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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Love For The Faceless

Corpse Husband x Youtuber!Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Y/N is a YouTube gamer who has recently gained a much larger following thanks to the streams she does with her friends. Naturally, considering her faceless and bodiless nature, people are starting to get curious about her. When she finally follows her friend Corpse’s example, a lot more than her hands is revealed.

Requested by anon, you know who you are 😉 Thank you so much for placing a request and hope this fic fulfills the expectations you have for it.

“Hey!“ I greet the lobby as I finally hop into the Discord call after quickly saying ‘hi‘ to my audience.

I’ve been a YouTuber for four years now and I’ve only recently started streaming, encouraged to do so by my best friend Rae. She’s the one who got me in multiplayer games such as Among Us and Phasmophobia which led me to meet her amazing gaming squad that consists of some of the most famous names on the platform. They are all wonderful people and I will forever be in Rae’s debt for introducing me to them. However, becoming friends with Felix, Sean and the rest of the team brought not only a more fulfilled life, but also a small boost in following. Who am I kidding, it wasn’t small. It was overwhelming, terrifying even.

My YouTube channel had a little over a million subscribers at the start of quarantine and now....now it’s closer to three million. Speaking of three million, I’m about to reach it any day now and it’s really hard to believe. I’m a gaming youtuber and I’ve never considered changing my genre despite expecting to not get any attention whatsoever, with all the big names on the platform. I was convinced not even as many as a hundred people would stumble across my videos and now here we are.

My OG subscribers are very supportive of my sudden growth and are defending me when my newer fans ask for a face reveal or whatnot. While we’re on that topic I might have to mention that not even my YouTube friends, and that includes Rae have seen my face. I’ve been faceless and bodiless for the entirety of my time on social media. Some claim I do it to grab more attention or for dramatic effect, but the reason is beyond that. I’m not shallow. Actually, shallow people are the reason I don’t show my face. I’ve never been the prettiest, but my middle school bully thought that I wasn’t lacking self confidence enough. As a result, I ended up with a not so handsome scar on my right cheek that starts from the corner of my mouth and nearly misses my eye. Yeah, it’s a long and pretty noticeable scar that has thankfully become less and less obvious as the years have progressed. Still, it’s not something I’d like to show to my viewers.

Eight ‘hi’s greet me back, each making my smile grow wider. “Sorry I’m late guys. Technical difficulties.”

“Don’t worry.“ Rae’s voice dominates over the rest, “Corpse still isn’t here so we’re waiting for him.“

I mute myself on the Discord call and take a look at my comments. I’m most flattered by the comments about my voice. Seeing as how they don’t have much to compliment about me other than my content, they make the nicest comments about my voice, personality and humor. Those comments are the ones who warm my heart most. Even when people in my day to day life compliment my appearance I can’t find it in me to believe they are being genuine. I’d like to believe these amazing people are being one hundred percent honest when they tell me they like me for who I am and not for what I might look like.

“Sorry I’m late guys.“ A deep voice causes me to even physically jolt, switching my focus from the comments to the Among Us lobby where my eyes land on the newly materialized black avatar.

“Hi Corpse.“ Rae greets him.

“Hello mister who broke Twitter!“ Sean laughs, provoking the laughter of the rest of the players.

“Yeah, congratulations man. That’s a big deal.“ Felix chimes in.

“Thanks guys, but I think you’re forgetting we’re talking about a picture of my hand.“ Corpse chuckles timidly. I have noticed how shy he gets when someone gives him a compliment - like a snail slowly withdrawing in its shell. I find it adorable.

“That’s what makes it even better!“ I unmute my mic, sending my own congratulations.

“While we’re on that topic...“ Rae begins, waiting for the rest of us to shut our traps, suggesting she has something important to say. “Y/N, do you ever plan on doing a reveal like that? Not a face reveal. Just a body part reveal.“

I have no problem talking about the subject with friends but I get nervous when I’m supposed to discuss it with my fans. Seeing as how everyone, including myself, is streaming right now, I get a bit of a stutter in my speech. “Haven’t thought about it yet. But I guess a body part reveal is harmless.” I cringe immediately after letting the words leave my mouth, “That sounds so weird.”

Rae knows that I’m not too fond of my face, but I haven’t told her about my scar yet. I let almost all people I’ve met online think I’m using my lack of appearance for effect. For the mystery of it all. Mysteries attract people which equals attention. Attention equals views and the domino effect continues.

“Just a suggestion. No pressure.“ Rae adds quickly, knowing full well I get anxious when the subject is brought up in front of cameras. “Let’s get this game started, shall we.”

* * *

The idea dwells in my mind, sitting on the back burner even after I disconnect from the Discord call. I’m sitting in my gaming chair, which was a gift for my two million milestone, and weighing out the pros and cons of the action Rae suggested I take.

“It’s a picture of your fucking hand, dummy. How bad can it turn out?“ I say out loud, shaking my head at my indecisiveness. “You’ll be fine.”

In a blur, two pictures are already posted on my Instagram. The first one captioned ‘Took a leaf from my friend’s book. Did I do it right @ corpsehusband?’ and the second ‘Thanks, Rae. These are on you.’

Rae’s POV

As I’m watching a movie in my living room, I get a notification from Instagram, informing me that Y/N has posted for the first time in a while.

I scoff, “More like the first time in forever.”

The first thing that comes to my mind is the possibility of her reaching that three million milestone that’s been long time coming. I bring the glass of water that’s sitting on my coffee table to my lips, taking a sip as I tap the notification. The picture I see makes me hurry to put the glass back down so I don’t drop it. Y/N’s hand. Her fingers are covered with several thin rings each. And here I thought Corpse had too many rings, this girl has at least two on every finger!

Then my eyes land on the second picture she has posted only minutes after the first and my heart drops. I struggle to get the water that’s been sitting in my moth down my esophagus while my mind is struggling with the task to comprehend the picture I’m looking at.

Another hand is resting on top of Y/N’s. A hand also covered in rings but fewer and larger. The nails are painted black.

I think I know who it belongs to.

Before I can even finish the thought, I’m dialing Y/N. She picks up after the second ring, sound cheery as ever as she greets me. “Hey Rae!”

“Don’t you ‘Hey Rae’ me!” I practically scream. I hate being kept in the dark about anything ever so this is just driving me mad. On top of all, she’s my best friend, for fuck’s sake. “Is that Corpse in the photo with you?!”

“Ugh....“ the cheeriness to her voice is all but gone now.

I go on with my rant, not giving her the time to reply. Not that she would reply. I bet she doesn’t know what to say. “So he knows where you live?! Or was the picture taken at his place?! He knows what you look like?! You have seen him! He has seen you in real life but me, your best friend, haven’t!!! You are breaking Covid 19 protection laws to take pictures?! Are you fucking serious, Y/N?!”

There’s a long moment of silence which frustrates me even more but I literally have run out of things to yell and the power to be angry. I mean, I still am, I just can’t express it.

“Rae, sweetheart, please calm down. You’re scary when you’re mad.“ This girl has some fucking nerve! She’s on the verge of laughing!

“Listen here you...“

“Rae, please stop scaring my girlfriend.“ That oh so distinguishable, oh so familiar voice interrupts me.

I am flabbergasted, for a lack of a better term.

“Now that we’ve got you quiet, I can explain.“ Y/N pics up the conversation, “Corpse and I have been dating for six, almost seven months now. We started dating around Easter after talking for quite some time. We moved in together at the end of September. All thanks to you, Rae. You’re the best.” She pauses to breathe in real quick, “There, all caught up?“

I’m in no less shock than I was before she explained. Actually, I think I might be even more confused now. It all just feels like a fever dream. “Yes...no. I don’t fucking know! I need details, Y/N!”

“Details later.“ Corpse makes his presence known once again, “We’re watching Family Guy right now. Talk to you later.“

“Love you, Rae!“ Y/N calls out before the line goes dead.

My arm goes limp, dropping my phone on the couch next to me.

“Motherfuckers” I mumble under my breath.

Y/N’s POV

It’s been a week since Rae has stopped talking to both Corpse and me. I know she just needs some time to cool off. In the meantime, the rest of our friends were informed and, as oppose to Rae, were nothing but supportive and overjoyed. I bet Rae feels the same way though. Sean, Dave and the rest of the gang have confirmed that she’s incredibly happy for us and says she noticed a spark between me and him since day one, but she can’t help but be mad at us, and especially me, for not telling her sooner.

“Any regrets?“ I remember Corpse asking me when we hung up on her after dropping the bomb.

“Not being able to see her face when she saw the picture.“ I beam at him, feeling as content as ever.

He laughs, agreeing with me before leaning down to kiss me.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios

#corpse #corpse husband #corpsehusband #husband #corpse husband fanfic #corpse simp #corpse husband fanficiton #corpse fanfiction #corpse fanfic #corpse x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x reader #x reader #reader #request #requests open

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unkownknowledge · 3 years

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OC: CHAOS GOD OF THE VOID, GIOTA

story I'm still working on your requests don't worry, I just wanted to make a few character sheets since I'm not focused enough rn. I'll finish it when I take my meds though I promise.

And this isn't an oc for any show, rather a character from a multiversal mythos I'm making

also, an important term to understand this: 1 god year=5 billion years

_____________________

Description:

Giota is a very hot and cool Giota stop changing the text! Atleast change your style of writing so the reader can undead immediately Aw but wheres the fun GIOTA

Fine mister fun police, I'll write like this then. And I'll be cooler than you

Young man I wil... forget it, back on track:

Giota is a shapeshifting god of chaos, void, technological progress, freedom, and being a dramatic bitch.

Hey! I'm not a bitch!....maybe a little

When appearing before mortals he'll often take on the form the viewer imagines when they think of a god of chaos would appear as. Often times when the user knows the basic descriptions of Giota from the 'book of tales' will see him as a angel like statue of bones with numerous cracks, no face, and organ pipe wings.

When meeting with gods outside his domain or when he must meet mortals in a set form, he will take on simple, 10ft tall humanoid form with bone skin, a cracked mouth that cracks more when he speaks, two different colored eyes, and longer than floor length black hair. One of his eyes will be crying water that burns upwards, while the other cries fire that flows downwards. In this form he wears a black trenchcoat, green turtleneck, and purple dad pants.

What the fuck are dad pants?

You know, those usually brown pants that are kinda jeans but soft and actually comfortable.

YOU BITCH MY HUSBAND LIKES JEANS AND HIS PANTS ARE SOFT!

YOUR HUSBAND HAS MARSHMALLOW THIGHS! LITERALLY! OF COURSE HIS PANTS ARE SOFT!

Inside his own domain, or if he's feeling especially done with whatever poor bastard made him upset, Giota takes the form of an innocent ten year old child with soft white steel skin, mile long black hair made of silk, and black eyes made of diamonds. In this form he wears pajamas for to big for him, his mouth leads to a dark void, and he carries around two plushies: a bunny made of roses from his mom, and a plush of his adult form from his husband. Of course he becomes an adult if they do anything adult, so please don't start.

Regardless of his form, even when it's based on the perspective of others, he always wears a large knitted infinity scarf his husband made for whenever he wanted to hide away.

_____________________

Powers:

Cool ones

I mean, he's not wrong...

(I should make an ice themed character)

Giota, as a god, has numerous powers related to his domains.

powers of freedom:

inspiring presence- while most gods or beings of power inspire mortals and lesser beings of power to kneel down or bow, Giota’s presence inspires all beings to rise up, to do anything, to do whatever they want, to become the best they can be. this can be used to inspire allies to carry on. However Giota can also let this power run rampant, and free the mind of any shackles, and while this sounds good it really just means removing all morals and causing mass violence, and if he lets it run rampant while in the same dimension he lets it then all life will mutate into eldritch monstrosities of decadence and selfishness. According to him this is to show that balance must be kept between chaos and law.

the torch of liberty- among Giota’s duties as a god of freedom is to liberate the populations of ‘doomed realms’ that have been enslaved. essentially, if a planet in a universe is ruled purely by either law or chaos then the entire universe can be effected, in the case of law it can result in the entire universe becoming one collective conscious. while it’s not common that enslaved worlds occur, however when they do they are the most dangerous of law worlds. to combat worlds like this gods of freedom are given torches that free the minds of the enslaved and bring down holy fire upon the enslavers in the form of the collective will of all the freed people.

powers of technological progress:

cybernetic god-many god-years ago Giota was severely wounded by a rogue god of flesh and a rogue god of metal, to the point even he could not regenerate it. to stop him from dying a cult of his granted Giota cybernetic enhancements. these enhancements integrated into Giota’s flesh as it regenerated and became enhanced in turn by Giota’s divinity, and Giota’s divine power was enhanced then by the cybernetics, resulting in a self sustaining growth in power. while he gladly used this to stop the rogue gods, and once again to destroy an old one, he feels being that powerful would upset the balance of power, so he sealed it in a time lock in time with the seasons and time of day in the void. his power increases from mid day to mid night, and from the end of summer to the end of winter. in the minute of exactly midnight at the end of winter, Giota becomes, in both this multiverse and the old, the most powerful being to exist.

self evolving knowledge- because his position as a god of technology is artificial his powers in it are very weak, being able to only grant full sentience and sapience to machines. he can also create minor miracles of technology, such as summoning a clockwork toy(which he does often)

hey man did you really have to bring up the whole getting my ass kicked thing?

yes, now shut up before I bring up what you sing in the shower

....fucker....

powers of being dramatic:

yeah that wasn't a joke. Giota is the god of being over the top, stylish, and over all flair. in other words, being dramatic

personal sound track- he can cause any song he wants to play when he does anything.

lights, camera, ACTION!- whenever he wants, Giota can cause a bright, sparkling light to emit from his body or behind himself.

my favorite is that one bad bitch’s theme. what’s her name again?

Ragyo Kiyurin?

that's the fucker! terrible taste in morals, but damn does she know how to enter a room.

...can I put sigh when it’s supposed to be me sighing?

powers of the god of chaos

Chaotic existence- for Giota to even exist is, in and of itself, a paradox. he comes from a timeline that never existed, that was on a set path, yet he exist, and he changed the course of the timeline. when he became a chaos god he became a paradox within a paradox, he existed yet did not. to attempt to change any aspect of his being, to take in any part of his being, is to know that which is not there to know, to understand that which is not there, you have to be able to comprehend the very essence of nonexistence to even bare a hair of his getting in your mouth. such a thing easily drives all things that try insane, to the point that every part of their conscience believes that it does not exist.

overwhelming power-chaos gods are only once a multiverse, and with the title comes pure power. such power could turn an infant into an indestructible warrior, however since Giota was already at that level on a mortal scale, and already capable of taking on powerful gods, this power sets him among the highest echelons of divine might.

powers of the god of void

key to nonexistence- the god of the void is the only being who can open the bridge between that which exist and that which does not

rapid regeneration- the void god has an innate ability to regenerate from nearly all damage, even if they are ground to a fine paste. this regeneration is enhanced by the cybernetic enhancements.

speed of darkness- the void god has an innate speed that surpasses light, Giota’s already superhuman speed was enhanced by this.

spear of not- the void god is the sole being in existence and non existence who can wield the spear of not, a finely forged weapon. it is not special beyond being enchanted to withstand godly power and a ‘security lock’ enchantment, however it is still a very well made weapon.

blah blah blah, enough about what I was handed, tell them about my mortal abilities

as Giota just said, and as I’ve brought up before, Giota is extremely powerful even without his powers, he also used to be two other mortals that were less powerful. but over all these were his powers, which he still has.

leather skin- while it might appear or feel like something else, Giota’s skin is exactly like leather armor. this comes from how he was raised as a child to be a powerful warrior and his skin was tanned into hide and treated while it was still on him.

adamantine bone- Giota’s bones were also replaced by an adamantine skeleton when he was a child.

super sonic speeds- during his training as a child, he was taught to be able to surpass the sound barrier on foot.

superhuman strength- his training also trained his body to carry ten tons, however as a mortal he improved that strength to the point he could exert enough force to blast away entire cities by blinking. This power did not come easy.

flight- after training with some monks late in his life, Giota was able to walk on the air, essentially he could fly at the same speed as he could run.

agility- he was trained as a warrior and assassin, so Giota’s training included advanced maneuverability training, including wall running, sneaking across tripwires, etc.

weapon master- Giota is a master in all weapons and various forms of martial arts.

he also has reciev- hey man you good?

I-I’m fine! d-don’t write that I’m crying!

you...wanna talk about it?

…no...

is it about your mom?

…maybe...

alright take your time.

anyway Giota has a very useful piece of equipment, the cloak of maternity- despite it’s name, it’s actual a cloak that leads to a pocket dimension where Giota carries his weapons and toys. It is called the cloak of maternity because his adoptive mother gave him after he became a god-bounty hunter, she even designed it to help him hide away from people. it even has a designated snack pocket.

_____________________

BIO:

Giota was found by his adoptive mother after he destroyed his timeline, as punishment, or perhaps in an attempt to redeem him, she turned him back into a baby. something Giota happily accepted.

After this his life went on as a mortal’s would, only in the realm of divinity: he went to school, went into college, graduated, then entered the workforce. granted the workforce he entered was bounty hunting divine criminals. it was easy for him to get into, after all everything from his past life transferred over to this one, it wasn't long before he was hunting even the deadliest of criminals. while his mom was very supportive, it was still difficult for him to keep in contact with her as he did before moving out, and being a bounty hunter was hardly a sociable job. it wasn't long before Giota fell into depression, and then to drugs. for twenty three god years his life was an endless cycle of contract killing, payment, and wallowing in chemical joy. But at the end of all blinding lights, there is a welcoming darkness.

Giota had become the personal bounty hunter of the god of law and time: Ceerus. one day while leaving after receiving a contract, he met the god’s child, a boy his age named Dyalta.

It was thanks to Dyalta that Giota ever kicked drugs, or got out of depression, and thanks to Dyalta Giota managed to find happiness in anything other than a syringe.

Even the reason he found love.

rise to godhood

Giota became a god after an old god, named the Red slaughter, destroyed the entire universe. this was a catalyst for Giota, who had died previously, to return with his newly awakened god powers. I don't want to go into to much detail in this aspect as I intend to write it at some point.

_____________________

hey man you good yet?

a little bit. Dyalta came by and gave me some cookies.

that's good buddy, I’m gonna describe your personality ok?

alright.. I’m gonna go home now.

alright man, take care.

_____________________

personality

do note that this is a bit hard for me to do. I’m more used to just writing a character. I’ll just post two short stories here to try and get his personality across. I made them in school last year.

ok so after looking at it the second one is twelve pages long. so I’m gonna post that elsewhere on here. to give context: this is after a wedding between Dyalta and Giota was interrupted. if you’d like to see more about him then feel free to interact or request him.

elavator story

Giota shifted uncomfortably to make room for his soon to be father in law as the man stepped into the lift.

“Soooooo…” Giota pressed their floor “wonderful, um, siege we’re having.”

Ceerus just keeps his eyes on the door “sure.”

“So how's the uh, wife?”

Ceerus sighed “locked in a tower, that we are invading.”

“Mhm, yup.”

‘Maybe I should try calling him dad.’

“So what did you think of my swordsmanship d-dad.”

Ceerus visibly restrained himself “it was fine ten- Giota.”

The elevator stopped, probably because of security.

“Oh maker damnit,” Ceerus tries rewinding the shut off, but it doesn't work “and it’s godproofed!”

“This reminds of this one time me and Dyalta wen-”

Ceerus put his hand to Giota’s mouth “if you end this story in anything less than fully clothed I will end your fake hide.”

Giota scratches his head nervously “Well I didn't, but Dyalta lost his shirt and well,” Giota notice Ceerus drawing his blade “b-but it was for a sword fi- wait bad wording, it was for a-you know- assasination thing!”

Ceerus sighed and sheathed his sword “look, you dusting mongrel, I don’t like you, you pretend to like me, let’s just try and not kill each other and maybe by the end of this, I won’t flay your ass at the altar.”

Well atleast now they both agreed on something: this was going to be a long crusade.

________________________________________________________________

ok that's that! not a very good character sheet but hopefully it got enough across to be interesting. I’ll end this off with some quotes I want him to say but have never gotten the chance to write out:

“hey Ceerus how’s the kid? oh thats right! in my bed, waiting patiently.” following Ceerus being exceptionally annoying.

“you know something? I try to be nice, I always smile, always banter with my targets. you know, try and be friendly. but then some RED MOTHERFUCKER, POSSESSES MY HUSBAND, WAKING ME UP FROM ETERNAL SLUMBER, AND NOW I ONCE AGAIN HAVE TO CLEAN UP THE GOD’S MESSES!”

*crying into Dyalta* “and then he said my clothes were stupid,” *sobbing* “I tried really hard on these!”

“this multiverse, to us gods, is wet paper mache. so easy to break, one wrong move and POP,” Giota flexes his finger and causes an ocean to split open for a solid ten seconds, “the very fabric of reality is gone. and you. you insuferable MOTHER FUCKERS have the AUDACITY TO COME IN HERE, AND TEAR IT ALL TO SHREDS! well assholes, if this reality is paper mache to you, and I’m stronger than you, take a wild gues as to what you are to me.”

(tagging: @storytravelled, @3lectro-heart, @genshin-obsessed)

#tw drugs #oc

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my-reality-my-rules · 3 years

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shifting tips for people with aphantasia? i've been trying to shift for almost a year now with no luck and it's so hard to "picture" scenes from my dr when i literally can't "see" anything in my mind!

[thanks for this ask!]

first of all, i want to apologise for how long it took for me to answer this ask. as someone who doesn't have aphantasia herself, i had to dig around for clues in research. now, I'm definitely not the most qualified person you could ask for when it comes to matters like this, and I'm not sure how serious your condition is, but here's what I've got.

i talked about this with my dad over lunch once, and he recommended to me a nifty little tip from law school—that even his professors used.

during a review, my dad's professor confessed to having a bad memory. with all that they were supposed to review at the time, he knew that doing things the normal way wouldn't help him. so he used a handkerchief with a bit of cologne to imprint the information in his mind; every time he came across an important piece of knowledge, he would press the handkerchief into his nose and take a few seconds to let it sink in. he'll repeat it a few more times, enough that his mind would start to associate the smell with the data itself. during the bar exam, he made use of this since handkerchiefs weren't on the list of prohibited things to bring. so every time that he forgot a vital piece of information, he simply pressed the cloth into his nose and it'd help him remember. this way, it would also only look like as if he was covering his nose from a bad smell or wiping his sweat.

I'm not sure exactly how that would apply to someone with aphantasia, but it's worth a try. perhaps a taste of food that's from your DR, or sounds you could hear from there. feeling of fabrics and wood, songs, or brightly coloured lights. anything that you could find from there, and replicate the idea of here. do it as often as you can, until you get used to associating it with that reality. this brings me to another question, however—if this isn't too much to ask; how much of your imagined senses are compromised? the suggestion might not work if you really can't utilise at least 1 or 2 of them.

when we discussed the topic of aphantasia, i asked my dad on other scenarios where it can be applied—like reading or writing a story. i asked him; for example, if the book fell under the fantasy genre, and the person themself can't imagine the scene(s), how would they be able to perceive it? to truly envision the experience, when such things are fictional here? they may be able to see it, and comprehend it—its matter, its build, its purpose—when it's presented right in front of them, but how would they actually understand its very essence? feel it?

i had to do more research when he couldn't come up with a plausible answer. I've just found out about this method for treatment—I'm not certain on how effective this has been so far based on the article I've seen (see it here), but basically they make use of afterimages and memory games. there's also an activity called streaming, where you attempt to explore scenes inside your mind through verbalising the things that you want to see.

this is all i have for the moment. this specific ask actually deeply intrigues me, and i might come back to this every once in a while to do more research on the topic. as for now, i hope the things I've mentioned above have helped, even at a bare minimum.

as a last remark, i want you to know that shifting is worth it when you finally experience it—and while having aphantasia does seem to make it more difficult, know that it shouldn't stop you from trying.

much love 💖💖💖

#shifting #shifting realities #reality shifting #desired reality #shift #Esther's shifting posts

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prettyboyreid · 3 years

Text

the story

a girl and a boy

(a boy and a boy) (me and my friend) (the way the world works)

OC!Potter x Marauders, OC!Potter x Nephew!Harry

As Harry Potter gets older, his aunt makes sure he never forgets about his parents or his uncles.

Based on the song The Story by Conan Gray

Warnings: Brief mentions of death

Word Count: 5,287

“Aunt Lucy, Aunt Lucy!” Harry called out from his bedroom, his large, round glasses making his eyes look much wider than they already were.

Lucy bound up the stairs quickly from her spot on the loveseat in the living room, smiling softly down at the seven-year-old boy in his pale blue pajama set.

“Are you all ready for bed, then?” she asked, her hands resting on her hips as she looked down at the young boy.

Her nephew shook his head quickly, squeezing his stuffed hippogriff against his chest as he looked up at her with pleading eyes. “Can we play for a little longer? Me and Witherwings wanted you to play hide and seek with us!” Harry protested, the thick black glasses identical to his father’s sliding down the bridge of his nose as he spoke.

“Witherwings and I,” she corrected him, shaking her head softly at his proposal before kneeling down to his height. “As much fun as that would be, you have to go to bed, bubs. We’re going to visit Uncle Moony tomorrow, so we have to get up early so we can see him,” she reminded him, sighing softly as he frowned up at her.

He folded his arms across his chest, his stuffed creature tucked under his arm as he tried to silently persuade his godmother with his infamous puppy dog eyes. “Just one game, Aunt Lucy? Pretty please?” he begged, going so far as to sticking his bottom lip out pleadingly.

However, Lucy shook her head yet again. “Sorry, Harry,” she said, leaning around the boy and pulling back the maroon covers and sheets on his bed. “But I’m sure Uncle Moony would love to play hide and seek with us tomorrow,” she added, picking up her young godson and setting him in his bed.

At the idea of playing with his favorite uncle in what would now be a few mere hours, his face lit up brightly as he pulled the comforter over his short legs and torso. “Can you at least read me a bedtime story?” he asked, tucking in the grey hippogriff under the covers alongside himself.

Lucy gave him a soft smile, moving up to sit on the edge of the double bed covered in Gryffindor Quidditch sheets and blankets. He had had this set when he first moved from a crib into a real bed, and to this day they were his favorite sheets to sleep with.

“How about I tell you a story instead?” she asked, smiling a little bit as he grinned brightly at her suggestion and nodded quickly.

“Alright then,” she said, pushing some of his short hair out of his face as she spoke. “Let me tell you a story… about a boy and a girl,” she started, grinning a bit when her curious nephew interrupted her.

“What were their names?” he inquired, tilting his head slightly to the side as he talked.

Lucy just smiled softly and patiently at his question, pretending to think for a moment before looking back down at Harry. “James and Lily,” she told him, grinning as the young boy smiled brightly.

“They’re my favorite!” he exclaimed, squeezing his small fist down on one of his hippogriff’s plush wings.

Every since Lucy Potter had gained custody of her nephew and godson when he was barely a year old, she always did her best to tell him stories of his parents; she wanted to make sure he would never forget them even if he didn’t fully comprehend that the main characters in her dramatic retellings were her late brother and sister-in-law. As far as Harry knew and understood, James and Lily were some of his aunt's good friends from her seven years at Hogwarts. One day, though, when he would be old enough to really understand what had happened in Godric’s Hollow on Halloween night in 1981, she would explain to him how important James and Lily really were, not just to her, but to him as well.

“I’ve got to warn you, though: it’s kind of short and kind of boring -” she started, smiling yet again as her nephew giggled at her words. “-But the end is a whirl.”

“You say that every time!” Harry said between short fits of uncontrollable laughter, holding tightly onto his stuffed creature as he looked up to his godmother expectantly.

She rolled her eyes in a playful and almost mocking way, placing her hands on her hips. “Can I continue with the story now?” she teased, grinning when the young boy nodded quickly up to her with bright eyes.

“Thanks, bubs,” she said, ruffling up his hair slightly before leaning back into her sitting position. “

“This story starts in my sixth year at Hogwarts, a few weeks after we had come back from Christmas break…”

-x-x-x-

“Merlin, James, slow down! You’re gonna kill us!” Lucy shouted over the cold, whipping wind blowing through her hair, squeezing tightly onto her brother’s middle as she ignored his roaring laughter.

“Come on, Lu, lighten up!” he called out to her over his shoulder, though he slowly began to pull the front of his Firebolt broomstick upwards and carefully landing onto the frosted over grassy courtyard.

“You alright there, Little Prongs? You look a little sick,” Sirius asked with a mischievous grin, which only earned him a middle finger from the youngest Potter twin.

“I told you to stop calling me that!” she frowned, scuttering off the freshly polished broom and running her fingers back through her now-knotted hair. “And I’m fine. But I am never getting on a broom with my brother ever again.”

“Awe, what’s wrong? Is someone afraid of flying?” James asked her teasingly, nudging his slightly younger sister’s arm playfully.

“No! I’m afraid of flying with you,” she protested, folding her arms across her chest. “You don’t always have to fly as if you’ve just seen the Snitch, you know,” she reminded him.

“Sorry you can’t handle my flying, Lu,” he joked, winking down playfully at his twin before he suddenly froze up. None of the Marauders, nor his sister, needed to ask what had just happened.

“How-”

“Your hair looks fine, your tie is perfectly crooked, and I’m positive you don’t need to worry about how your breath smells,” Remus assured him, not looking up from his worn-down copy of Dark Arts Defense. James frowned at his final answer but nodded nonetheless, pushing his fingers back through his curls despite what Remus had just said before leaning around his friends and sister with a grin.

“Evans!” he called out, waving a bit to the red-headed Gryffindor girl headed their way. She was dressed much more casually than the average Hogwarts student - she was sporting a pair of cuffed mom jeans and a long-sleeved red shirt with the golden Gryffindor crest embossed on the front of it, covered in a large jean jacket. Usually, the second her classes ended, Lily Evans would switch from her perfect Prefect robes and into her much more comfortable Muggle clothes.

Lily looked away from her conversation with Marlene McKinnon at the sound of her last name ringing throughout the spacious courtyard. Surprisingly, she smiled when she had spotted James. Lucy could almost swear she saw her blush, too.

She said something to Marlene quickly before walking towards the group of four Gryffindor boys and one Slytherin girl. She gave a warm greeting to the five students before turning to the eldest of the Potter twins. “You called, Potter?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest as she spoke, a thin library book pressed between her arms and shirt.

James nodded softly, almost sheepishly, in response, leaning slightly against his broomstick before he lost balance, seemingly forgetting it wasn’t leaning against a wall, and stumbled slightly. Lily rolled her eyes almost affectionately at the sight of him still trying to show off after six years, while the boys and James’ sister stifled their laughter through not-so-subtle coughs. James hit Sirius and Peter’s arms, since they were the closest to him, before nodding again.

“Yeah, I just- I just wanted to make sure you were still on for the Three Broomsticks after classes on Friday?” he asked, his voice sounding slightly deeper than it usually was. Lucy and Sirius each raised an eyebrow at James’ question, exchanging a quick look before they both looked to Lily for her response. The only people who appeared unphased by the question were Lily and Remus.

The redhead nodded quickly in response, giving him a bright smile. “Yeah, of course. I get out of potions around three, then I can just meet you in the common room?” she suggested, tilting her head to the side in the same way her son would in a few years, fiddling with a bracelet resting on her wrist.

“Sure! I-uh, I mean, uh, yeah, sure. That… that sounds perfect, Evans,” James said, grinning nearly from ear-to-ear. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning, like he had just gotten everything he had ever asked for in his entire life.

Lily smiled a little as well, except she looked like she was holding back more emotions that the eldest Potter had. “Great, I’ll see you then, Potter,” she said, giving a small wave to the rest of the group. “Bye, boys. Bye, Lucy,” she said, nodding to them before heading back towards her fellow Gryffindor friend.

“See you then, Evans!” James called out after her, grinning happily for a brief moment until one of his friends opened their big mouth.

“Oh, bye, Evans! I’ll see you Friday, Evans! I would move the entire castle across the ocean just to see you smile, Evans!” Sirius cried out dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest to add a bit of dramatic effect. James shoved him a bit, which only caused Sirius to laugh loudly.

“Mate, when were you gonna tell us you finally asked her out?” Peter spoke up, standing slightly behind Sirius so as to not get swatted by James again.

“After it happened,” he said bluntly, leaning down and grabbing his broom and pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “But, I needed an excuse to talk to her, and that was the only thing I could think of, so you lot had to find out a bit sooner.”

“How come Moony got to know before your own sister? Your literal other half? That doesn’t seem very fair,” Lucy frowned, following behind the boys as they started to head inside the castle to wash up before dinner.

“Because the only advice you would give me is threatening to hex me if I didn’t ask her out in twenty-four hours,” James said, glaring playfully back at his sister. “Rem gives actual advice, and actually helps.”

“I bet I could give you great advice. Like, you should just take her up to the dorm and f-”

“Shut up, Sirius.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Prongs, sir.”

Remus just rolled his eyes at the two of them, pushing open the large castle doors with the flick of his wand and leading them all towards the Gryffindor tower. “You’ll be fine, just try not to call her ‘Evans’ every five seconds,” he told him, shoving his free hand in the pocket of his cardigan as he walked.

“And you should bring her flowers. Actual flowers, not some quills you transfigured into flowers like you did for Mother’s Day,” Lucy added, giving him a playfully wicked grin before pausing outside the portrait of the Fat Lady with the boys.

The four of them looked back at her, all of them giving her a gentle parting smile. “We still studying in the library tonight after dinner? If I fail my Divination exam James is gonna make me sleep in the Owlery and I’ll have to take it again next year,” Sirius asked, giving her an almost pleading look as he spoke.

Lucy chuckled, but nodded gently. “Yeah, just don’t be late again or I’ll curse all of your quills so you can’t write down anything correct,” she warned, smiling a bit as she saw his wide grin.

“You’re the best, Little Prongs.”

“Hey, Sirius?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

-x-x-x-

“That was actually boring this time,” Harry said to his aunt with a small pout, folding his arms across his chest, his hippogriff dangling by his wing from his tiny fist.

Lucy smiled patiently, pushing some hair out of his face again, a small twinge bursting her heart as her eyes briefly landed on his lightning bolt scar in the center of his forehead. “It’s not the end of the story, bug,” she told her nephew, kissing the top of his head gently.

“Is it gonna get better?” he asked, tilting his head to the side so his curly brown hair fell across his forehead once again.

Lucy nodded, folding her hands together in her lap. “I think so. This one has Uncle Padfoot and Uncle Wormtail when they’re in their animagus form,” she told him, which caused the young boy to perk up quickly.

“Really?” he asked.

Lucy nodded.

“When am I gonna see Uncle Padfoot as a dog again?” he asked her curiously.

Lucy’s expression dropped a bit, but she smiled again quickly and hoped Harry hadn’t noticed her slight falter. “How about I finish the story, yeah?” she asked. Harry just nodded, seemingly forgetting about his oh-so-important question that occupied his mind moments before and that he hadn’t received a proper answer to it.

“Alright, so after our last class on that Friday, I met Uncles Padfoot, Moony, and Wormtail down in the Courtyard…”

-x-x-x-

“You’re positive they left already?” Sirius asked Remus, leaning against one of the old stone pillars set up throughout the courtyard.

Remus nodded, seemingly uninterested in the whole situation that was happening at the moment. “Yes, Marlene saw them heading out towards Hogsmeade just before we got here,” he reiterated, playing with the old, slightly unwound sleeves of his cable knit sweater. Sirius and Peter nodded, grinning widely at the slightly mischievous plan that was now officially underway.

“So, you guys know what you have to do, correct?” Peter asked, wringing his hands out a bit as he spoke. Whenever James wasn’t around, Peter stepped up to the occasion to be the one to worry about whether or not every little detail was perfectly in place. Remus would, but he honestly wasn’t as invested in the pranks and plans as the rest of the Marauders.

“Yes, Pete,” Lucy told him, giving him a reassuring smile. “Rem and I are gonna go in and sit at a booth in the back corner, and you two will be across the street, watching to make sure everything goes right,” she explained to him again. Peter nodded, looking slightly relieved with her answer.

“Well, that is just fantastic! Can you two pretend you’re in love now so it’ll be more convincing you’re on a date? I’ll even let you kiss him to sell it, Little Prongs,” Sirius said, but he put his hands up in surrendered defense when Lucy reached for her wand. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding! Merlin, you’re a tough crowd,” he muttered, nodding towards the other end of the courtyard before he began to lead them all down towards the small village of Hogsmeade.

Lucy and Remus trailed behind a bit as Sirius and Peter took the lead, morphing into a large black dog and a small rat once they were a little ways off from the school grounds and they were positive no one was around. Wormtail quickly scuttered up onto Padfoot’s back, Remus and Lucy being almost positive his tiny hands were gripping for dear life onto the shaggy black fur as he started running towards Hogsmeade.

“How pissed do you think James is gonna be when he realizes what’s happening?” Lucy asked Remus curiously, glancing up at the much taller boy as she spoke. He simply shrugged, a small grin prickling at the sides of his mouth. Despite what people usually thought of Remus, that being that he doesn’t like pranks and separates himself from those that the rest of the Marauders pulled, he was almost always up for, or even the mastermind, behind some of their best mischief.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to ram at us as Prongs the second Lily left,” he said, chuckling a bit at the thought of it. Lucy grinned as well, now hoping that that would be the outcome.

They walked the rest of the short trip in silence, looking around at the different birds or creatures that poked out of the forest as they walked past. Once they got to Hogsmeade, the two of them moved a little closer to each other, and started making as much random small talk as possible. As they checked to make sure a black dog and a rat were across from the Three Broomsticks before they entered, they were talking about the last prank that they had pulled on one Severus Snape.

“I still can’t believe you managed to mess up his potion that badly. What the hell did you even add to it?” Remus asked, holding the door open for Lucy before leading her off towards the back of the small pub. They passed by James and Lily as they walked past, James glancing up at them with a slight glare for a brief moment before he quickly turned his attention back to his date. Lucy and Remus grinned a little bit, scooting into a booth in the back of the room.

“I just grabbed some old Aconite from one of Slughorn’s expired ingredients piles. You’d think the Potions Master would notice the difference between different types of plants,” Lucy said smugly, glancing across the room silently to her brother. “He looks like a little kid. What a dork.”

Remus stifled a small chuckle at Lucy’s comment, glancing out the window for a moment. “I’ll go get some butterbeers. Extra ginger on yours, right?” he asked, standing up from his seat. She nodded with a grin, leaning back into the booth as she watched Remus head over towards the bar.

She kept an eye on her brother and Lily, doing her best to not make it too obvious while also trying not to laugh. James wasn’t acting as he usually was; his posture was as close to perfect as it could get, and he kept playing with the collar of his shirt when he wasn’t talking - he also wasn’t talking as much as he usually did. It was interesting for her to see her brother in this sort of situation.

Remus came back a few minutes later, setting the glass mugs down on the table before sliding into the booth next to Lucy. “Could you hear anything they’re saying?” she asked him, taking a sip of the foamy, warm drink as she leaned back into the poorly cushioned seat.

He nodded gently, sipping his drink slowly as well before glancing out the window as well. “I think they were talking about Quidditch. It sounded like he was just explaining it a bit more thoroughly to her,” he said with a shrug, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m surprised he isn’t talking more, though. I think he’s gone through two mugs so far,” Remus confessed to her, glancing to one of his best friends for a moment before looking back at Lucy.

Lucy looked around him for a brief moment, and she grinned widely. She noticed the tips of her brother’s ears turning red, and his gaze averting from his date to the large window at the front of the pub.

“You alright, Potter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Remus and Lucy could hear Lily from their seats, and Lucy was doing her best to hide her face and laughter in the werewolf’s cable knit sweater sleeve.

“No- I mean, yeah, yeah, I’m good. I just- I saw a dog that reminded me of a dog my sister brought home once,” James said quickly, shaking his head a bit as if to rid his head of the two animals across the cobblestone street watching him and his date intently.

Remus chuckled softly, doing his best to hide himself behind his mug of butterbeer. “He’s got to know what we’re up to by now,” Lucy whispered up to him through giggles, running her hands back through her hair before looking back to Remus.

“He’d have to be bloody stupid if he didn’t piece it all together by now,” he grinned, folding his arms across his chest proudly. “He’s daft sometimes, but I know he knows what Padfoot and Wormtail look like at this point.”

“That’s fair,” she grinned, taking another sip of her warm drink as they talked. She glanced back over at her brother again, unable to hide her small smile when she noticed how happy he had looked. “Do you think he’s gonna ask her to be his girlfriend by the end of their date or is he going to chicken out and wait three more dates?” Lucy asked curiously, leaning back into her seat a little bit.

Remus simply shrugged, his fingertips tracing over the top of his sweater where she knew a few deep scars were by now. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he at least tried. She might want to wait a little longer, though. I think she just likes taking a lot of things slower and taking her time with it,” he explained to her, tapping his fingertips against the tabletop. “Especially after everything that went down with Snape last year. She’s just… having a hard time with trusting new people, I suppose.”

Lucy nodded understandingly. She really couldn’t blame Lily; her best friend, one of the people she had been closest to in the world, openly said terrible things about Muggleborns, then tried to excuse himself by saying he didn’t mean them towards her specifically.

She didn’t buy it for one second.

“At least she’s gotten closer with James. She seems to actually like him, now that he’s not such an annoying toe rag,” she grinned, glancing up at the clock on the wall as she noticed the two of them getting up, James offering his hand out to his date before leading her out of the pub. The two noticed the rat hopping off the shaggy black dog, bounding after the two Gryffindors once they were headed down the road towards the castle.

“I wonder if he ever took my advice and got her flowers,” Lucy thought aloud, finishing off her drink before setting it back down on the table. “Come on, we better make sure a certain dog didn’t get into a territory war with the other strays,” she said with a grin, pulling out a few galleons and setting them on the table before standing up out of the booth. Remus followed after her, wiping a bit of foam from the corner of his mouth with his sweater sleeve.

He led her through the crowded tables and booths out towards the front door, stopping on the other side of the street to pet the black dog. He stood up after a moment and nodded towards the castle, leading now both Lucy and Padfoot back to Hogwarts. The witch and wizard made small talk once again as they walked at a slower pace, somehow landing on the topic of what animagus Lucy would have been if she decided to go through with the plan with her brother and his friends.

“I know for a fact I wouldn’t be a doe,” she said, laughing a bit at the thought. “I think I’d probably be like… I don’t know, a snake, or something like that.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re in Slytherin!”

“No! I think I’d be best as a snake. I can sneak around the castle, and how cool would it be to say that I’m a snake?” she defended, the two of them laughing a bit before Peter came running up to them quickly, looking out of breath yet excited.

“He kissed her!” Peter exclaimed quickly when he had reached the two students and the dog. At this news, however, Padfoot paused, quickly turning back to his human form. His mouth was agape, his face displaying pure shock.

“WHAT?” he practically yelled. Remus and Lucy were nearly positive anyone back at the castle would have heard him. “Does this mean we’re gonna have a Baby Prongs too?”

“Shut up, Sirius,” Lucy said quickly to the rowdy boy.

“You’re barking,” Remus said, shaking his head a bit. “He would’ve been too scared to kiss her,” he added, continuing to walk alongside the younger Potter and the eldest Black back towards the castle.

“I’m not! I swear!” Peter protested, following after them quickly. “It was really quick, but I saw it! He walked her up to the stairs to the girls dorm and kissed her!”

“Come on! Wormtail doesn’t have the capacity to lie! He’d probably cry if he tried to lie to us,” Sirius pointed out, causing Remus to slow down for a minute at the thought. Peter nodded quickly in agreement with Sirius, not taking offense to the slightly passive comment that was just made about him.

The four of them began walking quickly back towards the school, now very curious about what had just happened. They practically sprinted through the halls and past the portraits, who yelled at them for running in the castle. The three boys practically shouted the password at the Fat Lady and smuggled Lucy in behind them, nearly falling on top of each other as they shuffled into the common room.

Lucky for them, James was in there, standing at the foot of the stairs that led to the boys dormitories. Unluckily for them, he looked… pissed, to say the absolute least.

“What the bloody hell were you guys doing!?” he shouted, his arms folded across his chest. He looked the way you’d expect a disappointed dad to look at you when you messed up. If the four of them weren’t so excited, they probably would’ve felt at least a little guilty.

“You KISSED Evans?” the four of them yelled back in unison, causing James to stumble back a bit out of shock. He glanced over to Peter, who cowered behind Remus and Sirius a bit, almost afraid he was going to be grounded.

“It’s none of your business who I kiss!”

“Oh my God!” Lucy said, shaking her head a bit and laughing. “I can’t believe it! Tell us everything that happened!” she exclaimed, taking her brother by the wrist and dragging her off towards the couch that was closest to the fireplace.

James, unimpressed with his sister’s theatrics, wrung his hand out of her grasp. He rolled his eyes a little bit, but still sat himself down on the couch beside his sister. “Do I really have to talk to you about this, of all people!”

“Yes!”

James groaned at her answer, folding his arms across his chest but smiling a bit as he thought back to what the day had held for him. “Fine,” he gave in, his face blushing a soft pink color as he thought of where to start. “How much would you guys hate me if I told you she was the one who kissed me?”

-x-x-x-

“And that was their first of many, many more dates,” Lucy explained to Harry, giving him a warm smile as she combed some of his hair out of his face.

He looked up at her with pure wonder and amusement, as if he had heard one of the best stories ever in his entire, albeit short, life.

“What are they doing?” he asked, tilting his head off to the side a bit.

Lucy raised a curious eyebrow, resting her hand down on the mattress next to her nephew. “What do you mean, bug?” she asked.

“What do they do now? Are they still together?” he clarified, smoothing over the plush wing of his inanimate best friend.

Lucy, doing her best to figure out how to delicately word everything to her nephew, gave him a soft, sad smile. “They got married after they left Hogwarts, and they had a very cute, very smart little boy,” she told him, pushing some curls out of his face so she could see her brother again. “But they got very hurt one night, protecting their little boy, and they had to go far away so they could get better.”

“When do you think they’ll come back?”

She felt her stomach sink at the question, sighing a bit as she dropped her hands into her lap once again. “I don’t think they will, bubs. I know that they really, really wish they could, though,” she told him, squeezing his hand gently.

“I think it’s time for bed… We have to leave to go to Uncle Moony’s pretty early tomorrow,” she said, quickly trying to change the subject. She leaned over and kissed the top of his head gently, giving him one last warm smile. “G’night, B.P.,” she said, winking down at him playfully.

Harry leaned up slightly in his reclined position, pressing a sloppy kiss to his aunt’s nose. “Goodnight, L.P.,” he responded, giving her a big grin as he took off his round glasses and set them on the table next to his bed.

Lucy got up from the bed and headed towards the door, turning off the light as she glanced back to her godson. “Sleep tight, don’t let the doxies bite,” she told him, grinning as she heard his small laughter ring through the room. She closed the door slowly and sighed, rubbing at her eyes a bit as she headed down the hall to her own bedroom.

Before she reached the end of the hallway, however, she paused in front of a large framed photo in the middle of a bunch of other small ones. It was of Harry, his parents, Remus, Sirius, and Lucy, all in the house in Godric’s Hollow when they had first moved in. Harry was hardly a year old, oblivious to the chaos occurring around him outside of the protected walls. He was on a small toy broom Sirius had bought for him, zooming around the group of them as he giggled over and over. James kept trying to reach for him, making sure he was alright, while Lily laughed at the ordeal. Sirius grinned brightly at the chaos he had caused, while Lucy and Remus just looked on at the rest of them in amusement. Peter was the one taking the picture, and Lucy felt as if she could almost hear his shrill laughter. She missed those days dearly, when she still had all of her friends, all of her family, around her and laughing with her.

She traced the frame of the photo with her fingertips as she smiled sadly up at it, wishing silently they could all have seen how great Harry had turned out, how good he was doing, how proud he made her. She sighed quietly again and headed down to her room, freezing for a moment as she felt something on her shoulder. She knew it was nothing, probably a gust of wind through her cracked window or a small fly buzzing past her, but she rested her hand on her shoulder for a moment, silently imagining it was her brother or even Lily, looking down on all of them and just comforting her. She smiled at the thought, before she slipped into her bed and fell asleep, much more quickly than she usually did.

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graciousheaven · 3 years

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RIGHTEOUSNESS: GOD'S FREE GIFT TO SINNERS

The Lord God Almighty, our Sovereign Lord is a unique entity with unique attributes exclusively inherent to his person. And these qualities are clearly revealed to us in the things that He does. As the Apostle Paul says in Romans 1:20, “Ever since God created the world, his invisible qualities, both his eternal power and his divine nature, have been clearly seen; they are perceived in the things that God has made.” Therefore it is essential for us to study God’s power in creation, his nature and his deeds in order to comprehend who He is and to properly define his attributes. And it is also important for us to note that among the uncountable deeds of our Lord there is one preeminent act in which greater revelations of his divine attributes are found: the crucifixion of our Lord Jesus Christ. Christ’s redemptive work on the cross reveals to us all the attributes of our God. The cross is a crucial element to consider when we seek to know God, when we seek to understand his attributes. The cross is the place where all our sins were paid for. Christ was hanged on that tree and He bore our sins though He knew no sin, in order to appease God’s wrath and satisfy God’s divine justice. He was our substitute on the cross. As Isaiah 53:4 says, “He endured the suffering that should have been ours, the pain that we should have borne.”

The Sovereign Lord announces his redemptive plan through his Son Jesus Christ since the beginning in Genesis after the fall of Adam. When God, the righteous God pronounces judgement against the serpent in the Garden of Eden, He declares: “I will make you and the woman hate each other; her offspring and yours will always be enemies. Her offspring will crush your head, and you will bite her offspring’s heel.” (Genesis 3:15). The Lord God Almighty, thence, determines the means by which his righteous demand for justice would be satisfied. Under the old covenant, sacrifices for sin were performed yearly by the Jewish High Priest. But these sacrifices did not purify people, but they did “serve year after year to remind people of their sins. For the blood of bulls and goats can never take away sins.” (Hebrews 9:3-4). And Hebrews 10:5-10 tells us that, “For this reason, when Christ was about to come into the world, He said to God: ‘You do not want sacrifices and offerings, but you have prepared a body for Me. You are not pleased with animals burnt whole on the altar or with sacrifices to take away sins. Then I said, ‘Here I am, to do your will, O God, just as it is written of Me in the book of the Law.’” Hebrews 10:10-14 says, “Because Jesus Christ did what God wanted Him to do, we are all purified from sin by the offering that He made of his own body once and for all. Every Jewish priest performs his services every day and offers the same sacrifices many times; but these sacrifices can never take away sins. Christ, however, offered one sacrifice for sins, an offering that is effective for ever, and then He sat down at the right-hand side of God. There He now waits until God puts his enemies as a footstool under his feet. With one sacrifice, then, He has made perfect for ever those who are purified from sin.”

God reconciled us to his grace through the redemptive work of Christ on the cross. Without the cross the entire human race would end up in hell. But “by becoming a curse for us Christ has redeemed us from the curse that the Law brings; for the Scripture says, ‘Anyone who is hanged on a tree is under God’s curse.’” (Galatians 3:13). The cross of Jesus is the revelation of the righteousness of God. Christ’s sacrifice takes away the sins of believers. He was sacrificed once and for all, unlike the sacrifices for sin that were performed yearly into the Most Holy Place under the old covenant by the High Priest. As Hebrews 9:24-28 tells us, “Christ did not go into a Holy Place made by human hands, which was a copy of the real one. He went into Heaven itself, where He now appears on our behalf in the presence of God. The Jewish High Priest goes into the Most Holy Place every year with the blood of an animal. But Christ did not go in to offer Himself many times, for then He would have had to suffer many times ever since the creation of the world. Instead, now when all ages of time are nearing the end, He has appeared once and for all, to remove sin through the sacrifice of Himself. Everyone must die once, and after that be judged by God. In the same manner Christ also was offered in sacrifice once to take away the sins of many. He will appear a second time, not to deal with sin, but to save those who are waiting for Him.”

The cross of Jesus is the ultimate revelation of the righteousness of God. We cannot understand the righteousness of God apart from the cross; we cannot fully grasp its meaning apart from the Gospel. The Gospel is the revelation of God’s righteousness: it demonstrates God’s power to save all who believe. “For the Gospel reveals how God puts people right with Himself: it is through faith from beginning to end. As the Scripture says, ‘The person who is put right with God through faith shall live.’” (Romans 1:17). When we say that God is righteous, it simply means that He is morally upright, He is just and He rewards anyone according to his deeds. God has set a standard by which we are to live. Micah 6:8 tells us “What He requires of us is this: to do what is just, to show constant love, and to live in humble fellowship with our God.” This is the standard by which we will be judged – “A good person will be rewarded for doing good, and an evil person will suffer for the evil he does.” (Ezekiel 18:20). By punishing the wicked and by rewarding the righteous, God exercises his judicial authority and role; He demonstrates his righteousness. To quote Dr. Steven J. Lawson, “Righteousness means to give to each man his due based upon his conformity or lack of conformity to the divine standard of perfect holiness.” Because God is righteous, He punishes sin and rewards those who are right with Him. God loves what is right and hates what is wrong; He hates the lawless with all his heart. He punishes evil, He punishes the wicked, but He rewards those who live to the standard set by Him.

Psalms 11:7 says: “The LORD is righteous and loves good deeds; those who do them will live in his presence.” But now the problem is: “We “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23). God created us upright, but we have sought out evil schemes. We are all under the power of sin. In sin we were all conceived and in sin we live. Sin is our inheritance from the blood of Adam. Sin is inherent to our human nature. Sin has separated us from the glorious presence of God our Creator. No human being born of a man and a woman is without sin. Romans 3:10-18 says, “There is no one who is righteous, no one who is wise or who worships God. All have turned away from God; they have all gone wrong; no one does what is right, not even one. Their words are full of deadly deceit; wicked lies roll off their tongues, and dangerous threats, like snake’s poison, from their lips; their speech is filled with bitter curses. They are quick to hurt and kill, they leave ruin and destruction wherever they go. They have not known the path of peace, nor have they learnt reverence for God.”

No human being born of a man and a woman lives to the standard set by God. We are inherently evil. This means we all deserve to die. For the reward for sin is death. But “God so loved the world that He gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” (John 3:16). God Himself provided the atonement for his justice to be satisfied. It was his will since the beginning to redeem his people. It was God’s plan to save people from his own wrath. As Paul says in Ephesians 1:5, “Because of his love God had already decided that through Jesus Christ He would make us his sons and daughters – this was his pleasure and purpose.” Right from Genesis 3 the Sovereign Lord promises the coming of the Messiah who takes away the sins of his people. This promise has been fulfilled on the cross in Calvary, where God offered his own Son as the propitiation for our sins. He slaughtered his only beloved Son in order to appease his wrath, the wrath that you and I have stirred up because of our sins against the Holy Lord God Almighty. God did not spare Him because his justice needed to be satisfied. And the only way you and I could be justified and reconciled to the Holy God was through the blood of his Son. It pleased God to sacrifice his Son, so that you and I may share the glory of the Son. Christ suffered in the hand of his own Father so that you and I may have eternal life.

Christ died as our substitute on the cross. God imputed our sins to his Son and credited the righteousness of his Son to us who believe. “It was not because of any good deeds that we ourselves had done, but because of his own mercy that He saved us, through the Holy Spirit, who gives us new birth and new life by washing us. God poured out the Holy Spirit abundantly on us through Jesus Christ our Saviour, so that by his grace we might be put right with God and come into possession of the eternal life we hope for.” (Titus 3:5-7). The Lord Jesus Christ is our righteousness. His righteousness is imputed to us through faith in Him. Christ is the Way, the Truth, and the Life; no one goes to the Father except by Him. Christ reconciled us to the Father by taking our place on that tree. “God made peace through his Son’s blood on the cross and so brought back to Himself all things, both on earth and in Heaven.” (Colossians 1:20).

We used to be sons and daughters of disobedience, controlled by the evil passions and desires of the flesh. We were dead and slaves to sin. God justified us through Christ in order to bring us holy, pure, and faultless into his presence. “God puts people right through their faith in Jesus Christ. God does this to all who believe in Christ, because there is no difference at all: everyone has sinned and is far away from God’s saving presence. But by the free gift of God’s grace all are put right with Him through Christ Jesus, who sets them free. God offered Him, so that by his blood He should become the means by which people’s sins are forgiven through their faith in Him. God did this in order to demonstrate that He is righteous. In the past He was patient and overlooked people’s sins; but in the present time He deals with their sins, in order to demonstrate his righteousness. In this way God shows that He himself is righteous and that He puts right everyone who believes in Jesus” (Romans 3:22-26).

It was to justify us, to put us right with Himself that God sacrificed his only Son. Christ redeemed us and therefore his righteousness got imputed to us who believe in Him. We do not have a righteousness of our own; our righteousness comes from God through faith in Christ. We are ruled by the love of Christ; He died to reconcile us to God. Christ died to satisfy the righteous demand of God’s divine justice. Through his blood we are put right with God through our faith in Him. “By Him we are put right with God; we become God’s holy people and are set free. So then, as the Scripture says, ‘Whoever wants to boast must boast of what the Lord has done.” (1 Corinthians 1:30). God through his Son changed us from enemies into his friends. God did not keep an account of our sins. He gave his own Son as a propitiation in order to cancel our sins, not as the result of our own efforts, but as a gift, the result of his love, mercy and grace.

We have been legally justified before God. Christ bore our sins and has brought us into this experience of God’s grace, in which we now live. We are free from the bondage of sin; we are no longer slaves to sin. Romans 8:1-4 tells us: “Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death. For what the law was powerless to do because it was weakened by the flesh, God did by sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh to be a sin offering. And so He condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fully met in us, who do not live according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.” Christ came on earth to fulfill the law; He paid all the penalties for us who believe in Him. His substitutionary death on the cross paid for our sins; it set us free and reconciled us to God. There is no more separation, no more condemnation – God’s divine wrath is appeased; justice is satisfied. Romans 5:17 says: “All who receive God’s abundant grace and are freely put right with Him will rule in life through Christ.” God has put his stamp of ownership on us who believe in Christ by giving us his Spirit. God in his goodness and saving grace has blessed us who believe in his Son with the Holy Spirit – “The Spirit is the guarantee that we shall receive what God has promised his people, and this assures us that God will give complete freedom to those who are his.” (Ephesians 1:14). “Law was introduced in order to increase wrongdoing; but where sin increased, God’s grace increased much more. So then, just as sin ruled by means of death, so also God’s grace rules by means of righteousness, leading us to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” (Romans 5:20-21).

Now that through God’s grace we have received the righteousness of Christ our Lord and Saviour, the question is: Can we continue to live like when we were still foreigners to God’s grace? Should we go on sinning because we have been justified before the Holy One? Christ has satisfied the righteous demand of God’s divine justice, He has appeased God’s wrath on our behalf by paying for our past, present and future sins. Should we continue to be ruled by the flesh? We have been called by God through his Son to live a holy life. We have been redeemed so that we can live to the standard set by God. Romans 8:12-13 tells us, “we have an obligation, but it is not to live as our human nature wants us to. For if you live according to your human nature, you are going to die; but if by the Spirit you put to death your sinful actions, you will live.” We are urged to be like our Master, to be filled with the Spirit, to be humble, loving and kind. We are no longer slaves to sin, but Christ’s slaves, slaves of righteousness. For we have be called by God to follow Christ in his steps, to live like Christ, to live a righteous life. As Paul says in Romans 6:18-20, “You were set free from sin and became the slaves of righteousness. At one time you surrendered yourselves entirely as slaves to impurity and wickedness for wicked purposes. In the same way you must now surrender yourselves entirely as slaves of righteousness for holy purposes. When you were slaves of sin, you were free from righteousness.” 2 Corinthians 5:15 says, Christ “died for all, so that those who live should no longer live for themselves, but only for Him who died and was raised to life for their sake.” Colossians 3:1-4 tells us, “You have been raised to life with Christ, so set your hearts on the things that are in heaven, where Christ sits on his throne at the right-hand side of God. Keep your minds fixed on things there, not on things here on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. Your real life is Christ and when He appears, then you too will appear with Him and share his glory!”

It is written: “God has made us what we are, and in our union with Christ Jesus He has created us for a life of good deeds, which He has already prepared for us to do.” (Ephesians 2:10). We are to offer ourselves as living sacrifices to God, fully devoted to worshipping and serving Him. “God has revealed his grace for the salvation of the whole human race. That grace instructs us to give up ungodly living and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in this world, as we wait for the blessed Day we hope for, when the glory of our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ will appear. He gave Himself for us, to rescue us from all wickedness and to make us a pure people who belong to Him alone and are eager to do good.” (Titus 2:11-14). The Lord commands us in Matthew 6:33, “Be concerned above everything else with the Kingdom of God and with what He requires of you.” We must not surrender any part of our being to sin to be used for wicked purposes. Instead, we must give ourselves to God, as those who have been brought from death to life, and surrender our whole being to Him to be used for righteous purposes. For we were set free from sin and became the slaves of righteousness. (Romans 6:13). We must feed ourselves on the words of faith. Like Paul says in his second letter to Timothy, we must keep away from godless legends and human doctrines and train ourselves for godly life. “Christ was without sin, but for our sake God made Him share our sin in order that in union with Him we might share the righteousness of God.” (2 Corinthians 5:21). Therefore our minds and hearts must be made new now that we are Christ’s slaves. We must clothe ourselves with kindness, gentleness, love, patience, goodness, endurance, faithfulness and obedience.

Under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, Paul in his letter to Ephesus urges us to put on the new self, which is created in God’s likeness and reveals itself in the true life that is upright and holy. We have been called to live like Christ, to walk in the Spirit. Our lives must be controlled by the Spirit. The Spirit of God works in us to sanctify us, to conform us to the image of Christ. In the same way we are freely justified by God through faith in Christ, our sanctification does not depend on us: we do not have the capacity on our own to change the evilness of our flesh. It is the power of the Holy Spirit within us that brings us life and leads us into the pursuit of righteousness. As the Scripture says, “There is nothing in us that allows us to claim that we are capable of doing this work. The capacity we have comes from God; it is He who made us capable of serving the new covenant, which consists not of a written law but of the Spirit.” (2 Corinthians 3:5-6). It is the Spirit of the Lord that transforms us into Christ’s likeness. We must let the Spirit control us, for it is the Spirit that saved us. We must all be good servants of Christ, for He bought us at the cost of his blood.

We have been redeemed by the blood of Christ for Christ, in order that we may be parts of his body, not because of anything good we have done. Christ has given us life. The Sovereign Lord says in Isaiah 43:25, “I am the God who forgives your sins, and I do this because of who I am. I will not hold your sins against you.” We were once spiritually dead because of our sins. “But God has now brought you to life with Christ. God has forgiven our sins; He cancelled the unfavourable record of our debts with its binding rules and did away with it completely by nailing it to the cross. And on that cross Christ freed Himself from the power of the spiritual rulers and authorities; He made a public spectacle of them by leading them as captives in his victory procession.” (Colossians 2:13-15). “As the one sin condemned all people, in the same way the righteous act sets all people free and gives life. And just as the mass of people were made sinners as the result of the disobedience of one man, in the same way the mass of people will all be put right with God as the result of the obedience of the One man.” (Romans 5:18-19).

We are justified by faith alone in Christ alone. Anyone who rejects the sacred blood of God’s covenant is under divine wrath. Wrath is God’s righteous response to human depravity, sin and rebellion against Him. Those who reject Christ and think that they are good enough to be right with God are in for a rude surprise. Christ is the only means to be justified before the Holy God. Those who reject or hinder this truth reject God’s grace that sets people free and gives them life, and all that is left for them is damnation. Anyone who rejects the Gospel is given over to their reprobate mind. This is plainly brought to everyone’s attention in Romans 1:18-32 – it is written: “God’s anger is revealed from heaven against the sin and evil of the people whose evil ways prevent the truth from being known. God punishes them, because what can be known about God is plain to them, for God Himself made it plain. Ever since God created the world, his invisible qualities, both his eternal power and his divine nature, have been clearly seen; they are perceived in the things that God has made. So those people have no excuse at all! They know God, but they do not give Him the honour that belongs to Him, nor do they thank Him. Instead, their thoughts have become complete nonsense, and their empty minds are filled with darkness. They say they are wise, but they are fools; instead of worshipping the immortal God, they worship images made to look like mortal human beings or birds or animals or reptiles. And so God has given those people over to the filthy things their hearts desire, and they do shameful things with each other. They exchange the truth about God for a lie; they worship and serve what God has created instead of the Creator Himself, who is to be praised for ever! Amen. Because they do this, God has given them over to shameful passions. Even the women pervert the natural use of their sex by unnatural acts. In the same way the men give up natural sexual relations with women and burn with passion for each other. Men do shameful things with each other, and as a result they bring upon themselves the punishment they deserve for their wrongdoing. Because those people refuse to keep in mind the true knowledge about God, He has given them over to corrupted minds, so that they do the things that they should not do. They are filled with all kinds of wickedness, evil, greed, and vice; they are full of jealousy, murder, fighting, deceit, and malice. They gossip and speak evil of one another; they are hateful to God, insolent, proud, and boastful; they think of more ways to do evil; they disobey their parents; they have no conscience; they do not keep their promises, and they show no kindness or pity for others. They know that God’s law says that people who live in this way deserve death. Yet, not only do they continue to do these very things, but they even approve of others who do them.”

God, the righteous God, condemns those who rebel against Him. He gives them over to their reprobate minds and they do what they are not supposed to do, and it this way they compound their punishment, making their pains even greater for the Day of Judgement. The picture presented in Romans 1 describes exactly what we see around the world today. Nations are under God’s judgement because many have rejected the truth to uphold lies. They have rejected Christ and his teaching and embraced human doctrines. Such have already been judged because they do not believe in God’s only Son. They remain slaves to sin and are condemned to face the second death. The Lord Jesus Christ is our righteousness, the Only Saviour. Salvation is found in Christ alone. He died so that everyone who believes in Him may live. He is the substitutionary atonement for our sins. And whoever believes in Him will not die; but those who rejects Him will be damned. Christ is the only means to be right with God, He is the only way to Heaven, the Life-giving Water. “No one can enter the Kingdom of God without being born of water and the Spirit.” (John 3:5). No one can inherit the Kingdom of God without being regenerated by the Spirit. The Spirit is Christ, the Spirit is life. Regeneration is a new birth and a new life in Christ. Only those who are in Christ can receive the new birth and eternal glory, thanks to the blood of the Lamb of God who paid their penalties. Those who reject Christ will die in their sins and go to hell, where they will spend eternity. The Lord redeems anyone who seeks Him, anyone who remembers how God wants us to live. He has atoned for our sins and He wants us to honour his Son, to have faith in Christ in order to be right with Him. And so everyone who believes in Christ is legally justified before God through their faith. But those who reject the Son of God continue to bear the guilt of their sins and will remain accountable for all eternity. John 3:18 says, “Those who believe in the Son are not judged; but those who do not believe have already been judged, because they have not believed in God’s only Son.” There is no other way people can be justified before God, Christ alone is the Saviour – we are saved by God’s grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone. “Salvation is to be found through Him alone; in all the world there is no one else whom God has given who can save us.” (Acts 4:12) The Lord says in John 12:48, “Those who reject Me and do not accept my message have one who will judge them. The words I have spoken will be their judge on the last day!”

As you read this message today, if you aren’t in the faith yet, if you are not committed to Christ, do not continue to reject the free gift of God’s grace, which is found in Christ alone. For Christ is the only means by which sinners are justified before God through their faith in Him. Christ suffered the curses that you should have suffered, in order to reconcile you to God’s grace. Recognize your need of Christ the Saviour. Do not harden your heart. Lay down your pride and believe onto Jesus, the righteousness of all who have faith in Him. Renounce to your self-righteousness and cling to Jesus. He died to save sinners not those who consider themselves righteous. You cannot escape God’s righteous wrath, you cannot escape eternity in hell unless you are clothed with the righteousness of the Son of God. Turn to Christ, confess your sins to Him and believe on Him. Christ laid down his own life to justify the wicked. He freely redeems those who recognize that they are sinners and turn to Him, the Saviour. Anyone who confesses Christ as Lord and has faith in Him is set free from the bondage of sin and death; they escape hell. Call upon the name of the Lord Jesus and He will impute his righteousness to you and you will appear blameless before God on the Day of Judgement. Anyone who rejects Christ rejects his share of this grace and therefore can never be right with God. All you have to do is to believe in Christ and confess Him as Lord and Saviour, for He is the atonement for all our sins. Do not close your heart to God’s redeeming grace. Turn to Christ and trade in your sins for his righteousness in order to be right with God. He was sent by God the Father into the world in order to redeem those who have faith in Him. He will return soon, but this time not to save the world, rather to judge it. And all those who are not in the faith will suffer divine wrath and spend eternity in hell – for there is no other way except through the blood of the Lamb to be right with God. God justifies people exclusively through their faith in Christ.

#the righteousness of God #be right with God #justification by faith #Christ is our righteousness #graciousheaven #be justified #justifcation through faith #free gift of God #to be right with Christ

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kerblackthorn · 3 years

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Unmasking the Master-Mistress of Magic

I am the prophet of the Mastriss, the seer in the Darkness. I sought a path: I looked to religion, to science, and to the innumerable paths within Paganism, Hinduism, the occult, and Wicca, but none could hold, none could contain fully my heart nor express the language of my soul. I pilgrimaged to India and Europe, became certified in yogic instruction, I took many plants hoping to finally rend the Veil and see the Truth. Intuitively, I always knew that Truth is One although our languages and cultures are many. Truth is absolute although our experiences are as countless as the stars. As variable in sound as the way each child develops their speech. We do not invalidate one another but expand our breadth and depth of knowledge for this beautiful wondrous Kosmos through one another.

I shall seek to express in such variable human skills the Truth of our existence. I shall try to explain how to experience this Truth, that anyone who reads my words would make connections and find their own words. That when you speak to the spirits, they would speak back and be heard. I want to do this because I love you, although I do not yet know you. All of this World is my kin, and so you who read my words are my brothers and sisters, my aunties and uncles. I was discouraged and deluded, full of doubt and fear, but when I found the footsteps of the Trickster in every culture, the fingerprints of that profoundly simple dual-natured Mastriss experientially everywhere I sought the reality of things, all of my burdens were shed. Now, I wander around with a head as empty as a child and eyes as open as a madman. I come and go from my body as a mouse from their hole.

Having drunk from the breasts of the Mighty Goat, I smile at the Wind, talk to the Tree-People, and sometimes cry when I pluck a Plant. All of my needs and desires are taken care of, and I have no fear of any future need or desire to go unmet. My spirit-mate walks beside me and I see Her smile and hear Her voice all throughout my days. One day, when the Dark Angel comes for me, that demon that once terrified me but whose mighty name I know now and call, I will go along hand-in-hand with a smile as friends on our merry way to those well-known Lands I often dream of.

If you would set out upon this path, you must make every effort to break open your mind. The mind will always doubt, always delude, and always unnecessarily entangle you. Therefore, go to war with the mind: empty it, destroy its barriers, and achieve madness for yourself. The boons of Dionysus and the panic of Pan are your friends on this path, and the comforts of Aphrodite are your secure fixing point. Make Venusian love your great guiding principle and no evil will overtake your soul. As this war of the mind is undertaken, you must work to change your mind to its very core when it comes to 3 human beliefs whose presence is the greatest reason that unnatural religions continue to prevail in this world and the body clings so tightly to the soul that people have forgotten how to dream and how to sojourn out of the bonds of the daily self.

The first is the basically gnostic worldview which has been so ingrained through it's Christianization and the subsequent spread of Christianity. Gnosticism teaches us that the world is spiritual over physical, mind over matter, principles over practice… this is the first great trick which the Mastriss uses to test us. You must see past this preoccupation with compartmentalizing. Break open the dam of your spirit and let it flow out over your life! Embrace the truth of animism. Until science began to overtake religion in the 19th century it is clear from the journals of clergymen that even the Christian Church embraced this worldview until it had been supplanted by a science which was entirely incomplete, which could not comprehend the things which modern minds have found: the truths of quantum physics, the language of trees and water, and the true nature of consciousness were all matters of religion then, and when microscopes did not reveal these miniature worlds, the old world dismissed all the majesty of mystical religion. The reality is that mysticism was and always will be far ahead of science. Embrace animism, return to the primal.

The second trick we must overcome from the Mastriss is that of nature's triumph over nurture. We have fought with nature for so long, becoming, as anthropologists assert, cooked and "overdone". But now an eldritch call is going out in this last age of humankind, a voice that tells us we must return to the primal, the primitive, the raw, or else we will perish. This latest viral threat is just a taste of what the spirits will unleash unless we can succeed. A true religion must therefore be primal, entirely banded to the natural world and the survival of the Earth. A religion which neglects the eternal nature of the Earth as the World Tree itself, containing the 3 worlds within Her, will bring about an organic age of peace, balance, and harmony without needing laws and courts and tariffs and the imbalanced malarkey of the patriarchy to succeed. Earth-centric spirituality is fundamental.

The third and final trick we must overcome is the myth of humanity's separateness. Now, this is rough ground to till due to the preoccupation people have today with avoiding something called "cultural appropriation". And in one aspect, this preoccupation is something very positive: syncretism can quickly turn into a cycle of devouring, digesting, and regurgitation which leaves people with something so different and new that the original culture is lost. However, there is also a deeply ingrained principle in us all that Truth is absolute, even if it is not capable of being explained in absolutes. No one would seek out religion and pour over books and demand experiences if they were not wanting to know the true nature of existence and the laws and spirits behind the Kosmos. That doesn't mean that the language and system they learn is absolute, but that they are experiencing the reality of things. It's like meeting a person for the first time with your best friend: you both may discuss the same event and make up entirely different judgments about this newcomer.

Syncretism is, however, very helpful, as the process of seeking synchronicity with spirits and experiences and books allows one to develop a system of fact checking oneself and developing a road map toward broader horizons through knowledge one has not yet experienced. When viewed through the lens of animism, this process becomes even simpler. There is a strong chance that when viewed through the lens of animism some of the spirits that seem related from other cultures are, at times, angels of the primary deity who dwells within the same natural phenomenon. Angels are simply messengers, reflections of the spirit-gods they serve… the 7 primary Olympic Spirits who correspond to the 7 planets have hosts of angels that serve below them. Every one of the 72 Elohim encountered by Solomon has so-called "legions" of angels below them. I use angel here in the older and proper Grecian context which accords the etymology of the word.

I fall back on Helleno-Roman texts and worship a lot, alongside grimoire texts. I do this simply because it is so well preserved and so well ingrained in the Western corpus. Moreover, the “Papyri Graecae Magicae” and the “Orphic Hymns”, two veritable treasure troves of mystical wisdom handed down to us, veritable scripture for me, are culturally Hellenic. Jesus' draws on beliefs around Ouranon, Olympus, and Hades constantly in his teachings, teachings which most of us are somewhat familiar with. And the names of the Gods of All are contained in the PGM and Orpheus’ songs; that said, most of us have 4 seasons, so relying solely on Hellenic Reconstructionism does not necessarily make sense. It is absolutely divine that such a culture rooted in animism survived for us today, and it is so easy to understand their recordings due to the omnipresence of the Christian Church in the West, but not all of the personality of the True Religion has been contained therein. Moreover, celebrating the overlap and gaps filled in by other cultural beliefs is a beautiful treat: something the Orphics did to a lesser degree and the mageia of Alexandria did at length, and so is true even to the spirit of these origins.

Furthermore, relying solely on the ancient Hellenic religion does not make sense for a witch because Hellenismos was not predicated on the survival of witchcraft, seeking to outlaw and destroy it really, and the philosophy behind ancient Greek religion revolved around the worship of the 12 Olympians. The True Gods, the Old Gods, had been displaced and locked away to greater and lesser degress. Hecate, Hades, Persephone, Cybele, Helios, Selene, even Eros and Pan were mostly propitiated out of dire necessity. The mageia of Alexandria remembered Their true names, however, as well as the worship appropriate to Them and Their existence at the Root of All Things. In Rome, the peasantry are recorded handing down the story of Diana and Lucifer (the latter of whom is Eosporos before Roman naming came into effect) in “Aradia: the Gospel of the Witches”. This should be a sacred text for any true witch for in it we have the story of how the True Gods came and how They mean to come back, as well as Their natures and the relationship witches are invited to have with Them.

How then do we bring back the Old Gods as They choose, no longer boxing Them or packaging Them, but rather letting Them rule with Their own personalities? Quite vehemently, magic on the level of the miraculous, brothers and sisters. The story of Aradia is the story of how, when one has been granted a boon by Hecate-Diana, you should tell everyone how great She is and tell others how to pray to Her for their own benefit. Same as the story of how Isis won the secret name of Ra… you don't need to attack people with your faith as the Christians do, but to tell everyone how great your life has become as a result of Hecate, Eosporos, and Hades work in your life. If you are wont to, call Them Morrigan, Dagda, and Cernunnos, or Freya, Odin, and Thor. As long as the secret names from the PGM and the grimoires are intact and you know that you are talking to the God of Death, the Goddess of Fate, and the Mastriss of Storms you'll get far.

And on that note, I'd like to share some of the miracles I've seen Them work for me and those I love through me. 5 years ago, when I went to look for a home, I couldn't even qualify for a measly $450k loan, barely scraping up to the $300k level. In my home state, this means all I could afford were places that had been destroyed by the previous tenets, and the only bank loan I could qualify for required the home to be perfect… I had two kids and was very afraid what this meant for my future. I now have a $450k rental and I live in a $1.5M home in the woods. I let the Mastriss take the wheel of my life: I started working a little harder and accepting job offers and life offers that came in, and the Mastriss took care of me. This gave me the time and freedom to actually start pursuing my true passion, which is worshipping the Elder Gods, preaching and writing about Them, and practicing the Craft of the Witches.

When my middle son was very little, 1 year old, his older sister accidentally slammed his thumb in the door at a hotel in Disneyworld Orlando. It was a heavy, metal door and his little thumb was as flat as a pancake and oozing blood. I asked the Mastriss to heal him as we drove to the ER, using an old Germanic charm I have picked up. By the time we arrived, he was asleep. By the time we checked in, the thumb had stopped bleeding. By the time we got seen, it looked normal and he was already using it. They laughed at the resiliency of children, but a doctor visiting Disney had already seen the thumb and said that the bones looked smashed to pieces from the door, which had closed shut without any space in the frame at all. I had found him trying to yank his little thumb free from the steel frame, and it was not budging. And yet, 2 hours later, here was his thumb looking and feeling as well as ever. It didn't even swell up.

I have lived in the woods for more than half my life, and when I was young, I saw the Mastriss standing at the edge of the woods in the moonlight. The creature-form was mesmerizing and terrifying, with the haunches and mouth of a goat but the torso of a breasted humanoid. The Mastriss had piercing dark eyes that saw into my soul and the moonlight draped the Beast’s form like a cloak; my mother froze looking at the Beast beside me, standing at the woods edge. She was angry with me when the Beast left, saying that this was all my fault due to my "dabbling". Later, when my little sister and I were wandering in the same woods, I accidentally kicked a mountain lion who was sleeping in the underbrush. Startled, the lion roared and took off and then, to our terror, began running back at breakneck speed. When the lion was back within sight, I yelled, "I have seen the Master of these woods! I have seen the Master of all the woods! And not one evil can befall Them! Help me, Master Goat! Send Your angel!" And the lion stopped in its tracks, lowered its body, and slunk back gently into the grass.

If anything in your life is concerning you for any reason, no matter how big or small, try the Mastriss out. Put the Goat Angel to the test. Don't be afraid, because the Mastriss will appear to you as you need, and often appears as a little blue child to those who would fear Their Bestial Form, as to those Hindus who call Them little baby Krishna and those grimoires who call Them Lucifer or the King of the Fae respectively. In reality, the Mastriss is neither male nor female, but third-gendered. The One Who stands at the Gate to the Otherworld, Scirlin, Janus, Papa Legba: all masks that the Mastriss of Misrule wears, disguises and spirits that serve Them. Pray at the Threshold of your home, the edge of the Woods, on a Bridge, at the edge of the Ocean: "Mastriss of the Winds and Storms, Goat Angel Who tussles the tops of the trees, Adonai Sabaoth Who leads the Deathless Hosts through the windswept realm, I ask You to come into my life and order it how You see fit. Child and earthly consort of our Dark Mother, Brimo, let Your name be blessed by my tongue. Light up my life, Mastriss Lumiel, and let Your breast be my sweet succor. In the name of Your Chief Angel, Heliou Amene."

#witchcraft #animism #mastriss #western folk #lucifer #lumiel #brimo #pgm #greek magical papyri #hellenism #witch

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aidanchaser · 3 years

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Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Everyone Lives AU

Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero @magic713m @ccboomer @aubsenroute @somebodyswatson

Chapter Seven The Will of Albus Dumbledore

Harry promised his parents that he would be fine. He was seventeen, after all, and if the Minister for Magic needed to speak with him, then he did not need his parents with him. He wanted their support, certainly, and wouldn’t mind reliving that Christmas when he and his parents had teamed up against the Minister, but he wanted to — needed to — do this on his own.

And anyway, he wasn’t entirely alone. His friends were crammed onto the sofa in the Weasley’s sitting room with him. Harry glanced at Ron, who was trying and failing to stabilise the stack of blankets that had occupied his seat, since the sofa had been George’s temporary bed for the last week. Hermione stared directly at Scrimgeour, as fiercely as Lily might have, and Neville struggled to extricate a pillow that had been wedged between his back and the sofa’s. It was not successful and he gave up, deciding instead to stare curiously at the Minister’s shoes.

Rufus Scrimgeour sank into the armchair that Mr Weasley usually sat in. He leaned heavily on his cane, and his face was gaunt and tired, far more worn than it had been at Christmas. The past six months had not been kind to the Minister for Magic.

“I have some questions for the four of you, and I think it will be best if we do it individually,” Scrimgeour said. “If the rest of you would wait upstairs, I’ll begin with Mr. Weasley.”

“We aren’t going anywhere,” Harry said quickly. Not only would he not leave his friends, they were wedged rather tightly into the sofa. He did not want to wriggle his way out of it.

“You may speak to us together,” Hermione said, “or not at all.”

Scrimgeour surveyed the four of them. He was a man who chose his battles carefully. Peace, however, won out for the moment, and Scrimgeour shrugged.

“Very well, then,” he said and reached into his coat. “As I said, I am here to read Albus Dumbledore’s will.”

Neville frowned and looked up from the Minister’s shoes. “Dumbledore died over a month ago. Why did you wait so long?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hermione said in a voice much cooler than she usually used when explaining things to Neville. “They wanted to examine whatever he’s left us.”

“Wait,” Neville frowned, “you mean Dumbledore’s left us things? But —”

“You had no right to do that,” Harry interrupted and glared at Scrimgeour. “Whatever he’s left us —”

“I had every right,” said Scrimgeour, and removed a large mokeskin pouch from his robes. “The Decree for Justifiable Confiscation gives the Ministry the power to confiscate the contents of a will —”

“That law,” Hermione said, “was created to stop wizards passing on Dark artifacts, and the Ministry is supposed to have powerful evidence that the deceased’s possessions are illegal before seizing them! Are you telling me that you thought Dumbledore was trying to pass us something cursed?”

Scrimgeour answered Hermione’s question with another question. “Are you planning to follow a career in Magical Law, Miss Granger?”

Hermione snorted. “No, I’m hoping to do some good in the world.”

Ron did his best to disguise his sudden laughter in a cough. When he had control again, he asked, “Well, Minister, have you decided to let us have our things now?”

Though Scrimgeour himself seemed to have grown thin and weary, his sharp gaze had not dulled. His lion-like eyes turned on Ron, but not to answer Ron’s question. “Would you say you were close to Dumbledore, Ronald?”

Ron blinked. “Me? Not — not really. It was always Harry who…”

Too late, he realised Hermione and Harry were glaring daggers at him. Scrimgeour pounced.

“If you were not very close to Dumbledore, how do you account for the fact that he remembered you in his will? He made exceptionally few personal bequests. The vast majority of his possessions — his private library, his magical instruments, and other personal effects — were left to Hogwarts. Why do you think you were singled out?”

“I dunno.” Ron scratched behind his ear, and his elbow knocked into Harry’s shoulder. “I… when I say we weren’t close… I mean, I think he liked me…”

“You’re being modest, Ron,” Hermione said. “Dumbledore was very fond of you.”

“Er —”

Scrimgeour was no longer listening, however, as he opened the drawstring pouch and withdrew a scroll. He cleared his throat and read, “‘The Last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore’... Yes, here we are… ‘To Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that he will remember me when he uses it.’”

Scrimgeour reached into the drawstring pouch once more and pulled out a small silver cylinder that fit in the palm of his hand.

Harry was not sure he had ever seen anything like the device as Scrimgeour passed it to Ron. Ron turned it over in his hands and stared at it. He risked a glance at Harry, but Harry did not have any answers for Ron.

“It’s a very valuable object,” Scrimgeour said, his critical gaze focused entirely on Ron’s reaction. “It may even be unique. It has the ability to remove and restore light. Certainly it is of Dumbledore’s own design. Why would he have left you an item so rare?”

When Ron shook his head in disbelief, Scrimgeour pressed on.

“Dumbledore must have taught thousands of students, yet the only ones that he remembered in his will are you four. Why should —”

“Just us four?” Harry asked. “No one else?”

Scrimgeour raised an eyebrow and looked at Harry. “Only you four. Is there someone else you think he should have remembered?”

Hastily, Harry shook his head. “No — no one comes to mind. I just thought… er — perhaps he would have left my parents something.”

But Harry was not thinking of his parents; he was thinking of Cedric. Dumbledore had known that Harry had shared the prophecy and the quest with Cedric Diggory, just as he had shared it with Ron, Hermione, and Neville. Why had Dumbledore decided to leave Cedric out?

Scrimgeour returned to the will and read, “‘To Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive.’”

From the pouch, Scrimgeour withdrew a small book with a worn cover and dog-eared pages. Hermione ran her fingers over the faded cloth stretched across the front. It was fraying in the corner and under her thumb. Two tears fell onto the book and she hastily wiped them away.

“Why do you think Dumbledore left you that book, Miss Granger?” Scrimgeour asked.

Hermione dried her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper. “He… he knew I liked books.”

“But why that particular book?”

Harry had the same question. Hermione loved to read, but a book of children’s fairytales hardly seemed the sort of thing she would be interested in, and Dumbledore must have known that.

“I don’t know. He must have thought I would enjoy them.”

“Did you ever discuss codes, or any means of passing secret messages with Dumbledore?”

“No,” she sniffed. “And if the Ministry hasn’t found any hidden codes in this book, then I doubt that I will.”

Neville patted Hermione’s arm, then froze as Scrimgeour read his name.

“‘To Neville Franciscus Longbottom, I leave a phoenix tail feather, as a reminder of his exceptional loyalty to his friends, and that we will always grow from our failures.’” Scrimgeour retrieved a red and gold feather from the pouch that shimmered, even in the dim light of the sitting room.

Neville stared at it in awe, frozen until Hermione gently nudged him, and he reached for it.

“It’s warm,” he said in surprise.

“It’s an incredibly valuable gift,” Scrimgeour said. “It has many uses, most commonly in wand cores.” He looked at Harry as he said this.

Harry did his best to keep his face neutral, and his emotions calm as he had been taught in his Occlumency lessons, but his mind buzzed with this information.

It was most likely a feather from Fawkes, whose feathers had also been given to make Harry and Voldemort’s wands. To give this feather to Neville, who had so nearly been marked the way Harry had been…

“Are you fond of phoenixes, Mr Longbottom?” Scrimgeour asked, but he kept his gaze on Harry.

“Er, no — I mean, not exactly.” Neville continued staring at the feather, entranced. “I fail a lot though.”

Scrimgeour examined Neville, but decided there was nothing more to be gained there. He reached into the pouch almost eagerly this time, as he read the next line.

“‘To Harry James Potter, I leave the Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill.’”

He pulled out a velvet cloth and carefully unwrapped it to reveal a golden Snitch, silver wings fluttering in his grasp.

Harry stared at it, not entirely comprehending. He had hoped it would be something that could destroy a Horcrux, or perhaps even a Horcrux, though he did not think something like that would have been able to slip past the Ministry.

“Why did Dumbledore leave you this Snitch?” Scrimgeour asked.

Harry shrugged. “For the reasons you just read out, I suppose. To remind me what you can get if you persevere and whatever it was.”

“You think this is a mere symbolic keepsake, then?”

Harry looked Scrimgeour in the eyes. “What else could it be?”

“I’m the one asking the questions,” Scrimgeour snapped. “I noticed that your birthday cake is in the shape of a Snitch.”

Harry looked down at his jumper, where Mrs Weasley had knitted in a Snitch. “Yeah, bit weird, isn’t it? Dunno why people keep giving me Snitch-related things. My Dad’s even called me Snitch since I was about four. Can’t imagine why.”

“Perhaps it’s all been a secret encoded message from Dumbledore,” Hermione scoffed. “If we cut open your cake, we’ll find secret instructions inside.”

“I don’t believe there is anything hidden in your cake,” Scrimgeour said, “but a Snitch would be a very good hiding place for a small object.”

Harry understood, and it was why he had not reached for the Snitch yet. Snitches had flesh memories, and it would remember and react to Harry’s hand. Perhaps Dumbledore had charmed it to react in a particular way, perhaps there was a clue inside…

“Take it,” Scrimgeour said.

Harry swallowed, wishing he had a way to take the Snitch with the sleeve of his jumper, or some way to disguise it to Scrimgeour, but he came up with nothing. He reached for the Snitch, and as his fingers brushed the golden ball, the silver wings stilled and the Snitch fell limp in his hand.

Harry watched Scrimgeour’s eager expression fade into disappointment.

“That was dramatic,” Harry said.

Ron, Hermione, and Neville laughed. Scrimgeour scowled.

“That’s all then, is it?” Hermione asked, and tried to unstick herself from her very tight position between Harry and Neville.

“Not quite,” Scrimgeour said. “Dumbledore left you a second bequest, Potter.”

Harry’s hand tightened around the Snitch and his heart raced. “What is it?”

“The Sword of Godric Gryffindor.”

“Do you have it?” he asked, and tried not to sound eager.

“The Sword is not Dumbledore’s to give away,” Scrimgeour said. “The Sword of Godric Gryffindor is an important historical artefact, and as such, belongs to the Wizarding World as a whole, and, in any case, the Sword is currently missing. It has not been recovered since the Death Eaters’ attack on Hogwarts. Now why do you think, Mr. Potter, that Dumbledore would leave you the Sword of Godric Gryffindor?”

Harry knew exactly why Dumbledore had left it to him. He wished the Ministry had at least brought him the Sorting Hat. Maybe he could try to summon the Sword as he had in the Chamber of Secrets and destroy the diadem with it.

“I dunno,” Harry said, “maybe he thought it would look nice on my wall.”

“This is not a joke, Potter!”

“No, it isn’t.” Harry very carefully kept his voice cool, and refused to meet Scrimgeour’s temper. “It wasn’t a joke when I told the world that Voldemort came back. It wasn’t a joke when my parents came to the Ministry and told them how Umbridge was torturing her students. It wasn’t a joke when I told you that Yaxley was there the night that Dumbledore died, helping the Death Eaters, but it didn’t seem to damage his position in the Ministry, did it? And it wasn’t a joke when your Hit Wizards wanted to look into the disappearance of Hogwarts’ Muggle Studies professor but were shut down. People are dying because the Ministry is busy stripping down Deluminators and children’s books, rather than investigating the real problems and helping people. If you want to know why Voldemort’s back and how to stop him, start with your own office.”

Scrimgeour’s upper lip curled into a very thin snarl. “You go too far!” he shouted, and drew his wand. Harry stood too, and his chest met the end of Scrimgeour’s wand, where it singed a hole right into Mrs Weasley’s lovingly crafted Snitch.

“Oi!” Ron said, and he and Neville stood, fumbling for their wands, but Harry held his hands out.

“Don’t — do you want to give him an excuse to arrest us?”

Scrimgeour huffed something between a growl and a laugh. “Remembered you’re not at school, have you? Remembered that I am not Dumbledore who forgave your insolence and insubordination? You may wear that scar like a crown, Potter, but it is not up to a seventeen-year-old boy to tell me how to do my job! It’s time you learned some respect!”

“It’s time you earned it.” Harry had hardly finished his sentence when the door to the sitting room opened suddenly, and several people fought to get through the door, starting with Remus, wand drawn. Sirius, Lily, James, Tonks, Mr and Mrs Weasley, and Mr and Mrs Longbottom were all right behind him.

“We heard shouts,” Mrs Longbottom said, glancing between Neville and the Minister.

“Raised voices,” Mr Weasley echoed.

“Are you alright, Harry?” Remus asked, though his eyes were on Scrimgeour, not Harry.

“It — it was nothing,” Scrimgeour said, and stepped away from Harry. He looked at the hole he had made in Harry’s jumper and swallowed down his temper. With his anger gone, he simply looked weary, and Harry almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

“You seem to think,” Scrimgeour said slowly, “that the Ministry does not desire what you — what Dumbledore — desired. We ought to be working together.”

“I think I’ve been pretty clear about what I desire and what the Ministry desires,” said Harry. His hand clutched the Snitch hard enough that it dug into his hand, and the scars on the back of his hand stretched.

Scrimgeour took a long, measured look at Harry, then surveyed the cluster of grown ups who crowded the doorway.

Finally, he said, “Nymphadora Tonks — er, Lupin, is it?”

“Just Tonks is fine,” she said, voice unusually faint.

“A word, before I go.”

It was not a request. Tonks bit down on her lip and jerked her head in agreement. As Scrimgeour pushed past the Longbottoms and the Weasleys, Remus moved to follow, but Tonks shook her head and went alone with Scrimgeour.

Suddenly, Harry was swarmed by his parents. Lily and James searched him for injuries; they asked what had happened and if he was hurt, talking over each other and all at once. Sirius was no better, examining the hole that had been burned into his jumper and asking questions without waiting for the answers.

Harry was just fine, though. Scrimgeour’s temper had not hurt him; it had only ruined a perfectly good jumper.

There was not much Harry and his friends could do to keep their gifts from Dumbledore a secret, so they each shared what they had been given. None of them, however, mentioned the sword.

Mrs Longbottom ran her finger along the edge of the phoenix feather, much like Neville had done when he had received it.

“It is beautiful,” Mr Longbottom murmured. “And a powerful magical conduit, if nothing else.”

Remus thumbed through Hermione’s book, but he kept looking up from the pages to the door Tonks had disappeared through. “It’s an unusual choice,” he finally said, and returned it to her. “I didn’t know Dumbledore had an interest in children’s stories.”

“It’s certainly a practical gift,” Mrs Weasley said of the Deluminator.

“He probably really wanted you to remember him,” Mr Weasley offered, “giving you such a unique and personal item.”

Ron did not look particularly thrilled about this, and eyed the feather Neville’s parents were still examining.

Lily turned the Snitch over in her hands, squinting to find some sort of catch or mechanism to open it. It fluttered in her hand, and stilled when Harry took it from her.

“You said it was from your first game?” Sirius asked.

Harry nodded. “That’s what Dumbledore said.”

James raised an eyebrow. “And? Did you try it?”

“Er —” Harry had not wanted to open the Snitch in front of Scrimgeour, certainly, and he was equally afraid to open it in front of his parents. But he supposed there was no way of hiding it. His father, of course, would remember exactly how Harry had caught his first Snitch.

“What do you mean?” Lily asked, glancing between James and Harry.

“My very first Quidditch match,” Harry said, “I didn’t catch the Snitch with my hands.”

Lily blinked. “You mean that this is the Snitch that you nearly swallowed?”

Everyone in the room paused their conversation and turned to watch. Harry hesitated, and finally decided that the Snitch was not going to suddenly reveal the Horcrux quest in one fell swoop — hopefully. He lifted the Snitch and pressed it to his lips.

But the Snitch did not open. Harry was both relieved and frustrated. What had Dumbledore wanted him to gain from this Snitch?

“Hold on — Harry,” Sirius gestured to the Snitch. “There’s writing on it.”

Harry squinted and turned the small object over in his hands. Sirius was right. There, engraved in the Snitch, in Dumbledore’s own handwriting, he read, “‘I open at the close.’”

“What does that mean?” Lily frowned.

Harry looked to Hermione for help, but she shrugged her shoulders.

Dumbledore had left each of them not with help or answers, but with a new puzzle, as if the quest they had been given was not enough. Harry resisted the urge to toss the Snitch out the window. He was so tired of more riddles and no answers. The Snitch would have served him better as a reminder of perseverance and whatever else Scrimgeour had said.

“I think they’re all quite special,” Mrs Weasley finally said. “It was kind of Dumbledore to leave each of you something.” She returned the Deluminator to Ron and took Harry’s singed jumper. She folded it up in her arms. “Harry, I can mend this for you after the wedding. Why don’t we head back into the garden for —”

She stopped as Tonks returned to the sitting room, and Harry was startled to see that her pink hair had returned to brown, like her mother’s. Her eyes had shifted to grey, too, instead of the hazel they had been when she arrived.

“What’s happened?” Remus asked.

Tonks smiled thinly. “I’ve been sacked. It’s fine — really, it’s about what I expected.”

“Hippogriff shit,” Sirius snarled. “They can’t —”

“They can,” Mrs Longbottom said quietly. “Though I wouldn’t expect Scrimgeour to do something like that. Some others in the office, perhaps, but not Scrimgeour.”

“He didn’t seem very happy to do it.” Tonks shrugged. “Though I guess that doesn’t make it better.”

“I’m sorry,” Lily apologised. “I shouldn’t have asked you and Remus to stay.”

“I’m sure it would have happened eventually. Or something would have happened.” Tonks fidgeted with the wand at her side. “Er — should we get back to the party?”

But no one seemed in the mood for much celebration. Dinner was quiet, and dessert a muted affair. The Longbottoms did not stay long, and the Delacours retired early.

Harry had hoped that he, Ron, Hermione, and Neville would all get a chance to discuss their gifts, but as the Longbottoms disappeared through the Weasley’s gate, and Mrs Weasley asked Ron to help her clean up, it seemed that the chance was less and less likely.

“Forgive us for not helping, Molly,” James said as he gathered up an armful of dishes, “but we would like to give Harry his gift before Remus and Tonks leave.”

“Oh, of course,” she said, and took the dishes from him.

Harry followed James and Lily upstairs to the room they were borrowing from Fred and George during their stay. It was still packed with a few boxes of unfinished Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Between that, the bed, and James and Lily’s trunks it was a tight squeeze for the three of them, plus Remus, Tonks, Sirius, and Picksie.

Once upon a time, Harry had wished that his family was as big as Ron’s, and had not cared for how empty his house had felt compared to the Burrow, bursting with life. Sirius and James so often described their family as “pack,” which was perhaps the only allusion to werewolves that did not make Remus tense. Their pack had grown a good deal these last few years, and even though they had lost Mellie, Harry was overwhelmed both by their support and the interrogation that he knew would follow.

On Harry’s eleventh birthday, his family had taken him into the sitting room and had told him the story of how Voldemort had tried to kill him when he was just a baby. Hagrid had been there, because it was Hagrid who had found Harry, James, and Lily in the wreckage of Voldemort’s attack. Tonight, it was pack only, and it was Harry’s turn to tell them that he had to kill Voldemort.

Sirius sat on the bed, legs folded up underneath him, and Harry took a tentative seat on one of the boxes. It did not explode underneath him, which was a good sign. Picksie sat beside him, and Tonks and Remus stayed standing by the door as James dug through his trunk.

“You have a wand, dear,” Lily reminded him as she took a seat on her trunk.

James grunted and dug his wand out of his robes. He Summoned a small black gift box, no bigger than his palm, from his trunk. He handed the box and his wand to Lily, and she very carefully wove a golden ribbon around the box.

“I know we normally do more than one gift,” Lily said, “but we had to pack light, so we grabbed the most important one.”

She handed the box to Harry as James sat down, and Remus handed him the slender box he had nearly given to Harry before dinner.

Harry started with the gift from his parents. He had been expecting a pocketwatch from his parents, and was prepared for something rather expensive, perhaps something gold plated like Ron’s, or something charmed to mimic the phases of the moon like his father’s.

Instead, the silver pocketwatch nestled in the tissue was scratched and dented. The front of the watch was intricately decorated in bay leaves and flowers inlaid in gold. He lifted it out of the box and turned it over. “Harry Potter” was engraved on the back above a relief of intertwined olive branches, though the “r” at the end of “Potter” was nearly worn away. When he opened it, he found a plain watch face inside. Roman numerals decorated the edges, and a smaller circle to mark the seconds was nestled at the bottom of the watch. The second hand did not tick at all, though Harry could hear the sound of the gears working inside the watch. The initials “H. H. P.” were engraved on the inside of the cover, which Harry thought odd. It was almost his initials, but not quite.

“Thank you,” he said, and hoped it sounded sincere. He was grateful, just not sure why it was so different from what he had expected.

“It was your great-grandfather’s,” Lily said. “We thought, well, what better pocketwatch than the one that belonged to your namesake.”

“More than that,” James added, “we named you after him for a reason — and not just because your grandfather’s name was Fleamont.”

Harry shuddered to think that he could have been “Fleamont James Potter” and decided he was much more grateful to have Henry Potter’s watch.

“Your great-grandfather,” James continued, “lived during a time not so different from ours, when Grindelwald rose to power. He had already lost standing in the Ministry, for trying to convince wizards to fight in the Great Muggle war that marked the first half of the century. And when war broke out in the 1930s, amongst both Muggles and wizards, he fought to protect those in danger.”

“We had a lot of plans for your seventeenth birthday,” Lily said, “and one of them was to give you the Invisibility Cloak.” She paused to glance sideways at James. “We were supposed to tell you how your great-grandfather used the Cloak to smuggle people out of Poland, people who were threatened by those in power — both the Muggle-born witches and wizards that Grindelwald hated, and the Jewish and Romani people who were threatened by the Muggle government. The Cloak became a powerful tool, used to help people who were in danger, to save lives. It isn’t just for getting into and out of trouble at school.”

“A wand can be used for both fun and duels,” Sirius said.

“Besides,” James said, “Harry’s been very responsible with the Cloak.”

“You didn’t have to pull him out of an Acromantula nest in the Forbidden Forest,” Lily snapped.

“Fair enough,” James agreed, but with a small smile, like he, too, had used the Cloak to find Acromantula in the Forbidden Forest, or perhaps something worse. “Anyway, Harry, to finish up the story, after almost ten years of smuggling people out of Poland, Grandpa Harry got the personal attention of Grindelwald. His friends forced him to hide away for a while and managed to get him into India with his wife’s family. But even then, he couldn’t stay out of the fight. Your great-grandparents continued working to provide relief during a famine as best as they could.”

“Didn’t he marry someone called Dolly?” Harry asked, trying to recall the family tree in the book his parents had given him for his birthday last year.

“Mistress Dolly is the English name she is using when she is in England with Mister Henry,” Picksie said, “but her given name is Mistress Dipali. She is a very kind woman, helping raise Picksie when she was born to Mama…”

“You can imagine why Great-Aunt Dorea was so fond of her and Henry,” Sirius said with a wry smile.

“It’s all in that book we gave you last year,” James said, “her story and Grandpa Harry’s, but we wanted to share his story with you on your birthday because it meant a lot to us when we learned you were coming along. Dumbledore didn’t tell us the prophecy until after Voldemort tried to kill you, but while we were in hiding, we talked a lot about my grandfather who had been hunted by Grindelwald, who had tried to help even at risk to his own life —”

“You talked a lot about him,” Lily interrupted, “and I did a lot of listening.”

James grimaced.

“But,” Lily added, “I was the one who suggested we name you after him.”

“Her exact words,” James said, “were ‘If we name our child Harry will you stop bringing him up every fifteen minutes.’ And I told her I might.”

“We had also planned,” Lily said, “to tell you the prophecy today. And we thought that your great-grandfather’s story would help put it into a bit of perspective. It’s not the prophecy that makes you destined to fight Voldemort, Harry. It’s the family you come from. It’s who you are, even beyond what your father and I — and Remus and Sirius — have taught you. We have never wanted you to feel like a weapon, like someone’s tool to be used against Voldemort. You’re our son, before anything else.”

“We never wanted —” James stopped, then started over. “We never thought that keeping the prophecy from you would turn against us the way it did. And we are sorry. When Voldemort came back, we should have told you what that meant, and why it worried us so much. And we did want to, but Dumbledore asked us to wait, and we trusted him.” He fiddled with the strap of his wristwatch. “I know Dumbledore’s done a lot for us — protected us, and protected Remus — but if we had taken a moment to trust our own judgement, to trust ourselves as your parents, then maybe we would have made the right choice.”

Harry looked down at the pocketwatch in his hand, unsure what to say. He knew what his parents were getting at, but really, the only thing he could think about was how differently this day might have gone if Voldemort had never returned in the first place. His family would have been at home. Maybe Dumbledore would have been there. Maybe James would have pretended to gift the Cloak to Harry and they would have laughed about it. Maybe the prophecy would not have felt like a curse.

It should never have been this somber event, in a small bedroom of the Burrow, with the crushing weight of a secret quest on his shoulders.

“Harry,” James said slowly, “we know that you don’t want our help, but —”

“Of course I want your help,” Harry said, and struggled to keep his voice from breaking. “I do, but I — I can’t tell you.”

Lily’s uninjured hand tightened around the hem of her skirt. “But you’ll tell Ron and Hermione? And Neville and Cedric?” He could hear how angry she was, though she tried so hard to restrain it.

Harry looked at each of them — his mother, his father, Sirius, Picksie, Remus and Tonks — and he knew that he could not give them what they wanted.

“I know you want to help,” Harry said, “but you can’t help me with this. I can’t —” He swallowed. “I have to face him. And if I let you help — if you come with me on this quest — you won’t let me fight.”

Lily opened her mouth to argue, but Harry kept talking.

“It’s not about being an adult, Mum, or you treating me like a child. It’s not. It’s that Dad lost his eye in the Department of Mysteries because he stopped to make sure I was alright. It’s that Dad nearly died on our trip to the Burrow because he came back to help me. It’s that Yaxley nearly killed you because of me, and that you dueled Voldemort in the graveyard, even when I was safely back at Hogwarts. It’s that Remus forgot to take his potion one night to try to protect me from Barty Crouch, Jr. It’s that Sirius nearly had his soul sucked out by dementors because he was trying to protect me from them. It’s that if it has to come down to me and Voldemort, I can’t have you there, too, because I know you’ll try to fight. And you can’t. You can’t help me with this.”

He knew it would not make them feel better, but he did not know what else to say. James leaned his elbows against his knees and ran both his hands through his hair. He looked so tired, more tired than Harry had ever seen him. Lily’s face and neck were blooming with red splotches, but she kept her lips pressed tightly together.

Sirius’ voice was dangerously close to a snarl as he said, “You’re not being fair, Harry. We’re your family, and family sticks together. I said prophecy be damned the other day and I meant it. No one gets to decide you have to face Voldemort alone, not even you.”

“I never said it was fair.” Harry looked down at the unopened box in his lap. Sirius, Remus, Tonks, and Regulus had all worked to get him something, even though Tonks was the only one of them with any income at all — and she had just lost that tonight because she had joined his family. Fair wasn’t a word they could afford to live by, not now.

“What can you tell us, Harry?” Tonks asked. “I’m a trained Auror and officially a free agent as of tonight. There has to be a way we can help, even if it isn’t dueling Voldemort in your place.”

Harry shook his head. “All I can say is that Dumbledore trusted me with a job. Regulus knows what it is. He’s the one who started this task, years ago, before you even went into hiding. It’s why he faked his death, to cover up his betrayal. He’s already helped me with part of it, and I helped him finish up something he started. Dumbledore didn’t leave me to do this fight alone. He knew I would need help, and he trusted Hermione, Ron, and Neville.”

“But not us,” Remus said, “and that terrifies us, Harry. You understand that, don’t you?”

Harry did understand. He had spent most of his fifteenth year worrying over the secret missions his parents went on. He knew exactly what he was asking of his family, and he knew it was impossible to make them agree. But he didn’t have to make them agree, he had to give them just enough peace of mind to let him go.

“I think,” Harry began slowly, “that Dumbledore has always tried to do what’s best for us. Even though I was upset about the prophecy, I understand why Dumbledore wanted it to stay a secret, and why you were so worried about it. I think the best thing to do right now is to trust Dumbledore.”

“I think you’re making a mistake,” Lily said.

James reached over and took her hand, slowly loosening her tight fist until their fingers were intertwined. “You’re seventeen now, Harry, so we won’t try to stop you. But we will do everything we can to stay by your side.”

It was the best Harry could hope for, the most he could ask of them.

“It’s a bit underwhelming now,” Remus said, “but you should open your other gift.”

Carefully, Harry pulled the lid off of the white box Remus had given to him. Inside was a slender velvet case, and when he opened it, he found an intricate watch chain. There were three chains, in fact, strung together and connected to a crest decorated with a lion. They were surprisingly heavy, and Harry guessed they were solid gold.

He looked up at Sirius, Remus, and Tonks, bewildered. “Are you… sure?”

“We knew what your parents were giving you,” Remus said, “and we thought we would give you something new to go with the old.”

“But… it’s…”

James cleared his throat and Harry belatedly remembered his manners.

“Thank you.” He very carefully attached the decorative chain to the pocket watch. “It’s perfect.”

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Tonks said. “I’m glad we were here to celebrate with you.”

She gave him another hug and kissed his cheek, and Harry could not find the words to thank her.

They said goodbye to Remus and Tonks. Tonks, though she had been downcast since her conversation with Scrimgeour, smiled and said she was happy to attend the wedding tomorrow now that she did not have to go into the office. Remus, however, did not smile, and Harry did not like the look in his eyes. It reminded him of the way Remus had looked in St Mungo’s last summer — cold, closed off, and ready to run.

After he and Sirius had seen Remus and Tonks out, Harry started upstairs to Ron’s room, but Sirius grabbed his arm.

“Harry,” he said, voice unusually sharp, “James may be willing to let you run off on some dangerous mission just because you’re an adult, but I’m not going to let you do this alone. I don’t care what they’ve decided. You’ll be hard-pressed to get rid of me.”

Harry had not considered that Sirius, with his unwavering loyalty and fear of repeating his mistakes from the first war, would be the hardest to convince to accept Dumbledore’s secret quest. He searched desperately for something to ease Sirius’ fear.

“What about with Umbridge? You were willing to let me make my own decision about that.”

Sirius’ frown turned into a vicious scowl. “That was different. We knew where you were — you could come home at any time. You had an out. If you go, Harry, there may not be a way to turn back.”

Harry thought of the Horcrux tucked under the pillow on the camp bed. He was already beyond the point of turning back. Maybe if he had refused to destroy the locket, had insisted Dumbledore or Regulus destroy it, maybe that had been his last chance to turn down this quest.

Or would it have been retrieving Slughorn’s memory? Or the moment he had decided to face Voldemort in the graveyard? Or the moment he had decided to get to the Philosopher’s Stone before Voldemort?

There had never been a turning back point. His path had always been headed this way, since his great-grandfather had decided to fight evil, since his parents had joined the Order, since a prophecy had been set — it was all far larger than Harry, and though he knew he had a choice, he didn’t really, not if he wanted to stay true to who he was.

Just as Sirius, too, did not have any choice.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, for there was nothing else to say.

He pulled away from Sirius and climbed the stairs to Ron’s bedroom. His feet were heavy as he did, and he thought that if he wasn’t careful his entire chest would pull him down to the ground as if he had been struck by a Solum jinx.

A strange sound from his parents’ room made him pause on the landing. His heart thumped loudly in his chest as he recognised the uncommon sound of his mother crying. She was always the one who was quick to anger, ready with a Blasting Curse, and Harry’s heart crawled up into his throat as he heard her unfiltered grief.

He could not hear what his father said, but he recognised the tone of comfort, the attempts to soothe her heartache.

“Oh — stop,” she snapped at him, and choked on a sob. “I can’t change Harry’s mind, I can’t bring Dumbledore back, I can’t repair my wand —”

“You aren’t helpless.” James’ voice was raised ever so slightly, only just audible over her sobs. “We will be there for Harry, as much as we can be, and you know this. We just have to trust that Dumbledore knew what he was doing.”

“He’s our son, James, we can’t —”

“We won’t.”

Harry hurried upstairs, stepping lightly to avoid the creaks. Unfortunately he did not know the steps at the Burrow as well as he knew the steps in Styncon Garden, and there were quite a few squeaks in his wake.

When he opened the door to Ron’s room and was surprised to find it empty. He frowned, wondering where Ron could have gotten to. Then he heard, “Finally — I was starting to think your parents had Apparated away with you.”

Harry turned toward the balcony to see Ginny leaning against its frame.

“Have you been waiting long?”

“Only since Ron and I finished the washing up.”

“Where is he?”

“He said he was going to check on the chickens. Kind of him, really.”

Though his chest still ached, he gave Ginny a weak smile and joined her on the balcony.

“Everything alright?” she asked.

Harry looked up at the clear sky and the constellations that decorated it. He thought of his failed Astronomy O.W.L. and the centaurs’ warnings about Mars. Seven years ago they had warned him that war was coming — no, warned wasn’t the right word. They’d simply observed it.

Harry did not want to be an observer, and he could not blame his parents for refusing to stand by, either.

“Should I tell my parents what I’m going to do?” he asked Ginny. It was not the answer to her question, but it was the closest he could get.

Ginny did not answer right away. She leaned against him, despite the warm night. Harry obligingly put his arm around her shoulder, but unlike during the early mornings they had spent together, Harry’s mind did not still. It continued to turn over everything his parents had said, the sad smile on Tonks’ face, the terror in Remus’ voice, and the fury in Sirius.

“Is Dumbledore the only reason you’re keeping it a secret?” she asked.

“No,” Harry said. “I know that they won’t let me face Voldemort — and I won’t watch them die trying to protect me from something I can’t avoid. I have to be the one to face him.”

“It sounds like you’ve made up your mind, then.”

Harry let out a slow breath but the pain in his chest did not relax.

“Hey,” she said, and elbowed him gently, “don’t you want to know what I got you for your birthday?”

He pulled his eyes from the stars and turned to look at her. “What? No — you didn’t have to get me anything, I —”

“Took me a while to come up with it. I thought I couldn’t get you anything big, since you’ll probably be traveling. I wanted it to be useful, but I figured Hermione had all that covered. Still, I thought I ought to get you something to remember me by.”

“Ginny, you don’t —”

She cut him off with a kiss.

They’d had quite a few kisses on the balcony this summer — perhaps more than Ron might like to know about — but none quite like this one. She tangled her hand in his hair and his hand slid to the small of her back, almost instinctively, pulling her closer. It was deeper, longer than their kisses from before…

Until there was a loud bang in Ron’s room.

Harry remembered Mrs Weasley’s bold entry the other day and practically leapt off of the balcony in an attempt to get away from Ginny. He knocked over Ginny’s broom, and his elbow collided with the bannister. A jolt of pain coursed through his arm to his fingertips. He winced and tried to rub the sensation away. It did not help.

“Thanks for the warning, Ron,” Ginny snapped.

Ron sank down on his bed and looked at the two of them, eyes full of something Harry couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t judgement, but it was definitely uncomfortable.

“I spent half an hour with the chickens! What more did you want from me?”

“The whole damn night,” Ginny muttered, but only for Harry’s ears, which burned suddenly.

“Er — Good night, Ginny,” Harry said, hating how formal his voice sounded all of a sudden.

She quirked an eyebrow, then kissed his cheek. “Night, Harry. Sweet dreams. And happy birthday.”

#harry potter #harry potter fic #everyone lives au #harry potter everyone lives #hp everyone lives #dh #hp fic

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markcactus02 · 3 years

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Deluxe Smartwatch Manufacturer Olio Includes 24k Gold To Its Repertoire.

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#investing

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wisdomrays · 3 years

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TAFAKKUR: Part 294

CELESTIAL REFLECTIONS: Part 2

RELATIVITY

So, in this spirit, let us resume our celestial reflections. Could it be that the six-day creation account found in both the Bible and the Qur’an starts here (i.e., six days for the formation of the Solar System or even our galaxy and not necessarily for the creation of the whole universe)? Which begs the question, are these days necessarily days as we know them? Is it explicitly stated in either of the holy books that a day is necessarily made up of twenty-four hours? The answer is no. Let us review two key verses from each book. Cross-referencing between the two holy books is not unwarranted. Muslims believe that it is the same God who revealed both books.

He Who created the heavens and the earth and all that is between, in six days, and is firmly established on the Throne (of Authority) . . . (Qur’an 25:59)

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. (Bible, KJV Genesis 1:1)

Reference is made to the creation of “the earth.” There is no compelling reason to assume that the six-day narrative pertains to the creation of the whole universe. Reference may be to the creation of the Solar System or just the Galaxy. Second, there is no particular reason to theorize that the six days are days as we know them now.

Let us ask a simple question here, what is a day? It is the time it takes the Earth to revolve around its axis (24 hours). Given that the Milky Way is a gigantic spiral disk with a bright, central bulge, what would be a day for our galaxy? The time for it to revolve around its axis (galactic center) is estimated to be 225 million years.

It is estimated that up until now the Sun has completed 20 revolutions around the galactic center - that is a time span of 4.5 billion years (the estimated age of our planet); or, if we look at it in another way, 20 days. Six days in this sense, therefore, is equivalent to 1.35 billion years. We must also wonder whether the time it takes the Earth to revolve around its axis has been twenty-four hours since “day one.” Ultimately, time is a relative measurement.

Einstein’s 1905 theory of time and space, Special Relativity, proposed that distance and time are not absolute. The ticking rate of a clock and the length of a “yardstick” depend on the motion of the observer. The closer you approach the speed of light - about 186,000 miles per second or 300,000 kilometers per second - the slower your watch seems to be ticking relative to others. Another way to put it is, the faster you travel through space, the slower you travel through time. Imagine a vehicle capable of such maneuvering - this is, in effect, a time machine.

It may not be very helpful to think about this too much, but if you have seen Paramount Pictures’ 2002 sci-fi movie Clockstoppers, imagine: you, moving at a speed approaching the speed of light, would see everyone else as if they were the ones functioning in “hypertime.” This notion of a “hasty” human attitude is reiterated in the Qur’an; and, the whole idea of time relativity is also suggested several times in the Qur’an. Two examples follow. When looked at in the light of Relativity, these verses make perfect sense and are quite revealing:

Yet they ask you to hasten on the Punishment! But God will not fail in His Promise. Verily a Day in the sight of your Lord is like a thousand years of your reckoning. (22:47)

The angels and the spirit ascend unto him in a Day the measure whereof is (as) fifty thousand years. (70:4)

Further, Relativity posits time and space as being one insolvable unit called space-time, as the fabric of the universe, as it were. As such, time and space as we know them only started from the moment the universe was conceived… with a “big bang.”

THE BIG BANG THEORY

The Big Bang theory (BBT) is the most popular scientific theory on the origin of the universe. Its most popular version, the -inflationary universe,- presented by Alan H. Guth in 1980, postulates that the universe was created some fifteen billion years ago in an escalatory manner from a cosmic explosion of a -Primary Nebula- (singularity) – that is, an infinitely condensed matter - that cast matter in all directions. The theory holds for an initial expansion rate faster than the speed of light8Guth"s inflationary notion came into being in order to account for the fact that if the initial explosion was linear, as held the traditional version of the theory, first theorized by George Lemaitre in 1927, it would not explain the differential interstellar and intergalactic distances. The distances are such that some celestial regions could never have been in proximity at any point in time if the expansion had always simply proceeded at the speed of light9The big bang could not have happened at a particular place in the universe, because before it happened, as the theory goes, there was no universe. Rather, there was nothing, except for the singularity which started it all. Quantum mechanics tries to explain how, before spacetime, subatomic particles in this singularity interacted to produce an unfathomable amount of energy which was the initial spark of creation. It is believed that every particle has its anti-particle (as every matter has its anti-matter) that is a complete opposite (for example, in charge, spin, etc.). When these two antagonists meet, they annihilate each other in a tremendous burst of energy that would humble a nuclear explosion. Einstein"s famous relativity equation E=mc2 (where E denotes Energy, M mass and C the speed of light) suggests that energy and matter are interchangeable. Thus, matter was created from this primary explosion which kicked off a rapid expansion of space, and (we think) space has been expanding ever since. In the early 1920s, Edwin Hubble observed that galaxies were moving away from each other at a rate proportional to the distance between them. As galaxies moved away from us, the light they emitted was red-shifted. That is, light waves shifted to longer wavelengths (a phenomenon known as the Doppler Effect). The faster the object moved, the greater the shift. From these observations, Hubble formulated the Hubble"s Law, which helped cosmologists determine the age of the universe, and proved that the universe was expanding10The Qur'an explicitly foretold this fact: It is We Who have built the universe with (Our creative) power, and, verily, it is We Who are steadily expanding it. (51:47)11The BBT also predicted the existence of residual cosmic background radiation (the glow leftover from the explosion itself). This radiation was discovered in 1964 by Arno Penzias and Robert Wilson, who later won the Nobel Prize for their discovery.

OMEGA & THE UNIVERSE

If the universe is expanding, then it inevitably emerged from an ever-smaller mass. Go back long enough (to time zero) and you have the singularity that exploded with a -big bang,- By the same token, Einstein"s 1915 theory of General Relativity offers the antithesis scenario for the BBT. If the gravitational force pulling the matter of a massive star inward exceeds that of its gas pressure, it will collapse onto itself creating a -black hole.- Does a similar -black- fate await the universe? In Stephen Hawking's Universe documentary, Hawking contends that the concept can be extrapolated to the whole universe. If the universe has too much matter, it will eventually collapse onto itself under the influence of its own gravitational force. This bleak scenario is called the Big Crunch. By contrast, if the universe has too little matter, it will continue to expand indefinitely stretching ever thinner and colder. This bleak scenario is called the Big Chill. If the amount of matter present (i.e. the average density of our universe) is equal to a certain hypothetical value, the -critical density,- a state of perfect balance occurs, leading eventually (albeit hypothetically) to a static universe. The ratio of the average density to the critical density is known as Omega. In a state of perfect balance, corresponding to a flat geometry of the spacetime -fabric of the universe,- Omega equals one13Now imagine if in the instance following the big bang, Omega was anything but one. The universe would have either quickly collapsed onto itself (Omega >1), or quickly headed to a big chill (Omega <1). This predicament is known as the Flatness Problem. Guth"s inflationary notion again comes to the rescue. It posits that the initial rapid expansion caused spacetime to flatten, forcing Omega toward one, regardless of what its initial value actually was. In other words, even if the pre-inflation spacetime was curved like a sphere (Omega>1) or hyperbolic like a saddle (Omega<1), the initial expansion thrust forced it into flatness (zero curvature). As it stands, we can only detect too little matter in the universe and our best estimates of Omega lie well below one. We have observed that not only is the universe expanding, it is doing so at increasing rates. Is the universal matter being slowly transformed into energy, thus driving us faster toward the Big Chill? To counter this bleak scenario and in their quest for idealism (Omega equals one), scientists are on the look out for some undetectable -dark matter- that would tip the scales. In the final analysis, it is generally believed that the universe is infinite in time and space and is destined to expand forever. But things get murky when we talk about forever. How long is forever? We can conceptualize what eternity means, even though we cannot comprehend it. Can we say the same of God?

THE CONVERGENCE OF PHILOSOPHY, RELIGION & SCIENCE

With this debate of an expanding universe comes the open/closed universe debate, with all its philosophical and scientific controversies. The consensus among scientists is that this is an open universe, expanding and not limited in space. This means that astrophysicists cannot apply the laws of thermodynamics to help decipher the mysteries of the universe, as these only apply to closed systems. Of special interest is the Second Law of Thermodynamics (Law of Increased Entropy), which states: -Energy spontaneously tends to flow only from being concentrated in one place to becoming diffused or dispersed and spread out.-14Thus, had the universe been closed, the Primary Nebula could not have formed or existed in the first place, unless -someone- had introduced it into the system. Moreover, the mathematical precision that governs the universe certainly defies the Law of Increased Entropy. To admit creation, one has to first admit the existence of a moment when the universe did not exist. Both science (especially the BBT) and religion agree on this point. Science says energy can neither be created nor destroyed (Principle of Conservation of Energy), or simply put, nothing comes from nothing. So, there must have been a master source of energy and matter that started it all: where did the primary nebula come from? I employed the investigation philosophy employed by the fictitious detective character Sherlock Holmes while reflecting on this celestial quandary: when you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. I came up with the following argument that vindicates the existence of God: If there is nothing in the universe, then the existence of God is not required. But there is something. And since nothing comes from nothing, there was an original very first something. This very first something is the originator of everything else; and it is a unity. It must be the most supreme something to ever exist because it needs nothing else to originate. And since it was there first, before everything else, before time itself, and its existence is independent of anything else, it will therefore be there after everything else. And since nothing can overwhelm it, it is omnipotent. And since it exists in no defined locality, it is omnipresent. This most supreme something is God, the originator and creator of everything else.

Conclusion

Whether you choose to believe cosmological theories, no matter how skeptical you are, you must concede that there was an originator for everything. The precision and order (and can we dismiss the mesmerizing wonder of the cosmos?) that govern our solar system and sustain the universe is indicative of an omnipotent guardian. In fact, the very laws of physics are clarion proof of order, not randomness. Order needs a maintainer. God gave us ample revelations; His holy books are too accurate to be dismissed as coincidental. Above all, He gave us intelligence, curiosity and the power to reason. The inquisitive mind of the human and our insatiable appetite for knowledge promise magnificent scientific breakthroughs to unimagined realms and dimensions. We have come a long way since the last opposition. But we are still crawling, attempting to decipher the complex and exquisite codes of the universe and life

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cfdtrader04 · 3 years

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phantomphangphucker · 5 years

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Ectober Day 23: Soul- This Is A Little Bit Much Chap. 2 - Even Plains Of Reality Need Souls

Danny’s one part impossible, one part too powerful for his own good, and one part a series of existential crises.

Jack shrugging as Maddie speaks, “well it shouldn’t do anything. We never tested it out in such a way. If a ghost had any reaction they’d probably look human. Which would probably cause them to go into some form of ghost shock”, Maddie’s eyes widen, “wait, sweetie did, did someone get Phantom to use it?”.

Jack looks excited and bounces in his seat slightly, while Danny nods, “yeah and then a little after seeing him Technus apparently tried to flee. And a bunch of people were commenting that his ecto-blast was way brighter and stronger. Also, this”, Danny shoves his phone into the centre of the table. His parents giving it the single most confused expression he’s ever seen on their faces.

His moms muttering about how ‘ghosts can’t even glow like this’ and how ‘strength increasing isn’t even a possible function’. While his dad stares, thinking face on. Before speaking up, “maybe it’s showing the Ghost Zone”.

Danny blinks, mumbling around the spoon in his mouth, “what?”. Maddie also seems confused, as she raises an eyebrow at her husband.

Jack taps his chin and nods, “think about it. The Ghost Mirroring Key was designed to show a persons base ghost. And what makes up a base ghost is a persons true self, their soul. A reflection of what really makes them, well, them. The Ghost Zone makes ghosts, gives them their ectoplasm. So at their very base they’d be the Ghost Zone?”.

Maddie shakes her head, “ghosts at their base would still have to be separate otherwise they wouldn’t have a form at all. And being in a base state, if that affected strength at all, should have made Phantom weaker”.

“Well, maybe he’s more connected to the Ghost Zone like this?”.

“Being more connected with the Ghost Zone should logically just make him look more ghostly”, gesturing to the phone, “not this”.

“Maybe it just hyper-concentrated his ectoplasm?”.

“Then his skin would be green, not black”.

Danny looks down at his phone and blinks, thinking of how, exactly, he became a halfa. “What if, what if Phantom was created closer to the core or epicentre of the Zone? Had more pure ectoplasm?”.

Maddie scrunches up her eyebrows, “I’m not sure if that’s even possible sweetie”.

Jack slams his fist into his hand, “wait! Phantom’s weird, we know this. This is another example of that. Maybe Danny-boy is on to something here. Maybe Phantom isn’t a ghost in the traditional sense. A dead being that was once living”, Danny’s officially feeling nervous and regrets speaking. Then his dad throws him through a loop, “what if instead, Phantom is a ghost of the Ghost Zone itself. A personification and culmination of the Ghost Zone. It would explain him trying to keep ghosts in the Ghost Zone. That’s where the Ghost Zone would want them to be. Why he finds and rounds up ghosts, the Ghost Zone’s way of keeping an eye on and effectively leading ghosts. Why he can be outside of the Ghost Zone indefinitely, because he is it. Why he always seems to know where ghosts are, the Ghost Zone should be able to sense the location of any ghost. Maybe our sensors and barriers and weapons don’t always work on him because they’re made for regular ghosts, not an embodiment of the Ghost Zone. Why he’s so strong, he has the whole Ghost Zone at his disposal”.

Both Danny and Maddie are gaping at him. Before Maddie nods, “yes that, that would make sense. It would also mean that all laws and norms generally assigned to ghosts might not necessarily apply to Phantom. Which we already know many do not. It would also explain why he’s so human-seeming. The Ghost Zone is the other side to our world. If we were to take that further, that would make Phantom the ghost of humanity itself as well. And that would explain why he’s protective of humans”.

Meanwhile, Danny’s attempting to not have a complete existential crisis. Combining what his folks said with what Danny knew of how he half died. He was literally infused and half offed by the entirety of the Ghost Zone. His parents, they could be right. Excluding the never alive/human bit. Because really? His obsession didn’t make any sense for him to have as his obsession. He’d never been all that protective before? Or a fighter? Oh fuck, was he literally the will of the Ghost Zone? And being the High Ghost King, he literally ruled over all other ghosts. His word was basically law. So was Phantom, was Phantom literally a combination of Danny’s ghost before he became a halfa -because let’s be real, becoming a halfa changed his base ghost - and the Ghost Zone itself? Looking down at himself, if it wasn’t for Phantom, would his base ghost even look anything like he did now? Oh Ancients he needs to stop thinking. Deciding instead to blurt out, “so what you’re saying is, Phantom’s basically ghost god”, which honestly just gives him another crisis. Because what was a god? An immortal being that watched over their world, or in Danny’s case, world’s? Who possessed massive, seldom rivalled, and unheard-of power? Who leads and guided the people of their world(s)? Who could see everything from a wildly different point of view and existed in a state that was nearly unique? Because fuck, that was Danny. He was just lacking the whole omniscient and omnipresent thing....Which ClockWork did have....and he was Danny’s advisor and mentor. Danny...Danny is not sleeping tonight.

Maddie and Jack blink at Danny before exchanging a look and nodding. Maddie speaking into her hands while staring at the screen, “it would seem so. It’s the only thing that makes sense. But I wouldn’t say he’s anything like the way gods are written about in books and I wouldn’t say he truly knows”.

Danny can’t help but think, no fucking shit.

Jack nods again, “it would explain his growing too. If he was really just a teenager when he showed up. The Ghost Zone itself would only have human ageing to go off of, so it moulded its personified self after that”.

Maddie looks at Danny, smiling a bit softly, which he honestly can’t comprehend right now. He’s too busy having one crisis after another, while she talks, “teens often don’t know who they are or what their role in life is. So it only makes sense that he wouldn’t know just what he was. I suspect the other, normal, ghosts don’t know exactly either”, Maddie goes wide-eyed and asks Danny, “wait, you said Technus fled from him right?”.

Danny just nods numbly.

“What if that’s because he could see or sense that Phantom was the Ghost Zone?”.

Now Jack looks worried, “so we may have inadvertently revealed Phantom in a sense? Mads, you don’t think that could be bad?”.

Danny can instantly see both of them worrying now and looking guilty. So Danny decides he should be the only one have a mental freak out tonight, “um actually, none of the ghosts seem to view Phantom as a normal ghost. Skulker literally screams about him being unique. And people have seen Spectra mock him by calling him an unnatural freak. And-”, Danny blinks realising he was literally worshiped, like a god, “-and, I’ve heard there are ghosts who...who worship him. Call him the Great One and Saviour”. Danny’s basically whispering by the end. He’d always just passed off the Far Frozen's people’s words as fanciful compliments and shows of respect. Never giving them much thought other than the fact that it was a bit embarrassing and seemed unnecessary.

Maddie nods, looking a bit more relaxed, “that’s good then, we didn’t mess things up. I hope. But that, that just confirms it. There’s no way he’s a normal ghost at all. He’s something more. The Ghost Zone itself”, while Danny tries to not look like his brain stopped working, Maddie frowns, “but why would ghosts treat him unkindly then? Call him such things?”. Maddie sighs, giving herself the answer, “maybe he wasn’t supposed to exist. Maybe something horrible happened, something went wrong, and he came to exist. That if he didn’t exist something bad would have happened...”.

Jack rubs his temples, “maybe they resent his power or affection for humans and simply take whatever cheap shots they can?”.

Danny blinks, technically they were both right. All ghosts insulted each other. That was just a ghost thing. But his mom, well, the answer was yes. Regardless of him existing or not, Pariah would have happened. The G.I.W. would have tried to blow up the Ghost Zone. OverGrowth would have awakened. Hotep-ra would have been summoned. Nephitius would have tried to remove gravity. Phantom was needed in every situation. And when he was the one who needed to be stopped, and needed to be protected; ClockWork showed up. The world(s) were literally dependent on him, he could either destroy it all or keep protecting it. You know, after the whole ‘King of the entire Ghost Zone and ghost species’ thing, you’d think nothing could really shock him anymore. But Ancients, he was a goddamn god. The embodiment of the Ghost Zone. Personification of the afterlife. Death given form. The very soul of the underworld. But he was also alive, a person, a teenager, and perpetually in over his head. Oh, and tired. Really damn tired. And not just physically.

Danny looks at the kitchen clock before getting up and putting away his plate, “well I’m going to go to bed and pointedly not think about how our local teenage town hero, who sometimes faceplants into buildings or forgets to dodge. Is probably a godly embodiment of an entire realm and it’s will”.

Halfway up the stairs, his mom calls out, “you forgot your phone sweetie”.

Danny mutters, “oh, right”, before grabbing it and heading back upstairs.

Danny flops onto his bed and calls Sam and Tucker.

“What’s up dude? Ghosts?”-T

“What’d your parents say about sorta ghost you? Mine rolled their eyes and complained about it not being girly enough”-S

“Oh shit yeah. Mine complimented me but made me promise not to die. Three times”-T

“Come to think of it, mine didn’t ask me about that at all”-S

“Is that really surprising though? Your parents are the most selfish people ever”-T

Groaning, “tell me about it”-S

There’s a pause for a while.

“Uh dude? You’re being awfully quiet”-T

“Should we be worried?”-S

“Ugh”-D

“Okay that was more ‘I hate my existence’ than ‘my half life’s in danger’”-S

“I’m, like, eighty percent mental crisis right now”-D

“Dare I ask, why?”-T

“Did they say they’ll love and accept you if you ever became a ghost? ‘Cause yeah that is exactly the kind of thing that would give you, of all people, a crisis”-S

Danny blinks up at the ceiling a couple of times, “uh, oh yeah right. That did happen. Forgot about that”-D

“You...the guy who constantly worries about their folks not accepting them, forgot your parents accepted you? Well sorta at least?”-T

“What else happened Danny”-S

“Ugh, just belgerfuncklederck”-D

Tucker wheezes in laughter some, “care to try again dude?”-T

“Uh, in between my folks blatantly stating they expect me to become a ghost and actively wanting me to be powerful. Which just, like, what? I mean yes. Just, like, yes please. I honestly cried. Then there’s them going to call a truce with Phantom, which yay. But then it’s all ‘should I tell them?’, ‘would they feel the same?’, and...and oh Ancients they asked me not to die”-D

Tucker snorts, “little late”-T

“Were they manly tears or did you blubber like an idiot?”-S

There’s another pause in the conversation before Danny barely whispers, “is it really? Am I dead or just, like, the Zone?”-D

“Dude what? You’re supposed to say ‘hey that’s my line’. Your question doesn’t even make sense. And you ignored Sam’s jab”-T

“I thought we were already past the whole “I’M NOT DEAD!!!’ thing?”-S

“I showed my folks the photo. A photo. Image. Thing that captures our likeness to suspend it forever in existence to show off to whom ever’s willing to look at our mugs. Thingys we look at with our eyeballs, whatever the fuck. Of Phantom me all fucked up glow bug-”-D

“Uh, you know I’m not one to question your mental state. But do we need Jazz?”-T

“Tuck, goddamn fuck. Ancients and shit. Just no, fuck. Just fuck no. Ugh. Fuuuuucck. Hebergebber nerugh”-D

“This seems like an overreaction and definitely a call Jazz thing”-S

“Please don’t. I mean, fuck, uh, I’d say I’d hang up if you did but, like, fuck, how do fingers work?”-D

“I mean yours have ectoplasm in them so they probably work a little differently”-T

Danny points aggressively at the phone, though internally grateful for the slight distraction, “you. Shut the fuck up. I, uh...what? Fuck, I forgot what I was going to say. Why was I even calling?”-D

An exaggerated sigh, “Ancients Danny”-S

“Something to do with your parents, mental crisis, and you questioning your deadness. Which yeah, you were over that”-T

Danny blinks up at the ceiling, “Uuuuuuugh. Fuck yeah. That. My brain don’t feel like workin’ no more”-D

“Then stop thinking! You’re really good at that”-S

“Not good enough apparently. Look, like, fuck. So, like... fuck. The picture right. My phone and shit-”-D

Tucker cuts him off, “don’t think you actually mentioned your phone yet, so that’s progress”-T

Danny’s screws up his face and starts laughing; and he just sort of keeps laughing.

“Dude, it’s not that funny”-T

After a while, with Danny still laughing, “Uh... you okay?”-T

“You broke him Tucker”-S

Danny wheezes and flops his hand/phone down onto the bed. “Ancients fuck, holy shit. Good goddamn”, snorting and wheezing some more while his friends muffled concerned voices come through the speaker. Shaking his head, “how the fuck does mash potatoes and peas change the universe”.

Lifting the phone back to his ear, “Alright, I’m back. Not fully dead. Still fuck and, like, never going to look at mash potatoes the same again”-D

“Dude don’t do that. You know we do actually worry about you”-T

“Yeah Danny. Stitch and ditch is another thing we’ve established is bad to do”-S

“Heh. Yeah, well, you’re conversing with the equivalent of a puddle that apparently decided to eat a shift in reality for supper”-D

Sounding unimpressed, “what happened with your phone Danny”-T

“Okay fair enough on the shortness. I did kind of, uh, ghost? you there”-D

“You being awkward about puns is honestly more worrying”-S

Danny takes a deep breath and wheezes, words coming out in a rush and firmly reminding everyone that he doesn’t actually need to breathe, “my parents decided Phantom’s a literal god the embodiment of the Ghost Zone and It’s will. That he was created from the very essence of the Ghost Zone after something horrible happened. That he captures and sends home ghosts because that’s where the Ghost Zone wants them. That he’s protective of humans but earth is the other side of the coin and will become ghosts. That he’s so strong because he has access to the entirety of the Ghost Zone. That he knows where ghosts are because of course the damn Ghost Zone knows where ghosts are. And Ancients holy jerzerbelerbed. It, fuck, it accounts for everything. Except the half alive shit. But like fuck guys, I was zapped by the entirety of the Ghost Zone. Would I even look like Phantom if I had died normally? I mean fuck, you two make it clear all this ghostly crap changes how our ghosts would look. And my obsession? Where the fuck does that even come from? Why am I such a protective son of a corpse? And I don’t know if I’m just really fucking confused, weirded out, or fucking terrified. Because just what the fuck even am I? Like dead yeah sure, fucking dead. Partly. But like fuck am I really? My folks officially don’t even think so. Cause created from the Zone apparently doesn’t count as dead. And I’m literally worshiped and if I wasn’t Phantom and shit, you know how fucked we’d all be? Pariah and OverGrowth and goddamn Nephitius. Fucking Nephitius. No fucking gravity. Hurgerflebergederhurg. And, and the fucking King thing. I literally rule the whole damn place and a guy with fucking omnipresence and omniscience is my fucking advisor. I am a god. I. Am. A. Fucking. God. Like the Zone just got all up in me and decided ‘oh yeah this looks like a great place to push my will and being into!’. And I’m sitting here like what the fuck did my ghost originally look like? Did I even have one? Was I just some shell? Waiting to be filled by the void of death? Oh god that mental image! I did not need that! Oh Ancients. Aregerflagerdertic-“-D

“Danny shut the fuck up”-S

“-The Zone, fuck, it’s like the body of death and shit. So am I like the fucking grim reaper now? And oh fuck right, the, like, first fucking thing they said was ghost of the Ghost Zone. So am I even my own ghost at all? Or did like my ghost and the Zones ghost like fucking fuse. Or did the Zone fucking yeet my ghost back into me thusly making me alive again but then like, fuck, insert it’s ghost where my ghost should have been? Or did it-”-D

“Danny be quite”-S

“-make my ghost extra ghost to the point where it couldn’t possibly be fully ghost. Or maybe made my ghost so extra ghost that it literally became the Zone itself. I am I just, like, super ectoplasm absorbent to the point of just yanking it all into my very being? What the fuck am I? Like, what the fuck is up with half my shit? I highly fucking doubt Vlad half died looking like a vampire twat. But then what the fucks up with Vortex and Nocturne? The fuck are they? What the absolute fuck?!? And I am literally the strongest ghost there is. WHYYYYYY??? I’m only half one! And my core? The fuck is it ice for? Because the Ghost Zone is cold, that’s fucking why. And my obsession, my goddamn obsession! I’m not a protective person! Wait no, UGH! I uh ugh. Yes I am. I really fucking am. But just fuck, ugh. GAH! I DIDN’T USED TO BE SUCH A PROTECTIVE WEIRDASS! WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH ME! WHAT AM I!?! WHAT IS PHANTOM!?! WHO THE FUCK AM I!?! FENTON!?! PHANTOM!?! FENTON!?! PHANTOM!?! ARE THEY THE SAME FUCKING PERSON!?! AM I THE SAME PERSON AS MYSELF!?! AM I ME!?!-”-D

“DANNY!”-S & T

Deciding he really should probably just shut up,“I, um, FUUUUUUCK!”-D

“Dude it’s okay. You just unloaded a lot of shit. But dude, we’ve been over this. You are Phantom. He is you. You are yourself. And that’s fucking awesome. We all know this secret identity shit messes with you sometimes. But that’s not what this is, is it?”-T

Being a little pissy and hating himself for it just a little bit, “no Tuck, no it’s fucking not. I’m not even sure how to put it beyond, just what am I? Like ugh”, taking a deep breath, “halfa yes, obviously. Half human, half...ghost. But is the ghost half actually a ghost? Like my dead half? Or the Ghost Zone itself given form through me and thus changing me as a person in the process. I wasn’t protective guys. I wasn’t fucking protective”-D

“Alright, I’m going to try and unravel your word vomit from earlier. Your folks deciding something about Phantom doesn’t count for shit, they literally have only half the picture. They are constantly wrong about ghosts, Danny. They have made hundreds of incorrect assumptions about them that we know for a fact are wrong. So on this, what they think means nothing. It doesn’t matter. Now the idea of you, more specifically your ghost half, being the manifestation of the Ghost Zone; would make sense if you weren’t a halfa. But I’ll give you that the idea that your ghost form is a combination of both your natural ghost and the Ghost Zone’s essence makes sense-”-S

Danny cuts her off, “that doesn’t exactly make me feel better Sam”-D

“It wasn’t supposed to. Like you said, all this ghost stuff has affected our natural ghosts. Valerie’s probably isn’t the same either. But so what? That’s normal. For life to affect who we are as people. It’s just more extreme for us because it’s ghost stuff that’s happened in our lives”-S

“I think it just bothers you more because you notice it. Because you changed so suddenly. ‘Cause yeah, you never used to be such a protective bastard”-T

“Still not helping”-D

“Dude, we’re your friends and sidekicks. Not your therapist. That’s Jazz’s job”-T

Rubbing his eyes, “ass. But yeah, I know. But I couldn’t just sit on all of that and I definitively can not deal with Jazz’s psychoanalysing”-D

“That is incredibly obvious. And Danny, out of everything, your obsession is the only one that yeah, this is probably the only explanation for. Vlad’s powerful too, sure he’s weaker than you but just how much does he even use his powers? Hardly ever. Sure you could be right, but it’s not a sure thing on that. Your core is a major stretch, they don’t seem to have much of a reason to them ever”-S

“And Danny dude, so what? Even if the Zone fused itself to you and changed who you were, it made you the you you are now. So really, you wouldn’t be you if it didn’t fuse with you. And come on dude, you love who you are now. We ALL do”-T

Snickering, “shit Tucker, have you been going to slam poetry without me?”-S

“I, fuck, you’ve got a point there. But like guys, my protectiveness is, like, at least twenty-five percent of who I am now. And like the other shit? Feeling the need to send ghosts back without interfering with their ability to get back here? And come on, did I ever seem like I’d be the leader type? At all? I guess you’re right, it’s doesn’t really matter. I do love it, but it is quite literally impossible for me to have a remotely normalish life. Like, ever. You guys have that option. And okay point to you too Sam. I was being dramatic”-D

“Thank you for accepting your role as the teams drama queen”-S

“Pfft, you stage riots over what kind of oven brands stores sell”-D

“Ahh there he is. The wise cracking idiot has returned. Glad to have you back”-T

“I’m still fucked up”-D

“You, by your very impossible nature, always are. But that just makes you fit in better with us. We’re all fucked up. And dude, do you seriously think normal society could handle either of us either? And do you seriously think we’d drop this shit for normal lives? Naw man, you’re fucking stuck with us. We’ll be ninety years old, half blind and deaf; and will still be helping your ass. And then we’ll join the Zone and still help your ass. And Danny, you’ve always been the leader of our group. You’ve always fit in with and lead weird. So maybe the Zone just straight up sensed that shit in you. Knew you’d do it right and do right by it”-T

“Why, out of everything, is that comforting. Being deemed worthy by a dimension to get to become Its personification”-D

“If you blame it on your ghost pride, I will come over there and kick you”-S

Feeling the healthy amount of genuine fear that statement requires, “uh... it’s not because of my ghost pride”-D

“Good half ghost Zone god”-S

“I’m not sure if I should be saying too soon”-D

“Dude, you made dead jokes within an hour of half dying. You literally made a ectoplasm absorbent paper towel joke during your mild mental break down. If there is one thing in the entire universe that is definitively you, it’s a dark sense of humour with zero sense of sensitivity”-T

“You are on a fucking roll today Tucker”-S

“Oh shit, I totally did”-D, which just makes Danny start laughing again.

“Laughing in the face of everything is what you do”-S

There’s another pause in the conversation, as Danny mulls things over in his head.

“So just so we’re clear, my ghost half, Phantom, is at least partly the entirety of the Ghost Zone. That my obsession is a direct result of the Ghost Zone part of me wanting to keep all the ghosts inside of it aka the Ghost Zone and the Ghost Zone’s desire to stop mortals from becoming ghost prematurely. Oh, and the Ghost Zone’s desire to not be destroyed or for any of its ghosts to be destroyed. And that, due to all of this, combined with my immortality, absurd power -which is possibly because of being partly the Ghost Zone-, being High Ghost King, and how my ghost forms base ghost looked; that I am Ghost God. And that we’re all just okay with this?”-D

“Yup”-S

“Sounds about right dude”-T

“That’s really fucked up”-D

“You’re an impossible paradox and basically an entire dimension. I think being fucked up would be a requirement”-T

“Ass”-D

“You feeling less freaked out by your own self now”-S

Sighing, “yeah. Still not keen with the fact that this definitely changed who I am as a person and not just giving me some quirks”-D

“You’re still you dude. Same as you’ve always been. Just more ghostly in an extreme and very saturated way. I think the way Phantom looked kind of proved and currently proves that”-T

Scrunching up his eyebrows, “oh?”-D

“Yeah that makes sense, your ghost self looks like you Danny. If Phantom was just straight up the Zone you’d probably look wildly different. Even all, I can’t believe I’m saying this, Mega evolved, you still looked like Danny”-S

Grumbling, “could have just imprinted off my form”, defeatedly, “but yeah fused with my ghost self makes more sense”-D

“No shit. So there, no more ‘am I me’ crisis”-S

Snorting, “yeah right. Danny never really stops having his crises. They just hide away for a while”-T

“Ouch, but true. I’ll probably flip shit and turn into a mental puddle again the next time I’m being pushingly or overwhelmingly protective. Or the next time I go to the Zone and can’t help but notice how comfortable I feel. And oh fuck, how did I never think that was weird?”-D

“I thought that was just a ghost thing?”-T

“No, fuck. I got eyed-balled funny three of the times I mentioned it around ghosts. Vlad being one of them. Come to think of it, CW’s the only one to not eyeball me funny about it”-D

“Guess that says a lot about all of us that we don’t even notice weird anymore”-S

“Well weirdness sensitivity level check aside, y’all should sleep. And I should stare at my ceilings glow-in-the-dark stars until I self actualise fully”-D

“Does that include accepting and loving yourself as being a dimension and your purpose as Its defender and lord?”-T

“Pretty sure he already accepted that last bit after becoming King”-S

“But now it’s on the god level Sam. That’s different”-T

Motioning his hands around wildly, “it’s different. It’s so fucking different. And fuck you Tuck....ah goddamnit it. Ain’t I fucking, like, lording over and ruling myself then? If I’m the fucking Zone or some shit, the Zone’s soul, and ruling the Zone. Fuck, Tuck you goddamn fuck”-D

Laughter, “dude yes, yes you are”-T

“You’ve actually achieved the highest possible level of individuality and self-sufficiency then”-S

“That's our Danny, taking ‘I am my own king’ to its absolute conclusion”-T

Facepalming, “how is that not supposed to be terrifying? Fuck y’all. I’m hanging up before y’all give yet another existential crisis”-D

Danny hangs up to laughter and tosses his phone onto the corner of his bed, before turning over and growling into his pillow. Turning back onto his back to stare at his ceiling. Jabbing his thumb into his chest, “me, I am a fucking mess and I’m a fucking entire different realm of reality”. Snorting and barking out a laugh after a while, smirking, “wow the Zone really drew the short stick on Its personal meat suit”.

Staring at the ceiling till his eyes begin to unfocus and burn. Shaking his head with a slight chuckle, “but I guess I have been doing pretty well. And it infused itself into my being so easily that I wasn’t even aware for years”, shaking his head again, “Hell, I still wouldn’t be aware if it weren’t for my parents coming up with the weirdest theories. And I guess, I guess that means it really must be okay. For me not to notice. But still, it changed me into someone I wouldn’t have been. My very being, my soul, my ghost. Irrevocably bound and one with the Realm of the dead”. Raising an eyebrow before wheezing in a way that sounds almost like a laugh, “oh Ancients! I’m only half ghosts but technically I’m more ghost than any other ghost can ever be”. And oh god, ghosts are partly created by the Zone. So technically him. Does that make literally every ghost his child in a way? Ah fuck. And then, if he wants to be really dramatic about it, all living beings have their base ghost right? Technically that couldn’t exist without the Zone creating that as well. So then, every single living and dead thing was sorta the Zone’s child. His child...No wonder he was so fucking protective, goddamn. Everything was a child of his soul or part of his ghost. Or was a child of the thing, Realm, that he was the soul or ghost of. Ancients this was all so fucked up.

Shaking his head and roughly putting an arm over his eyes. Him, Danny, was just one big cluster fuck of escalations. A boy. A hunter. A halfa. A hero. A saviour. A king. A god. A universe. Was there no end to his existences surprises? He really fucking hopes so, because this? This bullshit was getting a little much. But hey, at least he was less ‘this is utterly horrifying’ and more ‘not this shit again’ now.

End.

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trashmouuuth-blog · 4 years

Text

forgotten memories.

based on the comic by @/atxnolasco on twt!!

—

Richie never liked winter. It was probably his least favorite season out of all of them. The early nights, freezing temperatures, bare trees, and inability to do what it was he usually did. Perhaps the last time he recalls feeling excitement for the anticipated snow fall was when he was a child, hanging with his friends as they played in the mountains of snow, and scarily trudged over the frozen over river that ran through the barrens.

The crunching of snow beneath his sneakers, or the numbing feeling of ice burn into his calloused palms. It was a memorable time, really. One of the many memories he looks back fondly on ever since he left Derry for a second time, mind flooded now of thoughts that had been buried so deeply within his subconscious for over thirty years now. Voices that drew blanks now had faces; faces that were admittedly more matured and attractive, sure, but they were still the same faces off his friends.

It had been a few months now since he returned home to the big city of Beverly Hills, resuming the life of a normal man who just so happened to be a big name around both the country and world. But, many were quick to note the subtle change in Richie’s usually boisterous and vulgar attitude. Yet, no one seemed to understand why.

Sure, he was the same man who made jokes about cheating on his girlfriend, about people’s mothers, or even the infamous ‘that’s what she said’ trope. But there was an evident sadness behind that smile. One pitted so deep within him that not even Richie himself could fathom a melancholy so drastic.

Yet his return back to the celebrity life was short lived, as the spotlight finally shone upon the middle-aged comedian, it seemed to catch everything but the usual glimmer of mischief that always shone despite being hidden beyond thick glasses. To be honest, Richie himself didn’t know what was wrong, nor what was the reactant causing his chest to feel so empty. Numb, even. It wasn’t until he closed his eyes at night did he ever feel normal. Probably because sleeping consisted of dreaming a life that he could possibly ever have. But what was particularly strange about it, was that he could never remember what exactly it was he had been dreaming about. It had been like this for months now, and he’s grown accustomed to it. Also undeniably irritated, but used to the dressing feeling of the slumber blinking itself out of his eyes on instinct.

Richie hadn’t forgotten about his time in Derry, either. He can only blame the defeat of IT, or maybe some childhood trauma- maybe both- to be the cause of these weird dreams. In fact, he had managed to stay in touch with the rest of the Losers, too! It was hard not to, especially when the majority of them were such big names. Bill was still producing his feature film of ‘The Black Rapids’, and had been published a brand new book with an ending that didn’t completely suck. Ben and Beverly were still together, with their companies beginning to merge and create more publicity than ever. It was strange how well they made the drastically different worlds of fashion and architecture work. Mike had moved out of Derry at the end of the summer, settling down in Florida and living out the dream life he had always wanted. Needless to say, everything was going great for the remaining five Losers. They hadn’t forgotten each other this time, either. Everyone had gotten their well-deserved happy ending.

..Well, almost everyone.

They called and texted frequently, keeping to date with each other’s lives. However, their busy schedules sometimes meant that these calls would be postponed for days on end.

But winter meant a slow in business. People and paparazzi would much rather be cooped up against a roaring fire than going out of their way to catch a glimpse at the celebrities that seemed to roam around. They could stalk them from the comfort of their own home, thanks to technology.

The holidays were coming up, too. Early December now, but a time both Richie and his friends had been planning ever since their drastic turn back to the regular life of fame; one that contrasted almost comically to the one they used to bare back in the tiny, mundane town that was Derry, Maine.

Richie never thought he’d set foot back on this cursed pavement ever again. That’s what he had told himself during that dreaded week back in summer- to get the hell out of this place and never look back. But that was easier said that done. Despite its reputation, one couldn’t deny the place they had grown up and known for a majority of their life. Even then, the man still had good memories he’d rather hold on to that tied a part of his heart at the one place that truly felt like home.

Richie didn’t have anyone to spend the holidays with. His mother had long since passed, father only dwindling behind. His sister and niece lived out of state, with each other’s company and that of his brother-in-law. There wasn’t any romance, nor even a fling he could call up. Maybe it was out of shame, maybe it was out of the fact that Richie Tozier refused to admit to himself that he was truly alone. He did have one thing, though. Well- four things, if you count each of the Losers individually. Bev, Bill, Mike and Ben were the closest thing Richie had to family nowadays, and he jumped at the proposition of them spending time together back home at Christmas.

Richie rolls up outside the Derry Townhouse, pulling his suitcase out of the trunk of the red sports car. Flashy. He recognizes the other three vehicles parked outside, too- Bill’s silver Chevrolet, Ben’s green Lexus and Mike’s black Peugeot (that admittedly looked in a lot worse wear compared to the others, but Richie is nice enough to not voice that aloud).

Admittedly, he’s not nervous. It wasn’t as if this was the first time he was seeing them in twenty season years or something. The rekindling if their friendship in the earlier months was enough to make Richie recall how deeply rooted his emotional connection was to the group of Losers. They were just friends. Their shared trauma bound them closer than what one would even be able to perceive as humanly possible. It was love. A real love, one that not many got to experience in their lifetime. Sure, it may have not been romantic, but the familial bond was so strong that it seemed to triumph anything else.

The door of the Townhouse creaks open, Trashmouth Tozier plopping his bags down on the ground with a small thump as he watches the familiar figures hunch over the bar, talking and laughing about any and everything under the sun.

“Hey, look who finally decided to show!” Bill turns and raises his glass to Richie, beckoning him over. This, in turn, earns a cheesy grin to erupt from the comedian’s lips. It was strange being back here again. Where it all started, yet they were down to five instead of seven.

“Yeah, yeah, keep it in your pants, Denbrough.” Richie proceeds over, Bev welcoming him with open arms. He engulfs his tiny friend in a hug, ravishing in the feeling of warmth. Bev knew better than anyone about Richie’s hurt, even if he didn’t want t admit it to himself. She couldn’t comprehend what it must feel like, though- she came out of this story with the love of her life, yet her best friend’s own was lost in the process. Apart of her can’t help but feel bad, mostly because there was nothing she could do to better the situation, nor was there anything that could’ve helped prevent it. Needless to say, Beverly wouldn’t mind being a shoulder for Richie to lean on if he needed it. That had always been their thing, anyways. Sitting together with a smoke and a beer, staring up at the night sky and just letting their facades fall. Beverly and Richie could always be real with one another. They understood each other. Maybe that was due to their similar personality traits, or the fact that they were platonic soulmates made in hell.

“Heeey,” the red-haired woman grins up at her tall friend, reaching up to pat his cheek – the scratchiness of the stubble feeling like sandpaper against her soft palm. Pale blue eyes meet brown, the happiness evident within them- yet Bev could sense the emptiness behind Richie’s own. “Poured you one and everything. You’re no fun unless your drunk.” She chuckles, holding up a glass of whiskey for Rich. He takes it, rolling his eyes as the clinking of their glasses echoed throughout the desolate B&B.

The taste is bitter in his mouth, the alcohol practically burning as it surpasses his throat. Just how he liked it.

“Haven’t put a ring on it yet, Haystack?” Richie asks Ben, earning a flustered laugh from the undeniably attractive, former fat boy. His cheeks were barely illuminated under the dim lighting of the bar.

“I, uh-“ Ben begins, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, stop! You’re embarrassing him!” Bev points out, slapping Richie’s shoulder gently.

Mike and Bill proceed to join the conversation – time seemingly to fly by almost immediately. Perhaps that was just an effect of the copious amounts of alcohol everyone began to consume, cheeks flushed and words beginning to slur. It was nice, though. Even if it were for just a few hours, Richie wasn’t focusing on ignoring the gaping hood in his chest (pun intended), but rather his best friends.

One by one, the group seemed to dissipate – Mike being the first to stumble up to bed, followed by Bill, then Bev and Ben. Richie had grown quite the tolerance towards the cursed alcohol, having grown a feign dependency on it to help get through the tough times. He had stopped for a while, wanting to counter the issue before it untwisted into something bigger. However, that seemed to be easier said than done.

Being back in Derry erupted a heavy weight to press down on his chest, especially while housed in the same lobby that housed the previous six. The area was so quiet that even the slightest sound of a pin could be heard if it were dropped. Richie sat alone, the empty glass one one calloused hand, with the other bent against the bar as he hunched against it. He stares ahead at the array of bottles that were lined up neatly on the shelves, letting out a sigh as he deliberates tearing into those, too.

Nonetheless, he decides against it. He decides against heading up to bed in general. The thick bottom of the rugged glass meets the wood below one last time, an exasperated grimace pulling at the older man’s aging features. No drinks, yet no sleep. What exactly was there to do?

To hell if Richie knows. All he can comprehend is the fact that his car keys seemed all that more heavy in his jacket pocket.

Footsteps echo throughout the desolate hall of the Derry Townhouse, the sounds seeming to echo off the four paper-thin walls holding the place up. He had no idea where he was going, but chose to trust his gut with this overwhelming sense of need to travel somewhere. To just get out of here and clear his head. It was easier said than done, especially while the wooziness of the alcohol seemed to alter his state of mind and make his emotions all that more heightened.

He doesn’t even comprehend the comfort and warmth of his car, how it contrasted drastically to the bitterly cold Derry air outside, or how the night wind was so harsh that each whip of it felt like a repeated slap to his freckled and now-red cheeks. The bright lights of the modernized town pass by like a blur, each one reflecting over the lenses of his glasses in their varying neon colours and flashing rhythms. Greens, pinks and blues mixed with the navy sky, standing out like a candle in the darkness – flickering on an off in an attempt to garner a reaction from the people outside. It was a ploy that usually reeled the very man in with its excitement, but now his stoic and determined face seemed to scream anything but intrigued.

The night life seemed to decrease the further Richie headed out, the more he continued to follow the Main Street down until its nearing end as it broke into paths. Two roads diverged in a yellow road, and in his haste, Richie chose the one less travelled by. The car’s tires bump over the uneven hills and potholes that were littered in the grass, showing that this very shortcut hadn’t been touched in years. Last he recalls was when he was in his youth, the freedom of his beaten-up sneakers against the crunchy grass almost like music to his ears, surrounded by those he valued enough to call his best friends. The cold air would toss his unruly and outgrown curls around erratically in rhythm with its howls, Richie only having his glasses to shield his eyes from squinting in an attempt to savor some of his sight.

However, the sounds of tires rolling over pebbles seemed to signify enough that he had gone far enough. The desired destination would have to be reached by foot. It wasn’t an issue, though- the trees parted up ahead, clearing a path for the bridge to be crossed safely. Richie pulls his jacket closer to his body, teeth chattering at the coldness that seemed to envelop this winter night. The surrounding area seems to familiar to him, all the memories flooding back like a slap to his face.

Ah, yes. The Kissing Bridge.

It was only good for two things; sucking faces and carving names. Both options that appealed to Richie wholeheartedly, but he had only ever gotten to fulfill the latter.

The decayed wood that was laid across the bridge creaks under his weight, showing how much wear thirty years really does to something like this. Richie’s walk slows, taking in the scenery around him – the sparkling stars up above, how one seemed to shine ever so slightly brighter amongst the others and how it was situated directly above his head. The rushing water of The Barrens below also seemed eerily calm, more like a secluded lake. The place was hugged in a dark blanket of black within the night, but the full moon shine so brightly that it illuminated the path ahead of him.

He wasn’t sure what had originally led him to this spot, it the familiarity of it was enough to make him understand. And man, he wished he hadn’t.

Brown eyes cast downwards as he comes to a stop, looking over the wooden panels that served as barriers at the bridge’s side. Names and initials of all kinds were engraved deeply into them, some now faded or grown over with moss. But one in particular still looked as good as new. It was only redone a few months prior, after all.

R + E

He scans the initials, a small smile tugging at his lips, yet the melancholy was evident from the way his brows creased in hurt. Eddie. Man, he can almost hear the voice telling him to shut up as Fichte delivered yet another crude joke or in protests to the many silly nicknames he had dubbed the small hypochondriac over the years.

That pain he had been experiencing was there, but only seemed amplified by a thousand – the knife in his heart now being twisted at an unimaginable angle to further embed deeper into the already open and sensitive wound. It hurts. Of course it does. He just wasn’t expecting it to feel so.. excruciating.

Richie reaches up to touch the bow of his glasses, fingers brushing over the lens from where it had previously been splattered with blood.

His breath hitches, and before he knows it, he’s knee-down in the gravel below, having to crawl a few steps over in order to sit his back against the panels below. The man’s shoulder shake pathetically, face buried within his calloused palms as he just.. cries. For the first time in forever, he feels the sensation of tears screaming down his face, the shortness of breath as he gasps in sobs. Albeit silent, each one caused his heart to ache more and more. Time seems to pass, but it’s beyond the point of being able to be told, considering the night was still upon him and he lacked a watch to check the time. Hell, he doesn’t even know if he wants to. He couldn’t been crying for five minutes, maybe an hour- who knows?

It’s the setting of his dreams all over again. The very scenario- only it felt way more real.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts once again by a familiar yet oddly foreign voice from behind. “Hey, fuckface. Mind if I sit here?” It asks, grabbing Richie’s attention. Over the fence leans a short man, his brown hair arranged in a neat fiat-top and puppy-dog eyes still so round beneath his thick brows. The occasional wrinkle was invented into his smile-lines, which was to be expected with age. The large gauze on his cheek is almost significant to his character.

Eddie Kaspbrak.

“Shit, fucking fences-“ he curses out, struggling to catch his leg over the top panel. He was so short in comparison, it was usually comical to Richie. But he hasn’t looked up. His head merely rests back against the fence, a defeated smile pulling at his lips. Eddie takes a seat beside him eventually, dusting himself off.

“This is the most disgusting place I’ve ever been. Even your mom wasn’t a public menace to mental health.”

Richie can’t help but snicker. “Pffft. Of couuurse. Even while you’re dead, you’re still the same germ freak.”

Eddie reciprocates the laugh, ensuing his usual playful teasing-wars with Richie. His sarcas, always seemed to contrast the vulgarity of his jokes. “Well, sue me for having standards.” The silence is resumed once again, it seeming so deafening in the current moment. The distant crickets chirp, combining with the faint sounds of rushing water and the natural night ambiance. It would’ve been beautiful if they had been in any other situation other than their current one. “So, whats the big Trashmouth plan here?” Eddie asks, glancing over. It was as if he was expecting Richie to conjure up some elaborate plan in order to make himself feel better.

There was no answer. Nothing. For the first time in what had to be history, Richie Tozier had nothing to say – which was worrying in itself. His long legs just sprawl out on the ground before him limply.

Eddie furrows his brows. “..Richie?”

“I don’t wanna forget again,” the taller of the two eventually blurts our, which earn a pair of chocolate-brown eyes to look over at him with a hurt expression. Eddie hurts for Richie, knowing that he’d have to live ur is days seemingly miserable. He didn’t want that, especially not for the very man he’d cared about for so many years. He wishes he could’ve said something sooner- anything. Maybe they wouldn’t be in this predicament right now.

“I remember everything now,” Richie begins, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose in distress. “I can’t let go again, Eds.” Of you, Eddie. Richie doesn’t want to let go of the very hypochondriac beside him.

“You wont this time. IT’s dead, remember? We’re free..”

A bitter tone is laced through the replying tone of Richie. “Doesn’t fucking feel like it.” His hand comes away from his face, glasses in grip as he takes them off. His thumb brushes over one of the lenses, as if recalling the very day they were crusted with splattered blood of the very man who was stabbed before him. “Did you know I had to clean your blood off my glasses after?” The Adam’s apple in his throat bobs as he gulps. “Had a sore throat for day’s from screaming your name.”

Eddie feels his own heartstrings get tugged on. He doesn’t hate anything more than seeing Richie so upset, especially when there was nothing he could do. He could take the shitty nicknames, even the jokes about his mom, but Eddie Kaspbrak hated being helpless. He takes Richie’s glasses and instead reaches up to adjust them back onto the wearer, a soft smile with creased brows adorning his features. “You won’t forget, but you do have to let me go, Rich. You deserve a happy ending, too.”

Richie’s gaze meets Eddie’s for the first time. It feels like they’re kids again, and he’s staring into the eyes of the same boy sitting across the hammock from him. “How?”

Quoting the famous lines said to him in the sewer, Eddie nudges him. “You’re stronger than you think. You’ll figure it out.”

“Am not.”

“The strongest, smartest, dumb asshole I know.”

Richie takes ahold of the hands near his face, holding them in a genetic grip as he studies the drastic difference in size. He’s feeling a plethora of emotions right now, and can’t control his next words. “I love you.”

Eddie merely smiles and presses his forehead to Richie’s, his eyes closing in glee. “I love you too, man.”

The curly-haired man feels his chests sink. It was now or never, but he just had to tell Eddie how h event one and for all – facing his fear of being rejected and outcasted by others for this one simple moment that decades had led up to. “No, I mean..-“ He swallows again. “Shit, Kaspbrak, I-“

“Richie, come on.” Eddie pulls away, his lips pressing against Richie’s forehead from where it was exposed beneath his bangs, “I know.”

Richie opens his eyes to instead see a small boy embracing him, his red shorts and fanny pack all too familiar. His head buries in Eddie’s chest, the casting down of his gaze now revealing that instead of his usual modernized-outfit, Richie wore some ripped jeans and an oversized Hawaiian shirt. They both seemed so small right now- having to be no older than thirteen. The same age their friendship was in its prime and began to blossom into something beautiful.

“Now quit the pity party. Go take a shower and make someone laugh, dipshit,” Eddie says, his voice matching his youthful look.

—

When Richie opens his eyes again, he realizes that it was indeed morning, from the brightness and the chirping birds, but also from how groggy he was. He must’ve fallen asleep outside, but the memory of last night still rang in his head like a second nature.

He smiles at the thought, wiping away the few stray tears of happiness that cascaded down his stubble cheeks. His palm presses against his face, trying to conceal that stupid grin that pulled at his lips.

“..Okay, Eddie.”

Pushes himself up, checking his phone to the the multitude of messages from his friends back home. Fuck, he didn’t mean to worry them.

“Let’s do it your way.”

#reddie #it #it chapter two #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #losers club #bev marsh #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #angst #mcd #pennywise #it ch 2

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