#themes: religious abuse

[defire]

As an abuse survivor, you are just fetishizing child abuse. Plain and simple. Call it a coping mechanism or a power take-back all you want, but it's just an excuse to write porn about child abuse. I pity people like you, truly, I do. I can only pray that you eventually see a therapist about your internalized pedo behavior.

Cw: RANCID ask ⬆️

I'm so glad you brought this up because I don't like to speak for people like you--I'd rather combat these opinions directly.

Since you're praying, I'll feel free to make biblical allusions. (Tw)

First, the word "fetish". My opinion: I don't find fetishes or porn too helpful for processing trauma--it's more like exposure therapy. At some point you do need to actually grieve and process what happened. I don't judge those who do that (you're not hurting anybody♥️), but that's not what Survivor Fiction is for.

When you're judging whether something is bad or good, you can use the "tree by its fruits" concept. Basically, if a tree produces good fruit, it's a good tree. If it produces bad fruit, it's a diseased/bad tree.

So let's look at what Survivor Fiction does for survivors specifically.

It brings healing. I (a new author!) have already received five testimonies that have said how much my writing helped them move through some of their trauma and see things in a different, calmer way.

Survivor Fiction brings peace. A surprising amount of the community--90.5% in a poll involving 1,543 voters--use whump stories to go to sleep at night. (Many trauma survivors have difficulty sleeping from flashbacks. Fiction along the same lines can offer an appropriate sense of distance from the fear.)

It helps disabled people. It appears that a strong majority of our community is autistic. Part of the diagnosis is emotional dysregulation. We need to be walked through how to do things in great detail. Survivor Fiction often walks the reader through the process of trauma, reaction, ptsd, and recovery.

It spreads awareness. Survivor fiction is often more accurate to real-life abusive situations instead of glossing it over--in other words, LYING--about what goes on. This can bring a 3rd party perspective to a current victim too, giving them the understanding that they are being abused and need to escape if possible.

For a more thorough explanation of why fiction about survivors is good and necessary, see this post.

Okay, so would "bad fruit" look like? Do you see any of the following from our community? ↙️

Doing these things in real life

Being generally hurtful of others

Hurting children in real life

Harming emotions by pushing unwanted content to people who would be triggered by it? (Quite the opposite, we tend to post exhaustive content warnings before the content.)

Something else that's actually wrong and not just a thought crime?

And here's the fruit of your words, which I'm sure we all heard the jist of many times before:

You encourage covering up evil. Trying to hide fiction that more accurately describes pain, abuse, and PTSD means hiding the truth. Stifling the exposure of just how evil it is to abuse someone like this. The righteous walk in the light, but the wicked hide their deeds in the darkness.

Your words are shaming. Shame causes pain to fester and act out in harmful ways, such as repeating abuse cycles, self-harm, and dangerous overreactions. Christian ideology here--shame is what caused Adam and Eve to hide from God.

You are lying. You implied that we harm people in real life without any reason to think so. And also implied that we want to be in the aggressor's position. Generally speaking we identify most with the victim.

Referencing Christianity here, if you're christian--Your words condemn the Bible. The bible is full of stories much darker than most of what is written here. You'll read about rape, and the cannibalism of one's own children in Lamentations, among other things.

You're hurting yourself. You will be judged with the measure you judge others with. This is because if you judge others harshly for their thoughts, you'll instinctively judge yourself just as harshly. You end up hurting yourself and others over something that wasn't even doing any harm in the first place.

Causing confusion. What you said was illogical. If it's fiction where the damage occurs, we should be blaming the fictional aggressor--not the writer reporting it. If it's reality where the damage occurs, we should be blaming real criminals--not the journalist. The truth is that writing about survivors isn't generally harmful.

In short, you're creating a lot of problems and not helping. Did this ask come from a loving place?

This answer I'm giving, does.

[aphidclan-clangen]

part 2 out of 3

[fishersfall]

Procrastinated last night and drew some more edgy art of Travis :)

[lemscipher]

this is my tfs horror au design for henry!! horror au doesnt really narrow it much so ill try to explain:

its a more psychological horror version of tfs i guess? henry is a very strict christian who believes that god is punishing him for his sins with divine power and immortality due to the scar on his hand being shaped like the cross; he believes he is a god to some extent (or rather a vessel to a higher god which in this case is the mindflayer). the animal killings are sacrifices to the mindflayer like in the og show, but instead all of the things/people henry have killed have a cross carved into their heads. virginia and victor are even worse in their aspects, victor resorts to many more unhealthy coping mechanisms not just alcoholism (he does drugs, shoots things when hes angry etc.), virginia is a lot worse, much more abusive and even tries to exorcise henry at one point. henry is traumatised by all of this and it leads to a lot of self hatred and thinking that god hates him, and when hes eventually sent to the lab he thinks brenner is trying to rid him of his divine connection and is a lot more hostile towards him (hes also quite scared as he doesnt want to be drugged and end up like his father), brenner probably splashes henry with holy water or sm idk. if you want more info on this au feel free to lmk!!

pls also any name ideas for this au are appreciated "horror" is really shit 😭😭

credits to @/2ds-sleeping-powder for the bandaid headcanon also

[beetlelegs2003]

Heather and “The Hum”

[winchesterlesbian]

I want to make a joke like "rip Sam Winchester you would have loved Nosferatu" but I'm gonna be real watching that movie would make Sam have a mental breakdown

[littlest-bugz]

[no images or poetry belong to me]

[peculiaritty]

Sunday character study/trauma study

Again! before i start this ramble there is tw for religious themes, abuse, mental illnesses (ocd especially) and grooming so please if you have any triggers regarding those please don't read ^^ 2.2 Penacony spoilers so please be warned and future leaks and/or theorys may be involved. NO future storyline leaks though. This might be split into parts- not sure! Things might be hyperlinked and these will count as my reference/evidence, theres no need to read them unless you're curious!! There might be a part two on this when Sunday does come out ! Edited 18/05 to correct mistakes/add things i forgot about it OK. Lets begin: GOD. Poor Sunday, i think a lot of people has seen Sunday's abuse unnoticed, and i honestly can't blame some people because sometimes we don't automatically pick up everything unless we are actively looking for something. Sunday is a very interesting character, and i don't necessarily think he is 'evil-evil' per say, he is more of a morally grey character rather than being right up evil. Some major pointers i want to bring up and will be discussed: -> neglect, emotional abuse and the grooming of Sunday by Gopher Wood AKA dreammaster. -> The 'family' dynamics and attitudes -> Sunday/robins ideologies -> headcanons, character design choices and religious imagery (Not a deepdive into the imagery!)

-> neglect, emotional abuse and the grooming of Sunday by Gopher Wood AKA Dreammaster.

The most clear thing we can see as of right now without any reading between lines- Robin and Sundays bond. They care for eachother very much, we know that Sunday is the eldest brother, we already know that from right off the bat, that he is indeed the protector of Robin. Such as any older sibling usually feels towards those born after them. Sunday in no doubt in my mind has firstborn syndrome, basically the main 'burden-holder' between the two. This is the first fact we need to understand before we delve in. Due to Sundays natural-protectiveness of his sister that leaves Sunday at the face/brunt of Gophers ideals, which means sacrificing himself at any cost. Which may be why Robin remains currently unaffected or/not as self-destructive as Sunday. One thing that is easily skipped over and not noticed, Gopher and Sunday share a completely transactional-non-familial bond as they seem to not have the common father-son bond what so ever, Sunday only refers to Gopher as master which hints at the wedge between them. Gopher has ever only inspired and encouraged Sundays pessimistic behavior, such as when the Charmony Dove fell, we can assume that both Sunday and robin are extremely young at the time, i position them to be around 6-8, while at this age children do start to grasp that death in permanent, in no way should a child i quote be saying anything along the lines of "i think people believe birds are meant to fly...because they've never seen those birds crashing to their death." while this 'kind voice' (Gopher) does seem unbiased and passive, there is no reason unless you have actively convinced and taught a child to think that way. While children do come to gain their own beliefs, and ideals, siblings usually remain with the same ideas and beliefs until they reach around 10-12 where puberty starts. The belief gap at such a young age between Robin and Sunday is too big for it to be just "growing up" most if not all children take joy in being naïve- and cheerful. it is only when we come to abused, groomed, depressed and neglected children we start to see such pessimistic behavior. Sunday does have first-born child syndrome, it is also a bit of a worry of how stoic and 'unfeeling' he is. He doesn't confine in anyone, and while yes, we could say this is normal- but in normal, healthy environments people always have someone to confine in. Sunday doesn't have that. This could purely be just his personality- as some people are simply coded that way. It just strikes differently when we compare Child Sunday unto his adult self, as seen in Robins trailer BOTH of them had artistic aspirations, and even though there is no 'heavy' implication, that one tear indicates to me that Sunday was indeed the more emotional one. Growing out of hobbies is normal, but Sunday is lacking of life, he generally looks lifeless. He could've grown out of them, but what I read between the lines is extreme shaming and guilt. The need to be 'perfect'. Just so he could be the 'sun' in the sky and maybe even please Gopher.

Another thing to point out- his OCD yes. This is another thing that is hidden but only few people have found. In this scenario i am not fond of actually just saying its because of his connection to Ena. i am more fond- and find it much more reasonable that it has impacted and grown from his trauma. While i will not clarify which i believe he has since thats leaning more into headcanon territory. Unhealthy childhood environments and events predispose and increase the risk of various psychiatric disorders and OCD is one of them. It is clear that Sunday has been indoctrinated and been taught to think the way he does now. The family is cultish and it doesn't seem to act as one, everyone has their own ideals- and motives, including Gopher. Grooming does not have to be sexual in order for it to be considered grooming, grooming is defined as when someone builds a relationship, trust and emotional connection with a child or young person so they can manipulate, exploit and abuse them. In this scenario, Gopher has essentially groomed Sunday to exploit him and use him as a sacrifice. Groomed and abused, religious abuse seems to be a big one in this especially considering the huge religious imagery in Penacony, but it is important to point out some common symptoms of religious abuse is doubtful faith and compulsive perfectionism which resemble in Sunday. Most times, religious abuse is often paired with other forms of abuse, most commonly being sexual grooming and emotional abuse. This does not leave other forms of abuse out such as physical however. Gopher has 'trained' Sunday to think this way (Sundays ideaology), and indoctrinated him for his own use, and you can see it in Sundays extreme ways of dealing with his belief. there is clear there's an external force in his thinking- Gopher.

-> The 'family' dynamics and attitudes To continue, the family- as again, all have very different ideals, and motivations in Penacony. They act as completely separate entities yet still collaborate with each other. One thing remains crystal clear to me, that this family- follows a royal family sort of dynamic, where everything is hushed, you mustn't be too emotional, or too illogical. Basically coming to the point where Sunday has directly been told to not worry about Robin. He was never allowed to grieve. He is not allowed to grieve which is a horrid thing to be put through. Even when Gopher does deliver the news of Robin being shot there is a lack of care, and concern, he sounds non-chalant, going on to mention, "once you've attended to your outstanding tasks…" In any family emergency of sorts, that's the last thing you want to be told, you want to be there as soon as possible. Gopher wood simply does not have enough care, or concern for both of his 'children.' While this is my pure assumption, i do have reason to believe that the Family does share a rather cold dynamic, such as any other usual dynamic that is seen in stories where there is a political, rich, or royal family.

lack of care towards children, and moreso encouraging less 'child-like' traits

Parental figures primarily not being involved in the childs care, it is most likely that both Robin and Sunday were raised by the servants of the house, while Gopher remained some sort of mentor towards the both of them.

Isolation from other children in different life scenarios/circumstances

- Most often, children in these scenarios get put into a protective bubble, unaware of the outside. henceforth, another reasoning why Sunday might be so scared of the outside world. -> Sunday/Robins ideologies Both of them are entirely separate eachother belief wise, but they have one goal in mind. Helping people. I would describe Robins ideals as being quite idealistic and soft, that has come to her naturally, and its quite sweet. she wants world where people can live how they want. Even if its a bad one. Sunday on the otherhand quite thinks the opposite, i would describe his as: 'To protect everyone, keep them safe from pain, and suffering, their freedom of choice must be taken so they will suffer no longer, even if that means sacrificing all that i have.' This comes on very intense, as he does you know. send an entire star system to sleep!! But, His idea isn't exactly wrong. As in those questions he posed to us- we would've done the same if we were in the same scenario. Of course- if one of our siblings we knew were going to get shot in the future because of the path they chose- we would do our best to do that. It makes sense. But logically, and emotionally speaking, it is not in our best interest to control other lives and what they wish for, and what they dream for. What does Sunday want? Nothing. he is entirely swallowed with trying to help other people. He has no dream for himself. His dream- is others peoples dreams. What Sunday wanted, out of the goodness of his own heart, and the unfortunate abuse he has been put through, essentially what we call a utopia/dystopia. IT IS utopian to think of a world without pain, with harmony, where everyone is happy. But because of our nature as people, we want choice. so to us IT IS dystopian to think of a world were we have no choice, were we live on autopilot always content. He seeks escape, and he's not ashamed of it. The most common reason people seek escape, is because they're scared. They are scared of facing what they need to face. He is scared, he does not wish to see pain and suffering, he knows and purely thinks things are doomed from the start. Its almost nihilistic. And i understand it. paired with his childhood, Gopher and how he gets stuck in the confessional box hearing the most horrendous things, i would be like him too. "is this apart of your plan?" It is Gopher who brought the order to Penacony. That line above, implies that this wasn't Sunday's plan at all. Gopher was going to use Robin in the first place, but Sunday, again, being the oldest took the forefront of the indoctrination and abuse- thats how he now blindly believes in it. Gophers plans and his reason why hasn't been revealed. but i doubt it was because he genuinely cared for his people. It is depressing to see who Sunday is as a person, purely pessimistic, and so lost but obsessed with his belief, but to me and other people he is relatable; to him, things don't get better. he wants to stay in the moment. Suspended in a dream that is too perfect to be true. He seeks escape, escape for everyone. Things do get better, whether that is now, or later. We just need to keep trying and continuing on, no matter how tiring it is. -> headcanons, character design choices and religious imagery (Not a deepdive into the imagery!) UP TO MY FAVOURITE BIT!! ok, heres something that genuinely makes me want to explode, because if this is on purpose it is brilliant. Pointed out by Matchua and i actually think the first to notice it. his wings look clipped.

They don't seem very oval and/or similar to how normal bird wings would look. This can also be seen in Harmony MC's splash art too, the Raven being Sunday, and of course, the Charmony dove, Robin.

While the birdcage imagery is used on Robin, i think it is so damn powerful that if this is a deliberate design choice, that Sunday has been clipped. Depending on the clipping, it renders birds unable to fly until they grow back, and even then there is horrendous people out there who permanently injure the bird by clipping it wrong so its never able to fly again. A birdcage has a key. But once you take away a birds wings like that, it cant fly. It represents how Sunday can never seemingly become his normal self again, he will always be consumed by his pessimism and fear for the world around him. how there is seemingly 'no hope' We know that Robin is not clipped because in her skill her full wings pop out (even if this is just an effect...still) It also represents how damaging abuse is, how it takes away someones dignity and freedom. Religious imagery!! i'm sure you can find some super deep dives into it but i think one of the main things is how Sunday represents Jesus from the Christian bible. The thorns across his coat tie in deeply with the fact that on the crucifix, Jesus was given a thorn crown which was used to belittle and mock him. Sunday falls back in the crucifix pose. He is the sacrifice. Not exactly to purge them of sin, but to give them an Eternal paradise. (which in Christianity, is what the purging of sin does, it gives us an eternal paradise next to God.) Headcanons: -> i believe Sundays OCD to either be of the Religious, Harm or Order OCD. i see all three occurring, but rather more on the Order/Religious side. -> Sunday is a people pleaser, no buts!! -> He has alot of shame and self hatred towards himself for wanting things, as he believes it doesn't make him 'perfect' -> He strikes me to have some form of anxiety, again this can tie in with the OCD -> His small/awkward chuckles are just him trying to cope, i feel like he does it alot more when he is anxious though, towards the end of the quest he doesn't chuckle, which officially means hes lost it (lmao poor guy) -> Very scared of making mistakes. Really small ones too. (as you find in some abuse victims.) -> jealous of his sister but he could never come to hate her, he just wishes he was able to participate in being creative too but i do think he was shamed for that, for being 'childish'. Robin was the 'jewel' of the family. Sunday never was. -> as some abuse victims do, he probably never understood or came to understand that Gopher was abusive to him, maybe after 2.2 possibly. And when he does come to understand God. He's got a lot of healing to do in himself. A lot of anger, grief, sadness- tons of processing. -> He doesn't like hugs at first because he was really not hugged as a child, but when he does get hugged it absolutely destroys him because he really really loves being validated and being held. Something that he lacked so much as a child. -> As birds do when their stressed, Sunday plucks the feathers out of his wings, which leads to him being insecure about them so he never really shows them, which is why he keeps them neatly folded Infront of his waist and hides the back part of his wings with his coat. -> Forgets to eat, drink and bathe due to working so much. He gets so lost in his work he's probably stayed up for more than 48 hours. (ok like i know its the dreamscape but listen.) -> I didn't add this into the first part, but including all of the other things i mentioned, Sunday was alot more quiet/introverted as a child as i interpret him to be, while Robin was more of a blabbermouth. So thats why Gopher decided on Sunday instead, lesser chance of anyone finding out about what he was teaching. -> Never had a day of rest in his life. He needs a break. That's pretty much all i've got to say though (i'm going to spare you from my headcanons i have on his behaviors. that list is LONG.), i just think Sunday is a really interesting yet heartbreaking character at the same time. Very relatable to alot of people. He's not genuinely evil. Just severely misguided and hurt. Thx for reading <3

[ominous-faechild]

PART 4: MEETING WITH “FATHER”

cws: implied child abuse, ableism, religious themes, religious trauma, and depictions of extreme anxiety

“DEMONIC” MAGIC

a short story prior to Rising From The Ashes

CHARACTERS:

♝ “Genesis” (pov) ♝ “Duke”

TIMELINES:

approx. 790 AA (global timeline)

story intro table of contents part one < last part next part >

word count: 1,206

Genesis: (voice thick, full of emotion) "I'm sorry…"

Genesis: [winces—]

Genesis: [except… although he doesn't know this, his rare display of weakness is helping convince Steward of his (false) sincerity]

Steward: (dismissively) "don't apologize to me. Apologize to your father, and your family."

Genesis: :'D

Steward: [but doesn't give Genesis a chance to respond. Instead, un-crosses his arms as he turns to the door to Genesis's father's office, then knocks on it]

Steward: [at the same time, voice hard but even) "Your Grace. {Genesis} is here."

Genesis: [heart twists and pounds, but forces himself to choke back his terror. Keeping his face as empty as possible—besides his slightly-tensed jaw and watery eyes—turns to face the office door as—]

Duke: (speaks gruffly from the other side) "he may come in."

Genesis: [breeeeaaaaatheeeee—] :'DDDDDD

Genesis: [glances at Steward]

Steward: [meets Genesis's gaze out of the corner of his eye]

Steward: [would usually step out of the way for Genesis to head in, and just go off to attend to his other business, but—]

Steward: [opens the door while he's there, shifting out of the way enough for Genesis to be able to slip past him, but remaining in the doorway]

Genesis:

Genesis: [heart skips a beat at the unusual behaviour, but… after just a moment's hesitation, steps forward and around Steward to enter his father's office]

Office: [just like everything else to do with the duke, was next to absolutely pristine. Except—]

Duke: [sitting at his desk, with a seemingly-endless amount of paperwork scattered directly around him. Has his elbows against his desk, his hands clasped together in the air, and a deep scowl on his lips as he pierces Genesis with a sharp look]

Duke: [except, blessfully, only spared Genesis a glance for once. Instead of remaining on him, they went to Steward behind him as—]

Steward: (voice even) "if I may, Your Grace?"

Duke: [eyebrow twitches up, but simply responds matter-of-factly) "you may."

Genesis: [his heart's pounding echoes throughout his entire body. He can't even be sure he's not trembling right now, and the heat flushed through his face and chest feels like it'll eject itself from his mouth at any moment]

Genesis: [but—resisting the urge to look back at Steward, knowing it would enrage his father to do so—simply stares at Duke as—]

Steward: (carefully) "forgive me if this is out of line, but I spoke with your son on the way here."

Genesis:

Genesis: [swallows, flexing his jaw subtly and fighting the urge to clench his fists from his nerves]

Steward: (barely having paused, continues just as carefully) "he said some things I believe you would like to hear, if you'd hear him out."

Genesis: !?!?!? :'DDDDDD

Duke: [flexes his own jaw, eyebrows furrowing and eyes narrowing as they dart to Genesis's]

Genesis: [just swallows as he meets Duke's eyes as emptily as he can manage, struggling not to puke]

Duke: [looks back over Genesis's shoulder as—]

Steward: "I know how this may sound, but… I think that you may have finally gotten through to him."

Genesis: [too stressed to even feel relief… especially as his father's eyes dart back to his, narrowed and suspicious]

Duke: (voice hard, but even) "duly noted. Please leave me to my son now, {Steward}."

Duke: [eyes darted—once again—to the man as he addressed him directly, but just as quickly returned to Genesis's]

Genesis: [swallows, anxiously forcing himself to keep his father's gaze… and nervously flexing his jaw]

[And, after a moment of silence, the door closed behind Genesis]

[Leaving just him and his father.]

[Alone.]

Duke: [after a moment of silence, asks with a slightly-sharp tone) "well? What is it that 'I'd like to hear'?"

Genesis:

Genesis: [takes a deep, shuddering breath, startled—]

Genesis: [finds his eyes darting away and to the side, but just as quickly returns them to his father's as he collects himself]

Genesis: (voice thick and uneven, even as he speaks carefully) "… to begin with, sir… I've—" [drops his eyes, but once again returns them to his father's as soon as he notices] "—done a lot of thinking during my rustication. About… what you've told me. How my actions have affected this family, us. How—"

Genesis: [tears his eyes from Duke's to stare at the floor beside his foot; and his voice slowly evens out) "they'll affect me, in the long run. About—" [heart skips a beat, face pinching, as he realizes he took his eyes from his father's. Quickly returns them] "—the harm I've done us all, through my actions."

Genesis: [lets out a slow, shuddering breath as he swallows, unwillingly looks away again, and lowers his head struggling not to cry]

Genesis: [takes an unsteady step forward, hesitantly reaching into his pocket for his stylus… and then placing it on the desk between himself and Duke]

Genesis: [terrified to know how his father is looking at him—]

Genesis: [and so, for once, lets himself stare at the ground] :'DDDD

Genesis: [stepping back, away from Duke and the literal life-saving stylus, continues with his voice cracking) "and I've realized you're right. About—everything. I'm—I'm sorry, Father."

Genesis: [swears he's visibly trembling, but… slowly forces himself to look up and meet Duke's eyes again]

Duke: [watching him with a deadly serious look; anger underlying his features]

Genesis: [panicking—]

Genesis: (breathlessly, desperately) "I want to do everything I can to amend my mistakes. Please. Just—just tell me what I need to do, and I'll do it. I'm sorry, Father."

Genesis: [feels naked without a stylus, feels nakednakednaked—vulnerable—and WEAK—]

Genesis: [can't help it. Sobs, and has to tear his eyes from Duke as he ducks his head into his arms, wrapping them over his head]

Genesis: [… and, finally, breaks out crying with his head cradled in his hands]

Father: [lets out a heavy, furious sigh… but slowly puts his own face in his hands as his son cries]

Father: [heavily disapproves of his son's breakdown, but… just like Steward, sees this drastic change in Genesis's behavior to be a positive sign. A sign that they'd finally gotten through to him, and that maybe, just maybe, they could 'fix' the endless problems 'Genesis had caused'. Even if he would still be stuck with a failure of a son]

Genesis: [as the seconds go by without Duke reacting to his crying, finds his stress building higher and higher, his breaths more and more shallow, and—]

Duke: (voice stern, but calm) "{Genesis}."

Genesis: [flinches, gasping, but immediately draws his head from his hands to look up at his father. Has his head shrunken into his shoulders and his eyes wide]

Genesis: [expecting the worst—]

Duke: [but just sitting up straight at his desk; his fingers interwoven together and his arms flat against the desk as he stares at Genesis]

Duke: (with the same stern, but even, tone) "go to your room. I'll think about how we're going to proceed. And you get yourself back together. We're supposed to be better than that. You know this."

Genesis: [hiccups, then swallows and nods fervently]

Genesis: [and, with a strangled exhale, swiftly flips on his heel to follow his father's directions…]

Genesis: [well, besides the crying]

Genesis: [goes off to have an absolute nervous breakdown]

Reminder: Genesis's "great sin" is that he's rebelliously insistent on using runic magic as, essentially, medication. For genetic health issues. That they've deemed to be "his fault".

In other words: while this may resemble a "reasonable situation", it is nowhere near one.

Especially because the father is 10000% abusive and that's WHY Genesis is absolutely terrified of him.

As a side note, it was very interesting covering all of Duke's real name with, well, "Duke". I only have his surname actually decided, and uh... y'know. That's Genesis's surname. And he's a hidden/plot twist villain. So I've gotta hide it lol.

Hopefully that didn't pull you out of the story!

story intro table of contents next part > part one

RFtA intro

TAGLIST:

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dividers by @thyming and @saradika

[imbadatparking]

origin of something evil; 

The pale blue wall holds his attention at a sharp standpoint, the same smooth sight that’s been there since before he was born. The ceiling fan flickers, wavering shadows playing out a vision of his parents dancing and smearing azure paint across each other’s skin. Rolling brushes and Simon and Garfunkel and plastic on furniture, laughter ringing out. A time he doesn’t remember but aches for anyway. 

The pale blue wall holds his attention at a sharp standpoint, the same smooth sight that’s been there since before he was born. The ceiling fan flickers, wavering shadows playing out a vision of his parents dancing and smearing azure paint across each other’s skin. Rolling brushes and Simon and Garfunkel and plastic on furniture, laughter ringing out. A time he doesn’t remember but aches for anyway. 

Soccer trophies line the shelves next to school awards and a family photo. Him, Mother, Father, in their best clothing tastefully arranged on their stairs. They are all smiling, but before, what's unseeable, is that they were all arguing loud enough for the photographer to hear behind the closed door kitchen. If one squints, the premature gray hairs in Mother's hair, the hard lines of Father, and the tightness around Adam’s eyes becomes visible. Adam hates the picture.

The decorations have been standing, unchanging since forever. Besides the addition of his achievements, what Father says is the only thing worth showing off, it is a stranger’s room. Its inhabitant does not belong in it like it does not belong in the house.

He’s never considered changing it, but if he did, he'd make it less… blue. Father doesn’t like the idea. Father, I hate blue; Harhar, since when? ‘Sides, it’s a great color, an honorable color, a real man’s color. 

He’d choose purple, maybe. A dark purple. Royal or plum or hippo or —

The color of a fresh bruise. 

The darkening shade around Jackson’s eye after his fist landed in it, that smudgy sludge green, brackish mess, a bloom of violet crimson.

The sound had been sickening, a whistle of air and then skin against skin. Exhilarating adrenaline coursing through his arm as he pulled back and released before he even realized he lost control. The headspace of that awful rush of power that comes from having of a weaker thing at your mercy.

It was all kind of a blur. 

A slurred word, one too many jeered comments. A slam against the locker, hands curled into the school’s uniform collar, tight around the tie. One yank and he could’ve choked him. 

Close enough to hear his hitched breath, the soft flutter of his eyelashes. 

One hit, two hits, the spurt of vibrant blood from a crooked nose, a shouted curse, and frantic hands pulled him back. 

Only one voice registered in that panicked silence: Don’t — stop, Adam, stop. It’s not worth it, it’s not — 

More hands, more blood, more voices. White-hot anger. 

Then: Mr. Adam! Mr. Jackson! Both of you in my office. Now. Voice stern like his father. 

An acute walk of shame, every pair of eyes on him knowing what happened, waiting for the moment the hallways cleared so they could go back to spilling gossip. In the gray locker, a flicker of his reflection: narrowed, pinpoint eyes, dilated hazel to black, dark eyebrows drawn, mouth tight, a near-mirror image of Father on his worst days. All traces of Mother gone, only the cruelty of anger arranging an even crueler face.

In Jackson’s face, he saw intimate familiarity; bloody and bruised by the hands of a man too broken to love. 

When he got home, sullen silence from Mother emptying the car, reminiscent of the aftermath of stone-cold nights with too much wine and a heavy lifted arm, he didn’t dare let out a breath out of line.

Father had been rightfully pissed, but the straight of his back recalled something like pride. 

Adam spent years scouring over textbooks and bibles and handbooks, looking for a how-to on How To Be The Perfect Son, and the one time, the second time, the third time he gets into a fight, full pot of water filled with boiling rage spilling over and over and over, Father’s expression is the least concealed arrangement of pride he’s ever seen. 

Know what you did was no good, and there’re consequences to your damn actions —  spittle flying and bruises forming and bit-back groans — but if my son knows one thin’, it's howta swing one like a real man. 

I learned it from you, Dad.

The seed of rot has been planted, the roots have grown and knotted together in the dirt of his soul. Like the Apricot trees out on the lawn, blackening from the inside with a bitter swing to the ground and an unsalvageable likeness. A taste of him is already too much before he is spat out into the trash with the lid sealed shut.

It’s too late for him; one bad tree and now the entire grove is poisoned, generations of peeling bark and falling , no matter how often they prayed for redemption. Someone should uproot these trees and destroy them; someone should plow over it until it is nothing but pure again. But it’s stood here far too long thriving in its own ugly and no one has the tools to do it. It will continue to fester, diseased and alive, spreading fruitlessly to whoever dares eat what their branches bear.

Adam’s sins are intrinsic; internal; melded into the metal of his bone and sparked by his father’s hands, crafted into the perfect weapon. 

The blue laughs at him, having known this for years.

In the corner, an oil spill seeps from the creases, running down his wall and swallowing him in a black hole of darkness. The devil lives in these walls and he is staining the foundations. 

Maybe the only way to get rid of it is by praying, to baptize it free of the ever-present evil, and emerge blissfully clean. Wash his hands, rinse the blood off his knuckles, scrub these walls, and find his own.

He presses his hands together in that familiar fold, fingers laced, closing his eyes softly. Grounding, grounding.

Dear God. 

Don’t let me be him, don’t let me be him, don’t let me be him —

> @nosebleedclub prompt xxiv. > from an excerpt of my tentative book, Apricot Seeds > ask to be tagged

[hark-the-togekiss-sing]

Hello everyone.

Back reading through this blog now, it wasn’t made with my knowledge. I’m deeply sorry for any trouble the angel might have caused.

~ Elder Alpin of Arceus’s Fellowship

[ptsd-gf]

Onanist

The moment his palms connected with my skin,already bruised, already tender, it felt like a kiss, like the lips of an angel pressing against my skin in some cruel, twisted benediction.

“Harder..” I breathed, the word barely more than a sigh of devotion. My eyes rolled back, caught somewhere between pain and rapture. Punish me. That was the unspoken prayer, the hymn that had been written into the very marrow of my bones. He would always punish me, I would punish me, and I would always take it, drenched in the aftermath, pleading for more. I was made to beg, born for it, as if God Himself had sculpted me from the clay of suffering, molded my flesh to fit into hands that would wield it like an instrument of divine wrath.

With the next strike, a vision flickered behind my eyes,the sun streaming through the high, stained-glass windows of the church, reaching down in fractured beams of gold, red, and violet, bathing my face in celestial color, reaching down to cup my cheeks. The second blow brought the scent of frankincense curling through my nostrils, thick and heady, like the incense that swirled in the air before the altar, where sinners knelt in penance. The third painted the image of Christ’s suffering in my mind’s eye, his wooden body glistening in the candlelight, the carved droplets of blood weeping from his side like a promise, like an answer to a prayer I hadn’t realized I’d been whispering since the moment I could form words.

By the fourth, I was lost.

I let my upper body fall forward, collapsing onto the mattress, my face pressed into the damp cotton, my breath hitching, uneven. Tears burned hot as they slipped down my cheeks, pooling at the corners of my lips before dripping from my chin. This was shame, holy and unholy all at once, a baptism in my own disgrace. This was punishment. The weight of sin carved into flesh, the evidence of my transgressions laid bare in the bruises that would bloom beneath trembling fingertips. The perversion of a girl.

It feels good.

[roll-for-gaslight]

for whosoever believeth in him (shall not perish but have everlasting life)

An exploration of the two oldest Applebees siblings' relationship with religion. tw// religious trauma, child abuse, let me know if I should add anything else.

AO3 Version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55677883/chapters/141332254

Part One: The Prophet

Part Two: The Proselyte

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight."

-Proverbs 3:5-6

When Kristen was having a hard day, this is the verse that came to mind most often. It was the one she fell back on when it got hard to stay awake at church, or Bucky did something to annoy her and her first instinct was to annoy him back. She was Helio’s Chosen, she knew better than to act like that. It’s not Bucky’s fault he hadn’t learned yet, he wasn’t Chosen like her, he would come to it in his own time. Instead, she would correct him gently and mend anything he broke with a Mending cantrip, one of the earliest signs of her Blessing. It’s the one she’s repeating under her breath now, as she dies in a highschool cafeteria, surrounded by the corn that should have, by all accounts, been blessed with Helio’s light and protected or healed her rather than harmed her. It’s her first set of dying words, though no one else would ever know it. 

She sneaks her principal into heaven only to be sent back to the mortal plane herself. Worse than that, Helio refuses to answer the one question that’s been sitting on her mind for years: why do you let bad things happen to good people? Not only does he not have an answer, he throws her out of the afterlife when s he asks. There is a seed of doubt firmly planted in her heart by that interaction, though she supposes this isn’t the first time she felt a flutter of something like it. 

"I can do all this through Him who gives me strength."

-Philippians 4:13

She supposes this could have gone better. She’s never been left home alone to babysit before, but her parents say that since he just turned nine she’s finally old enough. She’s making macaroni and cheese, with all three boys running around the dining room table. Bucky and Bricker are chasing Cork around the table because he has something she can’t quite make out in his hands, all screaming over each other. She’s just glad that when she told them it wasn’t safe to play in the kitchen they actually listened to her. She felt herself glow with pride at the thought, knowing her mom and dad would be proud of her for taking care of everyone tonight if all went well. 

Then, a lot of things happen at once. There’s a crash, a scream, a thudding sound, and then all her brothers are crying. Bricker runs into the kitchen and barely stops short of crashing into her. 

“KRISTENKristencomequickit’sCorkhe’shurt and—” he half-shouts, but she stops listening. 

“Stay here, turn off the stove, and bring me the emergency phone!” she says immediately, shouting her instructions as she runs into the other room. When she arrives she sees Bucky first, blood all over his hands and face. It takes her a moment to remember what Bricker said and realize it isn’t his own blood, but Cork’s. She casts her eyes downward to see her youngest brother lying there, limp and colorless as blood pooled around him. There’s an action figure, one of Bucky’s, scattered into several pieces about a foot away from his hand. She approaches quickly, realizing that the blood is coming from his head, and grabs one of the napkins off of the table as she pushes Bucky out of the way.

“What happened?” she demands. Bucky looks up at her through his tears, and she realizes abruptly that she doesn’t know how to fix this. 

“We were just trying to get my Adventure Man toy back! I tried to grab him and he lost his balance and his head hit the table and then he just started bleeding so fast I didn’t know what to do,” he says, and she does her best to offer him a comforting smile. 

“Everything is going to be okay,” she assures him, silently begging Helio for forgiveness for bearing false witness, knowing the moment the lie passes her lips that she’ll have to repent in church for it on Sunday. He seems to relax at her words. “Go and get the black bottle with the white cap from under the bathroom sink.” she says, and he runs off. She’s left alone, for just a moment, with a slowly-dying Cork, and is faced with the helpless thought that she can’t heal him. She should have been watching him. 

She begins to whisper prayers, each and every one she knows, under her breath. 

Bucky and Bricker enter the room at the same time, both holding the things she instructed them to grab. She takes the hydrogen peroxide and tells Bucky to take the phone and call their parents, tell them they need to come home, but she’s not sure how to proceed after that. She feels tears prickle in her eyes as Cork’s breathing becomes shallower and shallower, and does her best to clean the wound and wrap it up despite the fact that the blood-soaked towel isn’t doing much anymore. 

Just when the tears begin to fall, the moment that all hope seems lost, it happens. Her hands glow with a brilliant, burning golden light and the air fills with the scent of popcorn. Cork’s eyes fly open as the color returns to his face, and suddenly she can breathe again. She pulls her littlest brother into a tight hug, and Bucky and Bricker join them. She can faintly hear the sound of her parents as they come through the door, moments too late to be helpful but she’s grateful they’re there nonetheless. The whole world feels far away except for her brothers, right here with her. 

“What happened here?” her mom asks, “Kristen, did you just heal your brother? Was he hurt, did you heal him?” 

Kristen looks up from the hug and is only able to nod before her dad starts to separate the four of them. Bucky and Bricker move back when they’re told to, sent off to get cleaned up, but it takes her a few extra seconds before she can let herself let go. Her mom wraps her arms around her to guide her into the living room, and through the shock Kristen can faintly hear her calling Pastor Amelia to share the good news. 

“Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is Sol’s will for you in Lord Helio.”

-1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Kristen’s eyes are starting to get heavy. She’s been staring upward for almost a full twenty-four hours at that point, feeling the searing heat of Sol’s light burn her face as she murmurs her prayers along with the pastor onstage. Pastor Amelia’s shift ended some time ago, so it was a man’s low southern drawl leading them now, but she can’t be sure how long it’s been. She’s ten, so it’s not her first Harvest Festival, so Helio is making her last longer than he used to before he intervenes to help her through her prayers. Her skin feels raw and blistering, and her eyes strain against the unrelenting light. She’s doing her best to make him proud.  

She knows the girl beside her, who seemed so devoted when they met at the beginning, was carried out after only three hours or so. The boy in front of her passed out from the heat not long after. She had noticed that he drank all of his daily water in the first hour, but could do nothing to warn him. Bucky is on her other side, here for his first year in the Prayer and doing well. Next year they’ll be in different age groups, but she’s glad to have him here now. She’s pretty sure he’ll have to kneel soon because of how he’s shaking and sweating. Kneeling is allowed as long as they know you’re still awake. There’s a part of her that wants to kneel first so he’s not nervous, but she also knows it’s important that she remains standing as long as possible to fully connect with Helio. 

She knows that probably within the hour, they’ll get an optional ten-minute break to refill their water. If Bucky can last until then, she’s pretty sure he’ll be able to make it through the next day. 

He kneels, his head falling onto the ground immediately. She knows it’s technically against the rules, but she kicks him in the arm and casts one of her smallest healing spells for him. She can barely see in her peripheral vision as he glows momentarily and looks up at her. He’s still faintly murmuring prayers, so he’s not actually out yet. Kristen feels the toll the spell takes and her knees buckle, so she slowly kneels to avoid taking out those around her if she falls. She distantly notices several other kids around her kneel quickly after, as if they were all awaiting her cue as Chosen. She thinks she should maybe feel guilty for that, but she can’t quite bring care about them right now, only Bucky. He’s still sweating, but as she kneels he seems to remember his placement and raises his face to the sun yet again. 

She waits anxiously for someone to say something or for Helio’s reprimand to come for breaking the rules. He sees all, so she knows it’s hopeless to think he won’t notice. 

Despite that, nothing comes. When the ten-minute break arrives, Bucky turns as if to speak with her and she just hands him her water jug. “Can you fill this for me, Buck? I’m going to pray through the break. As much ice as you can crush in there, please.” she requests, and he nods. 

“Yeah, Kristy, I can do that. I’ll let mom and dad know,” he responds, and she suddenly and desperately wishes for last year, when she was the only one of her siblings doing the full prayer and Bucky’s only job was to make sure she had water on breaks, free to spend most of the rest of the festival playing and enjoying the summer. 

The pastor is taking a break, so anyone staying is welcome to do their own prayers. If there’s anyone else in the field, they must be really far away from her. She feels the breeze for the first time in a while, but the sun also beats down harder than before. She sends Helio her apologies, doing her best to appease him, but never feels the sweet rejuvenation of his miracles. Not until the very last second of what should have been her break, right as people return to the field. She feels all eyes on her as she realizes she must have been the only one that stayed judging by the size of the crowd. Right as she registers that information, she feels a warmth in her chest. It expands outward and the day becomes ten times brighter. She’s glowing and feels herself becoming weightless. She knows it’s Helio’s blessing at last, knew all along that forgoing her break was the perfect way to repent. It lasts a full minute before she slowly descends, and when she does she feels it.

She feels like she’s fresh off of a full night’s sleep, completely refreshed. Her braid has redone itself, she feels clean, and her skin is no longer blistering. People suddenly crowd around her on all sides, each kneeling beside her and taking a moment to look up to the sky before returning to their new formation, remaking the neat lines that had been lost before as others failed. Bucky is the last to approach and takes his place beside her, reaching out to grab her hand for one fleeting moment before pulling away again. He puts her water jug and his own between them. For a while, everything is perfect. 

Seven hours later, the night brings a unique challenge, and the one that finally removes Bucky from the Prayer. It’s much cooler, a reprieve from the intense heat of the sun, but it’s also dark. At this point in the festival, that makes it too easy to fall asleep. He has the sense to kneel before he does it, but not to totally avoid colliding with Kristen. He falls across her feet, and suddenly she feels tears in her eyes. Maybe she should give up too, help him out of the crowd. She knows it would be frowned upon, and can picture the look of disappointment on her mom and dad’s faces when they see her step away. She can’t bring herself to move. Someone comes to collect Bucky, but she doesn’t see who. 

She lasts until noon the next day. It’s been a full forty-eight hours, and she’s the last one standing for their entire age group. The field is empty around her. The clock strikes loudly for twelve o’clock, the time of day where Helio’s magic is the strongest, and suddenly her legs buckle and go out from beneath her. She hits the ground hard, feels the dirt and rocks scrape against her knee. The moment her head hits the ground, she loses consciousness. 

Kristen wakes up alone on a cot. There’s a window open, letting fresh air and a little early morning light into the room. She checks her crystal to see it’s six in the morning, eyes aching at the light from the screen until she turns the brightness setting all the way down. She hovers over her mom’s contact for a few moments, considering texting to see where to find them, but can’t bring herself to actually do so. She closes her eyes instead to do a silent prayer for her daily spells, and it feels like a weight off her chest when she feels the holy magic fill her with warmth. Helio is proud of her. She did good. 

“Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be long in the land that the Lord Helio is giving you.”

-Exodus 20:12

“Kristen, I don’t know how many times we’re going to have to go over this. If they don’t worship Helio, they’re sinners. It doesn’t matter what they do or say because anything done outside of Sol’s light is sin.” her dad is saying, frustration coloring his tone. 

Her mom nods in agreement. “If they aren’t faithful, they aren’t your friend. If you can’t depend on them to make the right choice on the most important decision, how can you trust them with anything else?”

Kristen finds herself at a loss for words. It had been Bricker who started all of this, playing with that little Goblin girl on the playground before Mac and Donna had gotten the chance to pull him away. It had been an innocent question. “But she was so nice, what could be wrong with her?” he had said. He’d also immediately accepted his parents’ simple answer: she was a non-believer. Kristen had been fighting this battle for half an hour at this point, determined to show her parents the truth of Helio’s light. This is part of being Chosen, she thinks. It’s her job to right these wrongs, even if it means standing up to her parents. 

“Mom, Dad, Sol’s light touches all creatures the same. If they act with good intentions and follow the rules of scripture, they have potential to find faith. Isn’t it our job to lead them there, and let them take their own path there? It doesn’t make them bad people, just lost ones.” she says, not for the first time. 

“That’s enough, Kristen,” Mac says finally, using his this-conversation-is-over voice. She winces slightly, knowing that she’s in trouble. “You need to drop this, or we’ll have to go have a talk with Pastor Amelia about you questioning Helio’s word. Is that what you want?”

Panic fills her at the thought of Pastor Amelia’s disappointed face and tone. There’s no way she would still be Helio’s Chosen if she really questioned Him and she knows it. Pastor Amelia having to step in would definitely call it to His attention. She shakes her head quickly. 

“No! No, of course not. I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to question Him. I just didn’t understand, I guess,” she assures them quietly, and they seem satisfied. When she glances at her brothers, Bricker looks disappointed. She looks away.

“There are six things the Lord hates, seven that are detestable to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies and a person who stirs up conflict in the community.”

-Proverbs 6:16–19

Kristen has never been more excited than her first day of highschool. She’s excited to make friends, and to fulfill Helio’s word by showing them the light. It’s the whole reason that she wanted to go to Aguefort, and it’s why she asks Daybreak to send her to detention with the bad kids. Who better to help the most lost souls in the school than the Chosen of Helio? Who better to bring them under his holy gaze?

She feels a little bad for lying, but knows that she can repent for it tonight and Helio will understand. She feels worse about asking Daybreak to lie for her, and knows she needs to apologize to him too. She’s Chosen, she should know how to act better than that.

It doesn’t matter. They don’t seem happy about her proselytizing, but they seem to like her anyway. She’s looking forward to her new group, to finally getting the chance to be the yeast that makes the whole loaf rise. 

She dies instead. 

“Do not practice homosexuality, having sex with another man as with a woman. It is a detestable sin."

-Leviticus 18:22

Tracker is maybe the coolest person Kristen has ever met. She’s openly queer, a werewolf, and she worships Galicaea. She grew up in the church and chose to leave it, which is scary, but it’s also really… Exciting? Thrilling? Enticing? Attractive? Kristen isn’t sure she has exactly the right word for it yet, but she knows it feels almost good. 

She’s not so sure about Helio anymore. How could He not have the answers she was looking for? Not even for her, His Chosen? What did it even mean to be Chosen by Him? Did it mean anything, if she didn’t choose Him too? She’s not so sure anymore. 

She hates that she hasn’t seen her brothers all week. It’s not like it is with her parents with them, they haven’t done anything wrong. She hates that her long school days have led to her avoiding her whole family. She’s had more sleepovers since school started than she has in the whole rest of her life. 

She’s pretty sure she has a crush on Tracker. What would that mean for her? Would that make her gay? Or maybe bi? She hopes, for a moment, for that to be the truth but now that she’s thinking about it the thought of spending the rest of her life with a husband in a traditional marriage sounds… suffocating. Spending the rest of her life with someone fun and interesting like Tracker sounds so much better. 

Maybe Helio isn’t everything. Maybe her parents are right about him, and if they are then she’s not interested. Maybe Helio holds hatred in his heart. 

Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe she’ll find something new. 

Maybe she’ll take a leap of faith. 

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”

-Hebrews 11:1

She can still cast magic. She’s not sure who or how, but her leap of faith didn’t strip her of her divine magic. She can still heal her friends, and her Spirit Guardians aren’t corn-themed. The magic flowing through her is strange and new, no longer searing heat but instead a slight chill that shoots its way through her from her very core. 

Every night’s a sleepover as long as she’s not living at home. Her parents haven’t even tried to get her home yet, not even a text since the other night. She’s just glad Fig and Gilear have been so nice to let Kristen move in with them. There’s no way she would have been able to leave that house if they hadn’t offered; she couldn’t imagine actually asking her friends to take care of her like this. Fig was just nice enough to offer first, so she didn’t feel as bad just accepting. 

Tracker is going to be her girlfriend, she’s pretty sure. She still has to actually ask, but she’s pretty sure the feelings she’s having are reciprocal. She talks to Ragh, quietly and briefly, about being gay. He doesn’t make fun of her, which she suspected he wouldn’t. He just nods respectfully along as she speaks and gives her a little head pat before they depart, the most affection she’s seen him show anyone but Dayne. 

Kristen’s decided that she’s happy with who she is. If someone has a problem with it, she doesn’t need to care. That’s how Tracker talks about it all: her queerness, her religion, her lycanthropy. There’s no reason Kristen should have to change who she is for some bullshit rules that don’t actually mean anything. Fuck anyone who says otherwise.

 “For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.”

-Ephesians 2:8-9

Kristen is dying again. In the gym, at prom, she is being killed by the vice principal, but it doesn’t even matter. As Helio’s Chosen she is directed straight towards the main office of Heaven when she arrives, only to find Arthur Aguefort waiting for him. Not only does he agree to come back and help her return, but he also gives her his watch to use. 

Oh, and she creates a new god. 

No big deal. 

Okay, big deal. She hates her new god, but it’ll be okay. Maybe YES! just has to grow on her. 

“For Sol so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life”

-John 3:16

The chapel makes Tracker freak out, but Kristen can’t get the image of the goddess out of her head. She was beautiful, and there was something strikingly familiar about her. She tries several times to draw her, but to no avail. She doesn’t voice her desires to her friends or even to Tracker on any kind of deeper level, but feels herself drawn to the idea of a forgotten goddess who specializes in doubt. Doubt has already gotten her this far, right? 

As they venture into Sylvaire and split up to gather the ingredients, only to lose all their allies except Gilear. Oh, yeah, and Kristen almost dies again, but at least this time she saves Riz. At least this time she has the chance to do some good. She thinks that it’s worth it as long as her friends are safe. 

When they make it to the chapel in the forest, their second time coming in, she’s grateful to have Fabian watching her back. The whole place seems creepy, but also strangely alluring. She wants to understand who this goddess was before she was abandoned. Why would her followers do this to her? She steps closer. 

‘Why do you searching for me?’ a low, crackling voice speaks directly into her mind. 

“I heard that you were the goddess of doubt, and that really resonates with me right now,” Kristen begins to say, but those aren’t the right words. She pauses for a moment to think. “I have a lot of praise for you.” she says finally. 

There’s a sharp pain in her chest, accompanied by a horrible wet sound. She chokes, suddenly unable to catch her breath, and grasps for whatever hurt her only to make contact with something that feels like solid bone. She looks down and— Is that a spike? 

Fabian says something and then he’s gone and it’s dark. She holds onto consciousness for as long as she can, tilting her head up to the sky and wishing, just for a moment, for the strength of a god supporting her the way Helio used to. It doesn’t come. Neither do her friends.

‘I have a lot of praise for you.’

What was she thinking?

Kristen Applebees, dying yet again with a prayer on her lips.

“‘Who’ is easy. It is us, everything, and you. ‘Why’ is harder.’Why’ is something that only you can decide. The universe doesn't have a ‘why’.”

For a while, she’s floating in nothing. She doesn’t have a sense of time or space, it’s neither light nor dark, there is no sensation. Everything is just empty for a while, and then it’s not anymore. Her eyes are already open when she comes to, face turned upward towards the ceiling. 

She looks down to find a gaping hole in her chest, her tie-dye shirt soaked through with blood. She puts her hand through it to make sure it’s not an illusion, but realizes belatedly that that doesn’t mean anything in the Nightmare forest. Looking at her hand, she realizes that her pinky finger is missing too. 

She slowly, carefully, wanders out of the room and into the forest. Her friends are far away, and she’s scared, and she’s pretty sure she’s still dead. That suspicion is confirmed when she’s brought face-to-face with the person she wants to see the least right now: Helio. He’s accompanied by Sol and a woman Kristen doesn’t immediately recognize. 

The woman introduces herself as Galicaea, Tracker’s goddess, and Kristen can’t help but feel comforted by the thought of her girlfriend for a few moments before it all goes wrong. Are these her only options? Sol’s bullshit or Galicaea’s? 

No. 

She’ll make her own options. She punches Helio in the face. 

Her philosophers aid her as they always have, helping her find the path away and giving her magic while she can’t rely on a deity. She knows what she needs to do. 

She’s going to bring back the mystery goddess, no matter what it takes. 

“The first rule of existence is as above, so below. People are fractal images of the universe. You are, as we are.”

If the first rule is as above, so below, that’s where she’ll start.

She ends up deep in the forest, and she can hear Tracker hunting her somewhere in the distance. She takes mud from the forest floor and blood from her own chest, using it to paint the goddess’s face on the bark of a wide tree. She’s no artist, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

She all but lays down, her knees folded underneath her and body pressed low, but her eyes cast up to the image. Slowly, it shifts until it shows the image of a beautiful goddess, the very one Kristen has been reaching out for. 

She appears in an inky void, mountains in the distance and a deity made of starlight in front of her. They speak of finding comfort in the dark unknown and wielding doubt as a tool rather than holding it in her heart; Kristen feels something slot together like a piece has been missing from the core of her very existence and it’s finally here. 

She’s pulled out of the conversation by danger looming outside of her new twilight protective circle, but Tracker is the danger. He escapes into the woods, free yet again, and finally finds her friends. She feels drawn in until she can pull the pinky finger bone out of Adaine’s pocket. She casts raise dead, there’s a sudden bright flash of light, and then it’s done. 

She feels her body return to her, hears her friends’ exclamations of surprise at her sudden appearance. She can see, in the low dusk light, the purple tie-dye of her new shirt made to represent her new goddess. Cassandra. She takes her first breath.

St. Kristen Applebees is born again. 

[cannedbeefaroni]

Quasimodo my beloved

[violentdevotion]

what's everyone currently reading?

[ominous-faechild]

“DEMONIC” MAGIC

a short story prior to Rising From The Ashes cws: mentioned child abuse, ableism, religious themes, religious trauma, and depictions of anxiety

PART 3: “DO AS YOU PLANNED...”

CHARACTERS:

♝ “Genesis” (pov) ♝ “Steward”

TIMELINES:

approx. 790 AA (global timeline)

story intro table of contents part one < last part next part >

word count: 1,177

Genesis: (voice uneven) "… he's right that the way I've acted has been… unacceptable. I've realized my—my sins. I hope Father—the gods—can forgive me…"

Genesis: [face twists further—a genuine pain that he allows to shine through]

Genesis: (voice strangled) "… even if good society never will."

Steward: [silent]

Genesis: [hesitates, still cringing]

Genesis: [but, letting out his nerves and recollecting himself with a heavy sigh, hesitantly returns his eyes to Steward's]

Steward: [eyeing him doubtfully still, but… Genesis can see that he's questioning it, at the very least]

Genesis: [relieved—] :'DDDD

Genesis: (to himself) good… looks like I'll be able to move along quicker than I hoped.

Steward: (disbelievingly) "hm."

Steward: [sighs heavily himself, turning away to start toward the manor's ever-imposing entrance]

Steward: (voice stern and doubtful, but tired) "let us carry on. Get this over with."

Genesis: [swallows, tucking his hand in his pocket to feel for his stylus and squeeze it for comfort]

Genesis: (wishes he could say to Steward:) you don't even have anything terrifying to look forward to… all you struggle with is complaining with my father about 'my attitude' and 'constitution' as though either of you struggle with it…

Genesis: [but keeps his pain and anxiety from his face, 'calmly' following close behind Steward as he looks everywhere but at the man]

Genesis: [and, as they walk, feels sick. Wants nothing more than to break out sobbing]

Genesis: [has already planned to 'give up' his stylus to his father—to help sell the act of him being 'a changed man'—but… terrified of losing it, the protection and relief it offered him—]

Genesis: [had been born ailing and miserable—no matter what was done, he'd been ill. And, for some reason, everyone around him had deemed it his fault. It was a moral failing of his; a sign that something was wrong with him, and thus something he should suffer with for his sins]

Genesis: [although... his father and family hardly even believed he was ill in the first place. Instead, they abused him and treated him like a monster for 'daring to ruin their image'. Until 'he decided to stop']

Genesis: [after suffering for so long, had managed to stumble upon runic magic—an ever-evolving art that'd collected and adapted ancient Faewilde-societies' methods to utilize the magic around them. In the past, the magic had been used to help the civilizations survive the ruthless Faewildes, but… well, following the Era of the Gods—of Avatars—fae-magic had been seen as monstrous. Work of 'the enemy']

Genesis: [had found out about it, and, well…]

Genesis: [if nobody else was going to help him, he was going to do everything he needed to in order to help himself]

Genesis: [… but, without his stylus—which contained an expensive conduit full of pure fae magic—he'd be helpless again. Left without runes, their healing, and the comfort of the stylus's very existence. Regardless of how much it could or did help him, just the fact that he had the chance had always reassured him]

Father: [had discovered and gotten rid of many of Genesis's conduits in the past, but… without a knowledge of how the boy kept getting his hands on them or how runic magic worked in general, he'd been unable to stop him from re-obtaining them]

Genesis: [… and was about to just hand over the only thing in his life that'd given him safety or comfort. To his father, who seemed to hate him more than runic magic itself]

Genesis: [to his father, who abused him]

Genesis: [quickly releases the stylus and draws his hand from his pocket, abandoning the comfort lest anybody see him still clinging to it]

Genesis: (to himself, again) do as you planned…

Genesis: [despite the endless anxieties plaguing his head and heart, has managed to keep his face empty all this time. He's silently trailed behind Steward, staring at the walls, paintings, and statues decorating the halls—anything but the steward himself as they headed toward his father's office]

Steward: [as they're nearing it, glances over his shoulder at Genesis]

Genesis: [hesitates]

Genesis: [after a moment, turns his head to meet Steward's eyes. As almost always, his face betrays no emotion… besides the slightest clench of his jaw]

Steward: [eyeing him down his nose cautiously; doubt and curiosity lining his voice) "what caused the change of heart?"

Genesis: [swallows] :'D

Genesis: [lets out a slow, strangled sigh as he tears his eyes from Steward's and stares at the floor]

Genesis: (voice uneven and subtly pained) "… while on rustication, I did a lot of thinking. About… what I've done to our family. About the sins I've committed. And how the gods surely hate me…"

Genesis: [pauses, then gives a forced, weak smile as he turns to meet Steward's eyes again]

Genesis: (voice strained, painfully) "… how, if I want to have any hope of things working out—for all of us—I need to get my act together."

Genesis: [and, finally, his face twists into a subtly-dark, bitter smile—and he quickly looks away as he struggles to corral his expression]

Genesis: (voice soft, but bitterly amused) "and, besides that… I guess my father's beatings finally got through to me."

Steward: (slightly doubtfully, yet thoughtfully) "hm."

Genesis: [swallows, struggling to fight back the dual terror and hope—]

Genesis: [as well as the ever-familiar tears] :'D

Genesis: [but, head bowed slightly in submission, hesitantly looks back to meet Steward's eyes—]

Steward: [has an eyebrow quirked thoughtfully, but was in the process of turning away as Genesis looked at him—and doesn't abandon the motion]

Genesis: [not going to complain] :'D

Genesis: [a wave of relief floods over him—before he recognizes they're almost there, and a pang of terror hits him instead]

Genesis: [struggling to breathe evenly and to not cry, fights the urge to reach into his pocket and clutch his stylus like a lifeline]

Genesis: (to himself) remember… you're 'a changed man'. You hate runes, for corrupting you, for ruining your family, for ruining your life… so you're going to—

Genesis: [half-laughs, half-sobs quietly, unable to help himself]

Genesis:

Genesis: [eyes flying wide, looks to Steward in a panic—]

Steward: [stopped by the door to his father's office not far ahead; has his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised as he watches Genesis critically]

Genesis: [sniffles—making him cringe all the more—and quickly looks away again. Quickly wipes away his tears as he hurriedly catches up with Steward, stopping in front of the door as well]

Genesis: (voice thick, full of emotion) "I'm sorry…"

Genesis: [winces—]

Genesis: [except… although he doesn't know this, his rare display of weakness is helping convince Steward of his (false) sincerity]

Steward: (dismissively) "don't apologize to me. Apologize to your father, and your family."

Genesis: :'D

Steward: [but doesn't give Genesis a chance to respond. Instead, un-crosses his arms as he turns to the door to Genesis's father's office, then knocks on it]

Steward: [at the same time, voice hard but even) "Your Grace. {Genesis} is here."

Genesis: [heart twists and pounds, but forces himself to choke back his terror. Keeping his face as empty as possible—besides his slightly-tensed jaw and watery eyes—turns to face the office door as—]

Duke: (speaks gruffly from the other side) "he may come in."

GUESS WHAT COMES IN THE NEXT PART!?

(not the murder, tragically. I mean wut?)

Also, what do you guys think of Genesis? Reminder: this guy as an adult is actually the major, overarching villain of all of RFtA!

(Btw, yes. Genesis is far from the only abuse survivor amongst the cast, and far from the only one with any of his traits. He is not representative of any kind of group, and is simply an individual whose experiences led him down a dark path... and one he genuinely thinks is "for the greater good". Imo, he's a fascinating character because he's got a really complex psychology and yeah! :D But what do you guys think? lol)

story intro table of contents next part > part one

RFtA intro

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