#something something goodness is only achievable through faith in God something something

[butisittho]

So I was rewatching season one, and I noticed something. I don't know if someone has pointed this out yet, but in S1E04 when the apocalypse is about to happen, Aziraphale and Crowley have a conversation that is incredibly similar to the one they have in the last scene of the second season.

Crowley is asking him to run off with him to literally any other planet, but Aziraphale refuses because he believes that if he could just talk to God and convince him to stop the Armageddon, everything will be fine.

Now as we know, Crowley doesn't actually leave and they have a happy ending (lol) and all that. After that, some angels find Zira and both physically and verbally assault him. He tells them that he's going to report it to a "higher authority" and they laugh at him and say "You really think upstairs will take your call?". After all this, Zira calls them bad angels and tries to contact the Almighty. Bad angels. He doesn't think Heaven as a whole is a bad thing, a rotten institution. He just believes there's a couple of bad apples (sound familiar?) that sort of spoil the whole barrel. He has such an individualistic perspective of corruption that he genuinely believes if he could just explain what's wrong to the person in power (God) everything would be fixed.

And then, when Zira finally tries to contact a higher authority, God doesn't answer. But guess who does?

The Metatron does answer. And he even listens to Aziraphale, even if he doesn't change the plan. I think this serves as a strong precedent to explain why Zira would trust the Metatron in the next season, why he would believe him when he promises him power to run things, change things.

Because at the end of the day, Aziraphale wants to do good. That's what matters to him the most. When the Armageddon was happening, he didn't have the power necessary to actually influence anything, not in Heaven's side. But with the offer that the Metatron makes, that wouldn't occur again. This time he could choose what Heaven does, he could make a difference (or so he thinks, at least).

That's what changes. That's the reason why he accepts and goes back to Heaven. In his new position, he is above the angels who are "bad", so he can instruct them into doing good, and get rid of the corruption.

Which makes so much sense for his character I actually want to cry. He loves Crowley, of course he does, he needs him. But at the end of the day, if Zira has the chance to hopefully save humanity, even if it means not spending eternity with Crowley, he will do it. And I think that's beautiful, idealistic and naive. But it's the right thing to do, the good thing to do.

Also you know, he seems to grow really interested in the Metatron's offer only when he mentions that Crowley can be an angel again, which goes to show how much he loves Crowley. They literally are each other's worlds. But the fact that he believed that Crowley would be happy about it? Or even accept? That illustrates more of that idealism and innocence I mentioned before.

I think Aziraphale is also still maybe not ready to confront what his relationship with Crowley actually is. They are partners, they love each other, they only need each other to be happy, but in his eyes that's probably too much, too many feelings between an angel and a demon, too much dependence. In S1 when Crowley is devastated because "somebody killed my best friend", Zira doesn't know what to say and immediately changes the topic. It makes him uncomfortable, so much so he can't even outwardly recognize what he feels, even if he is aware of it. He gets a bit less emotionally constipated in S2, but in the last scene he still ends up responding the same way he did in S1; I forgive you.

In conclusion: Neil Gaiman you beautiful bastard

[evilminji]

You know all those Cults in Gotham?

Bet at least ONE of them could spring for both a Legit Magic User and a Cloning pod.

Because The Wayne's? Hearts of Gold. Long standing pains in the asses. Probably the only thing standing between this gods forsaken wasteland of a city and Their Dark Lord. For GENERATIONS no less!

It's sooooo obnoxious!

So they want to Curse Um dead. Just a good ol fashioned bloodline curse. Destroy um from within, etc. BUT! To do THAT? You kinda need a blood relative to sacrifice!

And Bruce is... well... rather infamously An Orphan With No Biological Kids (at that point).

So? What do you do? Make one, obviously. You send in some of your own on a Holy Mission. Honeypot that playboy! Get us a kid to sacrifice! Our God will reward you etc! But... FFS! What? Are brunettes not your TYPE or something?! Pretty lady! Throwing herself at you!!

TAKE THE BAIT!

But he DOESN'T. Because he's both really used to that behavior, as The Wayne Heir and a False Playboy, AND because? He's fuckin Batman. He can see through your schemes.

Okay.

Okay!

Plan B!

Get us some DNA. We'll CLONE the sucker. That should be doable, right?

........OH COME ON! How?!

Batman: [REDACTED] / Cultists: 0

Fuck it! This is impossible! How are we supposed too... *eyes drift over to the Wayne Family Private Graveyard* .......Idea? Ideeeeaaaa~! Someone get us a shovel!

So they, cultist bastards that they are? Fuckin rob a grave for some DNA.

OBVIOUSLY though, it can't be one of the more RECENT graves! He probably VISITS those! Watches them! No we gotta be SNEAKY! Get one a bit further back! Mwahahahaha! We're so brilliant! Our God is gonna give us SUCH a Good Grade in follower!

A thing that is both REAL and possible to achieve!

So, while a Weirdly FURIOUS Batman? Is just... VIOLENTLY breaking ALL of their bones? Cultist 17 is furiously digging like his life depends on it. Either somebody snitched or Batman was hunting them down! Either way?

Gotta! Get! That! DNA!!! *digs faster*

Ah HA! Got it!

Fucking SCATTER! Run you fools, RUN!!! *everyone bolts*

And AT LAST! They have it! Wayne DNA! Now? Pop that sucker into the machine and make us a baby! Too sacrifice! *relieved noises* Man, that was hard work you guys. But we DID it!

Except??

Theoretical Babies? And "Real, slowly forming in front of me and becoming a human child" type babies? VERY DIFFERENT psychologically. It's ONE thing to sacrifice a HYPOTHETICAL baby... but when you're the guy running and monitoring the Cloning machine? Watching it slowly form and come together into... into a CHILD?

You start asking questions of yourself. Of God.

Of what, EXACTLY, you are willing to do.

What lines you find yourself unwilling to cross.

And yeah, your life was SHIT before the cult. Yeah, you were alone. Adrift. Without purpose. Angry at the world for all of its ugliness and failings. But... sitting, alone, in a dark room? Nothing but the steady hum of machines and the cool light of that pod? You are left with nothing but time... and your thoughts.

And the baby.

The one... the one YOU made.

Almost... he's almost like a son, in a way. Your son. Floating there, innocent and unknowing. Destined to be born, only to die painfully, for a cause he could not even begin to understand. Because he's too young. Too small. Just... just a baby.

The baby YOU made.

Doubt seeps in like mist. Creeping into the cracks forming in your faith. Surely there's another way, right? Why not save up for a better magician? Or... or hire a hitman? Why involve a child? Surely... surely your God would not WANT this, right? Or if He did! Surely, he would want the boy to be able to CHOOSE, right? A noble sacrifice, for the cause?

The pressure builds. Batman is tearing the city APART looking for your fellow Believers. Leadership is pressuring you to get "It" ready all ready.

He's not an "it".

They are dismissing your questions. Threatening and posturing, as you grapple with your faith. Where? Where is the COMMUNITY that you joined? The camaraderie? Every day, Believers are being torn down. The faith has lost so many!

How can this be WORTH it?

Your faith is slowly, cruelly, strangled in your chest. A death, by ten thousand silences, and ten thousand more cruelties.

Your son is ready.

You do not tell them.

The Clone of Bruce Wayne's great-grandfather is small, but healthy, in your arms. A tiny warm body, with a strong beating little heart. You call the police. Leave your phone, call running, on the desk. No one thinks to stop you, as you calmly walk out the back door.

Why would they doubt?

You are Faithful.

You drive. Pray to a God you have lost faith in, beg forgiveness for what you do now. Your beat up old junker of a car makes decent time, as you leave Gotham. Your son, asleep in a carefully made nest of blankets, on the seat next to you. You drive. You keep driving.

Past towns.

Past cities.

Out of the state.

Stopping only to feed your son and fuel your car. You... you can not bring yourself to care about what will happen to you now. You know they will find you. Know this is the end. But something ancient burns in your chest. A caring you never thought was REAL.

You are afraid.

But you will not let them harm your son.

Finally, a town. Far from Gotham. Quite and cheerful. It calls to you.

Here. It... it has to be here.

You find the hospital. Tears choking you. There is a place to drop of children. You've seen them before. How strange, that now you stand before it and HURT. Your arms not listening to your command. You... you have to do this. You HAVE too.

He is just a baby.

He is your son.

You have to keep him safe. And... and that can not be with you.

You gently put your baby boy into the drop off. Press the buzzer. And then? You make yourself walk away.

Get back in your car, and drive. The gun in your glove box will insure they can never pry from you, what you have done. Where he is. He is safe now. He has to be. You... you did your job. As his father. You made sure he was safe.

You can barely see the road, through your tears.

You take your secrets to the grave.

And Danny? He grows up. Is adopted young and never knows different. Both a Fenton and a Wayne. Knowing only one of these, to be his. But... that Wayne? Was a damn fine man. A pillar of his community and a champion of the people.

Got tossed more then a few blessings, in his life.

They weren't the STRONGEST. But they added up. And more importantly? Were hardly the refined magics of the more powerful. They were cast onto "Him". By blood and bone, more often then not. Which was all well and good!

When there was only ONE of "Him".

Cloning technology did not exsist. So why would you word carefully against it? Danny becomes a VERY lucky boy. Survives many things he should not. In fact, the kindness and hard work of his original? Gifted back in magically powered well wishes? By this, he survives something NO ONE could possibly expect him too.

It saves his life.

His template would be quite pleased, knowing that. That his life of good deeds, saved the life of the child he never got a chance to meet. That it protected his children, from even beyond death.

And in Gotham? At long, long last. The program Bruce made in his helplessness and despair, to search EVERY child until the child made of his bloodline was found? Spits out a match.

A Watchtower engineer.

Daniel J. Fenton.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

𝐀𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐄𝐝𝐞𝐧

didn't really wanna write this in the first place, considering my faith, but ugh it was too good of an idea to resist😅

Summary: Aemond was always God's favorite creation, that is, until He made you.

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), ROUGH NONCON, Lucifer!Aemond x Eve!Reader (does this count as monster fucking?), a whole lotta blasphemy going on here, guilt, degradation, humiliation, corruption, taste of the forbidden fruit (aka oral, m!receiving), painful loss of virginity, blood, creampie, Aemond is very very mean

word count | 2.4k🤙🏻

As soon as Aemond was created, he knew he was made for greatness.

Aemond was the most beautiful out of all of the angels, the most beloved and cherished. God put a lot of effort into sculpting him out of the finest materials, making him appear ethereal, almost as much as Him. It shouldn’t have been much of a shock when some of the angels preferred his company to God’s, telling him how much better he could run things, what things he could achieve if the Creator simply…ceased to exist.

Aemond tried, and Aemond failed, forcing God’s hand to banish him and his fallen angels from paradise, making Aemond lose his eye in the process. He refused to bow down and blindly obey what claimed to be a superior being than everything else, and he was thrown into Hell for wanting his own independence.

Aemond grew bitter and angry, what kind of Father did that to his beloved creation? 

He vowed from then on that he’d try to spurn his Creator at every moment he could, devoting himself to make God have a perpetual headache as revenge. He’d destroy anything and everything He loved and wanted to protect, burn Heaven’s gates to the fucking ground. 

So when Aemond saw God had made such fragile little toys to roam what he called Earth, he took every opportunity to maim and kill each creature. But that only made God create beings that could take care of said creatures.

Aemond and his demons could only laugh at the smooth skinned being that God created out of dust. Dust, he thought derisively, how inferior this so-called human is compared to me to be made out of something so quaint.

Aemond attempted to push all sorts of dangerous thoughts into the human’s head, wanting the man to destroy and self-destruct, but all he managed to get through was the feeling of loneliness.

Then, in response to the human man’s loneliness, God created a similar being to keep this human company; you, whose beauty almost matched Aemond’s, and he suddenly came to the realization that he wasn’t God’s favorite anymore.

God didn’t walk with Adam as much as he did with you, little Eve, doting on you and granting you whatever you wished without you even having to ask. No, no, no, this won’t do, Aemond thought maliciously, only he could be God’s favorite. No…Aemond had to ruin you.

Watching you and Adam live in blissful ignorance, speaking and being in the presence of the Lord, boiled his blood, hotter than he had ever felt before. But one silver lining, the Tree of Knowledge.

God told you and Adam that you could eat from any tree or plant you wished, just never the Tree of Knowledge for you would surely die. Aemond smirked to himself as he devised his plan. He would make damn sure one of you would eat the forbidden fruit.

Aemond came to you when you were by yourself, disguising himself in the appearance of a serpent, the only form he could take in your presence, which irked him, but he’d make do.

You eyed the serpent carefully, watching as it slithered across the grass towards you, seemingly just watching you as you worked in the garden…until it started to speak.

“Did God really say you must not eat from any tree in the garden?” The serpent spoke.

“We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden, but the Lord God did say, you must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die.” You answered hesitantly, still very confused why a snake was speaking to you like it was a man. But a part of you were intrigued, his voice was soft and alluring; entranced, you had to listen to what it had to say.

The serpent seemed to scoff. “Surely you will not die.” The serpent climbed up the tree, taking a bite from the lowest hanging fruit, a loud gasp eliciting from your own lips as you saw the being swallow and didn’t immediately fall dead. “See? Who is He to tell you what you can and can’t do, hm? Aren’t you supposed to be free?”

A sinking feeling formed in the pit of your stomach, feelings of rage and betrayal encompassing you. “I-I…I am free! You have forgotten your place, beast!” You snapped, “The Lord God loves us and wants the best for us. He must have a reason!”

“You think everything is perfect, silly girl?” The serpent giggled, circling around you like the predator he was, eyeing your naked form, finding a reluctant feeling of gratefulness that God chose your features so well. “There’s so much wonder here right in front of your eyes, all you have to do is simply take a bite of the fruit.”

You shook your head defiantly. “No. He said we’d die. Why would He lie?”

“Because, if you eat from the tree, your eyes will be opened for what the world really is. You’ll understand right from wrong. You will be like Him. Consider, for just a second, if God truly loved you, He wouldn’t keep all this knowledge from you, right? Why would He keep something so simple from someone so innocent? Maybe He wants it all for Himself because He doesn’t think you deserve to feel all the joys He feels, that you’ll never feel. Ask yourself, why does He give you less when He takes more? How being free is being locked inside this place? Maybe you're weak or a mistake or too emotional. Maybe you're not good enough for His world, maybe you never were…”

Aemond could see the hesitance slowly leave your face, finally considering what he was saying to be the truth. Yes, little Eve, eat. “He’ll never know, sweet little lamb. I’ll never tell, you have my word. You deserve to know, you deserve to be free.”

The serpent’s poisonous words penetrated into your mind, making your mouth water from just the thought of finally eating from the forbidden tree. You had to admit, the tree was pleasant to the eye, the fruit it bore looked so delectable, like water on a hot day, maybe it would have always come to this? If not now, then definitely later.

You picked the same piece of fruit the serpent had bit into before, the skin of the fruit so soft and ripe, you were practically drooling as you brought it to your lips, taking a considerable bite.

As soon as the sweet yet bitter flavor hit your tongue, it felt like all the walls came down and the heavens opened. It was the best thing you had ever tasted in your life, the taste almost making you moan aloud. And you weren’t dead, in fact, you had never felt more alive. But your skin prickled at the breeze hitting your skin, and you realized you were naked. How long have you been naked? And the serpent was no longer with you, instead, a tall figure stood in front of you now, transformed as soon as the fruit traveled down your throat.

Unlike the serpent, the being in front of you was too beautiful to be any sort of beast, or human for that matter. You teared up instantly, the sight being too amazing for your human mind to comprehend. “Who…who…?” Was all you could get out.

“I am called many names, little lamb. Lucifer, Satan, Devil, Father of Lies, and much more…but you may call me Aemond.”

Your stomach dropped, the fruit sitting in your stomach like a heavy stone, burning from the inside out; you wanted to vomit. What have you done? You almost screamed when he grabbed you by your hips and pulled you close to him, your chest touching his, your breasts pressed uncomfortably against the leather of his clothing.

“You just had to give into temptation, didn’t you? You just had to taste it.” The Devil disapproved mockingly, an evil grin decorating his face, making his visage all the more menacing.

“You…you deceived me!” You sobbed, “You lied! You-!”

“Ah, ah, ah, can’t claim yourself to be innocent now, little girl. Now, the trust is broken. How will your God ever love you now?” He purred, licking up your free flowing tears from your cheeks and moaning at the salty taste. You tried to pull away, but he was too strong, holding your head in place, his fingers digging into your skin, once never blemished nor tainted now marked by the beast. “Shh, it’s okay. Don’t cry. Besides, I’ve got something else for you to taste.”

You begged for him to stop as he forced you on your knees, the grassy floor that once felt so soft now cutting up your flesh, itching and burning. “Please, don’t do this to me!”

Aemond only snickered, “Poor girl, you have no idea how evil this world really is, huh? This is just a taste of what’s to come. Be grateful this is all I want…for now.” Aemond forced your mouth open, squeezing your cheeks together and forcing his fingers into your mouth, choking you until he replaced them with his cock. “Ah, such a sweet, innocent, unused mouth. Adam never made you do this, hm?”

You couldn’t force back your tears, copiously flowing down your cheeks along with the drool on your chin. The head of his cock kept hitting the back of your throat over and over, you gagged and almost vomited until he gave you a breather, pulling back and looking over your tear stained face with a sickening awe. “So pretty…prettier than me, I must admit.” His eyes darkened in jealousy. “That bastard can’t possibly love you more than me once I’m finished with you.”

In one swift movement, Aemond had you on all fours, shoving your face into the ground, dirt and grass covering the side of your face uncomfortably. You screamed as he shoved his cock inside you in one thrust, filling and stretching you almost impossibly wide. The pain had your ears ringing and vision going white, sweat beading out of every pore in your skin as he forced you to take all of him. “Fuck, so tight. Did Adam never take you to bed? I figured as much, such prudish creatures. Don’t worry, my sweet little lamb, I’ll break you in for him.”

As if you thought the pain couldn’t get any worse, his brutal thrusts had you sobbing, the amount of tears you shed causing the soil to turn into mud beneath you, grass getting underneath your fingernails with how hard you were holding on to keep yourself from passing out. “S-Stop, please, mercy!” You begged.

“Mercy?” He growled. “I’ve begged for mercy too many times to count, I never received any. Neither shall you. Now shut up and take my cock like a good little lamb.”

“God…please…make this end…” You whispered into the ground, only to get a mocking laugh in return.

“He can’t save you now.”

Aemond’s thrusts were wild, trying to make it as painful for you as possible, watching your blood drip down your inner thighs and making a little puddle on the ground, staining the grass. But along with the blood, an almost white fluid made a ring around the base of his cock. “Oh, starting to enjoy this now, are you?” He grinned evilly, gripping your hair to pull you back against his chest, his other hand reaching around to hold your neck.

As much as you hated to admit it, yes. The pain slowly went away, all that was left was an achy pressure in the pit of your stomach, a burning that seemed to grow in intensity with every harsh thrust he made. “S-Stop…”

Aemond hummed in disapproval. “Why do you resist the pleasure you feel? Give in to sin and you can have anything you want in the world.”

“No…” You said to yourself. “No!”

Aemond chuckled. “So defiant, I like that. Makes it more fun to break you.”

You gasped as Aemond reached down to rub circles around a spot you didn’t even know existed, the sensation overwhelming but you didn’t want it to stop, though you’d never admit this. It made the pressure in your stomach only grow faster, moans escaping you and getting louder the more he touched you. “What’s happening?” You cried, panicking.

“You’re about to reach your peak, little lamb. You’re about to feel one of the most pleasurable of sins, and all because of me.”

“No, stop! Don’t make me, please!” 

But it was too late, you reached the point of no return. It felt like you were going to die, the feeling was so intense, your whole body convulsing and spasming around Aemond’s cock. And with it, a dark feeling overtaking you. 

You groaned loudly, an almost growling noise, as you reached your peak, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, only to come back as black voids. There was no white in your eyes nor color, just darkness. Your fingernails pushed out, being replaced with claws. Your canines fell out, being replaced with fangs. A brutal ache in your skull had you crying out, blood dripping down your face as a horn on either side of your head grew from beneath your skin.

“Yes, dark little lamb, give in to me.” Aemond cooed, and for the first time, you listened to him.

Aemond flipped you onto your back, looking down at you in a mocking admiration, grinning as your skin grayed and veins went red, beginning to resemble one of his demons.

He was taken by surprise as you flipped him onto his back with a shocking amount of power, shoving his cock back inside you and began to ride him violently. “There she is, there’s my fallen angel.” He groaned as his cock began to pulse, your walls squeezing him just right as you made yourself come around him as many times as you could, the feeling addicting to you now. “Fuck, do you want my seed, little Eve?”

“Don’t call me that.” You growled, scratching up his chest with your new claws, drawing copious amounts of blood, your now forked tongue lapping up the red fluid. The added pain made Aemond reach his peak quickly, his cum filling you to the brim. With one more cry, you sprouted dark wings, fluttering softly but just enough it brought you to your feet. 

Aemond stood up with a grin, watching as his cum dripped down your shaky legs, mixing with your blood. “You’re mine now, understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Hm, now what shall I call you, if not Eve?” You pondered his question for a brief moment, before ultimately deciding your new name and your new fate.

“Lilith.”

hey y'all, thought i'd post a little something something for Valentine's Day. I wrote the first half of this months ago and then i got a boyfriend and stopped writing but i really liked this idea and decided to finish it. Hope you enjoyed!

[janearts]

I couldn't help myself from referencing Highlander. There can be only one [wielder of the Netherstones]!

Proper answer (and some character analysis for Roisia) under the read-more.

Roisia was surprised by Gortash, but pleasantly so. In the first place, as far as Roisia is concerned, Ketheric and Orin recall their respective gods in their appearance: Ketheric is withered, a husk of a person, but indomitable, and Orin... well, Orin looks like a flayed corpse with meat-suit clothes, but close enough. Roisia would have expected Bane's Chosen to be more... physically domineering. Terrifying. Intractable. ...Loud? Instead, here's this charming handsome fellow who is really rather ordinary. If Roisia met him on the street, he'd just be another debonair noble lusting for power. (Join the feckin' queue!)

And neither does Gortash behave as Roisia would have expected Bane's Chosen to behave. She would have expected a Banite to be a tyrant, a Faerûnian-version of the Machiavellian prince, who instils a terror of himself and who rules through fear. Instead, Gortash gently curates among the populace not a fear of him, but a xenophobic fear of The Outsider (whether that outsider is a cult like the Absolute or a group of people like the Coast's refugees).

Roisia—by all accounts an oppositional force to his own—encounters a man who is genuinely, fully, confidently willing to partner with her to achieve a common goal and is willing to swear a divine oath to secure that partnership...

Poor man. What a fool.

You see, Roisia is something of a Machiavellian prince. She would despise to think of herself in that way were she to read Il Principe, but she has within herself some (but not all!) of the traits and qualities that are described within. She is frequently a mirror: where she meets evil, she wields evil with aplomb. ("You desire me to kiss your foot? I think not. You shall kiss mine.") She would very much prefer to offer mercy, but if her mercy is rejected—like when Ketheric imprisons Dame Aylin once again before yeeting himself into the primordial soup—then she will dole out cruelty in equal measure. Most importantly of all, Roisia is a liar and a deceiver, all while appearing compassionate, guileless, and true to her word. Roisia only really keeps her word when it suits her purposes. Were she otherwise, she would have found that Gortash would have been faithful to his word to the last. But as the Machiavellian prince, she betrays and slays him.

Actually, having written all that, Roisia is more of an embodiment of the Machiavellian prince than I originally thought: she is virtuous and good, sure, but she is also intimately familiar with baser behaviours (lying, cruelty, conspiracy, etc.) and wields those base behaviours like a tool when and where she feels it is needed and necessary.

Which is why I was absolutely thrilled when I had her do what was only natural to her and had her speak to Gortash post-mortem. Roisia is a character who believes herself to be godless: damned and/or abandoned by Kelemvor, Lord of the Dead and Judge of the Damned, for being a Necromancer. She had a sliver of hope that she would find favour with Myrkul, but Myrkul thought only of the Chosen stolen from him. She thought, perhaps, that she might find favour with Bhaal because, let's face it, she had slaughtered and bloodied so many in her long journey to Baldur's Gate, but the skull only wept blood and that was that. Bane, however, actually speaks to her, acknowledges her, validates her. She won his favour the moment she betrayed and slayed Gortash. She is in her very nature a stellar Banite. Incredible! And absolutely absurd. Thank you to Larian for programming that opportunity in. 😂

[lesbiansforboromir]

In a BoromirLives fanfic, Faramir must be forced to confront this line of his in particular; Whether he erred or no, of this I am sure: he died well, achieving some good thing. His face was more beautiful even than in life. It's vital to me that this is addressed. Because in Tolkien beauty is holy, they are intertwined inextricably, the holy will be beautiful.

Boromir did not live a beautiful holy life according to most, his life is not spoken of with uncomplicated worth by any but Denethor, Eomer, Theoden and Pippin (all either 'simple' or outwardly rebellious against god). But he did die a beautiful holy death, it is what most people praise him for and in Faramir's mystical dream where he sees Boromir's dead body floating down the river, this is his reaction. Boromir's corpse was more beautiful than his living body, because in death he was 'redeemed' and served his purpose in the great holy plan. He 'died well'.

This is horrifying right? It horrifies me when I read it. And I think it so concisely reveals how Faramir and many others viewed Boromir. I am essentially here to argue that this is all about piety, once again, yes I'm a one track record.

Gandalf, when hearing of Boromir's death from Aragorn, declares; It was a sore trial for such a man: a warrior, and a lord of men. Galadriel told me that he was in peril. But he escaped in the end. I am glad. It was not in vain that the young hobbits came with us, if only for Boromir’s sake.

Now, what is Gandalf saying here? Boromir did not escape, he died. Does he mean he escaped corruption? Well, no, since apparently this 'escape' had something to do with Merry and Pippin and Boromir shook off the pull of the Ring long before he was sent to find them. What role did Merry and Pippin play in this 'escape'? Well, Boromir died for them, he had too, there was no other way out of that ambush. So by process of elimination the only thing the 'young hobbits' did that was 'for Boromir's sake' was... to be there so he could die for them, right?

And remember, his death did not actually save them or really help in any way, the hobbits are still taken and the Uruk-hai's downfall has nothing to do with Boromir. In fact Aragorn squandered any time Boromir might have given him to catch up to the Uruk-hai by spending hours on his funeral. So, the death alone is what is being called 'good' here, what is beautiful. Boromir dies and that is beautiful and something to be glad for, according to Gandalf and Faramir.

But why do they think this? Faramir has his 'alas for Boromir, whom I too loved' and Gandalf laments 'poor Boromir', so they have at least some pity for him. What was 'good' to them about Boromir dying? Well we all know this one don't we, it's the accepted narrative of it all, Boromir 'redeemed' himself with this deed. He tried to take the Ring, and for this crime he needed redemption that he gained through vainly giving up his life to try and save Merry and Pippin.

But, in fact, Boromir himself has a slightly different way of phrasing it. Boromir says, of his own death; ‘I tried to take the Ring from Frodo,’ [-] ‘I am sorry. I have paid.’

He paid for it. To Boromir, in this cosmic exchange, he chose wrongly and paid for the offence with his death. This wasn't redemption, it was spiritual commerce, crime and punishment. Which is a perspective that once again demonstrates Boromir's enduring lack of 'faith' or spirituality. The powers of the west and Eru may exist, but they exist to him as forces of nature, some fact of the world we all must just live with, not something that fills him with hope or brings him nobility or meaning or a 'higher purpose'. Boromir does not want to be closer to divinity, he does not want to be beautiful or noble, he wants his people to be safe.

But of course, this is entirely opposite to Faramir's perspective, and if not downright heretical then at least unfaithful. So, when alive, Boromir cannot achieve 'beauty' in Faramir's mind, because he is unfaithful. It is only when he is dead, when 'fate' draws him into this spiritually good 'end' that sees him give up his life for a holy quest, when Boromir's life is no longer defined by him but by his death, that he can be beautiful.

And bringing this all the way back around, there are two ways you could do this in a boromirlives fic. Either, Boromir comes back but he does not look like he did in Faramir's dream. He did not pay, he is still alive to define who he is and Faramir finds himself slowly drawn into this terrible psychological horror as he realises he misses his brother's death more than he missed his actual brother.

Or Faramir needs to be confronted with a brother who looks dead to him. Boromir has come back and to Faramir's eyes he looks exactly as he did in the dream, but now this corpse moves and speaks and can no longer be confined to one perfect conceptual moment. And this also horrifies him. It is for authors to decide if this is just an aspect of Faramir's perspective, or if Boromir actually 'came back wrong' as it were, he did pay but somehow he came back anyway.

[hattersarts]

gomens s2 thoughts, all spoilers!

I spent 10 hours talking to my housemate about the season after we binged the whole thing in the morning but here are the highlights and the biggest takeaways from the season.

okay i did love the ending, i love that we get the conformation of love AND going into the divorce arc next season (if they're not properly together by the end of season 3 however, i am rioting) they're slow burn and a whole season of them getting to the final 10mins was tasty.

HOWEVER. it was an extremely clunky season when it comes to writing, lots of either set ups missed OR set ups repeated 4 times that they're drilled into out heads. there was also lots of dialogue that really needed to be tightened up. the lesbians were so poorly written i thought they might have needed to be cut BUT they just needed to have more bearing on the rest of the plot AND say things like real people would say things and LITERALLY SHOW ONE SINGLE REASON WHY THEY WOULD LIKE EACH OTHER WITHIN THE FIRST EPISODE.

gabe/bulz romance was the one that should have been cut, have them do more of a oh-my-god-my-boss-sucks kind of thing, lean into them complaining about having to avert a civil war after armageddon stopped and touch on the "structural problems" the angels mention later. Have gabe/bulz be super punished for working together which puts huge fear into az and crowley about what happens if you try to team up as an angel/demon pair (but an extra reason why az takes the job at the end so he and crowley can be the same)

imo it works more if the only mirror of their romance is the HUMANS which should lean into themes to season 3 of how they need to team up with humans (re:"us vs them" line at the end of season 1) to actually achieve their happy ending.

Nina and maggies best scene was their last one telling crowley he needed to talk to az but i think that was one that needed to be cut, it would have been far more satisfying to have crowely work out it out himself that he loves az and wants to tell him (still via maggie and nina but more subtle rather than them telling him to his face AND via spending more time with az in the season)

flashbacks were all pretty good, loved the jobe one and that final "lonely" scene. the nazi one needed some trimming the most (why did all three come back to earth, it made scenes too crowed, have them fight to be a zombie)

shax was disappointing, she was kind of just incompetent the whole way through which didnt make the stakes very exciting, (that whole scene of her talking to the legion was unfunny and pointless) i wanted crowley to mentor her more like when he gave her advice in the first few meetings we saw (kind of in a very non-demonic way, not expecting anything in return) and her to then meet him on equal footing in the finale. would have been a little accidental taste for Crowley to have his good deeds come back to haunt him while showing he's different to demons.

speaking of the finale fight, that halo had NO set up, it was sick as hell but ??? the fuck did that come from. the fight should have been won by az and crowley performing another HUGE miracle together, discorporating the demons (which then would alert heaven and hell something was up in the bookshop and the final scene can happen)

az taking the job from metatron was very good, its consistent with his character where he still hasn't let go of his faith in good/god, he's only been upset by the angels running heaven and still has faith in the system while crowley has realised none of it works and it's only them together that matters. it was nice to show he still hasn't truly accepted crowley for who he is now (tho imo he knows he loves him, he just hasn't quite unrepressed himself) and him not turning down the job after crowley confesses to him shows he still thinks he can fix it. Crowley on the other hand thinks he's now lost him, az has broken he the trust he had in him, he's going to be in big depression mode

few thoughts of good directions for S3:

finally delivering on what crowley said at the end of S1 I think is the most satisfying. the final showdown should be humans Vs heaven/hell with Crowley and az on the human side, helping them win the conflict. there would be suggestions that this is actually god's ineffable plan, this is a conflict she wants to happen and the things that Crowley and az went through are what make them perfect ambassadors to help the humans.

the set up for az in S3 to finally work out he and Crowley can't work out within the unfair rules of the system and for him to abandon heaven (tho not I think, becoming a demon) is good. a sucky ending imo for season 3 is if az somehow "fixes" heaven and via bureaucracy and not via blowing it all up.

growth moments for Crowley in S3 might be having more contact with humans since he's already abandoned hell and it would put az & crowley on similar footing (as az very much loves humans already) when they decided to side with humans for a humans Vs heaven/hell conflict.

anyway, gay people

[heedmywarnings]

One last time

(Full Chapter)

In which you insult them one last time. (Aka me insulting pixels even tho I'm on Hiatus)

(Written when I was on Hiatus lmfao)

Warning: Cursing, lots of them.

》 - Chapter 2

Masterlist

♤~-~♤

You were finally captured. It took three months to get where you are, standing before you are the Archons who participated in the hunt, and now they will execute you.

"Before you here, is the Impostor that stole our beloved deity's face" Barbatos started, looking down upon the people, "As if you didn't" you said, barely a whisper "Would you like to repeat that, thief?" The Goddess of Justice whispered on your ear as she pulled your hair, "I SAID, AS IF YOU DIDN'T" you repeated, the crowd gasps because they are very very shocked because they gasped.

Also this moon cake im eating doenst taste good.

"What?"

"You were born from the desires of people, meaning if Decarabian wasn't a tyrant then you wouldn't even be born!" The crowd screams defending the Wind God, "Oh come on! He stole the face of his DEAD friend!" You yelled, "Don't get me started with how he abandoned his nation for the tyrants to just invade Mond. Lady Venessa freed Mondstadt from the Lawrence clan!" Technically, Venti did help but you need to get the crowd on your side.

"That's enough," Ei said approaching you as she unsheath her sword, "You also abandoned your nation! What? because your sister, THE TRUE RULER of Inazuma died?" At this point everyone is appalled.

"T-"

"Don't even get me started with you, you rat tailed motherfucker. You literally made a deal with the fatui, you knew Childe was gonna summon Osial and you let it happen. More so, you faked your own death because you didn't feel like ruling over Liyue? Or was it because you finally understood that you're just incapable of being an Archon? The only reason you survived the Archon War was the adepti and yaksha that you expended!"

"..."

"And who's to say you didn't commit any crime?" Ei said after the shock had dissipated, "What crime!? How do you think a mere mortal were to steal a God's face!?" You screamed through a horse voice, now you've got everyone talking, (like the jury in the Ace Attorney.)

"Is your god suffering from sever little-bitchitis to the point you'd hunt anybody who look REMOTELY similar to them?"

The Archons were stunned, it seemed like you made everyone hold their breathe. "Such blasphemy won't go unforgi-" "I don't need your forgiveness, you cockroach arthritis-suffering bitch," you cut Zhongli off.

"Hey now...let's not say something will regret, huh?" Nahida said, through the familiar gentle voice, "I won't regret anything that comes out of my mouth." You replied, not finding any reasons why Nahida should be insulted.

"By far, the only Archon that ever helped the Traveller was the Dendro Archon! And she was even locked up!" You said, "You, Barbatos, you just avoided any talk about traveller's twin. Morax, why did you sign a contract that silences you about their twin? Do they scare you that much? Are you really that weak and pathetic?" You said apathetically and sarcastically.

"I am under a contract, and I must abide by that contract," Zhongli replied with a more... confident form, you can't wait to crush it, "Didn't you also sign a contract with the mortals of Teyvat that you'd never hurt them? WELL WHAT ABOUT ME? WHY AM I AM EXCEPTION?" Technically, he didn't, but if they were gonna use lies and deception to win this argument, you might as well do the same.

"Because you're nothing but an Impostor, not even worthy to be called human" Ei said, striking her blade on your thigh, you gasped in pain. "Hah! And what are you? You were an Impostor that created another Impostor because you can't handle the guilt of being one!" At this point it was useless to argue, they were pissed off but the people? They don't believe you, but they've also lost faith to their Gods.

And so, what did you achieve? Death and your name on the history textbooks saying that you were the reason that Teyvat rebelled against their Gods...

So, are you ready to resurrect later in life to attack the Archons (verbally) once more?

Next chapter coming out idk when

[makingspiritualityreal]

Rahu, Ketu and Saturn are all separating factors in a horoscope, but it is Rahu that makes it most difficult for a person to identify themselves with the traits of a given planet in their lives. The full awareness of it comes to them only around Rahu maturation (age 42). At the same time there is an overidentification with the Ketu planet.

So the person can easily admit to but be internally dissatisfied through their Ketu but be unaware how much they have already developed in their Rahu and be secretly more skilled there than they, or anyone else, can realize.

This can be easily summed up as many planets are ruled by 2 zodiac signs. Naturally, the state of the planet will depend on its condition in one’s chart. The condition will also become extra intense if a planet is in the same house as Rahu (even the loosest conjunction as it is the sign dispositor that matters). That can easily become contradictory, as I can prove to you with the example of my chart.

I have Rahu in Sagittarius, but I have Mercury conjunct my Rahu and Venus loosely too if you adapt the Bhava Chalita interpretation. That creates an interesting contradiction where I use my Ketu skills to channel Rahu. Since Jupiter is the Divine element in every one of us, I tend to always underestimate my gifts, spiritual, creative, intellectual. It takes other people praising me a lot to realize that I can actually handle more things in life than I think, and I have achieved and manifested so much versatility. But my default comfort zone is to just say “I study a lot”.

Below I will give you a brief list on how this will manifest for each Rahu in general.

Aries and Scorpio will make Rahu oblivious to one’s qualities of Mars and overly rely on qualities of Venus. The person will underestimate their own drive and courage and contribution and ability to set a life direction and give credit, attention or even command to others, before realizing their own leadership and active action abilities.

Taurus and Libra will make one’s Rahu unaware of their Venusian skills, thinking they achieved it all through grit of character as there is an over-reliance on Mars, but in reality they have developed more softness and wisdom of natural laws than they know. That connection to people and nature has transformed them as they learn unity instead of division.

Gemini and Virgo are said to be the best points of Rahu as influence of Jupiter on Ketu is so lucky. However, these people tend to take their skills for granted. They often receive so much they think they’re just lucky and they don’t notice till way later that they have actually practiced a lot of things and developed a lot of experience in what they have aptitude for, and thus they have reached a certain substantial worldly level of achievement purely by their own means.

Cancer and Leo Rahu share the trouble of developing their royal divine masculine or Feminine side, as their comfort zone is Saturn, the practical, neuter planet that judges everything by results only. What these natives don’t understand is that there is an inherent magic and kingly and queenly qualities inside every man and woman, that are inborn and deserve to be claimed without needing work or pain.

Sagittarius and Pisces Rahu overly rely on their intellect to problem solve life, as they were most probably praised for these abilities naturally and encouraged to develop it since childhood. What they don’t see is how much more courage it takes for them to develop faith, when no one ever told them that it’s a good idea to have it, and God and Destiny are very real forces operating within our lives. Sometimes you just have to leave something to fate and it doesn’t mean failure, and all of us are more lucky than we even know. Rahu there underestimates the luck factor in life. They also underestimate their divine creativity, that comes from the heart, not the mind.

Capricorn and Aquarius will make Rahu project a lot of their issues on parental figures, as the Sun and the Moon represent the Father and the Mother. Depending on other factors in chart, that can be blame for delay in progress or gratitude for their parents’ help, even a guilt or inferiority complex, that makes them erase their long patient hard work. What’s lacking is the acknowledgement and appreciation of one’s own skill in long term building and overcoming obstacles.

[wordsmithic]

Winter Harvest - Review (non-spoilery)

It's not often that I write book critiques directly to Tumblr but this book called for an exception. This story of Demeter (and Persephone) comes to us from a Greek writer and it's a fresh gem in the industry.

You can truly see the Greek eye in the text with all its nuances and cultural understanding. The book had intriguing and creative concepts about the gods and divinity that didn't feel out of place or disrespectful to Greek culture. The concept of divinity and how it operates in Papadopoulou's imagination was particularly interesting and the strongest element in the book for me.

The imbalance between gods, when it came to power and gender, was informed by Greek history and tradition of seeing gender dynamics. In other words, it wasn't the anglophone "ancient males bad, ancient females awesome and always oppressed and sad" voyeuristic trend, and this (actual!) realism truly felt very refreshing to me as a Greek.

The prose is simple but its impact grows the more the book advances. I came to love the way Papadopoulou used language in her own way to showcase the concept of divinity. The story also shined through the faithfulness to the myths and through presenting the gods as something different than humans, a concept that most Western authors of this genre fail to grasp about ancient religions and gods.

The author respected the myths, not trying to "subvert" (the new word Western publishers are obsessed about) or whitewash the original material for native Anglophone audiences but to build on it and show another perspective. Books like this demonstrate that the original material doesn't have to be "subverted" or "deconstructed" to show its timeless value. The story gets ugly and unpleasant at times but it was the first time that I felt I saw good Greek Myth Realism.

Demeter's thoughts and behavior were fascinating to read about. Inner monologues and speculative paragraphs are not my preferred read but in this case, I felt magnetized by Demeter's pov. The transformation she and the other gods go through is related to their hurdles and pain, resulting in very interesting evolutions.

Demeter's actions were informed by her divinity and power within the ancient Greek context and not by modern human standards, which is a very low bar but, as we established, most books in this category don't achieve this at all. For gods, there is little fuss about Human things and Human things are often minutia. For the first time in many years, I felt like I was in the mind of a God and this was a success by the author which elevated the book more for me.

The only negative thing is the simple writing and phrasing which, at times, could read as a bit juvenile but in no way it undermined the ideas of this book and the whole concept. Considering this is the author's debut, some things can be overlooked, more so when they affected the book so little in my reading. Some could say it was a bit slow at times but I adored the perspective and the flow so much that I didn't mind at all.

Reading Winter Harvest was overall a great experience, and I cannot recommend it enough. If you are used to reading Greek myth books only by authors in the Anglosphere I strongly recommend you check it out for its cultural perspective which is - unfortunately - fresh for the western popular publishing industry.

4/5 stars ⭐️⭐⭐⭐

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[elicathebunny]

DON'T LET THOSE TYPES OF PEOPLE GET IN THE WAY OF YOUR SUCCESS.

STEPS TO DETACHMENT AND MOVING IN SILENCE.

Let them be who they are, let them stay where they are, let them think what they think. But remember this, what you are planning is something they could never achieve. Pull through in the new year and do the things you've put aside and neglected so that when you can reflect on what you've accomplished, you can tick off the majority. Embarrassment and shame are real, I understand that. I also go through moments where I'm haunted by the same "embarrassing" memory. But now is when we can both change, we can choose to let go of those daunting memories and live our lives to the fullest. We may have goals that the person next to us could laugh at, but imagine how good it would feel to be doubted at first and then proving them wrong later. Staying strong is difficult, especially if you have wavering faith in your beliefs and actions, and if that's the case, that's exactly what you are going to work on.

1) HAVING A BELIEF

Having a belief in something will help you in your confidence exponentially. Whether that is in God, having a strong self-concept or in the universe.

Having faith in something gives you a dependable foundation, offers guidance, and keeps you grounded. Having a belief will also replace the desire for validation from others around you since having that validation will conflict with said belief.

2) HAVING A PLAN

Having a plan will also help your confidence. When others doubt your aspirations, you will only doubt yourself if you feel like you can't achieve them. But if you have a plan, you have no reason to doubt yourself because you know what it will take to achieve your goals, you will know the steps to go through to make your dreams a reality. This will bring reassurance, which will result in boosted self-esteem.

3) DON'T TAKE ANYTHING PERSONAL

Understand that not everyone will be fond of you, and it's impossible to win everyone over. ("A friend to all is a friend to none" - Aristotle.)

People will act out of jealousy when they see you better yourself, gradually surpassing them. Perhaps they're feeling jealous because you excel in something they don't, or they envy you for achieving what they couldn't. If you take this personally, it means they have succeeded in bringing you down to stay on their level or even below it. If people criticize you for pursuing your goals, take it as a sign that you're on the right track. As you achieve more success, more people may start hoping for your downfall. Beware of these types of people, some may even be the ones closest to you (monitoring spirits.)

4) DETACHING AND PERSERVERING THROUGH

Practice mindfulness to stay present and detach from overwhelming thoughts. Meditation can help you observe your thoughts without getting entangled in them. Allocate specific times each day for your worries to surface freely. This prevents them from dominating your entire day. For instance, during a bath, take the time to thoroughly reflect on the day, welcoming both negative and positive thoughts. Allow yourself to fully experience those moments. Once they've passed, release and journal the thoughts and feelings that came up.

Understand that you can't control everything. People will think what they want, and realising you can't control their thoughts is the first step to detaching. Release the grip on issues beyond your reach, and it'll free up your mind. Focus on what you can change, and you'll gain a lot of mental clarity.

Persevering is fueled by determination and desire. If you come out publically with your aspirations and back down, then it gives people more things to laugh at. Let them laugh until they become silenced by your achievements. Let that statement discipline you.

5) MOVING IN SILENCE

Moving in silence involves taking intentional actions without announcing them to the world. If you fear that others may sway you with their words or that you may back down easily, move in silence. Don't tell a soul about your plans and goals. The less people know, the less that can be used against you. Only tell those who you are certain will be your support system.

Set Clear Goals: Define your objectives clearly. Having a roadmap for yourself will guide your actions.

Stay Focused: Concentrate on your work and avoid unnecessary distractions. Maintain a laser focus on your goals.

Work Consistently: Take consistent, daily actions toward your goals. Small, regular efforts can lead to significant achievements over time.

Avoid Unnecessary Attention: Minimise sharing every detail of your journey on social media or with everyone. Keep some aspects private.

Build a Support System: Share your aspirations with a select few who genuinely support you. Their encouragement can be invaluable.

Let Success Speak: Instead of talking about your plans, let your achievements speak for themselves. People will notice your results.

Learn Quietly: Acquire new skills or knowledge discreetly. You don't always need to announce your learning process.

Embrace Patience: Moving in silence requires patience. Success often takes time, and it's okay if results aren't immediate.

Embody your potential.

[citronverveine]

xie lian and identity issues

this is something i'll probably want to expand on more as i give it more thoughts later but right now i'm just. thinking.

i'm thinking of xie lian in book 2 who has to realize that he is not as invicible as he thought. he is powerful yet he cannot do enough. he is not enough. he cannot save his country, he cannot help the common people, if anything he makes it worse.

i'm thinking of xie lian in book 4 who has to get used to a life with no title, no riches, no priviledge. he has to live as no one, and if people find him out he will not be celebrated like he used to be, he will be captured, beaten, or worse, who knows.

i'm thinking of xie lian after being stabbed 100 times, so disconnected from his destroyed body that he can't recognize himself. i'm thinking of xie lian becoming white no face, hiding his face and seeking revenge, turning his back on everything he was before.

i'm thinking of xie lian after wuming's death, after changing his mind and not cursing the Yong'an people but causing the death of his last believer in the process. the distance between what he would have wanted to be and what he ended up being, doing.

i'm thinking of xie lian in mount tong'lu learning about the past of white no face and starting to think they're the same person. thinking maybe he was the one doing all this. thinking this was all meant to be.

it's just, like. young xie lian was so ambitious, and rightly so; everyone told him he could achieve anything, be anything, he ascended so early, was so powerful and so loved so early on. he started high, only to jump from heaven and land terribly low, in a 6-feet deep hole, unable to crawl out of it. the distance between what he was and what he ended up as. i know the war took a couple years to end but the change was still probably very brutal for him.

especially during his first banishment. at first it could have been alright. he had his parents. he had feng xin. he had mu qing. everything was new and unfamiliar and wrong but he had them, he knew them, they were familiar at least. even if xie lian had failed they were still with him, they still loved him.

and then mu qing left. and xie lian's view of relationships started to shatter. and then he was against mu qing on the land of cultivation and he was the one being humiliated and rejected. and then he was losing himself with the stress of white no face, becoming crazy with anguish and despair. and he couldn't provide enough for his parents, and he was afraid feng xin would leave, and he couldn't recognize himself. how had he fallen so low? how had he failed so much?

and then the temple. he wanted to fight white no face, to get rid of him once and for all. but white no face broke him without even lifting a finger. he shattered his faith in the goodness of the world by showing him how cruel it could be. and afterwards...

just think. being tortured for a whole night, used by hundreds of people for their own benefit, left torn open and raw without care. but you heal and you recover and your body hides any trace of that event. did you really go through it? did it really happen? did it happen like you think it did? was it really that bad? was the pain that severe? your body hid it all. you'll never know. the only thing you have are you memories. but can you trust them?

anyway. after that, xie lian comes back to his parents and feng xin. he steals. he doesn't care. he's angry, he's raw, he's weak. feng xin leaves. his parents leave. he's alone.

he's completely alone. he doesn't even have himself anymore. his old self is dead, his old self was nothing, his old self was naive and stupid. xie lian trying to kill himself even though it's useless is symbolic of him completely leaving his old self with his parents and what was familiar, to become someone else entirely. to abandon this part of himself.

it's explicit as white no face that xie lian completely rejects his previous identity of crown prince and god. he does not want to be called that. he does not want to be reminded of it. he hates this past self so much that being associated to it makes him feel humiliated and ridiculed.

only that old part of him is not entirely dead. xie lian still hesitates, deep down, to release the spirits. a part of him still wants to believe. he wants to be proven wrong. he wants the world to give naive xie lian another chance. it's the bamboo hat man that does that for him.

i just think the distance between xie lian, his body, and his mind, is very interesting. i didn't mention how he is completely disconnected from his body even 800 years later because i feel like it's more dissociation from the self than an identity issue (struggling to connect your thoughts to your actions and/or associate them with your perception of self, or even simply not having any definite perception of self especially when you are traumatized) but. i'll definitely make a post about that some day.

that was a bit long but i just. wanted to put some thoughts down. thx for reading up til here ??

[artist-issues]

You're my new favorite blog! You have no idea how I wish I could peck inside your brain like a chicken. 😭😂😂 I am a Catholic and a recovering agnostic. I struggle with letting go of my old way of life and philosophy constantly, I have been struggling with it since the day I decided to revert - that was back in 2017. (I think you would like to know my journey back to the Faith started after watching HBO's The Young Pope! 👌🏼) At this point I don't know if I'll ever be the person the Lord wants me to be, oh well, I'll die trying and I know that will mean something.

I just know I can't go back to being a non-believer, because as Carl Young said, now I don't just believe, I know. The irony is my struggle to believe in something I know to be objectively the Truth.

I have a question for you though, actually I hope for some advice from you. How do I reconcile with the reality that I haven't become who I dreamed to become (like career wise), but now that a new career has been shoved upon me (a career my parents wanted for me - and they valued safety and stability over "following my dreams" I suppose)? ...which isn't necessarily a bad thing, because it is an extremely noble profession and it pays quite well.

The thing is, as much as I try to accept my new career, I keep telling myself and to others that I'm doing this for my parents and not because I want to be here. I feel terrible about it. But, again, it's not like I am unfulfilled (I am unhappy though, but that comes with the work culture/environment, I feel like I am surrounded by 40+ year old teenagers); as a matter of fact, I do think I know - objectively - in my heart that this is exactly where the Lord wants me to be? But I keep fighting against it, keep struggling against this sense of vocational calling that I'm feeling towards my new job, instead I desperately wanna give into my want to go "live the life I want." Like throw this all away, get new training and start all over with the career I wanted all those years ago.

I want to be better, to be sacrificial like Christ on the Cross. I've always known I had a little depression (comes with my disability from a young age and this whole dream thing); I have been suicidal over this, I actually used to joke with myself that I'd kill myself if I don't achieve my professional goals by the time I turned 25. I will turn 30 this September and even though I haven't been literally dead, I feel like I've been in a vegetative state - mentally - ever since the day I turned 25. I hope that makes sense.

I started seeing a therapist 2 weeks ago since my mental health started affecting my new job - she did say I have depression and is trying to help me but I just don't know if I want to be helped at all, because I am unable to do the exercises she tells me (like create a routine, exercise well, write down good thoughts, etc.) I feel like I'm failing myself, my parents and, most importantly, my Heavenly Father.

I apologise if this is nonsensical, I apologise for dumping all of this on you - random stranger on the internet - but idk I felt like maybe you'd have something wise to tell me to knock some sense into me (without a bump to prove it hehe).

Thank you and God bless! 🥰

You’re very kind, and I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to share all this with me! I really never have anything good of my own to say, or any wisdom to offer, except what I “steal” from God…and I guess what I mean is, if I ever say anything helpful or good or true, I’m just the messenger. I didn’t come up with it. On my own I have zero wisdom or good things to offer.

Anyway, I was surprised reading this because I have gone through (been going through) a similar sort of mindset. I went to school for the career I dreamed about (still dream about) and I worked hard and I wanted it more than anybody around me (very Mike Wasowski in MU of me) and it hasn’t happened the way I planned, or in my timetable.

I mean, in all humility: I work with a studio making a tv show, but it hasn’t got off the ground yet, and I work for a company that writes movie reviews, but neither of those things pay my bills. I have a third job, working with therapists, that’s nothing like what I always wanted to do. That’s my “career,” but it’s not the career I’m passionate about and working toward. And I wonder if I’ll ever do anything “major” in the line of work I love and went to school for. And when I do, I have gotten into some really dark mental places.

Forgive me for not using the words “depression” or “suicidal.” I hate using those words because they’re overused and romanticized and flooding the culture. But more importantly I hate using them because the only thing I identify with is Christ, not any mental struggle I try to slither back into, like a snake trying to put back on old skin. I’m not my overthinking—I’m not my depression—I’m not my suicidal thoughts or emotions—I am one with Christ. Those are things inside me that are defeated and dead—the teeth have been knocked out of them. They just gum me from time to time. So I want you to know I empathize with you, but that’s my point and that’s how I want to answer you:

The only thing about you that really matters is Christ.

Who He says you are, what He has done and how He lived, which is applied to you because He said it is, by grace alone, through faith alone. No matter how you feel.

And I say that to you, as the answer, because I think you and I focus too much on what could be and what “should be” as if God has a set path for us, and if we don’t figure out what it is and walk it, we’ll have a less-fulfilling life. “If I stay at my therapy job and just work with teenagers and write on my blog for the rest of my life, I’ll be fine, but I won’t be as good as I could be.” Or for you. “If I stay in this career I’m in, the one my parents backed me into, I’ll make it, I’ll be fine, but I’ll never be as happy as I want to be.” We’re both thinking, every once in a while, “This is career is what God wants for me, and all my misery is coming from not submitting to it, and if I could just wrestle my contentment into place and give up the thing I want, and submit to what God wants, I’d be fulfilled.”

But how do we know any of those thoughts are true? How do we know God wants us in these boring old careers we wouldn’t have chosen—didn’t choose? Or, how do we know these boring old careers are what we’re stuck in because we didn’t take the plunge and work harder for our “dreams,” which were what He really wanted us to do? How do we know either of those things?

We don’t. We don’t get to know. That’s the point.

Because that’s not how God works. Not from what I can tell in the Bible.

“And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.”. Colossians 3:17.

Whatever you do. Not “the one specific thing you figure out He wants you to do.”

My mom described it to me once when I was in a really dark place trying to figure out what He wanted me to do, paralyzed with indecision, afraid He wanted me to do something I just didn’t want to do, like this: “God doesn’t hold out one flower and say, ‘this is the one I want you to have, so you can either take it or take something worse.’ God makes a field of flowers, and He says, ‘Which one do you want? Pick one, and do it with excellence for Me.’ Then just trust Him to make it good.”

It sounds like you’re in a career, but you are wrestling with whether or not to pick it, now that you have some autonomy as an adult, or to pick starting over. Well. Pick one. Just pick one. And trust God to take care of you. Trusting God looks like thinking it through with excellence, then making the decision—and making the decision means letting go of worrying about the thing you didn’t pick. “Take every thought captive in obedience to Christ.” Once you make a choice, make it all the way, and don’t let your mind wander anymore to “what if this blows up in my face? What if I should’ve stayed back there at the crossroads, or gone down the other path?” It’s going to be hard and God is going to take care of you, no matter what you pick. So don’t let your mind go to those places where you worry; acknowledge the worry, and every time, ask God to help you remember that He’s got you.

Because here’s the point, here’s the thing: He does have you. Because ultimately, your career really doesn’t matter. It doesn’t, it doesn’t, it doesn’t. Neither does your dream. Not ultimately. And now I’ll say “our” because I need to hear it too. Our dreams and careers are not the point of us, and our dreams and careers are not what God means when He says “I’ll take care of you.”

What He means is, “I’ve already taken care of you.” Because the most important thing isn’t our job or our dream. The most important thing is, we’ve been rescued out of eternally being trapped in our broken desires, and now we get to live for Christ, Who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. That’s the major. And that truth is where our fulfillment is supposed to come from, what our lives are meant for, our purpose. As long as we pick one, and do it with excellence to make the name of Jesus famous, with that goal in mind, we’ll be emotionally fulfilled. We’ll be satisfied. Because that’s the goal. Not making movies, or whatever it is you want to do. Not having secure means of living. Just…living our lives to make who Jesus is famous. We can do that wherever.

So then the choice? It becomes a minor, not a major, and the pressure of “will I be happy?” is off, because happiness isn’t found in that stuff. And whenever I forget, and start looking for happiness in my dreams, goals, career, that’s when it all starts to feel dark and stressful and hard and crushing. Because it was never meant to give me happiness or fulfillment—that’s a need only Christ can fulfill.

Don’t misunderstand me. He cares what you do. He cared about every decision you make, and He does have a plan. But that’s going to happen anyway. So just pray, consider which option is a) wise to go for and takes care of the responsibilities God has entrusted you with, b) which option you genuinely want, when your wants are not influenced by fears, and then c) step out and do it in faith. And do it with the mindset of, “I’m doing this, and I’m not thinking about the alternative if I can help it, and I’m also not putting all my happiness-eggs in this basket, because even if it crashes and burns, hey, I’m still one with Christ and I can still make Him famous no matter what road my career goes down.”

I hope this helps. It’s a subject I’m hamster-wheeling around in my mind right now a lot—but when I just fix my eyes on Christ and think about how the most important things, the things that give real joy and happiness, are already and forever taken care of and I can’t mess them up—then can get off the hamster wheel and enjoy the life He’s given me, right now, today, without worrying about the future.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

https://www.tumblr.com/demaparbat-hp/756408322513616896/i-used-to-just-think-zutara-was-cool-because-zuko?source=share

Thoughts on the response?

Thank God you said "the response" because the ask itself such bullshit with that "This relationship between an unrelated 12-year-old and 14-year-old is totally pseudo mom-son incest" take XD

I only have two things I strongly disagree with in this response

"Zuko and Mai never learned to make their relationship work"

Zuko full on says he doesn't want to rely on anger anymore and has been trying really hard to keep true to that, so no more of the toxic behavior he displayed on "The Beach."

We see in Nightmares And Daydreams that they found a way to show affection towards each other that they both appreciate and understand, so no more sea-shell incidents. That same episode also has Mai being Zuko's safe space, as he repeatedly goes to her for comfort and to vent, and she's giving him all of her time and energy on those moments because she wants to be a supportive partner.

Finally, the big, seemingly undefeatable obstacle in their way was the fact that Zuko wanted to dethrone his father, while Mai was still supporting Azula - and that was solved when Mai took that leap of faith and risked it all to help Zuko achieve his goal, because even if she couldn't fully understand it yet, she loved and trusted him.

They made it work and they made each other happy. How is them ending up together in any way a contradiction or regression?

"The show dropped the arc of Aang needing to let go of Katara"

I still can't believe some many repeat that lie when we SAW it wasn't true. Aang let of of Katara on Crossroads of destiny, even after Iroh told him he was wise to choose love over power.

He then IMMEDIATELY dies and it's KATARA that saves him. In "The Awakening" Aang leaves her and everyone behind to try and defeat Ozai somehow because he can't accept letting the world lose hope - and Karata is WRECKED by it. She does not WANT to be let go of.

Hell, Iroh had to let go of Zuko only to be reunited with him, same with Maiko. Even in the finale, in which the entire group is splitting up for the sake of strategy, the happy ending is not just the Kataang endgame, but EVERYONE being happy with ALL their loved ones (relatives, friends, love interests) because, surprise surprise, things aren't black and white. We can't let our attachments blind us to things we have to do, but they exist for a reason: because they are things that make life worth living. Even the Guru uses Aang's love for his people AND FOR KATARA as a good thing that helps him with his chakras.

That plot wasn't "dropped" and it was never exclusive to Kataang's romance. Knowing when to let go and when to hold something close to your heart is a consistent theme through Avatar, and we repeatedly see that you don't really have to let everything go FOREVER - see Aang saying in "The Awakening" that he won't accept hiding his air-nomad tattoos, then doing it anyway for the greater good, and because of it being allowed to show them proudly again by the time of the eclipse.

For fuck's sake, in the finale Aang is literally told by a past Avatar, who was also an airbender, that, BECAUSE he's the Avatar, he can NEVER fully detach, because his duty is to the world, to the people in it, TO KATARA.

Aang letting go of Katara permanently would make them both just as miserable as they would have been if he never let her out of his sight.

[tubeon]

Have you ever explained Daisy’s lore, or really what she does? SHES SO ADORABLE and I wanna know everything about her

You're asking ME about my OC???? OHG BOOOY!!!!!! I'm too excited Where do I start.

Press read more to know more about HER ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️ (it's a lot. I'm not exaggerating)

Warning for heavy religious themes and implied racism/discrimination.

This is Daisyyy and she's my Outlast Trials reagent oc!!! Her legal name is Alice Bell, and her legal birthdate is 12/10/1940 (19 as of now)

She and her parents immigrated from (British) India to America in 1943 to escape the Bengal Famine, going from the west coast to the state of Georgia, where they found a Southern Baptist Community that would be their permanent home, as long as they converted to Southern Baptism.

This is a gated community that's kind of on the outskirts of town, so Daisy grew up sheltered, but she adapted better than her parents did, making friends only with girls (because boys her age were incredibly mean to her) and participating with her church, faith, and community. Her relationship with her parents and older/authority figures was distant, but it was peaceful as she grew up.

Daisy was no pushover around fellow teens, she was loud and funny with her girl friends, and snarky towards boys who were mean, she really liked coming up with sassy remarks. Quarrels hardly went beyond throwing childish insults at eachother. However, tensions against her would rise, she was often blamed for arguments, labeled "rebellious", and lectured to do better, all by older folks. But nonetheless!! She had her best friend Peggy, and her close friend Jane, who was also a child of an immigrant family, coming from China. She didn't belong to the Baptist community, but visited occasionally from the Ranch she worked for, often on horseback. Daisy really liked Jane and the horses, not so much the boys that came with her.

Over the years, Daisy would become really close to Jane, and even though Daisy wasn't allowed to visit the ranch, and Jane wasn't allowed in the community, they often met in the middle throughout the week.

This made her just a little more distant to her church, something that didn't go looked over despite her genuine faith and achievements within it. It wouldn't help that, at some point, while arguing with one of the Ranch boys, her best friend Peggy's anger would boil over and she would slap the boy so hard he fell straight to the ground. Long story short, the father of the Ranch got pissed, and even though Daisy hadn't done anything, she got in trouble.

Gossip flies around fast in a small community, and with the strain on everything that wasn't her friends, Daisy was encouraged to go into the city by the Pastor. She could be like a missionary, spreading the word of God and their small community, just on a smaller scale. She was told it would strengthen her faith, and her relationship with God, since she had been so "disobedient". Daisy was almost 19 at this point, and was expected to do this by herself.

Daisy was so ashamed that she couldn't bring herself to say goodbye to her friends or parents, leaving just a letter behind. She wanted to say goodbye to Jane, but on the day she packed, Jane didn't show up.

In the city, it didn't take long for Daisy to hear about a charity event, thinking it was a good place to meet nice people, she'd go to the address listed on the posters. And that's how she gets to the Sinyala Facility!! ^_^

Daisy has never been in that kind of environment OBVIOUSLY but she adapts in her own way, even keeping her wits. Through the mansion and through the few trials she does, her expertise is in hiding. Daisy is much smaller than the average girl her age, making it easy to get through cramped spaces or hide in unconventional spots. She is hardly a team player though, she is willing to help people where she can, mostly through finding medicine, or distracting ex-pops with bottles or other red herrings, but she hardly participates in completing the tasks given. She refuses to fetch keys out of corpses or deliberately hurt the victims (i.e. Snitch) she isn't strong or athletic, so she avoids detection at all costs. Better at finding keys on a pedestal and tinkering with the generators.

In her first couple trials, she'd be caught twice. First time, she was running in the dark and bumped into a small grunt, she was able to get away because she had scared the grunt, but when the adrenaline washed away she realized her face had been cut up, likely from that encounter. Shes actually pretty okay about it, and it leaves a fork-like scar on her face. The second time, she'd be caught by Coyle. In this scene he'd grab her by her hair, pulling and then throwing her against the floor, and as he goes to pull her up from her hair again, she grabs a bottle, first smashing it into his head, and since he didn't let go, then stabbing the remains of it into his ribs, leaving it there as he drops her. That's the first but not the last time she'll barely escape him.

After she's done with those trials, she moves onto Gooseberrys trials, onto Cleanse The Orphans. I go into real detail abt this one its IMPORTANT. She does this trial with 3 others like she always has, but one of them is important her name is Mincemeat and SHE'S IMPORTANT!!! Daisy actually does decently well early into the trial, and although she's not fond of the Gorey Nuns, she prevails. She feels bad for taking a cross necklace from one of them, but now she has one. She's able to sneak around to radios, and she can work better as a teammate with the reels.

The problem is when they get to the chapel, Mincemeat has done this before and it shows in the b-line she makes to break the jukebox, and soon the jesus victim comes forward. Daisy is taken aback, but her first thought is to try and save him. That's what the keys are for. She convinces the other two reagents that's what they have to do, is free him. Mincemeat encourages Daisy to go into the basement with her to get the generators taken care of, and the other two can find keys.

As they finish up down there, Mincemeat tells her to stay until she makes sure it's safe upstairs. Daisy is hesitant but agrees, and finds one of the few rooms with light in that basement. And then the screaming starts, and all she can do is curl up and cover her ears until it fizzles out, and Mincemeat comes to get her.

She tells her not to look as they come up, but Daisy looks anyways and it's absolutely ungodly. She starts to go catatonic and before Mince can tell the other reagents to wait, one of them presses the button on the podium. It's raining blood now, it's great. One of the reagents rush to the doors to get out of the chapel, when Gooseberry comes through and immediately drills a hole through their eye and head, killing them instantly. The three take this time to rush past, with Mince trying to guide Daisy as best she can. In their rush to the shuttle, the other reagent somehow gets sliced up, he's still running but he's bleeding profusely. Ex-pops are still pursuing them, so once they reach the shuttles, Mince would shove Daisy into it.

Now they're safe, but it's far from calm. Daisy is sobbing while she's down on the ground, Mince tries to say sorry and pick her up but she just screams and crawls away. She doesn't know what to do, but the other reagent begs her to get into her seat because he's bleeding out. Daisy takes a moment, but gets into the seat to be restrained and brought to evaluation.

After she's brought back to the sleeproom, Daisy goes to her room, tears off the night vision goggles from her head, and refuses to participate in trials and any social activities. Through Dorris' lore we know it's possible to stay out of trials indefinitely, thanks to people on the inside. This is also the case for Daisy, though she doesn't know it.

Daisy goes into a far more reserved and "childish" state after these events, and stays in her room to draw, read, make her own clothes out of blanket or cloth scrap, and pray. Another thing she did was try her best to keep track of the days. She did this by paying attention to the guards and their shifts. This is all she did for awhile until Mince became her friend, and later another reagent named Soro. This is actually the time where she would introduce herself as Daisy.

She isnt a preachy type, but she really sinks herself into her faith, and would mention to Mince how she believes that this facility is something prompted by God as a sort of "Preview" into what hell is, and what awaits for sinners. It's a test of faith for her. She thinks as long as she keeps faith, she can escape this place one way or another.

Her character and story DOES develop past this but I'm debating whether or not I wanna make comics for her sooooo,

TLDR: Daisy was raised southern baptist and got reeeally traumatized after Cleanse The Orphans and now she's an even more timid girl with a tight bible belt. She has at least two friends though YIPPEEEAAAA

[arkus-rhapsode]

Gonna give some love to one of my favorite Radiant Dawn minor antagonists, Hetzel. And what he represents overall in Radiant Dawn.

Now when Hetzel shows up in PoR and Radiant Dawn he seems like an unassuming old man. Practically harmless compared to the other obviously evil senators. But the thing is, Hetzel is a great sign of somebody who is aware actions are wrong, but he never uses any of his own power to stop or take a stance.

He knows the Serenes Massacre plan is bad, but he doesn't really make any attempts to stop it. Because the truth is he's more ambivalent to the plight of the Herons. He bails out slaver and fellow Senator, Oliver, despite a whole point of Sanaki's campaign was to find the people still partaking in the slave trade and stamping them out. And while he makes no aggressive actions against Sanaki, he still is a part of the anti Apostle group of Senators. Yet despite all that he still frees Rafiel.

This is because Hetzel is probably one of the most mature criticism Fire Emblem has had of someone in power: Hetzel is ultimately a man who likes having power and maintaining the status quo. Unlike Lekain and other who their current position isn't just enough and need to keep aggressively expanding, Hetzel rather takes a position of doing what is best to main the power he has. Despite the fact he is aware that slavery and massacring is bad. He will still benefit if Lekain wins, but will never use any of his power to implement any significant changes. At best all he does is gestures of good faith.

Theocracy in Fire Emblem is honestly kinda shallow and very much a simplified version of it. That there is a religion that has some form of political power. And that one in charge is probably some person who pushes down on others because god tells them to. But Tellius seems to understand a theocracy isn't just about the dogma of a faith being implemented by the state and there for the only true religion and those with conflicting ideas must die, but rather those who benefit the most are the ones in the highest positions of the theocratic organization. Something that can be achieved less through actually believing but actually knowing how to rise in rank in a religious institution. All of the senators are Dukes, holding massive lands and they are the senior most members of their faith. While we know that warriors of the faith like Zelgius and others hold titles like Earl for their place in the military fighting for their faith. The theocracy of Begnion is one that isn't just about "because the Goddess" its a group of men who have grown rich and consolidated much of their riches and political position and now someone like Sanaki is going to upset this balance after they worked to avoid this happening with Apostle Misha. Delegitimizing Sanaki by revealing she's not the true Apostle would then pass over the power of the empire to Lekain and his cronies. And Hetzel was along for this ride for a long time.

And when finally confronted by Rafiel in the end, Hetzel only begs for forgiveness. He knows what he has done is wrong but pleas that he was kind to Rafiel so that means he's not all that bad. But Rafiel has nothing left to say. Hetzel did have a choice given where he was in the senate. And in the end he ultimately choose to go with Lekain's flow. And when Ike confronts Hetzel, all Hetzel refuses to surrender. He'll be disgraced. Even at the end knowing after everything and having one last chance to get out, he doesn't take it because his status is more important to him than doing the right thing.

Hetzel is a wonderfully pathetic villain and a genuinely good examination of those in power who passively allow bad acts even when they have a level of awareness. While there are a lot of people who like to dismiss many FE villains (and lets be fair) that aren't always that strong or that complex. But I always want to at least give praise to instances like Hetzel that make memorable antagonists.

[hargrove-mayfields]

Christmas was supposed to be a time for family, that’s what Steve has always been taught anyways, but, seeing as his parents don’t really understand what it’s like having gone through what he and his friends have, they aren’t much of a family these days.

Steve was never of the Christly faith, he was Jewish actually, but the family chose to celebrate Christmas for its messages and the staples of the season. Things like the wood burning stove crackling with warmth and watching snow coat the evergreens in the backyard. Baking and relaxing and peace on earth and such.

The festivities of both of his holidays weren’t quite dampened as much as his faith was the moment a six foot faceless monster dropped out of the ceiling with intent to kill him. Though last Christmas went pretty shit anyways, for the first time in years spending that time of year with someone he genuinely cared about, only to realize in retrospect it hadn’t been a mutual love and cheeriness.

Steve isn’t sure about getting into the festive spirit this year, whatever that even means to him anymore.

He doesn’t decorate as much as he used to; something about having all those lights in his house, the way they used to wrap around the banister and frame the huge wreath above the mantelpiece, it just makes him paranoid now. No sense of wonder filled nostalgia and warmth in his chest, instead just waiting for the moment they start to flash and signal something coming after him. A festive beacon signaling his location across dimensions, that’s a big ‘no’ from him.

He realizes about four days before Christmas that his apathy had bled into the rest of his traditions too, altogether forgetting to bake the cookies he’d inevitably eat all by himself anyways, or to write cards to family members who probably only trashed the envelope without opening it. Steve can’t stop himself from this depressing spiral either, every last idea of mirrored baubles and other delights shot down in a heartbeat with a negative one twice as strong.

Hell, he even forgot to fish out an old bayberry candle from the attic, which is enough on its own to make him worry a little. His Ima always told him if there was one tradition he could never give up, it was the candle, and every year he’d light that thing and watch it like a hawk to make sure it burned down to the base starting on Christmas Eve morning. It’s bad luck to not. The whole family will be cursed by every god imaginable.

There’s a little flier in his mailbox for Christmas Eve service. Even if his faith has been tested, he can say for certain he’ll never be Christian. His faith and his identity are linked in some ways too tested and true to just move on.

Still. He considers going. Christmas Eve service won’t be enough to undo the damning of his soul for forgetting the candle, and it won’t change his mind on the religion thing either.

It’ll get him out of the house, though. Maybe allow him to see some old faces. Connect with real humans again. There’ll be coffee and cookies anyways, and one of his favorite parts of Christmas has always been the baked goods.

Blame it on all that’s happened in the last year, but Steve decides to go, if not just because he’d failed at achieving literally everything else he had on his to-do list for the season. He’d at least rather feel like he was being judged by old church bitties than feel the crushing weight of having nothing at home for himself.

He’s already late when he does show up at the church, as in -the old people have stopped bullshitting and the service had actually started- late. Actually, he’d been there for a half hour before then at least, but sat outside in his car until he mustered the courage to go inside and face what he’s quickly realizing was a bad decision.

Steve is forced to sit at the very back of the church since, even if he won’t be listening, he doesn’t want to interrupt everybody else. Not a bad deal for someone who guilt-tripped his own sorry self into coming in the first place, but the problem he has with the situation is the company.

He thought this would be helping. It isn’t.

See, most of the church is full of families, people grouped together in their little circles and rubbing it in just how lonely Steve is this year.

In the last few rows there are a couple of other loners like him, but even those are mostly full of people who look generally friendly with each other at least. Steve doesn’t have the luxury.

Billy Hargrove’s taking up almost a whole pew for himself, slouched down with his legs all spread, like he doesn’t want to be seen. Knowing Hargrove the way Steve thinks he does, he assumes that’s exactly the case. That the asshole got dragged along by his nice family to church, to celebrate the community he made it a point to terrorize since day one of being in Hawkins.

Steve’s God isn’t quite the same as the one from this church, but whoever is up there, if anybody, he curses them for creating such a dick as Billy and sending him down to bother Steve.

Maybe he’s projecting a little, but all the same, the only seat left where he’s not going to be interrupting something is right next to Hargrove.

If he had any pride left he’d turn and walk out the door, but he’s only here because he’s already at rock bottom. Might as well spend the holiday with someone who’s probably going to kick his ass again for being a bother.

But Hargrove doesn’t even look at him when he sits next to him, his head is tipped back against the seat and there are sunglasses perched on his nose, despite it being dark out already and one a dreary winter day when there was no sun to begin with. The only indication that he even noticed Steve’s presence is that he moved his leg away so he and Steve aren’t making contact.

Steve’s not going to act like he suddenly likes the guy, but he can tell something is up with him. He asks, pretty bluntly, “What’s a guy like you doing passed out drunk in a church, Hargrove?”

Billy’s face shifts slowly into a half-assed smirk, looking mostly like he’s in pain from forcing the expression, “Why, you want in on it?”

“Honestly, it wouldn’t suck as much if I had a drink first.” Steve shrugs, trying against every instinct in his body to be civil with Billy. It’s not like the other boy is much of a threat the way he’s slumped down and broken looking anyways. Steve feels almost bad for passing judgements.

Until Billy calls him on his hypocrisy, hardly even looking in his direction, “You came in here alone. You wanna be here, Harrington. Don’t act like you’re like me.”

Arguing back with those assumptions, Steve insists, mostly because of the nerve of Billy to assume his situation insults him, “Well I don’t see your family around.”

“‘Cause they're too embarrassed to be seen with me after I beat your sorry ass. Ruined a reputation that didn’t even exist yet. They're up at the front, putting on their happy family routine to make up for it.” Billy relays.

The tone of his explanation would imply that it’s nothing to him, just a mild inconvenience no larger than their own dispute, but his demeanor reads otherwise. And suddenly makes a lot more sense to Steve.

Steve’s definitely chastened, reluctant as his heart tells him to be in trusting Billy, “Oh. Couldn’t you have just.. stayed home then?”

“No way. And get up to more trouble while the rest of my family has to pull the weight of our publicity. Yeah right.” Finally Billy sits up a little straighter, if only to mumble, mostly to himself more than for Steve to hear, “That’d only get my ass beat worse, even if I didn’t do shit.”

And really, as much as Steve is never prepared for what spiteful bullshit is about to come tumbling out of Hargrove’s mouth, this is especially surprising. Like, the kind of unexpected that leaves him speechless and just staring for a moment.

He settles on blurting out, “You.. didn’t have to tell me all that.”

Maybe bitter, or maybe perfectly unbothered in that annoyingly trademark Billy Hargrove way, he meets Steve’s disaster of an attempt at coherency with a simple, “You didn’t have to accuse me of being a drunk either. But the more you run your mouth, the more I feel perfectly justified in giving you that concussion.”

“Never heard of a joke, have you?” Steve tries again, thinking he can be on a bully’s level now, but clearly that wasn’t the vibe Billy was actually going for.

Billy scoffs, glaring with suspiciously wet eyes under those tinted glasses at Steve, “Right. ‘Cause it’s so hilarious, getting to see the new King of the bullshit high school hierarchy at an all time low. You’ve got lots to laugh at Harrington.”

“But I’m not. You think I don’t got my own shit to deal with? Like I just wander into a church I don’t even worship at, an hour late and without my best on, just for fun?”

Knocking himself down a few pegs succeeds in getting Billy to warm back up to him, inviting a new interest in his expression, “So what’s your sin then, Harrington? What’s got you crawling out here and stooping to the peasant level?”

For more reasons than just their location, Steve answers honestly, if not somewhat dramatic, “Incurable loneliness. Being an idiot. Never being good enough. Forgetting to light my goddamned bayberry candle.”

“That bad, huh?” Billy fake winces, the edge bleeding back out of his demeanor. It reminds Steve of the Billy he’d first met that night. Before he’d lied and things went to hell.

Speaking of, Billy abruptly comes out with what they’ve both been thinking, “Look. Do you even believe in all this.. this savior bullshit?”

Steve shrugs, swallowing the fear of denouncing tradition in favor of impressing Hargrove, “Nope. And if we’re being really honest, I only came here because there’d be food.”

“Exactly. Our problems ain’t gonna be fixed by the big man in the red suit or whatever. You and me Harrington, we gotta take this shit into our own hands.” Billy rambles, and for a second it looks like he’s about to put his hands on Steve’s shoulders, before he changes position at the last minute and rests his arm over the back of the pew instead.

Why does Steve kind of wish he had touched him? He brushes it off. They’re playing mind games right now, talking about shit without talking about it. He’s gotta focus or he’ll fall behind.

“And just how are we going to do that?” Steve hums, some part of him wondering at this point if he is just amusing a drunken Billy.

But the other boy surprises him once more, challenging how convinced Steve is in his perceptions of him, “Step one, let’s just get outta here.”

Steve’s mouth feels dry and his stomach feels in knots.

“Uh, Hargrove. Didn’t you like, just say you had to be here though?”

“That was ten minutes ago. I’m a new man now, unrestrained by the confines of a paternal dictatorship keeping me bound to this holy house of worship.”

That doesn’t make it any more obvious to Steve what his intention is, if anything just making him more confused. Feeling like a jackass about it, he asks for clarification, a problem that has every bit to do with himself and his expectations, and not so much with Hargrove’s, “What?”

“I said fucking stick it to Neil Hargrove and to God. And let’s go already before we get struck down or something.” Billy stands then, the preacher thankfully deep enough into whatever speech was going on that only a few churchgoers turned to glare at the interruption.

Steve realizes he doesn’t have much choice, or desire, to do anything but follow Billy.

They almost wordlessly end up at Steve’s car, Billy himself having been driven with the rest of his family and having no other way to get home.

It’s still tense between them, this spur of the moment Christmas truce not doing much to ease Steve’s worries. Things feel even more awkward than they need to be, at least to Steve.

Billy, on the other hand, makes himself right comfortable in Steve’s car, like they’d been best friends all along and this was a perfectly normal thing for the two of them to be doing.

Somehow it simultaneously made Steve really want to get closer to him,so he could understand the way his head works to make him so sporadic in a way Steve himself had never been good at being.

Part way through the drive, Billy had cranked the heat in the car all the way up, a sign he’s not taking his first white Christmas that well. His salt-stained boots are kicked up on his dashboard, and the sunglasses he wore for no apparent reason were finally removed to be looped onto the collar of his jacket.

He wasn’t lying about the beating. Behind the shades wasn’t a drunken, out of focus gaze. No.

A bruise the size of almost the entirety of his left cheekbone stretches and warps into his swollen brow, where a cut near his eyelid forces it half-shut.

“You’re not nervous are you?” Steve needs the reassurance.

They could both get in trouble from the man they both know landed that bruise on Billy’s cheek. Getting caught wasn’t a question, they would know he wasn’t at the church anymore, it was just a matter of what excuse Billy could come up with that wouldn’t get him in more trouble.

“Me? Never.” Billy just shrugs him off, though again adds something under his breath, sort of like a filter for the truths he finds painful to speak, “Just hurry up and take me as far away from here as possible. I hate this stupid hell hole and I don’t want Neil’s ass dragging me back in there.”

And it’s not like Steve is going to disagree, he’s admittedly had his problems with being lonely, and he’s got his own reasons for why Hargrove might just be the best company he could make right about now.

Still, because it’s their thing, he gives him a hard time all the same.

“We were enemies when I walked into that church. Why should I do anything for you?”

“‘Cause we’re both two out of place fuck ups in the very back of the house of God. And we both know you’re too soft to hold a grudge anyways. Since I decided to forgive you, the way I see it, we might as well have never met ‘til tonight. Perfect meeting, perfect reason to help out.” Billy explains it, again like he’s fixing himself to be a real genius, but Steve’s skeptical of how easygoing he is.

Those shaking hands don’t go unnoticed from him. Or the scratchy, high pitched lilt that trails after each word Billy speaks.

Steve is more than willing to move past the fight at this point, but there’s something that may or may not even have anything to even do with Hargrove himself, that stops him from just letting them be close like that. Something that Steve has kept a secret his whole life.

Something like a boy crush.

It’s not even Billy’s fault that he pushes back against this friendship, preventative measures for the future. Steve talks dismissively. “Nah, I don’t know man. I think you’d prefer it if my first impression of you wasn’t formed right now.”

Billy doesn’t even look at him, “Fucking rude, Harrington.”

“Dude, you reek like booze and old cologne. You’ve got that nasty bruise on your face and I can tell from the way you’re acting there’s more. You’re a disaster all around.” And maybe Steve was a little harsh, but he's almost offended by the way everything Billy stands for directly goes against the image of him he’d built in his head.

The kid he’s talking to now is nowhere near the same douche that he thought for sure was going to kill him. Not to say he’s a sweetheart, but Steve doesn’t even know why he thought Billy was such hot shit.

Probably something about fantasy. Attraction versus adrenaline and all that.

Billy himself isn’t in the least bit offended though, and Steve can tell that’s only because he’s reading him and his attempt at playing Billy’s game like a book.

There’s a smirk that just barely plays at the corner of his mouth, at least the side without any injuries, the dead giveaway of his clarity, “Well then. What was your first first impression of me like? What makes it so special?”

“I don’t know man. You looked intimidating I guess. Glared at everyone in that parking lot like you already owned the place. And you were a thousand times more put together. Before you were just pretending to be all rough, a hoser by definition, but now you’re really a mess.” Steve is rambling again, trying his damndest to not say the part out loud where him and Carol Perkins had been gossiping about how Hargrove’s ass looked in those jeans.

His genuine first impression a hell of a lot more confusing and even worse to admire to a bully than the way he sums it up.

“Damn. And here my first impression of you was that you were a prissy little thing just like Wheeler sitting right next to you in your fancy rich boy car. Here I thought you saw yourself as better than me.” The tone of Billy’s voice sounds almost impressed, actually looking over to Steve in the driver's seat.

His face is so analytical, so smugly uncalled for. Like pure satisfaction, because he cracked the goddamn code, “But no, I get it now. Pretty boy had himself a crush. Still does too.”

Steve almost slams on his brakes.

“Hold on. I never said anything like that.” He denies it outright, because it is true. There’s a swell of panic in his chest at the thought that he’s too obvious. Over who else might know.

Billy clarifies a little more, “But you don’t need your damn words to see it. This overly critical, hiding your feelings shtick. Probably learned that from your girl. Tearing me apart like your first thought wasn’t how fucking hot I am in three layers of acid wash.”

“Christ, where the hell did you even get an idea like that?” Steve acts bigger than he feels, at least he’s good at that, always has been.

“Lighten up. You think any old meathead’s gonna notice something like this that easy?” Billy waits for an answer but Steve can’t speak. The other rolls his eyes and continues, “I see through that shit ‘cause I’ve done it all too. Open your fucking eyes.”

Call him neurotic, but Steve is still skeptical, “No way. You’re talking about shit that doesn’t happen, Hargrove. It just doesnt! Whatever *this* is, it doesn’t have anything to do with me, alright?”

“You didn’t even ask my impression of you. I could tell you, about.. about the way I fell for every little freckle and dumb eyelash on your dopey face? I could fucking tell you but we’d probably still be here well into the new year if I did.”

Steve grips the wheel tighter, “No, Billy.. I mean it. If you’re pulling something on me... just save it for someone who wants to hear it.”

“I’m not though. Honest to God.” Billy tilts his head back against his seat and laughs at himself, the seriousness of the situation escaping him. He’s also fucking nervous, which Steve can see.

It makes him regard the next thing Billy says with at least a little more trust. All he wants is to have somebody like that. Billy smiles when he sees those walls coming down,

“Well, I guess two queers running away from Church on Christmas Eve probably shouldn’t swear on the big man like that, but you get what I’m sayin’, Harrington.”

Whether this was a bullying or a love confession, Steve wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, and it’s fucking confusing. He crinkles up with nose and eyebrows in an obvious puzzling expression, “I.. guess I do?”

“Aw, don’t go getting’ shy on me now, Harrington.” Billy snickers, finally shifting that piercing gaze away from Steve to the window beside him, asking in an unceremonious change of subject, “Where’re you taking me anyways?”

“Since you’re laying it on so damn thick all of the sudden, I figured I’d just take you back to my place.” Steve all but grumbles sarcastically, stressed from this conversation, from it being Christmas, from everything else going wrong in his life.

Billy at least can sense that, allowing the subject change to carry them in an almost casual conversation. Almost, if not for the overly flirtatious tone he takes on, “Sure. You got a present waitin’ there for me this Christmas?”

Steve’s face flushes and he can’t handle the heat. He shuts it down with a shrug of his shoulders, “Dude, I don’t even have a tree up at home. Best I can promise is what you were probably already hopin’ you’d get.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Wrapping paper that important to you? I can figure something out.”

Billy shakes his head; it’s his turn now to look at Steve like he’s lost his mind, “No. I was just fucking with you about a present. I meant about the tree.”

“Yeah, I didn’t decorate at all. But.. what’s that even matter?” Steve glances over at him, seeing the hurt behind that baffled expression and knowing instantly there’s something more there, another mystery about Billy Hargrove that will remain unsolved, because he turns the attention off of himself as quickly as that expression fades behind a new one of determination.

“Not gonna lie Harrington, I was totally down to blow you and just pretend the serious parts of this conversation never happened and never speak to each other again. I kinda thought that was the path we were going down here. But now that I know how deep this goes, and I’m invested in this shit way too much.”

“What does that even mean, Billy?”

“Means we’re skipping all the sex bullshit and we’re gonna light your goddamn candle. And do every other thing on your list of failures this year. You know, since you’re totally head over heels in love with me, it’s my job to give you your Merry Christmas.” Billy explains it like he’s got it all planned out perfectly. Like he’s some kind of genius.

Steve rolls his eyes, mostly because it hides how easily flustered he is by Billy’s proclamations, “Oh come on. It’s not like that..”

“What? You’re having a hard time this year, for obvious fucking reason- did I mention I already hate your parents?”

“Billy.” Steve warns, not ready to sidetrack another topic to talk about something that will only make him depressed. It’s not as easy for him to hate his parents as it is for him to hate Billy’s.

Billy nods in unspoken understanding and goes back to his point, “All I’m saying is, the point of havin’ someone like me around, is to make shit better. Right?”

“I don’t know man, since I seem to remember the last time I tried to help you first, you told me you weren’t a charity case and to never bother you again..”

Steve never forgot that attempt, even after everything that went down between them. It was just one time, in the showers after their way too high contact game of basketball. The angry red belt scars on Billy’s back caught his attention and he’d brought it up, only to be shut down.

There was always a sick, guilty feeling in his stomach about never trying again after that.

“If you’d just quit bein’ so stubborn, we got lots of shit to get done tonight. No time for self-deprivation.” Billy remarks casually though, unbothered by Steve’s worries. He even adds with an over exaggerated wink, “Maybe I’ll throw in that present I promised you once you start cheering up.”

~~~

The Harrington house does end up shining brightly that night.

Just as Billy promised, they stayed up all night doing everything they wanted to, no imposed rules or familial traditions involved, no triggers of past Christmases that neither were quite ready to share yet on display.

They don’t bother fishing out the huge eight foot synthetic tree Mrs. Harrington insisted on having to show off, the monstrous thing just there to collect dust in the basement now. They find a smaller one instead, an old fiber-optic tree Steve used to keep up in his room as a kid, his way of sneaking a nightlight past Mr. Harrington’s strict rules for his boy.

The tree is proudly displayed on a side table pushed over to the front window, and decorated with only homemade ornaments. Billy “accidentally” dropped a few of the fancy collector ornaments that used to force Steve’s own childhood creations off.

His mother was obsessed with making everything look straight out of a catalog, but the simple and childish decor was enough for Billy and Steve, without the additional twenty strings of lights in every corner of the house, or the poinsettias and crystal nativities adorning every available surface in the house. That was all a headache.

They light the bayberry candle too, putting it on a fancy dish at the center of the coffee table, not in the fancy sconces he’d have to scrape wax out of later. Billy pretends about a thousand times he’s going to blow it out just to fuck with Steve, earning him equally as many lectures on the bad luck and death and pestilence he’s bringing upon them.

Really that’s the dynamic they have the whole night; Steve flutters around his house an absolute nervous wreck, Billy just tailing after him to remind him that whatever they want to do.

It’s actually fun this once, behaving in a way not for appearances or hollow celebrations. Billy understands making Christmas special, personal. He’s someone who gets maybe one present per year and can’t afford any decorations but generations old glassware and yard sale blow molds.

Steve admittedly wasn’t really expecting to solve so many of his troubles in one go, especially not with help from Billy, who he thought was supposed to hate him after everything. But Billy just makes it so easy to like him, once Steve got the handle on understanding him.

He even got to see that gentle side of him open up. When Steve tangled himself up in tinsel and started to panic, and Billy had to remind him everything would be fine, he got to see it up close. The delicate concern in Billy’s eyes. The softness in his voice.

Okay, and maybe they shared one or two kisses under conveniently placed mistletoes Billy claims to not know the origin of.

He wasn’t all sunshine though, instead of just telling Steve that a Christmas angel or the hard to display window wreaths didn’t need a place in their festivities, he’d taken to literally smacking whatever was troubling Steve out of his hands and making him go do something else while it was put away.

In the end they still don’t do a lot of the things Steve normally would, most things really, but he realizes at some point, after baking a batch of cookies at about three in the morning, both of them wearing his Ima’s glittery aprons, that this isn’t about all that anyways.

What he and Billy started, this Christmas Eve, was a new tradition, one which didn’t rely on expectations, or keeping up with everything everyone ever asked him to do.

All of this was about doing something new, something they hadn’t up to this point been able to call their own for countless unhappy reasons they pledged not to talk about until at least the day after Christmas. Neither saw any need to dampen the cheer they did find this special holiday, all on their own.

Once everything’s sort of wound down, Steve’s head is all fuzzy with a buzz from the cheap alcohol Billy had convinced him to put into the generic gallon of eggnog he had about to expire in his fridge. Billy has a blushing face and a finally relaxed posture.

The both of them are sitting under their tiny tree for reasons neither can remember. Somewhere down the line, they started holding hands.

Steve asks, mostly as a lighthearted comment he doesn’t really expect an answer to, “So, I guess you’re gonna come over for Christmas every year now, huh?”

Billy looks to him and scrunches his nose up, emphasized by the way his face is pink, his smile turns bright and lopsided, the way it looks when he really means it, “Are you kidding me, Stevie? I’m coming over here every goddamn day if I can.”