#Man of Sorrrows

[loandbeholdbible]

The Crowning with Thorns (Matthew 27:27-31)

The Crowning with Thorns (Matthew 27:27-31)

After being brutally whipped, the gospels say that Christ was victimised in the governor’s headquarters by a group of Roman soldiers. (Matthew 27:27-31; Mark 15:16-20; John 19:2-5) This humiliation took place in front of the whole battalion. St Matthew’s gospel puts it this way: “They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, and after twisting some thorns into a crown, they put it on his…

[betasuppe]

He really hasn't bathed?

No he has, I promise Champ Em isn't actually a smelly unwashed mess but...

He looks like a cat that's been drenched in a rain storm, flushed down a sewer grate & left to find its way home through the sewers, of you get me?

He gives off major stinky energy, I guess???

[abluehappyface]

The fifth installment of the Ran Takeover is here! It's time for the Strings Cover! I knew that I wanted to make a Strings version of this theme the second I put the violin down, I feel it just fits it so well. There's so many emotions in this and I'm loving ALL of them! It's elegant, yet sorrrowful in an unexpected way, all while feeling both imposing, distant, and graceful. Man I really wish Beepbox would allow for a complete version of this. This is for sure one of my best Strings Covers I've made due to the sheer amout of emotion I managed to capture

@motsimages @magicalgirlpropaganda @mango-frog @mayumijoutouguu @nucg5040 @caniscreamintoanabyss@lesserbeans @leafboy-the-great @k4ndi-c0spl4y3r @kinokomynx @he-was-beautiful @hecho-a-mano @funkyfrogofficial @fembutchboygirl @semisentient-entity @siegesquirrel42 @soulless-paper-bag @space-frog-boy  @insertusernamethatsnottaken @the-cinnamon-snail @the-kneesbees @that-bastard-with-all-the-bones @reblogging-corner @rude-occurrence @womensrightsstegosaurus @please-put-me-in-the-microwave @hoodie-prince-kid @da-silliest-snek @scarletdestiny @lonelyprinceofthedark @chengoeshonk @oneweekwitch @versatilepaintbeast @heart-of-komeiji

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Stormlight Archive Epigraphs (2) - Navani’s Journal, Preface to [in-universe] Oathbringer, Eila Stele, and Postscript to [in-universe] The Way of Kings

These epigraphs shed light on the books that they appear in, but don’t seem to provide much in the way of foreshadowing for future books, or information beyond the books the appear in.

Navani’s Journal (WOR Part 1) and the Oathbringer preface (OB Part 1), in particular, provide major indications of key plot developments later in their books, and are a reminder to me to keep an eye on the epigraphs in Rhythm of War. The Eila Stele (OB Part 5, along with the Postcript) gives more detail on revelations that have already been covered earlier in the book.

Navani’s Journal

From the personal journal of Navani Kholin, Jeseses 1174

To be perfectly frank, what happened these last two months is upon my head. The death, destruction, loss, and pain are my burden. I should have seen it coming. And I should have stopped it.

Our first clue was the Parshendi. Even weeks before they abandoned their pursuit of the gemhearts, their pattern of fighting changed. They lingered on the plateaus after battles, as if waiting for something. Soldiers reported being watched from afar by an unnerving number of Parshendi scouts. Then we noticed a new pattern of their penetrating close to the camps in the night and then quickly retreating. I can only surmise that our enemies were even then preparing their stratagem to end this war.

The next clue came on the walls. I did not ignore this sign, but neither did I grasp its full implications. The sign on the wall proposed a greater danger, even, than its deadline. To foresee the future is of the Voidbringers.

We had never considered that there might be Parshendi spies hiding among our slaves. This is something else I should have seen.

I was unprepared for the grief my loss brought - like an unexpected rain - breaking from a clear sky and crashing down upon me. Gavilar’s death years ago was overwhelming, but this...this nearly crushed me. I seek not to use my grief as an excuse, but it is an explanation. People act strangely soon after encountering an unexpected loss. Though Jasnah had been away for some time, her loss was unexpected. I, like many, assumed her to be immortal. I wish to think that had I not been under sorrrow’s thumb, I would have seen earlier the approaching dangers. Yet in all honesty, I’m not certain anything could have been done.

But, understandably, we were focused on Sadeas. His betrayal was still fresh, and I saw its signs each day as I passed empty barracks and grieving widows. We knew that Sadeas would not simply rest upon his slaughters in pride. More was coming. Unfortunately, we fixated upon Sadeas’ plotting so much that we did not take note of the changed pattern of our enemies, the murderers of my husband, the true danger. I would like to know what wind brought about their sudden, inexplicable transformation.

Oathbringer Preface

From Oathbringer, preface:

I’m certain some will feel threatened by this record. Some few may feel liberated. Most will simply feel that it should not exist. I need to write it anyway. I know that many women who read this will see it only as further proof that I am the godless heretic everyone claims.

I can point to the moment when I decided for certain this record had to be written. I hung between realms, seeing into Shadesmar - the realm of the spren - and beyond. I thought that I was surely dead. Certainly, some who saw farther than I did thought I had fallen.

I did not die.

I experienced something worse.

That moment notwithstanding, I can honestly say this book has been brewing in me since my youth. The sum of my experiences has pointed at this moment. This decision. Perhaps my heresy stretches back to those days in my childhood, where these ideas began. [My note - this feels like something added to throw readers off the mark, to think the book was by Jasnah. It doesn’t seem to fit Dalinar at all, whose beliefs only become unorthodox after the visions in TWOK revealing that Honor had been killed.]

I ask not that you forgive me. Nor that you even understand. I ask only that you read or listen to these words.

In this record, I hold nothing back. I will try not to shy away from difficult topics, or paint myself in a dishonestly heroic light. I will express only direct, even brutal, truth. You must know what I have done, and what those actions cost me. For in this comes the lesson. It is not a lesson I claim to be able to teach. Experience herself is the great teacher, and you must seek her directly. You cannot have a spice described to you, but must taste it for yourself. However, with a dangerous spice, you can be warned to taste lightly. I would that your lesson may not be as painful as my own.

I am no storyteller, to entertain you with whimsical yarns. I am no philosopher, to intrigue you with piercing questions. I am no poet, to delight you with clever allusions. I have no doubt that you are smarter than I am. I can only relate what happened, what I have done, and then let you draw conclusions.

I will confess my murders before you. Most painfully, I have killed someone who loved me dearly. I will confess my heresies. I do not back down from the things I have said, regardless of what the ardents demand. Finally, I will confess my humanity. I have been named a monster, and do not deny these claims. I am the monster that I fear we can all become.

So sit back. Read, or listen, to someone who has passed between realms. Listen to the words of a fool. If they cannot make you less foolish, at least let them give you hope. For I, of all people, have changed.

Eila Stele

They came from another world, using powers that we have been forbidden to touch. Dangerous powers, of spren and Surges. They destroyed their lands and have come to us begging.

We took them in, as commanded by the gods. What else could we do? They were a people forlorn, without a home. Our pity destroyed us. For their betrayal extended even to our gods: to spren, stone, and wind.

Beware the otherworlders. The traitors. Those with tongues of sweetness, but with minds that lust for blood. Do not take them in. Do not give them succor. Well were they named Voidbringers, for they brought the void. The empty pit that sucks in emotion. A new god. Their god.

These Voidbringers know no songs. They cannot hear Roshar, and where they go, they bring silence. They look soft, with no shell, but they are hard. They have but one heart, and it cannot ever live.

The Way of Kings Postcript

From The Way of Kings, postscript:

As I began my journey, I was challenged to defend why I insisted on travelling alone. They called it irresponsible. An avoidance of duty and obligation.

Those who said this made an enormous mistake of assumption. If the journey itself is indeed the most important piece, rather than the destination itself, then I travelled not to avoid duty - but to seek it.

It becomes the responsibility of every man, upon realizing he lacks the truth, to seek it out.

Yes, I began my journey alone, and I ended it alone.

But that does not mean that I walked alone.

[asoftervirge]

Even Villains Care for Knights

So listening to Id (Sorrrow) from the FE: Awakening soundtrack and thinking of Roceit does things to my brain which results in this. This is kinda short and kinda crappy, but I hope everyone enjoys it anyway!

Fic Warning/Kink(s): Sympathetic Deceit, holding a sword to the neck, small mentions of violence

“I can’t…I can’t do this…”

Sir Roman, the brave and valiant knight of the kingdom, stood above the deceitful villain, who was pined down to the floor, and was showing signs of the one thing he feared anybody in the world seeing: weakness.

Especially to a slimy villain like him.

He was exhausted and bruised, his body was shaking with involuntary tremors as he fought hard to control the muscles in his arms, which were no longer under his control. The tip of the sword was swaying back and forth in small motions, almost daring to cut the villains’ neck. The whole time, Deceit sat quietly and still.

After a time, Sir Roman’s knees had given out and he collapsed onto the floor, a quiet and weak noise escaped his throat as he did so. His sword being thrown down to the side with a loud clank! He didn’t want to whimper, he didn’t want to cry, especially in front of the man he was supposed to kill.

When he did so, Deceit slowly stood up and began to move towards him, stopping a few feet away when the knight’s breathing began to grow harsh and his body jerked, as if he were trying to move away.

“It’s alright, my brave knight,” Deceit said softly, his deep voice was soothing instead of cold and seductive as Roman had previously heard before. “I’m not going to hurt you."

Deceit inched closer. When he was a foot away, he stopped again and knelt down to be closer to his height. He carefully moved to place his hand on Sir Roman’s cheek, only stopping once when the knight flinched but continued when he relaxed again.

“You’ve done beautifully, Roman.” the villain whispers in a voice that held fierceness and pride, again which was unusual to Roman. “You are a fierce and strong knight and I’m proud of you.” He wiped away the tears falling from Roman’s eyes. “You don’t have to kill me tonight.”

“But I have to,” Roman protests weakly, his lip quivering and eyes shining and streaming with tears. “I have to kill you because you’re harming people and that’s not right…but I’m so tired,” he confesses. “I’m so tired of fighting. I’m tired of being the golden boy everyone wants me to be. I’m tired of everything.”

“Shh,” Deceit soothes, caressing the knight’s face sweetly. “That’s okay, my knight. That’s perfectly okay. You don’t have to fight, you don’t have to be a golden boy. You can relax, you can be yourself. It’s only me, there’s no need to keep your facade up. Let yourself go for me, I’m right here.”

Roman opened his mouth to answer, but only a choked sob came out. He still feels Deceit brushing his thumb against his cheek. His shoulders sagged, finally allowing himself to crack the mirror he’s been holding up for so long. More tears spilled from his reddish-brown eyes as Deceit pulled him to his chest, stroking his hair and back soothingly as he started crying in earnest. They sat like that for a long time until Roman’s sobs regressed to whimpers and soft sniffles.

Deceit stood and carefully lifted the knight’s strong body, which felt small and lithe, into his arms and carried him into an adjacent room, which already had a cot set up and a glass of water sitting on the bedside table.

The villain had done this dance with the knight before.

He laid him on the cot, unlatched his arm and shin guards and set them on the table, and covered him with a blanket while pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He was about to leave when he felt fingers gently grab at his wrist.

“Please,” Roman’s voice was quiet and hoarse from crying. “Don’t leave me? I-I don’t want to be alone. Stay and hold me, just until I fall asleep?"

Deceit moved closer so he could hold the knight's face in both hands. Mismatched eyes held love and such a tenderness that a villain could never possess.

“I’ll stay, my knight.” he promises. “I’ll stay for however long you need."