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lostsoulsandmutineers · 25 days

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Fuck I can’t keep getting emotional about the Bible it’s making me sad every theology class. something something these characters are HUMAN and ALIVE and most of them were real and they went through hell and for what??? Someone, someTHING that could take all their pain away in an instant but doesn’t because of a plan he created at the beginning of time. Like,

Do you think Adam forgave Eve? Did he hold her in the cold cave they fled to? Did he hold back his complaints of the hot sun and labor and dirt because he knew it wasn’t her fault? Did Eve stifle her screams during childbirth, afraid to annoy her husband, her perfect match that gave up everything for her? Did Adam hold her hand anyway?

Do you think Cain grieved Abel? Did he look at his hand, still holding the rock, sticky with red, and regret? Did he know someone could die? Did he know he killed his brother? Did he realize, for the first time since his parents doomed them all, that he was unforgivable? Did he cry when he buried his brother? Did he leave a gravestone? When he wandered, exiled, did he mourn the light laughter of a sibling that would never smile again?

What about Isaac? Did he ever look at his father again? Did he cry? Plead for his father to stop, please, I’m scared, dad, put down the knife I don’t wanna die I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry? Did Abraham apologize? Would it have mattered if he did?

Did Moses close his eyes when the spirit passed over? Did he clasp his hands over his ears when the first mother discovered her first born son? Did the wailing of every mother, father and sister reach him? When the first scream ran out, then another, and another, as house after house discovered the body of a child dead because of their pharoah, did he cry? Did he look at his hands and look at the lamb’s blood stained there and wonder who was a worse sacrifice?

And, a thousand years later, did a fourteen year old kid look at the screaming child in her arms and scream too? Has Mary ever seen so much blood? Theres a tearing, ripping pain between her legs, and her husband wipes her face with a cloth, and she knows. She looks at the child -her child- and knows he’s gonna die. By agreeing to a deal she couldn’t understand she cursed this child to die. Her womb was a grave all along, wasn’t it? Did Mary scream the same way, thirty years later, looking at her son (Jesus my son that’s my son that’s my baby what are you doing to him that’s my son Jesus sweetheart I’m sorry I love you I love you I love you) on the cross?

Did he youngest of the disciples, only a teenager himself, know what Jesus was? Did Judas see the almighty or his best friend? When they slept in the desert or a garden, or an inn, did he look at his sleeping friend and know? When Jesus looked at him and gave him permission, did he beg? Beg to choose someone else, beg to be let go, beg to not kill him? Did he go to the Sanhedrin, sobbing? Did he hold the pieces of silver in his hands and think they were as heavy as a body? Do you think when he kissed Jesus, Jesus kissed back? Did he hear the screaming that night, coming from the courthouse? Did he wish to take the whip strokes himself? Did Judas feel the rope in his hands and laugh, knowing that as soon as he kicked the stool he’d be free? Did Judas hang himself knowing he’d see Jesus again and finally, finally apologize?

And did Jesus, the son of a carpenter, the son of a perfect woman, the son of God, understand? When he was twelve and lost, did he tell the priests of the temple what was gonna happen to him? Did he know that he was to be tortured? Did he look at Judas and forgive him because it had to happen? In Gethsemane, did he curse God? Did he ever try to stray from the plan? Did he ever look at the devil in the desert and wonder, just for a second, if he should say yes? What did he answer when someone asked him who he was the son of? Joseph, the man who raised him, the man who wiped his tears, the man who taught him all he could about the world? Or did he answer God, the one who abandoned him and let him die? Who did Jesus call “Father”? Do you think he hugged the disciples good-bye at the last supper? Did he try to memorize the feel of their clothes, the smell of their hair? Did he ever get his last words to them? Did the think of his mom and dad and friends on the cross, or just the God who put him there? Yes, Jesus wept, but who for?

#Bible #the bible #bible fandom #christianity #catholicism #jesus #virgin mary #joseph bible #The disciples #disiples #Judas #jesus X judas #cain and able #adam and eve #bible angst

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mandarinaenjoyer · 3 months

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Could we consider Jesus a good candidate for an "always an angel never a god" edit? The og actually, kinda (bc we're agnostic and religion enjoyers in this house).

Like, ok man, you can turn water into wine, make 153 fish not break a net, spread love and peace and do other stuff... but can you create a human from dirt? Didn't think so!!!!

Ykwim? It's angsty.

If there's one please tell me

🍊

#bible fandom #maybe?#jesus and judas are gay #change my mind #always an angel never a god #diary #greek mythology #bible angst #agnostic

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demonictacobeard · 3 months

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Okay so before I got into Hazbin Hotel I’ve saw around the internet there’s been the floating question about if Adam, biblical, would have a belly button. Since that’s from where your umbilical cord was in the womb and Adam was not born so to speak.

So, I’d like to think that Hazbin Hotel Adam was freaking out when Cain had one. Like he thought that was just for animals, and humans did not have that stuff. Then he thought it over, and realized him and Eve and Lillith didn’t have one because they have no mother. They were never children, or babies. They were made into the world grown.

That has to fuck you up some way or another. And I can just see Adam holding Cain and staring down at his stomach, starting to resent the way he was created, as his newborn son sleeps soundly. Because if he was the perfect first man, why didn’t he have this mark that showed he was crafted from something other then the cold dirt?

#hazbin hotel adam #I got too into this #I blame my religion issues #Sorry #biblical references #hazbin hotel #i know show lore doesn’t follow the Bible to a T but let me project #Angst #alexa play what was I made for #Idk if anyone’s brought this up before #Lmk #Would love to read stuff about this

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akystaracer22 · 2 months

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Free the Bird from its Gilded Cage

Synopsis: Lucifer would tell anyone who asked his greatest regret was letting humanity eat the apple. Better than admitting what he really regretted.

Notes

Golly gee good thing affairs didn’t exist back then huh!

In which Lucifer’s tism hurts his best friend, the fic.

I think I can tag this as Edenpoly considering the conversation between Lucifer and Lilith.

I give my greatest thanks to my good friend Hat who uttered the phrase “I raise a glass to the friend you could have been and drink to the monster you became” (Or something of the sort) which has not left my brain 2 years later.

No shade on other people’s depictions of the ancient archangels. I love good archangels as much as you guys but… this is very much bashing.

I’m so sorry Michael. And Azrael, and every single angel who’s characters I butcher in this AU. It’s not you guys I swear.

God on the other hand fuck you I’m not sorry.

I have been told by many people irl that I have religious trauma. I didn’t think I did but fuck it we ball.

I am so sorry this came out late but I had two assignments and I'm moving houses, I'll try not to have a repeat.

Word count: 1957

Fic under cut!

Lucifer felt Lilith before he saw her, the first woman’s aura screaming frustration and hurt louder than the tears in her eyes.

She was sitting under an aspen tree with her legs tucked to her chest.

Lucifer didn’t need to guess why she was upset; it could really only be one thing these days.

“Adam did something again, didn’t he.”

Lilith huffed and lifted her head to meet Lucifer’s gaze, “We fought, again. He still doesn’t get it.”

Lucifer sighed and sat down next to the first woman, not for the first time the little voice in his head bemoaned Adams chronic inability to listen to anyone other than God. It was really starting to cause problems in Eden.

“He’ll regret it.”

“He always does, but he still does it.”

Lucifer nodded, “He needs to learn that God isn’t right about everything,” His siblings would murder him if they knew he was spreading this kind of blasphemy, “But I do agree, it’s a little irritating.”

“It is!” Lucifer jerked as Lilith stood up abruptly and began to pace, “He’s great most of the time don’t get me wrong, but he’s just increasingly growing more and more insufferable! It’s like every time he gets better he just goes straight back to being worse!”

“Truly the trials and tribulations of the first humans.”

“I just wish he would listen to me! Not some stuck up self-important know it all who thinks I’m worthless.”

Lucifer wisely held back the instinctive defence of the Creator, “Especially when you are so much more than that.”

Lilith seemed to finally run out of steam, falling back into Lucifer’s arms and holding him tightly, “I hate this… I hate him.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t… I hate the man God wants him to be.”

“I hate that man too,” Lucifer admitted, “I hate how he hurts everyone.”

Because it wasn’t just Lilith that was left hurting. Lucifer hated how he was losing track of the near silent breakdowns of Adam’s.

God created humanity different from the grand design, and every day Lucifer loathed that fact more and more.

“He’s going to win, that man.”

“Neither of us will let him.”

“He’ll let himself,” Lilith hissed right by his ear, the sound sending a shiver down Lucifer’s spine, by the choirs that felt good “Adams an idiot.”

“Yep!” Call Lucifer blasphemous, but he was so tempted to-

Lilith opened her mouth to say something, and Lucifer listened to the little voice in his head once again.

He caught her mouth with his own swiftly before pulling back, face flushing as he realised what he just did.

That was something only Adam and Lilith was supposed to do with each other.

Lilith blinked, taking time to process before giving her response, “Do that again.”

Lucifer didn’t need to be told twice.

The bark of the aspen tree was lit up by Lucifer’s wings as he pressed his lips to Lilith’s again.

And again.

Lucifer had never felt so good. He could see why Lilith and Adam like doing this. This felt so good.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

It was hours until Lucifer disentangled himself from Lilith, still not having quite recovered from the experience. Sadly, he could feel the mental tug attached to his halo signifying his siblings wanting an audience with him. The last thing he wanted was to have them come down and see him with Lilith.

The moment he returned to heaven however, he had the distinct feeling that he might have messed up regardless.

Michael was pacing and muttering angrily under his breath, sharp sounds grating Lucifer’s awareness. When the archangel saw Lucifer, his wings physically bristled as he lunged forward and grabbed the Morningstar by the robe.

“You are so very fortunate that God was already growing tired of Lilith’s rebellion!”

“What?”

“Michael,” Lucifer turned to see Azrael landing nearby, “I highly doubt Lucifer knows what he has done, as impulsive as he is.”

“What? What happened,” Lucifer demanded, mantling his wings to make himself look larger as he stared down the other archangels.

“You don’t know?”

“Know what!”

“God decided to give the first man a new wife,” Michaels words cut through Lucifer’s anger and left only shock, “Made from his rib.”

“… what?”

“Yes, I had to tear it out myself,” Michael huffed, Lucifer noticed the dried red still dusting the angels gloves, “Adam tried to flee.”

“…”

“What Michael means,” Azreal shot the other a look, “Is that Adam didn’t take the information well, and saw it fit to attempt avoiding the situation entirely.”

“He was awake?!” Lucifer screeched “By the choir what is wrong with you two?!”

“It was the Creator’s wishes, none of us knew it would bring pain,” Azrael sighed, “However, it would encourage not repeating the situation…”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Michael scoffed, “The Creator ensured Adam wouldn’t remember.”

“It would taint him.”

“It would motivate him.”

“What?”

“Our Creator has decided to take a more… hands on approach in ensuring the situation does not repeat itself,” Azrael looked uncomfortable, “Xe employed the use of divine power to keep Adam and Eve from straying from the grand design.”

Lucifer took a step back.

Michael opened his mouth to say something, but Lucifer couldn’t hear over the roar of nothing in his ears.

No.

Nononononono.

Lucifer ran.

He broke into a sprint before diving back down to Earth, landing on the soft grass of Eden he looked around desperately.

“Adam!”

“Yes?”

Lucifer turned around as Adam’s figure came into view from behind a tree, “Adam-”

His eyes were gold.

Lucifer stumbled back as he took in the first man’s appearance, Adam’s eyes were no longer the colour of earth. The familiar dark brown orbs that bore the gold of honey and of leaves in the sun were gone. In their place was the brilliant gold of divinity, of heaven, the same gold of the-

The chain attached to his wrist.

Lucifer lunged forward and grabbed his friends arm, pulling him forward and running a hand along the softly glowing cuff on Adams wrist.

It was definitely the Creator’s doing.

“Adam what have they done to you.”

“Ah, apologies, but have we met before?”

Lucifer’s golden ichor froze as he looked back up to meet that accursed golden gaze, “What?”

“It is just that… you seem familiar with me, but I do not recall ever having met you. I apologize.”

Lucifer stepped back from the first man, “What.”

“Were you present for my creation? That day was such a blur I hardly recall all those present.”

“Adam- Adam look at me,” Lucifer grabbed Adam by the shoulder, staring desperately into those too gold, too inhuman, too holy eyes “Adam. You are my best friend. You remember me don’t you?”

Adam’s eyes flickered for a moment, that familiar beautiful earth brown peeking through for a moment before being swamped by heavenly gold.

“You are an angel; how could I ever be friends with someone of a higher status such as you?”

Lucifer wanted to cry.

The Creator truly was cruel.

“Are you alright, sir?”

Lucifer couldn’t do this.

Lucifer shoved Adam away and ran like a coward, stumbling through the bushes and past trees as he ran away from the puppet wearing his best friends face.

He didn’t even talk like Adam.

The Creator just stripped his best friend of everything that made him… him.

Lucifer collapsed under a willow tree as he sobbed into his arms.

He didn’t move for a long time after that.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

Lilith found him in the dim of night, her eyes sharp and he teeth bared in a rueful grimace even as she took him into his arms.

“We’re not letting them get away with this. Not this time.”

A hot flame of righteous anger sparked in Lucifer’s heart as he held onto Lilith. She was right, this crossed a line.

Lucifer wanted to rush in, to steal Adam away and find a way to break that chain.

Lilith told him to wait, to watch and observe as she would.

“Right now, heaven does not know about our rebellion, if we move too quickly we will both be destroyed.”

She was right, of course she was. Lucifer hated it though.

They had to watch Adam go through the motions of what his life used to be. The way he would no longer wander the garden without reason.

He wouldn’t play with the animals anymore or sit and relax under the sun.

Lucifer almost broke the trunk of a tree when he saw Adam tear out a plant Gabriel considered ‘too imperfect for the garden’ even though Lucifer knew that it was Adams favourite flower.

That flame of anger grew every time that damned shackle glowed and chained Adams will.

It took a little time to figure out, but if there was one thing Lucifer was sure would free Adam and Eve, it was the apples of knowledge.

They had to.

Lucifer and Lilith also watched Eve through everything. She seemed meek through the control of the Creator, but in the few moments the attention of heaven faded and the gold in her eyes let a little bit of reddish brown through, they got to know her.

She was gentle and sweet to the animals but there was a steel in her spine.

She was vibrant and wild as she chased the cheetah’s around the garden or buried her head in a grizzly bears side.

Lucifer grew to love her in a way. As little of her as he could see. But she was the one the Creator paid less attention to, and why would xe? She is supposed to be subservient to Adam.

Lucifer shifted into the form of a snake and curled through the branches of the tree of knowledge as she came into view.

Showtime.

“Eve my dear, may I borrow your attention for but a moment?” Lucifer sing-songed, drawing the girls eye as she stopped at the base of the tree.

“What is it you require of me, snake?” Eve asked, Lucifer watched intently as the telltale hint of red brown filtered into her gaze, this was the shot he needed.

“The fruit of this tree, could you tell me how it tastes to you?”

The woman flinched back as if struck, and Lucifer’s eyes narrowed at her response.

“I couldn’t, God said-”

“And have you not wondered why xe demands such things of you? Have you not questioned why xe forbade this?” Lucifer hissed, snapping off an apple and letting it fall to the ground at Eve’s feet, “I know, and that is why I ask this of you.”

Eve’s will fought with Heaven for a moment as she picked up the apple, but she was not gone yet, “God said that if I ate the fruit, I would die.”

“And the Creator lies to you,” blasphemy dripped off of Lucifers tongue as he all but snarled at Eve, the white-hot flame of fury envenoming his words, “To eat the apple is not to die, but to be freed. To have your eyes opened to the truth around you.”

Eve held the apple in her hands, the reddish brown in her eyes traitorously present.

“How do you know I won’t die?”

“Because my dear, I have had my eyes opened long ago. To open them is a freedom the Creator keeps from you on purpose,” Lucifer hissed, “You will not die, of that I can promise.”

Eve bit into the apple, and the chains snapped under the weight of knowledge granted.

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anniflamma · 8 months

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"No man may kill the Lord's anointed and live."

#david and jonathan #fanart #the prince's psalm #fan comic #mini comic #my art #King David #Jonathan #David x Jonathan #mlm books #bible fandom #gay #angst #David/Jonathan

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nothingbizzare · 10 months

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The betrayal of Judah

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chaoticfandomgirly · 3 months

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Someone: What is your favourite TV show.

My family: *whispers* oh no.

My friends: *face palms* fuck.

Me: *practically vibrating with excitement* So two of my favourite shows are basically very gay Bible fanfictions where demons are dicks but the Angels are even bigger dicks. Except there is one Demon and one Angel that are almost always good. The Angels in both of them are autistic coded. And their love interests probably, very likely have ADHD. But that's not important. Both of them are biblical satire and did I mention they are Gay? Because they are! Very much so. Also, another one I Iike is about an Alien who travels in a blue telephone box....

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gregorovitch-adler · 8 months

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Nobody Cares

"No, no, no. No!" Crowley yelled as he witnessed the humans nail Jesus to the cross. He turned to look at Aziraphale with a desperate look on his face. "Can you not make them stop?"

Aziraphale shook his head with his brows furrowed and a sinking feeling in his heart. "I am not the authority here in Jerusalem. I'm only meant to follow what the people upstairs say," he said and swallowed.

"You mean these are Heaven's orders? Why? What did he even do?" Crowley's desperation had been turned into anger, going by his tone.

"Not Heaven's orders, per se," the Angel said, closing his eyes and raising his eyebrows, in an attempt at reasoning, "but they have explicitly told me not to interfere with the humans' job."

Aziraphale swallowed after realising how equally horrible that sounded. But what was he to do? He was obeying the rules, was that not good? That was what Angels were expected to do, weren't they? Good, at all times?

When Crowley stared at him incredulously, Aziraphale cleared his throat. "I'm expected to be here and ensure the job carries on without any interference."

"By 'job' you mean brutally hammering nails into someone's body against a cross, after stripping them in front of everyone?" Crowley asked in a low voice and lowered his glasses. The piercing yellow eyes never failed to make the Angel's heart race.

Aziraphale broke eye contact after a long moment and stared at the ground as all three crosses had been hoisted, and the humans were waiting to go home. At that moment, he wondered the difference between a human and a demon in terms of moral standpoints for the first time.

"What did he do?" Crowley asked again.

Aziraphale kept staring at the ground. "Questioned too much."

That made the Demon shut up. When Aziraphale looked up at him, Crowley swallowed visibly and nodded.

Later that night, Crowley and Aziraphale found themselves amid a tribal celebration in Western Europe.

Distant from all the humans socialising with each other, they sat down on the ground, leaning against a tree, observing their surroundings.

Crowley was sitting right next to Aziraphale with a drink in his hand. Aziraphale sighed, staring ahead; still upset with what they had to witness during the daytime.

"Was it the idea of your lot?" asked Aziraphale, looking at the Demon, marvelling at the bright moonlight that illuminated his handsome face.

No matter how much he trusted Crowley, he knew no one else in Hell with even an ounce of compassion.

Crowley sipped from his goblet. "What, capital punishment of an innocent individual? In a way which was that brutally creative and humiliating? I think you give too much credit to the demons' intellect." He paused for a second to look at Aziraphale out of the corner of his eye. "Only humans are capable of this, after all."

Aziraphale shuddered internally and broke his gaze from Crowley's face. "It went too far this time, don't you think?"

"Yes, well." Crowley cleared his throat. "Not that Heaven is any better."

"Crowley -"

"Humanity had only begun to heal because of his teachings, angel! At least in Israel. Heaven could have done something to stop that. And they did not."

Aziraphale bit his lower lip. "Now, who are we to question God's plan." He winced at his own words.

Somehow, they sounded idiotic even to himself.

Crowley let out a bitter laugh. "Or what? They'll publicly have the humans crucify us too?"

Aziraphale took a deep breath. "I didn't say that."

Crowley shrugged. "Everything is over now. Nobody cares."

Aziraphale parted his lips and tried to protest. "Crowley that's not -" he cut himself off. He could think of nothing to counter that.

A long silence fell between the two of them. Crowley kept drinking from his goblet. Just when Aziraphale decided to change their location, Crowley began to speak.

"Listen."

Aziraphale turned to look at Crowley again.

"Time and again, it's been established that when it comes to showing some basic kindness to any living creature, Heaven and Hell prove that they're the two sides of the same coin. They are both horrible places..."

Aziraphale held up his forefinger, trying to interrupt.

"...and trust me when I say that! I would know." Crowley inhaled deeply and tightened the grip on his goblet. They had locked their eyes with each other. "You and I, on the other hand, are better than that. You keep talking about the good side and the bad, and that Demons and Angels have to pick their respective ones."

Aziraphale nodded, and let Crowley continue without any further interruptions.

"I agree with that, to some extent. But you and I - I think we're different." He paused and looked at Aziraphale with expectation. "Come on, you can't deny this, can you?"

Aziraphale furrowed his brows. "I suppose, I can't. So what?"

"So, we can pick our own sides. We can be on the same side. One that's separated and free from the shackles of Heaven and Hell." Crowley reached out for Aziraphale's hand and held it in his own.

Aziraphale stared at the joint hands. He looked up at Crowley and was taken aback by the amount of pain and longing in his eyes.

Suddenly, it dawned upon him. He thought he had a faint idea of where this was going. Aziraphale entwined their fingers and squeezed Crowley's hand.

"What do you say, angel?"

"Are you saying..." he couldn't breathe.

Crowley just nodded.

Aziraphale did not know how to feel. This was just what he had wanted: to be with Crowley together forever.

But at the same time, he was an angel. This could go wrong on so many levels. Also, uniting with a demon, wouldn't that be disloyalty?

He was never taught that in Heaven. Aziraphale did not care how much his input was always neglected in Heaven by other angels. He had his duties to fulfill.

But Crowley's fingers interlocked with his, how could he let go of that?

Aziraphale swallowed. "I don't know what to say." Crowley's mouth was turned upside down. "Neither of our lots would approve of this. They'll call us traitors."

"Nobody cares, Aziraphale," said Crowley with a shaking voice. "They didn't care about us today. Then why should we?"

"We could end up in big trouble."

"Not if we're together."

"What if they give you the Holy Water?"

"After having lived with you, in that way, even for a few hours? Worth it."

Aziraphale's breath became shallow. The corners of his eyes stang. "Oh, Crowley," he said and grabbed the front of Crowley's black fabric to pull him close.

The moment their lips met, Aziraphale sighed in satisfaction. Crowley pulled away a bit to remove his glasses before placing his hands on Aziraphale's face.

Their mouths opened and moved together in a synchronised fashion, and the kiss just felt right.

This was where Aziraphale belonged - with Crowley.

They continued to kiss under the tree; bright moonlight lightening the mood. One would call it groundbreaking, give them hell - quite literally so - for being rebellious, but Aziraphale could not bring himself to care that night.

He just revelled in the warmth and softness of Crowley's lips against his with his eyes closed. Aziraphale loved the little breaths Crowley was letting out on his lips in the middle of the kisses, and he never wanted this moment to end.

***

AN: And voila! My first fic in Good Omens fandom. I enjoyed participating in this month's challenge. ☺ See you later.

Sherlock September Challenge.

Prompts Moonlight and Kiss by @onesmallfamily

Tags: @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @gaylilsherlock @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @inevitably-johnlocked @missdeliadili @peanitbear @a-victorian-girl @lookingforlifeoutthere @calaisreno @kettykika78 @totallysilvergirl .

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the-winds-indecision · 7 months

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Said Cain to his mother, "Am I my brother's keeper?"

Eve kneels in front of him, the boy barely old enough to understand what he is asking. Takes his face in her hand, looks him in the eye.

"Yes."

He must watch out for his younger brother, must keep him safe, must teach him how to be a boy, must make sure he knows how to pray and how to find his way home (though, to Cain, they are one and the same). He smiles at the boy who toddles behind him through the garden, mud up to his knees and elbows, smudged across his nose. This boy has his heart - he would be his brother's keeper even without his mother's word.

The first time Cain finds himself with Abel's blood on his hands, he doesn't know what to do. Abel lies bleeding in the garden - his knee is skinned and the blood is everywhere - it seeps into the soil and stains the stone and it is so sticky and red on Cain's hands as he cries for his mother.

Cain cries as Eve bandages Abel. He is still crying when Abel runs back outside to play in the garden. Cain is his brother's keeper. He should have been keeping a closer eye on his brother, should have told him to be careful, should have run slower, should have --

The rocks in the garden dig into his knees as he prays forgiveness. It feels right. It feels deserved. He stays out there until the ground is cold, the blood long since dried, and long after his mother has called him in for dinner.

* * * * *

Said Cain to his father, "Am I my brother's keeper?"

His father's back is turned but Cain can almost hear Adam roll his eyes.

"Yes."

Abel is a young man now, and almost never home. It is somehow Cain's job to know his brother's whereabouts, Cain's job to make sure his brother is home for dinner, Cain's job to ease his mother's mind when his brother is out after dark or before sunrise. Cain is, after all, his brother's keeper.

Cain has never known what it means to be a boy, to be a man, yet he has taught his brother without fail. He, however, has only ever known what it means to be the older brother. He knows that when his fathers feet ache, it is his job to pull the plow. When Eve tends the hearth until she collapses with fever it is his job to work in her stead. And his job to care for his mother as she rests.

When Abel comes home bloodied, his mother cries and his father scolds. Cain simply sighs, and hangs a pot of water over the fire. Pulls out the scrap cloth and soap. Abel grins as he regales his brother with the day’s adventure. Doesn’t notice that the only response is a smile and a tired nod.

Cain is the last person awake that night - tired body slumped by the dying fire as he washes his brother’s blood from his hands for the hundredth time. Cain is, after all, his brother’s keeper.

* * * * *

The last time Cain has Abel’s blood on his hands, he doesn’t know what to do. Just stands still, sways in the breeze, watches as the blood paints the stones, paints the soil, paints his hands. There is so much blood on his hands. Cain knows he cannot hide from his Lord. There is only so much time until he is pressed for a reason. He should think - he should know what he is to say.

He just stands there.

Cain doesn’t know who he is without Abel. He is - he was his brother’s keeper. If not the older brother, who is he anymore?

It is not long before the footsteps approach and a voice sounds from behind. Cain dares not turn to meet the gaze of the speaker.

"And where, Cain, is your brother?"

Said Cain to his Lord, "am I my brother's keeper?" and for the first time -

"No."

#back writing bible angst?? me??#absolutely yea #read the phrase 'am i my brother's keeper?' recently and then 700 words just kinda wrote themselves #religious trauma and parentification trauma all in one piece #levi writes #levi says things #ex christian #extian #ex catholic #religious trauma #catholic guilt #excath

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purpleqilinwrites · 2 months

Text

better than.

a/n: i fell in love with danmeshi over the weekend! i have so many thoughts and feelings about chilchuck and his wife and their daughters, so i wanted to write something about them. i wish we knew her name! since there's no canon name for her (yet??? please! i'm manifesting), i gave her one mostly for ease of fic writing but also because i think she should have one haha.

fandom: dungeon meshi

pairing: chilchuck tims / chilchuck's wife

genre: angst, general

info: told from the perspective of the wife; she is named (junnimay); takes place pre-canon

warnings: might not be canon-compliant

synopsis: for the better, she comes to learn that moving with the tides of life is a mercy in itself.

word count: 3.3k

Chilchuck Tims / Chilchuck's Wife

The apple trees were starting to clothe themselves in pale pink blossoms, releasing a sweet fragrance into the air. Kahka Brud took it as a sign of the winter's end, shedding off the furs and double-lined coats of the coldest months, and so did Junnimay. Reaching for one of the thinner woollen cloaks hanging by the front door, she whispered, "I'll be back soon, Fler," to her still-sleeping daughter before setting out for an early morning walk.

A contrary breeze made it difficult for her to shut the door quietly, a rather unceremonious slam of wood against wood following a series of laboured grunts from her lips. Fler had always been able to sleep through even the most turbulent of autumn storms; a little noise a ways from her bed surely wouldn't stir her from her needed rest.

Junnimay wiped her palms down on her cloak even if they weren't sweaty, and she started on the unpaved path that led to one of the larger streets of Kahka Brud.

At the place where the narrow local paths merged into the cobblestone main street, she greeted the elderly gnome couple having breakfast in their front yard. The younger of the two women stopped her with a shout in Gnomish and then waved for her to come closer. She approached the line of potted miniature trees that formed a makeshift fence between the public walkway and the gnome couple's property, and the elderly gnome pressed a still-warm bun into her cupped hands.

With a smile, she thanked the women in Gnomish, biting into the bread and telling them how delicious it was before she continued down the main street. As she chewed on a particularly large cluster of candied orange peel bits in her next bite, she pondered visiting the farmer's market on the way home so that Fler could have some candied orange buns to share at the tailor shop where she worked. It would be good to make a larger batch to share with the neighbours, too.

A splash of deep reddish brown dragged her attention to the present, the burst of colour out of place among the blush-pink apple blossoms and the grey-brown tree barks and the yellow-streaked blue sky. Junnimay almost dropped the last bit of the bun gifted to her, eyes wide as she took in the sight before her.

There were two half-foots under the large apple tree at the end of the street that opened to the southern market district. One of them shook out a grey bedroll that was much too large to have been designed for half-foot use, and the two of them took turns scooching into it and then reclining to watch the clouds.

The taller of the half-foot pair sported an uncannily familiar head of auburn hair, poking out of their shared bedroll that was made for one tall-man but could apparently fit two half-foots comfortably. She chucked what was left of the bun into her mouth before she took slow steps towards the mouth of the market district, keeping her eyes on the half-foot couple the whole time.

They paid her no mind, even if her gaze never left them minutes and minutes after coming from behind them to appear in front of them. They were too in love to notice her.

Chilchuck was lying in bed next to her, but his back had never felt so far.

Even when Junnimay was a child relentlessly chasing after him and his older siblings in a game of tag melded with hide and go seek, the distance of rows upon rows of tomato plants between her parents' house and his was tiny in comparison to the hand's breadth that separated Chilchuck's sleeping form from her. The entirety of the vast tomato field was easily crossed under her quick and stubborn feet, possible to traverse. She didn't feel the same way about stretching her hand out to touch her husband.

When she had yelled something or the other about getting caught in the tomato vines, Chilchuck would've instantly turned around and run to her. He always did, even if it meant that he would lose to his older brother, the person he hated losing to the most. She remembered that being the reason why she liked him; when she called for him, he made haste to come to her.

If she woke him up at this point in their lives, years and years after playing games with ever-changing rules in the tomato field that belonged to everyone in the village, would he be quick to awaken and ask her if there was anything troubling her? If there was anything he could do to help?

Chilchuck shifted as if her thoughts were so loud that they woke him. She squeezed her eyes and mouth shut, pretending to sleep the way their daughters did when they were still red-faced in the way half-foot children usually were in their most tender years. His blanket swished when Chilchuck pulled it tighter around himself, curling in on himself and inching all the more away from her. All was still on his side of the bed after.

She fell into a true sleep as she pretended. While pretending, she was trying to remember the last time her husband broke out into a run coming to her simply because she had called his name.

The neatly placed line of dark bottles filled with various alcohols that Chilchuck accumulated over the years never looked so inviting to Junnimay.

Between her and her husband, he was consistently the more avid drinker. Since she first discovered she was pregnant with Mei and Fler, she found that she hadn't had the same taste for alcohol that she once had as an adolescent. She used to sneak sips from her father's hidden stash of ales from time to time, careful never to take more than a single large mouthful off the top of the bottles that were full.

With Chilchuck out accompanying yet another party of adventurers to one of the dungeons scattered around Kahka Brud and her three daughters asleep, Junnimay thought it was a better opportunity than ever to indulge in a little alcohol. It has been years since the last time she partook, after all.

She tiptoed to grab hold of the bottle she felt was most appealing, the scarlet label on the front boasting that the mead within contained floral honey from a well-known apiary on the Southern Continent. Pouring herself an economical portion into a dark glass cup, she settled into the alcove overlooking the sea and cracked the window open to feel the salty night-time winds on her face.

"Mama," came a sleep-addled voice from past the kitchen and down the hallway. Junnimay made it to the dining table when she found her firstborn daughter rubbing her eyes at the threshold that separated the kitchen from the rooms.

"Mama," Mei said again, sounding a little more awake than she did the first time. "I think Dad's not coming back yet."

The staunchness in her daughter's statement made her inwardly flinch, and she tried her best not to show it on her face. Mei had always been an unusually perceptive child, and it worried her that her daughter might be picking up on the growing unhappiness between her and Chilchuck. She wouldn't be able to bury it from her girls forever, but she wanted to keep any marital issues hidden from their young and still innocent eyes. The world should be sunny and kind when they gazed upon it, more beautiful and right than when she was the one looking.

Junnimay put on a smile, approaching her daughter and putting her arms around her, stroking at her head of wild ginger hair. It soothed her somewhat when Mei immediately buried her face in her chest, her comparably smaller fingers clutching at the cotton of her sleeping tunic.

"Not for a while, little heart," she said, vacantly running the fingers of her right hand through Mei's hair to untangle the knots. "But he'll be back."

It had only been two days since Chilchuck left for his most recent dungeon expedition. He had never been one to complete a job sooner than he said he would, diligently seeing to it that the task he agreed upon beforehand was carried out as promised. It made him an excellent addition to any adventurer's party, but she realised it also made him an absent father and an unavailable husband.

"He'll miss my birthday again," were the condemning words Mei chose for Chilchuck, muffled from the way she was pressing into her mother and clinging. Junnimay's heart twisted at the disappointment in her daughter's voice, as if her father had let her down for the final time.

Mei suppressed a sniffle and tried to mask it with a sound of exasperation, little fingers starting to pinch at her flesh beneath the fistfuls of fabric already within her hold.

It reminded her that Mei, while able to pick up on subtle things that most children weren't, was still a child. It reminded her that Mei still needed her protection.

It reminded her that she was failing quite miserably.

Chilchuck was at the door for the first time in almost three years, and it was akin to seeing a ghost when she swung the door open, not quite knowing if it was definitely him after hearing his voice on the other side. Junnimay blinked twice, squeezing her eyes shut as she quickly completed a simple incantation of protection taught to her by one of the gnome neighbours, and then opened them once again. He was still there, so she moved aside so he could come in.

"The girls are all out today," she said, leaning against the closed front door to resume lacing up her work boots. "Puck's staying with a work friend in the meantime, so you won't be seeing her until she comes back at the end of winter."

He seemed rather displeased at her lukewarm reaction to his return home, but he didn't mention it. Mirroring the burgeoning pile of her grievances about their marriage, she kept silent when he pretended there wasn't anything to complain about. It was a complicated dance that the two of them had perfected over the years, intimately familiar with each step.

"Where you are headed?" Chilchuck asked, sweeping his eyes over her attire as if he were scanning his lock-picking toolkit for signs of wear and tear. She hated it, and it was bitter when she swallowed the feeling with an increasing level of ease, automatic.

"To the bakery," she said, needlessly undoing the fastening tie of her cloak and doing it up again, tighter the second time around. "My shift ends late, so don't wait up for me. There's leftover cured meat and cheese from Mei and Fler's birthday dinner last week in the pantry, if you want to eat."

Chilchuck crossed his arms rather aggressively as she spoke, and she felt validated at his show of displeasure. She was starting to become suspicious that he believed their marriage to be as intact as it was when they were walking away from the ceremony, but it gave her a twisted sense of unity that they were both looking at the same cracks and being afflicted with the same unpleasant feelings.

"The one along Third Street, right?" he asked.

It sounded to her like he was running out of things to say, and it made her all the more eager to get out of the house and fall back into the safety of her daily routine in which he was entirely absent. She had become comfortable as a mother of three daughters whose father's only contribution was a pouch of gold coins every full moon, delivered to the door by an administrative employee of the local Adventurer's Guild.

The money he provided for her and for the girls has been slowly and steadily increasing over the years, and she was glad that he appeared to be making a name for himself as a skilled locksmith. There was a sudden jump in the weight of the pouch put in her hands a few months ago. She wanted to ask about it since Chilchuck was here, but ultimately decided not to, keeping her questions about his work and his time in the dungeons of Kahka Brud close to her heart instead.

There was once that he had snapped at her for being too curious about his work, and that one time was enough for her to become unnecessarily cautious when speaking to her husband about the jobs he undertook.

She nodded, putting a hand on the doorknob and finding solace in the coolness of the metal against her skin. The silence between her and Chilchuck felt awkward with how large it was, taking more space in the house than even the house itself. When it became apparent that he had indeed run out of things to say, she pushed the front door open and stepped out.

"I'm off," she said, expecting him to regroup with a new adventurer's party on yet another dungeon expedition by the time she returned from her own work at the bakery.

In the early hours of the morning when she found herself home again, Mei and Fler were asleep in their beds. They left a note for her on the dinner table, saying that they ate at the tavern close to the main street and that they brought back a portion of wild boar stew for her in case she was hungry.

For once meeting her expectations at the exact line where she drew them, Chilchuck was nowhere to be found.

Mei was taller than her now.

It was obvious that her daughter was bending at the waist to give her a greeting hug, the height difference between them further exaggerated by the thick soles of Mei's work boots. A bittersweet sense of awe nipped at Junnimay as she was reminded once again how much Mei resembled her father.

"Mama," Mei said, linking her arm with her mother's as the two of them wandered the Central Market on an impromptu stop on the way to Fler's home. Junnimay thought it would be nice to take a long walk with her firstborn, since Mei had taken the opportunity to surprise her by picking her up from the bakery on one of her rare free days. "You deserve to be happy, you know?"

Junnimay froze mid-appraisal of the many kinds of honey on display at the store on her left, slack-jawed and wide-eyed as she turned her head to face her daughter. Where was this coming from? Briefly, her thoughts led her to the husband she recently left, and it brought to the forefront of her mind once again her every reason for finally acting upon what was in her heart.

Mei seemed to be taken aback by her mother's inarticulate but apparently tumultuous contemplation, so she cleared her throat, eyes darting to the side as she visibly mulled over her next words. "I saw you talking with a gnome uncle at the bakery. Your smile was so bright," she said, beginning to pick at the unoccupied holes in her belt with her free hand. "And I can't remember the old man ever looking at you the way the gnome does. I think you can be happy with him, now that the old man's out of the picture."

Bodies were skimming the pair of them in the passing as they stood in one of the many footpaths in the Kahka Brud's largest market. There were many sights to behold and smells to contemplate, and there were even more wares on sale. She had to be mindful of pickpockets in a crowd as thick as the one that eternally thronged this market, but she could only focus on the determined jut of her daughter's chin.

"I'm just saying," Mei said, making eye contact with her after allowing her a moment to ponder. "I want you to be happy. Fler and Puck, too. You deserve it more than most people."

Junnimay moved her arm from its curled position around Mei's and used it to pull Mei into a one-armed hug, squeezing. The wet warmth of tears pricked at her eyes, and she gave her daughter the widest smile she could muster in an attempt to keep her face from crumpling the way it did when she cried.

"I am happy, little heart," she said. "But I think I'm not made for a second marriage."

She watched the gears turn in Mei's head from behind the screen of tears in her eyes. Wiping at her face with the back of her other hand, she apologised instinctively to a male voice that yelled a phrase in Elvish for her to move from somewhere in the mass of people behind her.

Mei sported a scowl as she scanned the crowd over her mother's head to see who was intruding on their conversation. Junnimay laughed, making sure to steer herself and her daughter closer to the wall between the honey store and the one beside it.

"Did the old man ruin it for you? Marriage, I mean," Mei said, after her sweep of the crowd proved unsuccessful. The majority of the market-goers were tall-men who unintentionally blocked her view of the offending elf, lost in the commotion.

Junnimay felt the need to put on a smile, but remembered that Mei was too old to fall for it. Mei had been too old to believe her fanfare of a reassuring smile since she was just a child.

"His father told us that since we liked each other, we should marry. So we did," she said. The memories trickled into her mind's eye slowly, obstructed by years and years of trying to fill the space of both mother and father for her girls. Looking back on her childhood in a small village where everyone was a half-foot was akin to looking into an old spyglass, trying with much difficulty to spot something on the far horizon.

Chilchuck's father was far more authoritarian than hers ever was; if he said something was to happen, everyone around him made sure it happened. Her father, while affronted by the other half-foot's demand, was agreeable to the match and gave her his blessing since she had insisted that she liked Chilchuck enough to marry him.

"I wanted my parents to be happy, and I liked the idea of marriage at that time. I didn't stop to think about if marriage was the right thing for me," she said.

Noting Mei's silence and hoping to assuage any anxieties her daughter might have, Junnimay gave her another squeeze, smiling without the express intention of consoling. "But I don't regret marrying your father. Because of him, I have you and Fler and Puck. I gained the world's best daughters."

Mei chuckled at her bold proclamation, sighing affectionately when she leaned up to press kisses to her daughter's cheek. "Mama, you say embarrassing things sometimes," were the words that Mei spoke, but Junnimay knew her well enough to hear the words she actually wanted to say. She smiled into Mei's jaw.

"Are three daughters better than a husband?" Mei asked, a cheeky glint lighting up her eyes.

Junnimay squeezed her yet again, a tense fist of unease inside her chest loosening with the surrender of a long-kept confession that bared her heart. Even the golden afternoon rays of sun became brighter and more beautiful, her secret feelings being received most graciously by her firstborn. She was sure they would be received similarly by Fler and Puck too; the three of them were all warm-hearted women whom she was proud to have birthed and raised.

"By a thousand tall-men leaps and bounds, three daughters are infinitely better than a husband."

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi scenarios #delicious in dungeon scenarios #chilchuck tims #chilchuck's wife #chilchuck tims x his wife #chilchuck tims x chilchuck's wife #fic #angst #general #kaija writes #kaija writes: dungeon meshi #i'm anime + adventurer's bible scans only #so there's still some things about chilchuck and his family that i haven't come across yet #but still!!!#it doesn't stop me from having so many thoughts and feelings!!!#i wrote this from the perspective of his wife #but what i really want to write a little something more from the perspective of meijack #meijack chils i am writing a fic about you next #something about her eldest daughter syndrome makes her a sister to me #i don't know if it comes up in canon #but i know her #it is there and i want to write about it #i also think a lot about the fact that chilchuck and his wife are childhood friends #childhood friends + exes to lovers???#maybe maybe maybe #i am frothing at the mouth thinking about it

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