#but so lonely and frightened that the cult thing just...

[zmediaoutlet]

abandoned(?) wip: the cult fic

Here's one that I really really really want to write because it was for a charity run and it is NOT the fault of the fic or the donator that I got hit with a depression meteor, nor indeed that somehow it was 'easier' to write a bunch of other fics instead of the charity fics that I still owe!! Ugh. The self is a real garbage pit sometimes. So hopefully let's call this one dormant and not abandoned, and so --

Big Idea: which isn't mine, bc charity fic as aforementioned, but -- Jared runs a cult and Jensen joins and there's lots of sexy sex. Pretty much. :) But because it's a cult fic, I really wanted to dive into that, which required plot [spits on floor], and it's really more now about like... lost youth getting wrapped up into a personality & lifestyle just for somewhere to belong. Like cult stories always go. It's an unusual fic for me in that I'd normally never do ageswap (even with J2 -- I prefer to keep them as is) and I don't actually have much interest in irl cults, but it's interesting as a stretch in that sense.

Why it was abandoned: because plot!!! Ugh. Plot is the worst, idk how people are like 'ooh I wanna get all involved in this murder mystery'. Yack. But if it's gonna have a plot it's got to work, and it also has to have a bunch of legible and interesting and not-quirky-stand-in characters -- like I want it to read like actual humans, not goofy nonsense a la the cult in Bad Times at the El Royale. So that requires some genuine thought and time put in and probably even a chart, and... #lazy writer noises. But I have some random scenes I think might be good already planned. Trouble would be if I could make Jared-the-cult-leader seem believable and not just like a doofy romance novel figure. My personal trouble with cults is that whenever someone's holding themselves up as a leader because of whatever mystical whatever I'm like, this motherfucker? Are y'all kidding? So I'll have to get over that instinct, lol.

Snippet:

"He renamed it when we came," Allie says, easy. She taps her thumb on the steering wheel, smiling. "He said Wildheart was more right, for what we were going to be." Jensen nods but he has no idea what that means. Whatever the name was before, the wild part at least is right. His grandpa had a farm, outside Dallas, and that was all neat rows, trimmed up hedges, smoothed-out roads with everything exactly in place. Jensen didn't mind it—driving it was easier, he thinks, as they're jolted by the Volkswagen rocking over yet another huge tree root—but it was… Well, it doesn't matter. He'll never see that farm again. He's about to ask another question when Allie turns, again, and the screen of oaks gives sudden way to—open air, a field. The sky opens up above them and Jensen leans forward, trying to see everything. They're on a dirt drive and there are—people, young, maybe his age or maybe Allie's, on the grounds on either side of the drive, working squared-off garden plots—tomatoes, in chickenwire cages. More that Jensen doesn't recognize as they roll past. A boy with red hair waves at the car and Allie waves back, grinning. "Good to be home," she says, to Jensen. Home, Jensen thinks, and chews his thumbnail, scanning the grounds. A medium-sized house, at the end of the lane, painted a faded yellow that needs redoing. On the west side of the house Allie pulls the Volkswagen up next to a purple Gremlin with messy handpainted yellow flowers on the rear hatch, a Cadillac with a rusted-out door and some kind of viney plant spilling out of the broken back window. "C'mon," Allie says, turning off the engine, so Jensen takes a deep breath and gets out of the car into the sunshine, holding his duffle up against his chest, looking around. No one's running up to bug them—the dozen people gardening are still gardening, down by the lane—and Allie flips her keys into her palm, comes around the hood of the car, touches his arm, soft. "Nothing be scared of, sweetie," she says, quiet even though it's just the two of them, and Jensen—believes her. He has to. He wouldn't have gotten into her car, otherwise.

#my writing #abandoned wips #jensen the naif is also not something i'd usually write #i like him cynical from the jump #maybe the thing here is to lean into him being cynical #but so lonely and frightened that the cult thing just... #drags him under #like the tide pulling sand from under your feet #hm that might help

[ghostsontelevision]

i’ve been fucking around w a mob psycho 100 ageswap au. details under the cut

GENERAL PREMISE: mob & tome run a psychic business together, focus is on investigating supernatural phenomena. reigen is a shithead little kid who talked his way into becoming an employee, but they only really let him sweep the floors until he starts complaining, at which point he gets one (1) adventure per week.

MOB: because reigen wasn’t around to keep her from joining the telepathy club, she joined without protest or thought, but she and tome ended up getting along well enough that they became close friends. her egg cracked in high school, and she’s now a shy and withdrawn adult woman. doesn’t have as much of a sense of personal style, though if someone pays attention they might notice her tendency towards things with cute (& a little obnoxious) graphics. avoids using her psychic powers as much as possible because she never worked through her trauma regarding them, so every time she does use them they have a tendency to become really out of control. a pretty blunt sense of humor. she handles most of the “psychic” part of the job (so she does mind readings, future telling, and very basic exorcism), but most of this is “practice reading people”, something she still struggles with, and isn’t actually power based.

TOME: excitable and impulsive adult. worked a variety of shitty minimum wage cashier jobs until she snapped and begged mob to open the psychic business with her. her preference is field work, exploring haunted houses & investigating strange phenomena. has a strong (if occasionally incomprehensible) internet presence. a tendency to rope people into things without really asking if they’re okay with it, which she’s aware of and can occasionally feel guilty about. not a role model except for her zest for life. has never met aliens and desperately desperately wants to. still keeps in touch with the other telepathy club members, who have thrived in normal office jobs and don’t want to quit and join her shady ghost hunting business for some reason????

REIGEN: a middle schooler with a big mouth. unspeakably lonely, hates going home for some reason. has a tendency to bluff his way into situations and still miraculously bluff his way out. has a reputation in school as a loudmouth liar. very very good at reading people. wants to be special but has no clue how to accomplish this, and the concept of becoming an adult both frightens and bores him. wants to join the psychic business because he wants to become a fascinating and interesting person who people look up to, which flatters tome’s ego enough that she lets him “intern”. watches teru’s show and thinks he’s soooooo cool.

TERU: got in a fight with mob in middle school (again, mob didn’t have reigen to preach nonviolence so mob just kinda. wiped the floor with him lmao). teru holds the BIGGEST grudge about it and mob barely remembers it. nowadays, an incredibly popular tv psychic (haters will say its cgi) who is super popular with teenage girls and stay at home moms alike. because mob didn’t have her nonviolence rule, she wasn’t pushed to her breaking point and instead just one-hit KO’ed him, so he didn’t completely lose his dignity as a child, but he did take a hit to his ego and lost his middle school friends. he then rebuilt his following in high school, but also doesn’t really have friends, just lackeys.

RITSU: mob’s estranged brother. they never worked through their complexes regarding each other, so they grew apart and have barely spoken since they moved out of their parents’ place. now a successful office manager and utterly bored with life; going up the corporate ladder out of momentum if nothing else. allies with dimple out of boredom, and is actually more gung-ho about starting a cult than dimple is.

TOICHIROU: BABY TYRANT. runs salt middle school like it’s the fucking navy. aspirations of grandeur, wants to rule the world and frankly would do it tomorrow if he could. student council president, hand picked the rest of the student council (the rest of the super 5). uses psychic powers for intimidation

SERIZAWA: an anxious middle schooler who towers over everyone. his official title is “student council vice president”, his actual role is “hired muscle and toichirou’s yes-man” (yes-boy?). he considers the rest of the super 5 his friends, but doesn’t really know what friendship is. still has the umbrella. he and reigen end up becoming friends by accident, and reigen helps him break toichirou’s hold over him and basically enlists him into working for tome & mob.

DIMPLE: i’m gonna be real dimple is hard to ageswap because he’s like, 100 years old or whatever. so dimple is mostly unchanged, still running scams in an attempt to become god, which keeps not working out for him. this is his 100th attempt, and this time ritsu gets roped in - and might actually be better at running a cult than he is????

SHOU: toichirou’s HUMILIATING dad. maybe a little too lax about the whole “my son wants to rule the world” thing. also a powerful psychic, but only ever uses his powers to complete very mundane tasks, which toichirou views as a waste. unmarried, toichirou’s mom was a one-night-stand and has asked to be out of the picture, which shou is fine with. 

MOGAMI: world weary at the age of 14. former golden child. discovered he was a powerful psychic very young, and used this power to help others. however, this quickly turned into him being consistently taken advantage of, and after a particularly bad incident, he became jaded and withdrawn. has some kind of history w dimple (disrupted one of his cults a year or two ago?). also watches teru’s show and thinks he’s a fucking hack

#i never do fandom au stuff so im like. sheepish about this #like am i doing it right........... lmao #some of these are def tropes common w other ageswap aus.... but i thought it would be fun to mix some stuff up a bit #also spreading my transfem mob agenda #mob psycho 100 #mp100 ageswap #my art #if i ever file the serial numbers off and make these ocs please be cool #but also i feel like theyre too attached to the mp100 universe to work as ocs #so here we are

[cimmeriana]

@lordgortrash

She felt so uncomfortable in her own skin, wriggly just from the fact that she knew everyone's eyes had been fixated on her ever since she'd stumbled herself to Moonrise Towers just... Hells, how long had it been? Almost half a month, maybe?

The journey just to get there all on her lonesome had been long and aggravating. Not to mention lonely.

Stumbling was far too graceful a word for it. Melinoe had barely gotten through alive had it not been for her tenacity and refusal to give up. Besides, was she truly so alone when the whispers in her head kept her company?

She had to admit, they did frighten her. She couldn't remember a single thing before she'd woken up to herself falling from the sky and plummeting to the crushing cold of ocean water. Truthfully, landing in the ocean had saved her when the alternative had been a landscape of rock. She was lucky, she supposed, that at least she had her life, her name, and a very mysterious illithid parasite that seemed to give her authority to a group known as the Cult of the Absolute.

With nothing else to go by, why wouldn't she just follow the trail of the Absolutist? At least whatever special the tadpole made her would guarantee her safety among them. And Melinoe was certainly in such necessary survival mode that she couldn't be picky.

What she didn't expect was to be greeted when she arrived to the shadow-cursed lands as if she were some lady royal that had gone away on holiday. It was... a little disarming to be greeted so casually by a general that she had absolutely no recollection of, but clearly knew her personally.

Perhaps it had been fate that drop her to the towers. To someone who just happened to recognize her. Perhaps with the Cult of the Absolute would be how she could regain her memories and find herself. Perhaps it would silence the dreadful whispers.

Melinoe opted to keep to herself int he towers, if only because she wasn't sure how she was supposed to act around the horde of cultists who had apparently been told she was someone important. Ketheric, whom she quickly gathered she was old "friends" with, didn't particularly seem too bothered by her voluntary isolation nor the fact she'd sequestered herself away to the library in the upper rooms. Whoever she was, apparently she was important enough she was allowed in areas most couldn't be.

It quickly became her place of comfort, a way for her to breathe without the pressure of trying to act a way she thought was expected. A place for her to breathe as she tried to make sense of the violent voices in her head and the feelings of deja vu. Today was such a day that she retreated to it, claiming the desk for herself as a scatter of books and scrolls laid before her. There had to be something about her in one of them, surely?

#verse ; midst: shadow is the greatest teacher #ode ; do not fear the shadows but take reign of them #sonnet ; ray #lordgortrash #masterwork ; the lady of dread #ship ; an offer from an archduke #ship ; loviatar's blessing and bhaal's curse

[lost-in-interwebs]

pls you gotta tell me about momma 🥹

AAAAA

I apologize if this is super super corny.

Momma is the daughter of surviving member of the Children of the Cathedral. In Fallout 1, the Master and his cronies used severe brainwashing techniques on members of the cult in order to breed total submission to the Master. It also helped that he could invade your mind and senses, make you hear things. This survivor was so devoted to the Master that he wanted to resurrect him somehow. As seen in Fallout 2, Mariposa is not completely destroyed and the Enclave was using the base to create their own brand of mutants. This survivor got there waaaaaaaaaaaaay before they did. He dunked his young daughter in that vat for much longer than was necessary and she became gooey and malleable just like the Master before her. It broke her mind, terrified her, shattered a sense of self. She was just a teen at the time. Her father had offered up her body as vessel to a soul that was never coming back.

So her father kept pushing it. Had her absorb creature after creature, mutant after mutant. He sought brilliant minds and ferocious predators to create the perfect body for the Master. But the Master never came.

Soon, he was old man, frail and feeble. Begged his daughter to absorb him so that he could be one with the Master when he would arrive, to see his return. She refused. The thought of his constant presence in her thoughts for the rest of her unnatural life was a fate worse than death. She crushed him under one of her massive tendrils and burrowed under the earth. The hole she left in the California desert was quickly covered in dust and never seen again.

Momma was able to dig and crawl and tumble her way into the prickly forests of the North, settling into a cave to hide her appearance and growing powers. The FEV did make her smarter and stronger. She was able to reach people that traveled outside her cave and she would frighten them away, worried that her massive hunger would over take her or that she would become seriously injured upon discovery.

But she's so lonely. She misses people and music and food. She misses flirting with boys at the shops in the Hub and the library and the way the Cathedral used to make her feel important. She misses the man her father used to be. And she misses being a girl, not whatever this is.

For a hundred years or so, she sits in that cave, growing older and more powerful and more forgetful. She doesn't even remember her name anymore. She's kept pets and has been able to communicate with them via her powers and they always called her Momma so... the name stuck. She fuses with the cave wall. They become her bones and structure. Critters are safe or will bring scraps of food due to her influence.

A part of her wants to die, wants to be free, but there's this feeling that tells her thay she's waiting for something. She just has to wait a little longer.

TLDR; she's an unstable fev mutant.

#momma #ask #THANK YOU FOD ASKING I ALWAYS WANTED TO SHARE BUT I FELT IT WAS TOO CLICHE

[caranfindel]

Take these broken wings and learn to fly (15.20 coda)

het, but Wincest-compatible | about 2300 words | PG-13 for language | characters: sam winchester, sam’s blurry wife |

Julia has been widowed (God, what an awful word, widowed) for three years when she meets Sam. It’s a work-based friendship at first. She’s kind of lonely and sad, he’s kind of lonely and sad, and they gravitate toward each other. And then one evening they’re at a bar, the last ones left from an after-work happy hour, both of them drinking more than they should, and she thinks he’s kind and thoughtful and smart and he may be 10 years older than me but he’s still hot as hell and I enjoy being with him and I look forward to seeing him and maybe I should just… and she kisses him. He’s shocked; shocked enough to confirm that he wasn’t just hanging around hoping to make it out of the friendzone. And then he’s holding her face in his hands and he’s kissing her too.

It’s good. They’re good together. It’s not the earth-shattering, all-encompassing romance she had with Shaun. Julia knows she’ll never have anything like that again. Most people don’t even get one soulmate in their lives; no one gets two. And she knows Sam doesn’t have that same desperate love that Shaun had for her; she knows she’ll never have his whole heart. (She knows the woman he intended to marry was killed in a fire, she knows another woman he loved went back to her ex. She doesn’t know which of these women still owns that last piece of Sam’s heart.) But she loves Sam, and he loves her, and they get married.

(The sex is amazing. Sometimes he’s gentle, almost reverent, as if he’s afraid he’ll break her, and other times he’s fierce and passionate and almost tries to break her, and she loves both ends of the spectrum.)

She suggests they melt down her old wedding band to make a new one. It was an heirloom from her grandmother, a plain wide band of yellow gold that she loves, that she thought she’d wear for the rest of her life. But Shaun is the one who put it on her finger the first time. It doesn’t seem right to ask Sam to accept it now. A new band from the old gold seems like a good compromise. No, Sam says, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I know a way we can make it ours. He has the inside of the band engraved with the same symbol he wears tattooed over his heart, and makes her promise to never take it off. Bad luck, he says.

He’s such a contradiction. Scary smart, but as superstitious as an Appalachian grandmother. Calm and unflappable, but with a weirdly hyperactive startle reflex. Kind and empathetic, but capable of extreme violence when pushed to his limits (seriously, don’t walk your drunk ass up to Sam Winchester’s wife and lay hands on her, and don’t get mouthy when she tells you to back off) and just really, frighteningly skilled at that violence.

(A little frightening and also very sexy. Julia’s always had a thing for the hero type.)

They both have nightmares. One night Julia watches Shaun’s face melting under his gear and wakes with a cry of horror. Sam holds her as she tearfully describes living on the knife edge of constant fear that comes with loving someone whose job is literally running into burning buildings. I know, he says, over and over, even though he can’t possibly know. The irony of their first loves both dying in flames is not lost on her, but it’s not like his college girlfriend was a firefighter. It’s not like he watched her go to work every day and prayed she’d make it home alive.

Julia’s pregnancy is a wonderful surprise. She and Shaun had tried for over a year before she was widowed, and she just didn’t count on it happening with Sam. They agree not to name the baby after anyone they’ve lost. Let’s not name him after our pain, she says, and Sam is okay with that. (Or he isn’t. But ever since she showed him the positive pregnancy test, she’s known she could ask him for anything. She’s known he would rip out his heart and serve it on a platter if she asked for it.)

But they haven’t decided on a name yet when her water breaks four weeks early. When their perfect baby boy is born at 12:10 a.m., the nurse announces the date and time and Sam looks up at her in shock and blinks away happy tears and says it’s the 24th. It’s my brother’s birthday. Julia is flying high on endorphins; she loves this baby and she loves this man and she even loves his dead brother she never got to meet, and she says it’s got to be a sign; let’s name him Dean.

She takes off her wedding ring, just this once, to have Dean’s birthdate engraved on the inside. Sam does the same with his own ring. He insists they go to a jeweler who will engrave while they wait, rather than leaving the rings there. She waves a hand at her lumpy postpartum body. You afraid someone’s gonna make a move on all this if you don’t keep a ring on it?

He laughs at her and says you’re onto me, even though he’s the one who needs to be locked away, still with that long lean runner’s body and the amazing shoulders and the goddamn dimples. I just don’t like us being without them, he says. He is a sweet, sentimental fool and she adores him. He bends down to kiss her, carefully maneuvering the baby he’s wearing in a sling, and Julia looks at this man and this baby and this life she didn’t think she was get to have and knows she’s happier than she has any right to be. And she’s relieved when Sam slips the ring back onto her finger, this ring imbued with the men she loves, so maybe he’s not the only sentimental fool.

(One thing she loves about Sam is that he understands why she feels guilty that Shaun didn’t get to share this life with her.)

In July they light a little candle for Dean’s six-month birthday. When Julia wakes the next morning, Sam’s side of the bed is empty and cold. She finds him cuddling their sleeping baby in the living room. I got up to give him a bottle, Sam says. I guess I just fell asleep out here. His red-rimmed eyes and empty coffee mug suggest he didn’t actually sleep at all, but, well. They’re both battling their own private demons. If a night cradling the baby gives Sam some peace for whatever reason, she’s glad of it.

Sam’s fierce love for their child takes her by surprise. If Julia has 90% of his heart, his son has 110%. He parents with a vengeance, is the only way she can think of to describe it. Like he’s making up for something. She doesn’t feel slighted, but it’s impossible to ignore that ever since Dean was born, Sam’s prime objective has been to make sure the boy is happy and safe. Everything else comes second.

(When she notices Sam has been carefully marking his tattoo symbol onto Dean’s clothing, hidden near seams and always in a color that almost matches the fabric, she decides not to say anything. He gets a little funny about his superstitions sometimes.)

Sam desperately wants Dean to have a sibling, and they try for another one, but it doesn’t happen. Julia reminds him that they’re lucky to have even one child. That having a sibling is not a lifetime guarantee of companionship and love. She should know, after all, since Stephanie cut her off after she married that asshole Scientologist and decided she couldn’t have a relationship with anyone who wasn’t also in their stupid cult.

Dean has plenty of friends and tons of activities, which Sam encourages with an almost religious fervor, but he never pulls away from his parents. They have so much in common, Sam and his son. Instead of rebelling as a teenager, Dean seems to grow even closer to his father. They spend hours together, paging through the ancient books in Sam’s study (she hates them, they smell musty and make her sneeze) or driving in the old Chevrolet. They even travel together sometimes, visiting those friends of Sam’s that live up north somewhere. Julia met them at the wedding and they were perfectly nice, thrilled to death that she and Sam had found each other. But she always feels like an outsider when they’re around, like they’re part of something she’ll never understand. So much history, with Sam and the brother she never got to meet. They absolutely dote on Dean though, and he seems to love them too, so the boys’ trip to Sioux Falls becomes an annual event.

(Dean is 14 years old when he comes home from one of these trips with his own version of the tattoo.)

When Julia is diagnosed with cancer, Dean is 16 years old. Sam does his best to ensure life goes on as normal for their son but somehow never neglects Julia’s needs. He throws himself into research and is always on top of the latest treatment, always at her elbow with the top internet-recommended remedy for her side effects, making sure both she and Dean have everything they want and need, all the attention and support they can tolerate. She doesn’t know when, or if, Sam actually sleeps. When she feels up for it, he arranges experiences for the three of them. A week lying on the beach, a weekend in New York City, a night in the mountains looking at the stars. When we look back on this time, he says, I don’t want us to only remember how much it sucked. I want us all to have good memories too.

(She doesn’t know why he’s concerned about her memories. There’s a good chance she won’t have much time to enjoy them. But it’s good for Dean. She doesn’t want this to ruin Dean’s childhood.)

Sam insists Dean go away to college as planned. Julia agrees, although she’s kind of surprised he’s willing to let the boy out of his sight. Aren’t you going to miss him? she asks.

So much, he answers. But this isn’t about me, and what I need. It’s about him. They drive Dean to school in the ancient Chevrolet. Supposedly because the trunk has room for all of his stuff, but Julia is pretty sure it’s just one last sentimental road trip in the old thing before Sam retires it. When they pick Dean up at the end of the school year, it’s in her SUV. Dean promises his father, more than once, that he’ll restore the Chevy someday.

Five years after Julia’s diagnosis, she’s sitting in the doctor’s office learning that her last remission was her last remission. There are no more options. She has months, not years. Sam clutches her hand and nods, once, as if to say I should have known this would happen; I should have expected something like this. Then he takes her home.

It’s a blessing in a way, he says late that night, after a little too much to drink. Knowing what’s coming. Having time to say goodbye. You don’t always get that. And yes, she knows this as well as anybody does.

Sam has always been supportive of her choice not to contact Stephanie, but one day he says Jules, I promise I’ll never bring it up again. It’s just that I don’t want you to have any regrets. I don’t want you miss the opportunity to say things that you’ll wish you’d said. Julia isn’t sure Steph will speak to her. She’s not even sure she’ll have the same phone number — they haven���t spoken since Dad’s funeral, a year after she was widowed — but she makes the call. And Steph answers. And cries. And comes to visit, where she hugs and cries some more. Sam watches it all with a sad smile for a while, then disappears into the garage to sit in the old Chevy.

When Julia takes her last conscious breaths, Dean is holding one hand and Sam is holding the other. She squeezes her son’s hand and thinks I love you, dear boy, and I’m sorry I have to leave you. She squeezes her husband’s hand and thinks thank you for giving me this, thank you for taking care of me, thank you for loving me and letting me love you. Then she closes her eyes and lets the soft, warm darkness take over.

And then. Then she wakes to a cool breeze and the sound of chirping birds. She’s standing at a lake she recognizes. It’s Shaun’s favorite fishing spot. And Shaun is there, waiting for her. And everything is okay.

Sam does show up eventually. Julia’s sitting on the porch of the cabin with Shaun, enjoying the perpetual nice day (sometimes a spring morning, sometimes a fall afternoon, but always nice) when she hears the familiar rumble. It cant be, she thinks. It can’t be that old car. But it is.

I’m glad you found someone with good taste in cars, Shaun says, as Sam unfolds himself from the driver’s seat. He looks exactly as he did the day she met him; no glasses, only a little grey at his temples. Still tall and strong and beautiful. She runs to meet him and embraces him as Shaun watches from the porch.

You found Shaun, Sam says. I’m so happy for you, Jules. I really am. He doesn’t seem to have any intention of joining her (their) Heaven permanently, but he doesn’t seem to have anyone else with him either. Where is the dead girlfriend? How is this fair?

They talk about Dean, and Julia’s heart swells with pride over her strong, smart, kind, brave son. He’s like you, she says. He’s just like you.

Sam shrugs. He’s a Winchester.

But what about you? she says. You’re not — you’re not alone here, are you?

Nah, he says. I’m good. I promise.

(Eventually Julia meets the first Dean, and she understands.)

===

I know a lot of people have mocked Sam's blurry wife, but I actually have grown to love the concept. Because it means she can be anything we want her to be. And yeah, initially I liked the idea of her being Dr. Cara, or Eileen. But now I don't think that would happen. I think Sam would have to start fresh to have that kind of relationship. And I also like the idea of Sam's wife having her own soulmate somewhere, waiting for her, so she's not a huge part of Sam and Dean's shared Heaven. I mean, they're gonna visit, obviously. And then they'll go home to their soulmates.

The title is from "Blackbird" by the Beatles.

#spn #15.20 #my fic #episode coda #sam winchester

[faeirs]

I am going to gently peel away Edolon’s layers like an especially fucked up onion in this post because I haven’t really seen anyone analyse him so far.

[Warning: talks of cults, religion, and death + spoilers.]

Now, the intent of this is not to invalidate anyone’s point of view, nor is it to upset anyone or make them feel bad. The intent of this analysis is actually to bring attention to his trauma and issues, as I personally have not seen anyone partake in said activity so far (keep in mind I’m making this post on the 4th of March, 2021), and I wholeheartedly enjoy shining light on subjects that usually don’t get talked about all that often. The intention of this post is to simply encourage a more sympathetic behaviour towards the purpleblood in question.

I will say it outright before I go into detail — I wholeheartedly believe that Edolon is a victim. I do not think of him as a villain, at-least not by the definition that we are the most familiar with. This does not mean that I’m justifying his actions by any means, it just means that I’m giving a reasoning for them. Being a victim that is deserving of help, therapy, and love, and having done a few morally questionable things yourself, are not necessarily exclusive sets of traits, and I genuinely wish that this mindset was more common.

Now, to get on with the actual analysis:

As I said earlier — Edolon Vryche is a victim. Of what, you ask? A-lot of things. Child neglect, isolation, falling into the hands of a cult and then being used as a ‘secret weapon’’, constant underestimation and possible degradation, constantly being plagued by feelings of helplessness, manipulation, being forced to murder his lover, and then eventually losing one of his hands. I feel like all of this often goes unseen by the fandom but he has led a very tragic and unfortunate life and it is no wonder that he is so desperate for control and power now.

We are well-aware of the fact that Clarud Enthal, better known as The Executive, severely wronged Edolon in some manner. Of-course, you could presume whatever Edolon said in regards to him to be nothing more than lies to gain the sympathy of others but I would have to disagree. He clearly did not care about how the audience perceived him; he couldn’t give less of a damn about them. Not only that, but through Clarud’s previous interactions with Sestro, I think we can all safely agree that he wasn’t the most reliable man in the universe. If we can sympathise with Sestro’s situation in regards to The Executive, what’s stopping us from giving Edolon the same treatment? Especially once you realise that he was actually treated much worse, too. Clarud literally isolated Edolon — he neglected Edolon and was not the figure that he should have been in his life. Edolon truly was denied what was rightfully his, not only in terms of inheritance but also in terms of love and support.

While we’re on the subject of love and support, let’s discuss Edolon’s former lover — Seinru Narako, the Witch of Light. It’s safe to say that Edolon didn’t get to associate with other people on a deep and vulnerable level, so Seinru was really his only source of comfort and affection. Isn’t it slightly unnerving for a character that has been stated to be ‘subtly manipulative’ in their Wikipedia page to be the only form of solace for another? It has been stated that he was rather dependent on them too — it’s understandable, considering they were possibly the only one to ever show him any sort of affection or love, but concerning nonetheless. We only got to see Seinru twice; first in the “[S] WHAT DID YOU DO TO THEM.” video, and then on the 1102nd page, as well as three that following ones — who knows for how long they had been manipulating him. They kept on talking about how fruitful the entire process would be for him, but let’s face the facts; it wasn’t for his sake, it was for the sake of the cult.

It makes even more sense once you realise the manipulative nature of cults; they isolate you from everyone else and slowly corrupt your sense of self. Cults often get idolised or joked about for the sake of certain aesthetics but the trauma they cause is nothing to be taken lightly. Religious trauma in general, whether rooting from a cult or just faith in general (though especially cults), is nothing to be joked about — this is coming from someone with religious trauma themself. Being strongly associated with religion can make or break someone, depending on whether the bond is positive or negative. It can ruin your self-perception, your sense of identity, your priorities — everything.

Manipulation seems to be fairly prevalent in the cult that Edolon in a part of, too. Especially when you take a look at the 1535th page, in which Hogan is seen holding a paper depicting the full plan. Edolon is referred to as their ‘special weapon’. He isn’t a person to them; he never was. He has always just been a means to an end — a pawn to make their plans easier to come into fruition. No-one has ever treated him like a person, but especially not the cult. He thinks he acquired power after making that sacrifice but not really. It’s kind of sad, keeping in mind that he has probably always dealt with feelings of helplessness and powerlessness, as implied by a-lot of what Seinru said during the 1102nd, 1103rd, and 1104th pages of Vast Error. In-fact, I feel like we should give more importance to the discussion Edolon had with them; it brings attention to a-lot of things we might not have noticed otherwise. Such as Edolon’s fear of letting them down and disappointing them.

Narako said, and I quote, “All of this is for you. So please, don't reject this gift. Don't let me down, now of all times.” What stops us from speculating that Edolon doesn’t have a crushing fear of failure? Of letting everyone down? Of letting the cult down? Of letting his former lover down? Who is to say that this man is not plagued by the weight of the expectations placed upon him since childhood? So many expectations, and yet he was still underestimated. He was clearly still not seen as enough. I know everyone perceives Edolon to be this confident, intimidating figure but I suspect that couldn’t be further from the truth. I do believe that he is a competent and potent man, yes, but he is equally traumatised and scarred. He is insecure, he is frightened, but most of all — he is lonely. He always has been, and with the path he is leading, he always will be. Besides — wouldn’t it be ironic? For a character so desperate to preach a message of ‘happiness’, to never truly be happy? With how his life has played out, I doubt he has ever felt true joy at any point of his life; he is a man that was hatched into tragedy.

I should also mention that I ended up making one specific connection that makes things a bit more heartwrenching:

“Otherwise, everything we've accomplished together, all that we've worked so hard for up until this very moment… All that pain would be rendered meaningless.”

It’s quite similar to pretty much everything said in the tangent regarding pain that Edolon went on in the 710th page of the source material, but it especially applies to one specific line — “but here's the catch: when dealt in excess, the very idea of pain, no matter the cause… becomes simply— meaningless.” Is it not likely that a part of him still mourns her? I’d say it is very probable, especially when you keep the countenance he wore after being reminded of the whole event. He is clearly still hurting, and that is completely understandable; this man has been through so much — how can you not expect him to act the way he does? He is full of so much repressed emotion — so much anger and frustration, and no-one ever taught him how to properly express his feelings. His actions may not be justified, but his rage is. He is as worthy of love and therapy as the rest of the characters.

#edolon vryche #edolon #vast error #manipulate mansplain maleboss (edolon) #cult tw #religion tw #long post tw #death tw

[marshmallowprotection]

Write something self indulgent, coward (affectionate)

When his eyes met hers, she knew that that sensation that crawled down her spine wasn't a good one.

Ray was lovely in concept and even more comforting to imagine when she was very scared and lonely. When she felt so lost and hurt about the world. She saw herself in those vulnerable parts of him but being here, underneath his intoxicating and intense gaze left her feeling uneasy.

There was no explanation that she could give him to explain her circumstance, however.

How could she?

Would you believe anyone who was found unconscious on the outskirts of your cult of all things with a cell phone that held information on it with things that they shouldn't be aware of whatsoever?

Would you question reality or their sanity?

When awoke from however long she'd been sleeping, she was surprised to find herself in a dark room, laid back on a couch that didn't feel familiar.

She sat up and that's when she found herself in this situation, staring eye to eye to someone who was simply supposed to be a mere character in a game, not an actual person in the flesh.

She hurriedly rubbed at her eyes but no matter what she did, she could feel every touch and every motion. If it was a dream, it felt too real to be a dream.

His eyes seemed to glow under the blue lights from all the monitors. She couldn't help but gasp which drew his attention from the phone that he'd been staring at.

Her phone, she quickly realized.

There were a lot of flags tipping off in the back of her head and her stomach flopped with that feeling.

Out of everything she knew about Ray and poured her heart into about Ray, she knew it was only good in conceptual theory. Knowing someone as a character wasn't the same as being able to know a person, and that look in his eyes—

She knew that look very well and she knew what it meant. In a matter of seconds, she seemed to unpack her situation and how bad it was. She was in Mint Eye... she was with Ray, and Ray had her phone, which held all of the information to his life and the world around him.

That... it wasn't a good thing.

He was a hacker, too.

It didn't matter how good her passcode was. He likely broke into it to try and find information on why she was there. She wasn't a believer... she wouldn't have papers or IDs with them.

It'd leave him to check the phone, likely assuming that she was a spy or with his father. But, the sole fact that he hadn't said anything...

Now, that was the off-putting factor.

"Did you sleep well," his voice broke the silence as they maintained eye contact with each other. "You know, I hope so. I found you laying outside, in the gardens, all by yourself."

When he stood from his chair, she wanted to sink back into the fabric she was sitting on. She wanted to curl up on that couch and go into the darkness. She knew how dangerous Ray could be when he got it into his head that he wanted something.

That darkened look in his eyes slowly shifted into something saccharine. It made her heart flutter, dangerously. In many ways, it was her weakness. To be desired enough that someone would throw the world away just for you.

But that wasn't truly what Ray wanted to do. He didn't want to hurt others. It would kill him if he actually beat the RFA. She didn't have time to consider that or think about that. He was moving so fast that she couldn't think straight.

Ray kept talking, her phone was tucked away in his pocket as he strode across the room, "I assumed you to be a believer that got lost after their ceremony, but... to my surprise, and you're not a believer at all. In fact, you are... something else entirely."

She swallowed. Her voice wasn't listening to her and she opened her mouth, but words didn't follow. It was empty. What could she even say to him right now? What did he see? What did he know?

Ray paused as he stopped in front of her, leaning down to invade her space second by second, his hand reaching forward to grasp at her chin and nudge it back so she'd met his eyes. It was tender but very firm.

She'd looked at him with that deer in the headlights expression. His face was unreadable, but sheer intensity alone made her shiver.

"I don't know how to feel about this. You knowing everything about me, that is. Yet, you invoke such beautiful words of understanding of my pain and of my life. You seem to know me better than I know myself," his breath fanned against her cheek. "I never thought that the heavens were real, but they sent me an angel... an angel to help me finalize my revenge on that liar and that traitor."

"You understand me, you know everything that I've been trying to do, and you know what I want more than anything... I've seen it. I've read it. I never thought someone could care for someone like me, but... hahaha... hahahaha... I'm sorry, this must be very-very overwhelming, princess. I'm getting ahead of myself, but my heart is beating is so fast, and... all I can think about is how I've been given you, and all of these secrets..."

Her heart dropped as he leaned a little closer, the space between them shrinking by the minute.

"My heart is beating so fast... nobody's ever understood me the way you do. I'll admit... it was frightening at first to realize that someone can know so much about you but... you understand me. You know what I want. You've put care into knowing me... better than I know myself. All I see now... I see it now... I see what I've been given. You've handed me the keys to paradise by coming to me."

"You know everything... you know how to win... you've given me this blessing. I see it now, it's like a fairytale, isn't it, princess? I've never felt this confident before, but I've never had someone like you etch words of my goals so clearly the way you do... hahaha... hahaha."

"I don't even feel upset anymore that you know everything about me because I realize that this isn't wrong... this was always meant to be, princess."

"My heart... I've never felt this alive. Is this the power of your words? We may have just met for the first time... but I know it... I know it... I know it... you're the one... you're the one. You're the one that I've been looking for to help me achieve paradise. You've seen it, you've seen all of my past, present, and future. You've etched it. You've given it to me and protected me."

"When my Savior hears about our guaranteed success to paradise... she'll let me keep you," her stomach twisted when he said it like that. Ray wrapped her hands with his, that look in his eyes left her head spinning.

Keep you.

"Wouldn't you like that? Oh, no... of course, you would. I've seen it. You want me to keep you. You're just like me... you're obsessed... you know this thundering feeling of desire... and you want me to win... you want me to be strong..."

Her words twisted in her throat as she managed, "R—R—Ray, wait."

His lips curled into a smile that seemed to cement her fate. "That settles it, then, doesn't it? The paradise ahead... it can be... truly our paradise... you painted a wonderful picture. Don't you want to let me create it? I know you do... why else would God bring you to me? Why else would he bring me an oracle who sees my vision? Who sees exactly what I desire?"

"Why else would you come to me? Why else would this happen? It's a sign... it's a sign of our victory. I can't wait... I can't wait... so, let me know what you're feeling, Kaitlyn. Because... I've seen into your heart but now I want to hear it in your voice... this fairytale you've spun me, I'll make it mine."

#danger ray #thy spicy #ask #mod kait #self insert #ray choi #choi ray

[ask-iamnotanalicorn]

Previous: The Tirek Timeline

The Discorded Timeline

The new Element bearers had not appeared. With nothing to fall back on, Celestia went to face the return of her sister armed only with her determination and desperation. With the knowledge that anything other than subduing her sister would result in Luna’s death or her ponies’ enslavement, Celestia fought with all her heart. 

A thousand years hadn’t tempered Nightmare Moon’s madness, but it had grown Celestia’s magical skill. The clash of the last remaining alicorns filled the sky with light and darkness that could be seen across the entire country... including from the gardens of the castle in Canterlot, where a long-dormant statue waited.

If Celestia had known the danger... if she had known that the Tree of Harmony had grown weaker over a thousand years... if she had known that the Element magic used to imprison Discord was weakened with it, and he only needed one significant bit of discord to break the last lock on his prison... she might have preferred allowing Nightmare Moon to take the throne. 

Because two alicorn sisters displaying their ground-shattering discord across the skies was more than enough. 

Discord caught them mid-battle...and was honestly kinda irritated to find them more focused on fighting each other than challenging him. He couldn’t even set up a good game for them to lose at before he took over! He’d just have to fix that with a bit of chaos magic. A quick boop to the heads, and... well, things didn’t turn out quite like he expected. Celestia became haughty, snide, and violent, but Luna changed out of her (decidedly tacky, but what could you expect from pony fashion) goth look and turned all nice and weirdly remorseful. Luna tried to appeal to her sister, Celestia (who now had an interesting tinge of fire in her mane) unleashed some demeaning verbal attacks, and pretty soon it looked like they were gearing up for another fight, and...

Well, this was stupid. They were so focused on each other, they weren’t even paying attention to him! He’d fix that with another boop on Celestia’s noggin - really annoying, having to un-chaos someone, but at least it put the two ponies on the same side so they could get their priorities straight and focus on...

Ah, yes, there it was! Just what he’d waited for these past thousand years: two alicorn sisters, both staring at him with horror and worry and that oh-so-precious pony determination. Too bad they had already worn themselves out with their fight over who-knew-what. They were almost pathetically easy to overpower, especially with not an Element in sight.

The princesses were his playthings. Equestria would be shifted and reformed under his chaotic whim. And none stood able to challenge him.

The Reign of Discord had begun.

----

Meanwhile, Salespitch was visiting Canterlot at just the wrong time, and... 

Well, what do you think happens when a lord of chaos notices a pony standing in the middle of the road, trying its hardest to not show how petrified it is, and it has a horn and wings but clearly no alicorn magic? And then said lord of chaos investigates said pony out of curiosity, mocks him about playing princess, and is amazed when said pony actually gets annoyed enough to scold Discord that no, he is NOT an alicorn, he’s never WANTED to be an alicorn, and he would really prefer it if people didn’t mistake him for royalty when he’s just a stallion with a genetic mutation trying to live a normal life!!!

Discord thought that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. 

Long story short, instead of Discording Sales’ personality, Discord just... made his biggest annoyance a reality. Obviously he didn’t give Sales FULL alicorn powers, and what powers he did give him are pretty wonky - the ability to turn random objects into suitcases, and fly upside down, and speak in a dramatic Royal Canterlot Voice at random and totally inconvenient times, etc. The royal regalia was a stroke of genius inspired by one of this new era’s “cartoon characters,” a perky little alicorn called Prince Smiley. (The fact that Sales had once dressed as said character for Nightmare Night was sheer coincidence, although Discord would have found that even more perfect.) 

Obviously Sales was horrified, which is really the wrong reaction, because it just made the whole thing funnier to Discord and thus made the draconequus that much less likely to forget about Sales and go pester other ponies. Anonymity is your friend in Discord’s kingdom.

Now, Discord being Discord, he gets bored of things easily - including mocking and tormenting the powerless alicorn princesses. There’s a whole nation to twist and remodel into a true chaotic kingdom! Plenty of other ponies to give him some variety. Turning them to stone would be so gauche and ruin his single moral high ground over the ponies, so when Discord tires of his princess fun, he turns the alicorn sisters into fillies and leaves them with his newly-appointed Prince of Babysitting. After all, shouldn’t an "alicorn” be in charge of baby alicorns? Discord even made him a lovely glass castle with stone windows - more of a cage, really, since Sales can’t leave it, but he has a throne and everything! Discord doesn’t even have to worry about manipulating somecreatures into worshipping the new “prince”; Sales has already got his own cult that fawns over him outside the see-through castle like a fanclub, to Sales’ eternal embarrassment. Yes, this is clearly the best setup Discord could have come up with all around, takes-hand-off-and-pats-self-on-the-back.

Time passes with no end in sight for the madness that has turned Equestria into a kaleidoscope’d chaos playground. Sales kind of falls into a perpetually annoyed resignation. He tries to be grateful - at least he still possesses full control of his mind, unlike so many ponies outside his weird castle. He has the honor of safeguarding the princesses - although he feels guilty that he can’t actually protect them from Discord’s whims. But he can keep them happy, and the few times he gets to talk with them before or after they’ve been in their baby states, Celestia manages to give him a word of encouragement or gratitude. (Plus, well, they ARE pretty adorable as fillies... even if he is NOT the world’s best babysitter and has to figure things out on the fly. He really wishes his mom were here.)

There is one actual advantage to all this. Ironically, Sales has a closer connection with Discord than most; since Discord made Sales the caretaker of the princesses, he actually talks to Sales sometimes. Granted, he mostly treats Sales as a captive audience to whine at when Discord starts getting bored of whatever recent chaotic plan he’s enacted. After all, when EVERYTHING is chaos... well, chaos almost becomes normal, so Discord keeps having to up himself. Sales actually manages to have conversations with him sometimes, and he’s gotten a glimpse of the truth even Discord can’t or won’t recognize: that he’s lonely, dissatisfied, and lacks a real sense of purpose or fulfillment.

Sales has to treat carefully, since annoying or upsetting Discord too much results in chaotic ‘punishments’ that are usually more disorienting and frustrating than actually harmful. But Sales has started picking his ear a little bit with hints that maybe Discord is bored because most creatures subject to his chaos don’t enjoy it like he does? Maybe sharing fun WITH people is better than just having fun for yourself at others’ expense? I mean, look at you, Discord, the only pony you really talk to is a nobody you made into an alicorn just to embarrass him.  That’s a pretty lonely way to live, isn’t it?

Sometimes Discord listens while making snarky comments. Other times Discord gets irritated and turns Sales into a tiny alicorn who has to ride around on baby Celestia’s back and try not to get stepped on (or something of that nature). But Sales keeps trying and hoping and praying he’ll get through, because if they ever hope to stop Discord’s reign of chaos... well, it might just take teaching the Lord of Chaos what friendship is.

Even if the only pony currently able to make the effort finds him super annoying.

-----

Fun Facts About The Discorded Timeline:

- Yes, Luna’s popsicle is her cutie mark. I suppose once she digests it it will reappear back on her flank. XD

- Cadence hasn’t become an alicorn yet in this timeline. The chaos events do lead to her meeting Shining Armor, though, because TRUE LOVE and such :D

- Sales’ cult ABSOLUTELY LOVES THIS SITUATION. I mean, a lot of them hope/expect that Sales will eventually break free and defeat Discord now that he is showing his true alicorn might. Sales yells at them through the walls sometimes, but they have a hard time hearing him, so naturally they make up all sorts of “godly” nonsense he’s supposedly sharing.

- Discord did in fact accidentally cure Luna of the bad magic that was fueling and feeding off her old rage and paranoia. She and Celestia have pretty well made up through these weird events. And as Discord grows bored of their initial humiliation, his torments get less frightening and more, well, just weird, so life is KINDA bearable. Plus they really like Sales now (they don’t remember their adult selves while they are babies, but Discord makes sure they can remember every embarrassing toddler thing they did when they get aged back to normal.)

- Sales doesn’t know what’s going on with his family, they were back home when this happened. He’s hopeful they didn’t get affected too badly. In fact, Featherhorn (his hometown) got turned into a cardboard village and a few ponies had their heads swapped around, but Discord hasn’t made any connection between them and Sales, so he doesn’t think anything special of the place. Mostly just chocolate rain, flying rhinobunnies, and corncob trees. Everypony agrees it could be worse (but not out loud, that’s just ASKING for trouble!) Also Per talks backwards now, but everyone can still understand her (somehow) so it evens out.

- Black DOES run into Discord at one point while trying to sneak into Sales’s castle. Discord thinks he’s just another of Sales’ fanclub, so he turned him blue and forgot about him. Black finds this super annoying, especially when he can’t change his color no matter what magical disguise he makes.

- Don’t even worry about Sombra, he’s not touching a Discorded Equestria with a ten foot pole. Honestly Discord probably went after him as soon as he showed up, adding the Crystal Empire to his chaos kingdom. 

- The Changelings are staying the HECK away in their nice little magic-negating castle, the only safe haven from Discord. Pony refugees actually try and go there, although it is tricky to get around the thick forest of living candy Discord erected all the way around their territory. Those who do get in exchange servitude and donations of love for safety. It keeps the changelings fed and the ponies feel safer working for bug-ponies in a place of order than out in the madness of Discord’s land.

- So as you might imagine, Sales can’t break through the glass of his glass castle. If he were to try and smash through the stone windows, though... let’s just say he feels really smart AND really dumb while making his escape attempt. It doesn’t go over well with Discord, especially when he manages to successfully pawn the baby princesses off to some of his cult members (one of whom is Black, don’t worry), who hide them away. This leads to a rather heated conversation when Discord catches up with him... and perhaps a moment of truth where Discord might realize he actually does maybe kinda sorta consider this silly brown pony a friend who he possibly doesn’t want to severely punish as a warning to other ponies who might defy him. Maybe.

- Art note: I didn’t draw a background for this one initially, and then I got around to coloring them and knew it needed SOMETHING. Came up with the glass castle with stone windows because that seems Discord-like. Also baby bottle trees. The idea for breaking the stone windows was literally last minute as I wrote this, so bonus!

Next Week: Industrial Devolution (Flim Flim Universe)

#mlp art #mlp comics #mlp ask blog #IANAA #discord #mlp discord #salespitch

[miskatonicaquarium]

Weird Fiction/Cosmic Horror Recommends

In a time of general uncertainty and anxiety, one thing that is certain is that weird fiction/cosmic horror has got your back. If you like to combat your growing sense of existential dread by reading about other people’s growing sense of existential dread, this is a list for you. Where texts and shows are available online, I have included links. Where they are not, I have included links to where they are available to buy.

Books

Agents of Dreamland – Caitlin R Kiernan

Government agents, ritual murders, a doomsday cult and a glitch in NASA’s interplanetary probe all feature in this deeply frightening and deftly written novella that takes classic Lovecraftian tropes and expands on them with mesmerising skill.

Wanderers – Chuck Wendig

When a sleepwalking epidemic hits America, those affected head towards a destination known only to themselves. Desperate to keep their loved ones safe, ‘shepherds’ follow the growing group to protect them on their journey. This is an incredibly rewarding read stuffed full of complex characters, apocalyptic horror and a long hard look at human nature.

Winter Tide – Ruthanna Emrys

After the government raid on Innsmouth, Aphra and Caleb Marsh are the only inhabitants of the town to survive the desert internment camps. When confidential, dangerous magic is stolen from Miskatonic University, the FBI are forced to turn to the last of the Marsh’s for help. An evocative and sympathetic novel that takes the antagonists of Lovecraft’s works and paints them in a new light.

The Fisherman – John Langan

This is considered to be a modern classic of the genre and for good reason. It’s best to go into this one as blind as possible so I’ll just leave you with this little quote: "I know Dutchman's Creek runs deep, much deeper than it could or should, and I don't like to think what it's full of."

Carter and Lovecraft – Jonathan L. Howard

A homicide detective turned Private Investigator finds himself embroiled with the last known descendant of H.P Lovecraft, Emily Lovecraft. When deaths that have an eerie resemblance to the writing of Emily’s ancestor begin to plague the area, the investigator finds himself drawn into a world he thought didn’t exist beyond fiction.

Rosewater – Tade Thompson

The first in an award-winning trilogy that blends science fiction into the weird in near future Nigeria. When an alien biodome manifests in the landscape, a select group of people in the surrounding area begin developing psychic abilities. A winding, disturbing tale with an original setting, voice and characters; this is the perfect read for those looking for a fresh take on the genre.  

North American Lake Monsters: Stories – Nathan Ballingrud

I am hugely obsessed with this – Ballingrud uses tropes and characters we are all familiar with and uses them to tell stories that shed light on the plight of rural, poverty-stricken America. He is a masterful author with a true gift for atmospheric writing (‘Late summer pressed onto this small Mississippi coastal town like the heel of a boot. The heat was an act of violence.’) and this collection will appeal to fans of Ligotti and Barron as well as those who are unfamiliar with the genre.

The Ballad of Black Tom – Victor LaValle

This is essentially a retelling of Lovecraft’s The Horror at Red Hook (but without the blatant racism, hooray!). A slow burn, cosmic horror noir featuring a who’s who of the Cthulhu Mythos, for those interested in the genre who do not get on with Lovecraft’s writing or the man himself, this is an excellent way to get all the good stuff without the bad.

Anthologies

A Lonely and Curious Country: Tales from the land of Lovecraft

Seventeen stories about Lovecraftian horrors in the most unusual of places. Lots of these work as mini-sequels to Lovecraft’s original stories so this is a good companion for those familiar with his work.

Lovecraft Unbound

As I’ve said before, Ellen Datlow is a powerhouse of anthology editing. Featuring a great spread of familiar mythos faces and more thematic takes on the genre, Lovecraft Unbound is one of the best collections out there.

Book of Cthulhu

There are a couple of these! All feature some of the best contemporary authors writing weird fiction. Quality of individual stories sometimes varies in Lovecraftian anthologies but that is not the case here. The first is particularly good as it also contains stories from older, more obscure writers who are hard to get in print.

Shadows of Carcosa

Twelve short stories that feature everything from the land of carcosa to the traditionally Lovecraftian setting of the cursed hills of New England. All of these are shorts written by classic writers such as Poe, Stoker, Bierce, Chambers and Blackwood.

Lovecraft’s Monsters

Another collection edited by Datlow. This one is particularly fun as it features illustrations, as well as a story by Neil Gaiman. Lovecraft’s Monsters is amongst my favourite of the anthologies as it is based solely around the creatures that crawl and squirm through the mythos. It’s also available as an audiobook!

Children of Lovecraft

Fourteen short stories including authors like Stephen Graham Jones, Orrin Grey, Caitlin R. Kiernan and Livia Llewellyn. Full of body horror, dread, surrealism and one of the best opening sentences to any short story.

She Walks in Shadows

A monumental, fascinating collection comprised of exclusively female authors. Offering a long overdue look at and development of the female aspects of the mythos, this collection gives a voice to the previously unheard. For those looking for a diverse, original and often deeply disturbing reading experience, this is your anthology.

Available online for free

The Lovecraft Ezine has a great archive here of all its previous issues

Weird Fiction Review is an excellent resource for online fiction – both excerpts from books and stand-alone short stories.

The Online Books page has direct links to the issues of Weird Tales magazine published between 1923 – 192. 

TOR.COM is an amazing resource for all kinds of science fiction and fantasy shorts. This is a link specifically to Lovecraftian fiction. There’s also lots of interesting things to read under the tag cosmic horror here.

Graphic Novels

Fatale - Sex, violence, cults, cosmic horror, imaginative period settings and gorgeous artwork. Fatale is one of the best comics set in the mythos out there.

Locke and Key - Many of you will be familiar with Joe Hill and Gabriel Rodriguez’s hugely popular (and now televised) series focused on a house above a portal to the plains of Leng.

Harrow County - Creepy, rural-based, folk horror series centred on a young woman who finds herself to be joined to the forest and the land in ways she could never have imagined.

The Squidder - A postapocalyptic Lovecraftian mess, I have included this because it is worth buying for the artwork alone. Ben Templesmith is an acquired taste but an incredibly talented illustrator whose work is uniquely suited to the mythos.

I have talked about these several times before but it is always worth checking out I.N.J Culbard’s graphic novel adaptations of Lovecraft’s stories, as well as the two anthologies that were released several years ago.

*** 

Films – Cosmic Horror

I have linked to the trailers for each of these, some are classics you will know, some are new. 

The Colour out of Space 

Die Fabre

The Dunwich Horror

The Endless

Event Horizon

The Void

Europa Report

Black Mountain Side 

Films – Folk Horror

The Ritual

They Remain

The White Reindeer

Night of the Demon 

Apostle

More generally, some good online resources for old/weird/out of print books are

Project Gutenberg – an online library of over 60,000 books in the public domain

Internet Archive – a great resource for obscure books (particularly historical)

Europeana – items from Europe’s galleries, museums, libraries and archives

Digital Public Library of America – similar to Europeana, but for America

Classic Literature – lots of 19th century gothic goodness in particular, but great for all the classics too!

And when it all gets too much and you feel like being your own creeping dread,  Here is a link to a fun game where you can be the rats in the walls. 

#this is an extremely long post y'all my apologies #lovecraft #weird fiction #book recommends #eldritch reads #cthulhu mythos #film recommends #graphic novels #lovecraftian #hp lovecraft

[sideblogformindtrash]

@starnight-whump

For Orfeu

✘ Have they ever committed a murder?

Yeah, a handful of them. Wrote about one on SOW - Drugging

△ Name one thing from their past that they regret.

Not having left sooner. His life was difficult afterwards, sure, but not as much as when he was on the cult.

✂ If they had to choose one weapon to carry forever, what would it be?

Pocket knife, and they already carry it pretty much constantly.

☠ Do they fear death?

Nah. He isn't eager to die, but not exactly scared of it either.

♱ What do they think awaits them after death?

Well they see ghosts, so they know that much. Other than that, they have some superstitions, mostly revolving around reincarnation.

☹ Name one person they would kill for.

Blue and Haru easily 💓

For Farlan

▼ What is their greatest fear?

He is afraid of failure and rejection. Fear of being an embarrassment. And lately, he is scared of being unable to care for BB and Pastel, or even hurting them.

✿ Would they ever trust dark or wicked magic?

No. Farlan for the most part is very cetic and does not believe in magic at all.

ϟ Have they ever gotten pleasure from causing others pain?

Yes. Both in consensual situations, and non consensually with Haru. In sexual and non-sexual context, as well.

♚ Do they consider themselves to be evil?

No. They regret their past actions and do think he was bad, but he doesn't believe he is truly evil.

™ Are they possessive?

Yes. A lot of the hatred he had for Haru started out of being jealous/posessive. He is working on it too, as well as his anger issues.

✔ Are they holding a grudge against anyone?

They are white resentful toward his father but not exactly a grudge.

◯ Do they believe in ghosts?

No.

For Blue

☣ Would they kill someone close to them if they had to?

Not intentionally, ever.

¿ Are they easily frightened?

Depends on what. They are very ok with horror media, games, and stories. But you just need to scream at him a little or act a bit more harsh and he will be scared.

╳ How would they react to seeing a loved one become possessed?

I feel like they would find it very entertaining.

For Haru

☣ Would they kill someone close to them if they had to?

If it was absolutely necessary to protect someone else, they might. Not for himself tho, just someone else.

For BB

☾ What is their favorite and least favorite thing about the night?

Their favorite thing is that they get to cuddle with Pastel, and then, they can spend some time thinking about their whumpees and stories until they fall asleep. The least favorite, is that sometimes it's the hour of the day that brings plenty of bad memories, and prevents them from sleep, and makes them feel so, so lonely.

For Orfeu, Farlan, Blue, Haru, BB, & Pastel

☢ Would they survive an apocalyptic situation?

Orfeu: yes

Farlan: a couple of weeks then die from food poisoning

Blue: yes, mostly because of Orfeu. He would eventually die from biting the wrong person or thing.

Haru: same as above. On their own, depends on the type of apocalypse. They might end up leading a resistance, who knows.

Bb: probably caused the apocalypse. They don't exactly die but don't exactly don't die either.

Pastel: he really would try then die really stupidly.

❣ If someone had the power to bring them back after death, would they want them to?

Orfeu: Only if he still had to take care of Blue and Haru.

Blue: No. He is struggling enough with a single life.

Haru: doesn't want to think about it, starts crying.

Farlan: yes, but also he thinks is bullshit.

BB: no. They don't die, they will ascend.

Pastel: yes. More scared of death than he admits.

♣ Do they believe the world is made up of good and evil?

Orfeu: no.

Blue: no

Haru: yes

Farlan: yes

BB: yes

Pastel: yes

☄ While watching a scary movie, are they the one clinging to a friend or being clung to?

Orfeu: clinging

Blue & Haru: being clung to

Farlan: being clung to

Pastel & BB: clinging

For Orfeu & Farlan

☼ If they had the choice to be immortal with one other person, who would they choose?

Orfeu: wouldn't want to be immortal at all.

Farlan: *looking at Orfeu*

웃 Do they believe in aliens?

Orfeu: yeah

Farlan: YEAH BUT NOT LIKE THE ONES ON TVV OK

#ask #orfeu and haru #blue needs a tag #Farlan B) #BB: Baby Blue #Pastel baby <3

[angst-fairygodmother]

Otherworldly (Klaus Hargreeves x Reader)

A/N: sometimes, I say words, and the words root themselves into my brain and then fics happen. I am yearning tonight (and also maybe feeling some anxiety based on the angst that slipped it’s way in here?)

P.S. Titles are hard and I hate them.

Word Count: 1426

You yawned, stretching and rolling over in the pile of blankets, pillows, and furs, the mattress sinking beneath your movements. It was much darker than it had been, the only lights in the circular space a thin shred of moonlight filtering down from the chimney hole and the faint red glow of campfire coals.

Sitting up, you kept one of the soft woolen blankets around your shoulder with one hand and awkwardly shoved boots onto your socked feet with the other.

It was noticeably, blessedly silent. You took that to mean that the unwanted guests that had come to visit you earlier were finally gone. But at the same time, you didn’t hear Klaus either, which concerned you and made you feel colder than the air possibly could. Ever since time traveling, you hated him being out of sight, the idea of losing him threatening to suffocate you it was so frightening.

“Klaus?” you called, wrapping the blanket tighter around you rather than hunting around in the dark for your coat, and wandering to the door-flap.

When the cult had been immediately overwhelming, their presence threatening to push you to a panic attack as they crowded about, Klaus had suggested sneaking off, just the two of you to his yurt in Iceland. You assumed at first that it was some sort of strange, Klausian innuendo. But, as it turned out, he had meant a real yurt, actually outside Reykjavik. You two had been here, blissfully isolated in a world of your own for going on three weeks, and part of you never wanted to go back to civilization.

Except when he wandered off into the rolling, snow covered land around you. Sometimes it was only for a few minutes, or not far from the yurt. Other times, he’d leave you for hours, with no idea where he was or what might happen to him. In his defense, you hadn’t told him what it felt like or the fear that gripped your heart in a vice, so used to being strong and supportive for him that you had long forgotten how to let yourself be vulnerable, how to need help without feeling weak. If there was one thing ingrained in you from your childhood, it was that weakness was a personal failing and negated any good or worth in you. Or at least, that’s what your dearly departed father had taught you.

Your breath was coming quicker, short, shallow bursts that warned of worse to come.

“Klaus?” you called again, more frantically this time, voice breaking.

You exited the tent, whipping your head around wildly to find him, blood racing in your ears when you didn’t spot him immediately.

“Y/N?” you heard his soft voice finally, just about the time everything was tunneling, as he rounded the large tent-structure. “I didn’t realize you were up.”

You nodded, not quite trusting your voice as relief washed over you.

“Well, since you are, there’s something I want to show you.”

You took his out-stretched hand, twining his icy fingers with your own, and let him lead you. To the ends of the Earth if he wanted to. You kept your eyes on your feet as you stumbled behind his surprisingly nimble steps up the rocky hills behind your abode. The higher you climbed in the darkness, the more you became nervous for a new reason, fearing that one of you would lose their footing and fall, and then one of you would lose the other as surely as if you were separated again in space and time, with no hope of reunion this time.

Finally, just as you were about to express your concern, you crested the top of the hills onto a wide plateau. A thin stream burbled nearby, cutting through rock and snow in a winding path that crossed yours before twisting away again to a shallow pool on the other side of the space. The wind whistled around you, making you shiver and marvel at how Klaus stood there, so calm and still despite the plummeting temperatures. It ruffled his long hair, promising hours of detangling later, which you found yourself looking forward to, taking advantage of the time to card your fingers through the soft curls in all the ways you both loved.

He turned around to face you excitedly and laughed.

“What?” you asked, frowning in confusion at his amusement.

“You,” he said, shaking his head playfully. “I know I’m beautiful, but this is ridiculous Y/N.”

“I…what is? I was just…admiring how free you look right now. Is that a problem somehow?”

His grin was blinding. “I bring you to this gorgeous sight and you’re too busy staring at me to even notice. It’s adorable.”

“I mean, I guess it’s a nice plateau, but you could have brought me in the morning.”

“Look up, you silly goose.”

You did you were told and felt the air rush from your lungs. “Oh…”

Above you both, the cobalt sky was dotted with stars like shards of ice and the pale white sliver of moon, and cutting through it all in ephemeral ribbons of pinks and green, dancing like the gowns of a hundred heavenly gods, was the aurora borealis.

Despite the stunning sight, your gaze wandered back down to Klaus who was watching you watch the lights, the flickering of the sky above you reflected in his emerald eyes and casting an unearthly pattern over him like some fae king come to steal you away. For a moment, he didn’t seem real, an illusion or dream only and it brought an unbidden sob to your lips. Once the first had escaped, it was like a floodgate opening and all of the fear and pain you had been feeling spilled forth.

Two strong but frigid arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as you cried, and even in your distress you instinctively opened the blanket so that it could cocoon you both.

“Hey, sh-sh-sh…” he murmured, pressing his lips to your crown. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything. I…I don’t know anymore,” you sniffed.

“Talk to me?” he asked.

And that was all he needed to say. Everything you had bottled up came flooding out of you, your tongue practically tripping over itself in your rush to explain your fears of losing him and how you missed your own time and everyone you knew and even though you wanted to spend forever with him, it was still lonely not knowing anyone and thinking that the rest of the Academy was gone, how being in the 60s and trying to move on made you feel broken and lost.

“I just…feel like everything’s gone and without it I don’t even know who I am, let alone what to do. And sometimes it’s like I can’t breathe because of it,” you finished, shaking your head and pressing your face to his chest and feeling his hug tighten.

“Oh, Y/N,” he sighed. “I understand. And it’s going to be okay. When it was just me, I wanted to be numb, or nothing at all. I wish you’d told me sooner, before it got so bad and I could have helped…”

“I…didn’t know how to.”

You both lapsed into silence for a while, simply taking in each other’s embrace, each other’s essence.

“How can I fix it?” he asked finally, breath fluttering the hair by your ear.

“I think you already did. I just needed to let it out and be told it would be okay,” you admitted sheepishly.

“Promise me you’ll talk to me from now on?”

You nodded. “I promise.”

“Good.”

He brushed a tender kiss to your lips and you felt him smile against you, before breaking away and twirling you in his arms so that your back was pressed to his chest and your head tucked perfectly into the hollow of his throat. You whined at the loss of his lips on yours and he chuckled, the feel rumbling through you.

“The lights aren’t this bright very often. We should enjoy it while we can,” he scolded.

You looked up at him, his profile rising above you, glowing in the night and completely serene, a truly magical sight, countering the very solid, real feel of his hold on you to create a strange certainty that he was indeed an otherworldly being, but he was yours and if he wasn’t real than neither were you. Comforted by the odd thought and by him, you smiled, turning back to watch the sky. And for at least a moment, everything was perfect.

#inspired by Klaus's line about having a yurt where they could go hide out #mild angst #but mostly fluff #Klaus Hargreeves x Reader #The Umbrella Academy fic #self-indulgent nonsense #I should have just called it 'Yurt' and been done with it #even though the actual yurt only plays a small role #implied Hargreeves!reader #I know basically nothing about Iceland other than it's one of the best places to see the northern lights. sorry if it's wildly inaccurate

[winebleeds]

an adhd dump because good luck connecting the dots

- most of the older generation of spencers married quickly to avoid having a child out of wedlock. arthur & lizzie, the grandparents, married when lizzie was pregnant with their eldest son, raleigh... and then robert & miriam married quickly when miriam was pregnant with their eldest son... raleigh... then sharon married her first husband after a pregnancy with their eldest son, nick. while dani married right after high school, it wasn’t because of a pregnancy (she just wanted to escape ellesmere) & didn’t have hannah until a couple years into that marriage. then lori, while pregnant in high school, decided not to marry the father who left by the time brandon was born. and uncle raleigh... died before he either married or had kids, even if he was 24 at dod.

- so because of what’s mention up above, robert told elizabeth that the spencers have a curse, where those that fall in love die young or experience limerence that leaves them miserable. and he gave his evidence where his older brother died close to marrying his girlfriend (though, her in-laws were giving her a hard time, so if uncle raleigh lived, they probably would’ve divorced) while the rest of the spencers were betrayed by someone and left stranded in heartbreak (lori) or in loveless marriage/divorce (like... himself, sharon, & dani). so he would tell elizabeth it’s better to be alone & never stay long enough for limerence to begin. so this is (one of the reason) why elizabeth struggles with relationships.

- even though robert mainly tell elizabeth all of that just to keep her close to ellesmere / dc (after all, arthur & lizzie remained married for decades & did love each other to the point heartbreak was consider a major factor of arthur’s death after lizzie died, considering he did die from heart failure). she was suppose to be the pedestal for him to step into the limelight of politics. where elizabeth would think she have agency but just be a spokesperson for whatever he wanted. and, yeah, he could strive for that career. hell, he’s a provost of a college. but he just feels any roots that could be planted for politics of him were burned at marrying miriam and the birth of raleigh. so he just put in a LOT of energy for elizabeth to accomplish his true dreams for him. like, if things went a different way, robert could’ve been a cult leader & his handling of his children shows that.

- i don’t think elizabeth realizes how little agency she actually had growing up because of her father. like, she wouldn’t hate jamie like she did in her younger years. and, if she stayed in the dmv area after high school, she still wouldn’t have agency. it would be slightly different if she went to stanford and then returned to dc, because stanford was too far away from robert’s grasp. hell, he could still have her under his control somewhere like yale, where she probably would’ve stay in politics or law school. aka elizabeth picking stanford was her best decision for her to obtain her personal freedom & independence. 

- speaking of jamie, a lot of his attention seeking comes from trying to get his parents’ affection, particular his father. so even the negative attention, like robert telling jamie to be quiet, was eventually something jamie knew he could obtain. jamie also caught on kinda quickly that any kind words robert gave jamie was in front of elizabeth & serving as a punishment for her / add to the twins’ competitive nature. but jamie still ate it up & egged elizabeth in hopes to get her in trouble for those few moments robert gave positive attention to him. 

- while lori tried to a parental figure to the twins (the others? idk her), she was still complacent with robert’s manipulation. like she knew elizabeth preferred machinery over politics. she knew jamie just wanted robert to see him as a son. but a lot of the early years where devoted to ellesmere, raising her own son, and, mainly, being petty around miriam since lori & miriam did not get along, so lori would team up with robert. and, even then, i don’t think lori knew how much of elizabeth’s & jamie’s flaws are become of him.

- but lori did try to give equal attention to all four spencers. it was just easier to spend more time with the twins when they wanted to help with ellesmere & be around the horses. lori could’ve easily forced raleigh & maddie to do things at pasture, but she encouraged the other two to do their own things even as it distance them from her. like, she read how raleigh just wanted to hang out with brandon & let him follow around her son (though lori & brandon had their own issues but that’s for another day). however, she did get raleigh to work at the office managing phone calls with sharon in order to help him get rid of his fear of talking. and lori did cook for maddie, & try to keep her company whenever on ellesmere once jamie left, but she knew ellesmere was lonely for maddie. but, yeah, it was usually lori (or lori getting an assistant at ellesmere) that picked up the kids at their own activities while robert was either too busy with work or elizabeth.

- maddie’s probably the most emotionally aware & stable due to not being / remember the instability of miriam & robert being in a house together / the divorce process. but she did suffer some the attention seeking like jamie, to an intent, and did cling to people once her older siblings left for college. her siblings are a lifeline for her, but she’s also not afraid to include others in her life that her siblings are completely frightened about. she believes in love while the others only see chemicals (raleigh), limerence (jamie), or a curse (elizabeth). 

- but didn’t i just mention limerence with robert & elizabeth? yes. but why is jamie connected with limerence? well, irene. there’s also the girl jamie dated in high school that he eventually ‘fell out of love’ where others gleam in his eyes. but, at the beginning, jamie was absolutely smitten at irene, or the idea of irene. mainly because she was sweet to him, but coy enough to not feel “easy” like anyone else. so he got to the point of thinking only about her nonstop, especially once they did start dating. but, the high from extreme popularity (espn is saying his fucking name) & consumption distract him from irene to the point the thoughts of her faded. once everything got into his head, and upon his downfall, this mind thought of her again, but irene, deserving better, left him for good. 

- he also experience limerence with the married woman that completely destroy his trust & heart but, as a general psa, i don’t discuss much about that affair. all i will ever mention is that it happened & it did damage to him. i will never give her a name, because even jamie didn’t deserve what she did. 

- overall, while the four spencers have the chance to get along & be close, they should just stay away from their parents, especially robert, and maybe even the rest of the extended family.

#oh boy the tags #pregnancy / #death / #abuse / #cult / #ask to tag #this was a lot tho there's some important info in here #( r. headcanon ) #( e. headcanon ) #( j. headcanon ) #( m. headcanon ) #( j. illicit affairs ) #( j. irene ) #( e. robert spencer ) #( e. lori spencer ) #( i. lori spencer ) #( i. spencers ) #( i. robert spencer ) #( e. jamie spencer ) #( j. elizabeth spencer )

[first-son-of-finwe]

So this is my “leaving the fold” essay, which I mentioned some time ago. I wrote this mostly for myself because writing things down always helps me make sense of them, but quite a few people expressed interest in it, so here it is. 

I was raised as quite a strict Orthodox Christian, and the religion is a huge part of my mum’s life. This is mostly my experience of its ideas and processes, and how and why I ultimately decided to leave. It’s a bit rambling, all over the place and very long, but I kinda wanted to post it somewhere, so 🤷

TW for mentions of abortion, alcoholism and general conflict.

When I was twelve or thirteen, my parents and I set off on one of our regular trips to Russia. We used to do this every year before time and money became restricted, and one of our compulsory stops was always a large, sprawling monastery on the outskirts of the city of Nizhny Novgorod.

It’s a place of smiling nuns but very strict rules, where God forms a part of every sentence and church is mandatory for both mornings and evenings. It’s a place of communal meals, harvesting vegetables and milking cows, ringing bells, and lots and lots of praying. For me, it was a taste of pure rural life. I loved running through the fields, swimming in the pond and helping out with the manual tasks of running a communal settlement. I gasped in delight when I saw the lone horse in the field. Deep down I was never meant to be a city kid, and being at the monastery fuelled my dream of living the simple life.

But the fact that we were there purely for religious reasons? That was only an afterthought. An obligatory thing I had to go along with, because the adults expected it. Perhaps I tried to feel the same spirituality they seemed to experience, but I never quite got there.

I put on the headscarf, held the candle, wrote the names of my loved ones on prayer notes for the living. I bowed to the icons, made the sign of the cross when everyone else did. But I never truly connected.

One year on the day of a particularly significant celebration, a huge icon was carried over a horde of kneeling worshippers, and my mum told me to kneel down and pray for my dad to recover from his alcoholism. And so I did.

This is something I’d been praying for for a long time. It’s something I was told to pray for at every holy site, and before every relic. And no, he’s never quit drinking.

But I already knew that he wouldn’t, even as I knelt, closed my eyes and begged whichever saint was on that icon to help my dad quit drinking. I simply knew that it didn’t work that way.

I knew it the same way I knew that Santa wasn’t real. Every child seems to have experienced a shock-horror moment upon learning that they’d been deceived, but I recognised him for what he was right from the start - a story. For someone who’s always thrown themselves wholeheartedly into stories and fantasy, I’ve always had a very clear distinction between fact and fiction - though I’ve also not been so close-minded as to think that there isn’t a grey area in between.

No matter how hard I tried to convince myself, I don’t think I ever truly believed in their version of what was supposed to be happening.

But I think my moving away from Orthodoxy truly began the day I heard my mum on the phone to her friend, who was at the beginning of a difficult pregnancy and was considering an abortion. She and her husband were on different pages with regards to this, though I don’t quite remember who wanted what. My mother’s advice was this: “Well you should really listen to your husband, because you know that a husband’s word is God’s word.”

Even being the believer that I was then, my immediate reaction was complete shock, followed by a thought process that went something like “Are you joking?? SERIOUSLY?”

And of course, it was hard not to think of my own father in his worst moments of drunkenness. So it seems “God’s word” is actually a whole lot of slurred, barely comprehensible nonsense occasionally sprinkled with some insults. That’s really the logic we’re going with here? And beyond that, how can you hand such a deeply personal decision to someone else??

When I went away to university for three years and spent considerable chunks of time away from my mother’s influence, my skepticism only deepened with every day. I couldn’t reconcile the science-driven environment I saw around me with the ideas being propounded in church. Sincerely believing in the Adam and Eve story, in this day and age? It didn’t compute.

Having said that, I would certainly not call myself an atheist even now. I think it is just as presumptuous to assume your absolute knowledge of the infinite universe and declare it contains nothing, as it is to declare that your religion is the only correct one. I find many things about the Christian God to be extremely convenient (just so happens to be an old white bearded man, oh fancy that), but I am certainly not convinced that there are no intelligent forces in the world, whatever shape they take. We are simply not in a position to know these things, and I’m okay with that. 

In turn, I treat anyone who claims to know them with intense suspicion.

Ultimately, leaving Orthodox Christianity was a long and painful process (I say ‘was’ in the past tense, but the truth is that it is still ongoing) filled with guilt, second-guessing, deliberate habit breaking and an extremely distressed and persistent mother. But my reasons for it boil down to four key things.

Their ideas did not match my ideas. I will never believe that women are obliged to be submissive to men. I will never believe that being gay (or in any way not straight) is a sin. I will never believe that Eastern Orthodoxy is the one true faith among all the other hundreds and thousands of faiths that exist on this planet. Living with your partner without being married is not a sin. Eating some chicken on a lent day is not a sin. A woman on her period is not “unclean.” Their ideas of good and bad, right and wrong seemed so incredibly outdated and arbitrary that it became hard to take anything they said seriously. And I felt so uncomfortable standing there, surrounded by people who I knew believed in all of this wholeheartedly.

Despite the religion branding itself as ‘Christian’, I don’t think I’ve ever heard any of the priests or worshippers talk about helping others. It is not on the agenda. People walk into church and think that because they’ve said their prayers, abstained from meat and dairy and then said their prayers some more, they’re now good people. But what have they done to make anyone’s life better? Who have they helped? Who have they listened to, cared for, understood? It’s not about that. It’s about making yourself feel good because you recited the Lord’s Prayer before eating your lunch.

The process of participating is extremely rigid, and trying to remember all those rules and traditions is honestly just stressful. Which hand do I kiss? How many times do I have to make the sign of the cross before approaching that super special icon? Do I have to touch the floor, or is that optional? Oh, everyone is kneeling...I guess I should kneel too. Once, I accidentally addressed the Archbishop as ‘Father’ and got a slew of disapproving looks from everyone around me. I think perhaps people find a certain kind of comfort and stability in routine, but having one imposed on you when you’re constantly unsure of the rules is not a pleasant experience.

Sometimes there is a very thin line between a religion and a cult, and Orthodoxy is toeing it a little too closely for comfort. I’ve seen it overpower people’s rational thinking and tap into their most powerful emotions in a way that’s honestly quite frightening.

The first step to leaving was progressively going to church less and less. I’d only ever really gone because my mum demanded it, but now, I put up a bit more resistance. I got screamed and yelled and cried at, and at first, of course I gave in. But little by little, I began to get the message across that I was simply not interested anymore.

Then, I deliberately made the choice to break certain habits. We always faced a row of icons on the wall and made a sign of the cross before leaving the house, and coming back in. It was such an ingrained habit that I did it automatically, and for the first few months, I had to physically catch myself in order to stop. That came with its own sense of guilt and hesitancy, and with the feeling that hey, now God is mad at you - hope a brick doesn’t fall on your head when you’re out there without his blessing.

The next step was removing the cross I’d worn around my neck ever since I’d been christened as a baby. Even now I can’t not wear something around my neck, so I have a little key necklace there in its place. Having a bare neck just looks too weird to me.

That cross came off and went back on at least three times. Each time I’d be persuaded, guilted, given the simple but effective phrase of “just do it for me.” I’ve removed it for what I hope will be the last time, and “just do it for me” won’t cut it anymore. If I converted to Islam tomorrow, would it be okay for me to ask someone to wear a hijab “for me”, even though they don’t share my faith? No, it wouldn’t. Religion and expression of religion is a personal choice, and not something you can strong-arm your adult children into.

Now, I’m in a fairly comfortable place where I’ve shed most of that initial guilt and am happy with my choices. I’ve even been back into church a couple of times just to meet a family member, only catching the end of the service - and even then, I’ve been reminded of exactly why I left. My mindset is simply too far removed to find any spiritual value in Orthodoxy.

Does my mother still try to get me into church? Yes. Are the attempts extremely mild and infrequent, compared to what they used to be? Yes. On one hand, I’d like to have a deep conversation with her and explain all the reasons why I have no interest in the religion anymore, but on the other hand, I know it’ll likely make her extremely upset.

Perhaps it’s better to just let it be.

#out of silmarils #religion #personal

[albatris]

GUESS WHAT TIME IT IS

IT’S RAPIDFIRE UNDERTOW CHARACTER RUNDOWN TIME YEEHAW LET’S GO

YOU CAN READ IT IF YOU LIKE

the setting: who the fuck knows

the time period: who the FUCK knows

the premise: amnesiac youth acquires a magically-enhanced sentient truck that runs on stories. because of reasons, she then embarks on a weird cross-country roadtrip, meeting equally weird people and investigating strange phenomena and curious magical goings-on. there is a ragtag gang of misfits and some world-saving involved also. and some dogs. yep

important caveat: this entire story is just my self-indulgent daydream universe. literally the entire thing? just for funsies. it’s my catch-all for ideas that don’t fit elsewhere. it’s my ridiculous worldbuilding melting-pot! it’s an excuse to string whatever wholesome and angsty moments I like together with whatever weird shit I think would be fun

the only motive behind anything I do in Undertow is “why the fuck not?” and that’s totally valid imo

and here we go. long post ahoy 

the bastards:

ASTER (they/she): Conveniently amnesiac protagonist! Aroace and genderqueer! Woke up one day on the side of the road with the keys to a weird truck that runs on stories instead of fuel, and now uses delivery driving work as an excuse to careen all about the country collecting friends and solving magical mysteries. Vaguely clairvoyant and can ~speak~ with the energy-flow of the universe. Dresses like they’ve fallen straight out of a cyberpunk anime. Chatty, over-excited, impulsive. Extremely full of love.

important tunes: “overture” by sleeping at last, “timebomb” by walk the moon (weird choice for an aroace character but bear with me)

KIT (he/him): Not the first random Aster gets into shenanigans with but the first who tags along for further shenanigans and also becomes a protagonist. Pan. Wouldn’t know what a gender was if it punched him in the face. Highly skilled necromancer who straight-up doesn’t believe in magic, currently trying to fulfil the dying wish of his late wife (to reanimate a t-rex). Awkward and standoffish and lonely, tries to pretend he’s cool but just really really isn’t. Would rather set his entire self on fire than admit he considers Aster his best friend. Schizotypal synesthete whose fashion sense can be described as “how many clothes can I layer on top of each other before I physically cannot move?”

important tunes: “body” by mother mother, “hunting season” by fences, “necromancin dancin” by bear ghost

MEG (she/her): Mad scientist mechanic who does tonnes of magical illegal shit to cars for funsies. An expert on bizarre vehicles! This is the person you talk to if you, idk, happen across a strange truck with sentience that eats stories. She hates people and lives completely isolated in the middle of fuck-off nowhere with sixteen dogs. Completely unhinged. Thinks clothes are for losers so wears as few of them as possible and I want NO ONE making this a weird sexual thing. She’s just a feral bastard maniac. She’s living my weird feral bastard in the woods dreams. She has no interest in labelling her sexuality or gender, but both can be accurately summed up with “how dare you fucking look at me”

important tunes: “the machine” by lemon demon, “a mask of my own face” by lemon demon............ there’s just....... lemon demon songs here ok........ I haven’t yet found the songs with the Peak Meg Energies

NOLAN (he/him): Bastard. Chaotic bastard. Is of some relation to Kit, possibly an older brother, possibly just some dude who decided Kit looked like a fun person to annoy for all eternity. Speaks entirely in riddles and cryptic poems, loves needless melodrama. Dresses like he’s going to the beach even when he isn’t. He has zero motives beyond fun and chaos and boredom, which sometimes leads to him working with the protagonists and sometimes leads to him actively sabotaging them. Role in the story ranges from “genuinely terrifying villain” to “weird almost-friend who hangs around with the heroes even though no one invited him and is just a general endearing nuisance”. Literally cannot die, because he has some seriously impressive and terrifying subconscious reality-bending powers and it does not occur to him that he can die. So he doesn’t. Unrelated, he’s the only Undertow character besides Beth who canonically dies.

important tunes: “complicated creation” by cloud cult, “when he died” by lemon demon (peak Nolan chaotic energies)

BAKER (he/him): Meg’s apprentice? Meg’s assistant? Doesn’t really know that much about cars and I think he landed in the role because he misread the job advertisement, but he tries to be helpful anyway. Very small lesbian. Possibly some form of vampire except in reverse? Listen. I don’t know that much about Baker but one key fact is that he’s solar-powered and sometimes he’ll just lie down on the floor unconscious mid-task and you have to haul him over your shoulder and lob him into the sunlight and wait for his energy to recharge. Easily flustered, hardworking, pleasant enough but not super great at Peopling. Also gets possessed at one stage but he gets better so it’s nbd

important tunes: “pink smoke” by the scary jokes, “featherstone” by the paper kites

???????? (??/??): The main villain. The big bad. I have no idea if this is a thing that has a physical form or if it’s just an abstract floaty intangible concept. This is the thing that briefly possesses Baker. This is also the thing that one-shot kills Nolan. Possibly it’s some kind of river-surface reflection monster that steals your face and becomes a fucked up version of you except it accidentally reflected some kind of ancient god and now the whole world is screwed. Possibly it’s the gradual marching of the universe towards death except that marching gained sentience and is incredibly frightened. Who the FUCK knows. Not me.

important tunes: “dead moon” by brick + mortar, “ruler of everything” by tally hall

other bastards who exist. vaguely. probably:

CARDS (xe/xem): Gentle, patient, good at growing herbs and reading tarot cards. Xe’s married to Meg. Literally no one knows this because they hardly ever interact and they don’t live together and when they do interact people are generally like “huh, Meg doesn’t seem to despise Cards quite as much as she despises everyone else” but like. They’re happily married. Also xe’s called Cards because xir last name is “Cardone”. This is a fact that I stole from someone I’ve met in real life, because no one is safe from my terrible thieving writer hands

BETH (she/her): Kit’s late wife. She’s a ghost. She has lots of opinions about things. She’s not here in the story because of any necromancy or raising the dead on Kit’s part. She refuses to die out of pure spite. She’s got shit to do. She likes heavy metal and writing romance novels. These are currently the only facts I know about her. Thank you

FERRIS (she/her): Her last name is Wheel. She is a character I created specifically because I realised that Ferris Wheel is a name that you could actually for real name someone. I can’t decide if it’s funnier if this character’s name is Ferris Wheel in a world where ferris wheels exist but she herself has never been exposed to the concept of one so she doesn’t understand why all the other characters are like “??????” when they first meet her, or if this character’s name is Ferris Wheel in a world that is essentially just Earth But Magic, save for the fact that the exact, specific concept of a ferris wheel was never invented. Also she’s a businesswoman.......... also she can levitate...... also she’s a lesbian

ok that’s it bye thanks love you

#this is not all the characters by any means but this is like #the main ragtag gang of misfits who somehow end up teaming up to stop the destruction of the world or whatever #for one reason or another #with the exception of the main villain of course LMAO #anyway this is just like...... #the most inconvenient way i could ever relay any amount of information #while i was typing this i was like #''this would all be so much easier to parse if it was in comic sans powerpoint format'' #and now that all this information is here like......... this is the info that would go in the powerpoint anyway #but the FACT of the matter IS that i'm lazy #and i only have good drawings done of aster kit and meg #anyway #ta-da #undertow #there's a lot going on in this post I'm sorry idk if any of this is like................. #interesting? to anyone who's not me?? but i thought it would b fun anyway #this is another one where u can play the fun game of ''can u spot the shameless self-projection?'' #river monster is actually the envisioned villain i had for Ruby Pace Floats Down The River but who fuckin knows if #THAT'S a wip that's ever going to be acknowledged by me #river monster is not shameless self projection #it's important to me that you know i am not a river monster #thank you #the only important fact in this entire post is that Baker is small enough to be picked up and carried with ease

[nitrateglow]

Favorite film discoveries of 2019

Every year, my new-to-me favorites list always shocks me in some way. This year, the sheer amount of movies made in the 2010s on display is INSANE by my standards. Of course, most of the modern movies here are throwbacks or tributes to older styles of cinema, so maybe it’s not that shocking in the long run.

Another running trend this year: movies that are old but not as dated as we would wish. Many of the older films here deal with xenophobia and political strife in ways that still feel shockingly prescient today-- the more things change...

ONCE UPON A TIME... IN HOLLYWOOD (DIR. QUENTIN TARANTINO, 2019)

I never thought the day would come where my favorite movie of the year would actually be made after the 1970s, let alone by Quentin Tarantino. Then again, this movie is all about the end of Old Hollywood as well as a big love letter to the 1960s, so maybe it’s not that shocking a state of affairs. I adored this movie, the level of detail, the laidback yet elegaic vibe, the comedy and the relationships between all the characters. It was one of those movies where I loved even the scenes where nothing seems to be happening at all-- I mean, who knew Brad Pitt feeding his dog and watching TV could be entertaining?? But it is and I can't wait to see this one again!

INTENTIONS OF MURDER (DIR. SHOHEI IMAMURA, 1964)

Intentions of Murder has an insane premise, one that runs the risk of being tasteless: a housewife in a miserable, exploitative marriage is raped by a sickly burglar during a home invasion. Even worse, she can’t shake him, as he’s suddenly infatuated and wants her to run away with him to the city. And weirder still: her current existence is so miserable that she’s TEMPTED. While abuse and rape are grim subjects for any story, Intentions is actually about a woman coming into her own and finally standing strong against all these men trying to use her. It’s a weird blend of drama and dark comedy, a truly savage satire on patriarchy and class-snobbery.

JOKER (DIR. TODD PHILLIPS, 2019)

I went into this movie expecting to think it was overhyped and when I first left the theater, I was all ready to say “it’s good but not THAT good.” But it ended up haunting me for weeks afterward, and I found myself thinking about how everything just tied up so well together, from the grotty urban hellscape which serves as the setting to Phoenix’s brilliant performance. It reminded me a lot of A Clockwork Orange in how intimate it lets you get to this violent man while never pretending he is someone to be glamorized or imitated.

SIMON (DIR. MARSHALL BRICKMAN, 1980)

How do I even describe Simon? Alan Arkin is brainwashed by a group of overpaid intellectuals into believing he is descended from an alien toaster. Then he gets a messiah complex and starts gathering disciples as he rails against television, condiment packets, and muzak. It’s a little uneven at times, sure, but the satire is really inspired. The whole thing is like a combination of Mel Brooks, Stanley Kubrick, and Woody Allen’s styles, and it is quite hilarious for those who thrive on cult oddities.

PEEPING TOM (DIR. MICHAEL POWELL, 1960)

Though it came out the same year as Hitchcock’s Psycho and has been nearly as influential for horror cinema, Peeping Tom remains underseen by everyone save for film theorists. And what a shame that is, because this movie is more frightening than Psycho. Sure, that may be because Psycho is so predominant in popular culture and just so influential that it no longer has the same shock value, but there’s something about Peeping Tom that gets under my skin, something sad, even disgusting. I felt dirty after watching it-- and this is 2019!

MIDNIGHT MARY (DIR. WILLIAM WELLMAN, 1933)

Loretta Young got one of her juiciest roles in this pre-code crime drama. Her Mary Martin is more than just a good girl forced into criminal circles-- she’s a complicated creature, compassionate and desperate and lonely and bitter and sensual all at once. This movie is a fast-paced, beautifully filmed ride, cloaked in that Depression-era cynicism that makes pre-code Hollywood of such interest to movie geeks the world over.

WILD BOYS OF THE ROAD (DIR. WILLIAM WELLMAN, 1933)

Wild Boys of the Road is a quintessential Depression-era movie, relentless in its bleakness and rage. That the main characters are all starving kids only looking for work makes their struggles all the harder to watch. William Wellman is quickly becoming one of my favorite directors: his gritty style and compact storytelling are just perfect for a ripped-from-the-headlines drama such as this. And the “happy” ending has one little moment that just knocks any smile you have right off your mug. Absolutely see this.

THE RUSSIANS ARE COMING, THE RUSSIANS ARE COMING (DIR. NORMAN JEWISON, 1966)

Sometimes, when you watch a movie only because a favorite actor is in it, you get subjected to pure trash like Free and Easy (oh, the things I do for Buster Keaton). Other times, you get cute gems like The Russians are Coming, The Russians are Coming, which, as you probably guessed, I mainly sought out for Alan Arkin. But the whole movie is hilarious, the best kind of farce comedy, populated by enjoyable characters and a sweet-tempered humanism that grounds the wackiness. While a little overlong, this movie is quite underrated-- and sadly, its satire of American xenophobia and Cold War panic is not as dated as we would like to believe.

ALL THE PRESIDENT’S MEN (DIR. ALAN J. PAKULA, 1976)

Who knew a political thriller where most people know the twist could be so intense and riveting? It’s about as nonsensical as feeling suspense when you watch a movie about the Titanic and hope the boat won’t sink-- but damn, it’s magical. All the President’s Men is real white-knuckle stuff, with Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman projecting both youthful excitement and deep panic as they proceed with their investigation. It scarcely seems to have aged at all.

WHISPER OF THE HEART (DIR. YOSHIFUMI KONDOU, 1995)

There’s a scene near the end of Whisper of the Heart where the protagonist Shizuku shows the finished first draft of her fantasy novel to her first reader, the grandpa of one of her schoolmates. She weeps because it isn’t the perfect image she had in her head, despite how hard she worked on it, but the old man tells her that it takes polishing and discipline to make the work come to its full potential. Few movies about artists are so honest about how hard it can be, how unsupportive others can be in their demand that everyone be “practical.” As a writer who struggles to create and constantly doubts herself, this movie spoke strongly to me. I recommend it to any creative person.

THE PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE (DIR. BRIAN DE PALMA, 1976)

I’d been wanting to see this movie since my high school phan days. Holy crap, is it WEIRDER than I could have ever imagined, a true camp masterpiece. I’m shocked it was never tuned into a stage show actually, but then again, we would miss those trippy camera angles and we wouldn’t have Paul Williams as one of the greatest villains of all time.

DUEL (DIR. STEVEN SPIELBERG, 1971)

When people talk about the best movies made in the “Hitchcock without Hitchcock directing” tradition, why is Duel so seldom mentioned? The scene in the cafe, packed with paranoid tension and tense camerawork, alone should qualify it. Duel is most known as the movie which put the young Steven Spielberg on the map. It’s quite different from his later work, grittier and less whimsical for sure. Even the ending seems almost nihilistic, depending on how you view it. But damn, if it isn’t fine filmmaking.

CAROL (DIR. TODD HAYNES, 2015)

This gorgeous throwback to Douglas Sirk melodramas is also one of the best romantic movies I’ve seen in a while. Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara have the sweetest, tenderest chemistry-- it was like seeing Lauren Bacall and Audrey Hepburn as love interests in a film. Unlike Sirk, there is little in the way of ripe melodrama here-- everything is underplayed, aching, mature. And I can say this is an adaptation that is better than the source book: it just feels so much warmer.

12 ANGRY MEN (DIR. SIDNEY LUMET, 1957

All I can say is that this was every bit equal to the hype. Common movie wisdom says people sitting and talking in a room is going to be boring on film, but movies like 12 Angry Men prove this is not so when you’ve got an excellently tense atmosphere, an inspired script, and a stable of fine actors to work with. Like The Russians are Coming, the Russians are Coming, this movie has not significantly aged-- much to society’s discredit.

A STAR IS BORN (DIR. GEORGE CUKOR, 1954)

Another movie I went into not expecting to love as much as I did. When movies from the 20s or 30s tended to get remakes in the 1950s, I always find them too garish and big, victims of glossy Cinemascope and overlong runtimes. Compared to the lean 1937 classic original, I expected sheer indulgence from this three-hour remake. Instead, I got my heart torn out all over again-- the longer runtime is used well, fleshing out the characters to a greater degree. Judy Garland and James Mason both give what might be the best efforts of their respective careers, and the satire of the celebrity machine remains as relevant and scathing as ever.

BLANCANIEVES (DIR. PABLO BERGER, 2012)

Oh, it feels like this movie was made for me specifically. It’s shot in gorgeous, expressionistic black-and-white. It’s set in the 1920s. It’s a clever adaptation of a classic fairy tale. It’s as funny and charming as it is bittersweet and macabre. Instead of more superhero movies, can we get more neo-silent movies like this? PLEASE?

THE FAVOURITE (DIR. YORGOS LANTHIMOS, 2018)

I’ve heard The Favourite described as a “bitchy lesbian Shakespeare play,” but this description, while a little true in terms of general tone, does not get to the heart of what makes this film brilliant. More than love or sex, this movie is about power-- particularly the corrupting influence of power. And it corrupts not only morals but love itself. Innocents become Machiavellian schemers. Lovers become sadomasochistic enemies. Good intentions turn to poison. This certainly isn’t a happy movie, but it is moving and, strangely enough, also hilarious. I was reminded of the chilly, satirical world of Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon more than once-- and for me, that is not a bad movie to be reminded of.

ON THE WATERFRONT (DIR. ELIA KAZAN, 1954)

Another classic that’s been on my list forever that I was delighted to find worthy of its reputation. It’s a classic tale of redemption and social justice, perfectly acted and shot. While I still prefer A Streetcar Named Desire as far as Kazan is concerned, this might be a better movie in the objective sense. Actually, more than even Brando, Karl Malden is the acting highlight for me-- he plays a priest torn between staying silent or truly speaking for the Gospel by demanding justice for the poor parish he serves. Just brilliant work.

KLUTE (DIR. ALAN J. PAKULA, 1971)

A perfect thriller, just about, and a great example of the “NYC is hell on earth” subgenre of the 1960s and 1970s. Jane Fonda is a revelation: she feels so real, not at all like a starlet trying to seem normal if you know what I mean.

KISS KISS BANG BANG (DIR. SHANE BLACK, 2005)

As far as subversive noir goes, this is the most entertaining. I would put it up there with The Big Lebowski as far as goofy takes on Raymond Chandler are concerned-- I don’t even really know what to make of it, but I laughed my ass off anytime I wasn’t going “WHAT???”

What were your favorite film discoveries in 2019?

#thoughts #peeping tom #simon 1980 #kiss kiss bang bang #intentions of murder #once upon a time in hollywood #joker #a star is born #blancanieves #the russians are coming the russians are coming #all the president's men #whisper of the heart #carol #the favourite #12 angry men #klute #the phantom of the paradise #on the waterfront #wild boys of the road #midnight mary #duel

[armsdealing]

FENRIR + GODHOOD / WOLFHOOD.

although it is not explicitly expressed in any particular attestation (that i know of), i do chose to view fenrir as a god of wolves -- on top of being the norse god of destruction. this due to his status as the most significant, infamous wolf in the mythology, as well as the oldest, fiercest and largest of angrboda’s offspring. keeping this in mind, i choose to view him as the ultimate symbolic representative of what wolves are in norse mythology.

DESTRUCTIVENESS AND WOLF SYMBOLISM

wolves, in northern europe, were subject to an complex treatment: 

on one hand: they were a true threat for the average peasant, whose experience with them was that of a beastly predator that threatened their flocks and even the peasants themselves and their children. there’s even the case of the wolfssegner, typically destitute elderly men who made a living in certain germanic tribes selling charms against wolf attacks, or casting malevolent spells that would prompt them. their customers were, naturally, farmers and peasants. throughout the working class and the poor there’s this commonality of viewing wolves as destructive forces, as malevolent. yet, on the other hand, the warrior classes saw the wolf for his might -- his power, his wildness, and fierceness -- as well as social traits, his capability for pack bonds. wolves were also associated with odin, having two wolves as his pets (geri and freki) and of all berserkers it’s the wolf warriors (the úlfhéðnar) who are sometimes seen as odin’s special warriors. when they’re viewed on this angle they’re seen as noble, brave, loyal, and wise. 

as a rule, the pack was seen as a symbol of camaraderie, and it was lone wolves who were the problem. the word for outlaw in northern europe was "wolf's head", referring to the bounty on the severed heads of lone wolves who became a problem to settled villages and needed to be exterminated.

well, fenrir didn’t get to be seen as noble, loyal, or wise. in many ways he is the prototypical lone wolf figure -- kidnapped by the aesir, torn from his clan and family to keep him from becoming the predicted destructive force he was to become. he was denied a pack, and so ironically it only pushed him further toward rebellion and mayhem; he grows progressively but quickly and as he grows he turns even more of a ravenous threat in the gods’ eyes, forcing the gods to bind him. it’s easy to see the similarities, how commonfolk’s fear of wolves -- especially the lone wolf -- would be reflected in their deities. as a jotunn, and more specifically a rokkr, fenrir represents nature’s more destructive qualities, a chaotic primordial force that can be interpreted as downright hostile to mankind. yet, seeing him only in a negative light is limiting, in my opinion, everything that fenrir is, and it’s just plain inaccurate, as it is framing fenrir in the absolutist moral framework of christianity. the jotnar are not evil, they’re not demons, they’re merely oppositional to the aesir because of the inherent way their essences and wants (to be amongst nature and accept it as is, good and bad) clash with the aesir’s wants (to tame nature’s useful side for their benefit and fight against its more harmful aspects to protect themselves and mankind). the struggle against fenrir is one of the most elementary examples of this jotnar/aesir conflict.

fenris is, in many ways, jotun essence taken to its furthest point, its ultimate uncompromised end. this means understanding that when we say that the jotnar are, by nature, part of nature... that means also that they partake of the entirety of nature and not just the euphemized happy bits that we like to pretend are what nature "really is". every part of nature is dangerous and not terribly disposed to privilege humans over any other part. the sea eats people, the fire lays waste to countrysides, the ice storm freezes you, the earth will receive your corpse and fill it with maggots. our planet whirls around a sun that will burn out, in a galaxy that will wind down and disintegrate before it can explode again into life.

to understand these things as not only "not negative" but as awesome, mind‑bending, even beautiful ‑ that's how we understand jotun nature. it's terrifying, yes ‑ and there is also a good and benevolent side, but you don't get only that aimed at you, ever. it's about accepting the whole package without this secret fingers‑crossed idea that if they just like you enough, the forces of nature will make a special exception for you. and that doesn't work.

to see Fenris is to see a magnificent creature who must be chained, or he’ll eat the world. it’s seeing the grandeur of a hurricane, an earthquake, a solar flare, and knowing that this too is the hand of the divine… and at the same time knowing that they will do terrible harm. Fenris is what he is, entirely and fully, and he will not compromise himself to be anything else for anyone else… even if he must be bound. are there things about your nature that you would rather be imprisoned than compromise? If not, then perhaps you might not understand Fenris. he embodies our ambivalence toward the universe, which sees us as expendable flecks of dust. … and the only way to get around that is to see from a higher perspective, one that can appreciate the divinity of ambivalences.- X

fenrir is not just an agent of change. he is change itself, the ultimate threat on the status quo of the gods. and because of that, as he brings about ragnarok, he’s an agent of renewal and transformation. 

fenrir, like the wolf's hook cross, is a representation of unchangeable fate. there is an aura of fatality surrounding him that the gods sense, and none more so than odin, because it is primarily his existence which is subject to fenrir's whim. odin, having heard the prophecies of the volva (fenrir's own mother, angrboda) knew that his son balder would be slain, that his brother hodur would do this act. that the rökkr forces would break free of their bonds, and destroy the gods. and that finally he, odin, would die within the massive jaws of fenrir.

thus, the binding of fenrir with gleipner is nothing but a postponement of the inevitable. it is merely an instance of the gods, and odin in particular, performing, and realizing, their role. for, although the fate incurred by fenrir may be unavoidable and unchangeable, it does not necessarily mean defeat or resignation. one of the great lessons of the rökkr is that this life is nothing, that there is no integral meaning to it, and that it can all so easily be consumed by fenrir. the purpose of living, then, is to realize this truth, and then to build ones own worth and meaning from existence. - X

PATRON OF WOLVES, WARGS, AND WEREWOLVES

fenrir is not a friendly god, and he’s not an easy god to worship. he’s not even a welcoming god. he’s demanding, intense and he can see through the souls of the most hard-hearted individuals, and frighten them. for him, vacuous violence and bloodlust isn’t enough -- he demands your sincerity, your raw emotion, your anger; you need to be true to him or he will not bother with you, and in fact might even offend him and make him hostile. humans, in particular, need a specially strong connection to nature (physical nature, and their inner nature) in order to connect with him. and if you do manage that, he can make an unstoppable force out of you. he is, on top of everything else, a god of last resorts and if you’re ever in dire need of protection you can count on him to intervene.

this all being said, humans are not his only believers. they’re not even his main believers, since people tend to turn to more approachable (and relatable) deities like the aesir first. fenrir focuses mainly on wolves, and in midgard it’s not entirely rare for him to be near them, helping them, or using them as emissaries. he focuses on wargs, the norse wolf-like beings that inhabit ironwood alongside the volvas, considering he’s the oldest of them, and his mother reigns over them as chieftess. and he focuses lastly on werewolves. 

regardless of a werewolf’s origin, fenrir’s nature is such that most wolves will feel a connection to him. they will feel drawn to fenrir, and perceive his paradoxical otherness/familiarity and his power. however, it’s up to them how they will respond to it. a lot of them do worship him (there might be one or two doomsday cults/packs out there waiting for his reckoning), and there might be sacrifices done his name. but a lot of them, when encountered with his presence, chose to ignore his influence, or even respond defensively. regardless, fenrir does not take this personally. werewolves are just as human as they’re wolves and so they carry an egocentrism that is, in his opinion, wholly theirs. still, it’s not rare for him to occasionally encounter mortally wound werewolves (particularly lone werewolves!) and offer them a chance at survival, or keep them company while they feel alone and heal.

#* fenrir. #meta. #i love fenrir ugh king!!!