#hidethings

[jpopstreaming]

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[youareunbearable]

Why do Brendon Fraser's sons look like someones Facecams for Maedhros and Maglor????

[eccentricmya]

Imagine naming your kid 'Silmaril' in the first age.

[searchingwardrobes]

Hymn Saturday: "He Hideth My Soul" by Rosemary Siemens

Tagging @jrob64 @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose

[southfarthing]

at our wedding (we’re engaged btw) your vows will solely be silm references and im not gonna get all of them but I WILL be nodding vigorously and agreeing w everything you say

JDBDODDNIDJDNJDDHDJ perhaps... perhaps the silmarillion isn't the best place to get vow inspiration from 🥴 but I'm flattered you have this much trust in me <333

[jjcocker]

neaely had a heart attacj,

[welcomingdisaster]

“Nelyo, art thou asleep?” 

“Plainly not.” 

“In such a case, wouldst thou perhaps entertain my flight of fancy, for only a moment?”

“That I cannot promise.” 

“I have only been thinking…” 

“Ah, this grows more dire by the word.” 

“I think of afar casteth.” 

“Mm?” 

“Well, whoso hideth or hoardeth—certainly reasonable. I well see his meaning. Finding keepeth—of course, yes, we would little want such things. But afar casteth, Nelyo, I worry of.” 

“I daresay we would little like to see the jewels afar cast, Káno.” 

“Well, of course not. But suppose, for the sake of argument, that someone was to cast one of the jewels a rather short distance. In startlement, or some such, of their great beauty.” 

“Thou hast missed the mark, I fear. That would be a-near casting, and totally irrelevant.” 

“Ah! But I have not finished. Our caster, see, stands on the edge of a cliff, and the jewel falls from his hands down a very great span. Below the cliff there is a deep mountain lake, and its currents carry the jewel a distance of perhaps eight or nine leagues. Certainly now it has been cast afar. Do we slay our caster?” 

“That shall not come to pass.” 

“Do we?” 

“Káno.” 

“Oh, very well. Let us take another example. Suppose… oh, name a cousin thou likest.” 

“Findekáno.” 

“Why do I bother asking? Imagine Findekáno takes up a jewel in his hand and pitches it—” 

“He would not!” 

“I am asking thee to imagine! Findekáno takes up a jewel in his hand and pitches it off the uppermost peak of a cliff—” 

“Wherefore are there so many cliffs in thy imagination?” 

“—for thou art standing at the bottom of the cliff to catch it! Now, has it been cast afar, and must we slay him?” 

“I am done speaking with thee.” 

“Oh, be reasonable.” 

“Thou art asking me to imagine Findekáno atop a cliff lobbing jewels at me, and I am to be reasonable? I am done, I am done. Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight.” 

… 

…. 

“Nelyo?” 

“Yes?” 

“Say the jewel was taken in mouth or in foot, rather than in hand, or else fastened by glue or rope to the back of a crocodile…”  

[eilinelsghost]

(Medium) Hot Take: "Did the Oath actually condemn Fëanor & his sons to the Everlasting Darkness" is the wrong question because it has a clear textual answer: which is "no."

Did it have the power to do so? That's another question entirely and a fun one to debate.

But did it? Absolutely not.

Because each of the sons of Fëanor (and Fëanor himself) fulfilled their Oath. Nowhere in the various drafts of the Oath is there a version where they call down the Everlasting Darkness if they fail to retrieve a Silmaril. What they actually swear is:

an oath of enmity for ever against any that should hold the Silmarils The Book of Lost Tales, Part One

shall no law nor love nor league of Gods, no might nor mercy, not moveless fate, defend him for ever from the fierce vengeance of the sons of Fëanor, whoso seize or steal or finding keep the fair enchanted globes of crystal whose glory dies not, the Silmarils. The Lays of Beleriand, The Flight of the Noldoli

no law, nor love, nor league of hell, no might of Gods, no binding spell, shall him defend from hatred fell of Fëanor's sons, whoso take or steal or finding keep a Silmaril. The Lays of Beleriand, The Lay of Leithian: Canto IV

neither law, nor love, nor league of swords, dread nor danger, not Doom itself, shall defend him from Fëanor, and Fëanor's kin, whoso hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh, finding keepeth or afar casteth a Silmaril. This swear we all: death we will deal him ere Day's ending, woe unto world's end! Our word hear thou, Eru Allfather! To the everlasting Darkness doom us if our deed faileth. Morgoth's Ring; Fifth section of the Annals of Aman

they swore an oath [...] calling the Everlasting Dark upon them if they kept it not; [...] vowing to pursue with vengeance and hatred to the ends of the World Vala, Demon, Elf or Man as yet unborn, or any creature, great or small, good or evil, that time should bring forth unto the end of days, whoso should hold or take or keep a Silmaril from their possession. The Silmarillion; Of the Flight of the Noldor

Every version of the Oath that includes the Everlasting Darkness calls it down upon them only if they do not pursue the perceived thief with vengeance and hatred. The only variance from this is in the version from the Annals of Aman where one could conceivably link the Everlasting Darkness with a failure to kill whosoever took a Silmaril. But this version is replaced by the consistent form shown in all other iterations (the same form that is included in the published Silmarillion) and consequently doesn't hold much weight for the argument.

Fëanor and each of his sons (save Maglor who survives the First Age with a Silmaril in his possession) met their ends in pursuit of this exact clause - pursuing those who hold a Silmaril with vengeance and hatred - and consequently dying in fulfilment of their Oath. Which is to say that even if we do hold that the Oath had the power to damn them to the Everlasting Darkness (which it very well may have!), it would not, could not, and did not do so because the terms were met.

And even setting the specific wording of the Oath, the text tells us exactly what happens to one who dies in pursuit of the Oath while still not regaining a single Silmaril: "...[Fëanor's] likeness has never again appeared in Arda, neither has his spirit left the halls of Mandos" (The Silmarillion, Of the Return of the Noldor).

So yes, the Oath might have had the power to send them into the Everlasting Darkness, but it did not have the grounds to do so. And so it did not.

[jesus-lover-of-my-soul25]

Treasures of heaven

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto treasure hid in a field; the which when a man hath found, he hideth, and for joy thereof goeth and selleth all that he hath, and buyeth that field.”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭13‬:‭44‬ ‭KJV‬‬

The kingdom of Heaven is hidden to those who still have a veil on them, but when the veil is lifted for a moment, and we are able to find an understand the mystery of salvation through Jesus Christ we hide that truth in our hearts and we joyfully go and give all that we have and sacrifice all that we have just to be able to find our way into that field, which is the kingdom of heaven

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

This is what I mean when I say this fandom has an incredible Noldor bias and insists on twisting everything so the Feanorians come out looking as charitable as possible, because the accusations that Thingol/Dior/Elwing knew they'd be condemning the Feanorians to the Void to keep the Silmaril and it was therefore justified that the Feanorians attacked Doriath and Sirion rely on some truly nonsense assumptions. How would those three know about the oath? Even if they did hear that it was a thing, how would they have the information that the Feanorians believe they'll be sent to super hell if they don't get the Silmarils back? AND even if they somehow did have this info, the oath literally says the Feanorians will come for whoever comes in contact with the Silmaril, regardless of what they do with it afterwards. On top of all that, I've seen people claim that the Feanorians "begged" Thingol/Dior/Elwing to give them the Silmaril, which, lmfao. These people read Tumblr metas and decided that counted as reading the Silm.

i don't have much to add here anon, just a resounding "yeah." i mean, maybe thingol has heard about the oath through some hearsay from beren, who received vague tidbits from finrod, but regardless, that eternal damnation business is definitely not something he'd be aware of. doubtful that finrod, or anyone outside of the feanorians themselves and their followers, know about that. and it's even more nonsense to say that dior or elwing would have any way of hearing the details of the oath. and!!! like you said! i don't usually find myself including this in my arguments because, as i've said, thingol and dior and elwing wouldn't know what exactly the oath stipulates anyway -- but it quite literally says "neither law, nor love, nor league of swords, dread nor danger, not doom itself, shall defend him from feanor, and feanor's kin, whoso hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh, finding keepeth or afar casteth a silmaril." it doesn't matter what this person does afterward -- whether they keep or cast away a silmaril once they have it, the feanorians are going to go after them.

and as for that third point specifically -- that's the most egregious, imo. it's always hilarious to see people act like the feanorians were any iota of polite or diplomatic, let alone humbled themselves and begged, when dealing with thingol, or dior, or elwing. seriously, the way the word "unreasonable" is hurled at those three specifically is something else considering for whose defense the accusation is made in the first place. on the feanorians' part -- zero attempts at reparations made for the murder, kidnapping, and attempted rape. zero indications that they give a fraction of a fuck about any of the teleri. and from the perspective of the iathrim/inhabitants of sirion, zero indications that they are even decent enough people who would honor their own terms and leave doriath/sirion alone if the silmaril is surrendered. as per the text, straight up negative indications that they ever, lmfao, acted with any type of respect towards thingol or dior or elwing, all people whose family they have sorely wronged. towards thingol we get that they "reminded him of haughty words of their claim," and that their words were "proud and threatening." to dior we don't get specifics, but the text does say explicitly that they "sent to him to claim their own," which certainly doesn't make it sound like they were being tactful about it. to elwing and sirion they send messages "of friendship and yet of stern demand." begging? begging where? diplomacy where? attempts to acknowledge their wrongs and make even the barest offer of amends where? yet thingol and dior and elwing, the ones whose families were their victims -- the ones whose kin were murdered, kidnapped, and/or almost raped by them -- are the unreasonable and unfair ones. they are the ones who should have acted differently, and upon whom every bit of blame and culpability lies. the poor sad feanorians are tormented and tragic as they're forced to *checks notes* make good on their own oath to murder innocents which they chose to swear long before anyone other than morgoth was in possession of the silmarils. they tried sooo hard (except no they did not) but those big mean bigoted bullies thingol, dior, and elwing were just too mean and bigoted to listen to them and they had no other choice. they were forced to commit mass murder. boohoo.

so yeah, anon. "relies on some truly nonsense assumptions" is an accurate way to put it. nah, i'd say it's even a nice way to put it, because fucking stupid is what it is

[skzdust]

Arrange These to Spell Love

Chapter One: Lilac, Purple

Welcome to my new series, Arrange These to Spell Love! @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna requested a San enemies to lovers fluffy smut, and I kind of took off in a completely different direction... but there will be enemies to lovers and there will be fluff and there will be smut, so I hope you enjoy it regardless! I even decided to include the Yeosang from one of my recent fics... Your Boyfriend, Yeosang. He isn't your boyfriend now, though, of course ;) Thank you for the request, it really kickstarted my creativity!

A few little notes: The flower language book I'm referencing is available through the internet archive here. It's pretty cool, you should check it out! Also, each chapter will be titled after a flower, with its meaning and associated poem at the beginning, to set a tone for and foreshadow the chapter.

Shoutout to Rem, @rems-writing, for the title and for beta reading, and of course my bestie @palindrome969 for beta reading as well!!

Summary: You run Beehive Flowers and Enchantments in your small beach town... and the attractive and infuriating Choi San runs the competition, Seaside Floral. When he calls you asking for help learning about Victorian flower language, you agree to help him. Little did you know what was to follow... involving your town's harvest festival, a wayward enchantment, and your best friend with benefits, Kang Yeosang.

Pairing: Kang Yeosang/Choi San/afab reader love triangle

This chapter includes: unexpected phone calls, "I hate him I swear", wine night with best friend with benefits Yeosang, a family spell book, and Victorian flower poetry

Word count: 1.8k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,

@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst

Network:@mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Part 2

Masterlist

-----

LILAC, PURPLE: Too well-known to need description. Flowers purple and white.

FIRST EMOTIONS OF LOVE

"How sweet and rapturous 'tis to feel/ Ourselves exalted in a lovely soul!--/ To know our joys make glow another's cheek,/ Our fears do tremble in another's heart/ Our sufferings bedew another's eye!"

-SCHILLER

"As the little floweret hideth/ By the woodland stream,/ So in youthful hearts abideth/ Love's first witching dream."

-MISS J.A. FLETCHER

San and you were rivals. There was no other word for it.

You owned Beehive Flowers and Enchantments, a flower and spell shop which had been in your family for decades. Your grandmother had run it, then your dad, and now you had taken over. You were the only store that sold flowers or magic in your small beach town, and business was steady.

At least it had been, until Seaside Floral had opened last summer, run by the most attractive man you’d ever seen: Choi San. Unfortunately, he was also the most hateable. He was sweet to customers, but you saw him as smug and deeply competitive.

You’d seen it when you and your mom had brought him a bouquet, last summer, when San had first opened his store. It had been a beautiful arrangement, made of bright yellow, orange, and pink blooms. San had thanked you with a huge grin, but a couple of days later, you saw the flowers in their trash can.

Ever since then, San was number one on your ‘people I dislike’ list.

Sure, he didn’t sell everything you did. Your customers came to you for sleeping potions and home protection charms as much as they did for arrangements. But that didn’t mean he didn’t irk you endlessly.

The shop phone rang as you were removing the leaves from some lilies. You set down the flowers and picked it up. “Hello, Beehive Flowers and Enchantments, this is y/n speaking. How can I help you?”

“Hello, y/n, it’s Choi San, from Seaside Floral.”

You were immediately on the defensive. “Hi, San. What can I do for you?”

“I—” He sighed. “I want to ask you for a favor.”

You bristled. “Why do you think I owe you a favor?”

“You don’t, you don’t.” San rushed to say. “You don’t. I just think another florist is the only one who will really be able to help me.”

“What is it?”

“Can you come to my shop tonight? I think it’ll be easier just to explain in person.”

You sighed. “I’m… I don’t have anything going on. I’ll be there after we close, so probably around 6:30.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay.” You sighed. “Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

You set the receiver down and just stared into space for a moment. The Choi San you knew would never just call you for help for no reason. You wondered for a moment if there was some flower-related subterfuge going on, then banished the thought. That was silly. And San wasn’t that creative.

The day seemed to fly by, and soon enough you were locking up the store. You glanced at your phone. You’d get to San’s a bit early, but that was fine.

You walked through the town to Seaside Floral, trying to predict what San was going to want, but truly, you had no idea. You arrived at the shop at 6:20, and looked in through the front window, past their CLOSED sign.

San was standing behind the counter, his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he snipped the bottom of a rose. He set it in a vase full of foliage and tilted his head at it, moving a few of the flowers and smiling at it.

He looked adorable, and your smiled before remembering that it was San and adjusting your expression to be stonier. You walked to the door and knocked.

San opened it a second later, wiping his hands on his apron, a stray leaf sticking to the front of him. “Y/n! Thank you so much for coming.”

“What do you want?” You raised your eyebrows, stepping into the shop. “I must say, I was a little surprised at your call.”

San laughed. “Yeah, I know we haven’t been very cooperative with each other, but I want to change that. I think if we did some events or promotions together it could be good for both of us.”

“So you want to plan something?”

“Maybe a flower stall or something at the harvest festival, we could both sell stems and you could have some fall themed enchantments or something… but no, not tonight.” San locked the door, and you followed him to the counter. “One of my customers wants to use Victorian flower language in the centerpieces of her wedding. She seemed pretty confident in my abilities to do something with it, but I’m… pretty clueless on that topic.” He smiled sheepishly. “Maybe that makes me a bad florist. I thought you might know, though. You seem like you’d be into meanings of flowers. So, I was wondering if you’d teach me.”

You blinked. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. “I do know about Victorian flower language.”

“So, you’ll teach me?” San’s smile was hopeful.

“Why don’t you just, like, google it?”

“I feel like this is something that should be taught, not googled.” San picked up a stem, twirling it between two fingers. “And I feel like you’d be a good teacher.”

You hesitated for a moment. “That’s white jasmine, which means, like… kind love, sweet love.”

San beamed. “I feel like I should be taking notes!”

“Don’t take notes.” You shook your head. “You should try to memorize them. It makes you look like more of an expert when a customer asks about it.”

“No notes, then.” San pulled out his phone. “Here, I’ll give you my number.”

You couldn’t believe it, but you typed San’s number into your phone.

He was acting so nice. You couldn’t let him fool you.

—

Your took another sip from your wine glass. “Yeah, and then he asked for my number.”

“Your number?” Yeosang lifted his eyebrows. “Really? Did he need that?”

“I don’t really think so.” You shook your head.

“Why are you helping him, anyway?” Yeosang asked. “I thought he was the competition.”

“He is.” You looked down.  “I’m… I don’t know, I’m accepting the olive branch.”

“Why?”

You shrugged. “He said he wants to do a flower stall come autumn, for the harvest festival, and maybe he’s right. It would be good for business.”

“That sounds like a lot of work.” Yeosang scooted a bit closer to you on the couch. “You’d have to be on your game to have something at that festival, it’s so popular.”

“It sounded like he’d thought a lot about it, even mentioned enchantments I could sell. I don’t know what he’s trying to do.” You mumbled, looking into your glass as if the wine would tell you San’s true intentions.

“I do think you should keep him at arm’s length. He’s kind of been a dick in the past.”

You nodded. “Oh, I have no plans to be best friends with the guy.”

Yeosang nudged your shoulder. “As your best friend, I’d hope not.”

You looked at him, smiling. “I could never replace you, Sangie.”

“You better not.” Yeosang winked.

Your heart jumped. Yeosang was your best friend with benefits, but you’d agreed that outside of occasional really hot sex, you couldn’t become more. You’d dated for a bit in college, when you’d lived together, but when you’d both moved back to your hometown, you’d broken up. Neither of you wanted to risk your relationship as best friends.

But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to wake up with him every morning, instead of just every so often.

—

You got unreasonably excited about your first flower language lesson with San as you flipped through the pages of the 1850s botanical book that your mother had given you, passed down from her family. It was one of your most valued possessions, and it was where you’d learned all you knew about Victorian flower language, as well as being the family spell book. It was reassuring to see all of your knowledge written out in old ink on old pages. It also soothed you to see the loopy handwriting along the edges of the pages, spells and recipes written out in the book. It was proof that generations of witches were on your side.

You didn’t bring the book with you as you got your things together to go to Seaside Floral that evening. It was too precious to risk something happening to it. Instead, you took some flowers from the shop that you wanted to tell San about. You would go into this lesson prepared.

You knocked at the door right at 6:30 this time.

“Stressed?” Your eyes flicked to San’s hair when he opened the door, which was messy, like he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly.

He gave a short laugh. “You could say. I’m just rushing for this wedding.”

“Then I guess I’ll start with flowers that represent love.” You carefully pulled a white flower with long petals out of your bag. “Lemon blossoms for fidelity in love.”

San picked up the bloom. “Lemon blossoms… I didn’t know that even flowers from fruits had meanings.”

“Oh, almost every plant has a meaning.” You held out a vine of ivy next. “Ivy is also fidelity, but it has a slightly different meaning… ‘I cling to thee’… which might sound bad, people think clinginess is bad, but it was actually quite a sweet and desirable The lemon blossom has the connotation of lemon, which means zest, so it’s a bit more enthusiastic in its commitment, whereas the ivy is more sentimental.”

San took the ivy from you, looking at it thoughtfully.

You went on. “Some of them have poems, too. I have this… this book that’s full of all of this information. It’s old, but the poems are nice.”

“Is there one for ivy?” San looked at you.

You cleared your throat. “Yes… it’s pretty… um… sappy. That’s how a lot of Victorian poetry is, I guess.”

“Do you know it?”

“Yeah.” You sighed. “Long have I sought, and vainly have I yearned to meet some spirit that could answer mine; then chide me not that I so soon have learned to talk with thine. Oh, thou wilt cherish what some hearts would spurn, so gentle and so full of soul thou art; and shrine my feelings in that holy urn— thine own true heart.”

San smiled. “It’s not great poetry, but it’s sweet.”

You shrugged. “Ivy often reflects matrimony, so it’s very lovey-dovey writing.”

“Ivy… matrimony.” He nodded. “Perfect for a wedding bouquet, then.’”

“Yeah, you’re getting it.”

“This is interesting.” San stared at the ivy. “I wonder if anyone will get it.”

“Probably not.” You grinned. “But you’ll get it, and I’ll get it, and I think it’s fun.”

“It is fun.” San looked back at you. “Show me another one.”

You left the shop wanting to hex San much less than usual.

[eri-pl]

TIL the Oath is in alliterative verse and I had to share it.

(bold: where I think the beats are)

Be he foe or friend, be he foul or clean, brood of Morgoth or bright Vala, Elda or Maia or Aftercomer, Man yet unborn upon Middle-earth,

neither law, nor love, nor league of swords, dread nor danger, not Doom itself, shall defend him from Fëanor, and Fëanor's kin, whoso hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh, finding keepeth or afar casteth a Silmaril. This swear we all: death we will deal him ere Day's ending, woe unto world's end! Our word hear thou, Eru Allfather! To the everlasting Darkness doom us if our deed faileth. On the holy mountain hear in witness and our vow remember, Manwë and Varda! 

Older version

Be he friend or foe   or foul offspring of Morgoth Bauglir,   be he mortal dark that in after days   on earth shall dwell, shall no law nor love   nor league of Gods, no might nor mercy,   not moveless fate, defend him for ever   from the fierce vengeance of the sons of Fëanor,   whoso seize or steal of finding keep   the fair enchanted globes of crystal    whose glory dies not, the Silmarils.   We have sworn for ever! 

[softlysilverfountainsfall]

Bear with me while I rules-lawyer the spirit of the Oath of Feanor because I'm pretty sure that's exactly what Maedhros did.

The Oath is specifically targeted at anyone who "hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh, finding keepeth or afar casteth a Silmaril" which I do not believe means anyone who touches a Silmaril, despite "in hand taketh" because all the other stipulations are targeted specifically at people who keep the Silmarils away from the Feanorians, by hiding, hoarding, keeping, or even throwing it far away. It would also just be bizarre if, say, a Feanorian follower returned the Silmaril to their lords and the Oath required that they kill them.

However, the strongest evidence for the Oath only applying (or being interpreted to only apply) to people who deliberately withhold the Silmarils from the Feanorians are Maedhros'/the Feanorians' actions before the 2nd and 3rd kinslayings: in both cases, they send a letter demanding the return of the Silmaril. Now, if by touching/posessing the Silmaril, the deaths of Thingol, Dior, and then Elwing are already demanded by the oath, why in the world would they send a letter (losing part of the element of surprise), not even to declare war, but demanding the Silmaril's return? Sending that letter implies that this can still be resolved peacefully if the Silmaril is handed over.

It's my interpretation that Maedhros/the Feanorians are rules-lawyering this tiny loophole in the oath (regardless of whether the oath is present magically/compulsive/just their own dedication) by deliberately closing their eyes to the fact that the current holder of the Silmaril definitely believes it to be their possession and is deliberately keeping it from the Feanorians---which lasts as long as that holder hasn't confirmed that desire.

After all, Thingol, Dior, and Elwing didn't steal the Silmaril, they received it from family members. If the Feanorians ignore the intent behind their keeping it (before that intent is confirmed by the holder's response to the Feanorian's demand), then they could consider Thingol et al to simply...coincidentally...happen to be holding a Silmaril, not possessing it for themselves and therefore not liable to the oath.

Actually, one line in the text from after Thingol refuses to return the Silmaril even hints that even after that, the situation might be salvageable if the Silmaril is returned by free will: "Celegorm and Curufin vowed openly to slay Thingol and destroy his people if they came victorious from war [this is pre-Nirnaeth], and the jewel were not surrendered of free will" (emphasis mine, Of the Fifth Battle, The Silmarillion).

Of course, the Oath drives the Feanorians to reclaim the Silmarils, and so I view the letters to Thingol, Dior, and Elwing as last-ditch attempts at solving this peacefully (via exploiting the above loophole). (Note: this is not necessarily meant to make the Feanorians more sympathetic, this is just me trying to figure out why they sent those letters.) However, this also dooms them to a kinslaying, because as soon as Dior and Elwing reject returning the Silmaril, they have explicitly or implicitly claimed it for themselves and have now "in hand taketh" the Silmaril instead of just touching it and happening to have it around, which means their deaths are now demanded under the Oath.

[alasse-earfalas]

44 Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto treasure hid in a field; the which when a man hath found, he hideth, and for joy thereof goeth and selleth all that he hath, and buyeth that field. 45 Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchant man, seeking goodly pearls: 46 Who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had, and bought it. - Matthew 13:44-46 KJV

I was listening to this song about v. 44 above, and it struck me that the treasure the man found was far more valuable than the purchase price of the field. Selling "all that he had" was hardly a sacrifice for the man, compared with what he knew he would gain by buying that field. Likewise, when we give our all to the Lord, we find in time that the Lord gives us far more in return.

Unlike the man in the first parable, who happened upon his treasure, the merchant was actively searching for "goodly pearls". And he found one: a "pearl of great price". It was of such a high value that the merchant, like the man with the field, was willing to sacrifice all that he had in order to obtain it. No doubt he knew the value of pearls and had come across many already. No doubt he understood just how priceless this singular pearl was. "Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you" (Matt. 7:7). Those who honestly seek the truth will find it, and will understand the eternal value of what they have found.

No matter how we come by the gospel of Jesus Christ, whether by happenstance or by diligent search, the same sacrifice is asked of each of us: "all that [we] have". But the return is far greater: eternal life in the presence of God.

That is why the kingdom of heaven is like the man and the merchant: because it is filled with those who understand this, filled with those who sacrificed all other treasures for the matchless gift to be there.

[obsolescent]

The Darkness and the Light

Chapter I - All Around Me

Pairing: Jill Valentine x Reader

Summary: Working nights at a gas station has its perks, little foot traffic and relatively quiet, peaceful even, until one customer shows up. There’s something about her that’s so odd, you can’t look at her for long. There’s a feeling that goes from chilling to burning like fire, coursing through you whenever she’s around. During this time of year the days are getting shorter, becoming chillier, leaves starting to fall. Something is in the air, stirring within you. You never feel alone nowadays, a feeling that was once comforting has now put you on constant edge. A presence is always lurking around the corner, right out of reach. Even if you wanted to fight it, could you? Or were you destined for its pages, years in the making, the story needing you to reach its conclusion.

Author’s Notes: Inspired loosely by songs and a book series I read when I was younger. I’m not sure how long this will become. Unfortunately this was supposed to come out before Halloween, but I got sucked into other writings, apologies. I hope y'all like a chilling story after the fact! Jill is perhaps a bit out of character for this, due to her being a vampire. RE5 Jill for this, Capcom are cowards for not keeping her look from 5. I hope you enjoy it!

Content Warnings: Swearing, gender neutral language used for reader, Jill is a vampire, eventual smut in upcoming chapters, reader has a gun, unintentional manipulation/persuasion from vampires and their powers, protective Jill, violence, mentions of stalking, depression, thoughts of losing one’s mind.

|| Disclaimer: Jill Valentine is trans in this story. Keep your transphobic remarks to yourself and don’t read this if that bothers you. ||

“Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee; but the night shineth as the day: the darkness and the light are both alike to thee. — Psalm 139:12

“You got protection?”

You stop, hand hovering over the customer’s drink as your eyes meet.

“Huh?” A questioning sound leaves you. Head tilting, eyebrows furrowed.

He repeats his question, “You got any protection?”

Your eyes flicker to the gun under the register.

“Yeah, I got something.”

He chuckles, pointing to the ceiling, “From above?”

You smile, one of those big, fake customer service smiles. “I got something a little more physical.”

His eyes widened a bit, before he laughs again, nodding approvingly. “Don’t blame you, being here by yourself so late at night. You take care now, you here?”

You nod, thanking him and wishing him a good night. The door chimes when he leaves. You release a puff of air, slumping into yourself.

Another long night.

You leave your spot at the register, grabbing your rag on the way. Absentmindedly wiping down surfaces, restocking cups and lids, checking creamer and sugar levels. Your movements are almost robotic after doing this for so long, going on autopilot while performing your tasks.

You’re on your knees, the cabinets opened beneath the drink station, gathering the needed cups to replenish when the door chimes. Your mouth is opened to greet the customer when that all consuming feeling prickles the back of your neck.

Like ice cold water has been poured down your back, goosebumps forming and hair standing on end, barely able to squeak out a “Hello”.

Without looking, you know who it is.

She always comes late at night, doesn’t stay for long, doesn’t talk. At first, you didn’t notice her really, blending in with other customers. It wasn’t until one interaction, when you had been handing her change. You’re always careful to not touch the customers when doing so, avoiding direct contact, germs and whatnot. This time, your aim was off, basically smacking the change into her palm.

You couldn’t even react like you normally would, an apology on your tongue when you realized how cold she was. Though, coming into contact with her chilly skin should��ve caused your own to bristle, but instead you felt heat.

You thought that maybe she was so cold that it felt like you had been burned, but when yanking your hand back, a couple coins hitting the counter with a plink plink at the force of your movements, the flames kept coursing through you.

The direct contact with her skin hadn’t lasted longer than a few seconds. But, ever since then, if your back is turned when she enters, you feel the chill, but as soon as you turn towards her, meeting those icy blue eyes, your body is set aflame.

You hate the icy hot feeling that occurs whenever she’s here. It leaves you feeling nauseous and tired afterwards, like you’ve been battling the flu. Ugh.

She makes her usual rounds, walks through every aisle, before walking back around to the shelves lined with toiletries. She takes something from a hook before making her way to the counter.

You leave your spot, head down as you make your way behind the counter. You eye the item she chose, some lip balm. It’s different each time.

Gaze not directly meeting hers, your eyes focus on the scarf wrapped around her neck. Maybe if you don’t look into her eyes, the feeling won’t come.

It comes anyways. You wince, stomach churning, cheeks flushing. UGH, goddamn. You will yourself to crack a smile, voice wavering.

“H-hey, find everything okay?”

She nods.

Right. Of course. You tell her the total and she hands you cash, quickly getting her change ready. Your usual spill is leaving your mouth as you deposit the money into her hand, “Thankyouhaveagoodnight,” rushed out, fingers steering clear of her’s.

You’re patting yourself on the back internally for getting through the encounter quickly, but…

She continues to stand there.

Internal hand patting your back is now clenched into a fist, banging on a fictitious wall while you scream. Inhaling a deep breath, you smile and ask, “Is there anything else I can get you?”

A slight tilt to her head, blonde bangs shifting slightly.

“My name’s Jill.”

Oh.

You can’t remember a time where she uttered a word, now hearing her voice for the first time, her soft tone washes over your senses, and…The sickly feeling starts going away?

It’s like her voice soothes it, bringing forth the cure to your ailment. You feel your muscles relax once more, the way you felt before she came in, now accompanied by a soothing warmth.

Instead of being tossed directly into the fireplace, flames licking at you, you’re sitting beside it in comfort.

Your eyes flutter, confused but also grateful that horrible feeling has left you. You smile and tell her your name, knowing it’s on your nametag but now, able to look into those sky blue eyes and feel nothing but relief, you don’t mind speaking to her.

She nods, a small smile gracing her features before turning and exiting the store.

You’re struck dumbfounded, frozen while you watch her leave.

What was that???

A deep breath leaves you, slumping over the counter, body now feeling exhausted after the roller coaster of emotions that coursed through you in such a short amount of time.

You stand up straight and walk to the soda fountain, getting yourself some sort of caffeine to help carry you through the rest of your shift.

Thankfully the rest of your time goes by quickly, able to close the store and count the drawer in a breeze, locking up and walking out to your car.

The hair on your neck stands up once again, a chill running through you. The feeling of being watched shrouds you and you sprint to the car, hitting the button to open the door and jumping in, immediately hitting the lock button.

Heart thudding in your ears, the blood rushing through your veins creates such a loud sound that fills the cabin of the car only you can hear as you grip the seat, the steering wheel, anything to try to keep calm, breathing harshly.

Your eyes dart around, looking out all the windows, head whipping around as you start the car. You scramble for the gun in your bag, gripping it tightly and setting it in your lap. You peel out of the parking lot, in a frenzy to just go, go, go, get out of there.

You take a detour to make sure, taking a longer way than you normally would.

Arriving home after checking for the tenth time that no one was after you, you hurry inside and lock the door, gun in hand. Taking your shoes off once inside, you hang your keys on the hook near the door and put your belongings away. Making your way to your bedroom, you drop the gun onto your nightstand and fall onto the mattress with an ‘oof’.

The adrenaline has gone away, replaced with exhaustion once more. So many emotions have run through you over the course of the day, you’re thankful to be home and alone, solitude desired after the events of the evening.

You feel absolutely boneless, no energy left to even shed your work clothes off.

All you can muster is the wandering of your thoughts, and they lead you back to Jill.

Her minuscule smile, the odd feelings you have around her, and why you only see her late into the night.

She’s the last thing on your mind before you drift off to sleep.

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