#Raphael Shepherd

[sagesskies]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛ

✒ ɴᴏᴛ ��ᴠᴇɴ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘᴀ��ᴛ

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇʀᴇʟʏ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴢᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇʟᴀʏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2 ᴏꜰ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀʏ ɢᴏᴅ, ʜᴇ ᴀꜱꜱᴜʀᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ ꜰɪɴɪꜱʜᴇᴅ. ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ.

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ʜᴏᴍᴏᴘʜᴏʙɪᴀ, ᴄʜᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ [ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ɪꜱ ʜɪꜱ ʙᴇᴀʀᴅ], ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴏᴋɪɴɢ, ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ ꜱʜᴇɴᴀɴɪɢᴀɴꜱ, ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍɪʟᴅ ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴅᴜʙᴄᴏɴ, ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟꜱᴇ!

Yandere Spirit who was your secret boyfriend in high school. A forbidden romance between two youths, who often got to keep their secret because it’d always be excused as just ‘Boys being boys’. He was the most popular boy in school, his older brother was just as popular, but he was even more so. 

Yandere Spirit who was good looking, kind hearted, intelligent, and athletically talented as well. You never knew how you were able to get with a guy like him, you were simply another guy on the track team, and he was not only the team’s star but also the captain. 

Yandere Spirit who was possessive of you, even in life. He’d always claim you as his partner for group projects, even if there were smarter kids in class, and whenever there was an opportunity he'd always insist you wear his track jacket that had his last name on the back. 

Yandere Spirit who still dated other girls, and you tried not to mind so much. They were just a cover, he told you that and you knew it to be true, both of you were aware of what happened to gay boys in this town. He understood more than you, because his older brother Tommy was one of them, and he ran away when he was seventeen. 

Yandere Spirit who remains oblivious to how much his behavior with his girlfriends bother you. You never liked how he was always so physically intimate with them. Yeah, it'd be expected of a couple but did he have to do it so much? God, you can't bear to watch this.

Yandere Spirit who always notices how you distance yourself from him whenever he has a new girlfriend, and one day confronts you about it.

“Cmoon, [Name], why won't you just tell me!” Raphael practically whines, he refused to let go of your hand. You were both part of the track and field team but with his strength you'd argue he could be a football player. 

When you still didn't reply, he huffs, looks around to see if anybody else was around, then pulls you in close, perching his head on top of yours despite your protests. 

“Please babe?” God you never liked it when he called you babe, but you let him anyway, “Tell me what's bothering you…” He sounds like he's near to tears but you keep your lips shut.

“Raph, seriously I'm fine,” You insist, even though you're really not. 

The whole day, you had to hang around Raphael and his new girlfriend. It wasn't so bad, Raph made sure that you were included in the conversation and his girl, Cheryl you think her name was, was actually very nice. 

Your problem with the situation was seeing your boyfriend being all sweet and cuddly with his new beard the same way he always was with you. Well, there was the fact that he was technically cheating on you- But that's not the big issue here! 

Unfortunately for you, you shared a good quarter of your classes with the two lovebirds, and eventually you just distanced yourself from them till you were able to handle the sight of the two of them together. 

Even more unfortunately, was Raph's clinginess to you. When he saw you start to drift away, he immediately pulled you back in and when you decided to just ignore them as best as possible without looking rude, he caught on to that too. 

“Ugh, I know you're lying [Name],” Raphael pouted, “Come on, remember how we promised each other no secrets between us? Don't tell me you forgot!” 

You rolled your eyes, “Anybody would forget Raph, you made me say it in the 2nd grade.” 

“Still!” He protested, “Just tell me already [Name].” You could feel his grip get tighter around you, he was getting impatient. 

“Was it something I did?” Yes. 

“Does it have to do with Cheryl?” Yes. 

“Oh come on, don't tell me you're jealous of her!” It was Raph’s turn to roll his eyes, “Babe you know I'm only using her as a cover.” 

You glared at him, “Doesn't mean you have to be so touchy with her.” 

“She's my new girlfriend,” He used air quotes when he said the word girlfriend, “Gonna have to act like I’m head over heels for her to sell the act.” 

You knew he was right, he was saying the exact same things you told yourself whenever you tried to stop the ugly green monster that was envy from rearing its head. 

“Besides, don’t you think you kinda deserve it?” 

Your eyes widen, and you frown, “What? What do you mean?�� Raphael shrugged, “I mean, you’re always tusslin’ and getting all up close with the other guys in the team,” His voice had a bitter edge to it, “I’m your boyfriend,” His hold on you strengthened, “It’s like I’m forced to watch you feel up all these other guys when the only ass you should be groping is mine.” 

“Do you hear how silly you sound right now?” You deadpanned, “It’s just guys being guys, most of us have been wrestling each other since we were kids.” 

He groans, “Ugh, but that doesn’t change that they still get to touch you so much!” 

You sigh, perhaps you and him weren’t so different after all. Not when both of you were so petty as to get jealous because of just, a really plain stupid reason. 

So you pat him on the back, and comfort him like you would a child throwing a tantrum. Till he stops whining, and you apologize to each other, then you continue to pretend that it doesn’t bother you when he presses a kiss to a girl’s lips, when he holds her hand, or even plays with her hair. 

And you pretend like he’s not playing with your heart. 

Yandere Spirit who you watch as he competes with his brother Gabriel over your younger sister, a popular junior who was vice-captain of the cheerleading team. Sometimes when he kisses you, you can’t help but think that this is the same tongue that flirts with your sister. 

Yandere Spirit who you accompany when his brother tells him to meet in the woods near Varenway cliff. Sure he was told to go alone, but you never trusted Gabe, he was always too intense for your liking. It was why he’d never be as popular as his brother. 

Yandere Spirit who you can only watch as he gets into a fight with his brother, held back by the stronger arms of Gabe’s football teammates who tease and mock you all while assuring Gabe won’t hurt Raphael too badly.

You thrash in their grip like a wild animal refusing to be caged, you kick at their feet, try to slam your head back into their stupid faces, but regardless of your attempts you are still stuck. 

“Let go of me, you assholes!” You practically spit. 

One of them, your classmate Sam Moss, sneers at you, then turns to his friend, who you recognize as Luke Herring, “Should we let [Name] go Luke?” 

Luke lets out a dumb laugh, “Huhuhu, naahh,” His tone is calm like an afternoon breeze, but his eyes are filled with only malice, “I don’t think we should Sam.” 

You click your tongue and tune out the rest of their words, they think they’re so intimidating just because they hang around Gabe, who nobody dares to pick a fight with, but they’re nothing more but tiny little pups who think the wolf’s shadow is their own. 

Instead you focus your gaze onto Raphael, who moves quicker than Gabe, but whenever a hit is able to land, it lands hard. Your heart clenches when you see the newly forming bruise above Raph’s brow, his busted lip, but you force yourself to remain silent. Raph can handle himself, and you hated to admit to it but Sam and Luke were right, Gabe may be dumb but he wasn’t that dumb to let Raph get seriously hurt. 

But still, for every hit that Raph gets in, Gabe lands another solid punch. Raph’s blood stains Gabe’s fists, and his beautiful face is marred. Gabe himself does not even need to catch his breath, the only evidence of exhaustion is a light sheen of sweat. 

You feel a sharp tug on your head, and you wince, Luke grabs your hair and has a look of anger on his face. 

“Little shit, fuckin’ pay attention to us damnit!” His spit flies in your face, and you grimace, “Should fuckin’ teach you a lesson for such disrespect.” 

Sam cackles like a hyena, “Ha! I don’t think Gabe would mind us roughin’ this arrogant prick up a bit,” In his eyes there is a hunger for violence, and you suppress the urge to shiver, you get what your mother means now when she says that men are like animals. You’ve never felt more like prey before now. 

You try to ignore them, and the fear that slowly builds in your chest, to get one last glimpse at Raph. But all you see is his head hanging low, and being grabbed by Gabe, whose bruised hands are curled tightly around his collar, before you are thrown down into the floor, and Luke gets on top of you. 

His sleeves are pulled back, and he draws back his fist for a punch, but before he can Sam who is still watching the fight, gasps, and Luke turns to see what has happened. Their eyes widen, but all you can hear that tells you of what just happened is a distant sickening crunch. 

Luke gets off of you and both he and Sam run to Gabe, who is looking down the cliff. Where is Raph? 

You get up, legs shaky for a bit before you steel your resolve and steady, you voice your thoughts, “Where's Raph?” 

When you get no response, the fear that was building from the fear of Luke getting his meaty hands on you is now growing from the possibility that Gabe let his anger get the best of him. At the thought of it, it is not only fear budding within you, but also anger. 

You march over to Gabe, and with strength you didn’t have before you grab him by the back of his collar and turn him around so you and him were now eye-to-eye, “Did you push him off, Gabriel?” Your voice is shaky, from fury, from anxiety, from both, you do not know. When you receive no response, you grit your teeth, and shake him violently, “Answer me, you bastard!” 

Gabriel’s eyes go wide, and his mouth parts but there are no words that leave his lips. But then he nods, and your sudden burst of strength fizzles away, and your hands let go of him. You walk, one step backward, another, and then another, and you fall on your own bottom, and your hands go to your head. Raph loved to do the same thing, hand going to the top of your head and holding it gently, sometimes just laying there together, his hand on your head and both of you quiet together.

You cannot let them see your tears, you cannot. But the dam breaks, and you start to sob. 

You hear them speak, Gabe, Sam, and Luke. However, you don’t want to listen to them. They killed him. Sam and Luke had less blood on their hands, but they were the ones who restrained you. If they didn’t then- Then maybe you could- You could… You don’t know. You don’t know, you don’t know. 

Gabe is standing in front of you, arms crossed, “Get up, [L/N],” His voice was gruff, nothing like Raph’s who always sounded like he was singing or speaking poetry, “Unless you want to end up like Raph did, you’ll do as I say.” Gabe was cruel too, nothing like Raph. 

Hesitantly, you get up, and wipe away the tears on your face. Sam and Luke who were looking at you like you were no better than the dirt on their shoe, now look at you with slight pity. It was no secret in school that you and Raphael were the best of friends, but they wouldn’t be looking at you so if they knew what you two were really like. 

You go down the cliff with them, traversing through the steep and rocky terrain. Till you arrived at the bottom, where Raph’s body lay. The blood had stopped flowing by then, or perhaps there was simply too much to look like there was more accumulating. Luke covers the bottom half of his face, Sam turns his head away, and only you and Gabe can look at the corpse. 

You glance at him, his face is like stone. You wonder if he regrets what he’s done tonight over your sister, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him without feeling like bile was going to start creeping up your throat. 

You help them carry the body deeper into the woods, Luke and Sam go to get the shovel Sam’s dad always kept in the back of his truck, and you are left with the boy who killed your lover. 

Both of you are silent, and your eyes go to look at his bruised knuckles stained with Raph’s blood. You must’ve been staring because he glares at you, “What? You wanna join Raph in his grave?” 

You know you should stay silent, but you’ve had enough of that. 

“It’d be better than having to bury him, that’s for sure,” You snarl out, you want to sock him across the face, but you’d have less impact than Raphael did, “You’re a monster.” 

“He got what was coming to him,” Gabriel clenched his fists, “If it wouldn’t be me, it may have been you.” 

You flinch, “The hell are you talking about Gabe?” You? Kill Raph? If that was meant to be a joke it wasn’t very funny. But Gabe had the same amount of charm as a donkey’s ass so it probably shouldn’t have surprised you.

“You think I’m blind, [L/N]?” A smirk forms on his face, it looks like Raphael's but at the same time it couldn’t be more different, “Everybody’s seen how you look at him and his girlfriends.” 

Your heart raced, did- Did he know? Did everybody know? If so, why weren’t you getting picked on? Raphael may have been the most popular guy in school, but even he would get harassed by some jerk. 

“You don’t get to chastise me for shit like this when you’re jealous of all the girls he gets,” At first you’re surprised he knows the word chastise, but when he accuses you of that, you laugh. You laugh like you would at a joke Raphael made, and when you realize that you start to cry. 

Gabe looks like he’s going to make fun of you, but thinks better of it when he sees the tears racing down your face and makes an expression of discomfort. 

Sam and Luke return, and by that time you’ve dried your tears. Gabe and Luke, the stronger ones, start to dig the grave, and Sam lights a cigarette. He hesitates, and then offers you one, a peace offering of sorts. 

You take it, even if you’ve never smoked before, and you cough as the smoke fills your lungs. 

“Sorry about Raphael,” He says, there is no cruelty, there is no mockery, only remorse for the blood that has been spilled, “Didn’t know him much, but I knew you two were close.” 

You take another puff, and you cough less this time, “It shouldn’t be you who’s apologizing,” You glare at Gabriel, who is digging his own twin brother’s grave. Sam follows your gaze, and he purses his lips, but then he nods.

You crush the cigarette under your shoe, and go to Raphael’s cold corpse. Your eyes scan over him, his eyes are open, the once vibrant green now hollow and empty. You close his eyes. Before you stand back up, you see a familiar glint of steel. The necklace he told you was gifted by his mother.

You take it off his neck, the cross dangling at the end gleaming even in the dark, then place it in your pocket.

Eventually Gabriel and Luke finish up, and you and Sam pick up Raphael’s body and then settle him gently into the grave. 

You take one last look at his face, burning it into your mind. He is beautiful even when his face is bloody and bruised. You want to weep again, your tears would wash away the filth from his face, but they would not bring him back. 

Yandere Spirit who invades your dreams every single night. He holds you close and what was once a warm embrace, is now a cold and stiff cage. Even if it is a dream you can smell the iron from the blood on his skin, and the earthy odor of the soil he was buried in. 

Yandere Spirit whose search you volunteer for. Even if it is only to avoid suspicion. You’re paired with Gabe and his younger brother Amos Jr., and the silence is filled with Junior’s ceaseless chatter. You pity the young boy, who shouldn’t have to search for his brother who he doesn’t even know is dead. 

When you go near the spot you buried Raph, your gaze immediately meets Gabe’s and a silent agreement goes between you two. Do not let Junior find the grave. 

But despite your best efforts, the boy does, and you can only watch while Gabe threatens him to keep his mouth shut. You're sick, and you haven’t eaten anything all day. You tell Gabe and Junior to go ahead, and then puke your guts out near Raph’s grave. 

You hold on to a tree, and sob. The taste of vomit, still on your tongue. The wind blows through your hair, it feels like Raph’s gentle caress. You swear you even hear his voice, whispering to you that it's all going to be okay, that he’ll make things better, that Gabe would pay for what he’s done. 

Time passes by. You attend Raphael’s funeral. You study, and go to your classes. You run, run faster than you’ve ever ran. You run faster than even Raph, who you’ve replaced as the track team captain. You wear his necklace every day, and you’d never take it off if you could help it. 

Sometimes you swear you hear him, whispering into your ear. Every night you feel like he’s holding you as well, but his touch is cold, yet it still brings you comfort after every nightmare where his bloody corpse stares at you from the shallow grave Gabe made for him. 

You start to isolate yourself, especially when the comforting touches become rough and possessive when you spend too much time with anybody else. You make small talk with your classmate? Ghostly fingers dig their nails into your skin. You roughhouse with your friends? Cold arms wrap themselves around your waist so tight you feel like it’s getting crushed. You get hit on by a girl? Suddenly she’s got a cold look in her eyes and leaves mid sentence. 

When you graduate, you don’t attend any parties, and you’re not invited to many other than the ones hosted by your track teammates. Gabe invites you to one, surprisingly, but when Raph wraps himself possessively around you, you know you’re not leaving the house tonight.

You don’t sleep that night either, not when Raph’s hands grope your bare flesh, sensitive against his cool touch. You swear you can see him, blood still staining his skin, his eyes are vacant but at the same time hazy with lust. He whimpers, and whines, panting into your ear.

  “Feels good.”

  “Nngh, sooo warm.” 

 “Need you, need you, need you.”

 “Love you, love you ‘s much.”

 “Never letting you go, n- ha.. not even death can separate us.” 

You feel dirty, like you’re being used. But you let him continue, you deserve this. Don’t you? You didn’t help him. You were too weak to help him. If only you were stronger, maybe it wouldn’t be his ghost on top of you right now but it’d be him in the flesh. Body just as warm as yours, a beautiful red flush on his sun kissed skin. You’d trace over every freckle, every small childhood scar, and hold him close to you till the sun rose.

But instead, your only company is the freezing form of Raph’s specter as he desperately clings to the comfort of your warmth, to feel alive again. And he’s never leaving you. 

“...You’re mine, mine, [Name],” His frigid whispers send a shiver down your spine, “You are mine even in death.”

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ.

[christliche-kunstwerke]

Die Anbetung der Hirten, c.1770 von Anton Raphael Mengs (1770, oil on wood)

[pmamtraveller]

THE HIRELING SHEPHERD | 1851 | by WILLIAM HOLMAN HUNT

THE HIRELING SHEPHERD is a significant work that sparked controversy due to its social critique and meticulous technique. The painting portrays a young shepherd neglecting his flock to court a woman, symbolizing moral corruption in VICTORIAN SOCIETY.

HUNT used detailed realism to convey his message. The painting's symmetrical structure and vibrant colors enhance its visual impact, drawing attention to the central figures and subtle disturbances in the scene.The painting's deeper meaning lies in HUNT'S religious message, emphasizing the shepherd's neglect of his duties akin to the hireling shepherd in biblical references.

Through intricate details like the DEATH'S HEAD HAWKMOTH and symbolic elements like the half-eaten apple and lamb, HUNT conveys themes of temptation, innocence, and moral responsibility. The painting serves as a cautionary tale about the consequences of neglecting one's responsibilities and succumbing to distractions, highlighting the importance of moral guidance and commitment in everyday life.

In conclusion, HUNT'S painting transcends its time, addressing timeless themes of moral decay, responsibility, and the consequences of moral laxity. Through meticulous detail and symbolic imagery, it remains a powerful critique of societal values and individual choices, inviting viewers to reflect on the complexities of human behavior and the impact of moral corruption on society

[nejackdaw]

This is my homie Lamb, he's a nature cleric

Finally romancing Wyll 🌹

[genevieveetguy]

. I'm a terrible, frightful flirt. Did you ever hear of a nice girl that wasn't? But now I guess you'll tell me I'm not a nice girl.

Daisy Miller, Peter Bogdanovich (1974)

[pupmusebox]

Tag dump 6/?

{ First Brother and Avatar of Pride - Lucifer } { Second Brother and Avatar of Greed - Mammon } { Third Brother and Avatar of Envy - Leviathan } { Fourth Brother and Avatar of Wrath - Satan } { Fifth Brother and Avatar of Lust - Asmodeus } { Sixth Brother and Avatar of Gluttony - Beelzebub } { Seventh Brother and Avatar of Sloth - Belphegor } { Human Exchange Student Among Demons - Yuki/Male!MC } { Royal Demon and Future King of Devildom - Lord Diavolo } { Loyal and Impeccable Demon Butler - Barbatos } { Powerful and Immortal Sorcerer - Solomon } { Calm and Serious Archangel - Simeon } { Quiet Spear Wielding Seraphim - Raphael } { Reaper and Caretaker of Life Candles - Thirteen } { Young Devil Bird of a Son - Lucius(flameandindifference) } { Playful Half Demon and Prideful Bird - Dante } { Royal Heir and Half Demon Dragon - Caius } { Crafty Bird of a Half Demon and Fae - Mael } { Mystery Demon of a Moth Pet - Samuel } { Warm Heart of Royal Dragon - Silas } { Sharp Witted Bird of Pride - Ignatius } { Noble Demon of Wickedness - Belial } { Shepherding Archangel of Justice - Raguel } { King of Knights - Arthur Pendragon } { Solitude Psychic of a Legendary - Vero/Mewtwo } { Tech Talented Alibaba and Oracle - Futaba Sakura } { Team Rocket Boss and Former Gym Leader - Giovanni } { Cold Eyed Rocket Executive - Archer } { Team Rocket's Master of Disguise - Petrel } { Team Magma's Boss - Maxie }

[pupmuseboxmovedarchive]

Tag dump 6/?

{ First Brother and Avatar of Pride - Lucifer } { Second Brother and Avatar of Greed - Mammon } { Third Brother and Avatar of Envy - Leviathan } { Fourth Brother and Avatar of Wrath - Satan } { Fifth Brother and Avatar of Lust - Asmodeus } { Sixth Brother and Avatar of Gluttony - Beelzebub } { Seventh Brother and Avatar of Sloth - Belphegor } { Human Exchange Student Among Demons - Yuki/Male!MC } { Royal Demon and Future King of Devildom - Lord Diavolo } { Loyal and Impeccable Demon Butler - Barbatos } { Powerful and Immortal Sorcerer - Solomon } { Calm and Serious Archangel - Simeon } { Quiet Spear Wielding Seraphim - Raphael } { Reaper and Caretaker of Life Candles - Thirteen } { Young Devil Bird of a Son - Lucius } { Playful Half Demon and Prideful Bird - Dante } { Royal Heir and Half Demon Dragon - Caius } { Crafty Bird of a Half Demon and Fae - Mael } { Mystery Demon of a Moth Pet - Samuel } { Warm Heart of Royal Dragon - Silas } { Sharp Witted Bird of Pride - Ignatius } { Noble Demon of Wickedness - Belial } { Shepherding Archangel of Justice - Raguel } { King of Knights - Arthur Pendragon } { Solitude Psychic of a Legendary - Vero/Mewtwo } { Tech Talented Alibaba and Oracle - Futaba Sakura } { Team Rocket Boss and Former Gym Leader - Giovanni } { Cold Eyed Rocket Executive - Archer } { Team Rocket's Master of Disguise - Petrel } { Team Magma's Boss - Maxie }

[redsrooftopprincess]

Assassin

Raphael x Fem Reader

No warnings, just pain

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

...

He's always had a sixth sense about his children. Perhaps it is part of his mutation, perhaps it is fatherly instincts, but when his more emotional son went missing late into the wedding reception, he went looking.

He finds Raphael sitting on a secluded bench by the house, sheltered from the moonlight by branches overhead. When he approaches, his second son looks up at him with tear filled eyes. He places a soft paw against his cheek.

"Will you tell me what is troubling you?" He asks, knowing that pushing will get him nowhere. His son looks up at him with a lost expression, before shame and anguish turn his features.

"I can't..." He says, looking away.

Splinter frowns, now more concerned. This must be serious. "Take your time..." He reassures, as he sits beside him, placing a paw on Raphael's shoulder. The internal conflict is clear on his face, and he can't meet his father's gaze for several long moments.

"I love her, Dad... I love her so damn much..." he finally responds, breath hitching at the confession, needing a moment before he can continue. "And... every time I think I got a handle on it she goes out with some jerk... or she does something really sweet... or she just... looks at me. And I'm right back where I started."

He grips the bench hard, wood cracking under strong tridactyl hands, "God, I haven't hated it this much since I was a kid," he laughs humorlessly. It took him so long to find peace with himself. With all the things he could never have.

"I was good, you know? For *so long* I was good... Then she turns up and suddenly I..." He shakes his head. You'd come into his world and he'd started *wanting* things again. Impossible things.

He'd walked down the aisle with you as Best Man and Maid of Honor, and the whole time his friends were getting married, he was looking at you. And when the bride was being kissed and you turned to smile at him from the other side of the archway...

"What I'd give for a chance, you know? Just a shot. Just to see if we *might* work..." His voice cracks as if, if he were insistent enough, the Gods would let him have this one thing, "because I think we would. I think we..." His voice choking off into a sob as Splinter pulls him down into a hug.

Tomorrow, his gratitude for you will return. He really does love you, and wouldn't trade what he already has with you for anything. But tonight, as the party winds down across the lawn, Raphael weeps into his father's shoulder, mourning the love he can never give you.

...

Less a lover, more a fighter

But I'm tired of fighting to hold on

Got too many scars to hide them

So it's easier being on my own

But you

Shoot first, draw blood, before I know

Yeah you

One shot, one touch, and I let go

How did this happen?

My walls were up and

You moved without a sound

Never imagined, like an assassin

One look took me down...

Assassin, Sultan + Shepherd

...

Tag list:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch

(let me know if you want in on the tag list ♥️)

[ghostinyrmachine]

chapter 3 of what fresh hells

part 3 of my raphaelxtav fic! hope you like banter bc i sure do :)

AO3

With Raphael back in the House of Hope, Tav learns about the deal her friends have made in her absence.

________

Raphael x F!Tav

word count: 1560

sfw (for now👀)

Draped in perhaps the softest towel that had ever graced your skin, you perched uneasily on the velvet couch before Raphael. Despite his injuries, he was giving you quite the monologue, as usual.

“I have been utterly gracious to you and your companions thus far, wouldn’t you say? I have guided you since your little journey began. Shepherded you towards your destiny with only the most minimal interference. This latest betrayal of my faith in your character is vexing, to say the least. I have been far more courteous than you deserve, little mouse, even—”

“Enough with the theatrics, devil. Just tell me what you did with my party.”

He beamed back at you, savoring your mounting impatience with his pleasantries. You suspected he’d come to enjoy your rapport. Not many people seemed willing to defy him as openly and sharply as you had been. But he’d always struck you as the kind of predator that liked to play with its meal before devouring it whole. He probably reveled in your defiance, a battle of wits his game of choice

“Always so demanding, Tav. A poor quality in a leader, don’t you think? As for your devoted followers, it is less what I have done with them but what they have done for me,” he purred.

You hadn’t spent much time with Raphael when he wasn’t in his humanoid form, but the way his tail twitched behind him made this slick gloating more suspect than usual.

“While you have been indulging in my woefully unearned hospitality, your friends have been hard at work. And I, being the forgiving benefactor that I am, have generously offered them what it is they now desire most.”

Raising your eyebrow, you decided to play his game a little longer. As much as you yearned to wipe the gratified look from his face, letting him lose his cool might get you something better. How much information could he be duped into revealing?

“I can’t imagine what that could be. They already have the Orphic Hammer, the Netherstones. I think they’re in much better shape than you are at the moment,” you taunted. “What else could they possibly need? You don’t seem to be holding any more cards, Raphael. You’ve played them all so poorly.”

This last jab, calculated deliberately to send your enemy into a tailspin, instead elicited what almost appeared to be a genuine smile from the cambion. He let out a delighted chuckle.

“Very clever, little mouse. Always attempting to match wits with those you are woefully at the mercy of. Your sharp tongue has gotten you this far. If only your friends had your tact, perhaps their negotiations would have went in their favor,” he teased.  

Gods damn it.

“I don’t suppose you offered them a deal, hmm? Never thought you’d be so desperate as to enlist a group of altruistic thieves,” you said, suppressing your anxiety over whatever bargain they may have reached.

Raphael’s face betrayed no sign of concern, something that frightened you greatly. “Desperate? Oh no, Tav, it wasn’t I who proposed a deal this time. Your friends, helpless as they are without your fearless leadership, were tripping over themselves to make me an offer.”

No, no, they couldn’t have. They’d never be so foolish. Gods, why couldn’t I have been there? Why couldn’t I stop them?

The disappointment, mingled with fear, stung like a slap in the face. You may have the cunning to elude Raphael, but without you as a mediator, the party didn’t stand a chance. Still, you attempted to hide the guilt from your expression as you pressured Raphael for more.

“Oh? And what kind of offer would that be?”

His eyes narrowing, a predatory energy emanating from his infernal presence, the cambion savored your poorly hidden anguish. Injured as he was, his confidence was unshaken.

“Well, little mouse, it was a fair bargain. One you were too impudent to make yourself back at Sharess’s Caress.”

Fuck.

“The Crown?” you asked, more a statement than a question.

“That’s correct.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it, little mouse? It was about time your merry band of heroes came to their senses. Without your pitiable influence, they finally recognized what is rightfully mine.”

“But they have the hammer. They’ll have Orpheus. We don’t need anything from you. They’d never agree to hand it over,” you insisted, dropping the calm façade.

He tutted in mock disagreement, “Tsk, it’s not about what they need, Tav. I have the one and only thing that they want. The only thing they’d be willing to trade the Crown for.”

He paused, soaking in the tension of the moment. You could feel a pit growing in your stomach as you realized what they’d done. With a satisfied purr escaping his lips, Raphael stalked toward you and drank in the energy of your grief like a vintage red. He gestured to your presence with his hand out, as if asking you to dance.

“I have you,” he hissed, practically licking his lips as he gazed at you hungrily.

You recoiled from his approach, backing up to put distance between you.

“Bullshit. They’d never.”

“Oh, but they did.”

“You probably didn’t even speak to them. You just licked your wounds in some corner, coming up with a good story,” you spat at him. “Quite the scene you’ve set here. But you’re bluffing. And even if you did make them a deal, they’ll never go through with it. Either way, you’ve wasted what precious little time you still have on this plane.”

Your fists balled at your sides, the urge to hurl a spell at him pushing any sensible or tactical thought from your mind.

Pouncing on your moment of weakness, just as you did his, Raphael snapped, conjuring a parchment glowing with infernal runes. Waving his hand, the page floated before your face, revealing the signatures of each of your companions at the bottom. Granted, most of them looked rushed or frantic, obviously done in a trembling hand. And yet, there they were.

“As you can see, I’ve told you nothing but the unfortunate truth, as I always have and always will.”

You let out a single, strained breath. So, your friends signed a contract. What remained to be seen was what exactly they’d agreed to.

“Hmm.”

“Have I rendered you speechless, little mouse? I do suppose it must be quite a shock, seeing how quickly your lackeys have traded such a powerful relic for a mere mortal such as yourself. Though, I must say, I’m surprised as well. I knew you had a part to play in the story so far, but this is a rather unexpected role in which you’ve been cast. A pawn.”

Your mind wandered to the Last Light Inn, Raphael and Mol playing lanceboard. You’d urged her to play aggressively and helped her win. The memory centered you. Mol had signed a contract too, but she was still a player. All was not lost.

The board just needs a jostle.

“A pawn, perhaps. But the pieces haven’t been cleared just yet. You’ve made a deal on an unstable precedent, Raphael. The Crown is still atop the Elder Brain, where it will most likely remain for the foreseeable future. As powerful as my friends are, as you have witnessed,” you said, pointedly eying his wounds, “They may not even secure the Crown for you.”

“Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Tav. There are more moves to be made, more gambits to play, I grant you that. But until the Crown rest upon my head, I’m afraid you won’t be going anywhere.” Raphael purred, the scroll disappearing in a puff of red smoke. “As per the terms of this deal, you will remain within the walls of the House of Hope as collateral. And before you consider making an ill-advised escape, know that, according to the stipulations made by your allies, no harm—physical, psychic, or spiritual—will befall you. If, and only if, you remain as peaceful and docile as yours truly.”

“So I’m what? A hostage or a house guest?” you asked, not sure which answer you’d prefer.

“Ha! That will be up to you, little mouse. Though, there have been arrangements made to ensure you hold up your end of the bargain.”

Snapping once more, Raphael conjured a single sussur blossom in your clenched fist. Running your fingertips over the achingly soft petals, you felt the magic within you be sapped away. The arcane force that surged through your veins vanished, leaving you utterly defenseless.

“The blooms were your wizard companion’s idea. Apparently, your friends may have been harboring a contingency plan on their own,” he said, much more at ease now that your powers had been removed from the equation.

The sadness that had seeped in over the hours of waiting returned, a heavy weight on your chest that rendered any restorative bath useless.

“Now, as much as I adore our lively conversations, I must retire for the evening, as should you. A guest room has been prepared for your accommodation, another condition I am generously upholding at your allies’ request. Any further discussion will have to be postponed until later,” Raphael said, slowly returning to the water’s edge. “But I—,” you stammered, unable to get out another word before the fiend dismissed you with a clap.

[5ilent5cience]

Teenage Mutant Knitted Turtles Fact

Fun fact: One of the Au "Teenage mutant Knitted turtles" are actual meant for almost christian-related analog horror which is similar to "The Mandela catalogue" as it's also a christian-related analog horror where Sheeps represents the goods one as when it comes to wolf which is meant for being the fallen angel.

SPOILER ALERT: DONNIE'S/DONATELL-WOOL BACKSTORY

||In this picture, we can see Donnie is actually praying for something he really wants: To be praised by his own brothers and think he can be the lead someday but sadly it was replaced by Ram-phael(Raphael) due to being oldest siblings and has huge protective instinct which matches to the average leader's behavior.

Donnie was commonly known for "The precious gem" of the group due to his cuteness and ability of beautiness, Just like that, he wanted to be praised by others.

But in reality, Raph and Leo disagreed with Donnie's dream which upsets him, so he began to attack Leo first in the barn, then Raph. That's when April, who is remain to be the only shepherd, caught Donnie in horrible Sin as he sented away to far-from-nowhere place which is his new home of cementary, That's where the sin of the fallen sheep begins. And that's when Mikey was born and being adopted to be replaced of Donnie's role.

[sagesskies]

Mr. Sage, can I ask if you'll ever make a Part. 2 of Yandere!spirit? I love Raphael so much and the little details you put in.

probably not? If I did it'd just be older reader who's going through depression 😭😭 and raph being a pervy little ghost 💀

i mean, i did have an idea of reader trying to move on and get rid of Raph, but considering the traits I had in mind for the reader so they won't be just a flesh sack that gets pushed around by the plot, he probably wouldn't want to bc he's the type of guy who wouldn't want to move on.

if you guys do have any ideas for anything you'd like me to do with these characters in specific scenarios and stuff, do feel free to request tho :D

[pmamtraveller]

GALATEA /1896/ by GUSTAVE MOREAU

This artwork shows a scene from Ovid's Metamorphoses where the cyclops, Polyphemus, experiences one-sided love for the Nereid sea nymph, Galatea. Galatea loves the shepherd Acis instead, and he is unattainable to her. Galatea lies on a seaweed-covered bed with the two figures encircled by underwater blooming plants.

The tale recounts, "Here is a terrible giant who loves a beautiful nymph." The contrast between the light complexion of Galatea's lying figure, symbolizing how out of reach she is, and the dark hues of desolate Polyphemus, who melds into the backdrop, is striking

The piece highlights the contrast between attractiveness and unattractiveness, brightness, and darkness. The luminous body of Galatea enhances her ethereal beauty. Moreau's precise focus on nature is evident in the complex features of the nearby underwater flora and coral, influenced by his research in marine botany.

This is the second piece Moreau did of this subject, the first being an oil on wood painting from 1880. Moreau was very fond of this myth and had two photographs of works by other artists depicting this same subject hanging in his living room. These include Raphael’s “Triumph of Galatea” and Sebastiano del Piombo’s “Polyphemus”.

[justabiteofspite]

Punctured Minds, Sharp Teeth

Chapter 1: The Devil's Fee

Rating: Explicit/18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Astarion/Named Tiefling Fem Durge OC

Summary: Taking down Bhaalist assassins, being constantly reported on by the Baldur’s Mouth, and occasionally babysitting a flock of tiefling children isn’t quite the dream life for Astarion Ancunín. Eight months after the fall of the Netherbrain, he and his redeemed Bhaalspawn lover, Henri, are still taking shaky steps forward in establishing a new life for themselves free from their respective masters.

When Gale Dekarios comes to visit with news of a grant awarded to Blackstaff Academy to research improvements in the lives of vampires, Astarion sees an opportunity to give back the lives he unwillingly stole from the vampire spawn in the Underdark. What kind of trouble awaits Astarion and his Bhaalbabe at Blackstaff Academy? Is this research and grant legitimate? Or is something more malicious brewing under a facade of academic knowledge and undead charity?

CW: 18+ Sex, Blood, Gore, Sudicidal Ideation, Dead Dove Dark Urge related content, See AO3 for full tag list

Author's Note: I hope you enjoy! Thank you to @badbloodwitch for helping with editing this bad boy and to everyone who said, "Please, for the love of all things good and holy, publish the damn thing."

Read on AO3

When the Devil’s Fee was under the management of the cambion, Raphael, son of Mephistopheles, it held a reputation of being a place of unsavory deals, desperate promises and monkey’s paw trades. The tall, imposing stone building’s location right outside the city’s cemetery served as a warning to those who dared to enter—visitors had better have their affairs in order before attempting to make a deal.

However, Raphael was now dead, as was his underling who ran it, the Fee’s only staff member. And given it had no other claim, it was now a dealing house of a smattering of tiefling refugees, keeping the irony of the location’s name intact.

It was also the rumored location of the Bhaalspawn turned apostate who had led the rescue of Baldur’s Gate from the tentacles of an army of mind flayers. A rumor that led one of her lost followers to the doors of the Devil’s Fee, blade in hand. 

The Follower was human, short, hair shorn to showcase the seal of Bhaal tattooed on the back of their scalp. A tattoo this follower proudly did themselves, an offering to their beloved god. How glorious that day had been...their dedication, their suffering and sacrifice, to show their Murder Lord their love for his word, for his works.

Thank you, my lord, for showing me the way. Of course she would be here, the Follower thought, once again obsessively going over the details in their head. The disowned Bhaalspawn took the form of a tiefling. Pale silver blue with bright red tattoos that this Follower had given her as an offering to her father, the ink made from the blood of her victims. An assurance of the permanence of her devotion to her flock. The mark of their savior, the mark of the Last Being to walk the realm, drowning it in glorious warm blood.

But now the Church was all but gone. The Bhaalspawn had turned from them all, turned from her father, rejected the gift he had given, that they had given, and now the remaining spatter of sheep were begging for a shepherd. Or at the very least, revenge for their destruction.

Strike her down, and I shall give you the rod to lead them.

The Bhaalspawn did not deserve the Murder Lord’s blessing. Did not deserve to wear the Follower’s needlework on their skin. With any luck, the Follower would flay their work off that Bhaalspawn’s unworthy neck and head. Wear it themselves, Bhaal’s true devotee.

The knife was shaking in the Follower’s hand as they walked up the steps, their breathing uneven. They would need to be quick. This Bhaalspawn had struck down her sister in seconds and even without Bhaal’s blessing had defeated an Elder Brain. And it was only recently that she had come back to the city, so who knew what other powers she had stolen? What other blessings had she gained that she was unworthy to have?

The Follower paused at the door, briefly kissing their knife, holding it up for a moment in prayer.

Father of Murder, bless this tool of your will. Bless me with your will that your abomination of a child be struck down for your glory.

The carcass of a lover ghosted over the Follower’s puckered back hole making them shiver in anticipation. A promise of ecstasy. With a nod and a bliss-filled grin, the assassin opened the door, and stepped inside.

The building was gorgeous, clean, with stone and red carpets. Not much had changed from its previous owner, save the small tiefling child manning the desk, who immediately cocked an eyebrow at the Follower’s appearance.

A child. An innocent. A perfect accompaniment. Once information was given, of course.

“Where is the Bhaalspawn?” The Follower hissed, spit flying from their chapped lips,“Tell me.”

The tiefling child reacted immediately, yelling out at the top of its little lungs, “Guys, we’ve got a crazy one!”

Crazy? The Follower giggled to themselves. This child knows nothing. Nothing of the insanity of life. So new to this world. And, as the Follower raised their knife, it would never be old enough to know it once they had their say.

“Mirkon, you’re up, buddy!”

The Follower took a step, barely registering the sound of broken glass and immediately slipped and fell in a puddle of grease that had sprung up beneath their feet, letting out a cry of pain. In another moment they were blind. 

Guide my ears, guide my hearing to the sound of your rejected seed. But the dark was crushing in and all The Follower could do was listen to the sound of scurrying, crashing, and arguing.

“But I want to cast the Fireball!”

“No, Henri said to try Hold Person first, remember? Is someone waking up Astarion?”

“That’s your job!”

“No, it’s not!”

“Yes it is, then you grab the crossbow over there, remember? You’re not good at spells anyway, give me that!”

“Guys, I can just kill them right now, watch this!”

Were these...no...these couldn’t all be children could they?

The Follower tried to stand, only to let out another cry as cool steel sliced the back of their heels, making them stumble back to their knees, warm liquid seeping out from their flesh as their body only now started to recognize the sting and pain that accompanied it.

I shall enter your embrace bathed in blood.

A man, a grown man’s voice suddenly cut in through the fog of pain and confusion and arguing, “What the bloody hells is going on up here? And can someone pull the damn curtains shut? Gods!”

“Astarion, look! We caught one right as they were coming in!”

One? Had there been others sent to deliver a divine message of revenge to Bhaal’s lost sheep and shepherd?

The man’s voice again, “Oh, shit.” The sound of blades being pulled. “Everyone get out of the way and let me handle this!”

“Aw, but I wanted to stab them-”

“Mattis, move .”

A flurry of steel precisely slashed through the Follower’s internal organs with a practiced precision even they had to respect. They tried to swing with their knife only to find their hand empty of any weapon besides their own fist, which met nothing but air.

Everything was metallic, everything was pain, everything was slowly slipping away...Bhaal was close...

Forgive me, my Lord, I was not worthy.

*********************************************************

The basement of the Devil’s Fee was not Astarion Acunin’s perfect idea of a home, but it certainly had its charms. The location, for one, could not be beat. The tieflings were, for the most part, good neighbors and weren’t too loud, and if he really got an itch, Karlach and Wyll and the heads of demons he could shoot were just an upstairs portal away. The House of Hope had become his friends’ base since it was available after the group had taken down Raphael and his incubus.

Friends. He had friends . What a concept.

Today, however, the unmistakable sound of a struggle dragged him away from his book and upstairs to see a gaggle of tiefling children with various bloody instruments looking at him proudly over the writhing, bleeding, grease-covered body of an underprepared Bhaalist.

“Tell me you were about to call me up here,” Astarion admonished sternly as wiped down and sheathed his blades, “You know you aren’t supposed to take on attackers by yourselves.”

One of the children pouted, “But look! I cut their ankle tendons just like you showed us!”

Astarion took a knee next to the body, careful not to get grease all over his freshly creased pants, and glanced over their work. The cuts were deep, precise, and made him feel a strange sense of pride. “And an excellent job you did. But trust me, it is not worth getting yourself hurt. These people are more dangerous than your average vagabond.”

The only thing of significance on the failed killer’s body was a letter addressed to “Bhaal’s Rejected Seed.” Creative, these murder enthusiasts , Astarion thought, Dangers of being in a cult formally led by a bard.

“Come on!  Aren’t you supposed to be the cool scary vampire who tells us to get into trouble?”

Astarion tried and failed to blow his curls off his sweat laden face, “I frankly couldn’t give less of a damn what you do. But unfortunately for both of us, Henri prefers you alive. And don’t poke at the body! ” Astarion flit his hands aimlessly in the general direction of the far too interested children reaching out to investigate. “It’s a dead body, not a plaything.”

“You’re no fun,” one of the kids whined.

“Yeah, not very cool, Astarion.”

“Henri would let us at least examine the body.”

Slinging the quickly cooling corpse over his shoulder, Astarion stood with a grunt, twirling his finger at the mixture of blood and grease left. “Get this cleaned up and keep the doors locked.”

The kids groaned but started to grab various magical cleaning implements as Astarion made his way up the stairs. 

They had gotten lucky that this particular worshiper of murder was far less experienced than some of the others that had darkened their door. Astarion could roughly count from memory about a dozen aspiring Bhaalspawn killers in the two months he and Henri had been back in Baldur’s Gate, this one by far the most pathetic.

Once upstairs, Astarion dropped the body upstairs into a chilled trunk marked “Attempted Bhaalist Assassins” and muttered a cantrip to clean himself off, pulling the letter from the body out of his pocket.

Some of the Bhaalists had prayers attached to them, or books they had marked up with notes and musings. One had written an entire catechism of ramblings that read like a smut offering from Sharess’ Caress with the Dead Three all combined in a number of unholy positions. Henri hung that particular one proudly on their growing wall of collectables from their adventures together.

But this was the first to be addressed specifically to his lover. Perhaps he should wait to open it until she comes back. Should be a good laugh.

Then again...perhaps it would be better to see if this was something he could just handle for her. Hells, he was trying to get the pair of them out of Baldur’s Gate again, if only because Henri once again seemed to be attracting every request and responsibility of every person in the city. Not to mention her most recent admirer, the Gazette, was determined to publish every detail of her very private life, and, he thought with a touch of pride, that of her very handsome vampire beau.

Astarion opened the letter and glanced over it.

You, the heretic child, are still but a vessel for the future glory of your dread Father. He is waiting, watching for the conception of his revenge, his second coming, his plan. For if you will not wreck this world and fill the oceans with blood, your spawn surely will. Hurry then, your false freedom shall give way to the glory of Bhaal that you will bear and give to the world as it dies in a million screams.

Hmph. Not particularly impressive as threats go, Astarion thought, quickly setting it aflame in his hand. And the archaic language, well, it was certainly an attempt at something that resembled the concept of poetry.

Henri was supposed to be back in about an hour. And while he’d witnessed her plenty capable self pull her sword out of the chest cavity of a goblin, lick the blood off her blade, only to then immediately stab it into the eye of another, Astarion couldn’t help but worry.

The pair of them had been free of their respective masters for over eight months now. And while Astarion knew that Cazador was nothing more than a rotted mangled corpse, Bhaal was still around, skulking the shadows of their life together.

She’s fine , Astarion thought to himself. Henri was with the Harpers for gods sake. It would be stupid for anyone to attack anywhere with both her and Jaheria present.

As if manifesting such an occasion through the Weave, Astarion felt his sending stone buzz in his pocket. He fumbled the stone a bit with a shaking hand, cursing under his breath.

“Yes, love?” Astarion answered, trying to sound as calm and not panicked as possible, “Everything alright?”

“Oh good. You’re alive.”

Astarion blinked, his ears ringing. “Not the most promising start to this conversation, dear.”

Henri’s voice was light, a bit ragged, and definitely, Astarion could tell under that jokey tone of hers, anxious, “So, how about, you know, just for fun, you locked down the Fee and didn’t let anyone in or out except for Zevlor and Dammon?”

Shit .

“On it,” Astarion said quickly, choosing to avoid bringing up the Bhaalist at the moment, “What the hells happened? Are you alright?”

Henri scoffed, “Of course, I’m alright. Everyone’s alright, actually, no casualties. Just, you know, some paladins and clerics on some misguided mission. I’ll explain everything when I get there with Jaheria in about an hour.”

Astarion sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “The children are all here. Why are the children always here? I know Mattis and some of the others work here, but there’s always a gaggle of smaller, more annoying children following them about.”

“Well, there are non-blood snacks in the icebox and you’re a very compelling storyteller. I’m sure you’ll rise to the occasion beautifully .”

Astarion could hear the teasing smile in Henri’s voice accompanying the deliberate side step of his question. He’d usually admonish her or fuss about a bit, but before he had the chance to, Henri’s voice cut in again, words coming out in a rush, “Sorry, gorgeous, got to run, love you!”

“I-” the sending stone buzzed again indicating she was no longer there. Astarion finished the sentence quietly to himself, “love you too.”

He stared at the stone for a moment, thinking back to himself a year ago. Little more than a puppet with strings attached to a sadistic master who wanted nothing more than for him to suffer. A shell of a thing that used to be a person broken down into nothing, who had nothing but a singular talent.

When the mind flayers had snatched him up and he had crashed onto that beach, Astarion had nothing. Survival was all that mattered. Now that he was free and loved and had friends and family, well...he had accumulated quite a bit to lose.

She’ll be back in an hour. She’s perfectly capable. You saw her command a dragon to grovel at her feet atop an eldritch nightmare, Astarion slipped the stone back into his pocket, heading back downstairs to wrangle the tieflings he was for some reason responsible for the next hour. And if she wasn’t back in an hour, well, the sun would be down soon.

And he was feeling rather peckish.

[whispering-about-the-tmnt]

i like about when people make raph good at doing doctor things like in your something wicked because it fits because raphael the archangel is the saint of healing!

I just looked it up after I got this, and yes! I never made the connection before, but he is!

According to Wikipedia, the Archangel Raphael is (among other things) the Patron Saint of travelers, lovers, the youth, mental health, healing, shepherds, pharmacists, nurses, physicians, eye afflictions, the sick, the blind, and against nightmares!

It's funny that I never looked it up before, but it does make it kind of fitting to write Raph as the medic of the team now!

(Also slightly ironic, in that I have Raph say in Something Wicked, "I ain't religious... I never said a prayer in my life, and I ain't gonna start now.")

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

i think one of the many reasons i love the golden deer so much is that they feel like the shepherds 2

you got the brilliant tactician mastermind whos strategies are really fun and unique making for great so many moments (robin/claude)

pigtails, has some cutscene relevance despite not being the main character, and big axe (lissa/hilda)

you got the snooty lovable noble who eventually really means their best but theyve grown up in nobility all their life they dont know how to show it well (maribelle/lorenz)

...however you also have a noble that is trying to flirt with everyone but has no rizz (virion/lorenz)

good with animals but quite clumsy (sumia/marianne)

the studious mage who doesnt really wanna be bothered (miriel/lysithea)

..but also a mage who's young but hates to be treated like a kid (ricken/lysithea)

guy who is just here to eat cheeseburger (stahl/raphael)

really really cool women (sully/leonie)

and our protagonist who stands alongside the tactician and they definitely kissed said tactician (chrom/byleth)

((bonus: im not sure if libra is an outright member of the shepherds but him and ignatz are both artists and underrated characters))

.

[antiochianorthodoxcumberlandmd]

Daily Scripture Readings and Lives of the Saints for Tuesday, April 22, 2025

Fast Free

Feasts and Saints celebrated today:

Renewal Tuesday: The Commemoration of Saints Raphael, Nicholas, Irene, and the Other Newly-revealed Martyrs of Lesbos

Theodore of Sykeon

Nathaniel, Luke, & Clemente the Apostles

Gregory Gravanos of Nisyros

Nearchos the Martyr

Readings for today:

Acts of the Apostles 2:14-21

Luke 24:12-35

Renewal Tuesday: The Commemoration of Saints Raphael, Nicholas, Irene, and the Other Newly-revealed Martyrs of Lesbos

Reading from the Synaxarion:

On the island of Mytilene (Lesbos in ancient times), near the village of Therme, the villagers had a custom of ascending a certain hill on this day to celebrate the Divine Liturgy in the ruins of a small chapel, although no one knew whence the tradition sprang. In the year 1959, certain villagers began seeing persons who spoke to them, first in dreams, then awake, both by day and by night. Through these wondrous appearances, which were given to many people independently, the holy Martyrs Raphael, Archimandrite of the ancient monastery, and Nicholas, his deacon, together with other Saints who had been martyred on the island, told the villagers the whole account of their martyrdom, which had taken place at the hands of the Moslem Turks ten years after the fall of Constantinople, in 1463. The twelve-year-old Irene had been tortured, then burned alive in a large earthenware jar in the presence of her parents. On Tuesday of Renewal Week, Saint Raphael had been tied to a tree and hi s head sawn off through his jaws; Saint Nicholas had died at the sight of this. Although the feast is celebrated today because it is the day of their martyrdom, through the appearances of the Saints as living persons five hundred years after their martyrdom, it is also a singular testimony to the Resurrection of Christ.

Apolytikion of Renewal Tues. in the Fourth Tone

On Lesbos, ye strove in contest for the sake of Christ God; ye also have hallowed her with the discovery of your relics, O blessed ones. O God-bearer Raphael, with thee, we all honour Nicholas the deacon and Irene the chaste virgin, as our divine protectors, who now intercede with the Lord.

Kontakion of Renewal Tues. in the Plagal of the Fourth Tone

Ye shone on the world like stars first as ascetics, then as athletes slain for Christ, and were translated to the heights through the great torments that ye endured; and them that praise you, ye keep and protect, O Saints.

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Reading (c) Holy Transfiguration Monastery - Brookline, MA

Apolytikion of Renewal Tues. (c) Holy Transfiguration Monastery, Brookline, MA

Kontakion of Renewal Tues. (c) Holy Transfiguration Monastery, Brookline, MA

Theodore of Sykeon

Reading from the Synaxarion:

Saint Theodore was born out of wedlock in Sykeon, a village of Galatia in Asia Minor. From his childhood, he was under the protection and guidance of the holy Great Martyr George, who often appeared to him, and was as it were his trainer in the hard ascetical discipline which he took upon himself all his life. After a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, he became a monk in his native Galatia. About 584 he was ordained Bishop of Anastasiopolis in Galatia, where he shepherded his flock for ten years. After this, he asked to be allowed to be relieved of the duties of governing the diocese. His request was granted but he was commanded to retain his rank as bishop. Saint Theodore was a great worker of miracles, and also received from God the power to cast out even the most obstinate demons, who called him "Iron-eater" because of his stern way of life. Having passed throughout many regions, worked numerous miracles, and strengthened the faithful in piety, he departed this life in 613.

Apolytikion of Theodore of Sykeon in the Fourth Tone

Since thou hadst been known from thy swaddling bands to be sanctified, and hadst been shown to be filled with graces, thou didst illuminate the world with miracles, and dist drive off the swarms of demons, O sacred minister Theodore; wherefore do thou beseech the Lord in our behalf.

Kontakion of Theodore of Sykeon in the Third Tone

As thy fiery chariot, thou didst ascend on the virtues, O God-bearer, mounting up unto the dwellings of Heaven; and thou wast an Angel living on earth among men, and a man dancing for joy with the holy Angels. Hence, O Theodore, thou hast proved a godly vessel of awesome wonders and signs.

The content on this page is under copyright and is used by permission. All rights reserved. These works may not be further reproduced, in print or on other websites or in any other form, without the prior written authorization of the copyright holder:

Reading (c) Holy Transfiguration Monastery - Brookline, MA

Apolytikion of Theodore of Sykeon (c) Holy Transfiguration Monastery, Brookline, MA

Kontakion of Theodore of Sykeon (c) Holy Transfiguration Monastery, Brookline, MA

Prayer Before Reading Scripture

Shine within our hearts, loving Master, the pure light of Your divine knowledge and open the eyes of our minds that we may comprehend the message of Your Gospel. Instill in us also reverence for Your blessed commandments, so that having conquered all sinful desires, we may pursue a spiritual life, thinking and doing all those things that are pleasing to You. For You, Christ our God, are the light of our souls and bodies, and to You we give glory together with Your Father who is without beginning and Your all holy, good, and life giving Spirit, now and forever and to the ages of ages. Amen.

Epistle Reading

The Reading is from Acts of the Apostles 2:14-21

In those days, Peter, standing with the eleven, lifted up his voice and addressed them, "Men of Judea and all who dwell in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and give ear to my words. For these men are not drunk, as you suppose, since it is only the third hour of the day; but this is what was spoken by the prophet Joel: 'And in the last days it shall be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams; yea, and on my menservants and my maid servants in those days I will pour out my Spirit; and they shall prophesy. And I will show wonders in the heaven above and signs on the earth beneath, blood, and fire, and vapor of smoke; the sun shall be turned into darkness and the moon into blood, before the day of the Lord comes, the great and manifest day. And it shall be that whoever calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.'"

Gospel Reading

The Reading is from the Gospel According to Luke 24:12-35

At that time, [Peter rose and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; and he went home wondering at what had happened. That very day] two of them were going to a village named Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing together, Jesus Himself drew near and went with them. But their eyes were kept from recognizing Him. And He said to them, "What is this conversation which you are holding with each other as you walk?" and they stood still, looking sad. Then one of them, named Cleopas, answered Him, "Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?" And He said to them, "What things?" And they said to him, "Concerning Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and rulers delivered Him up to be condemned to death, and crucified Him. But we had hoped that He was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since this happened. Moreover, some women of our company amazed us. They were at the tomb early in the morning and did not find His body; and they came back saying that they had even seen a vision of angels, who said that He was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb, and found it just as the women had said; but Him they did not see." And He said to them, "O foolish men, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Was not it necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into this glory?" And beginning with Moses and all the prophets, He interpreted to them in all the scriptures the things concerning Himself. So they drew near to the village to which they were going. He appeared to be going further, but they constrained Him, saying, "Stay with us, for it is toward evening and the day is now far spent." So He went in to stay with them. When He was at table with them, He took the bread and blessed, and broke it, and gave it to them. And their eyes were opened and they recognized Him; and He vanished out of their sight. They said to each other, "Did not our hearts burn within us while He talked to us on the road, while He opened to us the scriptures?" And they rose that same hour and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven gathered together and those who were with them, who said, "The Lord has risen indeed, and has appeared to Simon!" Then they told what had happened on the road and how He was known to them in the breaking of the bread.