#the true omnipresent god

[fallofthecelestial]

Okay. Since we're going over all the takes on Mr. X at this point.. What if his powers really don't have a backside. What if (the state of) his normal life is the backside.

What if his normal life is akin to that of heroes where he has to pretend to be something he's not and follow rules that the people who control his life came up with to further their own goals. What if he can only be free of other people's beliefs and expectations when he's a hero.

What if in reality he truly is like everyone else. The other heroes. The ordinary people. All those who work themselves to the bone, who are tired and overworked and sick of all the exploitation...

What if when he's in the form of the number one hero.. when he becomes the most sought after product on the hero market..

Is when he gains the freedom to truly be himself

[turiyatitta]

The Enigma of the Monistically Absolute

A Journey Beyond Comprehension Imagine, for a moment, immersing yourself into an immeasurable realm of complete egolessness, a profound plunge into the depths of an eternal abyss that, paradoxically, awakens you to the highest pinnacle of existential understanding. It’s a journey toward the Monistically Absolute – an awakening to the Ultimate Truth where you comprehend an uncanny Total…

[ghostgirl101]

Being Loved By Paul Atreides

A/N: Quick lil blurb headcanon thingy while I work on my next set of hcs between a Feyd and Paul love triangle 🙃

Being loved by Paul Atreides would mean that you're never alone, not inside your mind or out of it. The Water of Life gave him the pooling knowledge to break into others' and he almost always knows how you're feeling, without even having to say a word. Even if you're quiet about how you feel and are usually good at pushing things down and hiding them away, Paul always manages to bring the to light, and you'll know you're caught out when you look up from where you are to immediately catch his blue-in-blue gaze locked onto yours with a knowing look. Sometimes the knowing look turns a bit cocky when what you're thinking about happens to be him.

Being loved by Paul Atreides would mean that you're an anchor to his humanity and burden as the Messiah, having a profound and unbreakable bond tied with you that transcends any ordinary relationship. The love he feels for you is a force in itself, scarily powerful and true and darkly pure, that no other force in the Known Universe could sever it.

Being loved by Paul Atreides would mean that you're the only one to see him at his smallest and most vulnerable, in between council meetings and fights in his name during the Holy War breaking out over the worlds, the guilt that racks him to his core and makes him want to hide away from it all. The nights that are spent clinging to you so tightly that your skin goes pale by his hard grip, and there's nothing more to feel but the overwhelming heat of his body pressed up as close as it can against your own, his dark hair tickling your neck and face while he burrows into your neck to smell nothing but the soft signature scent of you, and of home.

Being loved by Paul Atreides would mean that every touch, gesture, and moment of closeness feels like something more, like every action to pull you in closer isn't just physical, but a mental strain too, to merge your thoughts and sense of self with his own, so much so that it's almost suffocating.

Being loved by Paul Atreides would mean that you're never protected more than you are when you're under his fierce, observant watch and devotion. He insists that he doesn't need his guards or watchmen as he can look after himself, with heightened senses and strength enough to know what's coming his way in the present moments and the hidden intentions of those around him, and so they're sent to watch over you instead with keen eyes and strict instruction. If Paul himself is not standing watch over you by your side, you can feel his eyes on you, as if it's omnipresent, and god forbid anyone to let their gaze linger on you with a look he doesn't like, because that's a sure way to be sent down as a sacrifice to the sandworms.

Being loved by Paul Atreides would mean that the only advice or insight he's given that he would truly and wholly think over and consider would have to come from you and be believed by you without the influence of others, because his trust lies in you, and its enough to make him pause for a moment in thought as he pulls apart your words and all their meaning to see if they can fit in and around his plans.

Being loved by Paul Atreides would mean that he would never give a moment of a second's thought to any other man or woman but you, because he holds strong to the conviction that you're his soulmate and the leading light of his destiny. If you die, he dies inside with the last of his strength, and he'll embrace the desert with open arms to offer him up to the great Shai Hulud Himself.

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Next Week's Fanfic: Headcanons for a love triangle between you, Feyd-Rautha and Paul Atreides 😎😎 ⊹˚₊‧───────────────────────────────────────────‧₊˚⊹

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added to this for my future Dune fanfics): @milaeth @ennycutie @nckcn @void21 @leighta @williamtt33 @deathsimp @tatumrileyslover @beebumbo @the-dark-dreamer25 @lilepad @skboo @keicdcat @1950schick @reggiesmoon @velosrantipole @yoonessa @anonymjuni @saturnhas82moons @xlxnq @frickyea-guacamole19 @meowmeeps @chalklate

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DUNE MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆ MAIN MASTERLIST

[creantzy]

Defying God - a parallel between Fyolai and Stavrovensky

The Demons brainrot is taking over, and you know what happens when I acquire a new interest: my brain WILL find a way to connect it to my other interests, whether I like it or not!! And this is essentially what it's about xD I've come here to present a parallel I found between Fyolai (Fyodor & Nikolai from BSD) and Stavrovensky (Verkhovensky & Stavrogin from "Demons" by Dostoevsky). Before I start I want to clarify a few things:

• I don't think these two pairings are similar, I just love picking up any crumbs of connections I can find between my interests, even if it'd count as reaching.

• This interpretation (in either character's case) is in no way "the only true way of looking at it". It's merely one interpretation out of many and I chose to focus on just a few aspects out of the many others there are to explore in these complex characters. 

• Feel free to add onto or disagree with anything I say! I'm interested in your thoughts :D

WARNING: There will be spoilers for Bungou Stray Dogs and Demons.

The reason Nikolai wants to kill Fyodor is because he feels affection for him. Emotions are a prison to him, and he basically seeks the opposite of what his emotions make him want to do. Thus, in the face of affection, which makes you want to be closer and wish the best for your friend, he does the opposite and decides to kill said friend, going directly against his feelings in an attempt to prove free will. But here I want to focus more on the "You want to defy God in order to lose sight of yourself" part, specifically the bit about God.

One part of my interpretation is that Nikolai associates God with control. If there is a God who controls all, how can there be a free will? He wants to go against Him and His creations (the human mind, morality, etc.) to prove that it's possible. But God is very abstract - the idea of God is influential but varies depending on cultures, etc. For this point, I'll use the example of the biblical God, or, more specifically, some attributes commonly assigned to the idea of God:

• omnipotence (all-powerful)

• omnipresence (all-present)

• omniscience (all-knowing)

What I am leading up to is the fact that these traits can, in one way or another, be applied to Fyodor. Fyodor's character represents everything Nikolai wants to defy. Nikolai hates control; he wants to fight the idea of God and prove the possibility of complete independence. Fyodor (though not in a "direct" way) could be seen as a symbol for God. He knows everything, he is always present (metaphorically and sometimes literally, the way he spawns sometimes I swear-), and he seems to control everything. Only few people actually see him, but he pulls the strings behind the scenes, and his power is felt everywhere. For Nikolai, to kill Fyodor is not just a protest against his feelings of affection, but can also be a symbolic act of defying "God", of killing "God", by killing Fyodor.

This is supposed to be very symbolic and not taken literally. I feel the need to repeat this because I personally dislike the notion of Fyodor as a literal God (and disagree with the idea of him having a God-complex), so this is merely about the God-like traits he possesses, like a "substitute" for the idea of God, and how it interacts with Nikolai's philosophy. (I've also exaggerated some points for the sake of simplification - for example, I don't actually believe Fyodor is in control of absolutely everything, etc.)

Moving onto Demons:

Pyotr Verkhovensky grew up religious and (assuming based on Stepan's description) with a fear of God.

Now he's an atheist and very anti-religious. He plans to overthrow society, and destroying religion + everything it preaches is part of that plan. But interestingly enough, he picks not himself as the official future "ruler", but someone else: Nikolai Stavrogin. He chooses Stavrogin to be the role of the leader in Verkhovensky's ideal society. But not exactly the "leader" in the traditional sense, because he wouldn't necessarily give Stavrogin all the power. He would simply use him as a "pawn" (for lack of a better word) while himself pulling the strings behind said society. With that, Verkhovensky puts someone else above himself, in a God-like position, but he wants to do it while still keeping full control over Stavrogin. By doing so, he would overcome his childhood fear of God because instead of being controlled by God, *he* will control God.

(Same case here, not the literal God, but the character who he assigns God-like traits to.)

I am undecided (with both Nikolai's and Verkhovensky's character) whether this could be read as a solely subconscious intention or if it would make sense as a conscious one as well. Given that both have a different "main" goal (Nikolai focuses on emotions and Verkhovensky on the revolution) I lean more towards thinking it's subconscious (if present at all - like I said, just interpretations!)

It doesn't help that Verkhovensky describes his vision of Stavrogin's leadership as "hidden": Everyone believes in him and his power, but only very few people are said to actually have laid their eyes upon him. When I first read this part, I was honestly reminded of Big Brother from Orwell's 1984, but eventually realised that similar things can be said about God as well.

While these are parallels, they don't come without differences. Nikolai needs Fyodor dead, Verkhovensky needs Stavrogin alive. Nikolai wants to kill Fyodor for a sense of freedom, Verkhovensky wants to keep Stavrogin for a sense of control. Yet both symbolic goals are bound to fail:

Fyodor turns out to be unkillable, and Stavrogin ends up dead.

At the end, "God" stays untouchable.

[lara-kaminari]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥

Ominis GauntxF!Reader

art from @tamayula-hl and dedicated to her because she defines perfectly that art can provoke such beautiful things in people as happiness, longing and sadness.

Ominis Gaunt reflects on his role in life. Winners take all and losers fall, isn't that how it works?

Tw: Angst - Based on an ABBA Song - ABBA is Its Own Warning

Ominis Gaunt had always believed the world was divided into winners and losers. His father used to say:

“The winner takes it all, Ominis. The loser is insignificant beside victory. That is their fate.”

It was a life rule Ominis tried to avoid, but it seemed omnipresent. He had felt like a loser his entire life. He was never the most loved son, the most cherished friend, or anyone’s first choice. Everyone else seemed to find their purpose, except for him.

For a time, that was fine. Ominis learned to blend into the shadows; quiet observation and careful listening became his survival tools in a cruel world full of winners who basked in their achievements. Being a loser was bearable, as long as he surrounded himself with the right people.

Against his better judgment, Sebastian was a winner. A winner in every sense of the word. Everyone loved him—he was charming, fun, and destined to succeed in life. It wasn’t easy living in the shadow of your best friend, especially when that shadow turned into sheer darkness. A consuming, harmful darkness.

At the start of their fifth year, Ominis decided to change.

She wasn’t a loser. She walked into the Great Hall like a champion, a dragon-slayer, a stunning (according to whispered voices) and kind student.

Ominis was a loser, so of course, he was angry when he found her outside the Undercroft. Why was she there? Did Sebastian invite her? Had she gained his trust so easily? Typical winners—they seemed to sense success in each other.

No. He wouldn’t shrink beside victory. That wouldn’t be his fate.

Ominis did terrible things. Joining in Sebastian’s antics wasn’t honest or true to him. Oh, why did she push him to break the rules? Why did she defend Sebastian so passionately? It would be her downfall. Sebastian wasn’t a winner—he was just someone who knew how to mask his failures.

The gods could roll their cold, icy dice, and someone down here would lose a loved one. Sebastian was their puppet. A murderer.

“I don’t know what to do,” she cried.

Ominis didn’t either. No one ever told him that winners hid corpses or sent their friends to prison for life. None of that sounded like success. He asked for time to think; she did too. Sebastian waited.

And that night, Ominis tasted a drop of victory.

She couldn’t sleep and sought him for comfort. Two students breaking the rules, sleeping together in the same bed. It didn’t matter. Sebastian wasn’t there. The other boys weren’t there either.

Ominis whispered soothing words in her ear. She was worried, afraid of making a terrible decision. All he could think about was how right it felt to be in her arms, to finally belong somewhere, to have a purpose. He imagined a life away from Hogwarts and his family, just with her. He’d build her a house with a wooden fence, something to make him feel stronger. More like a man, less like a boy.

But he was a fool and kept playing by the rules.

“Let’s not turn Sebastian in,” he had said.

There was silence. The choice was hers, but Ominis had given her the push. He would carry the burden. Losers do that. Losers sacrifice. Losers…

Losers get kissed.

Softly, like a morning breeze. No, this wasn’t what losing felt like. This felt like winning. It was fulfilling, like reaching nirvana. Ominis, emboldened, stole another kiss—longer, clumsier, but utterly divine. Afterward, they both fell asleep.

Sebastian was a winner, so he claimed what was his. He consumed her completely, regained her trust, called her beautiful, and kissed her in public. Ominis stepped aside. Those were the rules.

The judges made their decisions. Ominis accepted them. He was a spectator of a spectator. Always staying beneath.

“So, you’re marrying him.”

Years later, Ominis wondered if there was any point in denying defeat.

“Well, I said yes,” she joked. “I suppose that seals the invisible contract.”

“Very funny. Why are you here instead of celebrating with the others? Your engagement party seems like the event of the year.”

“I saw you… You looked uncomfortable. Then you left, and now I’ve found you here alone, away from everyone.”

“It’s nothing. The noise gets overwhelming sometimes, and I needed a moment.”

“Are you sure?”

Ominis wondered if she ever thought of him. Did Sebastian kiss her the way he once had? Did she feel anything when he said her name?

“Was I ever an option?” Ominis asked.

“What?”

“I mean… Did I—”

“No, I heard you,” she interrupted. “You never wanted to be an option. You never did anything to make it so. Why… Why now? Couldn’t you—?”

“It’s foolish. I’m sorry.”

“Exactly! You always do this. You regret, turn away, wash your hands of everything, and leave people behind like—”

“I never—”

“You’re a liar. And now you’re pretending… Was it so easy for you to ignore everything? Deep down, you must have known I needed you.”

“You didn’t need me. That’s why you let Sebastian into your life when I told you to forgive him, and that’s why you’re marrying him.”

“Of course I am! Because he loves me, and I love him. He’s proven it every day and never let me go without explanation. Sebastian is devoted. I love him for that. He’s shown me it’s worth fighting for the one you love.”

Ominis grumbled. Fighting. The game was starting again. What could he hope for? A lover? A friend? Something big or small?

“I don’t want to talk about what we’ve been through,” she said, and Ominis swore he heard a sob. “Even though it hurts, what you’re saying now is history. I played my cards, and so did you…”

“I didn’t—”

“There’s nothing left to say. No ace to play.”

It was true. Maybe they were both losers. There was only one winner, and he had taken it all.

“Fine. I don’t want to talk if it makes you sad. I understand you came to offer me a hand, and I’m sorry if I upset you by—”

“By looking so tense? So unsure of yourself?” she said.

“Yes.”

She didn’t add anything else. She returned to the party.

That’s how it was meant to be. The winner takes it all, and the loser has to fall. The gods had rolled their icy dice and struck down their favorite loser. It was simple. Why complain?

But if it was so simple, why was Ominis crying?

[psychemochanight]

Tell me some FANON facts that you don't like

I think I've already mentioned most of them, but I'll quote them again with summary explanations:

The "Happy Robin" and "Angry Robin" thing.

Especially Jason as the "Happy Robin", not because I have anything against Jason being happy as Robin, but because the fandom generally infantilizes him excessively, makes him behave like a 5-year-old instead of a 13-year-old. Plus, I do like the post-crisis Jason, more rebellious and with more personality.

Tim being an insomniac coffee addict.

Tim is the brother who falls asleep anywhere, at any time. If you're not careful, the guy has already slept for 14 hours between micro-naps and is going for more hours.

Tim being an extremely thin, delicate and shy boy.

He's so cool in canon, I just can't stan his fanon version.

Dick being the laughing stock of the batfamily.

Like, he's literally probably the most respected member (not after, ALONG with Batman), and probably one of the few whose threats would be taken seriously by everyone, but the fandom only has him as comic relief for being the most optimistic and cheerful of the family.

The thing about Alfred only letting Jason in the kitchen because he's the only one who knows how to cook.

He taught Dick to cook in his own kitchen- Dick has cooked for his family before, and he's lived alone for almost 10 years - how could he not know how to cook? If he is banned from the kitchen, it is because he climbed onto the fridge as if he were a cat, or because he is delirious with fever and refuses to rest.

Dick living in the mansion again.

You want my man to have a nervous breakdown???

That they lower the abilities of some family members in order to exalt others.

Just because Cass is better at fighting doesn't make the others useless? Plus I think it's canon that some can beat her, not all the time, but like, in sparring matches they can actually beat her sometimes too? Just because Tim is the "detective" doesn't mean everyone else is bad at it? Just because Jason is the best with guns doesn't mean the others don't have good aim?

Duke being the normal one in the family.

NO ONE is normal in that family. Not even Alfred.

When they make Dick a mediocre student.

My boy was a top student, kinda a nerd but also a athlete, don't discredit him like that.

Jason being Tim's Robin.

Tim was first a fan of Dick Grayson and then a person dude, there's no way.

Jason calling Tim's replacement 24/7.

While the relationship between Jason and Tim is not as close as the fandom presents (they usually use facts from Tim and Dick's relationship to make him act like that with Jason), Jason doesn't live in a spiral of hatred towards Tim either, maybe at first, but then things calm down quite a bit between them.

The sexualization of Dick's character.

I don't mean like in canon, I mean how people directly turn him into a whore who would have sex with anyone who offers to him. Like, no???? What's wrong with u???

I actually hate that with any character, but it happens more with him.

Bruce being too perfect that none of his kids can even surprise him.

Canonically Dick scared him more than once, and I'm sure his other kids also managed to surprise him at least. Let the guy be a human, he's not an omnipresent god.

Completely ignore Clark and Dick's uncle-nephew relationship.

I don't think I need to explain this.

That's what I can think of now, there's probably more to it, but aha-

I don't completely hate these facts, and I don't mind people using them exactly, but I don't like it when they pass them off as canon- If you like it more than canon, it's completely valid, they are fictional characters and it doesn't hurt anyone, but don't expect me to agree with you if you tell me that's the true personality of the characters, u know?

[shyvioletlife]

It doesn't matter how much time passes, I am always in awe over the way that drosselmeyer is written in princess tutu. He is omnipresent from the word go, his meddling eyes watching the show with us and giggling about this wonderful tragedy that is set to unfold. Every time his eyes appear on the screen it feels not just like a god staring down the characters and making them dance to his whim, but like he is looking you, the viewer, dead in the eye and taunting you. A playwright who wants nothing but beautiful terrible tragedy for all involved inviting you to attend his latest theatrical debut.

I feel to the core of my being every time the characters lament their lot in life, doomed by the narrative, because that fate is not something ordained by uncaring gods. Drosselmeyer wants to see his characters grasp at any chance of hope or happiness only so he can watch the look on their faces as it slips from their hands and out of reach. He cares very deeply about their strife because he has hand crafted it just for them. As every episode passes I feel the desperation of the characters as if it is my own

The thought of undermining Drosselmeyer becomes insurmountably daunting, too, the longer the story goes on. The closer his work is to completion the more power he seems to hold, and the knot tightens its grip around every character in the story to a painful degree by the end. To become such an overwhelming threat as the final villain of the story is truly a work of art, and by the end of my watchthroughs I am always booing and yelling at the guy every time he comes on screen. Even though I know how the story goes I am wracked with the desire for Drosselmeyer to get his comeuppance and the cast of princess tutu to wrench their fates out of his grasp, and the catharsis of the end is as true and harrowing as any tragedy that man could hope to write.

[forthegothicheroine]

Me: I hear your argument that the title character in Saint Maud is narcissistic, and I'm not saying you're wrong, but I think that is less important than that she's lonely. The choreographer she's in love with says so, right to her! For a lot of people, when they're desperate to believe in god, it's not because they want a security blanket, it's because they want someone omnipresent who loves them. If you lose your faith, that comfort is very hard to get back, so you're stuck between abandoning it all and going forward alone and forsaken, or miming the actions of a true believer and desperately hoping you can fake it till you make it. And meanwhile the rest of the world just doesn't get why you're making such a big deal out of this, and in Maud's case, even viewing her with pity or laughter. In the real world, we just have to accept this as part of life and stumble towards wherever our spirituality goes, but if you're the main character of a psychological horror movie-

Some horror movie youtuber whose house I've broken into: I'm calling the police.

[jh4l]

I AM.

I Am God and I am the Creator of all things, I alone am eternal and self existing I am completely self sufficient and independent of anything else other than my existence, I Am loving, all knowing, all powerful, omnipresent, unchanging, holy, just, gracious, righteous, and merciful.I AM the One True God, all other so called gods are nothing but man made idols, I AM THAT I AM. 

[hiddenincommand]

The Ruthless Supremacy of Riding Boots: A Symbol of the Alpha Master

Riding boots are no mere accessory. They are the embodiment of absolute power, the unyielding insignia of an Alpha Master who strides through life with unmatched authority and unshakable control. These boots are not crafted for common feet, nor for unworthy souls. They are a weapon, a statement, a throne upon which the true master of all stands—towering above the pitiful, trembling masses who dare to call themselves men.

The Sole Dominion of the Alpha Master

To wear riding boots is to declare oneself a god among insects. Their gleaming leather, their unbending form, and their commanding presence are the exclusive privilege of those who rule with an iron fist. An omega, or any lesser being, would defile such perfection simply by proximity. Riding boots are reserved for the elite—those who dominate, conquer, and break others for their own amusement. They are not merely shoes; they are the instruments of supremacy.

These boots announce the arrival of power, leaving no room for doubt, no space for weakness. When the polished toe enters a room, all heads lower instinctively. When the heavy sole strikes the ground, its sound alone is a command, a warning to every trembling omega to bow lower, submit harder, and beg with greater desperation.

The Formalities of Power

Even among symbols of mastery, there is hierarchy. The choice of riding boots depends on the occasion. For moments of refined cruelty—dinners where subordinates are reminded of their place or formal gatherings where the Alpha Master reigns supreme—towering black boots, shined to a mirror finish, are mandatory. Their immaculate surface reflects not only light but the pathetic, groveling faces of those beneath them.

For the exquisite act of discipline, a more rugged boot may be donned. Scuffed leather and reinforced soles hint at their history—a legacy of crushing rebellion, both figuratively and literally. The heavy tread of these boots leaves its mark, not only on the ground but on the spirits of those foolish enough to require correction.

Then, there are the spurs. Oh, the spurs—sharp, gleaming instruments of subtle and overt torture. For formal occasions, understated silver spurs whisper of control, their gentle jingle a quiet reminder of latent cruelty. But for moments of brutal correction, heavier spurs are chosen. Their weight and sound add gravitas to every step, and their bite against soft flesh ensures obedience laced with pain and humiliation.

Boots as Instruments of Subjugation

The true beauty of riding boots lies in their duality: they are both a symbol of power and a tool of domination. For an omega brought to his knees, they are a stark, unrelenting mirror. Every gleam in the leather mocks his inferiority, every inch of the towering boot a reminder of the insurmountable chasm between master and subject.

When an Alpha Master raises his boot to rest on a sub’s back, it is more than a gesture. It is an act of ownership, a declaration that this creature exists solely for the master’s amusement. And when the boot presses down—on the neck, the spine, or the face—it communicates a single truth: resistance is futile, rebellion is laughable, and submission is absolute.

Spurs, too, serve their purpose in this ritual of subjugation. A tap against the cheek is enough to send a chill of dread through the most defiant omega. A scrape against the skin leaves more than a mark—it imprints the master’s will onto the body and mind of the sub. Each jingle of the spurs, each flash of metal, is a cruel reminder that the Alpha Master’s control is omnipresent and inescapable.

The Legacy of Dominance

Riding boots are not a mere fashion statement; they are a weaponized art form. They are forged for destruction, crafted for conquest, and worn by those who rule without mercy. They carry the weight of history—of generals who crushed empires, of kings who ruled with unrelenting authority, and of Alpha Masters who turned the groveling cries of their inferiors into a symphony of submission.

To wear riding boots is to stride above the petty concerns of mortals. It is to walk with the confidence of a man who knows he is untouchable, invincible, and utterly dominant. No other garment carries such weight, such command, such ruthless authority.

In every step, in every glint of polished leather, the Alpha Master’s message is clear: You are nothing. I am everything. Crawl at my feet, worship my boots, and know that your existence serves only my pleasure.

For the Alpha Master, riding boots are not simply worn—they are wielded. For the omega, they are not simply seen—they are feared. And for all who dare to look upon them, they are an undeniable truth: supremacy is not claimed; it is taken, enforced, and embodied. And it wears riding boots.

[starrmarr]

I need God to come pick me up and deliver me back to the warm embrace of the beginning and end. I need my love to collect me, my One, my True, omnipresent and invisible ghost in my veins, king of my thoughts. Look at what they’re doing to me. Look at what I’m doing to me, too. When will your kingdom come? When will you send the silence?

[film-in-my-soul]

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Nothing Is Fine | 2,161 | mostly_maudlin

Summary: It’s not good, not at all, not for Andrew, or for this foul-mouthed FBI agent telling him to “forget about Neil Josten,” or for Wymack standing between them in this Baltimore motel room. Oh, sir, don’t you know how hard Andrew has tried to forget Neil? Don’t you know that boy is an expert in getting under people's skin? Andrew’s knuckles itch to clutch scarred shoulder, to brush against auburn hair, but they’ll settle for crunching against this fucking agent’s nose.

hypocorisms | 2,183 | mostly_maudlin / @mostlymaudlin

Summary: Three times Andrew calls Neil “rabbit,” and one time he calls him “bunny.”

Like Holding A Knife By The Blade | 2,663 | sambutwithbooks

Summary: “Rough day?” Neil asks, the upturn of his tone making it into a question. He’s being handled with kid gloves and the itching feeling under his skin ignites into fury. When Neil goes to reach for the half-finished cigarette, Andrew jerks his hand away with a scowl.  “Guess that answers that,” Neil says, too at ease in the face of his childishness. “What’s wrong?” Andrew makes a noise, something derisive and mean. He’s been on edge for days now, the loop of Neil’s voice playing between his ears- how casual and sincere he’d sounded despite the lie on his lips. I love you. 

transmission | 2,828 | badacts / @badacts

Summary: Living alone is more of an adjustment than Neil likes to admit. Or, 5 times they talk on the phone and one time they don't.

anywhere. everywhere. | 2,968 | moonix / @annawrites

Summary: In a moment of desperation, Neil summons a demon to protect him from his father - and gets a little more than he bargained for.

staff recommendation | 3,151 | flybbfly / @wilsherejack

Summary: Andrew works at a bookstore. Neil stumbles in during a bad storm.

long way up | 3,498 | moonix

Summary: “You have an awful lot of ideas about what I shouldn’t do,” he says, gaze rolling down Neil’s body like a single raindrop. “Yet I don’t even know your name.” “It’s Neil. And you’re the one who was about to jump off the roof.” “Was I?” The man says. “I don’t recall. Andrew.”

cover me (the enchanted ink remix) | 3,679 | lolainslackss / @lolainslackss

Summary: Andrew's very specific brand of witch-craft involves enchanting ink to create magical tattoos. Neil Josten has some dark magic scarring he wants covered up.

Bleeding Hearts | 3,796 | fuzzballsheltiepants / @fuzzballsheltiepants

Summary: An excessively attractive stranger comes into Andrew's bookstore looking for warmth after giving his coat away to a man in need. Extremely bad flirting ensues.

every time you curse my name | 4,011 | djhedy

Summary: minyard, when I said you have to make a twitter account, I did not mean make one and don’t use it. What a shame for you that you did not stipulate that in my contract.

at war with peace | 4,135 | wyverning

Summary: Only Neil fucking Josten could turn a break-up attempt into a proposal.

Jinxed All The Way | 4,165 | moonix / @annawrites

Summary: Andrew is the local reclusive curse-breaker. Neil has a knack for getting himself hexed, but it's been happening suspiciously often lately, even for him.

boyfriend privileges | 4,199 | mostly_maudlin / @mostlymaudlin

Summary: Andrew knows he treats Neil different. So why is it so bothersome that everyone else seems to know it, too? Five times Neil gets boyfriend privileges, and one time it doesn't piss Andrew off.

told me everything about you (that's a bold move) | 4,258 | Talls / @tallsinspace

Summary: Social misfit with flighty tendencies seeks email correspondence with someone who doesn’t like small talk and doesn’t ask personal questions. I don’t really know who would respond to something like this, but if you’ve ever been so alone that you knew for a fact that dying would have a net zero impact on the world, my email address is abramnewemail@hotmail.com and I want to know what you think makes people cruel.

Champion | 4,306 | exactly13percent_OLD (hymbeaux) / @evanfixes

Summary: Being a gymnast is not something that typically requires running. It's also not for people that are afraid of heights. Neil and Andrew really fucked themselves over. Maybe there's one good thing that can come out of it, though. Maybe meeting each other is enough.

if my love can hold you (i'll keep you with me) | 4,345 | Fortheloveofexy / @fortheloveofexy

Summary: Andrew isn’t stupid. He knows Neil is touch starved. He’s noticed the way Neil melts under him when they kiss, the way he stills and shivers at Andrew’s fingers sliding under his shirt. He’s noticed the uncertain hunger in Neil’s gaze when Andrew pulls away after getting both of them off. Like he wants something more, but he doesn’t quite know how to ask for it. And that’s the problem, isn’t it? Neil doesn’t ask for it. Or at least, he doesn’t ask Andrew.

your crown of thorns holds roses | 4,390 | quensty / @quensty

Summary: Three days after he signs his death sentence to Palmetto State, five after Andrew Minyard knocks him breathless to the ground, Neil's gaze snaps to the locker room mirror and stares, frozen, at the word threat scrawled along his spine in terrifying bold. All in all, he isn’t thrilled about the situation this puts him in, but based off the negative connotation, it isn’t one-sided, either. On the bright side, at least this means his soulmate doesn’t harbor any delusions of grandeur.

drape me in your warmth | 5,002 | queermccoy

Summary: Neil liked this apartment because the floors were even and the landlord was just as allergic to background checks as he was. Neil handed him a wad of cash for the first six months upfront and the rough-looking middle aged man had just sucked on his teeth and said, "what even is a credit score, anyway,” before slapping the lease down on the empty kitchen counter. He'd added, "The previous tenant offed himself" and "did Neil want to keep the kitchen island he left behind?" Neil said he did, that he didn't have a lot of furniture of his own. Might as well. He signed the lease under his newest name, Neil Josten, and then immediately went out to get his locks changed.

thorn in my skin | 5,861 | ephemeralsky / @nakasomethingkun

Summary: These days, both of them are able to sleep on the same bed without any weapons underneath their pillows and on their person, and Andrew is not sure what he wants to do with this knowledge. They have poured years into forging their armors, and now they are stripping them, piece by tattered piece.

can i get a kiss (can you make it last forever) | 8,995 | Talls / @tallsinspace

Summary: “I’m obsessive about everything,” Neil protests, sitting in a booth with the four upperclassmen he can stand. “What makes this obsession special?” “Okay, we get the Exy obsession, because you’re legitimately planning on going pro, and we get the Kevin obsession because he’s dedicated to teaching you to go pro, and we even get the Minyard obsession,” Dan says. “Shh,” Neil pleads desperately, hoping beyond hope that nobody heard that. “But the podcast has nothing to do with Exy! It’s half about music, and you don’t even like music that much,” Dan says. “It’s literally just music and a really weird guy talking about his homicidal impulses, and it sorta sounds like a joke, but on a much more real level it sounds like it’s absolutely not a joke and I would call the authorities if this guy gave any personal details at all,” Dan says. “It’s mostly a joke,” Neil offers, but it sounds weak to his own ears.

wingpeople | 11,308 | likearecord

Summary: I mean, what else could Nicky have done when he spotted Andrew smiling at the hot guy making his coffee? Not meddle? Not get all the Foxes on board? It's like you don't even know him.

eat the rich | 11,421 | bazookajo94 / @bazookajo94

Summary: A group of amateur thieves kidnap a senator’s son to ransom him for money. The senator’s son doesn’t want to go back.

cocoa dust | 22,319 | djhedy

Summary: Neil had seen the guy around campus a few times. It was hard not to. The exy team stood out. Or those three did, anyway. The twins with their shock-white blond hair and perpetual resting bastard face, and Kevin Day, the number 2 arrogantly tattooed on a high cheekbone, flanked as usual by at least one of the twins. And Neil knew their reputation. It’s why he stayed away.

under the kitchen lights (you still look like dynamite) | 26,365 | ephemeralsky / @nakasomethingkun

Summary: “Besides, you’re not a stranger,” Neil says. “You did not know my name until a minute ago,” Andrew points out. “I’ve been petting your cat everyday for the past month, though.” “That does not make us friends.” “I didn’t say we were.” Neil tilts his head, the hint of a smirk on his lips. “We’re neighbors.” (Andrew's recent Google search history: ambient sounds to help you sleep, what qualifies you for a service dog, why do cats like to sit in boxes, daily horoscope scorpio, does quoting shakespeare mean you're being flirted with, buzzfeed quizzes food, how to be neighborly)

2024 Reclists · INBOX · Blog Updates

[dcdreamblog]

How many types of kryptonite are there? I know this isn't quite history, but you seem incredibly knowledgeable and there so much misinformation. The wiki page is constantly vandalized, people making nonsense up; crazy stuff like plaid kryptonite ruins Kryptonian fashion sense and then it's cleaned up and locked. Even when it seems normal it gets messed up. Someone once edited blue kryptonite from "only hurts Bizarros" to "only hurts Bizarros, will mutate normal people into Bizarros and then hurt them"

Ah yes, the green stuff. So in the public imagination, seemingly omnipresent despite the fact that there's never been enough of it in one place for study to fill a gym locker. Yes, I would like to set this particular record straight because for god's sake I'm sure Superman would to.

(A brochure of the 6 types of Kryptonite on display at the opening of Metropolis' Superman Museum)

So, groundwork for those of you who may not know. Kryptonite is a radioactive element that was created when Superman's home planet Krypton detonated due to a chain reaction in its unstable core. The detonation irradiated the planet's crust and mantle as they were flung outward into space and various aspects either of that radiation or the material irradiated formed it into different kinds of kryptonite each manifesting a unique form or effect.

To cover up the first and biggest misconception. No it is not "everywhere", nor is it actually that common.

The amount of Kryptonite, all told that exists on Earth at this point in time is theorized by STAR Labs to be less than 10 tons. Which sounds like a lot but is less than what 2 elephants weigh.

Krypton was a large planet, larger than Earth by orders of magnitude and even then the amount of Kryptonite that would have naturally made its way to Earth probably wouldn't have fit in a coffee cup. Most of that weight hitched a ride on the warp engine the brought baby Superman to Earth and all of the exotic stuff has been brought here intentionally by alien villains and gotten lost or confiscated.

There are 5 "Core" varieties, two that have been seen in a few prominent instances and a few that are know to theoretically exist

About 95% of the Kryptonite mass on Earth and the universe is standard Green Kryptonite, made up of the standard, stable earth elements flung outward in Krypton's explosion. Metal, stone, etc. It is radioactive, giving off "K Radiation" that is highly damaging to the solar energy held within Kryptonian cells. It causes weakness, fatigue and a weakening of Kryptonian powers and over prolonged exposure can be lethal.

Misconceptions Debunked: It is still radioactive, if you keep it around you WILL get cancer. No, Superman is not instantly helpless to it. Better men than you have tried. No, technically it is not illegal to own but unless you own a mid sized country you can't afford any and none is legally for sale anyway, G Gordon and Alex Jones lied to you.

The next 4% of Kryptonite mass is Red Kryptonite formed by the already radioactive elements within Krypton when it exploded. Uranium, Plutonium, etc. The mingling radiations created a truly dangerous and unpredictable material that has wildly mutagenic effects on a Kryptonian exposed to it. Literally anything can happen, good, bad or indifferent. The same chunk also cannot effect the same Kryptonian twice. It's theorized that once the mutation is corrected for, the hyper effective Kryptonian immune system is able to stamp it out if it ever crops up again.

Misconceptions Debunked: This one is even MORE radioactive, it will kill you FASTER. Yes, all of the stories you have heard are true. Yes, even that one.

The final 1% of natural Kryptonite mass is Gold Kryptonite formed when standard Green and Red K, still molten from Krypton's explosion, collided, alloying together. It causes a chain reaction that destroyed the Kryptonian ability to metabolize solar energy, destroying their powers. Permanently.

Misconceptions Debunked: This one is the MOST radioactive, time until lethal radiation poisoning at arms length is lower than the elephant's foot under Chernobyl. Every single ounce of this stuff is accounted for, we know how much of it is on earth down to MICROGRAM and where every one of those micrograms is at every second of every day.

The final of the varities that exist in any quantity are artificial or do not exist on Earth in any permanent amount.

Blue Kryptonite was created to ward off Bizarro, only Superman know how to or has the resources to create it. Only a single sample of it exists for study and use in emergencies, all extras made in those emergencies are destroyed for the sake of them not being used against the Bizarro race accidentally or on purpose

White Kryptonite is lethal to all plant life on any world due to is radiation basically melting Chloroplast it has only been seen in a single large meteorite that Superman averted, no one knows for sure what he did with it and most people do not want to.

Jewel Kryptonite is formed only from the shards of Krypton's Jewel Mountains it has some ability to manifest connection to the mysterious Phantom Zone. Because of this security risk it is not allowed to exist once discovered. All other varieties quickly listed below are either fictional, theoretical or have never been studied because they existed for times measured in minutes or less.

Black Kryptonite: Causes violent psychosis in Kryptonians, created on Apokolips.

Artificial Kryptonite: You would have better luck atomically turning air into gold bars but yes, we do know what it's made up of so we could theoretically make some.

Silver Kryptonite: Might exist in the form of magically altered artifacts? Historicity unclear.

Pink Kryptonite: In your AO3 fanfics only, you know who you are.

Kryptisium: ULTRA theoretical, would allow for the increased absorption of solar radiation. The creation of this material is a green energy holy grail and the main reason Kryptonite is actually studied.

Slow Kryptonite: Some dingbat artificially decreased Kryptonite's atomic mass. To "effect humans the way K effects Kryptonians". What he had done was "invent" Plutonium.

Anti-Kryptonite: Kryptonite from the Antimatter realities. Does not exist for very long for obvious reasons.

Blood Kryptonite: You are in a cult, please, grieve and move on. Its what your loved one would want.

Looks up

If that is not the whole shebang I don't wanna know what is.

[writingescapades]

The Eyes Are the Keys to the Soul

Rafayel x reader

It’s a long-understood aspect of human nature. That our eyes reveal our souls. But surely such a statement could not apply to a god?

Icy-blue eyes that gaze indiscriminately at his devotees. Blue-black vacant eyes that hold the depth of his devotee’s tear-shed miseries. Cerulean eyes that watch the world with an ancient one’s detachment. A god’s eyes can only reflect the world back for its soul is tied to its stature.

Omnipotent.

Omniscient.

Omnipresent.

Thus Rafayel’s eyes gazed as towering waves. Strong and powerful, they encompassed mankind and served a constant reminder of their terrestrial limits, for only water could flow where life stopped.

A god’s eyes were made for humans.

And yet.

This god’s eyes warmed when they landed on you.

It was irrefutable.

Their blue coldness warmed into the evening sunset. A brief twilight. A reminder for the Lemurians that even their own god must partake in their highest value. Love.

But a god’s love cannot be partial. It cannot be selective. And it cannot be all-consuming. Devotes would riot. They would tear down a god that would dare not look at them. They would have probably preferred Rafayel’s impassive eyes. It was true, even today, centuries later and cultures apart. Rafayel would gaze at his admirers and find the same hunger.

A god could never become a devotee, and yet a Lemurian god must partake in Lemuria’s highest value. Thus Rafayel was loved but never allowed to love. He was held, but could never grasp back. He was worshiped, yet his lips could only exhale blessings.

And yet.

Rafayel did love. A devotee. A spouse. A partner. An ally. A friend. You took on many names and titles, teasing him to follow life after life. And he did follow, for how could he not.

The eyes are the keys to the soul, and Rafayel’s eyes took on their pink hue. Dichotomous eyes that branded him. The sullied stature of a god that loved and the blasphemous desires of a human wanting to be god. An abandoned god. A tyrannical human. Such a being crawled out of the waters and made Earth their home.

And what a lovely home it was! Filled to the walls with all his lives. A museum of memories devoted to all his loves. A shrine he pays homage through his most devotional tool. For the god has learned that he loves to love. And though he may suffer for it, his purple eyes continue to seek out yours. Life after life. For Rafayel could finally feel love. Could finally see, smell, hear and taste it.

And so the god fell. Fell hard. For he was in a rush to become.

Devoted.

[yurnu]

Imagined Charlie meeting God. I imagined this. Hope you like it.

Charlie enters a large and beautiful garden. Everything bloomed and smelled so fresh. She made her way as she looked at the flowers and plants that surrounded her, taking in the view. Then, she see’s her grandfather, God, carefully cutting the roses.

“Greetings Charlie.” Charlie was spooked by this.

“Oh shi-I mean, hi grandpa! Nice to see you. I didn’t know you could see me.”

“I am omnipresent my dear.” His shears disappeared from his hand and he gestured to a table with a tea set. “Now have a seat.”

Charlie sat down in the chair as she looked at the tea. She took a sip and it was caught off guard by it. “F-this taste like a Frappuccino?”

“Yes, I know you’re not a fan of tea so I changed the taste for you.”

“Thank you. Creepy, but thanks.” She took another sip. “So, you know why I’m here.”

“yes, because of your redemption hotel.” God, poured his tea. His eyes not leaving Charlie.

“Right! So, you know why I’m doing it. So if anything we can-“ God put his hand up to the young woman.

“I know what you want my grand daughter. I read your heart the minute you entered. I do not blame you for your father’ and mother’s sin, but, just because you’re my granddaughter, I will not spoil you. I do not support your hotel.” Charlie’s face dropped, her optimism and plans seemed to have died down. She nervously looked around and tried to drink more of her tea but it didn’t work.

“W-why?” Charlie squeaked, trying not to cry. “Why are you like this? Why is it that you allow angels to stay in heaven when they have do not follow your rules but punish those who try to change?!” Her voice became louder, as the supreme being listens on and drank from his cup. “I worked with these sinners! I helped them see the errors of these ways and tried everything in my power to make things right not just for me but for my people! And…And how can you sit there and not do anything?! There are people who suffered for a few bad choices yet angels can live up here and do anything they can because they are perfect?! Why kind of a system is that?! What do you have against this?!”

Just then, God put down his tea and looked at his granddaughter with a serious expression. “Angel was a gang member who had killed several innocent people when he was alive. After his sister died from a rival gang attack, he found comfort in booze, drugs, and sex.” Charlie anger subsided. “Husk was a notorious playboy who gambled people’s lives. And Alastor? Ha! That guy already showed you his true colors and yet you’re are blind to it. Or maybe…” he took the tea pot and poured his cup. “Maybe you know and just play dumb because you don’t want to admit to him that he was right.” Charlie’s eye widen from his last statement.

“We-well, why is it that you allowed Adam to stay here when he was responsible for killing his own kind?”

“His kind? You mean a bunch of pedophiles, murders, kidnappers, racists, criminals, and so on. Do you know I have them chances to change for the better? To turn back against evil and proclaim my name but no! So now they rot where they all belong.” He stands up. “But I find it funny that the girl so obsessed with redemption didn’t try to find a redeeming quality in my first man. Didn’t even bother to do research herself about him rather than the lie her parents read to her.” He picks up the tea pot. “So much so that she ,along with her father, killed him and left him to rot. Never even bother trying to find a common ground with him. Didn’t even have a rainbow inside of him. So tell me, Charlie,” He then poured the girl’s tea as he leaned close to her. “Doesn't that sounds hypocritical?”

(This won't appear in the comic)

God: You say you preach redemption, that everyone deserves a second chance. But my son, who fought tooth and nail, sweated blood and perished in pain to protect the family from him. All this because your father couldn't admit that he was wrong. Doesn't he deserve heaven?

The atmosphere became dense, Charlie found it difficult to breathe properly, it was as if air was being denied him.

God: But apparently, those sinners who ruined millions of innocent lives have a right over those who did earn their place in heaven when they were alive.— God's expression was emotionless. stirred her cup of tea before taking a sip.— Did you even research heaven, purgatory and hell before thinking about making your hotel?

Charlie: Pu- purgatory?...

God: Mn... Apparently you didn't. Purgatory is a place where lower-ranking sinners or those in a gray area go to be cleansed of sin, giving them a second chance to repent. Your friends, Anthony and Pentious fell in there. They were given a second chance to make amends for their actions, but they squandered it and continued doing their thing there instead of seeking redemption. But only now, when they fall to hell, do they want redemption? They had their opportunity on a silver platter before and decided to waste it, now that they bear the consequences of their actions.

Charlie tried to make a contract argument but the thin air around her made it impossible for her to answer.

God: But tell me. Do you really preach redemption? Are you really as merciful as you pretend to be? Or do you only do it for the mere pride of being praised as the "savior" of sinners?

The atmosphere became denser and more difficult to breathe, a lot of eyes and toothy smiling mouths appeared around God and the garden plants. Looking at her, judging her.

God: You say I am unfair because I let sinners suffer in hell for the actions they decided to take. But haven't you thought that you are also the one who is unfair to the victims of those same sinners? How do you think a rape victim will feel when she sees her abuser walking the same pristine paths of heaven as her? That apparently his good actions in life were in vain since apparently if you are a sinner and you repent you can go to heaven too. Isn't that unfair?

Charlie was panting heavily as he tried to get some air into his lungs. His eyes, full of tears, looked at God with fear.

God: Listen well. Daughter of the archtraitor. Even if you continue with your blasphemous hotel, no sinner will touch the golden gates of heaven, since I refuse to recognize your hotel. It was not for nothing that I sent that disgusting sinner back to your kingdom.

With a wave of his hand, God lifted Charlie into the air with his powers, and with a snap of his fingers he opened a portal that looked towards hell, in hell's heaven.

God: Perish. —was what God said before throwing Charlie through the portal.—

The last thing Charlie saw, before the portal closed, was the indifferent and icy gaze of God.

[insufferablewhore]

Well, thank you for answering that all the same. I’m not one of your moots (I just found your blog interesting) and I think I will move on now that I understand your views on the matter.

Gender isn’t a concept created by humans, it is what God has created and everything he makes is holy. I can understand why you would think this, tho.

The kind of love that you are talking about isn’t true love. It isn’t the love of Jesus. When ppl say “love is love”, Im sorry to say that it isn’t.

Now, I can see why you would be upset with me ‘talking like I know God’, so to speak, and I don’t know everything, but I do have a very personal relationship with God. In the end, I only know what he has told me, what I have learned from the bible and by studying the amazing things He has created. Saying that he has ‘wars and climate’ to worry about is actually kind of what I thought originally. Maybe you think “God doesn’t have time for a singular person like me?” Because maybe you think he has bigger things to worry about. But, the truth is that he is omnipresent and he does care about all of us. This version of “love” that people have created is completely different from the love of Jesus, real love. The love we as humans created is so that we have ‘loop holes’ to allow for sin to enter.

Anyway, like I said before, you can delete these asks if you want. I will be moving on and won’t bother you again. Thanks for your time <3

-Sad Anon

kay you seem really sweet but RAHHH

“isnt true love” my ass 💀💀 who are you to say what we feel isn’t true?? that’s just plain stupid. how dare you hide your bigotry behind your false idea of love? he would be ashamed tbh

and i also do my fair share of connecting with god (and other deities) and he’s told me that gay and trans people are cool so i guess we’ll never know

maybe we should stop letting and ancient book dictate people’s lives 🤷‍♀️