#and my other father is the Devil
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for me, the main draw of a young avengers/champions/younger marvel heroes (they go in the same circles and have crossovers) and a Young Justice Animated Series crossover is the interactions between Speed and Kid Flash. Very specifically these two characters.
Think of the drama. The angst. The parallels. Tommy landing in the YJ universe for no reason, and having to deal with losing the little stability he'd scrounged up for himself. Wally being insecure about him being faster than him, too. Their conflicting opinions on being 'legacy' heroes. And their takes on keeping secret identities. It's got so much potential.
#tommy shepherd#wally west#speed#flash#crossover fic ideas#crossover#also tommy going 'my family's p complicated'#and wally being like 'yh my uncle's grandson from the future lives w us lol how much more complicated can it be'#which tommy follows up with 'my mother is the center point of our dimension.#my father is a robot#and my other father is the Devil#and both my grandfathers are terrorists but in different ways'
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some of the extremely supportive but slightly[?] unhinged things wyll can say to the dark urge as they fight the wyll [haha] to peel off his face.
#wyll x durge#my favorite not included is that he just says: 'shit'#when durge tries to bite him#wyll ravengard#he's so funny and so fucked up#it's just so like 'welp. this is bad bad. huh?'#yes wyllyam. tis.#kaeliana x wyll#bg3#whew#cracked up so much from his reactions#like on a level it says so much about him. but on the other im dying bc ffs wyll.#the last is what he says when durge GROWLS at him????#wyllyam. we need to speak.#baby#like i know -- you spent your seven years in the wild just fiends and monsters as your company. but --#the first makes me sad and givesme so many feelings about wyll. 17. having to rise up and meet the gazes of what meant to hurt his city.#gaze of the devil who entrapped him. the gaze of the father who scorned him
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Praise Kink (Switch)
An Omegaverse Au in which Heaven blames the omega human Adam for ‘tempting’ the omega Lucifer. As Adam is the one marked, he’s the damage they discard first. Demanding for Lucifer to right the wrongs of disrupting the human legacy, forbidden from both Heaven and Hell till he can for fills his ‘duties’ as an omega himself.
As the one marked and discarded, Adam feels every intimacy Lucifer has and every birth. Each betrayal sinking him into a state of madness and resentment.
And as the humans begin to fall to hell, Adam slowly builds his empire on spite and force of will. Lacking the might of a natural angel and the authority of an alpha, Adam has to learn to use his body and mind to maintain his dominance.
The sins are birthed by him through an attorney announced every two hundred years by whom ever can win his challenge. Lucifer’s claim makes the process agony, each conception worse than the last. But Adam relishes in the pain as a defiance for the angel he blames his banishment upon. Even if the next union and birth could kill him.
When Heaven finally allows Lucifer to visit Hell it’s just in time for 7th and final grand attorney.
Lucifer is very much a yandere in this which is what drew Heaven’s eye to begin with. He’s rendered human while on earth but refuses to allow Lilith to bite him even when birthing the children.
He lives as a human for nearly 800 years before finally dying, outliving far pass expectation. (Or so they say). And even then Heaven is reluctant to allow Lucifer to see Adam. But as God’s favorite and Devil’s games going around again for the final heir, surely Lucifer can finally abandon his claim. Surely.
———-
Lucifer came to reunite. To clear airs by any means and bare his neck to the omega he’s pinned for. Even through Eden, the Wastelands of his trapped human life. This had been the moment Lucifer prayed to make right. To save all that is left of himself for Adam. But the mother of demons wants none of it. Even if the next heir outside his incomplete bond bares kills him.
Pretty birds and pretty words.
Pervs:
#adamsappleadvent#guitarduck#adam x lucifer#traditional art#lucifer x adam#hazbin hotel#my art#drawing#adamsapple#adamsapple advent#devil adam#father of humanity Lucifer#His reclaims his angelic form after death#Omega Adam#omega lucifer#untraditional omegaverse#incomplete bond#They can feel each other ‘cheating’#But as the only one marked#it’s killing Adam#Heaven found Adam the problem in Eden and casted him to hell while making Lucifer human#Yandere Lucifer#hell has a attorney for whomever proves themselves worthy of breeding with Adam
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cw abuse implications
been awhile since drawing anything canon adjacent lmao anyway heres ein and his manipulative father figure who hates him
wanted 2 go with some holy imagery bc of that line ein has in s6 where he says the only person worthy of respect is Michael n yeah. he has some issues
#i want 2 draw regular terry later to cleanse my soul ... i love terry#unfortunately for terry he is also the Devil#also this dynamic w ein and michael is why i view travis n ein as like. pseudo half brothers#its like “well technically our fathers are the same guy but not really???” just like a strange situation for them both#w travis viewing michael as like this disease that was inflicted on his own father#V ein viewing terry as the blight on michael's record. the stain that needed to be removed etc#they hate each others dads but also cant separate them basically#i could make a very long post about my ein thoughts but hhhhh i feel like itd be too long anyway#you guys get my thoughts through small tidbits like this <3#aphmau#mystreet#mystreet when angels fall#mystreet ein#ein mystreet#ein aphmau#aphmau ein#mystreet michael#mystreet demon warlock#eins lil drawings#aphverse#aphmau fanart#cw implied abuse#me and my paragraph of tags of rambling <33#also dont know if i wanna post this 2 twitter bc i feel like id get jumped there#like i dont know if anyone else over there gets the “cycle of abuse” implications from michael n eins dynamic
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Please, interact with us, our music cues will be highlighted for your convenience
[Midnight Special Theme plays:]
Zombocomme: Well, well, well, we are back on the air and we thank our audience for their patience. Mental health vacations should be taken by everyone, and loving yourself is so important, no? As this episode airs we have a little bet going on behind the scenes. You see, this story was originally selected from the BTL Lore vault and it's central characters and true ending have since been left on the cutting room floor, in favor of lending it's spirit to this collaboration project. Half our crew believes the original ending for the AU should make a debut, (ending A.), whereas the other half believe that leaving the episode resolution a mystery is perfect as is (ending B.) I've seen both of course, but I find that every rendition of the story means something new. I could go on forever re writing it, but the spirit of the tale is the same. And yes. It is time to move on from this Collab project to our next exciting slot, even if we do wish we saw a different end. I'll hope our audience enjoys this theatrical cut... And once again, this program is brought to you by contributions and collaborations from audience members like you, thank you.
And Now, Ministry 📺TV presents.
Featuring @frjimdefroque and @ask-miasma-ghoul in
RBRG/ FRJD and AMG:
✨️🐦🔥Combiverse🦋✨️
Spin off Episode: part 4 (ending B.)
Between The Lines, Episode 7 PART 4 of 4: “So help you god…you're set free”
Enjoy
NFW: MDNI : Rated-R: (Mature themes) *mentions death and dead bodies, bugs, gore and frontier diseases and violence, guns, religious interpretation of trauma, consumption of body and blood, allusions to murder/self and description macabre, and ghosts of the espooky kind.
“Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” KJV- Mathew 25:37-40
🌌🗻🍂🐑🐾💀❄️🫲🙂↕️🫱❄️💀🐾🕊🍃🗻🌄
[Midnight Special Theme continues to play:]
God… The temptation made Miasma shiver and his stomach pool a hot coil tightening from within…Jim shivered, but for a completely different reason…
Jim’s eyes clouded milky white. As he stood at the edge of the sunken sacred earth, it became more and more like a pit at the bottom of a gentle slope. They had dug into the brick and when they had looked up, the world around them seemed like a whiteout. Nothing. Only the distant row of the trees, the line circling them like a black fingered noose, that while it lay in wait, seemed somehow to tighten all around them all at once.
Jim stood up and threw the shovel, “The Captain wrote it, all but confessed it, ‘The Game had moved on’, he said! There were no ‘bucks’,” Jim seethed, desperately aching, “Only desperate people.”
Miasma tilted his head away as if in mild disgust beholding the long since charred remains. Remnants of their time, discovered in the horrifying aftermath of ‘The end’, preserved like a stony fossil, cold and forever dead, until it hardened and became known… became the truth…concrete, and indifferent.
“They must have been starving” Miasma said, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips, voice barely above a whisper.
“Like the Donner Party. They burned everything they could. But left the main place standing, the places most damnable. All this evidence left behind… like someone wanted this to be found” Jim said through his trance like state, rocking on his heels, vulnerable and icy. “Whoever wrote that Diary probably.” Jim swallowed, feeling like a blue ice cube had been swallowed, frosting through a hole in his stomach. He felt sick. Brittle old bones and a few scraps of rotted cloth, trinkets and tokens that had somehow in the heat, collapsed the kilns, trapping the mass grave of bones with saw marks and serrations.
Miasma’s face hardened, his nose catching whiffs of torn tender flesh, festered like that of a blackening fruit, zinging in the putrid of the juice, flies buzzing daintily, “My god… They really dead eat each other, didn't they. and that line, 'to the brick with their kin', hell it condemns the captain as well. Seems it is true...Mankind cannot help themselves can they, when it comes to their baser desires," he swallowed, "I suppose all mortals face this in the end… the judgement day of their wretchedness.
It’s, almost as if no matter what, under the eyes of god, it is true, all mankind is created equal.. That is…” Miasma paused, “...that is because, all men must die… funny… that a God who demands everlasting faith, is also a God that creates its faithful out of such perishable vessels... It’s a shame really” Miasma said, feeling his stomach clamp shut, trapping his insides. Jim eyes were white, his voice echoing almost as if he was speaking aloud where he stood loudly, but softly in a more intimate voice, as if moist in his ears, Miasma heard Jim speak to him.
“And if people are in a kiln, it is because they are dead, or fated to die. Grace means nothing, when the moment comes when the living envy the dead. The true crash of the human psyche, the end of humanity, the end of one’s self, “If the living envy the dead, it’s because the living have something they wish they were dead over, but didn’t die for. If such people willingly went to the fire.”
Was it what they deserved?
Was such a hellish scene of people walking into the fire meant to be the door to their hell, or their purifying baptism in that lake of fire, to get their ticket punched for heaven?
[Don Abandons Alice plays:]
Miasma dropped his shovel letting it clatter on the icy ground. “A willing Lamb for slaughter.” he whispered. He watched as despair for the wretchedness of the world sank Jim to his knees crying milky white tears, that glowed white like the snow around them, “If only they could have saved them from themselves.” Jim wept.
Miasma watched as his vision swayed and all sound hollowed to a numbness like he felt on his body from the unusual coldness of the world. “I am nothing special to god, am I...” Miasma said softly.
Jim shook his head, rubbing at his stinging tears, “Intercessor, hear our prayer”. Jim Wept.
And as Miasma watched on, Jim began to sob, saying the prayers of Last Rites, and the Apostles creed.
…As the dead around them at last began to rise…
“O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee,
Dust curled around them “ashes, ashes, we all fall, up?” Miasma sang softly to himself, a lilt, as the rising debris began to slope up, taking shape, bone and soot, ice and charred things that began to warm and fowl under the sudden humidity and heat that melted away the snow. the immediate Area encircled with Fire.
and I detest all my sins because of thy just punishments,
Miasma’s breath sucked into his chest, it was like being in the pits, all over again!
"No, no, no, no!" Miasma panicked, pacing like a wild thing, looking for escape.
but most of all because they offend Thee, my God,
who art all good and deserving of all my love.
“Father! Father Jim!” Miasma began shouting, his voice raggedly higher in his panicking call, trying to climb over the brick as a corpse groped for his blackened boots, the others approaching, rising, clawing, teeth gnashing. One even tore his crucifix off.
Jim whirled and saw the hellish scene, his eyes watering, in a voice not his own, but that of the captain of that camp mourned, “Oh what have we done, what has the world done to us!”, lamenting and wailing.
Jim could feel it, like empathic fire searing his veins as he felt the dead in their personal hell that was this goddamned oven, boiling over with a cacophony of cries for absolution. Seeing Miasma on the ground as he tried to scurry away from the dead thing lurching forward, chasing after him, Jim grit his teeth.
He grabbed a shovel and swung, a nauseating squelching noise as the blade of the shovel bisected a purple and grey corpse… “Miasma, Miasma I’m coming!” Ice chipped, bones snapped and shattered, ashes swiftly swept away, charred remains crumbling, there were too many closing in, every single one of them blocking all hope of leaving this circle of hell alive.
As Jim swung the blade, he could see the exact moment each person had died, like a snap of an old timey photograph flashing in his mind, how they had died, the white smoke around him distorting his vision, seeing human faces in place of the skeletal, every stage of decay and remains, portraying the humanity of their souls; The human experience all share at that moment where life ends and death begins, the fading light, and not every time had the eyes gone dark. before their breaths drew their last .
Miasma saw it too, and said what Jim couldn’t say, or else it would mess up the narrative, Oh yes. not only cannibals... but *MURDERERS*
I firmly resolve with the help of Thy grace
to sin no more
and to avoid the near occasion of sin.
Amen.”
[The Walking Dead Theme plays:]
Jim grunted, kicking back another clawing corpse that kept re-rising, like everything else. The suffering just would not die. And the living wished it was over, but their night had only just barely just begun…
Miasma felt like he was unable, incapable, inconceivably broken, that Jim had to come to his rescue, him? A Ghoul born from the fiery scapes of hell, why was it so hard to move, to run, or rush to defend. He felt like he was a helpless thing, marooned on an island surrounded by the sulfuric seas, boiling and acidic, toxic air stinging his every pore, bleeding from every hair”
“Jim help me, please!" He cried, seeing these beings the way humanity surely saw him, a murderer, a consumer, a black wolf preying on the living. "I can’t I can't go back! Please Jimmy! Help- I” Miasma began to cry. He knew, if they were dragged under by the suffering souls fondling the earth to rear up and claw their way back down with the living, sinking more and more souls with them, they would surely be lost.
Jim gripped Miasma by the shoulders, “Shut the fuck up! I’m getting us out of here!”
“Jim if we get caught and we die-”, “Then suddenly this is not our problem anymore” Jim said, brows knitted in pain from the feeling he had, the empathy of feeling the suffering and fear of his friend.
[The Last of Us plays:]
“Miasma, We came to fight, even though we didn’t ask to. We came to find a way to set things right, and we came to find that peace. Please,” He said standing, panting. The dead were closing in as well as the greenish hellfire that was now all around them, as if they were trapped in a circle at the heart of the darkness where the deepest pain and regret could go. “Take my hand Miasma” Jim said softly, as if the dance macabre all around them were but nothing.
Green flames looked like blades of green grass soft in the sun like silk through the fingers.
“Though I walk through the valley….” Miasma thought as he looked up.
“Miasma, please. What is higher power than what we are inspired to follow as a light in times of darkness.” Jim said, his tone soft and yet gracious, begging his friend to heed his words.
“Pray with me Miasma” Jim said, lifting Miasma up. “This is the lord’s fight…and we are on a mission from God” he said, a defiant tone as he faced the crowding undead. He held Miasmas hand in his, turning to dig his heels, a shovel in hand, ready to cut down whatever stood in their path.
“I never thought I'd fight beside a hell-spawn against hell.” Jim chuckled as they circled back to back, eying the massing wall of bodies, the weight of their work, heavy. Miasma looked down and saw his shovel, ready, calling out to him like one crying from the dust, ‘get to work’.
“What about dying beside a friend?” Miasma said, feeling a renewed strength in him as he brandished the broken shovel where blood was already painting it like a splattered crown.
Jim chuckled, “Well hell, guess I'd call a man pretty lucky if’n you can count him amongst your friends."
As shovel blades thwacked and spun, slicing as they ducked to move away from the grapples of the corpses haunting their every footstep, as they danced around, trying to clear a path with the force of their wills, but finding the action wasted, the dead were rising as soon as they were brought down, unending. Unyielding. and all around them...
"You'd call me your friend?" Miasma huffed, dodging around a small group.
"Friend, follower, whatever the fuck you call someone like you!" Jim shouted with a crooked grin, taking a large bloated corps down at the knees, trying to avoid its grasp as it crawled towards him.
"SINNER! how 'bout that!" Miasma said angrily, roaring as he cut a corpse down, black blood spewing from it's gut and flying to fleck his face. He bared his fangs as he faced off another skeleton, this one more agile than the last.
Jim frowned, "You act like ain't no sinner has a chance at seeing heaven's light! Don't be a doubting Thomas when you are so close!"
"Close?! Hah!" Miasma swung, bashing the skull into pieces and watching it mend over, but for being momentarily disabled, he moved to his next target, trying to force his way out of their circle of suffering.
"You know what I mean, I'll tell you every story under the sun if it will help you see the light! Even if I have to drag you over them pearly gates myself!" Jim winced, a shattered rotten ulna cutting him deep as he pivoted to break free of another hands grasp. "If'n we make it out alive! But I'll keep fighting till I'm dead!" He almost laughed.
“Yeah well, what the fuck about Judas then! If I’m gonna fucking die, I want to hear you preach to me about that story!” Miasma shouted as he was hauled backwards towards the ground. Jim bounded over to the offending body, bringing the blade to sever the head from the neck, the corpse clattering to the ground, the icicles of it’s skin shattering, peppering the white and black snow with meaty shards of putrid chunks.
“Ya know, if that ain't THE most perfect story for this” Jim said, an idea touching his brain like the light of god, burning in a bushel behind his eyes. “Miasma, corale them!” “The fuck you mean coral them”
“Just shut up and gather your flock, look at them, going after you like you’re going to give them what they want, round them up!” “Like a fucking sheep dog?!” “Exactly!” Jim said, a gleam in his eye, as he made his way towards the dilapidated chimney, the flames closing in. “Use the time you have, and it ain't much, look!” Jim pointed as he scrambled on the dirt, ripping up icy clods that stung his fingers with the freezing cold bricks.
[Earth plays:]
Miasma managed to peek behind his shoulder, shovel up in two hands as he used it to try and push the herd of corpses back, his tail flicking back and forth to avoid being singed by the hellfire.
No. he didn’t envy the dead. That wasn’t his purpose. It wasn't what his dreams and yearnings meant. It was a hunger for something more, something beyond the toxic sludge of desecrated flesh. His consumption wasn't of bodies, or people, he wasn't trying to quench something in him over humanity and its hopes and dreams. No…. He craved what came of something higher, that which is granted from above...
*purpose*.
And now, now he had it. It didn’t matter how. What mattered was that it was. And with a great heavy groan, he pushed the group back, inch by inch as the fire closed in, circling them, getting them to move in hopeless circles, for their own good, he knew. You can only break curses when you set the offending souls to rest. They rest only when they can be reached. be understood. finding peace in compassion.
Jim climbed the highest mound he could, he could feel the green flames surrounding them like a sphere closing in. and it was his purpose to fight, by pushing back.
Holding out his arms to the green light at the end of what would be his mortal life, his voice rang out, catching the ears of all who could hear, and the eyes of those who got turned around by the likes of Miasma to see. Beginning his sermon on the mound of detritus and dust of self destruction. Feet wedged in the brick, rooted unmoving, and yet bowing in and around as the dead tried to drag him down but failed in their graspings, he began to preach...
“SINNERS!” Jim shouted above the chaos, “Even Ye are worthy of redemption, an absolution…an end to SUFFERING! I call on you to listen! Suffering is but a means to a grateful end. And for what considerations do ye call yourselves devils!” he said, the wretched word pulled like toxic ooze from his mouth, tongue lolling out as the black bile in his stomach rose, and vomited out of his stomach. It felt like it was tearing at everything on its way up, but there was a relief in the regurgitation, of finally letting the words he should have said before, at last coming out to reach the sinners in his current care. Truly, Jim really was speaking to those that called themselves damned for their actions.
“If ye believe in God, as whatever you call divine, that grants swift justice that now gnashes your teeth, then you must also believe that as exists justice, so too does there exist MERCY beyond!"
Miasma shouldered several corpses causing them to crumble and hiss, but as Jim’s voice rang out clear and true, his conviction became theirs, and spellbound like rats to the piper, they slowly turned, and gathered around him. Heeding his words.
One by one, brainless, heartless, things turned toward the voice that was preaching about the possibility of redemption. And Even Miasma was listening...
As the ghoul swiped and prodded the masses of corpses stumbling to face Jim , they swayed and stuttered in their cries, as if halted in their footsteps… looking almost human, in the clarity behind their once cloudy eyes. Blinking even. The dead and things forming from the earth, wove in and around the ones who listened, and their features began to change. Taut leathery skin slacked and sagged but lay more supple upon their gaunt features.
Shattered bones and cracked fissures separating one bone from another healed and came together, bones and flesh began to mend, and even as Miasma still had to fight hard, ever on his toes, there was a rhythm to the movements he made. He found a sure footedness he could confidently maintain. And the unexpected shove and grappling attempts made, he would handle one foe at a time.
Funny how in the moment he realized the noble way of fighting for himself, was what nobly fought for the people stumbling around, lashing out and being turned to words of comfort, and repentance.
*you can't pour from an empty cup*
Miasma thought.
Jim continued, “If you believe in miracles, in the divine, then believe in me when I say, if god so rests on the seventh day, then surely, in god’s image, you must also have your end, and at an end is there not rest?!”
Miasma could feel the shifting crowd as he continued his circling, trying to keep the group's edges from fraying. The hell fire was still closing around them but it was slowing, as if it too, was listening.
“I beseech you, right here, right now, look beyond the guilt, the blame, Your God knows of them and has clearly made you suffer for it. But there is more to God than just, justice. There is also MERCY. Deliverance, Salvation. Forgiveness. Absolution.
[Bonnie Choses to Stay plays:]
Jim felt the white smoke and mist around him settle, as one by one the faces as he saw them at the time of their deaths began to appear. And he recognized each one, and because someone had the talent to preserve it, knew them by name.
And as Jim recited the words of psalms from memory, every syllable uttered gained in power and conviction. As he spoke, a great tree sprung from the earth behind the congregation, and Miasma jumped, the hellfire that had been around them shoot past and into the tree, whirling and and brimming with the green light that no longer burned around them with heat infernal, but rather swayed and danced like the leaves of summer tresses, a weeping willow sighing in the breeze...
“If you would find your God now, would his cleansing fire scorch you, or warm you of the coldness settled in your hearts.” He could see the fullness of their faces, where in their eyes a prayer of hope had remained in each one.
Jim’s voice that had been booming now took on a softer tone, gesturing to the ground he stood on, “Can a monument to the cruelties of time not also be the ebenezer raised, the miracle that comes at the end of all suffering?
The animated remains yearned for hope. To Miasma and his sight, all he saw were hellish beings, poor devils, in rapt attention to the sound of Jim’s voice, hanging onto every word.
While Miasma was breathless, a sense of pride and accomplishment at being an author of such a bizarre and touching scene, made him almost chuckle. As Jim preached, the words he had heard so often said at the rituals and from the pulpit, came swimming to him, floating, haunting his thoughts as time moved onwards, and yet seemed to also stand still.
“The memory of your suffering will not define you, but the hope and promise of renewal, FAITH, is your salvation…Even the likes of Judas can find their way to heaven... You are but on the long road to Damascus, and struck blind to see... for without suffering how can one know peace. I call on you, for it is time now, to know of that peace...”
Miasma stood his ground, panting, his purpose, stood before him, the herd of corpses corralled around Jim, who spoke to them with such grace and compassion, reaching a hand out for their humanity to reach back.
1 LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory in the heavens.
*From the pinnacle to the pit*
2 Through the praise of children and infants you have established a stronghold against your enemies, to silence the foe and the avenger.
*Her acts of cruelty and her lust for blood
Makes her one of us*
3 When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,
*You shine like the sun and the moon and the stars in the sky*
4 What is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them?
*Holy Mother, you washeth the sin from our feet*
5 You have made them a little lower than the angels and crowned them with glory and honor.
*Under a monolith, her likeness
Marble white*
6 You made them rulers over the works of your hands; you put everything under their feet:
7 all flocks and herds, and the animals of the wild,
*An' piercing eyes emotionless
A heart so black and cold*
8 the birds in the sky, and the fish in the sea, all that swim the paths of the seas.
*Winds come on strong so help you, God
Come unleashed,*
9 LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!
*you're set free*
And suddenly Miasma realized why the number of the flock was off. Why there was a presence in and around every story told. There had been one last member of this flock that needed finding. That needed saving.
*Himself*
He prayed, pleading for the green fire in the tree to call out to the lost, and as he backed away from the congregation gathered at Jim's feet he heard the soft bleating sounds of the Lost. the one’s whose stories were never told…
Coming forward, drifting towards the tree line where Miasma was running was a spectre of a young woman. The opaque figure was heavy with child. Even as Jim held the attention of the crowd he too saw the visage in the shadows. The implications not lost on him.
[Farewell plays:]
He motioned, gently parting the sea of faces as he too made his way to where the woman went no further. Miasma looked at Jim. “We have no choice, if we want to break this curse, all the troubled souls must be put to rest. Even this one..." his tone almost tender, as he saw himself in her- eyes moistened.
*Jim always came back for him. Couldn't he do the same for her?*
Jim looked at his friend, a verse in his head that repeated over and over…
*Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me*
Jim nodded and gently clapped his hands together, snapping the white smoke and mist away, the congregation paused, no longer animated, still as statues. The mist swirled ahead as they watched the woman drift off into the trees the mist following her, like a guide-rope to her every step. While they followed her, they reverently pondered on her presence in these woods...
“Of course… her name would never be in the ledger, or the photograph. Most women weren't so acknowledged at the time, and certainly not a preacher's wife. It was seen as vain." Jim muttered, shaking his head. "Such a shame it is that such stories were often left so unknown, trapped in time. Stories want to be heard, and if it curses something to achieve it then so be it...even if the story was not a happy one, it deserves to see the light..." Jim turned, putting a hand on Miasma's shoulder, stopping a moment. Miasma laid his own on top. The two companions sharing a quiet look, one filled with understanding and compassion. It was a moment that even if lost to the known world in those woods, would forever stand the test of time, in the peace it gave to each of those beating hearts.
*She considered herself damned though at her death she was harboring the life in her belly… there was a restlessness in the tense air around them.. Stemming not only from that burden, but also, that they had never been known at all.*
“Were you the one who kept the ledger” Jim called out. He had noticed the crucifix on her visage as being the same as the one Miasma had worn and subsequently lost. The very same...
The woman sobbed softly in response, her mournful cries echoing around the trees unnerving and heartbreakingly hollow.
*... at its heart, that bloodstone…they had found it. They had found her. At last...*
Miasma thought aloud, “It makes sense doesn't it… Father Evight Vanhassel, and his wife, the civilizing influence together as they tended the flock of sinners that worked in these woods. When the camp lost them, they lost their reason to hold on to their humanity, The Captain, The Doctor, Father Evight, and the Missing, Lady Van Hassel...such a tragedy...such a loss...But if she, her remains, I mean, are not with the other bones then-”
“What happened to her?” Jim finished. They took a breath of the cold pre-dawn air, and strode to follow the spectre into the dark wood.
Braving the unknown, to seek the truth…
The specter led them on, floating, as if walking, stepping on stone long since worn smooth, over dips that no longer existed, through thick trees that had been thinner when she had once wandered the paths of these woods, her mournful cries and trembling voice bouncing all around them.
Their stomachs felt uneasy, like something sad and horrible awaited them. So very much like the dreams they had been having except this time, someone was leading them to the pit in which the lost had fallen…except, even the horror they knew they would face, was as valid and important to know. If it meant giving the young woman peace, who were they to deny her story to be known...
Yet, step by step, the eerie stillness surrounding them abated, giving way to the common sounds of a sleepy winter wood. The spectre appeared almost tangible now, and though the air was growing colder as she lead them farther into the wood, towards a deep fissure in the earth where a frozen creek lay still now, where the truth lay buried, and scattered, the companions felt an ease in the tension. A lift of their burdens, in carrying them together. The broken things inside them would mend, they knew. The pieces would fall into place. And soon, both Miasma and Jim stood at the edge of their triumph, facing a chasm where a ravine gaped at their approach.
The night was clear and the air rushed around them as time all at once stood still. They found themselves surrounded in the events that lead to the curse of that wretched blood stone… carefully they descended into the ravine and trotted together through it's shallow waters that and been lost to the passage of time, following the bend until they arrive to their destination...
The woman almost seemed to sigh in relief, as they approached her lovely bones, and learned of her demise. For at last her story would be told. And all that had been lost, every last sheep of that flock, would be found again... and non would ever be left behind again...
Daylight was breaking, and as they gazed upon a conspicuous spot where she had fallen so long ago, they had tears in their eyes. The sun was once again rising in that lonely valley, dappling through the trees over this spot where the scene almost felt Holy.
A sapling had sprouted so long ago in that very place, and as the mysterious passage of time faded from view and Jim's eyes lost their powerful sight, they stood before a magnificent Willow tree, miraculously untouched by the surrounding white snow, green spring grass under it's umbrella of care.
This is what they were meant to see. A corner of the world where goodness and love remained untouched by that which corrupts it. A Holy place in the heart where faith in those one loves, and in those whom one cares, lives on forever.
Jim pulled the crucifix from his pocket.
"I, thought it was lost" Miasma said softly, admiring how it shined in the dawn light.
"Oh ye of little faith" Jim chuckled softly, his voice thick with emotion, "Despise not the small things..."
He lay the cross at the foot of the tree and a gust of wind blew through, that sigh of relief washing over them like a warm blanket, enveloping them in a grateful embrace.
"Do you think we did it? Do you think we did the right thing?"
Miasma asked, taking Jim's Hand, they stood back and watched the willow shiver and shake gently, swaying in the breeze like any other ol' tree.
Jim removed his shoes. Miasma did the same.
Feet on the hallowed earth they stood hand in hand.
"Yes," Jim replied, giving the ghoul's hand a squeeze. He turned to see his friend, face upturned to the sunlight, eyes closed, a soft smile playing on his features as he basked in the feeling all around them.
"Yes angel," Jim said once more, "I suppose we did."
"Hm." Miasma smiled, feeling as if in the glow of the morning, he had wings.
*... he was free...*
#Spotify#father jim defroque#jim defroque#miasma#miasma ghoul#ghost story#ghost ghouls#band ghost#ghost fanfiction#ghumblr#the finale#collaboration#faith is mine#god rest my soul#finding peace#inner angst#redemption arc#happy ending#self love#be kind to each other#be kind to yourself#sympathy for the devil#combiverse#MinistryTV#btl#between the lines#i love them#zombocomme
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crazy how he just ignores everyone else and speaks directly to wyll. it's like wyll is like one of the most important characters in this game, or something.
#bg3#thoughts about media#I'm sure if karlach is there- gort might address her first instead?#I looked at the screenshots from my other playthroughs to see if I had this scene archived.#of course I literally have everything BUT this part.#I mean it makes a ton of sense why gort addresses wyll.#beyond the fact that wyll's father is there- baldur's gate KNOWS who wyll is. the patriars know who wyll is. they know he was exiled.#gort's trying to make wyll feel small and out of place. referring to him as the blade but undermining his heroic image by mentioning-#-his newly acquired fiendish features. also a bit of a brag I think. since gort himself escaped the hells & a devil physically unchanged.#that and I think gortash is like...a perfect mirror opposite to wyll. so to have them at odds over the fate of baldur's gate makes sense.#fits the whole fairy tale theme of wyll's story too. I mean how many stories are there of cheats like gortash being ousted from their-#-unrightful place on the throne by the true heir? the valiant and just prince come to save his people from the cruel lying tyrant?#*sigh* yet another thing that I wish they developed more in wyll's quest.#because this would all feel like a rather complex and complete story if wyll himself is your avatar.#but when he is a companion- I just don't think the quest features enough to make up for him not being the avatar.#I wish there was more of this- more wyll being the focus- more baldurians recognising who he is! it's HIS city after all!#I AM going to enjoy beating the shit out of gortash again though.#he and mizora are on my “top ten video game characters of all time I'd like to see SKINNED ALIVE” list.
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Doing a Wyll Origin Run and this dialogue in particular is so FUNNY to me. It’s a Human Dialogue Option but it happening between Gale and Wyll feels canon.
Gale trying to argue they should try to turn Raphael’s deal in their favor and playing the Human card, and Wyll, one of two embodiments in the party of why you shouldn’t trust devils, shutting him down immediately.
[Dialogue Written in case it’s hard to see + id reasons:
Wyll: I’ll remind you that when dealing with a devil, you always draw the short straw.
Gale: There’s no such thing as absolute certainty.
Gale: Let me play the devil’s advocate: the man is too eager. Do not dismiss his offer out of hand.
Gale: If there’s one such quality all the denizens in the Hells embody, it’s ambition. A quality they share with many humans, come to think of it…
Wyll: Speak for yourself, Gale.
Gale: Fine— but my reasoning is this.]
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#wyll ravengard#gale dekarios#I will say that meeting Raphael as Wyll with Karlach in my party was quite interesting#Karlach’s usual dialogue came up but it felt very much like the two people who had to deal with the Hells bullshit giving each other looks#ALSO you can be like ‘I already made a deal with a devil once so no thank you’ as Wyll and it’s GREAT#not the point. the point is that it very much feels like Wyll is keeping Gale in check here like#‘Buddy. I know you want power but this is NOT how you get it.’#Wyll and Karlach pulling out the spray bottles anytime anyone wants to make a deal with a devil#Karlach turning said spray bottle on Wyll when Mizora wants him to sign another pact in exchange for his father’s safety
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Hey KO, pd said the reason damon named fane.. fane was to honor rika's father since he respected him after realizing her father still wanted to raise him despite his origin. he wasnt named to honor rika but to honor her father.
That's great actually, and it makes sense. Thanks for the clarification.
#asked and answered#devil's night series#damon torrance#still wish it had been made clear through the series#and that the names of his other children had some clear meaning so we the readers could piece that together#and not have to be told by the author after the fact#but it's something i guess#i really don't want to complain because i don't wanna be one of those fans that is like things should have been done the way i want them#“my preference over everything else!”#not everything needs to be done to my preference i know that#but why did he pick a name that is very much associated with his very alive sister who refused to give up her father's name#rika is honoring her father with the same name - we discussed that in conclave#damon could have done something different with schreader#Rea is a pretty cool name; same with Reader#or something#it's also still associated with the diamond business rika owns which is also named fane#who is going to think of Rika's dad when they meet fane when his name is so many other things?#but that's just me#i keep coming back to this with new thoughts#but why does schraeder get forgiveness#and christane is a weak women for being depressed when Gabriel raped her a stole her baby#schraeder may have loved damon despite that but he didn't do anything to stop Damon's abuse#Damon's double standards are getting out of control#“i love strong women”#but only by a very narrow definition of strong#and this isn't to say damon can't be flawed#but can we see this as a flaw without his fans turning to rage over it
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❛ how about a kiss before i go? ❜ from the soft prompts pls? also I SWEAR if you make this angsty I will... wail in the comments but also cry bc I enjoy torturing myself and like pain -🍂
I assume you wanted Portada (Ace x Yara) for this heheh
There are references to the anime (and the Ace light novel) but no actual spoilers.
“So Pops is really sending you to take on Bohemian Knight Doma all by yourself?”
“Yeah!” Ace grinned, flexing an arm. “Pretty great, huh?”
Yara shrugged. “I mean, it’s smarter than sending the fleet if we don’t need to. Doma might be stupid enough to encroach on the Whitebeard Pirates’ territory, but he’s not going to turn down a one-on-one challenge when the alternative is facing an entire armada.”
“That’s true, too.” He laughed. “I know I only got this mission because Pops is testing me, but I feel good.” As if to prove his point, a small burst of fire flared out of his fingertips, flames quickly engulfing his entire hand.
“Well, Fifth Division will be lying in wait should you need backup.”
“Pssshh, backup. I’ll kick his ass before he even--”
“Hey, Ace!”
Ace perked up at the familiar voice, glancing over to where a blue-haired man wearing a masquerade-like mask stepped off the gangplank and onto the deck of the Moby Dick. “Any news?”
“Yes. I’ve got the striker operational again. It should be good to go for your mission.”
“Great! Thanks, Deu!”
Masked Deuce smiled, giving his friend-- and former captain-- a polite bow before striding off.
Ace turned back to Yara, grinning. “See?”
Yara tried not to smile as she shook her head. “I still think that thing is a death trap. If you fall off of it while riding the waves, there won’t be anyone around to haul your ass out of the water. The fact that Deuce designed it and not you is the only thing giving me a shred of hope.”
“Hey!” He pretended to be insulted. “I can build stuff.”
“Your attempt at fixing the starboard anchor tells me otherwise.”
“Well, maybe the anchor was being a jerk.”
Yara finally gave in, her shoulders shaking as she laughed, and Ace felt as if he’d won the lottery. His chest puffed up, pleased.
“So…” She leaned back against the wall. “You’ve got your orders, and your-- I hesitate to call it a ‘ship’... Is there anything else you need?”
“How about a kiss before I go?” The words slipped out before he could stop them. Ace’s entire face went beet red. He laughed nervously, waving his hands in the air as Yara’s smile vanished, raising an eyebrow at him instead. “Kidding, kidding!! You don’t have to, um… because we’re not-- I mean… Sorry. Bad joke.”
“Hilarious, Portgas,” she deadpanned.
Ace’s breath hitched as she reached over, placing a finger on the brim of his hat and tugging it down ever so slightly. A shiver ran up his spine, heart drumming erratically in his ribcage. God, she was so close to him, the scent of her favourite vanilla lotion flooding his senses.
A small, bemused smile hinted at the corners of her lips as her hand lowered, and all Ace could think was how badly he wanted to catch it in his own and press kiss after kiss to her knuckles, her palm, her wrist; trailing down her arm until their chests were pressed closely together… letting himself drown in that beautiful gaze of hers as he held her against him, safe and snug…
She picked up the hat’s counterweight from where it hung against his bare chest, smoothing her thumb over the tiny cow skull embedded into the clay disc. “Just… Remember that you’re not invincible, as much as you like to pretend otherwise, Fire Fist.”
“It’s not like you to worry, Hellcat,” he couldn’t help but tease her in return.
Yara let out a soft laugh. “You are going to give me a full head of grey hair by the time I’m forty, you know.”
“And you’ll still be as beautiful as ever. Er, I mean…” Heat rose to his cheeks. “You could pull it off, I’m sure.”
“There you two are, yoi.”
They glanced over as Marco approached them, giving them an amused look. “Yara, I think Vista’s looking for you.”
“Oh. I suppose I should be off, then.” She lightly touched Ace’s arm, making his heart nearly stop. “Good luck, Ace. Even if you don’t think you need it.”
With that, she strode off, heading towards the ship’s main cabins. Ace watched her go, the air around him already feeling colder without her presence.
“You know you’re going to have to tell her someday, yoi,” Marco said, crossing his arms.
“There’s nothing to tell her.”
“Ace…” The First Division Commander’s tone was firm, yet gentle. “You can’t help how you feel.”
“I know, I just…”
“I’m already giving up on Ace, too! I don’t care if he dies or not, I’ll just tell Garp it was an accident. It’s true that the ‘devil’s children have the devil’s luck’, and Ace is the devil’s son!”
He sighed. “She deserves far better than a good-for-nothing guy like me.”
If she knew… There’s no way she could ever…
Marco didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push it any further, either. The crew had begun to gather around them, cheering as they wished Ace a speedy victory. He waved back, one foot resting on the ship’s railing as he prepared to leap onto the striker, which was waiting in the water below. As he turned around, however, he caught a flash of violet hair. For a moment, he allowed his gaze to linger on her.
Yara seemed to notice, glancing over to meet his eyes. Her lips eased into a confident smile, giving him a slight nod as if to say, you got this. Butterflies burst into his stomach, his heartbeat quickening, beating out a rhythm so desperate, so desiring, so… unworthy. And yet…
Yet he would love her from afar anyways, even if it was the most he could ever do.
One Piece nakama: @auxiliarydetective @daughter-of-melpomene @xoteajays if you wanna read <3
#oc: bravada yara#ship: portada#otp: i'd burn the world for you#my ocs#my writing#making it their last kiss before the blackbeard hunt would've been too obvious lol so i went with pining/self-hating ace instead#the line about him being the devil's son is legit something he overheard dadan (the woman who raised him and luffy) say in the anime#(he was 10)#idk if this is as angsty as you want but i'm a little obsessed with the idea of ace lowkey torturing himself over his feelings for yara#this is before they find out about each other's fathers btw#tysm for the prompt!! these are always so much fun to do#especially when it's portada-related lol#also i'm sorry about the striker slander lol i actually love that thing but yara would probably hate it#(or at least she's like 'that thing's definitely gonna capsize one day and i will have told him so')
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thinking about blorbo from my dnd campaign again
#snarky speaks#his name is king xarus maximiliano nunier travel braedelar-tallow y de leccatia#he sucks he rules and like seven people know about him#cat being dragged on a leash on a walk it doesn't want to be on of a tiefling#starts the campaign a paranoid marquis rogue jumping at his own shadow and the dark and the gods and ended a vengeance paladin of shar#he went briefly blind because of a blood curse from his ex so he couldn't see the ring his future spouse was trying to propose to him with#the most cat coded man but for someone he loves he'll bark lmao. has like 17 borzois and a whole royal kennel. he knits sweaters for them.#he would go to a goth concert and pretend he was just there to chaperone one of his daughters#he was willingly shot in the chest by one of the squad to resurrect his god from a dormant monster state#his whole life he thought he was an affair baby because his mother is a half-elf and his supposed father was human#but really a devil wormed her way into his parents' relationship and they're all kind of in love#his grandpa and aunt were gnomes (rip to a racist old king you tiny imperialist fuck)#he's a 6'2" albino tiefling with wings so you know his back muscles are crazy. he would rather die than be without his shirt#his favorite food is red snapper and shellfish paella#his spouse is the self proclaimed mad wizard of the kingdom whose gender is wizard and looks are immaculate#fashionable goth rich prettyboy shown up and dragged along on a leash by the most dazzling and cleverest person you've ever met in your lif#i'm obsessed with all of them. blorbos from my show (we made)#he's part of a queer polycule with the other members of their adventuring party
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Therapy isn't enough I need the CW to go back and re-film Season 11 to prove that Lucifer could have been saved if Michael didn't abandon him like Dean refused to abandon Sam.
#I'm old enough to know that some ideas are too cinematic and visual to be translated to fic and This Is One Of Them#Amara shows up and wants to eat Lucifer but Lucifer runs off comes back and tosses a bag of stuff for spellwork at Sam#Snaps his fingers and Devil's Dancefloor by Flogging Molly starts to play at an increasing volume#Someone comments that having a hype song is lame and Lucifer says YEAH IT'S REAL LAME ISN'T IT DEAN#Big knockdown fight between Lucifer and Amara and the spell banishes both but Lucifer manages to claw his way back#Michael!Adam clawed their way out of the cage but is living as Adam and Lucifer restores Michael's memories by giving back his blade#Michael and Lucifer working very poorly together but it reaches a head when they're trapped in a town Amara is going to literally devour#And Lucifer's like 'Oh we're both acts of God actually so one of us is going to have to destroy the other in Amara's general direction'#And Michael thinks it's a ploy and refuses and says Lucifer's so tainted he's not anything like what God made and Wow That's Mean#But Michael agrees thinking that sacrificing God's favored son will get dad to come back but Lucifer is genuinely afraid of death#Because angels don't get an afterlife so this has also been a narrative conversation about forgiveness outside of punishment and hell#But right before God does show up Michael has a hand inside Lucifer's glowing chest forcing his light in an attack beam at Amara#And Lucifer is crying screaming clawing growing weaker and Michael just stops and curls his free hand over the back of Lucifer's head#And he Regrets he realizes how long he's refused to let himself love his brother to serve his father and now it's the end#And not the end he prepared himself for but if he gets the freedom to love his brother and choose not to kill him maybe he chooses-#Ahahah Chuck's there now and 3V2 THERAPY TIME#WHO'S THAT IT'S JOHN WINCHESTER'S GHOST WITH A STEEL CHAIR#Anyway Supernatural was good when we still had narrative parallels and in every SamDean moment I am closing my eyes and seeing Them#S8 Sam during the Trials of God? Don't you mean Lucifer begging his brother to help him bear the mark before it warps him?#listen I'll shut up when someone tells me WHY DIDN'T LUCIFER GET TO GO APESHIT ABOUT DEAN DESTROYING THE MARK#LUCIFER BORE THE MARK FOR EONS SO DID CAIN THE MARK RUINED BOTH OF THEM#AND DEAN GETS TO TOSS IT AFTER A YEAR???? AND LUCIFER SAYS NOTHING??????????????????????????????#Not even a “Well now I know how Michael would have done with the mark”
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can’t sleep and now i’m crying over shit that doesn’t even matter
#boycritter et al#the shit that doesn’t even matter is my mom almost dying btw#bc it was like 7 months ago and she’s fine now and i need to think positive#most people have an angel and a devil on their shoulder#i just have two versions of my father . one is telling me get over it and the other one is telling me it’s all my fault#anyways.
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modern au of the witcher but all the witchers are different cryptids. but like in the way a date sim would have cryptids, like the sexy version of cryptids. reasoning? i think its a funny idea
#jaskier works at a late night diner and hears one too many stories#decides to go out looking for himself#runs straight into the maryland wolfman(geralt)#his brothers include the jersey devil(lambert)#and mothman(eskel)#as well as his mentor and father figure. bigfoot(vesemir)#im also willing to shuffle things around so geralt is Sexy Mothman while eskel is lile. idk. sasquatch or a yeit or smthn. and then i guess#vesemir would be nessie maybe? when i think of “first thing to be called a cryptid”#my mind goes to bigfoot and nessie. like i always got the sense the term was invented for those two and then started including other stuff#so im inclined to make him one of those.#anyway. its just a funny jaskier sexy cryptid witcher date sim idea#witcher tag#ogc tag
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rip dick harden the og dinosaur kid you will be missed.
#anyways im still haunted by the spectre of “your father would have been proud of you” from last week :////#also sam is a huckster now because of the harden/hardin family codependency striking once again because he just wanted to save his brother'#corpse to see if maybe just maybe the holy grail could bring dick back#so sam did the thing dick never wanted him to do#that dick thought his death would protect sam from#and became a huckster dealing with the devil for that chance#hope this helps!!!!#other hits from this session include me saying “just because i play fonv and bg3 doesnt mean im a stereotype” and being told “no it does”#my special little guy posts
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LANCE! AND NANCE!
#speak of the devil....aligns great to revisit my xmas rehearsal archiving now that i've also revisited a range of prior xmas materials#such as this very playbill image carousel i have to take a bat to. gimme the pictures#was like alright nobody seems to be named nancy for a start. but like if there's a pic towards the end of things [check mark] of someone#with lance rubin [check mark] b/c that'd probably be all i want for christmas is you which would certainly involve lyrics [check]#& given no Obvious Nances my next guess would be it was alexandra ferrara as per jenashtep texting that pertinent lore [check]#joe iconis christmas extravaganza#7th annual xmas#14th annual xmas#alexandra ferrara#lance rubin#it'd really Make This if i could definitely spot jenashtep in the Group there but. playbill post one hundred images from this show#we've got another ragamuffin & rare peenie & the hick & philip romano & dramaturgically correct feather dusters to document further#however on that Ambiguity In Researching This Stuff note. the all i want for christmas is you being the site of Magical Family Reunion#lance rubin's father the first two shows....6th annual christmas; your little sister....was there even Villain's Long Lost Anyone by 7th?#second annual for example: No. but sydney x. thornwassail did have long lost rufus; his boyfriend you homophobic assholes#was 7th annual the first time the villain BICO'd b/c it was also the first time they had a henchman (the hick)? well. more pics; playbill#just having fun documenting what we've got. oh my god speaking of this was great sent me on Yet More research like oh & this video#haven't revisited it in a moment but immediately like Oh I Remember This lmao. w/yet more seeming oh hey just like this other show's plot#xmas show that is....8th annual aw we got a four person Family Reunion Group Hug going great. 9th annual the video i recalled revisited#laughed & cried lmao & recognized more characters than ever....little clutch of sweet baby jesus ragamuffin quince the hick#all standing back there in the center having a high time w/the technical difficulties just like me the online video viewer yrs later lmaooo#& now i can only guess that the Lance And Nance lyric was the [I / And I] group backing When Livelier & Not Held As Long format#but we'll have to ask jenashtep. or many other ppl....no problem i'm all about info & trivia & knowing pretty much everything
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really feeling like rereading my favorite lannister fanfic aka the manhwa version of lady devil
#you cannot tell me that isn't a lannicest story#something something undoing kretschmann's curse by forgetting him and leaving his legacy in the dust tywin parallel#you could make the argument that tywin is split between anette's father the lord of the west and kretschmann the father of idris#asoiaf#house lannister#lady devil#this manhwa has ruined me for others. closest I can get to this high is how to get my husband on my side
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