#New Faith

[lands-of-the-new-faith]

(Redoing this)

Welcome to the lands of the New Faith

I’ll be posting the actual fanfic in parts (chapters)

Have fun and ask some of the characters stuff

Cast:

Lambert

Amdusias

Eligos

Saleos

Vephar

[rosieartsie]

Hey, hope you’ve been doing well! These are for the WIP ask game:

10. Which scene from your WIP would make good fanart fodder?

14. Which character from your WIP becomes the fan favorite?

Hey I’m hangin in there thank you for thinking of me! 🥰

10: Oh boy, there’s so many from TBOB, I think The Bishop of Black would generate a ton of fanart because there’s so many characters to choose from, but there’s also a lot of emotionally charged scenes. One that comes to mind for me that isn’t too spoilery is all the instances in which Irastenys uses reflective surfaces to scry the future because that imagery is just real spooky and interesting. He’s done it now in windows, in water, in mirrors and jewelry and other people’s eyes even, so there’s a lot of interesting stuff to work with there for an artist that particularly loves our antagonist.

14: From New Faith I think there’s a couple options as far as secondary characters go, because there’s a string of people that come along later in the book that showcase their strength and determination for hope in this like… demon apocalypse, but I think out of all the secondary characters I’ve cooked up Father John Bishop is going to be a source of obsession lol. He makes Mercutio so mad and so jealous and he is so suspiciously sweet and chill, I think anyone who’s heard about him so far when reading New Faith eye zooms about him lol

[greentempleblog]

Origin

In the beginning, there was darkness. A darkness that had been there for a long time, expanding and had thereby eventually gotten so big and heavy it came together so tightly it formed a being. That being was Liva. She was born asleep in a cocoon of dormant matter from the dark. Holding boundless potential energy, for she was destined to be the eternal force, the artist of all existence. She eventually awoke and saw only cold, dark, emptiness around her. She yearned to witness herself, to know herself and all she was capable of, her full potential. Thus, in a moment of divine inspiration, she began to sing, and the cosmos was born. Vibrating with the frequencies of her ethereal song. This song, in all senses, a magnificent explosion of light and energy, was the first testament to her power, where Liva transformed all matter into a myriad of possibilities.

From the heart of this song, Liva wove the fabric of the universe with these vibrations, threading galaxies, stars, and planets into being. Each star she ignited in the dark, each planet she formed from the dust, was a reflection of her desire to know and to be known. 

Upon the Earth, a jewel among her creations, Liva breathed life into matter. Herself made animate in many forms. From the simplest organisms to the complex web of life that has its home on this pale blue dot. Each form, an expression of her essence. Life evolved, like a strange and beautiful dance, taking new forms over and over, ever striving towards greater complexity, greater awareness. In every leaf that unfurled towards the sun, in every creature that roamed the Earth, Liva's presence is made manifest.

Then came humanity, born of the Earth yet touched by a spark of Liva's light. In us, she bestowed the gift of consciousness, awareness, and foresight. We are her children, we were made to appreciate her work, and to seek out and understand the wonders of our existence. Through our eyes, Liva gazes upon her creation; through our love, joy, sorrow, and wonder, she experiences the richness of life on this uniquely beautiful planet.

We are the children of Liva, her devotees and acolytes. It is our sacred duty to live in harmony with the Earth that she gave to us and all other species. To protect the delicate balance of life that sustains all, and to honour her by recognising her divine spark within each other. Our consciousness is her greatest gift, allowing Liva to know herself through our experiences, to celebrate the joy of existence, and to cherish the beauty of the universe she has wrought.

Let us walk gently upon the Earth, mindful of our place and role, and grateful for her life force that flows through us and all beings. For in honouring Liva, we honour ourselves, and in cherishing the Earth, we ensure that the dance of life continues for generations to come. This is our legacy and our blessing, to live as reflections of Liva's love and to continue the story of the universe that she began. 

The Green Temple

[khruschevshoe]

Starkid is one of the absolute best arguments for supprting independent art. The fact that the shows you're invested in can't get canceled by Big Daddy Streaming, the quality is always amazing, the love of the cast and crew doesn't get squeezed out by surprise budget reductions, the fact that since crowd funding provides almost all costs up front (plus the presence of voluntary digital ticket/in person tickets for additional funding), the fan base can access the full material for whatever cost they can contribute (even if you can give nothing monetarily, you will still get a professionally shot version of the material eventually, without surprise fees or password crackdowns, AND with captions/completely accesible regardless of location). The same goes for Tin Can Bros, Shipwrecked, and all the other associated theater and web series companies loosely connected to Starkid. Like, I cannot believe the amazing content provided to us at the same level as Broadway or streaming services with billion dollars at hand, with almost none of the catches that come with others. Like, I cannot believe that we get all of this right at our hands.

[davidtennantgenderenvy]

some people: ughhh the bigeneration totally undermined Ncuti’s entrance!!!

Ncuti, probably: teehee I get to call David Tennant honey

[ookamihanta]

I'll be your everything We'll be together, yes forever

[book-of-summer]

God loves you.

[marquisecubey]

Revolutionary Girl Utena (1997) - 10th Anniversary Remastered DVD Cover Artwork

[tritoch]

i know a lot of people (very understandably) dislike the paladin job quests in ffxiv, particularly HW, but i do think it's fun that, now that the pre-ShB MSQ revamp is complete, paladins now have a very cool and thematic in-game storyline that happens without a word being spoken: the development of passage of arms.

none of the below is directly stated in the script, but imo it's a fairly obvious gloss on what the game presents, if you assume a paladin warrior of light. spoilers for all expansions through the end of 6.X.

in the new version of steps of faith, as vishap breaks through each ward protecting ishgard from attack, lucia mounts a final desperate effort to hold him back, with a very familiar looking animation:

but even lucia can't hold back vishap's flame alone, so the temple knights surge forward to assist her. their efforts make the shield visually more powerful and larger. the temple knights here band together in defense of ishgard, and their knightly resolve to protect their home is the difference between victory and defeat.

lucia and the knights do ultimately succeed in defending the last ward, as you have to defeat vishap before their shield falls or you lose.

later in heavensward, obviously, we will get ffxiv's most famous (failed) attempt at blocking something with a shield.

this moment can be read as fairly impactful on the warrior of light's development; as i've noted elsewhere, after the trauma of watching haurchefant bleed out in their arms at level 57, at level 58 paladins learn to channel their magic into healing (and it's called "clemency," or mercy. mercy for whom? who was guilty?), and as someone pointed out on that post, at level 58 dark knights used to get "sole survivor", letting them heal in response to a marked target's death.

for a time, you literally carry haurchefant's shield with you, and 3.3 very much literalizes in genre fashion the idea that even when you are standing alone, your fallen friends stand with you. you don't need to call any allies to stand at your side and raise their shields with you because they are already there, in spirit.

stormblood marks a pretty important turning point in the warrior of light as a combatant, in my opinion, and the text makes this clear in several ways. first, in pretty much all your jobs, you've now far exceeded your trainers and are pioneering new techniques. this is no less true of paladin, which for 60-70 abandons any trainers at all for you to show off your peerless skills in a tournament.

second, stormblood is straight up a story about you getting stronger. at level 61, zenos kicks your ass. at level 70, you kick his ass. why? because you fought and got stronger and developed incredible new techniques and became a one-man army.

for a lot of classes, this story lines up nicely with the big rotation changes or flashy new finishers on the way from 60 to 70. SMN is now busting out bahamut and casting akh morn; RDM gets verflare and verholy; DRG starts harnessing nidhogg's power directly through dragon sight and nastrond.

the tanks are divided in two: warriors and gunbreakers get huge damaging upgrades at 70 in the form of inner release and continuation, each of which lets them hit the same button many times for lots of damage and satisfying animations. paladin and dark knight get more protective abilities; dark knight gets the blackest night, and there's been plenty said about that already by pretty much everyone.

paladins get passage of arms. instead of a relentless new attack (and you get requiescat at 68, which is a way bigger deal for your dps rotation), your big reveal at 70 for zenos in your fight in ala mhigo is a superior way to protect your party, a shield that lets you stand for your allies so they never have to fall for you again. it's lucia's same shield, except you need no allies' shields to reinforce you, proof of your martial prowess and your ability to transcend limits, and perhaps in truth a reminder that you never really stand alone.

in many respects passage of arms should really feel like a paladin signature move to you now if you are playing it at this point, because you should be popping it in pretty much every fight (you are using your mits, right...?). basically every FFXIV fight has at least one big AOE with downtime that warrants passage of arms usage, usually after the mid-fight add phase with slowly filling bar. since that AOE usually drops during downtime, there's no reason not to pop passage of arms (which otherwise restricts your movement and actions), and even on normal, sometimes every little bit counts on a damage check even if it means dropping DPS (thinking here of harrowing hell P10N on release, which was...less consistent for a lot of roulette parties than you might hope).

so from 70 onward, passage of arms is in a sense a paladin warrior of light's signature move, and certainly the one a player gets to most actually enjoy (since if you're using it, you're by necessity not doing anything besides moving your camera and admiring your sick animation). it doesn't have any competition in terms of spectacle until confiteor, and those you're usually throwing out in the middle of movement.

it's such a signature, in fact, that the only other person shown using your one-person version of passage of arms is your greatest admirer, who studied your legend for over a century.

and it's when he fails (should've popped arm's length, bud) that the warrior of light decides they can't let their friends fall for them, and sends them away with the transporter beacon. this is all wrong: you were meant to die for them, not the other way around. yours is the shield that stands between your allies and defeat. it is you who will win this passage of arms and break your opponents lance. and you do.

and then later, when they need to quickly establish zero's domain as a place of fallen grandeur, the home of someone who once believed in heroes but is now a cool and cynical vampire hunter d, what do they use? a decayed statue of someone in the paladin endwalker gear doing the passage of arms animation, of course.

from a visible instantiation of knighthood as a joint effort to defend what is sacred, to a tribute to the fallen friends whose memories stand by you and animate you, to a symbol of the wol's power as emulated by their allies or darkly mirrored in other shards.

not bad for a mit button you hit once per fight and otherwise never think about!

[ricky-mortis]

Mariah Rose Faith Casillas, the woman you are.

[rosieartsie]

Here, have a little New Faith treat too while you’re at it

At first it’s hard to tell where Ms.Dorothy must be in that cavernous dark, but she laughs again from what Mercutio knows to be her spacious, heavily decorated living room and all three of them look that way as he steps inside, into the lapping flames of what’s got ahold of her. Mrs. Dorothy twitches in idle, shivery spasms in her arm chair, her silhouette only visible in the darkness because of the strange movements. Mercutio is almost afraid to turn on a light, and he sucks in an anxious breath when Deputy Thompson does it without hesitation. It washes Mrs. Dorothy’s contorted body with yellow and green light from her Tiffany lamp and the feeling of seeing her like this, it sits somewhere between discovering a very large, dead spider in the sink and finding an old, waning loved one dead in a hallway.

She is both of those things at once like this, neck and arm tendons stretched so hard they jump up from under her skin, all extremities bent wrong or absurdly flexed straight. Her skin is writhing over the sinews and frail muscles beneath and when she looks their way it’s with such a sharp twist of her neck that her spine cracks. Mercutio is momentarily mesmerized by the disorienting mess of burning across his skin, by the sight of her smiling with twitching, cracked lips, by the sickly yellow of her scleras and the black holes of her pupils. She clicks her teeth at them several times in succession, tapping them together like a shiver before her tongue rolls across her lips, bottom and then top, across her top teeth in a rapid, lurid lap.

“Ah… the Officer, the Holy Man, and the Queer, here to see what the fuss is about. This isn’t a bar boys, it’s a bad, bad joke.” She laughs some more and it sounds like it’s been forced out of her, the air squeezed into uneven and hideous notes. “Should I say, the Holy Man and his Queer. Ah huh, ah huh, his lost sheep, his leper, his whore, his way to walk and talk like Christ.” It’s not a surprise that she sinks claws first into Vincente, that the demon gravitates to his faith with a hateful hunger. That speaks true to their assumptions about the nature of this beast and even the state of her body suggests as much when there isn’t any pox, any rot– just a sickly pallor and flexing muscles like the demon is fighting to keep the body and calibrating it for use. If it was just that Mercutio would know it, and it’s not, but it presents as such and that gives Vincente a stern, intense courage that can be felt as he steps forward with his holy book in hand. There’s almost a flavor to the way his emotions flatten themselves out that Mercutio hasn’t felt, tasted, known for years now. He’d hoped he’d never have to again, but there it is, Vincente wielding his conviction like a shield, everything else falling away as he faces up against the evil that has entrenched itself inside of Ms. Dorothy. She leans forward, her hair jerking and spilling at the force of the movement and she stares at Vincente with wide, yellow tinted eyes, blinking hard like her body does not remember how to do it without her thinking about it. The demon must have to think about it, must have to remind the body to breathe and blink. She’s chittering again, her lips pulling back to expose her clacking teeth.

“Oh, brother, oh bishop, have mercy now.” She drawls, and the voice has returned to Ms. Dorothy’s usual tones but it is not her, it is a fallacious mockery of her usual sweetness. The demon asks for mercy like Ms.Dorothy asks for a cigarette and Mercutio hates it, hates to hear it, to see it, to recognize that in some way the demon has pried open parts of Ms. Dorothy’s personality and is trying them on for size. “Don’t your Jesus preach on and on about mercy? About cheeks’ a turning and such? Sweet words, boy, for what? So you can come and smite me when I’ve only just arrived?” It asks in Dorothy’s voice, wide eyes falling half mast, her long eyelashes batting at Vincente. “You’ve got mercy for your Jezebel, you’ve got mercy for this stranger you bring along as witness, hell, boy, you’ve even got mercy for my mother, our mother, Mary, Mary full of grace, gifting us the human race!” She claps her hands with the last of it like it’s a nursery rhyme and the laugh that pours out of her wobbles between that deep, throaty awfulness they first heard and her joyful, lovely laughter that Mercutio has come to know so fondly.

The horror piloting Ms. Dorothy lands her hard on her knees on the carpet and while Vincente and Mercutio do not flinch over the movement, Deputy Thompson does, a little, drawing no attention at all even though his weakness, however small, will only embolden this being to be more cruel. It rubs her hands together before pressing them palm to palm in beseeching and carries on with its torment. “But what about me, holy man? What mercies do you have in books and hands for little old me? Why so much trouble for this wilted flesh, this ancient child who has so little, little time? There is so little time left, father, for saving this soul. It tastes like futile resistance, goodness for fear, nothing more than that. Not worth it, for you, not worthy for you, brother, Shepard. Let the sheep die, give it over to me and see it treated with sublime delight.” Mercutio has to fight not to grimace. It is both repugnant and strange for a demon to bargain during an exorcism, to ask for mercy not as it’s being thrown back into hell or wherever the fuck they come from, but to ask it as though that’s always been an option between a priest and a demon. It edges closer on its knees and Vincente does not move. Instead, he begins the ritual, making a cross over himself and pressing his rosary to his lips before opening his bible in his palm. The page he needs is marked and he says, calmly to repeat after him.

[hiddenplacx]

[jesusfreakspeaks]

Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, death, is your victory? Where, death, is your sting?

1 Corinthians 15:54-55

[soratsuart]

I find it incredibly funny seeing some fans complain that the movie wasn't "lore accurate" as if FNAF has ever been consistent with its lore, like

Wow, the movie changes a lot of stuff and is not accurate to what we thought we knew? *looks at The Silver Eyes trilogy* I can't believe that, how horrible *looks at The Silver Eyes trilogy* Who would've thought they'd change stuff that makes us doubt what we know about the series *looks at the fourth fucking closet*

[scripturesforsolace]

15 If you love me, you will keep my commandments.

‭‭-John‬ ‭14‬:‭15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

[okiedojie25]

This tweet makes me feel things, and I don’t know how to process it