#[May you name echo at war's end i will be your blade[One]

[kujiba]

||MAY THE LAND CONCEAL YOU, DEAR GRACE||

୨୧ — ꒰ gn!reader | they/them prounouns | Sagau | cultish behavior

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

A/n: I had a good shit today so I'll bless you all with a new chapter ( not proof read, correct me in any mistakes)

Jean's clear sapphire eyes gawked at the sight of an empty room, it's walls barely hanging by a thread, an attempt to keep everything in it's place; it's reason being directed towards the widely open area that leaves to the vast outside world.

Her lip's trembled with outrage by how their prisoner (Name), had breached through their defenses and escaped under their noses without anybody noticing only till the last second. Jean's fists tightly curled up into a ball, a fire starting in her heart that will not extinguish till her target is brought to justice.

Only imagining how that person could be running around freely in their lives without any consequences daring to come back and tear their life down made Jean's stomach twist and turn out of disgust.

5 hours till (Name)'s execution.

5 hours till they could find (Name).

Jean's mind had been put on a road, a road she will follow till the end of her lifetime, she dared not to look back at her actions and consequences. For her heart knew what must be done in order to preserve justice among the townsfolk, among her people and friends.

Her gloved hand made it's way to the hilt of her sword and drew it out towards the crumbling barrier "Hunt down (Name)! Issue every individual to hunt for them in the land. Those who successfully capture (Name) will be granted a reward of 2,000,000 Mora" Her voiced boomed around the thick interior, the knights accompanying her gladly followed and raised their own swords as well "Kill the fraud! Kill the fraud! Kill the fraud!" They chanted all together, a declaration of war happening towards one individual.

"Kill the fraud under any circumstances!"

!!!!

"Ugh why do I have to do this again?" You grumbled under your breath with irritation as you wielded a plain sword you had gotten for free from the system tightly in your hands. By your side was the system, navigating you through your needs to grow more powerful and stronger.

MISSION:

Kill 50 slimes [24/50]

Kill 50 hilichurls [12/50]

Kill 3 Ruin guards [0/3]

Rewards: advance to level 25, unlock 4 star weapon, +1 level up to talents

You scowled at the words displayed infront of you, of course it had to have all sorts of missions... You disliked it but deep inside you knew no other choices were displayed infront of you. Taking a deep sigh the tip of your sword met with the strange liquidity substance of an hydro slime, piercing it to death. The details were very much more advanced than you had seen from the game, every move; you felt it. This wasn't a dream, the blood you've taken from hilichurls wasn't a dream, being locked away was definitely not a damn dream.

'No.. What am I thinking, I have to focus on completing this stupid mission' You sighed to yourself contemplating whether or not you're finally safe. Turning your blade against another pack of slimes who had spawned from the ground, you dashed towards the creatures and shredded their bodies into small fluids that fell onto the floor, some also getting stuck on your sword much to your dismay.

As your focus shifted to cleaning off the translucent fluid on your blade the system suddenly began going haywire, loud and consistent beeping echoed through the screen as you were forced to face it to find out what is making that unpleasant sound come from the screen.

" WARNING! WARNING! DANGER IS RAPIDLY APPROACHING [INITIATING AUTO MODE] "

A bright crimson text presented itself on your face, the words reflecting against your eyes as you tried to comprehend what the system was trying to do, your lips quivered trying to find words to say to mutter but only a deaf silence came. Your silence quickly faded as you let out a cry, you felt a sudden strong ache on your shoulder as if something had pierced through you (it didn't help it felt like it was burning too).

Looking to your side your pupils stopped at a blazing wooden arrow had penetrated your own shoulder, crimson liquid trailed down your clothes staining it whole while your own knees decided to give in, dropping to the ground. Round droplets of tears falled down your cheeks for the pain had reached through your brain at lightning speed, your palm grasped the wound tightly, an attempt to stop the bleeding.

"Agh, who..." You managed to mumble out those two words out of your unsynchronized breathing, a pair of (E/c) pupils darted around the vast green land to wiggle out the source of the one who attacked you.

It barely took a second till your sight landed on a familiar brunette at a distance, her gloved hand gripped her bow tightly as she summoned 3 pairs of arrows, aiming directly towards your direction. You were quickly alarmed by the girls actions, your mind quickly flooded with a thousand questions as to why Amber had suddenly attacked you for no reason.

"Amber?...." you whispered out her name and quickly regretted it seeing as her expression stiffened even more: "Shut it. Don't ever say my name out of that disgusting mouth of yours" She stated out her words loud and clear, you could barely even gather any of the previous amber you know and love deep in your heart. The throbbing pain in your shoulder muscle only covered as a nuisance at your disposal, you peered down at your legs that were covered in dirt and small ounces of blood that came from your shoulder.

You hesitantly looked back at amber to see what she was doing only to find out she had been gathering the knights at favonius towards your direction. 'SHIT! SHIT! System!' your desperation reached through the system, begging it to help you in this situation. You shutted your eyes tightly, hoping that you would only hear the systems voice the next moment and not Amber's or any of the knights of favonius.

A familiar voice rang out inside your ears that let you breathe a sigh of relief

[INSTALATION COMPLETE, ENTERING AUTO MODE]

The Ai like voice were very last thing that went through your mind before your vision began to fade along with your consciousness. You felt your body didn't meet the solid ground yet but only remained standing, your mind wondered on events that were taking place while you weren't in control of your own body.

The sounds that you could vaguely differentiate were the sounds of Jean's roaring voice along with rapid footsteps coming your way, you only hoped deeply that once your eyes flutter open again, you will be in a much safer area and far away from mondstat.

✧✧✧

Jean's gloved hand tightly held the hilt of her sword, it's blade reflecting against the golden and copper colored mixture of the sky around them. A small wind blew past her blond locks making her sapphire eyes and stern expression ever the more clearer.

Beside her was the knights of favonius, that included Kaeya, Amber, Lisa and Noelle. Jean's gaze shifted to noelle as she mentally shook her head at the young girls decision to come along. She would've much preferred Noelle to be out of this hunt/battle but the maids persistence was rock solid, she had stated herself 'My loyalty to the knights of favonius is as strong as my love for the creator. I will not let some foolish scoundrel get away with this.'

With a final nod, Jean straightened her back and pointed the tip of her blade towards the direction of (Name), her expression cold as ever towards them: How could she not afterall? This was certainly not a first for someone to suddenly step up and declare themselves as the creator just to gain power and control everyone. Her lips scowled lowly with her gaze piercing through (Name)'s skull.

"Imposter! I, the acting grand master Jean declare you an enemy of Mondstadt. You dare to fool us again with your pathetic tricks? Your head will be displayed at the center of Mondstadt, to show and warn any of your other repulsive companions" As her voice boomed across the vast land her followers roared in agreement, declaring that (Name) was a dunce for even attempting to step inside their borders.

(Name)'s head only hung low facing the ground, their expression unclear but Jean took that as a sign to take charge, she putted her blade infront of her face flat and quickly turned it vertically, she soon casted her ultimate "Wind, hear me!" the very same time she announced her burst a glowing circular anemo field surrounded the knights of favonius as small little dandelions floated in the air.

The anemo field casted as an attack buff for the party as many began charging towards (Name)'s direction. Kaeya being the fastest one and summoned his own ultimate "Don't get a frostbite" he smirked, raising his palm in the air, a glowing white emitted from his hand which then summoned large cryo icicles around his body, those icicles which almost pierced (Name)' s limbs if they hadn't swiftly jumped back and dodged them all.

"Heh, Dodge this!" Kaeya thrusted his sword towards (Name) as the same pure cryo icicles came out of his blade. (Name) was about to dodge once again to avoid Kaeyas attack but noticed how he was smirking the whole time, why was he smirking? (Name) felt someone's gloved hands touch their back: that was because Lisa who had abruptly appeared behind (Name) had her hand on them.

Without a second, a sudden surge of electricity flowed through their body top to bottom, (Name)'s body having some small little violet electrical effects. Lisa hummed in satisfaction, her lips turning upright as she backed away from them "Aha, How dirty." She expressed teased in such a mocking voice towards (Name), after all they were another fraud attempting to cheat through the top.

"Nice one, Lisa" Kaeya added then began clapping both of his hands together "I'll leave the rest to you, Noelle" Kaeya's slate blue eyes fixated on the young maid behind him who only gave a affirmative nod "Time to clean up." Noelle brought out her claymore which then started to quickly glow with a beautiful golden color at her words.

(Name)'s automatic system were slightly damaged by the electricity given by Lisa, but thankfully recovered enough to catch the young maidens claymore in mid air.

Noelle gasped in bewilderment, that action also shook Kaeya, Lisa, Jean and the other knights of Favonius to their core "You..." Noelle muttered to (Name) with her hands slightly shaking "Are you actually?-...." yet Noelle couldn't finish what she was trying to say before getting thrown away by (Name)'s brute strength alone.

She stumbled over the grass and used her claymore to keep balance, her eyes never taking off (Name)'s figure for even a second.

(Name) used the opportunity immediately and ran away from the knights of favonius while they on the other hand were trying to process what just happened.

Jean tightly held the grip of her sword with a face full of confusion and hatred towards the unpredictable individual. Jean bit her lip with her gaze on the area where (Name) previously was, with a long sigh she letted go of her blade, the item fading into small little yellow particles.

"They're still injured. They can't run for long." Jean maintained a stoic expression towards the knights of favonius, yet deep inside, her burning flame of hatred towards (Name) only kept growing by the second.

Kaeya nodded his head to Jean's words and also made his sword dissapere in the meantime. Even though (Name) successfully escaped Kaeya couldn't help but smile "Oh poor Imposter, they should've just complied and come with us" He shook his head in dissapointment of their actions "Now you will have to face the wrath of my dear brother."

The knights of favonius weren't the only people after you, every inch and corner of Mondstadt has people bloodthirsty for your blood to be spilled on their territory. The woods, the caves, the mountains, each one of those have people ready to attack incase the Imposter comes for protection and shelter.

But no one could compare to the absolute beast a certain redhead becomes in the night, where he swore to spill the Imposters blood in his hands and leave their flesh to be ravaged by the animals. His siganture weapon The Wolf's Gravestone, a long and heavy claymore with its design having a crimson red and dark shaded black with rough textures. It's color would shine brighter in the night sky where the moon would reflect it, only those who were killed by the holder could witness the beauty of the weapon and the murderous son of Master Crepus; Diluc Ragnvindr

...

You lowkey felt that all of what happened was just you being high while dreaming cause one; why are the characters you cried, sweat, and worked so hard for trying to hunt you down like you were in the hunger games.

And two, why the heck did you woke up in a dark cave with so much injuries!? It hurts like shit! You would've thought the moment you got your conscious back from the system you would be safe and sound. CLEARLY, alot had happened when the system was taking over your body.

As you were brainstorming ideas on possibilities and attempting to remember how to be like Katniss everdeen a blue screen popped up beside you once again, this time it showed your current stats

...

LVL 17/25

Max hp: 500/1,237

Atk: 234

Def: 100

Elemental mastery: 1,000

Max stamina: 240

Crit rate: 30%

Crit damage: 90%

Energy Recharge: 400%

"... what the hell" Your mouth dropped seeing how fast your stats advanced so much, all that after grinding for 2 hours!? Has the system finally took pity on your sorry ass and gave you a blessing?!

Aside from that your brows furrowed slightly at your health. Your hp bar is currently at orange since your body took alot of blows, classic game design.

But all that aside, it was definitely shocking to see your previous low level stats ascend to higher numbers by only using like 20% of your own body power. And with just that simple buff, maybe you'll let the system live another day..

[System entering automatic shut down after overheating, Duration: 2 Hours]

You take everything back.

'Curse you system! How dare you take over my body and make me wake up like I've just been at war!!' Your hands tightly balled up, clenching tighter and tighter by the second a clear vein popping out of your forehead with it bulging slightly.

Out of frustration the side of your clenched hand met with the surface of the cold, solid ground of the eery cave. The sound echoing throughout the interior of the place growing smaller and smaller by the second,

You quickly regretted that decision though since your hand hurted like hell, the skin turning slightly red because of the impact received from the ground below.

You brought your swollen reddened hand closer to your chapped lips to blow on it carefully, you're severely dehydrated and starving, not to mention the never ending stinging of the wounds on your body you received from the fight.

If you were honest to yourself. Sitting inside a dark and empty cave with nothing but the deafening sound of silence was uncomfortable. The system would return after 1 hour and 29 minutes, so you just had to find out a way to survive without it for a while.

You'd grown used to hearing small little 'ping!' from the system and getting flashed with a bright blue screen on your face. But now it's just you and well... You.

Your (e/c) eyes glanced towards your vision dangling from the side of your hip. You took notice on how it weirdly was glowing all of a sudden, isn't this when a characters burst is charged up?

Unfortunately.

You cannot press Q or any button to just automatically cut into a burst animation, Actually are you a 4 star or 5 star?...

"Dang I think I broke it." You mumbled to yourself while your index finger slightly scratches your cheek, the system was a jerk since it refuses to give you a simple guide on how to do this and that.

Your body shuddered like a leaf as a cold harsh wind blew inside the already dark and gloomy cave. Stands of hair flew towards your face making you looks more haggard than before, but you still protectively turned your back to face away from the intense breeze.

Bringing your legs closer to your chest to emith warmth around your freezing and shaking body you leaned the side of your head on the stone wall then began slowly itching more and more towards the darkness to make a distance from the cave gate since it looked like it was beginning to rain heavily tonight.

To cope with your issues and problems, you instinctively began ranting inside your head with your expression full of dissapointment and annoyance

''Damn reincarnation, nothing good happened! All I got was getting kidnapped then hunted down?!''

If you could freely activate your dendro vision things would be much helpful for you!! But NO your skills are locked away from the system, you're unable to level up or grind to ascension since the knights of favonius and people of Mondstadt could be everywhere!

If bitch was a person they 100% must be fucking with you.

But then, your ranting came to an abrupt halt as the sounds of footsteps began closing in on you. Footsteps that didn't seem to be a mob nor group, but instead coming from one person.

You felt a cold sweat drip down your cheek with multiple scenarios racing through your mind gathering every and any possibility that could happen once they found your hide out.

You quickly covered your dendro vision using your own clothes as a coverage since it was still glowing brightly throughout the gloomy cave, and being the only source of light aside from the radiating moonlight high above the jet black sky with many stars accompanied by it.

"If I can't see them then they can't see me." You internally thought to yourself and quickly took advantage of the caves darkness, using it to cover and blend in with the surrounding area and hide from whatever is out there.

You hoped to yourself and prayed that it was just some random npc who doesn't give a single fuck about you and let you off the hook, what you DESPERATELY don't wish for is some vision holder coming out for you, especially a certain blonde, brown and red haired trio.

"If you can see me through this darkness then you must have some sort of 24/24 vision or something" you lamented in your head while dozing off to some random school memory you had in your past that was until two large pair of black boots stopped directly infront of the caves entrance making you freeze and mentally shit yourself.

"WTFF!! I know those shoes anywhere! Since I worked my ass off to buy that very skin!!" Your mouth dropped to it's lowest seeing as they began to slowly move towards where you were hiding at. You immediately shifted positions quickly and as quietly as you can, using both of your hands to hide any loud breathing or sounds you might accidentally let out.

Your eyes shrinked while eyeing their gloved hand feeling around the pitch dark area you were previously sitting in. Your only choices now was hope they don't find and grab you before ending your right there and then, or make a run for it.

Second choice not looking so good huh

"You can't see me, you can't see me" You repeated endlessly to yourself while trying to stop your body from shaking like a leaf that just got blown over by a strong gust of wind. The person eventually retracted their hand from the dark and took a step back and towards the caves entrance making you sigh in relief.

Your eyes that were ungulfed in darkness looked towards them, their hair color not being much clear to you since you guys were inside a cave without any source of light other than the caves entrance, with a small nod you unconsciously formed a small smile "Thank goodness... Now just go awa-" But that happiness quickly dissolved for you felt a gloved hand roughly grab you by the collar of your shirt and threw you to the caves entrance where the moons light shined down on your body, revealing your presence to them.

"Fuck!..." You cursed under your breath and letted out a rugged cough since your lungs were having a hard time inhaling some air.

Your (e/c) pupils met with a pair of the same black boots that were in the cave that made your breath hitch and stop for a moment, this was your end and you knew it. Out of all the people you had to encounter, you were met with the intense stare and fury deep inside the red heads heart.

Your lips quivered with a severe feeling of fear rush through every part of your body, barely making out his name you desperately did not want to believe in;

"Diluc?..."

3rd Person Pov

There were many stories floating across the nations of Teyvat, Diluc wasn't an exception since his father, Crepus, frequently reader him and Kaeya a small story before bed. A story about a god who was seen as the glory and perfection of the people living in teyvat.

Soft looking (Hair color) locks that glistened under the moons luminosity and was said to feel like brushing your fingertips through a valley of soft fabric, a beautiful body that was carved out by the gods with their own hands to produce what they call 'perfect' for a person; they had carved for 5 months and 20 extra days to slowly built the base for their grace without a stop since they were afraid to even make the smallest mistake for such a large responsibility.

Dilucs vermillion eyes gazed down on (Name) and studied their features from a distance. In all of the stories he had read there was never a same picture for what their grace looked like as they took on many forms throughout their rule. Yet for some reason, What diluc imagined his grace to look like was oddly on point with the person sprawled down on the ground with their hands and pants now dirtied from the soil below.

But no matter what the person or cause, Diluc had come to a conclusion when their grace left. That they had abandoned them all. And he, existed to purge and exterminate anyone who defies his god.

"Don't call me like that you pest" Diluc blurted out towards (Name) which made their eyes widened and their eyebrows wrinkle together, "What?" they muttered with confusion evident in their voice.

Diluc clenched his teeth together and held his tounge back from saying anything unnecessary "It was an idiotic move for you to step inside mondstat territory you fraud." Dilucs right foot stepped forward as yellow particles began to form near his fingers and created his signature weapon, the wolves Gravestone "Burn."

He swung his claymore forward and unleashed a ginormous blazing pheonix that would burn anything in it's path, and that ultimate was coming right towards (Name)'s direction.

"Shit!! Wait! Hold on!" (Name) panicked vigorously as they felt their skin heating up by the second. (Name) attempted to bolt out the way but suddenly felt their left leg get trapped by something, looking down their mouth dropped seeing as they were caught in a bear trap specifically used for hunting boars.

"NONONO SYSTEM!!" (Name) desperately shouted while the phoenix slowly got closer and closer to (Name) making them feel hopeless at the current situation.

**Ting!

''Given conditions have been met, automatically unleashing burst,,

An AI voice rang throughout (Name)'s ears making them hiss and groan in pain, their dendro vision that was covered through their clothes fabric shined brighter than ever making Diluc himself stunned by its glowing aura, one that he had never seen before.

"My grace?"

Just before the blazing pheonix could reach (Name), long ropes made out of strong roots emerged from the landscape and formed a protective shield around them, blocking (Name) from the incoming attack and further damage.

Before Diluc could get back to his senses and spam his burst, even more roots resurfaced and wrapped around Dilucs arms and legs tightly making him groan and drop his claymore to the ground making a loud 'clang!'

(Name) stared at the situation dumbfounded by its power, they shakily looked over to their vision that was now flickering and barely remaining it's iconic glow

"Holy shit I'm op"

They huffed in amazement, slightly terrified yet proud of their new found power even beginning to get sidetracked of their current messy situation.

Diluc stared at (Name) who had sparkles inside their eyes as they were practicing on doing it again but unfortunately failed miserably,

Without even Diluc knowing, his gaze softened at the sight of the joyful individual. It was like watching his own fantasies he had made as a child play out in front of him like a show he yearned his whole life, a dream where he would watch his grace enjoy their life to the fullest with him always being by their side.

But just now, a small blaze ignited deep inside his heart. It wasn't hatred connected to them, but hope. Hope that there was a possibility that the person standing across from him with roots and veins protectively around their body... Was his grace?

Without a moment of hesitation Diluc easily ripped apart the veins that were holding him back and landed on the ground swiftly making (Name) shriek at the sight of the red head slowly making his way towards them.

He stopped when he was only a small distance away then crouched, he kneeled at (Name)'s presence with a soft expression evident on his face though inside he was holding himself back for a rush of excitement and adrenaline coursed through his veins.

"Welcome back my gra-"

[Fixing complete, automatically teleporting you to the nearest statue of the seven..]

(Name) stared at the screen in absolute horror making Dilucs expression shift to one of confusion. He was about to say something till he also made a look of horror since (Name)'s body started to slowly fade away

Terror and anxiety replaced whatever diluc felt at that very moment, were they going to dissapere once again? You can't. He won't ever allow it

"YOUR GRACE!!"

Diluc charged forward, the tip of his fingers about to reach (Name) but they were already gone before he knew it. Diluc dropped to the floor with beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, (Name) had just been teleported away by the system and diluc had to go find them again before the others get to (Name) first.

But the system had surely made a mistake. Because surely they purposely didn't teleport (Name) to INAZUMA where they saw death themselves right?

"Maybe if I pretend I didn't see them then they won't see me.."

And what's with the person that looked like them sitting on top of a statue looking all high and mighty? That's way too dangerous.

...

"I'm so fucked"

[yuesya]

There is a terrible silence that settles, following the Master’s declaration.

You shall faithfully obey your Lord and devotedly serve the Master of your soul, Decarabian!

The words almost seem to echo, among the restless winds that gradually pick up around them. Irritable and wild, sharp and stinging. There is a heavy pressure that coalesces and builds, a string pulled taut. The invisible tension that saturates the air before a storm breaks.

The young god –Decarabian– looks towards the Master expressionlessly.

A wide smile splits across the Master’s face, all teeth. “You’ve caused me quite enough trouble, little one. Now, kneel before me.”

There is authority imbued into that order, and the bird finds its knees slamming into the muddy ground even though the command is not directed towards it. A pained gasp escapes from its throat, not entirely of its own volition.

Its hands sink deep into the mud. The earth beneath its talons is a dark scarlet. Blood.

No no no no–

The Master revels in death and destruction. War forges strength, suffering tempers resilience; all dreams shall be achieved at the end of the road, when I ascend the Archon throne. The widespread ruin that’s wrought in the Master’s wake, according to the Master’s whims and desires… is something that already haunts the bird’s every waking moment, and every dream. An endless nightmare.

But if there is another god that becomes one of the Master’s thralls, one whose aspect is aligned with battle, then–!

Decarabian, kneel.

The Master’s irritation is compounded by impatience; it lances down through the bird’s spine, needle-sharp despite not being the target of the Master’s ire.

And yet–

Decarabian, the one that the command is targeted towards…

Does.

Not.

Kneel.

Instead, the white-haired god raises her blade, and proceeds to drive it through the Master’s chest.

There is a terrible scream. The Master is screaming. Black ichor splatters from the wound, and it burns upon the bird’s skin. Paralyzed and unable to move, there is nothing that the bird can do but tremble beneath the Master’s rage.

“How?!” The Master demands, furious and disbelieving in turn. Then, a choked-off cry of pain; the other god has twisted her blade, driving it deeper into the Master’s body.

“A spell of obedience, is it?” The adolescent god remarks, “How dull. It wouldn’t have made a difference even if it took properly; you’re far too weak to force me to submit to you. And…”

She yanks her blade out. The Master staggers, and crumples to the ground.

“Get up. I’m not done with you.” For the first time, there is emotion in the other god’s voice. A frigid, glacial anger. “How dare you attempt to taint the name of Decarabian like this.”

The Master spits out a mouthful of black blood, then throws back her head and laughs.

“Ah, I see it now… you’re not ‘Decarabian.’ To think that I would be fooled by a trick as simple as this…” the Master shakes her head, slowly rising to her feet. “I confess, I’ve underestimated you, youngling. But you… are underestimating me as well. I may not be a martially-inclined god, but I am a god nonetheless.”

The Master presses a hand to the gaping hole in their chest, adeptal energies coalescing to heal the grievous injury–

Nothing happens.

Black ichor continues to drip down from between the Master’s fingers.

“… What is this?” the Master hisses. “What is the meaning of this?”

The Master’s rage is a near-physical thing, and the bird is suffocated beneath the crushing weight that slams into it out of nowhere. But through that all-consuming anger, there is also a hint of fear.

The other god tilts her head. “Did you really think that I would let you walk away from this?”

“So that’s how it is…” A faint chuckle. Then, a laugh. With a jolt of terror, the bird realizes that there’s a note of madness to the Master’s voice, which cannot mean anything good. It’s– “But don’t think that you’ll be walking away from this, either. I shall teach you of the wrath of a dying god!”

The last words end in a shout, accompanied by the swell of divine power –more than the bird has ever seen the Master bring to bear before, and the force of the gathering energies is enough to burn the air and shake the ground underfoot.

Crazed laughter, accompanying an eruption of divine power–

The world tilts, sky becoming earth and earth becoming sea, and the surrounding waters rise up to eclipse the sun–

Silence. Blessed darkness.

…

…

…

… Am I… finally dead?

“Not yet.”

The bird’s eyes snap open.

Darkness. All around it, everything is pitch-dark. There is nothing that can be seen, as if the bird is floating in the very essence of the darkness itself–

“Pay attention,” the voice in front of him says. A girl. No, not a girl. White hair and blue eyes, divinity enfolded into a human form; this is Dec– … the god that the Master had been fighting. “And watch your step. It’s still dangerous here.”

What…?

A pale hand reaches out, pristine fingers closing over the bird’s own muddy, bloodstained ones with no trace of hesitation. It’s such an inexplicable, oddly gentle motion, and the bird experiences a brief moment of mind-numbing panic, completely at a loss as for how to respond to this.

What’s going on?

“Your god killed herself,” the white-haired girl tells the bird, tugging it along… somewhere. Woodenly, the bird moves to follow. Each step is accompanied by a new jolt of pain from its injuries, “I’m containing the Mistress of Dreams’ mess in my barrier so I can take care of it properly. Right now, we’re in… the rift between dreams and reality, I suppose. I’m taking you outside with the other survivors.”

“… You won’t kill me?”

“No. I can’t,” the god shakes her head. “Not right now, at least. It’s one of the conditions for raising a barrier like this, with precisely zero preparations beforehand and such a large range.”

The bird blinks, faintly confused. But it understands that the god does not intend to kill it, despite having fought its Master –resulting in the master’s death. As the victor, then, that… means she’s the new Master, right?

So then, “What are your orders, Master?”

“… I’m not your Master,” the Master –not Master?– tells the bird, much to its mounting confusion. “And I don’t have orders. Just go.”

“T-That’s–”

“You can wake up now.”

The bird’s eyes snap open.

… Sunlight. Bright, and blinding. There is warm sunlight shining down upon its skin, accompanied by a cool breeze. And around it, there is the soft, unmistakable murmur of startled human voices… and the bird realizes that the shores are filled with humans. 

Humans who all look confused and disoriented. Varying degrees of fearful, as well. There are also those who are openly weeping, kneeling down and bowing in the direction of–

A solid wall of darkness.

The bird’s head cranes back; up and up and up.

There is a dark dome, rising high up from the ground and stretching into the sky. It covers… quite a significant portion of the Master’s… the former Master’s territory. Is this… the ‘barrier’ that the white-haired god had mentioned? The barrier within which the catastrophic aftereffects of a god’s death were contained? … And the god had… evacuated everyone within it as well…?

…

“Well, well,” a lighthearted voice suddenly sounds jovially behind the bird. “Isn’t this an interesting –oh, no need to look so startled, little bird.”

Long blue hair tied up in a high ponytail, tanned skin the color of sand submerged beneath the waves. This is a god who’s grinning at it, who–

“Your mistress is dead, and yet you, the most powerful of her thralls live… how curious,” the man smiles sharply. Then, in a commanding voice that brooks no argument, “Tell me what happened inside there. Osial, the Lord of the Vortex, demands it.”

[lomloomis]

╰┈➤ M/n is inspired by Kaworu Nagisa from "Neon genesis evangelon". [not much really] 【tws | Death】 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The newest creation of Morax. Created to fight next to the other Adepti's, he was nothing more than a creature made for killing and slaughter. M/N must have fulfilled Morax's orders as fast as he could. And protect his land from the demons.

Before he met Xiao he was an emotionless monster full of bloodlust. "From now on we have a contract." Morax said looking straight at you. "If you proceed to broke it, i won't hesitate to kill you." You shook your head in agreement, your empty vision glew in the night as you stood under the moonlight.

"You shall poses the vision of war." The Archon spoke with an serious face, his words echoed in now your domain. "I shall fulfill your wish." You ended the conversation and looked at all the other Adeptis staring at you.

And that's how you met Xiao. His strong attitude made you feel something that you shouldn't especially not for someone like… Him. You were one of the Adepti's created to fight against the demons of the land, not to create a romance novel with a first met guy.

Even though you tried convincing yourself that it's not love… You always came back to him everynight. While he fough non-stop you always stick next to his back protecting him.

You didn't take the war to seriously since you were meant to slaughter these who dear to cross a blade with Morax. The time where you confessed to Xiao while fighting

"Xiao, may i tell you something?" You looked at his with your sparkly eyes. He only groaned in agreement fighting "I always though that i was meant to live fighting for Morax, you know. But when i met you… I finally realized that it wasn't it. I know this isn't the best circumstances. But i'm afraid that is the only moment when i'm brave enough to confess that… That i am in love with you, Xiao. I was born to meet you." You looked at his with a serious face.

He made a disgusting face "Yaksha's can't feel love, especially not for someone like you." Xiao turned back and keptfighting as you stand there. Flabbergasted at his words, was it how sadness felt? Eating you alive, as your heart pounded harder and harder.

"I understand." You picked up your weapon and headed as far as you can… Long away from Xiao. You were so dumb thinking that both of you could actually work out? You fighted for Eons keeping your feelings deep down inside you. And this is all you get.

That wasn't the life he wanted. He wanted to keep fighting? You didn't knew, but the feeling of your insides being torn apart were unbearable. Your feelings didn't matter to you anymore and you didn't want to proceed caring about them

But so did you know, that he was scared of accepting his own… He couldn't feel any kind of affection towards anyone besides Morax, but when it came to you his hands sweat and he began to stutter. Did all the time together was spend to waste?

He had the gut feeling, that something is going to happen. Xiao's light suddenly lighten up in a shock as a pierce was flying to him in a inhuman speed.

You coughed the blood as you were covering Xiao with yourself. The pierce was send through your chest. "M/n?!" He shouted as you leaned on to him. Was it how it was supposed to end? Even tho he dumped you like a piece of trash… You sacrificed himself for his own good.

"Xi…Ao, I'm sorry… This isn't the love you wanted-" You sobbed out due to the pain… Your mind became blank as you said those words. Xiao started silently calling your name… "I'm the one who should apologize you idiot! I love you.." You chuckled at his words, your hands became cold as he hold you close to him. The moon shone on you as you said your last words.

"I guess i was… born to meet you then… Don't..worry we'll meet again in another life…" You grabbed him by his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss. The one that was the first for both of you… And at the same time the last. His glassy eyes looked at your body as he noticed that your vision turned blank... The vision turned cryo? Xiao hugged you for the last time... "Cryo... A vision of love." From back then, Xiao went every night to your grave. Which he made all by himself… "I miss fighting by your side." He whispered and he hold the Qingxing's close to his chest.

"If only i could change the past."

[yumenotambourin]

I will now try to type all the lyrics of the British Elfilis Song by memory

GAZE UPON THE ANGELD MIGHT

AS WINGSOF DEATH UNFURL IN FLIGHT

THE GOD OF WAR THE SPOIL OF LIFE

FROM DECADES UNDER STRIFE

A NEW DREAMLAND FOR ME TO REND ASUNDER

FEEL THE MIGHTY ROAR OF TBE CONQUEROR'S THUNDER

AS THE SKY CRACKS OPEN AND WIDE YOU'LL KNOW YOUR SMOLNESS

INSIGNIFICANT AMONG ඞ NEW WORLDS

YOURE THE HEART AND IM THE FIST

WE CANNOT COHEXIST

IN A UNIVERSE WHERE THE STRONG EAT THE WEAK

'NEATH THE FLAG OF CONQUEST

COMPASSION MAKES A RULER MEEK

WORLDS BEND BEFORE MY BLADE

WATCH THEIR PEOPLE FADE

THEYRE BUT FUEL FOR THE FLAMES OF WAR

THEY CANT STEEP(?) MY REVENGE I'LL ALWAYS CRAVE MORE

IN MY CAPTOR'S FORGOTTEN LAND

ALL LIFE SHALL TURN BACK TO ITS PRIMAL STATE

ANIMALS THAT BOW TO THEIR GOD

SERVITUDE tO THAT WHICH COULD CONQUER THE STAR

TO THE AXIOM!!!

HERE YOU STAND

AS THE FORCES OF (SOMETHING) BEYOND YOU

CASTS YOUR LAND OF DREAMING

INTO THE COSMIC DARK

MAN AND BEAST ARE ALL ONE

UNDERNEATH MY ULTIMATE THUMB

WITNESS THE DEATH OF HOPE'S FINAL SPARK

[Now Welcome to Elfilis ASMR]

IM THE STORM THAT APPROACHES

YoURE BUT ANTS TO MY BLADE

YOU RESIST LIKE ROACHES

BUT LIKE EVERYTHING YOULL FADE

AS THE DRUMS OF WAR BEAT

AS YOUAY DOWN BLEEDIMG

I SHALL FINALLY (REPEAT??? IDK STOP BEING BRITISH)

RETRIBUTION FOR YOUR MEDLEY

THERE'LL NEVER BE ROOM

FoR THOSE WHO STAY STRONG

SO YOULL MEET YOUR DOOM

TO THE STARS ERELONG

LAY DOWN ILL GRANT YOU

DEATJ SO SWEET AND PAINLESS

DO NOT SEE THIS WAR THOUGHT

GIVE AN ACQUIANCE

KNEEL BEFORE ME AS HEAVEN STANDS

A SIGN OF YOUR INEXORABLE END

SIMPLE BEINGS LIKE YOU CANT COMPREHEND

MY CRUSADE OF BLOOD

RuN AWAAAAAAY

BUT YOU CAN NEVER ESCAPE THE SPEAR OF FATE

TWO BEINGS COLLIDE ABSORB ASSIMILATE

YOUR FATE IS MARKED IN BLOOD SO BEHOLD MY RESPLENDANCE

AS I CAST TO NIGHT THIS NEW WORLD

OOOOOOOOOOO

OOOOOOO

OWALDTJJWDLTJWDLRI

STILL YOU FIGHT ON

STILL YOU REBEL

THIS WORLD IS GOOONE

WHY THEN DO YOU CLING TO THIS HEEEEEELL

[Welcome back to Elfilis ASMR: the squeaquel]

SO BE IT SO BE IT SO ˢᴼ ᴮᴱ ᴵᵀ

LET THEM DIG YOUR GRAVE

IN A

🇬🇧FORGOTTEN LAHND🇬🇧

WHERE

NONE SHALL REMEMBER YOU

NONE SHALL REMEMBER YOU

NONE SHALL REMEMBER YOU

NONE SHALL REMEMBER YOU

[I love their british echoes]

THIRTY YEARS AND HERE WE ARE

BLOOD AND TEARS AND HERE WE ARE

WORDS THAT GRATE INTO THE RECESSES OF MIND

NOW HERE WE ARE TO EXTERMINATE YOU KIIIIIIND

STOLE MY NAME AND POWER LOCKED ME IN THE TOWER [ok Rapunzel]

LEFT ME TO ROT IN A PRISON OF THOUGHT

READY TO BRIMG ABOUT THE FINAL HOUR

[Here we go!]

RUN RUN CHILD

WHAT COME WHAT MAY

[Everyone cheers]

TWO PLANETS COLLIDE

ON YOUR FINAL DAAAAAY

TORN APART BY GRAVITYS HAND

ASHES SCATTER ACROSS

🇬🇧FORGOTTEN LAHND🇬🇧

TAKE YOUR FINAL BREATH

GAZE UPON

THE RECKONING OF THE FREEE WILL OF THE MULTIVERSE

THE CHAINS OF GOD

FALL AND FREE ME OF MY CURSE

OF TJE TORMENT MAN

DARED TO IMPOSE ON MY REFULGENCE

I SHALL SUBJUGATE YOUR NEW WORLD

ALL RETURNS TO MATTER I SHATTER THE SkY

LOOK ME IN THE EYES

AS TWO PLANETS APPROACH THE LIMIT OF DESTRUCTION WORLDS OLD AND NEW IN FIRE SHALL DIE

[elfilisfuckingdies.mp4]

MY CONQUEST WONT BE DETERR3ED BY YOU

THE GOD OF WAR WILL HAVE THEIR LONG DUUEEEEE

[du-dududududu du-dududududu du-dududududu du-dududududu]

STILL YOU FIGHT YOY YEARN FOR HOME

EVEN WHEN YOURE ALL ALONE

IF YOU WANT YOUR HOME SO BADLY THEN

VERY WELL!

ILL CONDEMN YOU

AND YOUR LAND OF DREAMS TO HELL

SOAR THE SKY IN FIRE

SALT THE EARTH RETIRE

YOUR RESTSTENCE COSTS YOU THE WORLD UOU HOLD DEAR

SEE WHAT COMES FROM DEFYING MY SPEAR

RUN RUN CHILD

YOU CANT RUN LONG

[Everyone cheers]

THE PLANETS' DESTRUCTION

IS YOUR FINAL SOOOONG

WITNESS WHAT COMES OF YOUR LAST STAND

BURY YOUR NEW HOPE IN TJIS FORGOTTEN LAND

TAKE YOUR FINAL BREATH

GAZE UPON

THE LIGHT OF THE DEATHNOF THE GODLY STAR

YOUR DREAMS ARE GONE GoNE

WATCH THEM FADE FROM THIS LAND FROM.AFAR

STRUGGLE AS YOU MIGJT

WITH THE VEHICELZ OF THE FALLEN

yOU WILL PERISH TO THIS NEW WOOORLD

ALL RETURN TO MATTER I SHATTER THE SKY

LOOK ME IN THE EEEEYE

AS TWO PLANETS APPROACH THE LIMIT OF DESTRUCTION

WORLDS OLD AND NEW IN FIRE SHALL DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

[elfilisfuckingdiesagain.mp4]

✨️My spirit never shall lose its way, for chaos rises another day✨️

[inthecourtofthecrimsonmage]

Perhaps it was time. After an adventure quite literally out of this world, it was only time I returned home, properly this time. As if I could call this wretched icehole home. They kicked me out once and that was enough... I can't believe I believed their lies. "Eorzea Tour", they told me. Nay, it was just to get rid of me. No amount of goodwill the Fortemps gave me or the glory of ending their stupid war will make me feel at home again. But return to my coop I must. At least, that's what I rationalized this drive to be.

These streets have never been the same since the Calamity. Dark, dreary, and cold. A perfect setting for my epic prose... but they didn't deserve my writing. Perhaps they could have funded a proper rebuilding of the Firmament without the help of adventurers if they let me promote my works properly. But, it's long past that now. It's better to let sleeping dogs lie, after all. While walking through the streets of the place I once called home, I stumbled upon a strange scene...

Heh. Another victim of the Temple Knights. While Ser Aymeric might now be in charge, he couldn't possibly hope to root out all the corruption within the Knights in a lifetime, or more. Ishgard, for all its holiness and glory, is no stranger to the darkness that befalls such a lofty position. While the hunt for heretics may be over, those who challenge the ideals of Ishgard are not well received. Perhaps it was a blessing I was exiled instead of labeled a heretic then, for my poetry has been given new life through the grand adventures I've had. Not so for this poor sop.

...?! A laugh echoes through my mind, one all too familiar. "...So you've finally opened your eyes. I always knew I could believe in you." Just as I was left pondering the meaning of such words, the presumably dead and disgraced knight called me back to reality. His name was Fray, and he offered me an opportunity, one I would be none the gladder to agree. For someone with a disturbed mind such as myself, it seemed only natural to walk the path of righteous fury and darkness, and here I was being given both lock and key. I took the soul crystal in one hand and the sword in another.

And thus I picked up the blade under the title of a Dark Knight. So much for the waifish twig that was too weak to take up the lance then, hm?!

[blazerwyvernmaster]

Rating FE4 Maps P2

Girl of The Spirit Forest

YAY, I'm talking about FE4 again!

BTW, if yall just want to rate maps from other games too,

I've played through FE4,FE5,FE7,FE8,Echoes,Three Houses, and I'm playing Engage.

Though it may warrant a new series. ANYWAY!

Story

Unfortunately, in the last chapter, our princess was in another castle. Gandolf took her to Verdane. So that's where our next stop happens to be.

It's probably good to mention that pretty much all the battles in this game are full on wars. And I love it.

Anyway, Eldigan takes a visit to be cool and says he'll protect you from any possible invaders, as that's what buds do. Later on, he will uses his actual fucking demon blade on a regular ass man. And doesn't kill him. God he's cool. It would be a shame if I had to Insert spoiler here.

After that, we learn that Edain is OK! The youngest prince of Verdane, Jamke, saved her behind the back of his two, more evil brothers. And also freed an actual thief. Be tells them to run away, but can't go with them because he has to deal with his father.

In the meantime, you learn about Ayra. She's working for one of the princes of Verdane in order to protect Shannan, her nephew, who is a child. She doesn't seem evil. I wonder what would if you lured her away from the castle and killed that stupid dickbag prince?

Oh, she joins! Which is weird because your kingdom and hers are at war?? But it's fine. I'm sure deciding to have the prince of a warring country in your custody will lead to no problems whatsoever.

Then you kill Gandalf. Fun times.

Manfroy and Sandima talk about the backstory of the Loptyr Cult over the kings dead body. They also talk about finding a lady with the best holy blood.

Edain talks Jamke out of murdering you! Yay! And then Sigurd makes some unwise decisions regarding a mysterious forest lady named Deirdre.

That will not come back to bite him. I'm positive.

Aaaand THATS BASICALLY IT!

Never expect me to make a good story synopsis.

I like the story of this chapter. It gets a lot more interesting since you can already see how things have already started to unfold and change for future events.

Gameplay

While I did wish the game once again explained how castles worked,it's really not hard.

I like how you can figure out how to stack the weapon triangle, terrain, and authority stars with the first few enemies.

I also love the Dew pitfall. It gets Dew some levels... but thieves aren't very useful in this game, so it doesn't matter. It does by Edain some time to escape.

Ayra's recruitment is very stressful and difficult. Not to say that it's a bad thing, but thr safest solution I had was just having Finn hide in the forest and pray she didn't reach him.

The worst part of this chapter is near the end. I know the game wants you to get Deirdre by having Sigurd more through the forest, but there was definitely a way to do it without forcing your entire army to slow down to a crawl. And you have to deal with Jamke too! For me, that meant killing some of his squad, then retreating and praying Edain didn't die while I tried to talk to him. The recruitment on this chapter can be downright frustrating at times.

Also, I like the Lex brave axe secret. It's funny and incredibly random, and it makes him become a god. It's the reason I promote him first.

Eldigan showing up to beat up Elliot with his actual fucking demon blade was cool as hell. And if you're good, you can probably use this opportunity to train Arden, who you definitely parked at the castle at this point.

Anyway, with that all said and done, I think this chapter deserves

7/10

Don't ask what the rating system is based on. Idk either.

[neilioff]

My Story

1 - Introduction

Hello!

My name is Emilien. I've reached the milestone of twenty years, yet one question lingers: Have I lived the life I dreamed of? The answer, unspoken yet clear, echoes within me: no.

No, I have not lived a life of dreams. Quite the opposite—I never asked for any of this. And yet, life was thrust upon me, religion was placed on my shoulders, I was made to suffer, and bit by bit, I was torn apart.

I was denied a choice. Only at eighteen did I find one—the choice to leave, to venture far, far away from home. I believed I could flee my troubles, but in truth, I carried my insecurities with me, shadows cast by others.

Today, I wrestle with my shyness. I seek out social encounters, striving to better myself with each one. I wage a silent war against the pessimism that gnaws at my soul, and the hatred that casts its gloom over all.

In short, today I aspire to be more, and I pour all my strength into that pursuit.

I will be rich in knowledge, rich in relationships, rich in wealth. I will find happiness, just as I strive to grasp it now.

"Remember to be someone you like <3"

2 - My Origin

I come from an island — the Reunion Island. It is a French island, which makes me French. I’ve only traveled once in my life—to Mayotte, when I was just five years old. Beyond that? Nothing. No journeys, save for when I left for France at eighteen.

Yet, I love my island. It is beautiful, gentle, and breathtaking.

It wears so many faces upon the same body. It is a treasure.

Ahah, it is very small and lost.

3 - My Past

How did we end up here?

With a boy who lacks confidence? Who appears pitiful?

A boy who commands neither respect nor attention, despite his kindness, despite his pursuit of perfection? A boy who is not even a man?

As you may have guessed, the one I speak of here is myself.

The answer of all of this? My past. The reason to blame.

We are defined by our past, by our stories.

It is our history that shapes our current view of the world, and this, in turn, influences our thoughts, actions and the impact we have on our own lives and on the lives of others. We are also shaped by our environment, by the people around us, and by the places we inhabit.

And where do I stand in all this?

I was just a child in a wretched environment.

I had a violent father who tried to kill his wife.

My mother stood on the edge of suicide, but her children were reason enough to keep living, to keep fighting.

That same child had his innocence stolen by his father.

After years of getting his visitation rights taken away by the courts, this assh*le still pisses me off today.

Wtf is that ? That's fcking creepy.

When I was till young and saw him I cried non-stop out of fear, dread, sadness and the worst: out of love. If I meet him again, pray for me so that I don't kill him with my own hands. A blade in his throat so that this mthrfcker can slowly die.

"I will never become like you." - "I hate you." - "Die."

And as if that weren't enough, blinded by love, my mother took another man—a stepfather. He seemed different at first, until the day he revealed himself as a narcissistic manipulator. He grew weary of his work, cheated on my mother, and blamed everyone else for his actions, lashing out violently at everyone except his daughters, who were treated as princesses. While my brother and I? We were nothing more than slaves, good for nothing, mere mistakes.

All I ever wanted was a father.

But I never called him Dad.

In truth, I never had one.

So, I grew up under the constant blame of a foolish man, drunk on alcohol and adorned with human stupidity.

My self-confidence was shattered.

My memories? I long to forget them.

My view of the world? Bleak.

Do you know the worst things he ever said to me?

"You're just like your father."

"You're going to get your mother killed."

I was a fckng child.

And this assh*le tells me I'm just like my father.

Just Go Fcking Die.

4 - Today & Futur

Yet, despite all of this, I have learned much over these past two years.

We must not let our past dictate who we are, for it is not our past that should define us. On the contrary, we must define ourselves by what we aspire to become.

We should be shaped by our vision of the future, by our ideals, by our will.

In doing so, we condition ourselves for success. We alter our perception of life and of ourselves, thus transforming our thoughts and actions. This, in turn, changes the impact we have on our lives and the world around us. It changes our lives, quite simply.

As Jim Rohn so aptly puts it:

‘Our level of success will rarely exceed our level of personal development, because success is something we attract by the person we become.’ - Jim Rohn

Today, I therefore strive to change. To become better, no matter the cost. I swear it to myself. I want to be strong. I want to be rich. I want to be intelligent. I want to create a world of my own.

The world owes us nothing.

It is up to us to give the best of ourselves, so that in return, we may receive wealth and abundance.

Wanderer above the sea of fog (1817) by Caspar David Friedrich

"Le voyageur contemplant une mer de nuages" in french.

5 - My Dream

It is about saving children from dreadful fates they did not choose. To help them with the wealth I will have amassed from my successful enterprises/companies.

Nicholas Winton and the Rescue of Children from Czechoslovakia, 1938–1939

Nicholas Winton organized a rescue operation that brought hundreds of children, mostly Jewish, from Czechoslovakia to safety in Great Britain before the outbreak of WWII.

Thanks

to my dear mother who raised me and still supports me today, to the philosophers whose life's work enlightened me during my darkest moments.

[nahirdinboon]

Pomp and Circumstance, Part 1

One year before Ser Lex's Witchlight adventure...

“Squire Ollex, please step forward.”

Oh good gods, this is it. Lex nodded to Herald Lambelin and stepped forward, nervously tugging on his gauntlets as he approached the raised dais in this meeting chamber. He glanced to his left and right at the assembled members of his knightly order, all standing in orderly rows to witness this momentous ceremony. His gaze moved over the collection of knights of varying ranks, trying to avoid meeting their eyes while seeking out one in particular.

At last, he found where the other squires were at parade rest and saw the one he was looking for. Lex smiled at the comforting presence of the earth genasi, those sapphire eyes gazing back at him, a warm smile spreading across that chiseled marble-like face that made him smile in return. Though it wasn’t the same as both of them making this walk together, at least he would still be able to share this moment with Ghibrail in some form.

Lex stopped at the steps of the dais, his eyes moving away from his rock and to his mentor. Lady Cynlanil Dawnstrider, Matriarch of the Knights of the Radiant Shield and one of many heroes who fought beside his moms in the Great Undead War, stood before him in her white and gold ceremonial powered armor. A ghost of a smile crossed her face as she looked over his choice in ceremonial vestments, a white linen tabard with a gold circle in the middle, paired with a red cloak. An unmistakable homage to her own attire. The elven artificer-paladin nodded to him, and then it was showtime.

Lex knelt before Lady Cyn, the room quiet as he took a knee, his hands sweaty in his gauntlets as Lady Cyn led him through the words of his oath. It took him a moment to find his voice, but with each word, found confidence and resolve that echoed throughout the hall. “In the name of the Knights of the Radiant Shield, I swear my loyalty to you, Lady Cynlanil Dawnstrider, Matriarch of our Order. As the moon rules the tide, as the rain refreshes the grass, as the sun imparts life to all, so your will becomes my desire. As you command, I will obey. As you request, I will comply. May my service always please you, and may my eyes lose their sight if I invoke your wrath. My heart, my mind, and my axe are yours from now until my final day.”

Lady Cyn nodded and said to him, but in a voice that carried across the chamber, “Do you swear to be the shield of this world, to protect the people who call this material plane home from the dangers that lurk outside its borders?”

Lex nodded and recited the second part of the oath. “Yes, my lady. No matter how long the road, how dark the night, or how dangerous the peril, I shall be their shield until all roads come to an end or the need is over. I shall protect the people who call this material plane home, else may the road cease to lie beneath my feet.”

“Then by the power vested in me by Helm, god of protection, and witnessed by those assembled here this day,” Lady Cyn intoned, drawing her sword Dawnblade and igniting the divine blade to light up the room, “I hereby dub thee Ser Ollex Nahirdinboon, first of his name, son of Drexa Nahir and Thuldia Moordinboon, and knight of the Radiant Shield.” She tapped his shoulder lightly – heh, lightly with a blade of light – then sheathed it as she finished with the words, “Rise and be recognized.”

As Lex stood, the chamber exploded in a cacophony of cheering, clapping, and stomping, causing his already pink-skinned face to turn a brighter shade of red from all the attention. The next few steps were a daze of being handed his letter of knighthood and the shield that every new knight receives on being formally brought into the order, followed by a cavalcade of congratulations from all the knights who had gathered for the ceremony…

[venusphacelia]

Tag Dump

[ariicandy]

“..One string broken by a close family, replaced by another friendly figure..”

…………..: ♡ :……………

.

.

.

.

SPOILERS ON We Will Be Reunited Quest AND A BIT OF SUMERU’S STORY QUEST

This is Lumine as the traveler btw

.

.

♡

.

.

Swords hitting one another fighting, defending oneself, fighting an Abyss Herald as of self defense. As it tried to escape by making a “portal” Dainsleif used his elemental power catching them before it enter, but a mysterious sword suddenly came out of nowhere and was ready to attack Dainsleif but lucky he was able to dodge it in time. The traveler’s eyes widened on who drew the blade…

It was her brother..

.

“C-could it be..!?” Paimon spoke stunned. “Aether!” Lumine yelled out loud that the walls echoed from her brother’s name, “I’ve finally found you!” “Wait your brother and the abyss..” paimon looked at you a bit sad. “Lumine, why are you with Dain?” Aether spoke looking at you irritated. You and paimon looked at each other in shocked from that question your brother asked, Lumine asked herself why does it matter if we’ve been separated for so long and he chose to asked you this.

“Aether..We meet again.” Dainsleif spoke. “WHAT!!” Paimon shouted “You and the traveler’s sibling have been!?!?” Lumine looked at Dainsleif and back to her brother, her own brother with the abyss? “Lumine..until my plans to engulfed the thrones, my war with destiny will see no end.”

…

Confused…Lumine was so confused on what their brother was saying..a war? She was scared and trembling with thoughts on what he was doing. “Once you have reach the ends of your journey just as I did, you too will see the true nature of this world.” The abyss herald was now making a portal for them to back to the abyss, “Though we need not rush, brother. I have more than enough time to wait for you. If you do try to process to stop the abyss,” Aether turn and stopped to finish. “then I will no longer see you as my dear sisters as before all those years ago.”

Lumine heart ached from that sudden thought her own brother thought? Him seeing their own sibling, his own sister as a family member? Lumine started walking towards Aether trying to check up to him to stop making him saying those stuff. “We had always… had enough time.” Dainsleif caught up with him while you didn’t make it…

.

.

That’s where it all went downhill, all Lumine could think about for the rest of their days thinking about what he said,”then I will no longer see you as my dear sisters as before all those years ago.” Kept rewinding everyday and every night, every dream turning into a nightmare, every thought now just repeating the same over and over again. Could someone save them from their misery and sadness from their very own sibling? Yes..Lumine found someone to reattach the string what was once broken and so torn apart now being band new, being reattached as a new string replaces that sad old tragic string, memory, of that incident into a new sibling figure. That person was you..

You are the person Lumine finds as a sibling, the one who saves her from all their trouble, the endless thoughts, nightmares, and memories she keeps thinking about..was just by meeting you made that loneliness go away.

SUMERU QUEST SPOILERS

“Hahaha! Well, well. We meet again, traveler!” Paimon screamed,” Ah! The Abyss Herald! What are you plotting to do in this strange place?” Lumine getting in position for an attack. “Strange place? Hehehe… You needn’t worry about such things, they don’t concern you!” As the abyss herald responded to paimon it got ready to attack. As Lumine hit its shield, she didn’t make any damage to it. Huh? Wh—Why can’t we beat this guy…? Paimon doesn’t get it. We’ve faced others like him before, what’s wrong this time?” Paimon said in confusion. “Traveler, through you may have managed to avert countless crises before, your good fortune was bound to end sooner or later. It’s time you realize how weak and powerless you really are!” Lumine called out, “My journey will not end here! I still must find my brother!!” “Your brother? Meahahaha! Oh, how pityful traveler, are you really so ignorant? Or are you just living in complete denial?” “His highness has long since forsaken you. Your meager existence in his highness eye’s is that of an annoying bug only to be stepped upon! The bonds of love and family which drive you to find your sibling are utterly gone! Your journey is meaningless!” Those words from what the Abyss Herald said dropped Lumines heart, did he really find her not a family no more? “If my brother seeks not to see me as their sibling, then I will also not want to see him as my brother. As I have found someone else as a sibling who cares about me, who treats me good, helps me with my problems, and comforts me than leaving me behid not trying to go look for me!” Paimon said as shocked from those who came from the traveler, Lumine, paimon couldn’t put her finger who Lumine was saying who they found as a sibling. “Oh? Looks like you finally realized how he doesn’t love you no more, but don’t you fret now. Today will be your last. Now die!” As the traveler was preparing to get their sword they were greeted to be back in the cave where they found Haypasia. “What just happened? I was in a near attack by the abyss herald, how did I end up back here?” Lumine questioned in her mind.

But that doesn’t matter no more, she was already looking forward to their new sibling

.

.

.

.

And that was you.

They were looking forward to replace the string that was broken from her dear brother to you being their new sibling figure they look up to now, who they trust for you to comfort her, to care for her, and to look out for her. They want you, reader, as their new sibling as her own rejected them

[suna-reversed]

Sukuna Ryomen x reader

the VI acts of falling in love with a curse

tags/warnings- mentions of blood and violence, major character death!, reincarnation, suggestive themes but no smut, historical AU, soulmate AU

you can consider this an AU fic for “in your arms tonight”

quotes taken from Anne Carson, Natalie Wee, Nikka Ursula, Richard Siken, Madeline Miller

i. the beginning

“it’s rotten work”

“not to me. not if it’s you”

“you are a fool.” his laugh is bitter and dry.

“and you are my salvation.” you whisper.

the facade of mockery on his face fades, all that remains is the destruction, like the ruins of a town plagued with war, still burning with the impending threat of the actual doom that is to come.

“you do not know what you are asking for, it may-” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “...it will- destroy you.”

“destruction is all that I’m familiar with.”

and that is all he feels in his chest, the exploding of dynamites and landing of missiles as the wall he’s built around him comes crashing down with one simple gesture.

he cannot help but move his lips against hers.

ii. the unbecoming

“like any unloved thing, I don't know if I'm real when I'm not being touched”  

sobs rake through your body, as you cling onto the white fabric he always wears with all your life. he brings his hand up to caress your cheek but you flinch. his eyes darken with a look of maddening vexation.

he tries again- and this time, you ease into his touch. his heart clenches as you look up at him, fear in your eyes, the sight of the bruises littered across your cheek making him clench his fist. he brings his lips to the top of your head, gently mumbling,

“who did this to you?”

you say the name and he is already halfway apart from you, ready to annihilate the one who caused his petal such harm. but there’s a tugging force on his sleeve, catching his attention. all the ire in his mind fades away as you crawl over to him, wrapping your arms around his middle,

“please-” you sniff, fiddling with the cloth clenched in between your fingers,

“just hold me.”

he almost laughs at how she thought that he could ever deny her.

iii. the spring

I think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love.

“what are you doing?” your small giggle echoes late into the empty forest.

the side of his lips simply twitch up as he continues his ministrations, hands expertly wringing through your hair as he presses down kisses against the nape of your neck every now and then.

you relax back into his chest, looking over the view that the hill you sat on top provided you with. you know you have to leave before anyone finds out, but you can’t help but savour all the time you can get.

you both walk down together, his large hand encasing yours, rubbing circles onto your ring finger and you feel your face heating up. you catch your reflection in the pond and a gleeful laugh escapes you as you throws your hands around his neck. and perhaps love like this is unheard of, but it is love nonetheless.

he cannot help but feel his heart flutter as he sees her keep the flowers he braided into her hair throughout the day.

iv. the ruination

“sorry about the blood in your mouth, I wish it was mine.”

“i-i’m so sorry- i tried to stop it.” he feels a wet trail of drops falling onto his neck, but he cannot tell if they’re from your tears or from the scarlet pouring through his mouth.

how did it come to this? the mortals who ravaged him were long gone. he knew he’d make them suffer until their last breath. but oh- why was his petal there? why did you try to fight against them only once they had already half battered him to death?

his head stayed lolled against your lap, eyes burning, the stench of blood thick in the air. the sky was all shades of lilac and alliums- was the sweet scent in the air from the flower bed his hollow corpse lay on or from the daisies in the hair of his precious dove?

he never thought love and betrayal would feel the same.

v. the rebirth

“this is the way the world ends / this is the way the world ends / this is the way the world ends / not with a bang but a whimper.”

your eyes are wide, face bewildered, but you remain quite as he tugs you out from the doorway of your husband’s house and through the forest- towards the top of the hill.

the light in your eyes seems to have burned out- your energy drained from the struggle and fight you had to put up with in the last few days- or has it been months? the ghost of your lover coming to wake you in the middle of the night feels like an act of liberation.

he does not fail to notice this. and oh does he make sure you know that he’s alive in flesh and bone as you’re splayed out across the green blades, his body above yours as he makes you see stars but it’s not the ones in the night sky.

your sweat drenched foreheads are pressed together and you’re smiling against his lips but tears continue to fall down your cheeks. he pretends to not notice how you don’t wrap your arms around him when you leave or how you simply stare through him as he tells you he’ll get you out of here.

he cannot help but laugh as he finds your body floating in the river the next day, laugh as he holds you to his chest, laugh as he braids the flowers out of your hair and tucks them into the vial he wears, and laugh as he walks away from the ruins of the village aflame.

if he was destined to bring ruination, he may as well rain his wrath upon all.

vi. the end.

“I could recognise him by touch alone, by smell. I would know him blind, by the way his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”

his chest is hollow but his heart still stops as his eyes meet hers.

it is centuries apart and he barely feels the jerk of his opponent throwing him against the pavement, barely feels the knife slit through his throat. he’s laughing and he cannot stop.

fate has once again decided to play a sick joke on him. he is well aware of it as he rips off the arm of the man trying to make him bleed. is he naive enough to not know that gods don’t bleed?

she is talking to the vessel he encapsulates and it’s your face and your voice and yet, it’s a stranger altogether. there’s an unfamiliar familiarity in her eyes as he reveals himself but she doesn’t know him- so she stumbles back in surprise and he thinks this is where it ends.

but then she’s smiling, a smile as warm as the sun, and he know he’d do it all over again- he’d ruin himself a million times over for her, even in another lifetime.

Sukuna cannot help how his lips curve upwards as she tilts her head, eyes filled with curiosity and fascination as she says,

“so you’re the one yuuji’s been telling me about.”

Taglist- @bakugohoex @tsuki-kusa @laura-marie-16 @captainmads2092 @notpmaosan @madamlindsay @jotazinha @osmosly @p-each-y-day @mikiminaccch @lilshortcakess @saturnmoon @mahitochan @menaintshit23 @half-baked-biscuit

[gaiuswrites]

Original Sin | Darksaber!Din

Pairing: Dark!Din x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ older for the love of all things holy)

Word count: 3.4k~

Summary: Things change after Grogu leaves. People change. No one is exempt.

Warnings/tags: DUB CON?¿, masturbation (m and f), inappopriate use of darksaber, sex toy (...), Dark!Din, Dom!Din, sacrilegious references, really dark shit, i am so sorry

Update: This should go without saying, but as it turns out, it’s in need of being said: every word written in this fic is my own; any likeness to any other work is coincidence, regardless of how bizarre. I don’t mean to offend anyone or raise suspicion, as I am certainly not a plagiarist (literally couldn’t be even if I tried: I am equal parts too incompetent, too busy, and too lazy to steal from someone else. Fellow writers can attest, I’m an absolute garbage reader and fall behind on almost everyone’s work. There’s an embarrassing amount I haven’t read.) Please reach out to me personally if you have any concerns. I respect everyone here like you wouldn’t believe. Sending love to you all. Be well. ✨

Notes: When I go to hell (it really is only a matter of timing, and not so much a question of if anymore), this fic will rank number one on the list of reasons why I’m sent to my eternal timeout. This... I'm twisted. I have issues. God help us. Seriously, this is basically a horror show. I bow down to the Darksaber!Din content creators who came before me, and the original artwork that inspired me to write this— thank you for lighting this (descending, dirty) path. I HAVE TAGGED A FEW PEOPLE HERE WHO MAY OR MAY NOT BE INTERESTED but really— REALLY— there’s absolutely no pressure. Cheers friends x ( gif credit: @skyshipper )

Masterlist | Read it on Ao3!

The days stretch long like morning yawns—hours passing on creaky bones, slow and congealed inside the metal womb of the Crest.

It wasn’t always this way.

They used to be filled with pitter pattering— with wily antics and vanishing acts that could baffle even the most veteran of illusionists— with prying frogs from tiny, green hands and giggling as blocks and baubles floated through the hull. Laughter. There used to be laughter here.

But that was then. The child is gone now. The Razor Crest is quiet.

Time fills itself like this; there’s little for you to do now but wait. Wait for the dusk to blur into the dawn. Wait for your food to cook. Wait for the shower to warm. Wait for the parts you ordered to arrive at the port. Wait for Din to come back—to come home.

Home. You used to be so certain—you’d bite the head off anyone who questioned otherwise— but you’re not so sure this is home anymore. Its not that anything has changed. No, the galley, the carbonite pods, the cockpit, the deck—it’s all still here. The scuffed walls, the durasteel, the littered crates and packed arsenal. But—

It’s different. It feels different. Something is...

off.

You can’t quite put your finger on it. Its intangible, but it’s everywhere—like gas. Invisible to the naked eye, but encircling you all the same. Choking you.

Killing you.

There’s no good explanation for it. You feel eyes on you when there are none. You find yourself glancing over your shoulder, knowing full well you are alone. Something keeps snagging you, pulling at an unseen thread. The corners of your peripherals tugging at you. Beckoning.

Was that a shadow? No.

Is someone there? It’s just you.

There is a tickle at your ear - a constant - dancing along the shell of it. Wherever you go, it follows.

Home home home. It only feels like home when Din is there, safe and sound at your side. But even then, even Din—in all of his plated exterior��even Din has succumbed. Even Din has

changed.

The truth is, Grogu left and a part of Din left with him. There’s less of him now— more, too: there’s less where it matters, and there’s more where there shouldn’t be.

You don’t remember when it started—when he first disappeared. When the spark in him died, and he was reignited anew.

When this Other became.

On multiple occasions you’ve caught him murmuring into the bellied dark of the Crest with a bent spine, hunched over himself as if he’s shrinking—enveloping in in in as far as the beskar along his chest will allow him to cave. You can never pick up what he mutters, but you catch the sounds of his teeth and lips brushing together, hissing. It’s not Basic; you’d recognize it if it were. You don’t think its Mando’a either. It’s too sharp— too vile. There’s none of his language’s elegance in it.

“Did you say something?” You asked once, poking your head around the doorway, eyes resting on the shine of his helmet.

A beat—and slowly, he unfurled, rearing to his full height and like a sentinel he swiveled, pivoting to face you.

“No.”

Your throat bobbed. “Oh, I-I thought I heard-”

“Come here, mesh’la.”

And you did. You always do.

The darksaber appeared on his belt one day, shortly after the child went away. It came, only once, and there it stays. Indistinguishable - inseparable - there is no dismembering the two. It accompanies him in all things; when he pilots, when he hunts, when he eats. It sleeps by him.

By you, too.

Din has always been stoic—of scant words and physical timing—but now he is a golem. A silent, shrouded figure. His Creed is broken, and you wonder maybe - briefly - if Din is broken as well. He is never unkind to you. He is never threatening. But he is never him. His eyes— the oaky comfort you once found in them— have blackened. He is a pit.

Din Djarin is a pit of a man.

And within that pit he has born rage. Immaculately, it has sprung from him as woman did by Adam’s rib. Like mold growing upon stale fruit does he have this—this wrath. It crept through him. It stalked along his soft flesh— his tawny hide—and it waited; patient, there in the shadows, it waited for him. Waited for him to turn his back, to close his eyes and drop his guard— leeway, an entrance— as to slip in undetected.

To inhabit.

The virtue and love that once thrummed within the heart of him has burned away. Charred. Only this of him remains; this insatiable lust— for blood sport, for the promise of split knuckles and fractured bone, for you.

For all of you.

Now, Din goes out on bounties like he needs it—like it’s oxygen. He lives off it. He’s sustained by the rush, by the adrenaline laced chemicals pumping through his arteries. He’s gone for days and weeks on end and when he returns, he fucks you like he’s been starved. Out in the wilderness without a morsel to eat, he devours you. He’s ravenous as he tears his way across your body—all too pliant for him, all too willing—letting him feast on the nectar dripping from your heat.

You can feel it in his foot steps as he storms the ship, the bassy echo of it. You can see it in the pitch of his visor. You can feel it in his cock as he slams into you, night after night after night—ceaselessly. Tirelessly. Unnaturally. The number of orgasms he wrings out of you is countless—his need so incurable, you have to fight to stay above it all; you have to war against your urge to slip away completely.

Din is one grey choice - one hair trigger - from coming undone.

And you should be scared. You should be terrified—he should terrify you. Like scalding water, you should flinch away at the mere sight of him—at the warning steam that rises from his pauldrons. This predator, unhinged and off his leash—a great, crushing beast at which you are at the mercy of.

But— you aren’t.

You couldn’t place it at first: the gnawing. The gnawing at your insides like maggots festering upon a grizzled carcass hanging limp at a wet market. You couldn’t name the tremor in your gut. You gave it epithets as best you could, you gave it placeholders - fear, worry, intrigue - all until one day it spilled. One day it seeped past the tremble of your stomach and sank lower, lower,

lower.

It settled in your cunt—the gnawing. And you named it Want.

You want him. You want this—you’re addicted to it. This sin like led-lined velvet, you want to roll in it until it poisons you, until you’re smothered with it, just like it’s smothering you now— blanketing you as you mewl naked in your bed, knees knocked together. Your eyes roll back into your skull as you frantically work circles into your clit with the all consuming thought of him: his teeth at your shoulders, his hand around your windpipe.

You’re nearing your finish, the promise of that tight coil unraveling there - there - right before you. You’re so enrapt in it—in this dizzying, wanton act—you don’t register the ramp lowering. You don’t hear the carbonite chamber whir, his quarry freezing over, or his foot falls sounding their way to your bunk.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You gasp, frightened eyelids wrenching open as his baritone timbre crackles through the hull. The Mandalorian stands there, backlit by the glow from the galley and he looms—expressionless. Haunting. You blink at him rapidly, batting away the desire that’s glazed over your eyes.

“Y-You’re back,” you stutter lamely. You try to smile. You try to distract him. “I uhm, I didn’t hear you come in. I thought you wouldn’t be back until, u-until..."

Your excuses fade, mouth parched dry. The film of his visor gives you nothing. He is unknowable, but you feel it - sense it - that energy—unbridled and rippling off of him in sick, suffocating waves.

“I’ll ask you again,” Din starts.

“What-" he steps towards you, darksaber hanging heavy at his hip, “do you think-" you shimmy up your cot, shoulder blades digging into the steel sidings, “you’re doing?”

Your heart thunders against your chest, beating until you’re sure it’ll burst.

“I’m-"

I’m sorry you almost say, and you have to force yourself to gulp down the apology. You know he doesn’t want it, and he knows you wouldn’t mean it even if you offered it to him.

Your brow wavers. “I-"

He rips away the sheet you had drawn up over you and reflexively you jerk back, revealing the gloss on your fingers and the patch of hair above your mound, shimmering shamefully—exposing you, mocking you under the dim lights.

“What’s this?” he asks, and fuck he’s patronizing you. He’s smirking—you don’t have to see it, you can hear it in the curving lilt of his voice as he drinks in the sight of your very obvious indiscretion, laid bare before him. You can’t bring yourself to answer him—you can hardly look at him—and you bristle, hair on your arm prickling up.

“You fuck yourself speechless, little one?”

Your cunt throbs, burning and contracting around the orgasm that was snatched away from you and fuck, you’re drowning in him. Din is tar—he’s an oil slick, and you’re plummeting through it—gasping for air, for the surface, for sunlight. He’s everywhere—his broad frame, his voice, his scent like copper and smoke. You can barely breathe through the thick of him.

“Answer me,” he growls, leather croaking at the clench of his fist.

“Yes—yes,” you utter, proceeding with honesty, no matter how pathetic. “I missed you,” you squeak out.

Din cocks his head, a smug look scowled onto his visor. “You missed me?” he purrs through a sneer and you nod, precious and small, worrying the inside of your lip.

He sinks one leg and then the other onto your bedroll, just between your parted feet, kneeling before you. The flimsy spring mattress squeals under his weight—all of that armor, all of that boiling soot trapped within him.

“How much?”

For a moment, you must look confused. Puzzled. Your eyebrows furrow as Din unclips the saber from his belt, rolling it over in his hand. You rake your gaze up from it, dilated pupils landing on the unforgiving black panel there.

“You claim you missed me. Prove it.”

Your cunt bottoms out.

He crouches over you, tracing along your inner thighs with it's steel shaft and you bury your fists into the cot. You don't know which to look at: Din or the rod in his hand. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you trust me.”

Fuck, it feels like you’re going to rattle apart. There isn’t an inch of you that isn’t humming—isn’t seizing up wild. “I-I trust you,” you mouth softly. And you do, whether you should or not—you trust him with your life, to make or ruin.

“Fuck, you’re wet mesh'la,” he appraises darkly, leaning in to run a leathered digit through your seam, parting your curls. Your legs twitch, heels of your feet digging into the bed. “So ready for me. So eager."

Your eyes dance frenetically down to the handle and back up to him as he aligns the saber with your pussy. The blunt end of it touches your lips and you shudder, instinctually fidgeting away from it. Din splays his hand on your knee, anchoring you in place. “Shh,” he coos, rubbing a thumb soothingly into your skin. It doesn’t feel sweet. It feels sickly, cloying— like arsenic.

You don’t dare breathe as he prods the shaft into you, inch by terrible inch. It doesn’t matter how slicked and wet you are from touching yourself, your walls strangle the foreign intrusion. Your body resists.

“Fuck,” you sob. Your throat, your pussy, all of it— it’s all compacted. It feels so fucking tight, both words and air fighting to get out and in all at once—everything inside you constricting.

“Show me,” he grits through clenched teeth. “Show me how much you missed me.” He drags his gloved digit over your clit, pressing down onto it until you see stars, fizzing in front of your vision. “I know you can take it, sweet girl. Be good and show me.”

Be good. Be good for him. Be his only vice.

He continues to swirl at your bundle of nerves and you’re nearly thrashing with it— with all of this— hair fanned and mussed against the pillow as you writhe, swallowing his saber to the hilt. Fuck, you’re so full. Maker, you’re stuffed with it; with the cold, uneven edges, the ridges woven into the grip of it— and he slowly - tortuously - delves the handle in and out of you, hitting against your cervix with every thrust.

You can only mumble. Your lips have gone slack, your mind is cavernous. All you can do is quiver and beg— beg for release. Beg for it to end.

Beg for more.

“Oh gods, oh g- Maker, please—”

Your bleary eyes shoot open as you’re silenced by the grip of his gloved hand.

“No.” Din pinches your jaw in the web of his palm, fingertips dimpling your cheeks. “No, your God isn’t here,” he seethes, low and deadly, graphite venom dripping from his lips. “Pray to me.”

Fuck.

Trembling, your lips pucker ugly and sloppy as you babble uselessly in his stony grasp, chin crinkling with a whimper. “D-Din.”

He inhales sharply, mouth snaking into a wicked grin behind his helm. “That’s it. That’s my good girl.”

He’s deboning you as he would a fish. Practiced, he plucks you into messy pieces—gutting you through your open maw. His ministrations are crawled. They’re slothed and carnal with arrogance and pride and it’s not enough—its all together too much, but still—it’s not enough. You’re hungry. You paw at him, scraping over his breastplate.

“Din, please—more," you gasp feverishly, eyes blown wide.

A blip of static huffs through his modulator. “You want more, you filthy little thing?” He gives you another squeeze, indenting scorch marks into your face.

You nod—you try to, his grasp is too firm, rooting your neck to still. “Yes.”

Din groans, all but obliging you as he begins to fuck you harder, pistoning through you as he thumbs your nub with his rough pad.

“Din-”

You’re whining now, tinny and depraved. It’s wrong. Every part, every second of this, is wrong. Immoral. But you can’t stop the way your body convulses at his every touch—you can’t stop the heat roiling in your core.

“Din, Din baby- fuck fuck fuck-”

It’s like he’s trying to split you in two—all of you. Your pussy, your mind, your soul—he’s bisecting you. Divvying you up to bits of nothing. It’s only then that horrid realization occurs to you, winding through your addled haze as he fucks you deep and splintering: you’ll never be whole again.

And scarier still—you don’t think you want to be.

No, you want to be these loathsome shards. You want to be broken glass. You want to draw blood.

You want to be possessed by him.

“Fuck yourself,” he pants, his cock straining violently against his trousers, begging for relief. “Be good and fuck yourself. Let me watch.”

Be good be good be good

He leaves your clit and you whimper at the loss. Your face is stained with tears. The salty trails cascade down to mingle into your hair, into the sheets. You’re vibrating, but you do as he says and you reach down, recoiling when you touch the chilled metal tip. Tentatively, you pad along it, settling on the end that’s peeking out from you.

A pained sound rumbles through Din as you wrap your fist around the saber, and your eyes flit up to meet his, hidden somewhere behind his helm. Hurriedly he unbuttons his pants in a flourish and removes himself from his constraints. He’s pulsing and proud, flexing up against his stomach, the veins choked to bulge along the angry, silken shaft of him.

Finally, you begin to move the hilt—finding an aching, undulating rhythm and he can’t fucking take it. He rips his helmet off, letting it clatter to the floor.

“Din,” your pray, “Din, I think I’m going to-”

You’re wrecked – fried like a livewire– as you look for him, as you search and search—for that warmth, for a trace of him left there. The Din you knew, the Din you agreed to fly with all those months ago, the Din you love. You think you see it sometimes—in the slant of his mouth, the bridge of his nose— but here, now, he is gone.

He is a pit.

Din Djarin is a pit of a man, and you want nothing more than to fall. Standing on the ledge of him, staring down into the abyss—you want this. You want to fall. You want to jump.

“Tell me you’re mine. Tell me, sweet girl— tell me.” He’s fucking his fist raw, humping into his palm as desperate as an animal.

“I’m yours,” you mewl. Furiously rubbing your clit with one hand and spearing yourself on the rod of his saber with the other, your hips buck and spasm. You snap. A blinding light sears through you, ricocheting off every scrap of muscle and tendon sewed up in your body. “Just for you,” you cry, “I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours—”

Your ragged sobs mix with the lewd slaps of skin as Din pumps himself, hot ropes of his release spitting onto you�� painting your pussy, the divot of your navel, coating along the slope of your tummy.

“Look at you—fucking, look at you,” he moans throatily, easing through his rough strokes as he softens.

Your chest is heaving and you feel dumb, empty—like a puppet, arms and legs moving on phantom strings. Din removes the handle from you with a wet squelch; a viscous strand of your juices clings on, obscenely connecting your pussy to the base of it, and you rasp—the wind punched out of you with its gaping absence. You gush. It dribbles out the slit of you, leaking past your abused hole and soaking into the bedroll.

When he unsheathed the saber from your scabbard, he took a part of you with it. You’re so fucked out—you’re practically a parsec away— it went unnoticed.

Undetected.

It brushed past you. You didn’t feel it—you didn’t recognize the whisper that has slithered in in it’s place, nestling within your swollen folds.

Breeding there.

“Beautiful,” Din murmurs, placing it on the mattress beside your head, the chrome of it gleaming with your slick. He bows his head to lick a path up your cunt, laving you clean as he climbs higher and higher, tonguing off his seed from your stippled skin. “Fucking beautiful, mesh’la,” he growls. “Mine—all fucking mine.”

You’ve gone heavy. You’re too heavy to keep your eyes open—you’ve been hollowed out and you’ve got nothing keeping you tethered here. You start slipping under in slow motion—intervals between languid blinks lasting longer and longer. You’re spooled in a knot of tangled limbs with Din’s mouth, fervent and needy, flaying you open as he sees fit— with his hot mouth and teeth, suckling your breasts, biting at your nipples and bruising your pretty neck.

It’s not long before you hear it again, as you have before— as you always do: the faint caressing of speech, of lips forming language you cannot understand—made indecipherable in your strung out high.

“D’you say something?” you mumble, half conscious—half dreaming.

Din laps a long stripe up your throat, his stubble sanding your skin. “No.”

You sigh, breathy and girlish, as his fingers find your mound, dipping into you once again. He makes you cum twice more that evening. You barely have the strength to watch him do it.

/

Finally, when he’s satisfied—when he’s spent with driving you mad, making you rile— he grants you respite. He permits it – generous, charitable - and you sleep like the dead, soundly through the night until—

until you don’t.

Eyes. You feel them somewhere— there are eyes on you. You stir, stuttering in your sleep to squirm in the dark. You don’t know what you’re listening to at first. It’s a sound of some kind, a noise. There is a hiss—

A frigid hand seizes around the bloody organ pulsing in your ribcage.

No, not a hiss—it’s a voice. It’s— no-

You pat around for Din beside you but he’s gone—he’s long gone and his vacant spot has grown cold without him—and your nails dig into the sheets, desperately clawing into the fabric.

Inside you.

The voice, the sharp hush of it—it’s inside you. It speaks from inside your own mind, its forked tongue fluttering against your ear.

‘Wake up, sweet girl.’

/

Tags (IM SO SORRY): @djarinsbeskar @pedros-mustache @krissology @keeper0fthestars @read-and-rec

[storyarcscribe]

His Waking Nightmare

Fandom: Star Wars / Obi-Wan Kenobi (Disney+ series)

Cateogory: Gen

Summary: This is glimpse into the mind of Darth Vader and his thoughts during Obi-Wan Kenobi, Episode 3.

Words: 1530

Characters: Darth Vader, Obi-Wan Kenobi

Category: Character study, POV, angst, action

Warnings: Mature - Violence, Blood

A/N: This contains heavy spoilers for the Kenobi Disney+ series. Let me know what you think! I have room to explore this further as the season progresses. This has been crossed posted on my a03 page as well.

His nightmare will become the Jedi’s nightmare.

And soon, he will burn the Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.

◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️

Anakin.

The name of a man who died broken, powerless and afraid.

It was a name of weakness.

Darth Vader despised that name.

The bearer of that name was betrayed by those he loved.

A man who was frightened of his own power and potential to be the most powerful being in the galaxy.

It was a name not uttered by any living thing for nearly a decade.

Darth Vader murdered that name ten years ago.

It was lost. Gone. Forgotten.

Until that very moment.

The very moment Darth Vader felt it ripple across the Force. It shattered, like a piece of glass across his mind as he rested fitfully in the bacta tank.

The only thing worse than that name was the one who spoke it.

The one who betrayed it so dearly.

A Brother…

Father…

Friend…

Foe…

Enemy.

The Sith Lord’s eyes snapped open.

The name, Anakin, may be dead, but Obi-Wan Kenobi was very much alive.

Behind his respirator, Darth Vader smiled.

-

“Where is he?” Darth Vader articulated to the holoscreen from his throne on the dais.

The heat of the planet’s core elevated the temperature naturally of the room, but it particularly boiled his fury further, as he listened to the Third Sister’s report.

“The Grand Inquisitor means nothing.” Vader snapped, unable to take the her lies.

His hands gripped the throne, reigning in his fury as he leaned forward. “Kenobi is all that matters now. Is that understood?”

“Yes.. My lord,” the Third Sister answered, reverently.

Thank you… my Master.

He could taste her fury, her anger, and her cold ambition across the Force. Such power was a weapon to use for his advantage.

And Kenobi’s downfall.

“I have been watching you, Third Sister.” He commended as he watched her accept his facade of praise.

She lifted her chin. It was not a look of defiance, but one of devotion. As if he was the salvation of her entire existence and purpose in life.

I will do whatever you ask.

Good.

“I know what it is you seek.” He continued, baiting her. “Prove yourself, and the position of Grand Inquisitor is… yours. Fail me, and you will not live to regret it.”

I have failed you, Anakin. I have failed you.

She stared at the Sith Lord. The unadulterated rage in her eyes was now honed into the blade he needed… and one he could discard later.

The holoscreen ended.

He stood suddenly, moving to the window looking over the molten planet.

Soon.

He sensed his meeting with the Jedi Master would be soon.

He gazed into to planet ground, his anger burning as hotly as the day he last saw his former Master.

His nightmare will become the Jedi’s nightmare.

And soon, he will burn the Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.

_

“My Lord, we have located Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

The report rang in his ears once again as they landed on some backwards mining planet.

How fitting his once Master would choose to die on on a planet befitting of a useless, old man.

His respirator was the only sound, echoing loudly in his ears.

The Stormtroopers lined the streets with the town’s folk sheltered in their homes.

Hiding from the monster stalking their streets.

Death incarnate.

He could feel the mothers’ grasping unto their young ones… the soft cries of sons and daughters muffled by their parents’ shoulders… the prayers whispered by the elderly over their tables.

But more importantly, he could feel something else… A presence he had not felt in over ten years.

He stopped.

Rain. The smell of rain.

Then it was gone.

Goodbye old friend.

No.

NO.

Where did it go? He searched again. Where did he GO?

He lifted the woman in the building next to him through the Force, choking her to death.

WHERE ARE YOU? He shouted from his mind.

Another man, he lifted and choked. Their struggle filled his rage.

SHOW YOURSELF. His mind screamed as he snapped the neck of some boy begging for his dead father.

He continued to walk forward, choking another citizen as he searched.

And searched.

And searched.

Vader ripped the top off a stand, where a couple clung to each other in fear.

As they should fear him.

He desired to drag their pain out longer.

But then he felt it.

Rain. That feeling of rain.

One that cools the earth after a hot day. A summer rain.

There.

His head swung to the left.

Kenobi.

No, he was gone, and the space was empty with only crates lining the wall.

And then the Sith Lord tasted it.

Fear.

Not just fear… but the fear of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Darth Vader slowly moved towards that fear, like a hurricane on the horizon after a summer rain.

-

Patience was one thing Anakin Skywalker lacked in his lifetime. And it was one thing Darth Vader gained through his training and powers as a Sith Lord.

He watched his former Master struggle to catch his breath of the town's outskirts. Kenobi was lost in his dread as it continued to grow and grow the longer Vader circled him in the shadows.

Darth Vader ignited his lightsaber from a distance away.

The red glowed off the iris’ of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

For ten years, Darth Vader dreamt of this moment. The day he would finally make his Master suffer.

Kenobi ran.

Darth Vader sheathed his light saber.

Good. Darth Vader would relish in this chase and prolong Obi-Wan’s soon to be waking nightmare.

-

“You cannot run… Obi-Wan.” He spoke from his shadows.

Kenobi ignited his lightsaber. The illumination of the blue showed the face of Kenobi fully now as he gaped across the sands, searching for him.

Vader allowed himself to gaze at the man who once knew Anakin Skywalker.

The Jedi Master’s eyes were creased with age, and his hair sprinkled with white and grey, longer than when they last dueled. He was older, no mistaking that, but the look in his eyes remained the same. Focused, calm, strong.

The eyes of a Jedi Master.

The eyes of someone who would soon die by his hand.

Vader left his shadows, approaching Kenobi slowly. He watched as the Jedi looked over him. Ten years had passed, and yet Kenobi’s look of pity and sorrow were the same.

“What have you become?” He asked.

Vader contained the snarl at his throat. “I am what you made me.”

Kenobi ran again.

He didn’t care.

Obi-wan would soon be dead.

Tired of this game, Vader ignited his saber, meeting his own with Kenobi’s.

Darth Vader advanced on Kenobi, attacking him with knowing blows, testing the old man’s skill.

Pathetic, he thought, watching Kenobi scramble in his footwork.

“The years have made you weak,” Vader sneered.

I’ve become more powerful than any Jedi.

Obi-Wan was silent watching the Sith Lord stalk forward.

Vader attacked with a hammer down of his saber, leaving Kenobi needing to use both hands to keep his grip.

Kenobi fell to his knees.

“You should have a killed me when you had the chance.” Vader chastised.

If you are not with me, you're my enemy.

Obi-Wan stood, nicked a pipe, letting steam cover his escape.

Vader walked through the smoke, swallowed by the fumes.

Anger led his footsteps as he approached Obi-Wan again and raised him into the air with a Force chokehold.

Obi-Wan struggled, his lightsaber falling to the ground.

Finally.

Vader relished in sounds of pain. It was the sound of a man who caused him so much pain. So much anguish. So much loss.

Vader was finally here. This was his dream made reality.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, the source of all his pain, suffering, and anguish since he was a child, was here. Finally at his mercy and power.

And he would make this a slow death.

Ten years of waiting deserves the time to give the torture Kenobi deserves.

Vader carefully tipped over the flammable mining materials between the two of them. He ignited it with a stroke of his lightsaber, still maintaining his grip on Kenobi throat.

It’s over Anakin. I have the high ground.

You underestimate my power.

Underestimate it, Kenobi did indeed.

“Now you will suffer, Obi-Wan,” Vader hissed, drawing him over the fire. Vader’s nightmare would now become Kenobi’s nightmare. “Your pain has just begun.”

Obi-Wan cried as the fire burned his shoulder. Obi-Wan continued to whimper even as the fire went out.

“Bring him to me,” Vader stated, barely acknowledging the Stormtroopers around him.

His torture would be written in the history books. He knew that the suffering of Obi-Wan Kenobi would be felt across the Force for centuries.

His plans were stripped the moment Kenobi’s allies helped him escape.

Even as Darth Vader stood over the flame between where he gripped the life of his former Master, he knew that this was not the end of his battle.

He would not be so greedy for pain. For torture. The Jedi would not be able to run anymore. No more escapes.

He will kill Obi-Wan Kenobi once and for all.

And the name Anakin will never be spoken again.

[alicee1]

Loyalty rewards

God! Technoblade x Warrior! GN! reader

Warnings: blood, sacrifices, violence, mentions of death

Word count: 2.0K

Synopsis: In the Blood God’s temple every other week the strongest warriors battle one another to satiate the blood lust of their God. You have defended your position as winner for the past three months, gaining the interest of the Blood God himself. 

Requested: no

A/n: The Roman Empire has always been my favorite part of history, and when this (kind of) Roman based idea formed in my head i just couldn’t ignore it. I don’t have any regrets.

Rules, Masterlist

You stood atop of the cold stone platform, crowds of people staring at you as the fight continued from the safety of their seats. The arena like temple surrounded you, safe for the sky where the sun shone brightly down on you.

Today was the day of the sacrifice for the Blood God, so he may be satisfied and heed the city of any attacks and wars. For if he would be deprived of the sight of blood too long he would come and take it himself.

The strongest warriors fought against one another in these temples. A simple, weak, sacrifice would not suffice for the Blood God.

It had led you here, armour brightly reflecting the sun and a sharp sword clenched in your hand as chants echoed through the stadium.

By now you had drowned their chants out, focusing your mind to the battle to avoid the fate of becoming a sacrifice once more.

For the past 3 months you had stood in this temple, every other week battling for the sake of your life.

Perched over the tunnel you had come out of at the start of the fight loomed the statue of the God, his beastly form with dangerous tusks and clawed hands holding a large blade, eyes made from the largest ruby stones harvested. It towered to the top of the stadium, large and impressive.

Across from that statue stood another, displaying the God in his more human like form, his mask obscured by a large skull but with the same blade in its more human like hands.

To the sides however stood smaller statues, both the exact same as they depicted a man with loose fitting robes and large black wings behind him to match. He was the God of death.

Despite having more than enough of his own temples, there was always at least a small place to commemorate him within the Blood God's temple, for he followed in the trail of destruction the other left behind.  Dark and silent as the night he took the broken souls left behind by the ruthless God.

The sound of metal clashing against one another didn't make it over the loud chanting of the crowd, the words 'blood for the Blood God' echoing through the temple.

You managed to hit your opponent with the black metal sword you held in their side, not able to slice through the thick layer of armour but it did enough damage to distract them.

Slowly but steadily you had chipped away at them, you were faster, more agile, in your movements which had proved to be your saviour throughout nearly every fight.

When you managed to land the finishing hit, the side of your sword knocked hard against their helmet.

Under normal circumstances the helmet they wore would've prevented them from collapsing, only causing light headedness and dizziness.

Now however, where the circumstances where everything but normal, the blood loss, exhaustion and adrenaline that had slowly started to thin out, took their toll and with that last hit it was enough to knock them out.

This didn't mean you had come out unscathed either however, ragged breaths lefts your lungs as the warm liquid dripped down your arms and under your armour.

Technoblade watched from his palace, his realm, which was large, luxurious and worthy to house a God. The chanting of the voices within his head deafening as they demanded blood.

It was a common reoccurrence during offerings, as there was usually at least some sort of sacrificial ritual going on somewhere. Despite that, the more chants, the louder they grew within his mind.

With a city as large as yours, one that housed many strong fighters and had proven themselves as a form of entertainment, the chants in his head were deafening as he watched the sacrificial fight take place.

Normally the winner would die of their wounds after the battle, allowing for two new contenders the next week. Those who didn't often stood still heavily wounded in the temple for their next fight to defend their place. It had always been an easy battle to win.

However for the past months he had noticed that time and time again the same fighter stood on the battle field, wielding the same black sword despite the more common weapon, an axe.

He watched you curiously win the battle once more, tapping the throne decorated with swords, regular skulls and the legendary wither skulls with one hand as he watched.

You had pulled the helmet of your opponent, holding their limp body up by the hair on their head like you had done time and time again for the past weeks.

Presenting the broken warrior to the sky to allow the God to pass judgement, forcing the warrior to put their faith into the hands of their God one last time and see if he would answer.

The crowd roared. You had grown to be crowd favourite, your speed and agility entertaining as you put up a show during the fight, entertaining the public as much as you did the God.

Your blade was still drawn, although it wasn't uncommon for a sacrifice to die during the battle, the true purpose was to keep them alive and give the Blood God a chance to spare their life and add it to his army of hounds or allow them to die.

As a warrior, the Blood God was one of the most important to serve and to please, and during the sacrificial ritual you would put the life of the soul in the hands of the God one final time. It was a tradition passed down over centuries as the empire grew, your city being the capital.

Throughout history it had happened occasionally where the God would send down a pig like creature, clad in glowing black armour, wielding a golden axe, to come collect the defeated warrior's body and soul to take with them.

Legends told that they were part of the hound army the God had, past souls that had once been sacrificed as well and been collected as well.

Myths spoke of the God and his hound army, the souls of the warriors reincarnated in the pig like or wolf like beasts that came to collect the still alive souls of those worthy before they were handed over to the angel of death and send to the underworld.

Only those who had left a lasting impression were remembered by the God by their name, forming the strongest and most important part of his army.

The hounds joined the God to the battle field when he craved blood but was deprived of it by a city or empire, slaughtering everyone in sight to satiate the hunger.

You waited as seconds passed, the chants only growing louder as moments passed. As usual, no beast appeared to collect the broken warrior before he would serve his last purpose as sacrifice, stilling the God's hunger for blood until the next ceremony.

The sharp blade you held in your hand was still pressed against your opponents throat, waiting for seconds more before finishing the deed.

The body collapsed into itself at your feet as the hair slipped from your fingers, a dull thud sounding so much louder than it should have in the arena.

A small, but satisfied smile formed on the God's face at the sight, you stood covered in blood on the stone with the body at your feet. The smile on your face matched his, although it was a little more tired in comparison.

He may have been unsure during the last sacrificial ceremony, but he was sure now. Why wait for you to lose a fight and arrive broken to his realm, his palace, when he could take you right then and there.

It had been a while since he had come down to one of his temples directly, but as he stood up it didn't take long for him to appear within the tunnel that led to the battlefield.

The crowd silenced at the figure that walked from the tunnel, as there was only one being that could do that. He didn't look like one of the beastly monsters that had been described in stories of old.

A skull hid his face from view but the ruby glint of his eyes reflected the sun, the pink locks that peeked from under the mask, left only one deity who it could possibly be.

Sinking to your knees at the sight of him, the temple grew quieter than it had ever been. The crowd questioned if you had killed your opponent too soon and now you would pay the price with your own life to compensate.

Your gaze was pointed to the ground where you could see his figure inch closer as it reflected in the deep red liquid that had pooled around you.

The Blood God stood in front of you now, peering down at your definitely smaller figure. He was still a God and it showed in his proportions, tall, muscularly built, with a blood red cloak hanging from his shoulders.

His voice held a power to it as was expected from a God, although monotone, it held a subtle undertone of amusement as he spoke up.

"You have defended the first place for the longest period in a long time," he noted, eyes piercing as he looked at you, bowed down before him.

A small nod came from your head as you carefully looked up at the God as he towered over you.

"You have been one of the strongest and most loyal follower I have seen in a long time," he allowed you to look up at him fully now, an amused smile tugging at his lips, barely visible from underneath the pig skull,

"The freedom you have seen so far has been an illusion created by those above you. I can grant you true freedom if you return to my realm with me."

He stretched out his hand to you, thick and worn gloves covering his hand as you could see the burn marks from wielding a weapon for years on end. It took you barely a moment to think as you placed your hand in his, feeling the friction between your two gloves as he pulled you to your feet.

Your blade was still clenched in your dominant hand as you sheathed it, looking around the arena like temple once more as the crowd stood in awe, their eyes glued to the scene in front of them.

A sight they would behold in their lives only once, and tell generations to come.

As time would pass it became a story, faded into a myth as the sacrifices continued. A never forgotten ceremony to quiet the insatiable lust for blood that the God held.

In the temple however, soon a new statue stood, smaller but unmissable beside the massive statue of the God. One of a warrior with glowing eyes made from the purest jewels the empire held, a pitch black sword held in their hand as they stood confidently beside their God.

The reality didn't differ much from the stories that spoke of your new life in his realm, it was luxurious and free, befitting a divine creature like the Blood God and now you.

Sometimes, when villages or cities left the sacred ceremonies to please their Gods in the dust, you ventured out. Beside the powerful figure that controlled the army of hounds now stood a second figure, cloaked in glowing armour identical to the God's as you rained down the attacks on the unfortunate settlement.

From that one day in the temple forward, you stood right beside the Blood God himself.

[author-morgan]

Kryptic ↟ Deimos

forty - are you not entertained masterlist But the great leveler, Death: not even the gods can defend a man, not even one they love, that day when fate takes hold and lays him out at last. Death submits to no one, not even Dread and Destruction. They are both weapons of flesh and bone, of warm blood and beating hearts, and they cannot be controlled.

"I'VE COME TO fight," Lesya announces, standing before the gates of the arena. She nor Deimos had ever ventured to the fighting pits, but there are many among the Cult who had —all fodder for the Beast of Sparta. Today, his reign would end by her hand. 

"For glory or for riches?" The old gatekeeper asks. No one came to the arena in Pephka seeking an honorable death anymore —the age of heroes is gone. The crowd may cheer and sing praises of the champions, but the walls of the arena no longer shook as they once did when contenders stepped onto the sands. 

"So long as the crowd sees blood spilled, why does it matter?" Lesya refutes, impatient. The gatekeeper sighs. He has no doubt the woman before him is a warrior. The whispers of demigods walking amongst the realm of men have traveled on the winds. Lesya is not here to become a Hero of the Arena, but Skoura thinks she has the makings, even if it is vengeance burning in her laurel eyes. "I am here for Belos," she announces, and she will not leave until he is slain —body lying cold in the sands of the arena.

But the Beast of Sparta is only one of the champions, and scores of men lay between the twin blades on Lesya's back and Belos himself. Skoura motions around to the monuments celebrating the champions, and the scores of defected soldiers and mercenaries come to try their luck. "Then you must carve your way through the other contenders to see the ranks of our champions," he says. My blades are ready, old man, Lesya thinks, tired of the conversation —she has come for blood, for vengeance, not for conversation. Skoura motions above, and the gates to the area begin to swing open. "Your name, fighter?" He asks.

"Enyo," Lesya answers, no hesitation —the name which will strike fear into the heart of all those who knew of the Cult of Kosmos.  

SHE BRACES HER weight against one of the wooden pillars supporting the netting above the arena floor —forehead slick with sweat against her forearm, chest heaving with exertion. The crowd still shouts and cheers from above, and among them, she finds her brothers. They do not hail her as the others do. Their faces are a solemn mask of concern that one could almost mistake for pity. 

Scattered around the sands are no less than twenty-five corpses. There were no more left to challenge her except for Belos himself. Straightening, she steps back —staggering, finally feeling pain blossom in her thigh. There's a bloody cut just below the tassels of her dark leather belt. Lesya goes to the nearest corpse, ripping a long strip of linen from the man's chiton, and binds the wound, quickly.

Deep from the labyrinth of the pits comes the booming echo of a war drum —impending doom and dread. She paces the sands like a caged beast kicked one too many times. 

The drums grow louder as the iron gate at the far end of the arena lifts. Belos strides forth with his massive shield and labrys held aloft. From behind him stride a dozen more men wielding shields and spears, maces, and swords. Whispers made their way through the arena that the disgraced champion of the Cult of Kosmos had come to fight —Belos would not chance losing to her. "You've come to die, whore?" He bellows, knocking the broad head of his labrys against the bronze shield —the crowd erupts in roaring cheers. 

The vanguard encircles her, weapons leveled and shields raised. She curses Belos for his cowardice. That he hides behind weaker men and cannot face her alone. Lesya stands her ground at the center, leaving one blade sheathed on her back, daring one of the Spartiates to make the first move. A heartbeat passes before one of them acts, thrusting the end of his spear forward. She catches the wooden lance and rips it free, breaking it over her knee, and spins —ducking under the man's shield. He lets out a wail of pain when she thrusts the splintered end of the lance into his chest. His cry is silenced by a quick cut to the throat and a warm spray of blood. 

 Another tries the impale her with a dull spear, but she rolls forward, under the blow, and springs back to her feet, driving the other half of the broken spear into his thigh and her own blade upward through the chinstrap of his helm. "He's cheating!" Timotheus grits out, leaning onto the wooden and rope railing, looking down into the arena. No other champion fought with a host of men to protect them. "We have to help her!"  

"We can't," Tundareos reminds him, unable to tear his gaze away from his sister. "The rules," he utters, "it would forfeit her life." Lesya hammers her blade into the man's ribs, cracking through his exomis, skin, gristle, and bone. Pressing deeper as blood sluices from the gash and over her hands. She rips the blade back, and he falls in paroxysms of agony, unable to breathe with the blood filling his lungs. 

Two more lunges at her, and one scores her breastbone through the linen of her chiton with a swipe of his spear, the other nearly crushing her head with a heavy iron mace. Too many, Lesya curses, knowing she grows slower with each blow absorbed and strike dealt. And Belos, the Beast of Sparta himself, weighs the moment to strike the killing blow. Kosmos will reward him handsomely for bringing Enyo's head back to Delphi. Lesya scrambles backward, knees knocking against one of the weapons racks. 

The iron banded wood is rough and splintering under her fingers, but she surrenders her blades and hefts up the shield, stooping low as the iron mace swings above. Before the man can turn to swing again, Lesya smashes his face with the iron boss —breaking his nose, forcing the mace from his hands. Discarding the shield, she rushes to recover the mace and heaves the heavy weapon high above her head before chopping downward with a harsh scream. Blood spatters when the flanges bite into flesh and bone. The man crumbles instantly, his skull split wide open, and the crowd grows louder still —drunk at the sight of blood.

Belos remains behind her bidding his time, leaning on the heel of his great two-handed labrys. She hears the whistle of the sword cutting through the air and ducks, twisting out of the way, recovering a discarded spear. A swift cut to the backs of his knees and the Spartan falls, unable to stand again. His misery ends as Lesya thrusts the spear through his throat, pinning him upright with blood gurgling from his gaping mouth. The last of the vanguard protecting their champion, but then Belos is upon her without mercy. 

Lesya steps back and out of the sweeping arc of his axe, feet sliding on the slick sand. Regaining her balance is almost impossible. As quickly as she evades one blow, the next comes. Belos roars, aggravated, and throws aside his shield, using both hands on the labrys. She dances around him, always out of reach, but then he charges forward like a raging bull and pins her against the wall of the arena with the wooden lance pressed into her throat. 

The Beast snarls, pressing harder and pushing upward, the tips of her toes leaving the ground. For the briefest of moments, Lesya begins to panic —she has never met a foe she could not overcome— but Belos will not claim her.

Kicking out, her foot finds purchase on his bent knee, and the leverage is enough for her to reach back and unsheathe the blade on her back. He tries to pull it from her grasp, but his grip falters, and Lesya drives the blade into his shoulder with a harrowing scream. Belos drops his labrys, and Lesya darts around him, picking up a dulled sword from one of his defenders as he pulls out the blade and throws it down, recovering his axe.  

Belos feels the cold bite of iron just above the inside of his knee. He swings his axe down as Lesya quickly jerks the blade back, then his left leg twists and gives, blood spurting from the gash. 

The champion tries to stand in his stupor but cannot rise, and in place of the roaring crowd is only stunned silence. She takes the labrys from his grasp and uses the blade's edge to knock off his one-horned helmet, revealing the disfigured face beneath —one half marred by flames, the taut mass of scarred flesh pulls his lips into a permanent, sickly grin. Belos grits his teeth, fingers curled around the hilt of a dagger at the back of his armor, one last chance. It is not enough. He moves to strike, but Lesya kicks the blade from his hand and begins to pace around him —a rusting iron sword held tight in her bloodied right hand.  

She steps behind him and jerks his head back. Lesya will make sure Belos looks upon her as he draws his final breaths. Her cry is harrowing as she saws through Belos' thick neck with the dulled sword, but then she severs the last tendons, and his head comes free —body flopping forward, still twitching with the last beats of his cruel heart staining the sand. 

Lesya stumbles, lifting the maimed head high for all to see. The crowd erupts a mix of cheers from those blood-drunk and protests from those who know what this defeat means —upheaval in the rankings of the arena. She paces to one of the spear racks at the center of the arena, skewering the champion's head on a spike next to the decaying head of another felled contender. The Beast of Sparta is slain.

But the deafening roar of the crowd fades as Lesya steps away. The blood-lust stupor dissipates, ushering in pain. Her leg gives way, streaked with blood and the fabric of her chiton is torn open. The blood on her hand is dark and drying —not her own— but when she presses a hand to her side, it feels as though she's been touched by the Monger's hot poker again, and the blood on her fingertips and running down her front is bright red, slick and warm. Lesya looks up at the crowd, wishing to rise once more, yet she cannot do so. For a wavering moment, she straightens, then falls —laurel eyes turned upward to see a full moon shining down through the netted ceiling.

TUNDAREOS IS THE first to fling himself from the stands and into the arena, feet carrying him toward his sister as soon as he hits the sand. "Lesya!" She does not move. He falls to his knees at her side, skimming the burgeoning bruises and open wounds. Her eyes are open wide and darting around. For the first time, Tundareos sees fear in his sister's eyes. Even demigods fear death. Time is not on their side, and they will find little aid from those who head the fighting pits. "Fuck," he hisses, moving swiftly —stripping off his chlamys. 

Covering the wound, he brings her hands over the cloth and urges her to press down to stay the bleeding before lifting her into his arms and starting toward the gates. "My–" Lesya grimaces, voice fading as she points to the bloody twin blades lying on the arena floor "–my blades." He curses her for worrying about something so trivial, but Timotheus sees what she is pointing at and reclaims the two blades, following his brother —and fearing it may be too late.

They come across a Spartan camp on the shores not far from the arena. "Hold!" The Spartiate at the entrance calls, leveling his spear to stop them from coming closer. The small group looks to be vagabonds who've lost their way, but as they draw closer, the soldier sees a woman covered in blood with hair like flames. The men with her have little regard for their safety, expressions of worry twisting their faces. The Spartan lowers his spear but not his guard as they draw nearer. 

"Do you have supplies to spare?" Timotheus asks, desperate and hoping they will not recognize him as a former Athenian commander. Their arrival brings the rest of the Spartans occupying the camp to the entrance.  

"I know her!" One of the hoplites points out. It was hard to forget fighting alongside a copper-haired goddess of war. "We fought together on Pylos." He'd seen her save Brasidas and face down the champion of Athens. It's a sight he will not soon forget and is enough for them to welcome the trio into the small camp, albeit reluctantly. They point to the captain's tent, and the soldier most skilled in medicine joins them.

The Spartan peels back the stained chlamys and grimaces. It is not a clean-cut, and they do not have the means to properly suture the flesh back together, but she would not have made it to Lato for better treatment. He calls for water, linen, and boiled wine then looks back at the two men who accompanied her. It does not seem possible one renowned across Hellas for fighting like Enyo or Eris with the strength of a dozen men should be wounded in such a manner. "The fighting pits," Tundareos says, sensing the question before the Spartan can ask. 

He does what he can with what little supplies he has. The bleeding ceased, and the dried blood and sand washed clean from her side and leg. Only time will determine if the copper-haired demigoddess of war will live to fight again. "The wound is clean, but–" the soldier spares a glance back at the thick linens wrapped around Lesya's middle "–I have seen men die from less," he confesses. Demigoddess or not, she still bleeds like every other man, and only someone of great strength and with the gods' favor could overcome such a wound.  

Tundareos shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose when he sees Lesya stir and wake. "By the gods," he starts, "you're a bigger fool than I thought." She turns her head to look at him as he paces. "Were you trying to get yourself killed?" He doesn't try to hide the anger in his voice. Tundareos spent his life searching for his sister, and now that he's found her...he cannot bring himself to think of losing her —to know he'd given up his life for this. Lesya doesn't answer, the pounding in her head is nigh deafening.

"Is that why you wanted to come here?" He asks. But death would be too easy, and the gods were not so merciful as to let it end. She turns her head, feeling hot tears slip from her eyes. I am still Enyo, after all. "I will not pretend to know what you feel, Lesya, but if you continue to do this, it will kill you," Tundareos says, and Lesya knows he's right. There is little choice for her, and they both know it. "I will not watch you do this to yourself."

Lesya grits her teeth, forcing herself to sit up —the pain is almost paralyzing. "If I do not hunt them," she says, breathing labored, "then they will never stop hunting me." She will have no peace until the last cultist is snuffed out, ripped from this world by the roots. Until then, she must pursue them and break their hold on Hellas —must find Deimos. "I am a fool," Lesya admits, barely a whisper. "But–" she shakes her head "–what they did to me. I can't forget, and I won't forgive." But revenge is its own executioner.  

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[draftingteacups]

a warning of war

That once beautiful day, the sky was bathed in flames and smoke. Curses and cries echoed in the vast expanse of the land that once held life, only to be greeted by death by the kiss of a blade. Wondrous yet terrible creatures trampled on the livelihoods of those who lived there, roaring under the commands of the invaders. Amidst this horror, there was a person, a mere traveler of a distant land, who saw this sight and ran back to the capital where no one had yet discovered the dangers that were about to strike them on their doorstep.

“My people! My beloved people, take up not your arms nor your blades, but your courage and march into the capital! The journey is far and long, but should we instead fall to the hands of invaders, our land will be driven into chaos and ruin! I ask of you, a humble person who wants nothing more than a home to live and thrive on, to guide me on this perilous journey that stands before us!”

To the scene behind him, the one who said everything shouted, “Invaders, this I say to you, that you have invoked the righteous hand of our deity that roams these lands. With their work, we lived. You see this land that you burn to ashes? It is by their grace that we continue to go on in the world that we take for granted with lives so short and fleeting! 

“When this land was nothing but a barren wasteland, the deity took it upon themselves to let it flourish. With their flesh, there came our lands, green and thriving, and with it, came us to live on these very lands for generations. With their blood, there came our culture, pouring outward from the greatest minds known to man. With their bones, there came the strongest of us who would shield the lesser folk and keep the peace of the land. 

“However, you, the invaders, come onto these lands and steal what does not belong to you while disguising your acts as righteous and dare I say, an act of kindness to our deity! The audacity! From the flesh of the land, you pillage for your gluttonous stomach to feel satisfied with yourself and take our people for your own malicious deeds! From the blood of culture, you leech it dry and mangle it to be yours alone when it is not! From the very bones of our people, you carve us down until we are nothing because to you, we are nothing but toys for your amusement! For these actions, I scold you!”

Lung full of flames that would never die, this person thus declared, “My people that have suffered today, do not engage with them, for they bathe in the attention we give. Your lives are precious ones. Do not let them end with these invaders. Though the nobles care not of us common folk, our deity will not let this offense slip by. Should they continue to loiter here on our lands, they will be met with divine justice posthaste! 

“We, the common folk, may not have much power in our lives, but we are capable of speech as those in power! Thus, I say, run to the capital! Bang on their doors and tell them of the horrors faced by us today! They will no doubt take up arms and fight! If not for us, they do so for the laws that we all live by! This is the declaration of unity, forever immortalized in the ashes that carry our words to the heavens themselves!”

And thus the flames of war spread with the words of the herald, signaling the beginnings of what would later be named the Age of Destruction in Kalos history.

—

“...And that’s basically it.” Soni finished her speech to the two first years who asked about her world. It wasn’t anything substantial in her eyes, but it would satisfy their curiosity for the time being.

“How the heck did people remember what was said that day?” Ace pointed out, Milcery hanging out on his shoulder. “Seems like a huge loophole to me.”

“The survivors from the attack all came together and marched right into the capital to tell the people who lived there about the invaders.” Leaning back on the dusty old couch, Soni continued on, “There’s more historical texts that support this, but obviously, I don’t have them here with me. It’s one of the most famous parts of Kalosian history and the one that hasn’t changed, despite the three thousand year gap.”

Not to mention, the biggest primary source I got this information from had lived and ruled as a king during that time period. Remembering the man who was once king, Soni let out a sigh as she looked out the window. An all-consuming flame-colored sky that threatened to take over everything… isn’t that an irony…

“The Herald in that tale was a dear friend of mine who wanted to protect his people. In fact, he showed up at the palace with ash-covered clothes and eyes that burned bright with justice. Aha… I miss him.” On the aged face of a man who was once a king, he told her so with a bittersweet smile. “I haven’t seen him since that day so long ago… I wonder if he would forgive me for what I had done, but ah, such things are irrelevant now. I can only hope that he lived the life he wanted. If he were still alive and well, I can see the two of you getting along.”

Soni munched on the food on the private table, not entirely sure of what to say, “I don’t really know him to tell you otherwise, so I’ll take your work for it. We don’t even have their name written down. You’re the only one on this planet that remembers the Herald as a person instead of some historical figure.”

He gave her a soft, tired smile as he drank his tea. “Indeed. Truly, it is a blessing to have met both him and you in my lifetime.”

Is it really such a thing, AZ? She pondered while the three other first years she had entertained fought with one another again. “Honestly, you guys…”

The arguments followed into silence as the world went on.