beware the false god

we  were  never  meant  to  be  holy

[halothes-archived]

#BLOG HAS BEEN ARCHIVED.    can be found on the same URL.

[lumoire-archived]

little update post, i´m not dead; i am just remaking this blog and my other two blogs. felt like i needed a fresh start (though i'm moving over some threads and asks to the other blog). i don't want to rush things, so i'll extend my mini hiatus a bit longer.

[jojorice]

mirrored self 🪽🪞

[fashionablyuninvitedx]

sorry for being weird and evasive. i was raised to believe that having wants and needs was a moral failing

[deadrest]

𝐄𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 within the hollow space, as they manifest. Older buildings lined with cobblestone streets come into view, a place similar to a certain country from his home world, but there is no charm, only emptiness. He doesn't sense a single soul, besides his own, and his companion @halothes. ❝ This space is much larger than shown. ❞ Having an accurate map is vital, but if what they have is inaccurate, or incomplete, they'll have to work with what they have.

The banshee glides along, cloaking their movements, while making sure Sunday doesn't leave his sight. While there is urgency in finding the missing people, his top priority is their safety, yet ... he's elated to have the halovian all to himself.

[halothes-archived]

                      when the dream began to drag people far into the dream,  he knew he could no longer leave the matter to the dreamweavers or the bloodhounds.  a VIP gone missing and countless souls still adrift.  and so,  sunday stepped in.  he navigates through the dreamscape with logos beside him.  a companion he can trust,  a confidant who will not betray what they uncover.   ❝   the dreamscape is not a static place.   ❞   he murmurs,  the wings at his ears shifting slightly.   ❝   it continues expanding,  even when we do not work on it.   ❞   

                      he shakes his head,   ❝   what is most important is that we carry something to tether us back to the moment of morning dew.  should we lose ourselves.   ❞   they arrive at a gate without a lock.  his steps falter before coming to a complete halt.   ❝   no lock.   ❞   he says as he looks around.   ❝   we'll have to find another way inside.   ❞

[gekksan]

[halothes-archived]

though he was more free-spirited when he was younger (and naturally curious), he did have certain schedules that he would stick to, like eating at a certain hour, to have that certain rhythm to his life. that didn't mean that he ate healthy every single time, like that one time he ate plenty of strawberry tarts because he felt like it.

as he grew older, his diet became more balanced, although his environment and the guidance of the dreammaster made it so that he skipped the foods that he actually enjoyed. he still eats at those regular hours, and whatever he eats is still healthy despite his busy schedule. when he doesn't get the time to do so, he tends to become 'hangry', but he masks it well enough by remaining polite to others; only robin could notice that he is grumpy.

[lmperatrium]

Penacony, a world woven in a tapestry of dreams that offers somewhere to stay to anyone who wishes to rest... it hits home. It is bittersweet and unwanted even after she made peace with it, all the everlasting dreams she had that the Threnodian cast her into to test her and find new ways of manipulation until her resolve is eroded away, leaving behind what It had always desired: an empty husk for It to take as Its vessel and do as It pleases to reach Its goal of subjugating humanity under Its distorted vision of peace. Similarly as she had felt back then, there are hints of dissonance in this world, calling for caution: a warning that this grand orchestra that is Penacony's dream isn't entirely sweet as the makers may have intended.

A gentle voice like a hummingbird's rouses her from her reverie, long lashes fluttering open to be greeted by the sun before she turns her gaze towards the source of the voice. Lapis lazuli eyes widen a subtle fraction as she takes in the details that form him, paying special attention to the halo hovering behind his head and the pair of wings behind his ears. What a beautiful being. Be it out of her own ignorance to the beings that Penacony houses or her accurate sentience, he must be someone out of the ordinary. ◜That is correct.◞ She answers eventually, her gaze turning back towards the sun before her. Cartethyia looks over at him anew, a silent invitation for him to join.

◜I was made aware of it before and after submerging myself in this realm of dreams.◞ A confirmation that she is cognizant of the fact, except she decided to turn down the offer just to have her way instead, see for herself at her own pace first. ◜But I wished to have a feel of it on my own first, and this is where wandering about led me. A true masterpiece of a place to reflect.◞ The Holy Maiden hasn't forgotten his mention about Penacony's history or the precise guidance of those knowledgeable enough to lead to the most iconic places that people are drawn to, thus her gaze turns to peer into the angel's aureate eyes. ◜Would you argue that I took the wrong choice as to how to approach this world, kind stranger?◞

[halothes-archived]

                    for a split second,  a smile tugs at the corner of his lips when he hears their response.  to wander through penacony freely before ever considering a tour is also a way of exploring.  sunday has always liked watching how newcomers move through the dreamscape.  the wonder of discovery.  there is something almost sacred about those first impressions, how unfiltered they really are.   ❝   not at all,   ❞   he responds candidly whilst shaking his head slightly.   ❝   there is no right or wrong when it comes to exploring penacony.   ❞   beneath his words lies a faint shimmer of nostalgia when he thinks back to his first impression of the dreamscape.  he and robin had wandered the place for days,  much to gopher's exasperation.   ❝   it was the same approach i took when i first arrived,   ❞   he says,  sounding almost nostalgic in the way his hands rest behind his back.   ❝   though i was much younger then.   ❞

                    ❝   but now i find myself curious.   ❞   his attention drifts back to the present as he moves to stand beside them before fully turning around.   ❝   you have walked these streets for yourself and have seen parts that penacony can offer.   ❞   do they see this place through the same lens as he does?  or will their response surprise him ?  he eagerly awaits their answer as he poses his question,   ❝   what do you make of it ?   ❞   not wanting to guide their answer too much with the way he poses the question.    

[animepopheart]

★ 【CPKon】 「 重逢 」 ☆ ✔ republished w/permission ⊳ ⊳ follow me on twitter // bsky

[halothes-archived]

✉     —     kiss meme send by, @aventvrina

[ reunion ] a longing kiss shared after being apart for a while

                      perhaps it would have been easier to let go back then,  to bow his head to the absence of his lover and accept this silence as finality.  to stop coming here like some fool waiting for a miracle the world had no intention of granting.  he knows life is cruel.  yet he had vowed to return to this place that is haunted with memories of them.  even if it hurt.  especially because it hurt.  if aventurine never returned,  if death had claimed him as sunday sometimes feared,  then at least one of them would keep the memory of the other alive.   

                      the apartment is quiet,  unnervingly so.  no felines revealing themselves,  no purrs to soften the silence.  he had cared for them faithfully until the day he could no longer leave them in uncertainty and all alone.  now they are safe,  loved by another who needed them.  sunday allows himself to think that aventurine might have approved of it.

                      a sigh passes his lips as his gloved hand comes to rest against the window frame.   ❝   are you even still out there ?   ❞   words like a prayer are uttered and whispered into an empty room that gives no response to his prayer.  regret settles in his chest once more.  they had never spoken of this,  had never dared to trade promises neither could keep.  dared not to entertain the thought of what if aventurine would return.  he lets out a soft and shaky breath, but no tears fall.  he has shed enough in solitude.  what remains now is small and fragile smile at the memory of aventurine's voice in the back of his mind. sentimental creature,  he had teased him whenever a movie tugged at his emotions.  it had embarrassed him back then yes,  but how liberating it had been to be allowed to simply feel instead of pretending to be perfect in everything. 

                      his fingers close around the picture frame on the table.  the picture taken during their first date.  he has not moved anything in this place,  as though freezing time itself might hold the door open for a miracle to happen.  the apartment has become a shrine.  polished, preserved and waiting,  always waiting.  he is about to set the frame down when a sound reaches him coming from the front door.  it is subtle,  but enough to make his feathers rise.  he goes still,  his breath caught in his throat.  it cannot be.

                      ❝   …  aventurine    ❞   

                      they stand there,  eyes wide in disbelief.  sunday staring at a man he feared was dead and aventurine staring at a man who had kept his vigil instead of moving on.  the silence lingers between then,  but sunday cannot bear it any longer.  the frame clatters back onto the table as he closes the distance between them in a few decisive steps.  his arms enveloped the blond tightly.  a declaration that he will not and cannot let go of him again.

                      ❝   it's really you,   ❞   it isn't another dream.  he is real and alive.  his hands lift to aventurine's face,  gloved fingers brushing over those familiar lines he has memorised over and over.  somewhere in the haze of his disbelief and tears,  he can hear the other chuckle softly at the display of affection and sentimentality. ❝   you can take your time in telling me what happened when you left,   ❞   he murmurs,  his voice unsteady but tender all the same,   ❝   just having you standing here is all i can ask for.   ❞  and perhaps the other is right,  perhaps he still isn't all that accustomed to doing what he wants.  what he wants more than anything is to continue holding the other in his arms.  sunday leans in slowly,  eyes closing slowly as his lips find aventurine's in a slow kiss,  memorising every second of this reunion between them.  at last he draws back,  but keeps his lover's face cradled between his palms.   ❝   welcome home.   ❞ 

                      ❝   i missed you.   ❞

[mcflymemes]

i feel like the landscape of the rpc and its semi-transactional nature often foster an environment for unchecked jealousy, severe possessiveness, and uncomfortably territorial behavior. ship jealousy and friendship jealousy appear far too often in our community. often these people will get angry at you for talking to other friends, having other friends, having other ships, writing with other people... and none of these behaviors are healthy or productive.

be aware of your behavior and the behavior of others around you. check yourself. reflect on your choices. cater your space. look for red flags in your behavior and the actions of your friends. we all deserve a comfortable, non-toxic environment to write and have fun in this hobby, and that cannot happen if someone is being guilted into doing things, pressured into doing things, isolated from their friends, or restricted in their choices.

[paramythas]

𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 Xùn has dealt because of his powers, he might consider them more than just a 'burden'. However, Xùn isn't the type to complain about his lot in life- especially when it could be far, far worse. So for the moment, the true scope of his own suffering is left as, at best, a guess based solely on the hesitation in his gestures, the tension in his jaw when he's asked.

"I can control them, if I want, but sometimes..." Sometimes, they sideswipe him when they shouldn't. On a walk, in the middle of a shower, in the midst of cooking. It's part of why he doesn't bother with driving- losing himself in a vision while in a vehicle sounds to him like a recipe for disaster. "...I'll try not to let them interfere with work, if they happen." Because while Xùn may be the sort to want to slack off and nap more often than not, if he's being paid to do a job, then he's going to do it- and he's going to do it well. Even if it is something of a... strange situation overall.

"So don't worry- you won't get any complaints about me not pulling my weight." Though he very much he doubts he'll be in a position where that's determined by anyone but Sunday himself for very long.

Still, he watches Sunday with something between surprise and concern. Blind faith hasn't ever been something Xùn has dealt with well- and while he doubts Sunday's faith is as thoughtless as it sounds, he can't help but worry. Fanaticism is another thing he doesn't deal with well, and despite knowing this is a planet of the Harmony... well. No easier way to indoctrinate someone than under the auspices of mutual understanding and cooperation. The nicer, gentler something sounds, the easier it is to use it to make other, more terrible things sound reasonable, for the sake of it.

"I heard something like that, yes," it's part of Robin's 'highlight reel' of sorts- something used to prop her up as a beacon of hope for people. It's sympathetic, makes her sound both gentle and strong, and by proxy, makes her ever-so-important brother sound responsible and kind. He has no reason to believe Sunday is anything else, so far but... looks can certainly be deceiving.

"So long as it's your choice," he finally says, turning his attention to his food again, sighing softly. "If nothing else, making those is something only you can do for yourself in the long run, hmm?" His mouth quirks, but his eyes are searching, curious. "I'm sure you trouble yourself a lot, to make sure the ones you make are good ones."

[halothes-archived]

                      ❝   sometime ?   ❞   the question leaves his lips with a faint lift of the brow.  sometimes is not an answer yet sunday let the word settle between them without pressing further.  there are truths a man will offer freely,  and there are truths that must be waited for patiently.  until the moment arrives in which knowing becomes necessary to safeguard his own plans,  he will not pry.   ❝   if they do happen,  and you need to take a break,  i won't mind if you take a few minutes to gather yourself,   ❞   sunday states plainly.   ❝   i would have you do that rather than have a repeat of the alfalfa family.   ❞  the simple mercy of rest is often lost on that branch of the family,  and sunday had been forced to step in for the good of the rest of the family.  it wouldn't do any branch well if employees started to drop from sheer exhaustion.

                      ❝   it is my choice,   ❞   halovian's gaze remains firm as ever.  his faith is not up for debate.  halovians have always been attuned to the harmony regardless of the aeon's shape and form.  whether it be the present one or the one before.  it is his path to walk.  yet it is the people who twist belief to serve themselves who make it dangerous,  not the belief itself.   ❝   and it will always be my choice.   ❞   

                      his role demands more than just devotion.  penacony itself rests 'pon the weight of his decisions.   ❝   of course,  making the right decisions is important.  the future of penacony depends on it.   ❞   his lips curve into a deliberate and measured smile,  but the touch of sincerity makes it warm and kind.   ❝   so i am counting on you to help me ensure penacony remains strong.   ❞   standing up he dusts off some invisible dirt from his pristine white attire.   ❝   shall we go ?  i have a small task for you.   ❞

[smolmilkyways]

atque in perpetuum, frater, ave atque vale ☀️🕊️

[fireproofs]

dream job?

i simply do not dream of labor

[skeptical-saniwa]

“It’s rather improper to stare, isn’t it?”🌧

[dreadranger]

“Well, it’s a good thing I ain’t really interested in amassin’ goodwill.” He’s made his peace with the kind of person he is, what his ultimate goal entails. Perhaps he is a touch too eager for vengeance, but not all acts of justice are bloodless. Revenge is not quite conducive to the accumulation of benevolence. Virgil has little to live for, yet far more to perish for. Though he can’t deny that he appreciates Sunday’s willingness to play along. 

“All right, all right. Jus’ Sunday.” He concedes. As much as he’d like to continue to tease the Halovian, he shows some restraint. It is, in his own way, a sign of his respect towards the other. It’s all too easy to make up a silly nickname and use that faux closeness to keep others away. But they do have a bit of a history now, don’t they? The least he can do is use Sunday’s name, even if he won’t reveal his own.  

“Heh, all right. Jus’ a goodbye then.” Even if he isn’t sure that their paths would ever cross. It could very well be their final meeting. But he’s not heartless. He can entertain the sentimentality. 

As for his next destination, he could not name one in particular. He goes where The Hunt takes him. If not The Hunt, then his quest for justice leads him to where he must go. There is no rest for the wicked and vengeance is wretched work. His thirst for watching the IPC burn cannot be slaked. 

If it makes him a terrible man, so be it. He would rather be terrible and just over good and corrupt. If not him, who will serve as the hammer of justice for the iniquity that robbed him of his humanity, the injustice that buried his heart within the sands of his homeland.

“What’s it they say? It’s the journey, not the destination, right?” He tips his hat up, shark-like teeth glinting as he grins. It’s a more scrupulous way of saying he has no clue. “I ain’t got no leads as to which son of a bitch is gonna pay next, so maybe I’ll go lookin’ fer a nice place fer my grave.” 

He says it lightly, as if making a joke, but there is a modicum of truth in them. But who other than Virgil himself would know? 

[halothes-archived]

                      the halovian merely gives a nod and feels relieved that the other decides to drop the nickname and just refer to him by his name instead.  it is fine if the cowboy does not tell his real name,  he doesn't need to,  as long as he has something to refer to them by.  in penacony,  the city built on beautiful falsehoods, names are often left behind,  and he does not pry them from the mouths of those who do not wish to speak them.   ❝   i  …   suppose there is some truth to that.   ❞   there is something to be said for the journey over the destination,  though sunday has never found much peace in wandering.  he is a man of purpose and order.  goals give him shape and meaning.

                      but the faint curl at the corner of his lips falter,  shifting downwards when the cowboy speaks of his own grave.   ❝   that is rather depressing,   ❞   sunday murmurs quietly to himself.  it sounds as bleak as it sounds lonely.   ❝   even as a joke.   ❞   and though he searches for the truth behind those words,  he does not,  for it matters little.  he has no desire to sway the other from his path.  

                      a soft sigh passed through parted lips,   ❝   as the leader —  former leader,   ❞   he amends.   ❝   i kept track of the ipc's movements,  just in case.   ❞   he reaches for a few notes in his journal before he offers them to the cyborg cowboy.   ❝   i no longer have any use for it.  but maybe you can.   ❞ 

[qilingxiong]

haha that's a nice starry-eyed ambition you've got there buddy. sure hope the narrative doesn't warp it into something ruthless and all-consuming