#a just cause does not absolve the sin

[kay-elle-cee]

*cough* um.....willabeth angst anyone?

(Happy 17th birthday to At World's End! I wish I had a picture of the Will Turner shirt I made and wore to the premiere!)

She had killed a man. The guilt, oddly enough, came not from taking the life itself. Elizabeth’s hands gripped the wood of the railing as the nausea threatened to overwhelm her again. She’d been making nightly excursions to this gangway, out of sight of the skeleton crew Captain Barbossa kept for the overnights as they sailed towards Singapore. Sleep was not a luxury that came easy to her since her day of reckoning; a clear mind and settled conscience even less so. Soft footsteps approached, then stopped. She made an effort to conceal her face, turning it away from the sound. “Elizabeth…”

[scoutswritingcorner]

Hey sugar~

I want a full fluff no angst request of alastor in the woods finding a lost reader

Monster In The Woods

Alastor x GN!Reader

Song: Like Real People Do by Hozier

TW: Talks about Murder, flashback to Human Alastor

A/N: Hihi Love! Added a teensy bit of angst. Who doesn't love angst?

You grumbled and looked around Alastor’s familiar bayou that was in his room. Your curiosity got the best of you, it was just seemingly endless with moths and fireflies, mud that sticks to your shoes and vines that hang from the trees that look like snakes waiting for you to let your guard down. Figments of alligators hissing and watching as you struggle to make your way further into the bayou, an old house sitting and waiting..inviting you into its warmth with bright light and smoke billowing from the chimney.

A sense of dread filled your body, one that you were too familiar with and hated with a fiery passion. The same feeling that made the golden ring on your finger feel heavier than normal allowing doubt to creep into your mind and anxiety wrap around your heart. Why weren’t you running towards the house? Towards the feeling of safety wrapped in the comfort of an old home..why were you standing in the middle of an open field? You were an unsuspecting doe about to get shot down…why was this so familiar?

Hands cupped your face, warm and sticky with blood as you sobbed out, whispers of words you couldn’t hear truthfully. You watched as his face- your husband's face twisted in fear and concern but his eyes told a different story, he was angry. Not at you, never at you. His hands brought you to his chest as your senses finally caught up to you. Ringing in your ears, chest heaving from the lack of oxygen in your lungs, your leg and stomach hurt. The same substance that was coating your hands had coated your leg and stomach. You were bleeding. There was so much blood. His words had fallen on deaf ears as a man laid face first into the mud and dirt not too far away, blood mixing into the earth. 

Oh right, you were running from the man and a trap snagged your leg good, ripping tendons in your leg. Then a shot rang out as you tried to get your leg out of the trap, distant slurs as the drunken man held a gun up aimed for your head. All you wanted to do was check up on your husband, you made this journey many times before why was this the outcome of it? As you began praying to a god you possibly never believed in, you never really visited the churches when you were younger. But you always did with your husband under the guise you were just going to work with him after. Yet here you were sobbing and panicking, whispering out how you wanted to absolve all your sins to God.

But it never came, the gun was dropped and subsequently caused the gun to go off. Bullet shooting out into the Louisiana swamps, the sun casting its last dying light upon your form as the moon was rising from behind the old shack.  Blood spurted out from the neck of the unknown man as your husband stood behind him, clothes drenched in blood as the knife in his was dropped to the muddy ground. You sobbed out in his arms..bleeding out, was this how you were going to die?

A familiar clawed hand squeezed your shoulder as familiar static nipped at your skin, another reaching over to wipe the fresh tears from your eyes. “Come come, let’s not dwell on the past, Darling.” He whispered out as you looked up at him. His crimson eyes that were always watching and moving waiting for the wrong movement, softened as he watched tears stain your cheeks. “I’m sorry..I got curious…” You whispered out watching him wave it off as he grabbed your hand, lifting it to kiss the golden band.  

Guiding you out of the bayou easily, he tapped his cane on the ground beside him, “No need to apologize, Darling. Let me go run you a warm bath, yes” He asked, watching as you nodded from the corner of his eye a soft smile graced your lips at the thought. “...Stay with me?” You asked, glancing up at your husband. He let out a soft chuckle and kissed the side of your head, arm wrapping around your waist.

“Of course, Dear.” He whispered out, finally putting those worries in your head to rest. He hated seeing that look in your eyes..the same look you gave him all those years ago in the bayou as he held you during your last moments. You looked so afraid then..but he wouldn’t make that same mistake again, he would make sure of it. Not even death could pull you both apart.

[titania-sleeps]

could we have more of depraved angel? 🥺🙏 Pleaseeee Dom him hard already

hiii ty for loving him, he loves you back sooo much :D i'm glad you're so eager cause he's already begging for it (if you squint hard enough precum is already there and you haven't done anything yet!)

this is coup de grace from his pov so you get to see all the thoughts in his silly head. (there are none. head empty no thoughts he just wants you.)

i'll release other content later :3

Coup De Grâce (Angel!Yandere x Nun!Reader) His POV

this is the continuation of this post

if you want to see this from your pov, click here (i recommend reading from your pov first)

warning: nsfw, dom reader (implied afab), dacryphilia, implied somnophilia (but it's like,,, not real cause you're awake), minors DNI pls

The curtains parts, moonlight trickling through the cracks. You lay in your bed, breathing steadily. Your eyes are closed. Not a single eyelash moved.

He swallows air. He is the angel, but he is convinced that there exists a halo around you. He pauses his movements, taking a second to take in the breathtaking scene.

Slowly, he drifts over your hardwood floor and lands on your bed. A soft thump echoes as he finds his spot next to you, as he does every night. His fingers dance around his cock, bringing it out from his robes. A smear of wetness accompanies his hands. Truly, he is enamored.

He shifts closer to you, using his hand to guide his head to where your ass is. He shudders in anticipation, allowing his hips to move against your form.

The initial feeling is grasped in sin. His body fills with a warmth far greater than that he could find in the embrace of the divine Lord. He muffles his whimper. There exists a ring in hell for individuals such as him, in the Second Circle, but perhaps he belonged in the center of hell. He is a heretic, yet he is fortunately not favored. He would not be cast down to pay Lucifer companionship.

Mikhael clutches your hand, his body shifting closer to you. He gasps, his cock sliding against your ass clumsily. He moves languidly, cautiously, afraid you will wake up. You are an unwilling partner in his sin, and all that he can do to absolve you of your guilt is to ensure you stay like that.

He moans softly into your ear, his hand tightening around your hand. His fingers slip through yours as he shivers from the stimulation. His hips stutter against yours shyly, though his tiny gasps and breathy moans betray his desire to do more.

He wants to melt into you, but before he can, he is flipped over by you. His eyes were closed, and now they open to perceive you. He blinks in confusion and wonder, the pupils of his eyes dilating. Then heat creeps up his face and overtakes it in a blossoming pink.

"Y-You can see me?" His mind buzzes in giddy joy. No human has been able to see him in the past, even those who proclaim themselves prophets. For you to see him, it must mean that his perverted love has been accepted. Then, just maybe, his love for you is holy, and you are his true god.

You don't respond to him; instead, he notices you lean down. Panicking, he closes his eyes before he feels your tongue on his lips, as though silently asking for permission to enter. He responds promptly by opening his mouth, allowing you to slip inside and envelop your tongue around his. He moans into the kiss, a wanton sound parting from his devoured lips.

He feels you pull away from him and he bites back a sad whine. You sit atop him, pushing your hair back. Your piercing eyes glare into his; that is how he knows you can genuinely see him. Your eyes look right into his soul.

"What's your name?" you ask. He jolts from your fingers folding into his.

"Mikhael," he replies, heart pounding. "How... can you see me?"

"Perhaps we're meant to be," you respond, leaning down to give him another peck. His organs flutter. So you are his destined god.

He whines when you pull away again, his hands reaching and wrapping themselves around your neck. He pulls you in for another kiss, submitting himself to your whims. Take control of him, take all of him, he is yours to consume and devour.

He is focused on your presence in his mouth until his body freezes from the feeling of your hand on his exposed cock, your fingers tickling his head. His hips buck and he groans; he smiles to himself as it seems to motivate you. Your slow strokes elicit moans from him.

"Mikhael, why do you follow me?" He whines when you pull away again. How cruel of you, to give him paradise to then cast him back into limbo. Your grip tightens on his cock.

"Love... you..." he mumbles quietly, averting his gaze.

You squeeze harder.

"I love you!" He gasps, his back arching. He feels your hand quicken its pace. You are smiling not unlike a goddess, especially with the moonlight hitting the gleam in your eyes. His heart is full, and he wishes he can present it to you fully.

"I've never had a celestial suitor before," you muse.

He is reduced to a whimpering mess, needy moans and groans escaping from his parted lips. His cock is angrily red, matching the hue of his face. His chest heaves as he closes his eyes, drops of tears falling from the corner of his eyes.

You lick his tears. He shakily breaks into a smile, knowing that you are now enamored with him as he is to you.

"I want to... finish..." he pleads, drunk on his perverted love. His cock throbs and his vision is dizzy, but you glow effervescently and he can only focus on you.

"Guess you're my guardian angel now," you laugh, your pace increasing. Mikhael moans, his body shuddering as his hips lift.

Bright halos of light convulse around you, your tempting smile nearly personifying agape. That is how he knows that you are the true being he is meant to serve. His body is absolved of his human sin, and his body experiences the weightlessness of a freed soul.

His cock trembles in your hand as it spews out cum. Minutes later and he is still cumming; he mutters incoherent noises. He is begging, pleading, imploring that you allow him the gentle presence of your lips on his, but you don't hear him.

As he comes down from his high, you peck his nose gently. His eyelids move slowly, staring at you with worship.

"I'm your guardian angel..." he repeats, humming softly to himself. He is more than your guardian angel now. He is your sole protector, a sworn fealty laid beneath your feet. He huddles closer to you, enjoying your warmth.

Perhaps he might be punished by his false gods.

But already his desire and his will were being turned like a wheel, all at one speed, by his Love which moves the sun and the other stars.

if anyone catches what the last line is i'll be happy

also i'll drop him trying to clumsily seduce you another day :D

-> masterlist

[fjorests-of-wildemount]

"It feels a little bit like a betrayal to be happy."

Essek feels the waning trails of magic as the Sending fades, Caleb’s warm-honey voice lingering in his ear as he settles into his pillow. The usual wards are securely set, but it still is difficult to relax in a strange place. He misses Caleb’s arms around him, his soft breathing ruffling Essek’s hair. The bed is too small, but it feels vast and empty.

It had been harder to leave than ever, this time. Home is just a few hundred miles away but it might as well be Catha.

He's stirred up old memories, old guilts and old hurts by answering the Hells' questions, but Caleb trusts them, Keyleth trusts them, and he's trying to be more open. More honest. It's painful, but manageable, and that in itself makes him feel guiltier.

Each person in that room to a one has had part of their life ruined directly or indirectly because of his actions. And yet they didn't even hesitate to absolve him.

Something he's learned on his travels is that there are far more people like the Nein than he ever imagined. Kind. Forgiving. Generous and hopeful. He hopes he can help bring the Hells some measure of peace.

It does no one any good to dwell on his sins, to wallow in his own terrible feelings when he could be doing so much more to try to rectify the damage he caused. So he holds onto Caleb’s sleepy last "I love you" like a talisman against the dark and lets his heart fill with happiness and love.

[sgt-seabass]

Joining in on the clockwork fan train, I have a Drabble prompt if you are interested. Nick often plays fast and loose with reader’s safety, and although he’s a control freak so he thinks of everything to prevent her getting harmed (like using air rifle etc) I wonder how he might react if he goes too far/something goes wrong and she does actually get badly hurt from one of his games. Maybe playtime gone wrong or he misjudged his strength. Would he feel guilt, or shrug it off?

𝒔𝒊𝒑 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒚

pairing — mob boss!prime alpha!nick fowler x omega!reader w/c — 1.9k this is a dark fic. 18+ only. part of the Clockwork AU. listening to — ♫ sip u slowly warnings — general dark elements, smut (dubcon due to stokholm, p in v, cunnilingus), choking to the point of passing out and bruising, possessiveness, pet names (pup, puppy, omega), a/b/o dynamics, very light medical elements, reference to past minor character death a/n — i hope you like it! thank you so much for the support and interest in the Clockwork AU! written on my phone. thank you so much to @rookthorne for helping with beta and suggestions 🥺🥺💙 this was meant to be short whoops.

Nick had been insatiable, fucking you for hours and eating you out each time in-between sessions.

After a work deal had gone awry and lives had been lost, he wanted nothing more than to bury his problems in your tight heat. With your essence on his tongue, he could be absolved of his irreverence.

Nick was angry. He didn’t take to fuck ups well.

When he’d heard about an omega retrieval gone wrong that ended with the death of a few targeted girls, he was irate.

Nick had to murder his men for their actions. They were there to capture them, not kill them - professionalism was expected, mandated, in his organisation. Nick didn’t need more red in his ledger, yet it seemed to have a way of seeping in, tainting the pages and bleeding everywhere.

His temper was no more than his inner child locked in an endless cycle of self-flagellation, so he fixated on you to distract himself. He’d created you and turned you into the omega he wanted. However, the problem with manipulating is that you deny yourself the love and support that partnership provides. Nick knew he was fooling himself by thinking you were unequivocally his, so he wanted to show you how good he could make you feel.

The urge boiled beneath his skin, an unbridled need to claim you; to fuck you into oblivion.

Barely keeping himself restrained, he’d carried you to the bedroom just after dinner, and the sun had long set. His need for you continued into the early morning.

By the time the clock hit three am, you were exhausted. That much was evident by the way your eyes struggled to stay open even as you orgasmed. The little sounds Nick pulled from you got whinier and more strained the more your body tried to get its rest.

But there was no rest for the wicked, and Nick was certainly feeling sinful.

“Give me another, puppy,” Nick growled to you, face between your legs before moaning at the taste of his seed and your wet mixing.

“I’m tired, alpha. I can’t.” You whimpered, sweat dotting your brow while your back arched against the silk bedsheets. “S’too much.”

“Uh-uh. You don’t get to decide that. I’ll tell you when it’s enough, omega.” Nick’s voice reverberated against your clit before he gently sucked it, causing your fingers to fist into the sheets from the unrelenting pleasure.

This was Nick’s favourite way to have you. Crumpled from the euphoria he caused you. You’d fought so hard against him, but at the end of the day, you ended up right where you belonged.

In his bed.

Nick started slow, drawing circles around your clit before replacing his tongue with his fingers. He flicked his finger while his mouth pressed kisses along your hip and down your thigh. Nick couldn’t help himself when it came to tasting all of you, so he bit into the supple flesh of your thigh as he kept working your sensitive clit.

Your wail only served to make Nick bite again, closer to your cunt this time. Fuck, your tears were gorgeous. “Does it hurt, omega?” When you nodded in response, Nick slapped your thigh. “Use your words.”

“Ye— Yes. Hurts, alpha.”

“Mm, but you look so beautiful with my marks.” Nick looked at the teeth marks adorning your skin, smirking to himself before turning his attention back to your clit. “Tell me what you want, puppy. Tell me what you need.”

Your thighs clenched, and Nick chuckled dryly as he ground himself against the bed, his erection painfully hard. He wanted to do nothing more than fuck you senseless, but it was worth waiting if it meant he got to see you shatter.

“I need…” You stopped yourself, and Nick could see the embarrassment in your expression. It was beautiful. “I need your mouth, please, alpha.”

“Such nice manners,” Nick praised before giving you exactly what you wanted.

He drank you in slowly, running his tongue over your folds and watching how you responded. You were so tense. As if each muscle was waiting for the anticipated precipice. And Nick would give it to you, but he wanted his fun first.

Deft fingers pulled your folds apart, and Nick groaned at the sight of you. Glistening and inviting. “Such a pretty pussy, pup. Prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen.”

Nick ran his flat tongue up your cunt, starting with long, languid licks that began to gradually get faster. Nick placed a hand on your stomach to stablise you as his broad strokes got shorter, turning into quick flicks across your clit.

He didn’t stop, not tiring even as the clock ticked away on the bedside table.

The tell-tale signs of your impending orgasm started to show as Nick alternated between licking and sucking, his hand running up and down your thigh as the other held you down. Your body tensed, and it goaded Nick to go faster, gripping your flesh tightly.

Nick hummed against your clit, and the dams burst. Like music to his ears, your mewls turned high-pitched as you came, your juices gushing down his chin. Nick had lost count of how many orgasms you’d had tonight, but each one was better than the last. He’d never get sick of this.

“My puppy does love playtime, don’t you, baby?” Nick watched as your glazed eyes looked at him, surprised at the new pet name. Baby. It’s endearing. Intimate. “You’re going to sit back and let your alpha do all the work now, right? Puppies are just too silly to do anything but lay down and get fucked.”

Seeing you so raw, so vulnerable, was bringing out the beast in Nick. The further down this rabbit hole he fell, the harder it was to keep his semblance of control. If you tried to make a run for it right now, he might actually kill you, too lost in the chase of his prey to realise what was happening. But you don’t run. Instead, you shuffled a little up the sheets, so your head rested on one of the satin pillows.

You knew you couldn’t escape, so you prepared yourself to be comfortable. Nick crawled up the bed, cock standing proud between his parted thighs, and he loomed over you. “Are you scared, puppy?”

Nick smiled when you gave him an odd look like you weren’t sure what response he wanted. “You should be.”

His words were the only warning you got before he mounted you, sheathing his dick in your dripping cunt with one swift motion of his hips. Nick let out a growl, pulling out the pillow from under you so he could grip the back of your neck. “Fuck. Fuck. You feel like fucking velvet, omega.”

The teasing nature Nick had earlier was long gone, replaced with a feral alpha desperate to breed. His thrusts were deep, rutting against your hips as his heavy breaths filled the room, mixed with your moans. It was a fucking symphony.

“This little cunt is mine, isn’t it? Tell me,” Nick snarled, pounding into your sore, used pussy without resolve.

“S’yours. All yours,” you sobbed into the cool air, tears streaking down your cheeks.

“That’s right. You’re fucking mine.” Nick moved his hand to rest on the front of your neck. He tiled his head back while his eyes fluttered closed.

It was a complete state of bliss. Nick didn’t look down as he let himself be free. No control, no thoughts. Just alpha.

You moaned with each plunge of his cock, but Nick didn’t notice the way your moans were weakening under the sound of smacking flesh.

Your hands clawed at Nick’s arm, but he didn’t even register it.

It wasn’t until you went quiet altogether that Nick opened his eyes.

Suddenly, cold washed over Nick when he looked down, his hand tight around your neck and your eyes closed. Not even a squeak came from your parted lips.

“Omega? Shit. Omega, open your eyes.” Nick tapped your cheek, but you were completely unconscious. “Puppy, wake up.”

He shook your shoulders, pulling his now soft cock out of you before he placed his finger under your nose. A sigh of relief left Nick when he felt the soft blow of your breath against his skin.

Nick’s jaw clenched, guilt awash over him. He was so lost in the moment he didn’t realise he’d begun squeezing, and he’d choked you out.

Your lack of response concerned Nick, so he sat on the bed, pulling you to his chest. He cradled you, and suddenly he was like his ten-year-old self again, holding the body of his dead sister on the living room floor. “Wake up. Please. I’ll… I’ll get you even more strawberries. You love them, right?”

You didn’t wake. Still soundly asleep and unaware of your distressed alpha.

In making you vulnerable, Nick had actually exposed himself. Desperate and alone, he was nothing without something of his own. Without you.

“Beck! Bring your med kit!” Nick’s voice boomed through the mansion, a prime alpha call.

Only moments later, Beck came barrelling through the door with his doctor’s bag. His eyes widened at the sight of you in Nick’s lap, mottled bruises already beginning to spread over your neck. “What happened?”

“I didn’t realise I was squeezing,” Nick’s voice came out monotone, devoid of emotion. His heart had begun to lock down. He wasn’t ready to lose anyone else.

Beck rushed over, gently taking you from Nick and resting you back against the bed. Your alpha moved away from the bed, arms crossed and expression cold as he watched.

“She’s alive,” Beck commented. You were obviously alive, but hearing Beck’s assurance eased Nick a little. The alpha always managed to calm him down.

There was a flurry of movement as Beck checked you over, Nick watching closely, not moving from his spot. As if he were a statue, frozen by pain.

“She’s going to be fine. I think she could use an IV with some fluids, and I can do a scan of her neck if you’re really worried,” Beck sighed, standing up. “But she’s okay. We could put her in the medical bay?”

“No. She stays here,” Nick snapped back quickly. Beck didn’t flinch, not phased by the icy mood of his boss. “Do the IV here.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll go get the stuff from downstairs if you want to get her into bed for me. Her body is pretty run down, so I imagine she’ll wake up when she’s got some energy back.” Not waiting for a response, Beck packed his things. On the way out, he passed Nick, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Accidents happen. It’s okay.”

Without further comment, Beck left, leaving Nick staring at you. He could have snapped your neck and not even realised.

Nick ran a hand over his face, the memories of his sister still fresh in his mind; he couldn’t protect her or his mother, but he could keep you safe. You were the only thing that had ever made him feel human.

After the loss of his family, he’d turned into a hardened shell. But something about you and your homely scent cracked his defences. Around you, his heart was exposed. It meant he could love with a burning intensity, but also hurt just as much.

Body tensed, Nick maneuvered you carefully so the sheet and duvet shielded you from the cool night air. You were covered in your slick and Nick’s cum, but washing you was an issue he’d resolve after you’d rested.

Waiting for Beck to return, Nick pulled up an armchair to sit beside you. He’d never let you see this side of him, not for now anyway. He wasn’t ready. But with you unaware, Nick leant forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry, omega.”

To be updated on when I post please follow @sgt-seabass-library and turn on post notifications.

[thatesqcrush]

Forgive Me Father

Based off this prompt ("My love for you will truly become my downfall, I just know it.") & this image. @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @plaidbooks this is for you. Fuck, I am going to hell for this.

He cannot believe that this happening. That he has allowed for this to happen.

The catechism of the Catholic Church mandates that those who are called serve as priests are to remain celibate "for the sake of the kingdom of heaven." Called to consecrate themselves with undivided heart to the Lord and to "the affairs of the Lord", they give themselves entirely to God and to men. Celibacy is a sign of this new life to the service and is to be accepted with a joyous heart.

For the past three years he has been able to do this. Three years as a priest, all ruined by you.

He’s in the confessional, his cassock pushed upwards, his legs spread, pants down by his ankles.

You are looking up at him with big innocent doe eyes as you perform unholy acts with your mouth.

The salty taste of his pre-cum flooded your mouth as your tongue swirled around the head before flicking over the tip and then underside to the frenulum. His balls hung heavy and you gently rolled them in your palm.

You flattened your tongue and then took the entire length in your mouth. His cock is thick, with a large vein down the shaft. Your lips are stretched over his impressive, thick length as you blow him. Your knees hurt against the cold hard floor but you don’t care as his quiet grunts and groans spur you on. Your hands brace against his thighs as his cock hits the back of your throat.

Fr. Barba wrapped both of his hands into your hair, guiding your mouth along his cock. Your eyes teared up as he abused your throat. Mascara dripped down your cheeks and saliva pooled around the corners of your mouth, dripping onto the floor. He let out a groan as his cock twitched, signaling that it was near release. Your mouth was flooded with the taste of his thick, hot, salty cum as he released into your mouth. Fr. Barba shuddered as the last drops of his cum released into your mouth. “That’s it, take your communion,” he rumbled, deep and low.

You released him from your mouth, some cum dripping from your mouth as you did so. Rafael wiped it with his thumb and shoved it in your mouth. You let out a hum as your tongue licked and sucked his thumb clean. Fr. Barba helped you up and pulled you to him, kissing you hard, near bruising your lips.

When the kiss breaks, he cups your face gently and lovingly. A smirk graces his face. “My desire for you will truly become my downfall, I just know it."

“Am I absolved Father?” you ask. Your voice is raspy. It makes his cock stir again.

Fr. Barba’s eyes stare into yours and you feel like you will drown in them. “My lamb.”

You nod. As you turn to leave the confessional, his final words cause you to freeze in place. But still you shiver in eager anticipation.

“One act of contrition, five Hail Marys, three Our Fathers. Come tomorrow. Repent, then, and show me your worth, so that your sins may be wiped out.”

Fr. Barba tucks himself back in as you discreetly leave the confessional. He watches your form disappear and then lays prostrate on the floor in despair.

FIN.

[highseas-swede]

So, this response really got me thinking again and turning around some different gears in my head. Crowley's fall started with their meeting. That's huge!

This means Aziraphale caused Crowley to fall, at least indirectly and Aziraphale knows it.

I do quickly want to say that I feel it's likely Crowley would have fallen anyway, that it would have happened because of his nature and his curiosity and his questioning, but Aziraphale must remember that first meeting and blame himself for the eventual outcome. Here was this wonderful, joyful angel out there making nebulas and Aziraphale talked to him for like five minutes and he fell.

Because of Aziraphale.

It also recontextualizes some of Aziraphale's other actions if you think about the Guilt that Aziraphale must have been feeling. He's clearly smitten with Crowley when they first meet while Crowley's an angel, but on the wall at Eden, he's definitely more uncomfortable and his gazes aren't the longing looks from pre-creation. He recognizes Crowley as that angel, he feels guilty about it, far more than he does about giving away the flaming sword. And then when it starts to rain, he protects Crowley because it's the least he can do after what he did to ruin Crowley's life.

I'm betting he felt that same guilt very heavily when Crowley asks him for the Holy Water initially. He's afraid that Hell is so bad that Crowley would destroy himself to escape it. And though Aziraphale has clearly pushed his guilt mostly to the back of his mind, it has to be there in the forefront at that moment.

He's thinking "Crowley is suffering so much he'd rather be destroyed". He's remembering that beautiful, innocent angel Crowley was and how his laughter lit up the stars themselves and now Crowley asks him for the ability to end his existence. No wonder Aziraphale is so reluctant! If Crowley uses the Holy Water on himself, it means Aziraphale will be responsible for Crowley being completely destroyed. He only caves on the matter when he realizes Crowley will do it without his help and realizes he can't make Crowley suffer more to get it, not after everything he's already done to the demon so far.

I've always wondered why Aziraphale seems afraid of Crowley loving him. He's always seemed comfortable in the knowledge that he loves Crowley, but when Crowley tries to confess to him in the S2 finale, he looks terrified. He looks like he's about to have an anxiety attack.

It's not because he doesn't want to be loved by Crowley. He wants that more than anything. It's because this is the /wrong time/. But it was - in Aziraphale's head - so close to being the right time. In Aziraphale's mind, he was so close to finally making up for this horrible thing he did to Crowley, that he could finally accept Crowley's love without this looming over him. It's not just about making Heaven worthy of Crowley, it's about making HIMSELF worthy of Crowley's love.

What Aziraphale doesn't realize is that Crowley has never blamed him. Never. He's just projecting his own guilt and then using it to bludgeon himself into thinking he's not good enough for Crowley. Aziraphale values Crowley more than he values himself, just like he trusts Crowley more than he trusts himself.

It makes me think a bit more on the concept of Grace in Catholicism, how sins must be cleansed to allow the Grace to flow through and fill the body. When you believe that you must be cleansed of sin to accept Grace, it's an easy jump to feel that you cannot also be worthy of love if you have not absolved yourself of sin. But in Aziraphale's mind, there is no way to fix what he did to Crowley. Until there is.

No wonder Aziraphale reacts so excitedly - and so desperately - to the thought of reinstating Crowley as an angel. Yes, he knows Crowley is more than worthy of being an angel, that he never SHOULD have fallen to begin with. But with this added context it's even worse… he blames himself for Crowley falling. Crowley was so happy as an angel and Aziraphale took that away from him. He sees reinstating Crowley both as the Right Thing to Do in a moral sense, but also as a way to finally absolve himself of this guilt he's undoubtedly carried since Crowley Fell.

Aziraphale is so blinded by his guilt and his need to absolve himself and make it right for Crowley that he completely fails to realize both that Crowley doesn't want what he's offering, but he also fails to realize that Crowley doesn't even blame him for the terrible thing he thinks he did. Crowley already loves him without condition.

Trying to make Crowley an angel again is the most tragically selfish, self-centered thing Aziraphale has ever done and even then it comes from a trauma he's been carrying since before the Beginning.

He keeps forgiving Crowley for things that don't need forgiveness, but what Aziraphale really needs - for both of their sakes - is to finally forgive himself.

[toaster-boi]

i think the Ace Combat franchise can best be summed up by the ending of Ace Combat 04: Shattered Skies.

you've taken the enemy's capital, you've finally faced down the rival ace pilot who you've come to deeply respect from the story of a small child orphaned by the war you've just won, and the bittersweet feeling of an end to senseless bloodshed fills the air.

but- wait. "[next mission]?"

briefing plays. a low tone, subtle electronic track plays throughout. cut to mission start: a cutscene, which only a few other missions opened with.

the sky is gray with either clouds, smoke, or ash; you can't really tell, but the gray and brown haze blots out the sun. the air is filled with meteors raining down on the ocean below, a handful of lasers pierce the fog of war. the only adequate descriptor is armageddon.

the music goes straight for the throat: a latin choir singing in a minor key, the opening to a track sharing its name with the mission itself. "Megalith Agnus Dei," with Megalith being an island-spanning ICBM launch complex in the shape of a fucking gigantic stone crucifix currently taking potshots at the remnants of an asteroid that previously razed the neighboring continent hard enough to cause a fascism-enabling refugee crisis.

Agnus Dei, literally "Lamb of God," is in reference to the player. you, Mobius One, are made into a direct allusion to the biblical Messiah, a literal divinely-ordained sacrifice sent from the heavens to absolve mankind of the sins of its past, and then ascend to the heavens once more.

you finally have actual wingmates, background characters from throughout the game now flying under your insignia. their objective is literally just to take care of enemy aircraft while you fly into the exhaust trenches of Megalith, to blow up the missiles from inside the facility, then fly straight up to not crash into the silo walls.

the last missile does not have exhaust trenches, but a tunnel you barely fit into, and the silo's launch doors aren't open when you enter.

to recap, you are sent in as the last hope for salvation from a military breakaway terrorist organization who, out of a desire for revenge, is making sulfur and coals rain upon the earth. you are sent up the length of something shaped like three crosses, and are then sent up the length of the center one and pass underground with a sealed exit and no expectation of escape. you then fucking fly straight upwards with and explosion at your back as the exit opens and the world is saved.

this is a game about fighter jets that came out two days after 9/11. on the PS2.

[kaedekolya]

on the religious themes in fyodor's ability, and how dostoyevsky's the brothers karamazov is reflected in it

Crime and punishment — not antonyms, but not quite synonyms; inextricably linked, yet not exactly cause and effect. Fyodor’s ability. When he is murdered, the crime is rectified through the subsumption of his killer; a punishment that keeps the criminal beholden to their victim. An inevitable consequence, and a holy communion.

Jesus shed blood upon the cross to atone for the sins of the people; a sacrifice to deliver them from their collective sin and bear it on their behalf. In much the same way, Fyodor's spilled blood liberates the people it kills from their sins — absolving them in death — while Fyodor, who continues living, shoulders the weight of sin and atonement in their place.

Beneath this allusion lies the implicit premise that life is sacred. Yet Fyodor, through his ability, inherently desecrates the sanctity of life — by usurping another’s lifespan, and evading the natural inevitability of death. He is at once divine, and unholy; he is both sides of the coin that is religious faith. Sacred and sinful, pious and blasphemous, hallowed and accursed. Fyodor embodies sanctity, yet is sacrilege personified.

[ table of contents: religious themes in fyodor's ability, parallels between fyodor's character and dostoyevsky's the brothers karamazov, dazai and fyodor as foils ]

< Fyodor’s ability, Crime and Punishment >

Take crime as corporeal wrongs committed on the mortal plane, and punishment as spiritual judgement, penance, atonement. Just as the material and spiritual realms are distinct but not disparate, coexisting as one, crime and punishment are two halves of a whole; you cannot have one without the other.

What makes Fyodor so formidable as an opponent is that his ability makes it impossible to kill the body without also killing the soul. In Dead Apple, unlike the abilities of other users, Crime and Punishment neither separates from nor turns against Fyodor. It is not just a power he can harness, or a part of him; it is him. When it activates, the borders delineating disparate identities vanish, and the room of a new body to inhabit awakens. Through it all, Fyodor’s consciousness remains constant.

Fyodor views ability users as inherently sinful — bearing the sin of ability itself. Add to that the moral wrong of murder, and the punishment meted out by Fyodor’s ability is the cleansing of this sin through death, where no ability can follow. Fyodor himself is divine retribution, for the inevitable sins of mortals — even while toeing the line between mortality and immortality. He cleanses sin, but in doing so, commits a sin himself.

< Dostoyevsky’s novel, The Brothers Karamazov >

The activation condition for Fyodor’s ability comes not from the act of killing itself, but the intention behind it; Crime and Punishment targets not the mind-controlled vampire that stabs Fyodor, but Bram, the vampire lord that directed the murder. It is the age-old dilemma between actus reus and mens rea — the criminal act itself, versus the intention to commit the crime.

Amidst patricide and philosophical pondering, Dostoyevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov spotlights the question: is the crime itself important, or does the intent behind it matter more? When Fyodor Pavlovich Karamazov is murdered, suspicion brews amidst his four sons – the passionate Dmitri, the intellectual Ivan, the devout Alyosha, and the scorned Smerdyakov. Each of them has a reason to despise their father, and all of them could have — might have, would have — wanted to kill him.

While it is only one brother responsible for the killing blow that ended their father’s life, the novel questions whether the other brothers are truly innocent. Could they not be said to have been complicit in the crime, if they hadn’t done enough to prevent it? Turning their backs on their father, averting their eyes from his sins, forsaking him — does that not make them culpable, too?

In The Brothers Karamazov, epilepsy is a hereditary trait that lies dormant in the Karamazov patriarch, and manifests in his sons. In the novel, Fyodor — both the author and the Karamazov — gives these epileptic seizures to both the virtuous Alyosha and the vicious Smerdyakov; at once a woeful affliction upon a presumed angel, and a curse befitting an apparent devil.

This duality has its roots in real-life tragedy. Dostoyevsky lost his young son Alyosha to epilepsy, inherited from his veins, and the resulting grief led him to write a righteous protagonist in his son’s namesake. Yet Dostoyevsky also bore the guilt of passing down the condition that prematurely took his son’s life, and this perceived sin haunted him endlessly in his own seizures. Dostoyevsky named the irredeemable Karamazov patriarch after himself, akin to a confession of his shame.

In BSD, Fyodor’s anaemia and frail constitution can be seen as a parallel to the Karamazovs’ epilepsy. Fyodor lives to bear the sin of others; though his body dies a victim of murder, his spirit is granted a new birth. His physical suffering is an emblem of a noble sacrifice, while also being a price to pay for the sin of eternal life. Yet another religious parallel is brought to mind here; Jesus' physical body died to cleanse the people of their sins, while his spirit, his legacy, lives on in people's worship. In this way, Fyodor is the embodiment of faith itself.

Yet at the same time, Fyodor himself holds no such faith. If his ability is the faith that affords others salvation, then calling abilities sin and desiring to extinguish them all would be a blasphemous act, yet that is exactly what Fyodor does. Perhaps, just as God gave his own son up for crucifixion, Fyodor views his ability — and the eternal life that comes with it — as the will of an external power and not of his own.

In the moment of his death, pierced by a spear of rebar, Fyodor utters Jesus’ last words on the cross. Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani – my God, my God, why have you forsaken me? It is an acknowledgement of Fyodor’s metaphorical crucifixion, the death of his current form and the birth of his next incarnation; it is also a wry lamentation of the fate he is bound to.

< Dazai and Fyodor as foils >

Dazai and Fyodor are inherently set up as foils to each other — not only in terms of their ideals and methods, but also the very nature of their existence. The nullification of abilities — this lack, this nothingness — is embedded within Dazai’s being, regardless of his will. As for Fyodor, his existence itself is made possible through his ability; his life is irrevocably intertwined with it. Just as Dazai’s involuntary ability nullification preserves his life, Fyodor’s involuntary ability activation prolongs his own.

There’s an almost paradoxical juxtaposition here; Dazai uses his ability nullification to protect his fellow ability users and the city of Yokohama, whereas Fyodor utilises his ability in the pursuit of a world without abilities, and doesn’t care if the city gets destroyed in the process. The elimination of abilities to preserve them, and the activation of an ability to eradicate them.

This spiritual mirroring is what allows Dazai and Fyodor to comprehend each other, on an innate level that no others can reach. Their hypocrisy is not a conscious choice, but an inevitability woven into the very fibres of their nature. Dazai — with the help of Oda — has come to terms with this, resolving to keep striving forward against the currents that come his way for even the briefest moment of walking in the light.

Fyodor, however, cannot accept this lack of agency and autonomy. If he cannot have control over the activation of his ability, then he will wrest control in every other aspect available to him; he will lay down the chess pieces and manipulate marionettes on puppet strings, in order to manoeuvre when, how, and upon whom his ability activates. If it is impossible to stop the currents, then Fyodor will turn the tides to his will.

It is this gnawing, all-consuming need for control and certainty that affords Fyodor his far-reaching foresight — but it will also, likely, spell his downfall. Trapped within the binaries of crime and punishment, good and evil, sin and salvation, Fyodor cannot see that he is limited to both a false dichotomy and an incomplete union. There is no room for rehabilitation, no room for nuance, in his worldview — and while both his faith and the lack thereof have kept him alive, they may also herald his doom.

thank you for reading! my ask box is open, and i'll probably write a second part to this with a closer focus on dostoyevsky's the brothers karamazov — particularly the parallels between fyodor and ivan karamazov, from their atheistic intellectualism to their moral contradictions, and how the madness that overtook ivan may eventually consume fyodor too.

[ihateedwardnygma]

please elaborate (ignore how i voted i thought about it for 2 miliseconds only)

info dump time yay!!

i’d like to preface this by saying what i believe abt ed is likely a personal thing and up to interpretation… for starters he’s a fictional character + also. as with the majority of characters i enjoy, a lot of the things i love / find interesting about him tend to be things i headcanon. i don’t think my perception is necessarily the correct one and i also think the original poll has a lot of right answers… like you said lust and even if you put no thought into that vote i actually think it makes sense… at least in my opinion it ties into his pride, which is what i voted.

anyway! i believe that ultimately his biggest sin- and his fatal flaw overall- was his pride. his downfall is caused nearly exclusively by his own sense of pride and inability to let go of his ego. whether directly or indirectly, pride was at the centre of the majority of poor decisions he made: most of the time he acted out of a need to keep up his ego and save face, desperate to earn the respect of others around him.

i think ed had a very fragile self image- throughout the show, we see him sort of project things onto other people- denying them their own personhood or autonomy and acting as if this can both save him and perhaps save them too, if he gets it in his head that they need saving. he might view himself as smarter and superior to others on the surface, but this disguises a HEAVYYY case of low self esteem… the guy literally can’t function without his ego being stroked. he doesn’t particularly know who he is, and tends to define himself by arbitrary traits such as power and intelligence. when his inflated and distorted view of himself is challenged, he becomes angry and prone to lashing out. this can and does lead to him inadvertently torpedoing the rare few good things that actually do happen to him, which is, even if he is kind of an asshole, really sad to watch.

with this being said, i believe the fandom do tend to characterise him in black and white- either this pride and innate selfishness is a flaw set in stone that cannot be fixed, and this therefore makes him 100% evil and irredeemable- alternatively, people will go the opposite route and suggest he’s some kind of innocent little guy absolved of all responsibility for his actions because of his evident issues. and i believe it should be looked at with more nuance than that- yes, he’s not a good person, and yes, he’s done some downright evil things. but at the same time, ignoring that he was a deeply unwell and mentally ill individual with zero support system or help- i mean he got thrown in fucking ARKHAM when he was caught- does a disservice to the character. i doubt he could ever have been normal- i view him as CEN-coded (childhood emotional neglect) and also having multiple mental illnesses- majority of these are my own so it’s not like. Stereotyping lol- that may make it harder for him to navigate life. but i do think characterising him as purely evil or purely good are both takes that lack comprehension skills.

i went off on a tangent there and i’m really sorry!! but i wanted to clarify what i mean when i talk about ed + pride- in no way am i villainising the character nor am i saying everything’s okay bc he’s got like. 12 gazillions disorders or whatever- i just think he’s a very fun and interesting character to analyse… ^_^

[antianakin]

I found something really interesting when I was last on Wookiepedia. On the Legends page about the Dark Side, it mentioned a Master Shim, who wrote an analysis of the process one falls to the Dark Side. She also claimed that an individual who kills innocents under the influence of the Dark Side is incapable of being redeemed, and at most, they can only ever attempt to atone. Apparently, a member of Luke's New Jedi Order asked the lady's interactive holocron about. among other things, Anakin's fall to the Dark Side. Basically, Shim's judgement was that Anakin was not in any sense redeemed. What are your thoughts on this?

Thought number one is that this is Legends and should always be taken with a grain of salt anyway, so it is by no means what the original intent of Anakin's storyline was or how Lucas envisioned the worldbuilding to work.

Thought number two is that I made a whole post on how there are at least three separate definitions of redemption that you can utilize for Anakin, all of which are entirely valid. This person appears to be going for the one that kind-of amounts to "If you have done something you can never make amends for, you cannot achieve redemption." They're equating the Dark Side with things like murder and enslavement, and they're entirely right to do so. And they are then saying that these things the Dark Side is intrinsically tied up with are NOT redeemable sins. There's no making amends for murder and slavery, not really. Even if you choose to do better, even if you make different choices for the rest of your life afterwards, the damage is done and that stays with you forever.

And that does tend to lean towards where I PERSONALLY sit on the issue. Anakin can always choose to be selfless, he can always make better choices than he's made up until now, but it doesn't bring back the Jedi. It doesn't take away the time the clones spent under the influence of the chips and the things they were forced to do that they would never have chosen had their minds been their own. It doesn't take away that the Republic was turned into a fascist Empire. It doesn't undo the impact the Empire then had on the rest of the galaxy, like what we know happens to the Wookies or to Ilum or to Lothal or to Ryloth. Anakin will never be able to truly undo any of these things that he was instrumental in causing, so how can he find redemption for something he cannot actually change or fix?

But I don't think that the inability to find true full redemption should keep someone from ultimately still trying to do BETTER. Like yeah, nothing you do now will change anything for those people who are already dead or undo the trauma already inflicted, but it CAN change things for a lot of other people who will continue to be hurt if you stay your course. It's obviously still better to stop and work to do and be better than it is to just decide that your personal redemption is the only thing that matters and the only thing causing you to change. It was, ultimately, very helpful for Palpatine to be dead and for Luke to have survived. Both of those things will ultimately still help a lot of people in the future even though it does nothing to change all of the people Anakin's already spent over twenty years hurting.

That all being said, I do think the intent of the final scene in ROTJ is to tell us that Anakin WAS redeemed in a more theological way, that he was redeemed by Luke's love, that he was forgiven by the Force itself because he died doing something out of a more selfless love for his son, etc etc. His sins are all entirely absolved and forgiven because of his own sacrifice or Luke's, blah blah blah. When Howard Kazanjian, one of the producers of Star Wars, pushed back against the scene of Anakin standing next to Yoda and Obi-Wan as if he was an equal, this was Lucas's response: "Isn't that what your religion is all about?" I will say though that Lucas himself did not always stick to the same tune when discussing it. I've had people throw quotes at me where Lucas says Anakin is redeemed, but I've also seen at least one where Lucas says he's NOT. So even though I think that the point of the original scene IS to say he's redeemed now, wholly and completely, it doesn't mean Lucas always kept the exact same view on the issue.

So I think what I get out of that particular Legends story is that the author of that story had a different version of redemption than Lucas may have had, at least when he was making ROTJ. I'm not sure if the story itself supports this Master Shim's assertion on Anakin's redemption or not just given what you've told me about it, but if it does, we can make a pretty solid guess as to how that author defines redemption. If it doesn't, then it's just throwing out this alternative definition and, presumably, arguing against it in favor of something else.

And at this point, to each their own. I have my definition of redemption and my interpretation of Anakin's ability to achieve it. I'm going to stick to that and everyone else is welcome to stick to theirs. But I like this Master Shim and appreciate that she's not so willing to give Anakin a pass for his atrocities just because he might've been good once and made one better choice at the end of his life. I wish we saw more Star Wars characters like her, personally.

[grislyintentions]

[I find the specific phrasing of "Everyone recognises that her job is sacred" from Dehya to be particularly interesting. As this implies that it's not just the people of Aaru Village who hold Candace in high esteem but her role as a Guardian/Warrior is also recognised by outside parties like Eremite Mercenaries.

This lends credence to the near reverence of those rumours (her being a direct descendent of Al-Ahmar) being spread, how a lot of desert folk appear to both respect but also hold fear towards angering/disappointing her.

I have also noticed that there's behaviour similar to reflecting and confessing your sins/mistakes to a priest which stands out also as people subconsciously equating her to possessing the role of being closer represenation to/of the divine.

Then there is also the fact that Candace's own speech patterns seem to have changed too. As a general observation, she speaks in very descriptive/prose-like ways (ie; Golden eye of the sun etc). In the past, she loosely references the Dendro archon and Al-ahmar in ways that acknowledge the possibility that maybe her vision etc are blessings from them but clarifies that even without, she would still be willing to do her duty all the same etc. She neither brings them up favourably nor hatefully.

Yet now, she directly brings up the gods and uses them to absolve others of their conflicting emotions. Does this mean she's now more comfortable in placing more trust in the divine after nahida's arc? Does it mean her role as a Guardian causes people to form a parasocial relationship with her that they see her both as a person but also closer to godhood? It's already established she doesn't go out of her way to disprove the rumours and uses it to her advantage but now she seems leaning into it more when it comes to others and that's notable to me.

This is just me flinging spaghetti on the wall as usual and tormenting myself over what it all means but vIGOROUS GESTURING]

[miirshroom]

Shadow of the Erdtree - "Pure and Radiant, He Wields Love to Shrive Clean the Hearts of Men"

"Shriver" is an occupational title meaning "scribe" or "writer" and comes from the root "Shrive" which originally meant "to decree, pass judgement, prescribe, hear or receive a confession (of sins), free from guilt, to absolve" and later came to mean "write".

So keeping in mind that the concept of Words have literal Power is part of the Golden Order faith in Elden Ring (see Coded Sword or Cipher Pata), when Miquella is in the Lands of Shadow to "Shrive clean the hearts of men", his goal is to either literally or metaphorically write a narrative that cleans the hearts of men. So, what does it mean to "clean a heart"? Metaphorically it seems like a term for absolving sins, but it can take on another meaning when read more literally.

Because of course this has come up before on the internet I searched the origin of the phrase "hearts of men" and received: the Battle Hymn of the Republic. An American ('Marikan) Civil War song with lyrics written by abolitionist Julia Ward Howe in 1861.

... He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat; He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment-seat; Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! Be jubilant, my feet! Our God is marching on. Glory, glory, hallelujah! Glory, glory, hallelujah! Glory, glory, hallelujah! Our God is marching on. In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me. As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, While God is marching on.

The only notes I want to make for that last stanza is that it is interesting that Christ is associated with lilies in this particular song when that is also Miquella's flower. And that Miquella (and Mohg, and Radahn) certainly died to reach the Shadowlands in a classic set up of Death and Resurrection that fails to complete the resurrection bit.

At least two biblical passages provide context/inspiration for the poetic phrasing about hearts (again: internet is full of people discussing the meanings behind works of art and poetry):

Romans 2:15 “the requirements of the law are written on their hearts”.

Revelation 2:23 “I am he who searches hearts and minds, and I will repay each of you according to your deeds.”

So thinking of shriving in terms of writing is not so farfetched, and also there's some end of days style judgement happening with all the horn sounding (that being the theme of Revelations).

Grading Gravel Stone with Sieves

The technique of "sifting" is used in geotechnical engineering to separate particles of rock and sand into sizes, where the smallest size of sand and silt or clay is what passes through a #200 sieve with opening size of 75 µm. The first step is to prepare a tower of sieves of various sizes - say ranging from 1/2" to 75 µm openings - and add to the top a sample of soil baked to zero moisture content, and then shake them vigorously until all fine particles settle to the bottom. The fineness of the resulting silt below the lowest sieve can be further determined by agitating a sample in a water column and watching a hydrometer (a buoyant instrument) to see how long it takes the particles to settle. 

Clayey soil causes problems - it sticks in crevasses of bigger rocks and forms clumps that do not pass through the #200 sieve. However, in some case a fine particle analysis is not required, so the solution is a setup that continuously runs water through the sieves during the shaking of the tower to wash fines clean from the coarse particles. Or if you work in a low budget lab like I did, just stand at the sink and smoosh the clay around with fingers until it goes through the mesh.

The point being that in the metaphor the material of "coarse" hearts are sifted out and exposed while that of exceptionally "fine" hearts pass judgement of the final sieve and are washed through with the water. And while in the real world the "fineness" of a heart is subjective, in Elden Ring this becomes quite literal: dragon hearts have been shown over and over again to be ridged in coarse gravel stone. Like, when you get a dragon heart and literally "clean the heart" of all of the blood that obscures detail, this is what is exposed:

Dragon heart seized by a dragon tracker. Riddled with Gravel Stone, this grotesque organ continues to beat vivaciously. An offering used in the Dragon Communion. Consume a dragon's heart at the altar to make its power yours. While a terrible and savage-looking thing, the heart has a peculiar beauty to it.

And the quote about Miquella shriving clean the hearts of men originates from Ansbach, who finds this concept terrifying. And as described in the Wise Man's Mask, "an old fear lurks beneath...the appearance of a quiet, wise, old, bearded man", so it's a personal terror rather than the abstract thought that somebody should be terrified about this. Being "absolved of their sins" by a loving deity is usually not something that sparks fear in a person - if anything it's supposed to be cathartic in the sense of having successfully appeased God. So Ansbach fears being judged and found inadequate. In other words, the fear of Ansbach is that the hearts of "men" will have all fine facades washed away from their surface, exposing the coarse stony hearts not unlike savage, bestial dragons. 

Man vs. God

But good news: if man does not want to be judged, then he must simply kill god! After all, the final words of Ansbach are "Righteous Tarnished. Become our new lord. A lord not for gods, but for men."

There's another more modern song to the same tune as the Battle Hymn of the Republic - an American paratrooper song dating to World War 2 known as "Blood on the Risers":

... The ambulance was on the spot, the jeeps were running wild The medics jumped and screamed with glee, they rolled their sleeves and smiled For it had been a week or more since last a 'Chute had failed And he ain't gonna jump no more Glory, glory, what a hell of a way to die Glory, glory, what a hell of a way to die Glory, glory, what a hell of a way to die He ain't gonna jump no more ... There was blood upon the risers, there were brains upon the chute Intestines were a-dangling from his paratroopers suit He was a mess, they picked him up, and poured him from his boots And he ain't gonna jump no more Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die He ain't gonna jump no more

Glory to God isn't in the song any more, only gore, and the idea that "hell" is not something for an afterlife but experienced right here in the present (and there are medics - hello Varré). The "god" in question being not Miquella, but Marika who was previously keeping the Omen such as Mohg and his pureblood faction in check and set the conditions for their release with her disappearance. It's not really better when a god dies without any functional structure in place to fill the power vacuum. More of a lateral shift from a belief that killing is for the glory of God to the grim disillusionment of seeing that people die in viscerally brutal ways to advance whatever flimsy ideologies men can invent to justify capturing control of resources. 

Sowing and Reaping

And while that would be a decent sentiment to end on in a discussion about a real history and the rise of secularism - I can dig deeper. This is a video game and the characters unquestionably have a Creator in the form of the writer. So a certain proverb of biblical origin can apply here quite literally - "you reap what you sow". Ansbach wields the "Obsidian Lamina" a scythe like what would traditionally be used for reaping grain. People who Ansbach can potentially "reap" with this scythe via combat:

Needleknight Leda

Dryleaf Dane

Freyja (if she is given Ansbach's letter)

Moore (if you advise "put it behind you" to the question "Our mother abandoned her brood. She did not love us. We are her children, what should we do? Must we be sad forever?")

Hornsent (if you deny him vengeance or snub him after helping with that vengeance)

Miquella and Consort Radahn. 

Why should Ansbach fear the judgement of Miquella except that he knows that in some way his actions have sowed the lust for violence toward himself from all of these people? And now it has come time to reap them if he wants to survive without compromising on his irrational loyalties to the Lord of Blood. I don't think it's necessary to speculate on all of them except this: Ansbach did cleave open Miquella and wound him with a Furious Blood Blade. Leda saw it happen.

I’m afraid Sir Ansbach will have to be next. He insist that he’s nothing but a worn down, over-the-hill soldier. But in his day, he was the feared commander of the Pureblood Knights, who cleaved open Miquella the Kind with his blood blade. He claims he hasn’t the spirit to take up his sword again, but I doubt it’ll be very long… Before he recalls, as I have, the cascading sheets of blood. I’m afraid he cannot be left to fester…

This seems to contradict directly Ansbach's own claim - but unlike Leda's specific recollection (the description for "Furious Blood Blade of Ansbach" even uses the word "cleave") he never said with which blade was he unable to reach Miquella. His scythe couldn't reap Miquella yet. All he had done at first contact was to sow the seed of despair with his bloody assault. Even more poignant that Needle Knight Leda was present as witness considering that she is themed around a different kind of sewing.

But here's the thing about fiction. Miquella isn't really Ansbach's god in a divine sense - that would be the Creator FromSoftware. Miquella having discarded so much of himself is basically on the level of a straw man argument that people who plea for kindness are all really thought-policing monsters. You know. Straw. A grassy plant that is sown from seed and may perhaps be reaped by scythe. Like the new straw/hay bale asset found in the DLC villages that was not present in the base game.

People have throughout history invented gods to explain natural phenomena and obsessed over making up stories about them. Inventing a caricature/phantasm of a person to do mental combat against is just a more mundane version of that. And like I've said previously - the DLC takes place in the body/mind of the withered corpse in the cocoon.

Like, to be clear, the set up of the straw man argument above is that I say "I really don't trust the faction who are themed around blood exultation and glorifying wounds and pain" and the straw man response might be "so you trust the god who wants to use mind control to make everyone be nice to each other??". Which is what the Mogh vs. Miquella argument seems to be reduced down to sometimes. No, I think that dwelling on the possibility of mind-control is a pit of paranoia, and that if the blood faction stopped polluting their own water sources with blood and fantasies about a glorious dynasty then maybe they would be able to calm the fuck down. Get some basic needs for sustenance and safety satisfied to then have the time and energy for introspection. Gain perspective on how they've been radicalized by doctored narratives.

Including the phantasm of the violent and mind-controlling god who "shrives clean the hearts of men" and must be stopped before he can enforce a new narrative where kindness is the default and being exposed for having a coarse/uncivil nature is a faux pas to be weighed and judged along a graded scale of severity. Remove the part about "violent and mind-controlling god" and that basically sounds like the ideal that most rational people wish we already had from civil society.

So the thoughts about violence under a mind-controlling god is pure projection - the idea that there must be a terrifying caveat to any attempt at Kind governance. But really, the Blood Dynasty faction is just reaping what they sow:

Governed by a God? Mohg has always been deferring to gods - first Marika, then the outer god of the Formless Mother, so in a twisted way Miquella must be a god as well. Mohg and his Sanguine Nobles also in their design take clearest inspiration from the type of embroidered stole as worn by the Catholic Pope.

Mind-controlling? To believe in an omnipotent God is to believe that God knows your most private thoughts. Always. And is always judging you on the correctness of those thoughts. So you must be sure to think the correct thoughts, and obey the letter of the holy text and the guidance of the priesthood. Also, just try to think rationally when in excruciating chronic pain, as the Formless Mother espouses.

Violent? Yep.

[spidersmiceandeverythingnice]

Hmmm actually something about 1899 showing language as a vehicle for communication but not the best way to understand someone -

Characters who don't speak the same language often manage to grasp what the other is saying and often listen patiently to someone spilling their guts/venting in a language they don't speak - so many examples of this every single episode but the first that comes to mind is Ramiro listening to Anek (sp?) confess in Danish that he's an atheist - having absolutely no idea that Ramiro, who speaks zero Danish and is also lying about being a priest - and Ramiro just replies, "Your sins will be forgiven," both absolving and comforting him.

Meanwhile we see Ramiro only speak Spanish with Angel, whom he seems to have a somewhat imbalanced relationship with. Like the very FIRST thing that Angel does on the ship is cheat on Ramiro, and they're constantly fighting about how Angel's chaotic personality causes them problems in their life - and we have absolutely no indication that Angel speaks Portuguese at all. In fact, he taunts Ramiro subtly about this fact; they're pretending to both be Spaniards.

Meanwhile you have someone like Mrs. Wilson who primarily speaks English - except for when she needs to intimidate Ling Yi and her mother.

BUT this also works in other interesting ways. For example: The captain is a bilingual German/English speaker; he speaks German to his crew (even characters like Landon and Olek, non-Germans, are shown to understand orders from the German speaking crew) but his English shows his connection to Maura and [spoilers redacted] as a whole.

And then you have Elliot - who doesn't speak at all until everything starts to come apart.

[buddiesmutslut]

I can’t tell if Eddie is really so low that he’s going back to confession or if it’s just another way of punishing himself.

Like, Bobby said that’s what he would do after the Marisol-Nun thing last season and Eddie didn’t do it then and then his life exploded and everything is his fault bc he’s the cause of all the bad things, and nobody else will tell him that or punish him like he thinks he should be, so he goes to church? Like, idk, I don’t have much religious trauma & not any with Catholicism, but it’s all very judgmental, hellfire & brimstone and bloodletting and sins & all of the ways you’ve done things wrong so like.

Eddie’s not really a practicing Catholic, canonically, and idk. Again, I don’t know a lot abt Catholics, I know that confessions are supposed to be about being resolved of your sins (I think, mostly?) but does Eddie actually want to be absolved?

He’s taking on all of it anyway and he’s not the reason that Chris walked in on him & Kim, that would be her weird ass, but he’s blaming himself for every single bit of it anyway, so idk, him wanting someone to tell him it isn’t his fault or that he’s forgiven…?

This isn’t at all cohesive & idk where I’m going w it but I’m just. Intrigued to see how this plays out.

[malhare-archive]

So lemme get this straight, BASICALLY: God created a dude who was the Best TM / his favorite / etc & but HE KNEW (☆) he was gonna "cause problems" eventually then complained & didn't do shit & asked the Now Better Brother to kick them? Now all the problems are blamed to Him & the Girl & dude who just wanted an apple from the Snake that "Knew better than to Not Complain Ever & My dad is the causer of problems"?

I wonder if predestination is involved coz if it was then.. I dunno [stares blanky into space] a lot to unpack lol

Also why did He "create" Jesus... and why did he indirectly killed him eventually- why does he create kids to just have as tools to use on us on his puppet game of life? Is it really worth it? Conditional fake love for another one? What's his deal?

Apologies if I said sth offensive I'm sayin' this to you cause [vaguely gestures]. So you are allowed to call me out ��🏼This is just One of the "versions" I understand (?). I Could have explained it better as well- But the yuri post got me thinkin xD

You don't need to apologize at all! You honestly treat Christianity with more respect than it even deserves (/lh) and you definitely won't offend my ex-Catholic ass. Speaking of, I'm going to preface this by saying that I was raised Catholic so that's the pov through which I view the Bible, but not all sects of Christianity teach and view things the same way.

ANYWAY, right from the top - The Christian God is not a benevolent God. To Catholics, God is more of a force to be feared and obeyed than anything else. Many would disagree if you said this to their face, but the roots of institutional Catholicism are shame, guilt, and control. Sin is something that we innately desire to commit, but must have the fortitude to resist. Humans' lives on Earth are a trial, a test, a period to devote yourself to God and gain your entry into Heaven through resisting the temptation to sin.

That being said, Lucifer is the embodiment of what happens when you choose to sin and when you choose to defy God. There is no actual, textual reason for Lucifer's rebellion given in the Bible however I was taught that his greatest sins were jealousy (he is jealous of how God favors humans) and pride (he was arrogant and wanted to be on the same level as God/wanted to be independent of God). Lucifer and a host of angels loyal to him waged war on the other angels who were led by Archangel Michael, who cast them all down after defeating them.

Adam and Eve were ejected from the garden for the very same thing; They chose to directly disobey God by partaking of the forbidden fruit (fun fact, the Bible never says what fruit it is! No idea why everyone thinks it's an apple). Lucifer tempted them with the same thing that captivated him so much:

"And the serpent said unto the woman, Ye shall not surely die: For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as Gods, knowing good and evil." (Genesis 3:4)

Both these stories mirror the eternal struggle Catholics face: The desire to sin vs the self control to obey God.

God sending Jesus to Earth is essentially seen as his greatest gift and mercy to humanity. After Adam and Eve partook of the forbidden fruit humans became independent, self-centered, and greedy. Humanity as a whole was too thoroughly corrupted by sin to return to God and in Old Testament times sacrifices had to be given to atone for sins. So, Jesus was sent to teach the word of God and to bring people closer to God. He was sacrificed to take all of humanity's sins unto himself, absolving the human race of that darkness - "Jesus died for your sins" and all that. This is why he's called the "lamb of God", lambs being a very common sacrificial animal.

Tl;dr: Lucifer wanted to be independent so God permabanned him. God killed an aspect of himself to absolve humanity of the sin he programmed us to have in the first place 👍 if you don't do everything the clergy God tells you to, you go to Hell forever 👍👍