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then one day, the sun will set for a very long time

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despite everything, it’s still you

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These two are my favorite 🙂‍↕️

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The savior Angel

You couldn't refuse to take care of this man. You wanted to, you really did, but it would be a sin dirtying you for the rest of your life. You wanted him gone and out of your life, but it was your job to help. Your call. Maybe you would feel more compassion if he weren’t your father.

Your work lies long forgotten, while he, in his new health, seeks the doing of the Lord.

Then Joseph Seed appears to praise your effort and direct his people towards the light.

Towards the side where he is the shine.

word count: 1.4 k

ao3 link

English is not my first language.

“Angels came to me when I was dying, and they saved me because of the Lord's will. They nursed me, just like they did to old prophets.”

The man looked like all he could wake in a person was pity. That’s what you were sure of. He certainly made you full of pity — every second you glanced at him, all the time when he spoke. But the gathering crowd had a different approach. Women sobbed, not because they felt bad for him. They were ecstatic. Witnesses of true miracle in the form of a fragile, old man who’s been a victim of fatal burn injuries.

He was weak. He was weak since you’ve found him on the porch, bloody and almost fully lacking skin on his upper body. You knew that when this grotesque and tragic rally will end, he will again fall sick, and the fight for his life will begin again.

It’s been a long time — long enough that he analyzed his visions and came to conclusions. It was bullshit to you, but you stayed quiet for safety reasons. There were no angels, just you. You, alone and traumatized, peeling pounds and pounds of his dead body to prevent further necrosis and give him a chance to heal. You explained that to him when he was still too hurt to call for other people to hear. He gasped just because he still couldn’t yell, and he told you to regain control over your pride and arrogance. You never spoke of it again.

You were tired, sitting on the stairs, on the same porch he was crawling through not so very long ago. Your father was talking louder, with conviction, and he certainly was more burning up every second. You saw that, from his red face, he was losing his strength. Sadly – not his spirit.

The car pulled up close, and for a second you thought about grabbing the old man despite his rambling and getting him inside the house. He didn’t consider that, but you were afraid of what would be Joseph Seed's reaction. The Father was not a stupid man; someone like your pops couldn’t just take his place. They both knew that. You knew that, as well as the fact that your dad did not plan such a thing. He just spoke too much, and he accidentally just called himself a prophet. You didn’t want to think what Joseph — the real self-proclaimed prophet — will do to the likes just like himself.

People didn’t notice him at first. Bad sign, very bad. It was not about pride. Pride is a sin, and The Father atoned enough to not repeat his mistakes. He was watching his children indulge in the sea of words coming from a false God's savior. He noticed you when the talk from that man was too burdensome for him to endure. That’s where he saw a miracle. He was a great watcher. He took a look at your bleak face, bothered by so many emotions. From right where he stood, he wanted to take your hands — delicate yet bruised from work— into his large ones and show them to the crowd. He wanted them to look and see. To worship the God acting through people without forgetting about them. The old man was no special to him, which he could not say out loud — he didn’t deserve that. He should be able to enjoy the Father's mercy like everyone else, even if the leader heard of him only in unflattering words. He was known as a bad husband, a bad father, an aggressive neighbor and a brute. The second Joseph saw him and saw you, he was sure that such a man was indeed very blessed: with the fact that a daughter still stood at his side. He despised him, but he will have to say that he’s exceptional in God's eyes, just like all of them.

“Angel has come to his saving, that’s true,” he spoke unexpectedly. “But I see just one, and she will work her miracles on everyone who ask for help.”

The crowd whispered, making him place next to the man.

“Tell me,” he said, looking at him without the love he should have for his children. “thanks to whom, truly, you are well and healing today? Who was placed next to you by the good God, caring about his followers?”

He was stunned. Jerking his head up to look at Joseph, he opened his burned mouth a few times.

“I do not know, Father.” Whisper. Just a whisper. He had no bravery to speak about angels and prophets straight in Joseph Seed's face.

“You regained your sight, but you still are blind. You have experienced the grace, son; you are not wrong in that. Consumed by self-admiration, you fail to see the saint by your side. Your daughter, your only daughter left, is more chosen by the Lord than you are. He led her and strengthened her knowledge. She saved you.”

By the time, the man was crying. From love, adoration, maybe, but Joseph felt it was shame he felt, disgrace. That is what he was, humbled and disgraced by the Father in front of others.

He then looked at you, your dad long forgotten.

“And she will continue to do so, isn’t it the truth?”

For a while, you couldn’t find your voice. It trembled when you finally spoke, but you gained enough courage to stand up, still bowing your head.

“I will do my best. That I can promise.”

“That’s all I ask. The Lord will do the rest. Step closer, child.”

For some reason, you knew you were safe. After all, you’re not supposed to kill or hurt the angel you just discovered. Still, for a split second, all you wanted was to run. At the same time, something in Joseph lured you.

Your movement was slow, and he appreciated every single step you took. He opened his arms to calmly embrace you. He took your face in his hands, quickly turning to the people.

“Remember this day as the one when you found your long-awaited sister, endowed with abilities, who will look after you.”

“Sir-”

You shouldn’t call him that, but you were too stunned to think properly. He saw your trembling lip and scared sight. All he could do was caress your cheek with his thumb.

“I nursed my father to health because I had no other choice.” You finally spoke, loud enough only for him to hear. “If that is what you see, then the Lord must have acted through me, but I fear it will not happen again.”

“It’s not something that can disappear,” he assured. For a very short moment, you saw in his eyes something sane. He spoke of being chosen, but that’s not what he meant. He appreciated your skills like none ever did before. You were the kind of person he needed. People with missions and opportunities. “From now on, you will teach others what you know. There will be a hospital built, and you are in charge of educating the attendants the best you can. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Can you do that?”

How could you say no when he still held your face and looked at you, oh, so admiringly? That you didn’t know. You were unfamiliar with sympathy for many years now, and if he asked you to throw yourself into the fire, you would. Just because he saw you as more than a burden.

When your father was brutal and mean, the thought of his death was calming to you. You did not plan anything, of course, but he was aging badly, and it would come sooner or later. You hoped for that and then prayed, so you can be forgiven. Now, you dropped the hope. You were glad that he’s alive, even more glad that he had this accident and burned himself. Thanks to that, Joseph found you and gave you the purpose.

“I can do anything, with the help of good people,” you announced courageously.

“And the help of God.”

“God, leading the people. As you said.”

“As I said.”

He smiled, and the crowd cheered. Women were crying again, deeply moved.

Joseph Seed’s cult fell back in its rightful place, and this time he gained so much more than just power over the herd of lambs.

The one lamb he will not let anyone hurt stood proudly. He hated your father even more — how can he look and not admire such a girl?

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Runaway champ

wip

I'm currently stuck in the process of writing last chapters of my novel and got so tired of research that I needed to write a fanfic...

Here's a little summary!

English is not my first language.

[viktor vektor x fem! v]

Viktor never thought he was a coach material, even if he was known for his patient demeanor and great skill. He was just not that type of guy. He was relatively fine with getting brutally beaten (he didn’t quit because of that) – not so fine with watching kids get beaten in front of him. Not just any kids – his proteges, for whom he felt responsible.

He needed some convincing, but it turned out great, he could say. Actually, you couldn’t imagine a more successful coaching career, considering that he wanted it to remain calm and as confidential as possible. He already experienced his share of ‘fame’.

He got his champion, the golden child: sharp but cold, a street-smart young girl. He could have been blind and still see the broken child hidden beneath the strong facade. Furthermore, he was not there to break it. He wanted to teach her how to keep it guarded.

She wins, they become friends and then a father is involved. The thing about fathers… well their presence often brings heartbreak for their children and turns life into hell.

V used to come to Viktor for everything: arguments, breakups, loss…

Now she disappeared.

He never really stopped looking until he was held at gunpoint and blessed with an indirect message from her to leave her alone. So he did, but still hoped.

That's until 5 years later she is shoved on his doorstep by Jackie and Misty, tired, bloody and in great trouble.

• ex! coach viktor/fighter v

• age gap

• jackie stepped up in the role of an older brother (he would give away a kidney if v needed it, but there’s no chance he will let her borrow a pen)

• past tension

• no relic au (sorry rockerboy, there were already enough terrorists in this)

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That's all I can afford to do

Happy birthday, uncle Travis <3

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finally finished :) a lot of hours, a lot of fun!! + details!!

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wedding bells

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What is Jan talking about? And the new outfit for Jan ✨

(Curta’n Wall - Fear of God is playing)

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Giardini Estivi

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(1) futile devices ft. hansry (suchdol era….)

also featuring yearning hans capon of pirkstein

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a quick break for a tired cowboy

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i have a son at home and a daughter in heaven

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My mental health at the moment

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making emotional art as an autistic person is really fucking hard.

anyways