#but like i have prayed recently even if i'm not religious. i think if it helps other people who are religious that i pray for or with them

[sinnettini]

are you catholic? i wouldn't have said so

anon 😭😭 i'm not trying to make fun of you and i'm taking this as a compliment actually but i don't know how to tell you this... i'm literally italian 😭

but seriously, i've grown up catholic yeah, but i don't believe in god and haven't taken part in anything religious in many years. i would say i'm like culturally catholic tho. and technically still catholic to the eyes of the church bc baptism and all that

[winterarmyy]

Promise Me | Part I

When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.

Summary: Y/N kept being reincarnated into the world for seemingly endless of lifetimes with the lasting, vivid memories of her past lover during the 40's, Sargent James B. Barnes. While she thought this was a 'punishment' for her sins, she was also unknowingly oblivious to the fact that James was still alive somewhere, almost forever frozen in the time.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 6.5k++ (hella long bc lots to cover in the story building part)

Pairing: 40s!bucky / eventually tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: just slow induced angst for your daily consumption (i guess?) It has a hopeful ending so don't let the first warning chase you away. reincarnation concept. an attempt to follow exact mcu timeline (forgive if i'm wrong at certain parts). slight religious contents. grief & loss. graphic violence. deaths. mention of suicide. a lot of reader's pov, story building > dialogs (sorry guys).

P/S: Another impulsive writing from me y'all. I hope you don't get bored of this tendency of mine lol. I just need to let the fantasies out before it consumes me. So... anyway, it's gonna be another 3 parts fic cause for the love of god, I cannot commit for more :') Also, my first attempt of writing 40's bucky!!! I'm honestly scared. I hope you like it!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Italy, 1943 – His return

If there was one thing that Bucky should have expected when he decided to be in a relationship with Y/N was it would be that he had to accept her for who she was; stubborn, clumsy, bold, clever, sweet and most certainly the prettiest dame he ever met.

He might have unknowingly signed up for it the moment he quite literally fell for her at one of those Stark's science expo. Bucky had been stealing glances at this one pretty lady in the crowd; adored in soft mint dress that falls right below her knees.

It wasn't even a scandalous dress to wear in public but somehow Bucky was more than ecstatic to marvel at her beauty. There was no such thing as a too long of a stare, especially when she laughed like that; throwing her head in amusement, the loose strands of her curls fall back across her shoulders as they slightly shook to the rhythm of her laughter.

A careless misstep – that Bucky could see from a mile away – had caused her to stagger backwards and twisted her ankle into an inevitable fall. Somehow, Bucky managed to slither his way through the crowd towards her, almost jumping forward to catch her before she landed on the ground.

Not only that he was the one who fell first, but he also fell hard.

So, it was expected that Bucky knew what he had got himself into. At least, that was what Y/N had been repeating in her head to convince herself for what she had done. Now that she was sitting at the back of the wobbly military truck, the fear had slowly started to seep into her, causing shivers to crawl all over her nerves.

Y/N just knew it in her guts that Bucky would be absolutely furious when he sees her but what does he expect her to do when she hadn't receive any letters from him for months now. So, when she heard that they needed more medic volunteers at the Italy base, she signed up without thinking twice about it.

"There has been a recent attack on the 107th. Too many casualties and much more whose heavily injured. You might have your hands full the moment you arrive to the base. There are few rules..." The lieutenant's voice was as rigid just as his demenour when he continued to inform the situation to the troops of medical staff.

No matter how much she wanted to pay attention to his words, Y/N couldn't help but to tune in only at his first few sentences. Casualties and heavily injured. Her hands moved to search for the cross pendent hanging from the necklace around her collarbone, gripping it tight as she prayed that her lover was not categorized under any of those dire circumstances.

What the lieutenant said in that truck could never be more true; as the moment they stepped into the medic tent, Y/N and the others were quickly pulled to assist the fallen men. It was truly heartbreaking and horrid to witness the dreading truth behind what the public posed as the "heroes of the country".

Surely they were proud to fight for the nation but then again no human being should ever had to suffer the consequences of war; not the civilians and certainly not the soldiers.

After seemingly hours of continuous stitching, wrapping and patching up; surrounded sound of groaning pain and the endless cycle of inhaling the distinct scent of fresh blood, burned flesh and the bitter of anticeptic odor; the injured soldiers were finally taken care of and had been put to rest.

Y/N looked around the tent, noting the unorganized mess around the patients; the result of the panic and chaos of the whole situation. A thought came to her mind, she might need to do some cleaning up before writing down medical record for each one of the patients.

That was when the lieutenant entered into the tent, and his stern gaze swiftly analyzed the much calmer scene, "Thank you for your service, everybody. I assume the soldiers are stabilized?"

"Yes, sir." One of the battalion doctor replied as he approached, while the rest of the team watched from where they stood.

The lieutenant simply nodded, "Good." He paused for awhile and looked around,  "Now, have any of you met Captain America before?"

There were bunch of no's murmured around the medical staff, some of them just shook their head as an answer and the lieutenant nodded again, "Well, I guess you are all just darn lucky cause he's here to perform. You are invited to come and join the others to watch, if you want to." He informed.

"Steve's here?" She thought to herself.

As the lieutenant continued to explain some things about accommodation, food and medical supplies, Y/N's head were filled with thought that her dear friend, Steve.

"I wonder if he gotten any words from James."

"Maybe he got letters from him?"

"Or could it be that he was here to find James too?

There were so many questions kept circulating in her head that by the time she snapped out of them, the lieutenant was already long gone and some of the volunteers went out to untangle themselves from the hours of stressful tension.

As a nurse herself, she felt the need to take care of her patients and finish her job before anything else. So, she started to clean up the shredded clothes, bloodied guazes and the other medical tools that needed to be sterilized and put away.

By the time she finished, it finally dawned to her that there was no trace of Bucky in the medic tent. Which means he didn't fall into the heavily injured category. So, there was two left; the one she prayed for and the other that dreaded her to even think about.

Y/N quickly made her way towards the tent where she can find the soldier in charge. However, if she was focused during one of the lieutenant's speech in the truck, she would've heard that she and the others were not authorized to enter certain parts of the base, which include the higher ups' tents.

When she was turned down by the soldiers, she sadly walked away towards the main area where Steve was supposed to perform. The drag of her feet across the dusty sand was heavy; but no more heavier than the burden in her heart.

She watched as her black pump shoes gradually covered with light sand. Finding it odd that a few weeks ago she was standing on the shiny tile of a hospital in Brooklyn and now she was halfway across the world in the middle of the chaos of a war.

The things she'd do for love.

Soon enough, the dry ground was wet from the sudden down pour, turning it into a murky soggy path. Y/N quickly ran towards the main area; where apparently the show was long over. "Did I missed Steve?" She thought as she stepped into the tent where the performers supposed to be.

The tent turned out to be empty as she suspected. There was only the sound of drizzling raindrops above it was left behind.

She looked around the area and saw the costumes for the performers were still there; the pleated white and red skirt hanging on the rack, white gloves clipped with them, the captain's shield with notes sticking at the back of it and the iconic blue helmet-mask plastered with the obvious letter of A.

She peeked a little to the right only to see Steve hunched down on the floor, curling into himself just as he always did back when he was left beaten up in the alleyway somewhere in Brooklyn.

A thought passed through her mind; maybe the upgrade of his size doesn't really change his habits.

Y/N walked closer to see him holding his sketchbook on one hand and another was a pencil pressing across the paper. The tip scribled up and down, lining the drawing of a monkey on a unicycle. "I guess the serum does not amplify your art skills huh, Stevie?" she teased as she approached the blonde man.

Steve lifted up his head as he turned towards the familiar voice, "y/n?" His face lit up as he recognized her face. He stood on his feet and pulled her into a tight hug, "It's so good to see you." He sighed, he haven't seen her since his departure to be paraded around the world as the 'symbol of freedom'.

He clearly remembers what he wrote in the letter regarding her wish to volunteer as a medic for the war; practically begging her to not do this and stay home.

But alas, it took awhile for him to process it but when it came to him, he gently pushed her away, "Wait.. what are you doing here?" His brows creased into a worried frown.

Y/N simply smiled as she responded, "They needed help, so I volueentered."

Steve shook his head in disbelief, "I know that." He sighed as a frown deepened across his feature, "Bucky made me promise not to let you do stuff like this."

In which Y/N countered, "And he remind you not to do anything stupid until he get back; so..." she purposely trailed her words for him to draw the conclusion on his own.

He let out a long sigh before concluding, "Bucky's gonna kill us."

Since, Bucky was in the topic, Y/N wanted to take the oppurtunity to asked Steve about him, "About that, have you heard--"

A woman's voice came from her back, cutting in between her words, "Steve?"

Steve nervously distance himself from Y/N as he shyly greeted the brunette, "Hi."

The woman continued to stare at Y/N trying to figure out her role and relationship to Steve but before she could get any strange idea, he quickly introduced her, "This is y/n. She's a good friend of mine at home."

A spark of realization glint through her eyes "I see. I'm Peggy. Nice to meet you." She extended her hand towards Y/N, in which she gladly shook it in hers as she reintroduced herself, "You too. I'm y/n."

After the brief exchange of smile between the two ladies, Steve continued to ask Peggy, "What are you doing here?"

Peggy sighed as she explained, "Officially, I'm not here at all." She paused as she picked her words, "I just came by to oversee the situation after the recent attack."

Although Y/N knew what Peggy meant, she was one of the medic staff that had been stitching up the aftermath of that attack after all. However, Steve on the other hand seemed to be lost.

Peggy further explained, "Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano, more than 200 men went up against him and less than 50 returned." She paused, "Your audience contained what's left of the 107th."

Steve's blues widen in realization that almost looked much like panic, "The 107th?"

"What?" Peggy prompt quickly.

Steve then turned his head to Y/N, "Bucky?" He questioned shortly.

But even she was hoping that he'll know something about Bucky, apparently she was wrong, "I tried to ask but I'm not authorized to enter the tent. I was hoping you heard from him."

Seeing the panic in Steve's eyes, she knew that her lover was no where near the safety that she prayed for. But before fear could set in, Steve sprinted out of the tent, "Come on!" he shouted as Y/N and Peggy ran closely behind him.

When they arrived to the tent, fortunately they had the permission to enter with the help of Peggy. "Well, if it isn't the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan. What is your plan today?" Colonel Philips greeted in a teasing manner.

Steve didn't even bother to greet the colonel as he demanded, "I need the casualty list from Azzano." In which the Philips responded, "You don't get to give me orders, son."

Knowing that arguments won't help the situation, he control his tone of voice and spoke, "I just need one name, Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th." He took a short breath and insisted, "Please tell me if he's alive, sir. B-A-R-"

Colonel Phillips stood on his feet as he walked towards a table behind him, "I can spell. I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count." He paused before turning around to eye on Steve and briefly on the very worried looking nurse next to him.

"But the name does sound familiar. I'm sorry." There was a flash of sincerity in his eyes when he looked towards Y/N.

The optimistic Steve continued to insist more about other possibilities than casualties, "What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?" They went back and forth about the what is the 'right' thing to do, "Yes, it's called 'winning the war'. "

And suddenly sound of the heavy rain fall was all Y/N could hear, then comes the booming of her heartbeat as the panic started to deprive her of any optimism; clouding her judgment to think of anything near to positive outcomes such as Steve.

It was getting harder to breath and the anxiety slowly choked her from within, forcing tears to pool in her eyes. Peggy swiftly took a hold on Y/N, before her knees managed to fall to the ground. The muffled sound of Peggy's voice managed to come through but not enough to wake her from the despair.

Before she knew it, Steve was already gone for an unauthorized rescue mission with the help from Peggy. And ever since, Y/N had spend every waking moment digging her knees into the uneven ground under her tent. Her elbows were bruised from how hard she propped them on the steel edge of the army green cot. Her palms almost dented to shape of the silver cross as she desperately squeeze it between her hold.

She prayed and prayed for his return. For both of her dearest to be safe, to find their way home.

Every part of her body was numb and all she hoped for was to have her prayers be answered. And it seems like God heard her whispers of the night.

Like the others, Y/N was drawn to the commotion as the crowd was getter louder. At first she noticed a few, then the circle of soldiers were geting thicker when the survivors joined the rest of them. There were chantings of "Captain America" that echoed throughout the base and that gave her relief to know that Steve was safe.

But it was not enough to tame her anxiousness. Y/N's focus has never been sharper when her eyes scanned the crowd, she slithered her way between the jumping joy of the soldiers, grabbing onto some men who she mistook as Bucky; until she saw him.

Her heartbeat ramped increasingly as she pushed through the soldiers, finding strength from the blood pumping excitement when she recognize those steel blues and that cheeky smile. Not long before she managed to grab onto his hand and pulled his attention to her.

It was brief but he knew that face anywhere; and suddenly his whole body was engulf into a familiar tight hug that he thought he could never be able to feel again. "James." her voice stuttered even if it was just one word that came out of her lips.

"y/n?" Bucky called her name, almost in disbelief.

God, she never knew that she was able to miss his voice this much.

"Doll, what you doing here?" He gently lead her away, which she reluctantly followed, "I'm here for you." There was no need of lies now that Bucky was here in her arms.

His gaze soften with a mix of concern and joy, "What do you mean you're here for me?" Bucky couldn't help but to let out a short laugh, "Sweetheart, you do realized that you're in the middle of a warzone?" His brows quirked as he reminded.

Y/N rolled her eyes. Of course, she realized that. The moment she saw that form for the volunteer enlistment, she already knew that. But, it didn't stop her to sign up, does it?

She laced her fingers into his, "I didn't come all the way here to fight with you, James." she whispered as she leaned closer, "So, please just shut up and kiss me."

Bucky might have just realized it now; what a stubborn, demanding, crazy little lover got himself. Though at the same time, he had never been more charmed.

Bucky sighed in defeat before running his tongue on his lower lip, "Well then, come here you little minx" he took her by the head and gave her the most desperate yet sweetest kiss she could never forget.

Brooklyn, 1944 – Promises, promises

It was the day that Steve, Bucky and the rest of the Howling Commandos were depolying to the Austrian Alps for one of the biggest mission since Captain's impulsive rescue mission in Italy last year.

Apparently, Zola was on the move and predicted to be passing though the location while travelling on a train.

This wasn't the first time she had sent Bucky away, but the fear of each departure always felt like it was her first; especially when she thought about the promise of death that's chained to a soldier's fate.

The closer the time of departure, the stronger her grip on Bucky's uniform becomes. And Bucky didn't need to say anything because he knows her too well; she won't take any of his sweet words as a cure for her distress.

Instead, Bucky slowly swayed her from side to side as their embrace tightens with need; her face hidden in the crook of his neck while his arms secured around her waist. He had to smile as it reminded him of their late night dance, barefoot on the kitchen floor of his tiny apartment.

He could feel the teasing gaze coming from his back as well as the whistles of the Howling Commandos playfully making fun of him. Bucky was also well aware of the fact that everyone had made theirs bets on when will the Sargent James B. Barnes finally get down on his knees for his little nightingale of a nurse.

Unsurprisingly, Steve might just win the bet afterall. That punk just had know everything about him.

Y/N snuggled closer into him, "Come home to me, James." She whispered against his skin before pulling away. Teary eyes threatened to spill its salty liquid as she looked up at him, "Promise me."

Bucky's charming smile lighten his features as he leaned to press a kiss in her forehead, "I promise."

Brooklyn, 1945 – Loved and lost

Months gone by, entered the new year, and it always felt like eternity for Y/N. She spent nights kneeling next to her bed and days on the church's floor; practically begging to God for the life of her lover, for keeping him away from death.

And the letters from Bucky also come and goes within those few months' time, with his promises of coming home; laced in the words of his longing and love for her.

But, little did she knew, that promise met it's end of the bargain when the dreaded letter came to her hands. It came from the man she met back in Italy base, Colonel Phillips, sending the words of condolences for the death Sargent James B. Barnes during his honourable mission at the Austrian Alps.

But the first time she read to words, it didn't even register in her head. It was as if her brain failed to translate the text; unable to make it so she understood what they meant. Y/N had been re-reading the same lines over and over and over until it finally clicked.

The usually bright eyes of hers were now slowly filled with tears, she was in the state of shock; that even if her brain knew exactly what had happened but her heart wasn't ready for it. 

The tears started to fall down onto the letter. Drip by drip. And all of the sudden she lost every word that she could ever think of. Her silent scream; suffocating her with each breath she took desperately gripping onto the fragile piece of paper, holding it to her chest hold as if that would help to ease the pain in her heart.

Y/N could feel it in her ripping guts. How all the threads of every joyful memories she could ever once recall; they unraveled in a way that broke her to pieces until they were all but a rumpled of strings scattered about her feet.

A sharp fall had forced Y/N down to her knees, skin digging into the hard floor as her hands trembled silently, clutching onto the letter.

At first when she opened her mouth, there was not a single sound came out as her breath ripped from her lungs. Each left her with scars of loss and every waking minute in this reality was just pure pain.

Her body bend forward until her forehead meets the cold floor; that was when she wailed – an agonizing scream that left a haunting memory to the neighbours around her apartment.

She cried like there was too much raw pain inside that she could never contained. She cried like her soul needed to break loose from her skin, desperate to release a loathful rage on the world. 

But it was more than just crying, it was the sobbing of a woman that drained of all hope. She sank on floor, willing herself to be swallowed by the dread and loss. Just screaming out the agonies that been dancing across her vulnerable veins. 

Her chest violently quivered as she was desperately trying to catch the air. She collected every last energy that she had to call out the name of the lover she had loss, "James.." Her gasping breath whispered against the floor, "You promised." 

A month later the nation celebrate to the announcement to the end of a war, but to Y/N it was just another wave of mourning grief to a loss of another precious person in her life; Steve.

Amidst the loud sound of cheering and laughter, she rushed away from the crowd to the place that she had put all her faith into. Stumbling through the empty church and falling at the feet of Jesus' statue, Y/N looked up at the face of God; not with her usual admiration but instead with so much loath, rage and despair.

The night sky was brighten to the flashing light from the firework but all she could think of was how similar the sound of it to a firing canon in the war.

And the thought of Bucky and Steve run through her mind.

She had been nothing but faithful to the lord, religiously prayed for no more than saving the life of people she held dear to her heart.

But, God thought it would be merciful to let them die.

Y/N harshly ripped the cross necklace from her neck, tearing her skin apart in the process. She gripped on the cross in her hands, much like she would few months back but for completely different reason.

The crimson of her blood tainted the white collar of her nurse uniform as she she cursed the all mighty God for what he had done. Ever since, she swore to herself to never be naive to the illusion of God's mercy ever again.

Washington D.C., 2014 – An old friend

Fate is full with irony and God has his way of twisting them for his own pleasure.

When Y/N died in the 60's, old and unmarried, even if she doesn't believe in God anymore, her dying wish was to be able to meet her lover and friend again.

At least one more time.

But lo and be hold, he had different plans for her. Y/N's body did die that night on the hospital bed but her soul never did. It was as if she was woken up from sleep in another body with the same face as her, that's when she realized she has been reincarnated.

Apparently, she was only born in the same family lineage as her original life; whether coming from her younger brother or cousin or anyone related back to her bloodline. And sharing even the tiniest amount of blood of her own, triggers every single memory from her previous life.

This wasn't what she wanted.

She didn't want to live knowing she cannot be with Bucky.

So on the second life, she did the unthinkable. She took her own life, thinking that she would finally leave the world behind but she didn't.

It happened again.

And again.

And again.

So, when she reached her sixth life, she realized that she will never able to meet James and Steve ever again; that was when she went rogue.

Her sixth life was filled with rage and vengeance; to the point that she took the idea of life very lightly. So, instead of living until the old days, she searched for revenge and got herself tragically killed in the process.

Now, the 18 year old Y/N was in her seventh life, with a new name that was given by her seventh parents, "Evelyn" , and the spitting image of her first life. From her dark raven hair to the light brown of her eyes. This time, she decided to try to accept the cruel fate; the cursed that God had placed on her for the sin that she made decades ago.

Y/N walked around the Smithsomian Museum, specifically at the American history section where they put up Captain America's exhibit. It's been how many lifetimes since she surround herself with knowledge of a past that she once lived.

This was the first time, since her first life. And most probably the last time since she was going overseas in a week to continue her studies in Asia.

She walked along the line up display of the Howling Commandos suits, remembering the living flesh of them as she took steps forward to each, stopping in front of Bucky's.

Flashes of him appeared to where the figure stood; the memories was so vivid that she could still feel fabric of his suit against her, the electrifying feeling on his skin on her own.

She ripped her gaze away just to be greeted by the portrait of Bucky, plastered so huge and proud on the memorial of one of the Howling Commandos section. Despite the cracking of her heart, her body move on its own; as they knew that deep down, Y/N's heart will always be yearning for her lover.

Her gaze soften with longing and nostalgic as she slowly blink at his features. His considerably messy hair, that little frown that he does to act mysterious for the ladies, and the thin layer of beard that she loved to leave her lipstick marks on.

Y/N's daydream were cut short when someone pulled her by the arm, startling her into a defensive mode. Her sixth life's habit almost broke through when she nearly flipped the man on the floor but thankfully she stopped herself as she recognized those blue eyes.

The man's face looked pale like he had seen a ghost, as he uttered a name that she haven't heard for decades, "y/n?"

"Steve..." she called his name wordlessly.

She knew he was alive. Everybody does.

When the news came out in 2011, she was merely a 15 year old kid back then. Apparently, the super soldier serum helped him to survive the ice.

She remembered how her parents rushed to her room when they heard the sudden cluttering sounds of panic upstairs, only to find their daughter on the floor looking pale while her cup of iced coffee spilling in all over her study desk as the viral youtube video of Captain America running through New York city barefoot playing on the screen of her computer.

She remembered the feeling of both disbelief and joy that rushed through body as her parents helped her to sit up on her bed. The moment that it sunk into her head, she began to cry. Streams of joyful tears broke from her shaky body, each drop washed the painful burden in her heart as her parents lulled her to sleep.

Y/N never made an effort to meet him after knowing truth. Because who would believe her?

She wasn't Steve.

There wasn't any super soldier serum in her blood. There wasn't any tank of chemical that drown her with power.

She was cursed and now she had to live with it.

Meanwhile, Steve seemed to be trapped in a spiralling confusion of his own. He examined each of her features and he had not a single doubt that she has the same face to an old friend in the 40's.

The same friend that he knew died of old age in the 60's.

But, how come the person managed to have the exact same face to hers. Now that he looked closer, she was younger than the last time he saw Y/N.

She looked like she was in her late teens, "Are you really y/n?" His voice was soft as he muttered.

Y/N bit the insides of her cheeks, holding back the urge of telling him the truth, "Sorry, I think you got the wrong person." she tried to untangle his grasp around her arm.

Even her voice was similar to Y/N, and she was looking at Bucky's photo like she knew him.

How could she say that she's was not Y/N?

Steve reluctantly let go of her arms and took a step away after seeing the distress on her face, "I-I'm sorry. You remind me of someone I know." He couldn't take his eyes off her.

She was just too similar looking to someone precious that he left behind.

"It's okay, sir." She smiled gently, like the way she usually does when Steve apologizes for his impulsiveness of picking a fight in alleyways. She looked up to the taller man as she continued, "Thank you for being alive..." she hesitated to call him by his name so instead she called for his other name, "...Captain."

She thanked him sincerely before walking away, leaving Steve to reminisce the memories of his life with Y/N and Bucky as he stared at Bucky's memorial.

The next week, she left the United States for Asia where she planned to spend 4 years studying at the National University of Singapore, leaving her past behind in hopes of moving forward with her life, refusing to care about the avengers shenanigans anymore, including her dear friend, Steve.

New York, 2018 – New norms

When half of the population was wiped out from the earth, two of them was Y/N's parents. And like every other people who had lost their loved ones during the blip, her parents sudden absence truly take a toll on her, especially when she was planning to live a long life with them.

After graduating and getting a decent job in Singapore, she was forced to go back to New York when it happened. Y/N couldn't just let her childhood house left abandoned, she simply can't let that happen.

You would thought a person who had multiple lifetimes would be used to losing someone they love but no. It only gets worst as the years go by.

The more Y/N tried to fit into the new norms, the more that she could feel herself slipping into old habits of her sixth life.

Until that one drunken night when she visited the Smithsomian Museum again after years of forcing herself to forget about him; it took her one look at the potrait of Bucky, she knew what she had to do.

Germany, 2023 – An old nemesis

Nearly 5 years into the blip and Y/N was already becoming a legend in the underground scene. They called her the Deathstalker. She never really knew the origin of it but nevertheless she chooses to stick with the newly founded identity.

With the skills she picked up on her sixth life, she easily became the most deadly assassin in the business. Seemingly in a constant competition of reputation with the highly popular, black widow assassins.

Though she couldn't care less about who was winning the battle, she only cares about tracking anything or anyone related to Hydra.

After that fateful night at the museum, she couldn't help but to think that this must be her calling.

If the curse made her technically immortal, then why not became the hunter destined to slay the monster. They said that Hydra will never die, but so was she. And if anything good came out from this curse, then she might as well use it to avenge Bucky.

And bring the old nemesis to the ground.

Her sixth life was similar to this but she wasn't going to make the same mistake. The flaming greed to have her revenge was too strong back then, it lead her to be hasty and clumsy, which then let her to an early death.

But, she's grown out of those immaturity.

Nowadays, she takes her time and still get the job done flawlessly. Just like she is now, when the soft but dark sound of her chuckle, interrupted the silence that had claimed the room.

The poor man was sitting limp on the chair with his body tied with it. He had been like this for seemingly hours with a knife in one of his thighs, which trembled with the vibrations of his body.

More so, when Y/N twisted them, causing a keen of pain to clawed up his throat and spilled out a hoarse groan.

"Where is it?" Her fingers wrapped around the handle, as she watched the man tossed his head, more with fear than trying to answer.

"I don't like to repeat myself." Y/N slid the blade free, causing a noise he would not forget. The man sagged against his bonds, panting as he watched the blood surged and dribbled out of the wound.

But then he felt the prick against his other leg, wide eyes turning to watch as the knife was held above his skin, Y/N's hand flat against the top, ready to push in. "Where the fuck is it?" her tone was eerie as the voice changer in her mask produced an emotionless robotic effect on it.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The thick german accent seethed through his voice as he grunted in pain.

There was only boredom in Y/N's eyes as she gazes straight into his. A stab of the knife went through his thigh without a warning, until the tip of it almost met the flat surface of the chair beneath it.

The whole room echoed with the sound of the whimpering and cries of his struggle, "Please, I swear to God I don't know what you're talking about." He pleaded as fast as he can, when he felt the shortage of breaths in his lungs due to dealing with the excruciating pain.

"Playing dumb isn't going to help you, mutt." She twisted the knife, pulled out and stabbed it again causing him to fall into an almost delirious state, "Please, please please, I swear I don't know anything about the serum." He blurted out of misery.

There it was.

The thing she wanted to hear.

Y/N's eyebrow quirked in interest, "I never mentioned the serum in our conversation, no?"

He fucked up.

He knew that he fucked up.

But, does it matter when his body was searing in pain?

By the end of the intense interrogation, Y/N finally got the intel she needed to find and destroy whatever was left behind by Wilfred Nagel, who was recruited by the CIA to recreate the super soldier serum.

Those greedy fuckers just cannot stay away from things that shouldn't be meddled with. Even Y/N could see the potential threats of a successful recreation the super soldier serum; they were practically asking for Hydra to revive to its glory days.

And she would not allow that to happen.

She needed to destroy it before its finished.

A loud wail left the man's lips, almost sounded a little strained as he had been screaming in pain for hours. Y/N mercilessly grabbed him by his sweaty chin as she pried his mouth open. Knowing exactly what was coming, the man begged, "Oh lord, please please help me please."

Leaning closer she coldly spoke, "The gods doesn't care about you. Trust me I've been there." With a swift strike, she forced her knife down his throat, and a splash of red tainted her mask, nearly got into her eyes but she managed to blink before it does.

She stood still as she watched him gurgle on his own blood as death collected his soul. Wiping the blood away from her eyelid, she walked out of the abandoned building with a mission to finish; all the while blissfully oblivious to the war that the avengers were fighting to their death on the other side of the world.

Madripoor, 2024 – The most prized asset

The returned of her parents were as sudden as the lost. Though she was glad that they were back, however she had to live a double life now that they kept asking about her job and personal life as they wanted to catch up for the lost of time in 5 years.

Y/N felt bad for lying to her parents but it was for their own good. Now, that she had sent them to a honeymoon to travel all over Europe, she felt better in pursuing her mission without concerns.

Besides the joyful return there was also the awful ones.

Now, that Wilfred Nagel was back from the blip. The serum was perfected to its finest version. And was stolen by bunch of kids protesting for equal rights.

What a fucking mess that was.

But, she would deal with that later. The main focus right now was to find the man itself. There would be no more serums if the source is eradicated.

That was her priority.

With her face hidden behind her signature mask, Y/N walked through the messy crowd as she searches for Shelby's men. This should be a short meeting, since Shelby and her had history together; or more to a favour that she owns to Y/N.

However, when she tried to tune in into the hushed conversations in the crowd, she noticed that the murmurs seemed to be divided into two hot topics; one about the sudden appreance of the Deathstalker, which was herself, and second was surprisingly about the return of another notorious assassin. 

Then when the conversations died down, a fight suddenly broke out. Y/N hold on the handle of her blades from the side of her thighs, as she stiffed into a defensive mode.

While on the other hand, the crowd seemed to be more interested in recording the fight, than avoiding it.

She seemlessly weaved her way through the people, only to see that the action ended with a man choked onto the bar table. The was attacker's face turned away from her, she could only see his figure from the back.

Then, a gleam of gold caught her attention, Y/N squinted her eyes as she analyzed the man's left arm.

It was not the pattern of the sleeve from his suit.

It was his arm.

A black bionic arm.

Which reminded of her of someone she came across in her sixth life; but his arm was a tin foil silver with a red star on his upper side. At the time, he was Hydra's most prized asset, they called him the Winter Soldier.

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: yes, I am well aware that left y'all hanging but I still hope you enjoy this one. Tell me what you think so far, I'm curious if y'all cry at the part where she received the letter or maybe you can comment of something else, I'd still love to hear them ♡

[innistable]

Talk talk (snippet) [Full fic coming 10/07/2024] [1/4]

jason todd x reader

summary: the sequence of events that led you and your neighbor, Jason Todd, to fall in love. For better of for worse.

a/n: I'm new to tumblr and I'm still getting the hang of this. English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Please, like and reblog if you are interested in reading the full fic, any comment is highly appreciated.

word count: 2k

Your grandmother had always been a superstitious woman, constantly talking about those omens lying everywhere, praying to be seen, both as a warning sign or as a blissful encounter. However, you have never been the one to pay attention to that, not caring about cats, stairs, corners, clover and everything in between, especially in a city like Gotham, where you don’t need an auspice to know that danger is close. 

For all of its sketchiness, Gotham City is a pretty straightforward place, there is always something happening, you may not see it, but it is there, an uneasiness that you can’t quite shake, hiding in a blind spot, a shadow in the corner of your eye. Still, in this precise moment, you wish that you had paid attention to something, omen or not, maybe the gray sky had been a good pointer that it was going to rain, maybe for once you could have listened to weather forecast, and maybe, just maybe, you should have just stayed at home after you saw that black cat licking one of its wounds on the fire escape. 

The point of all this is that it is raining, pouring, it’s one of those rainfalls that’s so loud and strong that it makes you think that the sky is being torn apart. Now you are on your knees, blue jeans now wet and grayish against the cold pavement, trying to retrieve your scattered groceries. 

It went like this: a few harmless droplets when you were cornering Monolith Square to take the bus after spending the evening seeing the Wayne Botanical Garden; on the bus, you were reading a book, something short and too pretentious for its own good, suddenly, the driver was using the windshield wiper and you noticed that the window view was then translucent, being barely able to make out the street silhouettes, it all became a blurry heap of buildings, street lamps and ill-defined legs, torsos and heads; then, you recognized the “C” Building, your stop, so you pressed the button, the bus slowed down and opened its door, outside a storm awaited. 

It’s a two hundred meter walk to your apartment, but what normally was easy, it turned into a midday odyssey, strong winds and warm water made the route unbearable, your tote bag felt heavier by every passing second and just when you were in front of your building, keys in hand, your bag tore by the seams, and all of its contents fell to the ground. 

It’s frustrating and you feel like screaming, it’s not the worst thing to ever happen to you, but it does feel like it is, probably because Gotham is some kind of cruel mistress, no matter how hard you try to play by its rules, it always ends up having a way to humble you, you might try to avoid trouble, but it ends up finding you, one way or another. You have this kind of overwhelming sentiment that makes your eyes sting when you see the damp sugar on the floor, just next to the trinkets you got from the Wayne Botanical Garden and your favorite brand of cookies. 

The rain seems to feel your distress and it starts pouring even more. Great. 

“Need help?” a voice asks. 

You have never been a very religious person, but when you hear those words dripped in that thick gothamite accent that sometimes makes your stomach churn, you think that perhaps there is something out there that has decided to glance your way for once, and that for once, it felt pity for you. 

“Yes.” you say. 

You look up and see a tall man, gruff, huge. He has dry blood on his upper lip, a thin scab, dark maroon, recent but not too fresh. His hair is black, tousled, with a white streak on the front, and it seems a little bit damp, locks sticking to his forehead. His skin seems thick, probably because it is littered with scars, white dents on his skin, some big and some small, you don’t think too much about it, it’s Gotham, everyone has some scars around here, from gunshots to safety accidents on the swings of Robinson Park. His eyes are blue, almost icy, and his pupil is enveloped by vibrant green hues, his gaze seems curious and fixated, he is analyzing you, the same way you are analyzing him, ‘fair’ you think. He wears a worn out hoodie, overused, with grease spots and frayed holes, he is wearing also a pair of black shorts, the ones you use for running or going to the gym, and he’s also using trainers, the label says Numa instead of Puma, they are probably from the street markets that you can find around in every corner of Gotham. 

He is alluring, you concede, even handsome. But that doesn’t matter, because he is kind. Gotham is isolating, people keep to themselves, they look the other way, not because they are necessarily assholes, but because they have clear boundaries, they distinguish your business from their business, and unless those two spheres intersect, they don’t see a reason to cross the line, it’s easier that way. Therefore, unapologetic kindness is not something easy to come across; in fact, you would be wary of it, if it wasn’t for the fact that he has a plastic bag and is taking your milk carton from the ground. Thank you, that’s what your eyes say. 

For Jason it goes like this. 

He is in his apartment, for the first time in days. It’s Wednesday and on Saturday he had a complicated patrol with Nightwing, the kind of complicated that leaves your face scarlet and body mauve, the type of convoluted patrol that leaves you aching for days, movements limited and a sore spot under your sixth rib. 

He was kept in the Manor until yesterday evening, not because he wanted to, but because he was forced to. I can take care of myself he grumbled, but then Afred got this look in his eyes, not the one that says I am disappointed, he doesn’t care about that, he is used to disappointing, to failed expectations and lists of unspoken requirements he will never meet, it’s fine, what’s not fine is the other look, the one that softly whispers You are breaking my heart, master Jason, and Jason doesn’t want to do that, not to Alfred, who seems the only one ready to accept him for what he is now and not clinging to an old memory of what could have been. So, he stayed, receiving medical care from Leslie and Alfred, but he left as soon as he could. 

Alfred had asked if he was staying for dinner, even though at this point it’s more of a silent plea, some sort of want for him to stay for once, to really be part of the family, to act like one, but Jason never agrees. The thing is, Jason never stays, he flees, he doesn’t do goodbyes or excuses, he is not a Wayne, perhaps he was at some point, when he was loud and excitable, full of wonder, but that part of him died, and no magic or god can bring that back, some things stay dead and maybe it’s better off that way. 

The point is that he was finally back at his apartment. The closest thing he had to a proper home. It was small, he could afford bigger, he had bigger, but it began being just a plain safehouse, some impersonal storage unit to keep ammo, League weapons, gear, etc. However, at some point, he started spending nights there, probably because it was in a nice part of Gotham, Midtown, without the constant chaos from Uptown, where he mostly operated, but still far away from the haughtiness ever so characteristic of Downtown Gotham. It was a perfect balance, not too much, not too little, and Jason likes evenness, equilibrium, perhaps because most days he tethers the line between sanity and insanity so he appreciates any resemblance of stability he can grasp onto. 

He arrived yesterday at 20:30, ordered delivery from the mexican restaurant a few blocks away, and fell asleep watching reruns from an old, mildly successful tv show. He likes the background noise, when everything is too quiet, he starts imagining things: footsteps, the sound of a crowbar against his flat’s parquet, screams and wails, the sound of a ticking bomb, etc. He likes everything that makes his subconscious believe that he is not alone. 

His morning wasn’t different from any other mornings and that was fine. Jason enjoys routines, the predictable. He enjoys his usual morning channel; the black cat that visits him every morning to silently ask for food; the cadence of his neighbors footsteps as they run around their flat trying to get the kids ready for school and Roy’s texts. There is no sign that today is going to be different, and he likes that. He hits the gym, as always. He prepares lunch, nothing fancy. He reads, today it is The Master and Margarita, he is one hundred pages in, he marks words, phrases, writes thoughts on the margins and slowly makes his way through. He journals, he is not much of a poet, not that he wants to; he might be tortured, but he is not an artist, words more times than not get stuck on his throat, scratching like barbed wire against his larynx, drawing blood; however, Dinah, also known as Black Canary, who acts as his psychologist via Roy, advised him to write, she told him that it could help, sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn’t, he keeps doing it anyway. 

When the clock marks 17:23, he gets bored, so he goes to his balcony. It’s sad, but he lives his days anticipating the nights; he likes patrolling, he savors the adrenaline, he basks on the rush, he thrives under the light of traffic and streetlights; daylight stuns him, he doesn’t really know how to navigate the world once the sun has risen, it’s disorientating. Therefore, he just rots, he decays around his apartment, and now he feels like festering on his balcony. Suddenly, it starts to rain. It begins as a drizzle, so he doesn’t really care, he takes a cigarette, he lights it up and takes a puff. 

He started to smoke when he came back to life, his dad used to do it, his mom too, everyone in Crime Alley did it, since it helped you to stay warm. When he was younger, he didn’t like it, back then when he was the bright-eyed Robin and he treated his body like a temple because Batman told him to do so, back when the only thing he wanted was to prove himself worthy, something he never was. His body as Robin was a temple; his body as the Red Hood are the ruins of a long forgotten empire that lived its own demise, and no one cares about ruins, why should he? 

His first cigarette was given to him by Egon, one of the first mercenaries who trained him after his resurrection; then, the habit sticked, after all the life he chose, the life he lives, happens on dimly lit bars and dingy hideouts where a thick layer of smoke covers everything, it’s only normal that he smokes. Furthermore, he admits, there is some kind of masochist element to it, at first, the smell of smoke was enough to send him to a panic attack, since it reminded him of bombs, collapsed buildings, screeching manic laughs and charred skin; smoke was what filled his lungs when he gave his last breath, so if he was able to control the panic that the smell evoked, that meant that he won, in some way, in any form, it may be a consolation prize, but a prize nevertheless. 

So he smokes and the rain starts falling with more force, but he doesn’t bother going inside, he likes the feeling of the droplets against his skin, it’s nice, it feels real. He looks down and he sees you, hunched over picking things from the floor and, after a few heartbeats laced with smoke, he decided to go down and help. 

He sees you up close, eyes fixed in your face, taking in every detail, engraving them on his memory as he does with everyone. Right now, the world doesn’t tilt on his axis, there are no sweaty palms or rushed breaths, nothing has stopped, it doesn’t feel like something monumental, but it is. 

He helps you and accompanies you to your apartment, it’s on the second floor - his is on the fourth - and he feels content about knowing someone new after Roy has been nagging him about needing to be friendlier and meet other people. He doesn’t talk much, he never does, he tells you his name and his apartment number, it’s enough for such a small talk. You thank him and it feels nice. He leaves and you close the door, it’s enough for today. 

Like and reblog for the full fic

[bonefall]

Windstar's kits in BB are Dust Muzzle and Morning Whisker. With the former being renamed Dustiest Muzzle to fit naming conventions. But whats Morning Whisker's new name? Esp since you said that they will probably be the leader after Windstar passes and theres already Morningstar of ThunderClan (my beloved).

TO RECAP FOR THOSE COMING IN;

There's three groups in BB!DOTC now; Park Cats, Mountain Cats, and Forest Cats. Forest cats are the oldest cultural group and have lived around the White Hart for decades. Park cats arrived a few generations ago following their king away from the destruction of their home down south. Mountain cats recently followed Gray Wing the Wise down from the north at the beck of prophecy.

Forest cats are given a simple, natural name, and then their talent earns them a suffix from a small pool of traditional meanings. Bee, a strong fighter, might earn -sting, -slash, or -stone.

Mountain cats inherit the last names of their parents, and are usually given first names that work with them. Tempest Sky and Quiet Wing's children are Gray Wing and Clear Sky. Quiet Wing then had another litter with Stone Peak, and they were named Fluttering Wing and Jagged Peak.

Park cats are born nameless. They're given simple descriptions about their physical traits, traditionally until they're given a mentor. They spend their adolescence as (Mentor)'s Paw, until they make an achievement that is worthy of their leader giving them a title of three words or less.

Normally the leader is the King, but the Wind Coalition broke off from the River Kingdom many years ago. The Wind Runner sees herself as being much better than a King, HER kingdom is self-made, battle-tested, unprotected by the powerful river or the secretive forest.

Moth Flight isn't her child anymore, but I do know I want The Wind Runner to keep three total. At birth, the kittens were "named" Littlest One, Middle One, and Biggest One.

(It's tradition that the first real name of a Park cat is their apprentice name, but Windy is BURSTING with hubrice and LOVES breaking traditions. So it's possible the three of them did something different.)

SO currently I'm thinking their new names are;

Emberkit: Littlest One -> Embers Under Rain

Morning Whisker: Middle One -> Prayers at Dawn

Dustiest Muzzle: Biggest One -> Dustiest Muzzle

Embers might still die rather young, but at the very least she gets to apprenticeship. I'm not entirely sure on what I'm doing with her yet. If her name is a title, she managed to light a fire during a rainstorm (probably using flint)

Dustiest Muzzle gets his title from being an early tunneler and both bold and curious enough to stick his nose in every burrow. It actually reads as kind of unearned though, you could put it in English as "works harder than everyone else" which he probably just got because he's the son of The Wind Runner.

(Not that he isn't hardworking, just that Windstar doesn't even pretend she isn't biased.)

And Prayers at Dawn is interesting, because praying to future Clan cats looks like tilting your head upwards, and feeling the wind stir your whiskers. In Ancient Parkmew, her name meant something more like "Rousing Whiskers at Sunrise." I like the idea that she's quite religious for some reason, possibly also a friend of Moth Flight when it comes time.

The Parkmew word for "whiskering" eventually becomes the Clanmew word for the physical position of making prayers.

So Prayerstar would be a perfectly good name to avoid the conflict of Morningstar down the line later, BUT I'm also tempted to make the name MOURNINGstar and maybe have her take Mourning Whiskers as a title during her life.

Maybe even as a self-given title of great sorrow. I could have her become very close to Moth Flight and make her heart break when Moth and her children agree to split themselves up across the five Clans in Moth Flight's Vow.

Hmmm... perhaps Windstar's last life withered away pretty slowly, and Mourning Whisker knew she was going to inherit the Wind Coalition on the brink of war with SkyClan already attacking. Moth and her kits knew that WindCo would defend them all with their lives, and that's exactly why they knew they couldn't stay.

[tino-i-guess]

Need some opinions/help

TLDR; In October, in a somewhat impulsive decision, I started worshipping Athena and Hermes. I am having doubts and feelings of inadequacy due to not being as invested as some other people. Does all of this mean I should leave the religion or stop for the time being?

I am quite new to hellenic polytheism. I've always had an interest in polytheistic religions, occasionally doing some research but never really doing it heavily. I knew the very very basics of hellenic polytheism, since a friend of mine practices. In the beginning of October, I had a slight breakdown. I have been struggling with school a lot and was feeling completely lost and abandoned by most people in my life, so I did what looking back on it was a rush decision. I made an altar for Athena and prayed (more like begged, I'll be honest) for some kind of help. I made a small offering based on what I knew and that was that. It wasn't a completely unexpected decision, since I had been thinking about it for a while.

Well, it worked. I did quite well on my upcoming test and felt calmer in general. I decided to make a small altar for Hermes too and do more research. For the past few months, I have thus been trying to do as much research as I can, pray and make offerings based on what I know the best I can. However, recently I've been having some doubts.

I feel out of my depth and overwhelmed. I've never been religious, nor has my family ever been religious. Every time I try to research more, I feel overwhelmed and tear up with all the new facts and seeming rules. Things are contradicting each other and I have no one to check with because my friend is also pretty new and we're not very close. I feel as if I'm constantly messing up. A lot of the practices relies on instinct and reading between the lines. I have anxiety and I'm autistic so these two places are my weaknesses, in some cases even impossible for me without direct guidance. I'm confused on so many concepts that everybody else seems to find obvious.

I feel inadequate. Everybody I have seen talking about the religion seems really fully into it and devoted to it (something that I think is amazing and wonderful) but I feel like that cannot be applied to me. I feel like I somehow don't believe/love the Gods as much as others. I don't want religion to take up a big part of my life, at least not as I am currently. Additionally, I don't have much free time or energy in general, so I am not able to make offerings and pray properly every day. I also struggle with intrusive thoughts, which makes prayer and worship extra hard. However, I do love the Gods and the thought of taking down their altars and just stopping makes my heart squeeze. But then again, I don't feel as close to them as a lot of people I have seen, tho that might be a time issue. Part of me is definitely stopping me from getting closer to them by constantly saying how ridiculous I look trying to 'bond' with them. I want religion to be a casual facet of my life, to be able to make a weekly offering and pray once a day maybe without much worry or anxiety, to learn about the religion and Gods more and more.

I feel upset and stressed about this whole situation. I don't want to stop but part of me feels like I am being constantly disrespectful. A small part of me also feels like I have somehow offended Athena specifically. I also am hesitating stepping back, lest I upset kharis, if somehow I've managed to establish it with my flaky track record. I want honest, hard opinions and advice. Am I simply not cut out for this? Is this just a beginners rut sort of deal I need to power through? Did anybody else feel like this? How did you deal with it?

I am sorry if anything is unclear. Writing this made me quite emotional and my thoughts are all over the place. If I haven't mentioned a crucial detail or something, please ask and I'll happily respond and give more details on some things. Thank you in advance, χαίρε.

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Hi Slug!! I'm curious about some of the religious imagery in hypmic! Kuko is obvious and I think Doppo has talked about not believing in gods before but what's up with Jakurai? Is he meant to actually be Christian or is it just an aesthetic thing?

This ended up being so long Tumblr wouldn't let me put it all in one post. Hoo boy. Under a cut for length.

Usual disclaimer that I don't live in Japan, so I'm not talking about IRL Japan so much as Japanese media. Media isn't perfectly synonymous with real life and, of course, it's foolish to draw conclusions from the general (media and culture) and apply them to the specific (individual persons). With that being said, media is indicative of real life values and cultural concerns--for example, the American high school experience is a lot less interesting than in movies, but these movies reflect a romanticization of teenagehood so widespread in the US and areas with heavy US cultural influence that filmmakers take it for granted in their audiences--so I can talk about what assumptions inform the portrayal of religion in Hypmic.

As in a lot of Japanese media, religion is present but not explicitly mentioned outside of Kuukou. It's what I would call culturally religious as opposed to actively religious. Similar to how many works in the Anglosphere are steeped with Christian ideas and phrases even if the authors/works themselves aren't Christian (the Christian concept of sin, using "God" or variations as an interjection, etc.), many works written in Japanese are influenced by Shinto and Buddhist ideas. Some people in Japan are active worshipers of Shinto, Buddhism, or both, but many more have a somewhat relaxed approach. It's not uncommon for people to have a belief in a higher power, but the nature of this higher power isn't terribly well-defined. Many people will attend religious ceremonies for holidays or funerals but rarely pray to a higher power outside of moments of great stress. That is, being culturally religious. Traditions are fun and comforting, especially if they involve dressing up in fancy clothes, eating yummy food, and seeing friends and family. Even if you're not especially devout, it doesn't hurt to pray for a bit of luck before a big test, that your child will grow up healthy and strong, or that your recently departed ancestor will be at peace. For those in predominately Christian areas, you probably see plenty of this in your community--people who maybe go to church occasionally for companionship or holiday celebrations but aren't active worshipers. Or, perhaps, people who pray like, "Hey, if anyone's listening, can you lend me a hand?" Maybe you're even one of these people yourself. We can generally assume that most of the cast falls into this camp. Doppo and Hifumi go to a festival with a religious element--charms and rituals to bring good luck by appealing to Shinto deities--but I doubt either of them have a firm belief that these particular deities exist. They may think that there's some higher power...or not. But what's the harm in a good luck charm, right? And more importantly, it's fun to play games, eat, drink, and horse around with friends! But wait, does that mean these two are only Shinto or...Shinto-ish? Probably not. There's an expression that most Japanese people are "born Shinto, but die Buddhist." Shinto rituals tend to focus on matters of the living (although Shintoism has its own distinct funerary rites, sometimes combined with Buddhist rites), while non-devout Buddhists usually participate in Buddhist ceremonies only when loved ones die. We see Juushi and Hitoya with loved ones buried in Buddhist cemeteries, but it's safe to assume both observe Shinto holidays and customs in some fashion. We also see in the very beginning of TDD that Nemu and Samatoki have what appears to be a butsudan--a Buddhist altar--in their home dedicated to their deceased parents. "But wait," some might say, "I thought spirit worship isn't a part of Buddhism." That's true for some forms of Buddhism, but not all! Buddhism is enormously varied, and some of the (many, many!) forms of Buddhism practiced in Japan accept aspects of Shintoism. There's plenty of mixing, just as we see within individuals themselves. Again, the Hypmic characters may not fully believe that spirits exist. (Well, outside of Ramuda...) But it's a comforting thought that one's deceased family members are around in some form and can be a positive influence on one's life.

[jayoftheorb]

The Bad Kids class switch; by class

Cleric

Fig- her parents were never really religious, but gilear had a few religious texts from fallinel, started on galicaea, switched around alot, even tried helio for a little, settles eventually in sophomore year for Cass and her unnamed wife(I'm thinking ayda has the name and is some sort of paladin of ankarna, keeping her alive)

Gorgug- saw an au where he was a cleric of Vulcan god of tinkering and I like that But, what if while researching his orcish heritage wigby(wilma and Digby) find out about an orcish God and try to introduce gorgug to it, he's not super interested til he finds a God of metalwork(name pending) and start making "healing potions" they're just water and glitter he'd pour on any wound and pray over, the first time this works is when he's six and Wilma gets cut on some metal, wigby are so excited they throw a "cleric party" and invite everyone in little branch. When he dies in freshman year he meats his God and builds smthn with him, before coming back w it in his hands (maybe a flower that blooms?)

Adaine- she got so desperate to do magic she prayed to galicaea and it actually worked, her parents were.. okay with it, being a Cleric to elves is kinda like being a doorman to automatic doors, so for most of her childhood she studied at hudol and figured out healing on her own, becomes Cleric of Cass after Kristen finds her, kills her dad with one good smack from her staff

Fabian- actual chosen prince of the sea, amphitrite; goddess of deep seas and wife to poisidon, grew up on the hangman while it was still sailing, really only recently (like a year ago) did Bill decide to dock the ship for a while, though it can still sail, he want Fabian to have a proper high school education, and actually learn from other clerics (No other clerics on the ship, mostly shitty warlocks) has a staff carved from his dad's first ships mast, later gets a staff from telamine that he carved from one of the trees in sylvaire creating a connection to Cass, later makes a pantheon w his ocean goddess and all them

Riz- riz would definitely worship a goblin God, I really like Riz Aasimar au on ao3 (link) all that goblin religious lore is really cool, basically riz worships a goblin God of cycles and rebirth, how nothing is permanent and how matter cannot be destroyed just moved to another plain.

[queerprayers]

1/2- Sorry if this is a weird ask. You're a person of sincere faith who doesn't judge and I'm desperate for outside opinions. I've recently learned that many modern tarot readers don't believe in divination or spirits, but rather that the images on the cards can help us think about things and bring out deeper ideas from our own subconscious. Zero future telling, only for self reflection. That sounds ok to me, and using the cards for visio divina has done really good things for my prayer life.

2/2- But still I worry- what if the more conservative types are right and all use of the cards is bad? What if it's displeasing to God? I beg and pray but I can't seem to find any peace or inner sense of guidance on the topic. Can you please pray for me, and share any wisdom you might have about this? Thank you so much.

Hello, beloved--I don't think this is weird at all! There's so much fearmongering among Christians about things being Satanic or pagan or whatever else, and it's important to not give into that panic while also taking our faith seriously.

None of the people I know who have been interested in tarot do it as a religious or really even spiritual practice--for most of them, it's been a fun thing, like getting your fortune read at a county fair, and it's not something to "believe in" so much as do and think about. I also know people who, as you said, find it useful for reflection, usually for finding new ways of looking at things. I'm not scared of tarot, and I don't think it's demonic.

Christian history is full of things like opening your Bible to a random page to see what God has in store for you or protecting yourself from evil spirits or saying a certain prayer so that a saint will do something for you. Everyone has these superstitious instincts, to find stories in chance, to not waste the few things that are in our control. I don't think there's inherent evil there--evil comes when we trust these things more than God, when we look in our own actions more than God's, when we think we can know the full story, when we try to pin God down. And I don't think superstition with Christian wrappings is any less superstitious, or any more truthful, to be honest.

A lot of people fearmongering about stuff like this are scared about where it might lead--that you'll end up somewhere chanting around a human sacrifice. And of course there are people who start with harmless religious experiences and end up in evil places--lots of Christians go to a potluck and end up believing in prosperity gospel and putting their kids in conversion therapy. But I don't hear you in danger of abandoning God or of harming anyone. And any religious practice can go too far, no matter how pure its roots. What you bring to the practice makes up most of whether you are reaching out toward God with it, and we can balance it with other traditions and other impulses.

In case someone's using the Bible to scare you: what the Bible tells us about fortune-telling/magic/communing with spirits is from a very specific Ancient Israelite perspective that I'm not qualified to unpack, but we don't find it an applicable worldview today. We have different ideas of how to live in community with other religions, and religious practices serve very different functions. We don't follow Ancient Israelite cultic practices--nor do modern Jewish people, for that matter. Christian practice has developed in the past two millennia in so many directions, and barely any of it would be recognizable to the Biblical authors. I obviously trust that God gave us these writings for a reason, and am not saying to ignore them--we can find useful ideas, but not a rule book.

The tarot deck most people know was created in 1909 by an occult secret society, who used symbols from Christianity and astrology. I think it's misguided to find truth in them as they exist, but neither do I think they're inherently evil--they're archetypes, stories. They're just human. I find occult secret societies generally more silly than demonic--although there is lots of racism/cultural appropriation in their histories. I respect those who avoid tarot based on its origins, just as I respect those who won't do yoga because it's a Hindu practice. But so many things come from non-Christian origins, and we cannot throw away the world if we want to live in community with it. (Yes, we are called to be set apart from the world as Christians, but also to love it--there is the line we must walk.)

There is real Biblical precedent for avoiding a practice associated with things outside of your faith--ancient Israelite religion was very concerned with these associations. Paul did not think meat that had originally been offered to pagan gods was sinful to eat, but basically advised people not to eat it because of how it would affect others or perhaps normalize idol worship. These are things we're continually navigating, and in any Christian community you're gonna have to be clear where your faith lies and probably answer some questions. I think it's a good thing that we're called to be purposeful, and to be aware how our actions affect others.

So my general advice would be to really think about it, to do it all purposefully, paying attention to how it affects your life, relationships, and practice, and whether it's bringing you to the life you know God wants from you (one of love). But this sounds like what you're already doing! I think you care more about this than most people I know, and you're coming to God genuinely--these are gifts.

Prayer is sensory, story-filled, interactive. It's a way of moving through the world. You say this has done good things for your prayer life, and I believe you. Contemplation is a major Christian prayer tradition. Anything can give us a new perspective, anything can shove us toward the truth. You're not causing harm, and neither are you abandoning your faith. There are other people navigating the same things as you--Contemplative Tarot is a book by a Catholic tarot practitioner, and it looks really interesting. I know people who have made their own tarot cards, and I wonder what that would look like with more intentional Christian symbolism/stories, even saints. Sometimes I pick a random prayer card to say--this is coincidence, and while it's not something I'm depending on, it does affect how my day goes.

Don't fall for anything or anyone that claims to know the ultimate truth, don't fall for the people who say that tarot has ancient Egyptian/kabbalah roots, don't fall for people who are just selling you things, don't believe anyone who tells you the truth is inside you if they aren't making clear that it's God that's living there, don't base your entire religious practice on something like this. But don't throw away a way of looking at things if God has led you through it. Don't put your life in the hands of cards, but move through your life with stories and new perspectives and contemplation. God's mercies are new every morning.

I don't know if I've given you peace--maybe just more questions. The good news is, you don't have to figure it all out now, and the bad news is you'll never figure it all out. Religious practice is a continuous dialogue and negotiation with the world. I have faith in you, and in the ways God is moving in your life. Bring Jesus with you, wherever you end up--he'll come regardless, of course, but see it happening. A man with a sword or a cup doesn't know your future, nor is he doing anything--but you know that. You're seeing more of the story, you're contemplating the wonders of God, you know the swords and cups that matter, and they are present with you, and seeing them everywhere is a gift.

Something my mother says before I start anything new, or go anywhere important--what she said when I went to the psych ward, and on the first days of school, and when I go to a protest--is "remember your baptism." I think my grandfather said it to her, too. I don't know whether you've been formally baptized, but remember your calling. Remember the beginning of your journey, and why you're still on it, and how you're being a representative of it. Remember your baptism, whatever that means to you. We have been marked with the cross of Christ forever.

<3 Johanna

[borninwinter81]

Collage box collection

After discovering that I had a reasonably big stash of interesting flyers, greetings cards, guidebooks and other bits of ephemera, and seeing this tutorial, I was really inspired to use it all for something.

This was helped by the fact that recently I've found a lot of really nice wooden boxes in charity shops for very cheap - all the ones pictured here were £2. Either I've been extremely lucky, or these things turn up very often and I just haven't been looking for them.

I've posted about some of these previously (here and here), but they were only half done and these pictures are better! Plus there is one new one.

First was this wooden chocolate box. Before...

And after!

You can tell this is my first one as I oversatured the paper with Mod Podge, leading to it bubbling and creasing, but for a first attempt I don't think it's bad at all.

All the pictures I used were taken from an exhibition guide for an event I went to called "Exploring the Gothic" which contained a lot of beautiful pictures. The floral parts were from a pad of scrapbooking paper, which I also used to make the individual compartments (they are origami boxes, see a tutorial for how to make them here) and I then filled them with pieces from my collection of beads, charms, and broken jewellery.

I also had a guide to a William Blake exhibition I'd been to, and since there was an entire plate from "The Marriage of Heaven and Hell" I had to make it into a miniature wall plaque.

I did this one at the same time as the first, and again you can kind of see that I oversatured the paper which caused it to tear slightly, however thankfully it wasn't in an area where there was any writing.

(BTW, if anyone is interested in the meaning of this section, Blake is describing his creative process, albeit in a fantastical way. This blog post gives a good analysis)

The next one was a beautiful little cabinet with a broken handle.

And here is what I did with it. I kept the collaging to a minimum, only on the inside, though I might add something to the outside in the future. The replacement "handles" are a pair of my earrings!

I used some more of the gothic exhibition guide and scrapbook paper, and also a flyer for a ballet version of Dracula. I need to find some more interesting things to fill it as it currently only contains my resin crow's skull and a miniature book of Tennyson poems. Also my Cthulhu candle gets to sit on top and be worshipped by the skeleton on the right door.

I did much better with the collaging process on this one. I was a lot more patient, used less Mod Podge for each layer and allowed them to dry fully in between, resulting in no tears, bubbles or creasing.

The final and most recent is this plain box. I noticed it originally came from somewhere called "Palmyra Hardware" which instantly made me think of the Palmyra Wolves (I'm a fan of MrBallen and saw him tell the story on his YouTube channel) which gives a pleasantly creepy angle to this one before I even did anything to it!

After collaging

The central image on the outside is another William Blake painting, an illustration to Dante's Inferno, which includes the famous quote "Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here". The writing saying "The way, the truth, the life" came from a religious leaflet that a friend of mine was forcibly given, and which he ripped to shreds, but I saved this part because for some reason I liked it.

Inside we've got a very famous Blake painting called "The Ancient of Days", the praying skeleton again as this image was reproduced several times in that guidebook, and a block printed demon from a handmade birthday card that a friend gave me several years ago. I'm very pleased to have finally been able to use him for something!

I've enjoyed making all of these immensely and no doubt I will do more in the future as I collect more papers and find more nice boxes 😊

[multigenderswag]

Multigender Survey Results Dec 2023: Anything else relevant

Participants were asked "Share anything else about your multigender identity that you find relevant" and had the option to respond with long answer text. Some notable responses include:

As a m+f bigender person who uses he/she pronouns, I sometimes feel like the "he" refers to my female side, and the "she" refers to my male side

I am no longer religious/Christian, but the expression “God is Change” resonates deeply with me and my approach to gender as experience. I accept that my gender (holistically) is an amalgamation, something that breathes new life into itself repeatedly and often unexpectedly, sustained by its own willingness to grow past its bounds and taste richness anew. Teaching is part of my work, and as such I consider myself an eternal student: gender is just one avenue for discovery and learning for me.

I feel so boring but it is what it is, name wise I use one (completely feminine) with group A and one (completely masculine) with group B and hope and pray that they never interact

I identified as a 'tomboy' (gender wise) as a child and transmasc as a teenager. As an adult part of my being multigender is honouring these past versions of myself and acknowledging that who I was is an important part of who I am today.

I like to describe my gender like this: imagine there’s a house on a street. the house represents being a boy/male, and being *in* the house means you’re binary male. The road represents a neutral, non-male/female gender. My gender is like the driveway — both part of the road *and* the house

i think this is relevant-ish, but the way i experience gender kind of feels like. there's a man and a woman in my head at all times, not in a system way so much as a (this is very obviously stupid but i can't find another comparison to articulate it) inside out way. they're both always there, and they're both separate, but at the same time, they come together to make the same person, me! nonbinary is a label i understand and identify with, mostly to simplify the matter for others, but in reality, it kind of feels like a... superbinary of sorts. i'm 100% a man, and 100% a woman, but because the binary only "allows" you to choose one, nonbinary is technically correct, isn't it?

I'm multigender in the "one gender that fits into several categories" way than being multigender in a "has multiple genders" way

My gender is the intersection of butch dyke and trans man. I'm questioning things right now, but I'm somewhere in that region, with a foot in both at once. I've always been drawn to butchness and sapphicism as well as transmasculinity. I think most of my journey to understand my gender has been a balancing act between identifying as enough of a guy to feel comfortable in my skin but non-binary enough to not have to abandon my identity with butchness. Recently I've adopted the label multigender, and it's helped a lot. I'm only even a little bit a girl if I can be a boy first and foremost, and I could be just a boy or just a dyke but I would have to kill part of myself to do so. I'm trying to find a way to exist in my gender without blood on my hands. I think I'm getting there. It's hard but I'm getting there.

It is complicated but I love it

Yay I love multi gender people we are so cool. <3

A number of participants also referenced being autistic and how that has influenced their multigender identity, so it is possible that autism may be included as a question on the next survey.

[gay-otlc]

I was looking for a thorough list of recently published trans books and this list (plus the ones linked for other years) proved to be very helpful.

Except then.

Okay. A lot to unpack here.

Censoring the word Israel. Quite honestly, I always find it annoying when people decide to put an asterisk when typing a word they don't like. I mean, if it's not an actual curse or slur, the asterisk is clearly only there to make a statement "I don't like this thing! I think it's yucky!" and it's just. I'm tired of that in all situations but it's especially weird to censor Israel like that when the word doesn't even exclusively refer to the country- it's been used in prayers long before 1948 and I just. Idk. I've ranted too long about one asterisk.

Fucking weird to remove a book from a list just because an author went on a vacation you didn't like! For one thing, I wanted that list for informational purposes, I don't give a fuck if I agree with all of the authors ideologically. But even so, would they do this if it was any other country? Plenty of countries have done really shitty things. America has done really shitty things! Why is Israel being singled out (hint: antisemitism)

After some googling, I determined that the author is Jewish. Cancelling someone for travelling to Israel like that would be shitty for anyone, but especially if they're Jewish, because visiting the land of Israel is a really significant experience for a lot of Jews. Not because we want to legitimize an apartheid state, but because we have so much history there that we might want to connect with. A lot of people might also have family there! Is it problematic to visit family? And it's really important to many Jews to go to the Western Wall and pray there. Cancelled for wanting a significant religious experience, I guess,

Oh, also, it gets worse if you go to the 2021 book list.

Holy fucking shit. Both of these books did something the creators of the list objected to, except one of them faced much harsher consequences. If I were to guess which book would be met with "that's not great, but it can stay on the list" and "we cannot be associated with this book in any way because we can't support the author's actions," I wouldn't expect the book with the n word to receive the former and the Jewish author travelling to Israel to receive the latter!

Genuinely, these people think a Jew wanting to visit a sacred religious site is worse than literal racism.

Also, the absolute audacity of them to call this book out for antisemitism in the way their antagonist is written. If you actually cared about Jewish people, how about you stop being antisemetic dipshits!

This has been S with today's edition of Bullshit From Goyim. There will be more because goyim do so much bullshit.

[princelylove]

some sbr (and phantom blood!) thoughts for you in general, your highness, if you'll take the words of this lowly peon-- i've been watching some documentaries on the gilded age recently, and a thought came up on me; how would the blorbos of the sbr and phantom blood era handle the societal expectations of the era? like, they can't really be affectionate or anything in public, so i feel like some of the pda/jealous ones would really struggle. plus, it would be inconvienent for them to talk to darling, especially because an engaged couple or even just two single people weren't really allowed to commune with eachother in private in anything other then social occasions. it's a fascinating dilemma, really, and i'd be fascinated to here about how some yanderes from this time period would handle this stuff. your ever faithful, ever loyal, ever miserable peon-- 🌸 anon

Warning for discussion of gender roles, brief homophobia mention I'm not sure if you can count it really, typical yandere things.

What a good ask, peon. When I think of the old American west, I tend to think of those old cowboy movies focusing on the wild west. What a wild three decades. 

We have to consider where exactly they are in the world, and their social standing. Frilly fan language means absolutely nothing to someone who grew up on the streets- Although Dio has studied aristocratic courting rituals religiously. England and the US are different culturally, and the south is very different from the west and north. 

The Gilded age takes place from 1877-1900-ish, doesn’t it? Steel Ball Run takes place right in the middle of that, starting in 1890 and ending a year later. I tend to think of the Steel Ball Run cast as living in the ‘wild west,’ which takes place generally from 1865 to 1895, so it’s perfectly lined up. Phantom Blood’s main story is in 1888, but considering it’s entirely in England, it would be considered late Victorian era rather than the Gilded age. The entire concept of a débutante is so horrifying in a yandere context. If I’m misremembering and the entire concept of presenting a young lady to society for the purpose of marrying her off is not in the late Victorian era, or any of the other information I just presented is incorrect, ignore the inaccuracy. Débutante is used in a gender neutral way here I pinky swear.

Jonathan takes the entire courting process very seriously. Not that he’s any good at formalities, but there’s an attempt. The concept of marriage being something romantic was very new in the Victorian period- but not a foreign concept to Jonathan in the slightest. He grew up with a loving family, his future spouse should be the love of his life. It was generally important to the male identity to be educated, do a sport, and be a gentleman- Jonathan fits every one of those requirements. By all means, he fits in. The only thing stopping him from never getting a second glance is how eager he is to please his darling. “It’s odd how that boy follows his darling around like a dog all day.” is a common statement from those who recognize him happily trotting down the street to go see you- that’s right. He’ll walk instead of taking a carriage. He doesn’t want the visit to feel so formal, he really just wants to spend time with you, even if you aren’t out in society yet. Jonathan thinks it’s going to help his chances of being formally introduced to you when you really become a débutante- but it is not. Gifts, flowers, attention, it all comes off as too much. He mopes a bit when his efforts are proven to be futile, but that doesn’t mean that he’s discouraged. Well, it doesn’t matter, he can always just propose. Why would your parents turn down a proposal from a Joestar, who can take care of you forever? 

Erina tends to be rather shy. She sincerely prays that she’s caught your eye- and does just about everything she can think of to get it. She’s quite the stalker. Your interests are her interests! She’ll show up at any sport you play just to watch you and show you she’s right there to support you, even if she avoids directly speaking to you for quite some time. It’s improper, and she doesn’t want to come across as needy, or socially inept. She can hope, though. Maybe if she just keeps showing up in places she knows you’ll be. The best day of her life is likely the day you come to a débutante ball, assuming you’re of the same social class. She hovers quite a bit, and takes a moment to beg whatever God is out there to introduce you to her. When her wish is granted, she clings to you for the rest of the night, regardless of what is and is not appropriate. 

Dio is a man obsessed with social standing. When you’re denied something for so long, it’s obvious that you’d become infatuated until you get it. Dio’s temperament is closer to obsession; Even when Dio reached his comfortable spot, he still wanted more. He actually takes courting rather seriously in his youth, he does it the proper way. He waits until you’ve been formally introduced to society, and makes his initial move. Just one dance will do. He doesn’t want to come off as desperate- Despite being at every single ball you’ve ever attended, sans one or two for his reputation’s sake. He’ll only visit your home on the proper days, always brings gorgeous, full bouquets, and leaves within forty-five minutes. He’s not about to take up your entire afternoon, but he’s not about to let another suitor talk your ear off for that long, either. Whatever hobby you’ve taken up is his greatest interest for today’s conversation. When you see him in public he’ll offer a polite smile, but nothing more. Of course, this all goes out the window when he turns, since he can just take you with absolutely no repercussions. 

Johnny is always going to treat the world like it’s Danville, Kentucky. His stay in England didn’t have any effect on him development-wise, he sounds like he’s from Kentucky still, too. All that bullshit about waiting around for the chance to dance with his darling is his own personal nightmare- and it isn’t going to happen anytime soon. He has a bit of a ‘modern’ take on dating, if you could call it that. He’s not as obviously affectionate as someone like Gyro, but it’s not like there’s a lack of it. He’ll hold his darling’s hand while you wait in line, he’ll whine until you sit with him on his horse, he can’t sleep unless you’re right there… Johnny’s pretty forward, regardless of what society deems is fine. He’s a good boy, especially in his prime- there’s no reason for your family to not like him. If your family isn’t accepting of him… he doesn’t really want their blessing, anyway.

Gyro has adapted fairly well to life in America, but not when it comes to the culture shock of not being able to cling to his darling constantly. Whether or not his explanation of how being overly affectionate is the norm back home is true is up for debate. He loves to hang on his darling- putting his head on top of yours while you try to talk to some poor stranger is one of his preferred pastimes. Gyro does plan on returning home eventually, but he has some things to do here before he can- one of those things being finding a way to take you back with him. Gyro’s not really put off by getting told to stop, truly, what are you going to do about it? Are you going to get in the way of him and his darling? Don’t be stupid. Gyro will listen to his darling’s request to not have as much pda if you genuinely compromise with him. No pda, but full access to you in privacy? Cool, cool, we’re never going out again. Gyro gets his fill in little ways, he wants to at least hold hands, or be able to put his hand on your waist. You’re seriously denying him what he needs because it isn’t “socially acceptable”?? You’re being ridiculous. Gyro won’t humor silly courting rules because it’s what you’re used to, he’s right here, you’re right here, if the only thing between you is some traditions, then Gyro has nothing in his way. 

Firstly, Hotpants does not really acknowledge societal norms. She’s taking on the “man’s” role in the relationship anyway, so if her darling is feminine, it could pass as a “typical” relationship, as long as she’s presenting herself in a masculine way. She gets weird looks when she goes to get dinner for the two of you- she catches, you cook. People often try to haggle her when she needs to buy new gear, it’s annoying. It’s actually a giant pain in the ass for her, but it’s worth it if it’s to provide for you. Hotpants isn’t really interested in the whole courting process, she’s very quick to snatch her darling up and lock them somewhere safe, even if you're not sure who she is. You can play housespouse for her while she takes care of what she needs to, you’re being given the easy life, is it really that bad? She’s not even forcing you to be affectionate with her- just stay put and listen to what she tells you to do. You can even write to your family, if you want, just know that she’s going to skim it over to make sure it’s appropriate. You’ll even have some time alone while she goes out for the day- interrupted by the sound of her boots and the sight of her jacket hung up by the door. When you are eventually let out- Likely to transport you somewhere else, I cannot see Hotpants letting her darling back out again- she’s a bit cold, but firm. If you can be trusted to sit still, she’ll let you ride her horse while she guides it. If you cannot, she’ll ride with you, arms around your sides.

[solradguy]

Is Sin like, a Christian? You’ve talked about how Ky is a certain kind of Christian recently and I know Sin has a cross, but I wasn’t sure if that was a bit or a joke? Is he praying?

Mostly I’m just confused because I see like two topics of conversation around Sin and it’s his father issues (for either of them) and him being 5. Sometimes it’s about him giving Ram a sandwich. Even if it’s not a big part of his character (he’s not Ky, after all!) it seems like it gets mentioned more as a joke so I’m not sure if it’s like a serious…character trait, I guess?

I kind of get the impression that Sin is religious but not to the same degree as Ky is. We've seen multiple instances of Ky praying or otherwise being in a Christian church (GG2Overture Material Collection and an opening scene in Lightning the Argent chapter 1, part 2 are two examples) while Sin's expression of religion has been a lot more subtle. He's wearing a crucifix in all of his designs through Overture, Vastedge, Xrd and his new Strive outfit, to begin with:

Baby Sin is also wearing what seems to be the same one:

Dizzy almost definitely was not raised with any sort of religion comparable to Christianity; Ky would had to have introduced her to it and then raised Sin into it. Sin wearing the crucifix even through Overture when he was the most mad at Ky says a lot, I think, about Sin's feelings towards his religion. If he didn't have any sort of faith in it and it was solely Ky's thing, why continue wearing it?

He brings up God to Ram in Xrd Sign when trying to explain what emotions and opinions are to her:

Sin: Well, c'mon, what does "right" even mean anyway? Let's say Ky and the old man think something tastes bad, but I like it. Does that make me wrong? In a way everybody's right, see? They're right to say it tastes bad, and I'm right to say it tastes good.

Ramlethal: I don't understand your example.

Sin: Arg... How do I say this... Oh, got it! Do you believe in God?

Ramlethal: God? I acknowledge that the concept exists, and people find value in it, but without further evidence, I can't authoritatively state whether or not--

Sin: No, I'm asking you how YOU feel about it! Remember when you ate that hamburger? You had an opinion on it, YOUR opinion. Like that...

Ramlethal: I...I don't know...

Sin: You're impossible! All right, let's try something else. Look out that window.

Ramlethal: ?

Sin: [looking at the starry sky] He he. This is the real reason I'm here. Doesn't that look pretty?

Ramlethal: ...I don't know.

Sin: I think you just don't have the words to describe how you feel. See, I think that's suuuuuuuuuuuuuper pretty.

Ramlethal: Um...?

Sin: To me, that's enough. The way I feel, the way this looks... I don't want somebody trying to explain that to me with big words or fancy ideas. I just like the explanation "This sky looks beautiful because God made it that way." So to me, that would be a good reason for God to exist. Do you think that's the right answer?

Ramlethal: That's just what you WANT. It doesn't make anything real.

Sin: Maybe, but I don't think everything needs to be black and white. You don't need to shove yourself into a corner and tell yourself you have to be something.

That last bit about Sin crediting the creation of the sky to God might be the most concrete bit of evidence we have to gauge where on the scale his faith is. He's a smart kid and quick at coming up with efficient solutions to unusual problems (like telling the highly intelligent Dr. Paradigm, who is an aquatic Gear, to breathe using magic instead of maintaining a ball of water around himself), but he still attributes something as easily explainable by science as the composition of the sky to God. There's also the fact that Sol has consistently had negative opinions towards religion/God when it's brought up too. He almost definitely would have had some kind of conversation about it with Sin at one point and Sin still maintained his faith despite that.

For now I'd say it would be fair to assume that Sin is at least moderately Christian and that he's serious about it, it's not part of a joke or other setup. Maybe future story stuff will expand on this aspect of his character more one day though.

Unfortunately, there's a lot of lore discussion where Sin is involved that boils down to it all being a joke when very little of it actually is. He's lighthearted and not great at thinking deeply about complex issues unless he has to, but he's by no means a gag character. Take any post/meme that treats him as pure comic relief with a grain of salt.

[enchanted-wildflower]

22nd of January

Helloo, i'm still alive, I was just really not in the mood to post recently. Here are some pictures from today and last week.

The exam period is over, and my next semester starts tomorrow. I feel like I'm at a changing point in my life. Actually, my boyfriend breaking up with me might have been good for both of us in the end? Idk, I'm still confused, and we also still talk a lot. But yeah, so I realised that I experience chronic stress that is pretty much independent of what is happening in my life and probably a leftover symptom of my PTSD. So I sign up for the gym (even though I haven't gone very much yet, but i'm working on it), and I'll go back to therapy. My first appointment is this week. I also bought a Bible..? Like for private use, not because of my religious studies degree. I didn't see this coming haha. I don't know yet where this is gonna lead, but I just really wanna read it and I have been ignoring the urge to explore Christianity, cause I kind of don't want to be interested in it. But finally I accepted that I actually am interested and started reading it on Friday. It has been great so far!

It's a bible for Gen Z teenagers or something. It gives you video links for further explanations about some chapters and lots of questions to think about for people who have never read the bible. It's a bit tooo modern for me, but oh well.

I don't know yet how this will fit into my spiritual path or if I'll be going into a different direction altogether. I haven't really been practising witchcraft for a while, cause my rational mind just tells me it doesn't work it's not like my experiences really show that it does either, at least not recently. I have been leaning more towards prayer and trying to trust that things will go the way they are meant to. I feel like me reading the bible was kind of inevitable in a way cause I have been praying to La Santa Muerte on and off for years. I pray the rosary for her and I've been interested in the Sacred Heart of Jesus for some years as well. I feel like strict Christians aren't gonna like it haha, cause La Santa Muerte is demonic to them, but I feel like in a way it's her who is pushing me into this direction. So I'm excited to see how this continues :)

[hikennosabo]

#tristampparty day 5, episode 5: child of blessing

day 5 of @tristampparty let's gooooo

our radio djs today are... show hayami!!! (aka original wolfwood) and masaya onosaka again! i'm OBSESSED with casting hayami as the religious radio dj, i love these cameos so much and clearly there was a lot of thought put into where the cameos would be. very very cool

one thing i really think is interesting about trigun - every version of trigun - is the fact that god and religion (christianity) have such a presence but there is never confirmation one way or the other about the existence of god.

who is Missionary Michael

"newly"... we know they've been around for a while, though... and roberto's the guy with Information and Knowledge so i don't think he would make a mistake timeline-wise... EoM had an established presence in (or, more like an iron grip on) windmill village, so it's not like they were operating in complete secret until recently or anything like that. soooo, new relative to what?

wind... typhoon... is this anything

wait no i'm cooking. rollo was born on a windless day -> vash met rollo when he was a baby, the photo is taken -> rollo, as we see in the flashback at the beginning of the episode, prays for wind, implying that there hasn't been any wind in a long time -> rollo runs away, meets vash again, vash makes a promise he can't keep -> rollo gets turned into monev the gale... GALE... WIND... -> vash returns, "reunites" with rollo -> monev gets killed -> the wind blows again

TYPHOON, GALE, IS THIS ANYTHING??? I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M COOKING HERE

this is when wolfwood notices that monev is a product of EoM... that's all he needs to know to decide what must be done.

vash has no idea about EoM or the experiments or the village sacrificing children, BUT if he hadn't brought rollo back to the village... maybe none of this would have happened. or it could've ultimately played out the same. maybe rollo would have been found by someone else. or maybe he would have died out there in the desert. but still. another thing for vash to feel guilty about even though it wasn't really his fault.

savior complex bouncing between him and knives like a ping pong ball

i love the phrasing. he's not god. he's a man. as much as he positions himself as a god, he's still... very human. as loathe as he would be to admit that.

*looks at previous screenshot* i'm seeing a pattern here.

as much as i don't like elendira ii, i think we should consider also giving little fangs to elendira i.

SPEAKING OF CHARACTERS I DON'T LIKE. tristamp conrad is so unbelievably cruel, what the hell. don't get me wrong he's still not GOOD in the manga and he DOES bear responsibility for, y'know, resurrecting knives and all... and generally being too little too late in taking action against knives... but THIS conrad is just so. ugh. why did they do him like this...

so the timeline would be...

20 years ago, the village was destroyed. assuming he was in the lab for 5 years (in other words, he was not let out and could have not wrecked the town during that time), would mean 25 years ago, rollo was taken and became monev. we don't know exactly how old he was at the time, let's say he was 10 for the sake of keeping it even. so ~35 years ago the photo with vash was taken, give or take.

we also don't know how many children were taken before rollo, or how often. but it was an established practice in the village which no one questioned. how long has this been going on exactly?

also just wanted to note that roberto notices the EoM banner in the house. i think that's a detail that gets forgotten because meryl finds the photo of vash right after... but remember that roberto is the one who tells us what EoM is (or rather, what their cover story is) in the first place...

... i don't need to say anything.

actually no there is something i want to say. right after this, monev loses one of his gun... arm... gloves...? uncovering his hand underneath. and also his mask turns off. and we see his face. in other words, there's still a human under there.

OKAY HERE'S THE TALLY I REALLY WANTED TO DO!!!!

wolfwood vial count: 1

wolfwood drinking a vial right before shooting monev... revealing/reinforcing his own "inhumanity" (to the audience? to himself?) right before mercy killing a fellow EoM victim...

i wonder what vash would have done had wolfwood not killed rollo. like. what was the plan. was there a plan? (probably not...) like, had rollo lived, he wouldn't have been able to live a normal life no matter how you look at it, right? wolfwood's mercy kill seems to have been not just the right call, but perhaps the only call...?

vash asking him to wake up... foreshadowing perhaps. maybe foreshadowing livio not actually dying from a gunshot wound to the head, unlike monev. or maybe foreshadowing the words vash might say when... no. i shan't.

speaking of livio... this is gonna come back next episode.

yeah, a lot of what wolfwood says about monev can be applied to himself and livio both. really makes you think.

god i love that the village lights up after everything is over. it makes me think... i don't know what to make of this. like. the reason why the village kept sacrificing children to EoM was because they believed sacrifices would bring blessings. and we know the village was struggling due to a lack of wind. so was EoM preventing the wind from blowing somehow?? there's no way, right??? how would they even do that...? and why would they continue to prevent the wind from blowing in a place that got destroyed 20 years ago?? so this brings me back to the beginning of this post... does god actually exist in this universe?? did god make the wind blow??? and why now? i... i don't know!!! i don't know, man!!!

i do like the way orange adapted monev. or... adapted isn't the right word. they reimagined him from the ground up. they made him more intertwined with vash, used him as a vehicle to introduce EoM, tied him into wolfwood and vash's clash of ideals... and the episode itself is tight, self-contained. and very tragic.

we don't actually know that much about the original monev... he was imprisoned, he has a line about "the man i thought was my father"... i don't remember anything else. the main reason why the monev fight in 98/trimax is memorable is because it contains vash's diablo moment, and it's the first time we really see him seriously consider killing someone. but here, this version of monev... well, we get the opposite. vash wants to avoid killing monev - rollo - at all costs. makes me wonder if we'll get a diablo moment from vash in season 2...

there's probably more to say but i'm tired and my brain isn't working at full capacity lol i need to go to bed. see you tomorrow for episode 6!

[elfi-nimwelana]

DISCLAIMER: This post is not meant to be a "slam" against male-centric religions or spiritual systems in the least: there is a lot of beauty to be found in these and everyone has a right to be proud of their faith and believe that it's capable of doing Good for the world. I do not believe that male-centric faiths are "evil" or inherently broken or deliberately misleading. I think they are what they are, and that many, if not most, of them ultimately mean well, and I know that many of them work very well for countless milions of people -- this would not be so if there was nothing of value to them. This post is merely a short thought-essay on how it feels to not have your spiritual or emotional needs met by most "available" religions in the world today. You are not obligated to agree with or even see sense in this essay.

For many women and feminine-minded persons, seeking a religious/spiritual system that fulfills our heart-needs is borderline impossible: if we want something organized and orthodox, we have to just force ourselves to be okay with sitting in a male-centric religion with largely masculine iconography or energy, with masculine takes on most spiritual concepts, and if there are any feminine saints or figures in a given male-centric system's mythos, we're not allowed to pay much homage to her. In worst cases, we're told flat-out that we're not allowed to pay homage to her at all! It's also often implied that we can never be like her, because women are inherently incapable of being as good or virtuous as a woman touched by a masculine God.

I feel that this lack of relatability severely alienates many women. Not having a female/feminine figure to look up to -- a figure who is sacred and holy by her own right and not just because she has been touched by a male God -- can often lead to feeling lost, to self-esteem low enough to cause us to make bad decisions or endure abuse needlessly, and even to acting out in such a way that harms both ourselves and others. I feel like many, possibly most, women need a good Mother figure to look up to and emulate just as much as men need a good Father figure. Ideally both should be available for either, but for the most part I think women in particular feel the most comfortable and connected to other women. However, most established religions today are those with a Father God, and little to no Mother figures that we are allowed to cling to and pray to and look to for spiritual guidance. I speak from experience, as I felt forced to become Christian for several years in my recent past and was devastated when I was told that I was not allowed to pay any form of worship to Mother Mary; and when I was told that men are supposed to represent God, and women merely the Church -- the Church that worships and serves God. This was a crushing blow to a woman who had not so long ago been a Sorella of the Deanic/Filianist faith and who was extremely happy there.

This broke my spirit. I stopped caring about God and my belief withered and I was convinced that, because of my inability to connect with and love God exclusively as a Father, I was going to literally burn in Hell forever. My spiritual outlook became nihilistic, and I'd never been so miserable in my life. I know for a fact that I'm not the only woman who has felt this way.

In recent months I was lucky enough to be graced with a series of messages in a dream that palpably felt as though God Itself was speaking to me. I intend to detail this dream out in its entirety in the future -- but among several other very deliberate messages, it gave me the message that so long as what I believe is fundamentally Good and motivates me to want and strive to do such Good to others, and propels my Love for God, then the specifics of what I believe are secondary. That it is not necessary to refer to God exclusively as this-or-that.

After all, what good does the Word of God do us when we can't feel the Love of God? If we cannot love God, how can God's Love reach us? And how can we love God when we are alienated by the specifics of a religious system? Are those specifics really more important than that Love? Should we really feel as though we have to prioritize lip service over genuine connection and obeisance to the Divine? Perhaps such rigid structure is genuinely helpful to many, but it is damaging to others, and it has the capacity to sever our connection to God, and with that severance comes an avoidance of obedience. It does not inspire us to love others and cherish life.

So, I began once again referring to God as Mother, without tying myself down to any specific system of belief: and that seemingly small change of wording, all on its own, has made a world of difference. I feel like we all have a right to this, and I don't believe it is wrong in any capacity. It is important for all of us -- men AND women -- to be able to feel a connection to God, so that we may love God. Love is to the spirit what air is to the heart and lungs: it is necessary, and without it, we wither and die. This is why it is so important that the way we see the Divine is something we can establish a connection with, and from there, love. If that means referring to and seeing the same God as Mother that others see as Father, then so be it.

After all, we are human, and we are fragile. We need to breathe. This much, God -- whatever and however God may be -- surely thoroughly understands.