#my faith in humanity has never faltered

[servantserah]

✨ A guide to my Good Omens comics, fics and AUs ✨

Finally a new, reworked version! I've tried to compile this list with all my comics, AUs, fanfictions etc with links and tags to help everyone navigate them better! Please let me know if there are any questions or you'd like me to add/change something!

👇👇 Click "read more" to get to the full list! 👇👇

Please note that this list only includes AUs and works that consist of several parts/are a series; one shot comics are not listed here.

All of these works can also be found on my instagram, some of them on Twitter/X under the same tags.

🌱 Myosotis 🌱

Main comic (completed):

Myosotis is a flower, also known as ‘Forget-me-not’. It symbolizes faithful love and memories. According to a German legend, God forgot naming this flower and said “I forgot you once, I shall never forget you again.” This comic takes place one year after the events of Good Omens season 1. Crowley and Aziraphale have lost all their memories about each other. They meet again, thinking the other is human and feeling drawn towards each other, they soon develop a strong connection.

➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #myosotisAU

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Myosotis: Falter (completed):

This mini comic takes place 3 years after the conclusion of the Myosotis comic. Crowley and Aziraphale spend a rainy night at home when they get an unexpected visitor.

➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #myosotis falter

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So, you stopped Armageddon! ...Now what? (completed)

This fanfiction takes place after the final scene of season 1. Crowley and Aziraphale celebrate their newfound freedom and Crowley wonders if and how things between him and the angel were going to change. And what should they do now that they’ve retired? So many doors have opened before them all at once, it’s a little overwhelming.

➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #SYSA! ...NW?

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Crêpes (onging)

This comic takes place after the events of Good Omens season 2 and shows how Crowley deals with Aziraphale leaving.

➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #Good Omens crepes

⚜️ GoodGardenerAU (ggAU for short) ⚜️

In this AU Warlock actually is the Antichrist and his demonic Nanny Lilith 'Ash' Ashtoreth has been tasked to take care of him and ensure he brings upon Armageddon. What happens when the Antichrist's nanny is actually a terrible demon who doesn't want Armageddon to happen, who forms deep friendships with the other humans at the ambassador's estate and, worst of all, falls in love with the human gardener? This AU isn't one consistent long comic, but a collection of several shorter comics, fanfictions and artworks. They are listed chronologically below.

Tag: #GoodGardenerAU

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Lilium (completed):

This comic tells the story of how Ash became Warlock's nanny.

➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #ggAULilium

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Three Months (ongoing):

This fanfiction takes places immediately after the events of Lilium and is a glimpse into Ash's first three months living at the Dowling estate. It showcases their mental struggles and how they eventually let down their walls to befriend some of their new colleagues (among them the estate's gardener) and start their process of healing from millennia of trauma.

➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #ggAU three months

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Why It Doesn't Snow (completed)

A mini comic where Ash and Francis uncover the mystery of why it has stopped snowing in the area ever since Warlock’s birth.

➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #ggAUsnow

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Ineffable Uncles (completed)

This comic is part of the Good Omens/ggAU Multiverse. Aziraphale and Crowley offer to watch over their AU niece Eden (Francis and Ash's daughter) for a weekened. What could go wrong?

➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #ggAUineffableUncles

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ggAU Skyrim AU

An AU of my AU? Yes, sue me. This is a The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim AU for my GoodGardenerAU. It takes place in the world and rough timeline of the game. Ash is a Dunmer working at Braidwood Inn in Kynesgrove who seems to live a second, secret life in the shadows. Francis is a Nord working at Hollyfrost farm outside of Windhelm. Warlock is the Nord son of two busy trades people at Windhelm. Ash has been babysitting him since he was young. He is a normal boy who just so happens to have a special soul residing within him.

Tags: #ggAUSkyrim

These are AUs that exist but I sadly don't draw very often.

📚 Untitled Ineffable Wives AU 📚

This AU is still in progress! Aziraphale is a human working at her family's bookstore, while Crowley is a naga stranded in the human world. I won't give more details until I have it all more refined. They're very much lesbians in this.

Tag: #untitled wives au

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🧙🏼‍♂️ Ineffable Hobbit AU 🧙🏼‍♂️

An AU that takes place in Tolkien's Middle Earth, set primarily during the events of The Hobbit movies. Aziraphale Bilbo Baggins lives a quiet but peaceful life in The Shire until a wizard and thirteen dwarves drag him into an adventure to reclaim the dwarven mountain kingdom of Erebor from the terrible dragon Smaugley…. Only that Smaugley doesn’t seem all that terrible.

Tag: #IneffableHobbitAU

[softsoule]

Wide Awake

Cast: You & Jeong Gu-Won

Inspiration: Wide Awake by Katy Perry & Power by Isak Danielson

Trigger Warnings: Self Harm and Slight Religious Remarks

Scene Context: Your standing on a rooftop peering over a ledge.

Demon. An evil spirit or devil, especially one thought to possess a person or act as a tormentor in hell. 

Unfortunately for me, I met my own personal tormentor, and in the end I'll surely pay the price.

The one who poisoned my faith and led me to stray from God. 

Jeong Gu-Won. The man who cursed me for eternity. The man who corrupted my soul. The one I would run to at every beck and call.

During his first few appearances at the Covenant, I remained strong, my faith unbreakable. Whenever I would feel his presence, I would pray to my father for strength and to rid us of this evil.

Unfortunately, my prayers went unanswered, and my faith started to falter. The more he appeared, the more curious I became. He was a shadow at first, just a dark silhouette of a man. 

Until one day, he appeared before me in all his glory. His beauty is breathtaking and alluring. The church warns you about temptation but never tells you how to fight it when it's standing right in front of you. 

His beauty further ignited my curiosity. What is his name? Where did he come from? Why did he choose me? Questions I so desperately wanted answers too.

As he continued to visit, the more confidence I built to speak to him. The moment I heard his sweet, suckle voice, I was enchanted. The way he held my gaze as he spoke so confidently caused me to feel unspeakable emotions. 

His presence became like a drug, and I craved more of it. I was willing to do anything to have my fix, and he knew it too. Once he had me hooked, he would visit less often; eventually, he would begin enticing me to commit sins in order to see him more.

Do you think I was willing? You bet your bottom dollar I was. 

As I look back, I wonder if it was my faithfulness that drew him or my naivety. Maybe it was a test of faith from our father, but how faithful could I have been if I willingly fell into the hands of one of his sworn enemies children?

But maybe he knew that when he saw me.

If only I was aware of the damage this forbidden relationship would cause. Maybe I wouldn't have been lured by his beauty or seduced by his sweet words. So many innocent lives taken, so much blood shed, so much torment inflicted on others.

As I stand on this ledge, I wonder if any of his sweet whispers and love confessions were real. You chuckle at the idea of it. Probably not, but you'll be okay with the idea of them possibly being true even if the chances were severely slim.

The wind kisses your skin, breaking your train of thought—another chilly fall night just like when you first met him. You grab the ledge and put one leg over after the other; you peer down and watch as the street starts to empty. Internally grateful, you'll like to traumatize as few people as possible; selfish, you know it.

Filled with determination, you close your eyes as you let go of the ledge, mentally bracing yourself for impact, but the impact never comes; instead, it's replaced by a hand holding yours to desperately keep you from slipping. You open your eyes to see your former lover, Jeong Gu-Won, heavily breathing, shocked by your drastic actions. He calls your name as if to beg you to stay, to think about what you are doing—emotions in his eyes you have never seen before.

Fear. The sight of you jumping shook his body to the core; in all his years, he never thought he could feel such a human emotion. Death was like a game to him; humans were like cheese pieces for him; he could kick them off the board one by one, but the moment he saw you leap over the edge, he knew he didn't want to play.

The raw emotion on his face makes your heart twinge, yet you refuse to falter; your decision has been made; your love has caused too much turmoil for you to continually live peacefully on this earth. Your dreams haunted with the faces of the innocent lives who were slain for your one-sided "love.".

You smile and let go of his hand; you hear him scream your name as you descend towards the concrete. The feeling of peace overfills you; your mind is no longer clouded with thoughts of Jeong Gu-Won, the screaming innocent, or the broken promises you made to your father.

You close your eyes and let the peaceful feeling consume you—a bright light entrapping you—before you know it, you're wide awake.

[mellyssageversee]

Eclipsed - Chapter 2

ZoLu/LuZo AU (Sun God Nika)

Summary: Sun God Nika is accused of a crime he did not commit. Nika goes into hiding to avoid being hunted by other Gods who wish to have him replaced. This inadvertently plunges the world into darkness, triggering an ice age. Only one human has faith that Nika will return the Sun.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Zoro released a content sigh, relishing the warmth that enveloped him as he lay on the familiar soil of Isshen Dojo’s garden. Basking in the sunlight, a smile graced the swordsman’s face. It had been so long that Zoro nearly forgot the sensation of the warm earth against his skin. Despite his closed eyes, Zoro sensed someone at his side.

“I knew I’d find you here…” Kuina’s teasing voice echoed above Zoro, prompting a subtle stir. “Come on, lazy bones. It’s time to wake up! Wake up!”

Zoro attempted to open his eyes, but found the task challenging. The warmth was too inviting, too comfortable.

“Wake up!”

Zoro furrowed his eyebrows. The voice had changed. That wasn’t Kuina’s voice…

“Do you usually sleep this loooong?!” The voice whined.

Zoro slowly blinked open his eyes. A blinding light from above cast a glare across his vision. He could barely make out a childishly wide grin that reminded him of his friend.

“Finally!” The unexpected stranger bounced up happily, his fists raised over his head victoriously, as if Zoro's awakening was a great feat. The stranger turned his attention back to Zoro, his wide smile never faltering. Zoro, feeling petrified in the spot he lay, noticed the stranger's bright, glowing red eyes and white hair that danced like fire. As his disoriented gaze wandered, he realized he was in a surprisingly warm cave, the surroundings unfamiliar and surreal to him.

“All I can say is: Wow! I’m surprised that there is a human that actually still likes me!” Nika’s beaming smile seemed to intensify his light. The sight of such genuine glee had become foreign to Zoro. To see another full of such joy made his heart involuntarily quicken. “So! Who do I have the honor of thanking for sticking up for me back there?”

Zoro sat up cautiously. His mind raced to catch up with what was happening. A God was there before him. Not just any God. Nika! The one who had been missing for months. The one with the power to return light to their dark world was sitting before him, tilting his head in an inquisitive manner. His red eyes bright with curiosity. For a moment, Zoro wondered if he was dead. How else could he explain this encounter? The last thing he remembered was falling into the snow. Did he freeze to death?! No, he’d know right away if he had died…

“You have a funny look on your face. Most of you mortals seem to get this way when meeting me.” Nika sat down and reached forward to pinch Zoro’s cheek, as if trying to encourage Zoro to change his expression. Zoro couldn’t help but notice how warm the God’s touch was. “You don’t have to get so serious! All I’m asking is for your name.”

Despite Nika’s encouraging words, Zoro still couldn’t help but be taken aback. Kuina was right when she said the God was unique. Nika didn’t hold himself above Zoro. He spoke to him as if he was an old friend. In fact, the God had almost a childish nature about him. The way he now positioned himself to sit with his legs crossed next to Zoro, the way his smile never faltered, the way those large eyes glistened with wonder.. Nika was unlike anyone he had ever met.

“Zoro..” Zoro finally found his voice to answer. Nika’s eyes shone happily at the reply, which caused Zoro’s stomach to twist into knots. Perhaps it was his gut telling him he needed to address Nika with more respect? “My name is Roronoa Zoro.. uh all great and powerful Sun God Nika.”

Nika immediately scrunched his face in distaste. Zoro didn’t blame him. It felt awkward to address the God in such a way.

“Gross.. no need to get all formal. I just wanted to know Zoro’s name.” Nika let go of Zoro’s cheek. The swordsman couldn’t help but frown at the loss of warmth upon his face.

“Well, I’ve never met a God before. I don’t know exactly how I’m supposed to address one!” Zoro replied with a bit more candor. The interaction was becoming more casual, and Zoro was starting to feel a bit more at ease in the presence of the unconventional Sun God.

“Nika is fine,” Nika said with a shrug, his attention turned to a hangnail on his thumb, which he began to pick at as he continued, “Unless we are around other humans. Then you can just call me Luffy.”

“Luffy?” Zoro asked aloud. Then another question popped into his mind. “What do you mean by me addressing you that way in front of other people?”

“Well, I can’t have you addressing me as ‘your royal sun god’ around others.” Nika explained rolling his eyes like it was obvious. He picked the hangnail free and promptly flicked it across the cave.

Zoro blinked in confusion.

“Okay, that title is nothing like what I said before. And I still don’t get what you mean about us talking in front of others.” Zoro said, a bit more heatedly this time. Zoro never liked dancing around a subject. He preferred straightforward answers.

“I mean when we're traveling together.” Nika frowned, appearing equally upset. As if his answers were the most obvious things in the world, and he didn’t like that Zoro couldn’t understand right away. “You already know that others don’t like me. How would they react if they saw me in person?”

“What do you mean when we travel together?!” Zoro’s voice grew louder as shock took hold of him.

“Geez… I thought Zoro would be a lot smarter since you know I didn’t harm that island.” Nika said with a pout. The God leaned back against the cavern wall with his arms crossed.

Nika’s offhanded comment surprised Zoro yet again. He had always known the God wasn’t responsible for what happened to Ohara, but hearing it out loud from the God himself filled Zoro with vindicating relief.

“You were right at the tavern. I'm set on bringing back the sun, but first, I've got to clear my name. And Zoro’s the one who's gonna be my partner in uncovering the truth.” Nika asserted confidently.

Zoro buried his face in his hands, grappling with the confusion stirred by Nika's vague answers. With an exasperated exhale, Zoro lifted his head, determination ablaze in his eyes, poised to extract some clarity from the enigmatic God.

“Alright, let’s say I’m on board with helping you-” Zoro began slowly.

“Which you definitely are!” Nika chimed in confidently.

“No interrupting.” Zoro scolded. He blushed when realizing he shouldn't be scolding a God but he found a certain comfort in their banter. He continued, “If we're traveling together, I need more information. So, let's start from the beginning. I know you didn’t destroy Ohara, but if you're innocent, then why did you vanish? Why did the Sun suddenly disappear?”

Nika's grin finally faded. A hint of sadness flashed across the God’s eyes.

“Humans aren't the only ones who think I messed up that island.” Nika shifted his gaze away, seemingly reluctant to make eye contact with Zoro while explaining. “Other Gods share the same idea, and they're demanding I be replaced.”

Zoro's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Gods can be replaced?” Zoro questioned, wondering why, if that were the case, the other deities hadn't taken action to end the world's darkness by replacing Nika during his absence. “How? Isn’t the whole point of being a God is that you were born with your gifts. Isn’t that what sets you apart from us humans?”

Nika’s demeanor shifted. A dark look flashed across his eyes when he answered.

“Being born with our gifts never stopped other Gods from wanting more power and finding ways to take it.” Nika’s reply was so dark, so ominous, it made Zoro shiver despite the warmth of the cave. Nika, as if sensing Zoro’s discomfort, immediately switched back to his wide maddening smile. “Anyways, they planned on executing me so someone else can take my place.”

“What?!” 

The swordsman couldn’t believe what he was hearing, nor could he understand how Nika could say something like it was an offhand comment.

Zoro's protective instincts kicked in, his hands involuntarily reaching out to grip Nika’s. Wide eyes turned toward Zoro, surprised by the swordsman's intense reaction. 

“How can they just decide that after all the good you've done?! Did they even try to find another culprit?!”

Nika's surprise transformed into gleeful excitement, his features lighting up with a wide grin.

"I knew I’d like you." Nika beamed, seemingly unfazed by the anger on Zoro's face. The God was clearly delighted by Zoro's immediate protective response, finding joy in the swordsman's fierce loyalty despite their recent acquaintance. "Nope, they didn't bother looking for another culprit. The evidence pointed to me. Only my brothers believe in my innocence."

Nika gave the swordsman’s hand a tender squeeze, his warm touch causing a subtle blush to spread across Zoro’s face. As they shared this moment, a lingering ache of sadness toward Nika’s situation settled within the swordsman, he sat there silently waiting for the God to continue unraveling the events that led to the Sun’s disappearance. 

Nika glanced upwards, seemingly envisioning the events that led to his current predicament.

“Many of the other Gods were divided on what to do with me. They fought a LOT! That’s when some Gods decided to take matters into their own hands. They chose to execute me themselves.” Nika explained.

“How is trying to take down another God not a crime?!” Zoro asked in disbelief.

Nika rolled his eyes, as if the answer was obvious. 

“If the God supposedly did something wrong against humanity, it only makes sense to get rid of them. Ohara housed the temple of the God of Wisdom. Destroying the island erased sacred knowledge, lost forever in both the Mortal and Celestial Realms.”

Zoro had always known Ohara as the home of brilliant minds, but the revelation that it held knowledge sacred to the Gods added another layer to the tragedy.

“What happened when they pursued you?” Zoro prodded Nika to share more.

“My brothers tried to shield me, but it got dangerous for them. I couldn’t let them risk their safety for me, so I decided to come to the Mortal Realm to investigate myself. If I can prove my innocence, maybe the other Gods won't chase me. But I've been here too long. Cut off from the Celestial Realm, I can't provide the Sun.” Nika explained with a hint of sadness.

A heavy weight settled onto Zoro's heart. The revelation of Nika’s situation hit him hard; people had assumed the God abandoned them, not realizing Nika was fighting to survive.

“You say you need my help, but what can I do?” Zoro asked uncertainly. “I know nothing of your world. How can I assist in proving your innocence when I don't even know what to look for?”

Nika offered Zoro a reassuring smile, acknowledging the swordsman's concern.

"Well, I need someone like Zoro by my side. You're strong, and you've got a good heart." Nika explained. "I'm not the best at dealing with humans, and you can help me navigate through this world. Besides, I trust Zoro."

Zoro shook his head and chuckled in disbelief as he processed Nika's words. The idea of the Sun God relying on him to navigate the complexities of human interaction was both amusing and somewhat ironic. Zoro, often reserved and straightforward, couldn't help but find it peculiar that Nika saw him as the go-to person for this task.

"Well, you better be prepared," Zoro remarked with a smirk. A rare smile crossed his lips, and he felt a flicker of warmth in his chest at accepting the Gods request. "Interacting with ‘humans’ isn't exactly my strong suit either, but I'll do my best to keep you out of trouble."

Nika’s eyes sparkled with excitement, the infectious energy of a carefree adventurer. The God abruptly rose to his feet, stretching his limbs like he was preparing for an exhilarating journey.

“Great! Let’s get going!” Nika beamed happily, exuding his infectious enthusiasm. The God already started walking towards the exit of the cave, but Zoro was quick to rush after Nika. The swordsman grabbed into a fistful of the God’s shirt.

“You can’t just go out looking like that.” Zoro scolded, his voice carrying a protective undertone. His expression turned more serious as he felt more duty bound to protect this whimsical being. “People are going to know you’re a God right away if you go out with flaming hair, and you’re not even dressed for winter weather.”

Nika looked down at himself in surprise, realizing Zoro was right.

“Oh yeah! I forgot about that.” Nika gently shook out of Zoro’s hold. Soon, he emitted a bright glow that filled the cave. When the light disappeared, Nika stood before him looking very familiar. Zoro immediately recognized this dark-haired, brown-eyed young man as the fidgeting patron from the tavern. Even in his human form, Nika’s eyes still radiated the same alluring warmth.

Zoro didn’t realize he was staring for so long until Nika's impatient fingers gently closed around his arm, an unexpected warmth seeped through his bones. Nika's touch was a magnetic force, tugging at Zoro's attention more than he cared to admit.

“Come on. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.” Nika insisted.

Zoro, unable to resist the pull Nika had on him, obediently followed. His stoic exterior hiding the subtle warmth swelling within. As they moved together, Zoro couldn’t help but notice the intertwining of their steps, creating a silent harmony between them.

“Where are we going?”

“Ohara!”

(Next Chapter)

[queerprayers]

hi beloved mutual. do (protestant) baptisms expire. i havent been to church regularly in about a decade but i was baptized as a child and continuously went my entire childhood & pre-teens. im presbyterian or was baptized one if that means anything

Beloved! Hello! 

I can very easily say no, it does not! You will always be someone who participated in the sacrament of baptism—whether or not it was your decision, and whatever your opinion of that event. There are people who choose to renounce their baptisms or consider them unimportant, of course, and you're free to do that, but Christianity would say that you can never be un-baptized. Your church attendance, your beliefs, your actions—none of them affect that original act of baptism, where you were, as Lutherans say, marked with the cross of Christ forever. (Or, as I just learned the Presbyterian Book of Common Worship says, "grafted into Christ forever.") 

Your baptism is valid in both Catholic and Protestant churches—for instance, if you were to convert to Catholicism, you would not have to be baptized again. Probably Mormons wouldn't accept it, and I think evangelical-type churches will rebaptize if you've had some born-again moment, but generally you're set. 

This Presbyterian website has a great paragraph:

We believe baptism is a "seal" to make clear what God has already done . . . No ritual with human hands will change the mind of God, but this ritual signifies that this person – whether infant or adult – belongs to God, who has already claimed him or her. Baptism is a very important ritual for Presbyterians, bestowing a life-long identity on the believer (BUT – an identity that they can choose or not choose) . . . We baptize infants to show that God reaches toward us in love, before we have any ability to choose, to behave well, or to become loveable.

Your baptism was an act of public worship, uniting you with the Church. Your family promised to educate you in religion and support your continued faith. (Whether they kept those vows is another story.) As adults, those of us who were baptized young have the job of deciding what to do with this ritual we were given. Confirmation and Reaffirmation are both liturgies of further participating in the ritual, whereas leaving religion or converting would be a rejection of it. 

Baptisms don't expire because your whole life is a continuation of that relationship—whether with it or against it. If you're asking because you're thinking about going to church again, I hope this brings you comfort. If you're asking because you're hoping you've gotten away from it… sorry? Running away from the Church is doable, and you're welcome to it, but running away from God isn't something I can help you with. Each step you take is inside Love. In baptism God claims us—or rather, we, our families, and/or our communities usher in God's claim. 

Baptism doesn't expire because to some extent it never began—it was your submersion into the current of God. God's living water does not falter; Their well never runs dry. Whether or not you attend church can make a big difference in your life and the lives of others, but it has no say in God's already-made promise. If your faith has evaporated, know that the next step is to form a cloud to return to the earth. If you are waiting at the riverbank, wondering if you still know how to swim, know that you were swimming in Love before you had the "ability to . . . become lovable." Baptism doesn't expire because unlike Achilles, none of you has been left untouched. You were baptized into death with Christ, and therefore into life with him. You were baptized in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit—in the name of the ever-moving relations of God, the sourceless and endless river. 

So: remember your baptism. Perhaps not literally, but remember the gift that it is, and who it was that claimed you. Whatever your relationship with it, your acceptance/rejection/desire/anger, it is there, flowing, unexpiring. 

<3 Johanna

[indigovigilance]

Sodom and Gomorrah: A Speculative Meta

on Ao3: Sodom and Gomorrah: A Speculative Meta

Sodom and Gomorrah is the story of a land so steeped in sin that many prayed to God for intercession, and God sent two angels to see for themselves if the rumors were true, and determine based on their testimony whether the cities should be destroyed.

In Season 1, we learn that Sandolphon was there, doing a lot of smiting and turning people into salt. The way that Aziraphale talks about it, we are led to believe that he was there too, bearing unhappy witness to the destruction, his plastered-on smile faltering as his vision fades into the middle distance:

In this meta I am taking an alternate stance to the wonderfully presented interpretation by @queerfables in my speculation of what happened in Sodom and its relevance to the GO story arc overall, if canonized. I hope that readers will consider the merits of both arguments in their own formulations of Aziraphale and Heaven in the GO universe.

TW: discussions of homophobia, sexual assault, death & destruction

Verses are taken from this translation of Genesis, chapters 18 and 19.

Genesis 18

20 Then the Lord said, “The outcry against Sodom and Gomorrah is so great and their sin so grievous

21 that I will go down and see if what they have done is as bad as the outcry that has reached me. If not, I will know.”

(Notably, the allegations made against Sodom and Gomorrah are never discussed. It is simply left at “sin so grievous.” Though it seems like there may be more information in Genesis 12)

But God herself did not go down to Sodom, instead sending two angels. I, like queerfables, read this and quickly came to the conclusion that for GO narrative purposes, the two angels that God sent to Sodom were Aziraphale and Sandolphon, where the former is playing tour guide to the latter, who has the real authority in the situation.

Upon arrival, the angels are met by Lot; he invites them to stay with him. At first they refuse, saying they will stay in the square, but he insists.

Genesis 19

4 Before they had gone to bed, all the men from every part of the city of Sodom—both young and old—surrounded the house. 

5 They called to Lot, “Where are the men who came to you tonight? Bring them out to us so that we may know [have sex with] them.”

There is a lot of baggage to unpack from these two lines, especially in the 2023 context of politics in the Western hemisphere. Same-sex marriage is nearly ubiquitous, a near turnaround from only twenty years ago, but so is homophobic rhetoric, and the story of Sodom and Gomorrah is cited a lot for those purposes. Intersectional communities of faith have done a lot of work to try to reinterpret these two verses, insisting that what God finds so abhorrent about the actions of the men of Sodom is not that they are homosexual but rather that they are attempting to gang-rape two newly arrived strangers in their city.

For the real world, this is a very important discussion and a solid position to maintain, if one wishes to defend the concept of a benevolent God who made homosexual, bisexual, transgender, and every other flavor of human as lovingly and intentionally as was made every cisgender heterosexual person.

But we’re not talking about real-world God. We’re talking about the God in Good Omens. And She is not a very nice person. 

We have only to look at the contract that would allow the murder and then replacement of Job’s children, or the abject poverty under which Elspeth suffers that forces her to commit [apparent] atrocities, and ultimately drive her to attempt suicide. Whatever your feelings may be about the God of our shared meatspace, the God of Good Omens is not a character we are meant to admire, sympathize with, or make excuses for.

Returning to Sodom in the Good Omens universe.

I propose that it is thematically in keeping that the men of Sodom were not attempting to commit gangrape, but rather, they saw Sandolphon and fell in love on the spot. Because yes, Aziraphale is a fine scholarly-looking fellow, but it’s approximately 2000 B.C., the Bronze Age. Sodom and Gomorrah are most likely agrarian societies, and Sandolphon looks like he could throw a bale of hay like a javelin. He’s a whole lot of man, and the men of Sodom are into it. I mean, c'mon, Paul Chahidi in some biblical garb, is, uhh...

...not an eyesore, iykwim. [image source: imdb.com]

So they go to Lot’s house and ask if they can see this man, in hopes that they can ask him on a date. They are smitten by Sandolphon. Sure, the ultimate goal may be to have sex with them, but not right there on Lot’s doorstep, and the gross misquoting can be attributed to Sandolphon’s own libelous report of events, not to the Sodomites themselves. History is written by the victors, after all.

While we’re at it, let’s consider Lot’s response:

Genesis 19

6 Lot went outside to meet them and shut the door behind him 

7 and said, “No, my friends. Don’t do this wicked thing. 

8 Look, I have two daughters who have never slept with a man. Let me bring them out to you, and you can do what you like with them. But don’t do anything to these men, for they have come under the protection of my roof.”

In the true spirit of Good Omens comedy, I can envision Lot walking out among these men, complaining that not one of them has asked permission to court or marry either of his daughters of maritable age, and perhaps rather than simping for his houseguest, perhaps they would consider dating one of them instead. Is it homophobic? Sure, but I’m not here to defend Lot; he doesn’t need it. Because standing next to Sandolphon, he’s an absolute poppet.

(The remaining stanzas regarding the Sodomites breaking into Lot’s house, I am going to selectively set aside and chalk that up to Sandolphon blowing some Sodomite choice statements about Lot being a homophobic asshole way out of proportion.)

Sandolphon, a True Believer, is not about to stand for this insult to his heavenly purity. Angels do not have relations with humans, and to insinuate that he would even consider it is blasphemy. He takes it as a personal insult that the Sodomites would propose such a thing. He finds this to be evidence enough that the Sodomites are truly corrupt and worthy of destruction.

I feel the need to emphasize here that while this contains some distinctly queer themes, Sandolphon is not angry because they are men; he is angry because they are human, a different species from himself (in the same way that angels are different species from demons), and furthermore that anything resembling love the way humans do it is disgusting and vile to him.

Aziraphale, meanwhile, is standing helplessly on the sidelines, desperately trying and failing to de-escalate the situation. But it’s no use, Sandolphon has already made up his mind. There’s nothing left for Aziraphale to do but to try to save as many people as he can, beginning with Lot and his family.

Genesis 19

12 The two [angels] said to Lot, “Do you have anyone else here—sons-in-law, sons or daughters, or anyone else in the city who belongs to you? Get them out of here, 

13 because we are going to destroy this place. The outcry to the Lord against its people is so great that he has sent us to destroy it.”

Again, in the fashion that GO takes liberty with biblical narrative, I propose that it is Aziraphale alone who warns Lot that Sandolphon will destroy Sodom come sunrise, and sends him out into the night to gather his family and get them out as quickly as possible. I propose, additionally, that Aziraphale is the one who leads Lot and his daughters by the hand out of Sodom and then protects the village of Zoar from destruction so that they can take shelter there.

Genesis 19:

15 With the coming of dawn, the angels urged Lot, saying, “Hurry! Take your wife and your two daughters who are here, or you will be swept away when the city is punished.”

16 When he hesitated, the [angels] grasped his hand and the hands of his wife and of his two daughters and led them safely out of the city, for the Lord was merciful to them.

17 As soon as they had brought them out, one of them said, “Flee for your lives! Don’t look back, and don’t stop anywhere in the plain! Flee to the mountains or you will be swept away!”

18 But Lot said to them, “No, my lords,[or singular, lord] please! 

19 Your[singular] servant has found favor in your[singular] eyes, and you[singular] have shown great kindness to me in sparing my life. But I can’t flee to the mountains; this disaster will overtake me, and I’ll die. 

20 Look, here is a town near enough to run to, and it is small. Let me flee to it—it is very small, isn’t it? Then my life will be spared.”

21 He said to him, “Very well, I will grant this request too; I will not overthrow the town you speak of. 

22 But flee there quickly, because I cannot do anything until you reach it.” (That is why the town was called Zoar.[“small”])

While yes, this is a fictional interpretation of a biblical scripture, let’s take something from the fact that Lot is supposed to be addressing two angels, but the pronouns he uses to do so are all singular in the original Hebrew: that is to say, it seems like he is only talking to one angel. So in the victor-edited retrospective, the story is written to seem like two angels were rescuing him, but from the faithfully quoted words of his own mouth, it was only one. It seems like Sandolphon tried to write himself in as one of the good guys but couldn't bring himself to actually change the words that were coming from Lot's mouth. (Again, this is unnecessary work to do for the biblical narrative to be molded to a GO narrative, but it is an interesting feature of the original text nonetheless.)

At sunrise, the destruction begins: 

Genesis 19

23 By the time Lot reached Zoar, the sun had risen over the land.

24 Then the Lord rained down burning sulfur on Sodom and Gomorrah—from the Lord out of the heavens.

25 Thus [S]he overthrew those cities and the entire plain, destroying all those living in the cities—and also the vegetation in the land. 

26 But Lot’s wife looked back, and she became a pillar of salt.

So goes the story of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah: The cities are slandered before God, who sends Aziraphale and Sandolphon to investigate; Sandolphon is so incensed by human men flirting with him that he determines that the city shall be destroyed in the morning, and Aziraphale races against the clock to save as many as he can, knowing that he cannot save everyone. He bears witness as the men who resemble himself so much, who committed no greater crime than to seek out a forbidden love, perish in a rain of fire and brimstone. He must feign heavenly delight that a sinful blight was erased from the world, while mourning thousands of lost souls. He wonders if they have been sent to Hell. Even Lot’s wife, whose only crime was to question, to wonder what is behind her and perhaps regret leaving it behind, is turned to salt. He sees the vicious glee of Sandolphon exacting his revenge for the crime of impugning his celestial celibacy. He wonders what Sandolphon would do to him if he ever found out about the stirrings in his heart for a demon who, 500 years prior, had sat beside him on a rock, looking out over sea, comforting him as he nursed his wounded faith. He wonders just how far along with Heaven he can go, and what the consequences will be when he dares to say, “I will go no further.”

~~~

[image source: Wessex Archaeology]

For those who (like me) are interested, the story of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah seems to have been merged from two historical events, which was common in a period preserved primarily by oral history. The tale seems to resemble a volcanic event that occurred nearby and around that time, but Sodom and Gomorrah were most likely destroyed by an earthquake and a subsequent flood, since they were located in the Jordan Plain, the lowest dry land in the world, a full quarter of a mile below sea level at its lowest, and very near the Dead Sea. Additionally, the area is rich in bitumen, sulfur-rich near-surface petroleum deposits that, when disturbed by a major earthquake, may have sent hot tar flying into the air, which if it landed on anything flammable would give the impression that fire and brimstone were raining down.

✨ the more you know ✨

~~~

Blending together the biblical canon and archaeological speculation, I'm going to make a wild, unsubstantiated proposal that Crowley turns the people of Sodom into fish so that they survive the flood. Because one biblical flood was enough, and he'd heard around the water cooler that She had promised not to do that again (lying liar). This creates a tentative connection with the raining fish we see in the title credits of both seasons, and I'm also going to reference it in an upcoming meta.

[dotthings]

All right, here's the spn 5.18 rewatch Dean and Cas brainrot.

And this was only near the beginning of where that story's going to go!!

As Dean breaks, so shall Cas break. They're so entangled here and it's heartwrenching. Both of them have been moving towards despair most of S5, mirroring each other, both of them losing faith. Dean's losing faith in his brother, Cas losing faith in his father, Cas finds a liquor store and he drinks it, Cas losing faith in Dean is what makes Cas finally snap and temporarily go out of his mind.

The beatdown in the alley is exactly the wrong way for Cas to go about things, and that was the point. I can't cheer Cas on, and Dean didn't deserve that. It wasn't the way to reach Dean.

But I can feel how tragic this is. Seeing Cas spin out and break, and he has no precedent on how to handle the emotions coursing through him, he's still a semi-feral cosmic being, full of hurt and disappointment and anger. Cas's feelings are valid...but that doesn't mean every demonstration of anger is the right thing. While Dean is sinking into despair and we know he's feeling that he's disappointed Cas.

There's a bit of a Bobby parallel too--not that Bobby goes to the extremes Cas goes to. But Bobby's words as he snaps at Dean and tries to guilt him about giving up, is also a wrong approach with Dean. It's Bobby leaning on Dean so hard to be the repository of his hope, the keeper of his faith, and it's what Cas does too, and both lash out at Dean in different ways. So we can talk about Cas has a lot to learn and a lot more to go, and he does, I'm not saying Bobby is like Cas, but pointing out that even a middle-aged compassionate human with lots of experience with feelings like Bobby is imperfect. As is Dean. And Sam. And that's one of the show's long running themes.

I will point out Cas is holding back. Given his power levels what he does in that alley is incredibly dangerous, but the fact that he's snapping and yet will not actually do grievous lasting hurt to Dean. He never forgets who Dean is, he's dealing with all these feelings, hurt and disappointment, but not so far gone he forgets. And then he uncurls his fist.

Cas never does anything like that again, except when he is literally being mind-controlled, by a magic spell or angel brainwashing. S5 is the one and only time Cas lands a fist on Dean of his own volition. And let's not forget how Sam and Dean strike each other, of their own volition.

The Dean and Cas dynamics in this ep are also so utterly unhinged, from both sides.

"I gave everything for you and this is what you give me" actual canonical dialogue!!!

And Dean, who is lashing out at everyone he's close to in this episode, in different ways, with Cas he chooses a sexual taunt, he chooses to mock Cas flirtatiously.

"Well Cas, not for nothing, but the last person who looked at me like that, I got laid" and then he winks. And it's not a reassuring wink, or a brotherly wink, it's a full on saucy come-on kind of wink. And the way Cas glowers at him and shuts the panic room door!!!!

Also when Dean kills Zach, he does it with an angel blade, which he would have gotten from Cas. And that after the alleyway, Cas tells Dean in calm words, that his faith in Dean has faltered, instead of doing it with violence. It stings, but it's progress, and he is there, standing with Dean, despite Cas's claims of losing faith, and risks himself to disperse the angels so Sam and Dean can rescue Adam.

This ep is some raw, emotional Dean and Cas and it's one of the Kripke era eps that rewired my brain on that relationship, like The End.

[the-wayside]

The spicy need to write fic and/or meta about how Phaya's obligation to Tharn isn't physical protection, Tharn isn't in need of saving like that. His heart is in need of saving. To keep him believing that love will overcome adversity because of how much has been taken from him in life. Phaya's obligation is to protect Tharn's soul by loving him. To ensure that what happened to his soul in his first life never happens again. He never fractures or bleeds from the very essence of himself. It's really beautiful to me that part of their love is to truly save the core of a person, what makes them human, what gives them the ability to love.

So he has to keep showing up for Tharn, rewarding that faith that has been placed in him, which is why he was so adamant about leaving the hospital. The desperation in him was the physical need to press his soul into Tharn's, to show him the best way he can that he is loved. Words aren't enough. Words can falter and fail. Phaya never wants there to be any doubt of how he feels. "I will protect you" isn't I won't stop you from getting hurt. It's I will always be here to support you and protect you as much as I can, but if I can't, I will hold you while you heal because you're my everything.

[lulu2992]

Hey there!

After reading your great insight on what to keep in mind when, say, writing the Seed brothers in fanfiction, I was wondering if you wanted to cap things off on what to keep in mind when writing Faith?

You don’t have to do it immediately, just when you have the time.

Hi! Sure, let’s conclude this “series” with the last member of the family, Faith Seed :)

First, while she’s referred to as a/the Siren by Dutch, a couple of NPCs, and in promotional material, this isn’t her official title in the Project. And as you probably know, Faith Seed’s real name is actually Rachel. However, unlike what the Far Cry Wiki claims, I’m quite certain her full name was never Rachel Jessop. Unfortunately, the biography on her Wiki page is partly made up and based on that incorrect assumption, so I really don’t recommend trusting it. This advice goes for all Far Cry characters, and I don’t think the Far Cry 6 Season Pass is a good reference, either, since the DLCs were written with the help of the Wiki.

In Far Cry 5, in addition to the story cutscenes, she has three sermons (here, here, and here), four answering machine messages (here, here, here, and here), and can also be randomly encountered in the Henbane River region as a “specter” (term used in the files). When she appears, she either hums the song “Oh The Bliss” (here and here) or talks to the Deputy. I think what she says really is worth listening to and adds a lot to her character. @teamhawkeye has done a tremendous job recording and compiling all her appearances in 9 videos (1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9)! As for Marshal Burke’s “apology video”, in which Faith also appears, it’s here.

I wrote a summary of what other characters say about her here (masterpost here), and all the NPCs’ comments about the Seed family are available here and here.

Faith isn’t in Far Cry Arcade and doesn’t have the same “combat lines” as most other characters, but you can still listen to everything she says during the final fight against her here.

Her deleted lines are here, and she has even more here. Most of them probably aren’t relevant anymore, but they’re still interesting and make me wonder what they originally had in mind for the character!

If I’m not mistaken, there’s only one note in Far Cry 5 written by Faith: the “Note for Tracey” (Hope County Jail). The note “A Confession” (Throne of Mercy Church) was also written by “Faith”, but it seems to me the author is one of Rachel’s predecessors.

Indeed, in-game evidence indicates Rachel wasn’t the first woman who took on the role of Faith Seed. There were at least two others before her, Lana and Selena, but we barely know anything about them or why they were replaced. Two letters, written by people who knew and loved them, can be found in the game in the Horned Serpent Cave and the King’s Hot Springs Hotel, but that’s pretty much it.

There was another note written by Faith, apparently cut from the game but still available in oasisstrings. It was supposed to be in her bunker, Faith’s Gate:

To my guardians, Because we have each other, we are already strong. But when the Collapse comes, this gate will need to be the heart of our strength. Guard it with your lives, knowing that any sacrifice you make will be for the future of humanity's greatest ideals and dreams. Jacob and Joseph have chosen you to guard this gate. You should be very proud. I know you serve me with love, but never forget that this will be your home, too. If you falter from this purpose, remember the bliss is there for you. With love, Faith

It’s worth noting that, in the game’s files, Faith (or the Henbane River) is sometimes referred to as “Selena Seed”. To me, this suggests that her identity and her backstory went through many changes during the development of Far Cry 5, and that might explain at least some of the grey areas surrounding the character.

Since she isn’t the Seed brothers’ biological sister and they weren’t raised together, The Book of Joseph doesn’t give a lot of information about her life before Eden’s Gate aside from what the game already tells us: she was a broken person, addicted to drugs, and was “adopted” by Joseph as his sister and Herald. When she joined the cult, since drugs are forbidden by the rules, she first had to overcome her addiction, and the book says she succeeded with the help of scopolamine (basically Bliss). It’s also explained she then worked with a geneticist named Peter, probably on developing Bliss. That said, in the game, he’s never mentioned, cultists never use the word “scopolamine” (always “Bliss”), and nothing clearly indicates it can be or has ever been used as a substitution treatment, so I’m not sure what’s still canonical...

Faith also appears in the short film Inside Eden’s Gate (not entirely canon to me but still good) where she’s played by Mackenzie “Kenz” Lawrén Johnson. I must admit Faith is my favorite Herald in the film; I really like Kenz Lawrén’s interpretation as well as her opinion on the character, which she gave in this interview!

Weirdly, Faith has often been referred to as the “half-sister” by the game’s main writers (such as here or here) even though she isn’t related to the Seed family in the game. It’s possible that she used to be but that was changed at some point. According to the Lead Writer, “Maybe she isn’t liked by the other two brothers as she didn’t grow up with them” (which is hinted at by NPCs and John himself in Far Cry 5). In a now-deleted interview for GameCrate, he also described her as “more of an outsider” and “probably the most fervent believer in Joseph”.

Greg Bryk, who co-created and played the Father, said he believed he needed Faith because “the maternal aspect of the feminine energy is missing” in his life even though it’s something “essential for Joseph to have”. He thinks there have been several Faiths because “when [Joseph] would lose faith, [he] would find another Faith.” And according to him, “she doesn’t need to have a specific energy because there’s something of an essence that [he needs] as opposed to a person”, and she almost has a “mother earth energy”.

While she does give a bit of information about her past life as Rachel in the game, saying she was “ostracized by her community”, “bullied by friends”, “abused by her family”, and “wanted to die”, it’s not always easy to know what’s true and what’s not when it comes to Faith because she’s known for being a master manipulator; lying is canonically part of her modus operandi. In a way, because Faith Seed is a role, I would say she’s also always performing. Unlike what a few NPCs claim, I don’t think that means she never tells the truth, but she’s still undoubtedly “very skilled at twisting the facts and turning any situation to her advantage”, as the game’s Narrative Director put it.

Although the details are unclear, I believe it’s true Rachel was “lost” and “broken” before she arrived in Hope County and joined the Project. It’s also true that, as Faith Seed, she’s now powerful, dangerous, and not innocent anymore, as her former best friend Tracey Lader, who knows her very well and witnessed her transformation (but was unable to stop it), warns the Deputy. I neither mean nor think the situation Faith is in is normal, healthy, or the best thing that could have happened to her, but I do think saying she’s unhappy with it, helpless, in danger, or that she only wishes she could run away from the cult really is a misunderstanding of the character. Faith knows what she’s doing, and she’s very good at doing it. To me, she’s the most powerful Herald.

Since the lore is a bit inconsistent, we’re not entirely sure how the Bliss works and who created it, but we know it’s an almost magical, hallucinogenic and pacifying drug made from “bliss flowers” (heavily inspired by Datura stramonium) that Faith is immune to, can control, and uses to brainwash people. “The Bliss” is also a place, but once again, the details are unclear. It could be her bunker, or maybe just a distorted version of reality that individuals who are exposed to the drug “live” in. Wherever or whatever it is, most people never truly come back from it or fully break free from Faith’s influence, as seen with the Marshal in the game…

In the Project, Faith’s role is to lure (hence the nickname “Siren”) people into the cult and convince them to follow the Father, often with the help of Bliss. If they keep resisting or are “too full of fear and doubt”, high doses of the drug can be administered to them and turn them into Angels, who are comparable to zombies according to some characters. Bliss irreversibly damages people’s brains, and those who become Angels unfortunately can never be saved. Faith and her followers seem to think they’re beautiful creations because they’re faithful to the Project and unable to sin. It seems she has the power to control them (at least partly), and the cult doesn’t hesitate to use them as “shock troops” or “slave labor and beasts of burden”, as NPCs say. They’re indeed very docile and resistant... as well as hard to kill.

Again, there are some discrepancies regarding what happens to potential converts in the Henbane River region, but it seems people first have to walk along the Pilgrimage path and, at the end of it, take a literal leap of faith from the statue of Joseph, just like Faith explains she did (even though whether or not the statue already existed at the time is a bit uncertain). As unbelievable as it sounds, NPCs confirm it’s entirely possible to survive the leap. After walking the Path, some pilgrims become Angels, some simply join the Project, and others don’t survive, either because they don’t make it to the end or die when they jump (maybe because their faith isn’t strong enough, I’m not sure how that works).

In the Family, Faith can be described as “the favorite child” (and I think that makes John jealous), who saw Joseph as her savior when they met and wants others to experience the same feeling, by force if necessary. Just like her brothers, she basically weaponizes her trauma and makes people relive a sublimated version of her life story: she targets the most vulnerable individuals, gives them drugs to ease their torment, and sometimes takes their minds away from them. Even though Faith is fully capable of thinking for herself, isn’t mind-controlled, was a drug user before she joined the Project (not after), and left her old self Rachel “in the darkness” willingly to be reborn as Faith Seed, she still became a new person for the Father and expects the same from anyone she converts, even if that means she has to completely brainwash them.

In conclusion, we don’t really know much about Rachel and her backstory, simply that she was broken, saw Eden’s Gate as a chance to start anew, and happily took it. Since she was young, desperate, and therefore suggestible when she met Joseph, one can wonder if Faith is simply a manipulated, brainwashed victim; a poor, helpless soul devoured by a cult. But although that situation is far from ideal or normal, she and other characters confirm that she too has teeth, and she doesn’t hesitate to use them. Rachel should theoretically just have been a victim, but as Faith Seed, she’s transcended this status. She’s found purpose, power, and is committed to her beliefs. Not everyone in Hope County precisely knows who she is, but now, she does. She’s a multifaceted mystery whom people tend to underestimate, and it’s something she likes to cultivate because that’s how she gets them. She’s a Siren, but in my opinion, also a Phoenix, who was consumed completely and rose up from her own ashes to be born again. Rachel was broken, but Faith is strong. Rachel lost herself, but Faith was found. Rachel was nothing; Faith can be anything.

[moonmaiden1996]

Divine Devotion

OsferthxReaderxAemond Musing

No warnings...for now

The marriage between Prince Aemond and Osferth, their Lady wife, is one of the most unusual things about the Dance of the Dragon era; it remains one of the fascinating subjects to emerge from this period.

Though Septon Gement laments the loss of Osferth from the order, in his records, he even goes as far as to state that Osferth could have brought a new age of reformation to the faith of the seven. Archmaester Godwin states the marriage of the 2nd and 3rd sons to their good Lady wife brought much stability to Westeros and the Targaryens.

Though some maintain the marriage and tensions between the brothers, the marriage appears happy, sharing a chamber and children. Maester Mallos wrote, "while both graces were shocked at Osferth's wish to leave the house of the seven, the fervent sincerity in which he proclaimed the Mother had shown him persuaded the King and Court that the All-Mother wished the trio to marry. Thus the King announced their engagement and entered a new age.

" I... do not understand..." Alicent stared wide at her youngest, his golden robes almost glowing in the light of the small council chambers. "The house of the Seven has always been your desire. "The queen's eyes showed with tears as she learnt forward, cradling his head in her shaking palms. His hair was cropped short in the style of the brotherhood, a golden shimmer to his pale strands the only feature that set him apart from his brother, apart from his mutilated eye.

"I am and always will be devoted to the Seven. This is why I must marry... because she has given me divine insight." Osferth’s voice was soft, eyes bright in the harsh candlelight.

"Oh, Osferth... "Alicent cooed, sadness and shame etched in every feature of her perfect face.

"Talk sense, boy," Otto growled from beside the King, who silently watched on.

"I have been granted a vision from the Mother herself. She has shown me her will and wish. One that I am obliged to follow….alongside my brother and our bride.’’ The youngest Prince's voice never faltered despite the hushed uproar from the member of the small council.

"You have been promised to the Seven. It is your duty to complete your oath. This matter is closed... now... "Otto snapped, cut off by the High Septa.

"Apologies, my Lord hand, but the matter is not... Osferth came to me with his vision... We have confirmed beyond is reasonable doubt that these are indeed blessings from the Mother. She has seen that Osferth and Aemond must marry the good Lady to benefit the kingdom and humanity. We must not delay." The Septon bristled, a mummer of support coming from the other Septons as they crowded outside the Chamber, looking in on the council.

"This is ludicrous...’’ Otto began, his waxy complexion greying as he shook in quiet rage.

“You dare question the Mother...’

"Aemond, are you happy with this? "Alicent voice calls behind to the brooding dragon rider, cutting the Septon off from a long-winded sermon.

"Osferth has relaid the... Obligation... I will do my duty as a prince of the realm, whatever father sees fit. "Aemond purred quietly, eyebright as it settled on his brother gleefully.

Visery’s eyes narrowed at Aemond. "Does the Lady know?" Visery's soft voice broke through the Chamber.

"No... we thought we must discuss with you, your Grace. The Lady in question is most dutiful. She will not deny both the King and the seven." The Septon smiled.

Visery suspicious eyes wandered between his two sons; they were so alike yet different. Light and dark. Day and Night. Even as small boys though painstakingly similar as if carved from the same marble, their personality temperament so different that they could scarily sit through a feast without one or the mother sending the other into a tantrum, yet now they were perfectly content to oppose the small council together.

‘’I do not believe the Court or the people would take kindly to such union, a rather orthodox marriage. Would it not be better for just one  of  them to marry the good Lady in question?’ The King mused, watching as both his son’s eyes darkened, lips turning downward ever so slightly as his question.

‘’I can assure you, my King, that once knowledge of Osferth’s vision spreads, there will not be a man or woman who would mumble a word against it. Osferth is well known for his goodness and selfless deeds, and Aemond... has always been a dutiful son. The Lady is a rather inoffensive, demure creature. She must be made to marry both, else wise the Mother may be offended and curse us all.’’

"Otto, High Septon, please announce an audience gathering to the Court. It seems that this marriage must take place through some divine intervention.’ Visery’s glared at his son, eyeing his wife as she broke into tears of joy.

‘’My king, we are so blessed.’ She gushed as she pressed each son to her in turn.

‘’Hmm, We are honoured to be gifted a new daughter so becoming… and one that has never been so far from there from their gaze or affection.’’ Visery’s muttered eyes trained on his sons while his wife gushed and cradled the boys between her, oblivious to their darkening violet gaze.

I just had to write this. It has been in my head for ages. I can see Osferth and Aemond being such sweethearts together, Aemond being the strong possessive fighter and Osferth being the cute, shy devotee, both jealous of the other, trying to one-up each other constantly. I might write a more, or a smutty version once I get out my next chapter ‘Claiming his Queen.’’

[gothdaddyissues]

Return to Me

For the @petrifyingpapas challenge - week one: RESURRECTION

SUMMARY: Vampire Copia has made a promise to you, his lover - life, eternal. But first, you must die. (~1700 words)

TAGS: Dracopia/Fem!Reader, Jim DeFroque, Vampires, Character Turned Into Vampire, Death, Blood, Blood Drinking, Resurrection, Google Translate Italiano

Also available on Ao3 HERE

⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧

He held you pressed close against his chest as you died.

He wept.

Just moments before, he had fed from you. Drained you almost dry, until he could feel your faltering pulse upon his tongue, the weakening thump of your heart. Slower and slower.

He used his teeth to gash open his wrist like a feral animal, pressing the wound to your greying lips. If you did not take in the blood now, you would be lost to him forever.

"Drink, amore ," he whispered, frantic. "Drink me."

You lay listless in his arms, eyelids fluttering, weak breath rattling in your chest. Not moving. Not responding.

But then, he felt the pull of the blood leaving him. He heard you swallow. Once. Then again. And again. Stronger each time.

He brought you closer, cradling your head, holding you there to feed. "Yes, yes, cara mia ... take all you can."

The life-giving elixir brought you back into brief consciousness. You gulped it down greedily as its power surged through you in these final moments, the blood he had taken coursing back into you, working its primal, infernal magic. A wanton moan escaped your lips and you writhed against him in pleasure. It reminded him of the nights of ecstasy spent together in this bed - such sounds you had made as he took you, sometimes sweet and passionate, sometimes raw and desperate, over and over. You had begged for more. You said that you wanted to be his, like him. He swore on all that was evil and unholy that you would grant you life eternal.

But first, you had to die.

You whimpered as he pulled his wrist away. "Sshhh, shhh amore . It is done." He kissed you deeply, lapping up the last of the blood pooled in your mouth, and you went limp in his arms once again, too feeble to move.

"Copia...  Please don't leave me..." you rasped, your voice weak. You were fading fast.

"Never." The promise murmured in your ear, the last words your human form would hear. "I'm with you always."

When you were gone, he lowered you onto the bed, slow and gentle. Soon the sun would rise, and your nursemaid would be in to check on you. He could not sit in vigil despite not wanting you to leave his sight. This was the moment he must let go. He kissed your forehead, his cheeks wet with tears. " Ti amo. Ti amo, mia regina. Mia dolce angelo ."

He was a monster, forsaken, his faith long gone. His cursed existence refuted any proof of a benevolent God. And yet, as he slipped from your balcony into the darkness, there was a prayer on his lips. He prayed to whatever Satanic demon it was that watched over his kind. He prayed you would reawaken, turned, a creature of the night as he was, and you would live forever beside him.

He could not go on otherwise.

⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧

He arrived at the church just as the sun slipped below the horizon. The graveyard was empty save for a lone priest standing in solemn watch at the door of your family's sepulcher.

"Greetings, my brother," the priest said, his voice full of sorrow. "Do you come to mourn this young lady?"

Copia nodded grimly and the priest allowed him entrance.

On a stone altar, lit only by candlelight, lay your coffin, made from ebony wood and carved with intricate embellishments. The air was thick with the scent of roses, red bouquets surrounding your tomb in a vain attempt to mask the stench of death.

"Such a tragedy," the priest began, "This beautiful woman taken in her prime. A blood disease, the doctors believe. There was nothing they could do, it happened so fast. Were you well acquainted?"

"Very." Copia narrowed his eyes at the priest, suspicious. "Why do you lurk here? You are not the priest of this parish."

"I am Father James DeFroque," he said, the beads of his rosary clicking as he fidgeted under the vampire's intense gaze. "Tasked by this lady's family to keep watch and pray for her dearly departed soul, to shepherd her into the kingdom of our Lord. May her spirit live forever in his grace. Will you pray with me, brother?"

The priest was nervous, ill-at-ease in Copia's presence. His heightened vampiric senses could see each drop of sweat forming on DeFroque's forehead, feel the quickened pump of the priest's heart as he went to his knees in supplication and began to recite the Lord's Prayer.

But he could not feel you.

Had his efforts to turn you been in vain?

Panicked now, Copia stepped past the priest and stood at your coffin, his gloved hands splaying out over the lid. " Amore , I am here. I am here for you." His voice broke in a sob, overwhelmed with emotion. "Please, amore ... please. Return to me."

And then, he felt it. A tingle in his mind, curling through his senses like whisps of smoke.

Copia...

You were there, calling out to him through the ether. His presence had roused you and your essence shimmered and danced through him as you awoke from your slumber. Connected. Your soul, your consciousness bound to his through the process of siring you. Together forever.

Copia... My beloved...

Awash in relief, he pushed at the lid of the coffin to free you, opening it but a crack before the priest sprung to his feet to stop him: "My brother, no! You must not..." DeFroque's voice trailed off as he stared in horror, watching your pale fingers snake out under the lid, searching for your lover's hand.

"Copia..." Your voice was a gravelly whimper.

He pushed the coffin lid off completely; it fell to the floor with a thud. He took your hand as he gazed upon you, your delicate beauty only heightened by your immortality. Your skin pure and white like alabaster. Your lips crimson red, the hint of razor-sharp fangs beneath. He gasped in delight when your eyelids fluttered open.

" Mi amore ," he murmured, " mia bella regina. "

Your fingers tightened around his, while your other hand reached up to caress his cheek. Your touch was soft, weak in your newly-risen state. "My love," you whispered.

Copia leaned over you to press his lips to yours. But the meddlesome priest intervened, pushing a large wooden crucifix into the space between you. " Vade retro Satana. Vade retro Satana !" he chanted. Copia hissed and backed away, leaving you mewling at the loss. You pulled yourself up to sit, reaching for him...

"You!" Copia growled, his fangs bared. "You are that charlitan priest who travels this county claiming to be a hunter of the undead." DeFroque was trembling, the crucifix outstretched in one hand and a sharp wooden stake in the other. "Shaking like a frightened animal... You've never come face to face with one of us before, have you?" Copia was taunting him, prowling around the perimeter of the sepulcher. "Do you really think you can best me, fool?"

"I don't need to best you," the priest said, his voice wavering, "I only need to ensure this vile creature," he motioned to you, "does not rise from her crypt."

Copia stared down at him, his mismatched eyes aflame with rage. "If you touch her, I will tear you open and feast on your heart."

"Whether I do or do not, I will die either way."

An evil smile broke across Copia's lips. "I admire you for being accepting of your fate, padre. Mia bella ragazza is hungry. Your pious blood will feed her well..."

Copia stalked forwards, Defroque brandishing the crucifix before him to no effect. " Anima Christi, sanctifica me. Corpus Christi, salva me. Ab hoste maligno defende me. In hora mortis meae voca me ," he prayed.

The sound of Copia's mocking laughter filled the air. "Body of Christ save me, from the malignant enemy defend me..." he sneered at the priest's words, batting the crucifix away with a slap, sending it clattering to the floor. "Your God holds no power over me." Defroque backed away until there was nowhere left for him to go, trapped between your coffin and the advancing vampire.

Defroque spun to face you and raised the stake high, about to plunge it into your chest when Copia lunged at him, grabbing his wrist and breaking the bones as easily as snapping a twig. The priest screamed in pain as the stake fell to the ground.

Copia grabbed the priest by the hair and yanked his head back, holding him there, baring the neck to you. The fingers of his free hand tangled through your hair as he pulled you close and pressed soft kisses to your forehead. "For you, amore . Drink your fill."

Demonic instinct took over. You sunk your teeth into the priest's flesh, moaning when the blood hit your tongue, reveling in its heat, and how his breath gurgled in his throat as you fed.

The sight of you on this pathetic man and the sounds of your pleasure stirred something primal within your vampire lover. Arousal. He was aching. Throbbing. Craving the orgasmic bliss of both you and the blood. He clutched at you, wrapping you in a tight embrace with your prey pressed between you, and bit down hard on the other side of the priest's neck.

Together, as one, you drained him. When DeFroque's lifeless body slumped to the ground Copia was upon you in an instant, his mouth crashing into yours in a savage kiss. Blood smeared across your lips, tongues savoring each other in perverse ecstasy.

You broke away first, your movements weak. Copia knew you would need time, that for the first few nights after your resurrection, you would be insatiable, yet frail, and would need help to feed. For you, he would do anything .

With preternatural strength, he easily lifted you from the coffin, one arm behind your knees and the other at your back, cradling you close to him. Your head rested heavy on his shoulder. "Copia," you whispered, "I need more."

"Yes, amore . And you shall have it."

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Jim and Pete both know a thing or two about the power of creation. It was something they'd bonded over, in coded language and shared looks and the discovery of binders and razors and dirty jokes and ways to settle into their own skin. Even though their interactions had been gruff, sharp at the edges, they'd sunk into a strange sort of not-quite-friendship, an understanding that sometimes kept Jim going.

Jim isn't Lucius. They're not in love with Pete. They have Olu, and Archie, and Jim and Lucius are both open but their types are wildly different. Lucius once made eyes at Izzy while Jim has kissed Archie.

But there was some part of Jim that tried to cling to that feeling. Not of love, but of understanding. Of a faith in their power to create, not destroy. It's been so hard to remember over their past few months trapped in the hell that has been the Revenge, forced to kill, to watch Lucius waste away, taking what little happiness could be sought in Archie's blood-stained kisses. Jim has not created. Jim has barely survived.

But as Stede Bonnet's dinghy docks against the side of the Revenge, Jim remembers what creation felt like. 

Jim is more familiar with holes, with destruction, than creation.

They have wanted to believe that somewhere out there, Olu is alive and searching for the Revenge. That months and months of living in hell were worth it, because the sun would break through at the end.

They have doubted. They have faltered. But they have clung, in a way they never did to the religion of the nuns, to this impossible, necessary faith.

God will be struck down. The sun will arrive.

In a literal sense, it's true. The crew all emerged onto the deck after the storm to find the sun beating down on the deck after days of storms.

But more importantly, Jim's sun has returned. Their Oluwande is back, climbing up the ropes to the deck of the ship along with the rest of the crew, Pete included. 

In between the dinghy and the crew, Blackboard groans on the deck.

Alright, then.

So, God lives.

Jesus rises from the dead on the third day. Miraculous. Divine taken human form. The sinners clamber to his side and all that-

Fuck that.

They're sinners, they all know that. Killers and thieves and pirates, down to their bones.

But killing God was no sin. It was no act of pride. It was an act of survival. Now that the sea god has been incapacitated, stripped of his wrath, of his deadly touch, they can all breathe. They can all live.

Jim steps right over the half-dead corpse of the sea god and leaps for Olu. Their teeth bash together, their kiss awkward and harsh and desperate, but Jim's love is here, warming their chest, soft and hot and welcoming against the sharp blade that has become their very existence.

"I didn't think I'd see you again," Jim confesses their sin, their doubt, "I thought you were dead."

But Olu, their sweet Oluwande, doesn't falter, his smile brighter than the sun, the greatest blessing that Jim has had in months, in their whole life, probably. "Glad I could prove you wrong."

"I am never leaving you again, you hear me?" Jim's promise is a vicious, honest one. "They can bash my head in again and I'll crawl after you, killing any and every man I have to get back to you."

Despite the venom in Jim's words, the absolutely raw honesty in their voice, Olu doesn't falter. Doesn't even blink. "And I'll find you, across everything," Olu promises in return, just as honest, just as tender as Jim's blades.

Across from Jim, Lucius is still wobbly. They trimmed his beard last night and let him bathe in the captain's quarters, fed him dried ginseng and crushed clover, mint and horseradish, all in a warm broth with pieces of softened jerky that was supposed to start clearing out his lungs and filling his stomach, but one night of proper care and food does not clear out months' worth of illness and starvation. Lucius is going to need actual medical care on land, just as much as Izzy, to make a full recovery from the drowning and the trunk.

But right now, he is blinking into the sky for the first time in months. The sun's rays on the water are harsh enough to blind him after months kept in the dark, but he drinks them in anyway, seeking that paradise that was denied him, because there , sunlight glinting off of his shined skull, comes Black Pete, who makes the journey straight to Lucius himself.

Blackboard was a vengeful God, a demanding kraken, a figure of myth and monsters.

The man in front of Lucius is a dream, but is no myth. He is blessedly, physically human, fragile and tough and prone to giggling during sex and so hot and so blessedly alive.

Lucius is trembling. He is not recovered enough to run across the deck, no matter how much he might want to. He is nauseous and light-headed and-

And he cannot look away. He cannot bear to break eye contact with the man in front of him, the thought-made-flesh that kept him going for so long trapped beneath the deck.

"Babe!" Black Pete shouts and crashes into Lucius. They slam to the deck together, and Lucius' back is going to ache so badly later but he can't bring himself to care about future pain when past and current pain have become such an integral part of his life and this pain, at least, means Pete is alive, Lucius' own miracle, and for that, Lucius will bear any agony.

"I'm sorry," Lucius says, mouth almost pressed to Pete's. He can smell the dirt and sweat and sea water on Pete, and once would have found that a turn-off, but he's gotten so used to associating it with his crewmates, his saviors, over the past few months that all he can feel is deep, aching relief. "I lost my finger."

"I can whittle you a new one, love," Pete swears, and Lucius kisses him again, pulls him in tight, clutches on with everything he has. He knows the nails on his good hand and his wooden finger are digging into Pete's back, but if he lets go he's going to fall and he can't bear to drown ever again.

Pete doesn't grimace. He doesn't even flinch. He just pulls Lucius in even tighter, as if he, too, cannot bear to let Lucius leave him, can barely believe that he is holding his living lover, and Lucius was a ghost for so long, but he can never feel dead when he is being held so painfully tight.

The clouds parted on the fortieth day. The ship sailed on, at peace-

And then Saint Izzy Hands raises his pistol to Stede Bonnet, crouching over the body of the kraken. Izzy is leaning against Frenchie's side , the crew not having had a chance to whittle him a new leg just yet. He is a mess, sacrifices carved from his physical body, and yet he stands taller than Blackbeard or Stede Bonnet ever could.

"You can bring him back, if you dare," Izzy says, the avenging angel, "But you can't save him."

"I don't need to save him," Stede says, and there's something angelic in that, too, the faith in god even after god has wrong every human he has touched. "I just need to be there for him."

Izzy gestures to the brig with his pistol and spits over the railing into the ocean. "Take him down there. Do whatever you want. Try to bring him back from the dead. Keep him this side of the afterlife. Blackbeard will never be a god again."

"God?" the Swede asks, brow furrowing, and maybe no one who did not live on this ship, this hell on earth, will not understand what happened here, this cult to the kraken that was created, but as long as Olu and Pete don't question it too harshly, things will work out.

Blackbeard is not a god, anymore. If he survives, he is a man. Edward Teach will emerge, or nothing will survive at all, because if Blackbeard tries to return, someone on this crew- whether it be Jim, or Izzy, or Archie, or Frenchie, or Fang, or even Lucius- will make sure that this time around, the death takes.

Now that they have risen out of purgatory, out of the circles of hell, out of the storm, they can begin to recover. They can become people. They can find some way to turn this ship from hell into a home.

[supernovafeather]

No Future?

FO!Poe x Rebel!Reader

Content : enemy to less enemy, quick mention of sexual content (not explicit), only one bed trope and it's cold trope (?), angst.

Summary: Reader and Poe got stranded on an unknown planet and have been forced to cohabitate for several months and wait for a rescue team to help them out.

The cold attempting in vain to bite your skin refused to weaken and your own stubborness started to falter. After over a month spent at hiding in a lone First Order tent in the middle of a perpetual blizzard on this remote planet, you realized how much the microcosm constituting your present life had changed.

“I've known opinionated rebels but you still deserve to be considered as their queen. Congratulations.”

Poe himself wasn't the same anymore and despite his dark uniform that got affected by the frozen bitterness from the outside world a while ago, he could have passed for a tired – and tiresome – Resistance fighter that stranded with his co-pilot. But no, he remained the First Order guy that crashed down just as pathetically as you did. And whether he liked it or not, he didn't have the qualifications to keep on taunting you.

“At least I'm not the one on the verge of losing my hands with some stupid plan.” You spat at him as you watched the man digging on the hard and cold ground in a tent corner.

Over a month in his company in such a tight space could have driven you crazy much sooner. The only thing that managed to keep you sane enough to protect your survival instinct was the surprisingly good entente between the both of you. The dozen of blankets of different sizes you managed to bring back from hasted expeditions conducted in the nearby ghost town also helped a lot, even when it meant you had to cuddle with a sworn enemy every night.

“Here you go, another stupid plan of mine,” he grunted, “tell me when I get clever for a change.”

“I'm only human, I have to talk. I can't keep silent forever.”

“And then you complain whenever I say anything and yet you say something as blank and obvious as the mere fact that you are human.”

Discussions formed a seemingly eternal circle in such an uninteresting environment. The morning would start smoothly in a sleepy and warm atmosphere as you had all the time in the world to wake up properly. Then you would eat some animal hunted the day before and protected by a layer of snow right by the tent entrance as you complimented each other's cooking skills. Then you would complain about each other's cooking skills and how awful those kind of moles would taste like anyway. Then arguments would last for several hours as you tried to figure out a plan.

At last you would fall asleep both on your side of the island of blanket filling a good part of the tent before gathering at the same spot to share some warmth. That, every day without an exception for over a month.

At some point you started to pray a god you didn't even believed in to get a loophole even if that meant your new companion's death. After all he was a First Order pilot that killed countless of your pilots.

“Just shut up for five minutes, or even for the rest of the day,” you replied sourly.

“Then move your ass from there and come help me!”

“There is nothing to reach down there!”

This predicament was certainly starting to affect his sanity as well. For a few days he has had that weird obsession of using an old broken shovel to dig a hole big enough to create some tunnel. He never really explained anything but it seemed to be a matter of expending the living space in this recluded shelter.

“Do you have any idea of the amount of energy you are spending to get that done,” you asked with a sigh, “we are running out of meat and they're getting rarer outside, and you barely progressed.”

“Bad faith.”

Swallowing back the venimous insults that threatened to leave your mouth, you lied back into the blanket as you watched him digging desperately. After two weeks he barely managed to take off enough dirt for the ground to come up to his knee level. Poe's hygiene declined quickly between the sweat and dirt and lack of access to a shower, and fortunately you were starting to get accustomed to that part of him – not that you believed yourself to be in a better condition yourself and maybe he deserved some merit for his tolerance.

Instead of arguing any further, you did shut your mouth but his grunts and muffled swearings were getting seriously on your nerves. Sir Dameron woke up in a bad mood and got obsessed and frustrated even more than usual about his tasks.

“Going outside.”

The metal sound stopped as he watched you put some thick clothes above your own rebel pilot outfit. Two pairs of gloves, three pairs of sockets, a damaged woolen hat and some protective old school pilot glasses on and you were outside, crawling to the area preserved from the blizzard thanks to your two partially disassembled that took the shape of a wall surrounding the southern side exposed to the hostile elements. The noises it created worried you to no end during the first week, but despite the windy scream and the metal parts creaking and trembling you now felt relieved. Finally. Poe shut up.

It created some narrow court behind the grey tent. Cold, sterile if not for the tiny grass growing here and there under the thich layer of snow, but comforting. You gathered some to put it down all over the thent edges so the breeze couldn't infiltrate the gaps. Here you were getting too hot with your clothes but you had no will to go back inside.

You didn't hate Poe. It was quite the opposite actually but living the same thing without anything new to say didn't permit you to enjoy his personality at its full potential. Such a warm soul was surprising for a famous First Order soldier and it hurt. He would be the kind of guy drinking some strong alcohol with his friends while making fun of your brothers and sisters killed in combat befire falling asleep like a drunk baby with a stupid smile on his handsome face, maybe with a gorgeous woman by his side that found him amazing for being himself.

You couldn't believe it. Poe followed you and was now crawling against the ground to get out of the tent in his pants and shirt, his dark hair still wet with perspiration.

“Kriff,” you exclaimed with your arms crossed, “go dig your hole if that's so important to you but stop harassing me!”

“Please help I'm freezing.”

You did as asked because he remained polite, your teeth clenched as you got him back onto his feet. The poor bastard seemed to have been boiling inside and some steam spiraled up from his skin as he grimaced at the temperature difference, his hair covered in melting snow.

“Don't tell me I need to tell you to go back inside to cover yourself,” you growled.

“I saw you were consolidating that stuff so I wanted to help.”

“I don't need help to add snow. I just have to bend over and pick it up. Go back inside you're going to freeze.”

“No. I like quiet places,” he argued.

“Enjoy it then.”

You gave up and walked past the few chaotic layers of metal surrounding the tent and finally you reached your favorite place on this planet. The blizzard died down just enough so the violent twirling winds couldn't blind you completely, and the nigtmarish landscape beneath your eyes deployed its full beauty for you only. Around 9 miles high, the gigantic blueish and whitish cliffs dominated the desolated scenery where nothing could survive apart some resilient and almost unknown viruses you wished to never get infected by. Poe and you got lucky to crash so high and in a concentred spot, at around 8 miles high. Down there you would have died in less than ten minutes. You could distinguish some grass patches under the thick fog. You had no idea of where you were exactly. Gigantic frozen cliffs surrounded that place and the eerie atmosphere now started to freak you out. Maybe Poe wasn't such a bad company. You mourned your rescue a few days ago. No one could get onto that planet safely, and no one could get off of it, especially with no ship.

“Booh.”

The pair of arms snaking around your waist made your heart drop almost at the bottom of the cliff but at least got you rid off your anxiety rising at the view before your eyes. Poe put his own polar clothes on and held tight at you as he talked next to your ear.

“Come back inside, the radar warned of a...”

The sudden silence knocked the air out of your lungs and you followed Poe without complaining. Usually whenever a blizzard died down it was the sign of a bigger one coming, so intense that nature itself had to breathe in shortly to concentrate all its strength on this cursed planet. Breaks only lasted for a couple of minutes.

After a quick run you got to crawl next to each other to get some moles burried deep down, then gather snow to seal the tent entrance completely.

“Here you go, now that's better.” Poe sighed in relief as he lied down on the blankets with his clothes soaked with melting snow. “Now we only have to wait for it to end. Nothing like warm blankets and dubious squishy meat here.”

“It's going to be hard for a few days, there's not much.”

“Not that kind of squishy meat but no problem if you want some.”

It was part of your life now, to laugh at that silly joke while knowing that yes, you were going to have all the time in the world to warm up with him again. You were condemned on that cliff and didn't know how long that would last.

No one told you how long or short forever could be, especially without any hope for a brighter future.

- - - - -

Thank you for reading, please reblog if you liked it ! ☺️

@queen-of-elves @laura-naruto-fan1998 @thepowerthismanhasoverme @justmasblack

[littledreamling]

★ - sad headcanon for Dream!

(playing to the strengths of the angst king, perhaps >:) )

Ohohoho you picked a good one for me lmao

I could reiterate the headcanon I sent in the server a few days ago (about Dream having trauma from being watched and never being able to feel like he's really alone, even in the Dreaming) but you've already heard that, so I'll pick a new (ish) one. Adding a cut and warning for graphic depictions of violence, major character death, heavy angst, comic spoilers, and my late-night attempt to make the comics worse than they already were in terms of... well, everything lmao. Proceed with caution!

Sad Headcanon:

This isn’t a sad headcanon about Dream specifically, more of a Dreamling sad headcanon, and I’ve made a post about this specific idea before (which can be found here!) so you’ll have to forgive me for bending the rules slightly but here goes:

There is something off, Dream thinks, walking next to his sister. Her usually cheery demeanor is subdued slightly, as if viewing her through a screen door; the outline of her is there, but the details feel fuzzy. When he asks her how she is keeping, he means it. He is concerned. She assures him that she is keeping well, or as well as she can, given her function, and he accepts it. He expects the conversation to be dropped. Or, at the very least, he expects the conversation to move on, and her odd mood with it. Sunlight and humanity have always cheered her up and he does not think today will be any different.

And then he asks about his pet project, Hob Gadling. He is curious, after all, to see how Hob is keeping, especially after their missed meeting. Have you seen him? He asks, and does not miss the way Death has tensed beside him, nor the way her step falters, a minute and monumental waver. He feels his brow crease.

I have, she says, and there is something in her voice that does not sit well, in a way even a century of imprisonment could not match. He can feel his fingers twitch at his sides, the full extent of human reaction he will allow himself, and waits for elaboration.

He asked to see me, she says, and Dream stops short. In the middle of the street, bright sun glaring down through overarching leaves, surrounded and untouched by humanity, the meaning of her words dawn on him like a waxing moon. Dream stops short. His breath, unnecessary and painful, comes in short bursts and Death's mournful eyes scrape like twin razors against his raw heart.

It was my fault, he says, somehow. He forces the words from between numb lips, somehow. Death's eyes soften, somehow. Somehow, it is worse. Just another thing he has lost while imprisoned. Just another thing crumbling in his hands, crushed under the weight of his pride and stupidity.

It wasn't just you, she says, and he does not believe her. Had he asked for help, had he plucked up the courage to be able to trust again, this would not have happened. If he had been able to place faith in Death, or in Alex, or in Burgess, Hob would still be alive. The thought almost sends him to his knees and he realizes that the keening noise in his ears is escaping from behind his own teeth.

Oh, Dream, I'm so sorry, she says, and he believes her. It does not help. How could she? How could she do that to him, knowing their history? How could she have submitted so easily to the whims of a simple, stupid human? He does not realize he is speaking aloud until she answers.

I am as bound to my function as you are, brother, she says, and her voice is soft, understanding. I could no more deny him my gift than you could deny him yours. Nor any human. She is nicer than he is. He has always known that. He suddenly wishes, selfishly, that she were not. If she had been as cruel as some had accused Dream of being, Hob would still be alive. The thought is no less agonizing the second time.

A raven, he gasps, desperation coloring his essence. He should've become my raven. They were mortals, once. Tell me you left him in my realm. He was mine in life, surely you have bestowed him upon me in death as well. He knows it is hopeless even as he says it. The ache in her eyes is answer enough. The anguish infused in every line of her body as she sinks down in front of him (when had he collapsed? He cannot remember) is a needless confirmation.

You are the Dreaming, and the Dreaming is you, she says, and he wishes he could close his ears, wishes he could block out the words he knows to be true, wishes he could stop her from speaking the truth he knows she will speak, she will always speak. With you gone, there was no realm to leave him in. He has crossed to the Sunless Lands, Dream. I'm sorry.

If she suddenly finds herself kneeling next to a pile of sand, she is kind enough not to mention it the next time she sees him. Indeed, the next time they find each other, she simply sits by his side, a comforting presence in the middle of one of the Dreaming's most comforting dreams. Fiddler's Green, newly restored, seems to tremble at the sight of her, of them, sitting together, nearly touching. Dream's gaze is held by his hands, bloody up to the elbows. It would make him sick to his stomach if he could feel anything, but he can't. There is only a numbness, deep in his soul, an exhaustion that all the rest in the world would not be able to touch.

What happened, Dream? She asks, without a shred of judgement. As if she does not know. As if she wants to hear it from his lips. They sit in silence; he does not know for how long. Too long, perhaps, but she has always indulged him. She has always made special exceptions for him.

I killed her, he says, quiet and sullen. I spilled family blood. Even when Lucienne tried to stop me, even when Unity revealed her bloodline. It did not matter. Or perhaps it did. I killed her anyway.

Just a few paces away, the body of Rose Walker is sprawled on the grass, staining the blades underneath her a tacky, child's-mind red. Where her chest had been now sits a cavity, caved in and empty, her very heart torn, still beating, from her breast. Her blood stains his fingernails because he lets it. He does not care to clean himself. He does not care to tidy his realm. He does not care.

You know what the Kindly Ones will do, Death says. It is a statement of fact. It is as immutable as Destiny's own book. He knows this. He had known this. He had not cared. He still does not.

Yes, he says, because he thinks he should respond. There is nothing more to be said. They sit in silence, listening to the last somber notes of his realm ring out, the easy swish of leaves, the gentle rushing of water, the birdsong from the trees. The air is still around them; he is not sure he could stand, or walk, or even move, even if he tried. He does not try. He simply sits. He simply waits.

Dream? Give me your hand, she says, and with a minute and monumental waver, he does. The last thing he feels in the warmth of her skin against his, a familiar presence at his side, and a warm smile. The very gifts that had been offered to Hob Gadling a decade before. Gifts given, gifts accepted. And with a flash of light, Dream of the Endless accepts.

[okaybooner]

[She's a little taken aback. Has this been on Boone's mind a lot? Leigh wasn't aware this was a problem, but it makes sense—after all, she likes to learn things about Boone, and it's harder to trust someone you don't know that much about. She should rectify this.]

Oh… Like what? I mean—...

[Having decided to follow up on one of Boone's questions, she quickly gathers her thoughts, tapping her feet against the floor in contemplation, and then speaks.]

Where I come from… Um. Okay. Let's see. You've never been to the Boneyard, right? There's a district of it called New Galicia, and then one part of it that's close to the harbor is called Little Kraków. And within Little Kraków, there's a neighborhood called the Shtetl. That's where I'm from.

[This might not be telling Boone much, so she explains further.]

Now, New Galicia is big on preserving pre-war identities and languages from Eastern and Southern Europe and West Asia, since a lot of people there are descended in some way. It's nice, it really is. The cultures just sort of live on. I mean, hey, one tribe I'm a part of is over six thousand years old at this point, so of course we're still around.

[Leigh then falters a bit; she was about to start really getting away from what Boone had asked her. Nevertheless, having painted a somewhat interesting picture, it follows that she ought to clarify that she never had much of a connection to the community around her; she shouldn't give Boone the wrong idea about herself being a part of something.]

I didn't get along with my family, though. Or with anyone, really, but the latter is probably just my fault. So, when I was, like, sixteen, I just packed my stuff and left. But I didn't really belong anywhere I went. You know. Well, at least being mostly solitary meant less hassle with my transition. Didn't have to catch lots of people up to speed.

[She pauses to think again. Boone probably does not want to hear about her family. In fact, she's just about in the mood to ask Boone to tell her some stories about her mom instead, but then figures it's a bad idea—Boone could have questions for her, and besides, it might be too painful of a subject, given her mom's passing away when Boone was still young. She never knows how to navigate this kind of stuff.]

[Still, mentioning her own family at all has made her feel uneasy and hesitant, like she's just done a thousand things wrong without realizing it. Silly. She's in her thirties now and barely remembers them at this point anyway.]

So. Yeah. Guess that's it.

[Of course, when Boone asks Leigh where she's from, Leigh responds by telling her where she was born, where she came from, where her family lived. Anyone would. But Boone realizes that isn't quite what she meant. Still, it's a start. And that's all she can really ask for.]

Six thousand years... damn.

[All she can ask for, after the way she guarded her own secrets, is to be in Leigh's life and to learn through these little things. Maybe coaxing this out of Leigh, demanding evidence that she's real, is robbing the miracle of its beauty. On the other hand, they're no longer just a follower and a commander. They're no longer just traveling partners. They're not even simply girlfriends, or partners, or whatever. Boone knows her. Now she wants to know what made her.]

[It occurs to Boone that Leigh would probably be mortified if she could hear this train of thought. Talk about putting a gal on a pedestal. But that's the thing - Boone isn't. She's intimately aware, more than probably anyone, that Leigh is just a woman. Leigh is human. THAT matters. Does she even know that she's given Boone faith in humanity again?]

I doubt that's it. [sigh] But ... I get it. You waited for me to tell you ... everything I told you.

[She considers that kind stubbornness again. It was infuriating, and sometimes still is. Yet when you're infuriated by someone's kindness toward you, maybe that's when you need it most.]

Can I ask another question, though? Why didn't you get along with anyone there?

[take-me-to-valhalla]

Hello :) For the OC asks: 1, 9, 15, 19, 30 for the characters of your choice. I would also like to ask : 2, 7, 8, 20, 39 for Raphaëlle if you want.

Thank you so much! What a good set of questions.

For the first set, I'll take Sid. He's one of the PoV characters of the story I'm currently writing, and I have some things to say about him.

1: What is your character’s biggest fear?

Being abandoned. It happened to him once before the beginning of the story. One of the reasons he feels so strongly attached to his (vampire) boss is because he will never lose him (read: as a human, he'll die before him)

9: How does your character feel about religion?

He comes from a very religious family and it fucked him up. A Lot. Now that he lives among monsters and supernatural creatures, it's hard to muster a strong religious belief in one god or another...but I'd say he directed his faith (and fear) toward someone else.

15: What music genre would your character listen to?

As his nickname implies: punk music. He looks the part in the comic series, with a mohawk that's a pain to draw (in the book, his head is just buzzed cut)

19: What is your character’s deepest, darkest secret?

He's in love with his boss.

It's absolutely not a secret, but he's rather die than admit it to anyone, let alone said boss. As you may have gathered from the questions above, he's projecting a lot of things upon him. It's absolutely not sane or healthy, and his boss is both a vampire and an unsavoury character. It will not end well.

30: Would your character have any hobbies?

Other than listening to music and worrying about everything? No.

The Special Raphaëlle Round:

2: What is your character’s favorite memory?

I'd say when she fell in love. It sounds sappy, I know.

Most importantly, when she allowed herself to fall in love. Letting her guard down, accepting the change that would come with it...and, yeah. Her life became much more interesting.

7: How does your character feel about their name?

Her full name is Raphaëlle Bellespry* and she doesn't like her last name. It sounds clunky and stupid to her** Her boyfriend loves it though***

*pronounce it in French.

**though there is no Bellespry last name as I know of, I did meet a Bellefort at my job last week. So it's not that far off...

***and ends up taking her surname.

8: Does your character hate anyone? Why?

Though she has a complicated relationship with her family, she doesn't hate them. She wants them to respect her choices and feels smothered by them, hence the reason why she ran away. I'll have her confront them in a future story. I just have to figure out how.

In the comic series, she hates Polidori, but that's for the jokes to work.

20: What is the most surprising thing about your character?

Her bravery. And her level-headedness. When confronted to incredible or horrible things, she doesn't break down, even though she's just a regular human among monsters and supernatural horrors. She's a true believer of the "fake-it-till-you-make-it" method, hence she managed to keep her sanity where other people would have faltered.

On a more meta level, I think the fact that she's not particularly nice and/or considerate comes as a surprise to some readers. I like her that way though.

39: What would be your character’s niche on Tumblr?

I think she would be kind of a studyblr user, with tips and posts about efficiency, etc. And a sideblog for memes.

[chaniis-atlantis]

'An Extra Fifteen Minutes' sounds interesting!

Ooo this one's fun! This was inspired by a convo I had with @annwayne where we were like, "What of SGA episodes were 15 minutes longer? So I took my favorite episode, Common Ground, and did that! I extended the time that Todd and John are in the forest together and I tried to make it as realistic as possible. They talk about Hive and about duty, and it's basically just an exploration of what we might have seen if they gave them more time:

Taking a good faith, intensely generous approach, Sheppard dropped his weapon.

The Wraith’s expression faltered. He looked down at the gun, then back up to Sheppard, then down and back up again. Sheppard held his breath until, finally, what felt like years later, the Wraith dropped his gun too.

“Jesus.” Sheppard collapsed back against the tree he’d been leaning on with a groan.

The Wraith grunted. “My apologies.” He picked up his weapon but made no move to fire it.

“Don’t bother.” Sheppard waved his hand and knocked his head against the hard trunk.

The Wraith lowered himself to the ground again, but he did not lie down. He looked embarrassed or at least put off by himself.

Sheppard didn’t know why, but he was compelled to ask, “You got anyone waiting for you up there?”

In Afghanistan, sometimes the crying men would come back to themselves if they talked about a lover or a parent. Only sometimes, though.

The Wraith grunted. “Perhaps,” he rasped. “If it has not been so long that they have forgotten me.”

“It can’t have been that long.”

The Wraith shrugged; it looked odd. “It was many years, too many to count. There is a chance that too much has changed in the time I have been away.”

“Nah,” Sheppard waved his hand. “A team never forgets.”

At that, his ally laughed. “So simple, so human.”

Sheppard found himself rolling his eyes. This one sure was pessimistic.

“It is nothing but the truth, Sheppard.”

“Says the guy who didn’t believe we could do this. Now look at us; we’re injured and lost instead of just the one thing!”

Another laugh; that had to be a record. “Very well, I will practice your impractical dedication to hope.”

“That’s the spirit.” Sheppard drew his knees to his chest. “This hurts like a bitch though, did ya really have to wait for a third feeding?”

“Would you prefer to be injured and dead?”

“I’d prefer to have never met the Genii, but we don’t always get what we want, do we?”

The Wraith growled low in his throat. “No.”

Thanks for the ask!