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2-dsimp · 4 days ago

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I NEED MOREE CONTENT OF ICHA THE CULT LEADER FROM THE SPIN-OFFS 😭

he's just so adorable and cute and all hwjcjai 🥺🥺💕💕

if it's okay to ask, can i ask for more nsfw content for him?? he's just so adorable!! (icha favoritism?)

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Yandere Cultleader x Desperate gn reader!

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Synopsis: All you wanted was a chance to be loved well look no further than your local Cultleader Icha who’s grown desperate himself. From playing docile with you all this time. (Continuation off a previous ask I already did. Might drop a part two for altar smut👀 1.6k words)

°»｡ ∾･⁙･ ღ ➵ ⁘ ➵ ღ ･⁙･∾ ｡«°

Cw:MDNI suggestive! religious themes/gore/cult activity/manipulation/gaslighting/coercion/slight mention of murder/obessive/possessive tendencies/unhealthy behavior/ Icha being delusional.

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“Ευλογημένος Έρως της αγάπης, του πόθου και του πόθου. Ξέρετε ότι η επιθυμία μου υπερβαίνει κατά πολύ εκείνη του μέσου ανθρώπου.”

The Cultleader chanted, in greek of which he learned to fully connect with his patron god. On his knees hands clasped in a prayer position as he was desperate to have you in his clutches.

“Είσαι μάρτυρας, αφοσίωσή μου, Ξέρεις πόσο καιρό έχω περάσει τόσο καιρό με αυτή την τρυφερή αγάπη στην καρδιά μου. Με σιγοκαίει!”

After spending so much time restraining himself. Acting like a docile gentleman for his darling, but seeing no progress. He was barely hanging on a thread from kidnapping you and holding you hostage in his room.

“Κύριε Έρως! Σας παρακαλώ να ακούσετε τις παρακλήσεις μου. “

The young Prophet was so needy for you that he did manifestation spells. Hoping his delusions of you magically appearing in his lap from his earnest summonings. Would come true so he could love on you like the precious babe you are.

“Δώσε μου καθοδήγηση! Ρίξε μου ένα καταραμένο κόκαλο, και θα σου δώσω ένα μπροστινό κάθισμα για το πώς θα αφήσω την επιθυμία μου για την αγάπη μου να με καταναλώσει.“

Since the day he met you he diligently prayed to his patron god Eros. For deliverance from the friend zone you unknowingly placed him in. Whilst holding a doll of you that he made from scratch using the fabric of your used underwear that he’d stolen for religious purposes.

However, his moment of praying were disturbed, hearing the repetitive knocking at his secluded altar. Within the catacombs of an abandoned cellar. Icha bristled donning his cloak with the symbolic rose markings upon his mask.

Icha’s temper was getting the best of him, as he scowled. Prepared to rip the follower a new one for interrupting his needless begging. Blowing out the incense he let Eros know of his departure. Before getting up and marching towards the door.

Though, taking his anger management lessons to heart. He did the box technique and collected himself. He is supposed to be a dignified sect leader after all.

“Devotee, you realize what you’re doing is a violation correct? As I’ve said before do not interrupt me in the middle of worship unless it’s an urgent matter.“ Icha, said in a stern tone masked with veiled frustration.

The Devotee bowed their head apologetically in response, “My apologies! Esteemed prophet, this matter is of urgency! One has come seeking for the revelations of lord Eros”

“I see, I suppose that’s arguable justification to overlook your offense. Lead the way devotee.”

The Cultleader relented begrudgingly following the grunt to the entrance of my underground lair of worship. The fanatic couldn’t possibly turn a blind eye for new worshippers. All the more to get into the good graces of the god of love and desire. With news of a new member to join their cause of finding eternal love. Only to find that the said new follower of Eros was you. The one he’s been craving all this time.

With unparalleled speed Icha shoved the grunt out of the way making haste to you. Panting like a dog in sheer excitement at how lord Eros had answered his prayers and brought his love to him. He’d be sure to show his gratitude to repay such a blessing.

“A-AHEM! Lord Eros has told me all about you! In fact your a-arrival was long overdue. And for the record Lord Eros has already b-blessed us to be soultied! T-tonight actually right at the altar!”

Icha was too excited, and just spilled his evident yearning for you to see. You of course were surprised but at the same time desperate for some type of connection. Which driven you to seek out the cult of Eros, in hopes of finding the one for you.

“R-really Eros was expecting me? And we’re to get a soultie? Is that supposed to be some sort of indoctrination ritual?”

You stammered taken aback by the Cultleader’s statement. Icha’s heterochromatic ringed eyes dilated at you in an unhinged manner. Seeing how cute you were playing dumb he stepped closer. His gloved hand coming to rest on your chin as he lifted your head up to giving a wide deranged smile.

“Of course not, the soultie ritual is sacred! Only privy to you and me. You see, you’re special! The fact that you’re here proves that Lord Eros finds us to be a match made in heaven.”

The prophet declared, letting his hand fall from your face caressing your arms and taking your hands into his. The grip was tight as Icha ushered you further into the underground space.

Passing by cloaked devotees and heading towards the restricted sacrificial room. Displaying a pristine alter where a small statue of Eros lay over watching it. Depictions of Cupids were carved into the walls. While hundreds of scented candles, surrounded the perimeter. As offerings such as roses and grapes.

“Well first things first before we can get to the good part, Lord Eros requires a s-sacrifice.”

Icha continued leading you towards a pedestal where a large ceremonial knife rested. Picking it up in his digits. The blade was sharp and clean. Perfect for the sacrifice he had in mind. To pay his god Eros tribute for such a joyous occasion.

“To fully accept you into his flock as his priestess. And take your place my second in command! You’d need to heed these simple r-rules.”

With a mere clap of his hands two upper ranked Devotes came dragging in a person whose identity was covered by the burlap sac over their head. Labeled heretic.

“Firstly, you’re not allowed to leave. The moment you stepped into his domain you’re considered as his Devotee. Any indication of betrayal/neglect in your duties towards Lord Eros results in immediate dismissal.”

Waving a hand he turned away the Devotees who bowed their heads and stalked away. After leaving behind the muffled hostage wringing around in their restraints. Begging to be released.

“Secondly, Y-you will pledge your complete and utter loyalty to me. Since I’m the Prophet of Eros you must promise to obey and listen to my commands.”

Not even batting a glance at the already bloodied heretic writhing in pain within the sanctity. Icha suddenly placed his arms at the stone altar on either side of you. Leaving you pinned against his cloaked body. Now pressed into yours as he cornered you against the stone with no escape.

“The rules are easy enough to follow right? So let’s have our first crime of passion and send this traitor off together!”

The Cultleader’s voice trembled in pure elation, spinning you around so that he was snug against your behind. His palms steadily guiding your own to point the ornamental knife at the captured Heretic. Who was crying for forgiveness though it was muffled by the sac upon their head.

“Wait you seriously don’t actually mean to kill them right? Is this some kind of joke—“

Your hands were shaking completely at a loss for words. Were you truly going to go through with this initiation process which was basically first degree murder?

“This is just a minor step that has to be done in order for us to finally be bounded together.” Icha interjected, his almond eyes narrowing as he used his other hand to tilt your head back so he could peer down at you.

“You’ve been lonely right?” The Cultleader whispered into your ear, his soothing voice echoing in your mind. Almost as if he was trying to brainwash you like he did the rest. “Searching for someone to care for you, console you, love you. Isn’t that the reason why you came here in the first place?”

“That’s true, I did c-come here for that but I didn’t know I’d have to do this. This is wrong, it isn’t what I wanted—“ You said already having a near panic attack, seeing how the heretic was already missing their hands. The stumps were poorly wrapped.

“Lord Eros and I have been eyeing you for a long time. We’ve seen your attempts at trying to find love on your own. And look at where it’s gotten you, nowhere.” The Prophet hissed, a bit frustrated from your acts of denial. You flinched at his harsh tone recalling how it was just the plain truth of the matter.

Icha chilled himself, seeing that you too realized that obvious fact. after all he was the one to blame for your lackluster love life. Since a smug smile tugging on his lips from the memories of how he successfully hexed every potential suitor to suffer from scrutinizing symptoms the moment you entered their sights.

“But here is your golden chance to get that love you need and deserve! With lord Eros’s help we were finally reunited! To become one as preordained” Icha said in a matter a fact tone, he buried his face to your exposed neck taking in a deep whiff. Sighing in pure pleasure of finally having you in his grasp.

“I’m all yours, and you’re all mine. I can give you whatever you need. I’ll make sure you’re never left aching” The shaking in your body slowly quelled to a stop. Your brain registering his honeyed words, god you were so desperate to even consider this. Icha noticed you relaxing and merely smiled pressing chaste kisses down your neck savoring the taste of your flesh.

“Don’t you see? You’re already the reason for the life I breathe everyday. You’re my soulmate! We just need to make it official!”

You barely even knew this guy who was promising you eternal happiness. But you didn’t really care at this point you just wanted to be loved. You gripped the knife tightly tears welling up from your eyes as you came to a stop at the crumpled figure of the Heretic. Icha lovingly caressing you and talking you through your nerves like a lullaby.

“All you need to do is take the leap of faith with me... I’ll be with you no matter where you lead.”

In the center of the room lies Eros statue. Eyes glowing a faint light. An untraceable wisp of laughter filling Icha’s ears. As The corner of its lips quirked into an unnoticeable smirk of amusement.

#Icha the Cultleader #yandere cult leader #yandere blurb #yandere drabble #yandere writing #yandere concept #yandere stories #yandere killer #obsessive yandere #possessive yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yanderecore #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere boy

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saltoftheearth5x2 · 1 month ago

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And the angels cry, "Holy" All creations cries, "Holy" You are lifted high, holy Holy forever

Everything - all God's creation - points to a creator. The sky, the earth, the ocean, the stars, the universe - they all point to His splendor. This is called, natural revelation.

Yet people still want to deny natural revelation and say that creation was made on accident. Do they really think that our complex systems of life were just an "oops!"?

That's why they're on my prayer list. :)

...

If you have any questions regarding the Christian faith, please ask me in my ask box. I am not a perfect person, but I will try and answer your questions as best as I can. We all have much more to learn, myself included. So please, do not be shy.

#christianity #faith in jesus #jesus christ #christian faith #god #jesus #faith #faith in god #christian blog #Spotify

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leiascully · 25 days ago

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Fic: palimpsest

800 words; M for sexual situations; melancholy Thanksgiving meditations and a lot of gratitude (AO3)

When Mulder moves in her, it’s like poetry. A sestina of seduction, the same gestures endlessly rearranged in pleasing new patterns. She relishes each encounter.

It’s Thanksgiving. They’re in a city. Seattle, she thinks, or Tacoma: mountains and water, hills and rain. They haven’t seen much of it. They’ve been in the hotel. She was bleaching her hair box blonde while Mulder trimmed his beard. She doesn’t always recognize herself when she sees herself in the mirror, but she always knows him.

There’s a all-hours chain diner down the street that promises a Thanksgiving dinner. It’s an IHOP, or a Denny’s maybe. It doesn’t matter. It won’t be the Thanksgiving dinner she would have had at her mother’s house. It won’t be the Thanksgiving dinner they would have had with their son. But that’s for later.

For now, the rain is falling. She left the curtains open so they can see the city lights. It isn’t home, but it feels more vital than the small towns they’ve passed through, each one an echo of the others like the rhymes in a villanelle. They’re in a hotel instead of a motel, floors above street-level. The sheets are crisp and white and the raindrops glisten on the window in strange liminal constellations. Her hair reeks of conditioner. Mulder kisses her throat. His beard scratches against her collarbone. She welcomes the friction, a delicious contrast to the soft heat of his mouth. The scrape of his beard washes pink over her scars and her stretch marks, all the signs of her life since she met him tinted in new shades.

They murmur to each other, barely audible over the patter of the rain and the susurration of the heater. It doesn’t matter; they don’t need words to communicate. He shifts against her, balance and counterbalance. His mouth and his hands trace the shape of her and she understands herself in the context of his touch. It’s a palimpsest: pleasure overwriting pain. She spreads herself wide for him and he sinks in deep. His movement is as measured as a sonnet, a rhythm as familiar as her heartbeat. He strokes her face. She kisses the ball of his thumb.

All this time later and she still feels such profound gratitude when he touches her. His tenderness seems infinite; she’s never found its bounds. She flings love into the well of him and never hears an echo. Despite everything. All those years of holding him at arm’s length and he never gave up on her. Their misunderstandings were often mutual, but she seemed to feel their cumulative effects more deeply. It made her prickly for a while, a wounded thing, but his arms were open when she was ready to walk into them.

He caresses her like a prayer. She says the rosary; he touches each knob of her vertebrae, counts the bones of her wrists and ankles. He is her miracle. He was taken from her and returned to her. He gave her the child she longed for, even if they couldn’t keep him. Mulder has vexed her and contradicted her, but he’s never failed her. She’s always had the strength of his beliefs, a force more powerful than anything she’s encountered.

She tries to convey her awe with her body. She touches him with fingertips that tremble. She opens herself for him, welcomes him, urges him on. She shows him how much she enjoys him. Her hands and her lips say the things she has no words for. He is unlike anyone she’s ever known, unlike anyone she’s ever touched. His skin under hers is a revelation. How beautifully he’s knit together: the logic of his body overwhelms her, the smooth muscle and his long beautiful bones. He is more than the sum of his parts, but the parts are so lovely, and they denied themselves this joy for so long.

What did I do to deserve this, she thinks, and only realizes she’s murmured it when he responds.

“You gave me everything,” he says. “I couldn’t offer you any less.”

Like the legend of Thanksgiving, their history is filled with half-truths and loose ends, but the beauty is in what they make of it. A holiday can have blood at the bone. A feast can be $8.99 a plate with all the trimmings. A family can be two lonely people far from home. A future can be rootless, as long as they have each other.

Here is the truth of the moment: Mulder and Scully, floating entwined above a strange city, giving thanks for each other, gasping adulation. She holds him so tightly, counting his breaths like iambic pentameter, intimacy become art. She exalts him; the lights in his eyes are stars to guide her home.

#leiascully fic #my fic #msr fic #the xfiles fic

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wifetomegatron · 1 year ago

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one hundred and one nights (overlord/reader)

summary : reader gets abducted by overlord. he has an infatuation. pairing : overlord (idw) / afab! reader fandom : transformers idw continuity, more than meets the eye rating : e for explicit and mild descriptions of gore & dubious consent, minors don’t interact (mdni!), not safe for work (nsfw!) warnings : descriptions of violence, references to human disembodiment, human!reader, smut, sticky sexual interfacing tags : a lot of references to fairytail / folklore, mostly one-hundred and one nights & this goyard painting.

I. You've heard stories about him. Luna two, Garrus-nine, Hell's point. Albeit not from Swerve, or Chromedome, or Rodimus — that would be ridiculous. Impossible, even, when his name is already non-existent in the space of a ship big enough to fit thousands of Cybertornians. Not even a whisper, as if people were afraid that a slip of his name would be mistaken for a prayer and he would come to life, emerging from the shadowy corners of the Lost Light. Optics, sickly artificial red as they burn holes through the veil. But not even Primus would be as cruel as to materialize Overlord here. At least, you had hoped.

Only several nights before were you and Ratchet discussing him. The doctor knew you deserved an explanation for what transgressed over the weekend with Fort Max, Whirl, and Rung. On who he was, what he has done, and what he will continue to do if his spark wasn't sealed in a white vacuum — serpentine green drowning in nothing. The silence stretched for what felt like years, minutes solidifying themselves midair to bake the air thick. And your mouth was dry, face drained of its color. You didn't ask further, choosing to retreat into your room, where you made the last-minute decision to sleep with the lights on.

It was an irrational fear, you thought. To be afraid of someone light years away, deconstructed and stuffed in a box.

And yet here you are, trapped inside a prison chamber with him — limbs suspended, mouth curled into a grin.

II. It was a stupid accident. A stupid, preventable accident that could have been avoided if everyone had just sat down and listened to the noises Red Alert had been talking about. Their audials would have picked up the voices, the whispers, traveling through a crack big enough for you to slip into. Down the rabbit hole, you fell very slowly before hitting your shoulders square against the crown of Overlord’s head. Slipping ungracefully down an arm, and into the palm of his chained hand. You should have never taken directions from Whirl, because God knows how long it’ll take for the crew members to realize you were gone. And how many seconds left do you have to live, considering that you had conveniently fallen into his grip? A curse. A gift.

“What’s this?” He asked aloud. A dragon waking from his slumber, voice heavy as they echo throughout metal walls, “ Hm. They brought me a plaything.”

You couldn’t speak. Stunned mute as your head barely manages to recover from the impact. The chains rattled slightly, and he squeezed you — yet you were still intact. Surprisingly whole, save not for a few bruises. He says it’s because he’s bored. And that there’s no fun in having you bleed all over when he can’t clean himself up after.

He demanded you to speak and so you did, finding courage in your voice. Yet it sounded so tiny compared to his. And Overlord reveled in this. The more you tried to prove you weren’t afraid the more he’d tighten his grip, horrified to know that this level of self-restraint had (most likely) earned you a broken rib. You wonder what would happen if he had less motivation to keep you alive.

So you became Scheherazade and spoke softly in between trembling breaths. The boiling temperature inside this circular prison may very well be the Sahara, and if you flutter your eyes shut you can hear the sand dunes sing with the wind. And you lay in a dimly lit room with your new husband, spinning him a story so that he won’t plunge his blade past your sternum — the tip of his silver knife shimmering under firelight as they nick your pulse point. Overlord was your Shahryār, yet you wondered if he was just as curious as the prince or if he was too clever to be outwitted by a story. Most likely the latter. Yet maybe he’s just willing to play along, knowing that he will always be the cat, and never the bird. That there’s only one ending — for he has robbed you of your sunrise and conquered all your dusks— so might as well make it count.

III. But maybe Overlord should’ve killed you. He should’ve snapped you in half, and if the sight would have delighted him into a good mood, it would even be painless, quick. Yet instead, he decided that you were worth more than that. This cat wanted to play with his food. Wanted to hear it sing. And so he performed a massacre and took you with him.

At least it spared Chromedome the pain of having Rewind aboard the compartment with Overlord. Instead, he had you. And ever since then you've been drifting, deeper and deeper into darkness. Swallowed by the void of space, where nothing seems to glow brighter than his optics.

IV. You continued telling him stories. It became the only thing you knew how to do, rather than the only thing that kept you alive. You were now at an abandoned spaceport, where your captor sought temporary refuge. It conveniently hovered above the organic civilization living below on Saturn. He jokes about colonizing them, yet you didn't laugh, quietly staring at the man Overlord just squished under his foot. He must've been a routine worker sent to check the premises. He could have alerted the planet below. And could've called for help.

Bile was rising into the back of your throat.

Maybe he came with a friend. Or maybe Overlord had their way with them already. As you silently wept, you turned the other way — opting to blankly stare past the window. You can see his reflection approaching, the metal beneath you tremble with each step.

" What did I say about your crying?" He crooned, a digit forcefully dragging your chin upwards. You tried to be defiant, to puff out your cheeks and stop your lips from trembling. Yet there was blood on his armor, sprayed across his face. And now there were some on your cheek, wet and sticky, enough to make the tears fall faster.

Then, amid the silence that has crowded the room, between the background hums and noises coming from the machine arose the subtle, clicking noise of a cooling fan. He pushed the tip of his thumb against your bottom lip, the red shade of his optics burning into a deep shade of garnet.

" Look at me when you cry," He commanded, " I want to see it."

V. You told him a story of the Roman titan who devoured his sons one by one — afraid they’d overthrow him. Eat or be eaten, was that what Megatron thought when he installed a killswitch in his head? You hoped this would flatter him. It did. A little too much.

VI. You usually don't talk when he's inside of you. When his spike is stretching you almost too painfully, you never make conversation, it is always the sound of your shallow breathing and his indulgent moaning, mingling together in the air. He didn't force you, no. A part of you had wanted this. Out of sheer fear or stress, you're not sure.

Either way, it's safe to say that Overlord doesn't want you dead anytime soon. Yet he's starting to get bored. Or rather, tired, of wanting. Of fighting this internal disgust in himself for ever thinking of having you like this: underneath him, writhing and struggling to have him all the way to the hilt. He has always been more glutton than prideful. And so here you two were, with his mass displaced yet hands still big enough to cover the expanse of your back — thumbs draped against your nipples. Squeezing, circling. His optics leered at the hickeys and bruises loitering your skin. He has a fascination with how they turn purple and bleed red, sometimes blooming into blue before fading. You tell him as long as he's gentle enough not to break anything, he's more than welcome to have you like this.

As insatiable as he is, that was enough for him.

" If I had known...organics were this pliant. I would have gotten myself a plaything eons ago."

He roughly snapped his hips upwards, dragging you against the berth.

" Sing for me."

Nothing made sense anymore. Not when he has you by the talons like a wild animal, hunched over to devour its prey. Atoms would condense and cluster and sink onto your skin, crowding you with heat from the brutal pace he's setting. You're afraid he'd snap your hip as he hikes up your right leg. Angling you, using you, to his pleasure. And there is pleasure out of this for you too, molten liquid tightening around your abdomen. So you indulge him. He likes seeing you cry, and so you did. Begging, whining — which only causes him to hold you closer to his chassis. The thrum of his spark against you is loud enough to send you into a headache.

It's too much. You wanted to say. But you know it's futile. So as you reached your high — spent and overstimulated from this newfound obsession of his — you could do nothing but brace yourself for the rush of trans fluid spilling down your legs. Your cunt, sore and aching as he finally pulls away.

He says you're funner this way. That's the closest thing you'll get to a sunrise.

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destieltropecollection · 2 years ago

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DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023 | DAY 3 | S15 Fix Its

i wanna be your lover fighter | @angelwiththeblue-box

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,056 Main Tags/Warnings: Fix-It, Major Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, AU, Happy Ending, Summary: what if dean is the one who confesses first?

There's Something About Jenny | @whichstiel

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,965 Main Tags/Warnings: Jenny the vampire, Time travel Summary: A fix-it for the finale.

Heavenly | @sunshine-zenith

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,864 Main Tags/Warnings: Past Major Character Death/Set In Heaven, Post s15ep20, happy ending, humor, minor angst, Cas has some self worth issues Summary: Cas has been avoiding Dean in heaven, despite Dean's best efforts to find some information on the guy. The others made a point to bash over his head how Dean and Castiel had apparently been in love and could have been together for over a decade if he had just gotten his head out of his ass sooner (again, super unfair. It takes two to make up destiel, and it's not like Cas had been rushing to declare his undying love until just before he died for the last time. Unless you count that other time in the barn where he thought he was dying, but the angel totally chickened out when he backtracked with his “I love you all.” This wasn’t all on Dean, and he was taking that fact to the- well. Not grave. They’re all a little past that at that point). Luckily, eventually, Cas comes to him.

Sit in the Presence of the Sun | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Mature Word Count: 3,125 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Season/Series 15, Angst, Suicide Attempt, Major Character Undeath, Sad Dean Winchester, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Misunderstandings, Winged Castiel (Supernatural), Selectively Mute Dean Winchester, Angel Castiel Summary: “Why wouldn’t Dean want to see you?” “When I…” Castiel very deliberately continues watching the sun instead of Sam. “I’m not comfortable discussing this with you. I’m sorry.” “Okay…?” “It’s fine. Jack has already informed me that Dean doesn’t want any of us to bother him.” Now Sam groans. “Really? No, Cas! Dean doesn’t wanna see me or Jack! I’m pretty sure he just didn’t believe Jack when we tried telling him you’re back, and he fucking - escaped from the hospital when I wasn’t there and took off for Jody’s! He never said he doesn’t want to see you!” Castiel shakes his head. “That doesn’t matter. I… when I protected him in the dungeon, there’s no way around the fact that my actions were extremely upsetting for him. He doesn’t want to see me.”

There'll be peace when you are done - are you done? | @brainfuzz

Rating: General Word Count: 3,216 Main Tags/Warnings: Fix-it fic, no warnings apply Summary: Canon compliant right to the shitty end, and then goes and explains all the gaps and why that's not the end.

These Words Are All We Have (We’ll Be Talking) | @sunshine-zenith

Rating: Mature Word Count: 3,625 Main Tags/Warnings: Injury, Blood, Hurt Cas, Crying Cas and Dean, Dean has Self Worth Issues, Human Cas (S15 fix it), Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Bittersweet Ending Summary: When the Empty comes to collect Cas, Dean doesn't let it take him. The aftermath of this leaves Cas without his Grace and with a bleeding cut across his throat, and Dean questioning his worthiness of Cas's love.

this is the only thing i’ve ever had any faith in | @watchinghimrakeleaves

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,760 Main Tags/Warnings: season 15 fix it, post canon, human cas, retired hunter dean winchester Summary: The world is safe, Dean and Cas own a bar on the beach, and Dean is ready to ask Cas for something he could have never imagined he was allowed to have.

Devotional | @whichstiel

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,034 Main Tags/Warnings: The Empty, Resurrection Summary: A devotional is a little meditative prayer centered around a story. We start with THE WORD, follow up with a story, and walk away with a little revelation to ponder. I give you Castiel’s devotionals.

Signal | @diminuel

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 7,176 Main Tags/Warnings: S15 Fix-It, Interdimensional phone calls, Resurrected Castiel (Cas is still an angel), Crack Treated Seriously, Happy Ending, Fluff, Requited Love Summary: When the Empty grabbed Castiel he was prepared for this to be the end of him. There would be no more resurrections, no more loopholes, nothing but eternal sleep. But then his phone rings, piercing through the oblivion and Cas is wide awake. Turns out he’s got cell service in the Empty.

it's not a miracle you need | @brillemos

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 7,711 Main Tags/Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, First Kiss Summary: Jack refuses to help save Cas from the Empty. Dean has no clue how to do it and enlists Sam and Eileen's help. It turns out the answer was within Cas all along, but getting there isn't easy.

how fast the night changes (WIP) | @closetoyou1970

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7,915 Main Tags/Warnings: Season 15 Fix-It, Dean Rescues Cas From The Empty, New Relationship, Road Trip, Retirement, Grieving and Healing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angel Cas Endgame Summary: Cas is back from the Empty, but Dean is still too traumatized by watching him die to set foot back in the bunker. With no apocalypse on the horizon and with a deathbed love confession still hanging heavy in the air between them, Dean suggests his go-to idea: that the pair of them take off together and drive around the backroads of flyover country until they figure it out. (Post-series road trip fic.)

if you ran away, just come home | @heller-castiel

Rating: No Rating Word Count: 9,172 Main Tags/Warnings: Grief/Mourning, Selectively Mute Dean Winchester, Woman in White Dean Winchester, Canonical Character Death, Fix-it, Angst With a Happy Ending, Human Castiel Summary: Dean wandered, after. The night that Chuck died, subsumed into Amara, he had silently climbed into his car in the dead of night, walking past Jack's room, past Sam's room. In his room, Sam laid in his bed with Eileen, and felt the air displace itself around where Dean slipped past in the hallway, instincts attuning him to movement just as they made Dean move soundlessly, without a thought to it. but Dean didn’t think of that. Dean only thought of moving, getting out, going - Going to something the bunker couldn’t be, anymore. Something he couldn’t ever go to. But he had to go.

Know And Understand | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 10,387 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Episode AU: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Time Travel, Episode: s04e02 Are You There God? It's Me Dean Winchester, Grief/Mourning, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Angel Castiel Summary: The Cas that reappears in the bunker after Chuck is defeated isn't their Cas. After supposedly being taken by the Shadow, Castiel has no idea why he immediately crash-lands in Bobby Singer's wrecking yard just days after Dean was raised from Hell. Jack is just trying to fix everything and surprisingly, Gabriel turns out to be really good at damage control. In both times, Sam has no idea what the hell's going on anymore and at this point he's almost too scared to ask.

I would do anything for love... but I won't do that | @startswitheff

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 11,001 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Canon Fix-It, Dean Winchester Uses Actual Words, Eventual Smut, Human!Castiel, Top!Castiel, Bottom!Dean Winchester Summary: When Dean pulls Castiel from the Empty, he knows he wants to be by his side for the rest of his life. But is he ready for everything that entails? Otherwise known as the “and that’s how…” fic.

Summer Blues | @deanabean

Rating: Mature Word Count: 11,193 Main Tags/Warnings: Retrospective, Dean Winchester-centric, POV Dean Winchester, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Selectively Mute Dean Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Competent Dean Winchester, yCastiel and Dean Winchester are Jack Kline's Parents, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Canon Fix-It, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester Summary: As Dean sits here alone in the dark of this summer's night, going through some sort of an introspection journey deep down memory lane _ as he’s finding himself doing more and more for a while now _ as he tries his hardest to make sense of things. Of memories. Yes, Dean thinks; hindsight is like looking through a sharp, new set of eyes. Sometimes disorienting, yet the closest thing to crystal clear.

Status quo ante bellum | @angelinthefire

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 11,201 Main Tags/Warnings: human!Castiel, light angst, canon-typical alcohol consumption Summary: Cas is back from the Empty, human, and convinced that his relationship with Dean is unsalvagable. Can Dean get his shit together in time to prove otherwise?

Dean daily | @fellshish

Rating: Mature Word Count: 11,840 Main Tags/Warnings: Epistolatory, denial, social media, fix-it Summary: Cas has been rescued from the Empty. Dean suffers from extreme denial about being in love with him. Epistolary / social media fic with Dean POV snippets for every day.

The Council Of Charlie Bradbury | @pointyearedelvishprincling

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 13,157 Main Tags/Warnings: post 15x18, angel!cas, selective mutism, angst with a happy ending, pov Charlie Bradbury, pov dean winchester, pov castiel, emotional hurt/comfort, LOTR references Summary: It's been a few weeks since Cas got out of the Empty, and Dean can't accept that there's finally peace in the world. Watching the camera footage of the dungeon scene on repeat probably isn't helping. Cas is content to give Dean space to heal, even if the loneliness at the end of the journey is settling in. On the request of Sam, not that she needed an excuse, Charlie spends the night in the Bunker trying to figure out what's going on with these idiots, and getting more answers than she bargained for. With the help of Stevie, she comes up with a plan that might finally bring Dean and Cas together.

something you love (something you lose) | @nessarose-thropp

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 15,308 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Episode: s14e20 Moriah, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Temporary Character Death, Rough Sex, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Suicidal Ideation, Grief/Mourning, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Hopeful Ending, Angel Castiel Summary: “Story's over,” Chuck says, “Welcome to The End.” And with that everything goes dark and cold. The darkness and rot of souls and bodies surrounds them. He doesn’t dare touch Jack again, just stares at his lifeless body lit only by unnatural moonlight. He’s vaguely aware of the threat slowly encircling them, but none of it matters. Nothing matters anymore. Somewhere, something deep inside of him-not his earthly body but his true angel self-awakens. It’s a type of power and heat he hasn’t felt in years. It’s uncontrollable and unforgiving. Light and righteousness and fury coalescing into something terrifying. Castiel lets out a scream, an anguished cry from his human mouth and a piercing angelic shriek, and with it releases whatever it was that had been growing within him. When he feels it leave, his consciousness finally returns to the present, to the Earth and to his vessel and to Sam and Dean and to Jack and it’s light out again. The sun is shining just as it was minutes ago, and there is no sign of any dark forces around them. No ghosts, no zombies, no demons, just two men, an angel, and the body of a dead Nephilim. - Jack is gone, Chuck is in the wind, and Cas must find a way to cope.

The Little Issue with the Mission to Perdition | @amaranthhiding

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 16,460 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, Post-Ep 15x19, Jack & Amara family bonding, Jack and Amara Try Fixing Things Together but Make Everything Worse, Team Free Will 3.0, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Castiel/Dean First Kiss, POV Alternating (Jack, Amara, Dean, Sam, Castiel) Summary: Chuck is defeated and his power now belongs to Jack and Amara. They struggle with adjusting to their newly-shared existence, and with big questions such as, how can (almost) all-powerful beings avoid becoming what Chuck was? What even is all that power good for when it doesn't allow Jack to save someone from the Empty who absolutely deserves being saved? Who thought it was a good idea to hand all that power to two beings who, together, have spent less years on Earth than the average human child? ...And why is there suddenly black goo everywhere?

In the Rolling Up of Sleeves | @the-elf-barbarian

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 20,344 Main Tags/Warnings: S15 fix it Cas is human/in heaven, Dean and Cas are dead/in heaven, Canon typical Alcohol Abuse, Canon typical reference to Child Abuse, Domestic Fic, Magical Realistic Heaven, Failure to communicate, The Unrelenting Search for Happiness, Hurt/Comfort but like... for Us Summary: When Cas arrives in heaven, sometime after sacrificing himself to the Empty - he and Jack realize just how wrong Chuck got it when he built heaven. And, just how much work they have in store to prepare heaven for the arrival of those they love. Meanwhile, in the wake of Chuck’s defeat, Dean finds a way to forge a life with this new, more free, world while grappling with the knowledge of Cas’s true feelings. When they finally meet in heaven, will they finally get the afterlife they deserve - learning and building, to make the Heaven they have spent so long fighting for - or will Cas’s fears about how he escaped from The Empty endanger it all? What was that, wayward sons, about there being peace when you were done?

to the wonder of all things | @hauntedpearl

Rating: General Word Count: 21,164 Main Tags/Warnings: Fix-It, Empty rescue, Hell rescue, Flashbacks, Angel!Cas, Love Confessions, First Kiss Summary: The Empty puts Castiel to sleep. The sound of prayer wakes him up. He follows this call echoing through the void and relives pieces of his life as he journeys towards the voice — towards freedom. Towards Dean.

One Week Later | @squirrelofcelestialintent

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 23,208 Main Tags/Warnings: Panic attacks, alcohol as a coping mechanism, bisexual dean, internalized homophobia, switching, gentle dom cas, identity crisis, graceless/human Castiel, discussions of sex work Summary: “Touch-starved”. It’s one of those terms (along with “alcoholic” and “abused child”) that Dean has worked very hard to keep on the other side of the big fat concrete wall in his brain. The one that, until now, only weakens when he’s truly, deeply shit-faced. But Cas has made a career out of breaking through Dean’s walls, it only makes sense that he’d tear this one down too, if he just died enough times. Ripped Dean’s heart out just enough so that the foundations of family and duty and sacrifice can crumble and leave Dean even more of a desperate, black hole of need than he was before. Chuck is dead, and Cas… Cas is back. And Dean is supposed to be happy. It’s time to decide what he wants to do with the rest of his life. But how can he do that, when every time he’s not physically touching Cas he starts to have a panic attack that none of this is real, and it’s all just another one of Chuck’s games? Who knows. So, he lets himself touch Cas. Constantly. It’s that or face a complete, Chernobyl-scale meltdown. At least Cas doesn’t seem to mind.

there's no cell service in the afterlife | @payphoneangel

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 27,404 Main Tags/Warnings: finale fix-it, Angst with a Happy Ending, Alcoholism, Family Dynamics, Jack Kline is Not God, Suicidal Thoughts, Empty deal, Blood and Injury, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Masturbation Summary: Castiel is resurrected from The Empty. While Dean is recovering from casting the spell that brought him back, Cas checks his voicemail. Turns out, they both just might be able to say what it is they want.

Inherit the Earth | @malicmalic

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 29,167 Main Tags/Warnings: S15 fix it, Castiel Lives, First kiss, MPreg, TopCas/Bottom Dean, comfort, Jack is God, Light angst, Fluff, Happy ending. Summary: Prompt: Cas and Dean deal with a surprise pregnancy. Or the one where the world didn't end, Jack defeated Chuck and Dean and Cas got their happily ever after.

The Blood Curse | @labgeek2002

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 32,690 Main Tags/Warnings: Angel Cas, post season 15 fix-it, internalized homophobia, time travel Summary: Castiel has been rescued from the Empty, but the spell used to retrieve him tears a hole in the dimensional wall that acts as barrier protecting Earth from the pull of everlasting darkness. As the Empty feeds off of Castiel's grace to sustain itself, driving him closer to death with every passing minute, Dean becomes desperate to save him. The only way to repair the damage is for Dean, Sam, and Cas to travel back in time to obtain a witch's stone that's in the possession of John Winchester, circa 2002. A twenty-three year old Dean Winchester will serve as their guide as they navigate the tumultuous father-son relationship that transcends time itself before the Empty draws its final curtain.

Buffer Time | @sunshine-zenith

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 42,728 Main Tags/Warnings: Referenced to past character death (minor and major), slight psychological horror, sexual humor, mental health issues, Fusion/AU Hopping, everyone needs hugs, s15 fix it, Angel Cas, Happy Ending Summary: When Dean wakes up in his town's jailcell with a disoriented Cas, he happily roles with it. Sure, he knows he'll be the laughing stock of the town for a few days -- what deputy locks himself in his own jailhouse? -- but as long as Cas is there, things are fine. Until he realizes his memory is unusually fuzzy. Until Cas starts acting strange and morose. Until he starts having brief flashes of Cas being taken from him by an inky black entity. Until Cas starts talking about plot holes and tropes. Until he wakes up by a fire in the woods, on a quests to fight a dragon --no wait, in an ambulance, late for his shift as a surgeon-- no wait- Dean's just trying to figure out why he and Cas keep waking up in different genres and why Cas seems so distant, while Sam works with Eileen, Gabriel, and a few others to do the same on the other side of a laptop. (WandaVision inspired finale fix-it)

Creatures of Light | @aishitara

Rating: Mature Word Count: 44,075 Main Tags/Warnings: Angel!Cas, temporary MCD, temporary canonical MCD, canon-typical depictions of violence, Castiel and Dean Winchester have a profound bond, angst with a happy ending, creature!Cas, trueform!Cas, surrealism, non-linear storytelling, love confessions, heavy reliance on scenes from potentially triggering episodes of season 15. Summary: Dean is in Heaven. He’s got everything he could ever want at his fingertips, a literal eternity of peace laid before him for the having, but he can’t help thinking — how can it really be his Heaven if Cas isn’t there? Then one day, Dean goes for a drive. And at the end of it he finds something he truly did not expect. Another chance, maybe, to find Cas and confront him about his parting words to Dean. To figure out what it is he wants and to take it, for once, without guilt or shame. Another chance to live free.

And Neither Do You | @withclawsandsympathy

Rating: Mature Word Count: 45,309 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, POV Dean, bi Dean, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dean Winchester is Loved, Body Horror, Horror, Character Death Fix, Fox-It, Quote: Family Don’t End With Blood (Supernatural), Angel!Cas, Finale Rewrite Summary: “Come, now,” he heard Cas rasp. It wasn’t coming from the phone anymore, but from right outside the door. Dean lowered the phone and took a hesitant step forward, his bare foot sinking into the damp, rotting carpet. “Cas, what’s wrong? I don’t … You’re not making any sense.” “I have something for you,” Cas said, and this time it came as a whisper in a language Dean didn’t know, yet somehow understood. Dean froze in his tracks, his hand hovering just over the doorknob. He wanted so desperately for it to be Cas on the other side of this door, but he knew deep down that something was horribly, horrifically wrong. The rise of a new, hands-off God has unintended consequences, and the promise of free will reaches further than anyone intended. In the absence of the one who'd locked them away, and beneath the cracked and abused surface of the Midwest, an Old God stirs. Here, death is not the peace you're looking for, and there's one person left to save. Or: family don't end in blood, and neither does Dean Winchester.

Finally (WIP) | @nanianela

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 70,698 Main Tags/Warnings: Season/Series 15, Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy, Canon Compliant, Fix-It, Soul Bonds, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Post-Finale, Engaged Castiel/Dean Winchester, Magical Pregnancy Summary: Castiel manages to escape the Empty, but on borrowed time. Before he hands over his grace, he accidentally forges an angelic bond to Dean, his new life mate, and grace tainted with humanity has no place in the angel afterlife. The bond forces Dean and Cas to navigate new waters, as they can now see into each other’s minds and feel what the other feels. Grace sex between Dean’s soul and Cas’s grace becomes a new normal in the couple’s lives, until it causes something they never thought possible...

Carve a Palace From Within | @norahastuff

Rating: Mature Word Count: 75,930 Main Tags/Warnings: Background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, mention of canon Cas/Djinn queen, 15x20 doesn't exist (except to dunk on), Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Introspection for everybody, The Power Of Love, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx Mixtape, Billie is not a villain (this one's important to me), I will drag these idiots to the beach if it kills me, Cas is something between angel and human Summary: The world is saved, Chuck has been defeated, and with the help of Amara and Jack, they managed to rescue Cas from the Empty. It's over. It's all over. So, what now? Sam wants to continue on as a Man of Letters and help other hunters and Dean and Cas want to open up a Roadhouse-style bar, but old habits die hard, and it’s surprisingly easy to fall back into their established routine of monsters and hunting - that is until they run into trouble on a case and have to take a step back and evaluate what’s truly important. Just when it seems like things are finally falling into place, an old friend returns and they discover there's still one of Chuck’s messes they need to clean up. The cosmic forces at the top may have a plan to fix it, but it’s Dean who will have to play the pivotal role. In order to do so, he’ll have to confront his past, face up to who he really is and acknowledge just how far he's willing to go to get the job done. One thing’s for sure, though: this is their story and he refuses to let it end as a tragedy. They deserve better. They’ve earned the chance to be free.

Forget your perfect offering | @angelinthefire

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 81,785 Main Tags/Warnings: fix-it, angel!cas, top castiel/bottom dean winchester, angelic grace sex, minor homophobia, angel family, dadstiel, canon-typical alcohol use, panic attack, happy ending Summary: Cas was resurrected. Dean told Cas that he loves him, that he can have everything he wanted, but Cas has to stay with him. Cas promised that he would. The thing is, he didn’t realize how literal Dean was being. Now, Cas works on rebuilding Heaven with the angels, while he builds a new life with Dean. Neither of those things are as easy as Cas would have liked.

There Are Roads Left in Both of Our Shoes | @hawkland

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 117,878 Main Tags/Warnings: human!Cas, series fixit, road trip, nightmares, emotional hurt/comfort, switching Dean/Cas, soul bonds Summary: What happens when Cas wakes up in the Empty a second time, and rescues his own damn self? At first, it seems like the happy ending Dean thought he’d lost his chance to ever know. But as the two set out on a celebratory road trip and begin enjoying their new life together, there’s a darkness clinging to Cas that refuses to completely let go. They may need to make an altogether different kind of journey in order to put the past fully behind them. And meanwhile, where is Jack, anyway?

Beyond This Illusion | @skybird87

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 161,339 Main Tags/Warnings: Post Finale, Human Cas, Internalized Homophobia, Coming Out, Homophobic Language, Top Dean, Bottom Cas, Panic Attacks, Team as Family, Slow Burn Summary: “Are you serious, Dean? Your djinn-dream started with you dying?” Sam asks incredulously from the passenger. “Well, technically it started with us going on a hunt,” Dean points out. He licks his lips, jaw clenching. “I mean, there was Heaven, too, and that was pretty cool.” Sam stares at him. “Sorry, man, but that just sounds pretty lame.” He leans back and folds his arms. “Kinda sounds like something Chuck would cook up. Just you and me. No one else. I mean, really?” *~*~* In which some people come back, Cas learns to be human (the right way, this time), Dean Winchester finally realizes that good things do happen, and they all get their version of the post-credits, apple-pie life they deserved. AKA: Screw Chuck's narrative.

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2023 #destiel #fanfic #s15 fix its #day 2

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dalgursbate · 3 months ago

Text

Snippet Sunday Thursday Friday

tagged by the exquisite @lyzelky over on my main account (@molgars)

I've got a few irons in the fire right now, so I'll post two of them.

This first one is from chapter 2 of Hymnals, Major and Minor, an Aylin/Isobel/Shadowheart post-canon fic about them dating the wrong way 'round:

The next day, Isobel is sitting on the loveseat knitting when Shadowheart approaches, plopping down gracelessly on the couch beside her. “So, when are you taking me out, darling angel mine?” “Technically, Aylin is the angel.” A sly smile plays at the corner of the other woman’s lips, though she doesn’t look up from her work. Shadowheart hums. “Is that so? I must have been confused on account of how radiant your beauty is.” Isobel snorts and casts a sideways glance at her. “Those sorts of lines work often for you, do they?” “These days? All the time.” Shadowheart grins broadly. “Blessedly, my girlfriends don’t seem to mind my lack of taste.” “Oh, I wouldn’t say you lack taste,” Isobel muses, her gaze returning to the busy movements of her clever hands. “Personally, I think your taste is exquisite.” Despite all the time they’ve spent together, Shadowheart still finds herself flushing at the insinuation. “You didn’t answer the question,” she says. “Well-spotted.” The corner of Isobel’s mouth twitches again, and Shadowheart knows that she’s taking great joy in her coyness. “How much free time do you have this coming tenday?” “All of my time is free time right now, dearest.” “Excellent,” her partner says, as though she didn’t already know. “Then we shall prepare to leave for our journey tomorrow.” “Journey?” Shadowheart arches an eyebrow. “Are you taking me on a honeymoon for our first date?” “Darling, don’t tell me you underestimated my propensity for grand gestures,” Isobel places a hand atop her heart in mock offense. “It would wound me so very deeply.” Shadowheart rolls her eyes affectionately. “You’re so dramatic.” “You love that about me,” Isobel says confidently, because she’s correct. “But we’re not going on a honeymoon; we’re going on a journey.” “And what does that mean, precisely?” “I suppose you’ll simply have to find out,” she responds, tone ominous. Shadowheart just laughs fondly and wraps an arm around her, pulling her in by the waist. There is no hesitation in the way that Isobel abandons her knitting to come to her, and Shadowheart marvels at how intoxicating it is that she’s allowed to do this. That she’s allowed to kiss this revelation of a woman, softly and soundly, afforded the privilege of tracing the familiar contours of her mouth at an unhurried pace. She doubts she will ever tire of it.

I will tag @again-please @shewhowas39 @renyerokami @moonlesbianlover and @capriclonus, as well as anyone who wants to do it! and under the cut will be a QUITE EXPLICIT teaser of the next chapter of to forgive is human and failure is divine

The next day ends like this: Shadowheart face-down on a stranger’s bare mattress, her ass in the air as she’s pounded over and over again by a shapely piece of silicon. Her fingers arch like talons, scrambling for purchase on the box spring, while pitiful cries spill from her throat in some kind of obscene hymnal. A firm hand traces the knobbly, underfed length of her spine—reminiscent of how she used to run her fingers over prayer beads, so many lifetimes ago—and a low, gravelly voice coos and murmurs encouragement about how much more she can take, how much further she can be pushed. It ends with her stretched to bursting, begging for mercy, half-crazed and desperate for a release she keeps being denied. But it begins with Shadowheart waking up to her phone alarm at 10 a.m., groggy and disoriented by the dizzy-bright sunlight streaming in through her apartment’s only window. Before she can return to The Grove, before she can make herself a fool once more for a shitty gith with an attitude problem, she has to get herself through another day where she struggles to accomplish anything worthwhile. She sighs, rubbing the heels of her palms so hard into her eyes that little starbursts of red dance behind her lids. The only way out is through, she reminds herself wearily. And Gods, do I want to get out.

#bg3 #my fic #shadowheart #isobel thorm #bg3 isobel #shadowheart x isobel x aylin #lae'zel #shadowheart x lae’zel #shadowzel

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pansexual-chocolate · 4 months ago

Note

🍻 for old hobbies for Edoaurd/Olrox!

(I'd be curious what are your headcanons for this!)

Thank you @xshingie for the ask. I cant wait to finish this one as well I do have some good head canon's here. This one is a fun one. Just two guys having a chat and getting to know each other.

-Giovanni Buonaccorsi (fl. 1651–1674) 🍻 - Snippet of an old hobby....

“Delicious,” Olrox lets slip.

“Isn’t it? Clairin Sajous. Even though I know she never wants to see another sugar cane again in her life. I am so glad Annette found the storage when she killed Vaublanc. She couldn’t move all of it, of course. But she brought back a box, and she showed it to me. I just followed the urge to make this,” Edouard explains as he lets out a cozy sigh.

Olrox takes the next jar from Edouard and downs the last drink before opening the next one.

“I’ll thank her too. So, the lessons are working then?” Olrox asks.

Edouard shoots a look at Olrox, which makes the vampire release a chortle at how much attitude is behind it. He had not interacted with Edouard a lot. The only other time is one time they teamed up and catching tail ends of these “lessons”.

The appeasing, soft-spoken liar in public was holding back a charming yet cocky asshole underneath.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m sure it all helps. I don’t get all the talk behind it when Alucard explains things. But it always feels like searching for someone who’s not there anymore. I received two exorcisms, you know? For two weeks straight, I endured water being thrown at me and prayers being yelled as I remained on my knees. It was disappointing when it didn’t have its intended effect to suddenly fully that guy. I just ended up horny as fuck.” Edouard laughs,

“What?!” Olrox laughs out.

The vampire wondered when this happen and can imagine the perpetrators in this rebellion that took part in that bad idea. The sadder Edouard explains, the funnier the situation as he lets his imagination run wild.

Edouard continues to laugh and waves it off his prayer kink revelation before downing the drink halfway.

It’s silent for a bit as Olrox drinks but watches the night creature have a look of contemplation on the jar.

“I used to do this back home because I wanted to be like Giovannino Buonaccorsi. An African singer of the Italian Medici court. A hero of mine that made me love the art of singing and opera. I had a huge crush on this long-dead man. Anything I could get my hands on to read about him, I collected. Once I read, he took a drink before every show. So, I started doing the same. That’s how I determined I was to be like him. That was a terrible idea. Quit doing that, my third show.” Edouard started confessing. Looks surprised at himself for remembering it.

Olrox listens and wonders if he should get someone to hear this breakthrough he’s listening to. Feels too intimate a memory for someone like him to witness.

He feels the heavy stinging in his chest spread. Numbing him to feel floaty but anchored and yet really able to feel around him. His eyes gaze slightly distracted, to look around and notices things are brighter and a yet quieter.

Holds a smile until he hears shifting and there’s a delay in his response, but his eyes shift back to Edouard, who he is expecting to talk about that sound.

He watches the night creature crawling toward him on all fours and realizes Edouard is making the noise. Narrows his gaze at the action and thinks about how much history rhymes with the last time Edouard was crawling to him.

Had the same thought then that he does now about the singer. An awe to witness. It was nice to meet the man and if Edouard were to kill him here and now, he wouldn’t be so upset.

Who wouldn’t want to kill the man who slept with the man who aided in your imprisonment? He sure would. He Isn’t sure that’s not what’s on the night creature’s mind as Edouard gets closer.

Seen the force of Edouard’s punch cause whole bodies to explode, and he’s twice as quick as him so there would be no outrunning him.

Olrox can out fight him with experience but not in this state. So he closes his eyes and prepares for what punishment may come. Only opens when he feels a weight on his lap.

“You’re still soaking wet. I’m sorry.” Edouard mutters into the vampire’s thigh.

Olrox chooses to just focus on finishing his third jar. Knowing he has one drink left, puts his hand in the bucket Edouard kindly dragged along. Opens his fourth and sees one last jar in the bucket.

Surveying the circle, he counts three jars neatly grouped next to him and four individual scattered behind Edouard.

He looks down at the inebriated night creature and, with his curiosity piqued. He lets his hand slide across the long smooth strong bone white horns to the golden tips. Then, reaching in between the horns, gently caresses Edouard’s tight curls.

“Don’t be. I was following you.“ Olrox states.

“Why?” Edouard softly inquires.

“Curious. I noticed you were lying to get away from everyone, and I had never seen you do that before. Little did I know you were just stressed.” Olrox admitted.

Edouard sits up and gets eye level with Olrox.

“What did you think? Did he finally get taken over and go on a killing spree? You’re not the first one to have those thoughts. I see the stares from everyone. Even Alucard is wary of my salvation, as he helps with all this mind stuff. It’s okay if you’re scared,” Edouard speaks with an accepted inevitability.

Feeling challenged, Olrox down his fourth drink, grabs Edouard by his jaw, and forces the night creature to look at him.

“Scared of you? With those glistening eyes, soft voice, and supple lips. You’re the least scariest anything I ever seen in all my life, horrible design. Are you even a night creature? What night creature talks so softly like you? I’d make a better night creature than you. I actually strike fear when people see me,” Olrox teases.

He feels like being annoying, so he lightly yet childishly pokes and prods at Edouard’s face. No matter how many times Edouard tries to escape him, he doesn’t let the night creature leave his sight.

“Scared of you? A short old man like you,” Edouard mocks.

Olrox wants to retort, but finds annoying the man to be more effective. The determined pout on the night creature’s face and the extra set of hands protruding from Edouard’s neck, mimicking furrowed brows, captivate him too much.

“You’re drunk. I’m supposed to be scared. Of someone who can’t handle a drink he made?” Mocking the night creature leaning on him.

“You’re really scary being so worried about my well-being.” Edouard slurs out, laughs, and goes still.

Olrox doesn’t know when it happened, but he feels Edouard’s head on his shoulder, then instinctually wraps his arms around the midsection to hold him up and close.

He should fly them back to the cottage. But he knows that’s a bad idea when he sees five Edouard’s and starts to genuinely feel sad because he can’t carry all five of them.

Edouard’s body feels like a furnace, so he leans in the night creatures neck for comfort and solace, and lets out a satisfied hiss when gets lost in the heat.

It’s not until he hears the vibration of Edouard’s moans. Does he open his eyes, realizing he is in the creature’s hair and takes a sniff.

Yeah, he’s not scared of someone that smells this good and feels this good to hug.

#serpentaria #olrox x edouard #olrox/edouard #edouard x olrox #castlevania olrox #edouard/olrox #castlevania nocturne #castlevania edouard #edolrox #answering asks #answering stuff #🐍🗣️

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whump-card · 1 year ago

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Forged Divinity Chapter 1: Phineas Acquires Leannan

1618 words

CW: institutionalized slavery, religious themes, abuse, implied murder, derogatory language

Masterlist, Next

~~~

Revelation 8:7

The first angel sounded his trumpet, and there came hail and fire mixed with blood, and it was hurled down on the earth. A third of the earth was burned up, a third of the trees were burned up, and all the green grass was burned up.

~~~

The merchant's tent was a fire hazard, that, Phineas knew for sure. The canvas structure hung low, the underside painted with long-since faded suns, moons, and stars. The peeling sky resided over an impossibly huge pile of junk. Trunks, fabrics, clothes, cookware, ancient electronics, blunt weapons, farming tools, window shutters, a bedframe, an armoire. Herbs, spices, and mixes of the two claiming to have magical properties filled jars, cans, pouches, and incense boxes that lined rickety shelves alongside trinkets, baubles, and kitsch. A handful of prayer and psalm biblets, but no other books – never any other books. Lines strung from the shelves to the tent posts hoisted flickering lanterns that barely lit the dark interior.

Phineas drew closer to the herb shelves, doing their best to ignore the sense of impending doom the precarious lanterns evoked. They scanned the shelving with a practiced eye, wasting no time on the many, many distractions around them – until one of those distractions was not a grinning animal skull or rhinestone-backed handmirror, but instead the unmistakable tread of another person.

Phineas was facing him straight on when the person ducked around the shelf into sight. He blinked, surprised by Phineas’ confrontational stance and the unusual weapon they carried, but collected himself quickly.

“Are you finding what you need?” he asked in a smooth, low voice. His tone was obviously loaded, and Phineas didn’t like that. What Phineas didn’t mind, however, was the stranger’s appearance. Everything about him was pleasant, soft, and round – his body, his face, his lips, his pale curls that crowned him in gold. His clothes were simple, ragged, scavenged things, like most people’s, but he wore them with a particular taste for layering and color-matching, making the most out of a range of faded blues. Long sleeved, of course, to protect from the sun. A small golden religious symbol rested on a delicate chain around his neck. His hands hovered in front of his chest, fingers linked. As Phineas continued to unabashedly look him up and down, he smiled and ducked his head.

“Maybe I can help-”

“I’m fine,” Phineas cut him off, snatching a small paper box off a nearby shelf. “Where’s your boss?”

“Oh,” the man laughed, bright and short, “She’s not my boss.”

An obvious cue to ask what their relationship was, then. Phineas ignored it, and started weaving their way through the chaos towards where they’d last seen the merchant.

“Hej, sinjorino!” they called. Their Esperanto vocal habits they’d grown up with in the southern deserts were hard to kick.

“Pafanto?” The merchant answered in kind – another nomad, perhaps, fleeing the heat – and her head popped up from behind a stack of computer parts. “All done?”

Phineas made their way over to her, glancing over their shoulder. The blue and gold man was gone. They met the merchant over a dusty counter.

“Who’s your assistant?” they asked, setting the box down.

“Assistant?” she frowned at first, then smiled knowingly. “Ah, you met Hiram. No, no assistant. He’s a holy Iowan concubine,” she spoke proudly, “Worth a fucking town, that one.”

“I thought the Iowan stock died out.”

“So did I! But he’s got the dark blood and everything.”

“How much?”

She laughed in their face.

“More than you’ve got, pafanto!” Her chuckles slowed. “Unless…” Her eyes drifted over their shoulder.

Phineas’ hand went instinctively to the strap that held the Barrett M95 sniper rifle in place on their back. The weapon loomed over their shoulder like a specter, always watching, always ready. A gun like that was rare. Priceless. It was why the merchant called them ‘gunman,’ revealing that she’d noticed the uncommon weapon the moment they’d walked in. Not that it was hard to notice.

Was it worth a human life?

It had certainly taken plenty.

The merchant could tell they were considering it.

“The gun, and any ammo you have. That’ll get you the Iowan, and your…” she picked up the box, “Henna?”

“What’s he like?” Phineas had already forgotten the name the merchant had used.

“Oh, he’s perfect,” the merchant hummed with a sly smile, “A dream in bed. You know, you’d really be doing me a favor, I need to get rid of him before the season ends and I have to go home to my husband!”

The merchant wasn’t being subtle. The gun was worth more than the Iowan.

“He is…” Phineas wasn’t quite sure what they were asking, “Obedient?”

“Very.”

Phineas took one last look around the tent, huffed a breath, and unslung the weapon from their shoulder. The merchant beamed, yet again giving away the game. Phineas delicately set the gun on the counter and took their tall and hefty backpack off, rooting through it and producing two boxes of ammunition.

“That’s not a lot,” the merchant observed.

“It’s a sniper rifle,” Phineas snarked, “You shouldn’t need a lot.”

~~~

Twenty minutes later Phineas was striding away from the merchant’s tent, the Iowan practically jogging to keep up. He’d managed to pack a meager bag of things that now bounced on his back. Phineas, on the other hand, was feeling strangely unburdened. They didn’t like it. The gun meant safety. The gun meant food. What would they do without it?

They walked through dense pine forests, the trees looming overhead in ominous spikes. The narrow track they followed was dutifully marked out by swipes of white paint on the occasional trunk, left by trailblazers not too long ago. Phineas took a deep, calming breath of the evergreen scent, clearing their head.

“What’s your name?” they asked, without looking back.

“I have been called Hiram for some time now, ma’am – sir? – m – uh,” the Iowan replied breathlessly, “But you may call me what you like!”

“Pick something better than Hiram, or I’ll pick something you won’t like.”

“Oh! Well… If you’re letting me pick, I’m partial to Leannan.”

“Leannan it is. Call me Phineas, and nothing else.” Phineas abruptly turned off the path into the dense woods. They could hear Leannan panting and stumbling behind them, his shoes scraping over roots and snapping every twig underfoot.

Hunting with this thing was going to be a nightmare.

Phineas stopped, shrugging their backpack off and finally turning to look at Leannan. The Iowan staggered to a halt, out of breath and awkward.

“We’ll camp here,” Phineas announced.

“Oh!” Leannan looked around.

“Problem?” snapped Phineas.

“No!” Leannan said quickly, “Only, I have nothing to lie on.” He gestured to Phineas’ bedroll, prominently visible across the top of their backpack.

Phineas shrugged. “It ain’t cold.” The summer air was clear and warm.

They crouched to dig through their backpack, and pulled out two wax-cloth wrapped bundles. They offered one to Leannan.

“Eat.”

Leannan accepted the bundle and unwrapped it, finding it a single ration of a homemade granola bar – dried fruit, nuts, and grains – and jerky. He watched as Phineas sat back against a tree, as easy as can be, munching their own food.

Leannan sank to the ground and sat cross-legged, observing his new master like a hawk.

~~~

Later, as the sky darkened and the birdsong began to shift, they lay side by side on their backs. Leannan was on the ground; Phineas lay atop their thin bedroll.

Knowing they were still awake, Leannan rolled onto his side to face Phineas, propping his head up on one hand.

“Phineas,” he asked in a near-whisper, “Why did you buy me?”

Phineas slowly sighed before mumbling, “Because I wanted to.” They didn’t open their eyes.

“What am I, to you?”

“An annoyance, right now.”

“So, you…” Leannan ventured a hand out to caress Phineas’ shoulder, “Don’t you want to touch me?”

“Mmmnope.”

“So, you… You’re saving me? From the life of a whore?”

“Jes, whatever.”

“But you gave up a gun for me, and I’m so, so grateful, Phineas…” Leannan leaned in and pressed his lips to Phineas’ shoulder.

“God, you’re stupid!” Phineas sat up and swung their arm, backhanding Leannan across the face. Leannan gasped and cowered away.

“I’m not interested in fucking you, you idiotic little slut!” Phineas shouted, “I’m selling you the first chance I get!”

“I’m sorry!” Leannan doubled over on his knees, pressing his forehead into the pine needles. “I’m sorry, Phineas!”

“Go the fuck to sleep,” Phineas growled, lying back down.

Leannan lifted his head. Seeing Phineas had already closed their eyes, he rolled his own with a silent sigh and curled up to sleep on the spot.

At least this one was a traveler. They’d find him a suitable buyer better than that merchant could have, God willing, though Leannan would have to be the one to pick the buyer and put the idea in Phineas’ head. The gunman was a fool for giving up their weapon, they clearly had no business savvy.

Leannan just had to be careful not to trigger another temper tantrum.

God would see him through this.

~~~

When Leannan was shaken awake, he opened his eyes to darkness.

“Up. Up, slut.” Phineas.

Leannan blearily started to push himself upright, but a hand fisted in his hair and yanked. He yelped and scrambled to his feet. Suddenly he was face-to-face with Phineas, their dull reddish-brown hair sticking up in tufts around their head, their warm tan skin cast cold by the wan moonlight, angular features sharp.

Over their shoulder loomed the barrel of their gun. Back in its place.

Leannan knew immediately what had happened, but he blinked in confusion for Phineas’ benefit anyway.

“What…?”

Phineas released Leannan’s curls.

“Follow.” They turned on their heel and headed off into the woods, back towards the trail.

Leannan scooped up his bag and hurried after, stumbling in the dark.

He wouldn’t underestimate Phineas again.

~~~

Masterlist, Next

Taglist: @angst-after-dark, @sunshiline-writes, @flowersarefreetherapy

Let me know if you want on or off the taglist!

#IT'S HERE!! HAPPY NEW YEAR!#whump #whump fic #whump writing #whumblr #whumplr #forged divinity #cw slavery #cw religion #cw abuse #cw murder #cw derogatory language

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albertfinch · 6 months ago

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SEEING BEYOND THE NATURAL

The very first miracle of Jesus turning water into wine in John 2 provides some clues as to how we might access the reality of what we have read and studied in His Word.

There was a wedding in Cana of Galilee. Jesus was there and a need arose. Jesus was asked, and He responded by turning the water into wine. He thus openly revealed His glory for the first time in public. This miracle opened the flow for others, and Jesus went on to heal the official's son, then the invalid by the pool of Bethesda (see John 4 & 5).

Jesus revealed the source of these first three miracles by saying: "I tell you the truth, the Son can do nothing by Himself; He can only do what He sees the Father doing, because whatever the Father does the Son also does. For the Father loves the Son and shows Him all He does. Yes, to your amazement He will show Him even greater things than these" (John 5:19-20 NIV).

The New Living Translation sheds further light on verse 20 of John chapter 5: "For the Father loves the Son and shows Him everything He is doing. In fact, the Father will show Him how to do even greater works than healing this man. Then you will truly be astonished."

WE CAN ASK THE FATHER TO SHOW US HOW

From these verses we learn that Jesus could do only what He saw the Father doing, and that the Father would show Him how to do even greater works. As we abide in Him, hear His heartbeat, and come to understand God’s calling on our life, we too can believe the Father for greater works as we minister to and disciple others into their Christ identity – thereby moving His Kingdom forward.

SEEING IN THE SPIRITUAL REALM

When seeing the things of God, we still have our physical eyes on what we view in the natural realm, but we need to ask the Lord to give us the Spirit of revelation in order to open the eyes of our hearts so we can look beyond the physical into the Spirit realm, enabling us to realize the full depth of what God sees in the situation.

Our seeing beyond the natural or outside the box will require us to step out in faith. Peter modeled this for us when Jesus bade him to "come" and he stepped out of the boat onto the water. God promises when we step out in faith at His bidding, that the unknown beneath our feet will become solid ground.

John 14:12 - "Most assuredly, I say to you, he who believes in Me, the works that I do he will do also; and greater works than these he will do, because I go to My Father." Jeremiah 33:3 - "Call to Me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things, which you do not know."

PRAYER FOR US TO SEE AND DO:

Lord, today I ask, knock, and seek until I receive a complete understanding of your purpose for my life so I can bear fruit for your Kingdom that remains. Please show me how to do even greater works. Bid me to come, to step out of the boat onto the water into the next assignment You have prepared for me, and to add action to my faith. Take me outside the box of my current understanding and grant to me the spirit of wisdom and revelation so that I will not judge by what my eyes see in the natural. May I delight in what You show me, then step out and follow Your lead. In Jesus name, Amen.

ALBERT FINCH MINISTRY

#calling #destiny #purpose #devotional #inspiration

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cmpho101 · 9 months ago

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The Beauty of the Land of The Muslims

Photo #1 : The Kaaba (Block Box) is the direction that Muslims from all over the globe face while praying each of their five daily prayers. The Kaaba is located in Mecca and its walls were erected by none other than Prophet Ibrahim (Abraham) [peace be upon him] thousands of years prior to Moses [P.B.U.H.] and prior to Jesus [P.B.U.H.]. They are all mentioned in the Bible as well as the Quran. Christians, Jews and Muslims all claim Ibrahim (Abraham) [P.B.U.H.] hence the term “Abrahamic Religions.” Although all claim him, it is believed by Muslim that we have the right to do so because of his attempt to only worship one God and staying away from worshipping other people or idols.

Photo #2 : Mount Hira was where the Prophet Mohammed [P.B.U.H] would seclude himself from all the trials and tribulations of indecency, impurities and association of partners with Allah which is believed by Muslims to be the worst sin. It is said by Muslims that during the month of Ramadan, while in a cave inside this mountain, Jibreal (Gabriel), the chief angel, came to the Prophet Mohammed [P.B.U.H.] and recited the first couple of verses of the last and final revelation that Allah would give humanity, The Quran.

Photo #3 : Masjid Quba was the first masjid that the Prophet Mohammed [P.B.U.H] prayed in after being exiled from Mecca. One day, there were Muslims praying in the Mosque when the Prophet [P.B.U.H] received revelation and was told to change the direction of our prayers. Muslims, Jews, and Christian’s used to face the same direction, Jerusalem, while praying but it is believed that Allah told them to change in order to differentiate Muslims from the other Abrahamic faiths.

Photo #4 : Al Masjid an Nabawi (The Prophet’s [P.B.U.H] Mosque) is the second holiest place in Islam, second to only Masjid Al Haram (where the Kaaba is located.) The Prophet [P.B.U.H.] helped build this Mosque but obviously wasn’t able to see the mosque at its final form.

Photo #5 : The rooftop of Al Masjid an Nabawi where you can feel a nice breeze, read some Quran, and drink Zam Zam water. Zam Zam water is a sacred well located in Mecca, near the Kaaba. It holds significant importance for Muslims because it is believed to be miraculously provided by Allah for the Prophet Ibrahim's wife, Hajar, and their son Isma'il [Peace be upon all of them]. Muslims visiting Mecca drink Zam Zam water for its spiritual significance and blessings. The craziest thing about Zam Zam is, it was a little well yet it has quenched the thirst of millions in Mecca, and millions in Madina on a daily basis for over 5000 years.

Photo #6 : This graveyard was a reminder that stopped me in my tracks. Most of the people here have been dead for way longer than they’ve been alive. It reminds us Muslims that the luxuries of this world will not go with us. Everything will stay. It is believed by Muslims that only there are only 2 things that will go with you in your grave and those two things are your good and bad deeds.

Photo #7 : A little Kitty that I found so beautiful. Animals in Mecca & specifically Madina are treated so kindly. Not even flies or mosquitoes are allowed to be killed.

Photo #8 : Hijabi’s feeding birds. Another example of animals being treated so kindly. There were so many birds everywhere and they wouldn’t fly away from humans in fact the opposite. It almost felt as if they knew that we wanted to take care of them.

Photo #9 : Rawdah al Sharifah which is believed to be a garden of paradise on earth. On the right side, it’s where the Prophet Mohammed was buried. All these Muslims are praying one of their voluntary prayers while getting ready to pray our obligatory morning prayer ; Fajr. This prayer must be prayed once the sun shows a white streak in the night sky.

Photo #10 : Al Masjid an Nabawi during the Muslims mandatory Friday prayer in congregation (Jummah Prayer). The Propeht’s [P.B.U.H.] fits over 1 million people but it gets so pact on Fridays that Muslims have to pray outside of the mosque.

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echthr0s · 1 year ago

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EXPERIMENT RESULTS: actually, I just may not be a Dionysian, and that's okay. I think there's a lot of adjacencies (oh thank god, that is a word) -- a hilariously high amount of adjacencies, at that -- which muddled the waters for these past years (to say nothing of Grey's identification with the guy, which got us started on the path in the first place). Dionysos is like the earthly version of Me, but he is very much an earthly entity, and being Not From Here makes things difficult to navigate, I think. (V's [Carcosa remix] version of the prayer was a decent gap-bridge but ironically -- or uh. maybe not ironically? the opposite of ironically? -- that also might be what made me see the gap in the first place)

I think Dionysos was a signpost more than a destination, for me, and the fact that I've lingered here so long has probably hamstrung me a bit. been trying too hard to wriggle myself into the Dionysian box and now my shape is all warped and squozen.

the one thing I think he could have been good for is joyful embodiment -- learning to live in an earthly form with grace instead of resentment -- and I do still need that assistance. gonna have to workshop some other possible sources for that

ok adding in some clarifying edits before I tag OP in case they're interested in failed experiments as well as successful ones:

experimental method: lighting incense, invoking Mood by using this one lotion I have that is both decadently scented and shimmery + spritzing rose toner on my face (self-care seems to be a good centering device, particularly for this kind of entity, I think -- and I find scent is particularly evocative), recitation, a minute of quiet reflection

for the recitation I started out using the original prayer but a mutual lightly remixed it in a way that felt More (for me personally) so I used that towards the end, leading to the above revelation

by "Not From Here" I mean I am a walk-in. Grey was the person inhabiting this body before I got the job

we have about a 8? 9? year history with vibing with the concept of Dionysos and about a 4 year history in actually trying to form a relationship with him

@thegodwhocums

#i *could* have done the whole 7 days but frankly... not sure what further insight that would have possibly brought me #the way i see it it's an arbitrary unit of time anyway -- basically just to create a measurable boundary for the experiment #five is as good as seven for that imo #dendrophilia: a musical #one final tag for the road <3

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musicboxghost · 1 year ago

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I don't want to go to church.

But I want to hear my footsteps echoing from the cool stone of a chapel floor up to its shrouded ramparts.

I don't believe in God.

But I believe that there is power in poor girls and young moms feeling loved when there is a statue of Mary nearby. She's like them.

I don't want to go to confession.

But I want to sit in a tiny, dark box. Enveloped with the smell of smoke and oil. To revel in quiet and shame.

I don't think the sign of the cross will lead to any intercession from the lord. I do not connect the work of my hands with his.

But I will paint my face and chest with my hands as an ambulance screeches by, rushing to a soul in danger and pain. The movement is a prayer with no destination; that a crying stranger will remain whole.

Catholic ritual is the language in which I learned passion. It is the tongue of my mother and my grandmother, draped in rosaries that they touched over lifetimes. I can learn new movements and new, more accurate expressions of my heart. New ways that don't echo the pain and brutality of the Catholic Church and the god I despise. But they are not burned into my skin and blood vessels the same way; searing despite the coolness of baptismal water.

I think I will forever be haunted by the faithless, hateful god I left behind.

#catholic guilt #Catholic angst #haunted by a dark god

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constellationandcompendium · 10 months ago

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ROYGBP

Thanks for the tag @theeccentricraven!

Rules: Search your writing for the colors of the rainbow and post the excerpt.

These are all from It All Falls Down, my chaotic spy/thriller with cyberpunk themes (which is very much still a first drat!)

Please note: these excerpts includes references to drug use and addiction.

Red - so, Sebastian's daughter is an adrenaline junkie in the making and Elias has a motorcycle.

“Look it’s fine, really, I’m not getting anywhere with this.” Sebastian sighed. “If you’re sure.” “And I’ve got to maintain my position as favourite honorary uncle somehow.” That earned him a smile. “Fair enough.” Elias shut down everything carefully, deleting any remaining evidence of his activities from the server. When he stood, it was to chorus of cracks from his back that made Sebastian wince in sympathy. He was regretting not running through the stretches after their bout earlier, he wasn’t a young man anymore. Grabbing his coat and the small, bright red helmet that lived at the bottom of his locker for precisely one purpose gave him a chance to stretch the sore muscles out further. Then Sebastian caught sight of the object in his hands and groaned. “You should have thought of that before you agreed,” Elias said, swinging the straps between his fingers and revelling in the disgruntled sounds his colleague was making. “I hate you,” Sebastian grumbled. “No you don’t,” Elias called back as he left.

Orange - in which Elias battles a gunshot wound

Flipping the catches open, the first aid box fell open and he fumbled through the packets one handed, pressing the other against his side in a vain attempt to apply pressure. Fighting against the light-headedness that was making itself known, his mouth formed the words of half-remembered prayers. His fingers closed around a familiarly shaped package with a spongy texture and he could only hope that the Buearu had kept their stocks up to date. There was morphine too, but he didn’t want to have to resort to that unless he had no other choice so he kept digging. There, right at the bottom of the bag, was a wrapped syringe identified as a painkiller by the standard orange label. Although it took his eyes a second to focus on it, he was relieved to see that it was one of the non-narcotics. Hardly strong or long lasting but it would have to do.

Yellow - featuring Sebastian experiencing life in the Undercity

Sebastian waited for his partner to take a few more drags before he pocketed the lighter and move to lean against the rail beside him, gaze fixed on the lights illuminating the square in a clashing mixture of bright neons and the dull yellow of simulated dusk. “Better?” he finally asked. “Not really,” Elias said with another puff. Sebastian tracked the progress of the lit cigarette out of the corner of his eye, “Should you really be smoking so soon after a Res shot?” “Probably not,” Elias admitted, examining the smoking bundle of chemicals in his hand. Though, Sebastian mused, it was hardly as though one more drug in the messy cocktail that was his partner's bloodstream was going to kill him, at least not straight away.

Green - from chapter one, Elias meets the spooks of the Bureau

“Sure, my office is out the back.” He indicated over his shoulder at the doors behind him, distinct only from the other entrances and exits by the small ‘staff only’ sign illuminated in flickering green. “Excellent,” Hugo replied, gesturing for Elias to lead the way. His office wasn’t much to look at; it was hardly nicer than the rest of the gym. It wasn’t run-down, exactly, but much like the building itself it had the tired, worn, and rain-damaged look that characterised the area close to the storm.

Blue - in the Undercity, Elias is confronted with his past

They were approaching another intersection, passing through a section of what Elias hoped were residences when it happened. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a kid, barely a teenager by the looks of things, slumped in one of the alleyways between the buildings with a tube of blue tinted liquid lying partially under his limp hand. It was Haze. Strange, how easily the hold it had on him returned. He hadn't been confronted with his one true vice since his departure from the Undercity, but down here he really should have been better prepared to see it. Elias felt himself stop dead in the street, distantly, as though it were happening to another person. There was a ringing in his ears.

Purple - introducing Shiloh!

“You ran a gang and then a smuggling ring out of an old industrial container?” Sebastian asked with a tone of bemused admiration. “Correction,” an lilting voice joined the conversation from a walkway above their heads, “we still run a smuggling ring out of an old industrial container.” Elias turned to meet the interloper with a smile, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest. Walking down from the office above was a woman with cropped black hair, a variety of concealed and not-so-concealed weapons, tattoos a-plenty, and an expression like stone. A responding smile cracked her stern face as she approached, and then her arms were opening in welcome. “Shiloh,” he greeted as they embraced. “Al-Karim,” she replied, pulling back to look him up and down, eyes catching on the barely healed cuts and bruises, and on the deep purple shadows under his eyes, “what on Sol happened to you?” “It’s a long story.”

Open tag for anyone who fancies it and a gentle no-pressure tag for @nettleandthorne and some of my new followers @kaylinamaes and @wmlittlemore-is-writing!

#writeblr #tag game #wip: it all falls down #wip: iafd #elias al-karim #sebastian castello #ok so I definitely use certain colours WAY more than others!#wip: iafd tags

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