#〉 JACOB & FAITH ₎ in the forest hides a light. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

softyoongiionly · 3 years

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For Whom the Bell Tolls

Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...

There are opposing rumors as to what resides in the tower.

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.

The one who knows.

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.

And now, faced with the imminent demise of your family- you have no choice but to seek answers in the darkness.

What, in god’s name, will you find?

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: demi-god! au, demi-god! Jimin, mythology, slight angst, smut, fantasy

Word count: 8k (THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PWP)

Warnings: likely inaccurate representations of greek mythology lmao, unprotected sex (wrap it up plz), mentions of violence/death, slightly spooky??? allusions to corruption and murder (non-explicit), JIMIN (cause he’s always a warning), probably a messy plot cause I went feral with this one. parts are unedited oops.

A/N: i have nothing to say. this was supposed to be demon porn and now we have a completely new au. SOMEONE PLEASE STOP ME. okay anyways,,,, i love u.

Corruption.

It ran rampant through your town like the plague, devouring everything in its path. One right after another, you have seen it swallow those who you had come to respect; good town folk, who at one time, moved through the world with a moral compass stronger than the one you felt you possessed, had now fallen ill to the disease.

And you understood...to an extent. The universe was not a benevolent dealer. It randomly assigns cards to its patrons and cares not about the outcome- or the losses. You understood that sometimes people were simply without a winning hand.

But the need to win was still present.

However, your town was spoiled with a type of greed that wafted through the streets and turned everything to mold. Neighbor betraying neighbor, partner betraying partner- even mother’s betraying their children...

All to please one man...

Lord Instinctus was the ruler of your province. Born into nobility, he took over the position after his father passed away and began turning the tides in his favor. Taxes were raised, work hours following suit and, harsh punishments were administered to anyone who dared questioned the new system. He forced your town to pledge their loyalty to him on the day he took over and sent ‘enforcers’ to hide out in the town in search of any signs of rebellion.

However, his cruelty was not unique. Too many men have followed the path paved before them and suckled at the teet of avarice, until they were compelled to out do one another.

To outkill one another...

What made Lord Instinctus unique was the fact that he had never shown his face before. During his initiation into the noble court, the townspeople were given blindfolds and told to face away from their Lord and simply listen. Few people broke the rules but, the ones who did were immediately executed.

You still remember the shudder that ran through your body as you heard the sound of your townspeople hitting the pavement. From that point on, the tone was set. Insubordination means death; the terms were simple.

The lack of knowledge and the possibility of death didn’t stop speculation from blooming. In fact, the appearance of the Lord was essentially the usual topic of conversation at every pub on the main street. After the freeing of spirits, both liquid or otherwise, the rumors begin pouring into the atmosphere.

“He’s probably horribly deformed...”

“Inbreeding is common amongst the nobility; it would make sense...”

“My cousin walked by the villa the other day, he said Lord Invictus had a tail!”

“A tail you say?! So is he some sort of hybrid?!”

“Oh please, that’s preposterous- he's probably just hideous...”

You bite your bottom lip, as you wipe the whiskey from the chestnut countertop, resisting the urge to smirk. Bartending was certainly not a glamorous job but, it paid your taxes and helped put food on the table for you and your family.

Glamorous it was not but, amusing it definitely was.

“I bet you he still beds a new woman every night though...”

“A pretty face ain’t worth more than all that gold he has aye?”

“Maybe he’s cursed...”

“That wouldn’t surprise me either- I hear noble families make deals with the magic folk all the time.”

“If you all want to know so bad, why don’t you just pay the tower a visit?”

With that meager suggestion, the bustle of the pub comes to halt- all eyes now on the man who mentioned a topic that is normally banned from public spaces.

“What? You can’t tell me you haven’t wondered what was up there...”

“We know what’s up there-”

“Or rather- who's up there.”

It’s said to be the home a monster.

The tower was used as a prison for the most dastardly of criminals. For years, just before the establishment of your town, it served as a last resort for the rotten underbelly of society. Countless lives were taken, madness ensued- until the revolution came. The tower was set aflame by revolutionaries but for whatever reason, it did not crumble.

The ivory merely sizzled and turned gray and then over time, it turned black. For years it was abandoned until one day, just after sunset, light emanated from the tower once more. Onlookers who were near the building went inside to see if some vagrant had moved in.

And they never returned...

Several spiritual advisors have visited the town, including religious figures from various faiths, and they have all arrived at the same conclusion: a demon has taken residence in the tower. Despite the efforts to bless the building, the light comes on every evening.

Thus, it is assumed that the demon remains unharmed.

“What about Mrs. Jeon? She left offerings for the beast and her son was cured of the plague the next morning.”

“Or Mr. Kim- he left one as well and found gold in his backyard that very night...”

“You aren’t suggesting there is a benevolent being in that tower, are you? Should I remind you of how many disappearances have occurred?”

There are opposing rumors you suppose.

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.

The one who knows.

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.

“Hey here’s a thought- how about Jacob tests his theory eh? Why don’t you go down and find out yourself? Report back to us with your findings...”

The pub erupts with laughter now, the uneasiness slowly melting away from the room.

You elect to keep your thoughts to yourself, as you finish up counting the money you had made from that evening- making sure to leave a portion for the incoming team.

The bite of the winter wind is harsh and untamed as it scraps across your skin, causing you to hurriedly put your coat on. It feels like winter never ends in your town and if it weren’t for the fact that your family stocks up throughout the year, you would be worried where your next meal is coming from.

Walking down the street towards your home, you catch sight of the tower in the distance. The way the windows begin to glow, almost makes you feel like it’s somehow staring back at you- taunting you.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t tempt you.

It always has.

Even as a young girl, you remember being drawn to the infamy, to the danger...

Your mother always told you that being curious was a good thing, that it led the greatest minds of humankind. You kept that with you as you moved through life, trying your best to understand what your purpose was.

But times were hard...

With a malevolent lord hanging over the morale of your town, digging his fingers into the heart and soul of your people and crippling them with eternal debt, it was causing you to look for answers.

And you were beginning to look in some unorthodox places.

Dinner with your family soothes the aching curiosity in your chest as you try and remind yourself of all the things you have to be grateful for. After your meal, you wrestle your little brother into his bed before telling him his favorite bedtime story. Once his eyelids have kissed, you turn out his light and move into the main room to wish sweet dreams upon your parents.

And although the pleasantries are nice, there are a few things throughout the evening that disturbed you.

The limp in your father’s movement.

The blisters on your mother’s hands.

The bags beneath the otherwise unburden gaze of your little brother.

Exhaustion was palpable.

Living beneath the weight of a corrupt leadership will do that to you.

As your head hits the pillow, you can hear your mother murmur in desperation.

“I won’t have enough to pay him this week...what are we going to do?”

“I can work extra hours at the mill- we will figure it out.”

“How could you possibly work any longer-”

You feel your chest twist with guilt as you hear the crack in your mother's voice.

“You’re falling apart my love...if you continue pushing yourself this way, I’m afraid I will lose you and I can’t- I can’t-”

The muffled nature of her cries suggests that your father has pulled her in for a hug, trying to erase the inevitable with his affection.

“We will endure, I promise. Just hang on a little longer.”

With your father’s final words, their conversation begins to die down.

This can’t possibly go on much longer. You might be able to pick up more hours at the pub and, perhaps procure a second job but, the dues will never end.

Your family will never exist for any other reason aside from paying to the noble family.

So you make a decision. Hard work clearly isn’t the answer and revolution would only shed innocent blood. If the practical world had nothing else to offer then, you would seek answers from beyond.

Your parents retired to their rooms shortly after their conversation but, you wait until you’re sure the house has fallen silent before you make your next move. Embarking on this mission would be simple but what lies at your destination is anything but; so, you try to be prepared for the possible outcomes.

Wrapping yourself in the thickest coat you can find, you slip your dagger beneath the onyx material and slowly creep out of your bedroom.

The streets were still bustling with life; your town rarely ever rests and the pubs and shops are open well past midnight.

It might sound like the product of a vibrant town but, it’s mainly due to the ever-present demand for profit.

Limited hours mean limited sales.

Thankfully, no one really notices your presence as you traverse your way down the streets and through the alleyway. The noise echoing from the main street slowly diminishes and makes way for the sound of the wind dancing through the trees. The forest itself does not frighten you. You grew up memorizing it with your father as he taught you the fundamentals or foraging and gardening. The sound of the owls is expected as is the chill that runs up your spine with the increase of the breeze.

However, as you near the tower- fear begins to slither its way into your veins. It’s quite a sickening feeling as it seems to stop you in your tracks but, you push on anyway- determined to finish what you have started.

The wrought iron surrounding the tower is stained with rust, corroded and crackling with age, the creaking of its bars alarms you, stopping you in your tracks and forcing you to look up.

And there it is: the tower.

It stands above you like a menacing giant and although it’s presence should deter you, it doesn’t. Making an effort to be as silent as you can, you slip past the opening in the gate and begin walking up the broken cobblestone pathway.

There is nothing but dirt surrounding the perimeter of the tower and other than the moon, the only light before you is coming from the very top window. It’s glowing but the color isn’t stable- it's as if it were shifting slowly from red to green to blue and then back again. Faced with the wooden French doors, you question the idea of knocking.

If someone truly did live here, it would only be polite...right?

With a shaky hand, you knock three times as loudly as you can. For a moment there is nothing, but just as you ready your hand to knock again, the door groans and begins to slowly creak open.

The already unstable heartbeat in your chest begins to rattle without mercy as you brace yourself for whatever horrible creature might lay on the other side. Instead, however, there is no one.

The door opens entirely to reveal that instead of the simple but filthy interior you expect from an abandoned tower such as this one, there is a rather decadent home. Large marble pillars extend upwards seemingly holding nothing in place while glamorous furniture positions itself through the foray. Everything is cooled tone with greys and shades of blue, black often lining the borders of the funiture. There is no lantern, the moon lighting up the interior of the room just as it led your path up to the door.

The layout doesn’t make sense.

The tower is cylindrical and doesn’t offer enough space for such an open floor plan so, how is it that the inside looks like lavish mansion?

You swallow your fear and newfound confusion as you tentatively look around the expanse of the room.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

You take a deep breath and decide that the likelihood of someone (or something) answering that call is slim, especially given the way you were welcomed into the tower in the first place.

You place your hand inside your pocket, gripping the dagger for good measure before beginning to make your way towards the staircase. The moonlight is sufficient enough at first but for whatever reason, as you begin making your way up the stone staircase, the interior of the tower seems to slowly darken. Your grip on the dagger tightens as you stop walking, frozen in your steps, cursing yourself for embarking on a journey so reckless.

Suddenly, all of the light from the room vanishes, forcing a gasp from your throat. You manage to grip the railing to steady yourself but you have no idea what you are to do next.

And then, someone speaks.

“Well- you’re awfully far from home...aren’t you?”

The sound of the voice rushes through your senses much like the wind did. It’s too sweet for your liking but, it entrances you none the less.

“Who are you?”

As much as you try to steady your breathing, the way your voice cracks, gives you away instantly.

Laughter bounces off the stone walls, sinister and playful all at once before the voice speaks again,

“Don’t you think that’s a question I should be asking you? You are the intruder after all...”

Disembodied or not, the voice makes a valid point. You did walk in unannounced and you most certainly weren’t invited.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” The strength in your voice comes back slightly as you grip the railing a bit tighter, “I came here because- “

“I know why you’re here...” The voice is much closer now, likely positioned at the top of the stairs, “Humans are so predictable; always looking for a handout.”

This offends you greatly and regardless of the amount of danger you might be in, you let the voice know anyway.

“I am not looking for a hand out. My family and I work from sunrise until sunset to make ends meet. I’m here to make an offering- not merely to take whatever miracles that you make.” Stronger and stronger, your voice rises to the occasion, preparing itself to either spar with the beast or scream for help.

“Miracles hm?” Sinister laughter slinks down the staircase, practically teasing the exposed skin of your neck, “Is that what you think I do?”

You swallow the bile that creeps up your throat, “I’ve heard many stories- but I wanted to see for myself. Some of my people claim you’ve blessed them but, the clergy said a demon lived here...”

“Oh?” It rises with inquisition, “And you came anyway? Do I have a heretic in my presence?”

Shaking your head does nothing in the darkness but it’s instinctual, “I don’t believe in demons- at least, not the kind who dwell in abandoned towers.”

“Is there a kind you do believe in then?”

There is something in you that urges you forward, captivated by the sweet sound of the voice above you, desperate to view the owner and desperate to see the moonlight again.

“Hell is nothing but a metaphor and it’s demons all the same. There is plenty of evil here, plenty of suffering- by definition, there is a demon ruling over my town- he is draining us of our resources for his own gain. I couldn’t imagine a more accurate representation.”

Suddenly, you hear the sound of boots clicking slowly and steadily down the stone stairs. You brace yourself, still feeling frozen in your place- wishing to see whoever or whatever is front of you.

“If I did make miracles,” It muses and, now you’re able to discern that it’s only a few steps in front of you, “What exactly would you be offering me in return?”

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you place all your effort into trying to make out whether or not there was an actual owner to this voice. Finally, your eyes adjust enough to see the faint shadow of a figure which appears to be sitting on the second set of stairs.

“Name your terms, I will do my best.”

“Ah ah-” The voice corrects along with a side of twinkling laughter, “That isn’t how this works...”

You’re growing frustrated with the apparent mind games but, you know it’s in your best interest to be patient; you still don’t know what you’re dealing with.

“How does it work then?”

Silence passes through the air for a moment before the voice speaks again, “You must bring me the thing you treasure the most so, that I may know your true intentions- I cannot help you until I can see you properly.”

You snort, “You’d be able to see me if you hadn’t wiped the light from this room...”

Laughter comes again but this time, it’s lower and deepened with suggestion, “I’m not referring to physical sight, human. You might not be able to see in the dark but, I can.”

For whatever reason, its response sounds salacious and riddled with an innuendo that you’re slightly afraid to comment on.

And the reaction it creates within you, only frightens you further.

“I’ve just told you that I barely have enough money to scrape by- I don’t have anything of value to give you.”

“I never asked you to bring me anything of value nor did I ask you to give it away- you’re not listening very well...I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you if you can’t follow instructions.”

It sounds irritated and fond all at once, prompting you to nod immediately, not wanting to upset your only shot at freedom.

“I’m sorry.” You breathe, “I’m just-”

“Don’t lie to me...”

Your gaze strains to try and make out the expression of the figure in front of you but, its futile- the darkness impeding your effort.

“What do you mean?”

“You were going to tell me that you’re scared.” The voice accuses, “But you’re not- even though, you most certainly should be.”

It wasn’t wrong. You should have ran when the door opened on its own, when the lights began to dim, when a voice began speaking to you...

But you didn’t.

You were undeniably intrigued.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

An insidious bought of laughter comes from the figure before it sighs, “Hmmm, maybe a little bit.”

When your lips part with something that resembles shock, the laughter comes again only slowing to a halt for the sound of the figure’s tongue tutting against its teeth.

“You are a curious girl...” It observes, “...promises of harm should not excite you and yet- excitement flows from you anyway. Why?”

It kills you to refrain from denying it but, you have no choice.

“Your voice-” A sigh leaves your lips, “it’s very intriguing.”

Maybe it’s part of the creature's abilities, you think, its voice is the main weapon to lure unsuspecting and vulnerable humans into its clutches. The only question is- what happens once it has you.

“Is it now?” The voice sounds intrigued, “Most humans don’t seem to think so. Are you sure you’re hearing me right, girl? I’ve been told my voice is the thing of nightmares.”

This perplexes you; how could anyone possibly think such a voice was frightening? Despite this creature being anything but human, it sounds very much like a man- a warm and mischievous man who seems hellbent on getting you into bed.

“What does my voice sound like to you?” It asks, a smile in its tone.

You ponder this question for a second, realizing very quickly that you can’t exactly tell this creature that it sounds like it’s trying to seduce you. But still, that does seem to be the only appropriate description.

“Sort of...like a melody.”

Laughter comes again but, this time it’s paired with the moonlight slowly fading back into the tower, covering every surface until it finally reveals the appearance of the figure.

Beautiful.

Not an it but a he...

A man with wings.

On the steps before you, he stands, leaning casually against the railing now. Atop his head is a tousled mop of sapphire hair, just below are his eyes- nearly black and hooded with the same seduction as his voice and cloaking his figure is a black linen ensemble fitted only by the same color corset. His pillowy lips and soft skin would be a masterpiece on their own but coupled with the giant pair of onyx wings protruding proudly from his back- his visuals become simply devastating.

“What do you see?” He smirks, licking over his lips.

Unable to resist, you shake your head in complete awe, all of the sensible words dying before they leave your throat, “You- are you an angel?”

The light allows you to see him now as his head tilts another round of laughter, “Try again...you’re very close.”

Perhaps the clergy was right...

“A demon then...” You resign because despite your previously-held beliefs, if this really was a demon, then you know very well you shouldn’t be dealing with him. “I should go.”

His smirk broadens, “But I thought you didn’t believe in demons?”

“I didn’t but, that’s clearly what you’re alluding to. If a winged man tells me he’s a demon, I think it’s wise that I return home.”

Through your moment of clarity, your desire for him persists- especially now that you see what he looks like. But you know better than to make a deal with a demon, even if you are desperate.

“Do you think the universe is that simple? Angels and demons? Good and evil? You don’t think that maybe- in all of his vastness, there is a chance for the inbetweeners?” He presses and now his black eyes seem to glow, his gaze slightly hypnotic.

Tightening your coat around your body, you stay staring at him for a moment before you respond, “Is that what you are? Something in between?”

He licks his lips, his eyes finally allowing themselves to wander over your figure. There isn’t much of you showing but, he still drinks you up regardless, exposing and exciting you all at once.

“I was sent by the underworld to do business for the gods...” He drops his voice to a near whisper, his gaze burning a hole in you, which now aches to be filled.

You take in a shaky breath through your nose, nodding in understanding, “Did you kill the people who disappeared here? Is that what happens when their judgment goes south?”

He arches his brow, tilting his head with his inquiry- his voice dripping with darkness, “Maybe I did...maybe I didn’t. I don’t see how that’s relevant- especially since you’ve already decided you were leaving. Which of course-” He waves his hand then, the wooden door behind you creaking open, “-you are free to do.”

There is something about him you haven’t touched on but, it’s beginning to eat you up inside. He may be an otherworldly being, possessing the tower like a beautiful virus but, he is starting to look familiar. This of course, is hard to imagine because his beauty is so striking that you don’t see how you could ever forget it. But nonetheless, you feel like you’ve seen him before.

And this is what has kept you frozen.

“Will you not give me any answers?” You border on pleading but, attempt to keep your tone firm.

He chuckles, “You didn’t come to me for answers. You came for help- which I’ve already agreed to give you.”

The supernatural discourse that has transpired, thoroughly distracted you from the reasons for seeking him out in the first place. Your situation had not changed; you were still desperate for money, desperate for justice and desperate for peace.

“You won’t hurt my family...” It’s not a question, and it leaves no room for any other response aside from the one he gives you.

“I won’t.”

Nodding, you glance behind your shoulder towards the door, “I have to go home. I don’t have the item you asked for. I can be back within the hour...”

For the first time, he looks slightly disappointed but as you complete your sentence, he shakes his head, “No. Don't come back tonight.” He insists, “If you wish to do business with me- you must return tomorrow after midnight. I will wait for you at the shoreline.”

This confuses you, “The shoreline? Why can’t we meet here? The water is dangerous after dark.”

The smirk returns to his tender lips, “I know.”

With that, he waves his hand again- causing the door to swing open and slam against the tower walls.

Jumping at the sound, your gaze shoots back behind you before returning to where the creature stood.

But he had vanished.

You have no choice but to heed his requests and rush away from the tower, the curiosity inside you almost too much to bear.

Nothing is out of the ordinary as you walk back home, at least not at first. But when you pass the massive clock tower in the center of town, you realize something strange...

The clock hadn’t moved, not even a second.

You remember very clearly reading the time as you hurried past it on your way to the tower and now, even as you’re staring at it, it stands perfectly still. Until suddenly, without warning, the hands of time begin to move again. The clicking almost startles you, your brain filling with a million questions despite your decision to turn away and return home.

Time had seemingly stood still whilst you were in the tower.

Slipping beneath the covers, you try your hardest to get to sleep despite being bombarded with images of the haunting man you had just encountered.

You know you should be terrified.

You know you should be wary.

But the familiarity of him has possessed you and, you’re determined to understand why.

The next night, with your treasured object tucked securely in your coat, you make your way back to him.

You make sure to check the clock tower before you do, logging the time away for later to see if last night had been more than just a fluke.

12:32am.

The clock tower has never lied but, you’re starting to think it might be influenced by whatever resided in the tower- magic, beast, or otherwise.

As you pass through the many trees, you begin to hear the chaotic crashing of the waves in the distance. The tower may be frightening but, few things could match the malevolent temper of the sea. In fact, you’ve always believed that nothing could. The sea was unrivaled in her cruelty, consuming the world at will, just for the fun of it- you've theorized that she likes the screams. During the day, she simmered- blue and serene, allowing boats to decorate her surface like candles on a birthday cake. At night though, her temper worsens and it’s as if she suddenly remembers all the injustice she has faced. Her waves swell to horrific heights, smashing into the seawalls built around your town, creeping over like a titan looking for vengeance.

You’ve always felt pity for her. It must be hard: being the heart and soul of humanity, being responsible for the very nature of things- only to be forgotten. Only to be mistreated...

Your boots are discarded near the last patch of grass before the sand and, your toes brace themselves icy chill of the sea breeze. You’re especially thankful for the coat now as you suspect that your teeth would have already begun chattering had it not been for the thick fabric protecting you.

The waves haven’t begun their violent dance just yet but, you can sense their temper beneath your feet. They will begin soon.

“The sea-” The voice from the tower is behind you, “it suits you.”

Breathless, you turn to face him and even though you’re more prepared for his beauty than you were last night, it still shocks you.

He’s wearing a black silk gown, that drapes effortlessly off his body, the sleeves made out of French lace and extending well past his fingertips. His wings are shuttered behind him, folded almost modestly against his back.

“Thank you.” It’s the only response you have before you reach into the fold of your coat, “I have the-”

He holds up his hand, his voice commanding but gentle, “Wait. I want you to walk with me first. I don’t like rushing through my business deals.”

Your hand slowly retreats from your coat as you warily look behind you, “You want to walk along the shoreline? I told you, it’s too dangerous- at least for me it is, I don’t exactly have an escape mechanism attached to my back.”

He smirks, his tempting gaze flourishing with fondness you cannot place, “What causes you to mistrust the sea so much? Surely she wouldn’t hurt one of her own...”

Your brow furrows, “What do you mean?”

Extending from the confines of silk, his fingers reach out to you, fluttering with invitation, “I will show you.”

And really, you’d be a fool not to accept.

Interlacing your fingers with his, you feel electricity simmer ever so slightly beneath your skin. You’re assuming it’s from the power that likely resides within him but, you don’t expect it to affect you so much.

The sound of the waves begins to softly roar in the distance but the water isn’t close enough to the shoreline to pose any immediate threat.

Not yet at least...

You begin walking alongside him as he leads you both in the opposite direction of your town border. For quite a few moments, he just gazes at the eternal stretch of sand before you, his soft mouth curved up ever so slightly. He looks pensive and serene all at once and, it confuses you.

“May I tell you a story?”

His request surprises you but, you aren’t really in a position to say no. And if you’re being honest, you really didn’t want to.

“Yes.” You murmur, feeling compelled to keep your volume at a minimum.

He smiles softly to himself, glancing towards the water briefly before beginning.

“The water has many gods...” He speaks softly, letting out a sigh, “Lir, Irish god of the sea, Tefnut, Egyptian goddess of the rain, Amimitl, Aztec god of lakes and fisherman...” His explanation already has you interested. You were taught much of the stories beyond your land but, it had always fascinated you, “The gods of the sea are known for the temperate nature, they often stay away from humans and avoid interfering with the mortal coil. Death by water is merely a request they carry out for the gods of death and destruction and thus, there is goddess who rules over the violence of the sea itself.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, the temper of the sea seems to roar to life, the swollen waves crashing aggressively, still not close enough to reach you.

Not yet at least...

“Cymopoleia, is the goddess of violent sea storms. Poseidon, her father, tasked her with overseeing the malignant waters and tending to the causalities. She was not the creator of the storms but she carried the ability.” He moves through the story as if he has told it a 100 times but he seems captivated by it nonetheless, “When it came time for her to bear a child. She conjured up a spirit from within her very core. She crafted them out of the essence of the sea and placed them inside of clamshell in her palace. She was awaiting the full moon when someone snuck into the depths of the ocean and stole them from her.”

The gasp that leaves your lips cannot be helped, you didn’t realize how engrossed you were until suddenly you recognize the port from another town nearby.

You had been walking awhile.

“Why would someone do that?” You press, shaking your head.

He sends a solemn look your way, “Many thoughtless humans believe that if they capture the essence of a god, they will become one themselves. Foolishly, he opened the clam shell and released the spirit into the world. By the time the goddess found him, it was too late- but she delegated his fate anyway. She took his life beneath the depths of a violent storm and placed a curse upon anyone who shared his bloodline. She made it so that any one of his descendants would bear the physical embodiment of his fate.”

“So, they look like they’ve died at sea?”

He can’t help but smirk, a bit of the darkness you saw at the tower, beginning to creep back. “Indeed. They are horribly disfigured and regardless of their efforts, they all meet the same fate. His lineage believes that if they send enough offerings out to sea or if they build high enough walls, that they will somehow escape their deaths. But of course, this if futile- the goddess vowed that she would continue to collect them until her spirit was returned.”

His story ends and it’s like something clicks within you. Without warning, you squeeze his hand, slowing both of you to a stop, just before the light of the upcoming pier hits you.

“Does this have something to do with my town? Is that why you’re telling me this?”

Lord Invictus certainly fit the description for a descendent of this thief and, although it bores no sense of logic- you have no choice but to believe it anyway.

It all fits together too well...

He turns towards you now, his smirk now a small smile, “It has to do with you Y/N.”

Your brow furrows, “Me? What do you mean?”

He nods to your coat, something otherworldly lingering in his eyes, “I’d like to see what you’ve brought with you now.”

Still riddled with confusion, you reach inside your coat and find that the item you had brought with you (a beaded necklace gifted to you at birth by your parents) had turned into something else.

And now, sitting in the palm of your hand- was a clamshell.

“What is this? This isn’t what I brought to you- I-” You begin to panic, confusion and fear starting to take over, “Did you do this? Did you take my necklace?”

Finally, the sinister smirk returns as his wings begin to unfurl from behind his back. Along with his shift in expression, another danger is brewing very close to you- you can feel it.

The sea is growing irritated and whipping the wind and the water up into a frenzy. As you look toward the water, you have no choice but to look on in horror as you see the beginning of something deadly.

A rogue wave.

The grip on your hand tightens as his extraordinary strength keeps you in place.

“I think it’s time I formally introduce myself-” His voice is loaded with bad intentions but it sounds sweet anyway as he burns his gaze into yours, “My name is Jimin. Son of Tartarus, the god of punishment and Nyx, the goddess of the night.”

Your eyes are wide with desperation, not fully registering what he said before he’s yanking you against his chest and turning you to face the sea. Standing behind you, he unleashes a spell of wicked laughter as his wings unfurl from behind is back to wrap around the both of you, so that the only thing you’re able to see is the wall of water coming for you.

“I have to come to send you home Y/N...your mother has been waiting for you a very long time.”

His arms are wrapped around you now, crushing you against his chest as his wings begin flapping- the wind picking up furiously around you.

“Jimin!” You scream, eyes welling up with tears, “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me! You promised! Why are you doing this to me?!”

He laughs at you, and it isn’t necessarily malevolent but merely amused, as if he in on a joke you weren’t part of.

“Shhhh, quiet down my little sea nymph...” He whispers salaciously into your ear, “...your fate will be painless.”

You’re crying now, digging your nails into his skin, attempting to break free as the massive creature that is the ocean rushes towards you without mercy. The crest of the wave arches above you proudly, the swirling darkness of the water mocking the mere audacity of your existence but, as you brace for impact- it never comes.

Only the darkness does...

And it’s the darkness that consumes you.

“Jimin!” A voice breaks into your subconscious, luring you out of what you hope was a nightmare, “You couldn’t have brought her home without scaring her? She was practically driftwood when she arrived here.”

That familiar twinkle of laughter sounds then and, it forces your eyes open.

“I’m sorry your grace- it's just in my nature.” He defends poorly, still chuckling to himself, “I can’t imagine my brothers are doing much better.”

You are somewhere extraordinary, that much is certain. Above your immediate line of sight is an ornate glass ceiling that seems to glow a cerulean blue. All around you are gold furnishings, each decorated with various moldings of sea creatures.

“She’s awake!”

Your vision, still slightly cloudy, now lands upon a being so beautiful- that you have to blink a few times to ensure you’re seeing the right thing. Draped in blue silk and decorated with gold and pearls, is a woman who looks at you with nothing but love in her eyes.

“Oh my- its really you...”

She seems tentative but, you’re suddenly overcome with joy- filled with an almost cosmic sense of peace.

“Mother!” You cry, rushing off of the bed you were laying on and into her arms.

She takes you in her arms immediately, her skin cool against yours like the tepid waters of the bay. She sniffles, tightening her grip on you,

“I knew you’d come home...I knew one day I would find you.”

And it really doesn’t make much sense does it?

How could your life swing so violently from one direction to the next?

Your life on earth seems so insignificant now...now that you’re back with her.

Cymopoleia- queen of violent sea storms and, your mother.

She explains it all to you, gently stroking your hair and fawning over you.

The spirit in the depths was you. Born into a human body, you were fated to one day meet with the demi-god of darkness, who with a bit of trickery- would return you to your rightful place in the cosmos.

Your mother assures you that your mortal family would be relieved of your memory until it was safe for you to visit them, until the gods of fate decide. In addition, Lord Invictus would be the last of the bloodline to pay for what his ancestor had done and, the fog of greed and corruption- which begin the day you were born, would soon be lifted.

The explanation is long and doesn’t leave you completely fulfilled but, your mother assures you that you have all the time in the world to understand the complexity of the universe.

Hours later, after you’ve had a decent feast, your mother instructs Jimin to escort you to your bedroom.

As he leads you down the hallway towards your chambers, you send a playful glare his way, “So- how much of what you told me was a lie?”

He merely smirks, “None of it.”

You scoff, “Even the part of about your voice? And all that nonsense about excitement and me being curious? You knew all along what was to happen- you just tricked me.”

Jimin chuckles darkly, stopping just outside your bedroom door before turning to you, “The part about my voice frightening people wasn’t a lie, Y/N. My father is the god of punishment, any mortal that hears my voice usually cowers in fear...”

“Is that why I felt so drawn to you? Because you were meant to take me home?”

His smirk broadens, “No...you feel drawn me because you want to fuck me.”

Your mouth goes completely dry at his bold statement but, you are unable to deny it- your fingers suddenly twitching at your side.

“Wh-”

“It’s not your fault really...” He murmurs, his body shifting towards you, “...it’s just the way I was made. I am used to people lusting after me- however,” Jimin reaches out then, to brush his thumb over the swell of your cheek, “-I have never known true lust until I had the pleasure of meeting you.”

“You lust for me?” You whisper, completely drawn up with desire- finally allowing your true nature, the nature of a demi-goddess pour out of your soul.

He licks his lips, his gaze upon you timid as he presses his thumb into your face, “I do.”

You turn to the side suddenly, capturing his thumb between your lips, “Show me.”

It's all it takes: that one phrase of consent being enough to unleash all the urges within him.

You’re inside your chamber seconds later, Jimin clawing at the fabric of your robe, his fingers digging into your skin as he does, his lips latching on to every part of you he can reach.

“I knew the moment you walked into my tower-” He grunts, “I knew- there was no way a mortal could be tempting, so dreadfully seductive.”

You sigh hopelessly, raking your hands through the sapphire tendrils on his head, your lips ghosting along the swell of his cheek, the tail of his brow, the shell of his ear...

“In the underworld...” He’s practically growling now, scratching his nails up the newly exposed skin of your back, “We are never taught to refuse our desires. You were my greatest challenge- it took everything in me not to devour you right there.”

You smirk now, positioning your lips at his ear, “I wouldn’t have known what to do with you though- aren't you glad you were patient?”

He grunts again, pressing his hips against yours defiantly, “Patience is for virtuous gods- “ He doesn't answer your question but, you know that he means yes. In spite of his darker nature, Jimin still believes in doing the right thing.... most of the time.

He has you on the bed moments later, his wings spreading proudly. He’s panting, his eyes completely black with lust as he nudges your legs open, determined to finally taste what he’s been craving.

For the demi-god of darkness, denying his desires for even a second is painful. He aches to fufill them over and over again...

You were certainly no exception.

But you want to keep teasing him...

Reaching down, you spread yourself open for him- feeling the visceral substance of your arousal sticking to your inner thighs.

“What are you waiting for then?” You lean up, grasping your hand behind his neck and staring directly into the abyss that is his gaze, “Defile me...”

Jimin growls, sliding into you instantly, his hands quickly bracing themselves on either side of your head. He smirks as your eyes roll back the sheer pleasure of him inside of you causing your nipples to harden.

“Oh look at that-” He chuckles, his own expression unstable with pleasure, “Are you going brain dead already hm? Is this cock that good?”

Your eyes come back into play as you stare up at him, your hands gripping either side of his face as he starts a power rhythm within you.

This wasn’t meant to last long, the carnal desire too much for either one of you to handle...

Perhaps, if your feelings permitted it- you'd make love another time.

Nodding, you moan as he increases the rhythm, pressing your forehead against his own.

“You feel so good.” You whisper, “I didn’t know it could- oh...” A whimper leaves your lips as he hits that spot inside of you, the pleasure completely ruining your ability to speak.

“Of course you didn’t- you’ve only ever let mortals play with your pretty cunt haven’t you?” He laughs, mocking you and cooing all at once, “And now that I’ve gotten ahold of it, you’re never going to want anyone else. I will ruin you ugh-” He finally breaks, his own brow furrowed with the onslaught of his release as you tighten around him, “-ugh fuck yes. I can feel how badly your cunt wants me- it's like you’re begging me to cum.”

“I want you to cum,” You whisper shakily, kissing at his mouth, “Fill me up please, I need it.”

He growls, kissing you back with just as much fervor, his hips moving so fast that the pleasure fucks with your vision.

“I’m going to make a mess of you, they will smell me on you until I can come back-” He promises, smirking ever so slightly, “and then- I'll paint the inside of you all over again won’t I? Such a masterpiece this cunt will be...and you’ll be all mine, cumming only for me.”

And he wasn’t wrong because, mere seconds later- the two of you are cumming all over one another, ruining the silk sheets with your release and clawing desperately at one another.

With the mutual utterance of your names, Jimin collapses beside you and, moments later- when you get your wits about you, he is ushering you onto his chest.

Sweaty, exhausted and satisfied, you lay together in silence for quite a while.

Until finally you speak, “I’m not quite sure what came over me.”

Jimin chuckles but this time, the sound is much warmer than you’re used to, “Immortal lust, it’s a blessing and a curse but, eternal life has to stay interesting somehow.”

You trace patterns on his chest whilst he covers your body with one of his wings, the feathers teasing at your sensitive skin.

“Did you mean it?”

And he doesn’t even bother asking, he knows exactly what you’re referring to.

“I want you.” He affirms, “If you’ll have me- I felt quite possessive of you then but, I won’t insist on anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

You smile, tracing a heart directly over the spot where his heart would beat, “It fits doesn’t it? You and I?”

If the past few days have taught you anything, it is that sometimes- it is appropriate to succumb to fate. Sometimes, believing in the simplicity of destiny works out. Being with Jimin felt right and, for now, this was enough.

“It does.” His statement is simple but his expression says it all: he is elated.

You fall back into comfortable silence once again before one more pressing question leaves your lips, “Did I hear you mention something about your brothers earlier?”

Jimin nods, his eyes half-closed as he cuddles closer to you, “You did. I have six of them.”

“Are they- like you?” You murmur, unable to stop your curiosity.

He nods again, “They are.”

You think one more question will suffice but, his answer will unfortunately bring about a thousand more, “Are they all on missions too?”

Jimin’s trademark smirk shows itself once again as he snickers, “They are-” He repeats before a great sense of pride comes over his expression...

“I was just the first one to return.”

A/N: should this be a series? asking for a friend...

#ficswithluv #bangtansorciere #jimin #park jimin #bts #bts jimin #jimin smut #jimin x reader #bts smut #bts writing #jimin writing #jimin fanfic #bts au

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bansheeoftheforest · 3 years

Note

Y'all better stop updating the syndicate au while in gone, my wifi is out because the cable frickin melted and it wont he repaired until hopefully Friday, so until then 🔫 /lh

1: The Society being more than tall enough to do leaps of faith off of

2: Listening to Jacob ride carriages, I have decided he loves horses. He and Jekyll are horse boyfriends and after the events of the game + tgs they run away and start a horse farm together <3

3: Having not yet heard anything contradictory. Jacob gives animals names like "Sweetroll" or "Birdy"

4: I HAVE MET THE ROTH, he is wonderful and I love he. Blighter Jekyll would 100% be in the plays when he had the free time because hey! They cant tell him he's avoiding doing work for the gang when Maxwell Roth is Right There and encouraging it. (To clarify, normal theater shows and plays, not like the one he made for Jacob :p)

OOOOOOOOH WHAT IF. They meet while at and escaping the last show. I have no clue how itd go about but it seems very fun and I love the thought of them wearing masquerade clothes n masks,

also, Jacob 🤝 Jekyll, being very likely to have a fear of fire after their respective series' fires

4.5, (just any blighter Jekyll): ALSO we dont have to worry about the blighters caring when Jekyll leaves because they tend to change sides rather easily when the twins conquer their section. So I doubt many Blighters are loyal, and I doubt Jekyll is in a high enough position in the gang to be worth caring about. The only reason he stays in is because of his brothers. Hey do you think the gang would keep the Jekyll brothers' death a secret from him? So he doesn't leave? ALSO ALSO, I saw some asks and I really dont think Jekyll would ever be a templar, the templars are loyal to their cause, and they know full well Jekyll doesn't want to be there, his brothers may be templars but it's far more reasonable hed be a blighter, the templars would never put someone who hated them in their midst. (He would look good in a templar outfit though)

5: Ghost + Syndicate crossover au because by golly I hit /alot/ of people with carriages in this game /j

---

Game update: The more I play this game the more I want to call Jacob a himbo

The /governor of the bank/ is named twopenny

I have "beat" the game, aka killed Crawford and unlocked the queen Victoria quests

I have so far unlocked 32 throwing knife capacity for Evie because gosh I adore throwing knives

You cannot stop us Darlene 🔫 (Either way, you just have to wait another day! Hopefully it will be back soon!! <3)

1. Imagine Jacob teaching Henry to do leap of faiths on the roof, a Lodger walks up and just manages to see the tail end of what they think is someone trying to encourage Henry to take suicide. They watch as both of them fall and the Lodger scream and runs to the edge... Only to hear laughter and see Henry and that guy poking out a haybale. That would be fun and also a very easy way to get a heart attack <3

2. Ehehehehe yes!! That's why I love Jacob so much bc Evie just... Insults the horses, or isn't as sweet to them so Jacob my beloved. Jacob and Henry retiring and starting a horse farm together and they get to be happy and take picnics in the forest on horseback and the events of the Jack The Ripper DLC never happens <3 3. He definitely would name all animals he owns smt really sweet. He probably would silently nickname any and all of the animals in the Society and refuse to call them by their names once he actually learns them <3<3

4. Jekyll and Roth being pals until Jekyll realizes how fucked up Roth is, deliberately deciding to take a few steps back but still using Roth as an excuse to get out of Blighter work and also be the star of plays. Roth would gush on about how his eyes are set on Jacob and Henry would first think he was planning to kill him but then he realizes that Roth is just very gay for the enemy.

OOH I HAVE BEEN DAYDREAMING ABOUT THAT SO HARD. Ok mainly it was them already knowing each other but Henry is too busy saving the others so he gets caught and trapped inside the building. Jacob sees him almost passing out from all the smoke and saves him. But I can also imagine Jacob trying to escape and seeing Henry getting caught by burning ceiling beams after having helped everyone else escape so Jacob carries him and ziplines over the debris and until they get to the door... Henry realizing that this is the Jacob Maxwell was working with (or if they met before when Jacob was in the theater, he realizes why Maxwell fell for him) Mmm... Traumatic meet cute <3 I think Jacob has a canonical fear of fire after that, but either way, gimme the two of them both having nightmares about fire and spending late nights cuddled up in blankets comforting each other <3

4.5 I honestly would not put it past them to try to hide it from him but if it was he who killed them, they wouldn't be able to keep it a secret very well... That would certainly be fun to imagine <3

True but blighters are more... The actual gang, ya know? Like they are the fighters and street ruffians and stuff and Henry certainly would not be the same kind of fighting guy like Blighters and Rooks, so I'm mostly just saying Templar because it would fit his role and position better, even if he doesn't want to be. Being a templar also seems to be a bit of an inherited role as well, smt that gets passed down from family and stuff (like, say, if you take a look at the Kenway family and if I remember correctly from them) so it probably would not be impossible that Henry would be forced into being a templar. Maybe not a real templar like his brothers but certainly somewhere between Blighter and Templar. I don't know, I just say templar bc I can imagine Henry in that role better, y'know? XD Or maybe he and Roth would share the title as the leader of the Blighters... Oooohh... That would be fun <3

5. I used to deliberately run over street lights and stuff when streaming the game to my friend and she thought I was really weird. To be fair it's fun to run things and people over and I wanted the achievement <3

---

Jacob is a Himbo. He really is. Don't worry about it. Himbo Jacob my beloved <3 (wait if Morcant is a Herbo (not bimbo) does that mean Henry has a type--)

Y'know how much I laughed when I realized that? That was fun XD

I still need to get around to the Victoria quests bc so far I have only finished Darwin's, Dickens', and Duleep Singh's memories so! We are both blind with this <3.

---

Mmm... Au route potential. Perhaps someone who wanted to join the Society but got rejected bc he was actually evil? Maybe Henry has his role until the Twins recruit him?

??? Where??? I think you can actually open most locked doors or find a way inside somehow!! What quest was it?? I have only one golden chest i couldn't unlock bc I skipped most of them and took them later and that's the one in the WW1 memories so I think you can get it somehow?

#ask #darling-dolly-darlene #long post #banshees au #syndicate crossover au

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vostara · 3 years

Photo

— just let it die, go to the light (listen on spotify)

a playlist for my upcoming fanfic, “lead me to the bliss”

jacob seed x genevieve “eve” rook x joseph seed

updated: february 1, 2021 | all playlists

now he’s our father - the hope county choir // keep your rifle by your side - the hope county choir // let the water wash away your sins - the hope county choir // oh john - the hope county choir // set those sinners free - the hope county choir // we will rise again - the hope county choir // the world is gonna end tonight - dan romer, peter harper // build a castle - dan romer, osei essed // help me faith - dan romer, madi diaz // oh the bliss - dan romer, jenny own youngs // now that this old world is ending - dan romer // our country made a promise - dan romer // the lights will all go out - dan romer // in the forest hides a light - dan romer // when the morning light shines in - dan romer // i must protect my place - dan romer // safe and sound - dan romer // a new one begins - dan romer // seed - mark yaeger // revival - mark yaeger // baptism - mark yaeger // atone - mar yaeger // escape - mark yaeger // bliss - mark yaeger // provenance - mark yaeger // appeal - mark yaeger // main intro theme (from far cry 5) - baltic house orchestra // amazing grace - elvis presley // the gambler (remastered 2006) - kenny rogers // take me home, country roads - john denver // state of decay 2 main theme - jesper kyd // hope county - tyler bates, john swihart // go to the light - murder by death // that’s the way it is (from red dead redemption 2) - geek music // the second dream - keith power // grace and glory - johan söderqvist, patrik andrén // the punisher (main title theme) - baltic house orchestra // place that i call home - alibi music // becalmed - juke remix // far away - christian larsson // in the heart - alibi music // we’ll meet again - johnny cash

#far cry 5 #far cry #far cry series #joseph seed #jacob seed #fic: lead me to the bliss #fc5 #vostara #v.mixtapes #tuserflynn #fic should be out in like a month or so?#grad school just started up again so we'll see how it goes #gotta play it by ear lol

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rosenfey · 4 years

Text

— ocs bio

tagged by the sweet @valkblue and @rebelfatebinder, thank you both so much!

tagging, if they want to do it: @fantasmagoriam, @chuckhansen, @callmeredhood, @ciriofcintras, @zephyrcrowthorne, @jennystahl, @cryptcombat, @fillianore, @lyriumrain, @ladyinthebluebox, @queennymeria, @ayrennaranaaldmeri + anyone else who wants to!

picrew used here

— 🍑🦌 DEBORAH SEED /far cry v + dead man’s wish (western!au)

The Basics Full Name: Deborah Seed, née Fawkes Codename or Nickname: Debbie, miss Debbie, the lamb (Joseph’s nickname for her in fcv) Birth Date: 13. 5. (25 in-game, 22 at the start of the western!au) Birth Place: Hope County, Montana (fcv) / Hope’s Peak, Montana (au) Nationality: American Organisation/Group: / Former Affiliates: Eden’s Gate (fcv), The Resistance (fcv) Family + Friends Father: James Fawkes Mother: Mary Ann Fawkes Siblings: none Other Relatives: Jacob Seed (brother-in-law), Joseph Seed (brother-in-law), Faith Seed (sister-in-law) Spouses: John Seed Children: Loretta Seed Description Height: 166 cm Weight: 49 kg Hair Colour: ginger Eye Colour: blue skin colour: white Any Scars: / Any Tattoos: both forearms and collarbones covered in tattoos of flowers + a tattoo of the sun on her lower left arm + matching tatto with john of the nautical star on the back of her right hand + his name on the fingers of her right hand Any Piercings: / Other Notable Features: a mole under her left eye, at the inner edge Random Facts: she suffers from depression and anxiety disorder; she and John have 5 cats, named mostly after designer brands (fcv); she likes to sing and paint traditionally

I’ve also decided to do the protagonists of my slavic fantasy novel, Night Lands. My disaster children are as follows:

— 🏹🌿 EVELIN EVANETT

The Basics Full Name: Evelin Evanett Codename or Nickname: Ev, Evie, little bird (Edwin’s nickname for her) Birth Date: 13. 3. (23 at the start of the story) Birth Place: the town of Canta, country of Lavenor (the Slavic fantasy version of Provence because I can) Nationality: lavenorian Organisation/Group: The Brotherhood of Demon Hunters (the group of monster hunters that consists of the protagonists of the story; rather than blindly killing, however, they strive to understand the monsters and to break curses), ordo Solis (an order of errant knights, healers and generally people who help others, financed by the crown; she works as a traveling medic there) Former Affiliates: / Family + Friends Father: unknown Mother: Rose Evanett Siblings: Deren Evanett (twin brother), Norbert Evanett (older brother), Leslie Evanett (older sister), Eglantine Evanett (younger sister, deceased) Other Relatives: / Spouses: / (but she marries Edwin later on!) Children: / Description Height: 164 cm Weight: 50 kg Hair Colour: ginger Eye Colour: orange skin colour: white Any Scars: none Any Tattoos: a tattoo of the sun on her lower left arm (the symbol of the dedicated members of ordo Solis) Any Piercings: / Other Notable Features: heavy freckles on face + body Random Facts: she has a talking raven called Hugo (he’s very sarcastic but loyal to death)

— 💀🔥 DEREN EVANETT

The Basics Full Name: Deren Evanett Codename or Nickname: Ren, the firebrand Birth Date: 13. 3. (23 at the start of the story) Birth Place: the town of Canta, country of Lavenor Nationality: lavenorian Organisation/Group: The Brotherhood of Demon Hunters (the group of monster hunters that consists of the protagonists of the story; rather than blindly killing, however, they strive to understand the monsters and to break curses) Former Affiliates: The University of Arcane Studies (expelled after summoning demons and setting a building on fire... accidentally) Family + Friends Father: unknown Mother: Rose Evanett Siblings: Evelin Evanett (twin sister), Norbert Evanett (older brother), Leslie Evanett (older sister), Eglantine Evanett (younger sister, deceased) Other Relatives: / Spouses: / Children: / Description Height: 176 cm Weight: 64 kg Hair Colour: ginger Eye Colour: orange skin colour: white Any Scars: none Any Tattoos: a tattoo of an opened eye on the back of his right hand + a coiled snake around his left arm + lilies on his left shoulder + several magical runes and small writings scattered on his arms, ankle, back of his neck and the right side of his chest (he’s a tattoo hoe, ok) Any Piercings: none, but he wears golden hanging earrings Other Notable Features: heavy freckles on face + body Random Facts: he was born a minute ahead of Evelin and never lets her forget it; maybe it’s because they are twins or because they are both Sun-kissed (the mark of the orange eyes) but the twins each can sense if the other one is in danger (they also complete each other’s sentences and all the other twins business); he likes to dress in extravagant clothes and bright colors, and always wears his black circular shades (claims they help him see residual magical energy but in reality he just thinks they make him look sexi... and he’s right)

— 🎭☀️ EDWIN DE CANTA

The Basics Full Name: sir Edwin François de Canta Codename or Nickname: maestro (by his fans and colleagues, also in a ironic way by Evan), Francis (by Evelin) Birth Date: 16. 6. (25 at the start of the story) Birth Place: the town of Canta, country of Lavenor Nationality: lavenorian Organisation/Group: The Brotherhood of Demon Hunters (the group of monster hunters that consists of the protagonists of the story; rather than blindly killing, however, they strive to understand the monsters and to break curses), de Canta Theatre Company (as the owner, a bard, screenwriter and actor), ordo Solis (an order of errant knights, healers and generally people who help others, financed by the crown; he serves as a knight there) Former Affiliates: / Family + Friends Father: Giovanni Baptiste de Canta Mother: Florentina Aurora de Canta Siblings: / Other Relatives: / Spouses: / (but he marries Evelin later on!) Children: / Description Height: 186 cm Weight: 72 kg Hair Colour: golden Eye Colour: blue skin colour: white Any Scars: a couple of scars from sparring / battles on his arms and chets Any Tattoos: a tattoo of the sun on his lower left arm (the symbol of the dedicated members of ordo Solis) Other Notable Features: / Random Facts: he chronicles the endeavours of the Brotherhood (more often than now exaggerating their feats in the process); he also presents himself as narcissistic, though the heavy praise he’s getting is justified (he works very hard in his creative endeavours); however, all this just serves as a mask for his inner fear of never being good enough

— 🍷🗡 TEREESE WILD

The Basics Full Name: lady Tereese Wild Codename or Nickname: Reese, Tessa (the emperor’s nickname for her), the silver lady (the way the royal court talks about her, mostly because of her light blonde hair) Birth Date: 23. 11. (26 at the start of the story) Birth Place: the warm, desert country of Iskadria Nationality: iskadrian Organisation/Group: The Brotherhood of Demon Hunters (the group of monster hunters that consists of the protagonists of the story; rather than blindly killing, however, they strive to understand the monsters and to break curses), the royal court (she’s a noble of considerate standing, mostly because of her mother’s heritage and the fact that she’s the emperor’s beloved) Former Affiliates: the royal court of Shadow-weavers (read: spies, assassins) Family + Friends Father: Axel el’Rakhar (missing, possibly deceased) Mother: Iriwhen Wild Siblings: / Other Relatives: / Spouses: / Children: / Description Height: 155 cm Weight: 50 kg Hair Colour: pale blonde Eye Colour: dark brown skin colour: warm brown (she’s biracial) Any Scars: a small scar over her left breast Any Tattoos: / Other Notable Features: a mole under her chin and under her left eye Random Facts: she has a very bad relationship with her mother, mostly because Iriwhen used young to climb on the social ladder, even as far as trying to make a deal with a nobleman to marry her daughter without her prior knowledge; she has joined the rank of royal spies and assassins to get away from her mother but left their services after a while as well, when she recognized her mark as someone she cared about

— 🍻⚔ EVAN BLACK

The Basics Full Name: Evan Black Codename or Nickname: / Birth Date: 3. 2. (27 at the start of the story) Birth Place: the rolling hills and spruce forests of Eroden Nationality: northerner Organisation/Group: The Brotherhood of Demon Hunters (the group of monster hunters that consists of the protagonists of the story; rather than blindly killing, however, they strive to understand the monsters and to break curses; Evan serves as their designated leader) Former Affiliates: / Family + Friends Father: Edric Black Mother: Sorella Black (deceased) Siblings: Nathaniel Black (twin brother, deceased) Other Relatives: Margareth Blair (half-sister) Spouses: / Children: / Description Height: 187 cm Weight: 75 kg Hair Colour: dark brown Eye Colour: grey skin colour: white Any Scars: a long scar on his back, several scars on his arms and his chest Any Tattoos: / Other Notable Features: a well-kept beard he’s quite particular about (but pays little to no mind to the rest of his appearance) Random Facts: no matter the time of day he looks tired (and fed up with everything); has a drinking problem, mostly to hide the fact that he secretly blames himself for everything and sees himself as a failure (he gets lot of support and love from the rest of the gang tho!), despite this he cares deeply about people around him and doing the good thing

#ambie got tagged #oc: deborah seed #night lands #oc: evelin evanett #oc: deren evanett #oc: edwin de canta #oc: tereese wild #oc: evan black #BABIES #i missed night lands gang SO MUCH #my oldest ocs <33 #i like simple tags like this since i only have one brain cell lately ghgngng

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griimreaping · 3 years

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@kaijvking ━━━━━ ╳ ( john )

ending word count: 4.3k ( posted on AO3 )

Autumn is in full swing over northern Montana. Trees bursting into vibrant flame as their leaves succumb to winter’s quickly approaching grasp. The Whitetail Mountains are a painter’s dream of colors, reds, oranges, and yellows that few are able to capture on the canvas. Yet, there is an ink smear across an otherwise picturesque afternoon—a fire burning within the compound of the Veteran’s center sullying the vista.

Jean’s nose wrinkles when the dusty white truck finally pulls up to the wrought iron gates encircling the perimeter. A stack of what looks to be tires, and the occasional corpse, is burning spectacularly in one of the few pits dug into what once was the front lawn of the Hope County’s Veteran Wellbeing Center. Speculations between the faithful of the mountains settled unanimously on the smell of those burning pits put the Whitetails’ soldier at ease. However, it did nothing to help the rib rattling cough that plagues him during wet weather.

“Out.” The driver nudges the blonde with the stock of his rifle. He’s easily twice her size, and the stained tan shirt he wears is stretched thin over the man’s barrel chest. Jean isn’t sure if the stains are blood or dirt. It’s been several months since the woman even approached the center, and now to suddenly be yanked back like an animal about to be punished made her throat feel like it’s wrapped in barbed wire. Eyes watching from every corner of the expansive yard has the woman being paraded toward the front door prickle uncomfortably. Jean’s skin felt too tight for her neck and face, a cold sweat sticking her shirt to her skin despite a breeze that rattles dead leaves up the front path. In an attempt to solidify her slipping resolve, the blonde meets each gaze wagering a silent challenge for them to try something.

All around them, Jacob’s well-oiled army machine performs just as intended. Men go through the motions of training with their rifles. Push-ups, jumping jacks, sit-ups, even a small pack of them were jogging the perimeter. Worn down paths all over the yard show routes of most traffic and directly disobey the Soldier’s first rule. Make yourself unpredictable. If Jean were a click away on a ridge, she’d be able to pick each of them off without even blinking. The thought alone makes the woman’s palms slick and itchy. That had been the first thing taken from her. Trailing behind, the stocky escort has his head on a swivel, the brown leather strap of Jean’s sniper rifle slung over a meaty shoulder. She wants to rip his throat out for even looking at the weapon, let alone taking it from her.

Once inside the musty interior, she suddenly wishes that they could have met at any other outpost that Jacob controls in the north. That thick sticky copper smell of blood and agony drips off the walls. Somewhere deeper in the building, a man is screaming, a broken keening sound that’s ripped from a raw throat. Past injuries flare across Jean’s body in a knee jerk defense mechanism to alert her that this place is dangerous. As if she isn’t already aware. Still, the hesitation stokes the short temper of the man that has escorted the woman this far. With a rough shove again from the weathered stock of his rifle, he growls a word Jean doesn’t catch over the ringing in her ears.

Frayed carpeting that once might have been red still covers the floor of the main foyer, though it looks like enough tracked mud and heavy boots have uncovered patches of linoleum beneath. Two men milling about in the reception area snap their heads toward Jean and her escort, the undiluted hostility immediate and breathtaking. Bristling, the woman kicks the urge down to bare her teeth at them. Jacob’s training may have turned them all into damn animals, but she’d keep herself leashed until it’s revealed why she’s even here. A few words pass between them that she doesn’t listen to, watching more people move like busy worker ants down the main hallway. Whoever had been screaming when they first entered took a new pitch, the sound rising to a fevered panic that even made the group of men stiffen. Glances are ferried between them as a second screamer joins the distant cacophony like a hellish siren’s call.

“He can’t keep that up for much longer.” a shorter man with matted brown hair slicked down close to his skull, cutting a glance at the man Jean had come in with. Her escort grunts softly in agreeance or dismissal. She isn’t sure. The third rolls his eyes with a groan, clearly irritated as his grip shifts on the exceptionally well-kept rifle slung across a bare chest. Whorls of holy ink are scrawled across suntanned skin along with a patchwork of scars only partially hidden with the crosses and words.

“Nobody would mind if someone just went up there and put a bullet in ‘em.” Finishing the statement just as those eyes fall on Jean, she’s stricken by how they look straight into her. That harsh hazel stare letting the woman know that she wouldn’t be leaving this building alive.

Giving a parting nod to the previous escort, the hazel-eyed man intercepts Jean and jostles her up the hallway. The deeper they go into the Veteran’s Center, the stronger that copper stench becomes until it’s almost unbearable. It’s then a pair of double doors pushing open to reveal what once had been a vast square cafeteria that is now brimming with human suffering. Blood running across the floor turns the grout black with dried gore. Rusted cages arranged in an undeniable maze that funneled all that proceeded through the room past each and every display of torment. Overhead buzzing fluorescent lights blink sporadically, briefly throwing shapes and color into sharp relief before disappearing back into obscuring darkness. Heavy curtains are slung over the windows on the western side of the room, disallowing any type of natural light into the prison. Thick like a wet wool blanket, the smell of carnage suffocates the room.

In here, the screamer hides somewhere amongst the iron and copper. Growling out a short order to move, the hazel-eyed man doesn’t shove her with his rifle as the last escort did, and with a shuffle, Jean tries to ignore how the soles of her boots stick to the floor. In the pockets of darkness that flicker with the lights overhead, Jean can make out corpses ripped open and threaded with barbed wire quick flashes of white bone dizzying. Hurried words scrawled across the white tile walls curse and plead for the end. Scriptures written in blood.

Trying to breathe shallowly through her mouth Jean’s eyes sting, tears welling up around the corners of her vision. Their trek through the prison is almost cruelly slow, hazel eyes drinking in the viscera around him with a near euphoric glint in his gaze. Dying down to a low keening wail by the time they reach his cage, the screamer is affixed to the front wall of his cell by both of his arms wrapped tightly in razor wire. Rivulets of red drip to the floor as he slowly tries not to sink to his knees. Jean can see the weeks of exhaustion pulling the man’s skeletal body downward, simultaneously ending his life while he struggles so vainly to hold on. Jacob’s second rule. Never greet death willingly. Fight until the last.

Others in the cages adjacent to the screamers simply watch, dead glassy eyes reflecting day after day of breaking in. Some weren’t compatible with the mental training the herald provided. Many broke, crushed messily in the teeth of this machine that churns out warriors soaked in blood and rage. Every violent urge and promise all ripped loose with a couple of bars of an otherwise innocuous song. One that her grandfather might have liked, Jean muses bitterly. Still feeling the kiss of flame on her skin as the farmhouse went up in a spectacular blaze.

Making it to the other end of the room felt like an accomplishment all in itself. If the woman isn’t sure that she has a one-way ticket toward a cell of her own, she’d almost be glad. Shouldering open the double doors on the south side of the cafeteria, Jean is momentarily dazzled by the sudden bright burst of sunlight from the windows that line the stairwell yawning before them. Looking up into the motes of dust that lazily swirl around them with the disturbance of air, Jean feels too aware of her breathing at that moment. Each exhale displacing the natural order of things. She didn’t belong here.

Ascending gritty concrete stairs to the top floor of this nightmare alcazar, that nervous bird fluttering behind the woman’s ribs works into a frenzy. Jean knows if she were to glance down at her chest, there would be a clear imprint of her heart trying to pound its way through her sternum. Hazel eyes aware of the woman’s growing anxiety, and sipping it like a fine wine. One of the many reasons he loves being this ferryman through the building is that he is allowed a front-row seat to the mental fraying right before Jacob deals the finishing stroke. Absent thoughts of what method the herald would use float through Hazel’s mind like balloons on a breeze. A distant double report of a pistol somewhere else in the compound doesn’t sour the fantasies that drip across his mind syrupy and vivid.

Sun riding the horizon casting the world in a painter’s pallet of colors, Jean savors the glimpses out of the fifth-floor windows that look out over the forest instead of the yard. Up here, she couldn’t quite make out the staccato beats of gunfire down on the front lawn, nor the screaming several floors below in the prison. It’s quiet. Quiet like the heartbeats before stepping up to the waiting noose on the gallows. Every fiber of Jean’s body vibrates with it, that palpable press of her death waiting somewhere behind one of the faded wooden doors that line the hall, interspersed with dazzling views of another life outside. Down in the prison, every other exhibit of suffering resolutely snuffed out her fears for those brief moments, however now, above everything else, it’s too much.

At the end of the corridor, a heavier wooden door stands slightly ajar. Next to the frame, there’s what’s left of a name placard that’s since been mauled. Deep knife gouges carving the name from the tarnished metal. Nauseating flashes of static throw weird shadows out into the hallway, and a growing hiss of white noise overpowers the ringing in Jean’s ears as they approach. Memories of weeks spent strapped into those chairs as flashes of dismemberment and teeth and pain cycle across the slide show elbow their way to the forefront of Jean’s mind. A sharp throbbing begins against the woman’s temples. Headaches became commonplace among those privy to the extended lessons that Jacob put his least favorite through. From the beginning, she’d been singled out. Too much history. Too involved with John. It made the Soldier edgy, but Joseph hadn’t allowed him to simply kill her to make a point. Jean remembers through the crimson fog of those fugue states the pinched rage Jacob wore when his younger brother made it clear there would be no killing of John’s favorite.

As if sensing their presence, the static abruptly chokes off, throwing the passage into the void of silence once more. Sunlight feeling cold and sterile on her skin as they pause outside the slightly open door, Jean feels her skin prickle hot like a windburn with anticipation. Jacob always had been the type to savor a death, to draw it out and let you feel every decaying agony of undoing. A bullet wouldn’t be appropriate for a person that he’d been aching to dispose of for months.

Hazel pushes her then, Jean’s stiffened body stumbling through the door in the same way a newborn animal scrambles for purchase as the knob is snatched back and slammed shut behind her. Straightening once more, the woman tries to breathe evenly, the crushing weight of how hopeless the situation is pummeling her full force in that moment of darkness. Eyes attempting to adjust to the dim room, shapes swim up out of the indigo murk. A desk, a broken chair near the corner, a squat table with the projector that had been broadcasting static a moment earlier, then the glinting knife of Jacob’s gaze pins Jean to the spot. Wolves indeed were the best animal to associate with the eldest Seed brother. Barrel chested and blanketed with scars he didn’t bother to hide the man looks at every person he meets with the same bored scrutiny, cutting through them with a glance.

“Sit.” He knows he doesn’t need to yell, voice alone a promise of brutality beyond imagination if there were any transgressions. Legs acting on their own accord, the woman’s lungs stutter for breath as she finds a worn stool situated in front of the desk he leans against. Jacob watches unmoving, but the cogs within his brain grind endlessly, processing all that can be done. Why stray from the tried and true methods? He’d let her roam the woods and meet her end as the mind melts away in layers, reliving each fear in scarlet clarity. Jacob’s mental discipline is the exact juxtapose to Faith’s bliss.

“Jean, Masters.“ Jacob stands properly, moving over to one of the curtained windows and pulling aside the fabric to allow streams of sunlight across the dusty room. Jean squints against the brightness for a moment before her eyes adjust, a dull burning only adding to the throb of the headache rioting against her skull. She blinks over at the inky silhouette of Jacob standing against the sunlight, his shadow seeming to drink up and extinguish the light that touches him.

“You know, your history reads like a horror story. Parents killed tragically in a double murder, though the headlines do leave out the fact that your father happened to be the one that instigated the gang violence. That little tidbit was a treat to find.” Stepping away from the window and toward the seated woman, Jacob crouches his six foot three frame down so he’s face to face with his captive. Those cold ice blue eyes picking Jean apart methodically as chapped lips curl into the barest of smirks.

“Poor mommy had no idea, did she? Probably not until the moment that knife bit into her. And you, you were only what, eight at the time? Is that where this little trophy comes from?” A hand appears at Jean’s throat, calloused thumb tracing along a faded scar just under the hinge of the woman’s jaw. Lungs revolting against the air, Jean feels like there’s a rock wedged up under her diaphragm, cutting open her insides. Memories shoving one another aside for dominance in the theater of her mind, there are flashes of men storming into the house they’d had on the upper west end. Then the screaming, the begging.

Her chest stutters.

“Then you thought that all that could just be swept under the rug if you moved. It worked for a few years until somebody dug up old skeletons and came looking for the last surviving Master’s heir to settle a decade-old debt. Shot you twice, didn’t they?” Inflection never changing and gaze never wavering as he expertly picks apart Jean’s entire existence. Jacob can’t help the cold, almost reptilian enjoyment that came from this—watching the consciousness crack under pressure and doubts a feast for him. Across Jean’s body, old wounds flare to life as if they’ve been freshly ripped open by the words battering her. That sharp tang of gunpowder is fresh in the woman’s nostrils just as the day she’d been shot going back to her dorm in law school. It had been the reason she’d changed schools. A singular moment setting into motions dominos that the woman wouldn’t even be aware of until decades down the line sitting in this chair, Jacob’s hand closing around her throat.

“Does your son know all this?” It’s like a slap to the face, Jean jerking involuntarily in the Soldier’s grasp. Fury, bright and consuming, rushes into the woman like a scalding breath, charring every nerve in its wake. Eyes narrowing down at Jacob, Jean hears her voice speak before the thoughts are done forming,

“Don’t you dare--”

“Or should I say, John’s son. He doesn’t even know about the kid, does he, Jean? You never bothered to tell either of them. All the kid knows is that daddy isn’t around, and John is blissfully unaware. You know I did always want to be an uncle. Would’ve taught the kid how to handle a gun. A good bonding moment. Elliott isn’t my first choice in name, but I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.” It’s instant. Boot connecting with Jacob’s chest Jean kicks him to the ground, snarling teeth bared as she lunges. Her own life is a joke, something easily thrown away to the wind without a second thought. Elliott, though, her son, Jean, will rip open hell itself if anybody so much as insinuated harm toward the boy. World hemming in red around her vision as hands scramble to latch onto Jacob’s throat, Jean’s ears rush with the sound of her pulse smashing against the cage of ribs.

Batting aside the grasping hands feeling as her nails rake across the flesh of his forearms, drawing up ruby wells of blood, Jacob grunts when his back hits the desk. A glass of water that had been on the surface rattles off and smashes on the dusty floor. In the bare light from the window, he catches glimpses of that raw fury on her face and smiles. That’s the nerve, an open wound he’d been searching for with all those other throw away facts to get down to the marrow. She’d waltzed so easily right into his waiting jaws. Now to break the bone. Flashing white of bared teeth and half snarled curses that pass her lips while attempting to find any kind of purchase on the man beneath her; Jean doesn’t expect his arms to encircle her, crushing the woman to the Soldier’s chest. Cheap soap and pine flood her nostrils as the fight rages inside. Feet scrabbling to catch on the dusty floor, hands are trapped between the woman’s heaving chest and Jacob’s smug calmness. One arm locking around Jean so tightly breathing is made difficult; Jacob’s beard scratches the side of her face as something slips out of his jacket pocket. Glacial realization douses the woman’s blaze bright anger galvanizing it into cold steel wedges up underneath her lungs.

“Wrong move, Masters. You made the cardinal mistake, never show your weaknesses to anyone. That deserves a conditioning lesson, don’t you think? All this freedom you’ve been given lately has done nothing but rot away every killer instinct I’ve tried to carve into that weak head of yours. Now. Let’s start.” Small and made smooth from years of being worried by Jacob’s calloused hands, the music box is no bigger than the Soldier’s palm. Golden key on the left side scuffed with age but still perfectly functioning. This tiny innocuous box is the kingpin of Jacob’s classical conditioning. It’s clicking tinny notes able to scramble someone’s thoughts like eggs. Ground so deep into the subconscious like a ticking time bomb merely waiting for the trigger.

Even as the first few notes dissolve into the blinding red of the fugue state, Jean’s mind rips at any possible chance to break through the tsunami of his brainwashing. All in vain as she opens her mouth to scream and feels the tidal wave rush down her throat, choking off the sound and blacking out the woman’s vision completely.

Only You.

It’s so loud Jean’s teeth ring with the volume, jaw aching. Everything is red. It’s cold here. She can’t think of anything but the violent storm inside every nerve of her body. Hands claw at her insides wanting out by any means necessary. Scenery passes in a monotone blur of crimson sickness, trees, rocks, a stream, passengers in a truck. Spreading numbness that should elicit some flicker of concern within the woman is only embraced as something that could perhaps stop the echo of that song trapped within the too small confines of Jean’s skull. More people, more trucks, more numbness. Though faces that get too close burst in sickening blooms of red. Flecks of something gummy decorate the woman’s face.

Semi-real swirls of a place she might have once remembered dance around the edges of her entrapped mind. Only you, Jean’s brain screeches until she can taste copper in the back of her throat. It’s cold. Why can’t she feel anything? A long stretch of cleared grass lays out in front of her, and with the lurching steps of a corpse, she jerks up the driveway. Eyes burning in their sockets, the woman blinks harshly, but it does little to alleviate the acid sting. Roughly scrubbing at the sockets, Jean feels something cold and sharp graze the numb skin of her collarbone, nothing more than ghostly pressure that gives her pause. Looking down into hands that don’t feel like part of her own body, the woman sees first the skin slicked in gore that turns her skin a shade of maroon. Then the knife winks at her in the waning sunlight. Slamming into place on the front of her disjointed thoughts, her purpose for walking until her legs burned reasserted itself.

Stairs. Cobblestones. Guards that scream and bleed when they approach. It’s all a smear across Jean’s eyes. None of it retaining anywhere important. Just like the numbness across every muscle, it’s forgotten as soon as it occurs. More stairs. Dripping blood across an expensive hall runner. The faraway smell of a familiar cologne. Shoving open a door that had impeded her purpose here in this vague silhouette of a house imprinted in memories that are currently locked away behind the veil of the fugue state. Another shocked face turns toward her with a snap. Garbled words wind like tangled yarn in Jean’s ears, she can’t understand them, and that singular fact irritates her to no end. Rising again like an inescapable wave, the song reaches a fever pitch within the woman’s bleeding ears.

Crossing the room to the frozen shocked face, Jean wants to shove them away. To wipe that look off their face. To make them stop talking. Shut up, shut up. Shut Up. Shut up! SHUT UP!

Heat rushes across the woman’s hand in a deluge. A spell broken in the same violent way a baseball smashes through a window. Blinking, startled and confused, Jean’s senses come back in pieces that don’t fit together. Hearing muffled as if she’s several feet underwater, the woman can hear an off gasping choking noise. Vision stuttering between a crimson veil and the bright colors of a sunset illuminated room, a face swims up into sharp focus. John. Expression twisting in agony, Jean stares back in abject horror. Slowly looking down between them, she sees the blood soaking black into his vest. Several ragged holes are punched into the fabric, frayed edges catching the froth of his blood as the herald wheezes for a proper breath.

“John?” Voice small in her mouth Jean realizes that her aching hands are still clasping the hunting knife buried to the hilt in the soft spot just under his sternum. Jerking away as if she’d touched a hot stove, John crumples to the floor like a puppet with his strings snipped. Panic squashes every other disorientating flurry of emotions flat as Jean can only stare at the man curling into himself on the expensive carpet. A sick, wheezing bubble of air escaping a punctured lung is the only sound for a few hammering heartbeats. Knees cracking against the floor, the gore-seeped woman crawls over to the only man that she truly ever loved. Gingerly turning him so that he’s gazing up at the vaulted ceiling, Jean’s voice fails as she’s momentarily struck mute by the sight of the knife -- her knife-- sticking up so crudely from his heaving chest.

“Oh god, I… “ Tears blur Jean’s vision, and she can’t see the expression he tries valiantly to tame his face into. His legs already were pins and needles, the pain ebbing away into a comforting cold that he’d played with before.

“Was it Jacob?” Speaking is pure agony. John’s words barely a whisper, but it’s all he needs to know, and for a second, he’s afraid she didn’t hear him until there’s a fraction of a nod. He’s always known that death wouldn’t be pretty for him. It would be a screaming bloody mess the entire ride down into that black void. Something about the dealer of his death being Jean strikes the herald as particularly funny, though the chuckle comes out as a wet cough, the rich taste of copper flooding his mouth. Looking up at the blonde’s face and not feeling as her tears splash against his cheeks, John isn’t sure if it’s the ringing in his ears or an approaching siren.

“I’ll see you soon.” He mouths as darkness begins to hem in his vision. Decades playing on the knife’s edge of this sensation, John welcomes it as an old friend. He’d envisioned death so much it felt like a memory to slip into its warm numbing embrace, the vision of Jean’s blood and tear-streaked face following him down into nothingness.

#‘ﾟanswered » JEAN MASTERS — ❝ here the light only dies to remember ! ❝#‘ﾟships » KAIJVKING — ❝ if you don’t love me now you’ll never love me again ! ❝#verse﹕FAR CRY 5 ► call of the ﾟ* WOLVES #oh boy oh boy #this one is a rough one

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fc5holidayexchange · 4 years

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FAR CRY 5 HOLIDAY EXCHANGE 2019 FIC

(Hi, this is my main blog. I entered the exchange with my main blog another-bryk-in-the-wall!)

Love Is In The Bunker

Lisbet Bryan/Joseph Seed, mentions of the other Seed siblings

A little insight into the life of Lisbet “Bessie” Bryan, a deputy in Hope County with a weakness for a certain Joseph Seed.

@bunnymoss

For BunnyMoss! Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy what I have written for your Bessie! Damn, she was fun to write! xoxo Tani

Nobody really knew who Bessie actually was. Some described her as the angel sent from God himself, some said she was the devil in disguise. Nobody really knew - and she was just fine with this.

Not even Joseph, her secret lover, knew much about her. Some day she said she had been raised by her parents, some day she said she was all alone from day one, and on another day she said she grew up in a foster home. And truth be told - she didn’t remember much of her childhood.

The story of Joseph and Bessie was a wild and crazy one. The first time they met, Bessie had been sent to arrest him with Deputy Pratt, Hudson and their big boss, Whitehorse. From the moment they locked eyes, Bessie knew she wanted him. Joseph or nothing. The chopper crashed, the Deputy fled, but man, she had her fun with the leader of Eden’s Gate.

Her personal way of doting on him started out harmless. She left berries and other fruits from the forest on his front porch, one time even a crown she had made out of the flowers nearby. Joseph was greatly amused by the crown and wore it for the rest of the day.

But Joseph became curious - who had been sending these weird presents to him? Handmade, taken out of the woods…his first thought was on a prank from Jacob. That’s why he checked every berry three times before he ate it. The flower crown? That was more Faith’s way of telling someone something, especially when she hid little bugs in the flowers which would bite you at night - John had to learn this the hard way after eating her cookies. But John would never touch any of these “filthy” things, so Joseph’s hard guess was on Jacob or Faith.

Until one day. Another silo had been destroyed in John’s region, and the youngest Seed brother was fuming with anger. Joseph had gone there to calm him down, and when he came back to his compound, a letter was laying by his front door.

Come meet me, Josey, if you want to find out who sent you all these presents. don’t be shy. but no guards. you don’t want anyone to interrupt our fun. tomorrow in the old bunker by the river. i will wait there at 8pm. xoxo

Joseph never let his guard down, but this time, curiosity won over his fear and he went alone. He told his guards and followers that he was going on a nice long walk. They shouldn’t bother looking for him. He wanted to meditate along the way and did not need any kind of interruption.

Bessie went into the abandoned bunker at 7 pm. It had been her secret hiding spot from both the Cult and the Resistance. A place hidden away. A little bit of water was leaking in one corner, the bathroom contained a toilet, a sink and a shower. Two beds were next to each other and a tiny closet stored everything Bessie needed. By now, both the cult and the resistance annoyed her equally. Bessie here, Bessie there, Bessie please do this very dangerous mission because no one else is dumb enough to do it, blah blah blah. She hated it. And on the other side, the Cult wanted her dead even though she just wanted their leader in her pants. That wasn’t fair at all!

All she had lit in the bunker were some candles, in the hope of setting a mysterious, but also alluring setting. Maybe she could finally seduce him. Maybe she could settle a truce. Maybe her bullet wounds could finally heal.

“I am here,” Joseph announced at exactly 8 pm into the candlelit bunker. Bessie stepped out of the shadows, announcing her presence with a cough. Joseph turned around to face her, surprise written across his face.

“Depu-”

“Call me Bessie. We are not enemies.”

Her bright ginger hair seemed to burn in the candle light, the light surrounding her giving her a halo, making her look like an angel. Or satanic - depending on who you ask. One step forward, another one…until she was so close, their noses nearly touched.

“I don’t want to fight anymore. I just want to love.”

“Love?”

Bessie sighed at the question and lifted her shirt. Her stomach area was riddled in scars, tiny and big, old and new. “I am sick and tired of this,” she muttered as she allowed a finger to travel over the oldest scar. It had healed well, but the outline remained.

Joseph knew what his men were doing. They were out for the sinners, the bad ones, the people who hated them. But seeing their pain changed something inside of Joseph. He stepped closer before dropping to his knees. His lips pressed against another scar, Bessie couldn’t do more than watching him with wide eyes.

“Bessie…no one will hurt you anymore. I promise you,“Joseph whispered before pressing another kiss on her stomach.

That meeting was a long time ago. By now the bombs had dropped, trapping Joseph and Bessie together for seven years and maybe longer. Bessie and Joseph had agreed to a truce. No more killing, but his siblings would be arrested. When they went to arrest Joseph without Bessie’s knowledge, the bombs fell. Bessie made it to the bunker in the last second.

They tried to make the best out of their situation. Joseph was a surprisingly great cook and made the best out of the canned goods Dutch had stored in the bunker. Bessie took care of the guns stored in an extra room - after picking the lock for about five hours - cleaned the guns, taking them apart, putting them back together. This kept her calm and sane in the bunker.

One night - at least they thought it was night - Joseph and Bessie sat in front of the TV, and turned off nearly every light in the bunker so the emergency generator wouldn’t give up. A sappy rom-com was running on one of the million DVDs Dutch had saved. Joseph wasn’t too invested in the movie, preferring to spend his time with trailing his fingers over Bessie’s tattoos, taking in their colour, form, and how soft her skin was despite all the rough happenings of the past years. He was sorry for the pain he and his followers had inflicted upon Bessie, but in the end he was right, wasn’t he?

“That tickles”, Bessie smiled after a while, brushing Joseph’s hand off her shoulder. She wasn’t serious, not at all. Joseph’s touch offered her so much comfort in these unstable times, so many sleepless nights had been spent in his arms. Kisses were shared, bodies touching each other, fitting like a key into its lock. Joseph was made for Bessie, and Bessie was made for Joseph.

But they had two last missions - the first one was building up Eden’s Gate again to ensure the wellbeing of Joseph’s followers. The second one - repopulate the Earth. And Joseph wasn’t keen on waiting much longer.

“You know, sweetheart,” Joseph said as they laid in bed, Bessie’s head on his chest, “We shouldn’t wait any longer. By now we could have a child already, or at least on the way. We will be like Noah and his wife who repopulated Earth after the Big Flooding.”

Bessie chuckled along with his words “This was the worst way of saying ‘I want sex’ that I have ever heard!, and with a quick motion, she was straddling him. Joseph was already growing hard under her, enamored by the image in his head - her, all swollen and heavy with their child, walking together with him through Eden’s Gate. What a sight, what a life, and Joseph couldn’t wait to make this their reality.

Bessie reached up, undoing her shirt, not bothering with a bra anymore. Joseph had seen her naked often enough. Why should she feel shame about her nipples? Not with her. Not anymore. Not in their Eden.

Joseph reached up, giving her breasts a good hard squeeze. Again, his mind was driving him mad. How big they’d get, a sight for him and his eyes alone. Joseph pinched her nipples, earning a soft moan from Bessie. They had always been sensitive, and he couldn’t wait to make her cum by nipple play only when the time was ready.

The clothes were soon discarded, leaving two sweating and panting lovers behind. Bessie rode Joseph as if there was no tomorrow - or if their tomorrow was up to them. Thinking of Bessie being pregnant, Joseph came more than once during their session. Knowing her body so well, he made her cum too, their juices of love and lust covering the bed.

Bessie dropped next to Joseph, who placed a hand on her middle. No bulge, no belly, no nothing. But soon enough there would be, and Joseph couldn’t wait for this moment.

Several months later, Bessie was carrying his child, and Joseph was by her side whenever she needed it. Back rub? Joseph got it covered. Sore feet? Just whistle once and Joseph was massaging them.

“You know,“ Joseph muttered as he stood behind Bessie, his arms around her body, hands resting on her belly, “I knew you would be beautiful, but I never dared to dream you’d be this beautiful. You are my goddess and I am your simple preacher.”

Bessie laughed at his words, thinking they were so silly but in a cute way. “You know, Joseph,” she started, turned around to place a kiss on his lips.

“I never imagined my life to turn out this way. But now, I cannot imagine my life with anyone else than you, my love.”

“I love you, Bessie.”

“I love you too, Joseph.”

#joseph seed/oc #f!oc/joseph seed #joseph seed #deputy oc #Lisbet Bryan/Joseph Seed #fluff #smut #gift: fic #bunnymoss #fc5holidayexchange #submission #nsftumblr

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divinum-pacis · 4 years

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Readings for the Third Week of Advent

From Douay-Rheims 1899 American Edition of the Bible (in the public domain)

Third Sunday of Advent (Gaudete Sunday)

Isaiah 29:13-24

“And the Lord said: Forasmuch as this people draw near me with their mouth, and with their lips glorify me, but their heart is far from me, and they have feared me with the commandment and doctrines of men: Therefore behold I will proceed to cause an admiration in this people, by a great and wonderful miracle: for wisdom shall perish from their wise men, and the understanding of their prudent men shall be hid. Woe to you that are deep of heart, to hide your counsel from the Lord: and their works are in the dark, and they say: Who seeth us, and who knoweth us? This thought of yours is perverse: as if the clay should think against the potter, and the work should say to the maker thereof: Thou madest me not: or the thing framed should say to him that fashioned it: Thou understandest not. Is it not yet a very little while, and Libanus shall be turned into charmel, and charmel shall be esteemed as a forest? And in that day the deaf shall hear the words of the book, and out of darkness and obscurity the eyes of the blind shall see. And the meek shall increase their joy in the Lord, and the poor men shall rejoice in the Holy One of Israel. For he that did prevail hath failed, the scorner is consumed, and they are all cut off that watched for iniquity: That made men sin by word, and supplanted him that reproved them in the gate, and declined in vain from the just. Therefore thus saith the Lord to the house of Jacob, he that redeemed Abraham: Jacob shall not now be confounded, neither shall his countenance now be ashamed: But when he shall see his children, the work of my hands in the midst of him sanctifying my name, and they shall sanctify the Holy One of Jacob, and shall glorify the God of Israel: And they that erred in spirit, shall know understanding, and they that murmured, shall learn the law.”

Third Monday of Advent

Isaiah 30:18-26

“Therefore the Lord waiteth that be may have mercy on you: and therefore shall he be exalted sparing you: because the Lord is the God of judgment: blessed are all they that wait for him. For the people of Sion shall dwell in Jerusalem: weeping thou shalt not weep, he will surely have pity on thee: at the voice of thy cry, se soon as he shell hear, he will answer thee. And the Lord will give you spare bread, and short water: and will not cause thy teacher to flee away from thee any more, and thy eyes shall see thy teacher. And thy ears shall hear the word of one admonishing thee behind thy back: This is the way, walk ye in it: and go not aside neither to the right hand, nor to the left. And thou shalt defile the plates of thy graven things of silver, and the garment of thy molten things of gold, and shalt cast them away as the uncleanness of a menstruous woman. Thou shalt say to it: Get thee hence. And rain shall be given to thy seed, wheresoever thou shalt sow in the land: and the bread of the corn of the land shall be most plentiful, and fat. The lamb in that day shall feed at large in thy possession: And thy oxen, and the ass colts that till the ground, shall eat mingled provender as it was winnowed in the floor. And there shall be upon every high mountain, and upon every elevated hill rivers of running waters in the day of the slaughter of many, when the tower shall fall. And the light of the moon shall be se the light of the sun, and the light of the sun shall be sevenfold, as the light of seven days: in the day when the Lord shall bind up the wound of his people, and shall heal the stroke of their wound.”

Third Tuesday of Advent

Isaiah 30:27-33; 31:4-9

“Behold the name of the Lord cometh from afar, his wrath burneth, and is heavy to bear: his lips are filled with indignation, and his tongue as a devouring fire. His breath as a torrent overflowing even to the midst of the neck, to destroy the nations unto nothing, and the bridle of error that was in the jaws of the people. You shall have a song as in the night of the sanctified solemnity, and joy of heart, as when one goeth with a pipe, to come into the mountain of the Lord, to the Mighty One of Israel. And the Lord shall make the glory of his voice to be heard, and shall shew the terror of his arm, in the threatening of wrath, and the dame of devouring fire: he shall crush to pieces with whirlwind, and hailstones. For at the voice of the Lord the Assyrian shall fear being struck with the rod. And the passage of the rod shall be strongly grounded, which the Lord shall make to rest upon him with timbrels and harps, and in great battles he shall over throw them. For Topheth is prepared from yesterday, prepared by the king, deep, and wide. The nourishment thereof is fire and much wood: the breath of the Lord as a torrent of brimstone kindling it. For thus saith the Lord to me: Like as the lion roareth, and the lion's whelp upon his prey, and when a multitude of shepherds shall come against him, he will not fear at their voice, nor be afraid of their multitude: so shall the Lord of hosts come down to fight upon mount Sion, and upon the hill thereof. As birds dying, so will the Lord of hosts protect Jerusalem, protecting and delivering, passing over and saving. Return as you had deeply revolted, O children of Israel. For in that day a man shall cast away his idols of silver, and his idols of gold, which your hands have made for you to sin. And the Assyrian shall fall by the sword not of a man, and the sword not of a man shall devour him, and he shall flee not at the face of the sword: and his young men shall be tributaries. And his strength shall pass away with dread, and his princes fleeing shall be afraid: the Lord hath said it, whose die is in Sion, and his furnace in Jerusalem.”

Third Wednesday of Advent

Isaiah 31:1-3; 32:1-8

“Woe to them that go down to Egypt for help, trusting in horses, and putting their confidence in chariots, because they me many: and in horsemen, because they me very strong: and have not trusted in the Holy One of Israel, and have not sought after the Lord. But he that is the wise one hath brought evil, and hath not removed his words: and he will rise up against the house of the wicked, and against the aid of them that work iniquity. Egypt is man, and not God: and their horses, flesh, and not spirit: and the Lord shall put down his hand, and the helper shall fall, and he that is helped shall fall, and they shall al be confounded together. Behold a king shall reign in justice, and princes shell rule in judgment. And a man shall be as when one is hid from the wind, and hideth himself from a storm, as rivers of waters in drought, and the shadow of a rock that standeth out in a desert land. The eyes of them that see shall not be dim, and the ears of them that hear shall hearken diligently. And the heart of fools shall understand knowledge, and the tongue of stammerers shall speak readily and plain. The fool shall no more be called prince: neither shall the deceitful be called great. For the fool will speak foolish things, and his heart will work iniquity, to practice hypocrisy, and speak to the Lord deceitfully, and to make empty the soul of the hungry, and take away drink from the thirsty. The vessels of the deceitful are most wicked: for he hath framed devices to destroy the meek, with lying words, when the poor man speaketh judgment. But the prince will devise such things as are worthy of a prince, and he shah stand above the rulers.”

Third Thursday of Advent

Isaiah 32:15-33:6

“Until the spirit be poured upon us from on high: and the desert shall be se a charmel, and charmel shall be counted for a forest. And judgment shall dwell in the wilderness, and justice shall sit in charmel. And the work of justice shall be peace, and the service of justice quietness, and security for ever. And my people shall sit in the beauty of peace, and in the tabernacles of confidence, and in wealthy rest. But hail shall be in the descent of the forest, and the city shall be made very low. Blessed are ye that sow upon all waters, sending thither the foot of the ox and the ass. Woe to thee that spoilest, shalt not thou thyself also be spoiled? and thou that despisest, shalt not thyself also be despised? when thou shalt have made an end of spoiling, thou shalt be spoiled: when being wearied thou shalt cease to despise, thou shalt be despised. Lord, have mercy on us: for we have waited for thee: be thou our arm in the morning, and our salvation in the time of trouble. At the voice of the angel the people fled, and at the lifting up thyself the nations are scattered. And your spoils shall be gathered together as the locusts are gathered, as when the ditches are full of them. The Lord is magnified, for he hath dwelt on high: he hath filled Sion with judgment and justice. And there shall be faith in thy times: riches of salvation, wisdom and knowledge: the fear of the Lord is his treasure.”

Third Friday of Advent

Isaiah 33:7-24

“Behold they that see shall cry without, the angels of peace shall weep bitterly. The ways are made desolate, no one passeth by the road, the covenant is made void, he hath rejected the cities, he hath not regarded the men. The land hath mourned, and languished: Libanus is confounded and become foul, and Saron is become as a desert: and Basan and Carmel are shaken. Now will I rise up, saith the Lord: now will I be exalted, now will I lift up myself. You shall conceive heat, you shall bring forth stubble: your breath as fire shall devour you. And the people shall be as ashes after a fire, as a bundle of thorns they shall be burnt with fire. Hear, you that are far off, what I have done, and you that are near know my strength. The sinners in Sion are afraid, trembling hath seized upon the hypocrites. Which of you can dwell with devouring fire? which of you shall dwell with everlasting burnings? He that walketh in justices, and speaketh truth, that casteth away avarice by oppression, and shaketh his hands from all bribes, that stoppeth his ears lest he hear blood, and shutteth his eyes that he may see no evil. He shall dwell on high, the fortifications of rocks shall be his highness: bread is given him, his waters are sure. His eyes shall see the king in his beauty, they shall see the land far off. Thy heart shall meditate fear: where is the learned? where is he that pondereth the words of the law? where is the teacher of little ones? The shameless people thou shalt not see, the people of profound speech: so that thou canst not understand the eloquence of his tongue, in whom there is no wisdom. Look upon Sion the city of our solemnity: thy eyes shall see Jerusalem, a rich habitation, a tabernacle that cannot be removed: neither shall the nails thereof be taken away for ever, neither shall any of the cords thereof be broken: Because only there our Lord is magnificent: it place of rivers, very broad and spacious streams: no ship with oars shall pass by it, neither shall the great galley pass through it. For the Lord is our judge, the Lord is our lawgiver, the Lord is our king: he will save us. Thy tacklings are loosed, and they shall be of no strength: thy mast shall be in such condition, that thou shalt not be able to spread the flag. Then shall the spoils of much prey be divided: the lame shall take the spoil. Neither shall he that is near, say: I am feeble. The people that dwell therein, shall have their iniquity taken away from them.”

Third Saturday of Advent

Luke 1:46-56

Mary said:

“My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my savior. for he has looked upon his lowly servant. From this day all generations will call me blessed: the Almighty has done great things for me, and holy is his Name. He has mercy on those who fear him in every generation. He has shown the strength of his arm, and has scattered the proud in their conceit. He has cast down the mighty from their thrones and has lifted up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty. He has come to the help of his servant Israel for he remembered his promise of mercy, the promise he made to our fathers, to Abraham and his children for ever.”

Mary remained with Elizabeth about three months and then returned to her home.

#religion #christianity #bible #advent #gaudete sunday #quotes #divinum-pacis

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psychalicoiouscraze · 5 years

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The Lamb of God: farcry5 fanfic au

The sermon was over and of course people cheered and applauded the Farther for his wise words. To the family it was just another day, the REAPING had begun and the deputy was no were to be seen. You see two weeks had gone by and nothing. Not even a call of her where bouts. But as the Seeds left the church Joseph had notice something odd on the ground out front of the church doors. It was fresh Blood. He had began to follow the trail towards the forest.

As Joseph walked over the broken fence he heard a rustle from a small bush a couple feet in front of him. “Who’s there, come on out.” he spoke softly into the forest ahead, he got nothing in return except silence. “strange” he said to himself. He proceeded to go back to his family and join them for lunch.”I’ll worry about it later" he said to himself.

TWO HOURS LATER:

Joseph had told his siblings of the blood at the front of the church, Jacob said it was probably an injured rabbit or something and to let nature take it’s course. Joseph did not agree with him and knew something was telling him to go check and to make sure it was just a rabbit and not something else. He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl placed in the middle of the table and a small knife from the utensils box not to it. “Were are you going Joseph” John asked with a questionable look on his face. “ just for a small walk, I’ll be back in a minute don’t you fret brother.” John smiled as Joseph got up from the table and walked through the white gates towards the church. “where’s he going?” John asked. “ most likely to see if the animals dead or not.” faith said. Jacob sighed “well i guess we should follow him, in case he gets bit on the ass by a snake again.” John giggled along with faith. and they began to clean up from lunch and follow slowly behind Joseph.

Joseph had finally gotten to the the forest’s edge again when he heard the same rustle from the forest floor. he began to look a bit harder to try and see if there was any blood leading to one of the many bushes in the area. it was the bush closest to the fence that caught his eye. A couple of small blood droplets lead under a bliss flower bush. The first bliss bush that was planted here in Hope County.

He came closer to the bush and the more he did the more the bush moved he stopped a couple centurmeters away from the bush and knelt down on his knee. He noticed a small white fluffy tail sticking out from the bush. “come on out little one, I won’t hurt you.” He said holding out his hand as the little tail vanished under the bush. The bush continued to move till a pretty, little, brown eye and black snout poked through some of the leaves. and sniffed the air a bit before hiding again.

"your hungry aren’t you little one” Joseph began to cut a piece of the apple he had begun to eat earlier and put the knife and the rest of the apple down on the ground and put the apple slice in his hand and offered it to the small fluffy creature. the small animal slowly begun to poke it’s head out when.”hey!” Yelled Jacob called out and the animal hid again.“ Jacob would you please keep you voice down you’ve scared the poor thing.” Joseph said with a sturn look towards his siblings. “sorry brother, either way did you find the rabbit?” Jacob said trying to change the subject quickly.” yes, i did. now if you would please stop talking and scaring it i’d very much like to help it.”Joseph turned his attention back to the now still bush. he did the same thing as before and waited for it to come out of the bush. At first nothing happened for a minute but the it’s head slowly poked out, Joseph began to slowly pull back so the small animal would follow the apple slice which thankfully it did.

And it was not what he or his siblings expected to pop out of the bush. A white injured lamb, it’s fur looked so soft and light like clouds and it’s eyes brown but so full of wonder. “hello there little Flower” Joseph called out to it as it slowly started to nibble and the apple slice.

"Such a beautiful beginning for a sinner like me now ain’t it?” Rook said to her self. not that the Seeds could understand her anyways.

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beneaththetangles · 4 years

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The Promised (Never)land: a Thrilling Plan of Salvation

I’m happy to introduce Gaharet, our newest writer! You may have seen him haunting our comment section, but now you’ll see much more of him and insight on Beneath the Tangles. The eldest of ten siblings who are all avid readers, Gaheret is a is a Catholic lawyer from Spain, too tall for Robin already but not serious enough for Batman yet. Interested in heroism, wonder, hope and Christ, he looks for them from the realms of Philosophy and Theology to the Arthurian cycle, Dostoyevski, and comics. He discovered anime after University much to his joy, mostly through Beneath the Tangles. Besides here, you can also find him writing on his website (in Spanish).

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A happy childhood in a household by the countryside. A somewhat separated world. Loving parents, being the eldest of many siblings, new ones joyfully looked forward to and then received into the family where we watched them grow, good grades in class, a lot of books, small adventures exploring the forest not far from the house, and interesting conversations about people, deductions and discoveries, the past and the future with other kids as the sun sets. And then, as adulthood is approaching, the horror: the monsters. The parallels and coincidences are many, so it´s no wonder that I saw a lot of myself as a kid in the special children of The Promised Neverland (2019), a clever thriller with no less clever child protagonists dealing with themes of horror, family, love, and survival. My ordinary life back then had a lot in common with that of Emma, Norman, and Ray. That may be what has helped me to see, step by step, that my current life is not too removed from it either.

I´m pretty sure I’ve never enjoyed an anime as much as this one: it has so much in it of the shows I enjoy most, from the strong feeling of place in Haibane Renmei to the childhood/adulthood themes of Erased to the moral clarity in convoluted circumstances and hope against all hope of Now and then, here and there. But more than that, as I was watching it and meditating about the themes, I found so many parallels to my Catholic faith and my own life with God from childhood on that I can say it helped me to look at it with fresh eyes in a way few works of fiction, anime or not, have. It works perfectly without adding the considerations I´m gonna make, as a thriller epic. I´m not a manga reader, so please refrain from spoilers in the comments: also, I´m going to freely discuss the twists and turns of the first season (not to mention my own life): spoilers ahead.

I hope my first paragraph has managed to capture a glimpse of the powerful and Edenic attraction of that place, the House, an orphanage of sorts where sons and daughters live and grow as siblings, as there is usually something Edenic in a childhood with loving parents. The story conveys it in various ways, and maybe the most striking is the color symbology: From the opening, The Promised Neverland uses white and red to symbolize innocence and blood, so even the white clothes are reminiscent of the original nakedness of Genesis, which evokes the same idea. A world arising from unconditional love and deep union, image of the union of the Holy Trinity, worth exploring, powerful and stable, for us to grow with others and develop our unique talents while hoping for a future of wonders unseen.

And yet, something feels off. There are books, symbols, and pieces of the past here and there, and they point to something that has been lost. Some things are missing; some have changed. I believe this is a universal experience: Even as children, we tend to know there is a gap between the law we discover in our hearts and some aspects of reality, even if we don´t mind at first. Growing in a mostly post-Christian Spain was the specific form this uncanny feeling took in my case. The Cathedral of Leon is full of light and color much like the Temple of the Bible, but why was it almost empty, while the Temple was full of pilgrims? How come that so few people knew about Christian wisdom outside of my family and the books, while almost everyone in, say, a Dickens novel knew about Grace and Providence? And then the day comes when you meet face to face with something powerful and dark, and discover with shock and utter horror that there is something in this world, close to you, that could devour and destroy you and those you love.

Monsters who devour children are the primal symbol of evil in children tales, and one cannot but feel a primal fear seeing them. While the models of the monsters are predators in Nature, I believe that much like Christ warns us to be afraid not of those that kill the body, but of those who kill the soul, every fear, even physical, is an echo of the true fear that monsters symbolize: being destroyed by turning myself into a monster voluntarily, and for it to happen to the people I know and love. Sin, after all, is the worst of evils and the source of all the rest. To discover in your own darkness and that of others that this is a very real possibility, and to see the immense power of that darkness both in yourself and in the world with its “prince,” is a shocking experience. For me, a first shock was the sudden loss of faith of my entire class at school when we turned twelve (funnily enough). Suddenly they left God behind without a second thought, as if he were Santa, and all at once started behaving in ways I knew to be seriously wrong. The second was the dark and disturbing reality of my own sins. Even the good things, while remaining good, are tainted and compromised as you become more aware. The sins of the people we had previously trusted and the suffering and the death of the innocent in this world are perhaps the strongest signs of this reality. Norman and Emma suffer both at once.

Much as when Adam and Eve hide after the Fall and make excuses, or Cain suddenly fears a world of murderers even if he is the first, the worldly logic created by sin sucks us into it through our wounds and the wounds of the world. The passions, the animal wants and fears, have become disordered as a result. Even psychologically, when confronted with these signs of evil, we tend to lose hope in the goodness of the world. There is nothing more natural than than trying to survive at all costs, even disregarding others, and thus Norman first did as much. It feels like this is just what the world is. Other possible reactions are forgetting about that, go along with the crowd, and trying to live a superficial life, focusing on developing your abilities so as to remake your world, or a part of it at your own image (I´m looking at you, Ray, and to Lelouch Lamperouge), or build an armor and retreat into something not so far from the infamous eight-grade syndrome, as I myself did with the likes of Hikigaya Hachiman, or focus on recreating, Utena-like, the external circumstances of the time when we were happy, or running for just one bit of power, satisfaction, or pleasure that seems to be within our reach, becoming increasingly cynical about everything else. So, when Emma rejected all that and said, “I don´t want anybody else of my precious family to die!” instead, I felt a true bolt of hope. It strongly resonated with me, and here´s why.

A thrilling plan of salvation in the everyday world, born from a love strong and pure enough not to exclude anyone, humble, down-to-Earth, clever, difficult and wise but also full of simplicity and open to all (for everyone has a role in it), motivated by the desire to save, for everyone to live—does that sound familiar? “I don´t want anybody else of my precious family to die!” For me, it´s kind of an echo both of the “so that you may live” of the Deuteronomy, and the “I have come that they may have life” of Our Lord. To give us life, not a few or even many years more, but a new kind of life which destroys death for us and others. To save us. Of course, as a Christian, I knew and I prayed that people would be saved, and tried to help, to spread the Gospel, to live in charity. But perhaps my heart hadn´t felt with such intensity and hope that He really wants us, each of us, to live, to escape sin and eternal death, to be with Him, to bring us to a better house, a better land which we know a little because it resembles the first. Or more accurately, because the first resembles it: the first Jerusalem and the new Jerusalem. He cares about the rest of our sorrows, our needs and our hurts, and helps, as He did in Palestine, but he wants the endgame: We are under the shadow of death, and he wants us to live.

And how does he attract us to this plan? He promises us a new land; he promised it to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, to Moses and the Israelites, to the prophets and the exiled and to David, to Our Lady and to Joseph, to the Apostles. It had everything they could dream of and more: It had Him. He promised the patriarchs a people which will be theirs and without number, to Moses a free land in which to live in justice, to the prophets a Messiah and a new kind of kingdom, to David the eternity of his house, and to the Apostles that they would become fishers of men. He also gave them signs of hope, among them the deliverance from various sufferings and the earthly land of Israel. Much like this, Emma and Norman guide the rest to the Promised Neverland, and Emma´s love and their own past becomes a sign of hope for how they will live there. As all those who were called by the Lord, something has to be left behind, and the road forward is full of danger and uncertainty. The “follow me, and I´ll show you something cool” also felt hopeful, and very similar to the “come and you will see” of the Gospel: Reject the story of revenge and death you have thought for yourself, become a sibling for a lot of brothers and sisters, help and be helped in the way to the Promised Land. Or leave the things you deem riches and come for something new: I call you; follow me. It has always been the same for me: God has convinced me again and again that there is something incredible at the other side, something that includes me, Him, and His precious family, and all which is good, yet goes deeper than I can perceive now. Even as I stray, sin, and fall again and again, I continue to turn back to Him, because, like Peter, I know somehow that only Christ has words of eternal life.

The fact that some people we love are revealed to be servants of the enemy, yet they are included in the plan, and how both Mama and Sister are saved, was easily what made the show jump from really good to great, as the thorough defeat of utilitarian logic by a logic which doesn´t lose any of its cleverness or its strength, but gives them its true meaning instead. Ray and Norman were similar, but Norman was converted to love by his love of Emma. The way this loving, hard hope is gradually given to everyone as a call to serve the rest, come to be part of the sometimes mysterious plan under the authority of the elders and give the best of your peculiar abilities was very like the Church, and the mutual love of Emma and Norman, innocent and childlike as it was, recalled the words of St. Paul about marriage being similar to how Christ sacrifices Himself for the Church. A child is a great symbol of how we are to be before God, and these children are as innocent as doves and as shrewd as serpents. Trumping the logic of the world of adults, demons, utilitarianism, and Ray, and freeing the villains from it, was a great thing to see. How they become a sign for each other, loving everyone, yet being prudent and humble about what they can do (Emma´s decision towards the smaller ones) made me want to be stronger, wiser, and more loving myself, which I think it´s the very purpose of epic stories.

The Christlike sacrifice of Norman for the sake of Emma, the rest and especially Ray, to bring him out of the pit of darkness he got himself into, and the Shawshank Redemption way it is presented—darkness, violence, death of the beloved and the innocent, everything seems lost, then we discover it was all part of the plan—makes it even more compelling and more parallel with the Gospel: Is the same thing the Disciples experienced in the Passion, what Joseph and Mary didn’t understand at the Temple, and what we don´t understand every time we meet the Cross. Suffering is a mystery, and the plenitude of suffering, the biggest mystery. And yet, beyond our understanding, Christ has met us there and is fighting for us. The loving yet decisive goodbye of Emma to the House and to Mama was also memorable and unique: She truly has rejected hate and embraced all the good there was in the house, even when following the hopeful path and leaving. Jesus loved the Temple, even if it needed to be set of fire, and Israel. Is easy to hate those who harm us, the enemy, a natural impulse: We forget the menacing Mama is a wounded child too, one of the family, another lost sheep. But as Christians, we know Christ sees them also as the lost sheep, and fights for them too. Even during the Passion, He is praying for the last one of His executioners, working for their salvation. At His last moments, he fights for the soul of those crucified with Him. And Mama, at least, is converted.

The post-death Norman (whatever it may happen in the future) who walked for a moment at the side of Ray and Emma, made them feel his presence, caused them to remember his words, and disappeared again behaved very much like Christ does now (only He is alive and acts). Ray, redeemed from his path of revenge, letting go the sword, strengthening others as he was, and occupying his place with his limitations, is much like Simon Peter. He is the father of the orphaned flock, and Emma is the mother, as Mary, and like her she is the closer friend of Norman, and they walk with his spirit to the Promised Neverland. The family is divided in two, as Israel from the Church, yet will be united, as St. Paul tells us with passionate love. And the last scene, “This is our first day,” with the sun coming up in a world without our old certainties, dangerous but hopeful, was very like us experimenting with the fruits of Resurrection: The danger and the new life begins here.

=====

The Promised Neverland can be streamed on Crunchyroll.

#Anime #Christianity #The Promised Neverland #Yakusoku no Neverland #Articles #Author: Gaharet

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unclefungusthegoat · 6 years

Text

EXODUS FROM EDEN

A Far Cry 5 AU: The Plagues of Egypt

Hope County Gothic 2018- WEEK 1- PROJECT AT EDEN’S GATE

Word count: 1327

WARNING: Blood, dead animals, frogs, insects, rotting food, sickness/disease, starvation, scars and wounds, self-flagellation, child death, major character death, child abuse references, self harm

A Pharaoh once sat on high, his towering empire built by the hands of enslaved Israelites. But he defied the commandments of God, and his hubris was punished with pestilence, famine and death, wrought upon his lands through God’s messenger- a man he once called his brother.

Joseph Seed sits on high, his Project, his Eden inhabited by the unwilling, the unrepentant. And now God sends another messenger, one who trusts in and upholds the law, to warn the false prophet-

Let my people go.

Joseph Seed seeks to build a garden. An Eden where God’s chosen will be saved from the fury of an impending, catastrophic reckoning. With those he loves at his side- his brothers, Jacob and John, his sister Faith, his wife and infant daughter- he fabricated a devout and holy empire, claiming the people of Hope County for indoctrination into his ‘family’. He believes he is saving them. He believes he hears the voice of God.

He is mistaken, misguided by demons.

In a small town on the border of Joseph’s empire, a young police Deputy wanders through the lush Montana landscape, seeking solace and serenity. They had once been a part of Joseph’s family, enticed by his soothing words, his condemnations of government and society, his genuine care for the world’s ‘unfortunates’. But they had seen his true face. His lust for power. His hungry gaze. His serpent tongue.

They had fled.

And it is in that liminal forest that they hear the true voice of God, whispered first through low hanging branches, slipping gently through evergreen leaves, before alighting a bush and illuminating the glade with an opalescent flame.

God’s message is clear.

The people of Hope County must be freed from the clutches of the false prophet.

Under a star-ridden sky, silent in the early hours of the morning, the Deputy meets Joseph in his church and explains to the Father of God’s commandment.

Unwavering in his faith, Joseph simply replies:

‘God will not let you take them.’

The Deputy pleads, but to no avail. And so they deliver the first warning:

...I will strike the water...

The Henbane River, once blue and speckled with the green haze of Bliss, grows thick and stains slowly with crimson. John is holding a sinner below the surface of the water, seemingly cleansing him, but instead he watches in horror as his hands redden and the scent of bitter metal claws its way down his throat. The sinner in his firm grasp begins to thrash and, as John brings him back into the cool night air, he looks upon a man glossed with so thick a sheen of blood, that he wonders how he is not drowning.

...I will plague your whole country with frogs...

Soon, Faith collects flowers by the tainted river. The soles of her bare feet are slick with the blood that has begun to soak into the soil. It is not long until the wild lobelias she gathers are scattered along the grassy path where she fled, as frogs are spat from the river’s depths in their thousands.

...Smite the dust of the land, that it may become lice...

The prisoners in Jacob’s care, their clothes stained with the rotting juice from meat they devoured, are used to the bristle of the Judges’ fur and the itching of lice. But upon the Father’s third denial of freedom, they see their captors begin to scratch the skin from their scalps, bloody flesh under their fingernails, their bodies overrun with the gnawing of a hundred thousand tiny mouths.

...Pharaoh hardened his heart...

Upon the release of a swarm of flies, which in turn brought disease as they settled on the harvest, chewing their way into the stocks hidden deep within the bunkers, Joseph’s voice fills the Deputy’s radio frequency. His words are faint from the unceasing cacophony of wings. He asks that the Deputy cease the plagues. He promises freedom for the people of Hope County.

The land was cleansed of the infestation.

But still, the people were not free.

...the LORD will bring a terrible plague upon the livestock in the field...

The bulls in Holland Valley collapse in the untended grass, their ribs prominent as they starve where they lie. Ravenous cougars rip all but the prongs from the elk corpses on the hot tarmac road through the Whitetail Mountains. The meat is poisoned by sickness. It is not long before the wild cats also succumb.

... festering boils will break out on men...

Joseph dabs soothing ointment upon the sores on John’s back, where they nestle among his deep scars. They grow inflamed and fever racks his body, droplets beading across his brow as though he was newly baptised. He bandages Jacob’s arms, where the patchwork of vermilion welts have given way to a new shroud of bulging sores. The Father is kept awake through the humid night by the screams of his infant daughter, boils burning into her tiny face.

...The LORD sent thunder and hail...

The Angels in the fields were nothing more than dust now. Each was incinerated by a lightning strike that evaporated their milky eyes, before claiming their bodies entirely. The church in Fall’s End no longer had a steeple, the hail having shattered it down. The people of Hope County had heard it crumble. The bell had tolled endlessly as ice rained upon it, and had then fallen silent. The thunder had rocked the earth and reduced the mighty statue of the Father to rubble.

...they will devour what little you have left...

There are no longer pumpkins at Rae-Rae’s farm. No longer are the fields blotted with fleshy fruits, but instead, dark with locusts that even devour the metal fencing, the wood of an old dog house, the tarp that covers a rusted truck. Radio towers appear like pillars of black salt, writhing in the fading sunlight. Joseph hides with his family, still ignoring the Deputy’s pleas.

...darkness that can be felt...

Madness came with three days of darkness. The Seed family kneel before the altar, whipping the flesh from their backs, unable to comprehend why God would allow this false prophet to punish them, his chosen, when they have all suffered so much already. Many of their flock walk out of the compound, never to be seen again. The shadow is suffocating, the silence oppressive. Joseph knows no light can be found in sleep- they are all haunted with nightmares.

...loud wailing... worse than there has ever been or ever will be again...

Joseph doesn’t cry when his baby daughter suddenly pales in his arms, her skin and lips fading to a periwinkle blue, cold to the touch. He does not respond to his wife’s heavy sobbing as she clings to the swaddled child. He holds her hand, gently winding his rosary around her palm. He doesn’t cry when he hears John screaming at the hunched figure of his eldest brother, blistered hands gripping at Jacob’s well worn camo jacket and oddly peaceful face, in desperate hope that he might wake. He barely hears the wailing that rings through the compound, through the valley and the mountains. God’s chosen few, chosen no more.

Instead, he radios the Deputy. He speaks in a quiet voice. It is a voice that lingers in the hollow space somewhere between forlorn resignation and tempestuous rage.

And the people of Hope County are at last freed. Purged of Bliss, their scars and swollen tattoos bandaged, the Deputy walks with them through the gates, as the sun rises once more.

Joseph watches them go.

He sits alone in the ruins of his garden. His Eden. He waits for guidance, an echo of the Voice that had let him climb so high and then allowed his world to be torn apart around him.

He is met with silence.

It is the same aching silence he had known as a boy in the moments after his Father had finished beating him. Perhaps he was still there now, in that moment, resting on a porch in the heat of a Georgia summer. Perhaps he would indeed see the Red Sea part, in the form of a gash in his back where leather met skin.

Perhaps this was not his promised land.

And taking a knife in his malnourished fingers, he cuts into his tall forehead, a permanent reminder to his forsaken soul:

Exodus 7:17

“By this you will know that I am the Lord”.

-----------------------------------

Bold quotations are from the Book of Exodus. Painting is The Great Day of His Wrath, by John Martin.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! This is my first fanfic for this fandom- I haven’t actually written fanfiction for a few years, (at least, not written down, I write it in my head all the time hahaha) and I’ve been concentrating on my meta essays for FC5, so I apologise if I was a bit rusty!

Also, disclaimer: I’ve never actually read the Bible, and obviously this is a fictional interpretation, so there are almost definitely some inaccuracies, but I tried to research as best I could! I wasn’t sure whether the death of the first born applied to daughters as well as sons, or to adults who were firstborn, but I used both for the sake of story.

Finally, I unashamedly acknowledge that I was 100% inspired by the Prince of Egypt.

#hope county gothic #hope county gothic 2018 #far cry 5 #far cry 5 au #far cry 5 fanfiction #project at eden's gate #joseph seed #john seed #jacob seed #faith seed #it's pretty wordy #and descriptive #but I was too frightened to write dialogue for my first fc5 fic #also confession #I've had this in my drafts for months #I was too scared to post #I've been putting it off all week too #but the first week of the gothic event is nearly over #so I had to pull myself together hahahaha

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loveofyhwh · 6 years

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October 17: Isaiah 56–58; James 5:13–20; Psalm 100; Proverbs 26:1–2

New Post has been published on https://loveofyhwh.com/october-17-isaiah-56-58-james-513-20-psalm-100-proverbs-261-2/

October 17: Isaiah 56–58; James 5:13–20; Psalm 100; Proverbs 26:1–2

Old Testament:

Isaiah 56–58

Isaiah 56–58 (Listen)

Salvation for Foreigners

56 Thus says the LORD: “Keep justice, and do righteousness, for soon my salvation will come, and my righteousness be revealed. 2 Blessed is the man who does this, and the son of man who holds it fast, who keeps the Sabbath, not profaning it, and keeps his hand from doing any evil.” 3 Let not the foreigner who has joined himself to the LORD say, “The LORD will surely separate me from his people”; and let not the eunuch say, “Behold, I am a dry tree.” 4 For thus says the LORD: “To the eunuchs who keep my Sabbaths, who choose the things that please me and hold fast my covenant, 5 I will give in my house and within my walls a monument and a name better than sons and daughters; I will give them an everlasting name that shall not be cut off. 6 “And the foreigners who join themselves to the LORD, to minister to him, to love the name of the LORD, and to be his servants, everyone who keeps the Sabbath and does not profane it, and holds fast my covenant— 7 these I will bring to my holy mountain, and make them joyful in my house of prayer; their burnt offerings and their sacrifices will be accepted on my altar; for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.” 8 The Lord GOD, who gathers the outcasts of Israel, declares, “I will gather yet others to him besides those already gathered.”

Israel’s Irresponsible Leaders

9 All you beasts of the field, come to devour— all you beasts in the forest. 10 His watchmen are blind; they are all without knowledge; they are all silent dogs; they cannot bark, dreaming, lying down, loving to slumber. 11 The dogs have a mighty appetite; they never have enough. But they are shepherds who have no understanding; they have all turned to their own way, each to his own gain, one and all. 12 “Come,” they say, “let me get wine; let us fill ourselves with strong drink; and tomorrow will be like this day, great beyond measure.”

Israel’s Futile Idolatry

57 The righteous man perishes, and no one lays it to heart; devout men are taken away, while no one understands. For the righteous man is taken away from calamity; 2 he enters into peace; they rest in their beds who walk in their uprightness. 3 But you, draw near, sons of the sorceress, offspring of the adulterer and the loose woman. 4 Whom are you mocking? Against whom do you open your mouth wide and stick out your tongue? Are you not children of transgression, the offspring of deceit, 5 you who burn with lust among the oaks,Or among the terebinths‘>1 under every green tree, who slaughter your children in the valleys, under the clefts of the rocks? 6 Among the smooth stones of the valley is your portion; they, they, are your lot; to them you have poured out a drink offering, you have brought a grain offering. Shall I relent for these things? 7 On a high and lofty mountain you have set your bed, and there you went up to offer sacrifice. 8 Behind the door and the doorpost you have set up your memorial; for, deserting me, you have uncovered your bed, you have gone up to it, you have made it wide; and you have made a covenant for yourself with them, you have loved their bed, you have looked on nakedness.Or on a monument (see 56:5); Hebrew on a hand‘>2 9 You journeyed to the king with oil and multiplied your perfumes; you sent your envoys far off, and sent down even to Sheol. 10 You were wearied with the length of your way, but you did not say, “It is hopeless”; you found new life for your strength, and so you were not faint.Hebrew and so you were not sick‘>3 11 Whom did you dread and fear, so that you lied, and did not remember me, did not lay it to heart? Have I not held my peace, even for a long time, and you do not fear me? 12 I will declare your righteousness and your deeds, but they will not profit you. 13 When you cry out, let your collection of idols deliver you! The wind will carry them all off, a breath will take them away. But he who takes refuge in me shall possess the land and shall inherit my holy mountain.

Comfort for the Contrite

14 And it shall be said, “Build up, build up, prepare the way, remove every obstruction from my people’s way.” 15 For thus says the One who is high and lifted up, who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy: “I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly, and to revive the heart of the contrite. 16 For I will not contend forever, nor will I always be angry; for the spirit would grow faint before me, and the breath of life that I made. 17 Because of the iniquity of his unjust gain I was angry, I struck him; I hid my face and was angry, but he went on backsliding in the way of his own heart. 18 I have seen his ways, but I will heal him; I will lead him and restore comfort to him and his mourners, 19 creating the fruit of the lips. Peace, peace, to the far and to the near,” says the LORD, “and I will heal him. 20 But the wicked are like the tossing sea; for it cannot be quiet, and its waters toss up mire and dirt. 21 There is no peace,” says my God, “for the wicked.”

True and False Fasting

58 “Cry aloud; do not hold back; lift up your voice like a trumpet; declare to my people their transgression, to the house of Jacob their sins. 2 Yet they seek me daily and delight to know my ways, as if they were a nation that did righteousness and did not forsake the judgment of their God; they ask of me righteous judgments; they delight to draw near to God. 3 ‘Why have we fasted, and you see it not? Why have we humbled ourselves, and you take no knowledge of it?’ Behold, in the day of your fast you seek your own pleasure,Or pursue your own business‘>4 and oppress all your workers. 4 Behold, you fast only to quarrel and to fight and to hit with a wicked fist. Fasting like yours this day will not make your voice to be heard on high. 5 Is such the fast that I choose, a day for a person to humble himself? Is it to bow down his head like a reed, and to spread sackcloth and ashes under him? Will you call this a fast, and a day acceptable to the LORD? 6 “Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressedOr bruised‘>5 go free, and to break every yoke? 7 Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover him, and not to hide yourself from your own flesh? 8 Then shall your light break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up speedily; your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard. 9 Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer; you shall cry, and he will say, ‘Here I am.’ If you take away the yoke from your midst, the pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness, 10 if you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the noonday. 11 And the LORD will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail. 12 And your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to dwell in. 13 “If you turn back your foot from the Sabbath, from doing your pleasureOr business‘>6 on my holy day, and call the Sabbath a delight and the holy day of the LORD honorable; if you honor it, not going your own ways, or seeking your own pleasure,Or pursuing your own business‘>7 or talking idly;Hebrew or speaking a word‘>8 14 then you shall take delight in the LORD, and I will make you ride on the heights of the earth;Or of the land‘>9 I will feed you with the heritage of Jacob your father, for the mouth of the LORD has spoken.”

Footnotes

[1] 57:5 Or among the terebinths [2] 57:8 Or on a monument (see 56:5); Hebrew on a hand [3] 57:10 Hebrew and so you were not sick [4] 58:3 Or pursue your own business [5] 58:6 Or bruised [6] 58:13 Or business [7] 58:13 Or pursuing your own business [8] 58:13 Hebrew or speaking a word [9] 58:14 Or of the land

(ESV)

New Testament:

James 5:13–20

James 5:13–20 (Listen)

The Prayer of Faith

13 Is anyone among you suffering? Let him pray. Is anyone cheerful? Let him sing praise. 14 Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord. 15 And the prayer of faith will save the one who is sick, and the Lord will raise him up. And if he has committed sins, he will be forgiven. 16 Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working.Or The effective prayer of a righteous person has great power‘>1 17 Elijah was a man with a nature like ours, and he prayed fervently that it might not rain, and for three years and six months it did not rain on the earth. 18 Then he prayed again, and heaven gave rain, and the earth bore its fruit.

19 My brothers, if anyone among you wanders from the truth and someone brings him back, 20 let him know that whoever brings back a sinner from his wandering will save his soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins.

Footnotes

[1] 5:16 Or The effective prayer of a righteous person has great power

(ESV)

Psalm:

Psalm 100

Psalm 100 (Listen)

His Steadfast Love Endures Forever

A Psalm for giving thanks.

100 Make a joyful noise to the LORD, all the earth! 2 Serve the LORD with gladness! Come into his presence with singing! 3 Know that the LORD, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his;Or and not we ourselves‘>1 we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture. 4 Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise! Give thanks to him; bless his name! 5 For the LORD is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations.

Footnotes

[1] 100:3 Or and not we ourselves

(ESV)

Proverb:

Proverbs 26:1–2

Proverbs 26:1–2 (Listen)

26 Like snow in summer or rain in harvest, so honor is not fitting for a fool. 2 Like a sparrow in its flitting, like a swallow in its flying, a curse that is causeless does not alight.

(ESV)

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dfroza · 3 years

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grace doesn’t give us what we deserve.

grace is the purest gift from our Creator that offers His Life and eternal Breath when we “believe…” in the heart in the True illumination of the Son and speak it from a body of earth. for just as God created the universe by speaking living words, we hold the power of rebirth of the heart (by the Spirit) in our words of faith spoken through grace. and this is our eternal hope of seeing all things reborn at some point.

Paul illuminates this in his writing with Today’s reading of the Scriptures of the New Testament Letter of Romans in the way those who share God’s message become His living “Voice” on earth:

My beloved brothers and sisters, the passionate desire of my heart and constant prayer to God is for my fellow Israelites to experience salvation. For I know that although they are deeply devoted to God, they are unenlightened. And since they’ve ignored the righteousness God gives, wanting instead to be acceptable to God because of their own works, they’ve refused to submit to God’s faith-righteousness. For Christ is the end of the law. And because of him, God has transferred his perfect righteousness to all who believe.

Moses wrote long ago about the need to obey every part of the law in order to be declared right with God:

“The one who obeys these things must always live by them.”

But we receive the faith-righteousness that speaks an entirely different message:

“Don’t for a moment think you need to climb into the heavens to find the Messiah and bring him down, or to descend into the underworld to bring him up from the dead.”

But the faith-righteousness we receive speaks to us in these words of Moses:

“God’s living message is very close to you, as close as your own heart beating in your chest and as near as the tongue in your mouth.”

And what is God’s “living message”? It is the revelation of faith for salvation, which is the message that we preach. For if you publicly declare with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will experience salvation. The heart that believes in him receives the gift of the righteousness of God—and then the mouth confesses, resulting in salvation. For the Scriptures encourage us with these words:

“Everyone who believes in him will never be disappointed.”

So then faith eliminates the distinction between Jew and non-Jew, for he is the same Lord for all people. And he has enough treasures to lavish generously upon all who call on him. And it’s true:

“Everyone who calls on the Lord’s name

will experience new life.”

But how can people call on him for help if they’ve not yet believed? And how can they believe in one they’ve not yet heard of? And how can they hear the message of life if there is no one there to proclaim it? And how can the message be proclaimed if messengers have yet to be sent? That’s why the Scriptures say:

How welcome is the arrival

of those proclaiming the joyful news of peace

and of good things to come!

But not everyone welcomes the good news, as Isaiah said:

Lord, is there anyone who hears

and believes our message?

Faith, then, is birthed in a heart that responds to God’s anointed utterance of the Anointed One.

Can it be that Israel hasn’t heard the message? No, they have heard it, for:

The voice has been heard throughout the world,

and its message has gone to the ends of the earth!

So again I ask, didn’t Israel already understand that God’s message was for others as well as for themselves? Yes, they certainly did understand, for Moses was the first to state it:

“I will make you jealous of a people who are ‘nobodies.’

And I will use people with no understanding

to provoke you to anger.”

And Isaiah the fearless prophet dared to declare:

“Those who found me weren’t even seeking me.

I manifested myself before those

who weren’t even asking to know me!”

Yet regarding Israel Isaiah says:

“With love I have held out my hands day after day,

offering myself to this unbelieving

and stubborn people!”

The Letter of Romans, Chapter 10 (The Passion Translation)

and the closing line of chapter 10 in The Message:

Day after day after day,

I beckoned Israel with open arms,

And got nothing for my trouble

but cold shoulders and icy stares.

(verse 21)

to be reiterated by these lines of great significance from The Voice:

“The word is near you, in your mouth and in your heart” (that is, the good news we have been called to preach to you). So if you believe deep in your heart that God raised Jesus from the pit of death and if you voice your allegiance by confessing the truth that “Jesus is Lord,” then you will be saved! Belief begins in the heart and leads to a life that’s right with God; confession departs from our lips and brings eternal salvation.

The Letter of Romans, Chapter 10:8-10 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 29th chapter of the book (scroll) of Isaiah that looks at humbling pride and a restoration that occurs as well through this to establish Justice:

O Ariel, woe to you Ariel, our Jerusalem,

where David set up his camp to stay.

Go ahead, go on with your fruitless festivals,

your calendar of events, year in and year out.

In the meantime, I will trouble Ariel to the point of mourning and crying.

She will be for me a fiery hearth.

I will surround you, enclose you, cut you off.

I will isolate you from aid or reprieve;

I will attack the city walls with towers and siege works.

That will humble you so low, you’ll speak from the earth itself.

And when you do, your voice will issue from the very dust where you lie;

Your voice will rise from the ground like the voice of a ghost,

like a soft whisper from the earth.

But in an instant your ruthless enemies, who seem too many to count,

will become as fluttering dust, as wind-driven chaff.

They will be blown away in the snap of a finger.

For the Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies, will visit you

with thunder and earthquake and great noise,

With raging wind and tempest and consuming fire.

And all those armies intent on destroying Ariel,

that great international coalition of Jerusalem’s enemies

Battering against the city of God, will disappear.

They’ll evaporate like a night’s dream in the light of day.

As when a starving person dreams of eating at a banquet and wakes hungry,

or a thirsty person drinking his fill in sleepy night visions

Finds himself still parched when the morning comes,

that’s how it will be for the horde attacking Mount Zion, His chosen place.

But it will take some time. Wait and wonder.

In the meantime, make yourselves unable to see or understand.

Make yourselves drunk and unsteady,

but not from wine or liquor.

For the Eternal One has poured you a cup of sleep—

deep, heavy sleep.

O prophets and seers, He has closed your eyes and covered your heads.

Everything God is disclosing to you will be like the words recorded in a book that is sealed. When it is given to one who is literate, he can’t read it because it is sealed. When it is given to one who is illiterate, he can’t read it because he doesn’t know how.

Eternal One: These people think they can draw near to Me by saying the right things,

by honoring Me with their lips, but their hearts are far away from Me.

Their worship of Me consists of man-made traditions learned by rote;

it is a meaningless sham.

Therefore, I will do something extraordinary with this people.

I will add wonder to wonders—

Shut down the wisdom of their wise

and hide what the discerning have figured out.

Oh, it’ll be bad for those of you who conceal your thoughts from the Eternal,

who do your deeds in the dark and say:

“Who sees us? Who knows what we are doing?”

My goodness, how you’ve turned things around!

You seem to think that the potter is equal to the clay;

Should the pot say about the potter, “He didn’t make me”?

Or does the thing formed say about the one who formed it,

“He doesn’t understand anything”?

Surely you know that in just a little while

the forests that clothe Lebanon will become rich fields

And the fields will be considered as valuable as the forests.

Then the deaf will hear the words read from a book,

and darkness and gloom will fall from the eyes of the blind.

A renewed sense of joy will come over the humble, thanks to the Eternal;

and joyous celebrations will break out among the poor, because of the Holy One of Israel.

For cruelty and mean-spiritedness will come to an end,

and those who laugh dismissively will be silenced.

All those who are determined to do evil will be cut down.

Those who level a false charge against an innocent person,

who twist an honest testimony and tell lies

in order to incriminate the innocent, will be stopped.

So the Eternal One, who rescued Abraham, says concerning Jacob:

Eternal One: The people of Jacob’s line will no longer be ashamed,

nor will they grow pale with embarrassment.

For when they lay eyes on their children, the work of My hands,

they will protect My name and keep it holy.

They will recognize that I am sacred, the Holy One of Jacob,

and stand in awe of Me, the God of Israel.

Whoever thought otherwise and wandered off will know the truth,

and whoever said otherwise and voiced criticism will quietly learn.

The Book (Scroll) of Isaiah, Chapter 29 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Wednesday, july 7 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about “crossing over”:

Our father Abraham is called ha-ivri (הָעִבְרִי) - “the Hebrew,” a term that means “one who has crossed over” (עָבַר) from another place. Rashi identified this “other place” as Ur of the Chaldees (אוּר כַּשְׂדִים), located east of the Euphrates River, though the midrash (Genesis Rabbah) symbolically identifies it as the realm of idolatry: “The whole world stood on one side, but Abram crossed over to the other.” Abram separated himself from a world steeped in idolatry and polytheism by worshiping the One LORD God who is the sole Creator of all things.... Understood in this way, being “Hebrew” means being an “other,” a “stranger,” or an “outsider” to idolatrous and worldly culture. Therefore all those who "cross over" from the realm of death to life because of Yeshua are rightly called “Hebrews” (John 5:24).

The term "Jew," on the other hand, refers to one who praises the LORD (יְהוּדָה). The word (יְהוּדִי) comes from a root (יָדָה) which means to “confess” or to “praise” God (Gen. 29:35). The Apostle Paul alluded to this by saying that one whose heart has been circumcised by the Spirit is "one who is praised by God -- not by men" (Rom. 2:29). Being a Jew therefore means you are “chosen” to receive blessings and grace to live in holiness for the glory of God and for the healing of the world. The performance of various mitzvot are for the greater purpose of tikkun olam, the “repair of the world,” in order to reveal God’s goodness and love (Eph. 2:8-10). Doing so makes someone a Jew, since his praise comes not from man, but from the LORD. God is the source and the power of what makes a true tzaddik (righteous person). After all, Israel was meant to be a “light to the nations” (Isa. 42:6; 60:3), and God had always planned for all the families of the earth to come to know Him and give Him glory through his chosen servant Abraham (see Gen. 12:3; 22:18). “Jewishness” is therefore not an end in itself but rather a means to bring healing to the nations... Indeed, the entire redemptive story of the Scriptures centers on the cosmic conflict to deliver humanity from the “curse” by means of the "Seed of the woman" who would come. The gospel is Jewish because it concerns God’s great redemptive plan for the whole world (John 3:16; 4:22). [Hebrew for Christians]

7.6.21 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

July 7, 2021

The Eternal God

“Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art God.” (Psalm 90:2)

This verse was written by Moses as the children of Israel prepared to enter the Promised Land. Perhaps the most basic of all the attributes of God is that He “inhabiteth eternity” (Isaiah 57:15). He is “from everlasting to everlasting,” the God who ever was and ever shall be.

Creatures of time cannot really comprehend the idea of past eternity. “But who made God?” children ask. “Nobody made God,” we answer. “He always was.” The alternative would be to believe in the eternity of “space” and “matter,” but these in themselves are utterly incapable of producing our complex universe. God, however, is an adequate First Cause to explain all the effects of our infinite, intricate cosmos.

There are many other Scriptures assuring us that God has always been. “Thy throne is established of old: thou art from everlasting” (Psalm 93:2). He is “the everlasting God, the LORD” (Isaiah 40:28). And this truth applies to God the Son as well as to God the Father. The Lord Jesus could say, “I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last” (Revelation 22:13).

We find it somewhat easier to contemplate the fact that God will live forever. Still, certain foolish men have imagined that God is dead, but “the LORD is the true God, he is the living God, and an everlasting king” (Jeremiah 10:10).

The most glorious fact of all is that this living God did also become man, in the person of Christ Jesus, and He did die. But He soon defeated death and now can say, “I am alive for evermore” (Revelation 1:18). And now, since “we believe that Jesus died and rose again,...so shall we ever be with the Lord” (1 Thessalonians 4:14, 17). HMM

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dailybiblelessons · 4 years

Text

Friday: Preparation for the Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Revised Common Lectionary Proper 11 Roman Catholic Proper 16

Complementary Hebrew Scripture Lesson from the Latter Prophets: Isaiah 44:9-17

All who make idols are nothing, and the things they delight in do not profit; their witnesses neither see nor know. And so they will be put to shame. Who would fashion a god or cast an image that can do no good? Look, all its devotees shall be put to shame; the artisans too are merely human. Let them all assemble, let them stand up; they shall be terrified, they shall all be put to shame.

The ironsmith fashions it and works it over the coals, shaping it with hammers, and forging it with his strong arm; he becomes hungry and his strength fails, he drinks no water and is faint. The carpenter stretches a line, marks it out with a stylus, fashions it with planes, and marks it with a compass; he makes it in human form, with human beauty, to be set up in a shrine. He cuts down cedars or chooses a holm tree or an oak and lets it grow strong among the trees of the forest. He plants a cedar and the rain nourishes it. Then it can be used as fuel. Part of it he takes and warms himself; he kindles a fire and bakes bread. Then he makes a god and worships it, makes it a carved image and bows down before it. Half of it he burns in the fire; over this half he roasts meat, eats it and is satisfied. He also warms himself and says, “Ah, I am warm, I can feel the fire!” The rest of it he makes into a god, his idol, bows down to it and worships it; he prays to it and says, “Save me, for you are my god!”

Semi-continuous Hebrew Scripture from the Latter Prophets: Ezekiel 39:21-29

CONFIRMED

I will display my glory among the nations; and all the nations shall see my judgment that I have executed, and my hand that I have laid on them. The house of Israel shall know that I am the Lord their God, from that day forward. And the nations shall know that the house of Israel went into captivity for their iniquity, because they dealt treacherously with me. So I hid my face from them and gave them into the hand of their adversaries, and they all fell by the sword. I dealt with them according to their uncleanness and their transgressions, and hid my face from them.

Therefore thus says the Lord God: Now I will restore the fortunes of Jacob, and have mercy on the whole house of Israel; and I will be jealous for my holy name. They shall forget their shame, and all the treachery they have practiced against me, when they live securely in their land with no one to make them afraid, when I have brought them back from the peoples and gathered them from their enemies’ lands, and through them have displayed my holiness in the sight of many nations. Then they shall know that I am the Lord their God because I sent them into exile among the nations, and then gathered them into their own land. I will leave none of them behind; and I will never again hide my face from them, when I pour out my spirit upon the house of Israel, says the Lord God.

Complementary Psalm 86:11-17

Teach me your way, O Lord, that I may walk in your truth; give me an undivided heart to revere your name. I give thanks to you, O Lord my God, with my whole heart, and I will glorify your name forever. For great is your steadfast love toward me; you have delivered my soul from the depths of Sheol. O God, the insolent rise up against me; a band of ruffians seeks my life and they do not set you before them. But you, O Lord, are a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness. Turn to me and be gracious to me; give your strength to your servant; save the child of your serving girl. Show me a sign of your favor, so that those who hate me may see it and be put to shame, because you, Lord, have helped me and comforted me.

Semi-continuous Psalm 139:1-12, 23-24

O Lord, you have searched me and known me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it.

Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast. If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light around me become night,” even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you.

Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my thoughts. See if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.

New Testament Epistle Lesson: Hebrews 6:13-20

When God made a promise to Abraham, because he had no one greater by whom to swear, he swore by himself, saying, “I will surely bless you and multiply you.”¹ And thus Abraham, having patiently endured, obtained the promise. Human beings, of course, swear by someone greater than themselves, and an oath given as confirmation puts an end to all dispute. In the same way, when God desired to show even more clearly to the heirs of the promise the unchangeable character of his purpose, he guaranteed it by an oath, so that through two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible that God would prove false, we who have taken refuge might be strongly encouraged to seize the hope set before us. We have this hope, a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters the inner shrine behind the curtain, where Jesus, a forerunner on our behalf, has entered, having become a high priest forever according to the order of Melchizedek.

Genesis 22:17

Year A Ordinary 16, RCL Proper 11, Catholic Proper 16 Friday

Selections are from Revised Common Lectionary Daily Readings copyright © 1995 by the Consultation on Common Texts. Unless otherwise indicated, Bible text is from New Revised Standard Version Bible (NRSV) copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Footnotes in the Christian Scriptures that show where a passage from the Hebrew Scripture is used are from The New International Version Bible ® (NIV®), copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. When text is taken from the NIV, the passage ends with (NIV) and the foregoing copyright notice applies. Image Credit: Anchor image created by DePiep, text added by Michael Gilbertson. The anchor image was downloaded from via Wikimedia Commons. The anchor image is licensed under the Creative Commons 3.0 Share Alike license. The combined image may be used under the same license.

#A Ordinary 16 Friday #idols #idol-makers #restoration #exile #in-gathering #promise to Abraham #hope #anchor #soul

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araitsume · 4 years

Text

The Desire of Ages, pp. 476-484: Chapter (52) The Divine Shepherd

This chapter is based on John 10:1-30.

“I am the Good Shepherd: the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep.” “I am the Good Shepherd, and know My sheep, and am known of Mine. As the Father knoweth Me, even so know I the Father: and I lay down My life for the sheep.”

Again Jesus found access to the minds of His hearers by the pathway of their familiar associations. He had likened the Spirit's influence to the cool, refreshing water. He had represented Himself as the light, the source of life and gladness to nature and to man. Now in a beautiful pastoral picture He represents His relation to those that believe on Him. No picture was more familiar to His hearers than this, and Christ's words linked it forever with Himself. Never could the disciples look on the shepherds tending their flocks without recalling the Saviour's lesson. They would see Christ in each faithful shepherd. They would see themselves in each helpless and dependent flock.

This figure the prophet Isaiah had applied to the Messiah's mission, in the comforting words, “O Zion, that bringest good tidings, get thee up into the high mountain; O Jerusalem, that bringest good tidings, lift up thy voice with strength; lift it up, be not afraid; say unto the cities of Judah, Behold your God! ... He shall feed His flock like a shepherd: He shall gather the lambs with His arm, and carry them in His bosom.” Isaiah 40:9-11. David had sung, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” Psalm 23:1. And the Holy Spirit through Ezekiel had declared: “I will set up one Shepherd over them, and He shall feed them.” “I will seek that which was lost, and bring again that which was driven away, and will bind up that which was broken, and will strengthen that which was sick.” “And I will make with them a covenant of peace.” “And they shall no more be a prey to the heathen; ... but they shall dwell safely, and none shall make them afraid.” Ezekiel 34:23, 16, 25, 28.

Christ applied these prophecies to Himself, and He showed the contrast between His own character and that of the leaders in Israel. The Pharisees had just driven one from the fold, because he dared to bear witness to the power of Christ. They had cut off a soul whom the True Shepherd was drawing to Himself. In this they had shown themselves ignorant of the work committed to them, and unworthy of their trust as shepherds of the flock. Jesus now set before them the contrast between them and the Good Shepherd, and He pointed to Himself as the real keeper of the Lord's flock. Before doing this, however, He speaks of Himself under another figure.

He said, “He that entereth not by the door into the sheepfold, but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a robber. But he that entereth in by the door is the shepherd of the sheep.” The Pharisees did not discern that these words were spoken against them. When they reasoned in their hearts as to the meaning, Jesus told them plainly, “I am the door: by Me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture. The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.”

Christ is the door to the fold of God. Through this door all His children, from the earliest times, have found entrance. In Jesus, as shown in types, as shadowed in symbols, as manifested in the revelation of the prophets, as unveiled in the lessons given to His disciples, and in the miracles wrought for the sons of men, they have beheld “the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world” (John 1:29), and through Him they are brought within the fold of His grace. Many have come presenting other objects for the faith of the world; ceremonies and systems have been devised by which men hope to receive justification and peace with God, and thus find entrance to His fold. But the only door is Christ, and all who have interposed something to take the place of Christ, all who have tried to enter the fold in some other way, are thieves and robbers.

The Pharisees had not entered by the door. They had climbed into the fold by another way than Christ, and they were not fulfilling the work of the true shepherd. The priests and rulers, the scribes and Pharisees, destroyed the living pastures, and defiled the wellsprings of the water of life. Faithfully do the words of inspiration describe those false shepherds: “The diseased have ye not strengthened, neither have ye healed that which was sick, neither have ye bound up that which was broken, neither have ye brought again that which was driven away; ... but with force and with cruelty have ye ruled them.” Ezekiel 34:4.

In all ages, philosophers and teachers have been presenting to the world theories by which to satisfy the soul's need. Every heathen nation has had its great teachers and religious systems offering some other means of redemption than Christ, turning the eyes of men away from the Father's face, and filling their hearts with fear of Him who has given them only blessing. The trend of their work is to rob God of that which is His own, both by creation and by redemption. And these false teachers rob man as well. Millions of human beings are bound down under false religions, in the bondage of slavish fear, of stolid indifference, toiling like beasts of burden, bereft of hope or joy or aspiration here, and with only a dull fear of the hereafter. It is the gospel of the grace of God alone that can uplift the soul. The contemplation of the love of God manifested in His Son will stir the heart and arouse the powers of the soul as nothing else can. Christ came that He might re-create the image of God in man; and whoever turns men away from Christ is turning them away from the source of true development; he is defrauding them of the hope and purpose and glory of life. He is a thief and a robber.

“He that entereth in by the door is the shepherd of the sheep.” Christ is both the door and the shepherd. He enters in by Himself. It is through His own sacrifice that He becomes the shepherd of the sheep. “To Him the porter openeth; and the sheep hear His voice: and He calleth His own sheep by name, and leadeth them out. And when He putteth forth His own sheep, He goeth before them, and the sheep follow Him: for they know His voice.”

Of all creatures the sheep is one of the most timid and helpless, and in the East the shepherd's care for his flock is untiring and incessant. Anciently as now there was little security outside of the walled towns. Marauders from the roving border tribes, or beasts of prey from their hiding places in the rocks, lay in wait to plunder the flocks. The shepherd watched his charge, knowing that it was at the peril of his own life. Jacob, who kept the flocks of Laban in the pasture grounds of Haran, describing his own unwearied labor, said, “In the day the drought consumed me, and the frost by night; and my sleep departed from mine eyes.” Genesis 31:40. And it was while guarding his father's sheep that the boy David, single-handed, encountered the lion and the bear, and rescued from their teeth the stolen lamb.

As the shepherd leads his flock over the rocky hills, through forest and wild ravines, to grassy nooks by the riverside; as he watches them on the mountains through the lonely night, shielding from robbers, caring tenderly for the sickly and feeble, his life comes to be one with theirs. A strong and tender attachment unites him to the objects of his care. However large the flock, the shepherd knows every sheep. Every one has its name, and responds to the name at the shepherd's call.

As an earthly shepherd knows his sheep, so does the divine Shepherd know His flock that are scattered throughout the world. “Ye My flock, the flock of My pasture, are men, and I am your God, saith the Lord God.” Jesus says, “I have called thee by thy name; thou art Mine.” “I have graven thee upon the palms of My hands.” Ezekiel 34:31; Isaiah 43:1; 49:16.

Jesus knows us individually, and is touched with the feeling of our infirmities. He knows us all by name. He knows the very house in which we live, the name of each occupant. He has at times given directions to His servants to go to a certain street in a certain city, to such a house, to find one of His sheep.

Every soul is as fully known to Jesus as if he were the only one for whom the Saviour died. The distress of every one touches His heart. The cry for aid reaches His ear. He came to draw all men unto Himself. He bids them, “Follow Me,” and His Spirit moves upon their hearts to draw them to come to Him. Many refuse to be drawn. Jesus knows who they are. He also knows who gladly hear His call, and are ready to come under His pastoral care. He says, “My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me.” He cares for each one as if there were not another on the face of the earth.

“He calleth His own sheep by name, and leadeth them out.... And the sheep follow Him: for they know His voice.” The Eastern shepherd does not drive his sheep. He depends not upon force or fear; but going before, he calls them. They know his voice, and obey the call. So does the Saviour-Shepherd with His sheep. The Scripture says, “Thou leddest Thy people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron.” Through the prophet, Jesus declares, “I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore with loving-kindness have I drawn thee.” He compels none to follow Him. “I drew them,” He says, “with cords of a man, with bands of love.” Psalm 77:20; Jeremiah 31:3; Hosea 11:4.

It is not the fear of punishment, or the hope of everlasting reward, that leads the disciples of Christ to follow Him. They behold the Saviour's matchless love, revealed throughout His pilgrimage on earth, from the manger of Bethlehem to Calvary's cross, and the sight of Him attracts, it softens and subdues the soul. Love awakens in the heart of the beholders. They hear His voice, and they follow Him.

As the shepherd goes before his sheep, himself first encountering the perils of the way, so does Jesus with His people. “When He putteth forth His own sheep, He goeth before them.” The way to heaven is consecrated by the Saviour's footprints. The path may be steep and rugged, but Jesus has traveled that way; His feet have pressed down the cruel thorns, to make the pathway easier for us. Every burden that we are called to bear He Himself has borne.

Though now He has ascended to the presence of God, and shares the throne of the universe, Jesus has lost none of His compassionate nature. Today the same tender, sympathizing heart is open to all the woes of humanity. Today the hand that was pierced is reached forth to bless more abundantly His people that are in the world. “And they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of My hand.” The soul that has given himself to Christ is more precious in His sight than the whole world. The Saviour would have passed through the agony of Calvary that one might be saved in His kingdom. He will never abandon one for whom He has died. Unless His followers choose to leave Him, He will hold them fast.

Through all our trials we have a never-failing Helper. He does not leave us alone to struggle with temptation, to battle with evil, and be finally crushed with burdens and sorrow. Though now He is hidden from mortal sight, the ear of faith can hear His voice saying, Fear not; I am with you. “I am He that liveth, and was dead; and, behold, I am alive forevermore.” Revelation 1:18. I have endured your sorrows, experienced your struggles, encountered your temptations. I know your tears; I also have wept. The griefs that lie too deep to be breathed into any human ear, I know. Think not that you are desolate and forsaken. Though your pain touch no responsive chord in any heart on earth, look unto Me, and live. “The mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but My kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of My peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee.” Isaiah 54:10.

However much a shepherd may love his sheep, he loves his sons and daughters more. Jesus is not only our shepherd; He is our “everlasting Father.” And He says, “I know Mine own, and Mine own know Me, even as the Father knoweth Me, and I know the Father.” John 10:14, 15, R. V. What a statement is this!—the only-begotten Son, He who is in the bosom of the Father, He whom God has declared to be “the Man that is My fellow” (Zechariah 13:7),—the communion between Him and the eternal God is taken to represent the communion between Christ and His children on the earth!

Because we are the gift of His Father, and the reward of His work, Jesus loves us. He loves us as His children. Reader, He loves you. Heaven itself can bestow nothing greater, nothing better. Therefore trust.

Jesus thought upon the souls all over the earth who were misled by false shepherds. Those whom He longed to gather as the sheep of His pasture were scattered among wolves, and He said, “Other sheep I have, which are not of this fold: them also I must bring, and they shall hear My voice; and they shall become one flock, one shepherd.” John 10:16, R. V.

“Therefore doth My Father love Me, because I lay down My life, that I might take it again.” That is, My Father has so loved you, that He even loves Me more for giving My life to redeem you. In becoming your substitute and surety, by surrendering My life, by taking your liabilities, your transgressions, I am endeared to My Father.

“I lay down My life, that I might take it again. No man taketh it from Me, but I lay it down of Myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again.” While as a member of the human family He was mortal, as God He was the fountain of life for the world. He could have withstood the advances of death, and refused to come under its dominion; but voluntarily He laid down His life, that He might bring life and immortality to light. He bore the sin of the world, endured its curse, yielded up His life as a sacrifice, that men might not eternally die. “Surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows.... He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon Him; and with His stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all.” Isaiah 53:4-6.

#egw #Ellen G. White #Christianity #God #Jesus Christ #Bible #conflict of the ages #the desire of ages #Jesus's ministry #prophecy #symbolism #salvation #pharisees #God's law vs. man's traditions #false doctrine #the path to righteousness #good shepherd #God's love

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