#prophecy as truths of life. dear god

[angstics]

[dark-night-hero]

Hey so I found the little drabble you wrote about Morax sacrificing Y/n for the world? And it gave me this scene of a Y/n being forced to pick between him and the world, and they choose him? And it would hurt. And I'd like to see it written in your style of angst, if you ever write it at all, because i think it would be cool. have a good day/night heart🧡

: I know I'm very late but this gives me the idea of the prequel of the world > you of Morax|Zhongli imagine.

Imagine being in a situation where you have to sacrifice the world for your love one. What would you do? Would you choose to do the greater good for others or for yourself? The answer for you is quite obvious. It would be Morax over the world.

Imagine the Archon War leaving a mental toll on your mental health, constantly seeing your lover fighting, seeing him fight for his and your dear live as well as both of your people. But what leaves you the scar the most is seeing him get hurt, although he was powerful and fearsome, that doesn't mean that he does not escape close call encounter. At times like that, you have nothing to do but to watch there and stood in horror, thinking how much of a baggage were you that you cannot even fight side by side. Because even for a supreme being, you are weak.

Imagine it wasn't just the war that took a toll on you but also the mortals. You have seen people turning their back on their Gods, you have seen people revolts on their Gods, Gods who have done nothing but to protect them and some have lost their lives upon doing so. How fucking cruel and disgusting creatures were they. And how thankful you are that your people were different. That is why this thoughts and memories remained on the back of your mind.

Imagine, or so you thought as you day you have awoken up from a dream, drenched on cold sweat as your heart hammered on your chest. It was a dream- no a nightmare- no... It was a vision. It was a prophecy of your lovers death. Died and assassinated by his-your own people.

"Love?" It was your lover who seems to have been awake.

"Are you alright? You're dren-" You cut him off as you embraced him and he chuckles before turning your embrace, giving you a tap on the back for more comfort.

"Was it a bad dream?" He asked as pull you even more closer to him, taking you in his arms as you could only tighten your hold on him.

"It's alright, Love. I'm here, it's just a dream."

Imagine the truth is that you love your people more than anything, you love them just right after Morax, your lover. That is why you decided not to pay attention to that vision. Because you knew more than anything that your people respect and worship him more than anything.

Imagine Morax should have seen the signs. The way you less and lesser interact with the people. The more you seems cautious of the way they view and talked about him. The way you stay up all night and seems to be lacking of sleep. The way the look of gentleness in your eyes seems to fade the more you look at the people you vow yourself to protect. The way you were slowly falling and experiencing signs of erosion.

"What did you just say, you low life piece of utter shit?" You glare at the man, wanting to snap off his neck if it wasn't for your lover holding you back from doing so.

"I- I was just telling the truth! It's not like Rex Lapis is all that great and might- hick!"

"It's not like I did not heard you the first time. What I'm tying to say it that, do you, know the consequence you have to face for saying such-"

"That's enough, (First name). I would like to apologise on behalf of my lover, they were just.."

Imagine becoming aware that you were losing yourself but it was already too late. All the sleepless nights, the visions that kept showing up and hunting you. The way the people in your vision- your prophecy doesn't even seem to mind that Morax have died. The way the people talks about him these days. The way your memories of the archon war and the people back in those days does not seem to think twice turning their back and raising their weapons on their own beloved Gods.

Imagine one day, you snap. Walking in the city with your fake persona. There comes the man who was just talking shit about Morax on the other day. And the nerve of this man to continue to convince you that he was in fact right, that the world is better off without the Archons, specifically Morax in it, the God of War. The one who seems to have killed the God he was formerly worshipping. The one who according to him should have died instead.

Imagine as his words went one ear to another, you smile at him before talking and convincing him to go on a remote area where no one could see the two of you and of course, bewitched by your beauty, how could he not come with you. Only to get himself killed not even a second the moment the two of you reach your promised location. And during those very moment, the way you look down at your blood stained hand. The way a smile crept up on your lips as a strange sense of satisfaction came into you.

"This is fun." You spoke looking at the bloody scene.

"This is what you get for assume you know better to turn your back against by beloved."

Imagine Morax becoming aware of the missing and killing of people within your land. But what raised his concerns the most is that you don't even seem to mind, but at least you were not going feral as you were quite some time now. So he brush it off and went to investigate only to find out that most of the people declared missing and dead were people who were talking bad about him. Most of those people were refugees of the wars and were formerly worshipping other Gods before him. Nevertheless it was still suspicious and wrong. You have always made it clear with him that people, mortals were fragile being, that is why you should protect them.

so Imagine the horror on Morax face once he have seen you, in the midst of the burning remote village, a bloody child in your hand, grabbing it on the neck as you held it up within your level, a smile on your face which become even more bright one you have seen him when it pained him even more than to see you this way. How could he have not notice this? You were always together, how could he have not notice you were slowly losing youself?

"Wha-" His voice cracked as his mind tried to came up hundreds if not thousand of reason why you have come into this conclusion.

"What- why are you doing this?"

"They were planning a rebellion Morax, how could I not let this slide?"

"No... no no no no no no no. My Love, what happened to you?"

"Huh? You're asking strange things Morax." Your eye twich as you drop the child on the ground without care.

"Let me handle this kind of things. There is no need for you to lift up a finger okay? I'll keep you safe so let's go home, okay? Thought I'll have to come back and clean up for the rest of them so their is nothing to harm you."

Imagine the moment you tried to walk towards him, you stopped at the way his iconic weapon, a pole arm appeared. Then a smile makes it's way on your lips as you clasp your bloody hand together.

"Oh Morax! I appreciate you trying to help but there is in no need of that-?"

Imagine the look of confusion in your face. The way his weapon was pointed at you, you tilt your head to the side, a look of confusion and hurt could be seen in your face. And then there was anger.

"I am doing this for YOU whaT GIVES YOU THE NERVE TO POINT YOUR WEAPON AT ME?" You screamed at him, sending glares on his way as he looks at you emotionless. As if all emotion of him were turned off.

"Doing this for me? Do you think that was enough reason to do this? To cause this?"

"They were trying to revolt against you! They were trying to kill you! Do you think I want this?! I kept having visions! I kept hearing voices! And every single damnn time they were trying to kill you! And you died! Living me alone! I could not handle that! So before everything of that come true, I'll kill them. I'll fucking get rid of them. So don't be mad at me okay? I'm doing this for you, for us." You smile sweetly at him.

Imagine Morax having a mental breakdown at those very moment. The way he was tightly holding his pole arm as you approached him with a sweet smile on your face and damn. How lovely you were in the midst of the burning town and the countless lives taken away by your very own hands.

Imagine him, one of the seven archons praying and begging at these very moment. Oh celestia. Not you, god fucking damn. Not you. This was just a dream, none of this was true. But damn, the way he felt someone, another child clinging on his feet, murmuring cries of help. He swallowed back a sob. Oh celestia, what could- what should he do?

Imagine the way his hand shake, the way he took a deep breath before leaving his chaotic mind behind. His hands were still shaking, but he held his firmly up on your direction. The way you start to emits black smoke as well as the cracks on your face says it was already too late to save you. And as much as it pained him, as much as it fucking kills him to kill you. He has to do it.

"So this is it for us?" You spoke across him.

"No one's going to hurt me, Love."

"My vision says different and you know my vision was never wrong." You chuckle as you did not stop coming at him.

"I know what you're thinking. I don't regret it." The more you approach him, the more his heart ached.

"If I am to make choices over and over again, I'll do the same thing. If it means turning thr world outside the down, if it means burning the world for you, I will, Morax."

Imagine the way his amber iris were shaken as you walked right into his weapon that was preventing you from approaching him. The way his weapon easily and smoothly pierced your chest as he held it firmly.

Imagine the way his mouth close and open, looking down to his weapon and onto you. He saw you smiling as you pull away from the blade of the pole arm, stumbling a couple of stepps backwards but still retaining your balance. He knows that smile, fuck. He knows that smile.

"Celestia. Perhaps, I have done things too far." You spoke as you look down at your bloody hand and chest.

Imagine the way Morax hold back a sob, the way his throat burns as he can't seem to find the right words to say to you. And at the very end, he could only lower his weapon as he utter the words he wanted you to know even after all of this.

"You know I love you, right?"

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2023°

: Hi, sorry if this takes too long to make. College seems to drain me out but I'm glad to answer this ask that I have been thinking for quite some time now.

[finleyforevermore]

Vent with religious themes, themes of trauma, suicide, assault, abuse, murder, and depression under the cut. Please, I beg of you, do not read if you are sensitive to any of these topics. Thank you.

Dear God (no, for real this time),

If what has happened in my personal life during this month/late last month has told me anything, it's that either:

A.) you are real and are just very bad at your job

or B.) you AREN'T and I've been praying to a wall for most of my existence

If A is the truth, I've got some words for you. Since you see all or whatever the fuck.

I've questioned your existence many times but I think this year is just it for me. Because looking back on it, you've done nothing of use for me or family this year.

I'd already been pretty committed to seeing things realistically but you letting Radio be taken away from me was the kicker I guess.

Radio/Simon, or @5ampuppetshow for those who aren't aware is currently inactive because its mom found their Tumblr and is now monitoring him. I don't know if/when he'll be back.

You really expect me to believe that YOU, the Almighty, allowed two of my dear friends to be taken away from me a month between each other?? Emory's (@wantmeifyouwantme) parents found his account and now I've lost my virtual big brother, and now you've allowed Simon to be taken away from me.

But why stop at just that? No no we've gotta allow 99% of some of the greatest people I've ever met to be traumatized, suicidal, have low self-esteem, or depressed. Because isn't that delightful? Isn't it so fucking wonderful to have people you love so much be traumatized and suffer beyond belief and lead the boy who has nothing but pure love for them to have many a breakdown over this? /sar

My mom and nana watch these crappy videos from "prophets" talking about "the end" and how everything and everyone is secretly wicked and selling their souls to the devil.

Well riddle me this, Big Guy Upstairs. Where the fuck were you to send me a vision or a sign that Liam was going to fucking kill himself? Where were you to send my friends a prophecy before their Tumblrs were taken away from them? Where were you to stop my friends from being assaulted? Where were you to stop my friends from being abused? Where were you to stop 99% of my friends from having such horrible, unbelievably terrifying trauma? Where were you to stop George Floyd's murder? Or Nex Benedict's? Or Ryan Gainer's? Where are you right fucking now to stop the ruthless murders taking place daily in Palestine? Where were you to stop my mother from marrying my father and save her from 14 years of torture? Where were you when my mom got breast cancer (she's cured now, her doctors were amazing)? Where were you when my father was born? You smited firstborn children in Egypt, you couldn't have killed my father?

My father will remain the worst man I've ever known and will ever know. But putting religion and other beings into the equation, that spot goes right to you.

For my entire life you have done nothing for me. You've done nothing for my family. You've done nothing for my friends. You've shown me utter indifference my entire life.

With every fiber of my being, I hate you.

See you in Hell, I guess,

Finley

[rhiwdiliel]

Reunion

"My son, I'm finally home!"

After twenty long years, a father and a son reunite in the arms of one another, though they appear closer to strangers than to family.

⁽ᵀʰᵉ ʳᵉᵘⁿᶦᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ᴼᵈʸˢˢᵉᵘˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵀᵉˡᵉᵐᵉᶜʰᵃᵘˢ, ˡᵃʳᵍᵉˡʸ ᶦⁿˢᵖᶦʳᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᴱᵖᶦᶜ ᵗʰᵉ ᴹᵘˢᶦᶜᵃˡ ˢᵒⁿᵍ; ᵗʰᵉ ᴿᵉᵘⁿᶦᵒⁿ! ᴾʳᵒᶜᵉᵉᵈ ʷᶦᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ᶜᵃᵘᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᵗʰᶦˢ ᶦˢ ᵃᶜᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ!!!⁾

Telemechaus, far from battle.

Countless generations of parents had sought to bestow their sons with names of glory, wishing their name inscribed amongst the lays of heroes. Others still sought to weave a prophecy into a few syllabes and crown their sons with it instead, no matter how unforgiving the meaning.

Odysseus, son of pain. Though truth rang in every letter of his name, what father would wish upon their son an equal torment of fate? Was it not better to grace the child, symbol of innocence, with a name that promised good fortune?

What better fortune, than to remain throughout life afar from battle? That was what Odysseus had wished upon his son, and it shattered what remained of his soul to see it fall apart into lies.

Haggard, eyes of grey, grey, the colour of wearied stone that stood against the blatant assault of time, watched as his son tracked maroon ichor across the once pristine tiled floors, blood spilt from corpses unworthy of being named human, unworthy of bleeding where his son, innocent, gentle hearted, sweet son trod.

Was it still his son that stood before him? For now here walked a man, of posture lean yet lithe, of stride wary yet certain, of features beautiful; of a facial structure that appeared to be a mirror to Odysseus, and of eyes that belonged to his most beloved.

Nay, this was no man, nor was this a boy. This soul that now stood before him was none other save his son, though the passing time of two decades had carried him into manhood. What was the passage of several decades to the gods, or to a parent whose heart ached for the light of their life?

This was Telemechaus, who had never been afar from battle, for battle did not find its end upon the battlefield. This was Telemechaus, whose world had been dimmed by the absence of a dear father, whose heart had been weighed by the pressing of insistent, cruel suitors, whose eyes had been darkened by a careful suspicion and desperate will to protect.

This was Telemechaus, whose tears he gently wiped as he ought to have done all these years. This was Telemechaus, who he now gathered tightly into his arms and buried his face in the hair of, relishing in the faint scents of perfumed lavender and sharpness of sea salt that lay there, for it meant that his son was a seafarer, just as Odysseus was, and was not robbed of princely luxuries.

This was Telemechaus, and to Odysseus, there no longer was any agony in the world. There no longer was the pain that had claimed him as its son, for it all fell away now, shying away from the bright joy that now lay between his arms. What lament could form upon his lips when he could already feel the countless cracks in his heart heal?

No lament, only an exclamation that seemed to burst with relief and ectasy;

"My son, I'm finally home!"

[a-french-coconut]

Travis Stoll (Part 1)

He's walking on campus, like every other day.

He's whistling a tune Will taught him a long time ago, at the beginning of their friendship.

He chuckles at the memory of their first real interaction.

Will punched him in the nose for putting a snake in his bed.

He still thinks that a rubber snake wasn't worth such a commotion. It's not like he put a real one !

He has always been softer than his brother.

When they prank their dear campmates, he usually have less injuries prone ideas.

Except when those campers landed a particular mean hit on his brother during training. Or said something about Luke that made him clench his jaw.

At Camp, Hermes is the god of liars, thieves and cheerful trickster.

In the myths, Hermes kills without remorse a turtle and beheaded a giant.

He understands Camp needs a comedic relief, someone to make them laugh during hard times. He happily took on that responsibility, making it his mission to make sure that laughter would echo in Camp Half-Blood at least three times a day.

If they just happen to forget that it's not more difficult to put bear traps instead of balloons on the floor, well it's on them.

His father killed Argos because he felt like it. As his son, he has no qualms in hearing the pained screams of the Ares campers when their legs get caught in the traps.

Especially if Connor's face lights up when he sees them limping during dinner.

His smile is worth every second of concentration in training, dodging with extra speed Clarisse's furious attacks .

Maybe he isn't softer than his brother.

Maybe he's just better at hiding it.

It's never been hard to put up a facade, his godly heritage making it terribly easy to mask his real emotions.

Two persons can see through him like an open book, no matter how hard he tries.

He could never look into Connor's eyes and even think about uttering a lie, betray his brother's trust. Connor is his anchor, the reason he has not drowned when their mother hurled empty bottles at them, when Luke left them in charge of the biggest cabin or when he had to smile through the back-handed remarks and distrustful glares.

As for the other, it's not that he doesn't want to lie, but that he can't. Son of the god of Truth, his best friend can see right through his lies. Will Solace has been a true thorn in his side since he discovered that power, always harassing him until he discovers what Travis is up to.

The only way Travis has found to counter that power is to run as fast as he can every time he sees Will approaching him with a too cheerful face to be natural. So far, so good !

It's been an awful long time since he saw them for the last time. He had been a mess when he bolted through the borders, searching frantically for Connor. For some reasons, which has been explained to him later, communications were down during a long time and Travis couldn't talk to his brother.

It nearly drove him crazy.

Hearing that Camp had been attacked during his absence, that he left Connor alone to defend their half-siblings made him sick.

Travis's life resolve around one simple task : protect Connor at all costs.

It's been its reason to call social services on his mom, when she passed out on the couch one too many times.

It's been its reason to face every monsters who chased them on their way to Camp. It doesn't matter how much it hurts, how much he bleeds if it means hearing his brother's laugh once he has healed.

It's the most beautiful sound he has ever heard.

A pure, unrestrained laugh so full of joy.

The last time he heard it was just before Luke left. Since them, each of their friends' death tarnished it a little. Now Connor merely smiles and when he laughs, it's a pale replica of what it has once been.

But now the wars are over !

No more prophecies dooming them all !

He can come back from time to time, bringing joy and mischief with him !

He can't wait to introduce paintball to Cabin 5 and see the splotches of colors in every corner of Camp.

It's decided, he'll go this week-end !

Travis smiles fondly, imagining his brother's reaction when he sees him.

part 2 posted !

[hyakinthou-naos]

Hello! This Temple is such a lovely space, it reminds me why I keep on coming back to paganism despite having so many struggles with it. Faith doesn't come easy to me after leaving the christian practice and I've spent over a year learning about paganism and trying to practice in that space. It never feels quite right to me though, just because I've never have had any indication the deities are actually truly existing. But then I see people like you, and even if I've never been able to find comfort in my own attempts at the practice, I find intense comfort in coming across blogs like this one. Scrolling through the posts gives me that feeling of faith that I've been looking for. It's comfortable and warm. I don't know if I'll ever truly be able to practice paganism myself, but I'm really glad people like you exist. You've created such a wonderful space and I'm so glad I've found it

Dear Anon,

Thank you so much for your kind message. I cannot put into words how happy it makes me to know that other people are appreciative of The Temple and the work I put into it.

I also want to let you know that you are not alone in how you feel about The Theoi/The Gods/Divinity. I will readily admit that I am not sure if The Gods exist.

Is the warmth I feel when I pray to Lord Apollo and commune with him through tarot all in my head? Is the success of my prayers all a self-fulfilling prophecy? Is the comfort I get from my morning ritual all a placebo? I have no idea.

Some days I feel like The Gods are so real I can feel their presence in the room with me. And some days I feel like I’m a child speaking to imaginary friends. And when I ask myself “which is the truth?” - my honest answer is “I don’t care.”

I personally don’t think it’s important if The Gods are real or if I’m playing pretend. What is important is living a life that gives me joy, comfort, and a feeling of belonging. And being a Hellenic Polytheist, in part, fulfills those needs.

So keep on practicing! If it brings you joy, and doesn’t harm anyone else, then there’s no reason not to. You don’t have to always be a rational, logical person - sometimes you can just be a human.

And really, that’s all The Gods are asking of us in the end.

Eirene, peace and farewell.

- Aön

[i-like-anything-water]

Had a bit of a sorta funny fantasy AU for Chloenette: Essentially, Chloe, a Paladin looking to make a name for herself, hears about a legend of a chosen heroine destined to save the world from a swarm of dark insects, and sets out to make it come true... while dragging along a young Priestess named Marinette to chronicle her journey to greatness, with Marinette just going along with it because her conscience won't let her abandon someone who is clearly in over their heads. Also, neither of them are aware that Marinette is the chosen heroine. Also, this: Chloe: No one tells me what to do! Marinette: (Grabs Chloe's hand) Chloe: One person tells me what to do! (Blushes)

Chloe huffed as she read the very old signboard again. A chosen one that wasn't her? Preposterous! Perhaps she hasn't made her debut quite known yet. Surely, anyone with two functioning eyes could see her set of skills and praise worthy intellect.

If they haven't, she'll just stuff it in their eyes.

Determined and carrying spite that could rival her collection of weapons, she set out on her journey to save the kingdom from evil bugs. Bugs, strange and was maybe made by a lunatic who had too much to drink, were the enemy. Very well, she'll squash every last one.

"You there!" Of course, what good is saving the entire kingdom if it is not written by someone that wasn't her? Credibility was needed. "Follow me. I will pay you handsomely as long as you don't have any annoying questions."

"Asking someone to follow them without sparing any other details aside from no questioning?" The Priestess answered back, a brow raised. Chloe huffed as she crossed her arms, "What did I say about no questions?"

"That wasn't an annoying one."

"Yes, it was!"

"The one who asked mere moments was certainly annoying though, unfortunately," the woman smirked. Chloe scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Fine. If you don't want to take on my offer, I shall find a better companion. Someone..." blue eyes scanned her up and down, "competent enough."

This brat.

"The Gods surely have it after me for sending me these lunatics," she mumbled. Chloe was about to retort when she help up a hand, "I will accept your offer. Only if I have conditions as well."

"That wasn't in the deal."

"I never agreed to it in the first place, I'm only agreeing with changes."

"Ugh, fine. What do you want?"

"Tell me everything. I need to know what I'm going to go through," Chloe made a noise, but nodded nonetheless, "and expenses will be on you should we travel very far."

A scoff again, "Deal. Now shall we get going? I don't want to waste precious sunlight bickering with nonsense."

The woman sighed as she flicked her wrist and suddenly there was a bag in her hand. She already felt the beginning of a headache and they haven't even started yet. Unfortunately, she needed the money.

They were just across town when she spoke again, "So, what use do you require of me?"

"I want you to write down whatever happens in this journey and swore you spoke the truth and nothing but the truth." Oh. That seemed quite simple. She guessed this was a form of promotion to climb the ranks.

"Okay. Where are we off to?"

"To the third kingdom we pass. I am searching for a foe I wish to destroy before it kills us all."

She halted. "I'M SORRY?!"

Chloe sighed. This is why she hated questions, "There's a prophecy, there's a hero, prophecy didn't say who, I'm gonna be the hero, I save us from evil insects, you write everything, I pay, we part ways as strangers. There."

Dear heavens, she's accompanying an idiot! "Are you crazy? The prophecy did not say who the hero is and you're going to take the role yourself?"

"Yup."

Fuck. "And evil insects? You must be out of your mind."

Chloe smirked, "And so are you by extension, blueberry."

The woman glared, "My name is Marinette, you brat. And I wasn't aware the mission cost both my sanity and my life."

"And this, class, is why you ask about everything before you agree to a random Paladin's offer," the blonde replied sarcastically.

Marinette sighed, "I should have told my loved ones I loved them and goodbye."

"Stop being dramatic. We'll be fine."

"I can't and I will not."

Chloe sighed. They're both going to lose their sanity at the end of this.

Not accurately the ask....woops. This was a fun au though, can definitely see the 'but there was only one bed' and 'we will cuddle menacingly as to save warmth' scenes in this xD

[vodika-vibes]

So...more thoughts about the Chosen One AU, this takes place several days after the Life Debt is created.

Jedi Master Mace Windu stares at the young woman blankly. Her hands are bound in front of her and she has a a distinctive pout on her face. More curiously, Captain Keeli keeps inching towards her, reaching towards the binder as if to free her, and has had his hands smacked away several times already. "Master Ima-Gun," He finally says, "What, exactly, is going on here?" Mace asks, when in truth he means, 'what the actual kriff, man?' Ima-Gun Di has a pleasant smile on his face, as he introduces the young woman sitting on the floor, "She saved our lives on Ryloth." "And you arrested her for it?" Depa asks, horrified. "We haven't arrested her," The Jedi said lightly, "She claimed that I created a life debt between my battalion and her, and myself and her. So I brought her here to verify the truth of those claims." "You can't do this to me!" The young woman shouts loudly, "I am a Republic Citizen and you are not allowed to hold me against my will." "Exactly! This is kidnapping!" Obi-Wan says as he stands to head over to the young woman. "Life debt, you say." Master Yoda hums, "Saved you, she did?" "Yes Master." Master Yoda hums again, and then turns his gaze to Captain Keeli, "Anxious, you feel, Captain." "This feels really kriffing weird, General." Keeli admits, "Every fiber of my being is telling me that I need to uncuff her and that I need to protect her from you. But she also tried to bite me. Three times." "Not comfortable around Jedi," Plo Koon murmurs, "Curious for a Republic Citizen." She glares at him, "Yeah, well, I was an exiled ten year old who turned to a Jedi for help, and all I got was a head pat and a go home to your parents." "Oh? Exiled?" She scoffs, "Turns out it's dangerous keeping a Chosen One around. Even a baby Chosen One." "My dear," Obi-Wan's smile is strained, "Prophecies are tricky-" "There's a Major Death God living on the lower levels of Coruscant feeding off of the death and despair of the people who live there. And his personal Champion sits in the highest seat on the senate." She interrupts, and then the manacles pop open, and she hops to her feet, "Also, his champion is apparently a sith." The entire room falls silent, and she beams at them, "Great! Good talk!" She points at Keeli, "I release you from your life debt?" She pauses, "Did that...anything? No. Yeah, I didn't think so." She takes a step back, "So...I'mma go. Before said Death God realizes that I'm here and tries to kill me..." She almost makes it to the door, when Master Yoda twines the Force around her and pulls her back to the center of the room, "Further conversation, this requires."

[goodnightmemes]

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON, S01E03 “SECOND OF HIS NAME” SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ Come out and face me! ❜

❛ And surely by the end of this hunt, we shall have more to celebrate. ❜

❛ Then it lies with you to make him see it. ❜

❛ It's been three years. It can wait another three days. ❜

❛ Come, eat. Fortify yourselves for the journey. ❜

❛ If the crown were ever to intervene now is the time. ❜

❛ Can someone tell me where in the Seven Hells [name] might be? ❜

❛ Perhaps the Princess might like to hear something else? ❜

❛ Play it again. ❜

❛ Did I say to stop? ❜

❛ Your presence is wanted in the outer courtyard. ❜

❛ I've decided to remain here and read instead. ❜

❛ He wants for us all to be together. ❜

❛ Is it the King's command? ❜

❛ None of it needs be this way in truth. ❜

❛ Well, isn't this splendid. The whole of our family off to celebration and adventure in the Kingswood. ❜

❛ Should you be traveling in such condition? ❜

❛ Well, you will be with your own child sooner than late. ❜

❛ You should ride out with me today. ❜

❛ The boars squeal like children when they're being slaughtered. I find it discomforting. ❜

❛ I fear the gods did not make me for hunting. ❜

❛ I wouldn't know. I've not spoken to [name] in years. ❜

❛ And how have you served the realm of late, by eating cake? ❜

❛ I don't think we've been properly introduced. ❜

❛ Is that what I am to you? A prize to proffer about to the great houses? ❜

❛ You are of age. And [name] is an excellent match. ❜

❛ He's arrogant and self-serious. ❜

❛ I have tried often to discuss it with you, but you've refused me at every turn. ❜

❛ Even I do not exist above tradition and duty! ❜

❛ There's been a sighting of a white hart. ❜

❛ What happened back there? ❜

❛ Do you want me to kill him? ❜

❛ It's a beautiful day. We should take in the Kingswood. ❜

❛ How lucky you are to have a say in your own life. ❜

❛ Many in the realm would gladly trade positions with you. ❜

❛ All that I have, I owe to you. ❜

❛ That man's pride has pride. ❜

❛ It is not my wish to command her. I want her to be happy. ❜

❛ I came here to hunt, not to be suffocated by all this fucking politicking. ❜

❛ Let us speak no more of it. ❜

❛ The girl is a heedless contrarian. ❜

❛ Do you wish to hear my opinion on the matter? ❜

❛ I must make a final plea that we return to the camp. ❜

❛ What is the power of a dragon... next to the power of prophecy. ❜

❛ Many in my line have been dragonriders. Very few among us have been dreamers. ❜

❛ The hour is too late, husband. ❜

❛ I sought that vision again, night after night... but it never came again. ❜

❛ What if I was wrong? ❜

❛ And does this not please you? ❜

❛ To deny that he is heir to the throne is to assail the laws of gods and men. ❜

❛ The road ahead is uncertain, but the end is clear. ❜

❛ You must guide [name] towards reason. He'll never find it on his own. ❜

❛ The gods have punished me for my indulgences. ❜

❛ Well, if you truly believe that, my dear... then you possess a generous spirit. ❜

❛ I am forever doomed to anger one person in the pleasing of another. ❜

❛ It is no consequence to what I think... as I'm often reminded. ❜

❛ I was trying to help you. Will you not be helped? Why must every effort on your behalf be resisted - as if to the death? ❜

❛ The lords of the realm gather like vultures to a carcass, hoping to feast on my bones. ❜

❛ It is true that as rulers we must marry for advantage to forge alliances and bolster our strength. You have always understood this. ❜

❛ I've heard that story since I've had ears to. ❜

❛ You've been much alone these last few years. Alone and angry. ❜

❛ I will not live forever. I wish to see you contented, happy even. ❜

❛ Show me the knight who will march into that hell pit, and I will show you a madman. ❜

[wolint]

THE PALM TREE PHENOMENON!

THE PALM TREE PHENOMENON

Psalm 92:12-14

 

Palm trees exhibit an enormous diversity in physical characteristics and inhabit nearly every type of habitat. They are hardly affected by any weather conditions, making them one of the few trees that flourish and bloom in any place and season. A palm tree normally lives from seven to ten decades, producing a mind-blowing diversity of fruits (such as coconuts, dates, and palm wine) and has many uses.

Palm branches were used in John 12:12-15 to line the streets in celebration of Jesus’ arrival into Jerusalem, symbolizing His victory over sin and death. This event, known as Palm Sunday, fulfils the prophecies of the Old Testament and ushers in a new era of salvation for humanity. The palm tree is therefore a symbol of victory and triumph.

The first mention of the palm tree is found in Exodus 15:27, in Elim, which is now called Wady-Ghurandel, the most extensive watercourse in the western desert. This oasis is adorned with a great variety of trees, among which is the palm tree. Weary travellers must have been delighted to encamp under its shade and enjoy its abundant supply of sweet water.

The palm is referred to as “the tree of the desert,” as it flourishes in the desert, and its presence is a sign of water. It’s amazing that the Bible likens us to a palm tree! The believer is meant to grow vigorously, with longevity, fragrance, and beauty. Like these palm trees, we are set for the life, character, and destiny of the flourishing righteous.

The faithful flourish like the palm tree, the long-lived and stately palm. The believer flourishes in the courts of God, abiding in God’s presence according to Psalm 23:6, as opposed to the temporary “flourishing” of the evildoers who are doomed to destruction.

Everything in life needs an additive to improve or preserve it. Just as plants need fertilizers to grow and flourish, so do believers need God to grow and flourish. Those planted in the house of the Lord shall flourish in the courts of God.

As these trees flourish in their respective soils and climates, so shall the righteous in the ordinances of God. But only those who trust in and dwell in the Lord, according to Jeremiah 17:7-8, are planted by water, are called blessed, and filled with God-defined benefits. It is those whose trust is in the Lord. Palm trees in the Bible also represent beauty, prosperity, and fertility and a sign of prosperity and fertility, as well as been seen as a sign of God’s covenant with his people.

Only trust in God motivates confident obedience in times of crisis. When you see palm trees in heavy wind and storm, you’ll understand the strength and tenacity of the trees. Every other tree may be uprooted by the wind or broken, but not the palm tree. Though the wind may force it to bend almost to the breaking point, it rises back and flourishes with no visible sign of the trauma it’s been through because God made them to bend but not break, Just as He made us.

Life may bend us, the enemy may bend us, challenges and circumstances may bend us, but none can break us. If everything in life is pushing you to a breaking point, remember you’re built to last, overcome, triumph, conquer, and not break. If life pushes you to your knees, and Christ remains the centre of your life, be confident that you can withstand those pushes because your resilience is of God and not of man, like the palm tree.

As believers, we continue to grow in grace, and be fruitful to the end of life, continuously flourishing, and bearing fruit in old age because we can learn spiritual lessons from the palm tree phenomenon, to stand in faith, deeply rooted in the truth of God’s word while His presence nourishes us to bearing good fruit.

PRAYER: Dear Lord, help me to learn and lean on your word to give my root dept that would keep me grounded even through the storms of life in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Shalom,

WOMEN OF LIGHT INT PRAYER MIN.

[robin-with-a-pen]

UUUUUGH I can't think! anyways- I saw this and HAD to write it- I've reached a stand still tho ):

current writing (unedited, sorry) under the cut:

In truth, I am very sick. 

I am not angry, not upset at all. I have lived a long and fulfilling life. Beside me is my son and my beautiful wife. I am the king of the land, my son will soon take my place on the throne and I can’t be happier.

He’s a stunning young man, a responsible and upstanding gentleman. He will be a kind and just ruler, I know it. I have faith in my son. He will take care of my wife, he will take care of his wife, he will take care of our kingdom. I am proud of him, I am proud of how me and my wife have raised him.

I admit that I can be prideful, and for this reason, I don’t want to admit that I am in pain, but I am. No amount of denial will cure me. I am nearing my end.  Everyday, every action, every breath I take is met with excruciating pain. I no longer have the energy to sit up, I have been rendered a pitiful old man relying on my family to do even the simplest of tasks. 

My son, my perfect boy, has not uttered a single complaint. He is taking care of my wife as she too gets older, he is taking care of me as my health worsens, he is taking care of the castle and its workers, the kingdom and its people, he will be a perfect ruler. He’s already doing the work, all he needs is the title.

When I was much younger, a prophet arrived at my door shortly after I was crowned king. With shaky hands and fear in his eyes he warned me that one day, my eldest son would be the man to take my life. 

“The gods have spoken, they warn me of the misfortune that will befall you. My dear king, your eldest son will be the man to end your life and take your throne.” 

I was terrified. The thought scared me, my son? Betray me? Betray his family, his blood, his kingdom? I had just begun to court my wife, we would soon be wed. The prophecy plagued my mind. My mind became filled with anxieties and doubt.

Would it be greed? Wealth and power? Would I raise a son so selfish he would kill his own father for power? Would I deserve it?  Would I become a terrible father? Would my throne corrupt me? Would My son grow to fear and resent me? Would he kill me out of spite? Would I push him to do it? 

The image of my son, a man who had yet to even be born yet, standing over my corpse with a blade in hand. Blood staining his clothes and a wicked look in his eyes. It haunted me. I began to question everything. As ashamed as I am to admit it, but I even doubted my dear wife. My beautiful bride. What if she was the cause? She could corrupt our child, convince the poor prince to take my life. 

The prophet’s words played on repeat. My son would kill me and take my throne. I had plotted a thousand murders in the name of a man who didn’t exist yet. By the time my wife was pregnant I had even planned to kill the child. 

I had decided that if this child were to be male, I would drown him in the river. I didn’t want to torture my son, I did not want to harm him at all, but I feared what he would become. I feared him. And for nine long months I was plagued with endless anxiety. I feared my wife for the monster she might birth, I feared myself for the sins I might commit. 

Now, I am ashamed of my thoughts, and my actions. Oh, if these fears had stayed in my head I would be a much happier man now, but they did not. The way I treated my dearest, my perfect and beautiful wife was horrid. She dealt with her pregnancy alone, I was much too busy plotting my own murder. Then, when she went into labor I did not think to help her. I did not hold her hand as she birthed our first and only child, I offered her no comfort. 

I stood by the doctor. Watching and waiting. I feel as though my heart had stopped when I saw my son for the first time. My soul had left my body, along with it went any thoughts, considerations, or plans to kill the angel in my wife’s arms. 

He was beautiful. No words could describe the mixture of shame and pride I felt. He looked at me with bright eyes and I couldn’t fathom this boy hurting a soul. Right then, as my wife slept, as I held the boy in my arms, as I rocked him to sleep I vowed to be the father this boy deserved. He might be my killer but he was yet to be tainted. 

Briefly, I even doubted the Gods. I questioned them openly and without fear. How could this precious child be my doom? I wouldn’t allow it.

-------

Thanks for reading!

[asparklethatisblue]

“You were right, actually,” he said, as Crawley cracked open her eye and raised a questioning eyebrow. 

“About what?”

“About teaching someone something entirely new and life changing,” Aziraphale quipped.

He grinned as Crawley groaned and smacked his chest, grumbling about insufferable angels. 

“You think too highly of yourself,” Crawley muttered, but her lips were quirking in a smile. 

At that moment footsteps sounded from outside the chamber, and before either angel or demon could do something several humans entered. One of them was carrying a lantern, which illuminated the room just enough to provide a perfect view of the rumpled clothes, the very obvious signs of rigorous sexual activity, and a newcomer to town wrapped around their most holy woman inside a sacred temple. It really couldn’t look any worse than that.

“Uh oh-” Aziraphale let out, trying to come up with an explanation as he saw the scandalized faces in front of them.

Then Crawley snapped her fingers and they were outside, high on a mountain cliff overlooking the early sunrise painting the temple below golden. 

Their clothes were scattered about them as well, so Aziraphale grabbed his robes and hastily pulled them against his chest. Crawley seemed to have no issue with modesty. She stretched languidly and yawned, before finger combing her hair into a presentable state with another miracle. Only then did she start dressing herself, not even bothering to clean up. 

“That was a rather rude awakening,” Aziraphale said, feeling like his mind was free from a lustful intoxicated daze for the first time in daze. “Those poor humans will think rather badly of me, I’m afraid.”

“At least half of them had fantasies about their dear holy Pythia,” Crawley responded, finally dressed and grinning down at Aziraphale, who couldn’t bring himself to put on his own clothes. For that he’d very briefly would have to expose himself again, and by the light of day he worried about this now. 

“I’ve made it so that they caught us but saw us escape through a side door before anyone could catch us. That’ll do it.”

“Well, I’m sorry I’ve ruined your reputation with them now,” Aziraphale said, feeling genuinely remorseful. “You must have enjoyed being at the temple if you stayed for so long.”

“Ah, that’s alright,” Crawley shrugged. “Was about time I set out wandering again. Besides, I can’t very well be a Pythia anymore.”

“Whyever not?” Aziraphale asked, blinking up at his demon. She’d cut a rather striking figure after all. 

Crawley’s grin grew sharp, her cheeks’ flush belying her attempts at bravado. 

“Because only virgins can speak prophecies at the oracle.”

With that Crawley winked and turned around with a wave. 

“See you around, angel.”

Aziraphale watched her disappear into the trees, his entire face flaming hot. He waited until the demon was truly gone to put on his clothes, and threw one last look at the temple below. 

That was an experience. And the first prophecy he’d ever heard, even spoken in jest, had turned out to be true. Perhaps prophecies were something to look into, after all. Might very well to lead more pleasant encounters with a certain demon if he was lucky.

lmao that. I barely remember the inspiration but to tell the truth? I was playing a shit ton of Assassin’s Creed Odyssey and I really loved the visuals of Delphi, the idea of oracles and all that, the view from the mountain down onto the temple… say what you will about AC, but they know how to make scenery look nice. The prompt was Prophecy if I remember right, so of course my mind sprang to the oracles of Antiquity. I liked the idea of Crowley pretending to be a holy woman serving a false god (in the eyes of Heaven and Hell) and spreading mischief via prophecies. So many myths involve misinterpreted prophecies as the source of so much evil after all. So here we had her predict that Aziraphale would teach someone something new and life changing. What that is is up to you 😌

(also Aziraphale first encounters the idea of prophecy here, and thinks its quite fun, hence his later collection)

[dualisume]

@qilyns asked ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡ // unprompted? ' let them say what they want, we won't hear it. '

Scared, Humiliated && Hated , that's what furina feels after the grand finale of the magnificent trial tha focalors had planned for her , it was true that the prophecy had been destroyed ; the sins of her people had been forgiven but humanity cannot grasp what was hidden behind doors , what the sacrifices furina had to make during all those years && instead just opted to what is presented to them , blamed the one they can easily blame , they were furious at her 500 years of reign , at her crimes on fooling them , && she didn't blame them , never had && never will , for it's their right to feel the anger that the diety they loved && praised so much was a fraud , that the god that is supposed to help them , have no power to do so.

So furina fled, far , far away from the place she used to call home. It was spur of the moment after the brief explanation of the Iudex regarding what happened, furina requested to rest && return to her chambers, but in truth she had left fontaine without even a single goodbye, the ex hydro archon , had found herself wondering around nations, -- first the scorching hot dessert of sumeru , then the rainforest -- until she found herself in the land of contracts Liyue.

Her divinity may be gone , but her name && face wasn't so it was a surprise when all of sudden, when a woman , welcomed her to their lands , her appearance && atmosphere is slightly similar towards the hydro dragon soverign , so furina knew that she is no ordinary person, she could be safe around her but still the ex hydro archon was alarmed after being found , panic runs through her body as she stepped back , causing her to stumble on her feet, and fall down into her rear.

of course , why would she not be afraid ? Perhaps the news of her fooling a nation && heavenly principles had spread like a wild fire, and now there's bounty on her head && the girl was sent to her was there to jail her && give her , her punishment.

❛ P-please , don't hurt me ! I know i fooled everyone, i'm a fraud of a god -- && i run away from my crimes, but I'll take responsibility for it , just please don't hurt me --! ❜ Humiliating... a god should never begs for her dear life , after all the savings && sacrifice she did. Then she heard her speak , it was soft yet comforting as if it was a loyal retainer respecting her Lord . ' let them say what they want, we won't hear it. ' Ganyu stated before She held out her hand && before the qilin could even react the ex hydro archon , pounces at her hugging her tight , and weeped into her arms. Letting out all the emotions she had surpassed, for 500 years up until the present.

[hislittleraincloud]

🕸️🕯️HAPPY BIRTHDAY, YOU DRUG-ADDLED MADMAN!🕯️🕸️

Without you, we wouldn't have Nevermore or our Raven Wednesday as she is. We would have had to rely on a culture without your poems and stories, and I can't imagine growing up in a world without masterpieces like Annabel Lee or The Telltale Heart. I would have not have won my 6th grade horror story writing contest that creeped everyone out without your influence, and I thank the gods for my introduction to your work three years prior. I would not have snatched up lovely 1890s copies of your poems for the love of my life, since she too had been obsessed with your work from an early age. (An 1892 Thomas Crowell and an 1895 Henry Altemus, according to my ancient eBay receipt.)

And now I must hijack your birthday to bemoan something inextricably tied to you and your work. (But alas, it has done it in just a superficial manner so far.)

Your presence as the basis for Wednesday's setting is why the show is Gothic Horror, not Horror. The complex emotions explored in the whole of the series sets it apart from the fear-evoking terror and violence of straight-on horror, which is perhaps why I am dismayed by the young actress's comments about nudging the show towards horror, since horror deals in terrifying the audience rather than taking them on an even more damaging tour of the various terrible emotions that make us question human morality.

Allow me to quote an L.A. Times critic who reviewed The Following, a show revolving around a Poe expert and a Poe-guided serial killer and his cult:

When we’re meant to observe the creepy gothic horror of [Poe's] stories, it’s the sense of inevitability or fate that gives the reader a frisson, not the gore: someone is buried alive, or dissolves in a moment.

This needs to be explained, considering the news that the show's S2 will 'lean more into horror'. Allow me to defer to Daniel Blackwood's excellent breakdown of the genre (picking out the features here, but all should watch the video for deeper insights):

Emotional Turmoil: "Antagonists are often personifcations of the protagonists' misdeeds or endured tragedies re-emerging as the physical or the metaphysical manifestation of emotional turmoil. In defeating or by sometimes being consumed by these presences ultimately concludes the inner and outer dilemmas of the characters."

That is literally this:

Though no one really talks about this, Sheriff Galpin is a background protagonist (he is in every episode) antihero, because he lacked the courage to face the truth because he loved his son and feared that his suspicions. He is, actually, a main character, and without him, the story loses the greater tragedy that is Tyler Galpin.

Mystery & Suspense: "The genre is pervaded by a threatening atmosphere, usually unseen and felt on an instinctual level. Protagonists may apply logic and rationale to otherwise supernatural happenings or vice versa. This is enhanced by the emotional turmoil suffered by protagonists, which makes for truly engrossing tales as the reader or viewer, much like the protagonist, attempts to make sense of the things around them. "

Again, literally**:

There's just something wrong about this place. And not just because it's a school. ~ Wednesday, Ep 1

Also, Sheriff Galpin knew something at the very beginning, and Wednesday pinpointed that in the second episode (in the previous episode, he and Santiago chat about the murders and how they were to be perceived as bear attacks). Noble also makes mention of bear attacks as well. **I edited this, because I had originally meant to use Wednesday's intuition as the example for Mystery & Suspense.

Ancient Prophecies: "Often connected to the very geography of the story, for example a castle or a forest, prophecies are usually unwittingly brought into fruition by the protagonist's actions or lack thereof. Prophecies are mostly obscure partial or deliberately confusing."

Once again, directly*:

My dear Wednesday, you are the key. Your arrival at Nevermore set the chubby wheels of my plan in motion. ~ Laurel Gates, a.k.a. Thornhill, Ep 8

Metonymy: "Metonomy is a subtype of metaphor, in which something like rainfall or lightning is used to communicate something else such as a mood, for example a thunderstorm being used to communicate impending dread, or using rainfall to denote sorrow. It's used so commonly in the genre that it's now a major staple, and you'd be hard pressed to find a gothic novel that does not use this to some degree."

Wednesday is checking all of these boxes, isn't it:

At least it's turning into a beautiful day. ~ Morticia Addams, Ep 1

Inexplicable Events: "Often supernatural in nature, events such as a knight's helmet falling on a character without logical reasoning or a glass being held at the protagonist by an unseen presence are extremely commonplace in the genre. In some ways these events are explained logically, and in others are indeed supernatural."

Xavier saved Wednesday from being crushed by the gargoyle, which 'inexplicably' fell (but at the end of the ep is revealed as Rowan's work). There are other examples of this throughout the season, like when Wednesday was attempting to summon Goody and the candles were blown out.

Mortality: "The Victorian Era was rife with an obsession with death, so much so that historians have dubbed this era and its people The Cult of Death; with this in mind, it stands to reason why many of the genre's works possess a morbid fascination with human mortality. Many of the genre's works attempt to romanticize the passing of human life while others simply lay bare its effects on those still living."

That is probably the most glaringly obvious and fitting characteristic of our main protagonist's core personality. Wednesday is death-obsessed. She sleeps like that because of it (and we love her for it). Honorable mention is her nap in the morgue.

Human Nature: "Many gothic novels and short stories aim to display the underlying sinister motivations of human nature. They depict the deep desires and passions that lie beneath the façade of socially engineered morality. This is usually done through the use of metaphors."

(No words needed for that one. However, Gates's half-baked actions could also be a metaphor for Wednesday's, which is only part of the reason why "Thornhill" tells Wednesday that they're a lot alike.)

დ

There is zero question that Wednesday (and Burton's other light-hearted work, if we're being honest) is a Gothic Horror Comedy.

It was never meant to be overtly scary or bloody/gory, and Edgar's works more than inspired the show's plotline and its very existence (as thin and clumsy as it was with its handling of the 'mystery'). I shall be bereft if it is cheapened because of a misunderstanding or deliberate dismissal of genres, though we are all hoping that it turns out well and that the change of tone doesn't weigh its comedy roots down (the hope is tenuous, given the near abandonment of satire...Pilgrim World's existence might be the first season's saving grace on that front).

TLDR; Gothic Horror (with emotions and relationships explored within an Old World 'horror' setting, its themes revolving around the complexity of human nature) is not *Horror* (aims to evoke fear in its audience, with terror being its main objective), Wednesday is Gothic Horror, Happy 215th Birthday Mr. Poe 🐦‍⬛🎂🎉

[gellavonhamster]

reading the post-vulgate, part 3 (the death of arthur)

"for [the king] loved the queen without measure, so that he could not love more" - is there such thing as "respectfully disbelieve" similar to "respectfully disagree", because sorry, but I respectfully don't believe this

Guinevere wearing a red dress to her execution... slay

I'm still extremely curious as to at which point Gareth replaced Gaheris as Gawain's favourite brother whose death at Lancelot's hands becomes the last straw for Gawain and is deeply regretted by Lancelot himself. Was it because Gaheris as the favourite brother was at odds with him killing Morgause? Did Malory introduce this?

"Gaheriet’s place was taken by a young and good knight named Gaheris of North Wales" and it's just Gaheriet/Gaheris of Orkney in a wig and with a fake moustache

"Kay, who saw clearly that he could not go with the army, had himself taken to Normandy to the house of a maiden who had been his fiancée" this is the first time in the entire cycle his fiancée is mentioned. The man knew how to keep his life private

"There was much good in Mordred" so now, after shitting at him for so many chapters, you're admitting it

they tied Mordred's dead body to a horse and are dragging it so that it gets torn to pieces. God.

also curious as to at which point Bedivere replaced Griflet as the one to throw Excalibur into the lake. Wikipedia just says he assumes this role in the English texts in contrast to Griflet in the French ones, but... why? Because the English audience is more familiar with him than with Griflet?

my understanding is that Morgan's ladies cast some enchantment to make it seem like they're burying the body, because in truth there was just Arthur's helmet in the grave

“Oh, cursed sea, full of bitterness and sorrow, evil, unknowing, and unknown, cruelly have you afflicted me who have taken from me the most loyal lover in the world and his love.” oh this is beautiful

the dying Guinevere asks her friend to cut out her heart when she dies and put it in Lancelot's helmet and send it to Lancelot and dear god what is wrong with everyone in the Post-Vulgate

I am fascinated by Mark destroying Arthur's legacy because Mark's role as a character is very similar to Arthur's (a king whose wife cheats on him with a younger man that is close to him), but where Arthur is tragic and noble and sinful and monstrous at the same time, Mark is just despicable. I'm sure there are texts in which he's portrayed in a more favourable light - there's a retelling of Tristania by Joseph Bédier in my TBR pile which, I believe, does that - but as far as I remember, in all texts I've read so far he's pretty unlikeable even before his marriage to Isolde, as he believes the prophecy that Tristan will destroy him and secretly hates him because of that, and later he just keeps being portrayed as so pathetic and mean that one cannot help but feel Tristan and Isolde are right to betray him because he fucking sucks. Everything you've built will be destroyed by the guy who is like you but worse, a wannabe-you of sorts, and he won't even manage to build anything in its place because he'll also get killed. Now that is the punishment for your sins.

[freefromfearforever]

Stay...

There's going to be days when you just don't want to be here anymore. You just STAY. You fucking stay. Somewhere out there, somebody needs your voice. I promise. I swear to God, your laughter is someone's saving grace. Hold on tight, baby. The sun is coming for you.' Eric Van Vuren.

Sipping coffee this morning, enjoying the cool rain-kissed air flowing through my windows, I came across this quote while clearing out old downloads.....there have been times I needed to read this short blurb, reminding myself of my worth.

The lie that creeps across the landscape of our minds, filling every crack and crevice with filth is that we are alone and worse...unnecessary...unneeded...forgotten...

Spending time with those who see you, value you...love you for who you are in each moment, in each season, tethers you to the here and now. Taking time with the ones who give you the space to be YOU, who create a safe place within their circle...within their hearts and minds, keeps your head above water...unknowingly holding you, reminding you of who you are to them...and it is enough.

For every dark thought that springs forth in the messy folds of your brain...that whispers in your ear that you are unworthy...a fraud...useless and no longer needed......for every one of these barriers and roadblocks to living life to the fullest, that loved one showcases a million little reasons to stay...to just fucking stay...to smile despite the tears, to find joy in the face of overwhelming sorrow, to laugh in delight and dispel the darkness that shrouds the heart, the mind, the spirit....

I struggle to find words to describe my thankfulness and gratitude for the unconditional love expressed, shown and walked out in truth from these few genuine souls.

This dear friends is what saves....this is what will enable the trauma laden hearts to step out on the path of life instead of off the path, into despair. No matter how long, how far...no matter how many times they choose to go back to that cesspool of lies....reflect on the times on your own path you were shown patience, kindness and long-suffering and extend those same virtues to someone in need.

Those killing words of 'your triggers are not my problem,' are harbingers of death, of cold hearts and colder emotions. If not our problem, then whose?

'If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a ringing gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have absolute faith so as to move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.…' 1 Corinthians 13

If I speak to a friend, a stranger, a co-worker and something I say has the affect, the ability to hurt, to trigger a memory of harsh and horrific times...it is with a sense of responsibility and love that I would seek forgiveness and a change in behaviour to avoid causing pain.

And so I encourage you dear hearts to extend kindness, to extend compassion and love to all we come in contact with for it costs us nothing but personal growth and is it not our aim to grow in character as we live this short life? It is gone in the blink of an eye....

Stay dear hearts....stay....you may not know how much you matter to someone, how much you are loved...how much your smile lights the room and the hearts of those around you.

Wherever you are, whether surviving day to day in the nightmare or away and living each day in search of your purpose here on this earth....you matter...you are important...you are loved....

That far away glimmer of light you see is the promise of new beginnings...of fresh life full of joy and laughter....meant for YOU and only you...God has a purpose just for you....He walks with you; swims with you in the darkest of depths, climbs that massively formed mega-mountain with you...carrying you in your weakest moments, cradling you close and whispering His unending love for you, His delight in you.

Do not give up dear broken and lost...for while we may feel lost and too broken and damaged to be any good, the very opposite is truth that resides within you, if only you look hard enough. There is life, there is bountiful life waiting for you just round that next bend, round that next hill....steadfast and brave is who you are....plot your course and hold fast and true. You've got this...inch by inch, foot by foot....moment by moment you move forward to a newness and fullness of life, to healing and love for the woman (man) you were created to be. You, my dear hurting hearts, are worthy of all that is good and lovely....

I pray for your walk, for your unique path up and out of the wilderness...

I pray for extraordinary strength in the face of the enemy that would seek to destroy, to debilitate, to bring death to your dreams....

I pray for wisdom and clarity when confusion comes in like a black cloud...

I pray for the grace to accept that which you cannot change...

Go with God today and know your worth dear friends. Walk tall, walk proud, walk with confidence knowing you are not alone, never alone and loved beyond measure.

Loved....wanted...necessary...needed.... always.