@immobiliter( Adam ) Sent A Meme For Rahim :

🪐 — @immobiliter​  ( adam )  sent   a meme   for  rahim   :

67  —  stefania  by  kalush   ▶︎

       ❝ SHE LULLED ME TO SLEEP  &  she taught me rhythm.  &  my will can’t be taken away,  because she gave it to me, too. ❞

🪐 — @immobiliter​​  (  jackson  )  sent   a meme   for  ola   :

24  —  now  ( in space )  by  montaigne   ▶︎

            ❝  I KINDA FEEL INSANE,  but i’m not afraid.  it’s like the kind of thing where  it almost feels too good. ❞

I am so late to this because I have been so very slow but I have been meaning to jump into your ask and let you know that I have seen you around on my dash thanks to lottie (and now ace), and I have always enjoyed the way you craft your muses. Your writing is so enthralling and engaging and I'm so glad to see you around on the dash. I hope you've been having a good day!

ahhhhh, you're not late, friend, this message came right on time ! this really made my day, thank you so much for your kind words. i will definitely be saving this to reference back to when i have a bad brain day, so i really appreciate you taking the time to send such a sweet message. 💕 also, the admiration from a ( slight ) distance through our wonderful mutual friends is very much returned, so how about we just cut out the middlemen & be proper friends already, ok ? ok. yay, friends !

🪐 — @trickstercaptain  +  @shadowcovcn​  ( laszlo ) sent   a meme   for  nadja   :

69  —  hounds of love  by  kate bush   ▶︎

    ❝ WHEN I WAS A CHILD  i’d run in the night, afraid of what might be  — hiding in the dark, hiding in the streets from what was following me.  &  now the hounds of love are hunting me. ❞

Rae + Converse throughout the series

🪐 — THE PRIESTESS  for  sarah !

The priestess eyes remain closed as the bones rattle on the ground. The girl's voice is distant, so distant that if her focus was to shift she'd be gone completely, returned once more to the oblivion that had once received her. A wayward soul that remains for no shepherd to guide her. Whether back to the oblivion to embrace her into what came next or back to this world to where there were still so many strings attached.

She could see them in the air like they were made out of pure light. Strumming with each word the other spoke.

  “It is not blind faith when you know the powers that be help in your desperate search for help."

She had just been perhaps only a few years younger than this girl when she found faith for the first time, truly allowed herself to listen. Only a few years younger than her whose life was snuffed out by those that would claim faithful. Those that would summon twisted visions only in search of any means of self-aggrandizing. They would destroy the world if it meant that only they and they alone would be the mouth of the Gods. The Gods did not care to speak only through one. Only act through the two limited hands. And to think that one was so important as to occupy that space, well, those were the beliefs of a lost soul.

  “The world is an ugly and cold world, child. Faith was the only thing that kept me alive, safe when I was at my most vunerable." she pauses. Her mouth is dry and the taste of copper hangs on the back of her throat. Her eyes flicker only by an unconscious demand of her body to keep them humid, and functional "I struggled to accept it until I realised that it was only because of it that I was able to keep myself sane."

Only when it became physically obvious - only when their promises came to fruition, did she allow it to come in. There is no blindness in demanding proof. The proof, however, didn't always take the shape and form that one might expect "There is no shame in asking for help when you know you need it."

Both hands open, scarred, face the ceiling of the small cabin. Was your life not sacrifice enough? Your happiness? Was your pain not enough? She would not give her own body but she could tether her to these grounds until a vessel came to be. It was not work that she enjoyed, work that she agreed with, but she could not deny one's desire for justice. For having her sacrifice be acknowledged and made right.

  “Let me help you."

  FAITH HAD BEEN USED AS A WEAPON  all her life.  pastor miller spoke of a darkness lurking at the edges of union, devils in the woods.  but when she had still had legs, sarah could remember having danced in those same wood at night.  &  when she had still had a right hand, there had been another’s to hold.  with hannah at her side, she had found the night to be bright beyond all expectations, illuminated by starlight.  she had wondered at the time why the lie existed at all.  but now she knew  —  those sermons were designed not to inspire faith among the pastor’s flock, but fear.  for any farmer knew that if sheep were afraid of what was hidden in the wood, then they would stay in the fields of their own accord, leaving no need to struggle to keep them obedient.        sarah had felt the consequences of fear for herself.  when evil had come to union, it had been so easy for the villagers to blame her  —  the strange motherless child who walked in the wood  &  dared to dance with another girl under the moonlight.  &  when seeking something to protect herself from them, she had discovered the truth.  &  for those crimes, she had died.                                           no, not just died  —  she had been killed.   &  the man who had killed her was still alive.  the devil had been real all along, but he was not hiding in the darkness  —  he was walking proudly in the light, thinking himself untouchable.  &  sarah knew that the dark ritual would not end with her.  her own blood had only fed into it.  made it stronger.  &  as long as goode  &  his descendants lived, more innocents would die at his hands, just as she had.          &  yet in death, where the pastor’s wife had often promised that the fires of hell would surely be waiting for her, sarah sees  ( though how she can receive the vision without eyes, she cannot say )  the form of a woman among the nothingness. hands extend from her sleeves, palms upturned to reveal uneven scar tissue.  she does not seem like a demon, but nor does she appear to be any kind of messenger from heaven.  instead, she offers help for sarah’s restless spirit,  a new kind of faith that she has never considered before.    to trust an offering of help from such a being seemed foolish, but what other choice does a dead girl have ?  there is nothing else for sarah here, it seems, other than more darkness.  this may be the only way to kill goode  &  break the curse.  ❝ yes. help me. please. ❞  she asks.  &  with no lips to speak from, it takes all her energy to form the words, her very soul straining to be heard.   ❝ i want to go back.  i’m not finished. ❞   desperately now, sensing this may be her only chance sarah attempts to pull herself closer to the woman, imagines herself reaching for that upturned hand.  ❝ what must i do ? ❞