the shell that used to be gabriel (jim). gabriel was already in the fly at that point, so presumably the miracle didn't actually affect gabriel - only jim*. so, in a way - did the miracle actually work? because if michael and shax (and possibly muriel) are still able to sense gabriel, that would indicate that the miracle took, but not on gabriel. gabriel was in the fly, not in jim.

the angels and demons dismiss jim, especially when he's going around saying outright that he's gabriel, possibly because a) 'well i can't trace any 'gabriel' in him, so obviously not, shut up', and possibly a bit more fancifully (?) b) i think neil has said that in heaven, they do not use their human forms - even if that's what we see - so would michael et al. actually recognise his human face? they've never been on earth with him in the same scene, only sandalphon.

*a miracle of some kind did happen. we have incontrovertible proof of that, right? well...

if gabriel was in the fly, but it was jim's hands they were holding, was something... or someone... a fragment... in jim that caused a shockwave to the tune of 25 lazarii? okay frankly - did they just hide, or attempt to hide, the almighty?

(again, biiiig thank you to @jmourning for the heads up on the fly - i think it's bang on!!!)

[brilliantfantasticgeronimo]

just bc u didn't like the answer to the question doesn't mean the question didn't get answered

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

#‘hey why do people follow a religion when there’s no evidence those gods are real??’ baby use your brain for a minute #almost everyone in the world is religious in some form - are there any signs their religious figures and deities are explicitly real? no (via @asoiastarks)

#my favorite part is the fact that sometimes shit DOES happen but it happens with such a wide variety of different faiths #so you don't know what to believe but ultimately it doesn't matter because we the reader see that there are several gods answering #and also you can make the argument that the many faced god and the seven are real because of this. but that doesn't even matter #bc just like the monarchy the name of the religion doesn't matter. the thing you worship doesn't matter. #it's just faith and belief and an idea! it doesn't matter yay!! (via @ropertplant)

#maybe the seven were the friends we made along the way #but yeah they technically are real and show their power pretty much all the time #the seven are human’s facets and virtues that live inside them #the mother is alive in every woman protecting her children #the smith is in every man who works hard to feed and care for his family #the warrior lives on brienne and jaime and everyone championing for the weak #much better than fire sacrifices and drowning rituals if you ask me (via @sunnysideaeggs)

funniest criticism of asoiaf worldbuilding is ‘why would anyone follow the faith of the seven? its obviously the worst of the religions theres no evidence the seven are even real theyve never done anything’ i dont think you understand how religions work. yeahh good point why do most respectable southern families follow the closest one to a state religion based in the capital the one kings are anointed by the one they were baptised into instead of the drowned god or rhollor. use your head for a second

[timmydraker]

Tim begins to distance himself from his family after Damian becomes Robin.

It was obvious in the way he ran off to rescue Bruce, but that was more of a physical thing at the end of the day. He was desperate and had lost any kind of safety net and support he had after Dick threatened Arkham and how badly he hurt Alfred with his instance that Bruce was alive.

Either way he was going to get Bruce back, if not because he felt like he was an aimless, nothing human being without Batman then there was that he wanted to be believed.

Then Dick handed over Robin to Damian who at that point genuinely despised Tim, though there was also a level of jealously in the young Wayne’s mind at the intelligence and analytical Tim.

It was then that Tim decided he would bring Bruce back and then do his own thing, outside of Robin and outside of Batman.

He clearly had done his job hadn’t he? Sure Bruce was dead, but Dick was acting as Batman and that Batman had a Robin, so his reasoning for being Robin was extinguished.

Tim brings Bruce back and the older man praises and thanks him for several days and then, like everything else, the attention moves away. It goes to him connecting with Damian on a vigilante level and catching up on the last several months of him being ‘dead’. It goes to Jason who, now that he’s lost his foster father has decided that maybe he could try a little harder after all.

It goes to everyone and anyone other than Tim and this time? That’s actually the plan.

Tim isn’t as good of a hacker as Barbara, but she’s basically a god at it so compared to others he might as well be master level, just not against her. This he uses to shift around peoples schedules so Alfred has no choice but to let him go to school on his own (Tim may have also invented an early morning ‘club’ that was totally legit and not at all a fabrication). He makes it so when Dick is over or Jason takes the rare opportunity to visit he had to work at WE or DI, something important he can’t neglect.

He never has to walk Ace or Titus because he’s busy with his team mates.

Team mates who think he’s busy helping out Batman.

Tim still does work as a hero, but it’s entirely through his businesses after a while. A few times he has no choice but to go out in a boring black suit with a full face mask and hoodie. It’s got nothing on it, no symbols or gadgets. Nothing to connect him to anyone.

He starts with the homeless, dishing out vaccines like candy without even doing a campaign to showcase it.

Then he changes Bruce’s rather naive approach to orphanages and makes it so every single child who is put through is given a small amount of funding. He makes it so kids have more chance to stay with siblings, makes sure everyone who even so much as enters the ground of a orphanage have a real background check and sure the adoption rate drops, but so does the missing kids and DV cases.

Tim steals over fifty million from people like Luther and Penguin and all kinds of corrupt rich assholes for the majority of the funding and not even a cent of it is traced back to Wayne or Drake businesses. Whiles he’s digging into Lex be manages to get enough evidence to put a sizeable dent in his reputation, even if Lex manages to smooch a fair bit of it back.

He’s manages to take out a large sized trafficking ring and helps get the victims into a real recovery home that he hand picks out security for.

Later, as in a few days afterward, he discovers a dog meat farm and everyone medical veterinary student suddenly finds themself free of student loans and debt and with multiple work opportunities available and volunteer work being down right pleased for.

Tim knows he’s being noticed but given that he basically lives in his office in the heart of the city, he isn’t there to hear his old teammates and ‘family’ talk about the mysterious Dread.

Dread who was named that after a report came out about a theory of an unknown hacker or ‘cyber vigilante’ who was stealing money and information from rich folk and giving it to the poor, giving all of the 1% dread that he would hit them next.

The exact quote was ‘Those with money deeper than their pockets dread the hackers next moves. And they should feel that dread as a warning for this Robin Hood like legend seems to be getting braver.’

Dick was sure the hacker would have been called Robin if he hadn’t chosen that name already, to which Barbara responded with grumbles and growl because she couldn’t find anything other than holes and traps left by the hacker. It was like they knew her every move before she even made it!

Tim, obvious to his growing reputation until it fully took off, hadn’t even considered that his actions would be framed a threat by Batman. He would say it was because he didn’t think Bruce would ever really target him like that, but in actuality it’s because he knew Bruce was one of the few good rich folk. Surely he would be on the side of a secret vigilante hacker trying to use horrible people to do good? He embraced Dread quickly and was happy he make the rich squirm and brought a sense of hope to people, it was just like Robin but instead of them being safe and given light they were given a peace of mind in a mix of revenge and justice.

What Tim doesn’t know is that Bruce is still too far into his whole image of black and white, good and evil, that he tends to forget there’s grey areas.

At least Jason is on the side of Dread, even if he still thinks the myth of a story is just that, a myth.

It’s when Tim blows up a bank when everyone has gone home for the night just so people will find the underground money ring that and he visits the manner to get a few things that he hears them talking about it.

By that point it’s been around two years since he dropped Robin and as usual Dick always greets him with a look of a desperate puppy, “Tim! Hi, you’re here. I haven’t seen you in months, how have you been?”

Tim smiles at Dick even if he hasn’t gotten over his anger at his oldest brother and moves to sit at the breakfast table with everyone (Alfred, Bruce, Jason and Damian).

“Good. Busy, we’ve had a lot of donations lately.”

Jason snorts, “No shit. Isn’t Wayne Enterprise one of the few ones not hit by Dread?”

Bruce grumbles and shakes his head, “I wouldn’t say that. They’ve managed to get into our system and completely changed the Jason Project.”

Jason grins and laughs happily, “you mean improved! Crime Ally is doing great now. Not the best, but still a fuck of a lot better.”

Smiling at the man who once beat him to an inch of his life, Tim takes a sip of his tea and casually says, “You’re welcome.”

The whole table goes quiet as Tim continues to casually sip his tea.

The silence carries for a total minute before Bruce puts down his cup and leans forward with a slight growl in his voice, “Explain.”

“Explain what?”

Bruce stands over his son even from halfway down the table and very obviously tries to calm himself with a deep breath, “What do you mean ‘you’re welcome’?”

Tim makes an ‘oh’ expression before cocking his head to the side in confusion, “I was the one who fixed the Jason Project? Wait, did you guys not realise I’m Dread?”

Damian shouts out a ‘what?!’ That makes Titus jump and Tim laughs under his breath, “What did you think I was doing?”

“Running the business! Not stealing from people and black mailing politicians!”

It’s Tim’s turn to growl now and he stands up himself with a glare at Bruce that is as close as any of them have gotten to the famed Bat-Glare, “Are you fucking kidding me? Like are you a Tully kidding me with that horse shit?”

Bruce looks stunned and Alfred doesn’t even tell him not to swear.

Tim slams his chair into the table.

“What the fuck else would I be doing, Bruce? I’m not Robin, that was taken from me, so what else was I gonna do? I finished my job, not only keeping you from killing anyone but bringing you back, so I had do pick something else. I’m not stealing from the rich, I’m stealing from selfish cunts who ruin peoples lives for no reason and giving it to people like Jason. So, don’t you fucking yell at me and don’t try to make me feel bad for this, not when I’ve done more in two years than you ever have and- don’t you fucking speak Dick, not when you were the one who took my place here away from me! Now, I have a trafficking ring I need to expose so good. Fucking. Day.”

Jason is the only one who follows him.

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

I see this and I raise you:

pretending to rejoin Helio's church, going to heaven and killing Sol

pretending to reunite with her parents, having a heart wrenching scene about it, and ultimately using it as a ploy to kidnap her brothers

And, what I think it's most likely going to be:

Brennan's fun little 'vulture dimension' bit (that he made as a way of making fun of them and giving a nod to their origins as DND players) being twisted into an OP plot device by Ally 'Nat 20' Beardsley

current theories about ally's character choice that almost made brennan quit:

hooking up with tracker

seducing kipperlilly

something with her parents

punching helio (again)

a poorly timed "hey girlie"

[deadsetobsessions]

“Did this place pick up a ghost when I was dead or something?”

Tim whipped his head towards Jason, who looked mildly perturbed.

“You too?!” Tim demanded.

“What?”

“The ghost! I kept thinking it was a hallucination, you know? But even when I laid off of the caffeine, there’d be a fucking shadow at the edge of my vision! At night! You saw it too, right?” Tim rambled, increasingly agitated. “It even moves the fucking coffee mugs! I know where I left my favorite mug, and it sure as hell wasn’t in the sink!”

Jason blinked at him, face morphing into concern.

“Replacement, when was the last time you got some sleep?”

Tim inhaled. “Jason, I swear to god I will replace all of the shampoo in your twenty six safe houses with glitter glue if you don’t tell me whether you saw it or not.”

Jason nodded immediately. In his defense, Tim grew up to be a scary motherfucker. Diabolical little shit would have been a fucking terrifying villain.

“I knew it.”

——

Danny hummed. Tim was going to freak when he found his cowl three inches to the left.

He merrily avoided all of the set up cameras by simply going invisible and intangible, save for his arms that he uses to sweep the cowl to the side.

He could hear the static on the cameras. Danny grinned. Operation Gaslight, Ghostkeep, Girlboss is on.

——

“Tim-” Dick started, only to be cut short by Tim whirling around and jabbing a painful finger into his chest.

“You owe me this, for that Arkham comment when B went missing.”

Dick raised his hands in surrender, guilt flaring.

“Drake, what kind of pointless scheme are you getting us in, now?”

“Not now, demon brat.” Jason elbows the kid. “Just go along with it.”

“Look.”

“Well. I guess we were right, yeah, Tim?” Duke muttered, eyeing the moved cowl. “My ghost-sight isn’t seeing anything. Not even wind movement.”

“What’s going on, boys?”

“B, there’s a ghost in the manor.”

“He’s freaking out because it moved his coffee mug like three times.” Steph chimed in.

——

“Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you seen anything weird, lately?”

Danny tilted his head. “No…?”

“Not even in the house?” Jason asked.

“Shadows? Anything?” Dick asked, eye bags prominent on the normally exuberant man. Danny snickered inwardly. They’ve been up for three days trying to “catch” the ghost.

“Uh. I mean the floorboards creak sometimes? But in terms of shadows… I think I saw them outside? Kind of looked like Batman, actually. But my eyesight gets bad at night. Why?”

Danny could see in the dark just fine.

“Nothing! Let me know if you see anything, okay?”

“Uh. Sure? Maybe you guys should… get some sleep?”

“Uh-huh.”

The bats file out of his room.

——

Danny locked glowing green eyes with Tim and Dick. He did some quick thinking and contorted his ectoplasm into something more grotesque.

“Kkkhggggghkkkkeeee!!!” He screeched.

“AHHHHHHHHHH!” The two of them screamed, both bolting and throwing things at him. It was impressive how fast they backpedaled.

“That was close,” Danny muttered. He quickly scribbled on Damian’s whiteboard with conspiracy theories and dipped before the rest of the bats came thundering.

He fell into a light sleep just as Stephanie checked up on him, work done.

[falling-endlessly]

The Finer Things in Death

Alastor x Soulmate!Female!Reader

Summary: An AU where your soulmate's first words to you are tattooed on your body in their handwriting.

Oh dear, where's your smile?

You knew those words by heart. Could recite them backwards, in your sleep even. Those damning words have been inscribed on the inside of your ankle for as long as you could remember, the elegant cursive strokes poking out of your shoe line.

In theory, somewhere, someone else was supposed to be sporting your own neat, boxy handwriting. You'd say you lucked out with yours. Some soul marks were less than pleasant, and others were downright embarrassing (imagine having the words move, asshole written on your stomach for the rest of your life. No thank you).

At least your soulmate was trying to cheer you up, right?

Yeah, but there was just one teeny, tiny problem.

Your soulmate was dead. Long dead actually.

Were they stillborn? Did their toddler self die in a house fire or something? Night after night you laid awake in your bed, pondering what the hell could have possibly happened to have altered the entire course of fate.

All you really knew was that your soul mark was a light gray (indicating a severed bond) instead of the usual inky black, and it had been since the day you were born. Everyone was in shock to see the faint words on your little ankle. After all, how could a soul mark exist if the other person wasn't even alive to speak those words into existence?

Simply put, you were a conundrum, and it had been some time since you had dedicated effort into figuring out why? You'd accepted it. Your soulmate was dead. Life went on.

Besides, you'd spent enough time grieving over someone you'd never met before.

Your lifestyle was not extravagant by any means, but it was comfortable. You had a steady income, lived on your own in an apartment in the city, and survived off of more than ramen bowls. Every day you would come home and read in your little fluffy alcove that you'd built yourself by your window, or pop open a bag of chips (and the occasional bottle of wine, if you were feeling fancy) while you watched the latest crime show releases from your couch.

Yes, so comfortable was your little routine, that you didn't notice the robbery happening in the convenience store you were browsing in, or the stray bullet coming for your head until it was too late. Your skull exploded in a world of pain, eyes rolling back as your body crumpled to the ground.

Dying was an interesting experience, to say the least. Your soul floated from your body, the final notes of music that blasted from your earphones fading into nothingness like the sound of a car driving away.

There was a brief moment where you were struck numb, hovering in the air as you stared down at your glassy eyed corpse, blood pooling alarmingly from the circular shaped hole in your head. You heard screams of the other customers behind you, but they were kind of muffled, like you were underwater.

It didn't last long though, because before you knew what was happening, you felt an almighty tug downwards,  like an anchor had just chained itself to your stomach.

And that was how you ended up in hell. Fun. What were you here for? You had no idea. Maybe God got mad that your teenage self stole a few packs of gummy bears in high school. But a life of eternal damnation and suffering seemed a little harsh, didn't it?

Before you could contemplate the semantics of it though, something...strange happened. Your ankle, right where you'd tried countless times to forget your soul mark existed, was burning like a fucking brand.

You hissed sharply in pain, frantically pulling down your sock to assess the damage. Was the eternal punishment starting already or something? Shit, you had terrible pain tolerance.

But what you saw made you gasp. In fact, you could hardly believe your eyes.

Because in the place of your faded grey soul mark, the letters had been reinvigorated, darkened with a swift hand and—glowing they were glowing holy shit.

"Hah," you huffed in disbelief, shaking your head slowly. "So that was it, huh? I was destined to meet my shitty soulmate in hell this whole fucking time?" You punctuated the last words with a few angry kicks to an unassuming patch of weeds. What a cosmic joke at your existence.

But, like you always did in shitty situations, you gathered all of your raging emotions, stuffed them tightly in a box at the back of your mind, and cooled your head. Freaking out in this place would do you no good.

Turned out hell was pretty much like the world you'd left, except for the fact that you could kill someone on the street and nobody would bat an eye. Like all of the depraved aspects of humanity were on full display now in a somehow still functioning society.

You managed to snag a job at an old record store, the owner giving you one look before grunting and gesturing to the register—but not before lifting his jacket to show you the long assault riffle strapped across his chest. Yeesh, you got the message.

It wasn't a bad job by any means, especially considering where you were. Sure a little boring and monotonous, but you'd restock thousands of old albums if it meant staying away from the overlords.

Oh, yeah, another thing. Overlords were like the big shots around hell. Messing with them usually meant a death sentence, or worse, a contract.

And if there was anything at all that you picked up from all those nights of watching television, it was that you do not make deals with the devil. Really, elementary level shit. And you'd never actually seen Lucifer, mind you, but these demons were probably a close second, right?

Yeah, so really, you were just living a shittier variant of your life on earth it seemed. Repetitive, safe and comforting. You were even starting to like the scent of musty cardboard, as weird as that was.

And once again, all thoughts of your soulmate slipped your mind.

Until one day, when everything went to shit.

****

It started like this: with the sad sight of your empty fridge.

You groaned, dragging a tired hand down your face. Seriously? You thought you'd restocked already, damn it. 

Your stomach growled achingly, and you sighed, wondering if you'd actually die again if you starved yourself. Begrudgingly, you decided that you didn't really want to chance it, throwing on the first set of clothes that you saw and slipping out of your dingy apartment to make a quick grocery run.

You generally hated leaving your apartment, and didn't do so except to retrieve bare necessities or walk across the block to go to work.

Why? Well, see exhibit A to your left: some poor, random demon screeching and running around on fire. See exhibit B to your right: a turf war between two rival gangs. And finally how could you forget, cannibal colony, slurping up intestines like bloody, chunky spaghetti. Disgusting.

The worst thing about hell wasn't the fact that you were in hell, it was the fact that the worst of the worst people were all cramped together like some fucked up refugee camp, and some people were significantly worse than others. Which sucked, for the poor unfortunate souls just trying to get by. Like you.

You sighed, ducking under a stray stream of bullets (you weren't falling for that shit twice) and side stepping pools of blood and guts. Just a regular Monday morning in hell. God damn it.

It seemed luck wasn't on your side though, because an ugly, dog-headed demon blocked your path, sneering down at you smugly. "Hey bitch, it's your lucky day. The big boss is hiring, and you fit the profile."

You clenched your grocery bags in a white-knuckled grip. Nobody would give a flying fuck if you were dragged off of the street in broad daylight. "Not interested."

"Oh it wasn't a suggestion," he chuckled darkly. You tensed as you were surrounded by at least four other demons. Shit, you knew you should have slept in.

"You like apples?" You nodded sharply at the demon in charge.

His face twisted in annoyance. "Why the fuck do y—"

You reached into your bag, before hurling a granny smith straight at his forehead. He yelped as it made contact, stumbling back as he shook his head in confusion. While everyone was still in shock from your weapon of choice, you shoved your way out of the circle, gunning it straight down the street because your second life did depend on it.

"Get her!" You heard a yell of absolute rage, making you shiver. Fuck, that did not sound promising. That apple must have really pissed him off.

Putting your limited aerobics to use, you ducked, dodged and lunged through the crowd like a pro. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, air burning your lungs as you pumped your legs faster. But of course, your grocery bag ripped open, sending all of your food tumbling and you by extension, tripping and face planting in the dirt rather pathetically.

A meaty hand gripped a handful of your hair, yanking it up harshly. You cried out as he pulled, hands uselessly trying to smack his away, but his hold only tightened. A liquor-filled breath and cheap cologne invaded your senses, making you cough.

"Uppity bitch," he growled, giving your scalp a painful yank for good measure. "You actually thought you could get away? Maybe I should teach you a lesson, huh? Sample the goods."

You froze, every nerve in your body going cold. So far in your stay in hell, you'd managed to avoid the more depraved souls here. You kept your head down, didn't draw attention to yourself, and were mostly left alone. Looked like today, your luck had finally run out.

"Get the hell off of me!" You spat, twisting around vehemently, only for your head to snap to the side as you were harshly backhanded.

"Stop your fucking whining and stay still!" He snapped, narrowing his eyes.

You bared your teeth, snapping at him aggressively.

A round of mocking chuckles went around the group of your kidnappers, the one holding your hair giving you a wicked grin. "Shit, that was cute. Really—"

He didn't get to finish his sentence, because his head exploded. Literally exploded, blood and brain matter dripping from your face. His hand went slack, dropping you on your wobbling knees.

Everyone was silent for a second, staring at the bloody mess where the demon was standing two seconds prior.

And that was when you heard it. Static. Loud, crackling and ominous.

Your mouth went dry. Shit. Shitty shit shit. You knew what that meant. How could you not? The asshole broadcasted his killings all over hell like a fucking psychopath. And now, it was your turn to become hell's gory entertainment. Fan-fucking-tastic.

You stood frozen, breath stuck in your throat as dark, menacing tendrils slowly curled along the walls. A large, grinning shadow rounded the corner, before the culprit himself stalked into view, razor sharp teeth on display as he tilted his head. "Oh," his grin widened. "Am I interrupting?"

"N-No man," one of the braver demons stuttered, taking a step back. "You can have her—"

Splat.

You turned slowly to face the bloody wall, eyes wide in disbelief.

"How distasteful," the radio demon shook his head. "As if I'd participate in your brainless thuggery. No, no. Unlike you gentlemen, I have class. Truly," his eyes lit up like glowing radio dials, a dark shadowy mass rising behind him as his antlers branched out like a gnarled, rotten tree. "Did your mother never teach you any manners?"

Faster than you could blink, the demons around you were reduced to blood, cartilage and splintered bone. The overwhelming irony scent made you want to gag, but you didn't dare move a muscle, eyes fixated on the terrifying sight before you.

When the radio demon noticed your staring, his smile sharpened, antlers shrinking as he leisurely approached you. Oh no. Nononono.

You struggled to keep from hyperventilating, your body going into shock as he leaned into your personal space. Two bloody fingers pushed into your cheeks, forcing your mouth into a morbid, artificial smile. "Oh dear," he tutted in amusement. "Where's your smile?"

You jerked back violently, eyes wide as icy cold realization washed over you. Dread squeezed your lungs as you stared at the grinning, bloody figure of your soulmate in horror.

The radio demon. Psychopath and mass murderer.

Your soulmate.

What the FUCK.

"T-This," your voice shook. "This is not happening."

There was a sudden screech of radio static, before his own eyes widened. Shit. "What," he said sharply. "Did you just say?"

"A-Ah," you trembled, leaning back. Every single nerve in your body was alight, screaming at you to get the��ever-loving fuck away from him.  In what was probably the stupidest and most desperate plan of your life, you pointed over his shoulder fearfully. "Look! Another one!"

As soon as he turned his head, you bolted down the street.

****

You slammed your front door closed behind you, double—triple checking your lock before sliding down to the floor in a panting mess.

Immediately you grew paranoid. What the fuck were you thinking? A lock wouldn't keep the radio demon out. You needed fifty more locks and ten more doors. You needed to barricade yourself inside for the next month. You needed—

"Hello there!" An exuberant voice chirped.

You screamed, throwing the first thing you could grab in his direction. He caught the house slipper, inspecting it in amusement, before tossing it over his shoulder.

"My, did I scare you sweetheart? Apologies," he grinned smugly, relaxing in your recliner with a mug of coffee. Your favorite mug.  

You blinked. What the fuck?

"What are you doing in my house?" You squeaked, fingers digging into your welcome mat.

"Oh dear, allow me to introduce myself," he set the mug down on your coffee table, leisurely rising from the couch and offering a hand. "I'm Alastor! A pleasure to be meeting you sweetheart, quite a pleasure."

You didn't take his hand, instead choosing to gape at him like a dead fish.

He retracted his hand, tilting his head with a shit-eating grin. Twirling his cane, he continued like there wasn't just an awkward and terrifying pause. "I hope you don't mind that I followed you! You see, I believe our conversation was cut a bit...short." His eyes glowed as unidentifiable symbols floated in the air around him.

As quickly as they appeared however, they disappeared like they were never there. Jesus Christ, this man was giving you emotional whiplash. "Anywho!" He perked up again, ever the charming grin on his face. "Enough about me! I've yet to catch your name, darling."

Fuck. You really didn't want to give him your name.

But before you could open your mouth, he leaned closer to you, grin widening ominously. "I hope you're not thinking of lying, my dear. I must say, I'm not very fond of that quality."

"Y-Y/n!" You said quickly, raising your hands to shield your face.

There was a slight pause, before a gentle touch swiped at your cheek, retracting after a moment. You peeked your eye open, only to become vaguely ill at the sight.

"You had a little something on your face," he chuckled in amusement, holding out a clump of brain matter. With a swift flick, it was magicked away.

"What do you want?" You whimpered, overwhelmed with the entire situation.

"Oh dear, is it really that strange for me to want to get to know my soulmate?" He tilted his head, leaning towards you uncomfortably close.

"Y-Yes, actually," you stuttered, trying to look anywhere but his prominent red eyes. "I thought you'd do something more along the lines of...killing and eating me." You shrunk back as his grin widened. "Please don't eat me."

"How morbid, I would never!" He waved it away, like the idea was preposterous. "My word! What awful rumors you've been hearing about me!"

"You frequent cannibal colony and I just saw you tear apart six demons like they were freshly baked bread," you stared at him incredulously. "What hasn't been spot on?"

He paused, before giving you a humoring chuckle. "Well it seems your impression of me needs correcting!" Before you knew what was happening, nimble fingers encircled your wrist, pulling it forward gently. He pressed warm lips to the back of your hand, before giving you a charming grin. "Enchanté, ma chère."

You blinked, breath stuck in your throat. "What—What does that mean?"

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head about it!" He gently set your hand down, before pinching your cheek condescendingly. "Well my dear, I'm afraid I have other responsibilities I must attend to!"

He stood up with a flourish, leaning on his microphone cane as he smirked at you. "Not to worry!" He snapped his fingers, and a slim, feminine shadow emerged from the ground. "Missy here will watch over you in my stead."

"What? No, I—"

"I'll be back before you know it!" He offered a chilling smile, before melting into a puddle of shadows.

You gaped at the spot where he once stood, trying to process what the actual fuck just happened. Your gaze slid over to the feminine looking shadow, still standing in the corner of your living room. She grinned at your attention, teeth sharpened.

You closed your eyes, head thumping back against your door in exhaustion. 

"I'm so fucked."

****

Enchanté, ma chère : Charmed, my dear

[girlwithbloodyfangs]

 DEAD INTERNET THEORY = 3D

So, we all know that 3D is a direct reflection of your 4D (your mind).Your 3D reality is like social media, where your beliefs determine the algorithm, which means your brain constructs your reality based on your mindset. So, always try to focus on thoughts which are in your favour.

idk, if you guys can relate or not but hope this helps :)

I KNOW 3D ISN'T A REAL AND DIRECT REFLECTION OF MY 4D BUT I STILL END UP LOOKING FOR MY DESIRE IN 3D ?

This is something I was facing a problem in my past but I have a better answer/solution for this.

So recently, I have discovered this theory of "dead internet". example: you saw this video on youtube saying "this world gonna end soon" but that video doesn't make sense , so you choose to add a comment under the video saying "it's not possible, this video is a lie", so you start getting replies agreeing with the video and trying to convince you what have shown in the video is the ultimate truth, you also noticed most of the comments agreeing with the video and those comments that are agreeing with the video is "bots" and not actually commented by real a person. so the internet is trying to convince people and change their thoughts/perspectives/beliefs. 

Mainly we have been convinced from day one, that working hard is necessary otherwise you won't get success but if someone gets success without any effort that person will be labeled as a lucky person. (most basic perspective changing example).

So, what you see on the internet, it's a lie, maybe something might be real. I guess nowadays everyone knows the internet is a damn lie, just used for entertainment purposes, even though we are aware of that fact, we still choose to scroll on social media.

NOW THAT SAME DEAD INTERNET THEORY APPLY ON 3D 

Take 3D as a dead reality (it is actually dead reality, our awareness give life to this reality), We know that everything is just pure consciousness and everything is connected (i have discussed in the last blog, "how consciousness is connected with the manifestation" you can read this might give you more clarity on what i am talking about )

 so if everything is connected that means what i think is meant to show up in my 3D, the only need is to focus on the favourable thought. Even if you forget for a moment and start focusing on 3D by taking validation from it, Know that what you see in the 3D is not the end result / actually real. Things can change the moment you change your awareness. I have noticed things manifesting so instantly even though I didn't finish my thought. Your intention matters the most and it is what manifests. 3D is dead and nothing without you. So, whenever you start focusing on the 3D. Remember your power that you hold. You are the god of your reality.

Hope this blog helps people who want to make things clear or sometimes we lose track, even myself did it in the past, which is totally fine. I am glad....it will be helpful. Have a nice day....happy manifesting :)

~ keep slaying #girlwithbloodyfangs