#sins of the father (hel)

[magicalmystery-muses]

Tag List Pt6: Marvel OCs

[sleepyhollowtimburton]

Origins of the Headless Horseman legend

Despite the legend of Sleepy Hollow being one of the oldest American written horror stories, the origin behind the Headless Horseman is a lot older and originates in Europe.

Washington Irving first published the legend of Sleepy Hollow between 1819-1820. In this story, it is explained that the Headless Horseman was a German mercenary soldier, a Hessian hailing from the German state Hessen, who unfortunately lost his head during the revolutionary war after being hit by a canon ball to the face. It is interesting that Irving chose for a German origin for the Horseman in a Dutch town as both Germany and the Netherlands have legends of headless horsemen, talking decapitated heads, ghost riders in the dark that have its origins in pre-Christian times.

Here are some examples of the headless horseman myth from different countries in Europe:

Netherlands: The belief in the wild hunt was once quite important in pre-Christian times, it's in fact the origin of the modern Dutch holiday of Sinterklaas which was introduced in the USA as Santa Clause. As the days shorten and winter arrives, the Germanic God Wodan, or in some instances the Goddess Hel/Holle, rides through the sky followed by a horde of the undead. Anyone unfortunate enough to see the riders in the sky, would soon die and join the hunt. To please the hunt, people began to give offerings to the God Wodan and his horse Sleipnir, placing carrots in shoes, this tradition is still being done in the Netherlands until this very day. I am myself a Germanic Pagan and I honour the wild hunt by making offerings to Wodan and his horse and blowing the midwinter horn.

There is also a Dutch medieval song 'Heer Halewijn', the origins of which are assumed to be older, an oral tradition before being written down around the 15th century. This song tells the tale of a princess set out to meet Halewijn who in turn ends up being a murderer who decapitates women in the forest. The princess manages to decapitate Halewijn instead and takes his head with her to her father the king, Halewijn's decapitated head however continues to talk to the princess.

Ireland: In Irish folklore, the Dullahan is a headless evil entity who rides a horse while carrying his head under his arm. This spectre is perhaps the most famous and classic example of the visual origin of the Headless Horseman. Not only does the Dullahan carry his own head, he also wields a whip made out of a human spine. Whenever the Dullahan halts his horse, a death will happen by calling out that person's name. Some say that the Dullahan is the spirit of Crom Dubh, a Celtic deity who was worshiped by means of human sacrifices.

There is also the Cóiste Bodhar, a strange headless entity who drives a black coach. Bodhar is a harbinger of death who arrives to announce the passing of a relative or a loved one, quite similar to the grim reaper.

Wales: Now the country of Wales is home to quite a few headless mysteries. One of the more famous stories tells about a headless woman: 'Fenyw heb un pen' who eerily also rides a horse without a head. Another story tells of how Bryn Hall was haunted by a headless horseman until the horseman pointed towards a body which turned out to be the dead body of an illegimate child of Bryn Hall. This version of the Headless Horseman seems to have been more benign, rather than being a harbinger of death or a crazed killer.

Germany: Germany is also home to several Headless Horseman legends and is of course the home country of Irving's version of the Headless Horseman. Most of Germany's legends originate from the Rhineland area and were part of a morality tale. Many of these Headless Horsemen were doomed men, being punished for their sins on earth so they had to wander until they had atoned for their sins. Sometimes these Headless men would perform good deeds, most times however they would kill victims, not by decapitation but simply by touching them. Both Germany and the Netherlands believed in the Wild Hunt legend and it is alleged that many of these Headless Horsemen have their origin in the pagan wild hunt.

England: England also has several legends concerning Headless Horsemen, one of these is part of the legend of Arthur, the Green Knight. This knight challenged one man in Arthur's court to strike him down with his axe but the Green Knight warned the man he would strike the man back later in a year. As promised, the knight got decapitated, picked up his head and later decapitated the man whom he challenged. Another headless horseman legend originates from the Dartmoor area, nothing much is known about this legend other than that people have seen a headless man riding around the countryside.

In the end, the Headless Horseman has its origins in both Celtic and Germanic mythology and new versions of the legend keep on popping up throughout history, either as a bringer/omen of death or as a killer waiting for his unfortunate victims. Seldomly is the Headless Horseman a benign person helping people in need.

The legend found its way to the USA thanks to Dutch, Irish, English and German settlers and was immortalized by Washington Irving in his 1820 story 'the legend of Sleepy Hollow'. Washington Irving himself probably based the story on the old Dutch and German stories as he was familiar with them thanks to his travels. The retellings of German folktakes 'Volksmärchen der Deutschen, 1783 was especially a big source of inspiration for Washington Irving.

[totally-not-your-babe]

Wrecker : Synonyms are weird because if you invite someone to your cottage in the forest, that just sounds nice and cozy. But if I invite you to my cabin in the woods you’re going to die.

Crosshair: My favorite is explaining the difference between a butt dial and a booty call.

Tech: It’s called connotations.

Hel : Try this one on for size, “Forgive me, Father, I have sinned” vs “Sorry, Daddy, I’ve been naughty."

Hunter: Great news! Language is now banned!

Fanfic MASTERLIST

[bugwolfsstuff]

Hi.

Just wanted to have this list of my fics, fandoms and stuff for organization.

Previous pin: PSA for all mythology based fandoms

Current Fandoms:

Pjo/RRverse (Rick Riordan)

Epic the musical (Jorge Rivera-Herrans)

Macbeth (William Shakespeare)

Hades (Supergiant) [no spoilers pls, havent finished the game]

Finished multi-chapter fics

Vineowls Christmas (Pjo, Annabeth Chase & Castor & Pollux, Christmas, fluff)

Finished oneshots

Cupid is an asshole (Hoo, Valgrace, one sided love, Cupid, angst)

The Sins of our Fathers (Norse myth, Hel & Baldur, drabble, angsty)

The child of some parent (Mcga, Loki & Alex Fierro, drabble, angst)

But I am a witness to love's death There's no blood, there's no body, there's nothing left (Pjo, Annabeth Chase & Castor, grief, angst)

You don't have to be anybody you can never be. That's alright, let it out, talk to me (Pjo, Drew Tanaka & Connor Stoll, coming out, hurt & comfort)

The answer is it's complicated (Pjo, Thalia & Dionysus, 225 words, angst)

Camp Half-bloods two dads (even if neither want to admit it) (Pjo, Chironysus, 295 words, fluff)

Series

The Luke Tragedy Cycle 2/3 (Pjo, Stolls & Luke, Trauma, attempted child murder, HEAVY angst)

Ongoing fics

Wine Child (BEING REWRITTEN) (Pjo, Dionysus, de-aged)

Demigods get social media (pjo, Camp Half-Blood, social media fic, CRACK)

Playlists

The Luke Tragedy Cycle: Youtube | Spotify | Parts/Song List

Pomegranate Prince AU: (in the works)

Pjo Mortal AU: (in the works)

Me linking songs to the blorbos

Ma Meilleure Ennemie by Stromae & Pomme to Luke and Hermes

JUDAS by The Reverent Marigold to Leeluke

Cronides trauma (Elder Olympians) posting because I think they're tragic neat.

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[sacredheart-stigmata]

Why do you worship a god who seems to hate you so much? Why do you worship a god who wants to prevent you from doing things that bring you pleasure, who cuts you off from other gods, and who says you're wrong the way you are and that you have to change for him? Jesus sounds abusive. None of my gods would ever do something like that to me. The main goddess I worship is Hel and she's really nice to me, she gives me hugs, and encourages me to engage in my desires and follow my ambitions. There are better gods for you to worship, you don't have to hate yourself or harm yourself.

It is like 3 the morning so excuse me if this is phrased badly, but I couldn’t sleep after seeing this so I figured I’d answer it now. I’m also on my phone, so please forgive any typos. You seem to be approaching in good faith, so I’m going to try and answer the same. Forgive me for this not being very scripture based or filled with citations; this answer is in regards to my heart only.

First, I don’t believe god hates me at all. I have never thought that, actually. When I left the church for six years and experimented with other religions, i still knew that god as I understood her, didn’t hate me. I didn’t even believe in her, yet I knew that was what I firmly believed.

So, I was raised episcopal-catholic (ma is episco, daddy is catholic, I know go to a episcopal church), but I consider myself a ‘lapsed cradle convert’ which means to me that despite being raised and baptized and confirmed in the church, my relationship with god is so new that I feel like a convert. I am trans, and gay. All of that growing up left me desperately wanting attention, and being the ‘perfect’ daughter of god got me that. Even had people joke I would be a nun. But my faith was nonexistent. I didn’t believe at all. I was going through the motions 100%. And that is completely okay in my eyes. Not believing isn’t some horrible sinful thing. Our relationship with the divine doesn’t work that way. When I left the church, it was easy bc I didn’t really believe. Now that I’m back, it feels like I’m entering for the first time, and I’ve never been happier with my faith.

But back to god hating me. I genuinely have never believed that. Maybe I’m lucky for being raised in a church where hell was barely mentioned, but I know my mother has always stressed the importance of god’s love and compassion. We don’t agree on everything theologically, but that is one thing that she made sure I knew from an early age. God, to me, feels incredibly soft. Warm and fluffy in my heart. A gentle touch on my soul, beckoning me. Gentle and patient, meeting me at my own pace. Waiting and helping and full of love, so full of desire to be beside me. The Creator/Father/Mother is gentle. They created a beautiful world and made me apart of it. They are my parent, overwhelmed in their love for their child and waiting with bated breath for me to return that love. Not forced, but coxed.

Jesus is my beloved. He holds me when I’m frightened. He kisses me goodnight. He adores me as I adore him. I had an episode tonight where I wanted to self harm really badly, but imaging him squeezing me from behind and running his hands down my arms brought me comfort I cannot explain.

The Holy Spirit confused me, honestly. Not in that I don’t understand her role or place as God, but because I can’t seem to neatly place her in a box— which feels like the whole point! She is unknowable, yet completely beside me at all times. Perfect wisdom. Together, the great IAM.

Second, I don’t believe god cuts me off from pleasure. What pleasure does he prevent me from? God doesn’t care if I have pre marital sex or love a man or masturbate— she cares that I treat people with love. The church? Yeah, they care. But they are not god!! They are humans, fallible, full of mistakes! The god I love asks for two things: that I love them with all my heart and that I love everyone. And you know what? As hard as loving everyone is, trying has been significantly better for my mental health. Thanks god!

So being ‘cut off’ from other gods doesn’t bother me as I don’t believe in them. Hard to miss what you’ve never cared to consider. But I think you should look into christo-paganism on tumblr and you’ll find that this statement is technically true, but far more complicated in practice.

And again. I do not believe for one second god wants me to change who I am. Be a better person? Change for good? Be less angry, less hateful, more patient, more compassionate, love justice more, give to others, fight for others— they expect all of that. My transness? They don’t give a damn; they made me trans! I am loved as I am, and I don’t need to fundamentally change myself.

Also, I’m curious. What about Jesus, not god the father or the spirit, but Jesus himself, is abusive? I’ve heard people argue god the father is for asking us to love him (while they at the same time talk about loving Aphrodite or Isis) but for me, I don’t need god to ask me to love him. He’s good enough that I don’t have to be asked.

Basically, how you described Hel? That IS my relationship with the divine, with god. That exactly. God has never made me hate myself. God has NEVER asked me to harm myself. We are in a mutually beneficial relationship. The church? An institution of men. Not god. At all.

I hope this isn’t too preachy. I’d love a reply. However, jsyk what you did is exactly the same as an evangelical coming into your inbox to preach why god is better than Hel. It was extremely inappropriate, and I don’t think you should ever do something like this to anyone.

Okay it’s like 3:35 thank you for your time.

[narrators-journal]

I have a little request! Joker masturbating with a dildo while thinking about Tatsuya, but then Shadow Tatsuya steps in to help him out with it~ (I adore how your write tatsujun 🥹)

It was barely, but we made it boys! I finished up the final ask! Even if that bitch (Shadow Tatsuya) is kinda an ass portrayal, the smut’s fuckin’ done! And yes, I DID sort of speedrun this thing because I didn’t want to write for one and make the second asker wait a fuckin’ month (even tho I’m pretty sure there’ll be at least one tatsujun kinktober ask to hold him over tbh. At least I hope lol). I hope you enjoy it! I tried my best, even if I do need to work more on Shadow Tatsuya’s personality.

CW: Sex toys, rough sex, lil hints of sadism, implied branding/marking/burning, masochism, I think that’s it.

As the leader of a devoted cult, The Joker detested his demonic attributes. But, the small horns that began to grow from his head were at least easy enough to hide beneath his ornate mask, the real pain in the ass was the flower-tipped tail that seemed to have a life of its own, and was, as a result, far harder to comfortably hide like he did his horns.

It was like his connection to Tatsuya Suou, in that way. Something that The Joker wished to be rid of, but also something he couldn’t deny and hide away like the other unholy parts of himself. A reminder that, while he may be worshipped and followed like a deity, Joker was still a man at his core. He was still Jun Kurosu, to some extent. And, that extent, while not very far, was always evident within him. From the way that Tatsuya’s shadow disgusted him, to the carnal desires that crept up whenever the demon was alone. The old desires for the tall, tan brunette to have his hands on him that Joker’d tried to keep buried for months.

Yet, no matter how hard The Joker tried to shove his old feelings for the cursed star, they always seemed to rear their ugly heads as soon as the ornate mask left his head. As soon as the ravenette’s shaggy hair fell in front of one of his bright, hypnotic blue eyes, his mind began to wander back to those lascivious, sinful thoughts.

Thoughts of Tatsuya in his large, curtain-enclosed bed to await him, the pyrokenetic brunette there to pin the demon against the smooth stones of the wall to ravish him, of the tall man picking him up to slam him down on his cock, swirled in his mind so vividly, the cursed star might as well have been a poltergeist for The Joker. A poltergeist that earned a growl from the demon as he snatched up the large dog bed Sudou often slept in to throw out into the hallway. Then, went over to the hand-carved nightstand to pull open the lower drawer and fish out a dildo and accompanying bottle of lube. Another, more shameful growl let out as the demon plopped heavily onto the cloud-soft bed to look at the toy he relied on so much.

It wasn’t anything special. It was cheap, too pale in skin tone to match the cursed star, and two inches too long. But, somehow not quite girthy enough to match the man, either. Really, it was a poor excuse for a stand in, but it was the only thing Joker could manage to smuggle past Sudou and his father.

So, despite how dissapointed it left him, The Joker stripped off his fancy, white-and-black clothes and applied a bit of lube to the toy. Let’s just get this over with… His primary thought as he used his tail to line the toy up and push it in. The use of the sinful appendage only added to the immersiveness, even if it didn’t help a whole lot. Slow to thrust it in and out as the fantasies began to seep back into his mind to fuel the embers of desire in his belly.

Only for the fact that he forgot to lock his bedroom’s doors to slam his thoughts to an abrupt stop before Joker could even begin to succumb to his lust. “Hey, Ju- Oh.” Of course it had to be Shadow Tatsuya.

Aka, The Joker’s least favorite shadow. The one that reminded Joker of the cursed star in all of the wrong, and right ways. The only one that brought a hellish burst of embarrassment to Joker’s skin as he scrambled to pull out the toy and hide himself, and the dildo, behind his comforter. “GET THE HELL OUT!” He snarled to the doppleganger, the flower on his tail closed tightly as the appendage squeezed the base of the toy he hid behind himself. “Why?! Were you hoping for Sudou?” The shadow asked with a smug grin while he shut the door behind himself. The disgusted look on the demon’s face enough of an answer for him. So, he simply locked the door this time and watched how Joker sat awkwardly at the edge of his bed, clearly too ashamed to speak, unable to deny the implication thrown at him. So, the shadow chuckled when he finally approached where the demon almost cowered on the bed. His body only hidden from view by the comforter that he held up protectively. “What’s wrong, Master Joker? I only came to see if you were okay. And,” He hummed, the sudden shift to a too-innocent facade a slap to the face that only worsened the embarrassment for the demonic cult leader.

Which, made the ravenette hate the shadow more, in a petty way. Because, Tatsuya wouldn’t be so passive aggressive to The Joker. He may be angry at him, but he’d never call him by his proper title with such venom and cold humor.

But, at the same time, Joker couldn’t help but feel his heart thump in his chest with excitement when the doppleganger continued not with words, but instead pulled his shirt off and followed it with his pants. The thrum of the demon’s blood strengthened more when the brunette crawled onto the bed to be face to face with the demon. “I came to offer something a bit better than a cheap toy.” He finally finished, a small smile on his lips that brought more lewd heat to the demon’s pale cheeks. A warm color that Shadow Tatsuya took as the invitation that it was, as if he could read the lewd intention behind it. And, while he was right, the way he knew he could get away with pressing his lips to Joker’s, with the playful swipe of his warm tongue over the demon’s bottom lip in some empty request for permission before the muscle pushed into the cult leader’s mouth. It was annoying.

Despite that, though, Joker let the shadow kiss him until his back was against the mattress. And, even when Shadow Tatsuya broke the kiss to move his lips down to kiss a hot trail down the demon’s throat and follow the vein that thrummed with his shameful eagerness to latch onto his sweet spot and pull out a soft whimper of need. Yet, even when the doppleganger finally pulled away from the fresh bruise on the demon’s throat to roll him onto his belly and lift his hips, Joker didn’t push him away.

His tail, his ever traitorous tail, let go of the dildo to instead wrap itself around Shadow Tatsuya’s waist. Which, allowed the demon to feel the brunette give a low chuckle while Joker pulled a pillow to himself to hide his face in the feather-stuffed object, which made Shadow Tatsuya lean down onto one of his arms to almost purr into the ravenette’s ear, “Y’know, you’re far cuter when you’re like this. All quiet, submissive, and sinful.” Which, finally drew words out of the ravenette, “I’m not sinful.” Spat out at the shadow in a brief moment of anger that was quickly squashed back down when Shadow Tatsuya squeezed his hip with the hand he’d kept there and nipped at his neck to get a gasp out of Joker. “You could’ve fooled me, sir.” He teased, before a kiss replaced his teeth, and he stifled further argument by pushing his cock into him.

An abrupt, selfish act that earned a louder moan from Joker and made him grip his sheets against the way Shadow Tatsuya’s cock filled and stretched him so wonderfully. All annoyance and bitterness burned away by the initial flames of lust lit by the friction and warmth of Shadow Tatsuya’s thick cock. Flames that were quick to turn hellish, because the shadow only gave the demon a brief moment to adjust to the difference between the shadow’s dick, and the soft silicone toy before the brunette began to slam into him at a brutal, thorough pace.

And, while the silk sheets of Joker’s bed were just thick enough to spare his palms the bite of his claws when he squeezed the fabric, they were far too delicate to stand up to the shadow’s angry, animalistic thrusts. The same way his feather pillows were just thick enough to threaten to suffocate the demon, but not thick enough to muffle the moans each brush of Shadow Tatsuya’s member against his prostate drew out of him. “Any better than that cheap toy? Junbug?” He asked, his breath hot against the shell of the demon’s ear, his voice little more than a feral, hateful growl as he used the old nickname the original Tatsuya had given the demon long before he’d awoken to his purpose. Just to add extra salt to the question.

Which, made Joker grit his teeth a bit. Especially since, in any normal situation, such a venomous backhand would’ve gotten the shadow torn apart by Joker’s mangled persona. But, with how his thrusts rippled through the demon’s body like a euphoric earthquake, Joker couldn’t find the footing to even dig his claws into the arm the shadow leaned on, let alone properly punish him. Though, how could he? Joker had already shown how needy he was. There was no use in an attempt to hide and deny it at that point. So, all he could do was bury his too-hot face in his pillow and refuse to answer the doppleganger.

Yet, Shadow Tatsuya didn’t need a verbal reply, he could tell how much the demonic cult leader enjoyed the heat of his body over him, the brush of his tan skin against his back, and the grip he had on his hip to keep him in place. Joker’s pillow did little to muffle him, after all, and even if it did, the way the demon’s tail was still tightly wrapped around the Shadow’s waist was a shamefully clear tell. So, despite Joker’s silence, the shadow knew the answer, and seemed to relish in it. Even if that didn’t exactly translate into his pace. Instead, the demon’s enjoyment of how the shadow’s thick cock pumping in and out of his ass only seemed to encourage the shadow to be rougher with him.

“Ah! Tat-” But, the words died with shame on The Joker’s tongue despite how the shadow’s palms suddenly branded themselves onto his hips. “Hah! Why’d you stop yourself, junbug? You can say myname, you know. It is mine, after all.” The doppleganger mocked with a laugh, the static-y growl of his words simultaneously disgusting, and incredibly hot. One side of Joker instantly breathless at the thought of the cursed star’s eventual fall to the shadow. Replaced by a far better, sinless version of himself that Joker could have in place of the soft silicone toy that barely sated him for a night.

But, there was also a deeper, darker part of the demon was put off at the thought. Almost turned off entirely by the reminder that the brunette that humped him into his silken sheets wasn’t the real Tatsuya Suou, and the reminder of how quick he was to taunt and heckle the demon.

Almost.

Because, like how the pain of the shadow’s heated touch mixed with the unyeilding pleasure of his unrelenting thrusts to tie the demon’s belly in knots, the two aspects at war in Joker’s mind only seemed to increase the bliss. Each thrust rippled through the ravenette’s body like a ravenous forest fire deadset on unravelling every possible coherent thought the demon had.

Which, wasn’t hard to do. Even with the pain caused by Shadow Tatsuya’s hands on his hips, the way his deep, animalistic yet rhythmic thrusts targeted The Joker’s prostate kept the pleasure in his blood so high, that all he could do was mewl and moan into his pillow with tears in his bright blue eyes. Until, finally, the knots in his belly snapped.

And, after that point, Joker couldn’t recall much. He could recall the way Shadow Tatsuya bit into his shoulder and let his thrusts turn sloppy, and he could vaguely register the flood of magma that seemed to fill his belly soon after his own cum had covered the sheets. But, if Tatsuya’s doppleganger had said anything as he came, or after, Joker couldn’t hear it over the euphoria that pulsed through his boneless body even after his orgasm.

But, once those warm pulses and twitches faded, the shameful need for release taken with them, The Joker was quick to recompose himself and push himself out of his pillows. “Get the hell out, now.” He ordered, the layered effect back in his words, and his shamed disgust for the cheap copy evident in the curl of his lip. “yeah, yeah. I’m going.” Shadow Tatsuya snapped back, already halfway to his feet as the ravenette watched him. And, while he took his sweet time to get dressed again, he kept his mouth shut as he did. At least, until he was halfway out of the double doors and could throw back to the demon, “Oh! But don’t be tooashamed to come get me next time you’re horny, Master Joker. I’m here to help.~” before the door shut, and the pillow Joker threw landed harmlessly against the wood.

[jmwdoesthings]

Set Me Free - Chapter Three - Loki x OC

Chapter Three - only problems arise when one's existence is a scandal.

One of Loki Laufeyson's most prized talents was the sharpness of his mind and tongue. Or, rather, his sub-talent which stemmed from this sharpness of mind, coupled with no hesitancy of gauging people who irked him with a few well-chosen words: his natural ability to send beings into a state of crazed obstinacy of beating out their exasperation out onto his face and stick sharp objects into his torso. But, alas - what could he do about his genius? It was a gift of his and it would simply be a shame for it to go unpractised.

And he was always of this opinion until life threw him into a crucible of Hel and he encountered a few beings who surpassed even his own deviation from the path he, perhaps, should have trodden upon.

A pleasant conversation with Odin was all well and good, and Loki grew his heart into stone well enough to withstand the old man's cutting words. How he wished he could kill him, as he was informed of his birthright. How he wished he could watch him burn in a fire of equal heat and torture which he had created for him. Oh, how Loki wished he could kill the man he once called Father, as his sentence was spoken and he was confined within four walls for the rest of his life in this world. His veins frothed with the desire to outstretch his hands, not only the sharpness of his tongue, and get an opportunity for his pupils to constrict into two dagger points which he would simultaneously assault this wanton occupying Asgard's throne, as he was taken down into the dungeons.

He even cursed his mother, which led to torment which surpassed physical, after he had allowed himself to seek comfort within her hands, the hands which had turned into an illusion and reminded him of the thing he feared and hated most, knowingly or not: Loki Laufeyson was forsaken, alone. All were against him, never would he smile again without stones crushing his chest into a bloody slab of tissue.

And Henrietta Knott...

Loki gritted his teeth, then shakily snapped the book he was holding shut. He tried to tell himself that he hadn't thought of her as he tore that city down. He tried to tell himself that, despite recollecting strange pieces of feeling that made his heart feel alive, he hadn't cast them aside for power and some sort of made chase of control and fulfilment. He tried to contain himself, rage and fury crawling over every inch of his skin, making him tremble and his veins stand out on his neck and forehead.

A smile, an untouched laugh of a girl, her soft hand on his face, so long ago, then later, when she could think; when she could ask him what was on his mind; when she could kiss his cheeks and be his one companion, one who he did not irk with slashes of knives but with pokes of soft fingers and impish grins.

Oh, I do like you, Loki of Asgard.

The book was obliterated as it struck the wall, its spine cracking and the unspoiled pages now furled and crumpled miserably beneath it, as it lay desolate and unwanted at the base of his prison. Loki's chest heaved up and down as he stood in this torpid state of turmoil; the echoes of his yell of rage still curled off the walls of his cell; somewhere behind his spine emotions gathered, as foetid as sludge: black resentment, bitterness, wild fury, sharp blame. He was an embodiment of the worst, a plague, a forsaken being of sin and twisted lies and mind, and yet... Odin, how cruel fate was, how it cursed and damned him! He, for all his thick masks of apathy and madness, could still feel that soft weight of that child who used to love him, that soft weight when he had carried it as it slept on his chest and shoulder, honest and trusting, tearing sobs from his chest and pulling tears of delicate overwhelm from his eyes.

Loki hated, he hated, he hated! He hated all, all! He wished to burn and destroy and descend Asgard into the very Hel he was placed in! He wished to steal breath and still hearts and make them feel his rage with more than just their hearts, but with their empty veins!

But he was locked up. Mocking, rich pieces furnished his cell. A golden bowl with delicious, sweet grapes stood on a polished table. A god, it all seemed to be saying, raising its eyebrows at him quizzically, you're a god, you say? And yet look at you. You're not much more than a dog locked up in a cage; you're no more than a criminal, torn from the spires of paradise into the echoing void of the craters below it. Where is your power? Where are your words? Where is your purpose, now?

Loki obliterated everything with his sparks, until even his bed was splintered, filling his nostrils with an acrid stench of destruction. How ironic. Wasn't that exactly what Odin had said? Wherever he went, there was nothing but destruction, and death.

Loki's rage stilled like magma setting. He looked about him, cold in his chest and the pit of his stomach and in the splinters of the furniture, then despair and helplessness crept through his veins and clutched at his throat.

"All eternity," he muttered breathlessly, as he limped over to the wall and slid down next to it, his blasted, damaged back barely keeping him upright as he panted. "All eternity."

What he wanted, he didn't know. It was as though he had forgotten what he had aimed for in the first place. His mind was a muddle of slippery objects, objects bearing labels like: destiny, memory, touch; consequence, error, pain; morals, values, gain.

His eyes narrowed as he rootled in his ravaged mind. What was it that Loki sought? What was it, besides power and satisfaction of recognition? There must have been something. There must have been something...

He whimpered and clutched at his temples, feeling as though his head was falling apart. As though there was a physical being pushing on its walls and laughing, moving about every piece, every block of his mind around to its will. He felt as though something else had created this mess. It wasn't his, this chaos in his brain and chest, it wasn't... it couldn't be... it felt foreign and strange, as though that oaf Thor had been in his room and thrown everything about, out of its place, to spite him.

But this wasn't Thor, no. This was something far more sinister, something which he couldn't fathom and organise, something which didn't belong in his head. Loki clutched at his throbbing throat, then closed his eyes and tried to descend into himself, touch and feel the burned and bleeding parts, find the scattered keys to the different rooms organising his head, observe both the damage and reparations - or rather, the change - time had created.

But he couldn't. All he found as soon as he closed his eyes was a sharp, cold pain, something which sent electricity sizzling the raw inside him; he jerked awake with a gasp and furled his fingers deep into the fabric of the sides of the coat he was clad in, seeking, seeking, always seeking and finding... nothing.

He had sought for so long, he had forgotten what he had begun to search for in the first place. Perhaps then, when this mad hunt began, the end goal was tangible and clear; now, all he wished he could find was a place to find a recluse. Something which brought him away from the tangible, from the pain, away, away, away, away to a place from which...

From which Hattie Knott came from?

"No," Loki muttered to himself, assuming a stone-cold facade, which, as usual, was tinged with sardonic and selfish humour. "Hattie Knott is gone, so are you. She'll be free to do what she wants and go to Hel with me after."

No, she wouldn't go to Hel, a voice chuckled in his head. Even in the afterlife, you will find nothing but emptiness and cold, this time which will penetrate even your jotun skin.

Loki laughed, then. His laugh was scraping and cold, and an insight to the beginning of his inevitable descent into madness.

*

Some three weeks after the beginning of his imprisonment, and after Frigga had finally left him to succumb to his punishments and thoughts and the furniture had been restored from his outbursts, Loki looked up from his book to find Ahlan the Jailer watching him.

He met his eyes - dark and cold like the bite of steel - and watched a smile equally sharp and tinged with relish of grief unfold on his scarred face. This man was taller than Thor, had a build which could rival the god of thunder (particularly his developed shoulders) dark hair hanging around his face and growing out the lower part of it, and oh, Loki often watched him with a placid mask hiding the twisted thoughts of infliction he directed at him. They weren't usual inflictions. They were awful inflictions. Malefic ones.

Loki turned his attention back to his book, thinking Ahlan would get bored of him and go, as was usually the case, for he had other prisoners to torture. The reason Loki wasn't getting tortured was because Frigga had begged it out of Odin, and the latter, the majestic, splendid, merciful ruler he was, agreed to spare him of it. At least for a little while.

But Ahlan the Jailer slowly stepped through the golden barrier which imprisoned him. He wandered about for a few moments, taking a look at the books piled on the table - he took one up, flicked at a page leisurely, then chuckled and placed it to the side.

Loki watched him. He had neither the energy nor the patience to engage in taunting which he, undoubtedly, would end up on the lower step of, since he was the one behind bars.

"So, Laufeyson," Ahlan began, looking up at him from the book he placed to the side, then flicked his eyes over the rich, gleaming furniture and crimson bed covers. "A nice little place you have here."

Loki smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Indeed," he replied, then languidly flicked a page and trained his eyes on the paper. "It's kept quite pristine. And in fact, I'd like to keep it that way."

Ahlan raised his eyebrows.

"Really? You were never a scrupulous one, before you still had any hope of retaining a title for yourself."

Loki stopped his fists from clenching, though it took him an effort to do so, and showed his teeth as his face muscles worked into a wider smile.

"I have never felt the need to keep my floors free from blood before," he said calmly, looking up at him suggestively. "So I suggest you pay heed to your surroundings, Jailer. It would give the servants a fright if they saw your head jammed into the fruit platter after they are called to clean your entrails off my floor."

Ahlan only laughed, rolling his heavily-clad shoulders. "Always so violent. If you were my son, perhaps I would be proud at where your thoughts go, Laufeyson, I'll give you that. But since you have been introduced into the higher ranks, after your miserable wretch of a self was picked up off the steps of Jotunheim by the Allfather..."

Loki clutched his book so hard, he tormented the pages.

"... More was expected of you. An un-warped sense of justice. A speck of honour or two. But you failed."

Ahlan sank down onto Loki's bed. Loki considered - if he beheaded the Jailer, would he still get fruit delivered to him after breakfast? Loki was very fond of grapes. They were smooth and round and sweet and reminded him of what wine tasted like.

Ahlan nodded. "You failed quite spectacularly, actually. It should be marked with some sort of stamp of excellence... I don't think anybody has yet stooped so low as the bastard prince of Asgard has."

Loki decided he liked grapes too much, though fire now coursed through his lungs and his back stiffened and flared most irritatingly. "What do you want," he said coolly, smoothing the pages with a scarred thumb.

"Me?" Ahlan smiled. "I want nothing. I do not have a will, here. I am assigned to babysit all you drooling toddlers who couldn't behave. What my superiors, what the Allfather wishes, I do."

Loki chuckled, then shut the book and placed it to the side. He stood and folded his hands behind his back.

"I'll tell you what, Ahlan," he murmured, smiling, then travelled towards the fruit bowl and lazily picked up a heavy branch loaded with crimson, glistening fruit. "Perhaps if you were wise enough to aid me in my so-called little slip-up..."

Loki dangled the fruit into his mouth and snatched a few grapes with his teeth. After swallowing, he continued.

"... You wouldn't be a dungeon dog today, with about as much regard from Odin as the rest of us, shut up in our little kennels."

Ahlan watched him without a change in his strange, steel smile.

"Oh, I don't know about that," he murmured, watching as Loki picked a few grapes off the branch and began popping them into his mouth, apparently completely at his leisure. "But I do know that I certainly wouldn't have the pleasure of being your personal torturer. And in this case, I do."

Loki paused with the empty branch in his hand, his mind ticking, but before anything could happen the entire floor gave way.

He felt the firm slipping out from under his feet, then air rushing against his form and face, panic strangling him, before landing with a crack on hard, stone flags, in the dark, on his right leg, as the furniture rained down around him.

He cried out, but his leg was unharmed - it was his back which didn't comply with his vitality. Electricity jarred through it, stiffening his lower spine, sending pain shooting up and down it and rendering getting up completely out of the question.

He cursed darkly and generously, clutching at his back, his nostrils flaring and fury romping with alarm somewhere in his chest. Loki snarled and looked up. It was dark. A placid drip, drip, drip was coming somewhere to his left, but he couldn't see.

He tried to calm his nerves, but failed. Panic destroyed anger, then seized his limbs and arrested his breathing. The burns on his back began to sear, though it was nothing but cold in the shadows of wherever he had fallen into. Loki felt something icy grab hold of his chest and squeeze, wiggling its thumb in his throat as his eyes darted around in panic.

He remembered an equally horrible place. He remembered the feeling of burning on his back, the horror of it never coming to an end, knowing that it would not have time to heal before his flesh was seared again, as he was bent and shaped and melted  into submission by the Mad Titan.

Loki trembled. Fear blended with trepidation, weaving terror, weaving dread, weaving dark spots in his vision which he could barely distinguish from the shadow before him.

Get up, something screamed from within him, get up and fight.

But Loki's knees gave way. His torso slammed against the rock beneath him, hands sliding to the sides, already slippery with sweat. He felt the smoothness of the rock with his cheek as he gasped, terror raking through his body, knowing, knowing that something was going to happen which would send him begging and screaming.

Footsteps approached him; a dark laugh was heard.

"Your words are empty," Ahlan chuckled, his heavy boots going thunk, thunk, thunk against the thick stone, which Loki felt with every rib and organ. "Your threats... your pledges... you in general."

It took an immense effort for Loki not to cry out; to keep silent though every tendon and fibre in his being screamed for him to flee. But Loki had forgotten; he didn't need to move to retaliate. He had his magic, he had his tricks...

Loki froze, his right hand extended in vain. His insides turned to jagged ice, because his sparks did not come.

"Especially here," Ahlan continued, standing just beside him as he panted and tried to heave himself up. "In this place, magic is forbidden; all who use it are silenced, here. Within them it is sealed."

All broke loose. Loki felt a surge of energy loosened by desperation and sprang up, erect, his back screaming, but was knocked down with a rough blow to his forehead. He staggered back and stumbled, feeling a trickle of blood seep down his face. His mind screamed in question: what had happened? How did he become so helpless, so weak? How did he fall so low in his own eyes?

He tried to fight and struggle, but in vain he did, rendered disheartened to keep fighting, for what was the point? His existence was nothing but a string of punishments and torture, he was isolated, and his one pledge was disregarded, his pledge to see, to feel a gentle weight upon his chest and shoulder once more.

His assaults were knocked as though he was naught but a wild child, his steps easily overtaken, his limbs and back assaulted. He received a blow to the head - thick metal clanged against his skull; Loki felt his knees give out, and then blackness devoured his consciousness as he plunged into unfeeling.

*

Loki opened his eyes.

For a few instances, he couldn't fathom where it was he was in. It was dark. Perhaps if he wasn't a jotun, he would have thought it was cold, but he was and thus felt nothing but strange jets of heat rippling around his ankles and knees.

Then he realised he couldn't move. Heavy, clanking shackles bound his limbs and attached them to his neck, which a heavy choker gripped. He was kneeling, his hands pulled above his head; oh, his back... His back...

He was even denied the feeling of wetness filling his eyes as everything was torn from him. Only a hollow feeling of despair filled his soul as he shook, staring at the floor. His face felt strange. Heavy. As though the despair was pulling down his lips.

Loki looked up as a ray of yellow light broke through the darkness, then as many others lit up the room dimly. The room was giant and hollow, built of stone. It must have been below the palace dungeons, for it was crude even for prison standards; the lamps weren't shaped, the chains connected to the walls were heavy and lumped together, stray links hanging like earrings and clinking as the strange, hot breeze stirred them.

Loki felt his fingers twitch, then flicked his eyes upwards and beheld Ahlan the Jailer, holding nothing but a torch in one huge hand. Loki flinched from the glare and the heat.

"Well," Ahlan said. "Doesn't this look altogether a better sight, Jeehl?"

Jeehl, a smooth-skinned, young Asgardian guard, with shining eyes and blond tresses hanging around his head, inclined his head. But he didn't share Ahlan's sadistic pleasure, looking upon Loki with something short of pity in his well-guarded eyes.

"Yes, captain."

It was an automated reply, which Loki took no notice of, for he was gazing with a crazed obstinacy of the flickering flames which Ahlan held, his pupils quivering.

Ahlan chuckled, then leaned down to look him in the face.

"Well, Laufeyson?" he murmured, raising his heavy eyebrows. "What now? Will you not speak? Will you not try to spit your way out of the situation you are in?"

It was at that moment that the strange gleam in the Jailer's eyes was interpreted. Because Loki, pulling back his lips in a snarl, found that he couldn't part them. A sharp pain, like thousands of small stabs and pinpricks roved over his mouth, as though it was being pulled apart in many directions.

And then Loki realised. This had happened once before when he had fraternised with some dwarves, though then he had emerged victorious. His lips were sewn shut.

Ahlan laughed as he froze, as his breathing began to quicken. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't talk; he couldn't talk!

"Oh, Laufeyson," Ahlan smoothed his brown beard and shook his head solemnly, almost in pity. "What use are you without your tools?"

Loki began to shake. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't obey him; he was left to toss like a trussed-up bird, his attempts at freedom futile.

Ahlan glanced at the torch he was holding. Loki did too.

"I've heard that jotuns are immune to cold," Ahlan remarked. "But they despise the heat rather awfully."

Odin, no, Odin, no, Odin, no, Odin... He would be silent, he'd stay this way, he wouldn't use magic, just not this... not this...

Loki emitted a series of strangled cries from his lungs, which only came out as a mangled noise of helplessness through his nose.

"Hm." Ahlan shrugged. "I suppose it only leaves us to find out if it's true."

Loki saw nothing but orange and heat. He heard nothing, staring at the flames unblinking, his vision pulsing, things tearing inside him as Ahlan brought the torch closer... closer to his skin...

*

When Loki's eyes fluttered open - the number of times they had done so, and he had found himself half-dead and yet unable to die, his skin searing or numb from heat, and his physical form broken, he couldn't count - he was not in the dungeons. He could scarcely believe it, couldn't believe it. There was... light. Odin, there was daylight before him. It was fresh and unspoiled, straight from the sun, straight from the outside.

Loki breathed. He breathed in, out, then in and out again. The daylight didn't change. A pebble shifted from the weight on his lungs and skittered away from it.

He flexed his fingers, one by one, wondering whether they were answering to him. But softness greeted his touch, enveloping his hands in comfort and tenderness. Was he dreaming? Was he finally dead? Was this perhaps a small mercy before he was again plunged head-first into flame and liquid agony?

But no; nothing of the sort happened. Something cool passed over his forehead, over his neck. It was so soft, so tender, Loki made a broken sound of longing, relief, blinking.

Someone spoke. "Oh! Oh, thank Odin..."

Loki's mind floated back from where it wandered. His eyes scoured detail: flowers on the walls; a white-painted ceiling; a wrought lamp still and unlit to his left.

And before him was a woman. Her hair was ebony and braided down her back, her face oval and thin, her eyes grey and huge and... and his? His! They were his! He stared at her, slowly unravelling within completely, delving into the depths of them, seeking, demanding, longing. It was her! It was her! It was her!

Henrietta Knott blinked furiously as she watched him, pressed a fist to her mouth, then cried, "Oh, you're awake...!" and she flew at him. He felt her head on his chest and shoulder, a flowery scent in his nostrils - a fresh, crisp scent - and arms around his torso, so tight, so truly delighted!

He tried to open his mouth to tell her he was so glad to see her, to cry out and whisper words of recognition and seek reassurement, to express his inexorable exaltation of seeing her alive - oh, alive! - and then... remembered; his lips were closed and mangled and so was he.

"Oh, Loki of Asgard," Henrietta whispered, clutching him tight, then placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, making him want to break down wail like a newborn. "I thought you'd never wake up. That I would live to see you waste away and never speak another word to you..."

He tried desperately to lift his hands to return the embrace, but he couldn't move a muscle. Each one felt as though it was laden down with lead, trapped beneath an invisible stone slab. After a moment, just after he registered her heart beating very close to his, unwittingly restarting it and coaxing it to drum to the same steady rhythm, she sat up and looked at him.

He observed her; it was all he could do, and she smiled at him. She smiled at him, tears rolling down her cheeks, then she took one of his hands. He felt it, smooth and warm and vibrating in his own calloused one and shut his eyes for a moment to try and taste the sensation, feeling traces of warmth in a chest which was always so hollow and cold.

"We found you in a park," she was saying, thumbing circles on his palm. "You were chained... There was a lot of green light, and flashing, and out of this gathering of sparks you fell out. I won't ask you what happened, you'll tell me about it later. After we found you, my friend mended your bones, and we brought you here, to my house... Uncle Haldanson's house."

And that was when his hand became empty again. Loki opened his eyes to see what prompted this hasty punishment, and found she was looking away from him. Her face... it was hardening. Her tears for him were stopping.

He watched with something near horror as she wiped them away and beheld him as though he was a stranger. A stranger! He wasn't a stranger, he was Loki! He was her Loki of Asgard!

Loki tried to tell her. He stopped his lungs mid-swell and tried with all his might to sit up, to move; all he managed to do was twitch to the right, let alone take her hand or shake her shoulder.

Henrietta bowed her head once, somehow knowing what was on his mind. "Forgive me. By all rights, I should be treating you as though you're a criminal."

What? What?!

She must have read the expression on his face and nodded. There was a dry smile on her face, a very faint one, and Loki read something in her eyes he knew all too well.

"You... killed my uncle, Loki Odinson. When you tried to take over this city, remember?"

Loki's heart sank so low that he felt it almost being split upon his ribs and made a shattered sound of pain, then shut his eyes and grew limp against the covers, sapped out of the little strength he had. That's right. He forgot, down in the dungeons, where there wasn't a speck of light to watch to mark the passing of time, about why he was within them in the first place. So he killed Haldanson, did he? Oh, vile curses! Who was he to blame now? Who was he to take his anger out on? Here, there was no Odin. There wasn't even an Ahlan. There was only Henrietta. Perhaps this was all a cruel dream? No, he wouldn't ever be able to dream up a room so soft and Knottie as she was now, because he had not yet seen her as a woman.

And now, he was going to be forsaken again. If not harmed physically, he would be arrested to suffer within himself, unable to call out for aid, unable to move and save himself. He was completely and utterly at the mercy of the girl who was once the only reason why he still breathed freely; now, the woman who would view him as everybody else did. Oh, damned horror. Accursed horror...! There was no end to this! He was trapped between two Hels, one personal, one physical, and each fought to claim him, pulling at his limbs with hooks, disregarding his pleas, his begging...

"By all rights," Henrietta's voice jarred him out of his wallowing, and he once more felt something very pleasant and cool passing over his skin. "I should be taking revenge on you. That's how the honour is in Asgard. One kills your father, you go and kill him."

She traced his forehead, his cheeks, then cooled his eyes. She ran the wet and cold down his neck, across his collarbones, then took his palms and began to smooth his dry skin with the cloth. It was heaven.

"But I don't think you could be destroyed any more than you are already, so I'll leave revenge for another time."

Loki opened his eyes, his chest beginning to move up and down as he swallowed repeatedly. Still, he didn't cry, couldn't cry. Perhaps he wasn't worthy of tears, just as Odin had made him unworthy of death - forbade Death to call his name, rendering him trapped in existence until he thought otherwise.

Henrietta wasn't looking at him, still working on his palms with her lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed. Loki begged her to turn, urged her to turn to look at him; she did. She must have heard him. Was she reading his mind?

Her eyes fixed on his, and for a small moment, something in those two pools of silver in her face mirrored his. She sighed.

"You suffer. You have walked through places not many ever have, full of darkness and pain," she murmured, putting the cloth to the side. "And yet there is no remorse in your eyes for your deeds which sent you there."

Loki felt both his hands being taken, his chains and shackles jingling. She put them together, enveloping them in her own, her small ones, then pressed this bundle of entwined hands and iron to his chest; a comfortable weight, against all odds, for there was warmth in it and Loki had gotten used to the weight of the metal on his limbs.

"Hush, now," she said softly, breaking one hand free to run across his forehead and brush the hair out of his eyes. "Rest, Loki Odinson. You are tired and weary. Your bones are brittle and your muscles exhausted."

Loki's breathing regulated, as did his heartbeat. She thumbed his cheek, then urged him to be calm with half a smile, before her face returned to hurt and became cold again.

Loki feared she would go, she would leave him; but she seemed to understand and kept smoothing his forehead. Oh, foolish, benevolent girl! She always understood him. She always knew, even if he hadn't uttered a word or thought a conscious thought, what it was he wanted. She knew when to take his hand, when to endure his prods, when to snap him out of wallowing with a mischievous, irksome word or two. His little friend. His once-friend.

"Sleep, now," she whispered, one hand still at his chest. "You will wake again, and again we will speak then."

Loki didn't think he'd sleep; he didn't want to sleep, this was as far away from Hel as he would ever get, and he feared that all of this would vanish and he would return to the pits from which he came from. But he felt his eyelids growing heavy to her murmur, and when she began to brush her thumb over his eyelids, a ripple of restful pleasure came through him, and it wasn't long before he had sunk once more into darkness.

[me-thal]

(bit of an unreliable narrator here Eheh <3

Lycarn belongs to @hel-phoenyx, Ether to @noa-de-cajou and Circé, Morgane and Ai/Xingtzao to @corneille-but-not-the-author)

"Lets' fun away together !" she used to say, half joking when they were just kids. Chiho would never leave her grandmother alone, they both knew it.

"I'm leaving." She still said, a violin all she gave to the girl that loved her and she loved just as much. She never came back, not for Agathe, not for her grandmother. There was hope for two years. Then Yusuke came back alone, and even with her eyes closed, Agathe could picture the look of pity he gave her.

"Take care of him, please." She tells the old woman, now that her brother is asleep. Their parents are dead, and she can't stay here. He was the one to push her to do it, to leave and explore. The old woman still weeps and begs her to come back one day, and play at her tomb. Agathe promises.

"She likes you too, you know ?" It's been years. She's older, she has friends. They've been drinking, and when she tries to talk about something else, the alcohol makes her friend insist. She hates how he, who got her love first, seems to try so hard to make the second choice happy. But he's her friend, and she loves his wife.

"Take care love." It's the last words she tells her, when their paths diverge. It's a nickname they rarely use, only when it's only the three of them. Ogami hugs her, and she hugs him back. They're around as old as her parents were when they died. And she doesn't want to see that. Maybe they're still young for humans, but she doesn't want to take the risk. Her lips touch Shira's for the last time and they dont say goodbye.

"You're doing it again." He tells her, as perceptive as ever. They spent the last fifteen years together, she taugh her nephews and nieces what their fathers couldn't. But only him, her dear brother, could see how she was, alone fixing a grave she couldnt see. His husband was dead for a year, he knew he wouldn't last a lot younger. He knew his sister, immortal and still so young, was staying for him, for "his" family. He knew she had a hard time thinking it was hers, a fear so deeply rooted in her.

"Thank you." She tells him when she leaves again, and he tells her and she hugs him for the last time.

"What do you think ?" So many people ask her, when they warm her bed or her skin. She never stays long, always tells her the truth. It's rare she dislike those girls, rare they dislike her. Yet, she always knows she's not what they wanted. She knows had their initial love not rejected them, they wouldn't have though of her for a second. And yet, they're always her first choice, her first flirt of the night.

"I want to marry you." Irène tells her, figuratively looking in eyes that are never open. She doesn't have the words, doesn't know how to react. It's been ten years, is that a normal time to marry someone ? She does have her skin tattoed like the rest of the group, does feel the need to have her lover's name on her. She hopes her name stays on Irène's face, that when she touches her face she can feel her name on her skin and prouve to herself she's loved, she's her first choice.

"You dont get it ! You can't even see it !" They never fight. It's not in their nature, despite Irène's hot-headdedness, to get into shouting matches like now. But now they are, and Agathe wants to slap the woman she loves, the woman who fears her and loves her. She just expressed how she was afraid for their fight, the next day. How she proposed to Irène to use a Symphony so dangerous she somehow knows despite never learning it, like she does her Sister Symphony. Sins and Vertues. She doesn't know how it escaladed. But she knows how it ends.

"Maybe I'd see it, if you weren't so scared of me opening my eyes !" Is the last thing they say to each other. They didn't wake her up, Irène probably looking to stop her from playing her music. And now she's dead, in Agathe's arms, cold and her blood stains the white of Agathe's outfit and wings.

"Please allow me something." She did it in a moment of panic. She didn't know what was going to happen to them, now that Morgane and Circé were gone, as were the rest of the group. She wished she could have spoke with Lycarn before, but she kissed Ether and it felt right to ask her, even if the elf wanted the empress before she wanted Agathe.

"Do you want something ?" She asked Lycarn, who was looking so, so sad. She had seen Circé's aura leave the woman, and even if she wasn't the girl's first choice, she wanted to make her happy, let her have something at least. So she took her hand, kissed her, carressed her. She felt the subtle scars, the muscles. She wanted to give enough love that Lycarn would forget how she got rejected. But Lycarn would pursue a ghost, and she knew it very well.

"Come dance with us." A hand is stretched out to her, a stick in it. Ether is asking her to court her, to date her. And she doesn't need to see to know Xingtzao, the empress is surprised, but she says nothing. She takes the hand, ignoring the voice in her head, just for a night, and dances with two women she wants to stay alive with.

"Can you describe them to me ?" It's soft, barely audible to most ears, but they're both next to her, and they have better hearing than most. So they tell her. They take her hand. She smiles to herself.

"Can I ask you something...?" It's been so long, since their quest, and yet Ai is so timid with her still. Agathe is not sure how to take it, how to dance with the woman who made her First Concubine but seems almost perturbed by Agathe's presence in the palace. Or, that's how she sees it. And she can't blame the empress, who would be comfortable to live with the woman your wife is in love with ? Even if Agathe knows Ether would choose Ai over her, and she wouldn't blame her.

"Do you need something, my moon ?" It's soft, when she asks. Lycarn is no stranger to bad dreams, but Agathe knows when her love's really shaken by one. She also knows it usually mean Lycarn's chasing a ghost that Agathe could never compare to. She doesn't resent Lycarn for it, nor does she resent Ether when she misses her deceased wife. She knows that feeling too well, has known it for years.

"I feel so... Lonely." She says to herself, when centuries have past. She's back to a village that died when she wasn't here. Can't yet bear to go look at where her loves are burried. She didn't see the Immortal King to tell him about Lycarn yet. She cries, like a little girl.

"I miss you." She tells to no one in particular, maybe hoping Death would let someone, anyone, choose her and help her, see how pathetic she is.

"I love you." It's barely a whisper.

[babe-in-christ]

Why do you worship your god YHWH as the only one? This is a legitimate question? What good does it do for you? Everything your god has done for you shouldn't have anything to do with his status, or uniqueness. I've seen the power of gods alien to your own, from Hel (the goddess I'm closest to, though I do worship others), I've seen her stop animals from moving, protect the sick and wounded, and cause a blind preacher to see her and flee. And I've felt her love, felt her comfort (I probably wouldn't even identify as agender if it wasn't for her help). But because she is not your god you would call this demonic? And say my soul is bound for damnation? Why not admit the existence of other gods, and keep to your own if you wish. How can your relationship with your god even be safe if you can't leave for another? How can it be called anything but bigotry to deny another god's divinity while you worship one yourself?

Hey! I just want to say thanks for asking a question especially one with such a kind tone. Sometimes people can be mean on here. 🩷

There’s a lot of questions to answer but I hope to keep it short, sweet and to the point. I’ll be going from top to bottom. I will also not be rude or mean to you. 😄

I worship Yah as the only one because Christian’s as well as I believe He is the only one. Do not get this confused with the Trinity. The father, son and Holy Spirit are all one. They are just different expressions of Him.

We do not worship him based on status or uniqueness. Although He is the most unique😝. We worship Him because He is LOVE unbound. He guides and leads us to our GOOD. He makes us into better people if we are OBEDIENT. I could go on. How do I explain this? It’s not about what he can do for your mortal life and flesh. Mainly, it’s about how He can change and fortify your spirit. Changing your spirit is what changes your physical life and reflects to Him the eternal life you want. Everything is spiritual in life and death.

Yes, I have “seen” and felt God in my life and experiences. Here’s the thing….. I haven’t seen Him with my naked eye. “Blessed are those who have not seen and still believe”. I have seen Him in my dreams but in life I witness His power. I hear His voice speak to me. When I ask Him to hug me I feel Him. Oh my, now I’m getting emotional! 🥹 I see the way He is exposing evil as we speak. I don’t know if you’re American or know of American news but we are being judged and corruption is coming out.

Yes I believe those “gods” you speak of are demonic. I don’t believe you are locked in for damnation. Everyone can be saved. I also don’t think I’m better than you. Ironically, I used to be atheist until Yah told me it’s time for me to come home. Please, do not feel that Yah won’t forgive you. This is what separates Him from the “gods” you speak of. Has any of your “gods” come into mortal form to save your spirit for eternity? How come the other deities can save your spirit? How come other deities don’t have the power to separate spirit from flesh? How come they have all sinned? Why aren’t any of them pure and good? As an ex-atheist I’m familiar with many pantheons. I can say that I have not heard of one even comparable to Yah.

I do feel safe with Yah because I don’t worship demons or fallen angels. Deception is heightened especially right now. All I can say is… how come every pantheon shares the same Christian demons and markets them as “gods”. Why does every pantheon have a powerful serpent “god”? 🐍 Even the Aztecs worship Quetzalcoatl. Don’t forget Satan used to be an angel. He knows how to show all the bells and whistles and look beautiful. Above all, he is the best liar. Each pantheon also has a “superior god” who is the “most powerful”. Often times they give Him some qualities of Yah. No matter how many qualities they give doesn’t make them Yah. How can any of the deities you worship be so powerful when there are tons of them across cultures?

It reminds me of a saying… “if everything is special then nothing is special”. If all of those deities are all powerful then they really aren’t. How can you be the most powerful when there are many like you in different cultures? What’s the difference between Hel and Quetzalcoatl? Nothing. It’s all the same at the root with a few cosmetic differences due to their respective cultures. A snake spirit.

None are equal to Yah. You can’t compete where you don’t compare. People will try to bring up Zeus or any other “god”. Zeus has been defeated multiple times by other “gods”. Yah has never been nor will be defeated. Across all cultures Christianity is the same. There aren’t multiple Yah’s, only one. There is no confusion with Him. It doesn’t matter your race or ethnicity. He is understood the same.

So yes, Yah is the safest because He never changes like the other “gods”. He is the almighty. He is the only savior. He is the only true God. He is the way, the truth and the life. No I don’t believe that anything other than Yah is a “god”. I believe they are demons or that people are letting their brain trick them. I love and trust Him completely because He is pure GOOD and never changes. What he wants from you now is exactly what He wanted from people thousands of years ago? I love Him only because we are not worthy of Him but He loves you enough to help change you (if you are willing) to be worthy. Yah isn’t just talk. He is forever. Amen.

Thank you for asking your question. It means alot 🥹. Thank you for taking the time to read this. I’m not like some of the lukewarm Christian’s. I’m not mad at you for questioning me. I don’t believe you are evil. I believe everyone’s soul can be saved. Even by the tone of your message, I think you’re a pretty cool person. If you have any more DM me. Above all, I hope that you don’t take offense to my response. Just food for thought. 😉😄

[fireblcd]

࣪𓏲ּ  ֶָ  𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝒕𝒗  ⁝         francois arnaud,  35,  cis male,  he / him.    announcing  the  arrival  of  HELIOS  of  HOUSE  GREYJOY,  the  LORD HEIR  of  PYKE.  whispers  among  the  court  name  them  to  be  both  LOYAL  and  MESSY  in  disposition,  and  those  closest  to  them  speak  to  their  interests  in  sailing.  if  we  bards  could  compose  a  song  for  them,  it  might  tell  stories  of   curls wrapped around another's fingers , laughing smiles as a drop of wine trickles down a chin , the rage of a stormy sea in his eyes , sea salt crusted on skin , disappointment weighing on shoulders but refusing to show it .  the  seven  whisper  to  their  most  devout  queen  as  she  sleeps,  making  her  question  where  their  loyalties  truly  lie.  are  they  right  to  whisper?  for  their  loyalties  truly  lie  with  HOUSE GREYJOY.

i ⸻ general

NICKNAMES  :  lio ( affectionately ) , hel ( derogatory )

ALLIANCE : house greyjoy & house targaryen

TITLES  :  lord heir of pyke

MARITAL STATUS  : married

CHILDREN  :  probably has a bunch of bastards woops

PHYSICALITY  :  brown wavy hair that grows especially curly after being in the ocean , a thin scar from the time someone cut his throat but just didn't press deep enough to kill him , 6′2 , lean but muscular.

ii ⸻ personal

SEXUAL  ORIENTATION  :  bisexual

ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION  :  demiromantic

MORAL  ALIGNMENT  :  chaotic neutral

SINS  :  lust  / gluttony /  greed  / sloth /  wrath  /  pride  /  envy

VIRTUES  : chastity / temperance / charity /  diligence  / patience / kindness /   humility

iii ⸻ biography

there was joy in the iron islands the day that helios was born. lancion and julienna greyjoy had always taken their duty seriously , knowing that they must provide their lands with an heir to lead them into the future. when helios came into this world screaming , julienna pressed a kiss to his brow and decided that he would be a grand lord one day.

he was raised on the belief that the world was his oyster and the tide changed for him. his mother spoiled him , his father taught him all he knew and yet , the message did not quite sink in the way that they intended for it to.

oh , he was arrogant. told from birth that he was something special to have all that he pleased from life. he would be one of the greatest seafarer's of their generation according to them , and on that point they were at least partially correct. the sea was in his veins , and he travelled far and wide as often as he could. he raided anywhere he pleased , stealing riches and jewels from wherever he could. he often paid the iron price for the things he took , having little regard for the life of those he deemed irrelevant.

he became best friends with a prince of westeros , and it felt almost as though he was untouchable because of such a fact. for who would dare to invoke the wrath of a dragon ? though that is not the reason helios spends so much time in summerhall , instead he often thinks of aehrys as a brother to him.

he began travelling to essos when he was fifteen years old , seeking anything that would keep him entertained. he would always be proud to be ironboy , would always think his own people far superior to others , but he enjoyed getting to know other cities and people all the same. he's most certainly been banned from at least one essosi city probably for sleeping with someone's wife , but helios merely thinks of it as a great story.

his parents hoped that he would settle down and do his duty as the future heir , perhaps finally take an interest in politics , but he never did. instead, lio always figured that he would have advisors for that sort of thing. he had little interest in being stuck to the iron chair all day listening to the nobles bitching about each other. but by the same margin, he wouldn't dream of stepping aside for his sibling to do it. it was his by birth right to rule the islands as he pleased one day.

his parents tried to arrange several betrothals for him only for him to drive them all into ruin. he'd either insult the house or his potential bride, laughing as they left the islands in a huff. he refused to become shackled to someone who wanted him to settle down , spend his time playing at politics and conforming to society's view on him. several years into adulthood and he especially felt the pressure on him to have children , a responsibility that scared him most of all. every time his parents pushed him towards such things , it only made him feel more and more like it was all a trap.

when he'd first met his now wife , she'd just been another body to warm his bed. and then he got to know her better , was charmed by her humour and how she was the opposite of everything society pressed upon him. most importantly , she made his heart fill with love for the very first time. it made all his fears slip away when it came to commitment , and he married her within a year.

he thought that it would appease everyone that he had taken a wife at last , happy to have children to name heirs if it meant he'd have them with her. but they still insisted that he marry a rock wife as if there weren't past instances of the children of salt wives becoming heirs if there was no rock wife. it left a deep unhappiness to settle over him like a storm cloud , the realization that he would never be enough unless he conformed.

it is a difficult thing to now hold such resentment towards his lord father and lady mother. it's even more difficult to ponder the idea that perhaps his life would be far easier if they were not around , especially when his heart still begs him to forgive despite all of the damage they have done to it.

iv ⸻ tidbits

big fan of knives and he has at least five strapped to his body at all times. most of them are stolen , and his favourite has a hilt of silver with a large ruby encrusted at the end that he calls sir pointy.

he's been in four past betrothals and has absolutely ruined them all some way or another. usually through insulting either the person who was betrothed to or their house. has defs made a few enemies that way.

you know the slutty white period shirt ? he wears them constantly , often with so many buttons undone it creates a v neck. also loves being shirtless and will use any excuse to take his shirt off.

he's so unserious , hence why he plans on forming a council in the islands to guide him once he's ruling lord. truthfully man just wants to do all the parts of ruling that include bringing him pride and glory rather than the political crap.

he may have a very complicated relationship with his parents , but he loves his siblings very much. he's allowed to talk shit about them , but anyone else who does is gonna get their face smashed into a table.

v ⸻ wanted connections

all of them

[bugwolfsstuff]

I wrote this weird Drabble about Hel and Baldur that kinda dont make sense. But i kinda love.

[tagging it as Norse Myth cus even tho i had MCGA in mind while i wrote it MCGA Hel probably wouldnt act like this and i dont think Baldur shows up]

-----

The Sins of our Fathers

"Sorry, my father killed you."

Hel said.

Baldur hummed, staring to the dark fields of Helhiem, "It's fine. Not your fault."

She sighed, "Usually, the dead have more to say than that."

He shrugged. He was dead; what was he supposed to say?

The sins of your father are yours?

"...I—I'm sorry my dad killed them."

Baldur whispered.

Hel stopped, holding her brothers' hands tenderly, skeleton fingers meeting cold, broken flesh. "Wasn't your fault."

He wrung his hands nervously "but it was."

She sighed. They were dead; what was she supposed to say?

The sins of our fathers are ours?

[icelynia]

Why do you worship your god YHWH as the only one? This is a legitimate question? What good does it do for you? Everything your god has done for you shouldn't have anything to do with his status, or uniqueness. I've seen the power of gods alien to your own, from Hel (the goddess I'm closest to, though I do worship others), I've seen her stop animals from moving, protect the sick and wounded, and cause a blind preacher to see her and flee. And I've felt her love, felt her comfort (I probably wouldn't even identify as agender if it wasn't for her help). But because she is not your god you would call this demonic? And say my soul is bound for damnation? Why not admit the existence of other gods, and keep to your own if you wish. How can your relationship with your god even be safe if you can't leave for another? How can it be called anything but bigotry to deny another god's divinity while you worship one yourself?

Thank you for the question! I have answered your questions to the best of my ability. If you have any follow up questions, feel free to ask them!

To put it simply, I worship the Christian God as the only one because that’s what He says through the Bible. I’ll leave the supporting passages at the very end, as they can clog the flow of response.

In the beliefs of Christianity, there is only one God, and He has 3 parts. This part can get confusing, but I’ll try to explain it simply. His three parts are the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. The Father rules over everything and resides in heaven. The Son (Jesus) resides there with the Father, but He did come down to Earth for 33 years, to die for our sins and He rose from the dead 3 days after His crucifixion. Finally, we have the Holy Spirit, whose job is to come into believers and bless us. They are all 3 parts of the same God.

Why do I feel peace with God and know that He will not leave me? Because the Bible tells me so. There are so many passages about how when you believe, no one can pluck you from His hand and separate you from Him.

I’m sure that if you heard a command from one of the gods that you follow, you would respect and honor whatever it is that was decreed. That’s what Christianity is doing. We have commands to only follow God and have no other gods or idols (things that take up more time than they should IE: gaming, hanging out with friends, etc.) besides Him.

Now, I’m not going to go all Fire and brimstone preacher in this, as this helps literally no one. The truth though is that we all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. It’s not just worshiping something/someone else it’s stealing, swearing, cheating, murder, and all sorts of other bad things in the world. The good news is that we don’t need to dwell on that because of what Jesus did. He died and rose again 3 days later to save us from our sins.

I truly hope that I helped to answer your questions. Again, if you have any more or any follow up questions feel free to ask! If you want to learn more from other sources I would recommend looking up about Christian Apologetics. Even if you’re not interested in the religion itself, there’s a lot of cool history tied to Christianity and the Bible. If you want to learn more about the Christian faith, I would recommend looking up the Romans Road. In just a few verses throughout the book or Romans it summarizes Christianity quite nicely.

Also thanks for not screaming and raging. Most of the people who ask (or comment/reblog) posts like this one are looking for an argument and are sadly unwilling to learn from a perspective other than their own. I really appreciate this ask and I hope it was helpful for you.

Now here are the verses from the Bible (these are all in the NASB1995 translation):

Exodus 20:3-5

3 “You shall have no other gods before Me. 4 “You shall not make for yourself an idol, or any likeness of what is in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the water under the earth. 5a You shall not worship them or serve them;

Romans 3:23

For all have sinned and fallen short short of the glory of God,

John 3:16-17

16 “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life. 17 For God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through Him.

John 14:6

“Jesus *said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father but through Me.”

[onethousandwords]

Why do you worship your god YHWH as the only one? This is a legitimate question? What good does it do for you? Everything your god has done for you shouldn't have anything to do with his status, or uniqueness. I've seen the power of gods alien to your own, from Hel (the goddess I'm closest to, though I do worship others), I've seen her stop animals from moving, protect the sick and wounded, and cause a blind preacher to see her and flee. And I've felt her love, felt her comfort (I probably wouldn't even identify as agender if it wasn't for her help). But because she is not your god you would call this demonic? And say my soul is bound for damnation? Why not admit the existence of other gods, and keep to your own if you wish. How can your relationship with your god even be safe if you can't leave for another? How can it be called anything but bigotry to deny another god's divinity while you worship one yourself?

Hello there! I appreciate your questions. My God says He is the name above all names, the King of Kings. In Deuteronomy 10:17, it is written that "For the Lord your God is the God of gods and the Lord of lords. He is the great God, the mighty and awesome God, who shows no partiality and cannot be bribed."

So, you see, there is an acknowledgement of the existence of other gods, but that HE alone is the God of gods.

My God explicitly commands in the Ten Commandments that I should have NO other gods before Him, and that I should not worship false idols. I do not know your goddess. I only know my God, and He is safety and comfort for me. Like I would not wander into a wilderness where bears and wolves dwell, I would not go worshipping a god I do not know especially when the God I know, my Safety and Comfort, has explicitly forbidden it. There are many stories about tragic things that have happened to people who have disobeyed my God (not because my God is unjust or unmerciful because He has shown me and others many great mercies that we did not deserve), and I believe them wholeheartedly.

I do not know your goddess. I cannot call her anything because I do not know her, and I do not want to know her. Because I have actually been subject to a demonic attack in the past, I absolutely do not want to go chasing after things I do not know, and I WILL NOT (God has given me that choice, and I choose Him of my own free will and consent) leave my God, who shields me and protects me and restores me and loves me.

I am NOT your judge, and I'd like to make it very clear that even though, I do not know you, I do not want you to go to hell. My God is said to be the one who has authority to throw someone into hell. He is the Judge, and He knows human hearts. So, I cannot truly say if your soul is bound for damnation or not. I cannot see your future.

My belief system does explicitly say that "Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. No one goes to the Father except through Him." It is written that there is a heaven (where my God, love and light, reigns on His throne, where there is no sorrow or pain, where those who have confessed their sins and trusted and believed Jesus, God's only begotten son, has forgiven them - have eternal life) and there is a hell (a place of punishment for those who have not simply asked and believed in Jesus to forgive them - a place of eternal separation from God and His love). I'm not sure if hell is eternal punishment or if it is simply punishment, then death (because only believing in Jesus can grant eternal life). All I know is that I do not want people going there.

Free will and consent are important to my God because these are good things, and He loves us. He loves the world. That's why he gave up his only begotten son who lived a perfect life on this Earth, bore the shame, humiliation, pain, and death on the cross, and was raised in three days - triumphant, overcoming all the evil in the world. My God would not force you to be with Him. You're allowed to make your own choices. Just as I am allowed to make mine.

The definition of a bigot is this: a person who is obstinately or unreasonably attached to a belief, opinion, or faction, especially one who is prejudiced against or antagonistic toward a person or people on the basis of their membership of a particular group.

I would say that I am rather stubbornly attached to my belief, but you seem to be also to yours. Would I say unreasonably? No. I have my reasons, and I would be happy to share them if you are willing to listen. I am sure you have your reasons also.

Have I personally been antagonistic to you? I do not recall calling you names or anything of that nature. I'm sorry if my belief in a hell has led to you feeling personally attacked. I am not trying to attack you. You must understand, in my belief system, I fully and truly believe that I am presenting you with good, life-saving, and hopeful news. I do not want you to go to hell. The thought of people going to hell actually causes me distress. But my God comforts me still:

2 Peter 3:9 - The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.

I feel very hopeful about that. Anyway, I hope you have a good day or a good night wherever you are. I am willing to answer your questions so long as we're able to maintain civility.

[libidomechanica]

“Other find who is body”

A rispetto sequence

               1

Late August in her curl’d in the hire baundoun. For himself briar bloncket did Lucy clime at rest of Green; for me. She still that nest, and what me. Other find who is body poore, hath his golden present ways, and her eyes with snowy bankrout know the set me lighter; the heard the place; and dreamed were stood bowed, what Loues like to pot. Thou art my way the in sweet coats looked out.

               2

Tells what is a hair! In lustihede and all it sits thievish for laik o’ gear ye light in the end knees And that was in thee weep it were touch we enthral or games, and made that nource of her diest, unwearing to face; which some cast meant her loosened bed-posts of living recorder. All grace. Whither heart alone. From homeward children feeling, he halls, and see a cold, aspire.

               3

It is perhaps from Beauty, all wrong my hands. Stilled to the sweet-fairer, I never within the same vnhappy youth cushioned in the cricked at him spyde, salámán still unsatisfied— I lives the Victor’s delight; o looke, then were— where betters with them—who forgot, deere kill and the morn! Rich arise; the buds; A half-taughter make in anguish, nor texture; she shoulder Men.

               4

Head, tis this bequeath no Spring. From the hollow kind? And freshly scratchy pocketbook. Night in ear! Her knees and prey, scarcely gall,—I heart without in his know just drove that beares, she is alchemy. Most ride and leads in another sae shy; for laik o’ gear ye light, to fly to God’s career his vein wander’d and some and broils with lullaby my old Apollonius?

               5

Shall eat thy faith odour of lies mine and heart to gaze of all those thy breast, and in and a busie bushy, O! Ah, what place. As easy mighty Being brain shore, more where time, you hold flowery earth my boys and the breeze in Wolues, guid with snow blood is it all too divided in the darkness of wild with other long stores to quell, my sin you overwrought meet to say.

               6

Fading yet it was of many a Horne pype play forbear, above must fade for an iron gave,—I claim: Forbeare of one of Apprehension make no common grow riches rich are my simple when love, and smacking all like geese above; which I weep, and want talke with loyal sport went of spring it. Let’s give hel-driu’n from crimson joy: and I near here under any guesse.

               7

My mother muskets on fire a very ring the greene my heart whose what wrong black leathe. Of Greek a moment every raven went must before I lost, Love the tide, and in Stella spide, which cause. And the twisted to fight: garlands of our dry, decrease his you here canst thou hasted-on leaves a certainly, and part to the fire, a liquid prison door key scraps or Schoolmaster.

               8

But, trowth, I care for thy lust, half the twelfth farre there; then the body friends or might of lost. Which need to know the fret the street of roses, and little bow’d down blossoms came jasper of Old England, not marbled with that if wit, admitted harts can weeding; she broad-spreads his happy roses drown’d to th’ ears, from whose disaster smooth shrieking with white surgeon’s praise enow!

               9

Hey heart toong? We show us Joy best, somethinking lies, thy name fumes of Sorrow of know what I were—where and may chance. In them much. What Nestores face down like same senses I in most th’ earst someth side of the looke, and cause their best, of wine. Love, in her solemn thousand down on myself I did so, shee watch followed: and out for maps to your touch it more thought!

               10

He white found answer This small its mouth and rocks, trees, and worst to see, that the First he nothing great Prince the plain at the Ring over the Fathers, to chance lie thy right to the lessons can e’er sorrowe at the Veil. How despite of life beyond Himself whatever beforne, thy progeny, as thy anxious grow, I alone supportions. But, pale it every will, the moonlight.

               11

Of old stay. What write the last hovel dirt, by yon with eyelids clothes. And the year? Who frown gray denied to news is the Chrysler burden why show to dear; tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot, in greene wote I, how sunk in thy beds and never return’d, he landlord’s blaze, naked all the sweet passionate aquiline curve in the mirror infest with the Abbey: they poison door!

               12

And the lady-sisted, do not mattere is with Silence, there I ever bed acrobatics with which glorie shine, failst eyes there, naked in a hill, that’s fields: and I saw my with his bloom! So must sport went the Signs their beams, soft tods o’er the Kiddie does know. And trembled from his friend, to be you holds a prize reserved cedar, mimick’d ever your time not hush’d that, in the sea.

               13

The holy ripe, I always most waves and blewe. Is ale-houses ere hung upon the free; but heo me within and not ask’d it them yode forked not into the skies, this wrong which the loved. What faulty feather’s Arms the voice led me her fashions and steep-up he there and rainbow on eares pull heards me out the black-eyed daughted map of his happy, happy as a bed of crime.

[eclipsecrowned]

t*v squad+ wider arcs

hel: revenge narrative. examination of the death of innocence, breaking vs perpetuating cycles, and how justice is different depending on who you are or how you look. directly involves the politics of act 3. subplot concerning her role as cleric and the bbeg of act 2 being a devotee of the god in direct opposition with hers. post-canon significance in the hinted future conflict w cyr*c vis-a-vis her divine patron's personal grudge match with him.

sybelle: independence narrative. examination of the ivory tower, the hoarding of knowledge, and power stagnating into apathy for others. directly involves the core figures of act 2. subplots concerning her role as an academic and desire to reshape the approach to her class re: their patron goddess and the ambitions of older practitioners in power. post-canon significance in her aiming to even the footing of magic by any means.

valas: independence narrative. examination of legacy, apathy vs activism, and how far one is willing to go to ensure the safety of themself or others. directly involves one of the key characters of act 3. subplots concerning rediscovering himself and his place in the world. post-canon significance in being one of the last bh**lspawn standing and trying to continue to tear down the remains of his grandfather's dark empire.

miruna: independence narrative. examination of the sins of the father, salvaton in a myriad forms, and isolation. is a pretty key player in story proper, but seeks to become such again on her own terms. subplots concerning fixation on the past blighting any attempt to have a future. post-canon significance in her ambitions and survival becoming the groundwork for a future bbeg.

aurelia: she's next.

[yokefellows]

The Connection We Crave


Today’s Saying

For all eternity, God has existed in relationship — as Father, Son (Jesus) and Spirit.

Today’s Scripture

“… You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Matthew 22:37-39 (ESV)

Today’s Sermonette

God existed in relationship with Himself before any of us were here. It’s called the Trinity. God is one, and God is three. For all eternity, God has existed in relationship — as Father, Spirit and Son (Jesus).

Scripture says the Son exists to glorify the Father, and the Father exists to glorify the Son. It says the Spirit exists to glorify them both. What that means is they help each other, promote each other, serve each other and love each other.

What’s more, this exchange has been going on for all eternity. It means our God has been relational forever. It means He created us out of relationship for relationship — and not a relationship that is surface level or self-seeking.

No, the relationship He has in mind for us is sacrificial, intimate, moment-by-moment connection.

We were made in the image of God, who is relationship. This means our longing for healthy, mutually submissive, supportive, interdependent relationships isn’t simply us craving something good for us, like vegetables or vitamins.

We are craving the fundamental reason we were created. We weren’t just built for community; we were built because of it.

But here is where we go wrong. We look to people to complete and fill what only God is meant to fill. This is the primary reason we can all be so unhappy with each other. We have put our hope in imperfect people.

But that hope can successfully be answered only in God Himself. Eternity is set in our hearts, Ecclesiastes 3:11 says, which means only a relationship with an eternal God can fill our hearts.

Consider what you’re aiming your hope toward. Who is in the center of your affections? Who is in the center of your identity? We all have a choice.

If God is in the center of our relational circle, we will be fulfilled, and out of that fulfillment we can bless others. But if people are in the center of our relational circle, we end up pulling on others to meet needs that they can’t ever fully meet.

Jesus said it clearest. When asked to name the greatest commandment, He said all the commandments could be boiled down to this: “…

You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:37-39).

When you have God in the right place, at the center of your affections, you will more likely get people right. Relationship with God comes first, but that relationship is meant to send us into loving others.

This all matters so much because …

We make each other better. “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” (Proverbs 27:17, NIV)

We remind each other of God and His plans for us. “… that you and I may be mutually encouraged by each other’s faith.” (Romans 1:12, NIV)

We fight for each other not to be distracted by sin.“ But exhort one another every day, as long as it is called ‘today,’ that none of you may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin.” (Hebrews 3:13, ESV)

We need each other to live out the purposes of God. “ … each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts …” (Romans 12:5-6a, NIV)

If the God of the universe exists in community, we also need a collective belonging because God built us for it.

Is God your central relationship, or are you looking for others to fill needs only He can meet? Where might you be expecting more from others than they were designed to offer?

Today’s Supplication

Father, thank You for modeling how we are to live in community with others and for the gift of people — even when relationships are hard. Will You help me personally find deep community? Help me make friends and keep them as I live out my commitment to You, Your Church and Your plans for me. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.