#here’s the equation: you = dead = paradise

[kurim-chis]

blade/yingxing x reader scenario:

kurim: blade’s past name was yingxing, supposedly

(blade sees your smile, beautiful and loving and inviting as he remembers you to be — when he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and pretends he can have this, at the very least. you were so lovely, so very lovely, and the man he once was - yingxing - had truly loved you in a way he could not love anyone else)

you and yingxing were lovers, decades ago when he was still part of Xianzhou and you a person he fell in love with, yingxing liked building you trinkets and taking you to eat during the weekends and seeing your smile and he would throw hands with jing yuan because he always teased him and called him a love sick puppy

you and yingxing were some of the short-lived species in Xianzhou, you were content in XXXX area and yingxing was a genius amongst genius in crafting, building and creating tools, machinery, weapons and works of arts.

you and yingxing had your whole life planned out, it was not hard to when there was so much to do and so little time to do it, but you two are determined to make your lives count despite the looming threat of the abundance hanging over their head and the wars Xianzhou has to partake in and how nothing is determined in life, but you two love each other, but then this happens, but then that happens, but but butbutbutbut—

yingxing becomes mara-struck.

yingxing kills you in his first mara-struck rampage/haze.

yingxing will forever remember it - your blood is very warm and wet, even as he drops to his knees and tries tries tries but there’s nothing he can do because you’re already dead — he might have screamed, howled until his throat burst and his lungs collapsed and mended themselves, he might’ve had fought against jingliu too as well, he doesn’t quite know. he cannot remember anything apart from a red haze, doesn’t remember if you had screamed or tried to fight back or tried running away, but one look at you shows just how horrible a death you had experienced in your last moments. blade will have forever etched the image of your mangled body in his memory, because of course yingxing will have.

this is the first step towards the death of yingxing’s ego, and what will eventually create blade, an abomination who seeks for death and yet is denied time and time again, who is only left with vengeance and violence as a driving force for moving and breathing and fighting because he has nothing else

yingxing was a man who committed many great mistakes and paid for it with everything in his life, including the one he loved

blade is the remains of that man’s ego, the hatred and grief and anger and obsession and destruction and love, a monster given eternal life and reduced to a mad dog of destiny’s slave, all for the sake of reaching paradise

blade lives for the sake of dying — he lives for death, for vengeance, for the possibility of paradise

(blade sees your smile, beautiful and loving and inviting as he remembers you to be — you smile and smile and smile, perhaps a little sad but as lovely as he remembers and he wants to reach out for you with his bloodied hands, but you are unreachable, a ghost of his past, the victim of his sins, and he can do nothing but watch you stand on the other side of the river of stars. blade thinks that you’re as lovely as yingxing remembers you to be, waving at him, smiling at him, always smiling at him)

elio promises an ending to his wretched existence.

blade will stop at absolutely nothing to reach his desired paradise.

(you smile at him, and blade thinks that you still look so very lovely, decades after your death)

i’m sorry, i’m sorry, forgive me, forgive me, it was all my fault, if only i hadn’t—

(you only smile, and then blade opens his eyes to find his mangled body healing and mending and stitching together again)

.

[slightlysadfilter]

So Saltburn: a story of obsession and control

Warning: spoilers ahead

You bet I'm gonna dissect this mfing movie. It left me scarred at 3 am on a workday so here I am, giving my own personal interpretation. Enjoy!

So as I've anticipated, I think the entirety of the movie is a battle between obsession and control. Specifically, Oliver's need to control everything and anyone, and his very clear obsession with Felix. But how does it unfold? And are the two conciliatory, or is Oliver a walking oxymoron? Why does he fuck a grave? We'll get to that.

Part I: Obsession.

We know nothing of Oliver's past. We come to know, very shockingly, that he has a peaceful-looking family, in an alright neighbourhood. The only hint we might've been given about his past behaviour is how his mother immediately tries to soothe the situation when he refuses lunch and wants to leave. But still, too little, so for the purpose of this dissection, Oliver starts with Oxford.

I believe that, at the beginning of the movie, Oliver is more inclined towards obsession. He picks his god (Felix) and yearns to please him. Still, we also notice his need to control very early (actually we do at the end, but yk, early). The control aspect is apparent in his manipulations, this new reality he carefully crafts, but all of it is to appeal to Felix. "He's a scholarship guy who buys clothes from Oxfam", he clearly doesn't want to be that. He doesn't want to be part of the equation-spurting loner group, to be a kid from a boringly simple family and a modest, row-house neighbourhood.

He needs to appeal to Felix, so he takes control of everything. Here, obsession and control go hand in hand. The only reason Oliver is doing what he's doing, is to feel seen by his god. To seat at the "olympus" table with all the trendy, rich kids and their godly-like aura. He threads slowly at first: he knows he can't become them, so he plays the poor-guy part. Crappy family, no money, but still so, so generous and ready to listen. His god is surely pleased; not only that, Felix feels protective of him. He's gained a spot in paradise, albeit due to someone else. Then he makes a mistake, he gets too comfortable and lets too much of his desire of perfection slip. Felix gets annoyed and he's kicked out of heaven. Therefore, more manipulation, more offerings: oh no my dad is dead. Please Felix notice me again, make my tragic story part of your entertainment, let me in again to delight you further.

And so he does.

Part II: Control.

It is a gradual event, control eclipsing Oliver's obsession. For a while, the two co-exist almost equally.

It is very subtle at first. He appears shy, but he's not: I reckon runny eggs don't really make him sick. But he gets to order someone around and he surely takes the chance. For the first time, the reality he's crafted doesn't only need to appease a "superior being" but also, himself.

Then, we have Venetia. It's the first time we clearly see what a little of control does to him, his first true sliding through the cracks of Saltburn like termites. Control is a high for Oliver, fusing with arousal. He likes telling her what to do, to share his excitement and make her do his bidding with it. And still, he is entertaining someone: he's the guy who doesn't cower around period blood and actually plays with it. He's stepped up, but he's still surrounded by higher beings.

Of course, we can also see how obsession remains in how he, uhm, slurps some delicious bathwater and also readily denies having anything to do with Venetia. Felix is still his god after all, and the fake reality exists to appease him. Not Venetia. She gets thrown to the side.

Then, Farleigh, who is actively trying to sabotage him. He wants him gone, he looks down on him, he likes to remind Oliver just how ephemeral he is at Saltburn. They already had moments of tension at Oxford, but now it's pathological: Farleigh is a risk of getting kicked out again. And so again, Oliver deals with it through arousal. Being able to bend him to his will is exciting, control is exciting. He's getting a better taste.

Then, the tragedy. Felix finds out about all the lies. Oliver's god is enraged, outraged. He's still in paradise, but on borrowed time and clearly unwanted. But the worst of it all: Oliver's object of obsession can never, ever accept his offerings again. His entertainment. Though he tries to salvage it, it's gone, the sparkle; and he's been getting skilled at control. So the night of the party, last night in heaven, he kills his god. If he can't please him, he'll conquer him. If he can't obsess over him, he'll take his place. (the symbolism is also very strong in this one!!! Felix having wings, and Oliver antlers to represent horns, or perhaps just earthly beings.)

So why does he fuck a grave? Quite simply, in my humble opinion, he's weeping the death of his god and getting aroused by his conquest at the same time. That's what I mean when I say he's a paradoxical character, and the conflicting nature of him is more prominent in this scene than in any other.

Now that Felix is gone, the road is easy. He's taken one of the highest spots and he wants more. Farleigh? Gone. Venetia? Disposed of. The plan halts upon the father's ultimatum (who, though apparently soft, is still head of this paradise) but when he dies, it is back in motion. The mother is too trusting, too desperate for a friendly face. Oliver is now the one with power over her, it's so easy to kick her out. Her slow assassination is partially merciful, partially ecstatic for Oliver, once again. But he's won, he has complete control (and so, he thankfully doesn't fuck her comatose body.)

His crafted reality is now real. He does not only belong to paradise, he runs it. He has become the god he's killed, and his last funky dance shows how control has definitely taken over obsession. No need for that, he sits at the top.

[hawkinsindiana]

i have just risen from the dead to bring you an almost paradise blurb. on my small red velvet pillow, you will find 2.8k words of the first day back to school post s1, aka you and steve awkwardly sitting at lunch together, aka the start of the craziest slow burn of all time, aka "wow these poor kids don't know what's coming", aka The Holy Text. enjoy >:)

canon to almost paradise, post s1

—

the ache in your head persists. it’s spread since last night, crawling beneath your skin to encircle your entire skull. if it weren’t for your fist against your cheek, you’d be face down on the table, eyes closed and drifting in and out of sleep. but no, because of course, taking your entire week to deal with… that has you behind on your calculus. even worse, you can barely comprehend the equation in front of you. even even worse, the ruckus in the lunchroom seems louder than usual. you chase a couple of painkillers with some lukewarm apple juice. 

“looking worse than usual, henderson,” tommy sneers as he passes your table, trailing behind a couple other members of the football team. hilariously, he doesn’t look too threatening while holding a lunch tray. while you’d usually lash out at him like a wounded animal, some deep-rooted insecurity of yours bruised by his words, you don’t have it in you. today all you’re able to muster is a glare and a raised middle finger. as tommy drifts away, you tug your headphones over your ears and turn your focus back to the papers in front of you — duran duran begins echoing through the speakers.

if you don’t finish this by the end of the lunch period, your headache is only going to grow. you’re probably being a bit hard on yourself; it’s not like the world’s going to end if you don’t get one assignment in on time. anyone would have a hard time handling what you’ve seen. a monster from another dimension. a child with magic powers. a fake body. just the thought of the past week drains what little energy you still have left in you. god, what exactly did you get yourself involved in?

there’s a kick to your boot — you instantly react with a scoff and a roll of the eyes. why is tommy insistent on attempting to ruin your mood today? but when your gaze drifts down, it’s not his shoes you’re met with. it’s a pair of well-worn, yet somehow pristine, nike sneakers.

your eyes shoot up to meet the face of steve harrington. a bit battered and bruised, he smiles sheepishly. 

in shock, you tug your headphones down to rest around your neck, the music continuing to play as you stare up at him. steve gestures with his head to the empty seat across from you, repeating his previous question.

“can i, uh, do you care if i sit here?”

confusion shutters across your face as unease crawls across his. it takes you a moment to register what he said and why… until your groggy mind can recall last night, the hospital, and a feeling of forgiveness. 

you swallow harshly, nodding once, “uh, yeah. okay. sure.”

as he sighs in relief and mutters a thank you, your eyes dart nervously around the cafeteria. some of the other students had already begun turning their focus towards the scene in front of them, but now a few are getting their friend’s attention — fingers are being pointed and laughs are exchanged. your gut twists; maybe you shouldn’t have said yes.

you don’t know what you expected when steve had implied the two of you should hang out sometime. it certainly wasn’t this — an extremely public display of alliances. all this attention, even if indirect, makes you feel uneasy. if tommy and carol had their sights set on you before, there’s no telling what their wrath could hold next. your hopes of getting through high school quietly are likely out the window. you squirm in your seat.

you’re wide awake now.

uncomfortable doesn’t even begin to describe the feeling that settles between the pair of you as steve sits on the opposite side of the table. he tosses his backpack into the seat beside him and it lands with a soft thump; it sounds practically empty. despite the commotion of the cafeteria, silence fills the air — it’s loud enough it seems to drown out everything else. you turn your attention back to your homework in an effort to distract yourself.

steve clears his throat, his fists loosely clenched on top of the table.

“how… how are you?”

your hand freezes, the pencil in your grasp stopping abruptly on the page. it seems like such a stupid question to ask; you have to resist chastising him for it. how are you? you haven’t slept in a day. there’s still blood and dirt under your fingernails. your shoulders ache from the tension being carried in them. every time you blink you see that… thing. 

the little voice in your head comes through — you should cut him some slack. after all, he’s gotta be reeling from it too. it seems steve’s actually attempting to turn over a new leaf; he’s just trying to be nice for a change. you can offer him the same courtesy. he did save your life.

“i don’t really know how to answer that right now,” you reply, keeping your gaze glued to the equations in front of you, “give me a week and ask again.”

steve nods in agreement, sighing as he slouches in his seat, “yeah, yeah same here.”

you acknowledge his reply with a hum and decide to shoot him a glance. you wish you hadn’t. 

despite the injuries across his skin and the uncertainty that plagues his expression, he really is quite handsome. you know that steve harrington is one of the most fawned over guys at hawkins high, but you never saw the appeal. his attitude and the rumors that circulated the jock wasn’t something you found interest in, not to mention those he kept for company. but now, knowing that there’s kindness and empathy beneath his rich boy facade, it’s almost hard to admit you find yourself drawn to him and his stupid warm brown eyes.

god, it’s so cliche it makes you want to hurl. you’ve gotta get yourself in check, otherwise this could spell bad news for you. from how it sounded, nancy wheeler’s the one he’s pursuing. it’s dumb to think there’s a world where you’re considered more than just an acquaintance. you quickly shove away those thoughts.

“i- uh, have some tylenol in my bag if you need it.”

steve, who winced after another cluster headache came and went, glances up at you through pinched eyes. you reiterate your words, gesturing with your chin towards your backpack — it sits unzipped on the table. 

“big pocket.”

he looks apprehensive, “you sure?”

“it’s two pills, harrington, it’s fine,” you reply a bit smartly. you decide to soften your tone, an apology in your words, “wouldn’t offer if i didn’t want to.”

you go back to your notes as steve gives in, thankful for something to help take the edge off. when he goes to return the small bottle of pills to your bag, he opens it to get a better look inside, against his better judgment.

steve already knows you take your studies seriously; it’s about the only fact he can recall about you, if he’s honest. he’s never made an effort to learn anything else. prior to about eighteen hours ago, you were the very last thing on his mind. but today, you’re carrying three textbooks with you — one of them is for a topic not even offered at hawkins high. steve can’t remember the last time he touched a textbook, let alone one for a topic he didn’t have to take. he spots a couple more spiral bound notebooks and a few errant pencils, as well as two novels. his curiosity gets the better of him; he grabs the hardcover.

it’s obviously well-loved and fairly light in his hand; the pages have yellowed over the years. the cover is a light blue with a portrait of a woman leaning dramatically over a fainting couch. steve’s face pinches in confusion, brows furrowing.

“pride and prejudice? isn’t this one of those like stuffy boring grandma books? what the hell are you doing reading this?”

your eyes widen suddenly as your head snaps up to see the horrific sight of him holding your book. steve’s expression also changes drastically as panic takes over both of you — for very different reasons.

“shit, mrs. roberts didn’t assign this, did she?”

“no, it’s… it’s mine,” you reply shyly as you grow self-conscious, your gaze darting between the prized possession in his grasp and his face. of all the things he had to be nosy about, you truly would’ve preferred he pick anything else. the haze of embarrassment begins to cloud your senses, nausea prickling in your stomach the longer he holds it.

relief floods through him at your answer, “thank god. i think i would rather die than read this kinda stuff.”

more confusion takes root. steve glances back down to the book — the pages are littered with sticky notes, like the annotations assigned for english class that he never does.

“so… you do this with your free time?”

more embarrassment. blood rushes to your cheeks and your face heats rapidly from his judgmental tone. his borderline disgusted expression doesn’t help. you can’t find the courage to say yes, but your silence confirms the answer.

so naturally, steve decides to take a look. 

in an instant, you’re reaching across the table to snatch it from his grasp before he sees too much. but unfortunately for you, steve’s reflexes are much faster than yours.

“give it back!”

“now hang on just a minute!” he replies, a particularly proud and surprised grin pulling at his lips, “maybe i wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

your hand misses another attempt to grab it from him, your frustration growing more palpable with each passing moment, “i thought you’d rather die than read something like this, huh? what’s changed your mind?”

“well clearly, it’s not just any book if it’s got you of all people so worked up about it,” steve clarifies before moving his hand out of the way once more. he turns his body away from the table, out of your reach, and begins flipping through the pages.

this is it. you’re positively certain you’re going to die of embarrassment. your cheeks have never been so warm in your entire life. your final attempt to steal the book back fails — all you manage to grab is a chunk of his jacket. much to steve’s surprise, there’s even more annotations written in the margins, cramped between the edge of the paper and the text. he manages to stifle his reaction as his eyes scan over your words, which alternate between intelligent prose and what could only be described as unhinged ramblings. it’s certainly an interesting combination. steve peruses several pages before he begins to get a sense that this is a love story.

he whistles, “wow, i didn’t take you for a romantic, henderson.”

“oh my god, would you just shut up?”

steve turns back to face you and your sharp gaze, resting his hand and the book down onto the table. the moment you can, you manage to snag it back, the book snapping shut abruptly. if you could’ve caught one of his fingers between the pages, you would’ve. 

he laughs lightly, “listen, i’m not saying that’s a bad thing, y’know. just… unexpected is all.”

you scoff while pulling your backpack into your lap, your tone unapologetically dripping in sarcasm, “glad i could defy your expectations, harrington.”

he continues, trying to dig himself out of the hole he’s found himself in, “no it’s just that you strike me as a… oh, what’s his name… stephen king kinda girl. not that.”

your face flattens into a deadpanned glare as you reach back into your bag. unearthed from below the table is your copy of fire-starter. steve inhales and squints, suddenly deciding to take his time with his response.

he shrugs, “well i was right, wasn’t i?”

you roll your eyes and set the backpack down before returning your focus to your calculus. a low mumble leaves your lips as your shoulders revert to their previously slumped position. 

“whatever.”

you decide it was a horrible idea to let him sit with you. maybe you’ll part ways after lunch and never speak with him again. the longer you think about it, the more it sounds pretty enticing.

it takes steve another second to realize he infiltrated some guarded secret of your heart — something that you weren’t intending to share. he sighs and readjusts in his seat, silently berating himself for taking things too far. he’s supposed to be making an effort to change his actions; he just fell right back into form at the first opportunity. this is going to be a lot harder than he thought, but maybe there’s a way to gain back some of your trust.

“there’s a couple of huge bookcases at my house just filled to the brim with books like that. you… you could borrow some of them sometime. hell, you can have ‘em, if you want.”

you frown, face pinching in confusion. you hate that you’re intrigued. your voice is laced with disbelief, “you want to give me your books?”

“oh god, no. they’re not mine,” steve shakes his head, but a small smile curls his lips, “i don’t read much, if you couldn’t tell.”

his joke manages to get a snicker out of you. when you glance up, his eyes are burning into yours and bright. inviting. you swallow harshly.

“they’re my mom’s,” steve clarifies, absently pulling on the sleeve of his jacket, “i guess she liked reading when she was younger, i don’t know.”

“you’re sure she wouldn’t mind? 

he laughs and shakes his head once more, leaning forward so his elbows are on the table, “no, i don’t think she’d care. she’s never home.”

there’s a slight drop in his expression that you’d be able to recognize from a mile away. loneliness — the kind that permeates deep into someone’s soul. it gives you pause. you remember how massive his parent’s house is; you can’t imagine how it must feel for love to be absent from every room. suddenly, you’re very thankful to have your younger brother running around.

steve abruptly interrupts your thoughts, “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have done that, i-”

he stops himself from continuing, but you’re unsure why. he pulls his lip between his teeth, struggling to figure out how to finish the sentiment correctly without overdoing it. steve realizes he doesn’t know how.

“it’s alright.”

your forgiveness surprises him — his eyes bounce up to lock onto yours. you might have forgiven him last night in the hospital, but he never expected to receive the courtesy again. there’s only one word that could describe the feeling that washes over him, and he only knows it because he just saw it written in your handwriting. companionship.

to quell his hesitancy, you mirror steve and lean forward on the table, averting your gaze to the pencil held between your hands. you shrug slightly, “i… probably overreacted a little bit too. i don’t show people my books, if you couldn’t tell.”

a smile cracks across both of your faces from your teasing. it feels good. it feels normal. steve moves his eyes down to your hands; the purple polish on your fingernails is chipped. 

a beat passes.

“how many did you have to sign?”

when he drags his attention back up, the playfulness you embodied seems long gone, like a distant memory. instead, what he sees reminds him of the girl he met yesterday — a wrinkled brow and sadness that is accompanied by a tremendous loss. the loss of blissful ignorance, of innocence. neither of you are the same people you were a week ago.

steve shakes his head, his focus blank like he’s trying to remember something that occurred years ago, “i don’t know. i couldn’t… after a while, there were so many i couldn’t keep track anymore.”

you hum in solidarity; you think your hand went numb from how many documents you were forced to sign. it feels like all your rights have been stripped away, or like you’re being watched constantly. one wrong move and your life gets torn apart again. you’re barely seventeen — are you going to be living like this forever?

“there was a black car parked outside of my house this morning,” you say lowly, ensuring your words stay between the two of you, “i’m…”

you pause. you don’t know why you’re telling him this.

“i’m kind of scared, steve.”

he nods. a black sedan tailed him on his way to school.

“yeah, me too.”

some semblance of relief floods both of you. neither of you feel so alone anymore.

“i feel like i need a shrink after all that.”

a small laugh bubbles up from your throat. it’s a sound of agreement — even if you didn’t reply, steve would understand you feel the same way.

“tell me about it,” you joke, “i don’t think a shrink could cover it.”

steve grins as he runs a hand through his hair, “right? at least we’d certainly be their most interesting patients.”

you let out another giggle before your face begins to burn bright once more. it feels like you’re the only two people in the room.

[signalwatch]

Angry Animal Watch: Cocaine Bear (2023)

Watched:  05/12/2023

Format:  Peacock

Viewing:  First

Director:  Elizabeth Banks

EDIT: After posting, I was reminded that Banks also directed "Pitch Perfect 2" and "Charlie's Angels". I want to thank the commenter here and on signal-watch.com who mentioned this. Also, a big reminder to check IMDB before I hit publish.

Sometimes a movie is exactly what you thought it was going to be, but is also what what you were *hoping* it would be, while also being *better* than what you expected.  It's a peculiar equation, but in the middle of this particular triangle of expectation vs. reality, we find Cocaine Bear (2023).

Now, Cocaine Bear is not for everyone.  I read a few reviews that were quite cross about "nothing happens, it's just a bunch of sequences".  And, sort of.  But, also, that's exactly the point.  This is a movie about the joy of a rampaging bear fucking people up.  And, frankly, if you think the *many, many* movies about people getting picked off one-by-one are deep character work with the bear/ shark/ what-have-you as merely a framework, I have some property to sell you in Arizona.  A few are, 90% of them are filling time.  Elizabeth Banks, here in her first feature directorial effort, utterly understands the assignment.  

Banks cuts out any character development to the "bare" minimum.  The bear is not a metaphor.  It is not retribution.  It is not even a force of nature, for in nature, bears do not do massive amounts of coke.  While technically "man vs. nature" is our conflict, nature has consumed massive quantities of cocaine.  

We are not here to learn anything.  We're not going to pretend there's a story of human ingenuity or the human spirit.  We're going to observe people get killed in hilariously horrible ways by a bear, starting from minute one and ending in minute 90.  And we're going to like it.

Cocaine Bear is clearly a rated-R horror comedy, and indulges in a gleeful nihilism as the mission rather than pretending it's doing something else.  No one's morals or innocence are going to protect them from a bear hopped up on goofballs.  So, be prepared for chaos in a world with no real meaning.  

The plot is based on two things that really happened.  IRL, a known drug dealer was found dead in someone's yard with an un-popped parachute and loaded down with 70 lbs of cocaine.  The plane crashed in North Carolina, but drugs seem to have fallen from the plane into Georgia, where a 175 lb bear got into them and was found dead from partying too hard.  No hikers, naturalists, rangers, punks or anyone else was eaten by a bear.The movie knows this is an anecdote, not a story.  And, in the time-honored tradition of cinema, asks "what if?"  

Banks, who has been a thing in Hollywood since at least 2002's Spider-Man (she made a smashing Betty Brant, and I'm sorry she was so underutilized in that franchise), is able to get some interesting casting.  I assume she just said "I'm Elizabeth Banks and I'm making a movie" and that was a selling point for much of the cast.*  

Sure, it's weird that this is Ray Liotta's second-to-final picture (he's also in the just-released Fool's Paradise).  But the film has Keri Russell, Matthew Rhys, Jesse Tyler Ferguson, Margo Martindale, Alden Ehrenreich, Isiah Whitlock Jr., and Ice Cube's son, O'Shea Jackson, Jr.  That's kinda nuts for a movie about a rampaging bear.

There's a lot of remarkably good visual humor in this thing - if you can stand fake bear maulings - from tree-based jokes to ambulances in trouble.  But character stuff, too, like the mini-arc of the detective disappointed in the dog the ASPCA has given him.  One of the funniest gags of the movie - to me - is that a kid (a friend of Russel's daughter) acts shockingly like a real kid in the midst of all the chaos.

Anyway - quality work.  A perfect Friday-night watch.  Two paws up.  Way up.

*whenever Banks gets interviewed, she's very sharp.  I suspect getting into directing could be a great move for her.

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[perfect10skintagremoverreview]

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[yoonsshadow]

Strike! - OT7

❥ prompt ; ‘could you please do an ot7 where they all go bowling or to the arcade together? (I also love your eternals series so much!!)’ sent in by @deathbybigsisrory​ 

❥ pairing ; ot7 x fem!reader

❥ genres ; non-idol!au, rom-com, friends-to-[future]-lovers, [they’re not together yet but everyone is very much in love]

❥ themes ; fluff!!

❥ warnings ; none

❥ word count ; 1.7k

❥ note ; Thank you so much for the submission!!! (And also thank you for your sweet words darling xx) I may have strayed a little from the prompt, but I hope you still like it. I haven’t been bowling since I was like 11, so I’m sorry if some details are incorrect. I have never been to an arcade, so I thought this was the safer option. [this isn’t edited]

Somewhere, in the back of your subconscious, is a loud knocking.

It’s a rapid noise, insistent and forceful, but the dream you’re submerged in is far too pleasant to pay it any heed. It will go away eventually.

Except it doesn’t.

As you’re lying in the paradise of a warm coastal beach, mermaids off the coast and dragons in the distant sky, muffled yells are lost in the ambience of crashing waves and mer-song. You are so incredibly comfortable on this beach chair. You think, perhaps, that you’d happily stay here for an eternity.

Eternity does not last very long.

Your idyllic fantasy dissolves the instant hands shake your hunched shoulders, voices now louder in your ear as you are rocked from your sleep. It aches to move, to be moved, but soon you are sitting upright rather than folded over your desk, cheek pressed into papers.

“Hey there, sleepyhead.” Namjoon’s deep timbre vibrates through you; shocks you into clarity faster than your mind is ready.

“Hmrrfh?” Is your unintelligible response. He seems to understand.

Seokjin is crouched beside you, one hand on the back of your office chair, the other on your knee. “I thought you said that you were finished with your work.” You rub your eyes and yawn as he speaks, quickly taking notice of the other figures in the room. “You were supposed to have a break, remember?”

You hum. “I don’t get paid to take breaks, I get paid to have my work done by the deadline. Which is soon, might I add, so I’ll have to rain-check today. Sorry.”

“Nope.” It’s Yoongi who speaks this time. In the next moment, your office chair is rolled away from the desk and into the group of men who have somehow entered your home. Which reminds you-

“How did you even get in?”

“We found the spare key,” Taehyung says, as if the fact should be obvious.

“Yeah,” Jimin adds, “when you didn’t respond to our knocks and calls we thought you might be dead or something. Ggukie damn near kicked the door down when Namjoon-hyung lifted up the doormat.”

“Terrible hiding spot, Y/N,” Namjoon says. You can tell that he’s trying to sound disappointed, but he looks just a little too endeared.

Moving in front of you, Hoseok flashes you a warm smile. His eyes become crescents, his lips a heart, and your fingers twitch with the want to reach forward and caress his cheek. You don’t.

“There’s no way you’re getting out of today,” he says without a hint of malice. “You need a day to relax, and we haven’t seen our girl in far too long. So, will you be coming willingly, or by force?”

“But-” Your protests are cut off.

“By force it is. Gguk.”

Your vision is suddenly filled by a broad chest as thick arms sweep you from your seat. Gravity has no effect on the young man who now holds you bridal style, nor on the Bambi smile that naturally grows on his face.

“We’re going to have so much fun today,” Jeongguk says, muscles flexing around you as they all begin walking towards your bedroom. You have no doubt that Hoseok and Taehyung already have an outfit planned for you, and you even hear the bath beginning to run.

Your boys never fail to look after you. God, you care for them so much.

[You won’t admit to yourself that you may feel something deeper. Not yet. But one day, perhaps soon, you’ll realise that you don’t have to be afraid of that feeling.]

Retro music swirls around you as your group makes their way towards your assigned lane. Bowling shoes in hand and a competitive spirit growing, a weight seems to melt off of your shoulders.

All thoughts of work, of responsibilities, have simply disappeared.

“How are we going to decide teams?” Namjoon looks around the group, as if calculating a mathematic equation. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

Yoongi scoffs. “We’ll be here forever if we do that. Let’s just do Hyungs versus Youngs.”

While Jeongguk, Taehyung and Jimin are cheering at the quick resolution, you lift a brow at the unbothered man. “But what do I call your team then, Yoongi oppa?”

For a moment, he says nothing, merely ducking his head to hide the rosy tint that dusts across his cheeks. Hoseok is the one who steps in to answer, clapping a harsh hand on Yoongi’s back as if to wake him from a trance.

“We can come up with team names!”

Jimin jumps up and down, wide beam blinding you all. “We are team Young and Beautiful!”

“No, we should be Bold and Beautiful! Like that American hand-wash show,” Taehyung suggests, equally as enthusiastic.

Namjoon sighs. “It’s soap opera, Tae.”

“What about Y/N’s Angels?” Jeongguk seems to be thinking hard, ever competitive even in the sport of picking a team name. “Because we are angelic, and Y/N bosses us around.”

That lands him a swift chop to the neck, much to his giggling delight.

“We are the Young, Bold, and Beautiful Angels,” you decide, rolling your eyes. “And what about your team?”

Seokjin does not hesitate to announce: “We are team Kim Seok Jin!”

Yoongi sighs, but doesn’t object, and Hoseok leans his forehead on Namjoon’s shoulder as if he needs the support to keep standing.

“Thank you for consulting the rest of the team about this decision, Jin-hyung,” Namjoon says, deadpan but not upset.

“You should be thankful that I’m allowing you to use my name at all,” Seokjin replies, hands on hips. “It is, after all, a national symbol of good luck.”

“National...?” You mumble.

Jimin groans out a sigh, easily bored and antsy to win. “Can we just play already? We don’t need to have a board meeting every time we make a decision.”

“Let’s go hold some heavy balls!” Jeongguk then grabs your elbow and drags you to the bowling ball racks, uncaring that you’ve only laced one of your shoes on.

“Do you need me to teach you how to bowl?” Jeongguk’s voice in your ear startles you as you stand in front of your lane, ready to go. The pink ball is heavy in your hand when you turn around to glare at him.

“I know how to bowl, Gguk. Now shoo, I need to concentrate.”

“Yes, but do you know how to bowl properly? Like a pro?”

“I am this close to dropping this ball on your toes, don’t test me.”

“Pleeease? C’mon, just this once?”

Damn him and his doe eyes. “Fine. Just once. But you’re going to buy me a plate of nacho fries.”

“Deal.”

You shouldn’t be surprised when he stands behind you and circles his arms around yours, but you do jolt a bit when his hands touch your waist.

“Some people think that it’s the wrist movement that’s most important, but really, it’s the hips. Even if you mess up the bowl, if your hips are at the right angle, you can’t really go wrong.”

“I’m pretty sure wrist movement is actually pretty important.”

The man has the nerve to shush you. “Angle your hips like this,” fingertips press into the soft flesh over your hipbones, “and then take three steps before you let go of the ball. The trick is to start with your non-dominant foot, so that when you bowl, your dominant leg isn’t in the way.”

Sighing, you humour the youngest and stride away from him, following his steps and then releasing the ball from your grip.

It lands a perfect strike.

Jeongguk walks back to the group with a smug smile and a pep in his step, while you simply chuckle at his pride. Meanwhile, the other boys are glaring at him.

“So,” Hoseok says as you wait for your ball to return so that you can have your second go, “are we all going to be allowed to teach you? Or is this favouritism?”

Heaving a deep sigh, you look up to the ceiling as if it, or any higher being, may give you an answer as to why you’ve chosen these seven as your favourite people.

Deep down you know why, but it’s times like these that make you question yourself.

It’s also times like these that make you feel impossibly endeared.

Night has crept up on you by the time the boys drop you back at your apartment, ribs aching from laughter and cheeks sore from smiles. No tension resides in your muscles, in your bones, or even in your mind; you feel as though you are floating, ears brushing against the clouds, with how light you are right now.

“You have to promise that you won’t do any work until tomorrow,” Namjoon says, watching you dig through your bag for your keys. 

“After a full night of sleep,” Yoongi adds.

Seokjin then says, “And a nice, big breakfast.”

“And plenty of water!”

“And a comforting shower- Or a bubble bath!”

“And you have to take plenty of breaks.”

“Maybe we can drop by at lunch to make sure you eat-”

“Would it be better if we stayed over tonight?”

“Why don’t you just stay with us? We can help you-”

“Guys.” Your voice is sturdy as it cuts through the overlapping voices of seven worried men, all eyes turned to you as you stand in your open doorway. “I appreciate the concern, truly, but I’m a big girl. What happened yesterday - well, this morning - was a one-off. I assure you that I can take care of myself.”

You’re met with silence that sounds an awful lot like doubt.

“But,” you sigh, “maybe you can come over for lunch?”

Gleeful voices whoop into the night air, and you have to bite back your laughter as you hurriedly hush them, wary of your neighbours.

One by one, you give them a hug and a kiss on the cheek as you exchange farewells, peeling the younger ones off of you as you tell them that yes, I really do have to go inside now.

It’s only when you’ve closed the front door behind you, leaning on the wall beside you, that you come to the full, unafraid realisation.

You are in love with them. And you think they might love you back.

End

[dragonsareourfuture]

I Don’t Belong Here — L Lawliet/GN! Reader

Summary: What kind of a story begins with the main character dying? Well, this one. L Lawliet has lived out his days on earth and finds himself in the afterlife. The Good Place, he is told by a neighborhood architect named (Name). One who shows him around his own neighborhood and introduces him to new people. But something doesn’t add up, L notices. Does he really belong in the Good Place?

(I'd advise having knowledge on the TV show "The Good Place" if you wish to understand the majority of this clusterfuck. Although, if you wish to proceed regardless, go right ahead!)

Chapter One: L Lawliet, You Are Dead.

<>

Weclome! Everything Is Fine.

Everything is fine? Is that so?

The last thing L remembers is the ceiling. Just…the ceiling. The fans twirling on the ceiling of the headquarter building and the cross hatching of the tiles. It was peaceful. Was he sleeping? If he had been sleeping, then how did he end up here?

Now, instead of the ceiling, he stares at a wall. Big, green letters stare back at him. “Welcome! Everything Is Fine,” they say. Something inside L is prickling, like something he is forgetting struggling to find its way to his brain. He wants to ponder it, but something about the words splayed out on the wall in front of him is telling him that he doesn’t have to. Everything is fine, after all.

He only manages to tear his eyes away from the bold, sans serif font when the sound of a doorknob turning catches his attention. Huh. Has there always been a door there? If so he hadn’t noticed it, which L thinks is completely absurd as he usually takes mental notes of everything in a room before getting himself seated. But there it is, a door he missed while transfixed on the somehow calming message on the wall, now opening to reveal...a person.

You stand in the doorway, simply smiling.

Now that L’s attention has been drawn away from the mystifying message he can properly analyze his surroundings, and his new visitor. He’s in a rather simple room, nothing but a few plants dotting the perimeter and a couch in the middle, which he is currently sitting on. And he’s sitting normally. Hm. That feels…itchy. L inches a foot onto the couch in his discomfort of sitting with his bottom planted firmly on the cushions with both feet on the ground. Though he hesitates to bring both feet up and hug his knees to his chin as he normally would, because he senses that your sudden presence means he is about to be standing and following you into that mysterious room behind you. Like a doctor calling a patient into an appointment. Except in this case L has no idea what you are, and judging by your suit and comical, colorful bowtie, you are certainly not a doctor.

“L?” you ask, showing your teeth in a kind smile. “Come on in.”

And against his better judgement, he does. L was never the person to simply keep quiet and obey orders in a situation he does not understand. And there certainly is not a whole lot of understanding happening in his brain right now. He should be asking questions. He should be refusing you. He doesn’t know you, you could be leading him to his doom. All this is possible but something about the way you smile at him…like those big, green words, all he reads from you is “Everything Is Fine.”

The room that you lead him into doesn’t look all that much like a death trap, but you can never be sure. It’s a simple office, plants similar to the ones in the waiting room sit in pots in the corners and on the windowsill. The sun shines outside, seeping through the glass and illuminating the desk on the left as you walk in. On it are a few little trinkets, paperweights, and, right in the middle, a manila file folder.

You circle around the desk and settle yourself into the rollaway chair, gesturing to the sleek armchair across from you. “Why don’t you have a seat, hm?”

What is wrong with him right now? You ask him to do something and he just…does? What happened to his spine, other than it bending exponentially thanks to the way he sits?

No matter, there are more important things to think about right now. Like the fact that he might finally be getting some answers.

You open the file in front of you and skim whatever’s written, opening your mouth to say something when your eyes meet his. And then they drift down to his legs. You stare at him curiously with your mouth still agape for a few moments at how his knees are pulled up to his chin, eventually shaking your head and getting back on track.

“My name is (Name), and of course I already know yours.” you say, folding your hands in front of you. “So, how are you, L?”

How should L even answer that?

“I’m…confused, mostly. How are you?”

Your eyes light up, as if you haven’t been asked that in a while. “Oh, well I’m fine. Y’know, busy, but fine! And, yes, I’d assume you’d be confused, everyone in your situation usually is.”

“My situation? What exactly do you mean by that?” Now that L has finally asked one question he can’t seem to stop the ball from rolling “Speaking of you, who are you exactly? Actually, never mind who, but where—“

You hold up a hand. “All of your questions will be answered, I promise. There’s just one thing that you need to know before we tackle any of that.”

“And what is that?”

Your eyebrows lift slightly, elbows digging into the surface of your desk as you lean forward. You look like you’re about to tell him that he’s fired. That his dog died. That some kid took the last of the strawberry shortcake and he’s going to have to settle for carrot cake. What comes out of your mouth is much worse.

“L Lawliet, you are dead.”

…

He’s…?

Yes. Yes, he is. That’s why he doesn’t remember how he got here.

He’s dead. Huh.

L is perfectly content in not saying anything about this new little factoid, but you’re looking at him expectantly, and a little cautiously. Like you either expect him to punch you or burst into tears. L wonders if that fear is based on experience. How many other people have to told this to?

“…Am I, now? That’s a shame.”

You breathe out a sigh, which could be from relief. “Yes, it is. But, not to worry! Because you’ve ended up in the Good Place, L. You’re going to be okay.”

“So it’s called the Good Place?” L brings his thumb to his lips. “A rather simple thing to call it.”

You nod. “Pretty self-explanatory, right? We didn’t want anyone to get confused. There are just so many names for it on earth. Heaven, Valhalla, Nirvana…But it all translates to one place. Here. And you get to be a part of it.”

“That sounds…” Before he can articulate his thoughts, a dilemma from earlier brings itself to the forefront of L’s mind. “Wrong.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My memories are all wrong. Before this, all I can remember is the ceiling and nothing else. If I were to have died, surely I would remember it, yes?”

You take a gulp of air and pull the manila file closer to you. “We take it upon ourselves to erase the memories of death if they are particularly traumatizing or embarrassing. Helps the residents adapt into a peaceful afterlife better, I’m sure you understand.”

“Yes, that is perfectly sensible. Although I may ask, what is an example of a death that is not at all traumatizing?”

“Pfft, there hardly is one. You’d be surprised how many memories we have to erase.”

“On the contrary, I am hardly surprised. I’m sure there are plenty of people who cannot accept the nature of their death, let alone the fact that they have died in the first place.”

You sigh, “You’re tellin’ me. Most people come around once I tell them that they’re basically in paradise, but some won’t even listen to me once I break the news. One person tried to convince me I was the dead one! It’s just—oh, um, but that’s hardly the point.”

“Do you ever tell someone how they died if they ask?”

Your expression hardens. “I do, but I like to know that they’re certain before I tell them.”

“I am.”

Exhaling through your nose, you prop the manila folder up like a book, scanning the files inside. “Alright then. Let’s see here…ah, okay. So, unfortunately this one’s pretty traumatizing, it’s not really one of those embarrassing deaths that some people get a kick out of, so brace yourself.” You look over the top of the folder as if checking to see if he’s braced himself. His expression and stance is unwavering, large eyes merely staring back at you patiently. “You were betrayed by your colleague Yagami Light – also known as your adversary Kira – and killed by the Shinigami Rem at his request.”

Oh yeah. That.

The ceiling was not clear in view, no, there was something obstructing L’s view of it. A face, staring down at him as his heart gave out right on the floor. Brown eyes filled with such cocky maliciousness, the upward tilt of lips L only knew to spout lies. It all equated to a side of Yagami Light that L knew existed but had never seen up until his final moments. It all added up to one final conclusion -- Yagami Light was Kira all along. L had been right. But the price of knowing that for certain is that, now, there’s nothing he can do about it.

“I’m..I’m sorry. I never know what to do when I have to tell people…” you try, reaching across the table and planting a hand down in front of him. Not asking to hold his hand, not even expecting a reaction. Just showing that you’re there, and that you’re trying.

“It’s up to them now. I’ve done all that I could. I trust my successors.”

“In catching the murderer Kira, right?” you ask, to which L confirms with a polite utterance of ‘yes’. Obviously you know the answer. “I understand that is one of the many, many cases you’ve worked on during your lifetime.” you scan your eyes quickly down what appears to be a long list in your folder. Do you have every detail of his life in those files? Every case he ever took? Hell, every day in his life? You set the file down flat in front of you and look at him with something L determines is admiration. “You’ve done so much good in your lifetime, L. You’ve worked so hard over the entirety of your life to make sure you left the world a little better than you found it. Now…well, now you can rest.”

You can relax, you tell him. And it seems to simple coming out of your mouth yet somehow it still feels out of reach.

“I can…” Is all L manages to say, his preoccupation coming across as dreamy and wistful. His mind is busy running a mile a minute and his mouth just can’t keep up. L decides to test the words out on his own tongue to see if they still sound foreign, “I can rest now.”

Yeah, no, it still sounds like bullshit.

“Yes! Well, after the tour, of course.”

“Tour?”

You start to stand, straightening your colorful bowtie and circling around your desk to the door which you pull open. You don’t exit right away, though. You stand next to the exit, waiting for L to follow you. While he works on untangling himself from his current position you clarify, “A tour of the neighborhood! Where you’ll spend your afterlife.”

[herstarburststories]

Merry... Birthday?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: You love christmas, but Dean doesn’t. Yet, he might make an exception for your birthday this year.

A/N: This one goes for @negans-lucille-tblr​ ‘s secret fic exchange. My secret Santa was @katymacsupernatural​. Hey, honey! I hope you enjoy this and happy birthday! You deserve double presents, so here’s mine. All mistakes are mine!

Divider by @talesmaniac89 !

You loved Christmas.

It was probably a nostalgic longing for your long gone urban life. Just in the same way you’d still catch yourself looking through the news for election results or feel your stomach twist if you didn’t eat homemade food at least twice a week. You were dead to the government and certainly spent more on the road than in a home. Besides, you had met up with God enough times to know him. All the encounters and screaming and unapologetic abandonment should make you want to throw any baby Jesus against a wall or even climb on a Christmas tree just to shout about all the hoaxes so perfectly molded in patterns through our brains like braids.

Yet, something about you loved christmas. 

The pretty lights always shining, it didn’t matter where you go. For once, all the city-- everything would be entirely made of light. Their incandescent glow always companishing each person, either it was in an once treacherous alley or only to make the kids' grin bigger as they watched them among the busy streets with wide eyed gazes. The confusion in the kitchen that often ended up with huffs bursting into chuckles between the smell of meals that were too much and would make a room for leftovers for the rest of the week. How everything seemed to be made only of happiness, and nothing could ever cut through those water; all the knives were suddenly swords for kids to play and no white gun. In Christmas, a house became a kingdom for every heart. Everything was good and felt through the skin to the bone, like a single glimpse, a hidden day of what would be paradise.

That was how you were raised, at least. The Winchesters didn’t share the same mindset, no. While you grew up with decorating the tree, they were hiding bodies in the dim light. Leftovers were all through their whole year, and Christmas was described as good or not with one single criteria: snow streets. They had to take one? Annoying date. They didn’t and there was eggnog? Bearable Jesus’s birthday.

Yet, you attempted to make the bunker the more festive possible: buying a bunch of christmas lights, cookies’ ingredients and even a small nativity scene. Your attempts to enjoy the date’s niciities ended up with Sam breaking his arm after crashing on the ground because you insisted on him putting the lights in a place higher than his age, not to mention the burned cookies that looked more like tiny monsters than gingerbread men.

Your parents used to make this look so much easier.

Although the youngest Winchester understood a little more about the concept of holidays, a believer in the good until the very end, his brother didn’t share the idea. You couldn’t say you were surprised. Dean just had two barely normal christmas in his life: one when he was dying and one with Lisa and Ben. Both situations made it to his heart only to shatter from the inside.

‘’Baby Jesus?’’ Dean snorted, shaking his head at the sight of you adjusting the weird little dolls in the nativity. He placed another ruined cook in his mouth, speaking with his mouth full next: ‘’We have the son of Lucifer, guess that counts.’’

‘’Don’t say that once Jack gets home.’’ You rolled your eyes, turning to face the oldest Winchester with your hands on your hips. How could he eat that? You couldn’t even make it a bite and Sam only had half of those. ‘’And stop eating those. They are burned.’’

‘’I’ve had worse.’’ He remarked, adding another cookie to his mouth. You grimaced, wondering for a brief moment how your boyfriend could be simultaneously the guy who saved the world and a man with the taste of a five years old.

‘’Yeah. But I’m the one who has to hear you whining about your bellyache later.’’

‘’I don’t whine--’’ You arched your eyebrows at his statement, making Dean huff in agreement. ‘’That was once and because of Sam’s weird ass vegan bacon.’’

‘’You acted like you were dying.’’

‘’My tongue was!’’

‘’So get this.’’ Sam’s voice interrupted your childish argument, catching the attention of both hunters like a shiny object did to a cat. ‘’Apparently we got an earlier christmas gift.’’

‘’What is it?’’ You asked, approaching the table.

‘’Three teenagers disappeared in the forest, all personal objects left behind.’’ Sam explained as Dean scratched out his neck to glance at his brother’s computer screen. Nothing like a case in Colorado. ‘’The authorities think it’s a serial killer. But one of the girls, Kayla Wodson, said she saw a weird, skinny giant take her friends.’’

‘’Ho ho ho and three bodies.’’ Dean clapped his hands together with a wry curve of lips. ‘’Alright. Let’s hit the road-- Wait, wait, wait. Where do you think you are going?’’

You were standing beside Dean while Sam raised to his feet, ready to pack his bags. Dean, nonetheless, was quicker than his brother, soon putting himself in front of Sammy; hands protectively standing in front of the youngest’s chest to keep him from moving any further.

He shook his head with a scoff. ‘’Dude, come on.’’

‘’Not happening, Sammy. You got a broken arm.’’ You mumbled a sorry along Dean’s big brother speech, to which Sam replied with a comprehensive smile. ‘’Y/N and I take care of it.’’

‘’He’s right. Must be the first time in his life, but he is.’’ Dean turned his head, furrowing his eyebrows at you ‘’Don’t worry. It’s just a wendigo anyway. ‘’

‘’Okay. Just…’’

‘’Don’t forget the fireblazer. As if your brother would miss an opportunity to use it.’’ You scrunched up your noise, causing a chortle out of Sam while Dean commented something about grabbing the specific instrument and walked away. ‘’Maybe you could call Eileen. Ask her to help you to back some christmas cookies.’’

Sammy shook his head at your wiggling brows. ‘’That doesn’t sound as sexy for me as it does for you.’’

Dean Winchester was good with numbers.

Not the urban numerical sense of the deal, of course. He almost didn’t make it in sixth grade with useless geometry and all that, and he still used his fingers to count when he had to deal with an equation. No, his good and quick way with numbers was easier, intrinsic to his head.

How many years since mom died? Seventeen. How many people did he have to save? All of them. How many years had he left? Less than he once owned.

Hunter math was simpler, and was all he really needed since he was four years old, running from the fire with his baby brother in his arms-- which brought him to the second section of his particular geometry: birthdays and death anniversaries. Dean never, ever forgot any special date. Those were his own holidays, the only worth celebrating and remembering. His wishes, grief, and cherishment were reserved for the people he loved, not some celestial assholes who saw his life like a book.

Therefore, his mind went on a golden rush for your day as soon as the Wendigo hunt took more than you both expected. You wouldn't be able to make it home before your birthday, which would be ending shortly, a matter of two or three hours. His inner engineers were useful tonight, in his vision, useful enough to make those sappy movies jealous. While you were washing some guts and leaves away, Dean went to the nearest convenience store. His long arms nesting a bunch of stuff he never dared to touch in years. The cashier with drowsy eyes and escarlet Santa hat seemed bored with his shopping, probably because she saw an uncountable amount of people buying the same things over and over. He couldn’t blame her for the suburban exhaustion. If anything, it was a small comfort for his war orbs to see and be a part of a scene so mundane.

He hustled back to the dive motel room, singing in relief to himself once he stepped in and heard you singing Christmas Tree Farm while the water rushed in. He grimaced at himself for recognizing that Taylor Swift song. How couldn’t he? That woman was 80% of all you heard everyday. Man, he was whipped.

Tilting his head back in reality, he started organizing in clumsy manners of putting everything in place for you. His bruised hands touching so carefully the fragile ornaments to make the motel room with grubby walls and weird black stan on the floor that only seemed to grow a little more like you.

You, the woman who put up with him, who laughed at his stupid jokes, and who watched Scooby Doo, all snuggled up to him every friday. You, the woman who switched from AC/DC to Taylor Swift and then Eric Clapton. You, the one who understood his job and helped him to wash off some of the blood on his hand and never got scared of how red the water could get. You, the girl who rolled her eyes at his first attempt of flirting and now stole his french fries and kissed his lips as if he was worth being delicate with. You, his breathing, his true holiday, his only act of faith besides Sammy.

Dean pressed his teeth against his bottom lip, looking up and down his little manual work. Part of him said it was ridiculous, he surely would make a lot of fun of Sam if he did that to a chick. Yet, mostly he was proud. He wanted you to like it. It wasn’t even near to what you deserved, but it was a piece of it. It was what the Winchester could give you, and that would be hopefully, enough.

While Dean was caught in the crossroad of judging and admiring his surprise, you left the shower with a towel wrapped around your head and lips mumbling Cocaine. Your feet glued to the ground once you witnessed what was in front of you: the room was decorated with christmas lights, a tiny plastic tree on the table, right beside a pie with candle on the top and two cup of what smelled like hot cocoa.

‘’Dean…’’ Your tender tone brought him back from his traineck thoughts as he turned around to glance at you. You chortled in astonishment as he raised his eyes and said surprise! ‘’What’s this?’’

‘’Well, it’s your birthday.’’ He shrugged, scooting closer to you with a smirk. Dean smoothly wrapped his arms around your waist, yours instantly resting around his neck. ‘’In my defense, they just had christmas stuff. Blame your parents for having you close to Jesus’ special day.’’

‘’Christmas stuff include pie and not cake?’’ Your brows knitted together, a heartwarming smile on your lips as you watched his expression marked by multicolored little lights. He smelled like something was a blaze, and you knew that was for standing too close to the candle and not for burning a body this time. Small changes.

He scoffed humorously. ‘’You like pie better anyway.’’ He nodded at the carnival-like situation around you two. Dean Winchester wasn’t the kind of man who got insecure, but you could catch a perk of brand nervous hesitation as his green eyes shot you an anxious glance. ‘’Did you like it?’’

‘’I loved it.’’ You pulled cheeks dimpled with joy that was kissed by Dean’s own smiling lips. The kiss was so gentle, it was his own palpable light hearted emotion. You being happy in his arms. It had been so long since he felt he could be enough, he could make someone happy. But you were right there. As you pulled away, another short kiss was given between playful words: ‘’That’s what I call a christmas miracle.’’

‘’Shush.’’ He leaned in and pecked your lips. As Dean pulled back, he couldn’t help but watch around with the pride of Hubris. His glance went back to you, a lopsided grin on his face. God, you loved that smile. You loved that man. ‘’So I added some whiskey to the hot cocoa. We could drink some, eat the pie, and see if those lights make a good improvise rope. What do you tell me?’’

All you could do was kiss him again.

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[gale-gentlepenguin]

Gale Reacts: Masters of the Universe: Revelation episode 5

Spoilers below

TL:DR I was not crazy about it and if you did enjoy episode 5 and like the series. I recommend skipping this reaction/review

-So they host a little funeral for Orko. Yep, gotta milk all you can out of the character ya set up to die since his introduction. Well they gave Orko more respect than He-man. Good on Adam for being a decent human being. (I will stop being cynical about this)

-Well Preternia is cool.

-Moss man is the forest.

-Adam had the sword and he is like

-"Welp you are all stuck in heaven now."

-Andra is adorable. (Also side note. I havent really seen Andra and Teela be couple like since episode 2. Like where is the couple stuff? Evil-lyn and Teela have had more dialouge together?)

-Adam and Teela being awkward which understandable.

-And Teela is still salty. At least its fleshed out a bit more. But you would think she would be OVER this by now.

-King of Grayskull? Oh this will be cool.

-Hoverboards in Heaven!

-The tower looks cool.

-Hero is his name?

-Hero is shook by the split the sword.

-Andra making a forge.

-They competitive friends in the hunt!

-Well this is somewhat cute.

-OH S***! KING GRAYSKULL LOOKS EPIC! HE RIDES A TRICERATOPS!

-Adam chose that form? Like he could have taken his He-man form? But chose that one? Okay I am genuinely curious.

-King was the first Castle Grayskull champion. Wow okay. And the guy is now talking smack about the castle.

-I like feral sorcerer lady.

-So they made a heaven forge.

-the last bit of magic!

-Roboto is like "Yea I am not sure at all but I am gonna try." He is going to die too.

-So Teela and Adam moment.

-Adam has a point. He was dead. Not like he was like "Lol i am gonna die and make you feel bad" He was saving the Universe!

-Adam is totally gonna go back because he has unfinished business.

-Adam might not get back to paradise if he goes back.

-Mossman is a million years old. Lol

-Roboto is doing it.

-The forge scene is epic.

-Roboto gonna die.

-He did it though... and it blew up in his face.

-The sword is forged tho.

-But now Roboto is dead. And he made a roboto is afraid to die.

-Wow that is f***Ed up.

-Rip Roboto

-Adam wants to go back. Okay so now we will have Adam/He-man be a more prominent part of the show now. It took some time, but hey at least he is back now.

-Adam he is owning it up to it.

-Adam be a real one.

-What the s*** he almost died right after getting back. Okay so is that the fake out.

-And tech cultists.

-Welp Man-at-arms is here to defend. LOL

-Adam reveals he is back.

-Cringer missed him. (This was cute)

-So now they back to where he died. He about to do what they need to do.

-He be calling back the magic. Now it starting to feel like He-man again

-Sorceress is BACK BABY!

-And Grayskull looks good again.

-And... Adam got F***ING STABBED. Did, did they REALLY JUST KILL HIM TWICE?! I had this feeling like they were saying "You cant come back if you die again" But I thought no There is no way they would be stupid enough to kill him TWICE.

-So Skeletor survived by putting his essence into the staff Evil-lyn had and if she had left it all of this could have been avoided

-Evil lyn is back to being bad. Because Skeletor just came back. So much for all that development Lyn.

-Skeletor just called on the power of GREYSKULL. So can anyone do that?! Does this mean Skeletor can go to Preternia?

-Skeletor's form is... well it is something. I mean its cool. But... I dont really feel like its earned. Like I wish we had some foreshadowing or something. Like he is just like "BTW I was here the whole time just in case." Now if Adam was like pushed aside or like knocked back and Skelator took it so he could show off, that would be more He-Man like. Cause then you get the moral on WHY Adam chose this form in Preternia.

-Also Skeletor getting the power sword SHOULD be a much bigger and much more earned moment. This scene should have been like the penultimate episode before the final battle. Also him Stabbing He-man/Adam would have had way more impact if this was the first time they pulled this.

-But in all seriousness. Did they REALLY JUST KILL ADAM AGAIN!?

-They took all of that development and just... KILLED HIM AGAIN.

-Side note: if ANYONE could use the power, Why not just have he-man pass the torch to Andra or Teela. Because now Adam cant even chill in heaven. He is just a dying little flea who basically got set up to DIE AGAIN. Like the writers clearly do not like Adam.

-How am I suppose to be excited? Lol Skelator is back sure but he just killed He-man. Are they gonna do a fake out death? Have him Die but then get revived by the sorceress? Regardless its in bad fucking taste.

____________________________________________________________

2.5/10

Look, Skeletor's comeback was cool and all (He and the designs of King Greyskull are the reasons this isnt a 1 out of 10). But WOW they really did Adam dirty. I was expecting He-man in a show that is named after half his old show. Even the earlier trailers showed a bunch of him... but he only shows up in flashbacks after episode 1.

If Adam doesnt die, he will likely get heal in the nick of time and and die again later anyway. Considering how predictable the show is I can already predict that they will beat skeletor. Teela's Power that was hinted at in episode 4 will make her the new Sorceress and Andra will be revealed to be a descendant of King Greyskull thus making her the TRUE heir to Castle Greyskull an have her be the new champion or reverse of that where Teela is the new champion and Andra is the sorceress. If Adam does survive he will just be Adam at the end of the series and not He-man because whatever reason about him not actually feeling like He-man was him. But my bet is that they kill him again if he isnt already dead.

Which means that He-man just becomes She-ra. But there is already a She-Ra and it actually has She-Ra in the title. And that She-Ra actually has better writing in it because it actually cares.

Because lets face it this show was not about he-man. It was about Teela.

I know its called Masters of the Universe Revelation. But they should have called it Teela: and Everyone else dies.

But I seriously have to ask. WHO IS THIS FOR?

Its not for die hard He-Man fans because it kills off or changes all the characters they know.

It isnt for new fans because most of them would have no idea who any of these characters are. The show expects you to know them already.

It isnt for Feminists. Teela's characterization is a bad stereotype of written 'strong woman'. I made a comment that it was basically a 'Guy that tried to write a Strong woman character' but it is STUPIDLY ACCURATE at this point.

She-Ra: Princess of Power 2018 already exists and does it better.

If I had to make a bet. It feels like the writers were targeting the demographic that watched He-man and hated it, then writing a Salt fic about the characters after turning one of them into a self insert.

I hate that the writing sucks, because the animation is gorgeous, there are somethings that are really cool. In fact when they show off the ideas from the original He-Man, it looks amazing. Those flashbacks? They are the best parts of each episode.

Now I am no die hard fanboy for he-man. But I did like the 2002 show. I am actually chill with some of the changes made. Not all of them, but some. But I hate lazy and manipulative writing. Writing in a show purely for shock value.

The trailers they put out for this show were manipulative. Showing much more He-man then there was.

I wasnt expecting god tier level writing for this. This was based on a 1980's show. It didnt need amazing writing, it just needed to be good enough and show it cares about its fans. But it didnt.

Lets say we removed He-man from the equation entirely. make this its own thing. Change the names, alter a few appearances. Would that have changed my opinion.

It would make me less mad, but I would also still call it a bad show because the writing is generic at best. Its hackneyed and the characters with any appeal get killed off.

How am I supposed to be excited for this?

Do you know how angry this makes me. I WANTED to be hyped as hell for the fact that Skeletor has the power of Greyskull and is getting ready to be this super big bad for the end of the season. But I am not.

I just feel annoyed and disinterested.

Will I watch the other episodes if they get released?

I dont think I have the stomach for it. They would need to do a LOT to make me want to watch the other half.

[panlight]

** possible spoilers for TGP I guess?**Heey! I just finished watching the good place and wow the finale was everything I ever wanted from any story that addresses immortality! The ending was super satisfying and the effect the “real” good place had on its inhabitants relates quite well to my frustration with the fairy tale ending of breaking dawn. What did you think of the ending of TGP and how differently it handles some of the issues that are (or should be) addressed in twilight as well?

I have been WAITING for someone to ask me about this, so thank you! <3

I LOVED the ending of the Good Place.  The idea of eternity has always profoundly unsettled me and I’ve always had trouble with the concept of something being a perfect Heaven forever because people get used to things. We’re really good at that. 

[Now the equation is different if you bring a God or gods into this--maybe perfect, pure, eternal happiness is possible in that context. But the Good Place’s view of the afterlife is secular, and vampires’ existence on earth is, too, so there’s no “communion with the Divine” or the unfathomable bliss of being in God’s presence or whatever to factor in here.]

When I was 12 I wrote a short story for school about the Lost City of Atlantis. The city was sinking and they used their advanced mystic ancient technology to create a dome to protect it, but it also accidentally made everyone inside stop aging. So they’re underwater in this magic dome in a perfect utopian city and they’re all. . . miserable. Over the millennia people couldn’t handle being stuck in there and being ‘frozen, never moving forward’ and one by one they tried to leave (did they successfully escape somehow? did they die? I left it vague) until only one 3000-year-old teenage girl was left all by herself and then a couple of tweens somehow ended up finding their way in only to become ‘trapped forever in the lush paradise of Atlantis.’

So, um, yeah, the ending of the Good Place being about how a Heaven can become a Hell if you can’t leave it was riiiiight up my alley. Totally on board. Didn’t see the Door as “suicide” since they were already dead and they’ve already spent ‘eternity’ doing whatever they wanted with the people they loved. We’re talking cosmic time scales, hundreds of thousands--maybe millions--of years doing whatever you want 24/7. Eventually even that would lose meaning and become monotonous--it would have to. And that’s a PERFECT UTOPIA where your needs and desires are instantly met. The Twilight vampires don’t have that. 

That might be what ultimately makes their eternity ‘better’ than the Good Place? They don’t have eternal perfection--they still have school (for some reason) and work and dangers and troubles and that might keep them from becoming like the ‘glassy-eyed mush people’ of the pre-Door Good Place. They have thirst that is painful. But it would make total sense to me that at some point the vampires are just Tired and don’t want to be here anymore, but there’s no peaceful, serene ‘door’ for them. And they still fall victim to the idea that when anything goes on forever, you lose motivation and meaning. There’s no rush or urge to do anything, because you literally have all the time in the world (unless the Volturi are coming for you--EVEN THE WIVES!--because they think your weird hybrid is an Immortal Child). 

When Bella declares her ‘perfect piece of forever’ she’s been a vampire for, what? 2.5 months? We’re not not even talking a year, let alone centuries, millennia.  She has no idea--NO IDEA--of the weight of eternity yet. She can’t. It’s impossible. 

[raganandhersurveys]

3/1/21~5000 question survey 1-100 {CXV}

I started this about 2 years ago and never finished so I’m going to restart and see how far I can get. I’d love to get it done before the end of the year but I am definitely not holding myself to that statement haha. Here we go pt. 2 

(also shoutout to @lovemesomesurveys for doing this so i could get the questions from one source. Thanks girl! <3!!

1. Who are you?

~my name is ragan

2. What are the 3 most important things everyone should know about you?

1. I am very outgoing and fun loving 

2. I have a big heart but am not afraid to speak my mind

3. I hope I can one day pursue a career in fashion

3. When you aren't filling out 5,000 question surveys like this one what are you doing? 

~hanging out with my friends, doing hw, eating, or talking to my bf haha

4. List your classes in school from the ones you like the most to the ones you like the least (or if you are out of school, think of the classes you did like and didn't like at the time). 

~choir, drama appreciation, geology, american gov. 

5. What is your biggest goal for this year? 

~to begin to plan out “big girl things” in my life. i’ll be a freshman in college in the fall and i really wanna feel confident about my future(if that’s possible) so saving money, getting a real job, looking into new opportunities, etc. (if you have any advice, plz send my way haha:))

6. Where do you want to be in 5 years? 

~to feel a little secure in my job or career pathway, or at least have a plan

7. What stage of life are you in right now? 

~the ending of my teenage years :(

8. Are you more child-like or childish? 

~neither honestly 

9. What is the last thing you said out loud? 

~i was singing along to a song haha

10. What song comes closest to how you feel about your life right now? 

~8teen by khalid haha

11. Have you ever taken martial arts classes? 

~nope

12. Does your life tend to get better or worse or does it just stay the same? 

~it’s honestly one big rollercoaster. i have my good days and bad days but i try to keep a positive mindset:)

13. Does time really heal all wounds? 

~it doesn’t necessarily heal it but it does help it some

14. How do you handle a rainy day? 

~usually stay inside or take a nap. if it rains for a long period of time i tend to get a headache so i usually take a nap haha

15. Which is worse...losing your luggage or having to sort out tangled holiday lights?

~losing luggage for sure 

16. How is your relationship with your parents? 

~pretty good. my dad and i are super close. my mom and i have our moments but i love her

Will you miss them when they are gone? 

~are you kidding?!?! i don’t know how i’ll recover from losing them tbh

17. Do you tend to be aware of what is going on around you? 

~for the most part yes; i’m pretty good at reading the room

18. What is the truest thing that you know? 

~God.

19. What did you want to be when you grew up? 

~gosh so many different things; teacher, pharmacist, reporter, author, family therapist, actress 

20. Have you ever been given a second chance? 

~yep

21. Are you more of a giver or a taker? 

~both tbh

22. Do you make your decisions with an open heart/mind?

~definitely 

23. What is the most physically painful thing that has ever happened to you? 

~i had to go to the hospital one time because my stomach was hurting so bad I thought i was gonna die. i don’t think anything except child birth could beat that

24. What is the most emotionally painful thing that has ever happened to you? 

~some things my mom has said to me

25. Who have you hugged today? 

~honestly no one :(

26. Who has done something today to show they care about you? 

~i can’t think of anything but i’m sure there was something 

27. Do you have a lot to learn? 

~for sure. i don’t think we should ever stop

28. If you could learn how to do three things just by wishing and not by working what would they be?

~how to start my own clothing brand, how to make straight a’s, and to cook perfectly

 29. Which do you remember the longest: what other people say, what other people do or how other people make you feel? 

~how they make me feel fo sure 

30. What are the key ingredients to having a good relationship? 

~communication, loyalty, passion, 

31. What 3 things do you want to do before you die? 

~have a successful job, find the love of my life, and travel the world 

 32. What three things would you want to die to avoid doing? 

~having to get divorced, letting down my future children, and emotionally traumatizing someone 

33. Is there a cause you believe in more than any other cause? 

~not a cause, but i’m a christain and that’s the truest thing in my life 

34. What does each decade make you think of:

The 19.. 

 20's: flapper dancers and the roaring 20s

 30's: the great depression and poverty

 40's: world war II and classic movies

50's: sock hops and diners

 60's: iconic fashion and audrey hepburn

 70's: my dad and classic rock

 80's: the breakfast club and how much i wished i grew up then ahahah

 90's: rnb and friends

 2000 (so far): brittany spears and my early childhood

 2010's: middle school and social media 

 35. Which decade do you feel the most special connection to and why?

~the 80s because i’ve always felt like that was the decade for me. that’s when my mom grew up and i envy her so much for growing up then. but also the 2000s because that was my early childhood and its crazy to think i’ll never get those days back 

36. What is your favorite oldie/classic rock song? 

~stairway to heaven: led zeppelin

37. What country do you live in and who is the leader of that country? 

~the usa and president biden 

If you could say any sentence to the current leader of your country what would it be?

~you good homie?

38. What's your favorite TV channel to watch in the middle of the night? 

~i rarely watch live tv

39. What Disney villain are you the most like and why? 

~bahah probs ursula because if i knew ariel could sing like that, i’d steal her voice too

40. Have you ever been a girl scout/boy scout? 

~no

41. If you were traveling to another continent would you rather fly or take a boat? 

~neither but a boat in the middle of the ocean during a storm would be terrifying 

42. Why is the sky blue during the day and black at night? 

~the sun?

43. What does your name mean? 

~i just looked it up and apparently it means noble LMFAO

44. Would you rather explore the deeps of the ocean or outer space? 

~neither. both of those sound like a bad idea 

45. Word association What is the first word that comes to mind when you see the word:

Air: traffic

Meat: steak

Different: breed

Pink: drink

Deserve: freedom

White: elephant 

Elvis: graceland

Magic: treehouse

Heart: pump

Clash: boom

Pulp: fiction

46. If you could meet any person in the world who is dead who would you want it to be? 

~audrey hepburn 100%

47. What if you could meet anyone who is alive? 

~jimmy garoppolo ;))

48. Is there a movie that you love so much you could watch it everyday?

~not everyday but i’m always down for a lotr/hobbit marathon

49. You are going to be stuck alone in an elevator for a week. What do you bring to do? 

~a phone with some kind of wifi box so i can gtfo lmao

 50. Have you ever saved someone's life or had your life saved?

~uhhhh not that i can think of 

51. Make up a definition for the following silly words... 

 Fruitgoogle: a website you can search up fruits with

 Ambytime: free time

 Asscactus: an annoying person

 52. What was the last thing you made with your own hands?

~this little gift bag for my mom’s students 

53. What was your favorite toy as a child? 

~american girl dolls omfg 

54. How many TV’s are in your house? 

~3

55. What is your favorite thing to do outside? 

~swimming or just being at the beach

56. How do you feel when you see a rainbow? 

~awwwwww

57. Have you ever dreamt a dream that came true? 

~i have dreamed about people and then met them which is a super weird experience 

58. Have you ever been to a psychic/tarot reader? 

~no

59. What is your idea of paradise?

~i think it would be a couple of different places or themes because i love to see the beauty in a lot of different ideas

60. Do you believe in god and if so what is he/she/it like? 

~absolutely. He’s just and loving 

61. Do you believe in Hell? 

~yes

62. What one thing have you done that most people haven't? 

~i honestly cannot think of anything 

63. What is the kindest thing you have ever done?

~i’ve done some volunteer stuff for other people so ig something like that 

64. Are you a patient person? 

~i try to be 

65. What holiday should exist but doesn't? 

~free shopping day where only i can shop for free :))))))

66. What holiday shouldn't exist but does?

~i love all the holidays 

67. What's the best joke you ever heard? 

~apparently none because i can’t think of one

68. Where is the most fun place you have EVER been? 

~southpoint mall in charlotte. it was shopper’s heaven 

69. Is your hair natural or dyed? 

~all natural .

70. Do you have any deep dark secrets or are you pretty much up front? 

~none that are interesting 

71. What is under your bed right now? 

~dust and stuff from my childhood

72. If you were in the Land of Oz would you want to live there or go home? 

~gtfo bahaha

73. If you drive do you frequently speed? 

~always

74. What is the world's best song to dance to? 

~depends on what kind of dancing. any 2000s club song is an absolute banger 

75. What song was on the last time you danced with someone?

~some tik tok sound. just a gen z kid here :)

76. Do you prefer Disney or Warner Brothers? 

~probs disney 

77. What is the first animal you would run to see if you went to the zoo? 

~otters or tigers 

78. Would you consider yourself to be romantic?

~if i’m crazy about you, absolutely. .

79. If the earth stopped rotating would we all fly off? 

~ig lol

80. What is the one thing that you love to do so much that you would make sacrifices to be able to do it? 

~travel all over 

81. If you (and everyone) had to lose one right or freedom, but you could pick which one everyone had to lose, what would you pick? 

~i’m sorry that’s too stressful lol

82. If you had to choose would you live on the equator or at the North Pole? ~equator. i hate the cold 

83. Would you rather give up listening to music or watching television?

~tv. i can’t live w/o music

84. What do you think makes someone a hero? 

~being selfless 

85. What cartoon would you like to be a character in? 

~powderpuff girls 100%

86. Name one thing that turns your stomach:

~rats

87. What was the last thing you paid for? 

~clothes from shein

88. Are you a coupon clipper?

~nah

89. Get anything good in the mail recently? 

~not super recently 

90. Which would you rather take as a gym class...dancing, sailing, karate, or bowling? 

~dancing 

91. In Star Trek people 'beam' back and forth between different places. What this means is they stand in a little tube and their molecules are deconstructed and sent to another tube somewhere else where they are reassembled. Only problem is when the molecules are deconstructed the person is dead. When they are put back together it is only a clone that has all the dead person's memories. So... Is the person who gets beamed the same person on both ends? 

~no because the real person died, so it’s a clone but not the original

92. What insects are you afraid of? 

~roaches and wasps

93. If you could print any phrase on a T-shirt, what would it say? 

~”she stressin’ over her wardrobe” 

94. What's the most eccentric thing you have ever worn? 

~i have these huuuuge tiger earrings that are freaking extra. i wore them with green corduroy flair pants and a brown stripped shirt and literally looked like the 70s threw up on me hahah

95. If you could pick one food that you could eat all you wanted but it would have no effect on how much you weigh, what food would it be? 

~chick fil a

96. What are your parents interested in? 

~my mom loves 70s tv shows and christmas lol and my dad likes classic rock and anything to do with christianity

97. Have you ever caught an insect and kept it as a pet?

~we used to catch lightning bugs in a jar when i was little and put them in a jar.

98. What is more helpful to you, wishes or plans?

~uhhh plans....lol

99. When do you feel your life energy the strongest? 

~when i’m hanging out with friends or at a high energy place like an amusement park or concert

100. You are spending the night alone in the woods and may bring only 3 items with you. What do you bring?

~water, a flashlight, and something for protection like a gun

[stormsbourne]

What's the mormon concept of hell if I might ask

alright, I’m gonna lay out the progression of time/your soul in mormon theology a bit so you have the full picture.

thousands of years ago before anybody came to earth, everybody lived in heaven as brothers/sisters. jesus and lucifer were also our brothers. you know this part, lucifer rebelled, blah blah. mormons place a pretty heavy fixation on “the war in heaven” and have some REALLY reprehensible beliefs about the mentally disabled based on this fixation. jesus wins the war, lucifer and 1/3 of heaven end up becoming demons. 

you’re born! time for you to be tested. mormons baptize at 8 so anything you do before 8 is forgiven when you get baptized, but only if you really WANT to be a member (you do. you’re 8). you go through life being tempted to stray from the path. then you die and you go to one of two places.

spirit paradise is where faithful practicing mormons go, and spirit prison is where everyone else goes. it’s important to distinguish that neither of these is heaven or hell, though spirit paradise is closer to heaven. spirit prison is closer to the concept of purgatory. mormons in spirit paradise have a duty -- that’s right, it doesn’t stop when you die motherfucker -- to go as missionaries to spirit prison to help the poor souls there get access to the gospel, which, if all their ceremonies-for-the-dead have been done, means that if they accept the gospel they can move to paradise and join in the missionary lineup.

okay, pause! it turns out everybody was just in those places until the world ended, and the world’s ending now. everybody gets resurrected to live for 1000 years under the rule of jesus christ, there’s no bad things but mormons still have to build temples and do missionary work for the poor people who don’t have the light of the gospel in their lives (rolls eyes). this period ends with another war which satan obviously loses, then god is like “time to wrap this up kiddos,” the earth goes away and it’s time for final judgment, where god puts all your sins up on a film reel for everybody to see. jesus steps in and is like “I died for their sins” and now you get to go to one of the heavens.

the best heaven is the celestial kingdom, where god and jesus and our mysteriously-unknown heavenly mother hang out. you have to be a practicing, faithful mormon (whether you joined the church after you died doesn’t matter so long as you didn’t get access to the gospel in life, put a pin in that, we’ll come back to it later). you also have to be married and “sealed” (the mormon word for “your marriage lasts forever even if you die”) in the lds temple. there’s polygamy in heaven. the church tries very hard not to talk about it. this is the only one where you get to become a god and make your own universe.

the second best heaven is the terrestrial kingdom. mormons who were just kind of bad at being mormons go here, as does anyone who refused the gospel in their lives but accepted it after their death. this one is really boring. honestly both of the others are boring but ooh the caveat on kingdom 3

the last heaven, which is the closest thing mormons have to hell outside of some really fringe cases, is the telestial kingdom. anybody who refused the gospel goes here as do, uh, actual monsters! like, hitler will go to the telestial kingdom. there IS a worse place than this but the stuff you have to do to go there is very specific. hope anybody who just doesn’t like the mormon faith enjoys hanging out with history’s greatest monsters. church tries to avoid talking about this one too. 

the last thing and the actual mormon hell is outer darkness, but I want to stress, I don’t really equate it with hell because almost no one will go there. the reasons to go to outer darkness are basically “you saw god and then refused to admit he was god.” that’s really it. a couple of early mormon church figures are supposedly going here because they gotta scare you out of asking questions or thinking the formation of the church is kinda weird. 

and that’s it. that’s the mormon theology on the afterlife and the progression of the soul! it’s absolute nonsense. 

[troybeecham]

Fr. Troy Beecham

Sermon, Proper 27 A, 2020

Matthew 25:1-13 (NRSV)

“Jesus said, “The kingdom of heaven will be like this. Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them; but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. As the bridegroom was delayed, all of them became drowsy and slept. But at midnight there was a shout, ‘Look! Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him.’ Then all those bridesmaids got up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ But the wise replied, ‘No! there will not be enough for you and for us; you had better go to the dealers and buy some for yourselves.’ And while they went to buy it, the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went with him into the wedding banquet; and the door was shut. Later the other bridesmaids came also, saying, ‘Lord, lord, open to us.’ But he replied, ‘Truly I tell you, I do not know you.’ Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.”

A few weeks ago, we read the Parable of the Wedding Banquet. That parable uses difficult language about judgement and the coming of the Kingdom of God, and who would or would not be part of it. The message of Jesus in the parable of the Wise and Foolish Virgins is exactly the same. The truth is that there is a dividing line, there are those who will not be part of the Kingdom of God. For many of his contemporaries, this language sounded appropriate, and some took pleasure in hearing about the just punishment of the wrong-doers, their religious or political enemies. They heard their own prejudices affirmed: all the “bad” people, the “wrong type of people” will be getting their just punishments. I am seeing the same expressions in current political language that the losing side will suffer disenfranchisement now that a new executive team are in power. We today are equally happy when we hear how our enemies are going to “get what’s coming to them”. I am also seeing its conjoined twin: profound sadness and loss, as if any human was going to bring about the Kingdom of God. Both are symptomatic of having our hearts set on hopes based on the powers of this world and our ability to exert power over it.

Last Sunday in the lesson about the coin, we saw how those who used religion to ally themselves with political power did so under the false belief that those with power would give them preferential treatment. We never seem to change. We also saw how those with political power sought to cynically co-opt religion to sanctify their power. Again, we never seem to change. Those two sides were allied against Jesus and his preaching the coming of the Kingdom of God, in which all human power is dissolved into the will of God, because it took human power, their power, out of the equation. We least like to hear that we are unable to save ourselves. The truth is that we turn against each other and devour each other trying to purge the world of all the wrong people who are keeping paradise at bay. “If we can only get rid of them, and give power to the right people, we can create paradise!” is the perennial lie, the original lie from the Garden. Yet it remains the mantra of the human will to power, which is the opposite of giving ourselves over to the will of God in Faith.

I am sadly seeing an unseemly number of religious leaders doing the same right now in America. The unbridled use of messianic language when referring to the presumptive new executives in American federal government, the projection of messianic expectations, the expressions of spiritual fulfillment now that particular candidates have been elected, as if that were equal to the coming promises of the Kingdom of God, is a sad commentary on just how far religion has become aligned with the power of empire. Most disturbingly, I saw someone today compare their elation over the election results with the elation of the Easter Vigil, when Christians gather to proclaim that Christ is Risen from the dead! How can we have so profoundly confused earthly, human power with the Kingdom of God? How is it possible to so utterly replace the Gospel with political ideology? I am aghast that any Christian clergy, or any Christian, could engage in such sacralization of the secular and secularization of the sacred. Such confusion of the sacred is astonishing. This is not the Gospel of Jesus. This is not the sacred mission entrusted to us.

I am also seeing the hypocritical, cynical use of religious language, hymnody, and imagery by holders of political office, of imperial power, and it is equally disturbing, and only surpassed by how deeply religious leaders and people of faith are applauding this play acting which is ultimately intended to replace faith in God with faith in human power to achieve God’s reign without God.”Now that we are in office, we will make America a paradise for all!” You cannot say that America should be ashamed of its history and its use of Christianity as an arm of genocidal colonialism and then celebrate the use of Christian religious language, music, and symbolism as you rejoice in the victory of your new leader.

How have we believed such a lie? Only God is God, and only God will bring about his Kingdom. In the end, this is the question: in whom are you placing your hope? Do you believe a human is going to make the world a better place through political power? Who owns your fealty, your trust? In whom are you placing your faith?

We are all subject to the powers of this world for now, and held captive by human greed and desire for the power to rule over others. The world is hard, and life is difficult. We want someone to make it all better. But life is hard only for this age, only for now. God promises that the age of the world in which we now live, which we must endure with faith, hope, and love, and strive to bring some part of the kingdom of God into being through the Holy Spirit, will come to an end, when God creates a new heaven and earth, a conjoined reality in which there is no evil, suffering, or wickedness. We will finally be free from the spiritual powers of darkness and from our own desires to be gods with the power of life and death over each other in our hands.

The real question for disciples of Jesus is, have we allowed the Holy Spirit to enter into our lives to transform us? Have we welcomed the Son, our Savior Jesus, into our souls so that we might be born again and clothed in the robes of his righteousness? Have we forsworn the powers of this world as having any power to save us? Have we dropped everything to await the Day of the Lord, staying awake during the long night and tending the light of the Faith, ready to follow when God calls for the end of time and the Day of Judgement? Or are we still clothed in the rags of our own busyness, our own righteousness, following the flags of earthly messiahs and filled with the prejudices, hatreds, and loves of this world? Are we still endowing human power with the nature of the sacred? Are we using religion to give sacred veneer to the empire? All of this is empty, void, filled with the powers of this world, and it will perish. What will you be left with, then? There will come a day when we must all stand before the judgment of God. Are you carrying the light of the Gospel, are you prepared to walk in the darkness able to discern the Way, or have you exchanged the Gospel for something that gives no light at all?

In case we have forgotten the source of our hope and the one to whom we owe all our hope and faith, I pray this will help get our hearts reoriented to Lord.

This is our Faith:

We believe in one God,

the Father, the Almighty,

maker of heaven and earth,

of all that is, seen and unseen.

We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ,

the only Son of God,

eternally begotten of the Father,

God from God, Light from Light,

true God from true God,

begotten, not made,

of one Being with the Father.

Through him all things were made.

For us and for our salvation

he came down from heaven:

by the power of the Holy Spirit

he became incarnate from the Virgin Mary,

and was made man.

For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate;

he suffered death and was buried.

On the third day he rose again

in accordance with the Scriptures;

he ascended into heaven

and is seated at the right hand of the Father.

He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead,

and his kingdom will have no end.

We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life,

who proceeds from the Father and the Son.

With the Father and the Son he is worshiped and glorified.

He has spoken through the Prophets.

We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church.

We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins.

We look for the resurrection of the dead,

and the life of the world to come. Amen.

Let the Light of the Faith guide us on the Way.

O God, whose blessed Son came into the world that he might destroy the works of the devil and make us children of God and heirs of eternal life: Grant that, having this hope, we may purify ourselves as he is pure; that, when he comes again with power and great glory, we may be made like him in his eternal and glorious kingdom; where he lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

[chaoticsleepdeprived]

I wrote the first half of this a while ago, but I finally finished it so here

“Are you God?”

The man smiled sadly and shrugged, the slight movement of his shoulders sending ripples through the white expanse around us.

“Now that’s a hard question. To you? I suppose I could be considered a god. To myself? I’m just an average guy.”

“I guess that makes sense, power is relative. But I still have so many questions...”

The man laughed, not at me, but not quite with me either. It was the way you might laugh at a dog, mystified by a human’s magic trick.

“I knew you would. Curiosity is most of what makes you human. Ask me your questions, I’ll do my best to answer.”

“Well, are there more like you?”

“Yes. I am one of many. The universe is a big place, lots of ground to cover,” the man chuckled a little, “If it was just me I’d be stretched pretty thin.”

“What are you?”

“Ah, that’s a question with a lot of answers. I’ve gone by a lot of names, and my kind have gone by a lot more. For a while we were called angels. To some we are spirits. To some, fae. We have been called muses, inspirations, ideas, equations. Recently we were called quarks. I particularly enjoyed that one, it was fun to say.”

I looked down thoughtfully.

“So what is it that you do?”

The man paused briefly, surprised by my question. He glanced at me appraisingly before continuing.

“You’re a more clever human than I’ve talked to in a while. Few people have questioned what I do, they’ve simply assumed what I can do conforms to their legends.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then continued.

“I suppose the answer is that I do a lot. I watch over humans. I keep an eye on things, prod events towards their best possible outcome. On a more personal level, I keep track of people’s actions. I’ve seen everyone at their best,” he grins and holds his hand out, causing a large orb to appear, showing a man playing with his dog in a park, “and I’ve seen everyone at their worst...” he looks very tired suddenly. He gestures, bringing up many orbs showing various scenes of various terrible things. A man trembling with a gun to his head, a woman holding up a store, too many images to count. The man shakes the grim look off of his face and smiles. “I’ve always found, though, that when push comes to shove, no matter how unpleasant the world may seem, there’s typically more good than bad!”

I must look reassured by this statement, because he smiles warmly at my expression. I look around at the blankness surrounding us.

“Where are we?”

“I suppose you could call it limbo. It’s more of a border checkpoint than the purgatorial abyss that most humans imagine.”

“Am I dead?”

“That’s the million dollar question here friend. You see, you aren’t quite dead yet, but you aren’t quite alive still. This sort of thing doesn’t happen too often. You get an extra choice that most people don’t.”

“Extra?”

“Well, when people die, lots can happen. Not everyone wants the same afterlife. Some want to be reincarnated, some want heaven, and some unhappy few just want nothing.”

“Nothing?”

He nods solemnly.

“Nothing. They want to fade away, lose their consciousness. Sometimes forever, sometimes until someone else arrives.”

“I can’t imagine just ceasing to exist.”

“Many people can. Usually those who commit suicide choose that option, for one reason or another. Some want the eternal rest they came for, some feel they don’t deserve paradise after taking the easy way out.”

“That’s awful!”

“I agree. Every so often we’ll bring a few people back, offer them counseling, help them work through it, let them choose again. They usually choose something else.”

“I should hope so. I would certainly never choose the void over eternal paradise.”

I sit in solemn silence for a moment.

“You said I get an extra choice?”

He gives a spritely nod.

“Every so often we’ll get someone who isn’t quite dead, but isn’t quite alive. A Schrödinger‘s Human, so to speak. Whenever one of these comes through it makes a bit of a hullabaloo. Each case is looked at carefully from every angle. We look at the causes of half-death, who you leave behind, what will happen if you live, what will happen if you die, all the good and bad you’ve already done. If living will do more good than bad we send you back. If dying will do more good than living then we’ll send you on. If your death was caused by a mistake by one of us, or you going back will bring the same amount of good as dying, you get a choice. Your death checks both of these boxes. People like you don’t come by often. In fact, the last one I handled personally was born a couple thousand years ago, some spiritual leader that the Romans crucified after an apprentice accidentally sent someone back who was supposed to stay dead.”

I was stunned. My heart and mind were both racing.

“Am- am I the second coming of Jesus?”

He smiled in a way that made me guess he had been asked this before.

“More like the eighty-five thousand, two hundred sixty third coming of Jesus. And he was roughly the four hundred seventy five millionth coming of Ook, an early human whose death was the result of our first mistake ever. The only thing special about Jesus’s death and resurrection is that he was returned a few Earth days after his death, instead of immediately, due to a secondary clerical error.”

I looked down, slightly stunned by this news.

“So- so Jesus really was just a man?”

The man smiled gently at me.

“Well that depends on your point of view. In my personal opinion no one is ‘just a man’ because everyone is someone. Everyone has feelings, everyone has hopes and dreams. No one is ‘just a man’ because everyone is their own person.”

I chuckled a little bit.

“You know, you’re pretty wise for an all knowing deity.”

He laughed heartily, before sighing and speaking again.

“Yes, we deities do have a habit of being wise, but you humans always amuse me with your habit of wisecracking. Your dry senses of humor never cease to amaze me.”

He suddenly looked more serious, and his tone became more businesslike.

“But we do still need to decide what to do with you. Take any afterlife you know of, any afterlife you can imagine, anyone you want to be with. You can have all that now. Or you can go back. You can forget all this for the time being. You can return to Earth to live the rest of your life, and you can return here when your time comes with finality.”

I looked hesitantly around.

“And I still get my choices when I come back?”

He nodded, seeming to already guess what my answer was, even though I technically wasn’t sure yet myself.

“When you return here you’ll be presented the same choices, minus the option to go back to your own life of course. When you die with finality your only way back is reincarnation. But until then you will have no memory of here. You will be returned to a world of uncertainty, where you have no idea whether or not there even is an ‘after’ let alone what it might be.”

“Can I think about it for a bit?”

“Of course, take all the time you need. As you might have guessed time means a little bit less here.”

So I sat. And I thought. I considered who I was leaving by returning to Earth, and I considered who I was leaving by staying in the afterlife. If I stayed alive I would see my family again. If I stayed dead I would see my parents again. I could see my old best friend, the one who overdosed in college, or my childhood pets. But I would see them eventually anyways. I could still affect the world of the living. I could make life better for some people.

I made my decision.

“I’ve decided.”

“And?”

“I’d like to go back. I still have work to do. But can I have one thought left in my head when you wake me back up?”

“That depends on the thought.”

“I want to remember why I’m there. I don’t care much how you put it in my head, maybe a new outlook from a near death experience. I want to remember I’m there to make things better. Can I remember that? That I’m alive for a reason?”

The god smiled warmly at me.

“Everyone is alive for a reason little one. That reason is to live. I can grant your wish, but you must not forget to live while you continue your life.”

“I promise.”

“Then I’ll see you in a few decades.”

He made a slight gesture over me, and snapped his fingers. The world slowly turned white, then black, then white again. As my eyes adjusted to the light I saw a paramedic standing over me.

“You’re lucky to be alive son, that car crash could have killed a man a lot bigger than you.”

I slowly fell back into unconsciousness, my encounter already almost gone from my mind. But as it slipped away until I wasn’t even sure what I was trying to remember, two thoughts bounced around in my head.

I’m alive for a reason.

And I can’t forget to live while I am.

[freedomartspress]

Three Poems — Tongo Eisen Martin

Kick Drum Only

All street life to a certain extent starts fair

Sometimes with a spiritual memory even

Predawn soul-clap/ your father dying even

Maybe I’ve pushed the city too far

My sensitivities to landfill districting and minstrel whistles/

White supremacist graffiti on westbound rail guards 

-all overcome and reauthored

The garbage is growing voices

Condensed Marxism 

modal gangsterism for a warrior-depressive

Underpass in my pocket

because I am a deity

or decent bid on the Panther name 

revolutionary violence that chose its own protagonists 

or muted stage of genius

A merciful Marxism        

Disquieted home life 

Or metaphor for relaxing next to a person 

Who is relaxing next to a gun

I stare at my father for a few seconds 

Then return to my upbringing

Return to the souls of Ohio Black folks

Revolution is damn near pagan at this point

You know what the clown wants? The respect of the ant. 

Wants a pen cap full of bullets

Wants to see their ancestors in broad daylight

I am not tired of these rooms; just tired of the world that give them a relativity 

My only change of clothes prosecuted

The government has finally learned how to write poems

shoot-outs that briefly align…

that make up a parable

white bodies are paid well, I posit

do white men actually even have leaders?

all white people are white men

white men will only ever be metaphors

all I do is practice, Lord

A rat pictures a river

Can almost taste the racial divide

Can almost roll a family member’s head into a city hall legislative chamber

Knows who in this good book will fly

I have decided not to talk out of anger ever again, Lord

Met my wife at the same time I met new audience members for our pain

We passed each other cigarettes and watched cops win

A city gone uniquely linear

Harlem of the West due a true universe 

 “I will always remember you in fancy clothes,” my wife said 

so here I sit… twisting in silk ideation

  My rifle made of tar

My targets made of an honest language

This San Francisco poetry is how God knows that it is me whining 

Writing among the lesser-respected wolves

Lesser-observed militarization

Dixie-less prison bookkeeping/I mean the California gray-coats are coming 

lynch mob gossip and bourgeois debt collection

I mean, it’s tempting to change professions mid-poem

in a Chicago briefing, a white sergeant saying, “blank slate for all of us after this Black organizer is dead.”

standard academics toasting two-buck wine at the tank parade

bay of nothing, Lord

  nuclear cobblestones, gunline athleticism  

and the last of the inherited asthma

children given white dolls to play with and fear

facial expressions borrowed from rich people’s shoe strings

I can hear hate

And teach hate

And call tools by people names

And name people dead to themselves

no one getting naturalized except federal agents soon 

carving the equator into throats soon

I’m sorry to make you relive all of this, Lord

pre-dawn monarchy 

friends putting up politician posters then snorting the remainder of the paste

minstrel scripts shoveled into the walls by their elders

my children sharpening quarters on the city’s edge

For these audiences

I project myself into a ghost like state

For these gangsters, I do the same

every now and then, we take a nervous look east

Sleep becomes Christ

Sleep starts growing a racial identity

do you ever spiral, Lord?

has the gang-age betrayed us?

be patient with my poems, Lord

So much pain

there is a point to crime… 

There has to be if race traitors come with it

 Lord, is that my revolver in your hand?

Better presidents than these have yawned at cages

Have called us holy slaves

Filled the school libraries with cop documentaries

Baby, I don’t have money for food

I have no present moment at all

/

I Do Not Know the Spelling of Money

I go to the railroad tracks

And follow them to the station of my enemies

A cobalt-toothed man pitches pennies at my mugshot negative

All over the united states, there are

Toddlers in the rock

I see why everyone out here got in the big cosmic basket

And why blood agreements mean a lot

And why I get shot back at

I understand the psycho-spiritual refusal to write white history or take the glass freeway

White skin tattooed on my right forearm 

Ricochet sewage near where I collapsed 

into a rat-infested manhood

My new existence as living graffiti 

In the kitchen with

a lot of gun cylinders to hack up

House of God in part

No cops in part

My body brings down the Christmas 

The new bullets pray over blankets made from old bullets

Pray over the 28th hour’s next beauty mark

Extrajudicial confederate statue restoration 

the waist band before the next protest poster 

By the way,

Time is not an illusion, your honor

I will return in a few whirlwinds

I will save your desk for last

You are witty, your honor

You’re moving money again, your honor

It is only raining one thing: non-white cops

And prison guard shadows 

Reminding me of

Spoiled milk floating on an oil spill

A neighborhood making a lot of fuss over its demise

A new lake for a Black Panther Party

Malcom X’s ballroom jacket slung over my son’s shoulders

Pharmacy doors mid-slide

         The figment of village

                     a noon noose to a new white preacher

Wiretaps in the discount kitchen tile

-All in an abstract painting of a president

Bought slavers some time, didn’t it?

The tantric screeches of military bolts and Election-Tuesday cars

A cold-blooded study in leg irons

Leg irons in tornado shelters

Leg irons inside your body

  Proof that some white people have actually fondled nooses

That sundown couples 

made their vows of love over   

opaque peach plastic

and bolt action audiences     

Man, the Medgar Evers-second is definitely my favorite law of science

Fondled news clippings and primitive Methodists 

My arm changes imperialisms 

Simple policing vs. Structural frenzies

Elementary school script vs. Even whiter white spectrums

Artless bleeding and

the challenge of watching civilians think

     “terrible rituals they have around the corner. They let their elders beg for public mercy…beg for settler polity”

“I am going to go ahead and sharpen these kids’ heads into arrows myself and see how much gravy spills out of family crests.”

Modern fans of war

    What with their t-shirt poems

    And t-shirt guilt

And me, having on the cheapest pair of shoes on the bus, 

I have no choice but to read the city walls for signs of my life

                                                                                     /

The Chicago Prairie Fire

First, I must apologize to the souls of the house

I am wearing the cheek bones of the mask only

Pill bottle, my name is yours

Name tagged on the side of a factory of wrists

Teeth of the mask now

Back of the head of the mask now 

        New phase of anti-anthropomorphism fending for real faces

Stuck with one of those cultures that believes I chose this family

I am not creative

Just the silliest of the revolutionaries

My blood drying on 

   my only jacket

just as God got playful

the police state’s psychic middlemen

Evangelizing for the creation of an un-masses 

An un-Medgar

Blood of a lamb less racialized

or awesome prison sentence

Good God

Elder-abuse hired for the low

dog eat genius

Right angle made between a point

On a Louisiana plantation

And 5-year old’s rubber ball 

3 feet high and falling

like a deportee plane 

to complete my interpretation 

(of garden variety genocide) 

I am small talk

about loving your enemies

A little more realistically

About paper tigers 

And also gold…

I need my left hand back 

I broke my neck on the piano keys

Found paradise in a fistfight

Maybe I should check into the Cuba line

Watching the universe’s last metronomes

some call Black Jacobins

Just wait…

These religions will start resigning in a decade or two

Some colorfully 

Some transactional-ly

In a cotton gothic society

Class betrayal gone glassless/ I mean ironically/ my window started fogging over too 

Wondering which Haiti will get me through this winter

Which poem houses souls

Which socialist breakthroughs

Breakthroughs like ten steps back

Then finally stillness

Stillness

Then stillness among families

a John Brown biography takes a bow

I’m up next to introduce Prosser to Monk

I remember childhood

Remember the word “Childhood” being a beginning 

Scribbling on an amazing grace 

I rented this body from some circumference of slavery

Remember being kicked out of the Midwest

Strange fruit theater

Lithium and circuses

Likeminded stomachs 

The ruling class blessing their blank checks with levy foam…

                            with opioid tea 

Sentient dollar bills yelling to each other pocket to pocket

Cello stands in the precinct for accompanying counterrevolutionaries 

My mother raised me with a simple pain

A poet loses his mind, you know, like the room has weather

Or first-girlfriend gravity

Police-knock gravity 

Mind-game gravity

Or revolution languishing behind 

The sugar in my good friend’s mind

“The difference between me and you

Is that the madness

Wants me forever”

A pair of apartments

Defining both my family

And political composure

Books behind my back

Bail money paved into the streets

Playing:

Euphoria

Euphoria

Cliché

Bracing for the medicine’s recoil

Sharing a dirty deli sandwich with my friends

Black Jacobins

Underground topography

Or grandmother’s hands

Psychology of the mask now

Teeth of the mask again

—

Originally from San Francisco, Tongo Eisen-Martin is a movement worker and educator who has organized against mass incarceration and extra-judicial killing of Black people throughout the United States. His latest curriculum on extrajudicial killing of Black people, We Charge Genocide Again, has been used as an educational and organizing tool throughout the country. His book of poems, Someone’s Dead Already was nominated for a California Book Award.

[theworldbrewery]

Hot Takes: Elves

“When an elven soul returns to Arvandor, it is adopted by the other gods of the Seldarine and given respite from the world for a time, during which it is left alone to ponder its creator’s disappointment.” -Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes, p 36

I have three sourcebooks in front of me, and all of them are trash.

Elf lore has gotten more fucked up with every new release, and WotC seem to just be digging themselves deeper.

The drow and Lolth

Narrow depictions of ethereal beauty

Relationships with other races, especially orcs

At the root of this is the rather uncomfortable blend of religious themes and racial predestination found in Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes.

Disclaimer: I don’t want to suggest that all the official elf lore is bad. I want to suggest that all the official race lore is bad, actually.

Let’s dig in. Scroll to the bottom of the post if you wanna skip all the bad stuff WotC already wrote about elves.

“[The drow] are infamous for their cruelty, evilness, and desire to dominate.”  -Sword Coast Adventurer’s Guide, p. 107

“To most, [drow] are a race of demon-worshipping marauders [...] emerging only on the blackest nights to pillage and slaughter the surface dwellers they despise.” -Player’s Handbook, p. 24

“The surface elves’ attitude toward murder [...] is carried to the extreme by the drow, who have elevated the assassination of both enemies and friends to an art and who consider killing to be just another tool for resolving disputes and clearing the way for social advancement.” -Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes, p. 40-41

So all this is bad. We’re gonna throw all this out in a hot sec, but I’m quickly going to discuss why the lore looks like this in case someone is unfamiliar with it:

basically, the creator of All Elves, Corellon, had a descendant goddess named Lolth, who apparently claimed that elves could attain superiority over other races, had a major falling-out with Corellon, and her followers went with her into exile and became the drow. Also in Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes, the elves were revealed to be trapped in a cycle of reincarnation where they spent an undetermined period of time dead, alone, and left to contemplate how disappointed Corellon was in them for agreeing with Lolth even a little bit. For some reason, this reincarnation cycle is presented as a good thing... somehow. (this is why elves have a blase reaction to murder, since the deceased will just be reborn later, and why the drow seem to be just fine with killing recklessly.)

This all could be just fine! Except drow are conspicuously the darkest-skinned subrace of elves, and also the one most aligned with a ‘matriarchal’ society. It’s worth pointing out that Corellon is a nonbinary god, but also that the elves “viewed Corellon as their father, the one who had sired them, and Lolth as their mother, the one who set them on the path to their destiny” (p. 36 of MToF). So not only is Corellon being forced into a cisnormative creator narrative, but the comparative “woman” power is being characterized with cruelty and violence. So there’s a lot going on with ‘innate’ savagery and race.

So we’re just gonna throw all that out, because it sucks. It’s got signficant racist implications of inherent violence in racial groups. Sure, WotC tries to retcon it from an in-born racial trait to a cultural one, but it still preys on the concepts of racial essentialism, whether biological or cultural, and fuck that noise. 

“Usually, true elves were a naturally slender and athletic race. Elves had a similar range of complexions to humans, with wood elves typically coppery or pale skinned and wild elves having darker pigmentation.”

“[Elves] live in places of ethereal beauty, in the midst of ancient forests or in silvery spires [...] Elves love nature and magic, art and artistry, music and poetry, and the good things of the world.” -Player’s Handbook, p. 21

Moving on from the drow, official lore gives the impression of elves as a whole as graceful, thin, and more ‘white.’ The quote above from the Forgotten Realms wiki (which is often used for lore reference) asserts that “wild” elves have “darker pigmentation”--a frankly horrifying example of the same problem with the drow characterization equating savagery, or lack of civilization, with dark skin colors. It’s... bad. It looks bad and it is bad.

Furthermore, the ‘good’ elves (and this itself has to be interrogated) are “naturally slender and athletic,” and constantly being characterized as beautiful. We’re equating elves with thinness and apparent youthfulness--you’ll never hear about the beauty of gnomes, for example, who are just as long-lived but who continue to age at a human-ish rate (making them extremely old-looking by the end of their lifespan). Looking young, thin, and athletic combined with the goodness, grace, and artistic nature of elves creates 1) a very human-esque image of beauty that elves almost surely shouldn’t possess, and 2) a serious problem of describing most elves as “good and beautiful” and drow as “evil”. 

“Although they can be haughty, elves are generally gracious even to those who fall short of their high expectations—which is most non-elves.”

“Most of the gods accepted Corellon’s mutability and passionate behavior, but these traits infuriated Gruumsh, the greatest of the orc gods.” -Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes, p. 35

The PHB has a subsection on elven attitudes toward other races, specifically dwarves, halflings, and humans. This subsection is comprised of backhanded compliments: dwarves are stupid and clumsy but brave and good craftworkers, humans go much too fast but they’re good at accomplishing stuff, etc. In MToF, we see the “elven perspective” that if elves are reincarnated souls of their ancestor elves, then half-elves are a reincarnated but weak elf, a human soul in an elf-ish body, or a “true elf” trapped in a half-body until freed by death, all basically bummers. And don’t get me started on orcs, where their god was the cause of the bloodshed that created the first elves. 

In the official lore, elves look down on everyone, all the time, for just about any reason. And those reasons almost always fall into (you guessed it!) racial stereotyping!! 

There’s no discernible reason for elves to be as “haughty” as they are. Apparently they’re just so perfect that it’s impossible to live up to their expectations. I guess.

And that’s not even getting into the concept of eternally punishing all elves for apparently disagreeing with Corellon, all of one (1) single time. It’s... horrific. Reading up on the reincarnation cycle has only convinced me that it’s designed as a unique torture where elves have to spend their childhood totally aware of how they betrayed their primary deity in a past life, then when they “sleep” or trance out they also relive those memories, and then forget them just in time to die and be forced to spend up to millennia pondering how Corellon is upset with them. And that’s the elves who get reincarnated! The drow live shorter lives, and will never reach the apparent paradise of Arvandor. They just go to some other afterlife plane, presumably the one reigned over by an evil spider goddess.

Like. That’s so awful and grimdark, and steps all over the “elves are descended from the fey” thing, but more than that?

It’s horribly unimaginative. It’s just so boring in comparison to all the potential an elf society contains. (not to mention it’s wayyyy too focused on the cosmic side of things rather than a societal view.)

Reimagining Elves

yeah, so, given that we’re scrapping... pretty much all the elf lore.... I’d be remiss in not providing some cooler, more inventive options. As always, you can always choose to craft your own, but here are some ideas to get the gears turning.

Racial interactions: Elves live in close communities composed of one’s extended family, and place a lot of emphasis on family ties and the political relationships between elf families. These family communities tend toward conservatism, with the elders of the family deciding things like marriages, suitable careers, etc. 

Marrying outside the complicated political machinations of elven culture is verboten, so having half-elf children is especially off-limits. Or leave that whole hangup in the lorebooks entirely! Maybe having loads of half-elf children, especially by multiple humans, is super popular because then you can get your political influence into many different places! Who knows! 

But also, any culture that doesn’t lean into this community structure is seen as totally incomprehensible and not worth bothering with. Too many failed marriages with orcs who don’t understand things like “individual property rights”.

Aesthetics: Elves tend to do artsy stuff, but their definition of “art” is... unusual, for most other races. They carve large boulders in the woods and just... leave them there for travelers to find, or manipulate the growth of vines to take shapes like one of an elf drawing a bow, or weave a glimmering silver net of fine thread and hang it from the trees like a dew-speckled spiderweb. They’re reclusive, living in artists enclaves. 

They might dress in loud colors, play screamo music because it’s “expressive”, and paint their faces with blocky shapes because it’s “an avant-garde reflection of the soul.” Go wild. 

Elves can be chubby, elves can be fat, elves can be buff, elves can be light and dark-skinned, elves can glow in the dark, elves can be disabled, elves can be chronically ill (actually, imagine elves with disabilities or illness creating the most pretentious medical aids or training like. a direwolf as a service animal. cause they’re that extra.), elves can be tall or short or whatever. just make sure they have pointy ears (unless...)

Subrace differences, gender: different elf communities have very different views on gender; none of which are “there are two immutable genders/sexes.” for instance, high elves might have a rigid 2-gender system, but it mostly relies on sets of stereotypes and social roles that adolescent elves have to choose as they mature, and then they’re ‘locked in’ for the rest of their life, and they’re seriously looked down on for violating those rules one gender is not valued over another, but they’re rigid systems. 

wood elves may have a ‘what’s a gender’ approach instead, but then any elf who comes up with a gender identity for themself is suspected of wanting to be like those snobbish high elves or something. 

The drow are inclined to have lots of genders, but there’s a clear hierarchy that places “femininity” (by an elf definition) above other gender presentations in emulation of their goddess, Lolth. 

Subrace differences, food: Elves divide themselves by how they cultivate their food. Wood elves cultivate “wild” foods by feeding meat and dairy-producing animals and taking care of naturally occurring plants, and harvesting from the technically-untamed world when they need supplies. 

High Elves have gardens and livestock pens, which are typically exquisitely maintained, but they don’t eat meat; all animals are strictly for dairy and textiles. 

Drow have a collectivist system of crop production, which involves sustainable growing practices on the lands they own aboveground and harvesting at night. They keep animals to eat weeds, bees to pollinate and for honey, and spiders that catch pest insects that would damage the crops.

Religion/Ancestry: some elves believe their elf gods shaped them from the fey, some believe they were descended from the fey and the gods adopted them, and others insist that evolution is fake and the gods created them from whole cloth and the fey thing is just a coincidence.

Weapons: Elves train with weapons because it is: an artform (weapon dancing), a skill competition, an environmental necessity (either for hunting or for battle), or what have you.

The drow, as a whole: you get to choose one. Either the drow are evil, or the drow are dark-skinned, or neither of those are true (on like, a subrace level. individual drow can be whatever). Anyway. If the drow aren’t evil (the better option anyway), they weren’t exiled to the Underdark. Obviously. but a significant portion of the elven population is descended from winter eladrin/the Unseelie Court, and as a result they are allergic to sunlight to varying degrees, so they’ve made a home underground. They worship the spider goddess because she taught them to weave clothing from the web of giant spiders that live in the Underdark. Let Lolth be the goddess of practical craftwork, rather than art for art’s sake, a goddess of knowledge and advancement instead of murder and savagery.

Obviously you can use any and all of these in your own campaign. If you don’t use them, have fun making up your own lore that is clearly superior to existing WotC elf lore!