#without a solid identity i could not make a barrier between the world and myself

[antifathomable-shapeshifter]

singlets don't have One brain, they have a Unified brain. every mind is like every body: a collection of increasingly smaller pieces working (or not working) in tandem with each other for the goal(s) of the collective.

in this sense, plurality is arguably the "truer" form of consciousness (if we play in the space of true/false consciousnesses), because it reveals the fact that there is no Intelligence to a mind, no singular will and identity that defines it. To exist is to be multitudes, to posses and be possessed by infinities above and below, to be entangled in the web of all other existence inextricably.

There is no "I" in team. No man is an island, even unto himself.

a cell is equal to a human is equal to an ant is equal to a tree is equal to a planet is equal to a galaxy.

do you see it? do you see the connections between everything? inside and outside of your-"self"? the eternal dance of germs and hair and wind and economics and evolution and everything?

free will is an illusion. be kind to the world, because you should be kind to yourself.

[lifeattomsdiner]

Seth’s grand unified ST4 theory

Posted at the urging of @maplestreet, who may as well have coauthored this post because we were bouncing ideas off of each other all this morning.

So at long last, the teaser for ST4 dropped this morning, and while it was only ~30 seconds long, the implications from it made a lot of pieces of information slot into place for me.  Not gonna say that I’ve cracked the code and figured the whole next season out, but it all fits together in a way that makes a lot of sense (to me, at least).

Long, involved analysis under the cut--be warned.

PREMISE: Hopper survived the end of ST3 by jumping through the gate into the Upside Down.

This is not a new theory--it basically popped up as soon as people finished bingeing the season--but I’m throwing it in here because it’s the premise on which I’m building everything else I write here.

So to go over the evidence really quickly (none of which I spotted myself to begin with, credit has to go to other theorizers for that)--Hopper gives the gate a significant look right before he gives Joyce the go-ahead to blow up the Russian’s key-machine in an act of apparent self-sacrifice.  He’s noticeably absent from the platform where he was a moment ago when we actually see it blow up.

To top it off, we have what is potentially a sneaky little hint in an otherwise-unrelated quote from El earlier in the same episode.

EL: “There’s another way to get out.  Through the Gap.”

All this is enough that, completely independent of whether I’m right about anything else, I’d call myself about 95% convinced that Hopper did, indeed, jump through the gate right before the key-machine exploded.

What we learned today

The teaser dropped today seemingly has very little to go on; just a creepy, foreboding image of the Upside Down and the ST4 title.  Until you take a closer look at the building in the background.

Two things jump out: first, it’s an isolated, apparently wooden building somewhere in the woods.  The building that immediately jumps to mind from that description?  Hopper’s cabin.

Second, despite it being in the Upside Down, the porch light is on.

(all the best conspiracy theories involve details from grainy photos!)

The implication I get from this?  Hopper was, or is, trapped in the Upside Down long-term.

Who is “the American”?

Obviously, one of the biggest points of speculation following ST3 was the identity of the unseen prisoner in the Kamchatka facility, identified only as “the American” by the guards.  Again obviously, Hopper is the most popular candidate for the identity of this mystery prisoner.  But let’s stop right quick and ask ourselves a question.

What has to be true in order for Hopper to be “the American”?

Well, going off of the assumption that Hopper escaped the exploding key-machine by jumping into the Upside Down, the Russians would’ve had to have fished him out of there at some point, somehow.  Furthermore, the key-machine exploding means that the gate under Starcourt would’ve shut immediately behind Hopper after he jumped through.  Ergo the Russians would have had to open another gate to the Upside Down, somewhere else, in order to pull him out.

Except that it’s all but explicitly stated that they can’t.

According to Alexei, that was the whole point of coming to Hawkins and building the facility beneath Starcourt: it was the only place where the barrier between our world and the Upside Down was weak enough for them to break through.

MURRAY: [translating for Alexei] “They’re using this key to break through a barrier [...] But it seems this key was only half the equation.  Location was the other half.  In Hawkins, this door had been opened once.  It was still healing.”

So if Hopper jumped through to the Upside Down, the gate closed behind him, and the Russians couldn’t have opened another gate to fish him out?  Well, that implies that Hopper’s still stuck in the Upside Down, doesn’t it?

After all, in ST1 we see Will survive for nearly a week being trapped in the Upside Down.  Hopper’s a grown man, is heavily implied to have army training, and is already somewhat familiar with the dangers of the Upside Down; it’s not inconceivable that he could last for longer, even significantly longer.

So if Hopper’s still trapped in the Upside Down...

Brenner is “the American”.

Brenner’s the other popular theory for the identity of “the American”, but I’m not picking him just because he’s the other choice.  Having him be that nameless prisoner actually makes a number of things make much more sense in retrospect.

To begin with, if Brenner was still alive following the events of ST1 (as ST2 heavily implied that he was), then why hasn’t he made a play to recapture Eleven in the over a year and a half that has elapsed in-universe since then?  Well, if he was taken into Russian custody shortly after ST1--either kidnapped by them, or fleeing to them knowing that the US government would disavow him for his actions--then he quite obviously couldn’t.

Furthermore, Brenner being in Russian hands easily explains why they knew about the Upside Down (bear in mind that the ST3 prologue takes place in June 1984, a solid 3-4 months before even the events of ST2), why they would know that the town of Hawkins exists in general, and why they would know that the walls between dimensions are weak there in particular.  After all, Brenner himself was inadvertently responsible for that initial breach.

Basically, if Brenner is “the American”, then a huge chunk of ST3 makes a hell of a lot more sense in retrospect.

(Also Matthew Modine has teased that he’s returning in ST4, so there’s that.)

But if the Russians can’t open another gate, where did the Demogorgon in the stinger come from?

Glad you asked, hypothetical conversation partner that I made up for the purposes of writing up this post!

This one’s pretty straightforward--ST3 went out of its way to show us that the facility beneath Starcourt had Demogorgon-sized cages.

ERICA: “How big did you say that Demogorgon was?” DUSTIN: “Big.  Nine feet or so.  Why?”

Basically, they fished out out of the Starcourt gate at some point during the couple of days that it was open, caged it, and sent it back to the Kamchatka facility.  How did they smuggle a live Demogorgon out of the US without anybody noticing?  I don’t know, how did they build an entire Death-Star-style facility beneath a mall in America’s heartland without anybody noticing?  Either you roll with it or you don’t.

So where does this leave us?

It leaves us with a solid premise for ST4.

If Hopper is trapped in the Upside Down, that presents a major moral dilemma for the main cast in general and for El in particular.  Do they reopen the gate to the Upside Down to save him and risk unleashing the Mind Flayer on our world again?  Or do they leave Hopper in there to protect everybody else?

Brenner being in Russian hands connects two dangling plot threads into one.  Furthermore, given that the Russians are holding him prisoner, he’s likely none too fond of them, meaning he could end up in a tense Enemy Mine situation with the main cast that I for one would be fascinated to watch.  His involvement also would give a reason for Kali to show up again, which (in my opinion, again) is long overdue.

Again, not gonna stand here claiming that I’ve figured out the secret and come up with the only logically possible plot for ST4.  Just that this particular sequence makes a lot of narrative sense to me, and I’d be pleased to see it all play out on the screen.

And hey--shameless plug here--if you like the way I spin a yarn, pop on over to my AO3 and have a look.  I don’t have to theorize about those stories, I know where they’re going.  (Er... more or less, anyway.)

Hope you enjoyed, and happy speculating!

[missstormcaller]

CAN’T FEAR YOUR OWN WORLD Vol. II Part 10 Full Translation

This is Part 11 on the app (chapter 10 continued)

Karakura Town - Karakura Honchō

"Waaah, what are we going to do Shino san? Sure enough, it seems we can't make contact with Seireitei!" Whilst clutching his Denreishinki, a young Shinigami makes an impassioned plea towards his partner in a tearful voice. "Don't be a wimp!… Anyway, maybe we have to exit the town first, I guess we may have no choice but to go all the way up to Urahara san's place and consult with him." The Shinigami in charge of Karakura had noticed the 'curtain of static noise' covering the town, the pair known as Yuki Ryūnosuke and Madarame Shino were making every effort in order to grasp the current situation. In addition to no longer being able to make any communication whatsoever by means of a Denreishinki, they had also learned that at present, the substitute Shinigami Kurosaki Ichigo and his friends were not in town.

For that reason, it has come to pass that tasks like the purification of Hollows were essentially being handled by these two alone. "There's even a possibility that this is the doing of a Quincy…. I wonder if we also have the option to consult Ishida san's old man at the general hospital…." "Speaking of that guy, I happen to catch sight of him in front of the hospital from time to time, but he has a piercing look in his eyes so to be frank I think he'd be a difficult person to deal with…." Hearing that remark, Shino pouts in a somewhat dissatisfied manner. "What's the matter with you? I've always been told that at a glance I have a piercing look in my eye, which I acquired from Ikkaku-nii, do you mean to say that all this time you've been thinking me a difficult person to deal with?" "Ah, Shino san is an exception! Do you take that for granted!?" "R-really?" Shino was perplexed by the words of Ryūnosuke who had made such a powerful assertion, however —— "Because, when it comes to Shino san, the way the light bounces off your forehead is the thing that more closely resembles Ikkaku san than the expression of your eyes, my attention gets drawn to there instead so you don't have to worry about bwahaha--." "…Get moving." Whilst he was in the midst of speaking, Shino had driven a straight punch into the face of her partner, she narrows her piercing eyes even further and begins walking.

"…It's no good. As I suspected we can't pass through."

Travelling along the railway track using Shunpo, the pair finally arrive at the border with the neighboring town which sat beside a dry riverbed. However, the results were fruitless. Despite the fact that ordinary people and vehicles were able to nonchalantly pass through the 'curtain' situated on the boundary of the town, they themselves could not cross through it at all. Their blades completely failed to cut through the spot they had slashed at with their Zanpakutō, confirming that it was a solid barrier which cannot be damaged in the slightest even with Shikai state. "The trains seem able to pass through along the railway tracks normally, so how about we also board a train?" At the proposal of Ryūnosuke whose face was now swollen, Shino responded as if she was astounded. "Tell you what, if it turns out that it's only us that can't pass through with that method, then we'll be slammed into the barrier at the speed of a train, do you really see no problem with that?" "…I guess we'd die, from a stunt like that." "It looks like we have no choice but to go to Urahara san's place after all… it's at the opposite end of town, but if we use Shunpo then we'll soon be-…" It was at that point when Shino ceased talking. Because something akin to the static noise shot through the air around them, several black suited men and women materialised as if gushing forth from a crevice between two worlds. They donned black gas masks over their faces, and although it was a matter that didn't involve Ryūnosuke and Shino, they had the same appearance as the group that showed up around Urahara Shōten. "Huh!? They're wearing masks… humanoid Hollows!? L-let's escape Shino san!" Mistaking them for Vasto Lorde class Hollows, Yuki instinctively grabs Shino's hand in an attempt to flee, however, with a jerk Shino pulled that hand back towards herself forcing them to stand their ground. "Just stay calm! These guys may have appeared before us in a strange way, but it's not Hollow Reiatsu that I sense. Besides, their masks aren't white either." "Th-then, Quincies?" "…I can't say for certain that you're wrong." For Shino, the Quincy were carved into her soul as a great source of trauma. Her superior Kajōmaru Hidetomo whom she had admired and respected was slaughtered before her eyes, and the Seireitei which they ought to protect was reduced to scorched earth covered in spurts of blood and debris. Trampled underfoot by the fear in her soul, Shino had begun to lose her fighting spirit, however she gained a firm foothold as a Shinigami at the critical moment, together with Ryūnosuke she re-trained herself from scratch down to the present day. —— That's right, even Ryūnosuke perseveres as a Shinigami, how can I afford to lose heart? Even though Ryūnosuke was trembling right now, he had emerged alive from the midst of that battlefield together with Shino. If it was the case the he was not by her side regardless of him being on the verge of tears, perhaps Shino herself would have lost her life at the hands of a Quincy. In the final analysis, as far as one could see, Ryūnosuke was quaking with fear even now, and sometimes she wonders whether or not it was the result of some kind of blunder and nothing short of a miracle that they had survived through the war. Looking at the state of her colleague who couldn't figure out whether he could muster the courage or not, Shino found new resolve thinking "I need to pull myself together all the same", coincident with that, she poses a question to the black suited group clad in gas masks that appeared before her. "So then? You lot, what's the meaning of all this? That you're able to see us when we're not inside a Gigai, I take it you're not ordinary humans huh?" At Shino who had adopted a posture that was ready to withdraw her Zanpakutō from its sheath at any given moment, the black suits were silent —— however, remaining mute they readied their extendable batons which were decorated with patterns, with mechanical movements they charged at the pair. "…! Does this mean there's no use in arguing about it!?" Despite being taken aback by their movements which were faster than expected, Shino stopped the blow from the extendable batons with her Zanpakutō which she had unsheathed right away. Ryūnosuke on the other hand let out a shriek with a "yeow", he ran about in an attempt to escape whilst slipping through the group's attack. "Hold up Ryūnosuke! Fight like you mean it!" "B-but, these people, they're not Hollows but rather humans aren't they!? Is it really okay to cut them down with a Zanpakutō!?" "It's not like these guys who are able to attack our spirit bodies are ordinary humans don't you…think…?" It was then that Shino notices a strange occurrence. Identical to the abnormality Hisagi had experienced at Urahara Shōten, Shino sensed that the Reiatsu released by her Zanpakutō had began to wane. "…!?……My Zanpakutō, it's…" Taking advantage of that momentary disturbance, one of the black suited individuals struck Shino's back. "Gahh…!" "Shino san!" “It's alright, at… this level…" Just then, Shino sank deeper into this sensation as if her whole body was caught in a giant spider's web. The movements of her body had grown sluggish and increased in friction like a machine that had ran out of oil. Although there was no problem with both her senses and her physical condition, Shino sensed a strange pressure weighing down on the flow of Reiatsu bridging those things together.

"What the heck… is this…? Perhaps having confirmed Shino's poor form, all at once the black suits maintain a distance, and raise the batons clutched in their hands out towards their front. All of a sudden, the patterns that were engraved on those specialised weapons float upwards, they transform into tentacles suspended in midair and in unison they rush in for an attack towards Shino. Confronted with this puzzling offensive which was unleashed simultaneously, Shino was assailed by an uneasiness as to whether she would be able to deal with the threat in her current state, but she still decided to engage the enemy without releasing her sword. "Shino san!" Ryūnosuke also scrambles into a run in an effort to defend Shino, however —— just before he could finally reach her, the situation changes dramatically coincident with the sound of a thunderous roar. Before the 'limbs of the patterns' could make contact with Shino and Ryūnosuke, the red figure of a person had come hurling down from the heavens —— and no sooner than that did they stomp their feet firmly on the ground with force similar to that of a cannon; a hail of sediment and a cloud of dust, and as though it was a chain reaction, the black suits were sent flying high into the sky. "Huh!?" "Wahhhhh!?" Shino's face was covered by the advancing cloud of dust, and Ryūnosuke tumbles down due to the impact. When the clouds of dust clear, a young girl is standing there. "Oh for crying out loud, pissing out this nauseating Reiatsu on my turf… where do you think you punks are?" Shino and Co. understand immediately that the girl who muttered to herself in what sounded like a Kansai dialect, was no ordinary person. "Shinigami…?" It was indeed a Reiatsu similar to that of a Shinigami. However, there is some curious sense of incongruity. The girl who sported a red jogging suit raised her voice in a mixture of anger and irritation towards one of the black suited members who attempts to stand up though remaining silent. "Who said you could get up!? What makes you think you can humiliate me by doing as you please baldy!" Coupled with her irrational remarks, the girl energetically kicked a roadside stone towards the black suited individual. Watching dumbfounded as the black suited member fell flat on their face once more after being hit directly by a stone as big as a clenched fist, Shino called out in a manner that indicated a sense of nervousness. "P-pardon me! Thank you for saving us from that close shave just now! Are you a member of the Gotei 13?" "Huuuh? That's not how it is stupid. For your information, I didn't just save you free of charge." Turning to look at Shino whilst scowling, the girl adjusted her hat which had the words "UNAGI" written on it and at the same time she thrust a thumb at her own chest.

"I'm no Shinigami or whatever. I'm just a passing general merchant's apprentice, Sarugaki Hiyori sama!" "General merchant…?" "Apprentice…?" Facing Ryūnosuke and Shino who tilted their heads in puzzlement, the girl with the kansai dialect continued to speak whilst the sour look remained plastered on her face. "To tell you the truth I hate Shinigami, so I don't accept jobs that involve helping the likes of you. But since these are an exceptional set of circumstances, I'll see if I can give you a discount." "Eh, does this mean you require some sort of monetary payment from us…?" "Quit your yapping stupid! I was told by Miss. Ikumi to 'do whatever it takes to get the job done.' What do you think will happen if it turns out you can't pay!?" "Even if you were told such a thing…" Confronted by the girl who yelled something they couldn't quite comprehend the meaning of, Ryūnosuke and Shino exchange glances at each other not knowing how they should respond. However, the situation did not permit them to continue the conversation in the same carefree manner. Newly materialised static noise coursed through the air, even more black suits than before emerge from the threshold separating the space. "Gah! They've multiplied, they've multiplied in numbers Shino san!?" "What the heck is going on… what's the deal with these guys!?" At this rate, even if they were cut down with the use of Shikai, would there be any end to their numbers? Having concluded that there is a possibility of the situation turning into a deadlock seeing as they were unsure of their remaining fighting power, Ryūnosuke bows his head to the girl who introduced herself as "Hiyori". "Uhh, in that case we'll pay up, so please take us both up to Urahara Shōten in Mitsumiya!" "What the hell kind of talk is that!? I'm not a taxi service you know! Are you making light of me baldy!?" "eep!? My apologies!" "…Whatever. But, it just had to be Kisuke's of all places huh…" Brandishing her Zanpakutō which she had taken in hand unnoticed, Hiyori slashed at the ground and raised a cloud of dust in order to contain the black suits. Hiyori lifted Shino and Ryūnosuke onto her shoulders with strength that was quite unimaginable given her small stature, and before the pair could even let out a yelp, she leapt away using Shunpo. At this point, she was able to sense Reiatsu resembling that of the black suits, surging up in various spots across the town —— at the same time, Hiyori screwed her face up in seeming annoyance, the visage of a man who was once her superior (president of the Research and Development institute) was called to mind. "Although I take no pleasure in turning to that dumbass for help… it's the right call in a situation like this."

Urahara Shōten "What's the matter? I'd be delighted if I could get you to at least verify my answer, so is it an 'Exacta' or a 'No Es Exacta'?" From under the brim of his hat, Urahara's discerning eyes fix a glare at Aura. Despite his bold smile, there was an atmosphere about his countenance that said it would be no surprise if he stabbed his enemy to death in the next instant. Observing Urahara's face, Aura felt a chill run down her back, in spite of this, she forced a slight look of joy to filter through and opened her mouth to speak. "How mystifying. I had no intention of giving you that much information, and yet…?" "How did I know just by you being here today, you mean? That a religious organisation operating under the name of 'XCUTION' would be making their presence felt in the aftermath of the Quincy assault on Soul Society… do you really think I would ignore this?" Casually resting his sword cane against his shoulder, Urahara strings his words together in a relaxed manner as though he was poking fun. "Though, I think you've played your cards well don't you agree?  After all, I could only gather information that was available on the surface regarding Michibane san - founder of a religious sect. However… just now, linking that information with 'the other side' which you only slightly revealed to me —— there are things I was able to discern to a certain extent." "…Quite impressive, don't you think?" Having heard that, Aura momentarily disregards Hisagi who was standing before her and shifts most of her attention to the conversation with Urahara. "Perhaps it's better to say… that is truly befitting of the gentleman who created a Hōgyoku? As expected, we must have you come over to our side at all costs." "……" "…Hōgyoku, you say?" Hōgyoku. The moment that word left Aura's mouth, the smile disappeared from Urahara's face and a silence fell over him, Instead Hisagi knit his eyebrows together and raised his voice. "Does that have some sort of relevance here?" "It does, but beyond this point, it is a domain which I cannot afford to allow a 'journalist' to learn of… so please, I must ask you to leave." Aura respectfully bows in midair. Without understanding an opponent's true intentions, Hisagi was unable to determine their next move. "What the heck is that supposed to mean? Do you really think I would just casually leave at your request?" "Oh? I'm not asking you… I'm threatening you by saying that 'if you tread any further than this, then I will remove you through brute force', you do understand this right? Mr. Vice captain?" Coupled with her seductive smile, Aura tilted her head to the side ever so slightly, but then —— In the next instant, the edge of a Zanpakutō drew close to her throat. "——*gasp!*" "You underestimate me. Even without a Gentei Kaijo, the speed of my Shunpo isn't decreased by much." Finding an opportune moment when Aura blinked and then closing the distance between them with Shunpo, Hisagi had thrust his blade before her in a split second. Upon seeing the Zanpakutō at her own throat, Aura turns her eyes towards Hisagi in an open display of admiration. "…I'm astonished. You seem to be another person entirely compared to the one that was making childlike banter only a short while ago." However, the smile had yet to fade from her face. "It's easy. Do you take me for the type that would hesitate to cut down a woman?" "Not at all? As far as I know, you are typical of a Shinigami. You follow the justice of your own heart, and if there is sufficient reason to cut something down, you would be equally merciless regardless of age or gender, isn't that right?" At that point the 'temperature' of Aura's smile drops sharply, in a tone of voice that seemed as if it could cause her opponent's heart to freeze over, she utters one fact. "In any case, speaking of you… for the sake of the justice you believe in, you even cut down your former mentor after all." For a moment, Hisagi's eyes narrow ever so slightly. The Reiatsu surrounding him is heavily distorted, those with heightened Reiatsu perception abilities may well have been under an optical illusion, as if the air around Hisagi was fluctuating somewhat. Nevertheless —— Hisagi's blade never faltered in spite of this. Without creating the slightest opportunity for her, Hisagi's Zanpakutō does not move from his opponent's throat. "Come now, there's no need to be be offended." "…Because it's true…." What flashed through Hisagi's mind, are the words of the heinous criminal who delivered the finishing blow to said "mentor". —— "Eternity you say, that is not something you can speak so lightly​ of, don’t you agree? Even Tōsen Kaname’s convictions​ were not eternal after all." —— "It is not that the case that I set my hands to killing Tōsen Kaname as a remnant of defeated army that must be punished." —— "That, is my idea of mercy." "…Compared with the speech of that of that guy Aizen, I haven't even been provoked by you in the slightest." "…You are truly a fascinating person. How about it? Wouldn't you like to become a comrade of mine?" In response to Aura who spoke in a nonchalant manner, Hisagi knit his eyebrows together as he spoke. "You do comprehend the situation right? That I haven't slit your throat yet, it's only because I'm going to make your sorry self lift the blockade of this town." —— Be that as it may, this complacency of hers is strange. —— Is she trying to rattle me a little? "According to what Urahara san said, so far you don't seem to be using any mystery ability, but the tentacles of those strange symbols and these individuals who made an appearance out of nowhere, could that be the down to the abilities of your other comrades? Either way, those are some odd moves you've pulled on me wouldn't you say?" After listening to Urahara's words earlier, Hisagi determined that the woman before his eyes was unable to use her own unique abilities in the capacity of a Fullbringer. Although he didn't quite understand how Urahara had arrived at such a conclusion, from past experience, he regarded the idea of Urahara's speculations veering off course, a rare possibility. —— But, it's strange. —— Even though it's noticeable in this way, indeed I can't sense a substantial Reiatsu from this woman. —— It's not like it's 'nil', rather it's as if the Reiatsu is persistently being diluted…. —— These so-called Fullbringers, are they all like this? Though I got the feeling that Ginjō's group had Reiatsu that packed a bit more punch than this…. Even so, if her ability is to simply erase signs of her presence, it's strange that she would so boldly come out into the open by making herself visible to the naked eye. Even if she merely had yet to use her abilities, or even if her ability is indeed those odd ’pattern branches', Hisagi prepared himself to lop off the head of his opponent if she showed any signs of movement. Though Yukio's abilities were an unsettling factor, If he's considered a friend then he probably would not act recklessly in this situation. Hisagi had guessed as much, however —— "…Precisely as Urahara san mentioned earlier, I have been assembling a religious group known as 'XCUTION'. Those on the ground… are not believers, but rather heathens who were hostile to us. Now they've become awfully compliant however." " ? " Confronted with Aura who abruptly began talking herself, Hisagi had grown confused by his inability to read his opponent's intentions. He wondered whether or not she would even be willing to surrender, but thinking he could not afford to be careless, Hisagi's vigilance became all the more stronger. "The number of followers, currently stands at seven hundred and seventy thousand people." "Seven hundred and seventy…" Having learnt that she was the founder of a religious cult, Hisagi who assumed it was a small scale organisation consisting of around one hundred people, was lost for words after hearing that figure. A figure that far exceeds his expectations is thrust before him and Hisagi was now in a position where he was unable to surmise whether his opponent's words were the truth or a false show of power. "It is a very modest congregation which cannot even be counted among the top five within the emerging religions of Japan… but even so, considering the fact that it has only been a few years since the religion was established, I suppose it's possible to say that our numbers are abnormal. Do you know why we have amassed such a following?" "…Who knows. Things like religious sects of the Human World are not much of a concern to us after all. I haven't a clue by what means you manage to assemble people. Perhaps there is even one among your associates who has the ability to brainwash?" "If that were the case, things would certainly have been much easier. Be that as it may, Even if Tsukishima san was still alive, it would be a difficult task to bookmark people by the hundreds of thousands all the same." "Tell me the answer quickly. It's futile if your plan is to buy time." Confronted by Hisagi who actually began to contemplate the possibility of her stalling for time, a wide smile broke out on Aura's lips. "It's quite simple." She then pressed her own throat to the blade which remained fixed in position before her. "Huh… what the hell are you doing!?" —— Does she intend to fatally wound herself? —— No, then her soul would be seized and that would be the end. There would be no point in that! —— What could she be thinking? If he withdrew his blade, it could develop into an opening for his enemy, but if that is her goal, then it was a much too reckless action. After a moment of puzzlement, Hisagi tries to halt her progress her by drawing his sword back before she could obtain a fatal injury, but then—— In the next instant, her neck which pushed far quicker than what Hisagi had anticipated, slides across the blade of his Zanpakutō —— separating from her body which remained as it stood, her head sailed through the air. The head which was amputated from its body never allowed the smiling expression to fade even in this condition. Hisagi was so captivated by the sudden spectacle, that he failed to notice the lack of response being transmitted from his Zanpakutō. Then, from the mouth on the freshly severed head which should by all means have its connection to her lungs cut off, an alluring voice echoes across the space as unchanged as the moments before. "I merely performed miracles. In front of the people." "……!?" Slipping past Hisagi whose eyes had flown wide open, Aura's body clutches her own head, and then places it over the section of her neck which remained cut. She turned in Hisagi's direction with gentle movements, placing the palms of her hands at her temple she tilts her head from side to side with a forceful shove. There was not even a single scratch left at the cross section much less a stream of blood, only her delicate silk-like skin spread across the area. "Whaa… what's going on!? Just now, If I'm not mistaken…" "My head should be severed, right?" As she said this, Aura once again extends both hands left and right, she begins to manipulate the 'branches of the patterns' which were spreading out around them. Before he knew it, the number of those branches belonging to the patterns had more than doubled, to say nothing of the increased ferocity with which they moved compared to a short while ago. "It was severed wasn't it? However, I reconnected it, that's all." "High-speed regeneration…? You couldn't possibly be some kind of Hollow now could you?" "Certainly not. But, you're getting warm." She then revealed a somewhat lonely smile, allowing the 'pattern branches' to leap towards Hisagi. "I am a Fullbringer. I was born into the world corrupted by a Hollow factor." Dark red branches filled the area surrounding Hisagi until his form was no longer visible. Yukio who was observing from ground level, began to calculate whether things would conclude here, and in that moment —— "Reap ———— Kazeshini." A gust of wind from a slashing attack blew fiercely, and the 'branches of the patterns' that had crammed into the space around Hisagi were sliced away. Hisagi who had come into sight from among them, resentfully muttered to himself whilst tightly grasping his Zanpakutō which had entered its Shikai state. "…Sure enough, every damn time I make a cut there's more friction in the Reiatsu of my blade" As if it were two huge sickles combined together, Hisagi was armed with rotating blades giving one the impression of a pinwheel, a Zanpakutō reminiscent of kusarigama (Japanese sickle and chain weapon). The opposite end of the chain is also equipped with identical blades, whilst clutching each handle in both hands, Hisagi confronted Aura once more. "……!" The smile vanished from Aura's face and a tinge of vigilance rose to the surface. "Indeed, actually seeing it with one's own eyes, one is able to say it is truly a remarkable Zanpakutō…. Dual swords are also rare." "Flattery will get you nowhere.… Besides, Kazeshini is not a pair of dual-wielded swords." Shinigami who employ Nito-ryu* are extremely rare, it is said that only a few have even existed in the history of Soul Society. (*TN -- Nito-ryu is the swordsmanship technique of using two swords.) Captain commander Kyōraku's "Katen Kyōkotsu", and former captain of squad 13, Ukitake Jūshirō's "Sōgyo no Kotowari" are classic examples; it is so rare in fact that it is possible to say that there is no other dual-wielded Zanpakutō in existence beyond these two pairs. To be more precise, Kurosaki Ichigo also wielded dual swords which carried his Hollow and Quincy powers respectively, however, this is information which has only been circulated to a handful of individuals among the Shinigami. Without narrating the reason 'why Kazeshini is not a pair of dual-wielded swords', Hisagi squared off against Aura for a second time. "Let's test whether or not your so-called miracles are the read deal." Hisagi had hardly finished speaking before he threw one rod of his Zanpakutō. The blades on the pointed tip rotate at high speed and is transformed into a disc-shaped silvery flash propelled towards Aura. However, the blades pass by to one side of her body, it formed a rapid curve in the air before turning back around behind her. " ! "

Hisagi snuck around to Aura's side in a manner that was counter to the trajectory of said disc, whilst crossing paths with the blades he had set free, he caused the chains of his Zanpakutō to intersect. In combination with his movements which utilised Shunpo, Hisagi was instantly able to create loops in his chains and Aura's body was now wrapped in them. After the chains were made to coil around Aura's body several times, the pointed end of Kazeshini which remained as is, returned to Hisagi's hands once again.

"Bakudō 62, 'Hyapporankan' !"

At Aura whose body was entwined in jet black chains, Hisagi attempts to restrain her completely by further applying Bakudō. Countless wedges of light dart towards Aura, they pierce her as if to secure the links of the chain which had encapsulated her body. "Give up already. Your magic tricks are useless against my Bakudō." Whilst tugging on Kazeshini's chains, Hisagi sought to draw out information on what Tokinada was scheming. However, the resistance of those chains abruptly disappeared. " !? " As soon as her body started swaying as though it were smoke, the chains which remained untouched slipped through her body and then dangled limply below Hisagi. Furthermore, the wedges of light which had been shot out by means of Hyapporankan, had also dispersed before he knew it. "What the hell is happening…?" If it were the case that it was simply his blade which had passed through her, then one could infer that this was still a phenomenon caused by some trick or optical illusion. On the contrary, if it gets to the point where even the bound chains and Kidō slips through her, then this can now only be considered a phenomenon brought about by some kind of ability. "Urahara san! Just as you suspected, this individual, she's using some kind of ability that can——" Turning his eyes downwards whilst yelling out, Hisagi's words suddenly came to a stop there. "Huh?" The figure of Urahara who was supposedly observing the state of affairs at the front of the store, had disappeared without him noticing. And by the time Hisagi turned his eyes to his surroundings, Urahara Kisuke had already made his move. "Eh…?" Taking a detour behind Hisagi, Urahara stabbed a small needle-like object deep into Hisagi's arm. Whilst his brain registers the situation, the pain from his arm shoots throughout the full length of his body. "Gahh… Urahara san, what did you…" "I'm sorry, Hisagi san." Yet, without even the slight degree of regret, Urahara flashed his usual smile as he responded to Hisagi's misgivings. "Desperate times call for desperate measures, Hisagi san's Gentei Reiin, I had it forcibly removed just now." "What? Argh…" "The pain will soon subside, so please endure it just a little longer." Upon hearing the words of Urahara, Hisagi  realises that the spot where he had been pricked by the needle, is the exact location where the Gentei Reiin was implanted in his arm for the purpose of restricting his Reiatsu. In an instant, a force gushed forth from Hisagi's body and his Reiatsu was made to infiltrate the surrounding atmosphere. Gentei Reiin limits a Shinigami's power by adjusting it to the Human World. That very Gentei Reiin which suppresses Reiatsu down to the allowable 20%, is not something that can be removed at one's own bidding alone under normal circumstances. His Reiin which took the form of a white poppy, the squad insignia of the 9th division, operates in conjunction with the jurisdiction of the Seireitei via a special method, it has developed into a system where the seal cannot be removed unless permission for a Gentei Kaijo has been transmitted through a Denreishinki. Nevertheless, with the question of 'what kind of method had been used just now?' left hanging in the air, Urahara demonstrated that he could remove that seal with only a single needle. "…Well, though I was wondering whether or not you were capable of such a thing, it's still reckless…" "The facility that manufactured this Gentei Kaijo system, is the Department of Research and Development don't you know? It's not like it would be impossible for me to release the seal right? …Ah, in order to avoid the possibility of Hisagi san getting punished because the seal was unfastened without permission, Kyōraku san will receive an explanation from me afterwards." Standing before Hisagi, Urahara pinned his hat down with the flat of his hand as he began to inquire. "Let's the two of us tackle this one together. After all, it seems she hasn't even gotten serious yet." "…Understood!" Having sensed an air of compulsion despite the relaxed mood, Hisagi nodded his head in assent at Urahara's words. That Urahara would make a proposal in such a way, it represents one fact. —— Me with my limiter released and Urahara san, does this mean this woman is so strong, that it requires the both of us to pool our efforts to deal with her…? "Oh… come to think of it, about that woman's power…" Pondering whether or not Urahara had made a rare miscalculation, Hisagi awkwardly questioned him, however, far from paying any mind to it at all, Urahara instead spoke with a tone of voice brimming with confidence. "That's right, Hisagi san. Thanks to you, I have confidence that it's just as I expected." "Huh?" "She is unable to use an innate ability from Fullbring. She is only able to 'manipulate souls' which is the common foundation shared by all Fullbringers." "…What does that mean?" In response to Hisagi who knit his eyebrows together at being unable to follow the conversation, Urahara began to narrate his speculations regarding the powers of Michibane Aura in a placid manner. "By controlling Reishi which dwells in matter, a Fullbringer is able to distort and manipulate the matter itself, and at times, even the laws of physics. Moreover, they can invoke their very own abilities through the transfiguration of an object in their possession which they hold a particular attachment to. However, that isn't the case for this individual." "Eh? Uh, but, she's been pulling off these crazy stunts for a while now…" "Those were all the basic abilities of a Fullbringer.… But, it's just that the level is abnormally high. As if shifting water or earth, I think she is capable of influencing and manipulating things like the cells of her own body or the atmosphere itself. By holding sway over her own body through its blood and skeletal structure…no, rather in units of brain or blood cells, whilst still living and breathing she is able to cause a metamorphosis of her own body into a smoke-like state for instance, that goes beyond the conventional norms of a Fullbringer however." When Urahara pauses here for a moment, he observed Hisagi's facial expression which appeared to say "I don't quite get it", he then decided to rephrase his words in a manner that would be easy to understand. "…Using Shinigami as an example, if I told you, 'to make up for her inability to use a Zanpakutō, her aptitude for Kidō and Hakuda are Aizen Sōsuke level'… would you understand?" "……!" It was at this point that Hisagi comprehends just how much of a dangerous presence the Fullbringer standing before them truly was. However, Urahara appears to set his sights on something one step ahead, whilst pointing "Benihime" towards her - his Zanpakutō which took the form of a sword cane - he spoke of certain misgivings. "But, the problem does not sit there. Rather, if she has more than seven hundred thousand followers and she is present here… that huge quantity of followers, where are they now and what are they doing?" Rather than addressing Hisagi, Urahara spoke as if posing the question directly to Aura herself who was stood in a spot separated by a fair distance. Instead of answering the question, Aura flashed a smile loaded with the maximum degree of vigilance towards her opponent who had seen through her own true essence. "Urahara Kisuke…. Truly… truly a frightening man you are" The smile was as dark, heavy and cold as the depths of winter's lake, a chill ran down the length of Hisagi's body who until a short while ago, believed they were battling on equal footing. "That is precisely why, I want your strength." . . . "We will forge a new 'Hōgyoku'… in order to sublimate our offering that is Ubuginu Hikone, to the status of a true god."

Observing the situation from within a room he had created himself, Yukio heaved a small sigh and muttered to himself. "My hands are tied, so I hope you do your best. Both of you." With that, he also moves into action. - In order to fulfil the 'role' that was entrusted to him. Even if that also meant betraying what he ought to protect as a result.

[slasherparty]

Oh if you do write some bubba/jason then I'd love to see how they first fell in love with each other or any headcanons you have for them

yes!!! im partial to this ship myself, i love seeing these masky boys together :’) (im not sure abt the circumstances around their meeting considering new jersey and texas are complete worlds away but… have this anyway)

they first notice each other because of their masks and silent disposition. common ground was established in these shared identities. jason finds comfort in the veil a mask provides; bubba doesn’t enjoy having his face bared to the world, after being conditioned to think of himself as a hideous monster. jason can relate on that front. 

jason doesn’t really need to communicate with others often outside of bubba, so he hasn’t had much use for his knowledge of sign language, but he tries to teach bubba anyways so they can talk without having to use their voices. bubba is very willing to learn and jason is a patient teacher. 

jason loves when bubs is happy / expresses joy. he makes little chirps and giggles and jason smiles under his mask every time he hears them.

as for bubba, he likes how tall jason is. bubba stands at a solid 6′2, and jason 6′3. its just an inch but he doesn’t meet many who’re able to match his height, or reach one higher than his. its a funny experience for him to talk to someone and not have to look down to gauge their expressions. 

neither of them are very good at romantic things, or intimacy in general, but they both have a softer disposition than their slasher relatives. they can appreciate candidness when they aren’t in Big Killer Boy mode. 

the first one to make any sort of move is probably bubba, but it would be an accident because he’s so oblivious. after getting used to freely expressing himself around jason, he’d probably end up holding his hand or hugging him out of familiarity and comfort. jason is flustered bc he can’t decipher if this is bubba taking the next step or simply him being his regular affectionate self. 

he decides to test this hypothesis by taking initiative himself. he takes his gloves off and holds bubba’s hand as a sign of trust. the symbolism of this act doesn’t go unnoticed or unappreciated by bubba, who’s only ever held jason’s hand through the barrier of his worn out gloves. a gigantic smile breaks out on bubba’s face and jason’s nerves melt away. 

bubba has a tight grip and very sweaty hands but jason doesn’t mind. he hasn’t held anyone’s hand since his mom… he’s grateful to feel the warmth of bubba’s affection.

bubba is curious about jason’s powers. hes still very human and mortal, so jason understands it when he has questions. he explains as best as he can, despite not knowing much about his condition himself. 

they’re nervous to call what they have between each other “love” or “attachment”. being big overthinkers, they try and avoid labels because they don’t want to mess up what’s grown between them.

jason doesn’t need sleep really but he likes taking naps with bubs. the man is like a bear. his snoring would annoy anyone else, but jason finds it endearing. 

when bubba is upset he’s almost instantly calmed when jason rubs slow circles into his back. jason’s presence and token silence becomes a familiar comfort to him. it pacifies any anger or sadness bubba may have. 

mask kisses!! while jason’s mask doesn’t have room for his lips to show through, bubba doesn’t mind. he kisses him right on the “mouth” anyway. jason is supremely grateful that his blush doesn’t extend outside of his mask. 

bubba is the only one who can hug jason and completely dwarf him. most could never hope to grasp the circumference of his shoulder’s alone. bubba’s big strong arms not only allow him to reach completely around jason, but also pick him up and spin him around in a crushing bear hug. this throws him for a loop every time but he enjoys the feeling of being held. he knows bubba is the only one who could give him this feeling.

jason likes hearing bubba hum little songs to himself while he’s working on something. it could be an old record he’s heard or a tune he made entirely on his own and jason would still consider it adorable.

he doesn’t require food or sustenance, but jason loves when bubba cooks. he’s quite good at it, and is proud of himself whenever jason is around to try one of his homemade meals. jason could care less about the ingredients, as long as he can make bubs happy by enjoying his food.

bubba likes making bracelets for jason to wear. they’re made out of just about anything bubs finds, but most often flowers are incorporated. jason is sure to always secure them under his gloves when he’s out killing so none of them get torn or damaged. he doesn’t want to take them off because they make him feel protected… not that he really needs it, but the sentiment strengthens him nonetheless.

jason is very good with knives. he carves tiny animals out of wood for bubba to keep around. bubba adores collecting small things like that, and now that jason’s around he has a steady supplier. they’re extra special because his boyfriend best friend makes them. 

bubba’s brothers tease him about jason all the time, but they never say anything truly damaging. they know if jason found out, he’d gut them within an inch of their life. 

bubba likes being in the woods with jason. it’s a nice change of pace from the hot backroads of texas. lots more animals to look at, too. jason, being steady and silent, is able to attract lots of birds and small creatures if he stands still enough. bubba asks him to do this often so he can see them all gather around and inspect his massive mountain of a boyfriend. 

(this is so fucking long….. for 20,000 dollars a month i will CONSIDER shutting up about these two…. anyways thanks for ur ask anon! these are my favorite boys! please ask for more about them if you want, i always have sumthn to say about them ;^) )

(also i made jason’s height the height of kane hodder, kirzinger is taller but i almost always go with kane as a physical reference for jason)

[sunshinewhale]

an oxeye daisy

he loves me, he loves me not.

pairing: minhyuk x reader  pov: unnamed reader, second person, mostly past tense

genre: angst  word vomit: ~2800

warnings: i’m just writing the same stuff in different words and different situations. lol.

notes: not proofread. i was trying to do something small and short and quick but it turned into a monster. this was only supposed to be ~500 words.

Autumn wind caresses your skin with soft chills, but it pales in comparison to the frozen wasteland in your empty chest. It’s numb. The playground before you is flowing with youth and joyful screams of delight. It’s not as contagious as you thought it would be.

A child comes up to you. She clutches a tangled garden of flowers in her chubby hands, and specks of dirt glitter on her dress coat. Shyly, she offers one out to you. Your numbness thaws a little at the way her small baby fingers are clumsy and unpracticed.

You smile and thank her, taking the flower by the stem. You twirl it in your fingers and tell her it’s pretty and that she’s even prettier. The child beams with unrestrained glee and runs back towards the playground with a bounce in her steps.

Your sight focuses on the flower again, and it’s anything but pretty.

It’s withering. The stem is crumpled and bent horribly out of shape. The petals are carelessly smushed, discoloured and ruined at the tips. It was well on the way to death’s door before it was unearthed from its roots in the name of childish innocence.

A wild wave of nostalgia overcomes you. You wish you could to return to the honeyed fairy tales of childhood, when you didn’t understand how something as good and pure as love could ruthlessly maim beating hearts.

You run your finger over the wispy petals, and gingerly pluck one off.

He loves me.

And another.

He loves me not.

Another.

He loves me.

Minhyuk burst into your life on a somber spring day. He had carried the sun on his shoulders like he was meant to illuminate your starless sky.

You were strangers, then. At best, friends of friends, though you weren’t really sure what Kihyun considered Minhyuk to be.

That didn’t stop him.

He was so alight with life. He glowed with the watercolours of sunrise and the universe seemed to bloom into existence under his fingertips. He chattered on about anything and everything, weaving a unique melody of thrill and mischief that tickled your ears. The world excited him, the ordinary amazed him, and he wanted to share his exhilaration with you. It was annoying, but it was so annoyingly endearing.

“You don’t understand! Listen to me,” he said breathlessly, wonderstruck and awe thrumming in his voice. “We’re in such a boundless galaxy with years and years of history and look! We’ve meet here, in the same time and at the same place! That’s a miracle in itself! Wouldn’t it be such a shame if we don’t become friends?”

You remember feeling something in your wary heart stir, for the first time. Minhyuk had made a mere crack at the edge of your steel fortress, but it was enough for a trickle of his warmth to seep through and reach the slumbering eros beneath.

He loves me not.

Sworn to secrecy under the velvet moon, he confided that you weren’t exactly his type. Not that he really had a type, he hurried to explain, because types are such an inflexible concept and everyone is worth loving anyway, but he was furiously drawn to people who painted their souls vividly with emotion and wore vulnerability like golden armour.

You wore it like weakness.

He had thought you were solid diamond. Almost too unapproachable, too stiff, too aloof, too alike Kihyun. The lover in him ached, throbbing at the far distance you had withdrawn into yourself. He wanted to show you the magic the world hid in plain sight, but he had only meant to become your friend. He had a difficult time with guarded hearts that refused to flower in the sincerity of spring.

He loves me.

But then, he confessed, he saw how he made you smile for the first time, so silently sweet because you thought he wasn’t watching, and he fell just a little bit in love. He coaxed you to laugh for the first time and he fell a little bit harder. His heart swelled to the heavens and it couldn’t decide between skipping beats or beating faster when he began to realize how effortless your smiles and your laughter came for him, and only for him. Like the North star dazzling amongst billions of other identical stars, he felt so, so special.

One day, he watched you as your eyes hooked onto him in a sea of strangers. He watched as your face lit up in an indescribable, iridescent glow and the way your lips smoothly curled upwards in unrestrained beauty, and he fell completely, utterly, hopelessly.

“It was so enchanting, I couldn’t control it at all,” he breathed love against your lips, “I thought, we were definitely meant to be more than friends. I yearned to become yours.”

You placed your fingers over the heat of his heart, and you traced your name on his moonlit skin, as if you were searing it into memory.

“Is this mine, then?”

“Only yours,” he took your hand into his, and kissed his declaration into your soul as the night and all its stars bore witness, “and don’t you dare give it back.”

He loves me not.

You had hardened the outer layers of your heart into stone because you wanted to protect yourself against the dangers of unbridled passion, of loving and being loved in return. Minhyuk had given himself to you in sweet surrender, but you were reluctant to throw yourself in wholly. Just the very idea of loving entirely, emotionally, unconditionally, had always been difficult for you.

But Minhyuk made it so ridiculously easy.

He settled into your daily life as naturally as the sun rose at dawn and set at dusk. Whale-shaped cushions made themselves home on your couch, another coffee mug in the kitchen, an extra toothbrush in the bathroom. You fell into silken bedsheets with him each night, and you woke up to his handsomeness each morning. You were budding, bountiful and bright, allowing your roots to tangle with his as you bloomed thornless red roses and white ivy without poison.

You had stars in your eyes, and you were drowning in everything about Minhyuk.

His adorable uneven blink. The husky pitch of his voice. The precious crinkles of his eyes. The puppy-like curve of his smile. His large, warm hands.

His laughter was pure sunshine after the rain. He kissed like fresh dewdrops sparkling on the grass during sunrise, and embraced you securely like the way the summer sea hugged the horizon. His silly antics brightened even the bleakest of your days, and you’ve never felt so saturated with colour.

Minhyuk almost had you entirely. Almost. You were barely able to hold a small part of yourself back, but your sanity demanded you to do it. It was your last line of defence, your last hope before the ground underneath you gave way to raw vulnerability. It was small enough that it would’ve been inconsequential, but like everything else about you, he had noticed.

“You’re so enduringly careful, so cautious,” he asked into the dim light of the rising morning, “have you been hurt before?”

You tensed. Your shoulders curled into yourself out of defense, and unconsciously, you turned away from him slightly.

“No, but I’m afraid of being hurt. My heart is weak, and if I hurt I will shatter and I won’t know how to pick up the pieces and put myself back together,” your half-whispers had barely sounded in the soft silence, “that makes me afraid of you, too.”

He pulled you into his arms to unravel you, to undo the insecure knots you had wound yourself into. Minhyuk touched his forehead against yours, patiently coaxing you to look at him, and with little resistance, you locked onto his unwavering gaze.

You had nearly forgotten how to breathe.

His pupils were crystal clear and unbearably sincere. You saw endless love reflected in them, and then, you saw yourself.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he sweared, and his voice promised you eternity, “I’ll be careful, too. I won’t hurt you.”

He paused, body stilling. His eyes widened round, like he suddenly had a life-changing revelation.

“Oh my god, I would even eat a cucumber for you.”

Minhyuk had made a face, his nose scrunched in disgust as if the very thought of eating the cursed vegetable brought him pain. You remember your fear washing away into the unknowns of the ocean, genuine fondness bubbling in its place as you promised you would never subject him to such cruelty.

He loves me.

Without even trying, he left his traces on your forever.

He was the love you dreamed about in childish fantasies, the one that lived in every fairytale and every myth, every legend. The love that made mere mortals defy gods, destroyed kings and brought great empires to war and to fall into ruin. He was the love that made miracles that you could never even imagine, happen.

And miracle, he did. Minhyuk made quick work and smoothly demolished down every last barrier that shielded your heart from the world. He didn’t leave a single brick behind in his wake. Your heart was beating naked on your sleeve, bearing his name in bolded love letters.

Your heart was so in bliss you could barely contain yourself.

“I was so reserved, Minhyuk, wasn’t it hard? I think I was hard to love.”

He chuckled at your query, a mischievous glint in his laughter as he teased, “I’m not going to lie, you’re still a little hard to love. I’m amazing, I know.”

You pouted, and amusement shook his shoulders. Adoration oozed from his entire being as he patted your cheek like he was consoling a spoiled child, but the slight scrunch of his brow told you he was giving it some serious thought.

“It was a little hard, but the hardest thing was convincing you to let me love you. Compared to that, loving you came so, so easily.”

He cradled your face as if he was holding the most precious treasure in his hands. His eyes lowered as his voice grew tender, “but you know, when I saw the beginnings of love in your eyes, I knew it was worth everything. “

“You’re worth everything,” he repeated, and his lips found yours.

He loves me not.

Spring came to an end. Spring always came to an end.

On the water’s surface, there wasn’t a single flaw. Stars never stopped twinkling in your eyes whenever you caught his gaze, and you were constantly a crisp reflection in his. Kihyun had begun to joke about being invited to your summer wedding. Minhyuk was beyond delighted that someone else saw you so clearly in his future, and you took the idea as naturally as the changing season. Love firmly rooted you two together, and in unending selflessness, both of you would do anything for each other.

Maybe, there were warning signs hanging in the air all along, like small ripples that sailors paid no mind. Maybe, the hazy promises of love had made you two both willfully blind.

Minhyuk was the perfect child of fate and destiny, and you were the other side of the coin, ingrained in choice and chances. His heart was big and his love limitless, he gave too much and at times, it felt too intense. There was too much to bear. On your worst days, you wanted him to give less, to meet your needs halfway and give you a chance to breathe. You didn’t mind suffocating in his soul, but you were new in your steps and you had just learned to trust yourself in the hands of another. For you, this territory was unfamiliar, still strangely foreign. He mistook that for doubt because you didn’t feel secure enough in his embrace, so he gave you even more.

Maybe, that was your downfall.

He loves me.

You knew Minhyuk would never leave you because he had promised you forever, and that was simply an absolute truth. Every last cell in his body was willing to follow you in eternal vow, everything else be damned.

You are worth everything, his words had echoed in your mind.

No matter what Minhyuk thought, you weren’t everything. 

You couldn’t be everything. 

So beneath, the current was turbulent. In a book of relationships, there was a page you two just couldn’t agree on. He continued to pour his love onto you until his veins were dry and his pulse was weak with exhaustion, and he still insisted it wasn’t enough. Because you understood Minhyuk and his good intentions, you let his love fill you until it ached raw and wounded. You readily endured it even though the fullness bruised you, the blood underneath your skin silently screaming too much.

Like a sluggish toxin, love’s name gradually became weary and loving put a heavy strain on both of you. However much you and Minhyuk were willing, you knew it wasn’t right. The flowers of your roses began to wilt, but the vines thrived, growing sharp thorns. Your ivy buds shrivelled, feeding sickeningly sweet poison instead of honey nectar.

You knew, then.

When the sun dipped below the skyline and it began raining on the last day of spring, you murdered his beating heart.

“We’ve been trying too hard, Minhyuk, maybe we’re meant to just be friends.”

Your eyes had already been wet before the words even left you. Fear settled into the lines of his face as he reached out for you, to console you, to hold you and deny you of what he knew you intended to do. He tucked your head into the curve of his neck, and his fingers curled into you desperately like you would disappear if he let you go.

The comfort of his warmth broke you, and in a shuddering breath, you grieved in his arms. Your tears burned stains into his skin, and in an instant, you felt new wetness that didn’t belong to you.

“No, no, no, don’t cry,” his voice cracked, and his hands shook as they cradled your face, “you can’t cry because of me.”

Then Minhyuk had cried too, until his eyes turned bloodshot and his throat was hoarse with heartbreak.

“I love you,” he sobbed, “I’m sorry I ended up hurting you, I’m sorry I wasn’t careful enough, I’m so sorry—”

“You were careful. You didn’t hurt me. Maybe, it just hurts to love, but I chose to love you regardless,” you kissed his watery eyelids and ignored the sting of fresh tears at the back of your eyes, “I know you’ve been hurting too. We did our best.”

The sound of his weeping heart rang in your ears. It didn’t want to let go, and in all the truths of the universe, neither did you. 

One of the truths deafened you to his pain, gripped your hand and forced you to go.

What you want isn’t always what you need, the truth had said, what he wants isn’t always what he needs.

Minhyuk had promised he would never hurt you, and it was you that made him a liar.

He loves me not.

You had blinked, and autumn arrived at your doorstep.

Your life seems even bleaker than when you first met him. Your vision is colourless and your eyes cannot adjust to the vibrancy of the warm tones of harvest. All you can think of are of wilted leaves, barren trees, and dying flowers that have been robbed of too much time.

The skies are thick with cloudy misery, and the mornings are starting to darken into longer nights. You hardly see sunlight on the sidewalk, nowadays.

Even if it’s somewhere else, you hope the sun is still shining.

He loves me.

You hope he’s alright. 

You hope the gaping wound you left him as a parting gift has healed.

He loves me not.

You hope he has his head held high and he’s found light and life in autumn.

He loves me.

(He deserves to be happy, more than anyone else.)

He loves me not—

Your fingers tremble.

There’s a single petal remaining, limply hanging on the flower in your hands.

He loves me.

Bitterness claws up your throat and you can’t help but smile dryly at the cruelness of the universe. Familiar wetness stings your eyes and you breathe away the urge to cry.

You’ve should’ve known better than to think just loving would be enough.

The petals scattered at your feet look like fragmented pieces of memories from your spring. You watch as the autumn breeze picks up and carries them away.

You crouch down and carelessly cover the flower and the lone petal with loose earth. You bury Minhyuk and his starry kisses and sunlit smiles. You bury the what ifs and the maybes and the it could have beens.

It doesn’t matter, anymore.

His shattered heart is already six feet under.

[atamascolily]

more Crystal Star quotes from Vonda N. McIntyre

The third [ship] was Alderaan, Leia’s pride and joy. Alderaan was a sleek little ship with hyperdrive capabilities. Luke had chided her for spending the time to learn to fly it that she could have used to study the ways of the Jedi. But the truth was, it was much easier and faster to learn to fly Alderaan than to learn to be a Jedi Knight. And a great deal more fun. Maybe that was why she loved the little starcraft so much. Her responsibility to the Republic kept her from having much fun.

The same was true of everyone she knew. Luke worked himself to exhaustion. Leia thought that he deliberately worked himself beyond exhaustion, either to test himself or to take himself to another level of achievement. But he scared her, sometimes. She wished they had grown up together; she wished she had known her brother as a child, so she could understand him better.

Han did not deliberately push himself beyond his endurance. He had passed plenty of tests in his life; he never needed to give himself more. But he did press himself to his limits without meaning to. Often Leia would come home after a diplomatic reception or a long meeting with her advisers to find Han facedown at his desk, snoring. Once he fell asleep in his bath. Leia was convinced that if she had come in five minutes later, he would have drowned.

That was why he and Luke had gone on a quest together. They were both burning out. They needed time off.

She doubted Luke would find any other Jedi Knights on his quest, but she hoped he would find some rest. And she hoped Han would let loose, like in the old days.

Errr... exactly like the old days? I don’t think you want that, Leia. But I love Leia having her own ship, though I don’t buy Luke chiding Leia for it. I mean, he’s a fighter pilot, he understands or ought to.

Leia laid one hand on the silver flank of her ship. No distinguishing mark marred its limpid finish, which looked like puddled mercury. It was registered to a person who did not exist, a second identity Leia had established so that someday, sometime, somehow, she would be able to take a few days off and fly away to a pleasant place without being recognized. Its ship’s signature did not even list its name, only its number, because the name of Alderaan gave too great a clue to the true identity of the ship’s owner. Almost all the citizens of Alderaan had perished in the attack of the Death Star. Only a few had survived. Princess Leia Organa had been one of them.

I woulda called it something else, but okay...

She opened her hand. In her wide palm lay a deck of cards. A design of complex knots decorated the back. The enhanced human moved her hand, and the deck flipped over. Chance & Hazard, illuminated with gold and emerald paint, topped the stack.

I love sabacc, even if no one in the EU evr figured out consistent rules.

The letter of resources was a worthless piece of trash in Han’s pocket. His immediate impulse was to rip it to shreds and throw it into the nearest crater. But that would be stupid as well as impossible. It was printed not on paper, but on a practically indestructible sheet of archival plastic. The edges would cut his skin before they would tear.

SOLID. Cash flow is a major problem in Han’s subplot, #respect.

Ghostlings had always mesmerized him. They looked like humans, but were not. Their ethereal beauty tantalized humans and they in their turn were fascinated by human beings. They were as seductive as incubi and succubi, but as fragile as spiderwebs. For a human and a ghostling to enter into a physical relationship meant certain death for a ghostling. But there’s no harm in looking, Han said to himself.

Cool world-building detail to borrow.

Han displayed the rainbow edges of a few bills of New Republic currency. He was glad, for old times’ sake, for the sake of his smuggling days, that the Senate had failed to pass a law abandoning physical currency. Smuggling would have been a whole lot harder without hard-to-trace cash money. Of course, that was why the Senate wanted to abandon it.

LOL.

“Just thinking about the Jedi Academy. I hate to leave my students, even for a few days.....”

...because they’ll set everything on fire, right, Luke? Right?

But if I do find other trained Jedi, it’ll make a big difference. To the Academy. To the New Republic …” “I think we’re getting along pretty well already,” Han said, irked. He had spent years maintaining the peace with ordinary people. In his opinion, Jedi Knights could cause more trouble than they were worth. “And what if these are all using the dark side?”

Luke: Yeah, Jedi are awesome!

Han: *recalls being personally tortured by Vader, plus all the drama involving various Force-sensitives over the years* Whatever you say, kid. 

But she and Jacen had lots of hold-fathers and hold-mothers. Anakin had lots of hold-fathers and hold-mothers.

YEAH extended families. But I prefer “Uncle” and “Aunt” myself.

"[Winter's] services are no longer necessary,” Hold-father Hethrir said. “Children, children! You are important! Your abilities are precious! You cannot be raised, you cannot be taught, by a servant.” “She isn’t! She’s our friend!” “She has her own life to live, she cannot raise you properly with no one to pay for you.” “We wouldn’t eat much,” Jacen said hopefully.

LOL. Though FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PEOPLE, WINTER IS NOT A SERVANT.  Also, she is a badass.

Tigris tried to take Anakin from Jaina. She stepped back. Jacen jumped in front of her to help protect their little brother. Together, they created the barrier Uncle Luke had taught them to make. No one would be able to get through it. They would not let Tigris take Anakin! The barrier shimmered around Jaina. And then it fell apart like a sand castle in the tide.

It’s never explained how the villain can do this, but yay for family solidarity and Uncle Luke’s teachings even if it doesn’t work. 

She thought of a soft camp mattress under her, just dried out, nice and warm. And her smart camping blanket. It knew when she was cold and it knew to warm up. It knew to snuggle down around her to keep out the wind. It liked to get wet sometimes—it liked to swim. Then it lay flat on the ground, because it did not have any feet. And it wriggled and shook until its fur was dry and warm and Jaina could wrap it around her shoulders and go to sleep. When she was little she even liked to sleep with it at home.

Awww.....

The blade of Lord Hethrir’s lightsaber could only be activated by the use of the Force. Hethrir would not accept anyone into his inner circles who could not complete the circuit and generate the blade.

This is.... not as useful as you think it is, Hethrir.

“Why, I can virtually feel my intelligence circuits exploding beneath the assault.” “Your intelligence sounds normal to me,” Luke said.

SASSMASTER.

Hethrir had built his private receiving chamber from the finest wood of all the old Empire. Body-wood, they called it. It resembled the flesh of the people who had inhabited the forest, before the Emperor claimed the world. To his most favored officers he had dispensed the right to exploit certain resources. Hethrir’s reward had been the license to export body-wood. Lord Hethrir had begun his fortune from the license. But he used the wood profligately for himself as well. The walls and floor and ceiling of the chamber glowed with it.

The surface of the polished body-wood was the palest pink. Scarlet streaks shot through it, gleaming with light, like cut and polished precious stones. Tigris always thought the wood looked alive, and indeed it was said that the body-wood trees sustained a certain intelligence. It was said that they cried, when Hethrir cut them down. Tigris almost believed that they cried. He knew their wood bled. He had the task, the honor, of cleaning up the scarlet rivulets before they pooled on the floor and stained it.

CREEPY.

She imagined the molecules of air all around her. She imagined one molecule. She imagined it moving, faster and faster. She felt the molecule respond.

Hethrir’s power did not react. She knew it was around her, she could feel its attention off in the distance. But it did not notice the tiny motion she created. She added another molecule, another, doubling and redoubling the number she affected. Soon a small handful of air vibrated with her energy. Its warmth took the chill from her cell.

The swirl of air glowed red, then yellow, spreading light into the corners of Jaina’s cell.

Size matters not, y’all. 

"Of course thou didst comprehend the connection between the ego-flux and the universal backlight, but I wonder if thou didst make the conceptual leap to the synergy of intellectual realization and quantum crystallization?”

“I am embarrassed to admit that I had not,” Xaverri said, “though now that thou hast shown me the path, I can see that the interaction is completely inevitable.”

WARU, you complete bullshitter.

Jaina knew Jacen had asked the myrmins to climb up the stage. One of the Proctors leaped to his feet with a shout. He thought he just had sand in his pants. Then the sand bit him. The other Proctors started jumping up and yelling and scratching. And stamping, stamping on the myrmins. “Oh!” Jaina whispered. “Oh—poor myrmins, thank you, myrmins.” Some of them were running away now, disappearing into cracks and hiding. But some of them were being killed.

“We’re sorry, myrmins,” she said, sincerely, the way Chewbacca spoke to insects he sometimes killed, even if he never meant to, when he harvested forest honey. She risked another glance across the hall at Jacen. Stricken, he started to cry. He cried when Chewbacca apologized to the forest insects, too. But this time it was his fault that the myrmins were being hurt. Suddenly the myrmins all disappeared. Jaina felt the flare of Jacen’s abilities, whisking the little creatures out of danger.

Aww...

Maybe I could tame her,” Jacen said. “And we could ride her away!” Jaina had no idea how Jacen knew it was a Mistress Dragon and not a Mister Dragon. But he was always right about this sort of stuff....

No, wait!” Jaina snatched it back. “Don’t throw it.” She opened up the lens and caught the light and flashed it on the ground in front of the dragon. “Isn’t she pretty?” Jacen said. When the dragon opened her eyes, she saw the concentrated point of light from Jaina’s lens. She snorted and lowered her head. Jaina gave the multitool to Jacen. He was better with critters than she was. He wiggled the light near the dragon’s front paws. The dragon put her paw on the place where the light was. Then she had to put her other paw on top of her first paw, and still the light was not covered. She pulled her first paw out from under her second paw and lost her balance. She rolled completely over, snortling and wriggling. Then she jumped up and looked around for the light. Jacen moved it around for her to chase. She jumped forward after it, shaking the ground when she landed, raising great sprays of sand. Jaina laughed with delight. By now all the other children had gathered behind Jaina and Jacen to watch the dragon play. Jacen danced the light before the dragon, who gallumphed after it, pouncing to try to catch it. Jacen skipped the light up the cliffside that projected beyond the fence. The dragon scratched the rock with her front feet, ripping loose bits of stone. She roared joyously. She lashed her tail.

Ladies and gentlemen, the Solo twins.

Anakin plopped himself down on the seat beside Tigris. “Bad mans, Tigis,” he said solemnly.

Baby Anakin is always right about this stuff.

[thatcrazygloryfan]

So one of your artworks kinda inspired me and… With some help from an odd dream the other night, I present to you my effort at a QZGS fanfic (though this is more of a oneshot?) I don’t use tumblr or any fanfiction sites, so I guess this would be the best way to send it. (with my

really 

old askblog, at that.. It’s.. It’s embarrassing, I know.)  I told myself not to do this but I did it anyways so now that essay is just gonna have to be incomplete just a little bit longer. (I didn’t want to do it anyways :’) so I guess this saved me…) Here are my potato writing skills portraying my own potato idea. I’ll try and keep this short… ———————————————— 

Never Abandoned

————————————————  Silver flakes drifted down from a cloud-colored sky as the ever-silent, now-exiled Battle God stepped out onto the cold streets that criss-crossed the city, intertwining between the many lit buildings as if it were an intricate, delicate spiderweb. He gently pulled at his coat as he turned away from the brightly glowing headquarters of Excellent Era, the crimson glow of the leaf-shaped emblem bringing thoughts that he would rather be without. He walked. Striding through the winter was certainly taxing on him, since the frigid cold bit at his exposed skin, and the only clothing he owned were the ones on his back. A faint jingling came from his pocket, due to the account card that still rested there.  Continuing through the city, enveloped by the artificial light of the lamps and signs, he picked up his pace and made it to the oceanside. Reflecting off the dark waters were the brilliance of the landscape behind him, twinkling and shining as if they were man-made stars. A sigh escaped his mouth as he contemplated the circumstances of less than an hour ago. The shaking of his hand. The cold voices of his former teammates. The tone of the one who had uprooted his authority and made his own hand sign his name upon a sheet of paper that would strip away his passion and living for an entire year.  A mist escaped with his breath and floated into the air, and disappeared like a vapor in the wind. The god’s gaze darted around, looking at the empty streets, devoid of activity. It was only him, several lone lampposts, unoccupied benches, and the cobblestone sidewalk below. No.. It wasn’t completely empty. There was a single individual standing a short distance away, their shadow illuminated by the pale, ivory-colored glow of the wrought-iron street lamps. His eyes narrowed ever-so slightly, the details jumping out at him.  Clothed in a long black coat ornamented with sharply outlined contrasts of angular golden trims and patterns, the silent figure stood there alone, much like himself. The only thing that stood against the ebony color of their entire vestment was the scarlet cape that hung from their shoulders, bearing a single, brassed tassel at the end. They looked.. Familiar.

Too familiar.

Driven by his curiosity, Ye Xiu, otherwise known as Ye Qiu, stepped forward. His single step rang out against the muted hustle and bustle of the night city, seeming abnormally loud when compared to the dimmed sounds of chatter, machinery, and the softly sloshing waves of the nearby sea. Within only a few strides, he had approached this mysterious silhouette, and he was about to say something, had they not turned around first. Staring back at him was.. Almost the spitting image of himself. Except he knew it wasn’t. He was very familiar with this person- his companion for the last ten years of Glory, where he had basked in fame, reverence, mystery, and the wild cheers of his supporters.  A light breeze tossed the wine-colored cloak that was draped across their back, causing it to snap and furl in the chilling air. But the individual.. The same facial structure and blank look, their only difference in that aspect was the eerily empty eyes of the being who he knew was his avatar. Had he hit his head too hard when he left the Excellent Era building, only to completely forget about it? Or had the shock of the events warped his mind to the point he was hallucinating him? One Autumn Leaf could not, and would not have been standing before him. Sun Xiang owned him now, didn’t he? The thought raced through his head as Ye Xiu stumbled backwards a single step, slightly taken aback by the sight. “It’s me.” The voice that rang out was identical to his own, except that it lacked almost all emotion, except for the barest hint of hurt. And for some reason, that slight, almost nonexistent touch to the sound of his otherwise-steady voice struck him to the core. “…One Autumn Leaf. Ye Qiu, have you already forgotten about me?”  “…No, I..” He was surprised, blinking a few times before this manifestation of what was formerly just a construct of pixels. Within a moment, Ye Xiu steadied himself and looked eye-to-eye with the Battle Mage, who stood as still and unmoving as he did in Glory. “Come on, it can’t be you.” The player tried to laugh off the situation, keeping the nervousness out of his tone. “I.. Maybe I whiffed something on my way here, and you’ll just disappear-“ Clamping down on the retired gamer’s shoulder within the next instant was a firm hand, steady and still from the years of finely tuned practice with a heavy spear. “I’m very much real.” The supposedly imaginary being answered, his gaze still unbroken. “…I understand the circumstances in which I was handed over to a little brat, whose first action was to try and tarnish my hair. I do not blame you and I hold you in no contempt.” “Ah.. Suppose I’m really not imagining all this, and you are indeed corporeal..” Ye Xiu touched the avatar’s outreached arm, indeed feeling the cold, dark metal and the absolute solidness of his form. Yep, he was real alright. “..How are you here? Why did you come to find me?” “Glory cannot hold me when I have enough drive in me to shatter an invisible barrier.” That was the response given by One Autumn Leaf, who retracted his hand as to not threaten his former master. “And I came here to find you because I could not stand to see you leave. For ten long years, you have been at my side. And I am not so willing to go.” “I handed you off. Your new owner is Su-“ The banished deity of Glory began, but was cut off by the character stretching out his other hand, clasping something in between his fingers. A Glory account card. “This rightfully belongs to you.” He said, and Ye Xiu was taken aback for the second time, staring at the object. Shined, black and gold much like One Autumn Leaf himself, with the word Glory emblazoned on the front, embraced by a pair of segmented wings and crossed with dual blades. For a moment, Ye Xiu had to contemplate just how flipping weird it must have been for an avatar to hold such an item- wouldn’t that be handing over their own, beating heart to someone? Or on an even more extreme spectrum, their very soul? The essence of who they were, that represented all of them, and sustained their existence? The thought was so strange that even he had to shove it aside, his shaky right hand reaching out to accept the card. As his pale fingers grazed the smooth surface of the card that he had been forced to surrender a mere hour ago, he looked up at One Autumn Leaf, who now bore a faint smile upon his previously expressionless features. “Don’t leave me, Ye Qiu. You are still my master. Take me back to the battlefield.” He dropped his arm once the Glory card was safely given back to the gamer. “I could not bear to leave, even if I were forced. Sun Xiang is not you.” The dark-haired, exiled professional looked up to the avatar in silence before nodding, unable to help but crack a slight grin of his own. “…I’m glad, then.” The feeling of the simple object in his hand.. It was possibly the most thrilling, exhilarating flood of emotion he had experienced since his first official tournament. The excitement, the adrenaline, and the sheer joy all came rushing back like a tsunami. He looked out at the still-glowing city landscape, coruscating with the resplendent shine of the modern world.  Somehow, his mind almost seemed to be synced with the near-identical individual besides him, who had been his representation on a stage that met and drew the eyes of millions. Together, they turned from the glossy, yet dull and dusky shine of the ocean beyond, and looked to the shimmering stars that dotted the night sky. And together, their voices rang out.  “

Glory never fades

.”  ———————————————— This potato will now silence themselves as they have no flipping clue what they wrote at 1 AM in the morning and it doesn’t make sense. And I’ll probably feel massive regret too.. What have I wrought.   (I hope you enjoyed it somewhat nonetheless ^^;)

---

AKJSDHJSFLFDKJFKSJDJS DEM FEELS THAT WAS AMAZINGGG Hey I’m gonna make an amped up, more serious comic to go along with this bc a) I love this and b) I’ve been wanting to draw some sort of comic for something for a while now xD

I’d say maybe in the beginning, you could improve on making the details flow more smoothly? (it got better towards the end tho :D) But idk bc I suck as a writer like this is better than anything I can do so great job and I’ll let the other fanfic writers give some advice if they have any haha

[thepaganstudygrouppage]

PSG Roundtable #9: Practicing Multiple Traditions

We’ll be talking about our perspectives on being someone who practices in multiple traditions.  Before I start, I want to make it clear that I’m coming at this with a series of biases.  I believe that:

The gods are separate, unique agents in and of themselves as individuals (hard polytheism);

Objects have, or can develop, their own spirits to varying degrees of animistic complexity;

Gods, guides, and spirits can communicate with us in a variety of ways

By its very nature, practicing in multiple traditions means acknowledging that no single tradition is the only “true” one;

My experiences are not reflective of everyone’s and what works for me and mine may not work for you and yours.  While I do have strong personal feelings on this subject, they’re still only my personal opinion.

I’m also approaching this as an Irish polytheist and Kemetic, among other things, who is part of an (offline) group of hard polytheists from various traditions of their own, including Bacchic Orphic, Gallo-Roman, Heathenry, and Santeria.

What does it mean to be “multi-trad” or practice in multiple traditions?

I use “tradition” to refer to any collection of beliefs and behaviors that is coherent and has a recognizable identity of what it means to be a part of that group.

To be multi-trad, then, is to be able to move between various traditions.  Think of a big, lovely house with a room for each faith tradition: when I’m in the Irish polytheist room, I follow its guidelines for interacting with the Tuatha Dé, leave votive offerings, celebrate the cross-quarter days, understand that words like ‘poetry’ and ‘satire’ have very different meanings in this context.  When I go to the Kemetic room, I might wake up the Netjeru in their statues and worship in specific “praise” postures, share in food and drink (and for me, maybe talk alchemy).  When I visit friends in the Santeria room, I change out of my default black to completely white clothes, greet the Orisha in a way very different from the Tuatha Dé and Netjeru, and try to keep up with a completely different etiquette and sense of hierarchy to show respect for the divine, dead, and living Santo communities.

Can I combine multiple practices?

In my personal opinion, combining multiple traditions into a single “one approach fits all” practice means losing the characteristics that empower those traditions as individual identities.  I mean, you could worship Brighid as a Triple Goddess of Maiden/Mother/Crone, but doing so means taking the Celtic tendency to triplify goddesses to emphasize power and turning it into something that misconstrues much of Brighid’s nature.  YMMV.

That doesn’t mean one practice won’t ever impact another.  Say it’s Samhain and I’m honoring the Morrígan; before beginning my rites for her, I might also acknowledge other deities with whom I share death-related work, like Anpu in his psychopompic aspect, and the spirit allies who help me handle the unhappy dead that come up through my work at the women’s center.  Or perhaps I’ll honor them all in separate rites, not because Samhain has anything to do with Anpu but because my own associations with Samhain overlap with my work with him and doing so doesn’t violate anyone’s etiquette.  In another instance, if you’re oathed to a deity and you agree to a task they give you, you might then turn around to your dead or your guiding spirits and say, “All right, troops, here’s the goal.  I’d like your help to get it done, please,” even if your dead or guides don’t come from that deity’s paradigm.

Can I have events, like rituals, for multiple traditions?

It’s definitely possible to have multi-trad events, but if you try that, you need to be careful that the different entities are getting what they need.  Make sure everyone gets an appropriate offering (within reason, of course - sometimes you have to negotiate, like, “Dude, you can’t have that whole bottle of $50 whiskey, how about a shot of Fireball instead?”) without someone feeling ignored because of another.  Don’t put the shrines of entities who don’t get along beside one another.   Make sure you share the Netjeru’s portion of food, but once you offer something to the Tuatha Dé, it’s theirs.  And so on.  It’s like…having a dinner party with finicky guests of wildly differing temperaments, complete with some cultural barriers.  It can be a lot of fun, especially if you have skillful mediums with you and/or dedicants who are knowledgeable in their respective paths, but it can be a lot of work.  I think it’s well worth it, but I know some people would disagree.

When my own group has multitrad events, we always make sure to have a shrine for each god or pantheon to which the humans have oaths or relationships and plenty of diverse offerings so we can provide proper hospitality for whomever chooses to show up.  We also put a huge emphasis on consent, both human and nonhuman, so we don’t assume who will or won’t be present and willing to work with us - we just make sure the ritual space is available.

If you decide to go the ritualistic route, the hardest part is making sure that your ‘ritual tech’ - that is, your methodology - doesn’t violate the rules of one of the traditions in question.  Some traditions aren’t very strict on some things, like perhaps your method of cleansing yourself spiritually, but there shouldn’t be actual conflict in ideology or application.  Divining for the input of the gods and spirits involved, and maybe asking the opinions of others with knowledge of them, can be invaluable.

How do I switch between the different paradigms?

I think it’s not unlike switching between different environments or groups of people.  When you’re at work, you behave a certain way according to your workplace’s guidelines; when you’re at school, you behave according to those rules.  Even with friends, you probably act one way with a particular group that’s different from how you act with another.  You wouldn’t behave the same way around your conservative grandparents as you do with your mates at the pub.  You’re not lying or ‘faking it’ in any of these scenarios: you’re adjusting your style of communication and behavior to match the requirements and expectations of your environment.  When you’re familiar with the rules, when you have solid relationships with those people, you can start bending those rules a bit and acting more familiar, just as you do with human people.

Does it always have to be so complicated?

Ha, nope.  The things that I do with my group are usually much more involved than what I do privately because there are more traditions being represented, but that also means there are more people present to share the physical and spiritual work.  I maintain only as many relationships as I feel is reasonable for me, my lifestyle, my resources, and my rather limited spoons.  I’d rather have deeper knowledge of a few traditions to make my practice feel that much richer and fulfilling for me than try to juggle many different ones (although having general knowledge is often useful).

But I do take these fewer relationships as seriously as I do human ones, and any kind of mutually beneficial, respectful, healthy relationship takes effort.

It’s too much work and research!

Many of us have busy lives: job(s), kids, schooling, and so on.  Some of us are limited by funds, spoons, or other factors out of our control.  But if your reason for not doing at least some research with the sources you have access to in order to have a baseline understanding of the paradigm from which a specific god is coming is just, “It’s too much work,” I don’t have much sympathy.  Isn’t the relationship you forge with a deity worth that extra effort, which can deepen and strengthen that relationship because of shared language and understanding?  This doesn’t mean you need to go back to school to have a scholar’s understanding, and the gods’ conception of time is different from ours; their sense of ‘hurry up’ is, I think, often very different from ours, and you can take the time you need.  Religion should fit into your life, not the other way around, but you do still have to do the work.

What are the benefits of all this work?

You’d have to ask other people, but for me, some things I’ve gotten out of this include:

Showing respect for the gods and spirits and developing deeper, more nuanced relationships because of it

Showing respect for the tradition’s ancestors and, if relevant, living culture

Enrichment of personal perspective, broadening of horizons, etc.

I mean seriously, the world is so weird and people and the gods are so amazing and complex and diverse, why wouldn’t you want to engage with them as they’ve revealed themselves to us rather than try pigeonholing them into something we think they should be?

Do I still need to think about cultural appropriation?

Yes.

Do I still need to be initiated into things?

If initiation is part of the tradition you’re choosing to engage in, then yes.  Hanging out with Santeros, for example, does not make me a Santera myself, nor does it mean I have access to the mysteries of the tradition.  I would still need to undergo the same training and rites that every other Santero in this tradition has had to do.  As it is, I’m perfectly happy just being an invited guest.  Going back to my Big House of Faith metaphor, some rooms have more locked cupboards and drawers than others: initiations are the means by which you earn the keys to unlock them.  There’s actually a lot to be said about initiations, but that should probably be saved for another post.

Here are the “multifaith practice” tag, the resource blog @thepaganstudygroupresourcepage, and our collected links on various traditions and kinds of information.

Now that I’ve talked at great length - do my fellow mods who practice multiple traditions have their own experiences that they’d like to share?

- mountain hound

I don’t have much to add since I think MH covered a lot of the main points. As for my own experiences, you need to know that your discernment may still mean fuck all. If their myths and legends paint them as never getting along (for example, Korean deities versus Greek, though there aren’t any actual myths about that) it’s very fair to assume that if your UPG is that they get along swimmingly and don’t mind you mixing up the two traditions, you’re probably skewing something here. 

Like MH, I make sure to keep my Kemetic shrine in its own space and my Mugyo shrine in its own space. Keep in mind that each tradition may have particular regulations and rules that simply cannot be mixed. Forcing it together is an amalgamation and has a very high risk of offending the gods of both pantheons.

Being properly initiated is a huge deal. No matter what you read or watch as an outsider or fringe-member, you’re kept in the dark about specific hows and whys to the things we do inside the tradition. You’re always going to be missing something, some key information. So if you are able to get initiated into the tradition that you’re vetted for, you should do so.

- trueriptide

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