#I hate garden of salvation

[gundamlfrith-remade]

Objectively the sexiest raid boss theme in destiny im NOT sorry.

#missing information #i hate that garden of salvation is such an annoying raid to play because it is hands down my favorite #Spotify

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

SCREECHiNG

WAKE UP HON WE GOT NEW OFFICIAL ROLLO CONTENT (thanks to curekibouka for the translation!) 😭 (Bless him, he came home so quickly at only 40 rolls…)

***Rollo profile, Groovy, vignettes, and chibi spoilers below the cut!!***

As you can see in the card art shown above, it looks like his official English name will be "Rollo Flamme", not some other variation.

His coffin icon has a bell on it! Very fitting.

Yes, he’s triple fire magic and has a Duo with Grim.

… LMAO his Buddies are Malleus, Idia, and Azul 🤡

He's a third-year student at Noble Bell College, Student Council President, (but we already knew this) and 18 years old

His birthday is Feb 2nd! (There was a mistake in the initial launch of the Rollo card and profile in which his birthday was incorrectly stated as Feb 4th, which is Cater's birthday. Man was so mad when he realized he shared a birthday with a NRC boy so he redid his birth certificate/j)

(Here are screenshots of before and after the change; I happened to take a picture before the update:)

178 cm tall (LMAO I guess he doesn't meet a certain Ghost Bride’s standards)

Right-handed

Comes from the Shaftlands (again, we already knew this)

HE'S IN THE HAND BELL CLUB????? TF... HE JUST STANDS THERE AND RINGS HIS LITTLE HAND BELL????? ? ???? ?? ???

Best subject is Potionology

His hobby is cleaning malewife trait

He obviously hates magic 😂

Favorite food is not, in fact, croissants; it's actually grapes

Least favorite food is savarin, which is a ring-shaped cake soaked in flavored syrup and then garnished with cream and fruit

HIS SPECIAL SKILL IS GARDENING WHICH MADE ME LAUGH OUT LOUD... considering what he used that skill for... 🤡

His official description in the profile states that Rollo is admired by his classmates for his seriousness and no-nonsense attitude, but he also has a tendency to be… neurotic 💀 gee, ya think

His vignettes are set at NBC, not Night Raven College. They seem to be set prior to the events of Glorious Masquerade.

It's said that the reason he is at NRC now is because he is there temporarily to study.

We see Rollo going about his daily routine. He tends to the Bell of Salvation and the gargoyles early in the morning when the sky is still dark which probably explains the dark eyebags. He’s able to witness the sun rising as he does his cleaning. Rollo finds the dawn peaceful! and loves listening to the bell ring.

OMG the gargoyles are so excited when he pays attention to them 😭 They hop around like excited little puppies… NOT ROLLO WANTING TO GET RID OF THEM

Rollo also has his duties as a regular student. I believe he discusses grades with his vice president. He thinks his classmates are stupid 😂 and finds it ironic that these people look up to him and see him as a top student and a great magician…

Rollo eats his lunches alone because he finds people noisy. Bruh, he has 2 croissants, 16 grapes and 1 cup of cafe au lait (coffee with milk) for lunch every day of the year…

He shops in the City of Flowers and has a routine of buying a plain letter set, only all white paper and envelopes—even if there is a better deal on other sets. If Rollo is one thing (besides angry), he’s consistent and likes to stick to a routine and to things that are certain!

LMAO Rollo hates the City of Flowers because it’s flowers blossom because of magic ✨

Rollo runs into some trouble when a community goat wants to chomp on rhe letter set he bought in town 😂 He’s calm at first but then gets mad because he considers the goat unsanitary and it’s trying to eat his robes…

I want to stress that this boy is suppressing his rage and disgust the entire time 🤡 He’s trying so hard to pass as well-adjusted… Man’s literally going to send this goat flying but stops because he realizes there are too many witnesses…

At the end, Rollo writes a letter to his parents to let them know he is doing fine. Apparently, they’ve been worrying about him ever since “that” incident 😔 The letter reads as very formal and stiff, as though he’s writing to strangers. Maybe he has emotionally distanced himself from his parents (perhaps as a result of “that” incident), although he isn’t outright rude about it.

HIS LITTLE EVIL SMIRK... IT'S EVEN MORE FUNNY WHEN PAIRED WITH HIS VOICE BECAUSE IT'S SO SOFT AND CALM, THE KIND OF VOICE YOU'D NORMALLY HEAR IN LIKE AN ASMR VIDEO 😭

The fact that he writes with a feather quill instead of a magical pen………… ….. ….. … … . .. . … … . . . . .. . … .. . . .

Also the fact that he's by default in his big, bulky uniform with tons of extra material that would make it TERRIBLE for P.E. 💀 and has nothing else to change into... The last screenshot of the group above also looks like Sebek has leaned over to Rollo's ear to spread the GOOD WORD of WAKASAMA and Rollo is trying to do his very best to ignore him...

P.S. I want everyone to know that he does THIS whenever he has a Perfect in Magic History... ROLLO'S LITERALLY A CARTOON VILLAIN PLOTTING REVENGE AGAINST HIS CLASSMATES.... .. . .......... . .. . . . . . . . . . yes, I stuck him in a class with Malleus, Idia, and Azul :))

AND NOW, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HIS GROOVY...

WHY DOES iT MAKE ME WANT TO BULLY HIM INTO THE DIRT 😭 jUST Lo0OKK AT HIM, HE'S tryING sO HaRD THAT I T HAS THE OPPOSITE INTEndeD EFFECT AND HE COMES oFF AS A MOREN SKRUNGLY L0SEr INSTEAqd 2reqrbhyygo13ogyt68p9egflbagj;jlg.DIHOBbyOFSYSvtdDOVFEILBcsnkmg2myoeqofadnm,vd..go0i424ph13nifIUSFVsofsgotfFIUOFOVUEWVOQEGYVbiypfpb OTL

I'M SO NOT GOING TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS, I'M SO NOT GOING TO BE NORMAL

I aM SO ASPoRRY fOR THE PERsON I Am AbOUT To BecOME 🤡

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #Rollo Flamme #Rollo Flamm #notes from the writing raven #gacha salt #spoilers #Sebek Zigvolt #Malleus Draconia #Idia Shroud #Azul Ashengrotto #Cater Diamond #Ghost Bride #Eliza #Rollo rot #Grim

[clownfishbites]

Ok it’s time for the St Augustine Joker meta. Sorry if it got a bit long I just have a lot of thoughts.

I find it so interesting that he would bring up St Augustine in that moment. I wasn’t a huge fan of the run in general but I thought it had its merits and this bit was one of them because I’m a sucker for batjokes that is also religious fanaticism.

For St Augustine, ‘grace’ in this sense is not something that needs to be found or earned, the Catholic doctrine states that it is given freely, a gift from God to mankind.

Batman gives Joker grace when nobody in the entire world will, I mentioned it a bit in my last meta but think Batman: Cacophony, Batman: It's Joker time, Batman: Devil's Advocate and literally every time he doesn't kill him, or protects him from harm when nobody else would. He is giving him grace that does not have to be earned, it's a benevolent gift from the divine. Or at least that's how Joker is seeing it, a rationalisation for why Batman spares him when nobody else would.

St Augustine tells God that "it is only by Your grace and mercy that You have melted away the ice of my evil". St Augustine needs God in the same way Joker needs Batman, to act in opposition to his 'evil', to be worshipped with the intention of being the gravity that keeps him on Earth, or in his own words, the compass pointing true north.

I'm not going to get too carried away but I think it's a pretty interesting comparison that's existing here between St Augustine and God, and Joker and Batman.

"head towards God and remember, everything else is chaos"

If Batman is the entity that is salvation, the thing to be drawn to- he isn't just the opposite force, but the only other thing in existence, because Joker defines himself as chaos. There is Divinity and Chaos and that is all. It's a nice lens on Joker's perspective that every other living thing is a prop in his pursuit of Batman's love and attention.

Religion is a choice, but how could Joker pick any other divinity, when he freely acknowledges that Batman is his creator. One of St Augustine's concepts surrounding human creation is that of original sin- that being that everybody is born with sin, born tainted ever since Adam and Eve were expelled from the garden of Eden.

But if everyone is born tainted, lives tainted and there is no real assurance of redemption, what actually is the point in trying to be good, to be a virtuous person, if someone like the Joker can just come into the church and take your life. Or from the pov of the Joker what is the point in any of it if we are born ruined.

We return to the idea that Joker sees himself as beyond salvation in the traditional sense, he's in a sunk cost fallacy but with being evil. But just to push this to it's limit, his very existence shakes faith in a creator that is all good,

Where is the grace of God in a world that allowed him to exist?

In the absence of divine light and a creator that loves him, he desperately seeks the opposite, divine darkness and a creator that hates him. But Joker loves him no less for it because Batman is all that exists in his world.

"head towards love and everything else is chaos"

Here he's changed the words of St Augustine, altering it from following God to following love, and he says this while heading towards Batman which is...basically the entire point of this, Batman is his love, Batman is his divinity.

But even Batman has to devote himself to an idea bigger than himself, and he can only stand in opposition, his crusade would be over if he truly cleansed Gotham of all evil- OR, as Joker suggests in this comic, if he became happy. If he didn't have to exist in opposition, if the misery that fuelled his crusade was taken away

Joker can only stand in opposition too- we know this because we see how completely he crumbles apart when his opposition is removed.

Batman functionally exists as half of a whole, in his own way Joker's speech is confronting this reality, albeit in a much more roundabout way than he explains it to Selina.

And this is why neither of them can ever truly escape this cycle, their aspect of devotion would die the moment the other was removed from the equation, and with it divinity and chaos would cease to exist, and so would the world.

I love cosmic batjokes.

#batjokes #batjokes meta

[drarryspecificrecs]

2023.05 ~ Top 7 longest fics posted on AO3

1. Demons Run (When A Good Man Goes To War) by @shewhomustnotbenamed [E, 124k]

►I need your help. Ordinarily, I wouldn't inveigle anyone into deciphering life from my contorted perspective, but I desperately need you to understand the entirety of the situation that I've found myself in. It's vital that you comprehend and embrace the events that have led me here- to have the clarity of mind that I lack because I am more lost than I have ever been, and I need saving. I need you to see. I need perspicuity. Help me, because I don't know how I got here, and I need to repair the damage I've done.

2. Symptom of Your Touch by @ghostofnoir [E, 115k]

►St. Mungo's Healer Draco Malfoy is used to being pushed to his limits when providing aide to the ailing, but when an unexpected encounter with an out of character Harry Potter throws his life out of balance one night, he is forced to ask himself how far he's willing to push his own levels of discomfort to be of aid to a man in need of help that only he can provide. And once that need for aid is over, how will he find balance in his life again?

3. Love lies somewhere deeper by DarkWizard [M, 96k]

►Harry cheated on his wife with Draco sodding Malfoy. And then, he didn't remember it.

4. we should just kiss (like real people do) by whenstheweddingcake [T, 75k, series]

►Harry's summer is better than ever before, and he returns to Hogwarts for his fifth year with more power, changing relationships, an army at his back, and another DADA teacher that seems to have it out for him.

5. the world is a garden (and you're my flower) by Rosie321go [T, 52k]

►Draco’s mother always said there was a fine line between love and hate. Apparently, his flowers think so too. /// [...] in which Draco doesn’t know how to deal with feelings, Granger doesn’t know how to help him, and Potter’s just trying to figure out what’s going on.

6. Icarus by @soupy-george [M, 50k]

►[...] 2013 (The Unpleasant Present) - Sent undercover as a Professor at Hogwarts. Note: minding my own business, life ruined by dreadful turn of events. Note: Potter is DADA professor, a job he took out of the blue after I graduated from Auror training. His departure happened to coincide with a momentary lapse in judgement when we may have kissed, drunkenly … (and heatedly) against a wall. One time. Awkward? Yes. Reason to abandon whole career? Apparently.

7. Imperius by Jelliebabie [E, 46k]

►What if there was an eighth horcrux? What if Voldemort just wouldn't die? Draco Malfoy doesn't remember what came before his current existence, where he lives to serve the Death Eaters who control his every move, and through him, his magical inheritance. But when a memory from his past appears in his present, breaking the curse that imprisons him, he finds that he may be the one who holds the key to salvation. If only he isn't too broken to use it.

—

※ Word count: 1k ~ 10k

※ Word count: 10k ~ 40k

the first in line by @oflights [E, 29k]

Harry and Draco's Hogwarts Reunion by DarkPhoenixAscending [E, 13k]

Harry Potter and the Yuletide Potion by Grace_28 [G, 13k]

Just A Couple Of Strays by flowerpotboy [M, 20k]

love-stained hate by a_blur_on_the_highway [T, 18k]

Shades of Passion by CosmicallyFamous [E, 12k]

A Strange Twist of Fate by @shinigami714 [E, 18k]

Turn Back the Clock by @steampunkserpent27 [T, 14k]

—

Ongoing Fest/Exchange

※ Fics would be listed elsewhere.

Basilisks & Staircases - A Game of Drarry Fest | @gameofdrarry

HD Mpreg 2023 | @harrydracompreg

Lights Camera Drarry 2023 | @lcdrarry

#drarry #drarry fanfic #drarry fic rec #harry potter #draco malfoy #monthly review #2023

[aemondsquill]

Never Admit Defeat

Aemond Targaryen × Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Y/N is feeling frisky and she's making it Aemond's problem

Warnings: mostly fluff, a little fingering and suggestive language, but not full on smut, and wrestling but lmk if I should add any

Y/N could not pick a singular word to describe her mood on this night. Hyper? No, that wasn't it. How about excited? No, that wasn't quite the right word either. Whatever word it was made her feel antsy.

Sitting at the dinner table piled high was delectable meats, vegetables, and rich wines could not distract her from the droning conversations that never seemed to end. The banality of it all made her restless. Her husband, Aemond, the fearsome Dragon Prince himself, sat next to her with perfect practiced posture. He didn't seem to mind the humdrum of conversation that flowed endlessly amongst his family, contributing every so often when he was addressed.

Y/N felt his warm hand rest against hers, stilling her tapping fingers.

"Are you alright, wife?" He asked, concern etching onto his face. Y/N let out a breathy sigh and smiled politely, "Yes, I am quite alright, my Prince." Conversation between the couple still felt stilted and awkward, as they had only been wed for a couple of weeks. Y/N hated it. She wished she could just scrub away the awkwardness and at least speak like friends.

The Dowager Queen perked up at the voice of Aemond's wife. She also picked up on Y/N's odd mannerisms and frazzled eyes, much to the dismay of her good-daughter.

"Tell me about your day, dearest Y/N." The Queen spoke softly. Her eyes were warm and inviting and her smile was nothing less than motherly.

Y/N blinked, pondering the question for a minute. "My day was wonderful, your Majesty. The Princess Helaena made a wonderful companion in the gardens today. She found a lovely wisteria plant for me to hang in my chambers." The Queen seemed pleased at the praise for her darling daughter, Helaena. "I'm glad to hear it, my Lady."

Gods, how long is this blasted dinner going to last? It had been hours since the sun had fallen and Y/N wanted nothing more than to return to her chambers so she may think of a way to dissipate her nervous energy.

Her salvation came from the least likely source: Aegon. He was deep in his cups, so much so that his head was lolling back and forth and his eyes drooped with sleepiness.

"Motherrrrr....May I *hic* be esscused?" His words were heavily slurred and he looked to be on the verge of collapsing. Alicent huffed out a sigh before glaring at him. How dare he have the audacity to present himself in a manner that was utterly unbecoming in front of his new good-sister? She dismissed him quietly, glancing over at Ser Cole, who was already stalking over to the future king of the realm. With a heave, Aegon was slumped against the knight and the two stumbled out of the dining hall.

Aemond rolled his eyes at his brother's antics, yet he expected no less. Of course his brother would make a fool of himself in front of his new bride. He picked at the roasted vegetables on his plate for a moment before deciding that he had enough of this drab affair.

"Mother, Y/N and I should retire to our chambers. Thank you for hosting us at this dinner." Y/N shot up quickly from her seat and curtsied politely, excited at the prospect of finally leaving. Alicent sent them a small smile and allowed them to leave.

The heavy skirts of Y/N's dress swished around her legs as she walked through the endless corridors of the Red Keep, holding onto her husband's arm. Nerves fluttered in her chest at the realization that the two of them were completely alone. During the months of their betrothal a chaperone accompanied them everywhere to make sure neither engaged in unseemly behaviors before their marriage. Of course, Aemond and Y/N still managed to sneak a few chaste kisses every so often, but never anything more.

Y/N's mind wandered to the night of their wedding, only several days behind them. How cold the Prince had seemed at the ceremony and feast, as though it had been another one of his mother's tasks assigned to him. In a manner of thinking, one could say the whole marriage was exactly that: a duty and nothing more. But Y/N wanted more! Her own mother and father had a wonderful marriage! Laughter was no foreigner in the halls of her old home, and love was always abundant. She feared Aemond had only viewed her as an obligation and the thought prickled her spine. A shiver of frustration shot through her.

"Are you cold, my Lady? I can send for a chamber maid to bring you another blanket."

"No, thank you, my Prince, that will not be necessary." Y/N smiled gently. Beneath her practiced smile a storm was brewing. She didn't know how long she could keep herself together before she made a fool of herself.

Aemond eyed her warily. She had been acting so strange this night. Did she hate him that much? Perhaps. He knew that he hadn't been the most loving husband in the realm, but at least he wasn't cruel.

After several minutes in silence, the pair arrived at Y/N chambers. She halted for a moment, still feeling jittery, but now she had been trying to build up the courage to invite him in. Surely it was not improper for a woman to want to spend time with her husband! She took a breath and before Aemond released her arm she spoke quickly, "Would you care to join me, my Prince? Just for a moment?" His eye widened at her request. He had to be dreaming, right? To his embarrassment, he stuttered out his reply.

"Oh, um,y-yes of course, my Lady." Y/N grinned at him broadly, the nervous butterflies in her stomach coming to a stand still. She held his hand and led him inside.

Aemond surveyed the chambers carefully. It was tidy, mostly, and had a few touches of her personality: flowers hanging by the window, a portrait of her family above the fireplace, and an easel with an empty canvas.

"So, you enjoy painting, my Lady?"

"Oh yes, very much so, my Prince. My mother taught my brothers and I how to paint when we were very young. My father always wanted the boys to hunt or spar with him, but they favored the arts more so. Forgive my ramblings, my Prince, I miss them greatly." Aemond walked around the room, arms clasped behind his back as he took everything in before stopping in front of the roaring fire.

"Hmm. My sister seems to be taken with you. I appreciate that greatly, my Lady. Not many have the patience for her ramblings, certainly not my brother." He said briskly. Gods, how long will this wretched conversation continue? Y/N might as well be watching her paintings dry! At this thought she closed her eyes and let out a sigh more harshly than she intended. Aemond's head whipped around at the sound, slightly startled that she could be so rude.

"Have I done something to offend you, my Lady?" He asked incredulously. Y/N felt a flicker of fear, but it quickly turned into annoyance and the strange feral feeling she felt at dinner.

"Gods, my Prince, I cannot continue like this! Why must our conversations be such a bore?! Surely, there are more interesting things to talk about!" She all but shouted. She didn't feel angry, she just felt like her emotions were pent up. Y/N had spent months displaying a watered-down version of herself so as not to offend the royal family.

Y/N began to pace around the room, attempting to untie the lacings of her elaborate dress. "All we ever have are stilted conversations fit for old lords who don't give a shit about each other! I wish to speak freely with my husband, but no, my father said I had to be prim and proper to keep you happy. Well piss on that!" By this time, the outermost layer of the dress was gone, leaving Y/N in her cinched corset and chemise. Aemond could only watch her, feeling slightly scandalized at the vision before him. His words had failed him in his shock.

Y/N took a deep breath before removing the several pieces of jewelry that adorned her body and placing them on her dark wood vanity. She turned to look at her husband, a wild glaze in her eyes.

Aemond seemed to get his bearings. "Why are you looking at me like that, wife?" He snapped. In a million years, Aemond would have ever been able to guess what his wife would do next.

Y/N let out a roar as she charged at him with ferocity. The impact of her body against his sent them both clambering to the ground.

"What in the seven hells has possessed you, woman?!" Aemond shouted, baffled at the actions of his wife. He scrambled against her flailing limbs. How was she so strong for such a little thing? She pulled on his hair and he he groaned.

"I have been stifled for too long! I need you to see me for who I truly am, husband!" Y/N cackled like a woman crazed above him. She leaned down and bit as his neck and shoulder and he let out a series yelps at each sharp contact.

"You are nothing more than a wildling! I should have you shipped off to the North, vile woman!" Aemond, truly baffled, continued to grapple with his lady wife's arms before flipping them over so she was on her back. He took a second to breath, but that was a mistake. Y/N managed to slip out of his grasp and fling her arms around his neck and pull him down towards her.

Aemond huffed and puffed as Y/N slithered around to his back from underneath him, wrapping her legs around him and tightening her hold around his neck. His one hand gripped her forearm, while the other pushed against the floor. The whole time Y/N giggled madly, Aemond was left wondering what the hell his mother had gotten him into. This was not the same meek lady he had been betrothed to just weeks before. And he definitely enjoyed the newfound fire in his wife. Her giggles proved to be contagious as his own laughter filled the room.

The two still struggled against each other, Aemond now on top pinning Y/N down on her back. They slowed their movements as they gazed into each other's eyes, both alight with mirth. Aemond's soft lips inched closer and closer and Y/N's eyes started fluttering softly.

In a sudden movement, Aemond flipped Y/N onto her belly and held her hair so her head was gently lifted off the ground. She gasped in delight.

"Your insolence must come to an end, wife, I can tell your tiring out" he taunted at her. Y/N rolled her eyes and looked back at him.

"I will never bend to your will, husband, I am too fierce for you to handle!" She said indignantly. Aemond let out a chuckle before his palm struck her supple ass cheek. He watched it jiggle beneath her thin chemise, blood rushing to his crotch. Truthfully, he had been hard as a rock the entire time they had been wrestling, but this was the first time he really took in every curve of her body.

Slowly, his fingers trailed up the back of her thigh and under her chemise. Her breathing halted as his sped up. The thrill of touching his wife ignited his entire being.

She let out a gasp and she felt a slender finger prod at her slickness. She was embarrassingly wet after being so physical with her dear husband.

"Husband, please." She whimpered out while attempting to grind against his finger pathetically. Aemond, however, greatly enjoyed the sight of his wife so desperate and aching for him. The thought of it made his belly feel warm.

He clicked his tongue at her, "I thought you said you'd never been to my will, wife. I wouldn't want to make a liar out of you." Y/N let out a soft whimper as his finger traveled deeper into her causing her to arch her back slightly.

"I don't care, husband! Please, I just want more!" Hearing his wife begging beneath him nearly caused his own release. He was happy to oblige as he added a second finger, the additional stretch almost overwhelming his little wife below him. She moaned out as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of her, the wetness causing squelching noises.

"Get on the bed, little wife, I'm going to fill you with an heir tonight."

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x fem!reader #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine

[ennas-aesthetic]

the creature still moving (that slowed in your arms)

rated T, ~2.9 k words

Fandom: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett

Relationships: Aziraphale & Jesus (Good Omens); Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Tags: Scene: Biblical Scripture References (Abrahamic Religions); Crucifixion of Jesus 33 AD (Good Omens); Emotional Hurt; Angst and Tragedy; Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens); Character Study; Aziraphale Needs a Hug (Good Omens); Protective Crowley (Good Omens); Crucifixion; mentions of flogging; Whump; She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens); Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens); 6000 Years of Love (Good Omens); Religious Guilt; Aziraphale Has Religious Trauma (Good Omens); Song: Abstract (Psychopomp) (Hozier); One Shot

Summary:

At a mountain ridge east of Jerusalem, by the Western foot of Mt. Olivet, there lies a garden.

༻❁༺

Or: The Agony in the Garden of Gethsemane Good Omensified.

___________________________

The Supreme Archangel Gabriel could not have lurked if he wanted to. Even his human corporation shines brighter than a dozen tiny suns; it illuminates the gloomy patch of clearing they were in. His Tyrian Purple robes match his eyes, which look unimpressed. "An olive garden, Aziraphale? Could we not have chosen a classier place to fulfill the Mystery?" He wrinkles his nose. "Reeks of cow manure in here."

Aziraphale tries not to wince; he almost succeeds. "It's actually Jesus' choice to come up here. He wanted to – talk to the Almighty, you know. Speak with Her, before the Hour arrives."

"Speak with Her?" Gabriel raises an immaculate eyebrow. "Why? Is he having doubts?"

"Hm?" Aziraphale glances distractedly at the grove of olives to his left. Twenty paces more and Gabriel would have his answer. "Oh, no. No, absolutely not. He knows what's about to happen – told us all about it since his miracle at Bethany. He's ready." Despite his mounting fear he cannot help but feel a rush of pride for his ward. "I know he is."

"Mm. Right. Well, just checking in." Gabriel claps Aziraphale none too lightly on the shoulder. "All according to schedule, I hope? I'd hate to report to Head Office that Salvation's going to be a few minutes late."

He laughs heartily at his own joke. Aziraphale joins in, and he desperately wishes that he cannot taste the ashes in his mouth. "Yes, yes. All – all according to plan."

Read On AO3

#easter #good omens #good omens fic #good omens 2 #good omens s2 #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #jesus #biblical scripture #good omens fanfic #yan strikes again #abstract (psychopomp) #hozier

[little-engineer-who-cant]

The ramifications of Cassie Sandsmark

Part 10 of Sirens Scream Names Forgotten by Tomorrow, Laid to Rest in Infinity

(also posted under cut)

Note: Cassie herself does not have much of a presence in this story. This is about the implications of her existence and how her presence affects those who lived through the Titan War.

“Tell me father, which do you ask forgiveness for: what I am or what I am not? Tell me mother, which should I regret: what I became, or what I didn’t?”

- thoughts of a stray iii (m.a.w)

He finally goes to one of those stupid charity galas Bruce always throws. Dick’s pestered him so much, Jason’s been to enough dinners where he’s subject to subtle hints, sad eyes and pointed looks from his various other-

(Oh, please, do go on.)

The others are nothing. Dick is his only sibling. Dick’s pestered him enough that Jason’s finally given in to his requests to come to at least one gala.

“Are you sure about this?” Silena asks him for the first time in two hours but it feels like the millionth for how many times he’s asked himself the same question.

(Sounds like you have your answer then.)

(Yeah, I do.)

“I am,” he replies, hand curling in a tight fist around the gear shift. The plastic creaks. “I… Maybe you can find something. Out. About. Um. Yeah.”

“Jason.” Their fingers slot together over the knob before she pulls his grip away from damaging the car and onto the leather-covered console instead. He’s transfixed by the small scars on her knuckles, nearly invisible but he knows what to look for. What to look beyond. No one else will know a thing. “I know you hate it. You don’t need to bring me.”

“You’ll go out anyway.” Her measured inhale, the start of a calm argument, confirms it. “Can I ask that, just for tonight, you hunt where I can see you?”

“Will it help you more if I hunt or if I back you up?” He tips his head back on the headrest, swearing under his breath.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “I don’t want any more eyes on you. I don’t want… anyone else to find you.”

“Jason,” she squeezes his fingers, he looks over. She’s beautiful in the blinding flare of the setting sun, heavy eyes and drawn lips and resigned shoulders. “Love. They’ll find me eventually.”

“I know.” It’s not in his power to keep her a secret. Hasn’t been since he ran to her, since he revealed… Everything. 

“If we know they’re coming…”

“We can better prepare.” He still can’t let her go, can’t open the door and let this world in, let it touch her. 

(Kill her.)

He swears again, vicious words breaking free until she stifles them with a finger over his lips. 

“I’ve hidden for a long time,” she decides for them both, and he loves her for it because he can’t. “But the world’s spun on. Show me.”

“It left me behind too,” he reminds her. But he’s opening the door, stepping out and so is she, smiling brightly over the top of the flashy sports car.

“Then let’s rediscover it?” He loves her, he swears by every god in the privacy of his heart, letting it flow over his being and into her. Framed in sunlight with the jewels in her ears and around her neck shining bright, she gleams like cut crystal as she glides over to him. The slight pull of the scar on her cheek begs him to press his lips to her, to taste the proof of her reality. “I’m braver when you’re beside me.” 

“Let’s be brave together then,” he gives into the impulse, kissing just below her eye, on the teardrop he knows is burned into her skin. Her lips brush the J on his skull, the spider web across his temple. 

“We fit in at least,” Silena whispers as they leave the car and climb the stairs, squeezing his hand tight. He can feel the tremble in her as eyes turn their way, the people dotted across the front lawn and entry gardens taking note of strange faces in rich clothes and fine jewels. Their eyes linger on the royal blue of her flowing skirts, the streak of white in his hair, the way their fingers knotted together screams mine.

It’s only her shaking hand in his that keeps him from fleeing as the doors open on a fancy ballroom, away from all this false glitz and glamor and back out into the cesspool city. Only her equally nervous presence among these hordes of wealthy liars swarming around them and his promise to Dick, who is nowhere to be seen.

Jason leads them to the bar. Those fancy flutes of champagne aren't either of their style.

The eyes make him nervous. Everyone seems to be staring. Of course they are, Silena is beautiful, bright and magnificent on his arm, looking like she belongs among the painstakingly carved Master statues dotting the room. He cleans up well enough.

The bartender takes Silena’s order. Then his.

Shoes shiny enough to be mirrors tap nervously, his jaw tensing and clicking before he forces out another breath to relax, only to wind himself back up again. There’s nothing Silena can do about it but temper his agitated appearance with her own calm and benign one.

Her drink comes first. His hands twitch for lack of anything to do.

It’s been a year, at least, since they walked in the door. 

“Maybe you could help me?” she asks him softly, looking up through her lashes as his head whips to her.

“Help you with what?” he bites out but she can clearly taste that the annoyed anger is not aimed at her so she blows out a breath and lets it go. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she soothes, running a hand down his arm and his heart flutters a bit. “But I am a bit lost. Perhaps you can point out some people for me?” 

His drink arrives. He drains half of it. Stops. Breathes. Follows her tug away from the bar and towards a potted fern that’s relatively unoccupied.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says, but there’s a defeated edge to it. Pointing people out, analyzing the situation under the guise of helping her navigate it, it will take the worst edges off his strain. She can make very educated guesses as to who these people are, but that doesn’t help Jason at all so she’ll play ignorant for his sake.

Bruce hasn’t shown himself.

“Start by pointing out Bruce’s horde,” she suggests. “So I know when they start showing up on my doorstep.”

“Okay,” Jason takes a deep breath. “Over there, with the blonde hair, that’s Stephanie…”

—

“That’s Connor Kent.” Jason points at the dark haired teenager talking to Tim and looking distinctly uncomfortable in the fancy environment.

“Ah. And who’s she?” She nods to the cute blonde girl hovering by Tim and the newly identified Connor.

“That’s Cassie Sandsmark.” Abruptly, Jason looks uncomfortable. Silena tilts her head at him. “I…” he blows out a hard breath, then slumps against the door-frame they’ve taken refuge in, “it completely slipped my mind or I would have said something sooner. She’s one of Tim’s friends, so I steer clear but…”

“Spit it out, Jason.”

“... She’s a daughter of Zeus.” Silena’s heart freezes in her chest. 

“What.”

“I… Yeah.” The confirmation, the lack of arguing, the lack of… anything, it cuts her to the core, spills her intestines out across this fine ball except she’s all cinched into her lovely silks, blood stained and shining like a diamond.

Panicking.

“How old is she?” The girl looks to be older, too old- if she was born after the war, she’d be barely out of diapers. You know what this means.

“What?”

“How old is she?” Jason blinks at her like he’s never seen her before. Maybe he hasn’t. She can’t remember ever being this angry since she’s met him. Defeated? Yes. Resigned? Yes. Wildly trying to hold her life together with both desperate hands? Absolutely yes. But this rage? This she hasn’t felt in a long time.

“... Sixteen? Seventeen? Right around Tim I think.”

“I have to go.” 

“Silena-” She doesn’t wait, she can’t be here. I can’t see her . She can’t see this child, she’s a child, you can’t blame her, it’s not her fault-

But she’s everything we could have had.

Acknowledgement. Openness. Freedom. She fights in the open, with heroes she can call on if something goes wrong. Not scurrying around street corners, praying a hungry monster doesn’t find you for lunch and with nowhere to go but the next ditch big enough to hide in, no one to call, no way to call without getting caught. Not bleeding out on concrete and screaming for a parent who won’t answer. 

“Hello?” Dick Grayson is in front of her, blinking in confusion, then his eyes flick up to where Jason is undoubtedly barging his way after her, if he gets to me I’ll spill my guts and he’ll do something rash, I have to leave- “I’m sorry, you must be-”

“Give me a five minute head start?” she bargains sweetly, the words sticking to the inside of her mouth like thick honey, coating the air in sickeningly pink spun sugar, making him blink heavily before he smiles widely and pats her shoulder.

“Of course. Explain why later?”

“Thank you.” If she ever sees this brother again, she’ll lie and he’ll believe her. That’s the way of things. 

“Better get moving,” he scoots out of her way, putting his body between her and her pursuer, your sacrifice will be remembered. “Jason! Buddy!”

She gets farther than she expected, sees the light at the end of the tunnel in the form of a side door, damn, maybe I will give Dick a few grains of truth, when it all goes to hell. Jason is too damned perceptive and adaptive and he knows her too well, gods damn it all why am I seeing a vigilante? She has to be at the top of her game to lose him and unfortunately, that means she loses focus on everything else pretty fucking quick. 

That means she runs straight into the object of her ire. Right into Cassie Sandsmark.

“Oh! Sorry! I didn’t see you there!” I can’t do this. “You’re new, are you Jason’s girlfriend that Tim told me about? I’ve been hoping to meet you. Everyone has, they talk about you so much!” I can’t do this. “Right! Where are my manners? Hi, my name’s Cassie,” the girl sticks out her hand, beaming at Silena who swallows around bile and her own, gut searing hate.

“Anna.” That’s who she is to this city, always will be but to a certain few. Silena Beauregard is dead to the world. Just like so many others but here you fucking are-

“Nice to meet you Anna, are you enjoying the party?”

“I was just about to leave, actually.” Lying is like breathing, she is a child she’s not to blame. “I’m afraid I’m not feeling well.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Get some rest and feel better?” Jason is getting close, having finally shaken Dick, his face a terrible mix of  thunderousfuriousconcernedscared and she has to go or she’s going to turn into a blubbering mess in the middle of this fancy gala, screaming for justice from beings that don’t care anyways right in front of the girl who’s entire existence is a slap in the face to so many dead children. 

“I will, thank you.” And she fucking books it.

—

Thalia picks up on the first ring, thank the gods.

“I can’t talk for long.”

“It’s Silena.” Giving her the option to just hang up right out the gate, to take the guilt off Silena’s own shoulders. If Thalia brushes her off, she won’t call back. Their truce only extends as far as wounded Hunters in the wrong place at the worst time.

“... Why did you call me?” This is not one of those times.

“I…” Do you have to give her this pain? “This was a mistake, I’m sorry-”

“Silena, wait.” There’s a long moment of silence between them, separated by caverns of miles and loyalties and morals. Cinched together by blood, and there’s nowhere else to go- “Why did you call?”

“Wonder Girl,” she whispers, this is a mistake. “I…”

“What about her?” 

“Never mind, I shouldn’t say-”

“Silena.”

“... She’s a kid, Thalia. None of us should hate her but…” Silena buries her head in her hands, yanking at handfuls of her hair just to feel the grounding pain in her scalp. “I had to leave, I couldn’t stay.” 

“What does this have to do with why you called me?”

“She’s a daughter of Zeus and she’s sixteen.” Silence. Utter silence. She stares at the charred ground where she's burned dozens of other demigods, ones far less powerful than the girl running around at the gala now without a fear in the world. Dozens who had been hunted, mangled, chewed up and spit back out only to be kicked down to Hades without so much as a by-your-leave. “I’m sor-”

“Thank you for telling me,” Thalia’s voice is a raw whisper through the already crackling speaker. 

Click.  

Silena pulls the phone from her ear. Probably for the best, she’s pushed her luck far enough already. She’s not that far from Gotham, nor is she that insane. Zeus had one fucking job and he had to fuck it up twice?

There’s a rustle behind her. You didn’t get away fast enough.

“How much did you hear?” Only his perfectly shined dress shoes are visible in her left peripheral, coming to a silent stop next to her, both of them staring at the burned ground. It’s an olive branch.

“Isn’t it dangerous for you to use a phone?”

“Hm.”

“Silena.” 

“This is where I burn them,” she admits, curling around herself. “The ones who don’t make it. A shroud, two drachma and prayers to see them down to Hades.” She’s losing her battle with tears. “I… She’s a child, it’s not her fault. But… she’ll never know. She’s been so safe and she doesn’t even know it. How…” shoving her face into her knees, she loses the war against her enraged despair completely. “How am I supposed to look at her, knowing Thalia? Knowing Nico? Percy? Knowing what I did? And Zeus just went out and broke his oath again with no regards and she’s sixteen, Jason! Thalia will never be sixteen! Nico lost seventy years because Zeus was so fucking afraid of Hades that he wanted to kill Nico! Bianca lost those same seventy years for nothing because now she’s dead! And Percy had to give Luke the knife that Luke used to take his own life and he lives with that-” her body is shaking uncontrollably, but she can’t stop, this has built up for too long. Throwing her head backwards, she glares up at the hidden stars her mother, her enemy, lives among and screams- “We were all children, why was she the one that was spared?!” 

The silence is an answer in itself.

“Why her?” she whispers, knowing he doesn’t have an answer and never will. There is no answer. Not really. “Why her?” 

—

“What would life have been like?” Clarisse tips her head back, staring at where the stars would have been if Gotham wasn’t covered in a large veil of light pollution. “To just,” she snaps her fingers, “turn it all off?”

“Normal.” Silena grinds her chin deeper into her forearms. “Gods…”

“They’re the ones that got us into this mess, cupcake.”

“Shut up.” But it’s half-hearted at best. Clarisse chuckles, her hip pressing into Silena’s shoulder in a familiar streak of warmth. 

“Do we tell her?” That’s the million dollar question. Do we tell her? Tell her what exactly? Tell her about the horrors she’d missed? About the sister who gave up normality to prevent a prophecy that never even touched Cassie? About the piles of bodies left the wake of godly ambitions, the piles yet to come?

“I don’t know. On one hand, she should know she’s not alone, that there are a bunch of us out there. But on the other…”

“She’s missed all this shit. We shouldn’t drag her in just because we’re jealous.” Jealous. That’s the one word Silena’s been avoiding and Clarisse threw it out like it was no big deal. Jealous.  

Because that’s just it, isn’t it? She’s jealous that Cassie Sandsmark has gotten this far relatively scot-free. That there’s a large chance the girl doesn’t wake up at stupid o’clock every night, body tight and breathing quick, soaked in sweat and biting back screams. Clawing at her own face, straining in vain to see from a useless eye.

“I used to wonder why Mom hated me,” Silena admits quietly. Clarisse exhales. “When I got to camp. Why didn't she love me enough to make sure the monsters never found me? Why couldn’t I live with my normal family? Mom had to hate me, because if she didn’t, then I could go home without something trying to eat my little brother when we went for a walk. But I figured out that all the gods hate their children, don’t they? In some way, they all hate us eventually. Because we fail. We’re mortal. We’re not perfect. They put us up to impossible tasks again and again until we fail.” Clarisse’s hand trembles as she runs it through Silena’s hair. “But I think…” Silena swallows around the realization she stumbled across far too young, “our worst sin is that we’re not them.” 

Clarisse slides to the grating, sitting down next to where Silena is slumped and leans their temples together. Neither of them speak again, two jealous daughters of unsatisfied gods offering each other empty comfort. What else is there to say?

—

“You mean to tell me,” her knuckles are white where they’re clenched in her lap, out of Tim Drake’s sight, “that Zeus gave her mother the ability to turn her powers off?” Jason left with Dick to do something likely illegal and to keep her away from at least one curious Bat. Otherwise, she might let her trigger happy boyfriend drop-kick a child and that impulse was not something she wanted to examine right now.

Not when she has to entertain someone who broke into her apartment on behalf of a friend she wants to stab a little more than this particular interloper. Which is also not an impulse she’s particularly fond of examining.

“Yeah,” Tim nods as he takes another deep gulp of the black-as-night coffee that she keeps stocked for her revolving door of child soldiers running on fumes. If Tim bitches that she only keeps Jason’s preferred brand and uses a drip pot instead of a French press like Dick did not even two hours ago, she might lose what little of her shit she has left. “It was a whole thing, right? Like they lied to her all her life, but they’re cool now.”

“Cool now,” she mumbles, feeling the skin of her palms give under the pressure of her newly filled acrylic nails. She smiles as vacantly as she is able through clenched teeth. “I’ve just never heard of something like that before.”

“I don’t think demigoddesses are exactly around every corner, do you?” he grins at her and she smirks back like they’re sharing a joke instead of it being on him. “And daughters of Zeus at that.” It takes every bit of five years of you’re a spy discipline for the red in her vision to recede enough that she can actually see that Tim has sobered again. “She’s had a rough go of it,” he continues quietly, swirling his coffee, “with everyone having lied to her, even Diana. But she’s doing better.” 

“That’s good.” I have never hated another human so much without knowing them and this is a fucking child, it is not her fault, you know that it’s not her fault, get a hold of yourself you insane woman-

“And I was talking to her and she says she’s sorry for whatever she did that made you run away from her?” She can’t fix that. “She swears she won’t hurt anyone, she has control of her powers.” Her nails pop out of her palms. There’s blood, she can feel it drip, drip, dripping all over her hands. Where it belongs.

“I’m not worried that she’ll hurt me.” Hero or not, the girl would be hard pressed to go against Silena, who can hamstring her with a few words. Cassie’s powers are the least harmful thing about her. “I was having a rough night.” Smiling, Silena weaves a tale like she has so many times before and Tim is none the wiser, “and I really wasn’t making a good impression. For that, I apologize to everyone involved.”

“Have you apologized to Jason? He seemed really worried.” Whatever detente Bruce’s two wards have come to, it’s clearly only a ceasefire on Jason’s end. Likely for Dick’s sake. But what does it mean to Tim? Obviously more, by the way he’s expressing concern for Jason. It’s sweet, if not a little bit sad. There will always be a barrier between them, Silena knows, and it’s a barrier that Bruce put there.

“He was the first person I talked to.” There wasn’t a need for an apology. Jason had just held her as she cried in the graveyard. Jason had carried her home and refused to leave her side. He’d been the one to call Clarisse. 

“That’s good. He really seems to like you. Talked to Dick about you a lot. Enough that Dick mentioned you to us. We’ve all been wanting to meet you. And he brought you to the gala, so he really likes you.” 

“Hm.” I know. She can taste his love and she knows Jason knows she can too. He doesn’t hide it. “I like him too.” There’s a lot more than like there. If she wasn’t so sure that Aphrodite would take it as an insult that Silena even got a drip of happiness, she’d do her damndest to keep him. You already are, come what may.  

If a drop of water can keep a man from dying, this sliver of happiness might be what saves her soul.

“I can tell,” Tim takes another sip of coffee, like that will hide the goofy little grin he’s trying to smother. “Dick said you’re the first, um, normal person who’s been around? Shit, that sounds bad, but like I mean it like you’re not a superhero- Ah, I’m bungling this-”

“I get it, I get it.” And she does understand the sentiment, even if it’s not wholly correct. To everyone on the outside, she’s a simple office worker who caught the Red Hood’s eye enough for him to let her near. The Red Hood himself, however, knows the truth is very different and that’s why he’s letting her get so close to other heroes. 

“Are you ever afraid?” Tim asks.

“Hm?”

“Of what might happen?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, how the Joker might come after you?” Kronos had me in his maw. “That you might get hurt?” I’m blind in one eye and have scars to prove I survived the impossible. “That someone might, I don’t know, turn on you to get to Jason?” I turned on people I loved and they died for it.

“No.” She’s done all that and more already. “No. I’ll take whatever comes and I’ll face it as best I can. I’m not going to live in a shadow of fear.” 

“You’re braver than a lot of people.” She shrugs.

“I’m alive,” she replies simply, “and sometimes those two are the same thing.”

“Huh,” Tim chuckles, taking a very deep drag of coffee. “Philosophical. No wonder you and Jason get along.” She smiles again, wiping her bloody palm discreetly on a napkin before taking a sip of her own tea. Swallows down peppermint and a million secrets next to Tim’s butterscotch curiosity. “Will you tell me what his favorite book is? I’m looking for Christmas ideas and I really want to get on his good side. All things considered,” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “I know it’s not like my fault but I still feel bad for, I dunno, usurping him? Even if he was dead. And I know he’s still mad, so I was thinking I’d get him something really nice? Like a first edition of a book or a signed copy or something? I don’t know, do you have any better ideas?”

“I think…” Silena tilts her head at Tim and makes a mental note to talk to Jason about what exactly had happened between them later. “You’re at a good starting point. And he doesn’t have a good collection of the classics anymore. I’d recommend The Odyssey.” Tim nods, clearly thinking hard. “But, if you really want to do something extraordinary,” he perks up as she grins over the rim of her mug. “I think his old collection is still at the Manor and he hasn’t managed to sneak all of it out yet.”

#silena beauregard #jason todd #clarisse la rue #cassie sandsmark #thalia grace #tim drake #dick grayson #batman #percy jackson and the olympians #my writing #ao3 link

[kaijuno]

I’ve hated god my entire life. I hated the concept, I hated the idea of praying to some magic white man in the sky, I hated it all. I chose science over feelings and tried so hard to make the pieces fit.

I felt I had been cast from the garden of Eden and I didn’t deserve to be let back in. I was a godless creature. I was unsaveable. I was awash amongst the tide, hoping for something solid to hold on to. God had shut me out of his kingdom and I thought, foolishly, that I couldn’t be brought back home.

Two months before I met you, I prayed. I prayed to anyone or thing that was listening. It was a last ditch effort, a final attempt at finding peace. I prayed for a sign that the world wasn’t as cruel as I had been brought up to believe. I prayed against all the science I thought I had known. I prayed for something to help me break down the seemingly impenetrable walls that guarded everything about me. I prayed for salvation.

I was not a happy person. I was a cynical and jaded alcoholic, and in certain ways, I still am. In certain ways I always will be. But you showed me how to be happy. How to be creative. How to cope with things properly instead of drinking away my loneliness.

I prayed for salvation. I prayed to see the light. I prayed that I would find meaning and beauty and peace in the world again. It had been missing for so long.

I prayed. And I found you.

#this I what falling in love feels like btw

[bibleversegarden]

The captain of our salvation, the Lord Jesus Christ, has wrought a great work in the earth, in bringing many sons to glory. O, praise His holy name!

He who was made perfect through sufferings, is perfecting a glorious church. His joy has become ours; let the redeemed declare His high praises!

By Him all things were created, both visible and invisible. The Lord, He is God; from age to age the same. His kingdom is forever. 

Rejoice in the LORD, our eternal hope and stay.

Psalm 100 "Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all ye lands. Serve the LORD with gladness: come before his presence with singing. Know ye that the LORD he is God: it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture. Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise: be thankful unto him, and bless his name. For the LORD is good; his mercy is everlasting; and his truth endureth to all generations." 

Hebrews 1:8-12 But to the Son He says: "Your throne, O God, is forever and ever; a scepter of righteousness is the scepter of Your kingdom. You have loved righteousness and hated lawlessness; therefore God, Your God, has anointed You with the oil of gladness more than Your companions."

And: 

"You, LORD, in the beginning laid the foundation of the earth, and the heavens are the works of Your hands. They will perish, but You remain; and they will all grow old like a garment; like a cloak You will fold them up, and they will be changed. But You are the same, and Your years will not fail."

Hebrews 2:1 "Therefore we must give the more earnest heed to the things we have heard, lest we drift away.

Colossians 1:3-4 "We give thanks to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, praying always for you, since we heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of your love for all the saints."

(See Colossians Chapter 1 in its entirety: about walking worthy of the Lord, bringing forth fruit, increasing in the knowledge of God, continuing in the faith, grounded and steadfast, not moved away from the hope of the gospel.)

Hebrews 2:9-13 "But we see Jesus, who was made a little lower than the angels, for the suffering of death crowned with glory and honor, that He, by the grace of God, might taste death for everyone. For it was fitting for Him, for whom are all things and by whom are all things, in bringing many sons to glory, to make the captain of their salvation perfect through sufferings. For both He who sanctifies and those who are being sanctified are all of one, for which reason He is not ashamed to call them brethren, saying: "I will declare Your name to My brethren; in the midst of the assembly I will sing praises to You."

And again: "I will put My trust in Him." 

And again: "Here am I and the children whom God has given Me."

Hebrews 12:2-3 "Looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. For consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, lest you become weary and discouraged in your souls." 

Hebrews 13:8 "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever." 

Philippians 4:4 "Rejoice in the LORD always. Again I will say, rejoice!"

- A Walk In The Garden Devotions

#christian inspiration #christian encouragement #captain of salvation #gospel #children of God #fruitful living #steadfast faith #The Lord Jesus Christ

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Not tagged by anyone, so I figure I might as well start the ball rolling myself :)

Tagging: @direwombat @adelaidedrubman @confidentandgood @clicheantagonist @detectivelokis @derelictheretic @marivenah @voidika @nightbloodraelle @strangefable @purplehairsecretlair @josephslittledeputy @shallow-gravy @roofgeese @inafieldofdaisies @vampireninjabunnies-blog and anyone else who I would usually tag and forgot to (I am sorry) or who has something to share consider this me tagging you.

A snippet from the Faith and Joseph scene that I am still not sure I really like but I’m sticking with it for now:

Faith paced through the halls of her gate, her crops had burned, Feeney was dead, and things were falling apart around her. All her powers of persuasion, control, and manipulation were failing. Her comfortable position among her family was slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. It would only be a matter of time before…well, she preferred not to think about it, not to remind herself how tenuous her rank as a Herald was, how weak her place was as the Father’s sister, his Faith. The previous sisters had failed, done less than her to find themselves removed. She could feel the heavy weight of the Father’s gaze falling upon her even as he remained in his compound miles away. 

Rubbing her hand over the tattoo on her arm, remembering all he had done for her, how he’d saved her, how he’d healed her and filled her with belief. She was seventeen and was given a new lease on life, she was given Hope. But there was always that ax hanging above her head. A burden she had to drag along with her, that fear of what he could do to her. 

She’d warned the Deputy, had bleated like a lost lamb about the things that might happen to her after the things she’d done, and still that creature who feasted on death didn’t care. Too cold, too lifeless to feel any sort of sympathy. She was barely human at all. She hated doubting the Father, questioning his vision, but how was that woman supposed to be their salvation after everything she'd done to the Project, everything they'd built, all those innocent lives, taken and destroyed?

“Sister Faith?”

She turned, and that saccharine smile of hers painted her face once more. She was meant to give the people peace, so that they could forget their pain, she wasn’t meant to instill more.

“Yes?” She answered in a delicate sing-song voice. 

“The Father is coming.”

Her mouth twitched, her smile falling for a split second, barely recognizable by the human eye, but she felt it. That drop in the pit of her stomach, that hitch of breath in her throat, the skipped heartbeat as her whole body reacted to the fear. But she couldn’t let the world see, she had a face she had to maintain. She was Faith, she was the sister Joseph needed, she’d given up everything to get here. 

“Thank you.” Her fingers stroked over the last remaining white blooms of her flowers, now grown hydroponically inside her gate, kept safe in her garden from the unholy fires of hell that the Deputy brought along with her and the pack of sinners that followed in her wake. 

Lord help her, she could only imagine what he would want. What he might do to her this time. The threats, unspoken, but they both knew they were there. She still remembered what happened to the former sister, the one who came before her, killed and left to rot in the Horned Serpent cave. The world was coming to an end already, could he really stand to lose another life so close to the day when they would wait out the Collapse, and the salting of the Earth? She was devoted to him, to his ideals, to his teachings, surely he could show her the kindness, the forgiveness of a father in her hour of need. 

The steady thump of footsteps echoed down the cavernous halls of her gate, she had no time to prepare for his coming, he was already here.

Standing in the doorway to her garden, his gaze stabbed at her, focused on her entirely, singling her out. In the past, it made her feel special, it made her feel full of light. Now, it made her whole body go rigid, the same way she'd look when rigor mortis set in once he was done with her, once she'd outlived her usefulness and judging by the way he was staring, that day was inching closer than she cared to admit.

"Joseph." She did her best to smile at him, to appear as the soft angel he wanted her to be. 

He stepped forward, cradling her face in his hands, but he was no more intimate with her than that. No stroke of her hair, no pressing of foreheads, there was distance. She was losing her light.

"My Faith."

She looked up at him, the same way she had one thousand times before, with that same wide-eyed look of innocence that the whole world expected from her. She could still be his child.

"Are you here to check on the remainder of our Bliss production?"

His eyes fell and she knew it was going to be something much worse than that. 

"No, we have something more important to speak on."

"We do?"

He pulled away from her and she felt empty and cold, the distance between them ever widening like a chasm. 

"The Deputy, the one the sinners have laid claim to, you must not punish her for what she's done."

"What do you –"

She tipped her head to the side, entirely confused by his reaction. That woman had destroyed so much and still he was willing to show her mercy, despite how he had shown justice to so many others. But he pardoned her?

"She is lost, as lost as you were, but we must steer her towards us, not push her away. Jacob has begun her trials, he says she exceeded expectations. We must not endanger that progress."

"But Feeney, the Bliss production is at a stand still –"

"One day we will no longer have use for it. When we reach Eden – when we are in our garden, at peace, pure once more – we will not need it."

They won't need her.

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

"She must be led to water, made to drink. She needs to see, to understand. She must be reminded that her path of destruction is not the way forward. That she needs to accept her role, that she must walk the path we've laid out for her. One where she is safe and protected, where all of us are. I have shown her the truth, she just needs a little push."

"A push?"

"I'm sure you will know what to do when the time comes." 

His hand rose to stroke her cheek and she flinched under his touch. She hoped he didn't see it, didn't feel it, but she knew it had happened. He was losing his faith in her and was seeing it in another, he could see it in the Lion. That's why he wanted her saved despite everything she'd done. 

She was chosen.

She was powerful.

She was the sister he always wanted.

#wip wednesday #fan fiction #far cry 5 #faith seed #joseph seed #american beasts #chapter 17

[wri0thesley]

lmao I can't stop imagining cucked Diluc- this time by Venti. Sweet, clever, suffocating Venti. Who used to dedicate all his songs to you, follow you around the streets of Mondstadt until you listened to him. It's almost curious how much you missed him while trapped inside the Dawn Winery.

Now, months later, during one of the few times Diluc has allowed you to step outside in the garden, he stands in front of you with a proposal.

The wickedness in his voice, the hunger in his eyes- there is depravity deep in his soul and you know it very well, have seen it behind Diluc's facade and excuses a thousand times over. But it doesn't look repulsive in Venti, it almost looks- liberating.

He doesn't lie or hide his immorality, he speaks of it as if it's a funny story, a delightful song he cannot wait to share with you. 

No place in Mondstadt would be out of your reach, he says with a smile: you will see it all and experience every joy his region has to offer. The only payment he wants is to be there with you, always with you. You are free to go where your heart desires, he's free to go with you. Tip for tap.

You are not naive -not anymore- and you know you are exchanging a prison for shackles. But how can you say no? After being trapped in a cage for so long the promise of being able to spread your wings tastes sweeter than honey.

For a moment, you wonder why Venti didn't try to reach you sooner; but then you recalled how the doors of the manor used to slam at random times during the first weeks of your imprisonment, how the window of your bedroom broke due to the stormy winds.

You are almost tempted to ask him if he did it on purpose. If he let you be captured just so his offer would taste more than salvation than the life-long sentence it is. 

But as you try the words on your tongue, you realise that you don't really care. Nothing can compare to the promise of feeling the ocean waves against your legs, of running through the Whispering Woods again. Of Diluc, sitting alone in his bedroom and as miserable as he made you feel the last few months.

Venti notices. He laughs, wide and delirious, as a treacherous spring bearing a chill wind.

For the first time since the heavy door of the Winery Dawn locked behind you, a genuine smile breaks on your face, your lips cracking with the movement. His hand is the first one you grab willingly in months.

Maybe you will hate yourself for this. In a long time, when your body forgets the bruises of Diluc's calloused hands and learns the shape of Venti's slender fingers. But for now, you enjoy how both the wind and his arms wrap around you. How it feels to be lifted from the ground up, up, like a bird taking flight, until your former prison looks smaller and smaller from how far you are, until the breeze and Venti's merry laugh are all you can hear anymore.

When Diluc rushes towards the garden, his hair a mess, his body scrapped and bloody after a strong gust struck him over, there is no sight of you. The grapevines are a wreck, the flower beds he commissioned for you destroyed. He kneels on the floor as the sound of twin laughter echoes in his ears. The noise is only drowned by his own cries when he finds the ring he put on your finger buried in the mud.

anon, i absolutely love this. i cannot stop thinking about it. is it better for you to be truly, truly stuck - a bird in a gilded cage - or for you to be a bird in an aviary with glass walls, where you have the illusion that perhaps you can one day be free? and oh . . . venti seeing all of this happen, perhaps letting diluc take you so he seems all the more of a lifeline? agahagahgh. biting on this. chewing on this, even!

#nat.txt #yandere for ts #oh my goooood...... #dark content for ts #genshin impact posting

[officialyourdailyinspiration]

Messiah’s Jubilee

1 The Spirit of the Lord God is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and freedom to the prisoners; 2 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of our God’s vengeance; to comfort all who mourn, 3 to provide for those who mourn in Zion; to give them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, festive oil instead of mourning, and splendid clothes instead of despair. And they will be called righteous trees, planted by the Lord to glorify him. 4 They will rebuild the ancient ruins; they will restore the former devastations; they will renew the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations. 5 Strangers will stand and feed your flocks, and foreigners will be your plowmen and vinedressers.

6 But you will be called the Lord’s priests; they will speak of you as ministers of our God; you will eat the wealth of the nations, and you will boast in their riches. 7 In place of your shame, you will have a double portion; in place of disgrace, they will rejoice over their share. So they will possess double in their land, and eternal joy will be theirs.

8 For I the Lord love justice; I hate robbery and injustice; I will faithfully reward my people and make a permanent covenant with them. 9 Their descendants will be known among the nations, and their posterity among the peoples. All who see them will recognize that they are a people the Lord has blessed.

10 I rejoice greatly in the Lord, I exult in my God; for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation and wrapped me in a robe of righteousness, as a groom wears a turban and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels. 11 For as the earth produces its growth, and as a garden enables what is sown to spring up, so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring up before all the nations. — Isaiah 61 | Christian Standard Bible (CSB) The Christian Standard Bible. Copyright © 2017 by Holman Bible Publishers. All rights reserved. Cross References: Genesis 17:7; Genesis 30:27; 2 Kings 25:12; Job 29:14; Psalm 16:11; Psalm 46:8; Psalm 62:10; Psalm 72:3; Psalm 74:3; Psalm 85:11; Psalm 126:5; Isaiah 14:2; Isaiah 43:5; Matthew 5:4; Matthew 11:5; Matthew 15:13; Luke 4:18-19; 1 Corinthians 3:9; 1 Peter 2:5; 1 Peter 2:9; Revelation 21:2

#The Year of the Lord’s Favor #Messiah's jubilee #Lord #love #justice #faithfulness #covenant #Israel #Isaiah 61 #Book of Isaiah #Old Testament #CSB #Christian Standard Bible #Holman Bible Publishers

[lukas-dark-miracles]

Lukas Inspiration || Poetry weaving

"Lukas didn’t want to be a monster - although now he supposed that was his role in the stories now. If he was to be a part of a bigger plan, he shouldn’t have cared so much for a human who he didn’t know the name of. He should have let her die. He was supposed to further a new gospel of darkness, and show that there was harmony there. He was supposed to play a role and maybe out of kindness change her - but a part of him couldn’t. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t make her give up the choice and he couldn’t let her just die without trying. " From Jaws

" 'We need to show them the dark, then? People can be saved if we show them the dark?' Lukas said unsurely - like a small child trying to understand mortality. It almost made Lizzie smile - the fact that he was so simple to think that anyone would be saved.

'Exactly that, little mouse,'She said, watching him flinch slightly at the nickname. He must have remembered her whispering that when she was stabbing him. Pity she liked that endearment. 'Because we cannot show them through the light, we will show them through the dark. We will have people’s worse and not try to fix them but accept them. We will let them do their worst to test the light, and when it becomes a standstill, we will know that we were right.' " From A New Gospel

"He was used to that question by now, and carefully he had an answer that had happened quite organically after probing people on what they wanted in a group. It was actually pretty easy to cultivate a sense of belonging when you’re thinking of why others might feel alone." From Come with me Now

"Lukas wasn’t sure why he kept doing this, sitting outside in the courtyard of the Church he once ran. Perhaps part of him did it instinctually, he had on many occasions sat out here after all. It was a perfect place to contemplate everything, the good and the bad. Maybe it also reminded him of those twilights with his Sire, where she wasn’t so scary. The gardens of a church had been a place of peace - the last time he had peace. So he sat there quietly thinking, his hands clutching each other in a pretend version of a prayer, his head bowed for prayers he no longer thought God could hear. 

Maybe this just proved  he actually wanted to pray and turn to the light, but he was already a monster. He was chosen for this after all. Salvation for Lukas could only be through the darkness, so he should stop trying to hear the choirs from inside the church. He should stop trying to hold a rosary closely. He should move from his spot, even if just being near the old church gave him comfort. He didn’t need it anymore, and more importantly he didn’t deserve it. Surely though he could stay in the garden outside. After all, Eden was the place where good and evil were hand and hand until it tipped. Surely the snake had the same amount of rights to wander the place as did the rest of creations." From In the Garden of Good and Evil

" Lukas wasn’t exactly sure what was going on with the vampire in front of him but he knew well enough that people were willing to die for a lot of things. He stilled his face, in a similar way he had the day he died not wanting to set off whatever that was in the other. She reminded him a lot of his sire and he wasn’t quite sure if that was a survivable thing." From a Comforting Face

"'I don’t think most of the people here are going to live if someone doesn’t kill me. If I don’t kill them She will and I can’t stand to see the blood again. I keep asking God to kill me and he hasn’t, so everyone’s going to die and the only thing I can do is kill them before she tortures them in front of me again. No one is going to agree to go through this hell or be a puppet. I hate Her and her games,' Lukas said horrified, his eyes wide as the words seemed to pull from him before he could stop them. He hadn’t meant to say that and as soon as he did his mouth clenched. 'What exactly did you just do to me? What was that?” His voice was harsh, arms crossed as he felt the burns on his hands itch. He didn’t like thinking about this, and he didn’t know why it was pulled from him. " From Confessions in the Dark.

"He really was beautiful, and Lukas couldn’t help how his eyes widened and he paused. He only seemed to remember to breathe when Cassius stepped back slightly arm still wrapped around him as Lukas’s brain tried to catch up with what was being said and implied. The smile seemed too lovely to be for him, and part of him wanted to step back afraid of the last beautiful person that had turned him into a monster. While he had only wanted to be Lizzie’s friend, this close he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be Cassius’s. Not when he was this close to him. Hell -  he didn’t want to be, and he really didn’t know what to do with that information. So, he just looked for a moment, and then realizing that he did need to speak if only for the other’s sake he tried to form words. Clunky and not at all possessing the confidence of a former preacher he whispered, 'I don’t want you to let me go. I really don’t. That’s dangerous, Cassius.'" From a Totally Normal Date

Credits (in order) @mortemoppetere @realmackross @nightmaretist @muertarte @disinfernus @singdreamchild

Quotes (x)

#religious trauma tw #domestic abuse tw #domestic violence tw #idealism sits in prison; musings #I had fun again another for you all #again thank you to everyone who writes with me I had to pick only so many threads but I love all of them very muchly #I would smoosh all of them together if given half of an opportunity.

[yellowocaballero]

ok so im not very far into trigun (which. you convinced me to read/watch) but ive seen you talk about vash as a christ/messiah figure which. means im kinda obsessed with how you described his impact on the world in no name on the bullet (christ healing the lame, christ feeding the thousand... christ delivering his people from evil.) did you have any specific biblical references you kept in mind while writing?

i also think its super interesting how the fic seems to focus more heavily on healing as opposed to how (what ive seen of) trigun is a lot more gunman focused - is part of that influenced by how knives is a pacifist in a "cold turkey" way, or a choice on your part? i think it makes an interesting dichotomy, christ the gunman and satan the physician

I've gone my entire life without recommending Trigun to anybody, because I always felt it was too weird and ultra-violent and love-it-or-hate-it to actually ask people to watch it. Look at me now. Getting at least 3+ people into it. Boo boo the fool. Also I'm sorry that this response is so long skull emoji.

I'm ex-Catholic so you have asked the right question lol. Vash is very inspired by the Old Testament God. I have a strong mental image of him obsessing over the Noah's Arc story in his cute children's Bible. Sodom and Gomorrah is brought up again much later, in an extremely important way. Garden of Eden and Paradise, as the show does. The Plagues where every firstborn son dies. These is all imagery that Vash specifically evokes on purpose. Vash...uses the Bible to understand his own experiences and feelings and desires (that's the most neutral way to phrase it), but like a lot of people he uses the Bible/God partly as justification for his actions. God destroys cities for being sinful, and Vash is the closest thing to God this planet has, so he's entitled lol. God Complex McGee up in here.

And Vash's cult has no Jesus, because there is no forgiveness for humanity, and no way for them to be saved. Which is how you know that Vash's Jesus-ey actions as described in the story are very deceitful on a lot of different levels. Kind of like regular Vash lmfao - as I said earlier, he's VERY much also a messiah deconstruction. Vash is a pacifist partly because he needs it - he needs to be believed that people can be saved, that the world can be good, that nobody has to die, because otherwise the world is nothing but an endless parade of misery and death and his own suffering. It's about saving his own soul, and the memory of Rem.

For me, on a writing level: Cain and Abel, obviously. 'My brother's keeper'-ass mofo lmfao. It's more themes for me, though - redemption, salvation, forgiveness, original sin, sin in general, guilt, fate. Knives is pretty obsessed with all of these topics. I make fun of him for it. None of it's healthy. But Knives embodies a few other Christian ideals that I don't make fun of him for, such as the importance of good works and good actions, and dedicating his life towards helping others without the desire for a reward. There's also some subtle 'shepherd and his sheep' stuff going on later.

Re: the gunfights: can you IMAGINE Knives carrying a gun. He is WAY too proud of his own #biologicalsuperiority and #ultimatelifeform and #impenetrabledefense (literally Shadow AND Gaara-ass mofo) to rely on cheap human trinkets like guns lol.

The plot has more action than my usual (yay! - that was what I was working for lol), but it's based off the skeleton of the Stampede plot, which is genuinely a lot more space opera than Western and as such its action looks different. Turns out that when you remove the Gung Ho Guns from a story, there are a LOT LESS gunfights, lmfao (I don't know what kind of errands Vash sends the GHG out on, I am afraid to find out). So partly there's less gunfights because a) Stamp plots don't require too many gunfights, and b) without a Gunman (TM) there's no reason for the group to use guns to solve their problems if at all possible.

It's also just that, basically, Vash's plots are partly man vs self and partly man vs other. When a character is level 99, the tension of the fight scene isn't if they'll win the fight - it's if they'll win the fight under their self-imposed conditions. In Vash's case, the Q in every gunfight is 'can Vash win the fight and save people without compromising his principles?'. For Knives, he is so ridiculously OP that it's impossible to write a fight scene with genuine tension, and he doesn't care nearly as deeply about casualties. So the most engaging plotlines for Knives are entirely man vs self, which tends to shake out into a lot of trolley problems lol. That's the answer to your Q from a writing perspective.

So it's mostly a choice for plot/writing reasons. But YUP the dichotomy is SUPER JUICY, and the fun part of the story is reading the Ultimate Killing Machine be forced to do literally anything else than Ultimate Kill - to do the only thing he wasn't meant to do. Because doing what he was meant to do reduces him to a biblical figure instead of a person - it makes him just a devil, who's never exercised the free will God gave him, and as such can't be called sentient. It's not what Rem would want. And it's a very juicy juxtaposition to somebody who interprets his own meaning in life as a Christ figure as a divine compulsion to brutally murder orphan.

#my writing #AH SORRY FOR LONG ANSWER AGAIN.... #this story's actually a bit more drama and Things Happen-ey than my usual #which is a lot easier when you're following the beats of another person's story F #but its good practice for writing scenes that aren't just 'A and B talk in a location' #I need my stories to be more active AGH #im working on it but improvement is such slow going.... #part of the reason why I avoided writing Trigun my whole life #is because a Trigun fic that was entirely talking seemed dishonest lol #sitting down I was like 'it's Trigun I need as much to happen as possible' #succeeded I think but I feel like I cheated. #also still wish it had more gunfights you're so right anon

[themsource]

This is a Sans centered glimpse for my story Cupcake. Given some of the themes I don't recommend checking it out if you're sensitive to certain topics. While this post could be considered tame or mild, the main story certainly isn't so please do NOT force yourself to engage if that's a possibility.

For those that do follow the story and have an interest behind some of Sans' thought processes this is for you! I posted this in the comments on the fic (which is where I'll be posting them first and always in order to keep it all together) but I know not everyone reads those so I'm also sharing it here again. I hope this satisfies some curiosities as well as peaks them ^^

Takes place during Ch. 12 during the later half so spoilers warning.

Word Count: 1,251 Rating: M TWs: Mentions of Death/Murder, Foul Language, Awfulness

Sans isn’t a monster of pride. He never considered himself talented at any one particular thing or skilled enough to consider boasting of what he could or couldn’t do, even before the head wound.

Before everything went to literal hell.

However, he did like to think he was, at the very least, perceptive.

When Asgore was still around—standing tall and proud (albeit a little downtrodden) upon his throne, Sans did more than his fair share contributing to the kingdom. Aside from his many jobs and countless attempts at keeping up the moral of his fellow monsters just as his brother did, there was only one role Sans had been required to fill.

The Judge.

He had been the final line between salvation and the eradication of their world. A barrier against an unknown threat, an anomaly. Something that Asgore and Alphys both had been just as aware of as he had. 

The three of them knew of what could happen, what could go so very wrong, even if they didn’t retain memories and only a very vivid, visceral, sense of deja vu (something that Sans hated, and even to this day hated all the more for how foggy his memory could get when hungered, how deranged and near paracusic he turned). 

An anomaly could alter and erase time.

Erase them.

Together they concluded that this anomaly would have to be of human origins. The deja vu and the printouts from their machines only ever became sporadic when a human fell, and the rise of DT levels throughout the underground during their attempted passages correlated.

So Alphys set up the cameras: to watch.

Asgore wandered the kingdom: to hunt (before the guilt became too much and he hid away in his garden).

And Sans stood at the end of the hall: to guard.

Because he was so perceptive, he was to measure and compare DT to LV, to find the anomaly and weigh it as a threat, read its intentions all while allowing it to play ‘the game’ as it pleased. So long as it never stepped out of line.

Suffice to say all of that stopped mattering eventually. Became forgotten in the face of betrayal, death, and thirst.

But Sans had never stopped being The Judge. 

He might’ve lost some of that sharpness that made him somewhat qualified for the job due to the famine, sure—frustratingly true to admit—but he still was able to read and deduce in a more than normal capacity.

Which is why as he glances down at your hunched shoulders he has to take a moment.

Sans has to physically stop himself from reacting at seeing how dim your soul is when a second before it had been shining that bright solar illumination that he always has to take a mental step back from in fear of how consuming it is.

Souls were naturally bright. 

The magic, intentions, and emotions that composed them always gave them an ethereal glow that could flare vibrant depending on how high those emotions were stoked, or simmer down low if impacted in an ill received way that made the coloration and overall appearance look crystalline and faded.

Your soul however…

Flares the brightest that Sans has ever seen.

Especially when interacting with him. He wouldn’t deny it was a bit of an ego boost how strong your inner light would become simply because he held you during a show or smiled at you. 

It was mesmerizing, really.

Enthralling.

To see how his dodge of kissing you has affected you so strikes him in a way he doesn’t expect.

Greed

Thirst

Hunger

Where was the light?

The longer Sans stares, caught between fulfilling his promise to Aliza—to be good, he promised to be good for her—and giving into the sudden, undeniable urge to return that glow to its former glory, his soul quakes.

There’s static, a glitching malformation appearing where once his perception used to hold the inner workings and dialogue of the soul. He hasn’t been able to see words in a long…long time.

And there’s only one; just as broken and scattered as he is.

* f ͬ ͣg ͥl ͤ

He struggles, tries to joke and reason with you, and all it does is make your soul darker and darker.

The word vanishes.

You tremble, as if afraid and about to break.

…And who was he really? Trying to pretend he doesn’t want to kiss you just as bad. Doesn’t want to take and feel that warmth behind your ribs that burns so wonderfully as if only for him. He’s already crossed lines, gotten so close to feeling it so many times but choosing instead to linger in the wisps of its fringes.

A hand on your shoulder, his teeth by your ear…

He’s technically already felt it once, when you’d been pulled close to his chest upon waking (from a rather dirty dream) and it’d stunned the embarrassment, shame, and anger right out of him. He’d felt a soul warm for him before, many times, enjoyed its heat. Compared to yours, they were nothing. Your soul scorched, was painful enough it turned to a deranged pleasure.

Sans has tried to forget.

But he doesn’t really want to.

Because on top of that you were smart, funny. Cute in a very endearing way with how you cluttered the table with literary texts and inquired about things in a genuine attempt to understand how something functioned. You were a thinker, an eager learner. Adorable in how you reminded him of Pap by asking for a bedtime story and bathed him in nostalgia as he read to you in colorful voices.

Sometimes…you made him forget who he was now.

Sometimes…you made him feel like how he used to be.

A darkness sits heavy in his ribs. That last thought isn’t true and he knows it. If he truly felt that way he wouldn’t be so much as stalling on how to handle this situation. He’d reject you, pat you on the head, and walk away.

He’d wait.

To see if that was even a possibility down the line and if he would still be interested.

Just as you’re still waiting now, shaking.

…so dim, so dark…

Fragile.

...waiting has only ever fucked him over.

He waited for the anomaly to make a move. He waited for Toriel to come to her senses and rule the kingdom again. He waited for Alphys and the others to try helping him find a solution to the CORE. He waited to kill until monsters started dusting left and right, until he feared even his brother would share their fate. He waited to eat until an alternative was found to human meat. He waited, and waited, for something, anybody. 

He waited for seven goddamn years.

Sans’ soul goes rampant, begs to be fed.

Just one kiss, just a taste.

His promise to Aliza goes right out the proverbial window, forgotten just as is his morals.

He reasons: why should he subject you to the pain of waiting?

“...just one kiss, got it?"

The gradual build of your soul as it shines like a dying star before erupting into phantasmal wonder is enough that Sans feels floored, like his knees are about to give out as his soul pounds in his skull with the deadly beat of a hunter’s gait upon the forest floor. 

It’s automatic how he returns your smile, outlined in the glow of your soul, with his own.

"k, let's go somewhere more private."

#undertale au #horrortale #sans/reader #Cupcake #My writing

[pricechecktranslations]

“Horse of Evil”; Scene 3

The Kagamine Rin and Len 14th Birthday Novels, pages 166-171

♘ Josephine ~In the Kingdom of Lucifenia, “Palace Stables”~

.

You could say that my life from then on was…peaceful, for the most part.

I never wanted for food, and I was always sheltered from the elements.

I was given everything I needed, and spent my days able to be at leisure.

Every so often I would be made to run around as part of Riliane’s horse-riding training, but this was actually a pleasant diversion for me, and I quite enjoyed it.

The palace gardens were plenty big enough for a horse to run around in. I would race through, feeling a comfortable breeze along my body. With that young girl on my back.

Riliane was able to manage me without too much trouble. Her instructor said there was a good affinity between horse and rider, and I’m sure they were exactly right on that.

There were other horses in the stables, but the food given to me was much higher quality than theirs. Not only that, but the quality of the wood used for my individual stable was much wider…Riliane had ordered the servants to raise me under the best possible circumstances.

There was no one who would go against her wishes.

The only person who could outmatch Riliane was her mother, Anne. From what I could tell by listening to the servants gossip, Anne herself was the ruler of the country.

And Anne had apparently entrusted me to Riliane. She hardly ever came to the stables after the day I was born. But whenever she came by on those few occasions, she would pet my head and back with kind eyes quite unlike how they had been back then, so…I figured she probably didn’t hate me anymore.

My mother had died when I was born. And I never met my father. Even now I don’t know what kind of horse he is, whether he’s dead or alive… I’ve never heard any of the servants talking about it, and naturally as I can’t speak with human words, I have no way of asking them.

…Speaking of fathers, I’ve never seen Riliane’s either.

.

But I was able to hear the reason for that from Riliane herself.

She would sometimes come to my stable at night.

And then she’d snuggle up and sleep beside me. In times like those, Riliane seemed to look a bit lonely.

She would always talk out loud to me before she fell asleep.

I could not respond to her. At best I could only lick her face, or nuzzle her cheek.

Still, through the things she talked about to me, I was able to learn a great deal of just who she was.

Apparently Riliane’s father…or, in other words, the man who had been king of this country, had died when she was six years old. Riliane herself had fallen ill quickly afterwards, and as a result she lost her memories of anything before then.

So she couldn’t even remember her father’s face.

“But, I’m okay,” Riliane told me. “To be honest, I don’t feel all that sad that I’ve lost my memories, or that my father is gone.  But…Mother feels differently. She lost my father, and then her favorite horse Françoise--”

Anne governed this country in the stead of her late husband. Riliane told me that she was proud of her mother, but at the same time she felt that she was always having to steel herself for the role.

It seems that the few opportunities she’d had to see Anne with a peaceful expression on her face was when she’d been with my mother, Françoise.

“I guess that Mother doesn’t actually like riding horses much. She just likes being able to play around with animals. She’d been particularly fond of Françoise’s…white coat. In this country, the color white is seen as a ‘holy color’. Or the ‘color of salvation’. When the people of the royal family are at the brink of ruin, they will be saved by a white being—or so the legend goes. So all of my mother’s favored horses have been white.”

She also taught me that other than that, yellow means “prosperity” and “succession”, red means “upheaval” and “destruction”, blue means “tranquility” and “public peace”, and green means “good harvest” and “preservation”.

Did Riliane also like white horses? As I began to wonder about that, I came to feel embarrassed by my grey coat.

As though guessing at my thoughts, Riliane embraced me and declared, “I do love the color white…but I love you even if you aren’t a white horse, Josephine. Everyone is nice to me because I’m part of the royal family. They listen to whatever I say. But I know that has no bearing on you. You see someone like me for who I am…that’s how it feels to me. So I’ll see you, regardless of what your color is.”

Yes.

Riliane was Riliane.

And I was me.

But…even so.

She did say that she loved the color white.

I—

Want to become a white horse.

I want to be some holy being.

I want to be something that can save her.

Shortly after those thoughts crossed my mind, I fell into slumber for the day.

.

--And then I had a dream.

There was something…someone in that dream, an enormous tree.

At the same time, it seemed like a person to me.

As its figure changed like a mirage, it said something to me.

It called me by a name.

“XXX—”

I don’t remember what it called me.

But at the very least, I don’t think it was my name of Josephine.  

This being that felt so familiar, that called me by a different name—

The term “god” came to my mind first.

But also…

The word “Father”,

.

The next day, after I awoke from that dream…Little by little, change came upon me.

Yes, it happened gradually, in time with my body’s maturation.

My coat steadily lost its pigment.

There were some who were disturbed by this change. There were others who paid it no mind, treating it as a common occurrence.

There were some who were relieved, finding it more appropriate for the princess to have a white horse.

Regardless, the grey color along my body grew lighter…

And ultimately became pure white.

.

I had been reborn as a white horse.

The appearance I had wished for.

And, the appearance that Riliane had wished for.

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#()horse of evil